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redclercs · 10 months

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DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

xiii. and all the pieces fall right into place

— the one where he’s in love with you.

warnings: mykonos inaccuracies, mentions of anxiety, language, not proofread sorry! have mercy and ignore the mistakes, i feel like this is very romcomish and i actually quite like it! 3.5k words (+articles!)

currently playing: i'm in love with you by the 1975!

masterlist ✢ next

IT doesn't come as a surprise that actress y/n y/ln is surrounded by rumors and he-said-she-saids, her life has been a constant rollercoaster since March of the present year, when the news of her breakup to superstar Aidan Kim due to her cheating were made public by various outlets.

Since she decided to 'speak up' not two months ago, after letting the world drag her throught the mud, which in this writer's humble opinion, is the clearest sign of guilt. y/n has been on the road of digging her reputation out of the cemetery, not minding that what's dead should stay that way: Dead AND buried.

The public's opinion on the 'Queen of Romcoms' is progressively changing to her benefit, call it manipulation or excellent PR, word on the street is that y/n has landed a role that will mean the complete turnaround for her career in Greta Gerwig's version of 'Little Women' (as if we needed YET another version), alongside industry figures such as Timothée Chalamet, Meryl Streep and Saoirse Ronan.

One thing's for sure, this role will make or break her sorry excuse of a career. I hope you have taken acting lessons, y/n, because actual actors are about to give you a run for your money.

SEE ALSO:

→ Aidan Kim's 'In Your Pocket' M/V features ex girlfriend's belongings.

→ y/n y/ln and Charles Leclerc meet again in Paris.

→ Matilde Bassi takes on the role of Elphaba in her return to Broadway.

August 18th, Mykonos, Greece.

It's true what they say: everything is worse in your head.

It isn't like you to prove motivational Pinterest quotes right, but they are right. This trip looked wildly different in your head and not exactly in a positive way, though, to be fair after the shitshow you've lived through for half the year, your head is not the happiest place on Earth. Or the one that sees the glass half-full.

Anxiety was the only thing fueling you (besides a shaken espresso, again not the brightest idea) as you left Paris with Charles. Hyper-aware of his presence next or behind you as if he was this magnet you couldn't tear yourself apart from.

"What is it?" he'd asked a couple times when he felt your gaze on him as you waited by your gate for the flight to Athens. Charles was the textbook definition of confident and composed, hiding his expression behind a pair of Bvlgari shades. At the end of the day your destination had been his choice, which was fine by you. If you had to think any more than absolutely necessary about the trip and everything it involved, you would have backed out and ran back to New York with Matilde. And Charles knew this, so he took charge.

You only had so many 'it's nothing's in you before admitting that you were terrified. Not of him, of course, but the jumble in your brain and your heart didn't translate properly into words and it only added on to another fear: making a fool of yourself. After all this was, in its reason, absolutely terrifying. Confronting your feelings for Charles after months of denying you had them felt like some twisted exposure therapy. And the voices in your head that sometimes sounded a lot like Mati and others way too close to Victoria and Aidan, went from telling you that it is obvious Charles feels the same way to reminding you of how unlovable you truly are.

But it was all worse in your head.

Your brain has toned the fight or flight instinct per your insistence that it is supposed to be for actual life-threatening situations, not seeing Charles Leclerc in a bathing suit.

So you're enjoying the sun on your skin and the breeze in your hair. It's a beautiful place and you deserve to have a good time with someone you have grown to care about so much.

“Having fun?” You ask, letting your sunglasses slide past the bridge of your nose to look at Charles properly.

It’s yacht day, and although you don’t usually fare well in boats and were dreading the nausea even before you set foot in the thing, you’re doing pretty well.

“Of course I'm having fun, I'm with you.” Charles replies, smiling. He's lying next to you in a lounge chair, basking in the sun.

It's probably not a good idea for you to be tanning, since, if you get lucky you'll be playing a girl in a piece taking place in the United States Civil War. But if anything, you'll find a way to solve it.

"Are you sure that's going to look good?" you question, raising an eyebrow as Charles points the Polaroid in your direction. The quite strict 'no phones' policy was his idea, and you agreed in a heartbeat. You were willing to let the outside world outside. Which is what led you two to buy an extremely overpriced Polaroid camera in a tourist shop. "There's too much light."

Charles shrugs, snapping the picture while you still have your eyebrows raised. "We'll see."

You already have a collection between the pages of the book you carry with you in your suitcase, and it's only been one day since your holiday started. Charles and you take turns with the camera, but to be honest it's mostly him taking candids of you and showing them off excitedly.

"Gorgeous," he says after he's shaken the little square enough to reveal your image glaring at him. "Even if you are giving me a dirty look."

You laugh before rolling your eyes. His compliments come more often now, and he awaits your reaction with a slight anxiety that recedes when you smile. "My turn to have it."

Charles holds the camera close to his chest. "Not yet."

"You're so unfair,"

This makes Charles laugh again, but still doesn't give the camera up. "Fine. Let's take one together, soleil."

This would be your second picture together in the whole trip. The other one is a very bright depiction of your confused faces as you tested the camera for the first time. You wanted to throw it to the trash before Charles took it from you and kept it in the pocket of his trousers.

Charles makes the most space for you to sit down in the lounge chair as he possibly can, but there's a reason they're individual, so you're still halfway on top of him as you try to fit in the frame. His skin is warm, as it was expected from being in the sun, but your body reacts in the opposite way, exploding in goosebumps.

"Are you okay?" he asks, lowering the camera. His Adam's Apple bobs as he swallows, trying to keep his eyes on your face and not the bright pink top of your bikini.

"Perfect," you retort too quickly to be truthful, "I just— I'm in your personal bubble."

Charles chuckles. His free hand goes down from your shoulder to your bare waist in a second, pulling you closer to him and over-confident movement that shocks even Charles himself. "I like you being here."

You don't know how to react to the most obvious flirting you have been subjected to by Charles. You are not even sure you're capable of flirting back.

Your relationship with Aidan just happened. That's the only way you could describe it for the three years that you were with him. It happened because it was supposed to, you met in the set of a romcom, you kissed and kissed and kissed, and suddenly you didn't have to act as much in love as you had to just live it in front of the cameras. It made sense, at least for a while.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment in which you had fallen in love with Aidan Kim. You had just let your relationship from coworkers to fictional lovers to actual lovers run its course the way you thought was normal and expected. Maybe that was the first mistake in a long line you can't seem to stop dragging around. It's not like you didn't love him—in some moments more than others—but it didn't feel like you had fallen in love with him.

And with Charles, it couldn't be like that. It hadn't been like that from the start, but you still felt like you could fuck it up any second just by not being able to make a flirty retort without sounding like you were being strangled.

"You do?" you reply, letting your weight fall a little more on his legs. Maybe words can be left behind if you can get a grip on your actions. You don't want to be afraid, and you want to cross that threshold with him, finally.

He only holds your waist tighter, clearing his throat before readying the camera once more. Charles wants to kiss you, of course he wants to kiss you. He has probably wanted it since he saw you that day in his Driver's Room sneaking away with a granola bar and a bottle of water. But he also doesn't want to do it in the middle of a yacht, rushed and mostly hormone-driven.

"Ready, soleil?" Charles asks, his breath tickles your neck and you sink your fingers into his shoulder.

"Ready." you smile, enjoying the warmth of his body more than you do that of the sun.

─────────

You finish applying your peach colored lipstick three seconds before Charles knocks on the door to your room. Although you're exhausted from the sun, you're also relaxed and content, you can't wait to spend more time with Charles.

"Hi," you greet as you open the door. Charles is wearing khaki shorts and a half-unbuttoned white shirt, and the same Bvlgari sunglasses he's been carrying everywhere rest low on his chest. "I'm ready!"

Charles nods, holding his hand out for you. "You look beautiful, soleil."

"Thank you," you smile at him, taking his hand, although you wish you could have wiped it on your sundress before giving it to him. After the yacht, the whole aura shifted. Charles' gaze lingers on you more than usual, your fingers look for his, grazing each other until he finally intertwines them. You hope the sun melts you into one another.

Though maybe you should start by hoping you finally get the guts to kiss him.

It was your idea to get some drinks before dinner, and after a simple Google search you found a pretty place where you could chill while watching the sunset. Regrets came after that, when you found out you had to walk uphill to get to the place. Charles can't stop laughing as you whine and drag your already sore feet.

Once you are led to your seats—a pair of cushions on the floor of the terrace—you stop complaining. The view is magnificent and the expectation hanging in the air has you buzzing in the best way. Something is going to happen, and you know for the first time in months, it is going to be good.

Charles is talking about last year's Dutch Grand Prix, when your phone rings. While the idea of no phones allowed was lovely, it was a little unrealistic considering both your careers. But you have made it work with the "only urgent calls" feature and automatic response texts, so you know this is probably really important.

Matilde is staying at your house per your insistence that, even if you weren't there, she could make herself at home. But sometimes she still calls you to make sure that whatever she's doing is okay with you.

"Go ahead," Charles nods gently, thanking the waiter as he places your drinks in the tiny table between your cushions.

The unregistered number appears familiar as you stare at your screen, and you snap back to reality before missing the call. "Hello?"

"Hello," it's a female voice on the other side of the line, chirpy and clear. "Am I talking to Amy March?" she laughs, a hint of excitement in her voice.

Charles notices the way your demeanor changes and he's unsure of how to react in return. The hand holding your iPhone against your ear has begun to shake and your mouth is hanging slightly open, lower lip trembling.

You did it. You got the role.

You are coming back.

"y/n?" Charles ventures, anxiously.

"YES!" you speak to the phone again, unable to moderate your tone. "Yes, this is her!"

The casting director on the phone laughs again, although her ear is probably ringing. "Hello y/n, I just called to let you know about the role you got in..."

You try your best to pay attention to her as your eyes drift to Charles, your free palm pressed to your mouth, yet unable to hide your grin. The muscles in your face are still trembling with a mixture of excitement and the urge to cry. You thought happy tears would never come back to you.

Still unsure of what's happening, Charles looks at the people around you. Some have started to stare, others have already made up their minds about you being some crazy, noisy tourists and aren't interested in that. At least he's starting to feel relieved that you're smiling, although there are tears in the corner of your eyes.

You agree to a meeting next week and thank her around a million times before hanging up. It's official.

Charles remains silent, anxiously waiting for you to share the news.

"I got it!" you screech, and tears roll down your cheeks. The salt in them touches your lips, but you relish them. You are happy, ecstatic. "I got the role, Charlie!"

An audible sigh escapes from Charles' lips and before he knows it, you're throwing your arms around him. Not even giving him time to speak.

You're still crying as he envelops you in a hug that leaves you breathless. His hand runs down the back of your head and pulls you closer by your lower back.

"I knew you could do it," he whispers softly, before his lips brush against your temple. "Congratulations my sun."

The possessive has your stomach filling with butterflies and you hug Charles even tighter. You are grateful for him, because he did believe in you, and he has stuck to your side no matter how crazy your environment gets. He cares about you, genuinely and deeply.

Later you will have a recollection of moments that are tinted pink in your mind. Reminding you of all the times where you realized you were in love with Charles. But this one right here is the one where you realize you are so in love with the man holding you in his arms you can hardly breathe.

"Thank you, Charlie," you hiccup slightly, overwhelmed with every single emotion in your body. "Thank you."

Charles kisses your cheek gently, holding your face with both hands. "I'm really proud of you."

You smile widely as he runs a thumb across your cheek to wipe your tears. "Thanks."

You return to your own cushion hurriedly, too happy to feel embarrassed about the show you just put up for the rest of the tourists.

Now there's just one thing left for this to be perfect.

─────────

You're walking hand in hand back to the hotel, stopping with any chance you get. Attempting to make the night longer before you have to part ways at the door of your respective hotel rooms and spend yet another night tossing and turning, haunted by what could be or what could have been between the two of you.

But time is running out as you reach your floor and neither has given that step that will throw you both off the edge. In a good way, though.

"So, goodnight?" Charles rubs the back of his head anxiously, letting go of your hand as you rummage your beach bag for the key to your room.

You look up at him, the keycard already between your index and middle finger. "Goodnight, Charlie."

It's all awkwardness as Charles reaches for your hand again and gives it a gentle kiss. His stubble feels raspy against the back of your hand. You wrap your arms around him again letting your hand touch the back of his neck. Neither of you want to actually say goodnight.

"See you tomorrow," you mutter, aware that you've already hugged him more than what's socially acceptable.

Charles nods, squeezing your hand one last time before letting you disappear inside your room.

You want to scream into your pillow and hit yourself in the head. But Charles would probably be able to hear the banging against the wall and it would mortify you. You make yourself busy for a few minutes by removing your makeup and changing your clothes, before you finally listen to the impulse nagging your brain.

Go and find Charles.

You open the door to your room before your anxiety makes you hesitate and you find Charles closing the door to his.

"Oh," you say, slowly.

"Do you want to sit with me on the balcony?" Charles rushes to say, fighting against his anxiety much like you.

Both your rooms are the exact same, so when he points to his room, you move out of the door to yours instead.

"Yes."

Charles enters your room slowly, as if it's unknown territory, although it mirrors his. Maybe a little messier since you just threw your clothes all over the place as you ranted to yourself about how stupid and childish you were being just ten minutes ago.

"Sorry for the mess," you cringe, throwing the bottom of your bikini to one side with your left foot. You will probably be looking for that thing like crazy tomorrow, but you're trying to focus on the now.

"It's okay," Charles assures, smiling as he crosses the room to the glass door that leads to the balcony. Two lounge chairs and a simple table await.

You follow after him once you've grabbed some tiny bottles from the mini bar, two Red Labels and one Hennessy. Offering one to Charles before sitting in the chair next to him. Liquid courage, if anything.

Charles uncaps his Red Label and jiggles it gently towards you. "Toast?"

"To what?" you question, placing the tiny cap on the table. You've toasted to your new role several times already, and honestly it doesn't get old, but you want Charles to say whatever is on his mind.

"To us," Charles smiles, his eyes never leaving you. "For being here, together."

You clink the tiny bottle against his before downing half of the whisky in one gulp.

Both stay silent for a few minutes, listening to the waves crash against the shore and the sounds of people getting back to their rooms on the other side.

"I can feel you looking at me," you hum, still staring out the balcony and not back at Charles. "Charles?"

"That's because I'm looking at you," he responds nonchalantly. "Because you're beautiful."

You finally look at him, shaking your head lightly. "Thank you."

"And I'm in love with you, y/n," he's almost breathless by the time he says your name, but doesn't stop to take a sharp breath. He doesn't even hesitate as he changes his position in the lounge chair, his whole body facing you. "I am so in love with you, I don't understand how the fuck is my heart able to keep beating."

It's like the world has paused for Charles to continue with his confession in peace. All of Mykonos is holding its breath, even the sea.

"I know you already know," he adds as you open your mouth. "But I have to tell you because I cannot keep swallowing the words every time you look at me like that. I'm in love with you, and you don't have to say it back."

You're moving in slow motion as you leave your chair, you can feel your hands shaking but fight against the motion of pinching your thigh or pulling on the string of your shorts. You're nervous, but you're not about to back down. Charles holds his breath when you stand in front of him, but stands up too.

"I'm in love with you too," you breathe, placing a hand on his chest. His heart is going so fast, it's like the words he spoke not a minute ago float in the air. "I really am in love with you, Charles."

Charles is mildly afraid of touching you, as if by doing so you would disappear. But the urgency to finally kiss you is bigger than his fear, and he wants to hold you and blend your bodies together and so, so many things all at once.

His hands grip your face firmly, but not with enough strength to hurt you and you close your eyes, melting into the way his lips touch yours. Softly, tentatively at first. As if testing the pieces of a puzzle you're not quite certain they fit together. But you respond immediately, moving your mouth against his and taking your hand to his jaw.

And it's like overflowing gates have finally opened.

Charles stumbles back to the low chair, pulling you with him swiftly yet with care. His hands have traveled down to your hips and he helps you settle on his lap, straddling him. He has wished for this moment so many times, has fantasized about it on countless occasions, and none of those daydreams compare to the way your lips feel against his. The way your hands move to his hair and how you grip his shoulders to maintain balance.

And it's only when you really need to breathe again that you break the kiss. Your chests rise and fall frantically, matching your heartbeats. You can't wait to kiss him again. You never want to stop kissing him.

He's staring at you, and he has never looked more beautiful than right now with his disheveled hair and reddened lips. And his eyes are so bright when he looks at you, your heart races even more.

So you kiss him again, pressing your chest tighter against him as he holds the back of your head and your lower back. His tongue tastes like whisky and mint as he runs it down your lower lip, and you let him deepen the kiss as much as he wants to. Both of you have wanted this for months, and it's enough and nothing at all, at the same time.

"I'm yours, y/n," Charles says between kisses, breathless and with a tinge of desperation. "Je suis à toi, mon soleil."

And you kiss him again, and again, and again. Because you're his too. You have been his for so long.

─── team principal radio: ❝in the wise words of taylor swift: it's been a long time coming! thank you so much for reading I hope you enjoyed this chapter because i LOVED writing it. also, thank you so much for being so patient and waiting for an update! i'm glad you're still here❤️❞

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#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fluff #cl16 fanfic #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine

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starsainzjr · 4 months

Text

Real Life Inspiration

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Wolff!author!reader Faceclaim: Saoirse-Monica Jackson Requested: yes no

✷✷✷✷✷

ynwolff

Liked by carlossainz55, zakiyadaliaharris, casey.mcquiston and 20,764 others

ynwolff First chapters, espresso, and headshots. It's been a busy week! Join Samrah Shahidi as she ventures through Dubai and navigates murder, theft, and a 3,000 year old mystery! The Amber Trolley available for pre-order now wherever you get your books!

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carlossainz55 Do I get a sneak peak?

ynwolff Only if you're nice to me carlossainz55 I'm currently holding flowers for you while your father glares at me please save me ynwolff I'm on my way

zakiyadaliaharris So beyond excited for this!

ynwolff Thank you for consulting! Could not have gotten anything done without you!

casey.mcquiston Yes! Gonna read this thing in one sitting

ynwolff Sending a never ending supply of hot chocolate your way

yns.pen More???? Oh my god we are getting fed next year

samrahfans She's back! Oh this one is going to be good, I can feel it

ynwolff

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yourusername Cover reveal! The Amber Trolley is available for preorder now!

Stay tuned for another special announcement coming within the next week!

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carlossainz55 So beyond proud of you, mi corazón. Cannot wait to add it to my track bag

ynwolff I love you so much, mein könig. chiliwilicarlos He calls her his heart I'm done. I'm done, I'm done. Sleeping on the highway tonight

zakiyadaliaharris Classic! Oh it looks amazing

ynwolff Mailing you a copy as we speak!

samrahfans I'M CRYING IT LOOKS SO CLEAN

chiliwilicarlos I swear if we get pictures of him reading this book at the track I will drop dead on the spot

yns.pen She truly never misses

blackfireproofs GOD he's the best boyfriend ever isn't he

ynwolff Can confirm 🥰

carlossainz55

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carlossainz55 A week well spent with mi corazón in one of the most beautiful places on Earth. We get back to the grind this week

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ynwolff Mein könig, I love you more than words

carlossainz55 That's a lot, you really love words ynwolff And I love you more than all of them

charles_leclerc You're welcome for the recommendation

carlossainz55 The wine was delicious, we're bringing you some ynwolff And a signed copy charles_leclerc I'm more excited about the book than the wine

landonorris I wasn't invited?

formulafan Would you want to spend 2 weeks in a villa with Toto Wolff? landonorris No you're right, actually

blackfireproofs Oh Jesus Christ he gets more perfect every day

chiliwilicarlos I'm about as useful as a puddle rn

yourusername Bahrain

Liked by carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, mercedesamgf1 and 24,046 others

yourusername Back to running across the paddock in desert heat

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carlossainz55 Come back I miss you

ynwolff I literally just walked into my father's office carlossainz55 🥺 ynwolff Not gonna work

mercedesamgf1 She's home finally

ynwolff I'm not watching the race with you mercedesamgf1 😦 carlossainz55 😊

scuderiaferrari Are we going to need to work out a custody schedule?

mercedesamgf1 I think we might need to ynwolff Do I get a say? scuderiaferrari No mercedesamgf1 No

carlotta.solano Bahrain

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carlotta.solano Back in the place where it all started. Away We Go is available for pre order now! Follow Alina Wolter as she tries to balance her dream job working for her favorite F1 team and resisting the charismatic first driver Santiago Cabrera!

Signed copies will go to the first 300 pre orders!

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blackfireproofs Call me crazy, but I think I sense a pen name....

yns.pen No I've been thinking the same thing. Two books getting announced on the same day... blackfireproofs Not to mention the initials of the name too. C.S... and it's a Spanish name. And Carlotta??? yns.pen It sounds extremely similar to Carlos yns.pen And the character's names! Wolter... her last name is Wolff. And Santiago Cabrera? chiliwilicarlos It's just Carlos' initials reversed. And the names are German and Spanish. German close enough to Austrian but still blackfireproofs No there are way too many parallels yns.pen Not to mention that YN is in Bahrain with Carlos and her father for the race

ynwolff

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ynwolff Book signing, burgers, and- I'm too tired to finish the alliteration

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carlossainz55 Best nap I've had in a while to be honest

ynwolff Honestly me too

zakiyadaliaharris Book signings bring on a different kind of tired

ynwolff I can't feel my hand casey.mcquiston Ice. So so much ice in your future

yns.pen I cannot believe I actually met her today! Oh my god, she was so so sweet and took her time with while I tried to speak German

ynwolff Your German was much better than you give yourself credit for! It was such a pleasure to meet you

blackfireproofs I went today too and watched Carlos watch her while I was waiting in line and oh my god he was looking at her like she was the moon

ynwolff

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ynwolff Weekend away with my very own Santiago Cabrera during which he stole my sunglasses no more than twelve times

Comments on this post have been limited

carlossainz55 My own Alina Wolter 🥰 Better in person than on paper, no?

ynwolff Always better in person than on paper

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All photos from Pinterest, Instagram, or Google Images

#f1 fanfic #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #f1 x you #social media au #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz social media au #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz jr

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fanaticsnail · 8 months

Text

Téir Abhaile Riú

Oh my goodness, I have been working on this for the past few hours. It is currently a little over 1am right now and I know I'm going to be up soon but I am so happy with the way this little plot developed for our favourite, pink-haired cadet.

Word Count: 5,173

Now that I've got this one out, I feel like I can really focus on the main Buggy story I've got in development currently.

Her auburn hair whipped wildly behind her, flowing freely in the sea breeze. She sprinted, skirts in hand, and barrowed towards the dock with the haste of a hare upon seeing a hunting ferret. Bounding against her back, a large hurdy gurdy sway in her movements as it bounced side to side at each of her hastened skips.

“Keep up!” She cried gleefully behind her back with a small shriek, “they’re nearly here!”

You giggled at her giddy excitement as you clasped one hand on your layered skirts and held tight to the wooden handle of your many symbolled tambourine. You looked behind you to see your fellow minstrel attempting to hold his wide bodhran in one hand and his double ended beater in the other as he too expressed glee at the playful taunt from the leader of your troop. Looking further behind him, you noticed in the distance your bouzouki player struggled to keep the hastened pace.

The three of you, four if you include the relatively far off bouzouki player, plunged into town with rocks picking up under your feet. Your belled silver anklet tinkled with each step of your right foot, reverberating and melodically harmonizing with the anklet of your leader who nearly collided with a wagon with her haste. You quickly side stepped the large wagon while your bodhran clad friend performed a large leap over the wooden frame.

“You ruddy kids! Where’s your Da?” the vendor called after you as you giggled and continued your swift pace in response.

As you continued down the dirt mountain side, you saw the stretched sails of a dark boat approaching the docks. The figurehead was an intimidating bulldog with a broad piece of bone wedged between their teeth.

“Looks like Garp,” the bodhran player informed you, panting to keep up his rapid momentum. You hummed in response, continuing to run past several shop fronts to make your way through the mountainside city to set up as the marines came to port.

You skipped on your right foot as you halted in front of a grocer, stopping your sudden rapid movement.

“What are you doing?” called your red-head leader.

“I’m getting Saoirse! She needs to sing with us!” you called to your leader, “I’ll be down with her as soon as I break her out!”

The redhead again laughs in glee before calling to you, “we’ll dance until you two join us!”

You nodded before unceremoniously swinging wide the entrance to the near empty grocer, the bell above the door rattling with a loud clang to inform your entrance. Making eye contact with the blonde behind the counter, her smile first started in her eyes before bringing her lips up into a wide grin.

“Sailors?” she asked you, untying her apron from around her back.

“Marines,” you corrected her with a mischievous glint in your eyes, extending your unburdened hand to retrieve hers, “come on! Let’s get going!”

She swung her counter bar back and it hit the wooden benchtop with a loud thump and promptly sped through the shop door while grasping your hand; flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’. You nearly collided with your bouzouki player as he continued making his merry way down to the docks.

“Gee, you young ones are speedy!” he commented with a rough huff of his voice as he struggled to still his breathing. Both you and Saoirse laughed elatedly in response as you continued to hold back your pace to arrive alongside him.

The ship had finally made its way into dock, many ropes being thrust into the air to meet the open arms of the boat-hands as they awaited their receival of them. The anchor was weighed with the rattle of a loud chain before plunging into the dark sea. You took into your sights heavy damage on the fore topmast, the fore topsail limply hanging against the foremast beneath it. You narrowed your eyes slightly at the knowledge that there may be injured marines aboard, but continued towards where your red-headed leader and bodhran player had began to drum and dance a jig while lilted with one another with their voices.

You continued grasping the hand of the blonde at your side as you flittered down the hill to meet the sandy shore. Saoirse began lilting her voice to join the other two voices in harmony with a broad smile adorning her features. Your eyes twinkled at the tri-part harmony as you released her hand from your grip and began to use your thumb and smallest finger to flick against the symbols of your tambourine to keep rhythmic harmony with your bodhran player, your skirts swaying as you spun and danced in time to the beat. Your belled anklet twinkled jingled against your gleeful leaps as you continued to dance. Finally, hunching over slightly to catch his breath momentarily, your bouzouki player created a place to sit atop a barrel as he began to strum to the beat.

This is how it was with the five of you: “The Merry Mellifluous Quint”, as the town referred to you. The twins: the red-headed songstress and her brother, the bodhran player began their musical journey accompanying their recently widower father: the bouzouki player. The most recent additions to the team were Saoirse, who began courting the bodhran twin; and yourself.

The marines began to march down their extended boat ramp and bring heavy boots to thump against the dock. You continued to laugh and dance to the tune produced, linking your arms with Saoirse and routinely skip and turn to the beat before joining with the auburn-haired leader and weaving your way between them. Although aware of their decent and their attention, you chose to pay their individuality no heed as you continued to dance with your musically-adoptive sisters and drum your tambourine to accompany their triune lilting.

The bodhran player halted his vocal arrangement and gestured for you to add your voice to the troop as the bouzouki was struck by the widower. You closed your eyes, halting your dance and tambourine administrations and held it firm against your chest as you called from the recesses of your soul the tune to fully embrace the harmonies of the other two women in the troop. You heard the bouzouki player exhale a loud gleeful laugh at this arrangement, pleased at how the improvisational melody had come to fruition.

Upon de-crescendoing the tune and concluding the arrangement, you opened your eyes and smiled as your sights were set on the approaching marines. You went to clasp your hands within the two other songstresses and curtseyed in respect to the arriving military men and women as they halted under the command of their Vice-Admiral.

“Thank you for your welcome, ladies,” he thanked, before turning to the other two members of the quint, “and gentlemen.”

“You’re most welcome,” the widower exclaimed, “we’re more than happy to be at the beck and call for entertaining fine sea-worn folk such as yourselves.”

“Well,” admiral Garp began, “by all means, continue your jolly lilting as we journey on our way into town.”

With a smile, the bodhran player counted in as the red-head brought the hurdy-gurdy from its place strapped against her back down onto her lap and began to crank the handle. The strings sprung to life under the rosin reverberating against the strings. She struck the pegs to alternate between the notes as you and Saoirse vocally harmonised with one another.

As you sung your jolly tune, you made eye contact with one of the marines trailing behind the Vice-Admiral. He had broad, circular-brimmed glasses atop his nose; pink hair stuffed beneath his marine cap. His blue eyes joined with yours as he remained stationary, enchanted by your melodical display. You softened your eyes as you continued, halting your dance movements to keep him bewitched with your skilled voice.

His eyes trailed over your features, focussing on your lips as they continued their melodical ornamentation of trills within augmented tones. You subtly approached the small marine, stalking ever so closer to him as you enjoyed his attention holding on you; before a loud order cut through the air.

“Come along, cadet!” the Vice-Admiral ordered, prompting you to jump slightly at the command alongside the pink-haired cadet.

“Yes, sir!” the cadet called out with a salute. His soft, almost hesitant voice held you as transfixed as the soft irises of his eyes did once they initially met with yours. The marine, although acknowledging his command with verbal affirmation; remained stationary as his eyes continued to trail with yours.

“Koby!” Garp again called, alerting Koby again to his duty to fall in line.

“Y-yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” he called before shaking his head to flitter his gaze between the Vice-Admiral and you before he followed in line with the other marines.

As you began again your melody, you rolled within your mind ‘Koby, Koby, Koby’ as if to test the way your brogue could handle spilling it from betwixt your lips. You smiled as a warmth spread throughout your chest and crept with a tingly giddiness up towards your face as you continued to become transfixed on the retreating form of the short cadet.

You again concluded several tunes, much to the delight of the fishermen as they brought in their catch. In reward of your merry tunes, they produced several varieties of sea-bearing food to your troop as you all began to pack up your instruments and begin to return into town. All the while you packed up your instruments and conversed with the fishermen, you continued to think about the beautiful orbs hidden behind the rounded framed glasses on the marine’s face.

You bid the men and women on the shore good evening as you walked back into town. You linked arms with the bouzouki player and led him up the beach, following the echoing laughter of his children and his soon to be daughter in law.

“Oh, my dear,” he began with a small glint in his eye, taking your linked hand within his other one and holding it there, “that was some melody today.”

“Thank you, Hamish,” you smiled at him, continuing to lead him along into town.

“You even caught the attention of the young marine,” he teased you slightly, squeezing on your hand slightly, “and a handsome one at that.”

“That’s not hard to do, Hamish. They’re at sea for long, unable to have much music I imagine. I’m sure he was more taken with the tune and the liveliness than anything else,” you shrugged, trying to embrace the words you were saying to not assume anything untoward. Your cheeks at the mention of Koby began to pigment with a more rose tone as the blush slowly crept to your face.

“That’s no small feat, lassie. Marine’s are trained to avoid all distractions. That one was completely taken with you,” he added with a knowing smile,

You pursed your lips and continued to walk on your way, following behind your red-headed leader. You did notice how beautiful he was. He had an air of innocence surrounding him; something that immediately connected with you. You, yourself, tried to seek out more playfulness and mischievousness in life and opted for keeping blissfully ignorant to any sense of seriousness.

“What are we doing? Where are we going now?” Saoirse asked her beau, leaning on his shoulder in comfort.

“Where do you think?” called the redhead from the head of the troop, turning and beginning to walk backwards with a mischievous look in her eyes. Hamish laughed at her tone, while continuing to walk toe to toe with you.

“To the pub!” Called her drumming twin in glee.

You all had a small spring in your step as you head into town towards the well-lit town centre. Several young men and women were lining up to the entrance to the large pub, which was now riddled with marines – spilling almost from the rafters. You and your jolly troop of musicians walked past the line awaiting entrance to the pub and walked directly up to the doorman who was all smiles as he saw you all.

“Ladies, laddies,” he called, opening the doors to bring forth the warmth from within the pub. Hamish released your interlocked hand from the crook of his elbow as he clapped a hand warmly upon the doorman’s shoulder in familiarity. You followed behind the trio, walking directly behind the troop.

A group of regulars were engaging in a joyous, fast-paced melodic tune; the lyrics revolving around getting drunk and leaving a maiden high and dry upon their departure. You laughed at the verses and began to aid their tune with your voice as one of the younger members of their group took to his feet and began to engage in a rhythmic jig with you.

You felt eyes trailing you as you spun and interlocked arms with the young man, enjoying the carefree and expectation-less encounter as he spun you for the final time before taking a seat. He left you in the centre of the room as you all broke into the final chorus of the tune and laughed together. A final “hooray” was cheered throughout the room as flagons were thrust into the air. You cheered, clapping your hands in response to the song.

You turned to bring your gaze to meet with the bewildered stare of the marine cadet you shared a moment in time with earlier in the day. You quirked your head to the side and offered him a soft smile, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. You trailed your gaze over his uniformed form, flittering between his pink hair and his too-large uniform before bringing your eyes up to meet with his eyes. You held your eyes on his face, looking at him through half-hooded eyes up through your eyelashes before the remainder of your troop came to thrust a drink into your arms and challenging you to throw it back faster than one another.

He watched you as your eyes widened with glee at the beverage as you held your breath and downed the drink with haste with your friends.

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

“You’re off duty, Cadet,” a gruff voice was presented to the air, breaking Koby out of his trance.

“Sir?” he asked, turning to meet the gaze of his Vice-Admiral as he sat in front of him; Bogard at his side. The Vice-Admiral rose his flagon to his lips; bringing the cold, yeasty brew to his lips before removing it to leave behind a white foam atop his silver moustache.

“You’re quick thinking, lad. I’ll give you that,” he said, bringing his thumb and forefingers up to wipe the foam from his upper lip, “but you’re pretty clueless when someone holds a candle to you.”

Bogard offered a small chuckle at the Vice-Admiral’s jest, bringing his own tankard to his lips. Koby darted his eyes around the table to focus on anything other than the Vice-Admiral, falling once more on your form as you released the drink from your lips and shuddered with a melodical laugh falling from your mouth.

“Go on, lad,” the Vice-Admiral jested with a small tap on his shoulder, “go get her a drink before someone else does.”

Immediately Koby springs to his feet, nervousness bringing a small tremble to his hands as he turns towards the bar.

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

You turn to see the young marine no longer seated with his Vice-Admiral, furrowing your brows slightly and pursing your lips in disappointment. You noticed an almost playful glint in the Vice-Admiral’s eyes as he rose his beverage in a slight salute to you, a gesture which you politely returned with your empty glass.

You turned to go back to the bar before a hand pulled you into the group of bar regulars.

“Go on, lass,” called one of the members, “get your troop to give us a proper wee tune!”

You laughed, shrugging off the hand that was clasping you and turned to the other minstrels and shrugged in question. Hamish laughed before picking up his bouzouki and fixing it on his lap.

“Go on: Saoirse, Isla, Lauchlan. Go up with her and let’s give these fine folk a proper drinking song!” he called out, prompting the other three members of your party to quickly down their refreshened drinks and place the empty tankards on a table near the setting.

There was a small stage at the rear of the room, littered slightly with empty barrels of rum and ale. You asked the nearest able-bodied marine to aid you in clearing the stage as your troop made their way to the space you were making. You kicked off your shoes as you enjoyed the feeling of the wooden floor on the souls of your feet when you sang and danced to your jaunty tunes, prompting Saoirse to do the same in turn.

Isla began winding her Hurdy-Gurdy and Lauchlan started beating his bodhran with the double ended beater to start a lively rhythm. The three of you began to take turns in singing the verses before your voices joined together in a lilted harmony in the chorus. The tune of the chorus was quickly picked up by those in the pub who joined your voices in the lyrics, some providing a less than adequate melody but their enthusiasm was welcome regardless.

As you were given the final verse of the song, the beats of the bodhran halted alongside the winding of the hurdy-gurdy and the plucking of the bouzouki to have every syllable you produced be able to be articulated through your lips. You searched the crowd, eyes softened as you continued your storytelling through the lyrics before your gaze found Koby. You eyes flittered at him slightly as you cocked your head shyly to the side and continued singing the verse before the pub erupted with one last chorus of the song.

As the song ended, cheers and clanging of tankards were heard resounding the polished wooden walls. You laughed and gave a small curtsey alongside the rest of “The Merry Mellifluous Quint” as each of the names of the troop were also yelled in celebration; the last of all your own.

Koby, upon hearing your name, had it repeating circularly within his mind: much as you did with his own earlier. He closed his eyes as he focussed on the way it sounded before opening his eyes to once more find your gaze awaiting him from your distance across the room.

You bit your lip slightly to hesitantly stifle the arising feeling in your chest as you brought your attention towards Koby. You noticed his eyes trail to your bottom lip, prompting you to remove it from between your teeth and leave them slightly parted instead.

“Give us one more!” the crowd called to your troop.

Hamish laughed with his whole body merrily.

“Come on, lads! We were on the beach for a good while and we’re parched. Give us an ale and we’ll see about another!” He chuckled, prompting several pub-goers to approach the bar.

Koby looked down at his hands, already holding two tankards of ale from prior to the beginning of the first song. He quickly shook off any uneasy nervousness and approached the troop with determination. You smiled at his approach, tilting your head to the side fondly. You stepped down from the risen stage and brought yourself closer to the approaching cadet.

“Are one of those for me, Marine?” you asked him shyly, looking to the floor before looking back to his eyes. His blue orbs revealed both a hesitancy and an eagerness to please you; a combination you had not been accustomed to in some time.

As an entertainer: many sailors, marines and travellers, even regulars most days, made their desires for you known with unfiltered words and unprompted gestures. Most of the time Hamish and Lauchlan managed to keep the unwanted attention from you and the other two women in the troop and only the reciprocated connections were chaperoned. In your time venturing with the troop, you were yet to engage with entertaining the affections of a fan; only ever dancing with the odd one or two here or there.

“Yes, miss,” he said, bowing his head slightly in a nod while offering you one of the tankards in his hands. You smiled at him, receiving the tankard with a polite nod. Your hands brushed against his fingertips as you accepted the vessel containing ale and you relished in the warm tingle it shot up your arm. You could see a pink hue akin to his shrouded locks appear over his face at that slight touch. This little response from him prompted you to throw all apprehension aside and boldly propose a game onto him.

“I have a suggestion, Marine,” you playfully smirked at him, “Koby, was it?”

“Yes, Miss,” he said with a nod, anxiously awaiting your suggestion.

“First one to reach the bottom of their tankard gets a prize,” you scrunched your nose up in a taunting smile.

“A prize?” he asked, knitting his brows together.

“Yes!” you gleefully exclaimed.

“What could I possibly have that you would want? I’m just a cadet, I have nothing that’s not miliary – besides my glasses, but I kind of need those,” he began to hastily list, prompting you to giggle.

“If I win,” you say with a mischievous grin, “I get to wear your hat for the next set.”

He sucked in a small breath through his teeth at the request.

“And if I win?” he asked, gulping slightly in apprehension.

“What could I possibly have that you would want, Koby?” you asked him, biting your lip and swaying slightly.

He trailed his eyes over your form, taking in your bare feet with your bell-riddled anklet to your skirts and blouse before settling his sights on your eyes. He flittered his eyes between them slightly, triangulating down to settle on your lips before answering.

“A kiss,” he whispered through parted lips, “I would like a kiss.”

“A kiss?” you asked him with a small smile. You stepped yourself closer to him before bringing the tankard closer to your lips, “first one to the bottom, Koby.”

As soon as you uttered those words, the small marine raised his tankard to his lips and began to overzealously drain the contents of the vessel almost before you could even begin drinking from your own. You almost spluttered a laugh in your tankard, but chose to focus solely on drinking from your own. He quickly dropped the hand holding his empty tankard to the side of himself and swayed slightly at the speed the alcohol entered his body as you continued to drink yours.

As you finished the dregs of the tankard and released the container from your lips, Koby searched your eyes for permission to claim his prize from your lips. You began to step yourself closer to him and tilted your head to make to press a kiss against his lips when a call bellowed from the stage.

“Alright, let’s all prepare for The Merry Mellifluous Quint as we perform our next song!” you heard Hamish say, halting your movement. You were so close to claiming those soft lips of his, you could almost taste the cool residual remnants of the ale from his breath. Your eyes fluttered shut as you restrained yourself at the call of the elder musician in your troop.

You stepped your body away from his, opening your eyes to find his fluttered closed. You could find yourself staring at him for eternity; his slightly anxious nature and his naive innocence brought together with how truly beautiful you found him beneath his rounded spectacles.

“Forgive me, Koby,” you whispered, “I promise I will make true your reward after this next song.”

You turned and stepped your body away from his as his eyes flittered open, a sad expression displayed in his eyes. Before you could truly halt your movements, you reached up your right hand and caressed his soft cheek; a small sigh of desire escaping through your lips.

Koby felt every part of his body seize up at that small touch, your hand igniting a powerful feeling from within his own body.

“Come on, miss,” called a pub-goer from beside you, “we ain’t got all night. Give us a song, then you can have your Marine, alright?”

You widened your eyes in shock at the comment, a blush creeping up your face as you truly comprehended the amount of eyes trailing both yourself and Koby. You swallowed and shook your head, immediately returning to the stage. Hamish’s playful expression with a glint of mischief pronounced in his eyes led your blush to deepen slightly to beet-red.

“Alright, this one is for all the sailors. We’ve got some fine men and women in this town for you to occupy your night with, should you desire it!” Hamish called with a bellowing laugh, prompting the room to flood with contagious laughter, “let’s get the night started!”

The music flooded the room, voices harmonising together and trilling between the notes. You kept your eyes fixated on Koby’s as you noticed his look of pure and unbridled adoration as he listened to your melody.

You swayed to the music, gesturing to the crowd ever so often to agree with the lyrics you expressed. Isla and Saoirse also added their flare to the song, lilting with the chorus. A call and response from the crowd occurred, prompting a good rapport from the audience as you continued on your tune.

As the final notes of the melody concluded, a loud cheer erupted the hall and tankards again began freely pouring from the bar and thrust to the stage in gratitude. You paid them no mind, focussing on the pink-haired Marine who was yet to tear his gaze from your own.

You leapt gracefully from the stage and almost skipped over to Koby, extending your hand to escort him. He took your hand with his own, his other bracing his hat slightly as you brought him to the exit of the pub. You pushed on the doors to open them, the sea air overcoming your senses as the star-lit sky danced above the shore. The moon trailed its beam over the horizon as wind whispered in the sails of the secure Marine ship.

Once out of the exposing lights of the pub, you turned your gaze to Koby’s before releasing his hand from your own and pressing his back against the darkened external wall of the pub. You brought your hands to his neck and laced them behind his scruff and holding him with a firm grip before bringing your lips up to meet with his own.

His lips were everything you thought they would be. They were soft and melted immediately into the kiss you were bestowing upon him. You opened your mouth slightly to deepen the kiss, prompting a gasp to escape into your mouth at your fervour. You could feel his inexperience at this type of affection, but found him to be a fast learner. He held the flesh just above your hips and pulled your body to rest flush against his. You continued to hold him against the wall, completely in control of the kiss you were sharing. You felt his large, circular glasses graze against the apple of your cheek, prompting you to smile into the kiss. He snaked his arms around your waist and maneuvered his hands to cradle the small of your back as he savoured the attention you were giving to him.

You brought your hands up to intertwine with his soft, pink locks; wondering momentarily how a sailor exposed to sprays of seawater kept his hair so soft to the touch. You removed his hat from his head with one of your hands and continued to maneuver his head to deepen the kiss you were sharing together. You began to release his lips, opting to press a flurry of kisses to the corner of his mouth before trailing down, over his jaw. He gasped in a shaky breath as his eyes fluttered to savour every moment. Your lips met with a space below his ear and you focussed a deep kiss on that point, swirling your tongue and tasting the exposed skin.

Koby panted slightly at your administrations before seeking your lips out once more with his own. While unbreaking this new kiss, he swiped your arms from atop his hair and brought his own to cradle your face. He walked with the kiss forward before spinning you to push you against the pub wall. You gasped in surprise at this sudden display of dominance as he continued to press kiss after kiss against your lips, jaw and now in turn your neck.

Your eyes fluttered open in surprise before resting in a half-lidded, glazed over state as you enjoyed each other in this sudden display of passion. You remained blissfully unaware of your surroundings, only being brought back as the doors of the pub flew open to reveal a small bustling group of regulars exiting from the door; drunkenly repeating the verse of the final song you sang as they stepped lightly down the steps.

This sudden drunken stupor brought your attention back to where you were and what you were actively engaging in. Although completely under the shroud of darkness and relatively hidden, a wave of slight embarrassment overcame the two of you as you almost jumped out of the arms of one another. Koby’s eyes were wide in shock as he trailed the group on their ascension back towards the town. You were the first to snap out of your momentary anxiety, raising a hand to seek out the cheek of Koby and turn his attention back to you.

“Are you ok, Marine?” you asked him in a voice above a whisper.

“I-I think so,” he stuttered as he allowed you to turn his head back to face you. You smiled warmly at him and traced the outside of his lips with your thumb.

“You’re quite good at that, you know,” you praised him, “I almost feel like I was the one rewarded.”

He chuckled slightly, flittering his eyes down to your hand then meeting your face again. He brought his own hand to your cheek and caressed you, his eyes half closed as he dreamily gazed into your eyes.

“Come on, Marine,” you jested to him, releasing his cheek from your hand and reaching it down to claim his unoccupied one, “I think it’s my turn to buy you a drink.”

He laughed at your offer before releasing your cheek and accepting gleefully.

Masterlist

He stepped in front of you, leading you back to the entrance of the pub while you placed atop your head the hat you had successfully removed during the passionate encounter moments prior with a mischievous smile.

Mini Part 2

#one piece #opla #x reader #koby opla #koby x reader #koby one piece

162 notes · View notes

eviesaurusrex · 2 years

Text

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ

Harry Styles x British Royal!Reader

Her Royal Highness Princess YN, daughter to Prince Charles and late Princess Diana, Prince and Princess of Wales, younger sister to Prince William, Duke of Cambridge, and Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex, and granddaughter to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II and His Royal Highness Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh would’ve never thought to meet Harry Styles by accident—by literally running into him. And Harry Styles would’ve never thought to meet the Princess of England again after that seemingly fateful afternoon.

faceclaim: Saoirse Ronan

author’s note: If you see any mistakes I made—especially royal title wise—please send an ask (anon asks are enabled!). I seriously love and appreciate your help with that <3

series masterlist » prologue

;

sunflowerbutterfly Sometimes I really hate my job—especially if I have to change out of my comfy pullover and fluffy slippers into a dress, a coat, and some high heels.

Seriously, who invented high heels? Hey Alexa, who invented high heels? … ah, so ancient Iran, aka Persia, is to blame. Great. I will condemn those for centuries dead people happily while I suffer during every step I take this afternoon. Burn in hell, ancient Persian torturer.

Liked by MacMark, murderbane, gingerprince, and 4 others | 6 comments

MacMark You only have to find the shoe.

↳ sunflowerbutterfly It‘s easy for you to say because you can walk in every shoe, Meg 💀

↳ MacMark Well… That is true, but everyone has their pair of shoe 👀

↳ sunflowerbutterfly Then my pair is obviously and most definitely my Nike sneaker or Converse

liked by MacMark

murderbane Rebell against the norms! Wear sneaker!

liked by sunflowerbutterfly

↳ gingerprince Not sure if Granny—or the monarchy as such—would love that suggestion, Meredith.

↳ murderbane Fuck the system!

liked by gingerprince and MacMark

↳ sunflowerbutterfly I know again why Granny won’t let you come to Buckingham for another lunch.

↳ murderbane Oh, come on, YNN! That flying sandwich was fun!

↳ gingerprince Wait, you are the one responsible for the Salmon Sandwich Incident???

↳ sunflowerbutterfly Please, don’t call it that, brother dearest.

↳ murderbane I am! And he definitely can call it that. It’s the truth and nothing but the truth.

liked by gingerprince

gingerprince High heels are way out of my league, but they look uncomfortable. Pack a pair of more comfier shoes as second choice?

↳ sunflowerbutterfly No shit, Sherlock 🙄

↳ gingerprince I am sorry that I don’t know more about the secrets of a lady 👀

↳ sunflowerbutterfly I know again why William is my favorite brother.

↳ gingerprince He is not and we both know it 👀

↳ sunflowerbutterfly Keep on dreaming 😙

↳ gingerprince I love you too, dear sister ❤️

instylemagazine Princess YN is now arriving at Strand Campus of King’s College London in a fitted navy blue mid-calf coat by Gucci and black velvet high heels by Jimmy Choo. She is wearing her signature golden butterfly pin—an heirloom of her mother, late Princess Diana.

Liked by yourfan1, yourfan2, royalistsbitch, annetwist, and 4,327 others | 1,441 comments

dianaforever The pin 🥺

↳ ynismyqueen She once told a reporter that she always wears it to official appearances because it helps her with her anxiety - it’s like her mom is with her 🥺

↳ dianaforever Oh gosh, that’s so sweet but so sad at the same time 😭❤️

yourfan1 Princess YN is a style icon.

yourfan2 Damn, she looks stunning.

↳ yourfan3 True!!!! Though the hat was kinda over the top, but I know for sure that she doesn’t want to wear those but has to

↳ yourfan2 Everyone is wearing those ridiculous hats, so she has to. She will probably rip it off as soon as she is back in the car 😅

royalistsbitch I’m on my knees again. This coat is gorgeous 😮‍�� But the price 😩

yn_andharryshipper She is wearing Gucci, he is wearing Gucci, I want them to meet, but it will stay a dream, I know it.

hsfan1 Harry’s mom liked this post 🥺❤️

;

She could feel the looming shadows of her two Royal Protection Officers right at her back. Aaron and Egil—the first broad, dark, and Scottish, the latter tall, blonde, bearded, and Swedish—shielded her body from the screams of reporters and blinding lights of their clicking cameras while the princess climbed into the back of the waiting SUV. Inside the cozily warm vehicle, YN ripped off the obnoxious hat she was supposed to wear and threw it without a second glance onto the seat next to her. Meanwhile, her feet kicked off the high heels, and with a strangled groan, the blonde pulled them up one after the other and massaged her soles with closed eyes.

The left front door got opened as Egil climbed into the car; Bernard—her favorite driver—already sat behind the wheel and looked through the rear mirror back at the princess. She smiled at the sight of his kind and twinkling eyes. “To Starbucks, Your Highness?” He asked while Egil buckled up. YN nodded. “That would be great, thank you, Bernard. But could we grab a cup at the one in Notting Hill? Near Holland Park? I’m most definitely not in the mood for a crowd.”—Which would form in front of the Starbucks near the river on the other Thames bank opposite Westminster because most tourists frequented this shop. The driver hummed and used the blinker. “Of course, Your Highness.”

Sighing, YN leaned back in her seat but pushed back upward as Egil reached between his feet, clad in shining black Oxford shoes, and conjured a shoebox. He turned in his car seat to hand it over to the princess. “Your sneaker,” the blonde giant smiled, and YN grinned happily. “I thought I forgot them back at Kensington!” She exclaimed and grabbed the box with her current favorite Converse shoes—one in lavender and the other one in a sunflower yellow. Ever since the reporters had seen the princess wearing the odd color combination, every single pair was sold out in the UK and other parts of the world. The internet had been full of posts spotting the same two Converse shoes the princess regularly wore in paparazzi shots.

“Your lady in waiting had handed me the box right before we left, Your Highness, together with this,” the Protection Officer told her while YN had already put on the left shoe. Chuckling, she accepted the book carefully wrapped in soft tissue paper. She knew which book it contained, so she quickly continued putting on the more comfortable shoes before leaning back and unwrapping the book. The first edition of Pride and Prejudice was her entire pride and joy. YN knew it was kind of posh to carry this particular edition around instead of a cheaper paperback edition, but she only would read in it during the ride and maybe in the line while she waited for her coffee. No one would suspect it for a first edition, only if one had better knowledge about books than the majority of the population.

“Thanks, Egil,” she smiled, and the Swedish giant only nodded softly. “There’s nothing to thank me for, Your Highness.” And with that, he turned back and left the princess reading in silence.

;

Arriving at the comparably empty Starbucks, YN unbuckled while her door had already got opened by Aaron, who had sat in the car following them with two other Protection Officers. Egil slid off his seat and stationed himself between the opened door and the sidewalk, eyes wandering over the few people strolling down the street. She pushed her finger between the pages before climbing out of the SUV and straightened her coat before pushing a blonde curl behind her ear. The book was opened again in her hands because YN knew how this always went: she would leave the car with Aaron and Egil but would have to wait a few more moments until one of the other officers—Matthew was on duty today—had exited the place in question to give them the all-clear.

The happily moving bell announced Matt’s return, and he nodded to the other two officers. “All clear, only a few customers,” he told them, and YN moved without thought; book still opened and nose buried inside it. Aaron jumped forward to open the door, Egil right at her back, and Matt shielded her side from potential harm before he returned to the second car. “Thanks, A,” the princess mumbled, mind deep inside the world of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy.

“I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.” The words left her lips in a whisper and sighing, her finger stroked over the words, always feeling the wonder over literature as soon as she opened particular books. Pride and Prejudice was one of them.

And maybe it was because she read about the devastatingly romantic endeavors of fictional characters who had a much better functioning love life than the Princess of England ever had. Maybe it was because she always had such bad luck in love and interpersonal relationships ever since growing old enough to have the serious kind of it.

But the universe let her run into a solid chest, her precious book tumbling out of her hands and down to the wooden floor where it laid cover-up.

Suddenly, hectic erupted around her, and Aaron and Egil jumped into action while YN still recovered from the sudden stop. Strong hands were gently wrapped around her upper arms to safe her from following her book to the ground, and the fingers of her right hand had buried themselves into the soft fabric of a pullover out of sheer panic and surprise.

Aaron stepped around and stretched out his hands in order to remove the intruder from the princess while Egil tried to maneuver himself between them and the woman. Blinking multiple times, YN shook off the daze; her eyes wandering over an orange and white striped slip-over, a white and brown plaid shirt underneath until they moved to a handsome face with sharp features, a soft beard shadow covering his chin, cheeks, and the skin over his soft looking upper lip. Sea foam green eyes stared wide and in shock down at her, seemingly still taking in the person he had run into, but YN finally was back in reality as Aaron put his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“I need to ask you to step back, sir,” he spoke up in his most scaring officer voice, and as if the brunette only had noticed the presence of the two looming shadows in immaculate black suits now, his wide eyes moved from her face to the towering Scot. After he didn’t follow the order, Aaron grabbed his shoulder and stared him down with a glare as cold as the North Pole. “I said, I need you to step back, sir,” he stressed his request further, the threat lingering in his tone. Egil cleared his throat to get noticed too, and her collision partner almost paled, his hands slowly letting go off her upper arms, but only after he had made sure with another glance she was steady enough.

“Sorry,” he spoke and raised both hands before he took a step back but bent down to get the book from the floor. He looked up to her as he grabbed the old binding, and Harry still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that the Princess of England had run right into his arms. He still wasn’t sure if all of this really happened or if this was a trick of his tired brain. But the grab of one of the suit wearers on his shoulder had been unpleasant enough to make him think that this really is happening to him.

YN stared down at him with just as wide eyes as he paused in his movements and couldn’t comprehend her current reality. Harry Styles crouched in front of her, in a Starbucks store, after she had successfully run him over. Her heart skipped several beats before it started beating in her throat. This wasn’t something usual, not even for the Princess of England.

“Here,” Harry Styles spoke softly after he had raised back to his towering height and held her book in his ring-clad fingers. “Thank you,” she breathlessly whispered but threw her two shadows a warning look. “Everything is fine, Aaron. Egil.” The men nodded shortly but held their gazes settled on the singer, not daring letting him out of their protective sight. YN looked back to the man in front of her, a unsure smile tucking at the corner of her mouth. “I am sorry for that.” It came out almost embarrassed because he obviously didn’t do anything resembling treason or murder. He only had saved her from the embarrassment of meeting the floor with her butt, just like the book had done in her place.

The man with the fluffiest curls she had ever seen only smiled and waved one of his hands lazily. “It’s alright,” he promised before suddenly something seemingly came to his mind. “Your Highness.” And with that, Harry Styles attempted to bow before her, but YN couldn’t have any of that. Gently, she pressed her unoccupied hand and the fist holding her book against his shoulders and shook her head at his confused expression. “Please, don’t do this. I should bow before you.” The princess chuckled. “I mean, I did it often enough in my rooms as a teenager, right in front of a poster of One Direction.” A hand shot up to her mouth and covered it so nothing more embarrassing knowledge would leave it.

And Harry? He stood absolutely stunned there before a soft grin spread over his face—which made him even more handsome in her still unbelieving eyes. But YN didn’t let him utter a single word before pointing over to the staring baristas behind the counter. It wouldn’t have been a surprise if their mouths gaped at the sight of the world’s most famous singer and the Princess of England in their shop. “Would you like to have a coffee? A tea? Something cold? A hot chocolate? After the inconvenience of me running you practically over, it’s the least I can do.” YN was rambling, she knew it but just couldn’t stop.

He made her nervous—as if she wasn’t a grown woman anymore and instead turned back into the insecure teenage girl she used to be (well, even today, she wasn’t the self-confidence in person).

Harry tried to shake his head, but a voice in there screamed to accept the offer to live a few more minutes in her presence. This was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of moment, so he should stretch it as long as possible—not because he wanted the paparazzi to know, but because his former teenager self would kill him if he would run away now. So all he did was slowly nod and instantly patted his shoulder internally because he got to see the most radiant smile he probably had ever witnessed.

Grinning, YN pressed Pride and Prejudice against her chest and suppressed a heavy but blissed sigh at the sight of his growing smile. If she had thought he was irresistible on-screen, she now knew that this assumption was utter bollocks. Harry Styles was even more captivating in reality, face-to-face, and YN almost dreaded the day when he would be in a happy relationship with cats, a wife, and a bunch of kids because it meant she had to bury her crush definitively.

Turning to her protection squad, as she loved to call them, the princess nodded to a table at the halfway point between counter and door. “Why don’t you sit over there until we’re finished? You don’t have to stand around,” the blonde suggested and pointed to a table with a pair of chairs closer to the counter. “You will have the best view of me and the door. Black coffee and a Caramel Frappuccino?” They nodded hesitantly, still not used to the princess's kindness even after years in her service.

As the two went to their assigned table, YN turned back to Harry and smiled up at him. “What would Harry Styles like to have?”

;

pagesix Rumors are getting loud that Harry Styles and Princess YN met at a Starbucks in Notting Hill, London, UK. Several sources claimed to have seen the singer-songwriter and Princess of England together near Holland Park, where she bought him a coffee before talking for hours. Sources say the two celebrities left together after getting another coffee.

Liked by hsfan1, hsfan2, yourfan1, yn_andharryshipper, and 3,287 others | 960 comments

hsfan1 EXCUSE ME???? 😱

1direction4ever She always was a 1D fan, if I remember correctly, so this would be just ✨chefskiss✨

hsfan2 SCREAMING RIGHT NOW

↳ yourfan1 SAME???? I literally can’t breathe.

hsfan3 If that’s true… Save me.

yourfan2 This would be a dream come true for YN 🥺

yn_andharryshipper Please stop pushing my expectations.

hsfan4 I SAW THEM 😱😮‍💨

liked by hsfan1, yourfan2, hsfan3, and 77 others

;

“I still can’t believe I ran into the Princess of England,” Harry laughed softly while walking next to the woman in question, steaming hot coffee in hand. YN grinned up to him, an equally steaming to-go cup in hand while contemplating how she had ended up running into Harry Styles, sharing a table at Starbucks, and now strolling through Holland Park next to him with a second coffee in hand.

This day was definitely something entirely else.

“Believe me. I would have never believed if someone had told me this morning I would meet Harry Styles because I run into him,” the blonde returned and shook her head in utter wonder. The singer gently nudged her to the side. “It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one a tad bashful, just so you know.” YN looked up at him while sipping her sweetened coffee and nodded in agreement. “It takes off the awkward edge of the situation, does it not?”

Harry hummed before turning around for the third time ever since they had left Starbucks to stroll through Holland Park just around the corner. “And they’re at your back every time you leave Kensington or Buckingham?” He dared to ask, and the blonde princess looked over her shoulder as well, where Aaron, Egil, and Matthew walked at a respectful distance but kept their eyes either on her very person or on her surroundings. Even Harry was eyed cautiously from time to time. “Every minute of every day I spend outside Kensington. I am sorry if they make you uncomfortable. And again, sorry for their treatment earlier—they are kind of… quick in their actions when it comes to me.” It still seriously bothered her as soon as she remembered the harsh grip Aaron had used on the man next to her, even though it had been her fault, to begin with.

But Harry only shrugged it off before pushing one hand into the pocket of his coat. “I really don’t mind, and the situation earlier is already forgotten. Really,” he told her with empathy as his eyes had witnessed the unconvincingly furrowed blonde brows. “I only imagine it to be… constricting. I have the freedom to walk around without security when I’m not on my way to shows or interviews and all the stuff, but you…” The princess clearly could see and hear the sympathy of the singer, but she only shrugged with a small smile. “I am used to it—it had always been this way. I can’t remember a moment outside the palace where I didn’t have them trailing behind me. Even during my studies at Oxford.” Now, Harry looked back again. “So… The dark brooding shadow and the light, bright giant always sat behind you in a sea of young adults? Let me guess.” He grinned now, and YN felt her heart beating even faster than it already did. She just had to laugh. “Yes, if you guessed that they had a lot of female admirers trailing behind them, then you are totally right,” the princess chuckled, the memories still very vivid in her mind. The man grinned as well and softly grabbed her hand to steady her as YN kind of stumbled over a bump on the stone path, and both felt their hearts flutter.

“Sometimes I’m too clumsy for this world,” she mumbled behind her coffee cup, and Harry chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, it never shows,” he winked. YN felt the blood rising into her cheeks and hid them in the collar of her coat. “I am glad to hear that. Imagine what Granny would say if she knew that the entire Commonwealth gossiped over their clumsy princess.” She always knew how to change topics involving compliments into a joke. Her family didn’t like that very much. But Harry seemingly caught up to it, judging by the knowing expression settling on his devilishly handsome face. “What does she say about the gossip throughout the country that their princess is a sworn Harry Styles fan?” YN let her head fall back while a laugh escaped her. “She took it surprisingly good. Well, she isn’t a huge fan of me talking to god knows what interviewers, magazines, and newspapers, but she knows my opinion about it and how rarely I change my mind if someone tries to change it—especially if the someone is part of my family. So, naturally, she wasn’t a fan of the entire world knowing the contents of my playlists. But my music preferences never bothered her, and I think she even enjoys some of your songs, but don’t ever mention that to her.” Smirking, YN softly shrugged to end her small monologue. Sometimes she really couldn’t shut her bloody mouth.

Harry laughed under his breath while maneuvering her around the fountain and behind the line of trees to escape a small group of young adults. “I will keep that in mind in case I’ll ever meet the Queen of England. But after today? I won’t say never ever again.” They rounded some sadly-looking bushes—winter should be cursed and banned from her island—before he increased his steps to stop right in front of her. Cocking a blonde brow, YN looked up to him, unsure what this meant. “I think I would’ve known if you ever went to one of my shows.” She hummed, interested in what this would lead to. But now, Harry looked nervous, as if he hadn’t thought this through, but he proceeded anyway after a deep breath. “Would you like to come to one? I could arrange that you won’t be bothered by anyone, save you a spot backstage, block an entire row for you, whatever you want. I just…”

The brunette fell silent, the panic evident in his eyes, and YN just had to think how thoughtful and… lovely he was. “I just thought you’d might like to come, ‘s all,” the singer ended in a lower tone than before, seemingly trying to find a hole in which he could vanish. But YN smiled warmly up to him, and the sight alone eased his rising anxiety tremendously. “Funny thing you mention that. My brothers and papa gifted me a ticket for the London show in your upcoming tour, so… yeah. It will finally happen.” But then, a thought occurred in her mind, and her bright eyes widened. “Could I come to your Fine Line listening?”

Now, he stared down at her with just as wide eyes as she did and felt himself nodding violently. “Yes! Of course! That… that would be great, actually. It’s supposed to be something small and… intimate, so this would be perfect. I… Give me a sec.” With that, he rounded YN with a mission in mind and stepped up to her protection squad. She couldn’t exactly hear what they talked about, but Harry returned with a piece of paper and a pen. He started to scribble something on the white surface as he stopped in front of her and smiled as he handed it over. YN took it, of course, and examined the number and the ‘Harry’ written in pretty handwriting. “You are aware of the fact that I possess and carry around a phone in my pockets?” The princess asked with a smile tucking at her lips, but Harry only shrugged. “I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to seem rude in assuming anything.” Her heart fluttered again at his thoughtfulness.

This man simply was a literal angel.

“It’s my private number. You can call or text me whenever you want. The details for the listening event aren’t wrapped up yet, so if you have dates in mind—let me know, yeah? I’d love to have you there because… I don’t know. You are just easy to talk to, and I think you’d enjoy this little get-together with some people to listen to me rambling about my writing and recording process, and me singing, of course, and that sounds so narcissistic, and I’m sorry for that, and…-“

YN stepped closer to him and tapped his lips gently with the white card to make him stop. “You do not have to worry about how you sound because I know you are not a narcissist. You just love what you’re doing. And I would love to see you in your element and talk to your lovely fans because Harries are the best kind of company.” He sighed deeply before taking a deep breath. “Okay.” She smiled up at him. “Okay,” she repeated and took a glance at her watch. “Fuck.” She surprised them both with her small outburst. “I totally forgot the time, but this was probably the best afternoon I had in a very long time.” Harry took her emptied cup out of her hand and threw them both in the bin next to the sadly-looking bush. “I will never forget the story about the Salmon Sandwich Incident,” the brunette told her with a serious look before breaking out into a chuckle, to which she followed close. “Dito with the Cheeto ice cream story.” Another laughing fit caught the pair before YN slowly held out her hand, which Harry gladly accepted.

They stood there for a rather long time, just shaking hands and staring into each other’s eyes, taking in the sight of one another while stressing the moment into infinity. “I have to go,” YN whispered, and Harry nodded. “I know.” But still, he didn’t let go of her hand, nor let she go of his. “I really want to see you again,” he all of a sudden almost burst out even though his brain had told him to keep this wish a secret. But after nearly three hours in her company, Harry couldn’t let her just go without letting her know what he thought. Surprise settled on her face. “You do?” The surprise was even evident in her voice. “Yes, I do. And not just at events or shows, or on the television.” Her breath hitched in her throat, and the princess swallowed dryly and tried to suck enough oxygen into her lungs to answer him properly.

“I’d love that.”

;

vanityfair Today’s guest is singer-songwriter Harry Styles! We had the pleasure to talk about the process behind his new studio album Fine Line, how life has treated the 26-year-old in the past months, and to which realizations he came during the promotion of his new album.

Liked by sunflowerbutterfly, hsfan1, hsfan2, gemmastyles, jefezoff, and 38,691 others | 14,436 comments

vanityfair “I recently had the most interesting and… and most mind-opening conversation in a very long time. You see, even though there are millions of celebrities out there in the world, there are… I don’t know, differences between some and others. I, for example, can cross the street and get my groceries without security officers behind my back, while others can’t do ordinary things like that—think about it for a second, and you are made painfully aware of the freedom and… and independence you hold. I can’t say it in other words, but I felt privileged when realizing it. Society has to keep that in mind before throwing assumptions through the room because even celebrities are only human.”

liked by hsfan1, yourfan1, annetwist, gemmastyles, and 2,316 others

↳ hsfan1 I’m so sure that he talks about YN if the rumors are true 🥺

↳ yourfan1 that’s definitely about YN, can’t change my mind.

hsfan2 He looked so handsome in that slip-over 😮‍💨

harrystylesforever He speaks the truth.

harrystylesfanpage Handsome, thoughtful, a literal angel. One could not ask for more in a man.

liked by sunflowerbutterfly, hsfan5 and 12 others

yourfan2 I wish the universe would grant me the sight of YN and Harry together in a happy relationship, but I know that that’s not possible because of Royal Protocol or some shit.

↳ royalistsbitch It is possible, but imagine the situation YN is in after her second brother married a “commoner”. She probably has the pressure to marry another royal because her Grandma wants it that way 😩

liked by yourfan2, yourfan3, ynismyqueen and 33 others

;

Returning to Buckingham had been unpleasant. Not because she disliked the palace—she kind of loved it, actually—but because she knew how her Grandma would react after she most definitely had read the articles and assumptions wildly thrown around. Her Granny never really believed what the tabloids wrote, but she still asked every single time her face appeared in one of these ever since that… incident with Lewis Cornwall, son of Nicholas Cornwall, Duke of Hastings and her father’s—former—closest friend. YN knew that she only deeply cared for her youngest granddaughter and always wanted to know her side of the stories circulating through the world before finally going down the drain because something new sparked the tabloids’ interest.

God bless the short attention span of those, the princess thought cynical.

“Her Majesty awaits you in the blue salon,” Harold, one of the many butlers, told her after the blonde had left the car, only two days after her fateful meeting with Harry Styles. With a soft sigh, YN walked up the many stairs, put carpeted hallways behind her, and crossed employees with a gentle smile on her lips and a nod of her head before finally arriving in front of the blue salon. Taking a last deep breath, the princess entered the grand room with the blue wallpapers through the wide-open French doors; her eyes immediately fell onto the white-haired woman sitting on one of the armchairs, signature purse on the coffee table right next to her. A few years back, it had its spot next to her feet, but now, with even more years on her life scale, the Queen opted to have it on elevated places so she didn’t need to bend down anymore.

“Ah, there you are,” the Queen of England greeted her granddaughter, and YN walked over to her, bent down, and pressed a loving kiss to her wrinkled cheek. “Excuse me, Granny. I just got your message and tried to get here as fast as possible,” she explained, but the older woman only dismissed her excuse with a slight raise of her hand. “Nonsense, darling. Only because I scream for attention does not mean you have to rush away from whatever appointment you had to get to your old Grandma.”

Chuckling, YN situated herself on the armchair opposite her and mumbled a silent “Thank you” as Hugh came with the tea. Taking the saucer with the cup of tea on it in hand, she softly stirred through the perfectly brewed Earl Grey with a hint of lemon and a teaspoon of sugar inside. She sometimes preferred milk to lighten the taste a bit, but with her Granny, she always drank it the most British way.

“Am I allowed to take a sip and get a bite of that sandwich, or do you want to get straight to the point?” YN asked with a smile tucking at her lips, and the Queen showed one of her rare grins, specially reserved for her grandchildren and her husband. “I thought I would let you taste the new recipe for the tomato cream first,” Elizabeth returned, and the princess laughed softly before putting down the saucer and the cup and folding her hands in her lap. “No, you can jump straight to the point.”

The Queen sipped on her tea herself before morphing her expression into something resembling seriousness. YN leaned back in the armchair, crossing her legs and elbows resting on the armrests. “I never object your tendencies to wander and stroll around the city, nor do I object your fondness of talking to… interesting magazines like a common celebrity. I fully understand that you belong to a different generation, which handles things differently. But what I have to object to is your contact with said common celebrities.” Cocking a blonde brow, YN waited for her to continue. “A singer, YN,” she almost spat it out as if his profession was something bordering scandalous. All the princess could do was shrug her shoulders. “I don’t see what is so wrong about being a singer for a living, especially if one is a worldwide known and praised artist. He is British, English even, Granny.”

Elizabeth didn’t laugh about it. Instead, her forehead furrowed tremendously, white eyebrows knitted. “This is not something to jest about, YN Diana.” Oh, they had reached the second name dropping. Sighing, YN put both feet on the ground and leaned forward, forearms resting on her knees, confusion visible on her face. “I don’t understand the fuzz about all of it, Grandma. You never objected to my friendship with Meredith or Archie, even after he had given up every single title and started his acting career. Why the sudden change?” The Queen eyed her intently. “Meredith and Archibald are proper associations for a princess.” Now she had lost her entirely. “And Harry Styles is not? The most thoughtful and loveliest man ever in existence is not a proper acquaintance?” Her Grandmother sighed deeply. “You don’t know him, YN, and… look how he dresses. This is certainly not an adequate connection for a princess. You have to think about this family, YN, about your title and position. You are not a commoner, so you cannot behave like one, not if you do not want to end like your…-“

The princess raised jerkily to both feet and let the Queen herself grow silent. “Do not dare to end that sentence how you intended to end it,” she whispered with a strained voice, anger boiling in her body, eyes resting unmoving on the older woman in front of her.

Gladly, Jameson just entered with a bow but stopped at the sight of the standing princess. “I am sorry, Your Highness, I didn’t know you were here. I will return when…-“ But YN shook her head. “No, it’s alright, Jameson. I was on my way out anyway,” she told him with as much grace as she could muster because she felt like screaming and leaving this place running. She spared another glance at her Granny before curtsying just as she had been drilled all her life. “Grandmother,” was all the princess said before leaving the blue salon to return to Kensington, back into the safety of her home.

;

First of all, thank you so freaking much for the AMAZING and mindblowing support on the first chapter of this little series. I’m already thinking about adding more chapters to it because I’m so in love with it. Let me know if you’d like that or if I should add little blurbs here and there! And now, thanks for reading this second chapter. Hope y’all liked it <3

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babyflorencee · 4 months

Text

Only one bed

Timothée Chalamet x fem!Reader

The anticipation for the premiere of my latest project, 'little women' had my nerves on edge as I sat in the airport, waiting for my Uber. Tomorrow's event promised excitement and anxiety in equal measure – after all, being one of the main characters in a show was a huge accomplishment for me.

As I scrolled through my Instagram feed, a message from my driver notified me of his arrival. Stepping outside the airport, I was met by a cheerful man who swiftly took my suitcase and stowed it in the trunk before we set off on the short journey, engaging in light conversation along the way.

My phone buzzed incessantly with notifications from the group chat comprised of my fellow 'Little women' cast members. Amidst the chatter, the revelation that we had to share rooms due to a booking oversight surfaced. I sighed inwardly, hoping I wouldn't end up rooming with Timothée – a fellow actor whom I didn't like, at all.

"Miss, we're here," The driver said, getting out and walking around to the trunk to get my bags. Once I got out of the car, I heard someone shout, "Y/N!" looking up I saw Florence with her arms wide open sprinting over to me. I smiled at her, engulfing her in a bear hug. We stayed that way for a while until we heard someone calling our names. We turned around to see Saoirse behind us. "We're deciding who's rooming with who." She said, walking back to the hotel's lobby with Florence and I following close behind her.

***

"Oh fuck no!" I yelled, "I'm not going to be sharing a room with this mother fucker." I said pointing towards Timothée.

"Yeah, and I don't want to share a room with her either!" He retorted, crossing his arms and pouting, causing me to roll my eyes at his childish behavior.

After a while of arguing I eventually gave up, knowing I wouldn't win this argument.

I was to share a room with Timothée. Our mutual disdain for each other was palpable as we rode the elevator to the 19th floor.

"Going up," the elevator announced as it started moving.

I shot Timothée a scornful glare, my irritation palpable at the thought of sharing a room, especially with him – the last person I wanted as a roommate.

The elevator opened revealing the floor we would all be staying on for the next few days. We all went our separate ways just wanting to get to our rooms.

Timothée and I were walking down the halls when we saw our room number. Disgruntled and resigned to our fate, Timothée opened the door throwing his bags on the floor and going straight to the bathroom, grabbing a cup, and filling it with water, while I just stood in the middle of the room in shock.

"Uh, Timothée," I called out to him.

"What n/n?" He said with attitude, walking over towards me and taking a sip from his water.

"Look!" I said, pointing to the spacious yet troubling sight – a solitary king-size bed occupying the center of the room.

Any other person from the cast and I would've been totally fine with it. Why out of all the people did it have to be with Timothée? "You sleep on the bed; I'll sleep on the floor,""He said, grabbing two of the pillows and one of the blankets.

Feeling guilt take over my body, I said, "Tim, it's fine; we could just share the bed; we could put a pillow to divide us."

He didn't reply; he just smiled, throwing the pillow and blanket back on the bed before leaving for the bathroom once again. Timothée emerged from the bathroom in casual blue-and-white pajamas, a departure from his usual appearance. He settled onto his side of the bed, slipping beneath the duvet and cuddling against his pillow. He actually looked kinda cute right now. As much as I hated to admit it, he was a really attractive guy, he just has a terrible personality.

I, too, got under the covers, snuggling up into my pillow before drifting off to sleep.

The night passed relatively quiet until the early hours of the morning, I awoke to sudden movement in the room. To my dismay, my eyes slowly opened to reveal Florence, Emma, and Saoirse standing around the bed, brandishing their phones like paparazzi. I shot up, waking Timothée up from my sudden movements. "What the hell are you guys doing in here?" I questioned.

"I think the real question is how you even got in here." Timothée said, with an annoyed expression.

"Irrelevant," Florence said as Saoirse shoved her phone in our faces.

"Look how cute you guys look!" She said, revealing a photo of Timothée and me spooning with his arm wrapped around me.

My face flushed red as I looked down trying to hide my face. After a while of them teasing us, they eventually left. "Hey, um sorry about that, I didn't know I did that in, my sleep," Timothée said, his head down in embarrassment.

I put my hand on top of his making him look at me. "It's fine, really," I said, smiling at him.

Driven by a surge of impulse, I closed the distance between us, our lips colliding in an unexpected union. Timothée responded, his touch gentle yet firm as he cradled my face in his hands. A smile crept onto my lips as I tangled my fingers in his curls, savoring the moment of intimacy. We both pulled away for air, going back for another kiss when we heard someone clearing their throat, jumping away from each other we saw Emma and Saoirse with big smiles on their face, "you owe me 20 bucks, pay up." Florence said, putting her hand out.

"Seriously how the fuck are you guys getting in here?!"

***

This is definitely not my best work ever, so I apologize for that.

#timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet imagines #timothee chalamet #timothee hal chalamet #timothée chalamet fanfic #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet #Timothée Chalamet imagines #timothée hal chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet one shots #timothée chalamet oneshots #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet imagines #timothee chalamet fanfic #Timothèe chalamet fanfic #Timothee hal chalamet #Timothée chalamet imagines #Timothée chalamet x reader

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vogelfreyh · 1 year

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Finally came around to create a small character sheet for Ash! My OC Hogwarts Legacy/Wizarding World OC, Auror and Sirona’s wife.

I didn’t include much text on the sheet itself, but if you’re interested in her background, keep reading under the cut!

Born: 15th of August 1861 in Edinburgh, Scotland Nationality: British Gender: Female Blood Status: Pure Blood Height: 174 cm (5'8) Eye colour: Brown Hair colour: Ashen blonde Sexuality: Lesbian Occupation: Auror (1881) Lead Auror (1888) Family: Allan Crowley (Father) Ophelia Crowley (Mother) Philomena Crowley (Great grandmother) Sirona Ryan (Wife ⚭ 1892) Kelly (Adopted daughter, 1898) Saoirse (Adopted daughter, 1898)

Early Years & Family Relationships

Aislinn Crowley, called Ash, was born in Edinburgh as the daughter of the famous aurors Allan and Ophelia Crowley. Her family was extremely toxic and strict and had high expectations of her. Like most members of her family, she was supposed to serve in the Ministry of Magic and marry into a good family. As a result of this pressure, Ash often felt caged and inferior even as a child, and her relationship with her parents was hardly of an affectionate nature. Even Ash's bubbly personality, as well as her quick temper was viewed with suspicion by her family, and they never stopped preaching to her about the way she had to behave.

Due to their work, her parents rarely had time for her and employed a witch named Mimsy to take care of their daughter and raise her. Tragically, Mimsy passed away when Ash was just thirteen years old. Also in her teens, her parents had little more than rules and set future plans for her and made her feel that all that mattered to them was the family's reputation and that no one stepped out of line. Ash had a hard time tolerating family gatherings and from an early age was labeled the black sheep of the family, especially after she revealed to her parents that she was a lesbian.

After her successful entry into the ministry and taking up work as an Auror, Ash's reputation with her family improved a little. This only lasted until her parents arranged a marriage for her with a highly respected Ministry wizard, whom Ash rigorously refused. While her parents knew of her relationship with Sirona Ryan, they did not accept it. Ash, however, made them understand that Sirona was the only one to whom she would ever take the vows of marriage. That was the moment when she ultimately broke with her family and the relation between them finally crumbled. They never spoke a word to each other ever again.

Personality

She is a kind and life-affirming character who comes off pretty self-confident and tough most of the time. She’s also very justice-loving and protective of her friends. If she overheard people talking bad about someone she liked, she sometimes would react very emotional and has been seen punching some of her classmates because of that.

Due to the toxic and judgmental nature of her family, she has learned to mask her fears and insecurities and only dares to drop her mask with a few people. She suffered from sudden anxiety attacks. This got better after she became friends with Sirona.

Hogwarts Years

By the age of eleven, Ash received her Hogwarts letter and soon after came to start her first school year, where she was sorted into Gryffindor. Thanks to her kind and bubbly nature Ash quickly made friends, including the fellow Gryffindor Ruth, as well as Ravenclaw Sirona Ryan, with whom she literally collided during her first broom flying lesson.

Ash proved herself to be very skilled and talented in the subjects Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Transfiguration but had difficulties with Herbology and Potions. Especially in the subject of potions she ran into more and more problems during the school years, mostly on account of the fact that most of the potion ingredients made her feel nauseous. On one occasion, it was so bad that she had to throw up right into the cauldron. Sirona was still laughing about it years later and affectionately teased Ash about it.

Ash was on very good terms with Dinah Hecat, her teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts, who also gave her extra assignments and helped her prepare well for her future career while she was still in school. Even as an adult and after many years, Ash still maintained a friendship with her.

Since Ash needed at least an "Exceeds Expectations" in Potions for her N.E.W.T.s to qualify for Auror training, Sirona actively supported her and the two practiced day and night. As a result, Ash managed to get the required grade in the subject. Potions actually was the only subject in which she did not have an "Outstanding".

Ash & Sirona

Ash and Sirona first met when they literally crashed into eachother during their first broom flying lesson. After realizing that nothing bad had happened to them, they couldn't help but burst out laughing. This moment marked the beginning of their relationship.

The two quickly became inseparable and from that moment on hardly ever spent a minute without one another. Their understanding for each other worked even without words and they shared their deepest secrets and dreams. When they were together, they didn't have to put on a mask and could be themselves without being judged for it. They studied for exams together and played pranks, often to the annoyance of their classmates and teachers. Ash helped Sirona through a very difficult period in her life and supported her in pursuing her most ardent goal, even though it was anything but easy. Sirona was deeply grateful to have her at her side and always described Ash as her kindred spirit. They were also very protective of eachother and not seldom Ash got into fights when classmates talked bad about Sirona. Since the age of 14, her and Ash jokingly referred to each other as the 'other half' of one another. Over the years, their friendship had become so profound and intimate that many classmates described it as love, even before the two realized it themselves. But soon it was a thing they knew for a fact- they loved eachother and they had become the most important person in the other one’s life.

Ash usually spent her Christmas vacations with Sirona and her family, since her own family never celebrated any holidays. She was well liked by Sirona’s parents and always welcome in their home. As the years went on she rarely went back home to her family in Edinburgh, and rather stayed in Hogwarts for her holidays. She also spent the summer vacations together with Sirona in Hogsmeade, where the two of them waited tables at the Three Broomsticks and Sirona dreamed of one day owning such place by herself.

By the time their seventh school year drew to a close, Ash had completed all of her N.E.W.T.s with an "Outstanding" thus qualifying for a career as an Auror. She was excited, but she also knew that it would mean leaving Hogsmeade and Sirona, who was in the running to succeed her as the owner of the Three Broomsticks, for at least three years.

Their naïve dream of spending their future as a couple in a small cottage near Hogsmeade was slipping further and further away, but the stakes were high.

After a tearful parting and a promise to never lose sight of each other, Ash leaves for London to face her Auror training.

Over four years, apart from Sirona's few allowed brief visits to the ministry, they communicated only through owls. But sent eachother a letter at least every two days.

Ash learned that by a stroke of luck, Sirona had become the proprietress of the Three Broomsticks and was now managing the pub single-handedly. Ash, on the other hand, had passed her Auror training with distinction and had already made a name for herself during her first years by taking on an important mission. The two couldn't be happier for each other, but they missed each other terribly.

After a few years, the Ministry of Magic allowed Ash to leave London for the first time and she immediately set off for Hogsmeade. Sirona could hardly wait for her to arrive and as she finally stood in the doorway of the Three Broomsticks, they knew their love for each other was just as strong as the day they parted. If not, even stronger. Overjoyed they celebrate their reunion, making plans for the future. However, due to a dramatic incident, Ash is called back to the Ministry only a few days later. An association of dark wizards, who until recently worked underground, have taken the offensive and are now threatening not only the world of wizards and witches, but also the Muggle world. All Aurors were called back to London for immediate action.

Throughout this mission Ash is badly wounded in an ambush after tracking down the leader and barely survives. But thanks to her taking action, the rest of the Aurors manage to confront and kill their leader, Silas Vandalore.

When Sirona heard that Ash had been seriously injured, she immediately travels to London to be with her, fearing for her beloveds life. Back in the day, she often worried for Ash and was afraid to read her name among the obituaries in the Daily Prophet. To her great relief, however, Ash is strong enough and survives her injuries. However, the curse had left a mark on her and the doctors make her understand that she would hardly become as strong as she once was and that the remaining power of the curse would slowly drain her life energy. Later, she is given a special potion brewed by her old potions professor Aesop Sharp that would help slowing down the process of the curse and and allow her to live a relatively pain-free life, if she drank the potion on a regular base.

After withdrawing a little from the ministry and succeeding Dinah Hecat as professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ash and Sirona finally settle down together in a small cottage on the outskirts of Hogsmeade like they always dreamed to. They get married in 1892 and continue to live a happy and fulfilled life together. In 1898 the two adopt two little girls, whose families had been killed by black wizards, Kelly and Saoirse, and raise them as their daughters.

Auror Career

In 1878, Ash began her Auror training in London. In the beginning she had a hard time adjusting to the new situation and life, but within a few months she had fully adapted and three years later completed her training with distinction. Just a few weeks later, she embarked on her first mission, where she would meet the hit wizard Aiden Langley, with whom she would remain close friends for many years to come. Working together, they uncovered a circle of notorious black wizards, escorted them to Azkaban and made a reputation for themselves within the Ministry.

In 1888 Ash takes the position as a Lead Auror within her department.

During 1889, when several cases of brutal murders involving Muggles and wizards occur all over Britain, Ash takes up the case and comes across the trail of a massive organization that has made it its goal to exterminate Muggles and all non-pureblood wizards and witches. As they have members all across the country, Ash sets out to find and turn in the leader, who, to the dismay of the wizarding world, is a former Hogwarts professor also not unknown to herself. Silas Vandalore.

She confronts him in Edinburgh, where he imprisoned and tortured a Muggle family. However, she is ambushed and gets severely injured by Silas with a curse. Langley finds her in time and takes her to St. Mungo's, where she continues to fight for her life several months. Deeply worried, Sirona travels to London and does not leave Ash's side, fearing that she might eventually lose her. Fortunately, though, Ash is strong enough and survives. However, the curse has left a mark on her and the doctors make her understand that she would hardly become as strong as she once was and that the remaining power of the curse would slowly drain her life energy. Later, she is given a special potion brewed by her old potions professor Aesop Sharp that would help slowing down the process oft he curse and and allow her to live a relatively pain-free life. She retains her position as Auror, but increasingly works in the background. When Dinah Hecat retires, she takes over as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts, where she taught students up until she hit her sixtieth birthday and passed on her position to her successor.

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thecrystalquill · 3 months

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A/N: Chapter Fourteen! How exciting! What do you think to the mood board? More Addams shenanigans in upcoming parts!!!

Don’t forget to like when you’re done!

Masterlist Series Masterlist Introduction Your First Year Letter

Chapter Fourteen ~ The Book

The carriages were lined up in their dozens, loaded with passengers and their luggage. Some had already started their route down the snowy road that lead from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade Station, walking themselves effortlessly down the hill.

(Y/N) had spent the morning watching her roommates pack whatever they intended to bring home for the holidays, and occasionally pointing out a missing object. Millicent had spent the last twenty minutes trying to wrestle Mouse into her carrier, with Saoirse’s help they managed it on the fifth attempt.

“Are you sure about staying?” Bridgit asked as she checked the buckles on her trunk, where it sat securely on the back of the carriage.

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m perfectly fine here.” (Y/N) replied with a blank stare as she rubbed away a rogue snowflake that dared touch her nose. “My parents will be staying at the Hog’s Head tomorrow, anyway.”

A few more carriages rolled away as the girls began to step into their own, eager to shut in some warmth but wanting to talk with her for a while longer. The grounds keeper was making his rounds somewhere a short distance away, making sure everyone was ready and hurrying them along to the station; it wasn’t long before the train was due to leave.

“Won’t you be lonely?” Millicent asked from under her two scarves. “You’ll be here all alone.”

Controlling the subconscious act of rolling one’s eyes was quite the challenge, but (Y/N) managed a slow blink instead. Why would these girls even care about any of that? “I’m not alone, I’m by myself. Which is how I enjoy it - I’ll finally have some complete solitude.”

The last of the carriages were beginning to leave and the half-giant was calling for them to say their goodbyes, when (before (Y/N) could do anything about it) Saoirse launched herself at the startled young Addams, wrapping her arms around her neck in an embrace that was stiffly received. “Have a nice Christmas, (Y/N), I left Jinx a lolly for the big day.” She said, then pulled back and got into the carriage before there was room to complain. “See ya next year!” Saoirse exclaimed with a grin, which only doubled when (Y/N) finally rolled her eyes (with tenfold the usual amount of exasperation).

(Y/N) observed as the cart pulled away with her roommates waving through the window, watching as they joined the others that walked the path to Hogsmeade, an ant trail of black dots marching in the white snow.

Grey clouds had formed over Hogwarts that morning, promising more snow to come than the few that flitted down at the moment, and (Y/N) decided to re-enter the castle for a late breakfast before a storm decided to slow her down.

When she seated herself at the Slytherin table, along with a handful of older students, (Y/N) played a couple of crumpets smothered in butter and let her eyes wander as she ate. For the first time in quite a while, (Y/N) was sitting alone in the Great Hall. Let’s not go as far as to say that she missed having company at all (because wouldn’t that be just ridiculous?), but there were no conversations to be listening to, no opinions to be shared, and not even anything to roll her eyes at. But for the next meal, she made note to perhaps bring a book with her.

There were a few faces around the hall that she vaguely recognised, and many more that she didn’t; what she did notice is that most of them seemed to be perfectly solemn. And with that, it was hard to miss the joyful faces sitting at the Gryffindor table. (Y/N) wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Harry smile quite so much, but he certainly seemed far from as miserable as everyone else staying at school for the holidays. Ron was sat beside him, talking away with expressive hands, one holding a buttery bacon sandwich. She had decided a while ago that she ought not be bitter about those boys any longer, that she needed to let go of that months-old hurt; it was only then that she felt that she truly had. (Y/N) had new friends - better friends - who accepted her as she was and didn’t judge her for her differences l. She was glad, and glad for them too. All that mattered now was that she would see her family tomorrow, and find whatever she was asked to uncover, and everything would go back to how it should be.

It was three in the afternoon when (Y/N) finally made it to the library; dinner would be served at half-past five, and curfew was at nine; that left her an estimated five hours to find what she had been looking for.

Madame Pince was nowhere in sight as (Y/N) walked straight to her usual spot near the back of the library, counting the rows in the Divination section. When she reached the fifth row of shelves, she dropped her bag on the floor to begin her search with newfound determination. During her last visit she had made it to the first row of M’s, so now she only had one letter left. The only problem was yet again just how many there were.

The library shelves were enormous, each one as long as the giant squid and as tall as nearly the height of the room. Checking the name and title of every book starting from two thirds up the ladder took her over two hours, and by the time the M’s finished, the last shelf had ran out and (Y/N) had to cope with the fact that she’d wasted so much time climbing up the wrong side of the shelves.

When she finally ascended the ladder (on the right row, this time), (Y/N) had to squint her eyes slightly to read the titles. It was so dark and shadowed in the Divination section already, but now she was in a high corner at the back of the room and there was hardly a stream of light to make the books visible. Winter clouds had darkened the sky and snow blocked out any early-evening sun, and the candles and torches that usually lit the library simply didn’t reach her. It was all terribly inconvenient.

Again, for much longer than she would have liked, (Y/N) scanned the titles on the shelf; Basics of Narcomancy by Natalia Manteia, The Divine Nature of Dreams by Horus Duermus, Secrets of the Subconscious by Selestia Soothe; but they weren’t what she was looking for. “Necromancy, come on… it must be somewhere…” she muttered to herself, feeling almost frenzied with frustration and desperation, but she simply couldn’t give up when she felt so close.

Forget Narcomancy - where the Styx was Necromancy?

Using her hands to pull her body along, she rolled the ladder further to the right, brushing aside cobwebs and blowing away dust. She thought the library was always so clean and taken care of, but Merlin did Pince not care to dust this high up. But who could blame her, really? Who ever came to collect from all the way up the highest shelves, in the Divination section no less?

Nyphomancy, Necyomancy, but still no Necromancy. Again, she pulled herself along further to the right, and took a deep breath through the nose to collect herself. “This is all so stupid…” she mumbled in her frustration, feeling a tingle in her nose. She wiped away more cobwebs to read another title, disturbing the long-settled dust into the air and her nose tingled again.

Oh no.

Oh dear.

Holding her nose, (Y/N) quickly rolled further along with the ladder in hopes of breathing some clearer air, but only seemed to make things worse as more dust was blown about her. It was too late - there was nothing more she could do.

The tingle grew and (Y/N) pulled her arm up to muffle the noise as her head jolted backwards with the sneeze, not realising her fatal mistake as her balance was thrown off. She reached both arms forward quickly, grabbing onto the stable wood of the shelf tightly, until she was sure she wouldn’t fall.

By now, she was almost completely in the corner, just a couple of feet away from the wall. She read the titles in front of her. Natimancy, Nephomancy, Necromancy!

There, just slightly to her right, was exactly the book she needed. (Y/N) grabbed at it with a sense of pride, brushing off cobwebs and leaving a clearing in the dust in front of it. Finally, in her hands, was a little hope.

The book was a good size, a heavy hardback with a black cover and simple silver lettering. Necromancy - printed in bold just higher than the centre, by Morbius E. Shelly.

(Y/N) had never climbed down a ladder so quickly. The second her feet touched the floor she was sitting with her back to the ridiculously tall shelves, not soaring a single thought to the cold of the hardwood floor on her behind. With bated breath, she sat the book on her knees and turned back over.

“Miss Addams, is that you?”

(Y/N) almost leapt out of her skin at the skins of the librarian’s voice from the other end of the row - and that was really quite the feat, for I wasn’t often that someone could sneak up on her.

Thinking fast, (Y/N) removed her coat and hid the book in its thick black fabric, not wishing to be caught reading about such an unsavoury topic in a dark part of the library. Hades knows that’s all her reputation needed.

She stood with it hidden well in her arms, still half-saved by the shadows as the librarian and she added her scarf to the pile in her arms. “Yes, Madam Pince, it’s me.” She answered with a stiffness that almost would have given her away.

“Lunch is starting, go and join the others,” Pince said with a gesture of her arms, “off you go. Do you have a book to check out?”

(Y/N) decided to taker her chance while the shadows were working in her favour, to slide past with her things pulled to her side. “N, not today, thank you.” She answered politely, then hurried to fetch her bag and take her leave before Pince could get a good look in the light.

Sitting through lunch with her bag at her side was absolute torture. The food was as good as usual, Dumbkrdore made a little speech before they ate, and there was chatter all about; but (Y/N) could only think about how long she would have to wait before she could go back to her dorm and open the book that felt like the key to solving her problems.

She picked at her food distractedly as the presence of the book looked over her like a thrillingly life-draining dark energy; it was ever so difficult to act as if she had nothing better to be doing. Snow fell from the enchanted ceiling, mirroring the storm that grew outside, and giving the warm room a sense of cold winter, and (Y/N) decided to direct her focus to that. If only she had time for a stroll.

When she had finished her meal and a few people began to leave, (Y/N) snatched up her satchel and made her way through the castle towards her common room. She passed maybe a handful of students on her way to the frosty Dungeons, nodding to a couple of nosy portraits as she went, before she finally came to the entrance and recited the password. “Dulce Venenum.”

The Slytherin common room was entirely empty, and as far as she was aware, she was the only occupant - much to her appreciation. The fire was burning hot enough to ward off the comforting chill, and she wondered if she could ask Snape if there was something that could be done about that - and if he didn’t prove to be of any use, the. She’d have to ask someone with a little more competence, like McGonnagal.

The dark leather sofas were finally free, and it was her first opportunity to sit in them; they were springier than she’d imagined. With the book placed cautiously on the table, as if it would explode with some terrible curse if it was mistreated at all, (Y/N) gathered herself up to open it. She had built up this moment in her head so much, that she felt it needed the right respect to savour it.

She studied its sleek appearance as it stared back up at her, tapping the heap of her black Mary-Jane and fiddling with the black lace on the hem of her sleeves as she prepared herself. With great care, (Y/N) reached out and lifted the heavy cover.

A note from Morbius E. Shelly ~

The topics presented in this book are of a restricted nature, therefore, the information pertaining to these practices are intended for strictly educational purposes only. The British Ministry of Magic has approved any and all information disclosed. Readers are warned that the majority of these rituals and practices are considered taboo at the very least, and crimes of immoral nature at most. It is advised that these are not to be performed unless by professionals with express permission from the Ministry of Magic. The author takes no responsibility beyond this point. Read with care.

Well, things were certainly off to an interesting start.

An hour had passed before she knew it and the grand clock above the fireplace rang out to inform her that it was already ten o’clock, and that she ought to be in bed if she wanted to make it to Hogsmeade in time. She looked at the wriggling silver snakes pointing their heads to the time for only a moment, before she dove right back into the book. If she hadn’t felt there was a clue to her Message hidden in these pages, (Y/N) could still have certainly been reading it with just as much interest.

She was also fairly sure that this book had originally belonged to the Restricted Section.

Though her ambitions were strong, her eyes were heavy, and (Y/N) was disappointed to have to admit defeat for the night. Sinking back against the plump sofa, she let her eyes rest from hours of focus, drifting off into thoughts of the next day. What presents did her parents get her? Did Grandmama bring any home-bakes? Would Wednesday make time for a good duel?

Before she could fall asleep, (Y/N) yawned and stretched, and stood up to head to bed. A draft blew through the room and rustled the pages as she went to collect the book. How much more did she have to read through? Finding her place again, she flicked through the chapters to see what topics awaited her; dead-raising; scrying; possessions; crystal balls. Chapter Twenty-Two caught her eye: Séances. A practical yet unpredictable ritual of dead-communication, simple and versatile. The chapter began with a beautiful line-sketch of a tastefully nude coven performing the ritual and calling forth a ghastly spirit from a supernatural smoke at the centre - and if that hadn’t caught her eye, then the folded browning piece of parchment tucked into the pages certainly had.

In that moment, (Y/N) was aware of nothing but the note - taking it in her hands, not daring ti open it so quickly; if she opened it to find nothing there, there would be no words in her vocabulary ti express her frustration and disappointment.

It was old - flat and faded enough for her ti be sure that it had been hidden in that book for a very long time. Delicately, (Y/N) unfolded it and unfolded it again, until she was revealed to the brown ink of handwriting not exposed to the world in a very long time - longer, surely, than she had been alive. It was not neat, but a strange swirling italic - the handwriting of someone who had to try very hard to make their writing look tidy and legible, with little wobbles when their fingers shook. She’d expected it ti contain a message that would rid her of her burden and set everything into place, but was only let down once more, and left with no more than frustration and confusion.

It is hidden where you may not venture.

(Y/N) may have assumed that she’d gotten it all wrong - that this was an elaborate prank to play on the Addams-girl, or that this was left for someone else - if it weren’t for the obvious age if the parchment, and the Addams crest stamped at the bottom, waiting only for her to recognise it.

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watermelonsugacry · 2 years

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I know bandmate! y/n is british i think, but in my head i always imagine her as like a full on irish version of Louis, like she's got the most thick Dublin accent and is always swearing and always calls Niall a "Culchie" cause he's from Mullingar

I think i think it cause im irish but it fits so perfectly in my head

I think the best way to show the accent im talking about would be Saoirse Ronan's and a mix of other Northern Dublin accents

but when she's trying to act professional in interviews etc she'll slip into a South Dublin or even kind of American accent but once something funny happens or shes gotten comfortable she'll go back to how she normally talks and just comes off really loud and fun 😭

i...LOVE THIS

bc for me, yn's accent is like louis's: thick, sometimes hard to understand for americans, swearing, etc.

i love Saoirse's accent like it's pure music to me ngl. speaking of her and interviews though, that's something yn would do a lot: speak in a "clearer" accent for other people to understand her.

for her press interviews for Little Women, people would always compliment her on how good her american accent was:

"'Fank you!" YN beams from her seat in between Flo and Timothée. "S'quite funny because in the band, Niall and I would always try to mimic accents where ever we went for tour just to sort of entertain ourselves. So me dialect coach for the film was quite happy with how much pronunciation I knew 'cause some of it can be quite hard. And actually, tweaking me accent every now and then for interviews and things like that with the band was like a normal thing for me after a while."

"Whatever for?" Flo questions from her right.

"S'cause people wouldn't bloody understand meh," YN laughs and the room follows suit.

"Well I think your accent is beautiful, truly," Timothée compliments, making YN coo and briefly rest her head on his shoulder.

Or when she's on tour and she's trying to talk with a fan:

"'Ello! Wha's yeh name? Furn? That's a beautiful name—"

Fern! It's Fern!

"Furn?"

No, Fern!

"Furn," YN retorts back with a furrow of her eyebrows. "Like the thingys Harry has tattooed." She tries to explain as she motions to her lower stomach.

Yes!

"Well tha's what m'bloody saying innt?" YN laughs as she throws her hands up. "M'from north'rn England, babe. V'got an accent. Fern, right?" The crowd erupts into a fit of laughter and screams at the sound of her Vally Girl accent. "Fern. No, my name is Fern. Ferrrn. I don't think this bitch understands me." YN sassily teases, her pointer finger up and waving from side to side.

Later on in the show as YN covers Alive, she sings:

Went to a party just after the doctor talked to me I met Fern, I took her in up to the balcony

#harry x 1dbandmember!reader #since 2010 series #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #harry styles fanfic #one direction fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #famous!reader #famous!yn #harry styles masterlist

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redclercs · 9 months

Text

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

xiv. this feels like the calm before the storm.

— the one where the world is caving in.

warnings: cheesy pop culture references, aidan and victoria are back, more articles than usual. mentions of panic attacks, anxiety tics, spelling mistakes in the tweets that i am too lazy to correct, forgive me. 2.3k words (+articles!)

masterlist ✢ next

'Did Timothée Chalamet get y/n y/ln a role in 'Little Women'?'

By Bridget Thomas

As previously reported by various outlets, actress y/n y/ln has been cast as the youngest March sister for yet another remake of "Little Women", expected to be premiered by the end of next year. However, we can't help but wonder, how did y/n manage to get a role alongside actors of such high caliber, such as Meryl Streep and Best Actress Nominee Saoirse Ronan?

Despite the success of movies such as Supercut and The Hating Game, y/n's acting skills cannot even begin to compare to those of her co-stars, she's a romcom actress, and she's supposed to stay that way. But as Ringo Starr once sung: "I get by with a little help from my friends" and y/n is no exception.

Timothée Chalamet, Greta Gerwig's other main muse, has Hollywood eating out of the palm of his hand, and his influence goes a long way. So much so, that he was able to secure Amy's role for new friend (possibly new something else) y/n y/ln.

Right after they were seen mingling at a party in Paris with y/n's boyfriend (probably soon to be ex) Charles Leclerc, y/n got the call that they decided to give her the role.

Don't we all want a boyfriend who uses nepotism to our benefit?

Seriously, though, how does y/n manage to get this heartthrobs to spare a glance her way and do this stuff in her name? Somebody call the Winchester Brothers, we might have a witchcraft case right in front of our eyes.

Click here to go to the next article.

'Victoria Presley: I still miss my best friend, but all she did was use me.'

By Daniel Gomez

After staying away from social media and her job for a month and a half, beauty influencer Victoria Presley is back and she's not afraid of anything. Not even legal repercussions.

Back in July, Victoria received a 'Cease and Desist' letter from none other than former best friend y/n y/ln, demanding she stopped talking about her in public and to news outlets. This sparked the rumors that Presley had been selling her secrets to tabloids and was the one to reveal the engagement secret alongside actress Mia Kim, Aidan Kim's sister.

Victoria immediately removed herself from the narrative, deeply hurt by her ex-bestie's actions. Now, after gathering her thoughts and recovering from being stabbed in the back, she's giving us this exclusive interview.

"I can't help but miss y/n, she was my best friend for so long. But all she did was use me." Victoria is still in disbelief of y/n's actions, after giving her all her love and support. "I let her live in my house for months, and one day she leaves without any explanation. All to meet that Formula One guy."

Victoria has expressed her discontent with y/n's relationship with Charles Leclerc several times, arguing he is one of the main reasons y/n cut all ties with her and not the rumors that she revealed y/n's secrets to tabloids.

"He changed her for worse. Their relationship is so toxic, they breakup and get back together again and again, and they're just looking for ways to use the other's reputation for their benefit."

However, Victoria is certain the relationship won't last much longer, since y/n has her sight set on co-star Timothée Chalamet. "y/n has liked him for a while. When the rumors of his relationship with Kylie Jenner came out, she assured me she could steal him away with a flick of her hand."

Meanwhile, Victoria is focusing on her beauty line and its evergrowing sales. "I'm competing directly with Rare Beauty and Fenty. I'm in the big leagues, the way I deserve to be."

Click here to go to the next article.

'Aidan Kim reveals tracklist for "MIRRORS" and moves the release forward.'

By Paul Dean

Aidan Kim fans won't have to wait until October 5th anymore since their idol has decided to move the release date for his debut album forward by one month.

While we believe this decision was influenced by the news of ex-girlfriend y/n y/ln making her acting comeback in a high category movie, his fans also begged him to 'remind everyone of how awful y/n is' and judging by the titles of his upcoming tracks, we're sure he's leaving no crumbs.

Check out "MIRRORS" tracklist here:

In Your Pocket

All The Things I Hate About You

Him

Cry Me A River

Stabber

Stupid Love Letter

MIRRORS

Round and Round (Star-5 Reprise)

Yours and Mine (Star-5 Reprise)

Blinding Lights (The Weeknd Cover)

No Lie (With Mia Kim)

We can't wait for Aidan's insight on his relationship and breakup to y/n, we're certain the details are juicy! Don't forget to presave "MIRRORS" on Spotify and Apple Music!

Monza, Italy, September 3rd.

1...2...3... deep breath in, 4...5...6, breathe out.

You repeat the process five times until your heart has set in your chest and isn't trying to break free anymore. Until you've stopped squeezing your thighs with your palms and you can keep your eyes open without feeling like the red decoration is stabbing your eyeballs.

It's good that you can manage your anxiety before it turns into panic. You're still embarrassed about The Spain Incident, although neither Charles nor Carlos fault you for it at all. Still, every now and then, their panicked faces flashback in your mind and you feel sorry for them all over again.

You don't want this weekend to turn into The Monza Incident. Not when Charles' contract renewal was announced a few hours ago and he's on Pole Position, this weekend has to be perfect. Or as perfect as possible, for your boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

The weight of the word has multiplied by a thousand in your mind. Silly, when you really think about it. But palpable in a way that has butterflies flying around your stomach every time you think about the word and Charles' smiling face appears in your mind.

He's your boyfriend and you're his girlfriend, and this was a mutual agreement you reached with panic still holding you by the throat, only soothed by Charles' soft lips against your temple and his warm hands rubbing your skin.

You agreed to come to this Grand Prix because it will be the last one for you for a while. Filming for Little Women starts soon, and though they have a couple of races in the States, your schedule can be a little unpredictable. Also, you're hoping to score more roles soon.

You breathe again, deep enough that your lungs ache and lightheadedness threatens to rise through your body. You're overwhelming yourself, again.

According to the world, you’re not skilled enough to be in a movie with Saoirse and Timothée and should give up the role to someone who actually deserves it. Which you won’t do, of course. That someone who deserves it is yourself. It has taken a lot of pep talks in the bathroom mirror to brainwash yourself into believing it, but you’re getting there.

Plus, there are more things to worry about with Victoria back on her bullshit and Aidan's album coming out in two days. There are so many things to fix again, just when you thought you were getting there. Of course the two people that hate you most in the world have to mess with you again.

"Already here?" Carlos asks the second he crosses the door to the Suite. "It's way early."

"Good morning to you too," you let the air out of your already burning lungs and smile at Carlos. "I have nowhere else to be."

You could be at the Paddock Club, mingling with whatever celebrity or rich local is there. Or even visiting McLaren, since Lando offered to 'show you the garage', something Charles didn't like, of course. The secret of your newly earned girlfriend-boyfriend titles is one you try to keep close to your heart.

As if that has worked before.

A wave of anxiety runs down the back of your neck when you remember the tweet you saw this morning about a Deuxmoi tip on Charles and you. What could the exact price be, to reveal your relationship to the world?

"Have you had breakfast? Looks like you're going to throw up," Carlos says, sitting in the sofa opposite yours.

It's at least the fifth time he's told you that during the weekend. You know he does it out of a place of concern, but it still rubs you the wrong way. You also need to look perfect, not like you're going to throw up.

"I had breakfast back at the hotel, it's just the lighting."

"Sure?"

"I'm fine, Carlos. How are you?"

Carlos shrugs, he's not being the center of attention this weekend despite this being another home race for the team. "Good."

"Didn't you have to be at the meeting today?" you question, although it's obvious that by his getting there just now, he didn't.

"Had my PR reminders yesterday. Charles is different."

Of course. He has to know what he's allowed to say about his renewal and what he should not speak on at all.

Your own team advised you not to let yourself be seen at Monza. Mildred would have pulled you out of the plane if it had been up to her, and Walter would have helped her hold you hostage until the weekend was over.

They're both trying to find out about the Deuxmoi pictures too, although you doubt they can reach an agreement of any kind with whoever holds them to stop them from calling People Magazine up.

This whole avoiding being seen thing makes you feel wrong. As if you were doing something bad with Charles instead of just finally letting the love you've felt for him for months show. You hate it.

You're wrong to compare your current situation with your past ones. Aidan was your first really public romantic relationship, but before that, you didn't hide your partners either. Of course you weren't that famous, but even then, you didn't entertain the thought of scurrying around like criminals.

"He'll be fine, y/n," Carlos adds, looking at the way your foot keeps stomping the floor, like you're some kind of hyperactive bunny. "He's on Pole. You can pray for Max's downfall, though, maybe that'll help."

"I don't pray for people's downfall," you click your tongue, crossing your legs to stop the tic.

Karma and all that.

"Maybe you should." Carlos winks at you, and your conversation is finished as Charles leaves his meeting.

You can tell something's off just from the way his shoulders tense, but he smiles at you the moment your eyes meet.

"Everything okay?" you ask before he leans down to reach your height as you sit and pecks your lips.

"Yes, everything's good."

He's lying.

─────────

What was the point of coming to Monza if you're only watching the race through the screens?

You don't think the sun has touched your face at all since you got to the circuit, and you really want to be out there. But you stay put in your seat as the formation lap occurs right outside of the Suite.

It will make no difference, though, Charles is focused on the race, as he should be, rather than whether you're watching him through the TV.

Soon enough you know what will make a difference.

It's some kind of miracle that Charles has managed to regain the P1 position after the disastrous pit stop Ferrari put him through, and maybe Carlos was actually praying for Red Bull's downfall since Max has his very first DNF of the season and Checo can't get past George in P3.

Charles is going to win Monza again.

The decision making tree branches in front of you in a matter of seconds, people at the Suite are already talking excitedly and someone asks if you want to go down, there are four laps left.

You get up from your seat, aware that if life was anything like that videogame you played a couple times on the set of Parisian Valentine with your co-star, the "This action will have consequences" legend would appear on the screen right now.

You follow the Ferrari worker out, but even between the excitement and celebrations, you manage to hear what the PR Manager really thinks of your presence in the Paddock.

"She’s such a PR nightmare,"

She switches to Italian when your eyes fly to her face. And you can only wonder what cruel yet entirely accurate thing she said.

It's worse than a nightmare. It feels like the apocalypse all over again. And the weight of the world is back on your shoulders, feeling like you're messing up what was a weekend out of a dream for Charles.

You flashback to Monaco and the way Mati pulled you out of your head and locked your phone in her purse. You wish she was here more with each passing second. You cannot tear your eyes away from every single tweet speculating about your presence, about your relationship, about your intentions. It's overwhelming.

But Charles' happiness is what matters. He's absolutely ecstatic, even after the mishaps during the interviews where his PR training had to kick in and lead reporters back to Formula 1 related questions.

The thought that maybe you should have tried to make friends with more people occurs to you when you arrive at the celebration in the private club and Charles is dragged away from you. He tries his best to hold on to your hand, but the truth is people want to be with him and not you, so you let him take the spotlight he deserves and enjoy it.

"So, are you and Charles dating, then? Didn't you use to be engaged?"

You half-smile at the girl who just asked you the question, so boldly it takes you aback. But you guess her eyes are so bright from how much alcohol there is in her system, she's bound to be direct with liquid courage running through her veins. She's pretty in that dark hair, dark eyes way that has you momentarily doubting your own looks.

The extra heartbeat that takes you to reply, has her eyes shifting around the room before settling on Charles, who is finally walking back to your side.

Your boyfriend hands you a drink and smiles at the dark-haired girl and her friend, politely. "Are you having a good time?" the question is mostly directed towards you, but both girls jump at the chance of saying they're having the time of their lives and congratulating Charles for such an epic win. But they prompt you to join the conversation a few seconds later, so you're grateful for it either way.

There's a song in Spanish playing on the speakers and Charles is doing his best to sing the words while encouraging you to move to the beat with him. With his arms around you, things feel a little lighter, the whole in your chest that anxiety carved out is slowly filling with the love you feel for him, and the happiness of the day outshines the darkness of the thoughts in the back of your mind.

That is, at least, until the first notes of 'In Your Pocket' replace the previous song, after the DJ announces it's a special request. It's a remix, obviously, so people can dance to it, but a few of them have stopped moving altogether just to be a little less discreet about eyeing you.

"C'est pas amusant," you hear Charles say to one of his friends, who is hiding his mouth behind a tall glass of alcohol, his eyes still betray his enjoyement.

"It's fine," you squeeze Charles' arm, trying your best to smile although you're being put in the spotlight and there's nearly nothing worse than being the butt of a cruel joke. "It's just a song."

You wondered many times what those surrounding Charles thought of you. They didn't know you, after all. His brothers were nice to you when you saw them around the Paddock, and it wasn't like you'd hung around the rest of his friends. Did they mock him when tabloids called him a homewrecker? Or did they believe he'd just embarked on what seemed to be a dead-end relationship?

"I'm sorry, soleil, they're just— they're idiots," Charles adds, his hand reaching for yours. He looks genuinely upset and you can't help but hate whoever requested the song a little more for spoiling Charles' mood rather than for making fun of you.

"Charlie, it's okay, I've been through worse," your reassurance doesn't soothe him, so you squeeze his hand and he presses his lips to your temple. "I'd rather listen to Bad Bunny or something, though."

Charles laughs and pulls you out of the dancefloor, to a more private part of the club where you both can catch your breath and share a few kisses, unafraid of people staring at you.

New York, United States, September 7th.

You know you're in trouble when Mildred calls tells you that you need to be at her office ASAP. She also used that condescending 'I'm the adult' tone that send you back to when you were fifteen and got in trouble with your mother, so it's another indication that she's angry at you.

Of course you know why, the words 'PR nightmare' haven't left your brain in days. And the moment you set foot in New York, Mildred was all over you about every single thing that was being said about the Monza Incident—aka seeing your boyfriend like any normal person would.

"This isn't ideal," Mildred says after a while, she has been explaining the public's perception of you for the past half hour. "It's like you—"

"Like I fucked up?" you cut her off, squeezing your knees to stop from biting your nails.

"We were rebuilding your brand, y/n. People think you waited for things to die a little so you could go public with Charles. Aidan's new album is not helping your case."

If you thought 'In Your Pocket' was bad, nothing compared to the rest of the songs. Some in which he called you a list of things including a homie-hopper, drama starter and said you settled for a 'bum' when you could have had a 'rockstar'.

"How is that my fault?" you don't intend to sound so whiny, but you can't help it. Why are Aidan's actions always your fault somehow?

"People are talking more about how you are dating a Ferrari Driver after spending months saying you weren't, rather than the fact that you landed an incredibly important role."

"We haven't told anyone we're dating,"

Mildred rolls her eyes despite her best efforts to remain professional. "Do you really think that's necessary?"

"What do you suggest we do?" you ask, knowing you won't like the answer.

─── team principal radio: ❝remember when I said it wouldn't take me one month to update delicate and then it took me longer than that? I'M SO SORRY LMAO. also not loving this chapter but i just want it out of my way for now i need it off my drafts, but don't worry this time i'll try for the next not to take me a century. thank you if you're still here, your patience means the world to me i love you all so muuuuch♡❞

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