My Works !!!

characters i write for:

⫷james potter⫸

⫷sirius black⫸

⫷remus lupin⫸

⫷regulus black⫸

⫷poly!wolfstar⫸

⫷poly!marauders⫸

an erotic poem:

leg so hot

hot hot leg

leg so hot u fry an eg

A Bone-Deep Chill (Geralt of Rivia x F!Reader) ft. Jaskier

Caught in a viscous storm, you find yourself in a freezing inn, sharing two rooms between three grouchy people. Worse still, you're fighting off the cold settling deep in your bones.

Friends-to-cuddling, Jaskier is grumpy in this. [4.6k]

CW: hypothermia, storms || Geralt Masterlist

⚔ ⚔ ⚔ ⚔ ⚔ ⚔ ⚔ ⚔

A dramatic sigh came from behind you as Jaskier bundled into the inn, a gust of cold with him. A vicious rain pummeled against the windows, making the building itself shake as the gale fought to make its way inside.

Geralt was still outside, finding somewhere safe for Roach to weather the storm, and you pitied him as yet another roar of wind blustering through the small town. The innkeeper regarded you with concern, both you and Jaskier shaking from the cold in sopping wet garments, no doubt leaving matching puddles seeping into his floor.

“Two rooms?” he asked, skipping any preamble as your teeth chattered.

The feeling of cold was not just in your exposed skin, but seeping through your very flesh, the ache of it reaching your bones and your lungs. The warmth of the fire in the corner called you, but you knew it would have no chance at drying through to the woollen garments which were uncomfortable and heavy on your skin.

“Please!” Jaskier answered from behind you.

You knew you were in no position to bargain, bracing yourself to be fleeced on account of your desperate situation, but the innkeeper simply nodded. He fortunately offered you a reasonable rate which would not completely empty your purses of coin.

As Jaskier trudged forwards to pay, your brain finally caught up.

“Three! Three rooms if you have them, sir. Our friend is outside.”

The bard hummed a noise of realisation, no doubt struggling to think himself as the wind continued to howl and the pair of you grew closer to freezing by the second.

The innkeeper grimaced.

“We only have two left, apologies,” he tilted his head sympathetically, “storm’s brought everyone in. No-one wants to travel in this.”

“Have you got an extra bed for either of them?” Jaskier was speaking quickly, brushing off the concern as he counted coin onto the table in front of him.

You couldn’t blame him for his dismissiveness, he was no doubt keen to get warmed up and dry his beloved lute. You were desperate to know if the fires were already lit.

The banging of the door behind you and the widening of the innkeeper’s eyes told you Geralt had finally caught up – standing by the entryway to avoid any more damage to the wooden floorboards.

The Witcher’s heavy breathing was even louder than the rain, and you tried to ignore his imposing form behind you as you followed Jaskier and the innkeeper’s discussion. The Bard was getting pissed off, you could hear it.

“You must have one extra bed somewhere in this establishment –”

“Sir I really don’t I’m sorry –”

“Are you kidding me? Have you seen the size of him? No one can share a bed with that!”

“Jaskier!”

You interrupted the bard, hearing Geralt’s footsteps approaching, turning back to the innkeeper.

“There’s nothing else?”

The coins sat between you on the countertop, where Jaskier had left them. You pushed them towards the man, encouraging him to take them.

“There really isn’t, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

“I understand, it’s not your fault. We’ll take the two rooms. And any extra blankets and pillows you have.”

He nodded, sparing another anxious glance first at Geralt, then at the shivering, grumpy Jaskier. He finally scooped up the coin, pushing two keys across to you, followed by a folded blanket from beneath the counter.

“Rooms five and six, they’re on your right as you head upstairs. I’ll bring up meals.”

He was speaking only to you, and you couldn’t blame him. The innkeeper made a swift departure back into his own room, leaving the three of you dripping wet in the office. You crossed to the fireplace, shedding your cloak onto a chair, and trying to warm your hands as you shivered.

A scraping made you wince as Geralt dragged a chair across the floor, setting it near the hearth. You took it graciously before he found a chair for himself, joining you wordlessly.

“You okay?” you muttered, noticing the blue hue to his hands, a slight clumsiness to the way his hands found one another and rested beneath his chin.

It was alarming, to see Geralt falling victim to anything as human as a mild hypothermia. You threw another log on the fire.

“Fine. Cold.”

You nodded, not at all surprised to get so little response from the Witcher. For a few moments more you both tried to warm up in front of the flames, listening to the new log crackling and to Jaskier’s footsteps as the storm raged on outside.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, wet leather creaking as he leant forwards.

“Fine, very cold,” you teased.

Geralt laughed, just one huff of air through his nose, but glanced back at your face with something approaching concern. You hummed, leaning forwards beside him, desperate for the warmth of the fire to seep into your very bones.

“I wasn’t expecting the storm to be that bad, sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

He shot you a knowing look, and you smiled through a full-body shiver. Despite his best efforts, Geralt took the whole world on his shoulders sometimes – the weather might be the only thing you could convince him wasn’t his responsibility.

“I should have gotten us to an inn sooner.”

“It’s fine. We’re all capable, Geralt. And none of us predicted this.”

Jaskier huffed behind you, indignant. He had predicted a little rain – though nothing of this scale. Still, he had whinged about being ‘proven right’ the whole journey to the inn. Jaskier approached, and you stood to offer him your chair.

“I’ll get the fires started in the rooms,” you offered, loathing to leave the warm office but desperate to rid yourself of your sodden clothes.

There was a tension in the room that you had no desire to deal with, too exhausted and too cold to watch your two favourite people on the whole Continent bickering all evening.

“I can go?” Geralt offered quickly, but you waved him away.

“All good. I’ll be quick.”

You snagged the blanket and both room keys, the room wordless behind you as you left it.

Upstairs was cold, dark. Torches had been blown out by the wind, the corridor draughtier than you would like, and you pulled the folded blanket closer to your chest.

You couldn’t help wondering what the room configuration would be. Yourself and Geralt would most certainly try to be self-less, offer up the least offensive solution. Jaskier would no doubt be fine with sharing a room, though you wondered if he would object to sharing with Geralt. The two men had been at odds lately, for reasons you couldn’t quite pin down.

The fire was blessedly built already in the first of the rooms you visited, making you sigh in relief as you sank to the floor. You lit the kindling, protecting the flame as wind forced its way through the room, your numb hands less sensitive to the heat as the fire grew larger and larger, finally catching the logs.

Voices floated up through the floor as you minded the fire, unmistakably your companions’. The words were dampened by the floorboards, but you frowned as the flames grew taller and independent, accompanied by harsher tones from downstairs.

You stripped off the wettest of your outer layers and left them by the fire in the first room, wrapping the blanket around yourself before locking up and switching to the adjacent room. As you repeated the process, this time replacing tumbled logs which had been knocked aside by the wind, the voices only grew louder and meaner. As the second fire became self-sustaining, you found yourself reluctant to move from it. Not only was the warmth tempting, finally restoring feeling to your chilled toes and fingers, but the idea of avoiding the full argument burning downstairs was deeply appealing.

Locking yourself in the room and going to sleep tempted you, a siren to your cold, exhausted body, but you begrudgingly stood, taking your blanket and locking the door – bracing yourself as you rushed through the cold corridor once again.

Stopping at the top of the stairs, you winced at the words being exchanged.

“I don’t know why you’re being such a bastard about this, Geralt! Share the bed, let me rest comfortably, and enjoy a cosy eveningwith her for all I care!”

There was movement, that chair dragging across the floor sound again, followed by footsteps. You held your breath.

“I thought ‘no one can share a bed with that’, Bard! Are you trying to get her crushed?”

For a moment you blinked in surprise, imagining Jaskier’s face was going the same.

You weren’t surprised Geralt had heard Jaskier’s comment earlier – you were surprised he had cared enough to remember it.

“I was just trying to barter us more rooms, Geralt. We all know the beds you share – ”

Another shuffle of furniture, and this time faster footsteps. The ping of Jaskier’s lute as it fell to the floor, a growl from deep in Geralt’s chest usually reserved for beasts and pub fights, the pounding of the wind and rain against the windows. You listened with your eyes wide open, blankly looking at the staircase below you, frozen with shock.

They bickered, but they never fought.

You were the problem. They had both presumed their own beds, and you were problem, unwanted in either room and apparently completely left out of the conversation. With the keys warm in your hand, you once-again considered locking yourself in one of the rooms and letting them cuddle.

When you heard another scuffle, saw Jaskier running towards the steps, you finally snapped out of your shock.

“What’s your problem?” you demanded of the bard, already on the defensive.

As you descended you saw the anger drop from Geralt’s features, his face schooled as he halted his chase and feigned innocence. Like children caught brawling they looked across at one another, a silent threat between them.

“Just warming up,” Geralt grumbled, his swords shifting against his back as he fidgeted where he stood.

“Something like that. He’s a maniac, that one. Ready to take my head off.”

You stared them both down for a moment, aware your authority was undermined by the blanket draped around you and the slight chatter of your teeth.

“The fires are lit. Have we decided rooms?”

You reached the floor, forcing them both back towards one another as you made a beeline for the fireplace. The chairs had been displaced as the bard and the Witcher ran around them, and you dragged one back towards the fireplace with a pointed look at Jaskier before sitting in it heavily.

Geralt quietly joined you, claiming the other chair, leaving Jaskier to hover beside the hearth. He picked up his lute, starting to tune it, the fall leaving the strings awfully off-pitch.

“What do you want to do?” Geralt rumbled, his voice far softer than it had been as he argued earlier.

You wondered if it was guilt you were hearing.

“Totally up to you. As long as I can catch some rest, I’m happy.”

Geralt shifted in his seat.

“Why don’t you go with Jaskier? Might be more room.”

You frowned. The beds in the rooms could easily fit two people, likely more. As you went to say as much, Jaskier interrupted.

“Sure, whatever you want Geralt.”

He stretched out the Witcher’s name unnaturally, making you look between the two men, seeing if they would give you some inkling of the reason they were so frosty towards one another.

Instead, the Witcher nodded, holding out his hand for a key. Baffled, you handed him the key for the second room you had lit the hearth in, not even offered a thank you as he collected his damp belongings and stormed up the stairs.

Jaskier was similarly indifferent to you, occupied by his lute as he meandered up to the room, waiting for you to unlock the door without a word.

“You two fight like an old married couple, you know that, right?” you grumbled, making sure Jaskier could hear as he brushed past you into the room.

You wrinkled your nose at the damp of his coat brushing against you. Jaskier appraised the room, judgemental expression lit by the warm light from the fire. It was still burning strong. You hoped Geralt’s fire was the same, hot and welcoming, letting the Witcher relax and calm down.

Everyone was highly strung, you knew this rest was well needed.

“Anyone would be a fool to marry him. He’s selfish as anything.”

Closing the door behind you, you stood in place, waiting for Jaskier to settle.

“He’s not selfish. Nothing of the sort, and you know it.”

Jaskier let out a cruel laugh, set down his lute, and started stripping off his wet clothes, letting them dry on the floor beside yours.

“He certainly fucking acts it sometimes.”

You shouldn’t get involved.

You shouldn’t encourage Jaskier.

You shouldn’t.

“What do you mean?”

“He didn’t even offer to share a room. The gentlemanly thing to do.”

You tried not to feel stung by his dismissive tone.

“You didn’t exactly seem to want me either,” you pointed out, hugging your blanket closer to you as Jaskier reached bare skin, pulling a new pair of trousers from his bag.

You didn’t want to strip off, you had barely stopped shivering in the few thin, dry layers you had left.

“Of course I don’t mind, but he should have offered!”

The bard was deflecting, and you tried not to feel the pain of it as it stung deep in your chest.

“Right.”

Wordlessly, you chose the side of the bed closest to the door, keeping the blanket around you as you settled down and occupied as little space as possible.

Jaskier stayed behind you, fidgeting and moving his belongings, trying to dry some and sort others. The noise made it hard to sleep, worsened still by his humming. You screwed your eyes closed, pulled the blankets closer and curled up. The room was warming, and it would probably have been tolerable if you weren’t so damn cold already. Your shivers made you miserable, trying to stop your teeth chattering, groaning at the ache in your skull.

Sleep evaded you as frustration welled up in your eyes, hot, itchy tears falling to the mattress. Jaskier was still fussing, stoking the fire and moving his clothes around. When you heard the first strum of his lute, you wanted to scream.

The distinct press of his fingers ghosting across the frets made you tense, before he strummed the wretched thing again. Fuck. You could kill him.

“Are you really going to play now?” you mumbled, fighting a full-body shiver.

“I’m not tired,” he replied, accompanied by a familiar series of notes from his latest composition.

“You’re overtired.”

He shrugged you off with a petulant huff, the lute getting louder yet again. You heard a thud against the adjoining wall, Geralt clearly equally unimpressed with the wretched noise.

For a few moments more he continued to play, and you tried to fight the anger settling hot in your chest. All of you were exhausted, cold, hungry, miserable. And now Jaskier was being a prick.

He started singing.

You considered murdering him.

Instead you pulled yourself from the bed, keeping your blanket and snagging your pillow, storming from the room. Jaskier seemed to barely notice, continuing his rendition without hesitation as you slammed the door behind you.

Fuck.

True to his word the innkeeper had brought meals up, but left them outside the doors of the room. You knocked on Geralt’s door before taking your own plate and goblet downstairs. Jaskier could have his meal cold. It was all he deserved for that performance.

Hungry and drowsy, you folded yourself into one of the chairs in front of the fire, frowning as you remembered the argument Geralt and Jaskier had been in just minutes ago. It felt forever ago. As you ate your meal you pulled the blanket close around yourself, blinking at the fire. The faint sounds of Jaskier practicing upstairs were blessedly drowned out by the wind howling down the chimney, the storm outside only worsening. Your hands were numb as you threw another log on the fire. The innkeeper was nowhere to be seen, the front door firmly closed against the weather

You stared at the flames for longer, no longer feeling their warmth. Your legs and hands were numb, but exhaustion was claiming you, and you couldn’t move to warm up. The chair was hard beneath you, your blanket doing very little to cushion it.

Footsteps on the stairs made you jump, your daze interrupted.

Geralt descended the stairs, crockery in hand, his long white hair hanging limp around his face. You thought it looked like icicles, smoothed in place. He set his plate on the counter with a dull thud, pausing as he looked at you.

“Jaskier said you left,” he stated.

“Hm?”

Geralt looked around the room, at you folded into the chair, a furrow appearing on his brow.

“You left..?” He repeated.

You found yourself struggling to understand him, cocking your head.

“He was loud.”

He crossed the room in long strides, on hand cupping your face and the other finding your hand, hissing as his warm skin made contact with yours.

“Fuck, you’re cold.”

His palms felt burning, seeping fire into your skin, and you shuddered at the temperature difference.

“How long have you been down here? The rooms are warmer.”

“Not long. Couldn’t sleep, too cold.”

You knew your words were slurring, not only to your own ears, but to Geralt’s. He frowned more deeply at you.

“You’re really, really cold.”

Nodding, you closed your eyes, feeling tiredness overcome you.

“You need to come upstairs,” he insisted, taking your plate and letting it clatter to the floor.

You nodded again, but your limbs were too stiff to move. As his hands left your skin, you mourned the loss, feeling that stinging pain return. Your fingers and toes were aching.

“C’mon,” he grumbled, trying to pull you to your feet.

You did your best to comply, but it was difficult, painful. Tiredness flooded your system yet again. The shivering had stopped, and yet the coldness continued.

“Help me out here,” Geralt complained, dragging you by one shoulder as the rest of your body tried felt too heavy to follow.

“I’m trying,” you mumbled.

“Hardly.”

Your feet weren’t behaving underneath you, knees struggling to take your weight. You’d preferred it in the chair, at least your feet ached less. As you stumbled Geralt caught you, grunting a complain. For a moment he held you upright, letting you recover you balance. Suddenly his grip tightened.

“You’re not shivering,” he noticed, words sharp as he frowned at you.

“Should be,” you replied, “I’m fucking cold.”

“I know.”

He seemed to turn dismissive, bodily moving you across the room, but you could sense the concern in him. Even through your daze, you wondered where he was taking you. Neither of them had wanted to share. Getting up the stairs was more of a struggle than you expected, and you frowned at the ache in your muscles are you struggled to ascend them without leaning on Geralt.

The Witcher had gone quiet, hugging you to him, and you found it more terrifying than you wanted to admit. At the top of the stairs he continued to bundle you along towards his room, and you realised he was right. You weren’t shivering, even as wind rushed down the cold corridor.

“Keep talking to me,” he insisted, chest rumbling against your torso.

The thought left your mind immediately. You were fighting to stay awake. He found his key quickly, one arm caging you against him as he opened his door. Geralt worked efficiently as he pulled the sheets aside on his bed, settling you under them and tucking them around you.

The fire had started to dwindle, burning low in the hearth. As you moved under the covers, trying to warm up, Geralt rebuilt and stoked the flames. The fire flickered up, bathing the room in light. You couldn’t feel the heat, but hopefully it would follow soon. You closed your eyes, trying to find sleep now the noise of Jaskier’s lute had finally stopped.

“Talk to me,” he repeated gruffly, standing between the fireplace and the bed.

“Sorry.”

You opened your eyes, seeing his raised eyebrow. You smiled despite yourself.

“What do you want me to talk about?”

“Anything,” he insisted, busying himself with sorting through his belongings, “just keep talking.”

He found another fur but grunted at seeing it wet, setting it in front of the fire to dry.

“I don’t think… I think I got colder than I realised earlier. And Jaskier wouldn’t stop fucking making noise so I couldn’t sleep, and the food didn’t make me feel better, and I can’t feel my toes –”

He stepped back for a moment, appraising the room, and you forced your eyes to stay open against the tiredness trying to claim you.

“As in, they’re cold? Or you can’t feel your toes?” he demanded.

You met his gaze, trying to understand the question. He strode towards the bed and found your feet beneath the blankets, stripping off your socks to feel your frozen toes.

“Fuck.”

He looked up at you, yellow eyes filled with seriousness and concern, and you fought back tears. Had you upset him somehow?

He bundled your feet back up, covering them first with socks then with one of his jackets, all the while tugging at the wooden bedframe. After a few moments of consideration, he suddenly dragged the whole frame across the floor, making you startle and grab at the mattress as the whole piece of furniture was moved closer to the fireplace.

You hoped no one else had been woken up by the noise, but your worry was immediately sated by the warmth of the flames against your exposed face. Geralt looked at you, waiting for approval, and you smiled weakly.

“Thanks.”

He nodded, busying himself with moving things around the newly-rearranged room. A few moments, you heard his gruff voice repeating himself.

“Talk.”

“This is much better, thanks Geralt. I’m sorry for kicking you out of your bed. I don’t know how I got so cold, it’s not even snowing, I guess just the wind and the rain…”

“You don’t need to explain.”

Blinking away tears, you stared sideways at the flames, hearing Geralt approaching behind you.

“I want to warm you up…” he trailed off, “if you don’t mind…”

Nodding, you shuffled forwards, but Geralt’s hand on your bundle of blankets stopped you before you could move from the centre of the bed.

“That’s fine,” he mumbled.

Stripping off his last piece of leather armour, he quickly slid himself beneath the sheets behind you, soothing the sudden flash of cold air with the warmth of his own body. Sandwiched between the Witcher and the fire, a sudden shudder wracked your body.

You heard Geralt exhale behind you. One warm hand found your wrist, and you realised he was checking your pulse.

“Am I still alive?” you teased.

Your smile dropped as his hand tightened on your wrist, before letting go, finding a place on your waist and hugging you closer to his chest instead.

“Sorry,” you apologised to him, shoving your face into the pillow beneath you as Geralt’s breath steadied against your back.

Geralt hummed.

“I think you were in a lot more danger than you realised.”

You lay in silence, giving him the opportunity to elaborate as your shivers and the heat around you finally returned sensation to your body. Everything ached, and you realised with a start that you would still be stuck, freezing in the entryway to the inn without Geralt’s help.

“On Kaer Morhen, when I was a boy… a lot of us didn’t survive. Very few survived, in fact. And they’d often… succumb to the cold.”

Fidgeting against him, you made space for the Witcher to wrap his arms tighter around you. His breath was hot against your neck as he continued speaking.

“We knew they were going… when they stopped seeming cold. The shivering would stop. The pain would stop. Then they would just fade away where they lay.”

His upbringing and training haunted the Witcher, but you had never heard it so plainly in his voice. Pain echoed through every word.

“I’m sorry, Geralt.”

“We would try to warm them up – we would. Ale and blankets and moving them closer to the fires… but the mountains are so cold. The air is thin. If they couldn’t survive it… we couldn’t help them.”

“There’s nothing you could have done,” you reassured, clumsily finding his hand on your waist and squeezing it.

He sought out your pulse again, murmuring something against your neck as he found it stronger. As your warmth returned so did your clarity, and you felt a growing pang of embarrassment at clinging to him. Or rather, letting him cling to you.

“I know you didn’t want to share, I’m sorry,” you began, but the Witcher shook his head against you.

His hair had started to frizz as it dried in the firelight, you noticed.

“No, Jaskier… I’m going to kill him for letting you freeze.”

“Jaskier has nothing to do with it,” you chided, closing your eyes against the warmth from the flames.

“He… I thought the beds wouldn’t fit two people. I didn’t want to take up too much space. Or crush you in my sleep.”

You laughed, and he made an affronted hum. Oh, he’s serious.

“I’ll wake you up if you crush me. I thought maybe I smelled too bad or something,” you teased, but Geralt wouldn’t bite.

“We should have found cover earlier. We left you with Roach for hours, you weren’t moving as much as Jaskier, singing his fucking songs, no wonder you got cold.”

“It’s not your fault –”

“As long as you’re travelling with me, it’s my fault,” his voice rumbled against your ear, and you couldn’t help the deep inhale you took at his protectiveness.

As your sensation returned, you could feel his whole body pressed against your back.

“It’s not,” you argued weakly, not fight left.

Sleep was claiming both of you, and now it seemed far safer, as your shudders subsided and your toes tingled with warmth from the fireplace. You closed your eyes, head beside Geralt’s bicep as he spooned you, fidgeting to get comfortable.

“I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t come to me,” he whispered, a confession.

“I should have – sorry. And I’m sorry about Kaer Morhen… there’s nothing you could have done. It wasn’t fair…”

For a moment there was nothing but his breath, mingling with the patter of rain. Then he answered, another confession against your skin.

“Thank you.”

Sleep grew closer again, Jaskier’s lute quietening and a cosy peace settling over the two of you, an oasis in the cold air of the inn.

“Wake me up if you get cold. I’ll sort the fire out.”

“Mhm,” you mumbled back.

You smiled as his hand found yours once more, checking the pulse at your wrist before cupping your hand against your sternum. You wondered if he felt your heart race at the gesture.

“Thank you,” you whispered, catching his attention one last time.

He shifted, cold sneaking under the blankets for a moment and making you groan, before his lips pressed to your hairline. As he pulled you close to him again you tried to bite down a giddy smile, feeling his own grin against your neck.

The shifting light of the fire was your companion as you let sleep take you, grasped to Geralt’s chest and safe against the storm outside.

Masterlist! <3

My Favourites♡ Full Stories (OC) 📖 NSFW* Requests 📝

You Can't Do Everything♡

Like a Podium

Pluvial

What Was I Made For?♡

The Elevator♡ | The Carnival

8/9/19♡

Good Evening

Birthday Plans*♡

You OK?♡

A Million Times Over

The Pleasure is All Mine*

Embarrassment*♡📝

Scheming♡📝 | Steps Towards♡

29th♡

The Taste of Champagne

Victory Tastes Damn Good*

Picture of Perfection♡📝

Just Friends♡📝

Wonderland♡

We Can Share📝

Called You Again

Rough*

Not Like Me | Not Like You ♡

Live on Air

Prettier With You♡

Shut Up And Cuddle Me

Baby Fever♡ | My Girls♡ | Save A Dance

Watch Your Mouth

You're Late

Birthday Buddies

An Ego Thing

Du Lernst Nie

Kiss It Better

The Sound of Rain📖

Hell Yeah*📝

Lights Out♡

It's Loud

What A Shame♡

Whatever You Like♡

How They'd Come In Late After A Race (1)

Five Seconds Flat

shut up kiss me.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

song inspiration: shut up kiss me by angel olsen.

author's note: everyone say thank you to my love @writingsbychlo for fueling my delusions. constantly spamming her with my ideas because i have no self control when it comes to this man. there’s just something about theo fighting that makes me absolutely feral but i’ll hush now before i spoil it 🤭

Theodore. Fucking. Nott. 

Those three words fueled your rampage as you marched across the quidditch pitch. The audacity of that cocky, arrogant, silver tongued Slytherin knew no bounds. For years, you tolerated the pompous prick and the rivalry between you, but today he had finally gone too far. 

You cleared the field in less than a minute, passing by confused players as you angrily seethed. You spotted a shock of familiar platinum blonde hair and walked right up to Draco Malfoy. 

“Where the hell is he?”

He chuckled, perfectly aware of your longstanding enmity with his closest friend. “What’s he done this time?”

“Where. Is. He?” you repeated through gritted teeth. “Don’t make me ask again, Malfoy.” 

The blonde paled several shades when he saw the fire burning in your gaze. “Locker rooms. I wouldn’t go in there, Y/N. They’re still shower—“ Draco sighed as you brushed past him. “Whatever, it’s your funeral.”

The locker rooms were steamy, the heat and humidity clinging to your school uniform as you stalked through the aisles. The Slytherin players startled when they spotted you amongst their midst. 

“Well, well, well,” Mattheo drawled as he leaned against the wall. A towel hung dangerously low on his hips and he smirked when your eyes flickered over his body. “What do we have here? A sweet little Hufflepuff marching straight into the viper’s den.”

“Where the fuck is he, Riddle?”

Mattheo grinned lazily. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, sweetheart.” 

“You know exactly who I’m talking about. Your arrogant prick of a friend who sent my fucking date to the hospital wing!” 

Before you went to sleep last night, you had done so with a grin on your face after a wonderful date with Alec Stone at the Three Broomsticks, but then you arrived at breakfast this morning with no Alec in sight and the rumor mill rampant with talks of Theo pummeling some poor Ravenclaw in the courtyard. 

You were going to kill him. 

“Sorry, love. Doesn’t ring a bell.” 

You frowned, purposely bumping against Mattheo as you walked further down the dimly lit aisle. In your trail for vengeance, you ran into a very flustered looking Enzo who yelped as he sought to cover his very naked torso. 

“Y/N,” Enzo said, hastily wrapping a towel around his waist. “What are you doing in the locker rooms?”

Behind him, the sound of the shower running echoed against the marble tiles. “Is he in there?”

Berkshire’s face fell. “You heard about the fight?” 

“It wasn’t a fight,” you said angrily. “He pummeled Alec so badly that he’s currently in the hospital wing with a concussion and several broken bones.”

“Just hear him out, okay?” 

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. “Hear him out? Your precious Theodore beat the absolute shit out of my date and you want me to hear him out? For what? What reason could Theo possibly have for doing what he did to Alec? He couldn’t stand to see me have fun for two fucking seconds? This is low even for him and you know it, Enzo.”

“You don’t know the whole story, Y/N.” 

“Well then please point me in the right direction so I can hear from the arsehole himself.” 

“He’s in there,” Enzo said, pointing to the shower stalls. “But I’m warning you, Y/N. He’s in a proper foul mood.” 

You huffed. “That makes two of us.” 

The steam from the showers rose up like a malevolent fog, curling around your feet as you stormed through the stalls. You found him in the farthest corner, water trickling down his back as he faced the tiled wall. His body language was tense, like a serpent preparing to strike. A crimson trail swirled against the marble as blood dripped from Theo’s bruised knuckles. The sight of it incensed you. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Theo whipped his head towards your direction, his dark curls plastered against his cheek. Those watercolor eyes were stormy, the blues and greens flickering with anger as he met your gaze. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said dismissively. 

“Bullshit!” You countered, stepping further into the stall. The steam barely covered Theo’s naked form, but you weren’t about to let that deter you from demanding answers. “You owe me a fucking explanation.”

“For what?” 

“For what?” you repeated incredulously. “You beat Alec within an inch of his life and that’s all you have to say for yourself? Honestly Theodore, have you gone absolutely mental?” 

“He deserved it.” 

“Why? Because he took me out on a date? Because you couldn’t stand to let me have this one thing? You absolutely loathe the idea of me being even remotely happy, don’t you?” 

Theo clenched his fists as his jaw twitched in anger. “No. I loathe the idea of that miserable excuse of a human being breathing the same air as you.” 

“So you beat him to a bloody pulp?” 

His voice was cold and icy, cutting through you like glass. “He’s lucky I didn’t do worse.”

“What do you have against Alec?” You moved closer to Theo, closing the gap as you poked his chest. The shower streamed over the both of you, blurring your vision. The water was hot against your skin, but it paled against the heat of your own anger. “What did he ever do to you, Theo?” 

Theo gripped your wrist. You were vaguely aware of his nakedness, but he made no move to hide it and you were too furious to even care. “Don’t say his name. I can’t bear to hear you say it after what he said about you this morning.” 

You stepped backward, flinching. “What—what are you talking about?” 

When you met his gaze, you startled. You’d never seen Theo this angry before. His eyes, which were usually dead and expressionless, burned with a cold sort of fury. 

“I heard him in the courtyard, bragging to his stupid friends. I thought he was just chatting shit, so I kept back. I only came down for a smoke, but then he said your name.” 

The pit in your stomach grew. “What did he say?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure you wanted to know. Not if he was this angry over it.

“The stupid fucking prick was talking about your date. The dress you wore. The smiles you gave him. The hand holding through Hogsmeade. Then one of his gormless mates asked if he got lucky.” 

You froze at his words as a horrible feeling washed over you. Theo loosened his grip on your wrist, but didn’t let go. 

“Do you know what that sodding idiot said? I will, soon enough. I can tell she’s raring to go.” 

Tears pricked at your eyes. You felt like you were going to be violently sick. 

“And his friends—those miserable fucking wankers started betting on how long it would take. Two dates. Three. A month.” Theo’s hands were shaking, violence spilling over into his veins. “That smug tosser smirked and said he could’ve had you out in the hallway. That’s how eager you were.”

“I barely even touched him!” you said angrily. “I kissed his cheek good night and that was it.” 

“I know,” Theo said, his voice low and rough. “I know you. I knew he was lying, so I fucking lost it. I walked over there and just punched and punched until my knuckles were bloody and bruised and all I could see was red. I wanted to wipe that stupid fucking smirk off his mouth.” 

You could picture Theo putting out his cigarette ever so calmly before walking over to throw the first punch. You’d seen him fight before. He was relentless. Where Mattheo was pure fire and rage, Theo was as cold as ice. There was nothing but lethal calm in those dead eyes as he delivered blow after blow in absolute silence. 

“Eventually, Blaise and Enzo pulled me off of that prick.” He averted his gaze as if remembering the moment. “When his idiot friends finally peeled him off the floor, I spit on the fucker. I told him to consider it a warning. That I’d do a lot worse if I ever heard your name come out of his mouth again. I promised him that a concussion would be the least of his worries if he didn’t stay the fuck away from you.”

The tears fell down your cheeks despite your efforts to keep them in. The anger all but faded from Theo’s eyes as soon as he realized that you were crying. You were so, so stupid. For thinking Alec was a nice guy. For being so giddy after your date only for him to turn around and spit vile lies about you. 

For crying in front of your worst enemy.

The color drained from Theo’s face as you cried into your hands. You felt him shift beside you, debating whether or not to come closer. 

“Don’t,” you said through a broken sob. “Don’t come near me.” 

Theo flinched at your words, looking visibly pained. His voice was soft and soothing when he spoke again. “Tell me how to fix it. Do you want to yell at me? Punch me? Go ahead, love. I can take it.” He sounded desperate. “Just please, please don’t cry.” 

You hugged your arms around your waist and glared at him. “Why do you even care?” 

He paused, fingers flexing at his side as he fought the urge to reach out and comfort you. 

“Because I care about you!” The exasperation in his voice made your chest tighten. “I care that you let that stupid idiot take you on a date to the Three Broomsticks. I care that you fucking smiled at him when he gave you roses even though I know you prefer sunflowers. I care that you kissed him on the cheek when he dropped you off at your dorm.”

You sniffled, utterly perplexed at his words. “I don’t understand. We hate each other!” 

Theo visibly softened, the tension leaving his body. “I could never hate you, Y/N.” He reached for your hand. Your first instinct was to pull away, but you let him trace soothing circles on your skin. “I may tease you. Prank you. Annoy you. But I’ve never hated you.” 

Theo wiped the dried up tears from your cheeks. No fresh tears, which he took as a good sign. “I don’t even think you remember this, but I tried asking you to the Yule Ball in fourth year.” 

The memory surfaced. You were reading by the Black Lake and Theo had asked if you had a date. You said no, to which he promptly asked if he could take you. You left in a huff, thinking that it was just another way to rile you up. 

“I thought you were just trying to get a rise out of me. If I would’ve known…” 

Theo paused. “How could you not know? How could you not see?” 

The rage crashed against you like an errant wave. You didn’t know if you were angry at Theo or yourself, but you exploded either way, unable to keep your emotions under control. 

“Because you never told me, you idiot!”

“I never told you, but I showed you.” He smiled crookedly. “I'm not good with words, obviously. Every time I open my mouth it’s like I say the perfect combination of words to piss you off. So I learned to tell you how I felt through my actions.” 

“Haven’t you ever wondered why your favorite study spot in the library is always free? That’s because I threatened anyone who came near it. Or how you never seem to run out of quills despite the fact that you manage to break one every day from how hard you write? I always replaced them when you weren’t looking.” Your heart clenched at his words. “I even bribed first years to bring you hot chocolate when I knew you were pulling all nighters.” 

You stood there, staring at him. This wasn’t the cocky, arrogant Theo that you knew. He was looking at you so earnestly that it physically hurt how endearing it all was. 

“Why would you let me think that you were an inconsiderate jerk this whole time?” 

Those hypnotizing eyes pierced right through you, filled with a sadness so heavy that you felt it weighing on your chest. 

“Because at least you were thinking of me.”

You swayed gently. The water had long seeped into your bones, making you shiver as all of your clothes stuck to your skin like paper. You were convinced that your body had gone into shock. The range of emotions you were currently experiencing was turbulent to say the least. You stood in stunned silence, just taking it all in. Then the impact of his words hit you all at once. 

Theo watched as your bottom lip trembled. Panic seized him as you began crying again, this time not bothering to hide it from him. “Fuck I’m sorry, Y/N. Please don’t cry.” 

He didn’t know what to do. Should he comfort you? Should he keep his distance? Theo felt like he was doing a rather exceptional job of mucking things up. 

“Why are you saying sorry?” You said between hiccups. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

Theo caressed your cheek. So gently. Like he half-expected you to recoil. That only set a fresh wave of tears to spill onto your cheeks. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, love.” 

“Of course I do!” you nearly wailed. “I’ve been horrible to you. I’ve thought the worst of you, but all this time you were doing all these sweet, considerate things and I never even noticed. You should’ve told me, Theo.” 

“I—I didn’t think you’d ever see me that way,” Theo said softly. “It was better to have you hate me and still be part of my life than risking not having you in it at all.” 

Because at least you were thinking of me. 

It was the saddest thing that you’ve ever heard. For years, Theo settled for being your enemy because he’d rather have your hatred and loathing than indifference. He sustained himself on the bare minimum because he thought that was all he deserved. 

“I’m sorry, Theo. I’m so so fucking sorry.” 

Theo was absolutely distressed. “Fuck, look Y/N. Let me just finish up here and get my towel and when I’m dry and slightly less naked then we can talk, okay?” 

You sniffled, wiping your tears away. There was no way you could wait. Not after everything Theo had just told you. Not after everything that he’s been telling you all these years. Theo had literally and figuratively laid himself bare before you. The least you could do was to even the playing field. 

So you unlaced the gold and black tie around your neck. Unbuttoned your blouse and threw it somewhere behind you. Stepped out of your skirt and stared at Theo head on. 

“Oh—Merlin’s beard, what in the hell are you doing, Y/N? Are you trying to send me into cardiac arrest?” 

You shook your head, smiling slightly. Theo was determined to look everywhere but at your very exposed body. You were still in your bra and panties, but the black lace really didn’t leave much to the imagination. Especially when the water clung to every inch of your skin. 

“You were vulnerable with me,” you said simply. “So I’m returning the favor.” 

Theo felt like he was definitely headed for an early grave. He tried to think of something—anything—other than the girl he’s been head over heels for since third year standing naked in front of him.

“Theo,” you said softly. His name had never sounded half as good coming out of anyone else’s mouth. He wanted to bottle the sound. “Can I—can I hug you?” 

He could’ve sworn that his heart had stopped beating. The air had all but left his lungs, deflating his entire body as though he’d fallen off his broom and plummeted through the sky at breakneck speed. 

Theo didn’t recognize his own voice as he said, “Of course you can, Y/N.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before you dashed into his arms, nearly toppling him over from the force of it. You were a tiny little thing, but you were stronger than you looked. He smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes as you hugged him. For a minute you and Theo just stood there under the trickling water, holding each other as though you were the only two people alive. 

If this was all the affection you were willing to give him, Theo would’ve been content to hold onto you until you grew tired of him. His slender fingers traced down your spine, drawing soothing circles against your skin as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. You felt safe. Like nothing bad could ever happen as long as you were with him.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt like this. There was just this spark between you. Perhaps that was part of the reason why you had been so angry this morning. 

It hadn’t just been because Theo sent Alec to the hospital wing, which you were now thankful for after hearing all the disgusting things he said about you. It was also because you thought that he had ruined your chance of feeling that rush with someone else. The same rush you got when the two of you were arguing. The same rush that was noticeably missing when you kissed Alec last night. 

Things with Theo had always been electric. You attributed it to mutual loathing, but that wasn’t the full story. Sure he made your blood boil sometimes, but he also made you feel alive. You were terrified to admit it to yourself, which is probably why you said yes to Alec in the first place. 

You sighed as Theo’s fingers tangled through your hair. He gently pulled your head back and looked at you in the most heartbreaking way. 

“Y/N,” he said hoarsely. Theo’s gaze dipped to your mouth as his arm snaked around your waist. “I think I might die if I go one more second without kissing you. Will you please put me out of my misery, love?” 

You couldn’t help but smile. “Gladly.”

Theo held his breath as you pulled him down to you, lips brushing shyly at first. Then you leaned in and kissed him. And he truly and honestly thought that he had died. 

Your lips were soft against his, tasting of strawberries and mint toothpaste. He cupped the back of your head and tilted your chin to deepen the kiss. Before, Theo thought he could’ve sustained himself from a simple hug, but right now, he couldn’t even control himself as he gorged himself on your taste. 

He chuckled when you tried and failed to get on your tiptoes to offset the height difference between you. Theo caressed your cheek and smiled against your mouth. 

“Need some help, love?” 

You nodded before pulling him back down again. This time, the tender kisses turned more heated as he locked your legs around his waist and pressed your back against the wall. You gasped as the cold tile made contact with your bare skin and Theo took the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. 

Merlin’s beard. Theo kissed with his entire body. There wasn’t an inch of you that wasn’t touching him and the skin to skin contact set your body on fire. You’d kissed other boys before, but they paled in comparison. You couldn’t get enough of Theo. You ran your fingers through his hair. Wrapped your legs more tightly around his waist. Trailed kisses along his jaw and neck and throat. 

Then he fucking moaned. 

It was a low, rumbling sound that sent tremors over your body and shook every fiber of your being like a devastating earthquake. You wanted to hear him make that sound over and over again. 

“Y/N,” Theo said, his forehead dropping to yours. “Before I lose all sense of self, I want to—no—I need to tell you—”

“What is it, Theo?”

“If we do this, then you have to understand what it means to me,” Theo whispered. “I may be terrible with words, but it’s important for me that you hear me when I say this. I want you. Not just physically, but in every sense of the word. I wanted you in third year when you first told me off for being a dick to the first years and I want you now even though you came in here to defend a prick that definitely doesn’t deserve it.” 

“What are you saying, Theo?” 

“I want you to be mine, Y/N.” 

You beamed. “Like, your girlfriend?”

“I don’t think girlfriend is a strong enough word to express how I feel for you, but it’s a start.” He moved the hair out of your face and cradled your cheek. “So yes, I suppose I do want you to be my girlfriend. I want to hold hands with you in the hallways. I want to look up at the stands during my games and see you cheering me on. I want to take you up to the Astronomy Tower and kiss you under the stars.” 

“And you say you’re bad with words,” you teased. “I want to do all those things and more with you, Theodore Nott. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.” 

“Good, cause you’re mine.” Theo said matter-of-factly, those adorable dimples making an appearance on each cheek. “You were mine even before you knew it.” 

He kissed you again, but this time it was soft and sweet and it filled your stomach with butterflies. Theo no longer felt the need to hoard as much of your affection as he could because you had just given him the ultimate reassurance that he would have plenty of you in the future. 

You sighed contently against him, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. He shifted, pressing kisses against your neck. Your fingers froze when you felt him stir underneath you. 

“Theo,” you said slowly, biting back a smirk. “Is that what I think it is pressing against my leg?” 

He groaned. “We’re half naked, in the shower, heavily making out, and you just agreed to be my girlfriend. Of course I’m hard.” 

You stifled a laugh. “Theodore Nott, is emotional intimacy turning you on?” 

“Everything about you turns me on.” 

“That’s helpful to know,” you said with a little smirk. “Especially when we're dueling and I’m losing.” 

“Merlin’s beard. My girlfriend’s downright evil.” 

You grinned so hard that your cheeks ached. Theo peppered kisses all over your face before setting you down. 

“I suppose we should head to dinner soon. My teammates watched you march in here in a fit of rage. They might think you’ve murdered me.” 

“There’s only one problem,” you said as you finally turned off the shower. “I’m soaking wet.” 

“I bet you are, darling.” 

You rolled your eyes. “From the shower, you wanker.” 

He grinned and kissed the top of your head. “It’s alright. I’ve got some extra clothes in my locker.”

Ten minutes later, the two of you walked out in the quidditch pitch hand in hand. Theo’s sweater completely enveloped you and he smiled a little at the sight. You received a few interesting stares as you made your way through the castle halls, but one look from Theo and they all quickly found something else to gawk at. Having a scary boyfriend was already paying off. 

On the way to dinner, you ran into Enzo. The git had the biggest smile on his face when he saw that you and Theo were holding hands. “So you heard him out after all, huh?” 

“Yeah, we sorted out our differences,” you said with a smile. “Coincidentally, I gained a boyfriend out of the whole ordeal. Happy now, Berkshire?” 

“Absolutely chuffed,” Enzo said with a grin. “See you lovebirds at dinner.” 

Theo rolled his eyes as his friend disappeared into the Great Hall. He turned, squeezing your fingers. “I should warn you. My friends can be a bit…much.” 

“Don’t worry, I think we all got fairly acquainted in the locker rooms. If they tease us, well I’ve got a perfectly scary boyfriend to fend them off.” 

He chuckled. “A scary boyfriend with an even more terrifying girlfriend.” 

You winked, kissing his bruised knuckles. “This school won’t know what hit them.” 

“Neither did Alec,” he said with a satisfied smirk. You gave him a reprimanding glare, but it was half-hearted. You didn’t actually feel sorry for the prick. “Sorry. Too soon?” 

“You know you can’t punch everyone that says anything bad about me, right?”

“Of course not. I’m perfectly capable of kicking them too.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Shut up and kiss me, Theo.” 

“Yes ma'am.” 

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I NEED PART TWO OF THE MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N L/N!

. . . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT! (part2)

You cackled to yourself after sending the message into your groupchat, quickly returning to the video and beginning to play it again, occasional bursts of giggles slipping through your lips.

Resuming your place in the video—the first clip that began playing was actually from not that long ago at all. It was You, Kat Dennings, Elizabeth Olsen and Zendaya at Taylor Swifts Eras Tour (an experience you would genuinely never forget). Taylor was playing Lover and, in the clip, Kat had your face in one hand and the other wrapped around your waist, bringing you close to her body.

“Lover, can I go where you go—“ Kat sang with Taylor, singing all the lyrics to you and grinning at you, faces inches away from each other. “—Can we always be this close.” She punctuated this lyric with giving you an eskimo kiss.

You smiled sincerely at the memory.

The next clip began up, it was you and Chris Evans doing Playground Insults with BBC Radio 1: the two of you were sat opposite each other, knees touching, Chris was grinning goofily at you, giddy laughs escaping him as you tried to remain straight faced.

“—we’re here with Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N.” The presenters introduced.

“And we’re about to play Playground Insults . . Now Chris and Y/N are sat opposite each other,” the camera cut to you and Chris, him smiling largely and you looking away to contain your own, “the atmosphere is very tense.”

“We’ve done this quite a few times now but im thinking.. this is the biggest movie of the year, let’s make this the biggest playground insults we’ve ever done.”

“Yep.” Chris nodded, trying not to laugh.

“Chris, hun. . you’re ugly. Like, plain ugly.” You nodded seriously, immediately setting off as you feigned a pained wince to the words. “Everyone’s been talking about it. . just, you’re so atrocious to look at. Honestly, I almost feel arse over tits in horror when I saw you.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something but then faltered and pouted, “no matter how good of an actor I am, I could never even get those words out my mouth about you and make them sound genuine. Seriously.”

The third clip started—it was Chris Hemsworth on a carpet, a bold colourful question at the bottom said ‘WHO HAS THE MOST FANS?’. Chris immediately said, “Y/n.” In that deep Australian accent of his. “Not that I blame the people from choosing her to be the people’s queen, she is truly one of a kind. You’ll only ever meet one Y/n in your lifetime, cherish it. The fans have the right idea.”

It changed to Scarlett with the same colourful question at screen and at the same carpet event: “Oh, Yeah. Y/n, one hundred percent.” She chuckled huskily. “That woman has fans upon fans and seriously, I’m one of them. She is something else.” She grinned, winking at the camera.

After Scarlett, Paul Rudd came onto your screen in the very same clip. “Oh! The legend herself, Y/N Y/L/N.” Paul answered brightly, smiling. “The amount of fans she has is unbelievable—well, it’s definitely believable for someone like her, so, not really unbelievable..”

The forth clip began—it was you all playing Family Feud with Jimmy Kimmel, on his live show. Sebastian and RDJ were currently facing off; Jimmy posed the question “what, other than the sun, are some of the hottest things to exist?”

Sebastian got to the buzzer faster than Robert managed to and didn’t even falter or hesitate as he answered straight away, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

The audience immediately screamed laughed and shrieked in delight, RDJ just nodded his head in understanding and appreciation, clapping his hands. Chris Evans, Mark and Anthony on the other side all looked amused but ultimately accepting (Chris was nodding along almost subconsciously). You were on the other team, looking heavenward with a faint exasperated grin and Scarlet wrapped her arm around your waist, Chris Hemsworth smirking at you both.

The fifth clip started up: it was a behind the scenes shot from Endgame, the big final battle. You were currently in the middle of doing your own stunt, green screen behind you and harnesses strapped to you as you dangled at a halfway point in the air. Your arms and hands were positioned in such a way to show your character manipulating her powers—the position also very much enhanced your chest, with the added help of your superhero attire. You looked hot, even you could admit.

The camera mirthfully panned to some of the rest of the cast who all stood aside while you filmed your scene—said cast being Chris Evans, Tom Holland, Gwyneth Paltrow, RDJ, Elizabeth Olsen and Tessa Thompson. All of their eyes were fixated on you, Robert was the only one grinning in amusement (and awe) while all the others stared at you as though you hung the sun yourself.

“Boobies.” Lizzie giggled faintly, her eyes stuck. The rest of the cast watching dumbly nodded while the crew cracked up behind the cameras.

And if you screenshotted their dumbfounded faces looking ip at on screen you. . well that was your business.

The clip changed. It was now Karen Gillan being interviewed on some carpet event, looking genuinely breathtaking. The interviewer was asking, “—obviously, your friend and co-star Y/N Y/L/N has been in lots of iconic movies. . what is your favourite scene of hers in The Wolf of Wall Street?”

Karen paused with a cheeky little smile, giving the interviewer a a jokingly incredulous look. “Come on.” She simply said. “It’s a bloody no brainer, I’m certain it was Leonardo’s favourite scene too. . I hope it is anyway otherwise he’s a silly, silly man.”

At the same carpet event with the same interviewer, Chris Hemsworth was being interviewed—his wife, Elsa, on his arm and looking half ready to battle off any rude interviewers (queen).

“—what is your favourite scene of hers in Ocean’s 8?”

“All of them!” Elsa answered eagerly, grinning. “Her outfits really accentuated her personality and I enjoyed them very much so. Particularly her outfit for the gala. . the amount of accentuated personality, by gosh, it had me speechless.”

Chris turned her head, obviously trying not to laugh at his wife.

“Nunca he estado más celoso y agradecido por la ropa en mi vida.” Elsa hummed.

You blinked.

The clip changed to you, Sebastian, Lizzie, Paul, Jeremy and Jimmy all on his Tonight Show playing Musical Beers. The slightly unnerving music/beat played in the background while you all stalked around the circle, Paul and Jeremy already out—leaving you, Seb, Lizzie and Jimmy.

As you were all racing around the circular table, Lizzie very obviously swatted your ass and you were impressed with your own body as you watched that impact: the audience erupted into laughs and shrieks, Jimmy playfully covering his eyes as Seb smirked. You thought that would be the end of the clip, but no.

The very disco-esk tune briefly cut out and past time you thought that meant it stopped completely and you’d already reached for the red cup in front of you and chugged it’s contents, only to pause as the music began back up.

“Spit it back! Spit it back!”

You did just that—but when the music actually stopped and Seb was left standing in front of the cup with your (let’s not go there) in it, your mouth popped open in shock. Jeremy gladly backed away from the table in hysterics, Lizzie and Jimmy equally as amused.

“Oh my god, I am—“

Sebastian quickly downed the cup with. . those contents, not even looking all that perturbed.

“So sorry.” You finished, mouth agape.

You vaguely remembered a conversation you’d had with him after the show, sincerely and repeatedly apologising and he was just very, very amused with you. He didn’t seem to mind at all—what an odd man.

“It’s all good.” Sebastian chuckled lowly, wrapping the mortified looking past you in a one armed shoulder hug and squeezing you to him. Lizzie seemed to be trying to trade a very obvious eye message with you—the audience shrieked and screamed in the background.

Another clip began: its was you and Scarlett Johansson doing a trust fall thing, you thought (correctly).

“Scarlett I swear. .” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at the woman behind you—she grinned back at you amusedly, her eyes twinkling.

“Calm down.” She laughed herself. “I’ll catch you don’t worry, gorgeous.”

Still slightly overcome with nervous giggles, you turned and let out a breath as you shut your eyes before holding at your arms and falling back.

And catch you she definitely did—although her hands didn’t exactly land in a PG-13 area, you cackled as you watched her hands grope at your chest to pull you up. In the video, you were also wheezing as were the crew and Scarlett had a cheeky little smirk as she laughed.

When you were finally standing, she gave one last squeeze before finally letting go—on screen you was breathless with giggles.

“Always wanted to do that.” She shrugged simply with a large amused smile.

The next clip began—it was Zendaya and Tom Holland on LADBible, playing that how much do you agree or not game. The statement said was ‘Y/N Y/L/N is everyone‘s celebrity crush’.

Instantly, Tom and Zendaya moved their cups to strongly agree, both of them nodding in solid agreement with the statement: presently, you awed at your friends, ego very much boosted. Well. To be fair, all of this video was massively boosting your ego.

“I mean, come on.” Zendaya made a ‘duh’ face and shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s Y/N.” Tom smiled crookedly, adding onto her comment.

“I am so happy I get to now say that she’s one of my closest friends.” Zendaya beamed genuinely. “She’s—one of those people whose beauty isn’t just an external thing, she’s so lovely man.” She pouted, in awe of you.

Watching the video, you beamed back at her.

The clip changed: Mark Ruffalo was on the Graham Norton show, next to Nicki Minaj and an actor you couldn’t place.

“Who would you say your favourite co-star has ever been, Mark?” Graham inquired.

“I—i would probably have to go with Y/N—“ The crowd instantly erupted into cheers and yells and Nicki smiled next to him, stating that she loved you under the sound of cheering. Mark grinned back at her, mumbling ‘me too’.

“Yeah, she’s a hell of an actress, that one. So easy to work with. Funny as f—hell, she’s just—an extremely genuine and kind person, and she really brings the energy on set.” Mark grinned. “..she’s also the only free pass my wife has ever given me. Which I won’t be using! Because I don’t believe in cheating, it’s scummy! Even though she’s gorgeous—anyone would be lucky!” He had to rise to a shout at the end as the audience erupted.

Nicki giggled next to him, “me personally, I would use that pass.”

You gasped in laughter as you watched the screen, screen-recording it all so you could go back and watch it. Saving it to your folder titled PISSING MY PANTS HRLP

The clip changed yet again, showing a scene from the Winter Solider BTS. You and Sebastian were filming a scene where he had to shoot your character—you watched the ‘Winter Solider’ shoot your character multiple times making you go down with an agonised yell, crawling away from him.

As soon as CUT was yelled, Sebastian’s face dropped from his stone cold (wintery) expression and he raced to you, crouching next to you. He practically tugged you into his lap on the floor, holding you.

“Oh my fuck that—that just felt so real, Y/n. You know I would never hurt you right?” He asked, blinking repeatedly before a small smirk fell on his lips. “You’re way too pretty to injure doll. Can’t ruin your perfect face.”

On screen you huffed in mock anger, hiding an amused grin as you shoved at him—he still held you close to him though, so both of you fell backwards and burst into giggles.

You literally thought ‘I ship them’ as you watched the clip of Sebastian and yourself, forgetting that was you for a moment.

Another clip started up—another behind the scenes. It was you and Tom Hiddleston in Thor : Ragnarok. In the scene Loki was tied down to the chair and your character was meant to intimidate him—you watched yourself take out your character’s daggers and lean forward into his space. One leg leaned up on top of the arm of the chair, sliding one dagger just a hair above the skin of his neck while using the over the move his chin up to be angled to you as you mockingly smiled down at him.

You said your line as your character but Tom remained silent, mouth parted and eyes widened as he gazed up at you—speech failing him. (You knew that they actually decided to include this awestruck look in the movie—the amount of fucking edits you’d seen was unreal).

Eyebrows crinkling you nudged your knee into his chest and he snapped out of it, grabbing your knee in a gentle grip. “Sorry darling, words sometimes seem to fail me in your presence.” He muttered rather hoarsely, still staring up at you.

“I don’t fucking blame him.” Tessa Thompson murmured from behind you both, and the camera moved to show her staring at you in a similar awe.

Present time, you could barely hide your smirk. Literally the biggest ego boost. Of all time.

Again, the clip changed and it was now Natalie Portman looking gorgeous on a carpet event, being interviewed—“if you could have Jane explore another romance than Thor, who would it be and why?”

“Y/N!” Natalia enthused immediately. “Well—her character, but like. Both. Either. One for me, one for Jane. That—would be great. And why? Come on! She’s an absolutely beautiful woman, inside and out. She has this outward glow that you literally cannot and don’t want to look away from and that reflects so much in her personality—once you’ve interacted with her one time, you never want to stop. Ever. I’m not kidding.” She giggled.

Another clip started up quickly—a blooper of you and Chris Evans. In this scene, your characters were meant to kiss after an angsty, angry argument. You stormed into the frame, into the bedroom, completely in character—an angry expression on and ready to go at Steve.

Before you could even let out a single syllable to begin your lines, Chris immediately surged forward and took your face in his hands, kissing the living daylights out of you.

You both pulled back after a bit and you just started at him, questioningly (that kiss was probably one of your best ever, let it be known, Chris Evans was a fantastic kisser).

“I—I thought It’d be good for the scene. .” Chris trailed off bashfully, scratching the base of his neck, literally pulling the excuse out of his arse. In actuality, he hadn’t wanted to spare a moment of the scene where he could be kissing you, well, not doing so.

“Bull!” Scarlett exclaimed as she materialised in the doorway. “He just wanted to kiss you.” She told you, pointedly looking at the man.

“Yeah—i—“ He huffed a defeated sigh, pink-cheeked. “I’ve got nothing. She’s right.”

In hindsight, you thought to yourself, you should probably stop being so shocked when the fanbase starts shipping you with your costars.

The clip changed: now it was you, Elizabeth and Aaron on a carpet event together—all being interviewed at the same time.

“So, Y/n, how does it feel to be in a Maximoff twin sandwich right now?” The interviewer giggled happily, smiling.

Before you could open you’re mouth—“we’re really enjoying it.” Lizzie and Aaron replied at the same time.

The interview gaped and you simply rolled your eyes as the two smirked at either side of you, they’d been talking in sync ever since you’d first met them at the table reading.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t why?” Aaron grinned crookedly. “A beautiful, lovely woman in between us. Honestly, love, there’s not a thought in my head besides you.” He joked, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“I completely support that.” Lizzie chirped in, “ever since I’ve met this gorgeous lady who i now acknowledge as my partner in everything—she’s taken up all of the room in my brain, and I couldn’t be happier.” She giggled, putting her arm around your waist.

In the middle of them both, with an arm over your shoulder and one around your waist—you simply sighed, sparing the giddy interviewer an exaggerated suffering expression.

Again, the clip switched—it was now another blooper of you in the Iron Man movie, the scene where you handed Tony’s arse to him in the boxing ring. Instead of acting as scripted, Gwen Paltrow got up from her seat and strode over to the boxing ring, stepping inside gracefully and planting one right on your lips.

Presently, you giggled as you thought back to this moment. Gwen was your impulsive queen. Your idol.

From the floor, RDJ squawked in shock, exclaiming about being cheated and betrayed and Gwen flung her stiletto off her foot at him without moving from your lips.

When she finally did, she simply smiled at you kindly, “you just looked so good that I couldn’t not kiss you, sweets.” She shrugged and you, on screen, laughed at her as you leaned back in to kiss her cheek.

(Unfortunately the scene was not included in the movie—but Gwen never wasted an opportunity to talk about it, and you, if the chance arose).

The clip moved onto another one—back to the Thor : Ragnarok movie, you and Heimdall were fighting together, however you missed a step in your stunt and ended up stumbling. Idris immediately caught you with a steady arm around your waist, full you to him so you could stabilise yourself.

You smiled up at him thankfully, squeezing his arm in gratitude (totally not because you’d just wanted to feel his bicep).

You watched as your on screen self get distracted again and Idris murmured to Tom who’d now appeared next to him, “I feel like it’s dishonourable how much I want her to fall so I can catch her again now.”

“Mate, trust me,” Tom laughed, “I completely understand. But she doesn’t need the rescuing.”

“That she does not.” Both men smiled fondly as they watched you.

Presently, you were actively refusing to blush.

A different clip started up—Florence Pugh was being interviewed, looking breathtaking in her green dress. “—did you take anything from set?” The interviewer was asking, smiling at Florence.

“Um—not much, just Y/n’s heart.” Florence immediately cracked up at her own joke, smiling widely. “And her underwear too.” She added.

The interviewer opened her mouth to say something more, giggling at Florence as she continued speaking: “and before you ask, no. I wouldn’t be selling, for any price. Finders keepers and all that shite—plus, she’s my girl, so. That rule applies even more so. No one else can take her heart. Or her pants.”

Watching your friend, you giggled at her cheesy smile at her words before getting distracted by your group chat, where multiple of your friends and co-starts had seen your message and were now responding. Your laughter increased tenfold as you opened the thread.

clo i need to know your thoughts on cal, johnny and benny all falling for the same, sweet local girl! <3 love ya xoxo

suse how could you do this to me :( currently trying not to scream cry and throw up in the coffee shop :( this somehow turned into jealous!danny? dunno how! kinda long, so ya gotta read more xo

benny says your name like it's this sacred thing and danny knows he's in for a treat. the sun grows weary as she dips beneath the tree line, but danny is unyielding; bony forearms braced on the tops of his thighs, microphone edging just a bit closer to his pondering interviewee. benny blows a stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth, watching as it mingles with the cotton candy clouds and it's hard, danny thinks, to be around benny because everything he does is so damn picturesque. he's filled more than three rolls of film with just benny and yeah, he's gotta be mindful because film isn't cheap and he's broke but there's something about the way benny looks; leather cut laying just so over his shirtless form, white levis baggy from age, speckled with either dirt or blood, he doesn't know, and he's just so cool that it's impossible to resist. danny snaps a quick picture, scolds himself as the ticker tells him he's got four shots left, then turns his chin to watch as benny plucks the near-extinguished cigarette from between his teeth, flicking it into the grass. "what'dya wanna know about her?" "well," danny shifts in the creaky lawnchair, "y'know, i've talked to the guys and they, uh, they say she's the best thing that's happened to the club. girls are sayin' it too, n'not just cus she made you nasty bastards start washing your hands." benny is chuckling, pillowy lips damp from the swipe of his tongue. "so what is it about her?" danny asks then waits and waits and waits as benny sits, per usual, in silence. and, okay, maybe this isn't going as well as danny hoped and now he's scrambling, throwing haphazard sentences around his brain, but then benny is speaking and holy shit he's speaking. danny has never heard him say more than fifteen words but now he's a leaky faucet "she's good - everythin' about her - doesn't have a mean bone in her body, y'know? gave all've us a chance, gave me a chance." benny shakes his head as though he still can't believe it then stops, turning his head at the faint sound of the screendoor closing and there you are in a pair of cutoff overalls, hair pulled back with a crocheted bandana and danny can see it, the whole angelic thing. you pay neither of them any mind, tending instead to the flowers 'round the porch. your little yellow watering can is cute and danny can see the fondness constricting the base of benny's throat. "think m'biased." benny says, turning back to face danny. "but 've said it once and i'll say it till they throw me in the ground: she's heaven sent. an' i hope imma good enough man to see her again when i get where i'm goin'." danny leaves with a rekindled belief in love and hopes that maybe one day he’ll be lucky enough to be loved the way benny is.

it's been three weeks since benny's interview and danny can't help but notice things. he carries this leather notebook around - jotting down names and places and tape numbers - but the page he keeps coming back to is one he scribbled across a few days ago. the thing about benny's girl is that she isn't just benny's girl. he's circled it three times for good measure because benny's girl doesn't just belong to benny - sure, maybe in the ways it matters - but every single soul adores her; lights up when she walks in and it sure is a sight to see fifty or so bikers grinning and stumbling over their own feet for this girl who looks like she couldn't harm a fuckin' fly. if she had a male equivalent danny reckons it would be cal. cal with a personality as warm as fire, who talks to everyone, and cracks jokes, and is unabashedly himself. but cal has a temper and it shows during a run to akron. danny is interviewing zipco when he hears the commotion then suddenly everyone is stampeding toward two swinging figures and he knows this is where he steps back. it's a full-on brawl now and zipco sure as shit wasn't going to stay and yap while there was chaos amuck, so danny plops down, lights a cigarette and waits. "s'guy called her a bitch," cal says and danny almost jumps out of his fuckin' skin. where did the sun go? he scrambles to a sitting position, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth and smacking the record button on his cassette recorder. "what?" "some fuckin' prick called her a bitch." cal's got a handful of ice cubes pressed to his busted jaw and because the man knows no personal space a bloody mix has dripped onto danny's pant leg. "her?" danny's not following but the beat up boy tips his head and danny should've known. it's you. of course it's you. "not gonna let nobody talk to her like that. i don't take too kindly for no one talkin' ill to a lady, but 'specially her. s'the most fucked up shit you can do." that's when danny realizes that cal has it too. it's the same look benny had when you came out of the house - that dumb, lovesick gaze - but cal's is laced with longing and danny actually feels bad for him. "she sure is something." he says, testing the waters. he's out of cigarettes so his nimble fingers pluck a handful of grass from beside his boot. "sure is." cal takes a seat, reaching behind danny to grab the jug of strong-smelling alcohol. "never met anyone like 'er. been everywhere; hell to fuckin' Houston, never met a girl like her before." he takes a deep swig, grimaces, then swallows. "benny sure is lucky, ain't he?" danny says, peering under his lashes at the golden-haired boy and he laughs. "we're all lucky. she's the sweetest of the sunflowers, man. she's like the fuckin' sun. least she is to me - to us." poor bastard, danny thinks. poor infatuated bastard.

"where ya gonna be sittin', baby?" "with johnny." "good girl, c'mere gimmie a kiss." danny's at the bar nursing a beer and a hangover and probably a concussion and you know what? this kinda talk doesn't phase him anymore. he's used to it by now; sure he doesn't know the rules, but it's none of his business anyway and in his four months with the club he's learned, above all else, that bikers are fuckin' weird. still danny finds you, watches as benny grabs your chin bringing you up up up onto your tiptoes before planting delicate kisses onto your giggling mouth. "you go see 'em." it's a whisper and danny's not trying to eavesdrop but he finds himself leaning closer. "looks like he needs some cheerin' up." and maybe danny is still invested because he turns, following you as you float over to johnny's table where he's hunched over an intimidating stack of papers. you say something, but your sweet voice is too quiet over the racket and danny cares so he stands, goes over to the pinball machine, but doesn't turn it on. "hi, pretty." johnny reaches over, takes your hand, tugs you closer and you giggle, bracing your hands on his broad shoulders and this is different. none of the other guys put their hands on you - just benny, just benny because he's yours and you're his but johnny does it so naturally danny knows he's done it before. "what's goin' on, old man?" your voice drips nothing but affection and johnny smiles around his cigarette and launches into club dues and the upcoming springfield run and the dwindling bail fund and danny starts losing interest; his feet are going numb and there's only so much longer he can stand there pretending to fucking play pinball before someone catches on but then you're on johnny's lap and yeah this never happens. danny has seen benny beat the dog shit out of a guy for even suggesting that you sit next to him but now here you are, balanced on one of johnny's broad thighs, spinning his wedding band around and around his finger and benny sees, fucking smiles at the sight, and drops his head, lining up his next shot at the pool table. danny realizes you're talking and running your hand up and down johnny's arm as you validate his feelings and strategize fundraising plans and promise to bake some of your infamous strawberry shortcake bites. johnny's promised hand lays so delicately upon your cheek danny thinks he may kiss you but thank fuck he doesn't because danny'd surely blow his cover and a load in his pants because, okay, yeah, he gets it. knows now why everyone loves you, has started to catch feelings of his own but he's not johnny or benny and he'll never be able to touch you the way he wants so he guesses he'll join the ranks with cal as just another distant admirer. just another love struck bastard.

no more ace to play [mamma mia part two] | formula one social media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, fernando alonso and jenson button

the investigation was fruitful but now y/n has a handful of drivers and a bucket load of criticism

general note: i answered an ask about this but i thought i'd reiterate here, this is a no wives or kids au, so seb and jenson's wives and kids do not exist in this !! thank you so much for all the lovely feedback on the last part, hopefully i remembered to tag everyone who asked x

part one | masterlist | ko-fi

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and 1.405,605 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial, sebastianvettel, jensonbutton

yourusername: so i guess it's kinda real now and they're all lovely x

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user4: i know the bitter old people are going to find this now but i for one think it's fucking ICONIC

user5: the guys are way too chill for the situation

user6: they've not said anything, so how would you know?

user5: idk reeks of babytrapping

user7: be for real y/n doesn't need to baby trap anyone she has her own career?

yourbff: debrief needed STAT

yourusername: literally on my way to yours right now get the non-alcoholic wine READY

landonorris: do i like get a prize for my hand in this?

yourusername: here's a gold star ⭐️

landonorris: i was hoping for some monetary rewards

yourusername: ur literally a millionaire ?

landonorris: and?

user8: are any of them gonna like comment or?

user9: very odd considering they wouldn't shut THE FUCK UP on their own posts

user10: for real they were very proud of their 'accomplishments' but now it's the consequences of their actions and their silent ?m

user11: have yall considered the fact that finding out you might be a dad is a bit of a shock, let them all process it?

jensonbutton

liked by lewishamilton, sebastianvettel and 302,889 others

jensonbutton: back to see the old rides

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user12: SPILL JENSON PLEASE

user13: so like what team is this kid going to support they've got so much to choose from?

user14: if they have any taste, ferrari 💅

user15: i mean their momma clearly has taste so ....

oscarpiastri: nice to meet you jenson!

jensonbutton: by how much mark talks about you i could've sworn i'd already met you

aussiegrit: bold of you to send shots my way considering your current predicament

user16: mark saying this like they aren't lucky to be with y/n ?

user17: bro we all saw that you met up with y/n and the baby daddy squad... wanna maybe share some thoughts?

user18: why would he want to publicise that he got with a slag?

user17: i know you're not calling y/n a slag when we're talking about f1 playboy JENSON BUTTON ?

user19: i have complete faith that this mamma mia summer WILL have a good ending but i NEED these men to maybe actually talk about it so people aren't just out here coming for y/n ?

yourusername

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, jensonbutton and 1,209,677 others

yourusername: got myself a sweet treat and did some meditation (i.e. listening to asmr roleplay) because life is crazy and morning sickness is a bitch

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user24: not to be sappy but i am emotional watching y/n go through this, she's been on the internet for so long i feel like i've watched her grow up, idk anything about f1 but i hope they're good for her

yourbff: gosh who knew you getting pregnant would lead to us having to go to the bakery every single morning

yourusername: but but but they have such good croissants and SHUSH I BUY YOU YOURS EVERYDAY

yourbff: i know you're like my sugar mama, please still buy me pastries when you have your actual child

user25: i think we're all being a wee bit dramatic about the whole "they haven't said anything" business. yes, they probably should say they're fine with it so people stop accusing y/n of baby trapping them but ALSO we don't know what they do everyday, maybe we should just let the adults go about their business

charles_leclerc: i am basically seb's kid so i shall be a character witness: that man is an ANGEL and believe me that took a lot for me to say in public lol

yourusername: why thank you charles, i have heard a lot about you. in fact on his "provisional dad cv", sebastian directly named you, some guys called max verstappen, mick schumacher and lance stroll as fatherly experience

maxverstappen1: LOL I KNEW SEB LOVED ME BUT WTF IS A DAD CV

sebastianvettel: this is a serious matter and i wanted to show that i'm serious about fatherhood

mickschumacher: soz max, charles and lance i think WE all know who his favourite is

lancestroll: i'm just happy to be recognised tbf

yourusername: well i kinda hope this real child will be his favourite...

charles_leclerc: boring 🥱

alexalbon: well i'm gonna nominate myself as jenson's grid kid and woah that guy is great 👍

jensonbutton: sounds kinda sarcastic but thanks for the effort alex

carlossainz55: seeing as we're all here i'll say that nando is the best grid dad sorry not sorry

yourusername: you're all here but idk who you people are ?

fernandoalo_oficial: chilli have i ever told you how proud i am of you?

stoffelvandoorne: do i mean nothing to you old man

user26: wtf is going on here

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by yourusername, sebastianvettel and 1,403,677 others

fernandoalo_oficial: what a race! thankful to finally be back on the podium this weekend and i'd like to dedicate this race to the soon-to-be new addition and my new family, here's to our future ❤️

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user27: HOLY SHIT THIS IS SO CUTE

user28: i'm sorry the THUMB IN THE MOUTH CELEBRATION ARE YOU KIDDING?

jensonbutton: proud of you, come home quick x

user29: i'm sooooo chill about this

fernandoalo_oficial: i'll make sure to tell the team that THE jenson button wants the meeting to go faster

sebastianvettel: do i mean nothing? that's literally my old team name drop ME

yourusername: just tell them i've gone into labour

fernandoalo_oficial: you've not even been pregnant two months yet...

yourusername: they don't know that

astonmartinf1: this is a public instagram comment section...

maxverstappen1: maybe when the little one is actually here i'll let you win for once

fernandoalo_oficial: how kind of you?

maxverstappen1: i need the little one to know that at least one of you is cool and that i should be their favourite god father

lewishamilton: now that is a bold assumption

danielricciardo: i have been quiet on this topic but if anyone is prime god father material YOU'RE LOOKING AT HIM

yourusername: you'll all receive an email and a god father application in the coming weeks

charles_leclerc: is this another seb idea?

yourusername: maybe... but idk yall so i think it's a good idea

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, mickschumacher and 1,509,874 others

tagged: jensonbutton, fernandoalo_oficial, sebastianvettel

yourusername: welcome to the crazy house

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user33: so we've confirmed the poly? yes or no?

user34: i'm gonna say yes but with them you literally never know

georgerussell63: so we all sent them a jellycat?

alexalbon: speak for yourself george that sick ass rocking bunny is all albon

user35: not to be weird but this kids is literally going to have the hottest parents of all time

user36: no cause if i'm a teacher and all of them walk in for parent's evening i'm passing out

jensonbutton: oh wow what a lovely crib i wonder who put that together

fernandoalo_oficial: don't you dare take all the credit

sebastianvettel: as if anyone other than the WOOD WORK KING put that together

yourusername: guys they are lying the delivery guy put it together and they all stood around watching like dads at the airport

jensonbutton: "like dads" so still getting the experience in

danielricciardo: so who is responsible for this grandpa ass nursery aesthetic?

yourusername: well this is awkward i thought it was cute

fernandoalo_oficial: it is don't worry honey, it matches seb's overall grandpa aesthetic

sebastianvettel: you guys agreed to move to mine don't switch up on my aesthetic now

jensonbutton: oh seb we all love your certain affinity for tartan and plaid

sebastianvettel: i'm not feeling this love right now :(

yourusername: cuddle pile incoming

note: ahhh okay this was very highly requested so i hope it met expectations. i'm thinking this could defo be a longer series (i am also working on into the arms of another dw) following the whole family if yall would like that? i'm gonna try and tag everyone who requested that, i am sorry if i missed anyone x

taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora @faithm120601 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @luv4kani @minkyungseokie @eugene-emt-roe @magical-spit @ironmaiden1313 @jaydaaasworld @whoreks @rainerax @nonsensical-nonsence @laneyspaulding19 @chelseyyouraverageluigi @lxclerc @gemofthenight @woweewoowa

the role of the person in the passenger seat is not only navigator but secretary as well. you have to type up the drivers messages to random ladies on facebook about cbd cream & google whether that billy joel song was the theme song for that show or not