#even if they’re asking if I’m British

[s0livagant]

are you british? i always see you reblog british things but i always assumed you were american 😊

I’m very American but I still stand with that post <3 bye queenie <3

[cupiare]

this school really deserves its impending doom bcs management is soooo tone deaf “but why do our students choose to go to uni in their own city and out of the 2 they choose the non russell group one why aren’t we doing something to support them to aim higher 🤔” could it possibly be that this school is in one of the most deprived areas of the city/nationwide and thats a significant factor affecting academic achievement so students default to the uni w lower entry requirements theyre likely to get into? or maybe that our predominantly immigrant students and their families don’t share the culture of moving out and living independently at 18? that their immigration status and overseas qualifications affect their entry requirements ? that many of them are responsible for their families and don’t want to leave them? that its more affordable to stay home and not be in even more debt by taking out a maintenance loan to stay alive? the girls who aren’t allowed to leave home before marriage? what a truly confounding phenomenon that our students don’t go to a russell group uni it must be a very bad look that we get 90% students in higher education or formal training after college but not the ‘best’ choice. But what do i know i guess !

[victoriademedici]

I know no one cares about my stupid acknowledgments but sorry if you felt offended when I blew up at all of you about Fergie. Your feelings regarding someone’s health, especially when it’s an immediate reaction to something life threatening, shouldn’t be screamed at. Anyways, I realized when I read a reblog again that the person who said thoughts and prayers said it towards Fergie’s friends and family, not her, so that’s probably where people got the impression I didn’t care about how hard this might be for the people close to her came from but I do.

Also, I have lost someone I cared about that had cancer—the difference is that she was a good person—so no, I don’t not care about everyone with health issues and it’s not that I’ve never seen how bad cancer or other serious health issues are first hand, I just can’t bring myself to care for someone that has done terrible things and I don’t think that deserves my empathy. I know my sympathy’s not special and wouldn’t have had any affect on her but I still can’t feel bad for her situation.

​My neutral feelings—neutral because I didn’t feel joy nor sympathy—about her health troubles still stand. I’m not backtracking in an apology or on my feelings of not caring and this apology isn’t directed to the people who find me unreasonable for not feeling sympathy for her personally. This is not me saying all of your (the fandom’s) opinions were right that day but neither were mine.

[stockholmgf]

Do us all a favour and kys

why would i do u a favor if ur not very nice to me!!!! think with ur brain!

[fingertipsmp3]

Okay I have an interview with a temping agency that organise TA positions. If I just end up straight back in education after this whole side quest I’m going to laugh and then cry

[pucksandpower]

So Good to Her

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the public reacts to the TikTok challenge you and Charles inadvertently participated in

Read So Good to Me (about the TikTok challenge) here

The TikTok that the British influencer posted of his encounter with you and your incredibly generous boyfriend quickly goes viral, racking up millions of views, likes, and comments within mere hours.

It spreads like wildfire across social media platforms, with people sharing it on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook — even LinkedIn of all places. Everyone marvels at this mystery woman with the boyfriend of all boyfriends who casually sent her €10,000 just to buy a pair of shoes.

In a cozy London flat, a group of university students and diehard Charles fans gather around a laptop, eyes wide as they watch the now-viral video for the umpteenth time.

“I can’t believe Charles has a secret girlfriend!” Megan, a petite blonde wearing a red Ferrari cap, exclaims. “How did we not know about this? We follow his every move!”

Her best friend Ethan nods in agreement, his brow furrowed. “Seriously, who is this girl? She’s drop dead gorgeous and apparently Charles is just casually sending her 10 grand for shopping sprees?”

“Okay but like, goals though,” Lexi chimes in dreamily, clutching a Charles Leclerc poster to her chest. “Imagine having a boyfriend who’s not only mega hot and talented but also spoils you rotten. She’s living the dream.”

Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, he can’t just throw money around like that. I bet this whole thing was staged for clout.”

Megan shoots him a withering glare. “Don’t be ridiculous. What would be the point? Charles is already one of the most popular drivers on the grid, he doesn’t need to pull PR stunts for attention.”

“Plus did you see the way he talked to her on the phone?” Lexi points out, rewinding the video. “That was not acting, that was real love and affection in his voice. I’m so soft for them already, ugh.”

The trio falls silent as they watch the clip again, zeroing in on every little detail and facial expression from both Charles’ mystery girlfriend and the clearly shocked TikToker.

Ethan chuckles and shakes his head. “I still can’t get over her reaction though. Just a guy who loves driving fast cars — I mean, the cheek! She really knows how to keep a secret, gotta give her that.”

“An icon, honestly,” Megan declares. “The fact that she told him to donate the money to an animal shelter too ... okay, I can’t even be mad. She seems like a sweet person.”

Lexi sighs happily, starry-eyed. “They’re literally a power couple. The sheer confidence and BDE of it all. I’m so jealous but also like, rooting for them? We have to find out who this girl is!”

As if on cue, Megan’s phone pings with a Twitter notification. Her eyes widen as she swipes to view it. “Guys. GUYS. The TikToker just confirmed her first name is Y/N and posted another video with a few more details about her!”

“Well don’t just sit there, play it!” Ethan demands, practically launching himself across the couch to peer over Megan’s shoulder at her phone screen. Lexi scrambles to join them, bouncing with anticipation.

In the new clip, the TikToker is grinning excitedly at the camera, an extra bounce in his step as he walks along the same Monaco street where he first approached you.

“Right, so I’m sure by now you’ve all seen my video with Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend go absolutely mental viral,” he begins, running a hand through his artfully tousled hair. “Which, can I just say — thank you so much for the insane support and love, you lot are the best fans ever.”

“Get to the point,” Ethan mutters under his breath, earning a sharp “Shh!” from both girls.

“Anyway,” the TikToker continues. “After she left and I finally picked my jaw up off the floor, I did some digging. I headed to that little boutique she mentioned in the call with Charles, just to see if she actually went in and bought anything. Thought maybe if I asked the staff, they might be able to give me some more info, you know?”

Megan, Ethan, and Lexi all subconsciously lean closer to the small phone screen, hanging on to his every word.

“So get this — not only did she buy the shoes, she apparently also went next door and purchased, and I quote, a frankly alarming amount of lingerie. The cashier said she dropped over 5 grand like it was nothing!”

Lexi lets out a scandalized gasp as Ethan chokes on his sip of Red Bull. Megan just shakes her head in wonderment. “The actual legend,” she murmurs reverently.

The TikToker laughs and waggles his eyebrows suggestively at the camera. “I don’t know about you lot, but I’m definitely sensing some spicy thank you for the shopping money activities were planned for a certain Ferrari driver, if you know what I mean. Get in there, Charles!”

“Gross, I so did not need that visual,” Ethan grumbles, but there’s a slight smirk playing on his lips all the same.

“Oh shut up, as if you wouldn’t do the exact same if you were dating Charles,” Lexi retorts with a playful shove to his shoulder.

“ANYWAY,” the TikToker presses on, “I did manage to squeeze a few more details out of the lovely shop girl. Apparently Charles’ girlfriend is named Y/N, no last name given for privacy reasons. But she’s a regular customer and, I quote, an absolute sweetheart who only ever has glowing things to say about her man. So there you have it, folks — Y/N and Charles are the real deal and we’re all just peasants watching a fairytale unfold.”

Megan sighs dreamily as the video ends. “Y/N and Charles,” she repeats to herself, already typing the names into her social media search bars. “God, even their names sound good together. I have to find out everything about her.”

“Dibs on making their ship name hashtag go viral,” Lexi calls out, already furiously typing away on her own phone.

Ethan snorts and rolls his eyes affectionately at his friends, but there’s no denying the small, reluctantly impressed smile tugging at the corners of his mouth too. “I give it two days before they’re papped together on some glamorous date night now that the secret’s out. Hope she’s ready for the attention dating an F1 star brings.”

“With that level of confidence and the way Charles clearly adores her? I think our girl Y/N will handle the spotlight just fine,” Megan says confidently.

Lexi nods in firm agreement. “Yep, a true queen. Charles better lock that down and wife her up real quick before one of us tries to snatch her for ourselves!”

***

In a cozy apartment not far from the very street where you had your memorable encounter with the TikToker, three young women huddle around a laptop screen, eyes wide and jaws slack as they watch the now viral video for the umpteenth time.

“I can’t believe this,” mutters Isabelle, a pretty brunette with an impressively encyclopedic knowledge of Formula 1 stats. “Charles has a girlfriend? Since when?”

“And he just sent her €10,000 like it was nothing!” Exclaims Maia, nervously twirling a strand of her platinum blonde hair. “I mean, I know he’s loaded but holy shit, the way he spoils her ...”

The third girl, Claire, bites her lip, a pensive look on her delicate features. “Did you hear what she said at the end though? Just a guy who loves driving fast cars. She was obviously talking about Charles. But the way she said it, all mysterious and like it was some inside joke ... I don’t know, it just rubs me the wrong way.”

Isabelle scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Please, she was totally gloating. Didn’t even have the decency to act a little humble about the fact that THE Charles Leclerc is apparently head over heels for her.”

“Exactly!” Maia chimes in, nodding vigorously. “Like okay, congrats, you bagged a hot, rich, famous race car driver. No need to rub it in the rest of our faces.”

Claire wrinkles her nose. “I just don’t get the vibe that she actually cares about him, you know? I mean, who asks their boyfriend to send them money in the middle of the day for some stupid shoes? While he’s working? She seems like such a gold digger.”

“Ugh, you’re so right,” Isabelle agrees, her lips curling in distaste. “Poor Charles is probably blind to it because he’s so gone for her. He didn’t even hesitate to transfer that money!”

Maia sighs dramatically and falls back on the bed. “God, it’s so unfair. Why can’t I find a man who’s that generous and totally obsessed with me? I’d treat him so much better than she does, you can already tell.”

Claire hums and taps her chin thoughtfully. “You know what, I think this smells fishy. How do we even know she’s actually Charles’ girlfriend? For all we know, she could have paid some guy who sounds like him to play along for a TikTok clout.”

Isabelle’s eyes narrow as she considers this possibility. “That’s true ... I haven’t come across any photos of them together or anything. Why has no one ever seen her before if they’re supposedly so in love?”

“Exactly!” Claire exclaims, growing more animated. “I’ve been a Charles fan for years and I’ve never seen or heard anything about a girlfriend. If they’re really dating, there’s no way it wouldn’t have come out before now.”

Maia sits up, suddenly energized by this new conspiracy theory. “Oh my god, you’re right! She’s probably just some wannabe influencer trying to get famous by pretending to be with Charles. That’s so pathetic.”

Isabelle nods slowly, a determined glint in her eye. “You know what? We should do some digging. Try to find out who this girl really is and expose her for the fraud she clearly is. Charles and the world deserve to know the truth.”

“Yesss, I’m so down for an investigation!” Maia says gleefully. “Imagine if we’re the ones who reveal that this whole thing is fake. We’d be doing Charles a huge favor.”

Claire is already pulling up Instagram and Twitter on her phone. “Let’s start by going through the comments on that TikTok and seeing if anyone has identified her or posted any receipts. There have to be some clues somewhere.”

The girls spend the next few hours poring over social media, searching for any scrap of information they can find about the mystery woman who has supposedly captured Charles Leclerc’s heart. They work themselves into a frenzy, convincing each other more and more that you can’t possibly be Charles’ real girlfriend. In their minds, you’re clearly just an opportunistic clout chaser looking for your 15 minutes of fame.

“God, I hope Charles sees through her act soon,” Isabelle says for the hundredth time, shaking her head. “He’s too good for some two-bit gold digger who’s just using him.”

“We’ll make sure he finds out who she really is,” Claire assures her firmly. “And then he’ll have no choice but to dump her lying ass.”

Maia sighs wistfully, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. “Do you think once he’s single again, I might actually have a chance? Like, if I run into him at a race one day and strike up a conversation, maybe he’ll realize I’m the girl he’s meant to be with ...”

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Claire says with a laugh. “First step is taking down this fraud of a girlfriend. Then we can daydream about being Mrs. Leclerc.”

The girls giggle and go back to their social media sleuthing with renewed determination. They’ve decided you’re public enemy number one and they won’t rest until they’ve exposed you for the fake, money-hungry, clout-chasing liar they’re certain you must be. In their eyes, they’re crusaders for truth, fighting to save their beloved Charles from your clutches.

What they don’t realize, of course, is just how very real and very deep Charles’ feelings for you actually are ... and that you’re not going anywhere anytime soon, Internet conspiracy theories be damned.

***

In a dimly lit basement somewhere in Italy, a group of die-hard Charles Leclerc fans huddle around a computer screen, their jaws dropping as they watch the video for the umpteenth time.

“Guys, are you seeing this shit?” Enzo, the self-appointed leader of the group, asks incredulously. “Who the hell is this girl and how did she bag Charles freakin’ Leclerc?”

“Dude, we don’t even know for sure that it’s actually Charles,” Giovanni points out skeptically. “She never said his name. It could be some other rich dude with a fast car.”

Enzo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, who else could it be? €10,000 like it’s nothing, is it possible that Leclerc has a secret girlfriend we don’t know about all this time? A guy who likes driving fast cars? It’s obviously Charles! Our boy is LOADED and that’s exactly how he’d spoil his girl.”

Luca nods in agreement, a dreamy expression on his face. “God, can you imagine being with Charles though? Having him call you all those cute pet names and just showering you with love and gifts? I’d fucking die.”

“Yeah, she has to be the luckiest woman on the planet,” Enzo sighs wistfully. “I mean, I’m straight, but even I’d let Charles ruin me, you know what I’m saying?”

The other guys murmur and nod in emphatic agreement, all of them momentarily lost in a fantasy of being Charles Leclerc’s pampered significant other.

“Okay but like, how is this even fair?” Giovanni gripes, breaking the spell. “The rest of us mere mortals are out here busting our asses on Tinder and Hinge, praying a decent girl will swipe right, and Charles just gets to date a literal goddess who is probably a model?”

“Life isn’t fair, Gio,” Enzo says solemnly. “Charles is on a completely different level. He could have any woman he wants and they’d all say yes before he even finished asking. The rules don’t apply to a guy like that.”

Luca suddenly sits up straight, his eyes widening with realization. “Holy shit, guys. Do you know what this means? If Charles is taken, that’s one less F1 driver on the market for all those grid girl groupies to throw themselves at! Maybe the rest of us actually have a chance now!”

Giovanni snorts derisively. “Yeah, you wish. Those chicks are still gonna be busy trying to get with Sainz or Verstappen or Norris. They’re not gonna settle for some nobody Ferrari fan. Let’s be real.”

“Wow, way to kill the vibe, Debbie Downer,” Luca mutters. He turns back to the computer and hits replay on the video, watching enviously as the TikToker clearly shows the €10,000 bank transfer on your phone. “Seriously though, how is this chick not freaking the fuck out? If Charles Leclerc randomly sent me 10 grand I’d be screaming and probably pass out.”

“She’s probably used to it,” Enzo says with a shrug. “I bet this is like, a regular Tuesday for her. Just casually strolling around Monaco, stopping into designer stores whenever she feels like it, Charles’ black credit card weighing down her Hermès purse. The bougiest of WAG lives.”

“God, what I wouldn’t give to trade places with her for just one day,” Giovanni says longingly. “Can you imagine getting to wake up next to Charles every morning? Having him make you breakfast and give you forehead kisses and tell you how much he loves you in that sexy accent?”

“Okay, now you’re just torturing yourself, bro,” Luca laughs. “You’ll be lucky if you can get a Tinder match to agree to split the bill at McDonalds.”

“Why you gotta bring me back to my sad reality like that?” Giovanni groans, chucking a throw pillow at Luca’s head. “Let me live vicariously through Charles’ bougie mystery girlfriend for a little while longer, damn.”

Enzo sighs and leans back in his chair, hands behind his head. “You know what the craziest part of all this is? The fact that Charles managed to keep a whole ass girlfriend hidden from the world. Like, the media has been speculating about his love life forever and no one had a clue he was actually in a serious relationship. That man moves in silence like a ninja.”

“Yeah, and did you see how he just casually threw out that he loves her?” Luca gushes. “He was all I love spoiling you, you deserve the world. My dude is head over heels for this girl and I am LIVING for it.”

“Ugh, why can’t I find a man like that?” Giovanni whines dramatically. “All I want is a guy who will write me cute Instagram captions in three languages and buy out the Gucci store for me but I guess that’s too much to ask!”

“Maybe if you stanned Charles harder, the universe would reward you,” Enzo snarks. “Start leaving thirsty comments on his shirtless pics, see if that manifests your dream F1 boyfriend.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t already do that,” Giovanni retorts with a smirk. “How else do you think Oscar Piastri ended up in my DMs last night?”

“Wait, WHAT?” Luca and Enzo exclaim in unison, whipping their heads around to gape at their friend.

Giovanni bursts out laughing at their shocked faces. “I’m just kidding, jeez! You think I’d be sitting here listening to you losers if Oscar freaking Piastri actually messaged me? Puh-lease.”

“Man, don’t even joke about that,” Enzo grumbles, clutching at his heart. “You really had me going there for a sec.”

Luca huffs and slouches down in his seat. “Can we get back to being jealous of Charles’ sugar baby girlfriend now? I was enjoying that more than whatever the hell this conversation turned into.”

“She’s not his sugar baby!” Enzo argues. “They’re clearly in love! Did we watch the same video? The way he talked to her was mad cute. That’s his GIRL girl.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Luca concedes, holding his hands up in apology. “Charles might spoil her but he obviously adores her for more than just her looks. That’s the real relationship goals right there.”

“Imagine being so secure in your love that you can just ball out on your partner like that and know it’s only going to make them love you more,” Giovanni muses. “Cannot relate.”

Enzo nods sagely. “Charles is just built different, man. In more ways than one.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Luca agrees. “So, are we watching this video another 50 times or are we moving on to the Grill the Grid compilation I found of all of Charles’ most adorably flustered moments?”

Enzo grins maniacally and reaches for the mouse. “Oh, you know we’re watching the hell out of this absolute gift again. And then we’re gonna spend the next three hours cyberstalking Charles and seeing if we can find any other crumbs about who this legendary mystery woman is. For research purposes.”

“This is the most productive thing we’ve done in months and I’m not even ashamed,” Giovanni declares, cracking his knuckles in preparation for the intense social media deep dive they’re about to undertake.

***

In a crowded sports bar in Dublin, a group of die-hard Ferrari fans gather to watch the latest race. But today, there’s another bit of F1-related content that has their attention. They huddle around a phone, repeatedly watching the now-infamous TikTok video.

“Can you believe it? €10,000 just like that!” Exclaims James, a tall, lanky guy with a mop of curly hair. “I mean, I knew Charles was loaded but damn ...”

“Forget the money, did you see his girlfriend?” Tom, a stocky redhead, chimes in. “Absolutely stunning. Like, how does a race car driver land a girl like that?”

Mark, a quieter guy with glasses, rolls his eyes. “Uh, maybe because he’s Charles freaking Leclerc? The man’s a beast on the track and has the face of a Greek god. Girls probably throw themselves at him left and right.”

The guys all mutter in begrudging agreement, a note of envy coloring their voices. On screen, the video replays yet again, showing you confidently calling up your boyfriend and securing the small fortune without batting an eye.

“God, what I wouldn’t give to have a woman look at me the way she probably looks at Leclerc,” Tom sighs wistfully.

“In your dreams, mate,” James scoffs. “Girls like that are way out of our league. We can’t compete with a Ferrari paycheck and Monaco real estate.”

“Still doesn’t seem fair though,” grumbles Mark. “The dude’s already got it all — talent, fame, money. Leave some for the rest of us!”

On screen, the video reaches the part where you coolly inform the gobsmacked TikToker that you don’t need his measly €2,000 and he should donate it to an animal shelter instead. The guys let out low whistles, clearly impressed by your classy move.

“See, that right there, that’s what separates the Monegasque princess types from regular girls,” says James with an air of authority. “We would’ve taken the cash in a heartbeat.”

“Speak for yourself, I’m a man of principle,” Tom jokes, puffing out his chest exaggeratedly. The others snort and shove him playfully.

As the video ends, the guys sit back, each lost in their own wistful imaginings of what it must be like to be Charles Leclerc. To have the money, success, and effortless charm to win over a girl like you.

Mark is the first to break the contemplative silence. “Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong,” he muses thoughtfully. “I mean yeah, Charles is a lucky bastard, no doubt. But that girl, she seems like a real catch too. Like the kind of person who’d keep you humble and grounded, even when you’re a superstar athlete with the world at your feet.”

The others consider this, nodding slowly. “Fair point,” concedes Tom. “Behind every great man and all that jazz. Leclerc may have his millions but he still needs someone to call him out on his BS from time to time.”

“Exactly,” agrees Mark. “And did you hear the way he spoke to her on the phone? The dude’s completely smitten. He may have all the money and fame, but I bet she’s the real prize in his eyes.”

“Alright, alright, settle down Dr. Phil,” James interjects with a good-natured eye roll. “You gonna start writing romance novels in your spare time now? Maybe they’ll make a movie — The Tifosi Who Loved Me: A Charles Leclerc Story.”

The guys all crack up laughing at that, the tension broken. Their envy towards Leclerc’s charmed life remains, but it’s now tinged with a newfound respect and even a touch of empathy.

“Y’know, jokes aside, I do hope he realizes how lucky he is to have her and treats her right,” Mark says sincerely as their chuckles subside. “A love like that seems rare these days.”

Tom reaches over to clap Mark on the shoulder. “No worries, mate. Did you see the dopey grin on Charles’ face in those paparazzi pics of them together that came out earlier? That man is whipped with a capital W. He knows he’s got a keeper.”

“As he should,” nods James sagely. “Behind every great Ferrari champion is an even greater woman keeping his ego in check. Tale as old as time.”

On that note, the guys clink their pint glasses together, silently saluting the unnamed woman who stole the heart of Charles Leclerc and the envious admiration of Formula 1 fans worldwide. The mystery girlfriend with impeccable style and a heart of gold.

As the pre-race coverage starts up on the bar TV, the guys settle in to cheer on their favorite driver, their fleeting jealousy replaced by the camaraderie and excitement of race day. But in the back of their minds, a single wistful thought remains — what they wouldn’t give to find a love like Charles and his girl seem to share. Guess that’s just one more thing to add to the list of reasons to idolize Charles Leclerc.

***

Among the hordes of viewers obsessively replaying the clip are three best friends gathered for a girls night at a posh Parisian penthouse. Colette, the willowy blonde draped across a velvet chaise lounge, takes a sip of her champagne and shakes her head in wonder.

“God, can you imagine having a boyfriend who just casually drops 10k on you like it’s nothing? Talk about relationship goals,” she sighs dreamily.

Next to her, Nadia snorts derisively while scrolling through Instagram on her phone. “Oh please, like that’s hard to find. I bet loads of rich guys would do that for their girlfriends. It’s not that impressive.”

From her perch on a tufted ottoman, Stephanie raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? You think Liam would send you that kind of cash without batting an eye? Mr. I-Need-To-Check-With-My-Financial-Advisor-Before-I-Buy-A-New-Tie?”

Colette erupts into giggles at the scathing impression of Nadia’s banker boyfriend. Even Nadia cracks a reluctant smile before tossing her sleek dark hair.

“Whatever. I’m just saying, that TikTok chick’s boyfriend can’t be THAT special. I’m sure if we did the same challenge our boyfriends would come through too,” she declares with more than a hint of competitiveness in her voice.

“Oooh yes, let’s do it! Let’s recreate the video and see what happens!” Colette squeals, bouncing up and down on the chaise with excitement.

Stephanie, ever the voice of reason, looks uncertain. “I don’t know, guys ... isn’t it a bit tacky to demand money from them like that? What if they get mad?”

Nadia rolls her eyes. “Oh come on Steph, live a little! It’s just a silly experiment. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Okay, okay fine,” Stephanie relents, unable to resist her friends’ cajoling. “But I’m blaming you both if Omer breaks up with me over this!”

“Deal!” Colette grins impishly as she grabs her phone. “I’ll go first — let me call Henry and we’ll see if he’s as generous as Mystery Monaco Man.”

With a deep breath, she dials her property developer boyfriend and launches into her rehearsed plea as soon as he picks up. “Baby!” She whines. “You’ll never believe what happened. I’m out with the girls and my Louboutins broke! Like the heel just totally snapped off. I’m absolutely gutted, these were my faves. Is there any way you could send some money to my account so I can grab a new pair on the way home? Pleeeaaase, I’ll love you forever!”

There’s a heavy pause before Henry’s clipped voice comes through, tinged with annoyance. “Christ, again with the bloody shoes? What is it with you women and wasting my hard earned money on bits of leather you don’t need? Can’t you just take the broken ones to get fixed?”

Colette’s perfectly glossed pout trembles, her blue eyes shining with disappointed tears as Nadia and Stephanie look on in pity. “Never mind,” she mumbles. “Forget I asked. Chat later.” She hangs up and flings her phone down despondently.

“What an ass,” Nadia spits. “You deserve so much better.” Colette shrugs sadly but rallies as she turns to Stephanie expectantly.

“Okay Steph, your turn to give Omer a ring! Let’s hope he restores our faith in rich boyfriends everywhere.”

Stephanie grimaces but dutifully calls her Qatar-based hedge fund manager beau. In her most saccharine voice, she makes her case. “Habibi, you know that gorgeous YSL bag I showed you last week? It finally came back in stock but only for today! Could you maybe pop some cash in my account so I can treat myself? I’ve been working so hard lately and-”

“Wallahi Stephanie, how many handbags does one woman need?” Omer cuts her off irritably. “If I buy you this one, I don’t want to hear any more whining for designer things for at least 6 months, got it? I’ll send you 500 euros, that should more than cover it.”

“Oh. Right. Thanks, I guess ...” Stephanie replies glumly before ending the call. She shakes her head at her friends. “Well, it’s something at least?”

“Hardly,” Nadia scoffs. “These men, I swear. Okay, time for me to show you girls how it’s done. Watch and learn, ladies.”

With a confident smirk, she video calls Liam who answers distractedly, clearly still at the office despite the late hour. “This better be important Nadia, I’m right in the middle of-”

“Liam. Focus,” Nadia cuts him off crisply. “I need you to send €10,000 to my account right now. No questions asked.” She arches a commanding eyebrow, daring him to argue.

Liam just blinks at her for a moment before letting out an incredulous laugh. “I’m sorry, you need me to do what now? 10 grand, are you mad? For what possible reason?”

“To prove you love me,” Nadia retorts smugly. “I saw this thing on TikTok, some girl’s boyfriend sent her-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Liam interrupts. “I’m not one of your little social media playthings to manipulate for views, Nadia. My money is not a toy. I’ll buy you a thoughtful gift for your birthday next month, but I’m not in the business of flinging cash at you for no reason. Now if you’ll excuse me, some of us have real work to do. Goodnight.”

With that he abruptly ends the call, leaving Nadia staring at the blank screen, a red flush of embarrassment and anger creeping up her elegant neck. Stephanie and Colette exchange knowing looks.

“So … that went well,” Stephanie quips sarcastically.

Colette sighs morosely as she flops back onto the chaise, hugging a silk pillow. “Maybe that girl’s boyfriend really is one of a kind. God, I bet she feels like the luckiest woman alive. Can you even imagine being THAT loved and adored?”

Nadia seems to deflate, her bravado evaporating. “No,” she whispers. “I can’t. You’re right, Col. Mystery Monaco Man is clearly in a league of his own. I bet he makes her feel like an absolute queen every damn day.”

Stephanie nods thoughtfully, twirling a lock of hair. “You know what though? Good for her. She seems lovely and down-to-earth in the video. If anyone deserves that fairy tale romance, it’s a girl like that who doesn’t even realize how special it is.”

“Ugh, so true. god I’m depressed now,” Colette groans, reaching for the champagne bottle to refill her glass. “To Mystery Monaco Man — may he set the standard for rich boyfriends everywhere. And to the girl who’s lucky enough to love him — may she live happily ever after and never take a single moment for granted.”

“Hear, hear,” Nadia and Stephanie chorus, clinking their glasses against Colette’s.

As the bubbles fizz on their tongues, the wistful faraway looks in their eyes betray the same thought — what they wouldn’t give to trade places with you for just a day, to know what it feels like to be cherished so completely by a man like Charles. To them, you’re living the ultimate dream.

If only they knew the best part isn’t the extravagant gestures or lavish gifts.

It’s the little moments. The soft kisses pressed to your temple. The fingers intertwined with yours. The sleepy smiles over morning coffee. The shared laughter and inside jokes. The unwavering support and unconditional acceptance. The bone-deep feeling of safety and coming home.

That’s the real fairy tale. And no amount of money could ever buy it.

***

Back in Monaco, Lando Norris slouches comfortably in his gaming chair, eyes glued to the triple monitors in front of him. He’s meant to be reviewing telemetry data in preparation for the upcoming race weekend, but the notification chime from his phone proves far too tempting. Lando picks up the device, fully intending to only glance at it for a second before dutifully returning to his work.

But then he sees it — the TikTok that at least a dozen people have sent to him in the past hour alone. Curiosity piqued, Lando clicks on the video and watches intently, his brows steadily rising towards his hairline with each passing second.

“Wait, is that ...” he mutters to himself as the clip plays out. When your boyfriend’s voice comes through the speakers, Lando’s eyes bug out comically. “Holy shit, it is Charles! And Y/N!”

A knock on the door makes Lando jump slightly. Before he can respond, a familiar mop of tousled chestnut hair pokes into the room. “Hey mate, did you see-” Max Verstappen starts to say.

“The TikTok of Charles simping hard for Y/N? Yup, watching it right now,” Lando finishes for him, eyes still glued to his phone screen in fascination.

Max invites himself into the room fully and flops down on the couch. “Absolutely crazy, right? Who just casually sends their girlfriend 10k for a random pair of shoes?”

Lando snorts. “Certainly not you, you stingy Dutchman,” he ribs playfully. Max chucks a throw pillow at him in retaliation.

“Hey, even I splurge on my girlfriend sometimes!” Max protests. “I just bought her ... erm ...” He racks his brain trying to remember the last lavish gift he purchased unprompted.

“A six-pack of Sugar Free Red Bull last week?” Lando supplies dryly.

“... Shut up.”

The two dissolve into snickers before turning their attention back to the TikTok, which has now looped to the beginning again.

“Charles is so whipped for Y/N,” Max observes, shaking his head in amused disbelief. “He’s just asking to get taken advantage of, throwing money around like that.”

“I think it’s kinda sweet,” Lando admits with a shrug. “He just wants to make her happy. Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same if your girl asked!”

Max scoffs. “What, fall victim to a gold digger? No thanks mate.”

“Y/N’s hardly a gold digger and you know it,” Lando chides. “She works hard for her own money and buys plenty of expensive gifts for Charles too. They just like spoiling each other ‘cause they’re in luuurve.” He draws out the last word in a silly voice, making dramatic kissy faces.

“Yeah, yeah, true love and all that sappy bullshit,” Max says dismissively, though there’s no real heat behind it. “I’m just saying, no way in hell I’m sending 10k on command for a pair of fucking shoes!”

Lando hums thoughtfully. “I would.”

Max’s head whips around to stare at him incredulously. “You what.”

“If it was the right girl? Sure, I’d do it,” Lando says nonchalantly. “Maybe not for something frivolous like shoes, but if my girlfriend called me up and said she needed 10k transferred ASAP? I’d do it, no questions asked. You gotta have that level of trust.”

Clearly torn between wanting to take the piss out of his friend and feeling a reluctant sort of respect, Max just grunts noncommittally in response before turning back to rewatch the clip once more.

Debate rages online among the fans about the cute interaction. Most find the whole thing adorably romantic, cooing over what a doting and generous boyfriend Charles is. They swoon at the obvious love and care between you two, speculating excitedly in the comments about when Charles might pop the question.

Others are more cynical, rolling their eyes at Charles “simping” so hard and accusing you of only dating the Ferrari driver for his money. However, these naysayers are quickly drowned out and ratio’d by your legions of adoring supporters.

Through it all, you and Charles pay the speculation little mind, blissfully wrapped up in your fairytale romance.

Charles returns home that evening to the mouthwatering aroma of his favorite pesto pasta dish wafting from the kitchen. He grins when he spots you at the stove, swaying your hips to the sultry jazz music playing from the speaker as you stir the sauce. Quietly, he comes up behind you and slips his strong arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Mmm, smells amazing,” he murmurs appreciatively.

You turn in his embrace and loop your arms around his neck, smiling radiantly up at him. “Welcome home, Cha-Cha,” you greet him, using the silly pet name that never fails to make him chuckle and scrunch his nose adorably. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“And what’s for dessert?” Charles asks with a playful waggle of his eyebrows.

Biting your lip coyly, you untangle yourself from his arms and saunter off towards the bedroom. “Come find out after we eat. Oh, and I picked up a little something special to express my gratitude for earlier ...” you call over your shoulder with a wink.

Charles’ megawatt grin could power all of Monaco for a year. Viral TikTok or not, the Monegasque knows he’s already the luckiest man in the world to have you as his partner through this crazy ride called life.

No amount of money could ever compare to the joy of being loved by you.

[mywritersmind]

LIFE IMITATES ART - LN4

summary : a favorite painting of a hurried kiss meets two strangers who’s friends loved to torture.

listen up : shy-ish reader lol

word count : 801

⋆｡‧˚⋆

The kiss.

I stand in front of the painting in a blue top the same color as the woman’s dress.

Oil on Canvas, it reads.

My friend touches my arm and makes me jump, “You and this painting…” she shakes her head, crossing her arms and facing it, “I just don’t understand. It’s… plain.”

“Plain?” I scoff, “It’s a work of pure beauty. The work of shadows and body positioning… It’s just amazing to me. I haven’t even mentioned the ominous sort of mystery of the dark corridor, it just makes you realize that to tell a story it doesn’t need to be written d-” I turn to my friend except she’s replaced with a curly haired brunette man. “Oh.”

He’s looking at me fondly, like he had been listening, “Don’t let me stop you.”

My hand goes to my necklace, “I’m sorry- I was talking to my friend and she…” I look around to see her speaking to a tan dark haired man, “She’s distracted, per usual.”

He chuckles a bit, “My friend gets distracted easily as well.” I turn back to him, british, I can hear it in his voice. “Especially by beautiful women. Something we have in common…” I ignore my face heating.

Turning back to the work as he looks at it with me, “I’ve always wondered about the shadows as well… I'm not close to an artist but I can tell what this one was trying to say.”

I bite my lip, “And what do you think that is?”

His hands go behind his back, his red sweater shifting as he moves, “That they’re running out of time, that something is coming.”

I nod, he took the words right out of my mouth, I turn to him, examining his face from the side. Hes tan, with a slight cut on his oddly perfect nose, when he smiles, a bit of a dimple appears.

“I’m Y/n.” I say quickly.

He turns to me, “Lando.”

“Lando?” I say, “interesting name.”

His eyes narrow, “In a good way?”

“We’ll see.” I shrug. My friend hurries back over to me, speaking much too loud for a museum.

“Y/n! You two are matching the painting!” She points to Lando and I’s clothing and I realize the colors really do look perfectly like the painting, “Kiss!”

“What?” I actually laugh at her words.

“What she said!” Lando’s friend cuts in, “Be brave, Lando!”

Lando scoffs, “Don’t act like I've never kissed a woman.”

The friend just shrugs and Lando rolls his eyes, “Kiss!” they say again.

“I don’t even know him.”

“Lando, introduce yourself!” the friend hits his arm.

“I did!” Lando protects himself, “We’re acquainted, leave her alone, Carlos.”

I glance at him but he’s staring daggers at Carlos who’s just grinning. My friend pulls out her phone, holding it up, “Kiss.” she says again.

She eyes me and I know I'm screwed. When we came to Italy I said it was my mission to do something out of my comfort zone. This is definitely out of it.

I take a second, then breathe, “Fine.” I face Lando who looks genuinely shocked.

He leans down a bit, whispering, “Are you sure?”

His proximity makes me nervous and I need to stop overthinking this, “Yes. It’s my favorite painting. Life imitates art, right?”

He just laughs and cups my face in his hand, leaning in close slowly, his eyes flicking to my lips. I give him one last nod of approval and his lips meet mine in a soft and tender way.

His skin is warm against mine, the cool of his rings press against my jaw, directly contrasting that. He holds me the same way the man holds the woman in the painting.

I hear our friends giggling and he’s off me in a matter of seconds. He looks a bit flushed and I know my cheeks are matching the pink of his.

“You’re a good kisser.” He whispers before turning back to our friends and asking for the picture.

Carlos alerts Lando that they have to go, “Like, five minutes ago!” The Spanish man says.

“Shit! Sorry.” He looks at me kindly, “It was nice meeting you- and kissing you…” He laughs a bit and a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.

“You too…” That’s all I can say before he is running out the door.

“Damn.” My friend crosses her arms, “They were hot.”

I get the DM while laying in bed, sighing to myself about the boy who let me check off something from my Italy bucket list. My heart rate has never spiked so high.

One message request - LANDO NORRIS

[harrysfolklore]

the bestest - lh44

summary: lewis hamilton wins the silverstone grand prix, and his daughter thinks he's the bestest. wc: 1.7k. based on this request

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

The British Grand Prix always carried a unique significance, but this year felt particularly momentous. Fans filled the stands, waving flags and banners, their cheers echoing through the circuit.

For Lewis, this year felt extra special because his wife and little girl were joining him, and that was enough to give him an extra boost of motivation for the upcoming race.

Alana Hamilton is just four years old, and she's the light of your lives. She's a curious child who always has a smile for everyone, her bright eyes constantly scanning her surroundings for new wonders to discover.

And she has her father completely wrapped around her tiny finger, everybody knew it.

Alana clung to your hand as you made your way to the paddock, her eyes wide with wonder at the spectacle around her. She had been to races before, but this time she was more aware of her surroundings and everything happening.

“Mommy, look at all the people!” Alana exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder as she held your hand. “They’re all here for Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetheart, a lot of them are here to see Daddy race," you smiled at her, "He has a lot of fans who love to cheer him on."

“I’m going to cheer the loudest!”

Alana’s gaze followed every movement, her curiosity sparking with each new discovery. She was soaking it all in—the hustle of the team members, the hum of the engines, the vibrant colors of the team uniforms.

When you and Alana arrived at the team garage, Lewis was there, busy with pre-race preparations. He looked up, his face lighting up at the sight of his family.

“There’s my little girl,” he said, bending down to scoop Alana into his arms.

Alana giggled, her small arms wrapping around his neck. “Daddy, are you going to win today?” she asked, her voice full of hopeful excitement.

Lewis brushed a kiss on her forehead. “I’m going to give it my all, princess. With you cheering me on, I have a really good feeling about today.”

As Lewis held Alana, George Russell, his teammate, walked by and smiled warmly at the scene.

"Well, if it isn't the Hamiltons, my favorite family," he said, his tone friendly and genuine.

Alana's face lit up with recognition. She remembered George from previous encounters and team events. "George!" she exclaimed, waving enthusiastically from her perch in Lewis's arms.

"Hello there, little champion," George chuckled, giving Alana a gentle high-five. "Are you excited for the race today?"

"Yes! Daddy's going to win because he's the bestest driver in the whole wide world!" she declared with innocent confidence, looking at Lewis with adoring eyes.

Lewis couldn't help but beam with pride, though he tried to maintain a humble demeanor. "Well, I don't know about that, sweetheart. There are a lot of great drivers out here today."

"But you're the bestest, Daddy," Alana insisted, her conviction unshakeable.

George laughed good-naturedly. "Well, Lewis, looks like you've got your biggest fan right here. No pressure or anything," he teased.

You smiled, watching the interaction. It was heartwarming to see how the team had become like an extended family, especially for Alana.

"Alright, princess," Lewis said, giving Alana one more squeeze, "Daddy needs to finish getting ready for the race. You be good for Mommy, okay?"

Alana's grip tightened around Lewis's neck, her little face scrunching up in defiance. "No, Daddy, don’t go!"

“Sweetie, Daddy has to race now," you gently stroked her back, "We’ll be right here watching him the whole time.”

As Alana clung tighter to Lewis, her eyes welling up with tears, you could see the conflict on your husband's face. He hated leaving her upset, but the race was about to start.

"Hey, princess," Lewis said softly, gently prying her arms from around his neck. "Remember what we talked about? Daddy has to go fast in the car so he can come back to you even quicker."

Alana's lower lip trembled, but she nodded, reluctantly loosening her grip. "Okay, Daddy. Be fast and be safe."

"I will, princess. I promise," Lewis kissed her forehead tenderly.

He handed her to you, and Alana nestled into your arms, still watching Lewis with wide, admiring eyes. He turned to you next, his expression softening.

"I'll see you both soon. I love you."

You smiled, leaning in to kiss him. "Be safe out there."

With one last glance at his family, Lewis turned and headed towards his car, his determination renewed by the love and support he carried with him.

As you made your way to the VIP viewing area, Alana's eyes darted everywhere, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling circuit. The roar of engines filled the air as the cars lined up on the grid.

"Look, baby," you pointed, "There's Daddy's car. Number 44, remember?"

Alana nodded eagerly, her eyes fixed on the sleek silver Mercedes. "Go, Daddy, go!" she shouted, even though the race hadn't started yet.

Throughout the race, you explained what was happening in simple terms Alana could understand. She cheered every time Lewis's car came into view, her enthusiasm making everyone around melt.

"Daddy's car is going so fast! He's the bestest!" Alana exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder.

When the final lap came, the tension was palpable. You held Alana close, her little hands clutching your shirt as she watched Lewis take the lead. As he crossed the finish line first, the grandstands erupted in roars.

Alana’s eyes widened in amazement. “Mommy, did Daddy win?”

“He did, sweetheart!” you exclaimed, hugging her tightly. “Daddy won!”

"Daddy won! Daddy won!" she chanted, her voice filled with pure joy.

You couldn't help but laugh at her enthusiasm, your own heart swelling with pride. "Let's go see Daddy, shall we?" you suggested, taking her hand.

You hurried to the pit lane, eager to congratulate Lewis. As he climbed out of the car, the sight of you and Alana brought a huge smile to his face. He reached out, and Alana practically leapt into his arms.

“Daddy!” she shouted, hugging him tightly. “You did it!”

Lewis laughed, his eyes shining with happiness. “We did it, baby girl.”

Lewis held Alana with one arm and reached out to pull you into the embrace with the other. The three of you stood there, a little island of family amidst the chaos of the celebration.

"I'm so proud of you," you whispered to Lewis, giving him a quick kiss.

Alana, not wanting to be left out, planted a big kiss on Lewis's cheek. "Me too, Daddy! You're the bestest ever!"

As the celebrations continued around you, Lewis kept Alana in his arms, not wanting to let her go. She had always been clingy with him, especially since he was away a lot of weekends for races. She missed him a lot, and every moment they spent together was precious to her.

When it was time for the post-race interview, Lewis tried to set Alana down, but she clung to him, her small hands gripping his suit. “No, Daddy, hold me.”

“Come on, sweetheart, let Daddy do his interview,” you coaxed.

Lewis looked at you with a soft smile. "It's okay, I'll take her with me. I'll pay whatever fine the FIA gives me," he said, adjusting Alana in his arms. You couldn't help but chuckle, knowing how much this moment meant to both of them.

As Lewis approached the interview area, he saw a familiar face waiting for him - Nico Rosberg, his former teammate and rival. Nico's eyebrows raised slightly at the sight of Lewis carrying Alana, a small smile making its way to his face.

"Lewis, congratulations on your win today," Nico began, microphone in hand. "And I see you've brought a special guest with you."

Lewis grinned, bouncing Alana slightly in his arms. "Yeah, this is my daughter Alana. She's my good luck charm today."

"Hello there, Alana," Nico smiled warmly at her, "Did you enjoy watching your dad race today?"

Alana, suddenly shy in front of the camera, buried her face in Lewis' neck but peeked out with one eye. "Daddy is the bestest," she mumbled.

The crowd around them collectively "aww'ed" at her adorable response. Lewis chuckled, patting her back gently.

"Well, Lewis," Nico continued, "that was an incredible drive today. Can you talk us through that final lap?"

As Lewis answered, discussing the intricacies of the race, Alana stayed nestled in his arms, occasionally lifting her head to look around curiously and playing with the zipper of her father's suit.

When the interview concluded, it was time for the podium ceremony. Lewis knew he couldn't take Alana up there with him, no matter how much he wished he could.

"Alright, princess," he said softly, "Daddy has to go up on the big stage now. Can you stay with Mommy and watch?"

Alana's grip tightened, her lower lip trembling. "No, Daddy, I want to stay with you!"

You stepped forward, gently prying Alana from Lewis's arms. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's watch Daddy get his big trophy. We can wave to him from here."

Reluctantly, Alana allowed herself to be transferred to your arms, her eyes never leaving Lewis. As he walked towards the podium, he turned back to blow a kiss to both of you.

You found a good spot near the podium, holding Alana up so she could see clearly. Her eyes widened as she watched Lewis climb the steps to the top of the podium.

"Look, baby," you said, pointing. "There's Daddy on the top step. That means he won!"

Alana's face lit up with pride and excitement. "Daddy won! Daddy won!" she chanted, clapping her hands.

As the British national anthem played and Lewis stood tall on the podium, trophy in hand, Alana watched in awe. When Lewis spotted you two in the crowd, he gave a special wave and blew a kiss your way, making Alana squeal with delight.

"He sees us, Mommy!" she exclaimed, waving back furiously.

You hugged her close, your heart full of love for your little family. "Yes, he does, sweetheart. He's waving just for you."

As the champagne spray began, Alana giggled at the sight of her daddy getting all wet. It was a perfect end to a perfect day, one that you knew would be etched in your family's memories forever.

[drunkenkissesatdusk]

LIKE LIKE!

pairings — grumpy!damian wayne — al ghul x sunshine!reader

warnings — they’re teenagers in the modern era of course they’re gonna curse (but not a lot), isn’t EXACTLY grumpy x sunshine but it’s okay it’s my one shot 👅

summary — friendship only gets you so far with mutual feelings and the shared yearning for more than that.

notes — hi guys

━━━━━━━ YOU’D MET DAMIAN WHEN school started, in the same advisory you two were paired up since neither of you really had friends. it didn’t bother either of you, since you actually got along.

he was pretty quiet, moody, and didn’t like anyone at school. you were the exact opposite. you were loud, cheerful, and got along with everything. that obviously didn’t mean you were necessarily friends with them.

what made you and Damian click so well was probably the fact that he only really seemed to like you — even if it wasn’t obvious.

even if he didn’t talk, didn’t smile, didn’t seem to have a sliver of an emotion, he still liked you. another thing he’d never been good at was explaining his emotions. he practically despised everyone because they treated him like some sort of bomb.

you pushed his buttons, messed around with him, and always gave him a little bit of a hard time. he didn’t hate it, he could never hate anything you did.

it was probably three months into your friendship with Damian that you hung out with him outside of school. he asked if you could come over, and you happily agreed. the day was normal, except you weren’t picked up by your guardian, rather — you went with Damian.

“hello, i’m Alfred.” you thought he was nice, an old British man that Damian told you had always worked for his family. if anything, he must’ve practically been a part of the family.

you, of course, introduced yourself. it was polite. Alfred seemed taken aback, and the look (or feeling) didn’t leave him when you turned and began talking Damian’s ear off.

the boy, however, seemed to have absolutely no problem with that. he seemed to be hanging on every word, Alfred could see the mixture of fondness and love in Damian’s eyes when he looked at you — too bad you were both as oblivious as ever.

at Wayne manor, you wore a smile as you walked behind Damian and into the large house. he waited for you to take your shoes off after him, his hands stealing away your heavy bag and throwing it over his unoccupied shoulder.

you were then introduced to Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Bruce Wayne. of course, you’d always known who Bruce was — your guardian worked for him now, a feature you didn’t leave out.

Damian, not liking anyone here (except, obviously, you), tugged at your arm. you understood what he meant, even with a lack of words, and promptly excused the two of you.

Damian’s room was pretty plain, and you jokingly shook your head. “who knew you were so boring?” you teased, sitting next to him on his large bed.

you didn’t know then, but Damian actually had you here for a reason. for awhile now, he had found you in his every waking thought. it’s like you had overridden his normal thoughts, becoming the only thing he could comfortably think about.

it had proven difficult during patrol, his performance was lacking and he needed to do something to soothe his thoughts so no one saw Robin as weak.

“i wanted to talk to you, actually.” he muttered. it stopped your thoughts, and you turned to him curiously. he didn’t speak much, and you never pressured him to. when he did, you didn’t make a huge deal of it.

“what’s up?” you hummed, eyes locking in on him.

“i uh… listen, you don’t have to… y’know, feel the same? but… but i really, really like… you.” his sentence was awkward, which made you smile. he didn’t know, but you sure knew, you were head over heels for him.

“i like you too, Damian.” you laughed softly, letting your hand drop to his leg.

“holy shit, really?” he looked up, his normally inexpressive face suddenly unable to find an emotion, settling on utter disbelief and pure excitement.

“yeah.” you smiled fondly at him.

“does this… does this mean—” you cut him off, nodding. he reached forwards and tackled you in a hug, placing a soft kiss on your collarbone. suddenly, he stood up, jumping around happily.

“fuck yes.” he muttered, you began laughing.

this was the most important moment of your teenage years, your boyfriend, jumping around in excitement, because he was with you.

he tackled you into another hug, and you remained glued together until you had to leave.

you slept well with a huge grin planted across your face.

masterlist — reminder that asks / requests are open!!

[formulawolff]

vii. the in-between - t.w.

pairing: female driver! x toto wolff

word count: 5.2k

warnings: buckle up y’all cause we go. angst, cursing, size kink, edging, praise kink, FUCKING, LOTS OF FUCKING. toto being a simp, banter, yearning, mentions of divorce, mentions of alcohol use, creampie, teasing, yadayadayada… y’all know what’s about to go down

prev. | next.

“it’s fine, mom. really.” 

bringing a hand to your temple, you begin to massage, attempting to alleviate the accumulated pressure. 

“i mean, yeah, i’m not in trouble or anything. as far as i know, the fia is letting me race in suzuka. it was my first offense so they dropped the investigation. as long as i publicly apologize for my actions, everything will be cleared up.” 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

do you know how many people have asked me about you? baby, people approach me at the goddamn grocery store asking me why you beat up that poor little british boy! he’s built like a twig for god’s sake! 

rolling your eyes, you lean back in your chair, keeping the phone pressed against your ear, “mom, his name is george russell. he drives for mercedes. he’s not some little boy.” 

all right, all right. well maybe he needs to come over for some dinner or something. get some meat on those bones. anyway, did i tell you that your father has been scouring ebay trying to purchase sports cards with your car on it? well, he’s found ones with you on them too. he wants to make a booklet of his favorite kiddo. 

with that discovery, your heart swells, “is he really? tell him to look up topps chrome cards. those are the best ones. since i’m not as popular as max or lewis, they should be pretty cheap. and mom, i’m your only kiddo.” 

that’s why we’re so proud of you. even if you get into fist fights, we still love you bunches. when do you think you’ll come home? your dad wants to take you out in his baby. he’s made some modifications to it. he thinks you’ll appreciate it more than i will. 

“where is dad? is he asleep?” 

yes honey. he’s asleep. snoring away on the couch with the dogs. i wish we could give you a taste of home somehow. maybe i could have a care package sent to japan? 

“mom,” you exhale, “that would be so much money. don’t worry about it. were you guys considering flying out for miami?” 

oh yes, about that! you perk up in your chair, anticipating your mom’s response. we are going to be there. we can’t wait to see you. we miss you so much. it’s so quiet when you’re not home. will i be able to meet some of your coworkers? 

letting you a giggle, you shake your head, “mom. they’re my fellow drivers. we’re not coworkers. but yeah, i could probably introduce you to a few of them. daniel wants to meet you two.” 

what about that handsome fellow with the bright blue eyes? he drives for redbull! and yes, i would love to meet daniel. 

“max verstappen?” you arch a brow, “we’d have to see about that one. he’s a very busy man.” 

okay, okay. the line cuts out briefly. hey honey, i think i need to head to bed. i love you so much. keep in touch, okay? we’ll see you in a few short weeks. 

nibbling on your lower lip, you nod, “i love you too, mom. tell dad i love him. i miss you guys. i can’t wait to see you.” 

me either. goodnight honey, or good morning or afternoon or whatever time it is over there. i’ll text you when i wake up! love you. 

“love you,” your lip trembles, hands clamming up as you the line goes silent. 

fuck, were you homesick. 

you just had to make it a few more weeks. then, you could finally reunite with your parents in miami. although you knew you would be so fucking busy, you would make time. 

you always did when it came to your parents. 

also, you had another plan brewing as you scroll through your contact list, searching for a certain dutch assassin. a certain dutch man who happened to be a three-time world champion. 

somehow, someway, your mom was going to meet max verstappen. 

you had to make that happen. 

you had to. 

currently, you were sitting on the edge of a bed in a suite in london, anxiously awaiting the arrival of your driver. a decently-sized suitcase sat near the door, a carry-on stacked on top. 

this driver was provided specific instructions to transport you from london to brackley, dropping you off at the door of a certain team principal’s home. 

yet, you were well aware that it wasn’t going to be just any old home. 

this man was billionaire, after all. 

buzzing in your grasp, your phone notifies you of a new text. 

from none other than toto wolff. 

the driver is on the elevator, heading up towards your suite. DO NOT handle your bags. he will do that for you. i don’t want you to fuss over a single thing. from there, he will bring you here, where he will punch in the code for the gate. i will be waiting for you at the door. 

i can’t wait to see you, schatzi. i miss your beautiful face and sweet laughter. 

oh, and i can’t wait to kiss you. 

(and yes, i am pacing around in my office as i type this. i can’t focus on anything else but your arrival) 

with sazuka quickly approaching next week, you would only have a couple of days with the team principal before you had to part ways. he would have prep, meetings, press, where he would then fly out to sazuka. meanwhile, you would have to catch a flight, meet with your team, prep, and potentially meet with press, fans, and the other drivers. 

additionally, you had to address the incident that occurred last week at the australian grand prix. to your surprise, the fia had dismissed the investigation, finding no substantial evidence that the two of you needed to be punished. due to the nature of the accident, george was not punished, as he did no illegal maneuvers or intentionally attempted to take you out of the race. 

on the other hand, the fia was adamant that if this happened again, you were going to face consequences. you would have to shell out a pretty penny for fines, and then you would be immediately disqualified from three future races, deeming you unable to participate.

although they were merciful, the fia made it very clear that since it was your first offense, they were going to be fair.. 

however, if there was a next time, they would not be so kind. 

a crisp knock rang out, startling you. 

springing to your feet, you open the door, an older man smiling in greeting. 

“you must be golden girl,” sticking out his right hand, he dips his head, “i’m theodore. i’ll be your driver to brackley this evening. i am here to not only be your escort, but to tend to anything you may need. mr. wolff made it very clear that you were not to fret over a single thing.”

“good morning,” the corners of your lips curl into a quaint smile as you shake his hand, “thank you. i’m eager to see the english countryside.”

“i’ll handle your bags ma’am,” theodore clears his throat, “you just take it easy.”

“will do,” you nod, “how long is the drive?”

“about an hour and a half,” theodore responds curtly, slinging your carry-on around his shoulder, “don’t worry, it’s not too boring. follow me this way, my lady. our chariot awaits!”

following him down the hall, he presses the button for the elevator. there’s a silence between you, but not an uncomfortable one. theodore’s presence was warm, inviting even.

upon meeting him, you understood why he was toto’s right-hand driver. once he escorted you to the car, he opens the door for you, ushering you inside. when you settle into the backseat, you notice the glint of a redbull can, along with your favorite snacks and candy. 

“mr. wolff wanted to ensure you wouldn’t be hungry,” theodore states as he climbs into the driver’s seat, pressing the button for the ignition, “he told me that you can be a little cranky if you don’t have any snacks.”

“oh? he said that?” a giggle bubbles up in your throat, “did he say anything else about me?”

“oh yes,” theodore chuckles, turning the gear shift, “he’s told me all about you. to be quite frank, he hasn’t shut up about you the last week or so.”

“so you know who i am?”

“of course i do,” theodore nods, flashing you a grin in the rearview mirror, “you’re one of the best formula one drivers on the grid. you drive for williams racing. you’ve only won one grand prix, but i believe you’ll win a few more this season. your hometown is in yuma, arizona. you’re twenty-two years old, and from what toto has shared with me, you have a very bright future ahead.”

“are you a formula one fan?” you arch a brow, punching open the can of redbull. 

“who isn’t?” he shrugs, “well, ms. golden girl, we are going to begin our journey. if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to speak up. if you’d like, you can tell me a little bit more about yourself. we will have plenty of time.”

as theodore promised, the drive to brackley was painless. yet, as the car pulls up to the gate, your heart skips a beat.

this was no quaint english cottage.

toto’s brackley residence was a sleek and sprawling two-story home, a black and white exterior with massive, thick windows. your jaw almost drops, and theodore notices, letting out a hearty laugh, “don’t act so shocked, golden girl. i’m sure you’re aware toto is a very wealthy man.”

“i thought he would have kept things somewhat simple.”

“oh love,” theodore shakes his head, “you and i both know that toto is anything but simple.”

rolling down the window, theodore punches in a code, the gate sliding open. as the car lurches up the drive, your heart thumps in your rib-cage, blood roaring in your ears. 

this was really happening. 

you were really staying with toto. 

“nervous?” theodore senses the shift in energy, “you have no reason to be nervous. he’s been anticipating your arrival. he’ll be happy to see you.”

“thank you,” you manage to muster a meek smile, “i-i just didn’t think we would get this far.”

“well savor the time together. time flies, especially in our world. one day you’re at a track, the next you’re in another country. he adores you, golden girl. so don’t you fret about that. just relax, and enjoy your time. i will be here in a couple of days to bring you to the airport for your departure to sazuka.” 

“thank you,” at his words, you can’t help but let out a sigh of relief, “i look forward to our next drive together!”

“as do i,” shifting the gears, theodore puts the car in park, slipping out of the driver’s seat, “we have arrived. let me get your bags.”

he strolls over to your door, opening it as you clamber out, stretching your sore legs.

no matter how much time you spent in a car, there was always that persisting stiffness. 

you’d probably need a double-knee replacement by the time you were forty, but that was the least of your worries. 

out of the corner of your eye, you notice a figure strolling towards the car. with the large stature, you knew it could only be one particular individual. 

he’s dressed in a royal blue button-up, paired with khaki slacks. on his feet are earth-toned dress shoes. the blue hue of the button-up complements his dark hair, almost brightening his features, giving them a youthful glow. tufts of his hair are all over as the wind blows. 

yet, he looks as gorgeous as ever, his toned muscles rippling under the thin fabric of the button-up. 

“welcome to brackley schatzi,” the grin enveloping his face is radiant, “i hope the drive wasn’t too bad.”

“not at all,” you shake your head, the team principal nearly sucking the wind out of your lungs as he wraps his arms around you, squishing you against his chest. 

“i missed you so much,” tender lips connect with your cheek, “good afternoon, theo! did she behave herself?”

“of course,” theodore promptly places your bag next to the entrance, suitcase in tow, “i have another commitment here soon, mr. wolff. i hope it is all right i placed her bags next to the door?” 

“don’t worry about it,” toto’s fingers find yours, intertwining them together, “i’ll get them. please drive safe, theo.”

“i will, mr. wolff,” theodore dips his head, turning to you, he takes your hand, shaking it, “it was lovely to meet you. i look forward to our next meeting, golden girl. enjoy your time together, you two!”

“we will,” toto squeezes your hand, “goodbye, theo.”

“goodbye, mr. wolff!” theodore spins on his heel, making his way to the car, “behave, you two!”

in response, toto gives a thumbs up, theodore slipping back into the driver’s seat. as he peels off, toto shifts his body, facing you.

“charming, isn’t he?”

“he’s great! kept me entertained the whole drive!”

“i told him you have a short attention span so to keep you occupied,” toto shooks you a wink, earning an eye roll. 

“i can’t stand you.”

“you’re standing right now, aren’t you?” his chuckle is light, “come, let’s head on in. i have lunch waiting for us.”

“you made me lunch?” 

“yes, i’m going to drive you all the way out here just so starve you,” he scoffs, yet his tone says otherwise, “i have food ready. and wine, if you want some.”

“don’t tell me you want to get me drunk so i’ll confess all my secrets.”

“consider that my new goal for the afternoon,” toto grabs your bag, along with your suitcase. pushing open the door, he clears his throat, “welcome to my home away from home.”

as you step in the entrance, your eyes widen, lips parting.  

the space was truly a reflection of toto. refined and elegant, with a hints of charm. the marble floors gleam under the soft lighting, rays of sun shining through the vast windows. the walls were covered in a menagerie of decor, from pieces of art to mercedes memorabilia. it was not the typical billionaire’s home, where the air felt sterile and cold. 

this place was warm and full of life, coaxing you to stay. 

“cat got your tongue?” his breath fans against your ear, a hand gliding along your back, “follow me, schatzi.”

“your home is beautiful.”

glancing over his shoulder, you are met with his gorgeous smile, dimples and all, “thank you, love. i’m glad you like it.”

trailing behind the austrian, you stroll down a long hallway, turning into the last room on the left. toto places your bag and suitcase next to a glass door, “this is my bedroom. you’ll be staying here with me.”

“straight to the bedroom huh?” you fold your arms across your chest, teasing, “you just couldn’t wait–”

“come here,” toto growls, hands grasping your wrists, bringing you in, “no, i can’t wait.”

looking up, you match his gaze, cocking your head, “what are you going to do about it?”

at your rebuttal, toto’s eyes narrow, “what do you think i’m going to do?”

“fuck me.”

“hmmmm,” he hums, leaning in, “you’re right, schatzi. i am going to fuck you. i’m going to fuck you till you’re weeping me for me to stop.”

“weeping?” your hands roam, tugging on his button-up, “i’d like to see you try.”

“oh schatzi,” he tsks, “you don’t know what you’re in for.”

“show me then.”

“i will,” lips ghost over yours, “i’ll show you how badly i missed you baby.”

as he kisses you, it’s tender at first, brimmed with the sweetness of reunion. one of his hands wraps around the base of your neck, tilting your head back as his tongue gains access to your mouth, the tang of redbull tracing your mouth. yet, as you whimper, a fiery hunger sets ablaze.

fuck, he missed you. 

he missed you more than he liked to admit.

tension hangs thick, clouding the space as his mouth places sloppy, wet kisses down your jawline, finding your neck. nipping gently, it takes every fiber in his being to resist the urge to just mark you all over. to leave marks where they could see. to make them wonder who was doing this to you.

but he couldn’t. not there. 

in response, your hips buck forward, grinding against his. toto groans, his head rolling back. 

there was not a single coherent thought in his mind. 

only lust. and fuck, was it consuming him whole. 

scooping you into his arms, he brings you over to the bed, your back meeting with the plush mattress. 

“i can’t wait,” he pants, chest heaving, “i can’t wait any longer. i need you.”

“then take me,” your words drip like honey, oh so sweet, “make me yours, toto.”

jesus fucking christ.

he was going to fuck the shit out of you. right here, right now.

there was no going back. 

he ached for it. he yearned for it. the fantasy flooded his dreams at night.

the things he wanted to do to you? 

downright filthy. sinful, even 

he couldn’t lose his inhibitions. not yet. he had to hang on. 

however, at this point, toto was hanging on by a thread. 

peeling your leggings and panties off, he tosses them to the floor, “sit up.”

you obey, nearly trembling with anticipation as fingertips hook the hem of your crewneck, pulling it over your head. nimbly, he hovers over you, finding the clasps of your bra. he undoes them, a crimson hue dusting his cheeks as he takes in the sight of you completely naked beneath him. 

god, you were absolutely breathtaking. 

every inch of you was stunning. every scar. every mole. every freckle. every stretch mark. 

you were so fucking beautiful. 

his hands fly to his button-up, eager for what was to come. 

yet, your hands find his, “let me.”

toto bites his tongue as you carefully undo the buttons of his shirt, his cock twitching, aching for your touch as your fingers delve towards his belt. you unbuckle it, tilting your head back, batting your thick lashes.

fuck. fuck. fuck. 

could this moment last forever? 

“toto.”

“yes?”

“i-i don’t know if i can take it all,” there’s apprehension inflected in your tone, almost as if you were embarrassed, “to be honest, i’ve never–”

oh god. 

this was going to ruin him.

just like he was going to ruin you.

“don’t worry,” a tender hand cups your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing your cheekbone, “i’ll go slow. i won’t make you take it all. i’ll take care of you baby, i promise.”

you nod, lips pursed as you tug on his slacks, hooking the hem of his boxers, “you’re just so fucking big. like holy shit.”

pride swells within the austrian for a moment, a chuckle rumbling in his chest, “i promise you that it’s not as big as you think.”

“can i see for myself?” the question is so innocent, so pure. 

yeah, he was going to ruin you.

he was going to make a mess out of you. 

“lay down schatzi,” he orders, authority oozing into the words. 

kicking off his slacks, he curses slightly as his boxers stick around one of his ankles. this wasn’t going to be perfect, but he wanted it to be. for you. 

he wanted this to be a moment you remembered for the rest of your life. he wanted this memory to fill your thoughts every second of every day. he wanted you to touch yourself to this, desperate and oh so wet, throbbing for him. yearning for his mouth. for his touch. for him.

carefully, he climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. as you look down, you can feel his gaze searing into you, burning right through. 

his cock was far bigger than your fantasies. it was thick, approximately eight or nine inches. you couldn’t tell. his tip was tinged pink, the glisten of precum catching in the light. veins wrapped around the length, throbbing as your hand wrapped around its base.

“fuck,” as he moans, you lick your lips, realizing how much you loved the sound that just filled your ears, “let me feel you, please.”

“please toto.”

swallowing thickly, he inhales sharply as he positions his tip at your entrance. applying pressure, a whimper rings out as he pushes in, your walls stretching. 

your pussy was heaven. absolutely perfect as it wrapped around his cock, begging for more as he pushed further and further. you were absolutely drenched, the juices slick and oh so sickeningly sweet. he didn’t even have to taste you to know. he just knew you were sweet. like pure ambrosia. 

perhaps he could get a taste.

“toto,” your lashes flutter, his name so perfect from your lips, “you feel–”

“your pussy is perfect,” he finds a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of your tight hole, “absolutely perfect baby. fuck, you’re perfect.”

skin connects with skin, the temperature of the room elevated as his hands found yours, pinning them to the bed. lips collide, the kisses desperate, hungry and bursting with need. as he picks up the pace, moans fill his mouth. 

fuck, it felt like he was going to split you into two. 

“t-toto,” there it was again, his name. music to his ears.

“yes baby?” a sheen of sweat clings to his forehead, tufts of hair dampened, “what is it? does it hurt? do you need me to slow down?”

“no. fuck me. just fuck me.”

oh god. 

oh, fuck. 

his cock twitches, the pleasure building in your abdomen as the tip brushes your g-spot, back arching, begging to be closer. closer to him.

could you be any closer to him in this moment? was it even possible?

before you know it, his arms wrap around your frame, picking you up off the mattress. he holds you close to his chest, one hand holding your head, cupping the back of your skull. the other remains on your lower back, gripping you tightly as the new angle sends bliss rippling all throughout your body.

he fucks you, and god there was no holding back. his cock was pounding into you now, showing no mercy. your ass slaps against his thighs, filthy noises flooding the space. 

as you bounce, you tense, your walls practically squeezing him, “toto, oh my god, i’m going–”

“good girl,” his coos, “be a good girl, baby. cum for me.”

as you get closer and closer, toto watches. fuck, the way your lips were parted ever so slightly. the way hairs clung to your forehead. the way your lashes fluttered. all he could see was pleasure. pure, intense pleasure. 

you unravel, coming undone. 

that sight alone was enough to make him cum.

“come here,” toto hisses through gritted teeth, “come here baby.”

the moment his lips mold with yours, you feel his cock throb, pumping threads of cum into your weeping hole. your muscles spasm, shuddering as he pulls out. 

the two of you study one another for a moment, catching your breath. fingertips brush stray hairs from your temple. 

“i’m sorry.”

“for?” you nuzzle into his collarbone, relishing the way his cologne lingered, mixing with his natural scent. 

“going too far.”

“that was not too far.”

tenderly, the austrian pulls you down with him, letting out a sigh as his head hits the pillow. your head remains against his chest, admiring the definition and tone for a moment. he peppers kisses along your forehead, browbone, and cheeks. 

“if i ever go too far, let me know.”

“i think we’re both in too deep,” you murmur, “you’re lucky you had the blinds drawn.” 

“that would be something,” his chest vibrates as he speaks, “could you imagine? some random mercedes intern witnessing the team principal fucking the most beautiful woman on the planet?”

however, a gleam catches your eye.

on his left ring finger, your heart sinks as you notice the ring. 

his wedding band.

toto senses your silence, the way you tensed up against him, “what is it schatzi?”

“why are you still wearing your wedding band?”

oh, so you had noticed.

“it’s complicated.”

“complicated?” your voice falters as you prop yourself up with your elbow so you could meet his gaze, “you’re wearing your fucking wedding ring. it’s not that complicated.”

“yes, i am, wearing my ring,” he exhales, “would you prefer me to take it off? it has no meaning anymore. susie and i are divorced. we finalized it last december. when we signed the papers, we made a mutual agreement to wear our wedding bands when we were in the public eye. it keeps the speculations at bay. it’s mostly for the sake of my children. and for her sake. we respect one another and i would hate for her hard work to be diminished by rumors and gossip.”

although his words were sincere, your heart races still, anxiety a swirling torrent in your stomach, “how long have you been separated?”

“almost three years. we separated in july of 2021.” 

“oh,” you suck in a breath, shame washing over you, “i-i’m sorry for the sudden questions. i just–”

“it would complicate your feelings for me. and no one wants too mess around with a married man. i get it baby, i really do.”

although he provided a very base-level explanation of his failed marriage, toto was more than willing to go into more depth. that is, if you wanted. more than anything, he wanted you to know. that aspect was becoming increasingly frustrating, as the team principal tried to maintain that dominant, bold, persona.

you were making him weak. his little soft spot. 

well, not so little these days. 

“i cannot stand how well you read me,” rolling your eyes, you turn your back to him.

“don’t turn your back on me now,” he tsks, “do you believe me, schatzi?”

“i don’t think you could ever lie to me.”

“i couldn’t,” toto leans over, placing soft kisses all over your shoulders, “i think it would destroy me. the guilt would be too much to bear.”

“if we’re spilling secrets now,” you roll over, face-to-face once again, “i have another question for you.”

“all right.”

“why did you approach james about my contract behind my back?” 

for once, the team principal is caught by surprise, his heart skipping a beat. 

the hurt plastered across your features is clear, your brows furrowed, eyes narrowed. there’s a glimmer of anguish in their depths, slightly glossy from the threat of tears. 

“i wanted to gauge how he felt if you were to leave williams,” that was the truth, really, no other intentions behind it, “he was not too keen to discuss it, but i just wanted to know how upset he would be if you were to sign with another team. i did it for you, to soften the blow.”

“soften the blow?”

“yes,” toto nods, “to soften the blow when you tell him you’re leaving williams and signing with mercedes.”

“you don’t know that for–”

“but i do,” his voice hardens, “i do know. we can’t just lay here and deny that in your heart, you want to be with me at mercedes. you’ve made the decision already. you just haven’t figured out how you’re going to approach james, alex, or your team.”

biting your tongue, you turn your head, averting his gaze.

toto was right. you had made your decision. 

it was just a matter of time before you had to face the facts. 

“i’m right, aren’t i?” 

“you are,” you huff, squeezing your eyes shut, “i-i just don’t know how to tell everyone. i don’t know how to tell my parents. i don’t know how to bring it up to james. it’s just so.. fuck. it’s so fucking overwhelming to think about.”

“then let me help you.”

“how?” you inquire, “how would you possibly do that?”

“i’ll keep my distance from here on out, but i will help you draft up a letter that you can give to james. or, i can help you practice what you’re going to say. just let me help you schatzi,” fingers grasp your chin, turning your head. 

“you hear me? i’ll help you.”

“can we just worry about it later?” 

“of course,” strong arms envelop your frame, drawing you in against his body, “for now, we can snuggle. would you like that?”

“i would.”

your tough exterior completely crumbles as his mouth hovers by your ear, murmuring words in german. desperately, you ache to know what he said. was it something important? or just sweet nothings? 

sometimes he was a difficult man to decipher.

“hey, have you opened that gift yet? the one i brought to you in jeddah?”

“no,” you admit, heat billowing into your cheeks, “i have a hard time accepting gifts.”

“clearly.”

before you can respond, he’s up from the bed, strolling over to your bags. unzipping your carry-on, he searches for that parcel. fishing it out of your bag, he sets in on the bed, sliding on his boxers before plopping it in front of you.

“open it. right now.”

“right now?” you echo, “toto, i–”

“open it.”

“fine,” nimbly, your fingers untie the bow, peeling away the wrapper. 

underneath the paper, there is a tiny velvet box. it’s long and slender, rectangular in shape.

“what is this?”

“open it and you’ll know,” toto urges, following your every move, anticipating your reaction.

opening the box, your heart swells at the sight before you.

it’s a bracelet, a dainty figaro chain, complete with a charm. the charm is an outline of the saudi arabian track. picking it up, you inspect it, noticing a date engraved on the backside of the charm. 

“how were you able to get this so quickly after the race?” 

“i have my ways,” toto bears a sheepish grin, “do you like it?”

“like it? i love it.”

well, you didn’t love it. you fucking adored it. it was perfect, and so you. it was something that you could wear everyday, a constant reminder of the years of effort to get you here. not to mention it was gorgeous, the chain shiny, freshly polished. 

a hand reaches out, plucking the chain from the box. his brows are knit together with concentration as he slips the chain around your wrist, ensuring it’s safely clasped.

“i figured it would be something you could always wear. a reminder of when you made history.”

“it’s beautiful,” sitting up, you shift your weight to your knees as you wrap your arms around his neck, “thank you, toto.”

“always, schatzi. don’t worry, i will always spoil you.”

as toto nuzzles into the crook of your neck, he was well aware of one thing.

you had made your decision. 

you hadn’t outright said it, but he knew you made your decision. 

you would be signing to mercedes for the 2025 season. 

you were finally going to be by his side every day. 

there was no more in-between. no more will she or won’t she. no more nights of him lying awake, wondering where you stood. no more driving himself insane pondering all of the possibilities that could unravel. 

he had you. 

you were all his now. 

and god, did that leave such a sweet taste in his mouth. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

taglist: @joalslibrary @martwll @prettiest-at-the-party @pucksandpower @kravitzwhore @toldyouitwasamelodrama @annewithaneofthegreengable @persona1lies @zoeyjadetice2010 @whoisss @sinners-98-world

if i missed anyone, please let me know! also, you are more than welcome to be added to the taglist! thank you for reading! <3

[rileyslibrary]

Synopsis: A new lieutenant comes to your base—a hot one. Ghost isn’t happy.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,334

Notes:

I haven’t thought of a title, so I’m replacing it with a picture of Ghost’s expression that perfectly captures the fic’s concept. Let me know if you think of one.

Platonic fluff, duh.

Warning: Lots of swearing ahead of you, British slang as well. Told you, he’s not happy.

UPDATE: there’s a Part 2 now. Things get messy.

Want more?

———————————————————————

The rumour mill went into overdrive as soon as the ‘new guy’ arrived at the military base that morning. A former special ops legend with impressive credentials; what’s not to love?

But it wasn’t just his military skills that had everyone talking; it was also his appearance. Rumours of his Adonis-like looks had spread throughout the base, and everyone was dying to catch a glimpse of him. Even the mess hall was dominated by talk of his stunning looks.

What did you think of him? Well, you prefer to take such things with a grain of salt and not put too much stock in them. After all, beauty is a matter of personal preference, and no single definition applies to everyone. So you wanted to evaluate things for yourself.

Okay, fine. Yes, the rumours were true—the guy is exactly as they described him.

The new lieutenant stands tall and proud in front of the line you’ve all formed, his wavy hair coiffed into a deep side part with a thick fringe swooping over one eye. His chiselled jawline is accentuated by a short, perfectly groomed beard, and he gives everyone a brilliant smile as if he’s auditioning for a toothpaste commercial. His voice is booming and almost comically enthusiastic as if he were trying to engage a class of children. He gives orders by pointing at soldiers with gun fingers and winking, causing some of you to stifle giggles.

“All right, soldiers, pay attention!” he says, clapping his hands like a cheerleader. “Today’s tasks are routine: cleaning, organizing, equipment repair, and inventory taking. And, hey, if we pull this off, I’ll buy everyone a round at the local pub! How does that sound?”

Some of the soldiers exchange skeptical glances, wondering if this guy is for real.

But Ghost? Oh. My. God.

Ghost’s agitation becomes too hard to hide as the new lieutenant speaks. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, moving frantically as if eager to be anywhere but here. His eyes keep rolling back as though they’re searching for some leftover patience in the depths of his skull. You keep staring at his crossed arms. They’re so stiff that his muscles must ache from the effort. It’s as if he’s trying to keep them in place, so he doesn’t unleash them and back-slap the hot lieutenant’s pretty face. That, or he’ll let out a primal scream any second now.

“Y/N,” he turns to face you, and you stand at attention, “you’re on border patrol with me today-”

“Y/N is staying with me at the office today,” Ghost opposes him. “There’s a lot of paperwork that needs to be done.”

“Can’t you get someone else to fill out the paperwork?” the man asks, shooting Ghost a wink and a grin.

“Can’t you get someone else to help you with border patrol?” Ghost winks back at him and turns to face you. “Y/N, on your feet, c’mon,” he says, walking towards the building.

You exchange glances with the new lieutenant and shrug. This is too awkward.

“WHENEVER YOU’RE READY, SOLDIER,” Ghost commands, and you dash towards him, brushing past the new lieutenant, who also happens to smell amazing. Of course, he does.

“What the fuck is wrong with you today, Lt.?” You whisper as you run behind him, “where’s the camaraderie we discussed during yesterday’s briefing?”

Ghost shoots you a glare over his shoulder. “Just trying to keep my paperwork safe,” he mutters.

“What’ll happen to the damn paperw-” you proceed to ask, but then evaluate his words; you’re the paperwork.

At the office…

He’s reticent as he sits on his desk—not like he’s a social butterfly any other day, but today, he seems angry. Almost hostile. His eyebrows are tied together, his restless leg syndrome is back, and he takes too many cigarette breaks compared to what you’re used to. He answers your questions with one-word statements when—and if—he acknowledges your presence. Yesses and nos are all you’ve been getting since you entered the office, with the occasional “tsk” he might utter while he looks at his papers.

“Pass me the stapler.” He commands.

“Magic word, Ghost.”

“Pass me the fucking stapler, please.”

You slide the stapler over to his desk. “You’re rude today, Mr Riley.” You comment, turning your focus back to the laptop’s screen.

He doesn’t reply in the form of words. Instead, his feelings manifest themselves by aggressively stapling the papers together.

“Perhaps you’d like me to ask for the stapler by winking at you?” He finally mutters under his breath.

“Like the guy that came in today?” You scoff.

Oh, you have his full, undivided attention now. He turns his chair towards you and leans his weight on his thighs as if you’re about to tell the most exciting story.

“What do you think of him?” He asks.

You flick your wrist dismissively. “I don’t know him well enough to form an opinion. I prefer to reserve judgment until I get to know someone.” You give him a pointed look, hoping to convey your message without having to spell it out for him.

“He’s a fucking bellend, I’ll tell you that much.” He mumbles in response. Guess the message got lost in transit.

“Come on, man!” You shout and punch your fist on the table, “it’s obvious that he’s got you rattled.”

“He’s not rattling me!” Ghost protests, but his defensive tone betrays him.

“Sure, he’s not,” you reply sarcastically, “that’s why you’ve been chain-smoking and stapling papers like you’re trying to murder them.”

Ghost lets out a deep sigh and rubs his temples.

“Is it his looks?” you ask.

“No, it’s not his looks,” Ghost rolls his eyes, “I’m much better looking than him, that’s for sure.”

“Are you...I don’t know, intimidated, maybe?” You shrug, “because you’re worried he might take your place as the top dog around here?”

He looks at you incredulously. “What are you talking about? I’m not worried about that.”

“Sure, you’re not,” you smirk. “That’s why you’ve been acting like a total jerk all day.”

He looks up and sighs. The poor man looks like he desperately needs an ego boost. Beneath Ghost’s tough facade there’s Simon, after all. And Simon is a human being with the same insecurities and worries as everyone else.

“In any case,” you say, trying to comfort him, “nobody takes such douchebags seriously in the army. And I get it; the guy’s trying to make a good impression and all, but, my God, he needs to chill with all the...” you start winking and pointing gun fingers left and right.

He’s so happy he lets out a sharp chuckle. “He’s a fucking nobhead, isn’t he?” He asks, “trying to take charge and acting like he knows everything.”

“Indeed,” you reassure him, “and that cologne, I almost fainted as I passed him; how could you stand beside him for so long?”

“Don’t ask.” He shakes his head.

You reach over and give his arm a squeeze. “Don’t worry about it, Ghost. You’re the most respected operator here,” you say, giving him a small smile, “just do me a favour and give the guy a chance; he has so much to learn from you.”

He nods. “I wanted to neck slap him so hard,” he mumbles, “knock his pretty white teeth out.”

“Which are fake, by the way.”

“Are they?” He asks, shocked.

“100%.” You reply with conviction as if you are the guy’s dentist.

“I knew it.” He yells, slaps his hand on his thigh, and turns his chair back to his desk.

You look at him from the corner of your eye. He seems much more relaxed now. Hopefully, he takes your advice to heart and proceeds with the same resilience and leadership he does on the battlefield. Or, maybe, you temporarily diffused a potential conflict, and the captain will have to get involved pretty soon. Who knows. At least he feels confident in himself now, and the guy’s teeth will live to see another day.

———————————————————————

Part 2 ->

[gretavanlace]

Feels Like Gold

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, language, dirty talk, breeding kink, Jake drives a car (the most dangerous situation of all), extremely mild degradation, etc

Okay, in honor of our collective jakedown, I rooted around in my unreleased work and then did a little revamping. This one is for you, @piratejakesgf thank you for your request ❤️ *loosely edited, fair warning

And kisses to @jake-kiszkas-smirk and her brilliant mind for titling this when I was at a loss 💋 xoxo

“Fuck, these are so uncomfortable!” you hiss with exasperation, tugging at the itchy nylon hell encasing your legs.

“Told you not to wear them.” Jake reminds you, flipping on his turn signal before switching lanes, though the freeway is dark and nearly deserted.

“You know how my family is.” you remind him right back, annoyed with his flippant attitude. “If I’d shown up to that wedding in a dress with bare legs I’d have been labeled the whore of the family tree. My branch weighed down with bad choices; exposed skin and a degenerate rockstar on my arm.”

“I mean, to their credit, I actually am a degenerate so they’re just calling ‘em like they see ‘em.” His eyes are locked on the road, but a tiny smirk tells you he’s pleased with his cleverness. “Plus, your aunt tried to fuck me, so you aren’t the only whore in the family.”

An abrupt laugh trills out of you. “Right. Which aunt?”

“Does it matter?” he shrugs. “She told me she slept with Joe Perry and it left her with a taste for guitarists…I told her Perry could suck my dick because I could stomp his riffs any day, but that only turned her on even more.”

“And then what happened?” you giggle, falling into his little pretend world.

“Well,” he sighs wearily, “Promise you won’t be angry with me?”

You’re solemn and stoic, as if this is very serious business, “Scouts honor.”

“Then, I excused myself and wound up fucking your uncle in the bathroom, instead.” he squints at an upcoming exit sign to be sure you’re headed in the right direction, and then settles back into a more relaxed state, wrist guiding the steering wheel casually.

“Was he any good?” you ask, mock sincerity laced through your tone.

“I’ve had better.” He shrugs.

“You’re so stupid.” you shake your head with a doting roll of your eyes, and reach under your dress to roll the torturous hose down and off.

He watches out of the corner of his eye, stealing glances as safely as he can while driving.

“Jesus, they were thigh highs all this time?” he sounds a little like he’s considering jerking the car over onto the shoulder of the highway to drag you into the backseat.

“All this time.” the garment in question lands in his lap.

“Lemme see.” he orders quietly before you have a chance to remove the second.

Up the hem of your dress travels until he can get a good look at the black lace resting at the top of your thigh. “Fuck, pretty girl.”

“You like that?” you tease in a silken voice.

He nods, tightening his grip on the wheel.

You push a little further with, “Are you hard?”

“I’m gonna kick you out of this car and make you walk home.” he lies, reaching out to snap the elastic lace against your skin. “Take this one off, too…it’s doing unspeakable things to me. Especially since you’re only wearing the one. You look sloppy - like I just rocked your shit in the back of a tour bus.”

“Jacob Thomas..” you gasp lightly, as though scandalized “Someone seems a little worked up.”

“I might be, if only I didn’t have such a firm grasp on the power of will, my darling.”

He’s being untruthful, but he does it so elegantly - in that soft, slightly British lilt of his, you decide to grant him a very gracious pass and drop the second into his lap.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Kiszka.” You wiggle your polished toes, enjoying the freedom. “My baby cousin, the one you let dance on your feet? She asked me if you were a pirate.”

This tugs an honest laugh out of his chest…a gorgeous sound that colors your cheeks pink. “You told her yes, I expect?”

You hum in confirmation, “I did. And I told her that you have a special sword with strings on it and it makes beautiful, dark music that people come from far away lands to hear. Just like the sirens in Peter Pan.”

His face visibly softens in the flickers of light shed by the street lamps whipping by. “You always did know how to paint a lovely picture, pretty girl.”

The low purr of the engine lulls your head against the window, but just as your eyes begin to grow heavy, he pulls you back to him with a quiet, “Hey,”

Turning your head against the seat, you study his profile, charting the map of your favorite face, “Yeah?”

”Whose baby was that you were holding? The tiny, tiny one,”

It seems such an odd thing for him to ponder, and you have to mentally sift through the reception a bit, you held a great many babies tonight…it seemed like every cousin and second cousin in attendance was weighed down by a diaper bag stuffed full of diapers and pacifiers.

”The one with the little headband bow-thingy.” He clarifies. “She was so small.”

“My cousin’s. He and his wife’s third in almost as many years. She’s only like a month old and smelled like heaven.” You draw in a breath and wish her silken tufts of hair were still pressed to your cheek, “Why?”

”I don’t know,” you know him well enough to know that’s a damn lie. “I just- I don’t know…do you ever think about it?”

Caught off guard, you opt for a little joke, “Does Jakey have baby fever?”

He smiles, and there is a touch of shyness that lives there, “Shut up. Do you think about it?”

“Do I think about having babies? Well, I-“

He interrupts quickly to set you straight, “Do you think about having babies with me?”

Oh.

Where is he heading with this? Will a bit of honesty scare him? Will it scare you?

Deciding to take the plunge, this is simply a conversation after all, and a subject that he broached to boot, you choose truth. “Yes, I’ve thought about babies with you. Although that whole twin thing is fucking terrifying.”

Again, you joke. Again, he doesn’t take the bait. “Identical twins aren’t hereditary. We’re just an accidental fuck up. When you think about it, what do you think?”

”A lot of things.”

Smoothly, he guides the car onto the off-ramp that leads to home. “Very informative, darling. A veritable treasure trove of information.”

He hasn’t tipped his hand and you aren’t about to let him off so easily. “”Do you think about it?”

”Honestly, not before. I mean, I think about how you’ll look in your wedding dress and if you’ll wear your hair swept up the way I like, and I suppose that’s sort of the same thing. Or headed in the same direction, anyway. But watching you hold that baby tonight…”

Your chest suddenly feels a little tight. You’re touched by his admission.

And how endearing that he wonders how you’ll wear your hair. You reach out and stroke the back of your hand along the cut of his jaw, “When the day comes, I’ll wear it up for you.”

~

Later, he’s draped across the bed watching you glide about the room in your bra and panties. Earrings unfastened and placed gently on your jewelry tray, necklace hung carefully, hair let loose and shaken out at long last.

Hands folded behind his head, he speaks up, breaking the spell you have unknowingly cast over him, “You said ‘a lot of things’. Elaborate.”

You turn, eyes drifting over the king lounging about upon the bed you share, in nothing but the dress pants he hasn’t yet bothered to shed. “What?”

He cocks his chin, summoning your attention further ”Babies. You said you think about a lot of things.”

He looks so fucking sinfully delicious…a sickeningly sweet cake sent from the bewitching trenches of hell to rot your teeth. “The normal things. Baby things.”

The heavy wooden frame creeks quietly as he pulls himself into a sitting position to study your expression, “Liar.”

”Oh, I’m sorry,” you dance around the accusation, “I just happen to be looking at a disgustingly attractive little shit waiting for me to climb into bed beside him. Forgive me for looking flustered.”

”Don’t be coy, darling,” he tsks, clicking his tongue against his perfect teeth. “I can see it written all over your pretty face. You’ve got a secret.”

He’s moving towards the edge of the bed now, drawing you in closer with his devilish stare. “Tell me.”

”I don’t have a secret.” Whose voice is that? Surely it’s much too quiet and meek to be your own.

”Tell the truth.” He hums, a knowing twinkle flashing in his gaze. “What do you think about?”

Your eyes refuse to meet his own as your stomach knots, warm and vibrating. “I guess…sometimes I - sometimes I think about the trying part of it all.”

He’s watching you closely, you can feel it like warm fingers dancing across your blushing skin. “So you think about fucking?”

He almost sounds disappointed. He had expected more judging by your hesitancy to share.

”Well,” your fingers are plucking at the comforter now, rooting out a loose thread to spin around your finger, “Yes, but it’s kind of more than that. I think about you… inside me.”

At last, you peek up at him. He looks curious, as if he can’t quite figure you out. “Why are you being such a little mouse about this?” His palms are cupping your face now, calluses soothing you like a song. “I’m inside you all the time, and I think about it all the time, too.”

Shaking your head gently, you find your footing…at least a smidge, “Not like that. I think about you inside me. The way you would have to be if we were trying.”

Your birth control rendered condoms unnecessary ages ago, yet he has always pulled out - ever cautious and responsible. Confusion is still painted across his features…until it isn’t.

“Oh,” a lascivious grin appears and you long to curl your tongue over his lips, “you fucking filthy little thing.”

In a blink, you’re dragged onto the bed and into his arms, tossed down with your back against the sheets. his body heated and flush against yours.

Mouth suckling and nipping at your throat, he rasps into your skin, “Is that what does it for you? Pretty girl wants my cum?”

Your body’s reaction is visceral, primal, and almost embarrassing. You’re arching away from the mattress, desperate to be even closer than you already are.

“Answer me.” He huffs, sinking a bite into your jaw.

”Yes…” your hands are in his hair, thighs around his waist, “I want it.”

”Say it.” He’s rocking against you now, hard and straining against your panties. “Say what it is that you want. What you think about.”

”I think about you fucking me,” once again, whose shaking voice is that? “I think about the way you sound when you finish, and the way your cock throbs and twitches in your hand, and how it might feel inside me.”

”Keep going.” He orders, soft and wavering in your ear.

”I think about how warm your cum would feel inside of me, and maybe I wouldn’t be able to keep it all in. Maybe it might tickle a little when it leaked out.”

”Fuck, baby…” his hands are everywhere, yanking your breasts from the cups of your bra, winding your panties down your thighs, fingers sinking into your soaking, clenching cunt with a groan that sounds pained.

He seeks out your favorite spot and tucks up into it, wrenching a wanton moan from your lungs “You want me to fill this little pussy up? Keep you dripping wet with me all day long? Fuck baby after baby into you?”

”Jake…” you’re clawing at his bare shoulders, fucking yourself hopelessly against his hand. “More.”

He slips a third finger inside you, “Is that why you get a little whiny when I pull out? My girl wants me to do it inside?”

”More,” you urge through gritted teeth, eyes locked in on his face and the lust so evident in the set of his features.

”You want four?”

”Please, Jake…” tears are threatening at your lash line, “more, more, more,”

“You’re having some trouble listening tonight, aren’t you?” he sounds diabolical, and turned on beyond belief. “I asked you a question.”

His thighs prise your legs open wider as he squeezes his pinky into your warmth to join the rest of his drenched fingers, “Do you want my cum inside you? You want me to give it to you? Keep it all safe and warm for me?”

With a mournful wail you’re reduced to a million little pieces beneath him. Rocking frantically into his touch…the heel of his hand grinding quick circles into your clit as his fingers fuck you through it. He’s covered in you, it rolls down his wrist and beads against his stomach like early morning dew, anointing him as you thrash and writhe like a beautiful, fluttering leaf in an autumn wind.

When the hazy fog clears, allowing your sight, it’s his face - stunning and beaming - you find, “Hey, pretty girl.”

Now that you’re coming down, your diffidence returns and you close your eyes in a pathetic attempt to hide.

He’s having none of it, “No, no, darling…you stay with me. Right here, baby. You look so pretty with my cock inside you, imagine how fucking beautiful you’re gonna be when I fuck you full.”

“Please, jake…” it’s pathetic really, and maybe you should care about that, but you don’t. “I need it, I need it so bad.”

“Yeah?” The gravel in his tone makes you shiver with frantic desire. “Pretty girl just wants to bounce on my cock all day? Just using me to get what she wants?”

Rather than answer, you elect to begin wrangling the button on his pants.

“Someone’s eager.” He teases softly, lifting up on one elbow, easing your struggle. “You want it that bad? Are you gonna let me cum wherever I want? Gonna let me put a baby inside you?”

“Fucking do it!” Frustrated and sparking with electric desperation, you give up and tug on his waistband feverishly until he takes over, popping the button with ease and kicking them off.

His cock is fisted in his hand now, with your eyes fiercely focused on it. Hard and beautiful and yours. “You want that inside you?” He whispers, watching you stare. “You want me to fuck you? You want me to fucking breed that pretty pussy? Make you a mama?”

You should be ashamed of yourself, you well and truly should be…but fuck if you don’t want more, “Keep talking while you fuck me,” you breathe, somewhere between imploring and begging, “Dirtier, come on…”

His cock slips inside. Just the cashmere tip teasing at you, “Dirtier?” He nudges in a little deeper, just enough to make you whine, “well what should I say, pretty girl? Should I tell you that you’re my beautiful little cum slut and if I’d known it sooner I’d have been stuffing you full all this time?” Deeper still he glides, “Or that I want to cum inside you and then fall asleep with my fingers buried in your cunt to keep it where it belongs?” He’s fucking you harder, faster…the pillowy head of his cock kissing your cervix in a divine dance between pleasure and pain. “Or should I tell you about how I think about licking it up? Kissing you with my cum on my tongue because I know you’d suck it off like the greedy little baby you are.”

“I-“ a pitiful whimper escapes you, but his fingers are suddenly grasping your chin, grounding you enough to collect your scattered thoughts. “I’m gonna cum, tell me where you’re going to cum. Tell me where you’re going to put it. Please, I want it,”

Hips rolling into a succulent grind against your swollen clit now, he begins “I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve got every last drop, pretty girl. It’s all yours, are you gonna take it for me like a good girl? Are you going to be a good little mama and take it all?”

His name is all you can manage as you shatter. It’s primeval and animalistic, sounds that would make you want to crumple in on yourself if anyone heard them besides your Jacob.

“You’re so fucking tight and wet..” his perfect cock is pounding you through it as he inches closer and closer, “are you ready for me to make a mess of this little beauty right here? Hmm? Ready for me to fuck this cunt all full and dirty? You want it?”

“Jake…” you trail off, eyes fighting to stay open and locked in on his face while you shake against him, twisting and clenching around his perfect cock, “you’re so fucking hard.”

He nods furiously, burying his face in the crook of your neck to lick your pounding pulse “That’s all you, baby. You make me that hard.”

Your hips begin rocking up to meet him even faster, hungry to please. “Good girl, you keep fucking that cock. Are you gonna take what you want? Gonna make me cum? Gonna help me fill this pretty little cunt?”

In response, your nails dig into his skin, raking your mark, claiming him. You’re almost there again, though you can’t imagine how. “I’m so fucking close,” you’re sighing and shaking the words into the room, offering confession.

“Again?” He’s mocking you so sweetly, teasing dirty words into your ear like lullabies, “Already? Is my pretty girl gonna cum on this cock? Squeeze and suck the cum right out of me to steal it away? You want it that badly?”

You let go, with a trembling breath of his name, and feel his body tense against the feverish grip of your orgasm.

”That’s it, baby,” his words are but a sigh skittering across your cheek, “That’s it. Feels so good. Feels like gold. My pretty, pretty girl…”

He fucks you faster even as you melt into a puddle within his arms. “Gonna cum for you,” he promises, “I’m gonna cum so hard for you. Who’s going to take it? Who’s gonna take every fucking drop?”

”I am,” have you even made a sound? You can’t be sure, you’re so lost.

”Yes, you are…” his forehead, slick with exertion and need, nods against your own. “You’re going to take it just like you take this cock. My good fucking girl…pretty pink baby doll just begging for me to wreck her.”

Without warning, he collapses into your arms, moaning and crying out, shuddering as he releases inside you. Warm and perfect, everything you’ve ever imagined and so much more.

His fingers sink into your muscles, clutching and pulling you closer still, “Baby…” he sounds raspy and pained, “Baby, baby, baby, fuck..fuck…”

And when at last, he calms, it is with his cheek pressed to your chest, clocking the wild metronome that is your heart with your hands sweeping through his hair.

Soon, you’ll both crawl out of bed, maybe into the shower…perhaps into the warmth of a bath, but for now it is simply you, and Jake, and this tranquil bliss.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie

[emerald-grove]

Yknow, I think part of what some people don’t get about Halsin and him being poly is they think he doesn’t love them fully, like you can only really love one person.

But that’s not the case for some people!

Halsin knows himself enough to know he doesn’t ascribe to that, and he’s open about it from the get go. Like you can’t sleep with him without him saying in one way or another that he’s open- he doesn’t say you have to be, but that you need to be comfortable with him being so.

I do wish we had the opportunity to ask him about a relationship, even if it’s not a traditional one with courting and bindings of labels and marriage and so on, but current dialogue doesn’t allow for it.

This gave me some overthinking fodder- If his heart doesn’t stir easily, why does he say he’s had many lovers right before that? I thought of the Drow scene and wondered, what’s the difference between me and them?

I finally figured it out while re-listening to his point and click lines for romance players.

My heart

My love.

It’s almost awkward in some of the recordings, like it’s tacked on so they can say that’s a “romance” line. (Admittedly he’s so naturally helpful, I don’t blame them for needing that delineation). Not to mention, they could’ve written him to just say “love” in that British way, which he does in one or two. I’m an American I’m sorry don’t @ me

After getting caught on that awkwardness, I realized the other part of why it kept catching my attention.

He’s calling you mine.

For a romance partner who seemed almost opposed to possessiveness, it blew me away to finally understand what might’ve been obvious to some people.

He’ll share his body with many and enjoy the physical pleasure of those bonds, even if they’re temporary or fleeting.

But his heart doesn’t stir lightly. His love isn’t given everywhere. His heart is an open ocean that can hold love for many partners, but that doesn’t mean everyone he sleeps with is his love.

But you are! You’re his. And he’ll constantly (sometimes clunkily) remind you when he buffs you, heals you, and helps you up, in or out of battle.

I remain yours, of course.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 1 - Round Two | ‘Act II’

word count - 10 k

“Erm... yeah, that’s a bit of me. Big follow.” You giggled, plucking the phone out of your friend Whitney’s hand admiring an abnormally pretty boy she was showing you on the screen. 

“Right?” She laughed with you spreading her two fingers on the screen to zoom in on the boy’s perfect physique. Whitney’s dad spent every day he could watching football. It was on in their house twenty four hours a day. He was an awesome dad to two girls you called your best friends but you always sensed that it pained him he couldn’t have had a son to give it a go in an international football league. He could care less about the American MLS teams but that’s a story for another time. Previously, you really hadn’t cared about your best friend’s fathers interest in the sport. Your own family was into footie, your brother, your dad, but again, you didn’t really buy in. That said, if someone asked you on the street who you supported, you’d have an answer, you knew the high level things going on in the world of football.  

“Like okkkay besties! I’m into this.” You cheekily cooed. Your disinterest suddenly became a big interest when Whitney showed you a photo of two boys that played for the England international team. One was cute... pretty, in fact. You’d say he gave off a sort of a more demure vibe in comparison. Whitney was hooked; her dad was an avid Liverpool supporter and by turn Whitney was. Apparently her dad pointed Trent Alexander-Arnold out to her during a regular season match earlier. The other boy in said photo, well, that was a bit of you. 

“They’re so pretty.” Whitney sighed, taking a longer look at Trent’s face. “Hello. Earth to Y/N.” She called for you after your eyes began to glaze over wishing your thumb hovering over his happy trail was able to actually feel the muscular abs you’d been actually drooling over beneath it. 

“Sorry but he’s so hot.” You laughed with a shake of the head trying to snap out of your lustful haze. Whitney hadn’t even said their names but frankly, you didn’t care. You just might support England in this tournament. Your brother and dad would kill you but you’d do it for a man that looked like this. You were French, that would arguably be seen as treason in your household but he was so good looking they’d have to understand. Your dad would tell you you were French the same way Whitney’s dad would tell her she was British. You both were not born in your respective native lands but your dads were from, you had dual citizenships but no accents. That said, you did speak the language. Your family had actually lived in Paris for a few years before you went to university and met Whitney.   

“I know I figured I’d share.” Whitney smiled at you with a bob of the head happy with her recent Instagram follow as she grabbed her phone back from you. 

“Thank you Mr. Smith. Who knew he had such good taste in men.” You teased taking her phone back once more to actually look at the instagram handle above the photo that had you in such a trance. ‘Jude Bellingham’ you read the name in your head in a silly British accent that probably wasn’t all that accurate. You didn’t know a thing about him. You hadn’t heard either of the boys even speak but he just gave off such British vibes and it made you laugh a little. 

“Man of many talents, l suppose.” Whitney snatched her phone back and went back to Trent’s Instagram, scrolling through photos she’d seen at least a hundred times by now but she wanted to see them one hundred more. 

Flash forward a couple years, a lot of drinks, a blossomed relationship for Whitney, and unfortunately a few more tears than you would’ve hoped later and you found yourself in a Greecian club on a holiday with the two English footballers and their friends. How? You wondered the same thing but Whitney seemed to have fate on her side. Although, she didn’t seem to want to share any because a night ago you could have used some when you fucked her now boyfriend, Trent’s brother, so it didn’t really come as welcomed news when you found out the lustful torch you carried for your instagram crush, Jude, was in front of you in real life now burning. It had been a long couple of hours navigating the waters of two men in a confined space. 

“I like this…” Jude cooed, slipping his fingers under the strap of your red dress.  “Would look better on my floor though.” He whispered a line you’d heard too many times in your ear despite the loud thump of the bass in the club. It should’ve put you off. It should’ve been an eye roll moment except it wasn’t. There was something about the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you, the way he touched you. All night he had you in a trance. It made you feel attended to in the least cheesy and cliche way. You’d flirted earlier in the evening when you’d been introduced after dinner but you were proper close now and the game had begun. You were not an easy lay… well it depended on the day and how bad you wanted to have sex. Regardless, you liked the game with boys. It was fun. You knew you were attractive and you knew that came with many perks like lines of men interested in you and the only way to make it slightly more entertaining and fun and maybe sift out the trash, although some always managed to seep through, you’d test them. Play games, flirt mercilessly and then leave high and dry, you’d make them buy your drinks while you played with their hearts and their hands dragging them up and down your figure. 

“You can’t put a dress like this on the floor, Jude.” You quipped back, placing your hand over his and guiding it down your body and the sheer beaded fishnet fabric. It was a gorgeous Roberta Einer mini dress that you’d been itching to wear somewhere but the way the lights were reflecting off it now and your newly tanned skin barely hidden under it, you knew tonight was the perfect debut for it. 

“Alright, I’ll hang it up just for you.” He gently whispered into your ear. He wasn’t offering to do you some sort of grand favor but the way he said it made it sound like you were meant to be grateful and you didn’t like that he had made such a subtle move to take the upper hand. So you cut the line.

“Okay, thank you.” You brushed him off with a short smile as if he had handed you a coffee over a counter. 

“No problem. As long as it’s still coming off.” Jude was persistent though. He was sweet and smooth. His scent was encircling you and keeping you hostage. His woody musk built walls around you, caging you in. His big soft hands on your exposed skin acting as shackles. You were trapped.

“We shouldn’t.” You muttered haphazardly as he ducked his face to be in front of yours. He gently guided you to step back against a wall in a corridor of the club. You thought you’d get some air and free yourself from the thick tension being near Jude but he followed you. You two were like magnets. There was something there and you weren’t sure why it felt a little more dangerous than just lust. He placed his massive hand on your waist, squeezing you just a little before letting his hand drop down to your hip.

“But we could.” He cooed with the cheekiest smile you might have ever seen in your life and arguably the prettiest too. You couldn’t stop the giggle from escaping your lips. You hated that he had you like this. He moved closer and dragged his lips down your neck, kiss after kiss, running his tongue along your warm skin. It was like he was a live wire jump starting your whole system. The tension was palpable and you wanted more of it but not that easily, of course. You knew who Jude was. You were shown his instagram obviously by Whitney and if the millions of Instagram followers weren’t enough of an indicator it was his insistent presence in the media. A ad campaign, a dramatized story in the Daily Mail, a shirtless instagram post, you would’ve loved to say you did notice it all but you were very aware and embarrassingly you welcomed his ever presence on your phone when you were miles apart. Right now though you weren’t sure there was even a centimeter separating you. Despite knowing what you knew, you were not going to be complacent to the great Jude Bellingham. Tonight was meant to be a level playing field. 

“Your first night out?” You questioned him. Honestly, the only reason you were asking this is because Whitney had made a point before you’d even left for this holiday that you not ruin it all making a rash hook up night one… except you already had. You slept with her boyfriend’s brother which in both his and your defense was good sex. It was fun, rough, drunk, orgasmic and unattached just the way you liked it. He wasn’t exactly off the table though in your mind. He was cute, you had control of the situation and his room was next to yours at the villa you were staying in. Like you said, it was good sex. Although you weren’t going to say no if Jude pushed and you hoped he did but you weren’t exactly closing off other options either. You were on holiday. No one would get hurt, they were twenty some year old men in Greece, you couldn’t imagine commitment was on anyone’s minds. You didn’t kiss Jude in the corridor even though it was the only thought populating in your mind. Jude hated that your game of teasing drew him in more. He liked to be in charge. He liked to run the show and he knew he was losing ground when you moved past him to get back to the ropped off private area in the club with everyone else. Jude was slick as you made your way back and moved quickly in front of you to sit down first. He pulled you down to sit on his lap and you faked an eye roll as if Jude’s persistence was unwelcomed but it was anything but. As the night rolled on you got drunker and his touches got more courageous.  In the dim light of the nightclub, the bass thrummed like a heartbeat in the air, creating a pulsing rhythm that matched the intoxicating sway of the crowd. The atmosphere was thick with a heady mix of laughter, music, and the sweet scent of bottles and bottles of Don Julio 1942. You stayed settled on his lap, warmth enveloped you, igniting a spark that sent shivers down your spine. His strong hands rested gently on your hips, grounding you while the world around you blurred into a swirling tapestry of colors. With each sip of your drink, the world grew more vivid, the laughter more melodic, and the closeness between you more electric. Your heart raced, not just from the alcohol but from the magnetic pull of his gaze. 

“Just want to pull this right up and…” He leaned in closer, his breath a tantalizing whisper against your ear, sending tiny jolts of excitement through you. The rich timbre of his voice wrapped around you like velvet, drawing you deeper into this intoxicating moment, letting his hand on your thigh go higher and higher pulling the hem of your dress with it. His pinky finger able to ghost over your panty clad pussy. 

“Stop…” You giggled, meaning exactly the opposite, grabbing his hand to halt any further movement. This was a dangerous game. You were both on the verge of blacking out. As the night wore on, the music wrapped you both in its seductive embrace, and every glance he stole felt like a secret promise. You found yourself laughing freely, each sound mingling with the pulsating rhythm, feeling utterly alive under the spell of his charm. The lights danced across Jude’s features, enhancing the sharp lines of his jaw and the smirk that hinted at playful mischief. The more you drank, the more you adored him—the way he held you, the way he listened with rapt attention, as if you were the only person in the room. You could feel the warmth of connection building like the crescendo of a song, enveloping you in a cocoon of desire and vulnerability. The laughter faded into a soft hum, and in that moment, you knew you were falling—not just into drunken bliss but into something deeper, something intoxicatingly real. Time slipped away, lost in the rhythm of the night, and as you rested your head against his shoulder, a tender smile graced your lips. Similarly a boyish, lopsided grin plastered to his face.  A darkness flooded your mind. You. blacked. out.  You thought you had a pretty okay tolerance but maybe your stature didn’t exactly match the 6’2 man you were trying to keep up with shot for shot. 42 was starting to taste like water and you were pretty sure no one had an accent anymore. 

You had a blurry memory of his lips brushing against yours, gentle yet urgent, igniting a fire that danced within you. As the vibrant strobe lights cast fleeting shadows across his face, you felt a magnetic pull, drawing you closer into a world that existed solely for the two of you. Each brush of his lips sent shivers racing through your body, igniting every nerve ending in a delicious wave of ecstasy. The heat of his body pressed against you, a tantalizing reminder of the summer night outside, while his hands tangled in your hair and traced the curve of your back, urging you deeper into his embrace. The music swelled around you, a backdrop of heavy bass that mirrored the pounding of your heart, creating a bubble of exhilaration and desire. Time seemed to dissolve as the world outside faded, leaving only the taste of his kiss—sweet and intoxicating, mingling with the warm summer air that danced around you. Your bodies moved in sync, a rhythm as intoxicating as the melody that surrounded you. With each kiss, the world blurred into soft hues of color, a vivid painting of passion and spontaneity. The tender urgency of your connection deepened, exploring uncharted territories as hands explored, pulling each other closer, savoring the moment as if time itself stood still. It was a wild, breathless escape, filled with promises whispered between breaths, where the pulse of the music became the heartbeat of your desires, leaving you both breathless, alive, and utterly entwined.

The morning light peeked through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the disheveled bed. You stirred, feeling the weight of a night filled with laughter and passion settle heavily on your limbs. A dull throb pulsed in your temples, each beat a reminder of the revelry that had unfolded the night before. As your eyes fluttered open, they fell upon the figure beside you… Jude. His chiseled silhouette half-hidden beneath rumpled sheets, radiating an effortless charm even in the quiet aftermath of the night. The scent of his skin lingered in the air, a rich, intoxicating mix of cologne and the faint hint of warmth from your shared adventures. As you attempted to piece together the fragments of last night, the tableau before you sent a rush of sensations coursing through you. There he was, tangled in the sheets, sunkissed skin glistening slightly in the morning light, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. You could have sworn he looked like a work of art, perfectly imperfect in a way that made your heart flutter unexpectedly.

“I have to get to my room.” You whispered to Jude with a pounding headache, not entirely sure what happened but you were sore and naked so you had a good idea. Your heart was racing praying to see some remnant or clue that protection was used. The world around you felt hazy, your thoughts muddled from too much tequila and laughter, yet the sight of him brought warmth and a flicker of exhilaration to your chest. You shifted slightly, the crisp sheets whispering against your skin, and he stirred, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours—a lazy, sultry gaze that ignited memories of stolen kisses and whispered secrets shared in low-lit corners of the nightclub.

“Good morning to you to." He laughed tiredly. "What’d you say?” His voice was low and smooth, like velvet draping over your senses, both teasing and inviting. A smile crept across his lips, illuminating his features and crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that made your heart race. You couldn’t help but mirror his expression, feeling the pull of a connection that thrummed between you, more potent than the remnants of your hangover. 

“I said, I have to get to my room.” You smiled as you tentatively lifted your hand to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, the soft rustle of sheets surrounded you both, creating a cocoon of intimacy that felt deliciously intoxicating. There was an unspoken understanding in the air, an acknowledgment of last night's escapades, layered with the thrill of unexpected mornings. In that moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in warmth and longing, a beautiful aftermath that felt fleeting yet infinitely precious.

“Why…” Jude groaned, letting his eyes close again. With every heartbeat, it became clear: the night had woven your lives together, if only for an ephemeral moment. And though uncertainty lingered like a sweet aftertaste, the promise of the unknown shimmered in the air. 

“Everyone can’t know I slept in here.” You whispered again with some urgency. Image was important to you. Sleep with whoever you want, absolutely. Let people know that? Absolutely not.  

“Whyyy…” Jude kept on his childish theatrics with another groan. He outstretched his arm and draped it around your waist as insurance you wouldn’t leave. This was not a rare indulgence for you but it would cling to you like the sheets twisted around your body currently were, all day if you didn’t get out of there. The lavish villa room was stunning and an opulent blend of modern luxury and understated, but it did little to distract from Jude. His hair messy in a way he’d hate yet it formed a careless halo on the pillow beneath him.

“I’ll see you later.” You giggled pulling down the sheet and slapping his ass trying to make light of you not  being able to remember anything and remind him you were waking up naked in case he didn’t either. You moved in a way that was calculated after that, you’d done this before. You have a good night, a great night in fact, great sex, although usually you prefer to remember a semblance of it… god damnit where is a condom wrapper… literally anything! But you’d done this before and you knew you had to move quickly as if your very presence in Jude’s room might unravel the meticulously crafted image you’d built. The mesh of your mini dress, now crumpled on the foot of the bed, tells the story of a night you could barely recall. You did recall Jude saying he’d hang the dress up but that went out the window and evidently so did your morality when it came to safe sex. It was a night you both dreaded and longed to remember.

“Ow fuck, Y/N.” Jude complained reaching lazily to pull the covers back up to cover himself. You laughed a little at his poor morning attitude but got distracted when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. It reflected a woman who was both powerful and vulnerable, your usual poise slightly fractured. You couldn’t even attempt to restore any dignity to your appearance. This was simply the job for a real shower. 

“I’m sorry, did that hurt?” You mocked him a little, coming and kissing near Jude’s ear softly with a hum. 

“Yeah, fuck.” He complained, burying his face in a pillow. 

“Aw, I’ll remember that when I’m laying concealer over your bite marks before breakfast.” You teased running your hand over a bruise you could clearly make out on your collarbone. There was no use trying to restore your usual pristine facade. There’s no hiding the telltale signs: the smudged mascara around your eyes, the bruised lips, the scent of him lingering on your skin. “It was good though.” You sympathetically smiled at him. You felt bad. Why did you suddenly feel a tinge of guilt and softness towards him? No idea. You weren’t sure. You snapped your eyes off him to hopefully help break the emotions you were starting to feel. 

“Yeah? What you had wanted?”  Jude opened his eyes again and  smiled sleepily at you. You glanced back at his chiseled features softened in the haze of his tiredness. A part of you felt so drawn to him. So you took a seat on the side of the bed running your hands over his warm skin. 

“Erm… don’t know, I might need one more go just to make sure it was as good as I remember.”  You lied. Why did you lie? You weren’t sure. What had this boy done to you? You were having a hell of a hangover and you were starting to wonder if the tequila from last night somehow disregulated or fucked with the limbic system in your brain. 

“Mmmm C’mere.” Jude pulled you down into a kiss and you let him. It was warm, soft, slow, and sleepy and yet it had you trying not to moan into his mouth it was turning you on so much. 

“I have to go.” You sympathetically pulled away with an apologetic smile. 

“Yeah but you’ve got me hard now.” Jude flashed you a conniving grin hoping that his pretty face could convince you to stay. It almost worked. Unfortunately his face didn’t outweigh your fear of being caught out. Two men in three or so days wasn’t a fact you’d be broadcasting but you weren’t exactly complaining either. 

“That sounds like a you problem.” You gave him an annoyingly cheeky grin. Jude was upset that he still managed to find it cute despite him being painfully hard now. He sighed and grabbed your arm before you could get far. You looked at him innocently not sure what he needed because you weren’t going to stay. He kissed your knuckles and then rolled over in the bed. That was it. You weren’t sure what to make of it so you just smiled with a hum stepping away, leaving behind a world of temptation and chaos as you quietly gathered the remnants of your dignity and fragments of your outfit from last night. You grabbed Jude’s shirt of the floor and pulled it over you. You weren’t about to put back on your dress from last night. You were missing an earring as well but you’d find it later. It wasn’t a proud moment as you slipped out the door cautiously and tiptoed to your bedroom, heels in hand, your bare feet peeling off the marble floors of the villa, wincing at the noise with every step, terrified someone might see you. You went to the en suite of your room and took off his shirt. You looked at it and smiled until you caught yourself in the mirror smiling like an idiot at it. There was a slight smudge of your lipstick color on the collar. It smelt like him and you just wanted to put it back on and go to bed but instead you turned on the shower. In a state of delusion and a hangover haze you held the shirt in your hand and cheekily took a nude in the mirror sending it to Jude.  

‘To help with your problem. xx’

Jude threw his head back on his pillow with another groan as he opened the message. He sorted himself out after that thanks to your photos assistance and memories of last night before he went back to sleep. You smiled when you saw he responded after your shower… until you read it. 

‘You’re unreal, angel. Liked it better when I was cumming inside you though and not just to the thought of you. Maybe later? xx.’

“Oh my god!” You gasped out loud dropping your phone. It fell on your toe and you thought you were going to cry. It hurt so bad. You grabbed your phone and wrapped your towel around you a bit tighter and ran to your bed and fell face first. “I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid.” You repeated over and over again. You were haunted by the memory of last night you couldn’t remember, and the man down the hall, clinging to you like a whisper you couldn’t  quite shake, a reminder that even the most perfect facades have cracks.

“I need to talk to you immediately.” You hushly but harshly whispered to Whitney in the kitchen later that morning gripping her arm so tight she might have a bruise later. She was sitting on Trent’s lap who gave you a curious yet concerned face. You just smiled and yanked Whitney off him pulling her all the way down the hall to your room. “Look at me…” You snapped peeling your shirt off to reveal the remnants of your night with Jude. Her eyes went wide and a cheeky grin began to pull on her face. 

“Can you give me a little more context because I need to know if I should be applauding someone’s handiwork or if something happened because you look like someone attacked you.” Whitney kept her smile knowing it wasn’t the later. 

“Whit… I don’t even remember it and I think he does. I lied and said I did and then I was a fucking idiot and sent him a nude this morning because I apparently willingly opt for chaos and he jerked off to it and said he…” You picked your arms up to air quote. “‘Liked it better when he was cumming inside me’ so that’s fucking insane.” Whitney’s jaw dropped at your confessional. 

“Okay.. erm it’s fine. Sit down, sit down, sit down.” She beckoned you over and you sat next to her on your bed letting your body fall limp into her lap. “It’s fine. Honestly, we’ll sort it. A few questions for you. Erm… one, who are we talking about?” She asked you gently, running her hand over your head. That question alone made you feel dumb. To Whitney’s credit, it was a fair question. 

“Jude… I woke up with Jude this morning.” You whined covering your face with your hands embarrassed to admit it. 

“Y/N, its okay. Second question,  you wanted to right? Like you’re not upset because he… you know. Like this was consensual?” She sheepishly asked you. You softly smiled at her with a shake of the head. Whitney was always so mindful and gentle. She did this with everything. She needed to make sure everything was okay so she could properly help. She wanted to make sure you were okay and she was probably the only person in your life that when she asked that, you knew she meant it and honestly wanted to listen. She really was the sweetest and had good intentions but consent wasn’t an issue here. “Okay, as long as you’re fine in that regard. Well, you should ask Jude like if he actually did finish inside and we’ll go from there. I mean… we’ve handled this before.” She giggled a little recalling many of antics between the pair of you from university to date. “The nude is whatever. Don’t worry. He’s seen you naked. It's not exactly like you have a body anyone would be ashamed of either.  The photo won’t go anywhere and if you liked him or the sex, I mean it’s not a bad person to add to your body count.” She cheekily smiled at you. You couldn’t help but smile back. Her smile was infectious and it made you feel better just seeing it. “Jude is nicer than you’d think so just talk to him. You two can just have a pretty person conversation.” 

“Yeah, I’ll talk to him. Do you want to get your joke in now or will you give me the morning?” You laughed, running your hands over your face again. Your relationship with Whitney was like any good friendship it was filled with love and support, a lot of laughter and amazing memories, but humor was a pillar for you two. When things got hard if you didn’t laugh about it you’d cry. 

“Eh… When you least expect it. Today though.” She laughed. “To be fair, you looked really good last night. I didn’t think you’d be going to sleep alone.” Whitney cooed as you sat up. You picked up your phone and opened your messages with Jude and deleted them for your own sanity. You couldn’t have your mistakes just sitting there. “You’re supposed to say ‘yeah, Whit you looked good last night too, did you go home with anyone?” She teased bumping her shoulder against yours drawing you out of your moment of embarrassment rereading Jude’s message. 

“Yes, yes, Whitney. You’re gorgeous and Trent loves you. You guys probably fucked four times yesterday so forgive me if I didn’t add to Trent’s chorus of chants of how beautiful you are.” You teased her dropping your cheek to rest on her shoulder. Whitney deserved Trent’s high praise. She was stunning, you just were a little caught out over your mistakes. 

“It’ll be fine. I promise. Honest. Just talk to him, okay?” Whitney snapped back to a moment of seriousness and reassurance wrapping her arms around you tight. You don’t know what you’d do without her. She’d had this conversation with you more times than you cared to admit. 

“Hey… Can I talk to you?” You embarrassingly asked Jude, coming up sheepishly beside him. 

“Yeah, course but only if you help me with suncream.” He cheekily answered you, handing you the bottle.  His tanned muscular physique in front of you had you momentarily forget what you even were coming to ask him. You hated that it all made your heart falter but in all seriousness, you needed to find out what happened so you took the bottle from him and squeezed it into the palm of your hand. 

“Erm… so this is embarrassing, like I’m actually so embarrassed to say this but I don’t exactly remember the latter half of our night so can you just.. Ugh.. like… did you actually cum inside me?” You muttered out the words letting your face fall against his bicep. The sunscreen just waiting in your palms. You pressed your forehead against his arm muscle mortified unable to do anything else. You couldn’t look at him. Your words were quiet and mumbled. 

“You were that drunk, Y/N!?  That’s so bad. Fuck…” Jude was shocked. He pulled you off and held you by your shoulders in front of him looking directly into your eyes. “Okay, erm, first off I did.” He confirmed and your face dropped when he told you the fact you were hoping he was going to say wasn’t true. “Y/N… Y/N… hold on. I mean.” Jude started to laugh and your eyes widened in confusion and terror. “I mean, you don’t have to worry. I… or it was in your ass so you can’t get pregnant from that if that’s what your worried about, yeah?” Jude flashed you a devastatingly handsome and equally cheeky smile. 

“Oh… my god. Are you serious right now?” If you weren’t embarrassed before you certainly were now. You wanted to just disappear. 

“Yeah but I’m not really concerned about that. Are you serious you don’t remember? I feel awful that I was having fun last night with you now.” Jude admitted to you with no an unintentionally cute pout. His mind was racing panicking that he had somehow done something wrong but you didn’t think that at all. You were in your own head about how self-conscious you currently felt but also a little bit by how sweet he was. 

“You had fun last night?” You asked him more reserved than you would’ve wanted to. You wanted to be confident in front of this person who felt almost larger than life but you couldn’t help but feel a little smitten by him, a shyness washing over you you didn’t often feel. You tried to move last night's antics into the back of your mind. Both he and your ‘cool’ facades were crumbling. You both clearly cared.

“Y/N, you're fit. Of course, I had fun. It was amazing. I just feel horrible you don’t remember because visuals aside it was just a fun night in general. Honest, it was great. If you’re interested, I can give you a refresh?” Jude cooed, running his hands up and down the sides of your arms in a way that somehow managed to be both comforting and sensual. His cheeky smile returning. You did as he asked and helped him with the suncream and both of you were plagued with memories of last night. “Am I wrong for thinking we have to pack condoms for the boat?” Jude whispered to you as you applied the lotion on so that no one else could hear. You wanted to laugh but you bit your lip and rolled your eyes instead. 

“Yes, yes you are.” You spoke at a normal volume as you turned around to look directly at him. Funny he was asking to use condoms now considering you couldn't find any in the bedroom this morning.

“Oh, okay so you want to do round two, just do what we did last night, yeah?” Jude gave you a smug smile and slyly squeezed at your waist. Your jaw slacked at his cheek.  No, you definitely weren't planning on anymore anal sex on this trip. That was a drunk indiscretion you typically preferred to save for a serious boyfriend, if that.

"No! We’re just not fucking on the boat. Full stop.” You smiled at him really having a hard time trying not to laugh but you managed spinning on your heel away from him and jetting off to find Whitney and your sexiest bikini just to really rub it in his face you weren’t fucking him on this boat. Although a part of you kind of wanted to but you'd hold your ground.

For the rest of the day though, suncream became your secret way to touch each other all day. The sun was already climbing high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the shimmering waters of Greece. The yacht bobbed gently in the marina, waiting for its passengers to board. You stood on the deck, holding a bottle of sunscreen, watching the sunlight dance on the sea’s surface. You could feel the excitement of the day ahead—a day spent out on the open water with Jude, a day of freedom and escape. Jude emerged from below deck, a grin on his face, wearing a pair of dark Prada sunglasses and Bottega swim trunks. His skin was already kissed by the sun from the days you’d spent together here, but there was something about the way the light hit him now, that made your heart skip a beat. 

“Hey, you got that suncream?” Jude called out as he approached you. He took the bottle from your hand, your fingers brushing just slightly, sending a small jolt through you.

“Course” you replied with a playful smile. “Don’t want you getting any sun damage out here. You know, we wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty face of yours.” You teased. 

“I don’t know, I think it could be a good look for me. Adds a little rugged charm.” Jude chuckled, shaking his head. He squeezed some sunscreen into his hand, rubbing it over his chest and arms in quick, careless strokes. You raised an eyebrow.

 “I think you missed a few spots,” you teased, stepping closer to him. Your hand lightly grazed his back as you took the bottle from him. “Let me help.” Jude smirked, enjoying the attention. 

“Only if it means getting your hands on me,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, adding a teasing tone.

“Oh, stop,” you said with a laugh, trying to sound casual as your hands spread sunscreen across his back. Your fingers moved slowly, deliberately, feeling the muscles tense slightly under your touch. “You’re lucky I’m nice enough to do this for you.”

“Lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Jude replied, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy the feeling of your hands on his skin. “I’ve got the best view and the best company. And now, a free suncream application. What more could a guy ask for?”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” You warned softly with a giggle, your hands moving to his shoulders, your touch more lingering now. “I still have to get my own back, you know.”

“I’d be more than happy to return the favor,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “In fact, I insist.” Jude turned his head slightly, peering over his shoulder at you. You felt a flutter in your chest but kept your expression playful. Jude took the suncream and poured some into his hands, stepping behind you. His hands were warm as they gently spread the lotion across your shoulders, his touch firm yet tender. You closed your eyes, feeling a shiver run down your spine despite the warmth of the sun. “Are you sure you trust me?” Jude murmured close to your ear, his breath hot against her skin.

“I don’t know,” you replied, your voice slightly breathless. “But I guess I’ll have to find out.” Jude’s hands moved down your back, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that made your knees feel weak. You could feel his breath on your neck, the closeness of him making your head spin.

“I’d never do anything to hurt you,” Jude whispered, his hands still working the sunscreen into your skin but moving slower, more deliberately. “You know that, right?”You nodded, your eyes still closed, leaning back slightly into his touch.

 “I know,” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. Jude’s hands finally reached the small of your back, lingering there for a moment before he let out a deep breath and stepped away, breaking the spell. “Alright, I think you’re all set,” he said, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the warmth in his voice. You turned to face him, your cheeks slightly flushed but smiling. 

As the yacht continued to glide smoothly over the azure waters of the Mediterranean, everyone gathered around a large table for lunch. The sun was high, warming the deck, and the soft sound of waves provided a calming background melody. Plates of fresh seafood, salads, and cold drinks were spread out, and the air was filled with the scent of the sea. You were seated directly across from Jude, your little yellow Louis Vuitton bikini doing little to cover your sun-kissed skin. Every time you moved, the sunlight would catch on you, making you glow in a way that Jude found impossibly distracting. He tried to focus on his plate, spearing a piece of grilled octopus, but his eyes kept drifting back to you. You caught him looking more than once, your lips curving into a coy smile every time your eyes met.

“So, Jude,” you said suddenly, drawing his attention fully to you. You were leaning back in your chair, stretching in a way that made your body arch just slightly. “You enjoying yourself?” Your tone was light, but there was a playful glint in your eyes that didn’t go unnoticed. Jude swallowed hard, feeling the heat creep up the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, I’m having a great time,” he replied, trying to sound casual. But his voice betrayed him with a slight huskiness. “How about you?” Your smile widened at his question, your fingers toyed with the rim of your wine glass. 

“Oh, I’m having a wonderful time,” you said, your voice soft and teasing. “The company’s great… and the view’s not bad either.” Trent and Whitney exchanged a knowing glance but continued eating, choosing not to interrupt the obvious tension building between Jude and you. Whitney smirked, clearly amused by the situation though. Jude shifted in his seat, trying to keep his cool. 

“Glad you’re enjoying the view,” he said with a smirk, though his eyes betrayed the way his pulse quickened every time you moved. You lifted a piece of fruit to your lips, biting into it slowly. You licked a drop of juice from your lower lip, watching Jude intently.

“I could say the same to you,” you murmured, your voice low and flirtatious. Jude’s grip tightened around his fork. It was becoming harder to focus on anything but you but he was annoyed by your cheek. Annoyed that he felt like he was loosing this conversation. 

“Yeah, well,” he began, attempting to match your lighthearted tone, “it’s hard not to when you keep… putting on a show.” Jude quipped trying to regain ground. You feigned innocence, your eyes going wide. 

“A show?” You repeated, your tone laced with playful mockery. “I’m just eating my lunch, Jude. What show?” You asked. Whitney lightly elbowed Trent, a small laugh escaping her. 

“Maybe Jude’s just not used to being distracted during a meal,” she added, winking at you. You laughed softly, a mischievous glint in your eyes. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Jude. Am I distracting you?” You purred, leaning forward slightly so your bikini dipped a little lower, tits out.  Jude’s throat felt dry, and he took a sip of his drink to steady himself all he could think about was you in his bed last night and getting that stupid bikini off you now. 

“Just a little,” he muttered, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining his composure. “But I’m managing.” You raised an eyebrow, your smile teasing.

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to suffer,” you said, drawing out the last word. “Maybe I should… cover up?” You smirked. All the boys sans Trent at the table shifted in their seats. Not keen about your suggestion.  Jude quickly shook his head, a bit too fast, doing what they all wanted to. 

“Nah, nah, nah, you’re fine,” he blurted out, then cursed inwardly at how desperate he sounded. He cleared his throat and tried again, “I mean, it’s a boat. You’re supposed to be comfortable.” He rectified. Your laugh was soft and melodic as you leaned back, clearly pleased with yourself. 

“Good,” You said simply, your eyes twinkling with amusement. “Because I’m perfectly comfortable.” Jude could only nod, his eyes locked on hers. He felt a mixture of frustration and amusement at how effortlessly you could make him lose his cool. He knew you were doing it on purpose, and yet, he found he didn’t really mind. There was something thrilling about this game you played, a tension that made every glance, every word feel charged with electricity. As they continued eating, the conversation flowed around them, but Jude and you remained locked in your private dance of flirtation and teasing, each word, each look a step closer to something inevitable.

The villa was silent, the only sound being the soft hum of the waves outside. It was late, and everyone had already gone to bed after another lively night out at a Grecian club. The moonlight spilled into the hallway, casting gentle shadows on the whitewashed walls as you quietly padded towards Jude's room. Your heart raced, not just from the couple too many of drinks you had earlier, but from the anticipation of seeing Jude again. The whole day had been a tease-sly glances, lingering touches, and stolen moments of whispered words that had you on edge. You reached his door and paused, biting your lip, starting to second guess yourself. You could feel the fluttering in your stomach, a mixture of nerves and excitement. Gently, you turned the knob and slipped inside. The room was dimly lit by the moon, enough to make out Jude's form lying in bed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You tiptoed over to his bed, your bare feet barely making a sound on the cool floor. 

“Jude…” you whispered as you slipped under the covers, pressing your body against his. Jude stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open in the darkness. He turned his head to see you, a lazy smile tugging at his lips even in his half-awake state

“Y/N." He mumbled, his voice husky from sleep. "You alright?”  He smiled and you felt relief weigh over you. It was unsaid but Jude was welcome in your room and you were welcome in his. Although tonight you had gone your separate ways both trying to make it seem like you weren’t dying to sleep with the other. You were the first to cave. 

"I'm cold.”  You lied, shivering dramatically. You knew it was a poor excuse, especially considering the warm summer night, but you didn't care, you knew he wouldn’t care. All you wanted was to be close to him.

“Cold, huh?” Jude teased with a soft chuckle, his arm reaching out to pull you closer to him. His voice was still thick with sleep but laced with amusement. "You're always cold." You pouted, though the darkness hid your playful expression.

“I am," you insisted, snuggling closer, pressing your body into his. You could feel the heat of his skin and it sent a shiver down your spine-this one was real. Jude's arms wrapped around you, his touch gentle but firm. He pulled you even closer, your bodies now pressed tightly together under the covers. 

"Better?" he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead.

"Much," you breathed, letting your hands rest on his chest. You could feel his heart beating steadily beneath your palm, and it made you feel safe, like this was exactly where you were supposed to be. For a few moments, you laid there in comfortable silence, the only sound the faint rustle of the sheets as you shifted slightly against each other. Your fingers traced light patterns on Jude's chest, your touch soft and exploratory. You could feel his muscles tense slightly under your touch, a silent acknowledgment of the effect you were having on him.

"Y/N," Jude murmured, his voice a little tighter now. "What are you doing?" He smirked at you. 

"Nothing," you whispered back, your fingers continuing their slow journey over his skin. "Just…feeling you." Jude let out a low breath, a mix between a sigh and a groan. 

"You're not making it easy to try to go back to sleep , you know.” Jude’s tone dropped. You’re breath began to increase.  

"Who said anything about going back to sleep?" You shot back playfully, your voice hushed but teasing. You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes catching the moonlight just enough for him to see the mischievous glint in them. Jude chuckled again, but there was a strain in his voice now, a tension that was unmistakable.

"You're trouble," he muttered, his hand sliding down your back, resting just above your waist. "You know that?" His eyes lit up as they looked at you. You smiled, your lips brushing against his jawline as you leaned in closer. 

"Only for you," you whispered, your breath warm against his skin. Jude's grip on you tightened instinctively, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. He rolled slightly onto his back, pulling you with him so you were half-draped over his chest. Your faces were close, the heat between you palpable. His hand slipped under your shirt, fingertips grazing your spine, causing you to shiver again-but this time, not from the cold.

"Still cold?" Jude asked, his voice low, almost a growl. His eyes were dark with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. You didn't answer with words. Instead, you pressed your lips to his, a soft, tentative kiss that quickly deepened as Jude responded. His hand moved up your back, pulling you even closer, while the other hand found its way into your hair, tangling in it. Your kiss grew hungrier, more insistent, as if all the teasing and flirting throughout the day had led to this inevitable moment. Your fingers slid up Jude's chest to his neck, holding him close, not wanting to let go. You could feel the heat of his body beneath you, the way his muscles moved under your touch, and it made your head spin. He broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. “I want you to remember this time.” His voice thick with emotion. You nodded, your hands moving to the back of his neck, pulling yourself down towards him. 

"I've never been more sure," you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with certainty. Jude leaned foreward, capturing your lips again, and this time, there was no hesitation. The tension that had been building between you all day finally snapped, and you gave in to the desire that had been simmering just below the surface. His hands roamed over your body, memorizing every curve and line, while your hands explored his, feeling the strength and warmth of him against you. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you tangled together under the moonlight, loosing clothing items by the second, lost in each other, and in the heat of the moment. His tongue slipped past your lips, causing you to moan. Judes hand slowly drifted down towards your core. The sounds you were making in desperation were driving him crazy. The soft moans like music. You could feel your pussy aching and dripping begging for him to move faster. You wiggled your body closer into his. He gripped your thigh squeezing you as he moved closer. You were so fixated on his hands so painfully close to your pussy you hadn’t noticed one of his hand coming to grip your chin. He moved your head to look directly at him. His deep brown eyes stared back into yours. His thumb grazed over your lips as he smirked at you. He slid his finger over your plump lips a few times before pressing it into your mouth. You took it desperately, swirling your tongue around his thumb. 

“So impatient, angel. What? You want me to touch you?” He asked you with such smugness you wanted to tell him to shut up but you couldn't. The only thing on your mind was his massive hard dick beneath you. He began to kiss down your jawline to your neck and you whimpered. You didn’t get to feel this last time or at least you hadn’t remembered it but god you wish you did. You tilted your head back to give him more space. He let his lips graze your warm soft skin before you started to leave little bites and nips, marking you again. You bit your lip in an attempt to muffle your moans. Jude knew exactly what he was doing and he was playing you. He now had you distracted by his lips on your neck you failed to remember his other hand, wet with your spit sliding through your folds, quick to place his thumb onto your clit and tease your entrance with his finger. He pushed one finger inside of you. He hit your sweet spot out the gate. Jude smirked in a devilishly handsome way. You couldn’t help but clench around the singular digit. He began to speed up whilst pushing in another finger. A loud, squelching sound filled the room as he played with you. “Good girl.” Jude praised you as your eyes began to roll back and the pace of his fingers sped up.  His thumb keeping up its motions on your clit. Involuntarily, your hips grind on his hand as you quickly grow addicted to the feeling of him. Your back arched as he kept at it for ages until you were cumming all over his finger. You covered them in your slick as he brought you to your first high of the night.

“Jude. Please, I want more.” You begged him with a whimper as he slowly removed his fingers from your pussy. You were practically shaking and the only thing you wanted was more of him. He brought his slick covered fingers up to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan. While he attempted to tease you, you had had enough. You made quick work and wrapped your hand around his massive length beginning to pump his cock in your hand as you let some of your spit drip onto it. Jude let his head drop back into the pillow behind him not anticipating your eagerness. You loved the way he reacted to you. You moved your other hand to take his balls into it, eliciting more groans from him. You wish you remembered the first time better because his cock looked so fucking good it had your mouth watering as it began to leak precum. The prevalent vein running along the underside had you swallowing to keep yourself from drooling. Jude grabbed your hips and moved you. He pinned you beneath him now, pushing your legs further apart, settling himself in between them. He took his cock in his hand and slapped the tip softly against your wet pussy. 

“I’ll give you more, baby. Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you?” Jude roughly asked you dragging his cock through your folds. You nodded desperately reaching for him and pulling him into you. You gripped his muscular arms, digging your nails into his skin as he lined himself up with your entrance. He slowly stretched you out as he pushed inside, your walls already clenching around him, squeezing his cock. “Tell me, Y/N. Tell me you want me.”

“Please. Please. I need you to fuck me. I want your cock so bad.” You whined. You couldn’t believe this man had you begging like that. You bite into his lip, causing him to laugh. When he leans back, your eyes are almost closed. You moan, arching your back, and he pushes completely into you. He begins to thrust his hips and the discomfort from his massive size slips into pure pleasure. He moves in a hypnotic rhythmic pace, loving the feeling of your tight pussy squeeze him in the dead of the night. 

“Fuck. This pussy’s so good, angel. Just for me, yeah?” Jude mumbled leaning down to press his lips to yours. You nodded and absentmindedly smiled at his words but were unable to get any words out as his thrusts began to get harder and faster. You moan and your eyes shut tight when he repeatedly hits your g spot. Jude’s cock is throbbing. He can barely focus. He was probably too drunk the first to really relish in how fucking good this felt.  The coil in your stomach was tightening with every stroke of his cock. Your orgasm was imminent but when he slipped his hand in between your bodies to play with your clit your whined digging your nails into him further. Your mouth dropped open as you could feel your slick drip down your thighs and all over him. “Good girl—just like that– fuck. Cum f’me.” Jude groaned, moving his hips with skill. His cock glistening with your arousal.  Your body is on fire, and neither of you does anything to dampen the flame, only adding gasoline to it. 

“Jude.. Jude.. wait.” You whined as another climax began to blended into the one you were struggling to come down from. 

“Cum f’me angel. Cum with me this time. Gimme one more. Be a good girl f’me.” Jude whispered into your ear nibbling on it and simultaneously you spasmed around his length once more clenching tightly around him. “Fuck!” He growled, nudging his face in the nape of your neck as his warmth began to fill you up. He pushes his cum deep into your pussy, fucking you through your orgasm. His thrusts began to slow and then still. Jude held himself up with one hand while his dominant one came to caress your cheek. He softly swiped some stray stands of hair out of your face, tucking them behind your ear. He kissed you softly with a hum. “That was the best reason I’ve ever been woken up in the middle of the night.” He smiled at you as he flopped over dramatically to your side. 

“Yeah?” You questioned him with a breathy giggle now exhausted. He pulled you tight into his side. 

“Hmm. You should’ve just stayed with me to begin with. This could’ve been round two.” He whispered pressing kisses to your temple. 

“You want round two?” You cheekily asked running your hands over his bare chest, his skin warm and slick with a sheen of sweat. He was impossibly sexy. 

“Yeah, gimme a bit more of you.” He cooed and dragged your body on top of his. You obliged happily and in the end didn’t get much sleep till the morning. And as that morning’s sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft, golden light across the room, the rest of the house was still asleep. The quiet hush of dawn wrapping everything in a gentle cocoon. The early light painted Jude’s features in a warm glow, making him look almost ethereal, like a dream made flesh. There was something intoxicating about seeing him like this—unguarded, vulnerable, bathed in the morning light. Jude stirred slightly, his arm tightened around you, pulling you closer as he murmured something soft and unintelligible in his sleep. You smiled against his skin, your fingers tracing light patterns across his back, a silent promise of affection and comfort. For a moment, you simply lay there, wrapped in the stillness of the morning, your breaths syncing in a quiet, intimate dance. The world outside the room felt distant, irrelevant, as if nothing else mattered but the feel of his body against your, the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. As the minutes passed, Jude began to wake, his body slowly coming alive under your touch. He shifted, his hand finding its way into your hair as he pressed a sleepy kiss to the top of your head. You looked up at him, meeting his half-lidded gaze, and the sleepy smile he gave you was like the sun breaking through the clouds.

“Morning,” he whispered, his voice rough with sleep, and you couldn’t help but smile back, your heart swelling with a quiet joy that only these secret, stolen moments could bring.

“Morning,” you whispered back, your voice just as soft. You shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to his jaw, your lips brushing against the stubble that shadowed his skin. Jude sighed, contentment settling over him like a warm blanket as he pulled you even closer, your bodies fitting together perfectly. You stayed like that, entwined in the early morning light, the world outside forgotten as you indulged in the simple pleasure of being together, of holding each other close. In that quiet, tender moment, nothing else mattered. Last night was sex you would always remember and you were starting to realize it may be hard to forget it and even harder to forget Jude.

•

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part  -  Chapter 2 - Wine & Tequila xx

[priyajoyyy]

Meangirl!clarisse la rue - concept [part 1]

Part 2 [here]

Mean girl!heavily inspired by renne rapps Regina George!Clarisse la rue x fem!shy!kinda a doormat!Reader

Concept for a mean girls Regina George style Clarisse and nerdy doormat reader because I'm to scared to write my first imagine rn lol

May do an actual imagine for this if it’s wanted

Warnings:

reader is kinda Aphrodite coded because I’m bias to my own cabin, but nothing is actually mentioned because it’s a school au, this is also based off of American schools but I’m British so there’s a mention of prefects because I don’t know the American equivalent 😭, poor writing (this is my first tumblr concept please be nice to me), mean!clarisse, bullying, a lot of jealous!clarisse

Meangirl!Clarisse who runs the school with an iron fist and looks so good while doing it and newgirl!reader who has no idea what she's walking into when she transfers school.

Meangirl!Clarisse with silena as her bestie and Chris as her ex.

Meangirl!Clarisse who’s captain of the football team and newgirl!reader who successfully tries out for the cheerleading team so Meangirl!Clarisse gets to watch her jump around in a tiny skirt all practice.

Meangirl!clarisse, silena and Chris all having lockers next to each other (she threatened the prefect in charge of locker assignments and had them put the three together while her and Chris were dating) and opposite newgirl!readers locker.

Silena as cheer captain who watches Meangirl!Clarisse stare at newgirl!reader everyday and who tries to get her and newgirl!reader together behind her back.

Newgirl!reader who watches Meangirl!clarisse at her locker every morning because she has a crush on her, and is way too scared of her to ever instigate anything with her.

Meangirl!Clarisse who sees this and thinks newgirl!reader has a crush on Chris so flirts with him by his locker just to piss newgirl!reader off because she’s lowkey jealous (even if she doesn’t realise) and they’re both just like, wtf? And silena who is so disappointed.

Meangirl!clarrise who eventually makes out with Chris at a party (that silena practically forced newgirl!reader to go to, she only went because she scares her too) right in front of her, and newgirl!reader is still like, why tf do you keep doing this shit like I don’t wanna see that??

Meangirl!clarisse who watches luke flirt and ask newgirl!reader out and not realising she’s too scared to say no so goes on a date with him.

Luke who changes his mind the next day, sporting an unusual bruise under his eye, while Meangirl!Clarisse walks around with a not so unusual bruised knuckle and bruise on her cheek.

Newgirl!reader who can’t drive yet so waits for her mum to pick her up after cheer everyday,

And Meangirl!Clarisse who makes excuses to stay later so that she can watch Newgirl!reader shiver in the Carpark and make a flirty comment to her as she walks past on the way to her car, with no one around to see.

Newgirl!reader who just stares, blushes and occasionally says a small thank you in response to her comments.

Silena who needs a lift home one night and makes Meangirl!clarisse to give Newgirl!reader her jacket, forcing Newgirl!reader to interact with Meangirl!Clarisse the next morning to give it back.

Meangirl!Clarisse who was late to school the next day because silena delayed them, not being able to see Newgirl!reader till practice,

And Meangirl!Clarisse who would never say it out loud, but who was thanking silena the entire time as she smirked down at Newgirl!reader stumbling over her words explaining why she had to wait to give her the jacket because she couldn’t find her all day,

And Newgirl!reader who was shellshocked and blushing while her crush told her not to worry about it, and to keep the jacket again tonight because it’s cold again.

Lowkey love this but still scared to write an actual imagine lol

Part 2 is out [here]

[marionthegeek]

Stede is in the Gravy Basket, Izzy is Alive

The season 2 finale of Our Flag Means Death is odd.  It hits weird. I think I know why. And this is going to sound bananas, but give me a chance to explain.  Maybe you’ll agree.

It has a huge tonal shift. It seems to speedrun Stede and Ed’s romance. It feels like we’ve missed out on something from the end of episode 7.  The fight scenes and pirate plans are nonsensical, even for OFMD. And most egregiously, a prominent character is killed off in a way that feels disingenuous to his story arc, just for starters.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  We need to go back to the beginning of season 2.  The season opens with Stede looking more piratey than ever. Beard, sash, earring… oh he’s his own fantasy of a real proper pirate.  He’s clashing swords with Izzy Hands and demanding to know where Ed is. He’s dreaming. In the dream he kills Izzy. He and Ed run into each other’s arms while screaming each other’s names. They crash into the surf. Ed says “I knew you’d find me, Babe.  I knew you’d find me, Love.” Stede keeps asking if they’re good. Ed dodges the question. Then Ed asked about the smell. Stede wakes up in a crowded room with farting and shushing roommates.

At first I thought the finale was supposed to be just a “satisfying” mirror to Stede’s dream. Stede and Ed call each other’s names and run into each other’s arms in a display that resembles a more grown up version of Stede’s dream fantasy. There’s some wild sword fighting not unlike Stede’s dream duel with Izzy. And Izzy dies.

It does mirror, but I didn’t find it satisfying. All of the characters except Stede feel flattened. Stede gets to make the heroic plan (that we never even hear) while there’s at least five pirates with better skill sets for it in the room. Ed, as Blackbeard, was described last season as “History’s greatest tactician”; Zheng Yi Sao conquered China; Jackie just took out a room full of British soldiers. Izzy and Auntie are right there. You could make arguments that Jim or Frenchie, or pretty much anyone could make a better plan. Then Stede says “It’s only suicide if we die,” which is horrible considering the plan gets Izzy killed.

Stede’s really the only person in that room who thinks Stede should be making the plans.  So I got to thinking, what if it's not just mirroring the dream? What if it is a dream? Last shot of episode 7 is an incoming cannonball. Maybe he’s unconscious.

Huge shout out to @Arty_Sunflowers on twitter (I’m not calling it X, fuck Musk) for pointing out that that isn’t the only episode that ends with a cannonball. Episode 2 ends with Jim swinging a cannonball down at Ed’s head.  Stede’s not just dreaming, he’s in the Gravy Basket!!!! (Stede even screams “Oh my God!” at the end of episode 7 in the same tone he screams “Oh my God, I don’t want to die.” in s1e9.

Stede’s hopes, dreams, and insecurities shape everything in the finale. And it helps explain the absurdities in the episode when you remember that Stede is living out pulp adventure and romance novels in his head. (He even looks like someone on the cover of one in his episode 1 dream.) But Stede can’t be dead, you say. He’s literally the main character. Well, Ed was dead for a whole episode. Let’s take a closer look.

I could and probably will do another essay on Lucius as a POV character and Ed’s mental health and how the threads they seemed to have dropped aren’t as dropped as they appear. But all of that hinges on me proving the Stede is in the Gravy Basket theory. So for this essay I’m focusing on that.

So for starters we’ve got the cannonball scenes. They’re eerily similar even if the method of cannonball propulsion is different. We don’t know Ed is dead and in the Gravy Basket for about half of episode 3. Neither does he. It makes logical sense you can be there without realizing it for a while. Buttons even said Ed didn’t know whether he was in the Gravy Basket or not in episode 4. It definitely messes with your reality.

One of Ed’s issues is self hate. He manifests Hornigold as his companion. Stede is desperate to be a good pirate and have people be proud of him. And he lives in his fantasies a lot.  So his dream shapes his experience. There’s a whole bit about Zheng needing “soft” and Auntie saying she’s proud of her. That isn’t their issue. It’s discordant with the show previously. But it is Stede’s issue. He’s manifesting.

When we first see Stede and Zheng in episode 8, they’re in a familiar spot for Stede, the bridge from episode 1. But why are they alone? When we last see Stede and Zheng in episode 7, several characters are within 5 to 10 feet of them. Did none of them decide to escape with Stede? Izzy, Lucius,  and Jim are closest. But we know Pete was there begging Stede to stay down during his fight with Zheng. Archie was definitely in the bar. That's why Jim entered the fight. So why is it only Stede and Zheng at the bridge? Because, going back to rescue others fits into Stede's hero fantasies. 

Zheng and Stede also argue about who pulled who to safety and how they got there. Stede waxes poetic about being a failure his whole life, but things always seem to work out for him. He’s such a main character mediocre white guy in this scene. He saves Zheng from two random soldiers, then she has to save him from them. Then they fight a bunch more soldiers on the beach until Blackbeard manifests in full leather from the ocean.  It looks cool. But it's absurd, even for OFMD.

Speaking of Ed, he begins the episode waxing poetic about nature and calling fishermen simple.  Those things are more Stede than Ed. Pop pop tells Ed, “You have no skills” which is something Izzy said to Stede in episode 5.  He also tells Ed, “If you were ever good at something, go do that, you bum.” If Stede’s insecurities could be distilled into one sentence, it would probably be that. (He also talks about being like a wave. I’m not 100% sure it's a The Good Place joke, but it would be thematically appropriate.)

Pop pop also tells Ed he “ruined dinner.”  Back in season 1, in Stede’s flashbacks to life with Mary and the kids, Stede thinks he’s ruined dinner. But remember, we also see another version of the scene where Stede is laughing with Mary and the kids.  Stede isn’t exactly a reliable narrator. Even in his own head.

Despite it being beyond unlikely, Ed finds soldiers reading one of Stede’s letters. I know physics in this show is sketchy, but this seems like a good time to point out no one found the red silk. Stede wants Ed to read a letter and for it to fix everything between them. The letter, plus Stede being in danger, make Ed swim out, find his leathers, and emerge from the sea with them on, while the music is the Swede’s solo from Stede’s fuckery in s1e6. Stede wants to be rescued by his handsome pirate in leather, again, just like a pulp adventure romance novel. Little chance of Ed swimming out and finding his kit.  Even less of him getting leather pants on under the water.

Back to the beach… for some reason two squads of soldiers are wandering around out on an empty beach. A visually incredible fight scene occurs. It honestly reminds me of Pete’s story in s1e2, including flips. Ed and Stede yell each other’s names exactly as in the dream. Like I’m pretty sure they used the same audio track. The same song (I Love My Baby, Nina Simone) starts playing. Ed says “I love you.” Stede says “I know.” (We’ll come back to the Han Solo joke in a minute.) They have a bit more absurd fighting then Ed, Stede, and Zheng sit on the beach complimenting each other. And Ed calls Stede “babe”.  He’s never done that outside of Stede’s dream and this moment. He’s called him mate a couple of times.  Babe is exclusively in Stede’s head.

Back in the Republic of Pirates, the crew are locked in a cell that is actually the “vista suite” at Spanish Jackie’s.  Izzy gets a heroic entrance. It’s as cool as Stede thinks Izzy is. And he gives a speech that sounds like what he probably told Stede to get him to relinquish the suit in episode 5. Piracy is about belonging to something. You can’t ignore the wishes of the crew.  Izzy also knows details about Captain Kidd and Pinocchio. Not impossible, but not exactly Izzy’s wheelhouse. It is Stede’s though. He’s obsessed with pirate tales and he read Pinocchio to the crew.

Stede, Ed, and Zheng show up just as Jackie has poisoned a bunch of soldiers. Stede makes a plan, despite everyone else being more qualified. Everyone disguises themselves as soldiers. Now we’ve seen the crew of the Revenge wear disguises. They never do the weird free styling they do here. Only Stede actually looks like a British officer. Zheng at least wears the disguise properly. Suddenly Ed has a multi gun bandolier like Blackbeard in the books. Pete ripped the arms off. Izzy is still wearing his vest. Doesn’t make sense if we’re going for stealth. Neither does not checking hostage Ricky for weapons or putting Izzy and his wooden leg at the front of the group.

If I'm right, Stede wouldn't know Ricky was behind the explosions. However,  Ricky is basically evil Stede. He's Stede's perfect foil. All of this is reflecting Stede's psyche. So, of course, it's Ricky.

Izzy gets shot and says quite a lot of nonsense in his death scene. “They love you, Ed.” Um, 3 of them were going to leave like five minutes ago. Ed has made some progress with the crew, but we’re not at “they love you Ed”.  The only person who thinks the crew loves Ed is Stede. Stede who weeps for Izzy while most of the crew aren’t showing much emotion. Stede can barely deal with his own big feelings. His fantasy doesn’t give the crew room to have them. Also, given the rest of the season, having Jim just let Ed be the person cradling Izzy doesn’t fit. The crew is also pretty stony at Izzy’s funeral.

I feel like it should be noted the last shot of Izzy in episode 7, he’s got one are around Jim and a hand on Lucius’s shoulder. He sat in Wee John’s lap in episode 6. Reactions to his death don’t make sense.

Also, Izzy’s terrible grave marker is very … Stede. He’d think it was a brilliant idea.

I didn't understand at first why Izzy had to die, even in Stede's dream world. Stede clearly likes him a lot better now. Why kill him? Well, it's because we're supposed to think Buttons is there to go to the Gravy Basket for Izzy. When actually he's already arrived in the Gravy Basket and he's there for Stede. Also, mentors die in pulp adventure novels. Stede sees Izzy as a mentor.

They go aboard the Revenge for Lucius and Pete’s wedding. It’s cute that the crew performs the ceremony, but I’d venture a guess that’s because Stede doesn’t know a captain should do it if it's legally binding. Stede does love the romance of it all.  The sudden uptick in monogamy is also very Stede. He barely understands monogamous relationships. Polyamory is beyond him.

Then Stede and Ed, who earlier told Zheng they’d help hunt Ricky, go back to the island where Izzy is buried to start an inn in a run down shack.  Stede knows Ed wants to do this because Ed told the (Taika’s) kids that they ran an inn.  We hear Ed ask “Jesus, what is that smell?” Now, at first, I thought Izzy, because Ed “knows the smell of my rotting first mate”. But what was the last thing to happen in Stede’s dream? A fart joke.

Last scene is Buttons landing on Izzy’s grave. To retrieve Izzy from the Gravy Basket? No, Izzy’s not dead. He’s with Jim and Lucius, probably watching over Stede’s corpse. Buttons is there to retrieve Stede.

This theory fixes the plot holes and dropped threads problem. We’re coming back to them next season. Ed's amends making should be far from over. And we see several moments during the season where he acknowledged that. And yet here on the island they've set up a horror movie and called it a happy ending.  Well, Stede is the type of boss who thinks things are fixed with a pizza (Calypso) party. In Stede's mind, this is a happy ending.  But really Ed is still off finding himself,  Stede is (temporarily) dead, and Izzy (who is not dead!) is probably guarding Stede's corpse.

They haven't resolved the domestic violence thread, but they haven't dropped it, either. Izzy is alive. Stede and Ed aren't together (yet). There's still time.

This also explains some of the freewheeling nonsense David Jenkins has been spouting in articles. Ed doesn’t see Izzy as a father figure and mentor, Stede does.  Stede almost turned to mush when Izzy approved of him. And David is writing a three volume adventure novel. Han Solo (Stede) is in carbonate (the Gravy Basket). The perfect end to the second act. See, I told you we’d get back to the Han Solo joke.

I still have problems with the season.  I really think they need a sensitivity reader. Even just implying a newly disabled character was fridged is certainly a choice. Especially given the amount of time devoted to how the character handled the disability. The DV scenes were brutal, as well as the suicide attempt, and the Human Puppet joke. I think they need someone trauma informed and disabled in the writer's room. (David Jenkins hit me up!)

Overall, I liked season 2. Especially once I realized Izzy wasn't dead. I'm looking forward to season 3, the conclusion of the Gentle Beard arc, and hopefully 6 seasons and a movie of Izzy (to be clear, he's not captain) and the kids sailing up and down the coast being gay and doing crimes, occasionally checking in with Stede and Ed.

Seriously, David, call me.

Historical Note: IRL Blackbeard died on November 22, 1718, killed in a naval battle off Ocracoke Island in North Carolina. IRL Stede Bonnet died December 10, 1718, hanged in Charles Town, South Carolina for piracy.  IRL Israel “Izzy” Hands survives piracy, death date unknown. I know this show doesn’t actually care about historical accuracy, but this lends a little support for my Ed died, then Stede died, and Izzy isn’t dead theory.