#honestly floored every time i see her on screen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pucksandpower · 4 months

Text

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.

2K notes · View notes

woewriting · 6 months

Text

turning point (g!p)

pairing: tara carpenter | reader summary: tara calls you to rescue her from a bad date and things take a surprising turn. word count: 3726 warnings: mdni, +18 only! no ghostface au, reader has a dick, friends with benefits (?), clothed sex, language, smut in general. a/n: will you guys believe if i say the date part was inspired by a terrible date my coworker had? because it was and @wesstars is the proof of it!

masterlist

When the 7th episode of season 4 of Stranger Things started you felt your phone vibrating somewhere in between the cozy blankets. As you blindly looked for it, eyes focused on the TV in front of your bed, you felt it vibrating once again, but this time more than once.

Holding the phone in your hands, the name “tara” followed by a small heart emoji showed on the screen with 4 messages attached to it. Pausing the episode, you unlocked the device.

tara ♥︎ can you come pick me up? please this is the worst date ever 😭

Sewing your eyebrows together, you were quick to reply, asking for her location.

tara ♥︎ im at the motel near the campus, green valley or something chad is showering and i told him i’d take an uber home because i wasn't feeling well and didn’t want to stay anymore please come fast

Typing a simple “omw”, you grabbed your hoodie, throwing it over the white tank top you usually wore to sleep along with sweat shorts that easily became a second skin.

It was easy to spot the building as a gigantic green neon sign took over most of the illumination of the empty street. You parked in front of it, patiently waiting for your best-friend as you sent a message letting her know you arrived. The place seemed expensive and well cleaned, unlike most cheap motels that took over the right side of the street near the campus of your college, still, it didn't appetize you to walk in.

Soon, the younger Carpenter ran towards you, sighing in relief when she jumped into the car.

“That bad, huh?” You asked with a laugh, setting the first gear ready to go back home.

“You have no idea.” Tara whined, turning on the heat, complaining about how cold it was outside in a whisper. “I'll tell you everything when we get home.”

“I'm watching Stranger Things.” The focus on the road in front of you as you took a right turn didn't allow you to see the indignation expression on her face, more dramatic than it was necessary.

“Is Stranger Things more important than me?”

“I’m about to find out what happened at the Hawkins Lab…” You continued, trying to convince her of your cause, but her next words made you look at her with raised eyebrows, a convinced smile of someone who won drawing her lips.

“He has a small dick.”

“I'm all ears, princess.”

The return home didn’t take more than 10 minutes, especially with empty roads and yellow sign lights. Tara started telling about her date from the second it started, which was 5PM, the exact time she started to get ready. Honestly, none of that was necessary to reach the part that it all went downhill, but you didn’t dare to interrupt, you paid attention to every word Tara was saying as you carefully parked your car in your designated spot.

The second the elevator stopped on your floor, Tara had finished telling you about the dinner part of her date.

According to her, the food wasn't bad, but the place was crowded and the music playing was so annoying that it became a bit too much for her. It was already hard to pay attention to anything Chad was saying as the others' conversation was caught in the middle, stealing her attention, all she could was nod and smile, like one of the Penguins from Madagascar.

You laughed at her indignation and the small wrinkle in between her eyebrows, opening the door and giving her space to walk in. Kicking your shoes away, the both of you automatically walked to the door at the end of the small hallway of your apartment, the episode 7 of Stranger Things’ last season still on pause when you sat on the bed being followed by Tara; Jamie Campbell’s beautiful blue eyes on the screen.

“... and after we got to the motel, things were heating up and his hands were on my ass and he kept pushing me against him and…” Tara stopped talking after noticing the disgusted expression on your face as you made yourself comfortable on the bed. The girl sat right by your side. “I will not spare any details.”

“I’m seriously considering automatically deleting every explicit part of it.” You retorted, shifting uncomfortably against the headboard.

Despite the years of friendship you and Tara had, from Junior High all the way to college — where you both were right now, nothing touchy ever happened between the two of you, not even a single, drunk kiss at parties. You two were close, of course, but not this close, and hearing the vulgar words easily slipping out of her mouth was creating a weird feeling inside your chest.

“I don’t care.” The girl rolled her eyes, moving closer to you. “Continuing, Chad is gentle, nice, and it feels good to be with him, but ugh… I couldn’t even feel anything when I was sitting on his lap.” You let out a small laugh, scratching your eyebrow. That wasn’t the first time Tara rambled about a bad date, but this was Chad, a common friend, and someone that the young Carpenter had a genuine interest in. At this point, that interest had disappeared into thin air. “And when he removed his pants, he had this military patch underwear and black socks on and it was a huge turn off.”

“Black socks really do sucks…”

“I know!” The exasperated way she agreed with you made you laugh, her hand resting near your knee. “Can you believe he didn’t want to take them off? He said he has cold feet.” Her face fell against your thigh, a tired sighing leaving her mouth, hot breath hitting your bate skin. “I should’ve ran when he said that.” Tara mumbled.

Your hand naturally rested on her head in a soft petting, “You really should have.”

The brunette moved a little, laying on her side with her cheek still resting on your leg to feel the soothing moves of your fingers on her hair. The new position gave her a small vision of what's beneath the thick fabric of your shorts, the hem of black boxers peeking through. She looked away, crimson color on her cheeks as she continued the events of the night.

“But, it’s Chad, so I decided to ignore that ridiculous sock and continue.” You nodded your head. “He removed that equally annoying underwear and I swear to God! It was smaller than my hand, and my hands aren’t that big! Look.” To prove her point, she held your other hand, measuring it with her own. She intertwined your fingers together after you agreed with her, resting them both on her chest. “But I was like… okay, it’s not big but maybe he can be good with his tongue.”

“Oh, God.” You choke, closing your eyes. “I will never be able to look at him again.”

“Imagine how I feel!” Tara whined. “But then I thought to myself, he’s a terrible kisser; if he doesn’t know how to use his tongue on my mouth, imagine how bad it’ll be when he use it on my pu—”

“Okay! Let’s not use those explicit words, please.” You interrupted her, shifting again. “But damn, is that guy good at anything?”

“He has a nice body… from the waist up.” This time neither of you could hold back the laugh, the delightful sound of her laughing mixed with yours filled the room for a couple minutes, your hand still playing with the soft strands that spread across your leg. “Chad is a nice guy, but… that’s not enough for me, you know? I crave touching, feeling something. And he was so small I would barely feel anything.” Tara cried out, covering her face with her free hand as the other still held yours against her chest.

“I’m not a sexual freak or anything but I agree, at least the kiss has to be good. So that’s when you messaged me?”

“I wish.” It was your turn to sigh loudly. “We kept going and when I asked him to wear protection, you won’t believe it…”

“He didn’t have any?”

“Oh, he did.” She bit her lower lip, hand still covering her eyes as the images played like a broken record behind her closed lids. “After that awkward moment where he put it on, he got soft.”

“Maybe it was too tight or something, that can be an annoying bother.” You tried defending your friend, but the girl denied with her head, pursing her lips together, deciding if she should say it or not, but after all the details she already had shared, this one wouldn’t matter either.

“It was loose. It was the smallest size and it still was big for him.”

“Jesus Christ. I am deleting every photo I have with him. I can’t bear looking him in the eyes after knowing all of that.” Once again, your laugh filled the bedroom, making Tara look at you with narrowed eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Is it me?” You tilted your head to the side in confusion. “Am I the problem?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe I’m a terrible kisser and that’s why it didn’t fit.” She explained, looking at you.”Do you think I’m hot?”

“Where did that come from?”

“The deepest part of my curious brain.” Tara sat back up, resting her hand and yours on her thigh. “Now answer me, am I hot?”

“You are hot, Tara.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure the problem wasn’t you. Maybe he was just nervous to be with you, I don’t know.”

“That does make me the problem.” Her eyes never left yours, looking for a small sign of a lie that was never found; after all, you did find Tara hot. “Why did you never kiss me?”

You let out a deep sigh. “Because we’re friends.”

“You kiss your friends. Amber, Mindy, and I’m sure you tried to kiss my sister once too.”

“Please, don’t bring that to the table.” The pinkish tone that colored your cheeks made the other smile. “And it’s different, they’re just friends, and you’re my best friend.”

Tara moved on the bed, sitting on her calves, still looking at you, and still holding your hand.

“Kiss me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Kiss me.”

You let out an awkward, breathy laugh, trying to pull your hand from hers and moving away just a bit, but the brunette was determined, you could see it in the dark brown eyes.

“Stop joking around, Carpenter.” You said one more time, her slender fingers tracing random patterns on your thigh with her free hand, feeling the goosebumps all over your skin, big bambi eyes staring at you. “Tara…”

“Please…” She cried out, the tip of her fingers trespassing the hem of your shorts, only a few centimeters away from your clothed cock. You could already feel it twitching inside your boxers just from those small touches. “I just wanna prove to myself that I can do it and that there’s nothing wrong with me. You, as my best friends, should help me with that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, I truthfully believe you can get someone hard.”

“Then why wasn’t he hard?”

“Maybe it was just a bad day or he was nervous, I don’t know.” You repeat what you said earlier, hoping that it was enough for the small girl. It clearly wasn't though.

“But we were having fun! He was sweet, polite, respectful, and paid for dinner and the motel, which was not cheap. It makes no sense!” She whined like a spoiled kid. Tara sat on your thighs, holding your face in her hands. “Lemme touch you. Please.”

“Can’t we just watch Stranger Things and forget about this terrible date?” You asked in hopes she would let that stupid idea go; she obviously didn’t.

“We can, after we kiss.” Tara fixed herself on top of you, moving up. Your hands instantly grabbed her waist, before she could sit on your hips. “You know I won’t stop.”

“You’re like the donkey from Shrek.” You writhe under her.

“Please…”

“Dear Lord.” Your head fell back, hitting the soft headboard. “Why does it have to be me? And now?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” The girl shrugged. “Plus, you never let me see it.”

“I swear you have the strangest obsession with my dick.”

“I’m just curious about it.” Feeling the loosen on your grip, Tara moved slightly up, sitting right on top of it. “And I can definitely feel it.” The brunette pushed herself down, biting her lower lip.

“Please, stop moving.” You whined, trying to hold her still, but she was determined, you could see it in her eyes. It wasn’t going to take long before your underwear became a bother. “Tara, I’m warning you.”

“You sound so hot, you should use that tone with me more often.” Her hands grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, wrinkling it, pulling you closer until her mouth was yours. You didn’t stop her or kissed her back, but your grip on her waist grew stronger. She smiled against your lips, one of her hands sliding down your body, nails scratching your belly under your hoodie, threatening to trespass the waist of your shorts. “Can I touch you?”

You gulped hard, staring at the brown eyes that looked soft, unlike her hands. “Are you sure you want to do this? There's no point of return.” Tara nodded fast, not giving a second thought to it, playing with the waist of your shorts. “You can touch me.”

When you gave Tara permission to touch you, you thought the girl was going to wrap her hands around your soft shaft, but all she did was kiss you, slowly and enticing, and this time you kissed her back. Your hands on her waist helped her move against your lap, grinding on you at a torturous pace.

You wanted to turn around, change your positions so you could control whatever it was about to happen, but you allowed her to be in charge; this was all about Tara proving to herself she’s not the problem, right? So you held back the urge.

Tara’s hands moved up again, wrapping around your neck as she got closer, pushing herself down on you, moaning against your parted lips when she felt your dick pressing on her even though you weren’t hard.

Her kiss trailed down your neck, gently nibbling on the skin there. You threw your head back, moving your hands down her ass, under the skirt of her dress to push her harder against you, increasing her hips’ speed.

“Fuck…” You let out a sharp breath, completely affected by the delicate touches coming from your best-friend, and that only made her more eager to pleasure you.

“Do you like this?” Tara whispered in your ear, softly biting on your lobule, tracing the cartilage with her teeth. All you could do was nod. She could feel you slowly getting hard against her ass.

Licking your lips, you thrust your hip up in a strong move, making the both of you moan lowly. You could come just with that friction if she continued moaning with her mouth so close to your ear, only for you to hear it.

Tara’s hands trailed down your body once again, but this time she pushed down the elastic of the waistband of your gray shorts, in a silent request for you to remove it. She lifted herself just enough for it to slide down your legs, pooling just before your knees, the black boxer still hugging your thighs tightly.

She didn’t want to look down, too shy to do so, but when she sat back against your bulge, it was impossible to not look at it. She pursed her lips together, the moan choked in the back of her throat as she felt you pressing hard against her. A wet spot taking form on the dark, thin cloth the more she rolled her hips on you.

It was an agonizing pain to let Tara in control of the situation. You could feel the warmth and wetness dripping for her cunt, you would easily slide in her, if she allowed you to. But you didn’t know how far she wanted to go with you, after all, this was just a test to see if she could get you hard, and she definitely could as she felt you twitching against her in desperate need to release.

This could've stopped here and now, you were hard after all, but in a bold move, her hand slipped into your underwear, her hand holding your dick in a hard squeeze that almost made you scream against her mouth. Pulling your length out, Tara wrapped her hand around your shaft, moving it up and down in a provocative way, smiling against your parted lips. Her eyes were dark, staring at you with luxury dripping from the brownish just like she was dripping on your thighs. You could feel the hot, thick liquid oozing on your skin as she rubbed herself on you.

“Fuck, Tara.” You breathed out again, broken, lewdly.

The brunette dipped her hand in her own underwear, eyes threatening to close as she rounded her swollen clit with two fingers, but she kept them open with a wicked expression on her face. Tara pulled her dress up, giving you the privileged view of her ruined underwear, the white fabric completely transparent. You couldn’t help yourself as your finger traced the wet stain, Tara’s mouth hanging open at the agonizing slow touch.

“Stop.” She asked in a trembled voice, shakingly holding your hand with flushed cheeks. “I don’t wanna cum like this.”

“And how do you wanna cum?”

Letting go of your hand, she watched with focused eyes as you took two of your fingers in your mouth, sucking at the slick that coated them with a satisfied hum. Tara seriously considered saying she wanted to ride your face and fall apart on your lips, but she just, messily, removed her underwear. A thin line of arousal followed the cloth as she tossed it somewhere in your bedroom, your mouth watering at that.

Tara pulled your boxer slightly down just enough for your member to be released, proudly hitting your lower belly, before placing herself on top of your cock, the blood flowing in your veins reverberating against her clit, making both of you choke on your breath. She fitted your length in between her slick folds, almost crying at the warm feeling.

She started grinding on you, shaking at every small move.

“This feels so fucking good.”

Throwing her head back, Tara supported her weight on her arms, gaining a fast pace. Your hands held the skirt of her dress up, giving you the perfect view of her shining cunt, smearing herself all over your cock. You could feel that tight knot on your stomach at that.

Moving one of your hands up and taking the dress with it, you crossed a barrier when you exposed her perfect tits, holding the stiff nipple with your thumb and index finger in a hurtful squeeze, earning yourself a crying moan that only made you throb against her center, while the other hand bruised the skin of her ass. You could see the red marks of your fingers all over her waist.

Pulling her torso towards you, your lips wrapped around her other nipple, trembling your tongue on the hardened nub, making Tara’s hands pull on your hair, keeping you close to her chest. Her hips started to lose speed, squirming in your arms as she neared her release; you weren’t going to last much, not when she started whispering your name over and over, shakingly violently in your arms. You came right after her, shooting thick ropes of cum directly into your hoodie.

Your arms were fast to hold her against you, keeping her body close as you came down from your high together. Tara's head fell on your shoulder, her hot breath tickling the skin of your neck, you could feel her smile.

“You okay?” Being the first one to break the silence, you asked in a soft voice, running your hands up and down her back, feeling her heart beating like crazy; yours weren't different, smashing itself against your ribcage.

“I'm great.” She mumbled out, weak and out of breath. “Are you okay?”

Feeling the nod of your head, she pulled away from her hiding spot. When you met her eyes, a pinkish color was filling the skin around her cheekbones, coloring the freckles that spread across her face, and unlike you were wondering inside your head, things didn't look awkward after that; Tara still had that familiar, warm look in her eyes when she leaned in to place a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Are you proud of yourself?”

“For making you cum without barely touching you?” Tara laughed in a proud voice, avoiding looking down as she felt your length still comfortably placed in between her slick folds.

Your hands were firm on her waist when you lifted her hips, guiding the tip of your cock against her sensitive bundle of nerves before slowly sliding in her cunt at the same time she fell back on your thighs, trying to catch her breath at the sudden invasion. A small smile on her face at the feeling of being full, her velvety walls clenching hard around your shaft, still recovering from her orgasm.

“For the fact that I'm still pretty hard.” Pressing kisses over her jawline, you thrusted up, a surprised moan escaping her throat. “Can you feel it? How hard I am? How good I'm filling you?”

“Yes…” She choked out, wrinkling your hoodie in her fingers, trying to find support on your shoulders when your hands forced her up, your member coated in a thin layer of her arousal before sliding her back down. “I'm very proud of myself.” The breathy confession made you smile against her neck, softly biting on her jugular before your movements gained a steady rhythm, mixing with the wet sounds and the melody tone of her voice calling out your name for every neighbor to hear.

2K notes · View notes

eroselless · 1 month

Text

───────────────────somebody else // 3

series summary: you just work in hospitality for McLaren and he’s their star driver. what happens when your paths cross and you find yourself questioning your feelings for each other? [3.1k]

[lando norris x reader]

masterlist | previously

warnings: angst, insecure reader, unprotected smut (don’t be silly, wrap that willy!)

note: Magui is mentioned in this chapter and will be mentioned going forward and I know there’s lots of conversations on the internet about her. I honestly just used her in this story to avoid having to come with an original character. I don’t like to comment or get into driver’s actual personal lives so please if there’s any comments y’all want to make of her that doesn’t have to do with this story, please take it elsewhere.

The morning inevitably comes, the early light filtering through the blinds, gently pulling you from your slumber. You blink slowly, discarding sleep from your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you suddenly remember where you are. Lando's arm tightens around your waist, and his face burrows deeper into your back, still deeply asleep. Carefully, you try to slip out from under his arm without disturbing him. His hold loosens reluctantly as you rise, and you begin gathering your things in silence.

You catch a glance of yourself in the full length mirror he has sitting in the corner of the room. What you see is almost something pulled straight from a dream. Your hair is disheveled but in a way that only shows how deeply you had slept the night before. Lando’s shirt clings to your body, falling to the tops of your thighs. As you stand there, you can see him breathing deeply behind you. His arm is outstretched, reaching over your now empty spot on the bed. He’s almost lost in the clouds that are the blankets of his bed.

You swell with emotion, the domestically of this moment proving to weigh too much on your chest. You swiftly pull the shirt off, fold it and leave it on a chair before putting on your clothes from last night. Moving towards the door, you feel your foot nudge something hard on the floor. Your eyes flicker down, seeing what you only assume is Lando’s phone resting there, almost dead. Picking it up, instinctively, you plug it into the charger by the bedside table, eyes catching a 12 hour's old message illuminating the screen.

Your stomach twists when you see the name on the message. Magui. You’d see her linked to him, seeing him around Monaco with her things, driving her around in his cars. You peer over the phone, eyes reading over the words on the phone.

The knot in your chest tightens as you read the text:

already missing you, when are you coming over again? last night was fun ;)

Every letter seems to twist in your chest like a knife. The implication was clear-–whatever happened last night, before your tryst under the dancefloor lights, was anything but friendly. Your breath hitches, and you set the phone down carefully, it feels too hot in your hand now. It's almost as if it’s trying to mock you with the memory of last night’s events. It was too good to be true, you think, the thrill of last night fading into the cruel light of reality. Maybe you happened to just be in the right place at the right time, a convenient substitute for something he had been craving.

Your footsteps are light as you make your way out, taking one last glance at Lando’s sleeping form before closing the door behind you.

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The sun is already high in the sky by the time you arrive at the track. The same excited buzz that lingers in the air feels different today, it causes your stomach to turn and every step you take feels heavier the further in you go. Your heart pounds as you step into the paddock, nerves running high as you anticipate Lando’s visit, a pavlovian reaction you’ve developed. But you’re assigned to the Ferrari garage for today, something about the overwhelming influx of guests and reporters.

You’re grateful for the distractions, being away from the McLaren suite is a welcome relief–-you don’t think you could handle facing Lando just yet. You keep reminding yourself that it was a drunken kiss, a mess of touches that happened in the heat of the moment, a memory Lando might not even remember. The glow of the text message on his phone only reinforces that idea. It might as well be left off as a memory, you think. After all, it seemed to imply that he already had someone to occupy his time. You were just … there.

You’re pouring a drink when you hear a familiar voice greet you from behind. Turning, you find Carlos leaning casually against a table, an easy smile hanging from his lips as you hand him a bottle of water.

“Looks like you’ve been promoted, working for the red team today,” he teased lightly.

You chuckled, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess they needed someone with my impressive drink-carting skills,” you joked, catching his eye.

Carlos grins, taking a long sip before lowering the bottle. “Well, at least you’re making this garage look better,” he adds, giving you a playful once-over.

You laugh again, this time a little more naturally, but as your eyes meet his, you see something shift in Carlos’s expression—his gaze briefly darting past you.

You turn just in time to see Lando making his way over, his strides purposeful. Carlos straightens, the easygoing look still on his face but a hint of something else lurking beneath it. The tension between the three of you is almost palpable. There’s that twist in your gut, the face you’d been dreading to see again. There was that voice that lingers in the back of your mind, once again reminding you that it told you so.

“Hey, you,” Lando greets casually, his voice steady but lower than usual. He doesn’t hesitate pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you in a way that feels almost possessive. His lips brush your cheek in a fleeting kiss, the scent of his cologne enveloping you. It’s warm, familiar, but it only makes the tension inside you grow. It makes your head spin.

“Hi,” you manage to say, feeling breathless as you return the hug. Your voice feels quiet, fragile. Almost like if you spoke too loudly, it would shatter in your voicebox. You try your best to keep up the smile that had been painted on your face just a minute later. You can feel Carlos’s eyes still on you, watching the interaction closely. You can’t place Lando’s expression, unsure of what could be going on in his head.

As you step back from Lando’s embrace, you give Carlos an apologetic smile before excusing yourself to attend to the guests nearby. With a quick smile, you excuse yourself, leaving Lando standing there, watching as you disappear into the crowd. The moment you’re out of earshot, the air between the two drivers shifts.

Carlos arches an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

Lando narrows his eyes slightly. “Just making sure everything’s in check.”

Carlos smirks, clearly picking up on the unspoken tension. “Yeah? Everything in check, huh?” He pauses, and then with a more pointed tone, he adds, “Including Magui?”

Lando stiffens slightly, but doesn’t take the bait. “That’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Hasn’t it?” Carlos tilts his head. “You know, mate, maybe it’s time you figure out what you actually want before someone else makes that decision for you.”

Lando frowns, not answering immediately. His gaze flickers to where you’re standing, deep in conversation with a group of guests. There’s a carefree look on your face as you interact with them, a genuine smile he can’t help but adore. Carlos, seeing the hesitation, claps a hand on Lando’s shoulder.

“Look, if you’re serious, don’t just sit around waiting for it to blow over,” Carlos says, his tone shifting from teasing to genuine. “Otherwise, someone else might step in. And who knows,” he adds with a smirk, “maybe I will.”

Lando gives him a look, but Carlos just laughs it off, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, man. You’ve got enough to deal with, but you’re playing with fire.”

Before Lando can respond, a team member calls him away, and with a final look between them, Carlos steps back, watching Lando go with a knowing smile.

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The day passes in a haze, the roar of the engines filling the air and drowning the chatter in your head. You do your best to focus on your duties in the Ferrari garage, but the weight of Lando’s gaze bears heavy on you whenever you catch a glimpse of his car zooming past you on the track. It's like a tether—one that pulls tighter and tighter with every passing moment.

The race finally comes to a close, the sun having fallen through the sky, dipping below the horizon. The energy in the paddock becomes electric as he comes in second, right on Carlos’s tail. The cheers and celebrations blur around you as the drivers finish their interviews, spraying champagne and basking in the excitement. You can feel Lando’s eyes on you, even as he stands among the flashing cameras and jubilant crowds of journalists. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as move around the paddock, eventually returning to the equally bustling McLaren suite.

As the crowd thins, you don’t get far before you feel a hand wrap around your wrist that tugs you away from the crowd. It weaves you through the paddock, past the media, past the throngs of people, until you find yourselves alone in the privacy of his driver’s room.

The door clicks behind you, the noise now muffled by the walls around you. The tension between you hangs heavy in the air as you stand nervously at the door, it's thick and suffocating.

“Lando–”

He doesn’t let you finish. In one swift motion, he pulls you against him, mouth encapsulating yours with a fervor that catches you off guard. It's not unlike how he kissed you at the club but this time you have the reassurance that you’re both stone cold sober.

His kiss is heated, desperate, as if he’s trying to pour every ounce of feeling into that moment. The taste of champagne lingers on his lips, and you feel the raw energy coursing through him, a mixture of adrenaline and something deeper—something possessive.

Your body betrays you as you respond to his kiss, the want, the need of him too strong to resist. His hands roam your body, pulling a whine from your lips as he presses his hips to yours. He anchors you to him but it’s more than just a physical desire now. There’s something else in the way he touches you, as though he’s afraid to let go.

It's dizzying, the way he holds you, his fingers digging into your skin. You respond just as eagerly, hands tangling in his curls, feeling the way his hair slips through your fingers, unruly and messy after being trapped under his helmet. He deeps the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips. Just like he did in the dimly lit bathroom, he seems to take your breath away, setting a fire in your chest.

You feel his body against yours, solid and warm, heat radiating from him like a furnace. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips firmly as he walks you backward toward the small bed. Your legs hit the edge, and you stumble slightly, but Lando doesn’t break the kiss, his mouth still moving with fervor against yours as he lowers you onto the bed.

He hovers over you, not yet ready to press his full body weight on top of yours. You whimper as his lips trail down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. It makes you arch your back into him, hands taking purchase of the thick muscle of his back.

“Lando…” you breathe, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart. He responds with a low, guttural hum, his lips moving lower, his teeth grazing along your collarbone before his hands begin to tug at the hem of your shirt. You help him, lifting your arms as he pulls it over your head in one swift motion, leaving you exposed beneath him.

His eyes darken as he looks down at you, his breathing heavy. There’s something primal in the way he stares, as if he’s trying to commit every inch of you to memory. His hands find your skin again, exploring, caressing, his touch both gentle and possessive as his fingers trace patterns across your stomach, your sides, your breasts.

You feel your pulse quickening with every sleight of his hand, every kiss he places along your exposed chest. He takes his time moving over the vast plains of your skin, counting every freckle, every mole. He’s savoring you, trying engrave in his mind the way you taste, the way you feel against him, the way your whines echo through the room. You bite your lip to stifle a moan as his lips wrap around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud, sending shivers down your spine.

His hands are everywhere, stroking teasing, setting your skin aflame as he worships every inch of you. His lips trail lower, leaving a hot trail behind them as he moves closer to waistband.

Your lustful trans in interupted as you see his phone light up silently where it's thrown carelessly on the table nearby. He doesn’t notice it as he moves to unbutton your pants. You want to pull away, tell him to stop. Tell him you don’t want this, that you don’t crave this—the closeness, the intensity of his touch. But you don’t.

It’s the same part that wanted him back in the club, under those neon lights. But now, even with him so close, the doubt lingers in the back of your mind. Magui’s name feels like a ghost between you, hovering in the room, even though you don’t dare utter it aloud.

You reach for him again, the feeling of his lips on the tops of your thighs bringing you back. You pull him up, pressing your lips to his once again. You tug at his fireproofs, pulling it over his head, revealing the toned lines of his body, muscles softly rippling beneath his skin. The rush of the moment stills for a second and now it's your turn to try to memorize what he looks like.

Your fingers dance delicately over the taut skin, dragging them down his sternum, counting every mole and feeling each valley you come across. Your eyes flicker up briefly, catching a glint in his eyes you hadn’t quite seen before. But before you can mull over it too much, his lips find yours in a kiss that’s just as intense as before.

His hands slide into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down, leaving you bare beneath him. The cool air hits your skin and you suck in a breath, the coolness being replaced by his warmth. His body is pressed against yours and hard as you might try, you can’t bring yourself to stop the sinking feeling you begin to feel in your chest.

His kisses grow more frantic, more needy, and you can feel his desire for you in every movement, every touch. You respond in kind, your own need for him matching his as your hands roam his back, his chest, pulling him closer. The world outside the room fades away, and for a brief moment, it’s just you and him, tangled together in a mess of limbs, breathless kisses, and heated skin.

When he finally moves between your legs, you gasp, your body arching into him, craving the contact, the connection. His eyes lock with yours, and there’s a moment of stillness as he hovers over you, the weight of everything unspoken between you pressing down on your chest.

Each touch, each breath shared between you only makes that nagging voice in the back of your mind grow louder. Does he feel this way with her too? Is this just another moment, another temporary high, easily forgotten once the race weekend is over? Will he be quick to forget you as he’s forgetting her—quickly falling into her embrace as he is falling into yours?

The questions fail to reach your lips, dissolving on your tongue as he licks into your mouth. He pushes into you with a groan, his forehead resting against yours, and you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the sensation overwhelms you.

The rhythm between starts off slow, tender, as if he’s trying to say a million words with every thrust, every kiss, every movement. But it’s not enough. Doubt still lingers in the forefront of your mind and even though your body responds to his ministrations, your heart remains guarded, wary.

His pace quickens, his breathing ragged as he moves faster, deeper, and you cling to him, your own breath coming in short gasps as the pleasure builds. He cries your name, lips finding yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. It’s overwhelming, the feeling of him inside you, the way his hands grip your hips, the way he looms over you.

Your body reaches its peak, but as the waves of pleasure crash over you, the doubt remains. You can almost imagine her in this same position, writhing beneath him as he gives himself to you. Her face haunts you, the image of them together, his hands over her, holding her just as tight.

But you don't bring it up, you don’t ask the questions that repeat over and over in your mind. You're afraid of what the answer will be. Afraid that this moment will merely be a chapter in the novel of time, lost in the frayed pages of a book long hidden away.

When it's over, he lies on your chest. It's terribly domestic as he draws circles on your exposed belly and chest, lips tracing over the skin tenderly. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. The words are there, waiting to be spoken—questions, doubts, confessions—but neither of you has the courage to break the silence. Maybe it’s easier this way, not confronting whatever this is. Maybe it’s safer to pretend it’s just the high from his victory, that this moment will pass, leaving no lasting trace.

His phone lights up again and you see his eyes flicker to it briefly before you both begin to rise from your temporary bliss. That's when you realize it. You don’t have the heart to keep doing this. The uncertainty, the doubt, that cry in the back of your mind. It’s all too much. You can’t be part of something where the lines are so blurred, where neither of you is willing to admit the truth.

So, you walk away.

tags: @sltwins @sarx164 @f1fantasys @obxstiles @moonvr @spideylovin @lipstickstateofmind

a/n: hi everyone, thank you much if you've gotten to this point! i was honestly so excited and surprisingly had lots of fun while writing this rather emotional chapter. let me know what you guys think of it, i always love to see what you guys have to say!

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

476 notes · View notes

annewithaneofthegreengable · 3 months

Text

CHAPTER 1: Baby Miracle My Masterlist

Author’s note: I imagine her to be born in 2009-ish! Requests and ideas are always welcome in my inbox!

Taglist: If you would like to be added to the taglist please comment down below for me to know!

Sebastian Vettel was many things. A son of Heike and Norbert Vettel, a younger and much more annoying brother to Stephanie and Melanie, an older brother to Fabian, a Formula 1 driver (now retired), an inspiration to many young people, and now he is the one who has rewritten the whole history in Formula One by winning his first Grand Prix in a Toro Rosso’s car no less. This was finally his time, that’s what he thought when he set foot on that top-step podium alongside Heikke Kovalinen and Robert Kubica. He was over the moon at the party they threw for him, drink after drink, the music was blasting louder than the V6 engine at some point during the celebration. On the dance floor, sweaty people were having fun and swaying together. Honestly, Sebastian couldn’t remember much about that day, just that he was leaving with a girl and spending the night together.

Much to his information, three months later a woman reached out to him and told him that she was pregnant with his child. At first, he panicked and worried about how he would balance his promising racing career with the responsibilities of being a parent. But when the woman showed him the ultrasound picture, everything changed. Seeing that tiny blob on the screen stirred something deep within him, and he knew that he wanted to be a father. Sebastian never thought that he would be a young father at the age of 21, but as he looked at the ultrasound picture, he felt a sudden rush of excitement and determination. He knew that this child was his responsibility, and he was ready to do whatever it took to be a good father, even if it meant juggling parenting with his career in Formula One. As he held the picture in his hand, he couldn't help but feel a sense of disbelief and wonder at the miracle of life.

The weeks that followed were filled with a mixture of emotions for Sebastian. On one hand, he was looking forward to the arrival of his child, eagerly preparing the nursery and buying baby clothes. On the other hand, he was also nervous about the challenges that lay ahead. He knew that being a father would mean making sacrifices and putting his child's needs ahead of his own. But despite the challenges, Sebastian felt a sense of purpose and excitement for the future. He was determined to make things work, both as a racing driver and as a father. With the announcement of his impending fatherhood, Sebastian also faced the public scrutiny and media attention. Suddenly, his personal life was put under the microscope, and people were eager to know every detail about the mother of his child. But Sebastian remained tight-lipped, determined to keep his private life out of the spotlight. He wanted to shield his child from the cameras and the paparazzi. Despite the curiosity from the media and the fans, Sebastian maintained his focus on his racing career and preparation for fatherhood. However, Sebastian was heartbroken when the mother left just one month after the birth of their baby without so much as a word or goodbye. Now Sebastian was left alone to raise his child, feeling hopeless and confused. He struggled to cope with the intense emotions and the constant stress of being a single parent, while also trying to maintain his racing career and deal with the press and media attention. It seemed like every interview and press conference he attended, there were always reporters who tried to bring up the subject of the mother of his child. Sebastian had grown weary of repeating himself and explaining the same things over and over again, and he was starting to feel like it was a never-ending cycle of intrusion and speculation.

Despite the challenges and distractions he faced as a young father, Sebastian managed to win the Formula One driving championship with Red Bull when his baby girl, his Mein Häschen was just few months old. Sebastian Vettel stood on the podium, clutching the winner's trophy tightly in his hands. The sound of the crowd cheering echoed in his ears, and he couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions coursing through him. It was a moment he had worked so hard for, and now it had finally arrived. As he held the trophy aloft, he felt a sense of accomplishment that he had never felt before. But then, his eyes caught sight of something in the stands that made his heart skip a beat. It was his mother, holding his baby girl in her arms. Sebastian couldn't help but feel a sudden wave of relief and pride wash over him as he saw his mother holding his daughter. At that moment, all the stress and pressure of his racing career seemed to melt away. Seeing his child in the arms of his mother, who had been such a huge source of support and stability in his life, brought a deep sense of peace and happiness to Sebastian's heart. Despite all the challenges he had faced as a young father and a racing driver, seeing his daughter and his family together on the biggest day of his life made everything worthwhile.

As the cheers from the crowd began to fade, Sebastian's thoughts turned to the future. He knew that this victory was just the beginning and that there were still many challenges and obstacles ahead. But as he held his trophy aloft and posed for the cameras while soaked in champagne, he felt a renewed sense of determination and confidence. He had already proven that he could balance his racing career and his responsibilities as a father, and he was more determined than ever to keep doing so. He wanted to be a good role model for his daughter, someone who could juggle the demands of his profession without sacrificing his family for the sake of his career. As Sebastian approached the garage, he was greeted by a throng of well-wishers congratulating him on his victory. Reporters and cameramen shoved microphones and cameras in his face, trying to get a quote or a comment from the man of the moment. But Sebastian was focused on one thing - getting back to his team, his friends, and most importantly, his family, his Mein Häschen.

Finally, he spotted her - his little girl was wide-eyed and alert, her gaze fixed on her father as he approached. Sebastian felt a rush of relief and happiness wash over him as he reached out to take his daughter from his mother's arms, holding her firmly and close to his chest. Despite being just eight months old, she seemed incredibly alert and observant, her gaze always focused intently on the faces of the people around her. Her tiny hands were grasping at the fabric of her father's shirt as he held her, and she let out a soft coo of contentment as she snuggled against his chest. He whispered softly into her ear, "Papa's got you, Mein Häschen," using the nickname he had given her. He stroked her soft hair and looked down into her wide, curious eyes as she gazed up at him, her tiny hands grabbing at his shirt. Despite feeling physically exhausted, he knew that holding his child in his arms gave him the energy and strength to keep going. Sebastian gently rocked his daughter back and forth in his arms, taking in the sweet smell of her baby skin and the warmth of her little body against his chest. Despite the chaos and adrenaline of the race and the celebration that was still going on around them, he found himself feeling incredibly calm and centered in this moment.

He whispered softly to her, "You're Papa's little miracle, you know that, right? You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." The baby girl looked up at her father with a wide, gummy smile, her eyes seeming to light up at the sound of his voice. She let out a soft gurgling sound that might have been a laugh, and her tiny fists clutched at the fabric of his shirt. Her small body seemed to relax even more in his arms, her head resting comfortably against his chest. Despite her young age, it was as if she already understood the love and affection that her father had for her, and she responded to his words with a sense of contentment and joy.

Taglist: @tammyfortis @pear-1206 @tammyfortis @gaypoetsblog @formula1-motogpfan @clearwolfbatrebel-blog

#sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 blurb #f1 fluff #formula 1

267 notes · View notes

totheblood · 1 year

Text

even more modern!ellie headcanons

a/n: just a little something... again AI AUDIOS AT THE END... replies and reblogs are appreciated

masterlist

ellie is a homebody, and usually will have to be dragged out by you or dina

honestly she’s never ‘dragged’ out by you, she usually likes to tag along if she knows you’re going somewhere where there will be a lot of people

it’s not that she doesn’t trust you, it’s that she doesn’t trust the people around you

you don’t really mind anyway, you like how she loops her finger in the belt of your jeans and pulls you closer to her when she notices someone staring at you

if the person doesn’t stop she’s not above pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear while making direct eye contact with the person

you giggle, throwing your head back slightly and turning to look at her in the dim light, “what’s gotten into you, ellie?”

“that dick keeps looking at you,” another kiss pressed to your jaw, “don’t like it.”

but she’d much rather stay at home with you, both of you tucked under her comforter with the air conditioner turned down to 64° and whatever show you’re watching at the time on the tv

she hates to admit it, but she loves grey’s anatomy (she swore to you she’d never like it with a scoff and “that show is shit, babe. it’s for like, middle-aged moms with no life.”)

but now as you both have your eyes glued to the screen, she can’t help but scoff every time george is on the screen

“what?”

“he’s just such a fucking loser, this guy.”

“he’s not the worst.”

“he’s pretty fucking bad… why would he sleep with meredith and then make it about him when she starts crying! it’s obvious she’s vulnerable… i just don’t like him.”

ellie gets pretty passionate when watching tv. she’s always sharing her opinions with you, looking at you for validation or arguing when you disagree with her

she’ll always add something like: “you’re lucky you’re cute” or “if you weren’t my girlfriend i’d tear your argument apart” and then kiss you on your nose and go back to watching tv

ellie is an awful cook… like so bad

one time she tried to make a recipe for your anniversary, thinking it would be easy but ended up failing miserably

she’s the type to write out the grocery list and cross shit off as she picks things up… even when she doesn’t know what it means

she didn’t know what trader joe’s was, so when she got there she’d be picking shit up and looking at it with a weird look on her face, “mango… joe joe’s? what the fuck is that?” she’d mutter before putting the box back on the shelf

but eventually she’s getting sucked in, picking up a box of mini ice cream cones, cookie butter, and the rest of the groceries needed for the meal she planned on making for you

you come over and the place is a mess, there is flour all over the counter and floors, pots and pans piled up in the stove, and ellie is stood over a bowl, mixing with a giant wooden spoon

“ellie?”

“shit.. fuck,” she curses, jumping a little bit before turning and smiling at you, her eyes looking you up and down, “you fucking scared me. you’re early.”

“no, i’m not.”

ellie’s eyes glance down at her watch, cursing as she bolts towards the stove a “no, no, no,” falling from her lips as she opens and sees the chicken inside burnt to a crisp. she’s throwing on her mitt and pulling the pan out, sighing as she watches all her hard work go to waste.

“you were trying to cook for me?”

ellie forgot you were there for a moment, her jumping a little at the sound of your voice and wiping the sweat from her forehead as she gives you her best smile, even though it’s strained.

“babe, i’m sorry, i- i don’t know where i went wrong,” she sighs, watching as you walk closer to her and put your hands on the counter behind her trapping her in.

“don’t be sorry” you kiss the side of her lips and smile against her skin, tasting her sweat, “it’s sweet… no one’s ever cooked for me before.”

she’s blushing and leaning into you, your warmth providing her some comfort from her previous stress

“you look nice,” she whispers below her breath, but you can still feel the puffs of air coming out of her mouth, “you deserve a good meal.”

“i’m not picky,” you whisper back, giggling as ellie’s heart leaps in her chest. she loves you so much it hurts

her hands rest at your hips when she kisses you gently, saying something about missing you that you miss because of how her lips feel against yours

you order takeout that night and eat it as you help her clean up the mess she made

“have you ever been to trader joe’s? that shit was crazy”

ellie is the type of girlfriend to send you two people from a tv show or an edit and be like “babe, this is so us”

or to think it’s so cute when you have matching icons on instagram, tiktok, or twitter

she just wants to show you off all the time

she draws the line at a joint couple account though

she’s always writing things about you, whether it be in her journal, little poems, or songs about you

she’d post a song she wrote you on tiktok with the caption “wrote this song about my lover” and not expect it to blow up

but then she’s receiving a million comments about how sweet it is and how people wish someone would do something like that for them

she doesn’t like the comment “can your gf fight” so she’s responding to all of them like “no, she can’t, but i can and i will! LEAVE MY GF ALONE!!”

but she’d brag about it to you, shoving her phone in your face and saying “look, your girlfriend is fucking famous.”

when you gasp and grab her face congratulating her in between kisses her face grows red and she’s smiling so wide her cheeks hurt

“don’t forget me when you become famous.”

“how could i forget my muse?”

ellie loves listening to music with you and will make you a playlist that she updates with every song she listens to that reminds her of you

she’s incredibly corny in that way

she always wants to listen to the music you suggest to her, wanting to be closer to you in any way she can

even if she doesn’t like it she’s pretending she loves it and playing it constantly, even when you aren’t around

ai audios:

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot #mine

1K notes · View notes

jishyucks · 10 months

Text

Candy Cane Delays — lmk

‣ pairing: mark lee x reader

‣ genre: fluff, implied friends-to-lovers, classmates au

‣ wc: 3k

‣ summary: Sure, it was disheartening seeing everyone receive a holiday candy gram but you, especially when you’re the one in charge of selling them at lunch. But don't worry, yours is on the way. He’s just… running a bit late.

‣ warnings: nothing i think,, reader’s kinda annoying about not getting a holiday candy gram but honestly same

‣ an: first part of my True Love Gave to Me Series YAY! Hopefully my writing’s good enough and this is somewhat cute bc I thought the idea was adorable,,, it honestly would’ve been longer and more detailed if I didn’t have 11 other mini fics to write but PLS ENJOYYY

Series Masterlist

Every year for the past 3 years, you've been in charge of selling the holiday candy grams for the winter dance.

And every year for those same 3 years, you’ve never, not even once, received a single candy gram.

Sure, your best friend Yeri always offered to get you one for fun, but you told her off, cause in your mind it didn’t count when they tell you they’ll be getting you one. You wanted to receive one the good ‘ol traditional way—you wanted to be surprised.

But whatever you wished, you never received.

And that was okay.

Because there came a point where you accepted the fact that you would probably never get one. It was a bit depressing (and maybe a tad embarrassing), but you simply chose to never get your hopes up every year just to be let down at the end. And though it was initially pretty easy ignoring this conclusion, it simply did not help that you were always put in charge of selling the damn grams.

Every lunch period, you sit behind a table, a poster board with the words ‘PURCHASE YOUR HOLIDAY CANDY GRAMS FOR WINTER DANCE HERE!’ taped at its edge. You wait for students to approach you with pocket money, then you slide them as many candy grams as they pay for. Once they’ve finished filling out the slips of paper, you take the sheets back and begin preparing them by taping candy canes the school bought from the local dollar store.

It was a routine you have gotten used to, and you don't expect to see any changes happening any time soon.

“Can I have three, please?”

You look up from your pile of candy canes to see your classmate, Jaemin, who’s blinking back at you with a wide smile. You nod and hold your hand out for him to drop his coins in. They land with a muted clunk noise before you drop them into the big metal bank you had pushed to the side.

“Here you go,” you grin back, sliding three slips of paper toward the boy. He thanks you before turning to a nearby table and you’re left to turn back to the unfinished candy grams sitting in front of you.

The time that lights up on the screen on your phone tells you that you need to start cleaning up soon so that you’re able to drop the candy grams off to the students distributing them for the day. Relief washes over you as you complete the remaining grams, just in time for Jaemin to return, gripping folded slips of paper in his fingers.

“Thank you,” Jaemin says, handing them to you, “I’ll see you in class, Y/N!”

“See you, Jaemin,” you reply. And you quickly finish the last three before you start cleaning up.

You place the empty candy grams on top of the earned money before locking the box. When you stand up, the chair makes an unpleasant noise against the floor and you cringe slightly. Rounding the table, you move the chair along with you, placing it on top and upside down for tomorrow’s use.

“Am I too late?”

Another person's sudden presence startles you, making you realize that you've been too absorbed in your tasks to notice the approaching footsteps.

You turn to friend and classmate, Mark, who’s out of breath and sweating from practically every gland of his body. He’s bent over with his hands on his knees and he’s trying to catch his breath. His glasses are slipping down the bridge of nose, but he quickly catches it with the tip of his index finger.

You can’t help but let out a laugh, “Ah, Mark… you’re late…” You pick up the bag of candy canes and sigh, “Again.”

A sense of déjà vu washes over you. This exact occurrence has been happening for a week straight now and you’re trying to figure out how Mark even manages to pull the same thing each day. It was actually kind of cute, if you had to admit just once, and you’re admittedly curious as to what’s causing him to pull up to the table 30 seconds late.

“I think my phone’s clock is three minutes too fast,” Mark frowns, eyes round as he brings his phone’s screen up to his face.

You start walking down the hall and toward Mrs. Kim’s room, where everything was kept between days, “You do know that the clocks on our phones can’t be early, right?”

Mark nods, though you don’t see. He’s still trailing right behind you, even into the classroom, “I know, but I just needed to blame something.”

You two approach a closet at the corner of the classroom and you use a key to open it up. You place the things inside, making sure it’s neat and tidy and somewhere slightly hidden in case students decide to break in. You don’t mind Mark seeing where you hide it, though. You trust him.

The boy gulps before he goes to ask you a question, “Hey, for the Winter Dance—”

“How were the sales today, Y/N?”

Mark is interrupted by Mrs. Kim, who’s returning from her own lunch break. She glances at Mark and greets him at the same time.

“I think today had the most sales so far,” you reply, “So it went well! Do you want me to leave the finished grams here? I already organized them by class.” Shutting the door, you lock the closet.

Mrs. Kim nods and makes room on her desk for the bag, “Yes please. Chenle and Jisung are coming in a bit to pick them up. Thanks for your help, Y/N.”

You bow your head and offer a smile before you turn to leave, Mark following not too far behind.

“What were you saying?” You look up at him, slowing your pace.

“Hm?” Mark’s head crooks to the side, “When?” Did he accidentally say something out loud?

“Before Mrs. Kim came in. You were saying something but I didn’t catch it.”

Mark’s heart skips a beat and his eyes widen. Lucky for him, you don’t notice, eyes dead set on your guys’ classroom, “Oh… uh–I forgot.” Mark knows damn well what he wanted to ask you. But the confidence he had built up at that moment dies along with his words and he figures that he’ll just try again another day. He tries his best to play it off, throwing in a sheepish laugh to spice it up, “But if it comes up again, I’ll make sure to say it.”

“You’re young and you’re already forgetful,” you joke, rolling your eyes playfully, “But okay, fine by me.” You turn to sit at your desk, seeing that Yeri’s already at her’s, but you stop yourself and turn back to Mark, “Are you going to be late tomorrow, again?”

Mark feels his cheeks heat up and his head lowers in embarrassment, “I’ll try not to.”

You let out a snort and nod, this time actually heading to your seat.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

When Chenle and Jisung come around to hand out the candy grams, students around you perk up in anticipation of receiving one. Yeri nudges your arm when the boys start passing them out, plopping the very same candy grams you finished at lunch.

“Brighten up, you might get one today,” she whispers. Her eyes follow Chenle, who’s approaching the both of you.

“I know I’m not getting one, Yers,” you shake your head, “I made them.”

“Yeah but that doesn’t mean you can’t get one,” she groans, “Maybe you’re not getting one because you’re being a Negative Nancy.”

“Please never say that again,” you narrow your eyes at her.

And when Chenle and Jisung start making their way toward the door and your desk is still empty, you turn to give Yeri a I told you so look.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Mark’s leg bounces out of anticipation as his eyes wander off to the clock hanging crookedly at the other corner of the room. He has 5 minutes to get up and leave and make it to the candy gram booth. But with the way Renjun was going on and on about an excerpt he had written for this week’s writing club meeting, Mark feels like he’s barely going to make it again.

For some reason, the hormones in his body are causing his heart to knock against his chest repeatedly. He can hear it pounding in his ears, practically drowning out Renjun’s voice.

Sure buying those candy grams didn’t seem like that big of a deal to anyone else in the group, but to Mark, it was part of a plan he’s had written down in the notes app of his phone since November—asking you out to the winter dance through a gram. Mark knows that he can’t trust himself when it comes to verbally asking you. So a candy gram should do it (yes, he’s aware that’s a little bit dumb but it’s the thought that counts).

The second that Renjun concludes his piece, Mark is up and out of the room, putting his chair in its rightful place behind a desk. He’s practically sprinting down the hall, slowing down into a walking pace when he passes by doors just so he wouldn’t be stopped and delayed for longer if a teacher had caught him running down the hall like some delinquent.

He can see the intersection of the hallway where you always set the table up and he books it, the single strap of his backpack hanging on for dear life.

“Am I late?”

Mark stands in front of you, hands on his knees and he’s panting. It was the same exact scene as yesterday. “Please tell me I’m not.”

You frown, glancing at the table you had just pushed up against the wall, “Sorry, Mark.”

He groans, “I need to start leaving earlier.” Mark begins to trail you from behind, feet heavy from missing the candy grams yet again.

“If it makes you feel any better, you have one more week,” you point out. Your arms wrap around the piggy bank and the coins jingle inside. Today was particularly more busy than the previous days. You question, “What do you even do over lunch?”

“I have clubs I go to,” Mark chews on his bottom lip, “It’s kind of stupid—”

“It’s not stupid if you enjoy it,” you shrug. He watches as you tuck the piggy bank and the extra candy canes at the back of the closet before shutting it, “And if you’re always running late you must actually enjoy them.”

“I guess so,” Mark says quietly. “I’ll come in time tomorrow.” He says this more for himself than for you.

You laugh, “We’ll see, Mark Lee.” Looking down at the bag of candy canes, you pull one out and hold it out to him, halting just outside of Mrs. Kim’s room, “I’ll give you one for free~”

Mark stops and blinks at the candy cane in your hand and he sighs. The candy canes weren’t even the reason why he desperately wanted to buy the grams. He can quite literally drop by the store on the way home and get a pack himself if he wanted.

Mark simply just wanted to get this plan done and over with. He wants to know if you’re going to reject him or if you’re going to say yes. But because this was being drawn out like some imperfect line across a ridiculously long page, he’s not going to know until he gets his hands on one of the candy grams.

But still, Mark lets himself smile at the gesture, hand grazing yours as he takes it, “Thanks, Y/N.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

For the next week, Mark (unsurprisingly) arrives late. He catches you either already cleaning the table up or already walking down to Mrs. Kim’s classroom to store the things. And everytime he does come late, Mark wants to beat himself up for it.

But on the last day, you’re caught by surprise when Mark approaches you in the middle of setting up the booth. For once he isn’t out of breath, and he’s not sweating and hunched over. It was a refreshing sight—amusing, even. The effort this boy was putting into holiday candy grams was endearing and you hope that the people he’s sending his grams to know it.

“First one here,” you giggle, “How many do you want?”

“Seven,” Mark shoots, “Please.”

“Seven’s a lot,” You nod, sliding the seven slips of paper before you retrieve the money from him, “Do you know what to do?”

“Um… just got a lot of people I care about,” Mark retorts. He grabs the slips of paper, a sigh of relief slipping out of his lips, “Thank you.”

Mark disappears for a good while, though you can see him bent over a table across the hall, scribbling into the blanks like he was supposed to. He looked rather focused, mouthing the small messages he’s leaving on the candy grams. A small part of you is nosy, wanting to know who he’s sending these candy grams to and what messages he’s writing so intently.

Once he’s finished, Mark returns to the table, placing the candy grams on the table in front of you, “Thanks, Y/N… I can’t talk right now—I do want to catch up with my club—but I’ll talk to you later?”

You smile gently, taking the filled out candy grams, “Of course. I’m just glad you were able to actually get these today.”

“Believe me, I am too,” Mark sends a warm smile before he bids you goodbye.

You huff and begin prepping the 7 candy canes for Mark’s seven candy grams. You go ahead and rip 7, inch-long, pieces of tape for each one and start your routine, taping each candy cane to each sheet of paper.

“Last one,” you mutter to yourself, taking the 7th candy cane between your fingertips.

When you go to grab the last slip of paper, you’re sent into a brief state of confusion when you don’t actually find a seventh slip. Your brows furrow and you let out an audible ‘huh?’ as you try to search your proximity for that last candy gram.

Did you miscount? Or did Mark just not use it? He could have gotten a refund if he wasn’t going to use it… Why didn’t he tell you anything?

After thinking hard on it, you let the problem go for now, making a small reminder to yourself to ask Mark about it later.

Chenle and Jisung come to your guys’ class just before the day ends and you would be lying if you said that you had just the slightest bit of hope that you’d receive one since it was the last day—cause surely, for the entire two weeks you’ve been out at lunch selling that damn things, you’d get one, right?

Sometimes, anticipation was a bitch. It was killing you watching Chenle and Jisung pull out each one from their shared bag, searching the room for the person receiving a damn gram before scurrying down the aisle of desks and plopping it down gently. With each one they would quietly say a ‘for you’ before turning back to the bag to grab the next one.

Hope was a bitch, too.

“Once again, sorry for interrupting,” Chenle apologizes to your teacher before dragging Jisung out of the room.

Just as they slip out of the classroom, the bell rings and you don’t find the energy to stand up just yet, eyes staring blankly at your empty desk.

“You should have just let me get you one, Y/N,” Yeri frowns, rubbing the middle of your back for comfort. She knows exactly how you’re feeling right now, “Want me to treat you to ice cream later? Bubble tea? Anything?”

You shake your head and try to prop a smile on your face, “No, it’s fine, Yers. I just thought that…” Mark. “Nevermind… Let’s just go.”

You finally push yourself up from your desk and grab your belongings. You leave the room in a hurry, Yeri struggling to keep up with your quick movements.

From afar, right by your locker, you spot Mark standing there patiently with his hands buried deep into his pockets. And with the boring class you had just had and not receiving a candy gram yet again, you almost forgot that you had to ask Mark about the 7th gram—better yet—he was probably at your locker to tell you about it.

“Mark,” you greet. Your fingers start fiddling with your lock as you absentmindedly put in your combination, “I wanted to talk to you about the candy grams.”

“I was actually here for the same reason.” There’s a tone in Mark’s voice that catches you off guard. There’s a slight hint of uneasiness, “Um… and…”

“And?” Now he’s caught your attention. You don’t realize that Yeri’s standing by her own locker, trying to subtly listen in on the conversation.

“Wait–uh–let me start with the candy gram first because then it can play out, I guess?” Mark shakes his head at how awkward he’s being before pulling out that 7th slip of paper from his pocket, “I…” He goes to read it, taking in a deep breath, eyes scanning it before he hurriedly sticks it out to you, “I was supposed to hand this in earlier at lunch but I figured that since you, you know, were the one doing the candy grams, I didn’t want you seeing it at such an awkward time?”

You’re frozen in place, gently taking the candy gram. With your heart skipping beats and the butterflies suddenly erupting in your stomach, your eyes bulge out of your eyes as you read your name on the sheet in Mark’s handwriting. This was a candy gram for you. To you, From Mark. Your first ever candy gram and it was from Mark.

Your attention flies straight to the note in the given space beneath the To and the From.

Your heart skips another beat.

Winter Dance with me?

“I-I’m sorry there’s no candy cane with it or anything and I don’t have any chocolates or some present to give you and this is such a lame way to ask you to the dance I meant it to be a bit more romantic than this but—”

You cut off Mark’s rambling, “Yes.”

“W-what?”

“Yes, I’ll go to the dance with you.”

taglist: @tytrackfebreze @lovesuhng @hoonieji @dinonuguaegi @niinjo (couldn't tag :(()

an: first part of my series YAY ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ meant to post it earlier but school and duties call rip,, i hope you enjoyed this! pls leave a like or rb if you enjoyed it and i wanna hear your thoughts on this;; it was the first one I wrote for this so I'm not sure if it's cute :( anyways THANKS FOR READING!

508 notes · View notes

coeurify · 1 year

Text

THE PERFECT PAIR 2;

ELLIE WILLIAMS

·˚ ༘ * “But don’t think we could help it, no"

pairing: bff!ellie williams x fem!reader. part one. summary: part TWO! you forgot to answer ellie, shes upset. you make up for it with a party, what could go wrong! wc 6.9k warnings: ig you could say slightly toxic friendship. ellies jealous. blink and you miss it jealous reader. almost.. sorta.. kinda kiss.. slight angst slight fluff.

You dreamt of the past a lot. Ever since you were little, more often than not, your dreams were much different than the other kids around you. When they spoke about their dreams of dragons and kings, you could only pipe in with the nostalgic nighttime story of your most recent favorite memory that played like a film reel while you slept.

Tonight, you dreamt of Ellie. You dreamt of your noses pressed to the glass of your parent’s car window, heads tucked side by side as you pulled up to a building. Large bulky letters read out the museum's name on a sign in the blue sky. The sky was always more blue in your dreams.

You had been twelve— just turning Thirteen, mere months into meeting. Ellie’s hair was always pulled back into a ponytail back then, strands of deep reddish brown hair peeking out of the hair elastics. Even now, with the muddy and watercolor-like painting of your dream, you could count the freckles on dream Ellie’s cheeks. It was your birthday, and you had been carted with Ellie to the museum near your house. A promise of a day full of Ellie laughing and tugging you around to explain the space section to you ensued.

You dreamt of Ellie’s slightly sweaty palm intertwined with your own as she pulled you around the crowded floors, gasping as she swore under her breath at every exciting exhibit. You would hush her each time, hitting her arm— just like you still did today.

You dreamt of your favorite exhibit. The one that made you love the stars so much. You had entered a dark room, only you and Ellie. Her voice was hushed as she pointed out different star patterns painted in glowing colors on the wall. That was the moment you knew you wanted Ellie to be your best friend.

You dreamt of the green Dinosaur plush Ellie had paid for with crumbled-up money in the back pocket of her jeans at the gift shop. The one she had shoved into your arms and exclaimed, “Happy Birthday!”

When you woke up, your face was pressed into that exact stuffed animal. Though the once soft fur was a bit rough now, almost seven years older, it was still more comfortable than the pillows below your head. It still held that sense of nostalgia you laid to rest every night that other options didn’t.

Your eyes squeeze before they open, arms reaching to pull the dinosaur against your chest instead. You imagine it’s just as new as it had been the day Ellie got it for you. You imagine the sky is as blue as it was in your dream, that you and El were still those carefree pre-teens. But then your alarm goes off.

Fucking Mondays. Blinking a few times to adjust to the light pouring into your eyes, you reach blindly for your phone. Fingers wrap around it a moment later, the bright screen causing another wave of blurriness to your sleepy eyes. Even through the patchy vision, it's clear that you have a few notifications.

From Ellie.

Multiple. From last night.

“Fuck,” you groan out loud this time, gaining the attention of Dina from across the room. She’s already sitting up, scribbling away in a notebook that you assume to be rushed classwork.

“You ok?”

A hand comes to wipe across your face, rubbing the skin of your cheek gently. Dina asking is sweet, but you struggle to answer honestly. “I'm good, yea. I just have to see Ellie.”

You’re up and out of bed before Dina can ask further questions, stomach turning as you look at your phone screen again. The three separate texts make you feel a little sick, especially the last one that came hours later— likely when Ellie was already frustrated.

It shouldn’t make you so queasy, something as simple as sleeping through texts. But it was Ellie. You never missed Ellie’s texts like that. Especially not her asking you to come over.

You trip over the small rug near your bed as you rush to the connected bathroom to change, earning a gasped laugh from your roommate.

“Jesus, slow down,” she calls to you through the shut bathroom door, but you’re too focused on the task currently at hand— pulling the shirt over your head without bumping into something else.

Dina watches your panicked-looking face as you step back out into the floor of your shared bedroom a few moments later, her lips pursing in confusion.

“Did Ellie die or something?” Dina jokes with curious seeming eyes, pressing her notebook closed. “You’re running around like a chicken with its head cut off.”

You shake your head with a small half-assed smile, “No- I just uh- I forgot I promised to meet her this morning,” it seemed easier to lie than to admit your heart was in your throat because you slept through a movie invitation. Your hand goes for the sweatshirt bunched up on the floor, pressing your fingers into the cloth of the grey sleeves. It was a bit too warm to wear it, you know that, but there's a sense of comfort that soothes the aching in your stomach when it's pulled over your head, and you move to the door.

“Hey,” Dina pipes up as you step across the threshold, “Jesse and I are going to a friend’s tonight, Danny. He’s got some off campus apartment he’s having a little party at. Do you... Wanna come?” The question falls from Dina’s lips simply, her attention moving from your eyes to the top she's readjusts after a night of sleep. But the way her gaze flicks up a few times tells you that this was an important question for the brunette.

“On a Monday?”

“Oh!” your roommate’s nose crinkles as she mulls over the fact that yes-- it was in fact a Monday, which wasn't exactly the perfect day for a party. “Yea, I guess that’s not helping my case hm? I promise it won't be crazy. Dan’s friends are chill.”

You think about it for a second, shifting from one foot to another. It was a good opportunity to get closer to Dina. To maybe make some new friends you had come to have missing space for after Jade and you stopped talking, putting you down her and all her friends. But it was a Monday, and you definitely couldn’t have a hangover for your sociology lecture on Tuesday. Instead of pointing any of this out though, you find yourself instead asking...

“Can I bring Ellie?”

It seemed Dina was expecting this question, waving a hand your way. “Yea, I already told Jesse it’d be two people.” For some reason, that admission has your neck feeling a little hot. Your eyes find the wall to try and cover the awkward noise your throat makes.

“Ok.. yea, cool. I should be able to go. My last class is like three today.” Your feet bounce just lightly as you speak, which Dina notices.

Dina smiles, clapping her hands together. “Great. Now shoo before you start vibrating in your spot or something.”

You nod, offering another smile before your dash out into the hallway. Instead of turning and heading for Ellie’s dorm, you make a beeline for the elevator. It was early in the morning. Too early to show up pounding at Ellie’s door when she was likely grumpy from the sun and the previous night. No, you needed a peace offering.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

That peace offering came in the shape of slightly cold dorm cafeteria french toast and waffles, tucked into a styrofoam takeout box. It was Ellie’s favorite, but she always woke up too late for them. Stingy college kids always stole them all before the first 9 am classes even started.

You held the styrofoam in your free hand as you reached forward to knock at the door. Before you could, it flew open-- both you and the person at the door jumping. You are met with the sight of dark hair and wide blinking brown eyes. Rose. They smile apologetically at you, repeating your name and different versions of ‘sorry’ as they press past you to get through the door.

Ellie’s roommate was sweet, but they were always running around with something to do, so you didn’t see much of them. At this point, Rose didn’t even question why you were always at their dorm-- you probably spent more time there anyway.

Your eyes follow as Rose hurries down the hallway, a nice distraction to the shuffling you hear from inside the now open door. “Hello?” a groggy voice asks. It forces you to look back to the doorway, met with the sight of a very sleepy looking Ellie. Her arms are crossed over her comic teeshirt-clad chest, hair messy behind her ears. You find yourself focusing on the straight line her lips are pulled into, and then the crease in between her furrowed eyebrows. You wonder for a moment if pressing your thumb to it would smooth it out.

“Hi..” you try, blinking at her as both your bodies shift into the dorm.

For a moment, it’s silent. You look around the dimly lit dorm you had seen a hundred times, acting like it was a brand new vision so you didn’t have to look at Ellie. Eventually though, you suck in a breath.

“You totally ignored my te-”

“I didn't see your tex-”

The two sentences lap over each other in unison, messy and rushed. Both voices are cut short when the opposite peaks. You let Ellie finish first, your mouth sealed shut.

“You ignored me last night,” Ellie mumbles, stepping toward her side of the room. The posters that cover the corner near her bed are starting to peel at the sides a little, and you have to fight the urge to ask if she has tape. Now is definitely not the time.

“I was talking to Dina then fell asleep, didn't ignore you,” you correct your friend, footsteps following her own. You still grip the take-out box as you watch Ellie tug a hair tie off her desk, fingers (you oddly couldn’t look away from) pulling the hair up into the usual bun.

“It was like barely even six or something, but whatever, I get it, roommate shit,” Ellie muttered-- as if she didn't know the exact time you stopped answering. As if she hadn’t had a mini breakdown over having to watch a shitty action movie alone.

You find a slight flame of annoyance in your gut, mixing with the guilt already settling there. “Ellie, I was tired I fell asleep. I'm sorry.”

Ellie, stubborn as ever, shrugs. “Yea, it’s whatever.”

“Don’t be like that,” you whine, hand reaching to grab at her wrist. The touch burns, even more when she pulls it away.

“I’m not being like anything.”

You groan, and the childish urge to stomp comes to mind, but you ignore it. “You're being all.. passive-aggressive.”

“I’m not. I said it’s ok, peach. Just stop.”

The nickname is a blatant attempt to make her annoyed tone a little less severe, something to ease the growing tension. You would like to say it didn’t work, but it did. You and Ellie were much better at avoiding the issues than dealing with them. Usually, they were painted over with sweet nicknames or offers to go out and do something. It always worked. You relax slightly and hold out the box for Ellie to see.

“I brought a peace offering. Knew you’d be all grumpy.” you wave the food box a little, pressing it closer to her chest.

Ellie scoffs as she grabs the box and sits on her bed. “I am not grumpy,” she mutters with a very grumpy-looking frown.

You kick a dirty shirt away from her bed as you sit next to her, settling on the blanket and watching her open the box.

“Waffles.. fuck yea!” She grabbed the waffle with her hands, like there wasn't a fork right there with the box, and bit into it. It makes your lip curl a little, but morning Ellie was not someone to be messed with, so you say nothing. Instead, you look around the room, your fingers playing with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. Not sure what to say next, you lick your lips.

“Uh, good peace offering?” Ellie nods in response, swallowing a mouth full of lukewarm waffle before speaking.

“I’ll give it a 5.5/10.”

You make a shocked face, mouth dropping open. “A five? I fought off like three hungover guys for these!” you shove her shoulder, earning a grumble.

“Yea, and you made me watch a movie alone,” Ellie takes another bite of her waffle.

The light feeling that began to build had dropped as quickly as your heart, a lump in your throat. “Yea, my bad.”

Ellie looks at you, jade eyes moving around your face as she swallows. “ ‘m joking, thank you..” her tone is just a tad softer, but you still feel all too itchy now, an urge to get up and go settling over your frame.

You nod, a slightly fake raise of your lips attempting to comfort her as you stand, “I have to get ready for class, but uh, I sort of told Dina we’d go to a party...Would that be a better peace offering?”

“Its a mon-”

“I know, I know, but please, El, I really wanna get close with Dina,” your voice borders on a beg, fingers pinching at your sweatshirt. “Weren’t you the one who encouraged me to?”

Ellie sighs at that, shrugging her shoulders. “Yeah, I guess I was. Shit- fine. But my astronomy class gets out later than your English. I cant drive you.”

It made you want to smile, the way Ellie had already memorized both of your schedules. The earlier discomfort from her slight attitude melted away as something warmer bloomed in your stomach.

Maybe you and Ellie were a bit dramatic. You had been told that many times actually. The way you could get so upset at each other for something simple and yet still fall all over each other the moment something sweet happened. Sometimes you wonder if other friends have these turbulent of feelings for each other, but you ignore it with a nod. “That’s fine. I’ll catch a ride with Dina.”

Ellie turns her head momentarily, shrugging and covering a slightly noticeable pout with an awkward reach for the french toast in the takeout box. “Just text me the address.”

You nod, saluting Ellie as you step into the dorm door. “Will do.”

Ellie rolls her eyes and shoos you off, “Get going.”

“Bye, love you El!” you shout through the door. The loving words came easily, something you had said every so often ever since you two were younger. Ellie didn’t say it as much, but you didn’t mind.

“Bye, peach,” Ellie called, the nickname receiving an eye roll. One she couldn’t see this time.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

4:30 pm came too soon. By then, you were back at your dorm, shoving a stack of books on your already messy desk and flopping back on your bed.

“Who even has a party at 6 pm on a Monday?” you question your roommate, who was currently fixing the mascara she had applied. You words flow over the soft music Dina had turned on, a low hum from her desk.

“College students who have a slight alcohol dependency,” Dina shrugged.

“Fair enough,” you laugh, flipping onto your stomach to watch her walk around the orange-lit room. You hadn’t even begun to get up and get ready, focused instead on watching your roommate’s routine as she walked around.

“It's only gonna be like fifteen people or something,” Dina shrugs as she pulls out a chapstick tube, applying it over her lips.

“Hm..” you nod like that made it any better. Fifteen people you had probably never met before, when you were tired from classes. Yea. You would definitely need a drink.

Dina looked over at you, a grin spreading on her lips as she walked over to you, her fingers gripping your wrist. “Get up. Jesse’s gonna be here soon!”

“I don’t even know what to wear,” you whine, letting your roommate drag you into a sitting position as you meet her eyes. They narrow, and she tugs you again, this time to stand.

“Just wear that! Well, take off the sweatshirt but jeans and a shirt is fine. That’s what I'm wearing.” Dina shrugs as she lets her fingers reach for the bottom of your sweatshirt, the pout never leaving your lips. You didn’t want to remove it, but she urged you to with a friendly tug.

“C'mon, show me your closet. I’ll help you pick a shirt.”

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

When you got into the back of Jesse’s car, you completely shut down. Your lips were shut so long you swore they may have stuck together. He was friendly, sure! He cracked jokes you betted Ellie would laugh at, he complimented Dina’s outfit as soon as you got in the car, and grinned when you introduced yourself. But you had taken more than a week to openly speak to your roommate, so her boyfriend wasn’t exactly the easiest to chat to.

Dina didn’t mind, making sure to include you every now and again in whatever conversation the two had going, smiling back at you from the passenger seat as you pressed into the black cushion of Jesse’s car. You found yourself staring out the window, eyes flitting over each street lamp they passed, watching as the sky dimmed just lightly as the minutes seemed to drag by.

Eventually, the car stopped outside an apartment complex, and you peered through the glass at the tall buildings. Jesse pulled the keys from the car as he rushed out and around the other side. It was too late for what he was planning, Dina opening the door right as he reached for it, in turn smacking the metal door right in the stomach and face.

“Ow! Babe!”

Dina covered her mouth with a hand, a muffled snicker only slightly concealed. “Why the fuck did you run into the door?”

Jesse looked at his girlfriend incredulously, rubbing his sore nose, “I was trying to be a gentleman!”

“Since when were you a gentleman?” Dina questioned as she stepped out of the car; you only a moment behind as your feet found the gravel under you.

Jesse calls your name, eyes directed at you. “C’mon. Back me up. You saw me going to open the door right?”

Your nose scrunched, lips parting for the first time in too long, “I kinda did, yea..”

The boy makes a quick motion with his hands to say ‘see?’, Dina shakes her head as she steps back, arm looping yours. The touch makes you stiffen a bit, but Dina’s always warm smile calms you.

“Stop using my roommate in your little lies,” she muttered, though the smile never faltered as you walked up to a ground-floor apartment door. Jesse mumbles a few nonserious complaints as he knocks at the wooden door.

It opens quickly, a ginger guy who seemed about your age answering, cheeks full of freckles raising into a smile. It makes you wonder when Ellie will be here.

“Dee! Jesse!” The boy greets, eyes finding yours, “Oh and Dee’s roommate!”

Dina rolls her eyes as she pulls you inside the cooled apartment, your skin pricking slightly. At least it wasn’t humid like all those frat parties Jade brought you to. You still find yourself wishing you had your sweatshirt, though. “She's got a name, Danny..” your roommate chastises before introducing you two.

“Her friend’s coming later,” Dina explains as she leads you into a living room that looks much too small to house fifteen or so tipsy college students. You guess the attached kitchen will act as more space, with a few plates of snacks and bottles already stacked on the island.

You let the conversation that begins between the three friends about when everyone will be here filter out as you explore the area with your eyes. A couch and a few seats... you could probably hide away on one of those..

Your plan to avoid human contact is quickly ended when Jesse shoves a glass in front of your face, “Drink?”

Your fingers wrap around the glass without a second thought. Alcohol was your friend tonight, the only one until Ellie arrived. Usually, the only two things that could make you talkative, you had to settle for it. “Thanks,” you mumble, groaning as the taste of Titos with too little coke finds your throat.

Ok, you could do this.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

Ellie couldn’t decide what flannel to wear. Maybe that sounds crazy. It’s a flannel, not a suit— for some small get-together. But she wondered which you would recognize first. Not that she cared about you liking her clothes or anything.

This indecision is what got her in the current situation, sitting outside the address you had given with two flannels in her hand.

Her car was cold, and the wifepleaser she wore without any coverage didn’t exactly stop the goosebumps from finding her skin. A scowl came to her face as she inspected the brown and blue shirts.

“Fuck it,” she groaned, tossing both options into her passenger side as she instead leaned over to the back, grabbing the black sweatshirt she’d worn to classes today. Ellie brought it to her nose, checking it didn’t smell or anything— and shrugged. “Good enough,” she muttered to herself before pulling it on and leaving the car.

It felt odd, to be walking up to a door she didn’t know, especially without you. She may be constantly telling you to put yourself out there, but Ellie was just a big hypocrite. It’s not like she really did anything totally spontaneous either, aside from a few club outings or drunk hookups. She had s lot to say about you putting yourself out here, but here she was, playing nervously with her fingers outside a party.

One quick check of the two of your texts confirmed the metal letters next to the door were correct, so she knocked rather harshly.

Immediately Ellie regretted that, cheeks pink as she pulled the hand away. There's a chorus of voices and shuffling behind the wood, and Ellie finds herself searching for yours.

Instead, a taller man opens the door, black hair messy, cheeks slightly flushed from what Ellie assumes to be drinks.

“Hey, uh—“ his head turns, searching behind him. Ellie thinks she may slam her head on the wall right then, embarrassed by the obvious fact this guy had no fucking clue who Ellie was.

The embarrassment from this didn’t last long; the man stepped to the side slightly as a booming voice interrupted them. This embarrassment cut much deeper into Ellie’s stomach. It painted her cheeks bright red.

“ELLIEEEE!” a voice shouts. She finds you, eyes wide and smile on your face as you open your arms. Oh you are so fucking drunk, aren’t you? You rush toward the auburn-haired girl, wrapping her into a tight hug, your arms pressing around her in a way that had her cursing her family for passing over the wobbly knees over pretty girls gene.

God, she has got to stop calling you pretty.

Ellie stumbles back with the force of your attack, patting your back awkwardly as her chin juts down to your shoulder.

Ellie's eyes meet the black-haired guy again, “She drunk?” she asks as you sway the both of you. The way you shove her chest and scoff gives her an answer. You only got offended at the accusation when you were drunk.

“I am not drunk! Just a little tipsy.”

The guy behind you makes a ’so so’ motion with his hand, drawing a grin out of Ellie.

“Righttt..” Ellie nods, letting you unwrap yourself from her. She watches as your head turns, “Oh! Ellie, this is Jesse, Dina’s boyfriend.. Jesse, this is Ellie,” you make a few awkward looks between the two, huffing.

Jesse smiles at Ellie, nodding his head to the hall. “I’ll meet you two in the living room!”

“Yea, yea sure,” Ellie nods and smiles the best she can manage when you trip over your feet back into her. The annoyance that had layered her being earlier in the morning was steadily decreasing as your eyelashes fluttered, staring at you. How could she stay angry at you for .. ‘missing’.. her texts when you looked so pr—

So nice.

“They’re so cool, El,” you whispered to her, hand finding her arm. You had a tendency of becoming touchy when you got a drink or two in you, and usually that affected Ellie, the one closest to you most times. “Yea?” she asks in response

It wasn’t like Ellie minded it. If anything, she would rather it be here you got all.. grabby with. A memory of you clinging to Jade a few times last year came to the forefront of Ellie’s ever-moving mind, making bile rise in her throat. Instead of thinking about why, she just bumped your shoulder, eyeing the shirt you wore. It wasn’t your usual style, nor a shirt she had seen you wear before. You seemed to notice Ellie’s gaze, clapping a hand on the red fabric.

“It’s Dina’s,” you explain, leading Ellie into a now slightly stuffy living room. The porch door was open now. A few people squished into the small outdoor space, and a few others in the kitchen. Though the main group was all huddled on the couches, chatting and laughing in a way that seemed much too close for Ellie and you to interrupt.

Even in your tipsy state, Ellie felt you shy away slightly, until Dina’s head popped up from a seat and grinned. “Over there,” you hum— again dragging Ellie with you.

Ellie kind of knew Dina. In a ‘I have a class or two with you and we have smiled at each other in the dorm hallway’ sort of way, due only to the shared face they both knew— you. Dina seemed sweet enough, even if you hadn’t yet babbled about that to Ellie.

Dina seemed nice, so Ellie shouldn’t feel a swoop in her stomach when you returned the smile to your roommate, but she did. The feeling bubbles in Ellie’s throat for only a moment before she swallows it down with a huff as you pull her to sit on her couch.

“Hey, Ellie,” Dina greets the girl when the two of you sit, her mouth then coming to wrap around the cup in her hand.

“Hey, Dina,” Ellie nods her head, looking around at the group.

You pipe in before the silence can get too awkward, a grin lacing your pretty lips. “Dina and Jesse were arguing over what movie to watch b’fore you got here,” you explain, head leaning toward Ellie’s shoulder. She moves it before your cheek can find the sweatshirt clad skin, a frown replacing the curl of your lips.

Dina uses this as an opportunity to delve right back into what seemed to be a half hearted argument, head shaking. “He wants to watch Jurassic Park for the like fifteenth fucking time,” she glared at Jesse, who Ellie could guess was her boyfriend.

“Hey,” Ellie butts in, “Jurassic Park is good.”

“Thank you!” Jesse shouts. “Someone with good fucking taste!”

Dina scoffed, “Maybe the first time, not the fifteenth. I said we should watch a horror movie,” the ponytail-wearing girl explained. Ellie is listening to the argument, sure, but she’s mainly focused on how your cheeks raise a bit every time either of the couple says something funny.

“Ellie,” a voice calls the girl out of her little daze, green eyes finding the lips that had asked the question, Dina’s.

“Huh?”

“I asked what your favorite movie is. Jesse thinks you must have great taste since you like Jurassic Park.”

“Shawshank Redemption,” Ellie says without thinking— the answer she always gave when people asked.

You make a noise beside her, shaking your head quickly. “Oh fuck off Ellie,” your eyes find Dina and Jesse, “She’s totally lying. Just saying that ‘cuz Joel likes it, and it’s not lame.”

The couple doesn’t question who Joel is, but the little comment has Ellie biting her lip in embarrassment.

“Her favorite movie is like—the Star Wars prequels,” you continue.

“they are not!” Ellie quickly shouts, shoving you. Dina smiles a little at the act, sharing a glance with Jesse that has Ellie looking a little flushed.

“You’re just saying that because I told you It was one of the movies that made me gay,” Ellie accuses, making you roll your eyes.

“You made me watch that shit every Friday for like two years cause of Padme. Think we’ve watched shawshank like once. And it was with Joel.”

“Oooh, your girl’s calling you a liar,” Jesse whistled, leaning forward from his place perched on the side of the couch.

Your girl. The words wrap around Ellie’s throat in a way that makes it hard to breathe, nails of each syllable digging into the freckles in her neck.

Don't go there.

“She thinks I lie about everything, worst friend ever,” Ellie sighs, the friend part coming out a little too forced.

“I am the best friend ever,” you shake your head, “You just lie a lot.”

“I’ve never lied in my whole life!”

Ellie is met with a harsh pinch on her arm, yelping as she feels the burn. “Ow!”

You stick your tongue out childishly, leaning into Dina to protect yourself when Ellie’s hand reaches out to punch you.

The fight is interrupted when a new person joins the group, ginger and tall. “We’re playing spin the bottle,” he points to the group forming on the carpet, Ellie’s nose tilting up a bit. Spin the bottle, really?

“Lameee,” Dina calls, arms wrapping around you as you gasp.

“Wait, no, that sounds fun! We should play!” you say, shocking both Ellie and Dina.

“We need to get vodka in you more often,” Dina claps your shoulder and raises into a more proper position. Ellie has to bite back an annoyed scoff. You definitely didn't need to be like this more often.

Sure, Ellie wanted you to find more comfort in being outgoing, but she didn’t want you to find that in the bottom of a cup of vodka and coke.

“El, play with us?” you question, eyeing the freckled face.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” She agrees, though it’s mostly so she can sit next to you and maybe mind-control the bottle to steer clear of your direction.

All three of you, followed by Jesse and then the ginger, stand and make your way to the smaller group on the ground. The ginger introduces them all, But Ellie isn't paying much mind. Instead, she focuses on getting you to sit without stumbling.

“How much vodka did you have, peach?” she mumbles against your ear so no one else can hear.

“Uh, like two mixed drinks? I'm fine, just overtired.” You push off her accusations of being drunk again, grinning lightly at her as if it would prove you were sober somehow.

Ellie doesn't respond, eyeing Dina as she takes the spot next to you on the other side, and then Jesse next to her. She was surprised the couple was playing, but the way Dina made an ‘Im watching you’ motion to Jesse told her enough they weren't taking the game too seriously.

It made her a bit jealous, how comfortable and.. not possessive a couple like that could be with each other. Yet here she was, a sick stomach just from the thought of a girl that was only her friend kissing someone. She needed to get a fucking grip.

“Ok, who first?” a brunette girl across from Ellie asks, eyeing the empty beer bottle in the middle. The ginger volunteered, and Ellie clocked out again.

She had no interest in watching a bunch of straight people kiss each other drunkenly, instead eyeing the posters and paintings on the living room walls. She took a few photos of space she recognized, and some movie posters that looked like they were from the 80’s. Whoever lived here seemed to have good taste. Ellie eyed the group curiously, wondering who it may be.

About five minutes later, Ellie returned to earth when someone said your name. “You wanna go next?” The ginger man asked, to which you nodded— thought a little less enthusiastically now. Maybe the vodka had begun to sweat its way out of you, or maybe watching a bunch of people kiss before now had made you a little less excited. Ellie couldn't be sure which.

Ellie watches as your fingers wrap around the bottle, shaking enough that only she would really notice. The girl thinks she may actually pass out from how hard she holds her breath.

When it begins to slow down, it’s almost right back to yourself, and Ellie starts to think she actually can mind control things. But instead, almost worse than it landing on anyone else, it lands right on her.

Everyone around you two whoops, and she can hear Dina’s voice carrying over everyone else’s.

It’s probably a little funny to look at the two reactions. Your face pulled into a shit-eating grin, puckering your lips and pressing your hands to the ground so you could lean closer. And then Ellie’s, face dropped like she had seen a ghost of a loser lesbian’s past.

Honestly, Ellie did—the ghost of a particular memory from her fifteenth year.

You lean in, nose brushing Ellie’s. Her ears go deaf, ringing as your breath puffs against her shaking lips. Right as they begin to touch, a fire rips between the small space of air there. A fire that has Ellie almost yelping out loud, pulling right back before she can taste the vanilla bean of your chapstick flavor.

“Hey!” you cry out, obviously not taking this as seriously as Ellie. No, you seemed more annoyed that she ruined the game. But she was pressing her fingers into the floor, burning from the way it hurt the flesh there to stop the hammering in her chest.

This was a totally normal reaction, Ellie decided, definitely.

“You ruined the game!” you cry, shoving Ellie’s shoulder enough to have her blinking quickly.

Dina shoves a shot glass in front of Ellie’s face before she can settle the heartbeat in her ears.

“You pussy out, you drink,” the brunette singsongs.

“I’m driving,” Ellie turns her head, standing up. Your eyes follow her, burning into the side of her cheek as she wipes sweaty palms on her jeans.

The mood dampens, but only for you and Ellie. The rest of the group goes back to playing. Ellie knows by the gasp that wafts through her pounding eardrums as she begins to walk away.

Soon, the stomping footsteps of your tipsy self follow behind. “El,” you whisper yell, grasping her arm. This time, Ellie lets you.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” You ask, eyes searching the red-tinted freckles on her face. “I didn’t mean to. It was just a game. I'm just trying to impre—”

“It’s fine,” Ellie assures you, faking the best smile she can. It should be honest; she has no reason to be upset right now. But she is. Her chest aches with the urge to go back in time and just let you do it.

“I'm just really tired, not in the partying mood.”

“Then let's go home,” you say quickly, probably searching to ease the discomfort Ellie knows she’s radiating. “I’ll stay at your dorm tonight, ok?”

God, Ellie’s such a fucking goner.

“Yea, ok. You’re definitely drunk anyway.”

“I am not!” you pout, releasing Ellie from your bruising grip. “Let me go tell Dina, I’ll be back.”

Ellie watches as you trip a bit over your feet, a habit you really need to shake, and sighs.

The silent show is not long-lasting, the brunette from the circle earlier arriving at Ellie’s side. She had kind eyes, and a bottle of water in her hand.

“Hey, it’s Ellie right?” she asks. Ellie finds herself watching the blue in her eyes.

“Yea,” Ellie nodded.

“You taking her home?” the girl asks again, in reference to you. She hands the water bottle to Ellie. “Give her this, don’t think she’s had any.”

Ellie grips the water bottle, squeezing it a bit. “Uh, thanks.”

“No problem,” she grins, one almost like yours. “My roommate’s always throwing these things and then never giving people water,” the blue eyes roll.

Ellie perked up at that, “You live here?” She thinks again of the space decorations in the living room.

“Yeah!” the brunette smiles again, “Me and Danny. I'm Luna,” she explains.

“Oh shit, wait,” Ellie’s eyebrows furrow together, “Luna..” something clicks in the green-eyed girl’s mind. “We have that physics class together, don’t we?

Luna seemed a little flushed, “Oh.. y-yea-”

The rest of her sentence falls on deaf ears when you trample into the hallway again, all senses only honing in on you, like usual. You seem to pause for a moment, eyeing the two others in the hallway.

But soon, you’re moving right by Luna, arm wrapping around Ellie’s. “Told Dina, all good to go,” you wipe a hand over your face with a little dramatized yawn.

“Thank Luna,” Ellie says again before she grabs you right back, leading you out the front door.

“You have got to stop drinking vodka. You know how you get,” Ellie mutters against you when the cool night air hits her already raised skin.

“I wanted to have fun!”

“Yea, good luck with fun tomorrow at your lecture.”

“Skippingggg it,” you mumble as Ellie ushers you into the passenger seat, the door squeaking like usual. Your ass lifts to grab the two shirts under it. “Why are there flannels in here?”

“Uh—” Ellie flushes, “I dunno.” She shuts your door before getting into her own side.

“Mm..” you sigh, already pressing your cheek to the cold glass of her window. “Who was that girl you were talking to?” you ask as the purr of the engine starts. Ellie throws the water bottle in your lap.

“A classmate, drink that.”

You look at Ellie for a moment, and Ellie stares right back. “.. Ok.”

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

“Shhh,” Ellie mutters, ushering you through the dark dorm hallway. “Can I wear your bear shirt? The super oversized one?” you babble, knocking yourself into Ellie’s door with a yelp.

“You’re such a fucking dumbass,” Ellie snickers, making quick work of unlocking the door while you nurse the bump on your head.

“Shhhh!” you mock her, flipping the light switch of her dorm on. Your finger presses to your lip in a quiet motion, kicking your shoes off. Rose wasn't here, as usual.

Ellie’s throwing the shirt with a cartoon bear at you before you lift yourself back up, and you happily tug Dina’s shirt off. Ellie is flipping away before the fire in her chest can return, throwing a pair of sweatpants behind her head so she doesn’t have to look.

“Ow!” you cry, probably from a large jumble of grey fabric hitting you.

Ellie pulls off her sweatshirt and changes her jeans for some shorts, counting to sixty before she turns around. Just to be safe.

You were already lying in her bed, pressing on the right side near the wall, eyes fluttering shut.

Ellie watches you for a moment, watches how your fingers grip at one of the blankets on her bed, thumb rubbing over it. She noticed the self-soothing motion of that years ago, how you always rubbed something between your fingers. The sleeve of your shirt, a pillow corner, a blanket. Sometimes, Ellie wishes it was her arm you did it to instead.

Don't go there.

The light flicks off, drowning the room in only the hue that came from the little pink nightlight on her roommate’s side of the dorm. Ellie is sleepily making her way to the bed, eyes catching on your now sleeping figure.

Alcohol also made you sleep really fucking easy. Ellie learned that prom night when you fell asleep in the car to the afterparty.

She watches how your lips part slightly as you breathe, and swears out loud. “Fuck.”

Ellie is so fucked. She wanted to snap her fingers and get a do-over. Wanted to be back in that loud house, back to smelling the vodka on your breath as you leaned in. She wanted to try again.

But she can’t, and she shouldn’t. So she climbs into bed next to you, pulls the blanket from between your thumb, and lets you shift, turning in bed to face the wall. She lays the blanket over you and sucks in a shaky breath.

She watches your back and presses her eyes closed to try and remove the overwhelming vision of you that invades every single one of her waking moments. And the ones after that.

Ellie falls asleep watching your back, and wonders if that’s all she will ever get.

series taglist: @darlingmisa @saintels @totheblood @elliewill @rxllingstones @elliesflower @hrtsellie @ellieluhme @darlingmisa @liabadoobee @muthafuckingstargirl @ribbonsouls @cretaceouss @bambiesfics @sl4t22 @callmekittenandyourmajesty @waywardpiratebird @starfaegirl @romantic-slaps-on-the-asss @haiixo @arcaneangstenjoyer @catkirkfan @lvrellie @gimalo135 @oatmilkchaii @corpsebridenightamare @oggystine93 @eddies-bat-tattoos @belliesgf @simiinthemirror @els-heart @iloverue @zourqz @ellitelesbo @bae-o-clock @elliesgff @gumdropkoo @sawaagyapong @gold-dustwomxn @jajsnjz @sleepyangelkami

#the perfect pair ❀.#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams angst #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams tlou 2 #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfic

1K notes · View notes

bearieio · 1 year

Text

ellie w. hcs :3

bc im seeing them everywhere and i need to put in my 2¢. thank you. (also not proofread :P)

⋆ biggest hayley kiyoko fan for like 3 years (the intro to ‘girls like girls’ was her ringtone when she was 14). would beg joel to take her to random record stores that they passed by just to see if they had any hayley kiyoko cds.

⋆ because of joel, she listens to a lot of 70s-90s dad rock.

⋆ can’t drive for shit. like literally she’s not allowed to drive without her glasses

⋆ she needs glasses btw. she doesn’t wear them because she’s already too much of a loser. but when she does where them, you tease her endlessly about them.

⋆ can and will sleep on the floor whenever prompted. no blankets, no pillows needed. just her and the floor.

⋆ isn’t allowed to drink any sort of energy drinks on account of a previous incident that had to do with about 3 cans of redbull and 2 large cans of the ‘Java Monster.’

⋆ isn’t allowed to own small pets (like gerbils, guinea pigs, hamsters, etc.) because she’d definitely forget about them.

⋆ owns big dogs. great danes, newfoundlands, irish wolfhounds, mastiffs, st bernards, YOU NAME IT, SHE HAS IT (or has had it)

⋆ when she’s older, i feel like she’d be like one of those white people who has 192793999 dogs for no reason

⋆ since her mannerisms are so much like joels, you guys argue playfully all the time about how things should be done, often bringing others into it too.

“jesse, tell her!” he flips her phone screen around to reveal a very tired jesse, “it’s 1AM, ellie-“

“TELL HER!”

⋆ i feel like at random times, she’ll just grab your boob(s). i don’t know why and you’ve never said anything about it, so she hasn’t stopped…… very handsy….

⋆ audibly goes “honk honk!” almost every time she gives ‘em a squeeze.

⋆ she’s a really sloppy kisser. not like boy-sloppy, but like the hot, messy, girl sloppy bc that sounds better and honestly i think her kisses would be the best.

⋆ she was one of those kids who’d eat dirt and find bugs all the time

because of this, she’s the designated bug killer/bug-getter-outter…. idk

⋆ she’s the worst drunk you know.

like literally sssoooooooooo messy oh my god. but you love her nonetheless :)

she’s soo clingy, and, touchy (like more than usual), but also much more emotional and sensitive than usual when she’s drunk or when she’s sick.

⋆ ellie tends to be quite difficult when she’s sick. BUT! you make it work bc you love her and she loves you :>

when you bring ellie her favorite drink from her favorite coffee shop, you literally have to fight her to be able to get out the front door. when you get up to serve her lunch, you’ve got to peel her off of you because she refuses to let you leave her side. when you go and get the medicine she says she doesn’t need…. you guessed it, she fights for you to stay in bed next to her.

“babe, what if i die right here, when you leave- like- BABE PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME-“ she bewails, crossing her arms and huffing at the sight of you leaving her.

⋆ when you catch her playing her guitar, she sometimes gets all shy and plays the wrong chords n stuff.

“don’t LOOK! >:(” she says, gripping the body of her guitar, glaring in your direction.

“oh!- okay” you say, throwing your hands up in a playful manner, giggling.

⋆ but the times where she’s not shy about playing in front of you, she’ll ask you if you want to play.

“do you uh- maybe wanna play? i could teach you” she suggests, gesturing toward the stringed instrument.

but then after, she’d tease you about your finger placement :(

“i said the fourth fret, girl, not the second, or, the third!” she says, in between laughs.

“well fourth from the top or the bottom?!” you scoffed, looking at her, still puzzled.

she knows your trying your best but it’s still fun to poke at you when she can >:)

constructive criticism is appreciated !!!

568 notes · View notes

mydearesthrry · 1 year

Text

hayday, braids, and chocolate - h.s.

a/n: self indulgent as fuck. wrote this a couple of hours ago…hope u enjoy as always 😘

wc: 1.1k (shes a shorty!)

cw: fluff. name calling i guess? in a joking and loving way <3, one suggestive sentence ig

summary: sundays with harry <3

A movie was playing softly in the background, Harry and Y/N talking about god knows what as he laid on his back, head resting on the armrest of the couch. Laying on her tummy against his chest, her chin was propped up on the back of her hands as her palms rested on his shirtless chest, neck craned to look at him as they spoke.

About anything, really.

“No, I honestly have t’say tha’ I disagree with you, lovie,” He looked to the ceiling in thought. “How could you possibly even bend that way? I know for a fact that y’aren’t flexible, there’s jus’ no way y’can prop up y’legs behind y’head.”

“Harry, do you actually think that all our millionaire friends stay at every house they own?”

“I actually haven’t thought about tha’, and I have a scary feelin’ that y’might be right. What d’they even put in these things? Like… what is a gusher?”

Or the occasional switch in position, Harry still on his back and Y/N now on hers with her back to his chest. Most likely for a phone break— or, more like Y/N getting stuck on TikTok and forcing Harry to watch with her.

“Jesus Christ, how much red 40 are in those fucking pickles?”

“Holy shit, tha’ dog is so fat.”

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing right now?”

“Yeah, lovie. Tha’s a guinea pig wearing a cowboy hat. With m’initials on it.”

Or… just them sitting in silence. For the most part.

“Harry…” YN sighed, clicking at her phone. Her legs were slung over Harry’s thighs, her back resting against the arm of the couch. They’d switched positions a couple of hours ago, now sitting in complete silence as they became iPad kids and tapped away on their respective devices.

“Yeah, m’love?” Harry said, setting his crops into the dirt before looking at her, his head turned and tilted slightly like a puppy.

“D’you have any corn or wheat?” She asked, needing to plant some on her HayDay farm. She knew he would know what she was talking about, seeing as HayDay had been their new obsession as of recent.

“Were you staring at my phone or summat?” He gasped with a bewildered look.

“...No?” She questioned. She laughed when he turned his phone screen to face her, HayDay opened on his phone as well. Turning his phone back to face him, a few beats passed with them sitting in silence, their noses both stuck in their phones.

“So… do you?”

“Yep, just put them on m’market.”

“And that, is why I love you.”

—

“Ow! Tha’ fuckin’ hurt, babe.” Harry groaned, pulling his girlfriend’s fingers from his hair.

“Oh suck it up, you big baby. You asked me to massage your scalp, you can’t get mad at me since I’m literally doing what you asked.” She grumbled, slapping Harry’s hand away and moving hers back up to his curls, twisting little strands around her pointer fingers.

“I-“ He started.

“Say something, brat. I dare you.” She said, grabbing his chin to tilt his head back.

“Nothing,” Harry muttered, moving his head back to its original position on her chest. “Thank you, baby.”

“Whatever. You’re still a brat,” She kissed his temple three times, craning her neck a bit more to kiss his lips with his assistance of craning his to meet her lips as well. “But, I love you.”

“I love you. Love of m’life, m’muse, m’soulmate,” He placed soft kisses on her lips with every other word, kissing her deeply with his last. They sat in silence for a little, soft breathing and the occasional beep from his phone sounding the room, until Harry broke the silence.

“Lovie?”

“Hm?”

“Can y’braid m’hair?”

“Are you gonna complain if I pull too hard?

“No, but I’ll probably get hard.”

A pause. “Y’know what? I’ll take it. Get me a hair tie then sit on the floor.”

—

“H, come here.” Y/N groaned.

“No.” Harry said, arms crossed as he turned his back to her.

“You’re such a fucking diva,” She said, kicking at the bottom of his back with a socked foot, trying to garner his attention. “Don’t know how I put up with you.”

“Oh, ‘M the diva? Y’just chewed m’out ‘cause I accidentally ate the last bit of your chocolate, even though y’told me last night that y’still had some left!” He whined, back still turned to his girlfriend.

“Oh my God. Are you serious? I said I had some in my desk at work, not at home, you fucking twat.” She said exasperatedly, still poking her toes into his back.

Reaching behind him, he grabbed her socked feet and held them tightly, making her whine and complain about the constriction. “Let my feet go!”

“No. Not until y’apologize.” He said matter of factly, turning the slightest bit so he could hold her feet in his lap, face not facing her, but instead watching the movie that was now on mute on the TV.

“Do I have to?” She asked, voice low.

“D’you want y’feet back?” He gave her the same tone of voice, not paying her any mind.

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath, scooching forward as much as she could to rest her chin on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you for eating my chocolate.”

“Hmm, and?” He hummed, moving to rub small circles into the soles of the fuzzy fabric covered skin.

“And ‘M sorry that I wasn’t more specific. Forgive me? I love you.” She whispered, moving to rest the plush of her cheek onto his shirtless shoulder, her lips brushing against the skin when she spoke.

Sighing, he fully turned to her and raised an eyebrow, letting her feet go and placing a soft kiss onto her forehead. “Of course I forgive you, sweet girl. I’d forgive y’a million times over. I’ll buy y’new chocolate, baby. Jus’ love when y’get all soft w’me. S’ like, m’favorite thing ever. Besides you, I guess.”

He was cut off by a yelp when she used their closeness to her advantage and took a bite out of her shoulder.

“Y’fucking bitch.”

“Twat.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry <3 #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry edward styles #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #harry styles x fem!reader

712 notes · View notes

shellbilee · 1 month

Text

Hey There Darlin' - Chapter 7

A Glen Powell RPF series

Can't believe how much this is growing. I'm so thankful for every like, reblog and comment. Sending all of my apologies for the delay, I've forgotten how hard smut is to write and I'm embarrassed to admit how many times I wrote and re-wrote this trying to make it perfect. Hope you enjoy! x

Thankyou to @zacksnydered for the gifs!

Warning - Smut heavy in this chapter.

Billie

“105! Dani, you did it girl!” Billie beams, grinning from ear to ear as she helps her patient re-rack the loaded barbell on the squat rack.

Dani’s grin matches Billie’s when she turns around and jumps into Billie to hug her, the two having a celebratory embrace at the new squat personal best. Dani was a sophomore who had torn a major ligament in her knee playing high-level basketball, and after close to six months of rehabilitation, she was back to squatting even more than she was pre-injury.

“I told you you could do it, I’m so proud of you!” Billie announces as they part, holding Dani’s shoulders and grinning back at her teenage patient.

Dani’s smile takes up her whole face. “Thank you so much Billie, honestly I couldn’t have done it without you”

Billie scoffs, “Don’t be silly. This was all you!”

“What’s 105 in pounds?” Dani asks, picking up her water bottle and looking back at Billie, “Also, when are you ever going to stop using kilograms?”

“About 240 pounds” Billie replies with a laugh, “And never. I can’t help it that my brain thinks in kilos. That’s what I learnt in school way back when, and that’s what I’m sticking with”.

Dani laughs, sitting down on the floor and stretching out her legs, Billie perching on a nearby plyometric box and looking down at Dani.

“So, same time next week?” Billie asks, pulling out her iPad and checking her patient diary for next week, “Two-thirty?”

Dani nods and Billie inputs the appointment, running through the plan for their next session before saying goodbye.

“Well done again Dani” Billie says, squeezing her shoulder as they walk out of the gym area, “We’re going to have you back on the court in no time at this rate”.

Dani grins and Billie nods, waving goodbye as Dani goes to get her things and Billie retreats into her office.

Almost immediately she picks up her phone, her stomach flip-flopping when she sees a text message notification from Glen. They’d transitioned to text messaging, having exchanged phone numbers on Sunday night, and despite it being two whole days, Billie wasn’t sure she would ever get used to seeing Glen Powell’s name pop up on her phone.

There’d been no shortage of interaction between the two of them, Glen and Billie texting back and forth - talking, flirting and sharing pictures of their day. Of Brisket and Nugget, of Billie out on a run, of Glen at the gym, a playful selfie here and there. Their texts had become increasingly flirtatious, and Billie was seriously struggling to keep her thoughts in check.

She was trying to focus on work - on Chelsea's niggling shoulder, on Derek’s hip that was catching every time he reached top speed on his sprint, on the brace that she had to order for Jimmy’s knee, but thoughts of Glen somehow kept inching their way in.

Billie felt like she was back in high school and with a teenage crush. Except this time, she was a grown up, and her teenage crush was a Hollywood celebrity.

She swipes across the screen to open his text message, nearly audibly groaning at what appears on her screen next. Glen was at a photo shoot today, and he’d sent her a little sneak preview.

How was it physically possible for anyone to be that good looking?

Honestly.

The man was literally sex on fucking legs.

The photo shows Glen dressed in a light blue shirt and jacket leaning against a door frame, his shirt unbuttoned and leaving very little of his chest to the imagination. Billie isn’t sure where to look first, torn between the delicious planes of his chest covered in a dark mess of hair, or his intense, intimate expression that makes Billie need to catch her breath. His jaw is covered in more stubble than when she’d seen him last, and suddenly she can’t help but wonder how it would feel when she kissed him.

Her fingers hover over the screen, her brain at a momentary loss of what to say.

How am I supposed to focus on the rest of work when you're looking like that 😍

Typing bubbles appear almost instantly, and Billie realises she’s smiling.

You’re not the only one having trouble focusing. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about seeing you tonight

Billie’s smile grows then, her whole body instantly flushing with warmth. She types back, knowing her thoughts have undoubtedly been very similar to his.

Surely that ‘lost in thought’ look is what works for photo shoots though?

She can almost hear Glen chuckling as he reads her words.

Except that they kept asking me why I seemed so distracted all through the shoot

Billie feels herself grin stupidly.

And what did you tell them?

I said that I had something I was looking forward to doing tonight

Billie nearly drops her phone at that, her breathing instantly ragged. Fuck.

And what might that be?

Seeing you, of course

Billie lets out a laugh then, loving their flirty back and forth.

She's already decided she’s going to sleep with Glen tonight. Not only because she was dying to, but because she knew there was no way she was going to be able to stop herself. How she'd done so on Sunday at his house she had no idea - she could still feel his lips on hers if she thought about it, tender and heated as he held her on the kitchen bench.

Billie grins and bites her bottom lip, fingers tapping on the screen.

See you at 8 darlin x

You’re trouble mister 🙈 I'm looking forward to you seeing you too.

“Am I allowed to know about whatever it is that's making you look at your phone like that?”

Billie's head snaps up when she hears her colleague Lisa's voice, seeing her standing in her office doorway with a curious look on her face.

“Nope” Billie says, sending a kiss face emoji back to Glen before locking her phone and quickly shoving it back into her pocket.

“Cmon B, we've worked together long enough for me to know that that” she says pointing at Billie's pocket, “Is absolutely something to do with a guy. So come on, spill”.

Billie grins, picking her water bottle up from her desk and bending to check her computer screen to see who her next client is.

“Need to know basis at this point, Lisa”

“Oh yeah? I don't even get a little hint?”

Billie laughs at her friend's insistence.

“Alright, here's one. He's fucking gorgeous”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “That's hardly a hint Bil”.

Billie shrugs, smiling sweetly and walking over to the doorway beside Lisa.

“That's all you need to know for now”.

“Need to know, or get to know?”

“Both”

“Did you meet him at Rufus on Friday?”

Billie shrugs again innocently. “Maybe”.

Lisa raises one eyebrow, running her fingers through her platinum blonde, spikey pixie cut.

“You know I'm going to keep asking you, yeah?”

Billie laughs, the two walking down the hallway and stopping at Lisa's office.

“And you know I’m going to keep deflecting your questions yeah?”.

Lisa punches her arm playfully and Billie grins, nodding at her friend before walking off to the waiting room.

“Billie!”

Billie stops short as she passes Ross’ office, her boss sitting at his desk and waving to her.

“Hey bossman”

“Just checking you’re still okay for the Monterey trip in August?”

Billie nods. “Sure am”.

Due to the clinic’s work with high school and college athletes, they often got asked to accompany teams to tournaments and competitions around the country. Billie had been on a few trips in her years at Evolution Sports Rehab, using them as a convenient excuse to see more of the US. So far she’d been to Florida, Atlanta and Boston, and several places in the greater California area.

A few weeks ago Ross had been contacted about a four day college football tournament in Monterey, California. He'd pitched the opportunity to her and the rest of the physical therapists at a clinic meeting last month and Billie had put her hand up to go. Namely, because Bec and Ben had a gorgeous beach house down in Monterey that Billie had spent countless girls' weekends at. Knowing that Bec wouldn't batter an eyelid if she asked to borrow it for a few days, she'd jumped at the idea of a mini getaway at the beach - even if she had to work for a little while she was there.

“Can you make sure you've done your stock order by the end of the week please? Whatever sports tapes and creams you think you'll need for it”

Billie exhales and leans her hip against the door frame, shaking her head at her boss.

“Why on earth do you think I haven't already done that Ross?” Billie asks, grinning when Ross rolls his eyes and laughs, “I mean we've only worked together for how long? It's like you don't know me at all”.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry” he says, waving her off.

Billie laughs and turns to exit his office, Ross’ voice making her stop.

“You seem like you’re in a good mood today?”

Billie turns to look at Ross curiously. “Am I not usually?”

Ross laughs. “You’re always happy and bubbly Billie, but it just feels like you have an extra spring in your step today”

Billie shrugs innocently, knowing full well that it's the evening activities she has planned that's making her seem giddy. But her boss certainly doesn't need those extra details.

Billie opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by Ross’ phone ringing, the two sharing a look that says ‘talk later’ without words. Ross nods at her before he picks up his phone, Billie waving him off and walking out to collect her next patient.

---

Billie is lighting her favourite coffee scented candle on the table when she hears the knock at the door, Nugget jumping from his bed and barrelling down the hallway like a rhino in a stampede. She puts the box of matches down and makes her way to the front door, pausing to quickly look over her reflection in the oversized hallway mirror.

She exhales heavily, looking back at her face.

Glen Powell is about to be in her house.

It's words she never thought she'd say in a million years, yet here she is, about to invite him in on a third date.

A third date, that she's very much hoping ends in the stereotypical way it's said that third dates do.

Billie is acutely aware of the way her heart is doing backflips in her chest, her insides feeling giddy as she pulls open the door.

“Hey there peach”

Billie's cheeks instantly flush at his nickname, never mind the utterly sexy smile on his face that makes her temporarily forget her own name. He’s dressed in a tight tan t-shirt that Billie can’t help but notice is nearly strangling his thick biceps, his hair fluffy and brushed back like it was in the photo he'd sent her earlier.

It takes everything she has not to jump him right there and then.

“Peach?” she questions with a grin at Glen, tilting her head and leaning her temple against the door edge.

He grins, shrugging his broad shoulders adorably. “I dunno, it just came to me”.

Billie laughs then, opening the door all the way and gesturing for Glen to come in. He’s holding a wriggling Brisket in one arm, the tiny dog desperate to get to Nugget who is similarly wriggling with excitement at Billie’s feet. Billie manages a quick hello pat before Glen bends and lets Brisket run off into the house, the two dogs galloping away already in play mode.

Glen steps inside and stands beside Billie, the heady scent of his delicious cologne instantly clouding her. She barely has time to close the door behind her before Glen's hands are on her, his lips finding hers in a heated kiss that leaves her breathless and wanting.

“I've been thinking about doing that all day” he whispers when they eventually part, his lips still only an inch from hers, one of his hands reaching up to tuck one side of her loose hair behind her ear.

It's the smallest gesture, but in an instant it has Billie melting.

“That makes two of us” Billie replies, her eyes never leaving his full lips, reaching for his jaw and pulling him back in for another tender kiss that he immediately deepens with his tongue.

God, if she didn't stop now they'd end up fucking in her hallway.

She forces herself away from him knowing that she’ll lose control if she lets their kiss continue for even a second longer, feeling her stomach squeeze in the best way when he keeps hold of her hand and lets her lead him down the hallway.

“Can I get you a drink?” Billie asks, gesturing for Glen to take a seat and walking over to open the back door for Nugget and Brisket to go outside, “I’ve got beer, wine, soda or water”.

“I’ll take a beer please” he says, pulling out a stool and sitting down, resting his elbows on the bench.

Billie can’t help but smile at the sight of him sitting in her kitchen. It all seems so domestically normal, but really, it’s anything but that. It’s like she has to actively work to keep her eyes from staring at him - at his thick, tanned forearms, his full, plump lips, or his gorgeous green eyes that are currently following her around her kitchen. The kitchen of which, she’d happily let him take her on every single surface of.

She exhales silently through her nose.

Fuck.

“I realise that I should have asked this earlier” Billie asks suddenly, turning and opening the fridge to retrieve a beer and an already opened bottle of pinot grigio, “But please tell me you eat sushi? Because I definitely don’t have an option B prepared”

Glen laughs, his deep chuckle echoing in the kitchen. “I do. Did you order in?”

Bille shakes her head, popping the cap off the beer and handing him the bottle. “No, we’re making it”

Glen eyes her curiously, one eyebrow raised. “I’ve never made sushi before”.

“It's easy, I promise”, Billie says as she pours herself a glass of white wine, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a sip, “I’ve got it all ready to go”.

“How was work today?” Glen asks when Billie starts taking her already chopped and prepared ingredients out of the fridge and laying them on the bench in front of Glen.

She tells him about Dani, her patient that pulled a new personal best, and about the Monterey trip in August.

“Do you go on trips like that often?”

Billie shrugs as she peels two sheets of dried seaweed from the packet, laying them on the bamboo mats in front of her and Glen.

“I've been on a few actually. The last one was a baseball tournament in Boston last October” she explains as she pulls the bowl of now cooled sushi rice from the stove onto the bench, “I went with Shanya, one of my younger colleagues and honestly it felt more like a holiday than work. We had the best time. Got to see Fenway too, which was definitely a highlight”.

Glen listens intently as she talks, Billie feeling his eyes on her as she leans against the bench and takes another sip of her wine. She loves the way each part of her body feels as he looks at her, her mind soon wandering and imagining how his hands would feel instead.

For a second she seriously considers completely ditching dinner and moving straight to the part of tonight she’s been thinking about all day.

“Okay so do you have any idea how to do this?”

Glen shakes his head no, the adorable expression on his face making Billie laugh.

“The hardest part is making sure you don't put too much rice, and then the rolling of course” Billie explains, using a spoon to flatten a layer of rice onto the seaweed sheet, “Then you just add your fillings long ways like this” she adds, arranging salmon, avocado and Japanese mayonnaise horizontally across the rice.

She wets her fingers and carefully rolls up the seaweed, looking up at Glen when she's produced a perfect looking sushi roll.

“See, easy right?”

Glen laughs, clearly not convinced.

They spend the next fifteen minutes making sushi, Billie offering her best constructive criticism and chuckling when Glen's first attempt immediately unrolls on the plate. The second one is a little better albeit has filling falling out the sides, Glen clapping his hands in triumph when it stays put on the plate and making Billie laugh harder.

If her life were a movie, this scene would be shown as a video montage in the kitchen with a fun pop song in the background, cutting between snippets of Billie and Glen laughing and grinning at one other.

She can’t help but smile stupidly at the thought.

“Wow, you can't half tell which ones are mine” Glen comments when they’ve finished, taking a sip of his beer as Billie clears the empty prep plates into the sink, “Mine look terrible”.

Billie scoffs. “For someone that’s never made sushi before, I think they’re a pretty good first attempt”

Glen flashes her a grateful smile that Billie returns with her own, asking him to refill their drinks as she sets about slicing the sushi rolls and bringing them over to the table.

“How old are you in this photo?”

Billie looks up at Glen to find him pointing at one of the many photos on her fridge door, walking closer to see that it’s the one of her and Sloane at Camp America.

It's one of her favourite photos, her and Sloane standing with their arms wrapped around each other, faces plastered with enormous happy smiles as they balance precariously on stand up paddleboards.

A split second after the photo was taken, they'd lost their balance and splashed into the freezing but stunning turquoise blue waters of Lake Tahoe.

To this day, Billie wasn't sure if it was the happiness on their faces or the memory of them falling and laughing that made her love the photo so much.

“That would have been seven years ago now, so twenty three, twenty four?” Billie replies, coming to stand next to Glen and looking back at the photo nostalgically, “God that was an incredible Summer”.

“You know what’s incredible?” Glen asks, tilting his head as he looks down at Billie beside him, “You in that bikini’. Fuckin’ hell darlin’’”

“Oh stop it” Billie replies, punching Glen’s shoulder playfully.

“I'm serious, peach. You'd have driven all of the teenage boys crazy looking like that” Glen adds, clicking his tongue as he looks back at the photo, “I can just imagine them all lining up to have you as their camp counsellor”.

Billie laughs. “Actually, I was mostly in charge of teaching water sports and leading hikes”.

“And they were the most popular activities?”

Billie grins. “They were pretty popular, yes”.

Glen's face splits into an even bigger grin, Billie shaking her head and walking back over to the table.

“So what about you?” Billie asks when they’re both seated minutes later, taking a sip of her now full wine glass and looking across at Glen, “How was your day? The photoshoot?”.

Glen’s eyes are narrowed as he momentarily focuses on dipping a slice of sushi roll into the bowl of soy sauce without dropping it, Billie glancing over at Nugget and Brisket and smiling when she sees them both squeezed onto the dog bed in the living room.

“It went well, as good as photoshoots can go I suppose” he reasons, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, “After a while, they sort of all blend together. But sometimes they’re fun”

“Do you at least get to keep the clothes?”

Glen laughs. “Sometimes. But also, some of the shit they get you to wear, I don’t know what they’re thinking sometimes”

Billie laughs then, covering her mouth as she chews.

They soon settle into a quiet comfort, eating, talking and laughing.

Billie isn't sure she’s ever met a man who could make her laugh as much as Glen did, and certainly not one that she could have such a rich conversation with at the same time. Not only that, the way Glen looked at her as she spoke - like she’s the most stunning, intriguing, sexy thing that he’s ever laid his eyes on.

It was hard not to feel fucking incredible when he looked at her like that.

Billie smiles to herself and lets out a silent breath as she settles back into her chair, her mind quietly wondering about all the other ways that Glen could make her feel.

Fuck.

---

Glen

Glen relaxes back into the couch, cold beer in hand as he watches Billie standing at the back door waiting for the dogs to come back inside after their dinner. For the millionth time in the hour and a bit that he’s been here, he pushes away the sinful thoughts of Billie that have all but plagued his mind for the last three days.

She looks somehow even better than he remembered from Sunday, today dressed in a pair of slouchy denim cut offs that end high on her toned, tanned thighs, and a loose white knit sweater that seems to keep slipping down to reveal one smooth, bare shoulder. The top half of her hair is pulled back from her face with a tortoiseshell coloured clip, a few loose bits falling around her face as the rest tumbles down her back in soft, chocolate waves.

He wonders idly if she has any idea how god damn sexy she is, Glen forcing himself to look away from her bare legs when she whistles for Nugget and Brisket to hurry up.

He looks around the living room, loving the homey details that are so uniquely Billie, his eyes falling on a photo book on the coffee table in front of him. He reaches for the book and starts to flip through it, smiling at each new page of the lovingly snapped and collated photos that display all of the people and things that Billie loves.

There’s multiple snaps and pictures of Nugget - from when he was an adorable tiny puppy all the way through the giant golden bear that he is now. Of him and Billie at the beach - Billie kneeling and smiling happily at the camera while Nugget stands saturated and panting beneath her arm, of Billie laughing as she holds Nugget like a baby - his head flopped upside down and tongue lolling out to the side, a selfie of the two of them with their faces side by side.

Next is photos of Sloane, Bec and Billie at various times - the three of them posing and dressed to the nines at a formal event, another of them each holding a fruity cocktail, sun-kissed and smiling as they stand on beach somewhere tropical, and another of the three of them standing together arms intertwined with their heads thrown back in laughter.

Glen looks up when Billie comes over to the couch, shifting to give her more room when she sits down beside him. Her sweet, peachy perfume fills his nose as she leans into him, her knees bent and folded beneath her. He smiles down at her for a moment, Billie oblivious to his gaze as she picks up her phone and navigates to Spotify, a soft Luke Combs song suddenly playing from the living room speaker.

Glen looks back at the book as Billie sips her wine, flipping the page and looking down at a picture of Billie standing arm in arm with a guy. It takes him a second to realise that he has the same honey-green eyes as Billie, the shape of their smiles similarly wide and happy.

“Is this Bradley?” Glen asks, noting more similarities between the two of them the more he looks at the picture.

Billie nods.

“And that” she adds, leaning over and pointing to two pictures on the page next to it, “Is Harrison and Kiara”.

“Kiara looks like you” Glen comments looking down at the adorable brunette girl in the picture, Billie leaning her head on Glen’s shoulder and smiling almost nostalgically.

“Bradley and Jordyn say that all the time”.

Glen looks down at Billie and smiles softly.

“You miss them”

“Everyday” she replies, letting out a quiet exhale, “You know what it’s like with nieces and nephews”.

Glen smiles gently but doesn’t say anything, closing the book after a few more pages and turning to look at Billie.

“So you said you don’t start until late tomorrow?”

Billie nods, turning so that her body is facing Glen, leaning one elbow on the back of the couch and resting her cheek in her hand. “Yep. I’m going to that gymnastics meet. So I don’t have to be in until 12”

“So you can sleep in then?”

A grin slowly grows on Billie's face then, a playful look in her bright hazel eyes.

“I can, yes”.

Glen can’t help the expression that takes over his face.

“I like sleeping in”.

Billie raises one eyebrow, her head tilting as she looks back at him.

“Is that right?”

His lips stretch into a mischievous grin and he nods, Billie grinning as she taps her fingers against the wine glass in her free hand.

“You know what I like even more?” he breathes, reaching out to tuck stray hairs behind Billie’s ear as his eyes fall to her plush lips.

“Tell me”

“Kissing you”

Glen’s hand cups her smooth cheek and he leans in and kisses her, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, tender embrace. He can taste the wine on her tongue, her mouth moving against his in a way that makes his stomach flip, Glen moving his hand into her hair and deepening their intimate kiss.

Billie lets out a soft moan that he swallows with his lips, the sound making Glen’s whole body stir in the best way. He can feel his arousal growing, his heart starting to race, his grip tightening in Billie’s hair as he explores her mouth with his tongue.

He wants more, needs more, suddenly desperate to feel more of Billie beneath his fingertips.

Glen pulls away for a second, lungs starting to burn, reaching down to take the wine glass from her hands and deposit it on the coffee table. Billie understands the action immediately, barely waiting for Glen to sit back before she’s climbing into his lap, straddling his legs and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Her lips are back on his in an instant, their kiss immediately deepening, Glen kissing her hungrily as his hands fall to her waist and grip at the thickest part of her hips. The feel of her curves in his hands makes him dizzy, even more so when Billie threads her fingers into his hair and drags her nails against his scalp.

He groans then, the sound clearly having an effect on Billie, her hips grounding down into him in response. He’s hard now, painfully hard, and he knows Billie can feel it as she starts to rock her hips into him.

Fuck he wants her, every single part of her, all over him and everywhere.

Glen finds the hem of her sweater, sliding his fingers underneath the thin cotton and onto her buttery-soft skin, pressing his fingers into her warm flesh and pulling her flush against his chest. The action makes Billie break their kiss, dropping her head back as a breathy moan escapes her, Glen not missing a beat and dragging his lips along her jaw.

He’s overwhelmed by her scent - sweet and heady and driving every one of his senses mad, completely lost in her as he kisses her ear, her neck, her collarbone.

“Fuck, Glen” Billie sighs, her voice barely louder than a whisper, a wanting, almost pained moan following when Glen sucks at the thin skin near the base of her throat.

He’s just about to move lower, all of a sudden desperate to have his lips on her chest, Billie suddenly somehow reading his mind and reaching for the bottom of her sweater. He pulls back for just a moment, hands helping to peel the soft material from her body, a groan he can’t control falling from him at the sight that’s now in front of him.

He doesn’t know where to look first, painfully aware of the way his length is straining in his jeans beneath Billie, eyes glued to her breasts held in only just by a small, black bralette. They’re not big but they’re certainly not small, round and perky and threatening to fall out of the thin cotton material with the smallest of movements. He can see her nipples straining against the fabric, his tongue reflexively wetting his lips at the sight, his breathing turning ragged when he reaches out and cups her soft flesh.

Billie drops her head back again, sounding nothing short of perfect when she sighs his name, every single one of Glen’s muscles clenching as she arches her back into his hands and all but begs for his touch. He kneads her tits in his hands, thumbs swiping roughly over her covered nipples, looking up when Billie lifts her head back up and gazes down at him with seductive, hooded eyes.

“Fuckin’ hell peach, you’re gorgeous” Glen breathes, words trailing off into another strangled groan when Billie rolls her hips against his.

She cups his face with both hands and pulls him back in for a kiss, this time hungry and feverish, like she can’t get enough of him fast enough. Glen responds eagerly, licking into her mouth and matching her desperation, his hands palming her harder as his thumbs drag the thin cotton down so that her breasts fall free.

The sound she lets out when he plays with her nipples is absolutely sinful, the way her breathing becomes instantly shaky making Glen want to growl. He breaks their kiss by biting down on her bottom lip, leaving her mouth and licking his way down to her chest.

In that moment he swears he could stay there forever, drunk on Billie’s scent, her taste and feel beneath his lips, kissing and mouthing her smooth, silky skin. She cries out when his lips close around her left nipple, her back arching into his chest and his free hand moving to hold her there. He suckles at her, loving the way she all but shudders in his arms, her hips increasing their pressure with each new roll against him.

“Glen” she breathes, her voice soft and erotic, her hands threading once again into his hair and tugging gently, “Bedroom. Let’s go to the bedroom”

Reluctantly he releases her nipple - though not before savouring her for one more delicious moment, his grip on her waist tightening when she moves to stand up from his lap. He’s having none of that, instead moving both of his arms to her thighs, Billie letting out a surprised chuckle when he stands up from the couch with her wrapped firmly in his arms.

“Direct me, darlin’”

Billie laughs and bends and kisses him, Glen loving the plush, swollen feel of her lips, the two grinning back at one another as she instructs him to head down the hall to the last room on the left.

He’s instantly distracted by Billie’s breasts in his face, unable to stop himself from immediately returning his lips to her sensitive flesh, navigating around the couch blindly as Billie tries to concentrate on guiding him.

Bumping into a side table and the wall of the hallway, several giggles fall from the both of them as they eventually make it to the bedroom. Glen bends and sits Billie down on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving his as she peels off her bralette and pulls the clip from her hair, Glen simultaneously shedding his t-shirt.

He loves the way she looks back at him then, her eyes sultry and wanting as they roam over his now shirtless torso, Glen’s own gaze dragging between her swollen lips and naked chest. Just when he thinks Billie couldn’t possibly look any sexier - a seductive, wanton goddess, all flushed cheeks and tousled hair, he sees her hands move to her shorts and watches as her fingers make quick work of the button and zip.

Glen feels like he’s frozen then, unable to do anything but watch, his breath coming short and heavy as Billie slowly, torturously, shimmies the denim material down her legs. She slides them down to her ankles and lifts both feet in the air towards Glen, daring him to take them from her as the new position of her legs teases an explicit view of between her thighs.

A groan falls from Glen, low and rumbling from somewhere deep within him, Billie grinning seductively when he grabs the shorts from her ankles and tosses them onto the floor behind him. She moves to scoot backwards but is stopped by Glen’s hand on her calf, Glen instead pulling her closer to the edge of bed as he lowers himself to the floor in front of her.

He doesn’t miss the soft whimper that falls from Billie when he pulls her legs apart and rests her thighs on his shoulders, the sight of her naked save for a skimpy, black cotton thong stirring something primal in him. He swears he could look at her all day like this, feeling dizzy from the sight of her, the smell of her arousal, the sound of her increasing breathing. He swallows thickly, his throat suddenly dry, his own arousal throbbing painfully inside his jeans as he thinks about what he’s about to do.

Glen’s been thinking about doing this since the moment he first kissed Billie, wondering what she’d taste like, what she’d feel like and what she’d sound like coming undone on his tongue. It’s his favourite thing to do - something he enjoys arguably more than sex, unsure if it’s the way he can tease and bring them right to the edge, the sight of them when they eventually fall apart above him, or the way they feel when they spasm against his mouth that he loves so much.

He inhales heavily, hands sliding beneath Billie’s ass and grabbing at the thick part of her thighs, holding her steady and bending to press a kiss to her hip. He grins to himself when she lets out the softest whimper, looking up to see her eyes trained on him, her lips pressed together as her chest rises and falls quickly.

He loves the desperate look in her eyes, he’s mad for it, feeling the electric tension in the air as she silently begs him to kiss her lower.

He kisses along the waistband of her thong, moving slowly as he holds her steady, tongue drawing delicate circles along her sensitive skin. He knows he’s driving her mad, watching as her jaw clenches and her fingers flex into the sheets below her, her eyes following his every movement. He grins as he moves lower, kissing over the cotton now, feeling her heat beneath the material as his fingers dig into her harder. He holds her gaze for a moment longer, electricity and an unspoken communication between them, finally tearing his eyes away and looking down as he hooks his finger and pulls her panties to the side.

And god if it’s not the most gorgeous sight he’s ever seen, his deep muscles clenching in the most delicious, desperate way.

He groans.

“Fuck peach, look at you”.

His eyes run over her syrupy folds, pink and glistening and begging to be tasted, his tongue wetting his lips before he bends and kisses her sex. The second his mouth is on her Billie tosses her head back into the sheets, a beautiful, breathy moan falling from her that makes Glen grip her harder.

He doesn’t waste any time, burying his tongue into her velvet flesh, his nose brushing her clit as he kisses her open-mouthed like he would her lips. The moans he teases from Billie are nothing short of erotic, an intimate melody Glen would happily listen to for hours. He brings his fingers to her sex and uses his thumbs to spread her open, licking and sucking at her sensitive flesh until he feels her muscles starting to tremble.

His name falls from her lips between a myriad of expletives, her voice slowly getting louder as her body starts to writhe on the bed. Glen knows he’s got her then, knowing he’s close to teasing out her first release, determined to give her as many as she can take as he quickens the pace with his tongue.

“Oh Glen fuck” she moans when his lips find her clit, circling and sucking as her hips start to ground into his mouth.

He groans into her folds, loving how she’s practically fucking his face, moving one hand to her pubic bone and flattening down to hold her steady. She sucks in a long, shuddering breath and Glen knows she’s almost there, increasing his pace with his tongue and watching as she tries to buck her hips against his hold.

“I’m close Glen, I’m close” she breathes, moans punctuating her words, her eyes squeezed shut as her hands fist into the sheets.

“That’s it darlin’, let me hear you” Glen whispers against her, sucking one of her luscious folds into his mouth and loving the way she cries his name, “I wanna hear you, peach”.

Keeping one hand flat on her pelvis, he drags two fingers through her folds and coats them with her slick, easing them inside her and looking up when she cries out in pleasure. Glen groans out loud, his eyes not knowing where to focus first, torn between the way his fingers look knuckles deep within her, the sight of her wet, syrupy folds practically dripping onto his hand, and her gorgeous, near naked form trembling on the bed.

Glen can’t get enough.

And neither can Billie.

He curls his fingers in the way that he knows will drive her mad, bending and kissing her slick flesh before lavishing it with his tongue. He quickens his pace, fucking her with his fingers and sucking at her clit, Billie’s cries becoming gorgeously desperate as her body soon starts to shake.

In that moment he knows he has her, letting out a heavy breath and coaxing her over the edge.

“Just like that Bil’, that’s it” he breathes against her slit, just loud enough for her to hear over her breathy moans, “Come on darlin’, give it to me. Come for me, sweets”.

His words are her undoing and in an instant he feels her entire body tense and release, Billie’s back arching away from the bed as her head tosses back in ecstasy. His name falls from her lips like a desperate prayer and her hips buck beneath his hold, the sight and sound of Billie’s orgasm taking over her so fucking beautiful that Glen can’t help but stare enamoured. He coaches her through her release, still fucking her slowly with his fingers, eventually stilling within her when she grabs his wrist silently telling him to stop.

He bends and kisses her velvety folds gently, withdrawing his fingers and watching in awe when her body spasms with tiny aftershocks, looking up to see Billie’s chest heaving as she lays back painting on the bed before him.

He crawls his way up her body, leaving kisses on her heated skin - her hip, her breast, her collarbone, hovering above her and grinning down at her adorable post-orgasm bliss smile.

“You’re an absolute sight when you come darlin’” Glen whispers, bending and kissing her parted lips gently, “Never seen anything more fuckin’ sexy”.

Billie’s eyes flutter open, taking a second to focus on Glen above her, her swollen lips stretching into a soft, playful smile.

“I have” she whispers after a moment, lifting her hands to cup his jaw and pull him down for a kiss, “Your face looking up at me from between my thighs is something I won’t be forgetting anytime soon”.

Glen lets out a deep chuckle, lowering himself onto her and rolling his hips so that his painfully evident arousal presses into Billie’s belly. The action teases a soft, sexy moan from her throat, and suddenly he can’t help but think of another half a dozen things he’d like to do and make her not forget about.

He bends to kiss her then, capturing her lips in a heated, sensual kiss, her hands reaching out and roaming his naked back as his length presses against her, thick, hard and wanting. All at once the tension between them is building again, a growing desire licking at Glen’s insides like a raring, burning fire.

In an instant he can’t think of anything except for how much he wants Billie, how much he wants to make her come again, to bury himself inside her and fuck her over and over into the sheets beneath them - to watch her, hear her, feel her come undone around his cock.

His thoughts make Glen groan into her mouth, forcing himself away and quickly jumping from the bed, Billie propping herself up on her elbows to watch as he reaches for his belt buckle and makes quick work of his belt, jeans and underwear. He stands stark naked then, loving the seductive, hooded gaze that's returned to Billie's face, reaching down to stroke himself as her eyes run over his body and back again.

He's hard, painfully hard, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, looking over her parted lips and down to the tiny black thong that's still pushed to the side and affording him the most sinful view of her still slick folds. She’s like a siren, a vixen, a goddess if ever he's seen one.

And fuck he just can't get enough of her.

Especially not when she reaches over to her nightstand and pulls a condom from the top drawer, scooting backwards into the pillows and winking one gorgeous eye at him. He grins back devilishly, needing no instruction after that, crawling back onto the bed and cupping her jaw, kissing her hungrily as he takes the condom from her fingers.

“You ready darlin’?” he asks when he’s rolled it down his length seconds later, parting Billie’s legs and resting one of her ankles on his shoulder.

She only nods, her chest rising and falling with desperate anticipation, the look in her eyes telling him everything he needs to hear without words. He strokes himself roughly, cursing at the sight of his length dragging through her slick, lining himself up with her velvety folds and exhaling loudly as he meets her eyes once more.

Glen wets his lips and grins, loving the way Billie looks back at him then.

“Hold on, peach. Gonna show you somethin’ else you won’t wanna forget any time soon”.

----

Previous Chapter

TAG LIST:

@angclvings @auntiegigi @friedchips94 @memories-in-bw @maeleelee @jessicab1991 @bellaireland1981 @queenslandlover-93 @itsjustkhaos @kneelforloki @djs8891 @lovemesomevesey @entertainmentgirl80 @buckysteveloki-me @stankface @fore45fore @sqrlgrrl2

#glen powell #glen powell fic #glen powell fanfic #glen powell series #glen powell smut #glen powell x ofc #glen powell fluff

114 notes · View notes

eat-limes-bitches · 1 year

Text

Be Brave

PAIRING: Female Reader x Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: On a cold lonely night, Bucky finds something he never expected to.

SONG Be Brave by Owl City

WARNINGS: Angst, (Bucky's self loathing, anxiety, mention of nightmares, hinting to PTSD) Hints of fluff (Alpine is the best)

Word Count: 942

A/N: Hi! I wrote this with a second and third part in mind but I wanted your opinions first! Should I leave it like this or do you want to see where this relationship goes?

Enjoy! <3

Divider by Rookthorne

Bucky woke up from sleeping on the floor like a vagrant with a start, frantically looking around the room. Taking a few deep breaths he went through the mantra his therapist told him to use when he was discombobulated.

I am James Bucky Barnes, I’m in my apartment, the year is 2024, and I have a white cat named Alpine

Repeating his little phrase under his breath, he found himself starting to calm down a little bit. Looking at the clock, he was a little disappointed to see that it was only midnight, meaning he only slept for three-ish hours. He sat on the floor for just a little while longer before pulling himself up, throwing on some clothes, grabbing his keys, and leaving his warm apartment out into the chilly New York night. He wandered down the street, feeling a little lonely. Steve was gone, Sam was visiting his family in Louisiana, and, well, he didn’t have anyone else. He kept walking until he found himself at the movie theater. Deciding he didn’t have anything better to do, he bought a ticket for the only show playing and found his seat.

Out of habit, he glanced around noticing a few people and the glowing exit sign but what caught his attention was a woman, sitting in the same row as him. The light of the silver screen lit up her features causing his heart to flutter in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Knowing she was there, he found it hard to focus on the movie, sneaking glances at her every few seconds until he was eventually caught. Their eyes locked and Bucky blushed as his eyes widened. He was worried she was gonna call him a creep, or leave but instead she just smiled at him and offered a small wave. Getting over his initial shock, Bucky returned the wave and watched as the woman returned to the film.

Bucky stayed in his seat as the credits began to roll, glancing over to see the woman grabbing her coat and bag indicating that she was getting ready to leave, much to Bucky’s dismay. He sat there bitterly, wishing that he had the courage to go and ask her name, but that Bucky was long gone. He was so stuck in his head that he didn’t notice her walk by his seat. He did, however, notice the brush of her fingers against his gloved hands. He snapped his head up to look at her but she was already exiting the theater so he looked down at his hands and a little gasp left his mouth at what he saw, a little paper crane sat perfectly in his hands with a phone number and two words BE BRAVE.

With a gentleness he didn’t know he possessed, he placed the paper bird in his pocket, walked out of the theater, and began his trek home. His thumb and finger brushed over the paper in his pocket as he thought about the girl. Do I text her? Do I call her? How do people do this nowadays? Maybe I should text Sam? No, He’d just laugh at me. By the time he reached his apartment, he decided that he would text her. He entered the apartment and pulled out his phone along with the little bird. After he pulled up the messaging app, he punched in the number and sent a simple message that honestly took him too long to come up with.

B: Hi, I got your note. Would you maybe want to get some coffee? I know a little place near the theater we could go to. My name is Bucky by the way.

He pressed send and when the little delivered message popped up he immediately descended into a panic. He put his phone on the kitchen counter and began frantically pacing around. Alpine, hearing the rapid footsteps, appeared in the kitchen and observed Bucky for a moment. Eventually, she hopped down from the counter and stood in the middle of his walking path, letting out a little meow to further capture his attention. Bucky paused and with a sigh, scooped up Alpine into his arms.

“Alpine, what am I doin’?” I know I didn’t do this right.”

He huffed, running his fingers through her snowy white fur. Alpine just blinked and tilted her head, as if she was asking him to continue. Bucky sank to the floor, pressing his back up against the cabinets, continuing to absent mindedly rub Alpines chin.

“She probably thinks I’m a creep, o-or she knows who I am and just wanted to tell me what a monster I am. Maybe it’s not too late to delete that message..”

Placing Alpine on the ground, Bucky stood to retrieve his phone and his heart stopped when he saw there was a message.

Y: Hi Bucky! My name is Y/n! I would love to get a coffee! Would tomorrow at 9 be ok? What’s the name of the shop?

Bucky started at the phone unblinking. He looked to Alpine, back to his phone, then Alpine again. He remembered the words on the little paper bird before taking a breath and responding.

B: Yeah, 9 is great! The shop is called Joe’s.

Bucky watched as the sent message changed to read and then the three little dots dancing in the bottom left corner before her response appeared on his screen.

Y: Awesome! I will See you at 9 at Joe’s!

Bucky placed his phone down on the counter and looked down at Alpine who was watching him Curiously.

“I have a date tomorrow Apl.”

#bucky x you #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky and alpine #alpine the cat #alpine barnes #bucky

424 notes · View notes

bibiwrld · 1 year

Note

i'm definitely gonna need a part 2 to the nerdy loser anakin fic, it was too good. maybe about sydnee taking his virginity?

Nerdy Loser Anakin Skywalker!— His virginity!

Pairing: Nerdy loser Anakin! x Black fem oc!

Content: 18+ (Minors DNI!)

Author’s Note: Okay, watch this!💗

It's been maybe a month since that happened at Anakin's apartment. After that, nothing really happened between them again, it was just that one thing. But that didn't mean Sydnee and Anakin didn't think about it almost everyday.

They would hang out every other day, and see each other around campus more often. Like today, Sydnee finished her last lecture for the day and was headed back to her dorm, but then she saw Anakin working out through the glass of their college gym, making her stop dead in her tracks to gawk at him.

She thought he looked so fucking hot doing pull ups and he was shirtless too? Oh she could melt into a puddle right now.

He did his last pull up and was now on solid ground, and then he noticed her, waving profusely at her, his cute smile brightening up her day.

She felt like she had been caught. She gave a small wave back to him.

He then gestured for her to come in and they talked and talked until Anakin decided to go home, to which he invited Sydnee.

After taking a shower, he joined Sydnee in his room and put on a beetle documentary for them to watch.

“Darkling beetles, the leggiest of all.”

Multiple beetles crawled along the screen.

“Is this too weird?” He suddenly turned to her. “Do you want to watch something else?” He was nervous.

“No, Anakin, I want to watch whatever you’re watching.” She answered honestly, slowly batting her lashes. “I think it’s cool you watch this stuff.”

He twisted his lips, trying to fight a smile. “Y-you do?”

“Yeah.” She licked her lips.

“Syd.” His voice trembled.

“Yes Ani?”

“I really want to kiss you.” He confessed. “I-I wanted to kiss you this whole time.”

She shifted closer to him. “Then kiss me, Anakin.”

He wasted no time in pressing his lips on hers, making her topple over onto the bed. One hand pressed beside her head, while the other cradled her face gently.

“You smell so good.” She mumbled between the kiss, wrapping her arms around him, her fingers raking through his damp hair.

He moaned at the feeling, her tongue slowly easing its way into his mouth. This was new, Anakin liked this. French kissing is his new favorite thing now.

The tips of their tongues teasing each other, making lewd sounds, but the narrator’s voice from the beetle documentary drowned out their sounds.

Anakin pulled away, a string of saliva keeping them attached. He hovered over her, breathing heavily, staring into her brown dazed eyes. “That was okay?”

She nodded, biting her finger softly.

“C-can we keep going? Like all the way?” He couldn’t believe his own words, but he knew what he wanted.

“Are you sure?” She knew he was a virgin, well everyone did.

“I’m so sure, I want this so bad.” He planted a soft kiss on her cheek.

She smiled. “I do too, just don’t push yourself.”

“I won’t.” He took off his glasses, placing them on his side table, then removed his shirt and tossed it on the floor to reveal his toned torso.

Sydnee was practically drooling at this point. Eating him up, devouring him with her hungry eyes.

She touched his hand that was beside her head to get his attention. “Can you see without your glasses?”

“Sort of. I have mild nearsightedness, my optometrist says to wear them even when I read.” He replied, kissing her neck. “I can see your face, just fine, I just don’t want them to break.”

“O-okay.” She breathed out, as his kisses began trailing down her neck.

His large hands kneaded her clothed breasts. He leaned up to look at her, making sure he wasn’t hurting her.

“Can I take it off?” His hands found the hem of her shirt.

She nodded shyly.

He pulled the t-shirt above her head, tossing it on his stack of books. She wore a dark green lace bra, and his hands found a way under it, pushing it up onto her upper chest so he could have a better view of her bare chest.

He gulped, feeling his dick throb in his shorts.

“You’re staring.” She muttered.

“They’re beautiful, Syd.” He told her softly, before latching his mouth onto her left breast and pinched the right nipple.

She whined and writhed underneath him. “Ani.”

The way she cried his name made his dick twitch, no one’s ever called his name like that— oozing with such pleasure.

He then switched to the right boob, trying to fit the entire thing into his mouth, he wanted it all, he was greedy.

“Yes.” Her hips bucked. Her pussy was a wet throbbing mess underneath those shorts of hers.

Leaving her right boob, he peppered kiss down to her navel, licking along the waistband of her shorts.

‘Where did he learn to be such a tease?’

Anakin wasn’t an idiot, he may have been inexperienced, but he knew what sex was. He’s watched porn, very very intimate porn, not those actors, the real thing.

“Anakin, please.” She begged with half lidded eyes.

“It’s okay.” He came back up to kiss her forehead, before unbuttoning and removing her shorts, discarding them somewhere on the bed.

He stared in awe at the wet spot on her grey panties. “I got you like this?”

“Yes, Ani.” She purred. “D-do something about it, please.”

He bit down on his lip, slowly removing her underwear and quickly pushing them in the pocket of his shorts, hoping she didn’t realize.

“So pretty, baby.” His tongue swiped over his bottom lips as he spread her legs open, revealing the slimy mess between her legs. “You’re so pretty.”

His middle finger teased her, rubbing her folds with such an easy because of her wetness. He then eased his finger into her hole, causing her to mouth gape and hips to stutter.

“It’s so warm.” He leaned down and whispered into her ear, kissing and licking it , as his finger pumped in and out of her at a slow pace, trying to find her sweet spot. “And so wet, it gets everywhere.” He pulled away and looked at her, then pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing it in circles.

“Oh my God!” Sydnee moaned into a nearby pillow.

He slowly removed his fingers, sucking his finger clean from her juices. “I want to taste more.” His voice trailed off, as his head dipped between her legs. His strong hands holding her legs open over his muscular shoulders. He gave kitten licks to her clit, sending her into a frenzy.

“Anakin!” Her hands found his hair, tugging at it hair, causing him to lowly groan into her.

The vibration only made her squirm and cry out more. Her moans and cries were encouraging him to keep going.

His eyes lazily peeked up from between her legs to stare at the mess of a woman before him. She looked so hot like this, eyes squeezed shut with quivering lips. His tongue lapped at her hole, slurping up her sweet nectar, making such nasty noises.

Her legs quivered, daring to close.

“No..o-open.” He muttered, prying them back open.

She became a babbling mess, from calling his name, to calling him baby, and begging him not to stop. The knot formed in her stomach, letting her know she was almost there.

“Hah! Fuck!” Her hips raised, beginning to grind into Anakin’s face. “I– cumming! Ani!” She threw head back and released a clear liquid.

Anakin was taken back by the sudden action, but that didn’t stop him from lapping everything up with his tongue.

Her hips stuttered shamelessly as the pressure of her squirt got weaker, finally laying her hips back on the bed.

“Fuck.” He licked his lips, looking at Sydnee’s limp body. “You— you uh.. squirted.” His tone was a surprised one.

She gave a weak smile as she looked at him. He was wet because of her. His face down to his to chest was soaked. She couldn’t tell when last she felt that good or even squirted.

“Sorry about your bed.” She weakly apologized, trying to catch her breath.

He planted kisses along her belly, then laid beside her. “It’s okay, I-I thought that was–uh..pretty hot.”

“You’re a pervert, Anakin Skywalker.” She teased.

He looked away shyly. “I guess I am. Do you want to stop here?”

“Stop? Can’t a girl catch her breath first?” She brought her body off the bed, straddling Anakin with a smirk on her face.

His eyes grew wide. “O-oh.”

She bit her lower lip and took off her bra, leaving her completely naked. “You should take those pants off.”

‘This is actually happening.’ Never in his 20 years of life did he think he’d be losing his virginity, especially to such a gorgeous woman.

Quickly coming out of his thoughts, he pulled off his pants and underwear in one quick motion. His dick twitched, pre cum beading at the tip.

“Aww.” She cooed, smearing the pre cum all over his tip. “You got all messy too?”

He inhaled sharply at the feeling. “Y-yeah..I did too.”

She looked at him, feeling her flutter at his words. Stroking him slowly, she asked. “You sure you want to do this?”

He nodded quickly. “Yes, I want to do this.”

She smiled, grabbing his dick and aligned with her hole. “Okay, tell me if you want me to stop.”

He mumbled an ‘Okay’, his eyes glued to where his dick was going to enter.

She teasingly rocked her hips back and forth along his shaft, coating it with her wetness before finally taking him in inch by inch.

Anakin’s right eye twitched and mouth hung open at this new feeling wrapped around him, as Sydnee groaned, being stretched to new limits.

“Fuck Ani, y–you’re so big.” She groaned, placing her hands on his chest for balance while her hips slowly rocked.

He squeezed her thighs, letting out incoherent sounds just as he looked up at with such intensity. His hands traveled, cupping under her breasts and giving them a light squeeze, he was so mesmerized by them.

She pouted so sexily at the feeling, picking up her pace.

“So g–good—oh! Sydnee!”

“Mhmm!” She closed her eyes and hummed, scratching Anakin’s chest.

Her pussy was softer and wetter than he had imagined, this was much more intense than in his pretty little head.

Sydnee now bounced on him, raising her hips and slamming it down harshly. That made Anakin jolt up, propping himself up with his elbows.

“So good, so good, oh my God.” He whimpered with quivering lips.

Sydnee leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him as she went even faster. “Such a good boy, you’re gonna make me cum.” She whispered into his ear, before tracing the outside of it with her tongue.

“Shit.” He groaned lowly, his breath fanned her neck. “I want you to cum, pl-please!” His hands found the round plumpness of her ass, controlling her movements and snapping his hips into her throbbing core.

The sounds of their skin slapping drowned out the documentary, sounding like nothing but white noise to the pair.

Her mouth was agape, barely able to form words as he was fucking her dumb with his cock. Oh how the roles were reversed now.

She was right there, she could taste it. Her legs began trembling, pussy clenching around Anakin’s thickness as the surge of electricity ran throughout her body. It’s been such a long time since she felt this, and it felt so much more fervid than ever. Anakin didn’t slow down for a minute, feeling himself nearing his pleasurable high as his dick was being painted in a creamy white color.

“Anakin.” Tears rolled down her cheeks from her new as she cried into his neck. “Please!”

“It’s okay, baby.” He hissed, holding the back of her head.

“I-I can’t take no more.” She sobbed from overstimulation, clenching even harder around him.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so—fuck, fuck, fuck!” He moaned into her shoulder, suddenly spurting out his seed and filling her to the brim. “I like y-you, so p-perfect–God, you’re s-so pretty.” He babbled breathlessly into her shoulder, kissing it softly she not loosening his hold on her.

She breathed into his neck, trying to get herself together. “I–I like you too.”

His heart felt warm at her words. Finally regaining some strength, he pulled out of her, his warm seed running out of her and onto his thigh.

She nuzzled even closer to him, their sweaty naked bodies laying atop each other. They both didn’t move, both too drained to even turn the TV off as the documentary was still going.

“We should rewatch that.”

💋

#Anakin the nerd💋!#my works💌🌷#anakin sykwalker #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #nerdy anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fluff #college anakin skywalker #black fem oc #hayden christensen

309 notes · View notes