#streetraces

[caraphernellie]

SPEED DRIVE. streetracer!ellie. EIGHTEEN PLUS INTERACTIONS ONLY.

DEAR READER: this blurb includes rough strap-on sex, r!receiving. had a request for doggy style 'n i felt like it was perfect for this streetracer!ellie idea i had. there's a weird glitch atm with the formatting of answer posts so i couldn't respond directly to the ask :( tumblr FIX UR SHIT PLSPLS. um this is short idk. i dont like it very much am sorry 💔

"yeah, that fast enough f'you now?" ellie rasps from behind you, her voice layered with a mixture of lust and spite, a heady concoction leaving you in whimpers. she barely gives you time to recover, brittle fingers biting into your waist to pull you back against her, meeting her every thrust. "tsk. too fuckin' fast. i can handle my own out there n' you know it."

few things could motivate your sweet, loving woman to treat you like this. one thing – she lost a race. and another– when you, in honest concern and care, had run up to her after to complain about the dangerous speeds she continued upping in her determination. it had embarrassed her. as if losing wasn't enough to humiliate her. 

but ellie always gets the upper hand in a situation, a snarky part of her mind always on guard. she'd already decided how she could take out such anger.

"you wanna cry about 'fast'? i can show you exactly what fast fuckin' means."

that was how you found yourself on hands and knees, her strap so deep you can feel every inch. it's the most relentless ellie's ever been, her hips slapping against your ass in hard, rapid movements. the room is in a state of utter filth; lights dim and colourful, reeking of sex and hot sweat, filled with the sounds of skin against skin, the bed creaking, and your shrill moans. you can't close your mouth – can barely hold yourself up anymore, in fact.

ellie groans, leaning forward to push you down, shoving you into the mattress as she continues to fuck you recklessly. with a cocky grin on her face, she snorts, listening to your breathy moans and watching your sweet tears wet the sheets as you try to push back against her, needing her deeper, harder, closer. "atta girl, you learn so quickly, don't ya?"

@/xeeqwoo on pinterest for the photomode!

[grlpartdoll]

Thinking about y2k fast and furious version of Ghost.

A street racer who's got very little to lose, who grew up in parts of town that destroyed his family whole.

It's only him and his little sister now, and Soap, and Price, and Gaz.

Soap is his best friend since birth, the man who grew up living beside him in the same shithole apartment. He would steal and sometimes he would bring back enough food for Simon and his sister to eat for the first time in days.

And Price, his mentor. He owns about every garage and autoparts dealerships in their town. When Ghost stole one of his cars and he found it wholly destroyed in Simon and Johny's little makeshift garage in the abandoned lot just east of town, the parts undone and laying about, he decided that he could use curious people on his team. People who wanted to know more about cars and were actually ready to get their hands dirty for it.

Recruiting them was a whole other thing, though. They were evasive, disappearing everytime Price went out of his way to find them. He eventually caught them both at the local pub, the two too distracted or too drunk to even noticed Price had made it inside.

Now that's history. Ghost and Soap have made their way into the street racing world and have made it to the top without playing dirty even so much as once. Gaz was already at the top when they began, and he was the only one who, granted a bit hesitantly, let them into the tight circle of winners.

In comes in you. The little wide-eyed doe lost in the midst of their world. Or so Ghost thinks.

He sees you in the crowd one night and it's over for him — can't focus on anything else but finding you again when you get swept up by the crowd and disappear from his sight.

He knows he won't be able to ride properly if he doesn't find you. He's obsessive and has grown into someone who cannot live without getting what he wants.

so he lets Soap take the wheel this time, and the money that goes with the winning spot. He knows Gaz and Soap will probably come head to head and split the money anyway. More for them if they split it two ways.

Either way, he eventually finds you in one of the opened garages on the street they've blocked for the event, gazing into a pink car's popped hood. Your fingers are grazing the parts and edges of it, your face flushed with midnight humidity.

He watches you for a long time, and eventually finds something to say.

"Y'like it?"

"Fudge cake!" You curse— or try, grumbling at the masked man. He has his trusty balaclava on, and it only serves to make your heart race faster than it should

"Fudge cake?" He replies, cocking a brow underneath his mask. You can't see it, but you can hear it in his voice.

"You scared me." You scold the giant in the doorway, his two hands holding onto the upper frame.

"You're off the tracks, little mouse."

"I just got... Curious." You mumbled, soft and quiet. Despite his initial perspective on you, you actually do seem to fit in here. Even though you're not wearing ten pounds of makeup like most of the girls here, you have gone through the effort to apply some mascara and lip gloss and something else Ghost can't name for shit. Something makes your face glossy and warm, but he's ready to bet it isn't makeup.

You're wearing a tiny turquoise and pink skirt with modern detailing, with a shirt that rises well above the decent mark where tummy and breast interchanges. Stockings and legwarmers and leather gloves complete the look. Your hair's up into two pigtails.

He's suddenly self conscious about his treadbear jeans, wife beater and leather jacket. He's all stained with car oil and something else he can't identify from the garage.

"This yours?" You ask suddenly, and he's all quiet for a moment, confusion on his face.

"No," he finally makes, leaning closer to look at you better, clearer. You notice scars and still healing wounds on his face where the balaclava allows. Still, that doesn't scare you, for some reason. If anything, you just curiously cock your head to the side, and smile a bit wider. "No. Wanna see mine?"

"Uh, yeah." You reply, perking up a little. An innocent gesture, but so unlike anyone else he's ever had the pleasure of meeting in his parts of the city. You move like a little doe, all bouncy and flailing like you're too excited for your own body to handle it. "I do."

He nods his head as a sign to get out, and you do, following him as he brings you two back to the crowd, where he's parked. He doesn't miss the fact that you don't ask questions and simply follow, blindly trusting him to get you to the right place.

When you two get to his car, you're in the thick of the crowd, so he has to keep you close, walking with his hand holding the back of your neck. He even has to lean down to your level so you can hear him over the arguing, the music and the people making animated bets on the winners. And if his lips trail a tiny path up your earlobe, you don't seem to notice, only get a little shy, your shoulders shimmying for a single moment before you're giggling awkwardly at whatever he's saying.

It's so unlike the practiced charisma of the girls around him usually, so different from the stuff he has been used to, that it only deepens his obsession with you.

Thankfully for him, the big fuss is centered around Johny and Gaz and another rider he doesn't know personally, though, so he's got you all to himself for the moment as he shows off his baby.

He even lets you sit in the front and lets you get a feel for the leather seats, asking off-handedly how you felt about being a passenger princess for the rest of your life. You laugh, and don't reply, taking it as a joke. He wasn't joking. But that's okay. He laughs too, deep and hoarse and unpredictably rough.

Later, when the night has settled and the winner has been announced and you've cheered and whooped at your heart's content for Gaz and Soap (Ghost told you to cheer for them, so you did..), Simon even lets you have a ride around in his special, (very illegally modified) car !!!

He takes you to his favorite spot, a rundown drive-in movie theater that no longer works, and the both of you speak until the sun rises at the horizon. You fall asleep eventually, and Simon just watches as you slumber, amazed that he's caught himself such a pretty little thing.

That's all I have tbh I just think it could make a Very interesting plot.

[princessbrunette]

kinda obsessed with the thought of streetracer!rafe. like i wanna be that proto-trophy wife propped up on the hood of his car with the tinniest skirts, glossiest lip and big stilettos being his own personal cheerleader then after he’s won, getting absolutely railed in that same car.

this is so hot i don’t know much about street racing but i can actually see this for rafe….. its a reckless activity that is often associated with luxury so he feels like it’s good enough for him to partake in …… hmm ill get to the drawing board……

[vouneaudonme]

[s-4pphics]

mourn. intro. (e.w.)

INTRO. 

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

WARNINGS: streetracer!ellie, dealer!oc, backstory lemme cook, parental death, mentions of overdoses, funeral, baby ellie :), oc intro… cackles evilly

A/N: last post til eid lol 

pay zakat. feed a family this ramadan. k!ll zios.

SEPTEMBER, 2009

ANGUISH floods Ellie’s chest as she witnesses decorative rosewood being lowered into the sopping dirt. It’s cinematic; watching herself from a bird’s eye view, floating above her own body. Her brain cranks at an alarming rate. Churning in attempts to convince her that she’s not actually here, staring dead at her mother’s casket. The grass sludges beneath her shoes with every unsteady shuffle of her feet. 

There aren't many people around. Three of her mother’s former work friends, a service dog, and the officiant. They’re hardly acknowledging Ellie; no one would be able to stop her from leaping head-first into the ground due to the lowering clouds. Buried and suffocated by grass and mud, a feast for the maggots, but loved eternally. Every cell in Ellie’s body thrums with anxiety. Just when she trusted that her mother’s health was improving, she woke up, shrouded in ice next to a limp body and an empty pill bottle on the nightstand. The same ones her mother took to sleep throughout the night. 

That was three weeks ago. She doesn’t remember calling 911. 

Her best friend — her only friend is gone. And it’s permanent. This isn’t like how her mother used to scavenge the streets until dawn searching for another job before Ellie woke up. She’s not coming back to crawl into their shared, warm bed, sleep for half an hour, then help her get ready for school. No more oatmeal in the mornings. No laughter. No joy. No symmetry. Ellie’s life is forever scattered. Beaten to death until she’s leaking venomous, black blood.

There’s a man that keeps staring at her with pity: familiarity crushes her every time they lock eyes. She kind of remembers him. Somewhat. She almost forgot her shoes before coming here. He seems more upset than her. At least externally; Ellie’s rotting from the inside. 

Her mother’s chamber is completely submerged underneath dirt within the next few hours. The man from earlier is much closer now. 

She jumps when he whispers, 

I owed your mom a favor. 

OCTOBER, 2009

Ellie hates Joel. Hates her mother for leaving her with him. Hates herself for not being able to save her from the claws of addiction. 

Joel’s home is always silent during the day. He gave Ellie the grace of letting her stay home until the Spring, but it’s too quiet. Music never plays and they never talk, and it’s driving her to madness. The silence makes her itch. 

Until the sun sets. 

She already has trouble sleeping. Her insomnia combined with the thunderous clanking that blares from the garage every night is enough to get her sobbing into her pillow until the sun rises the next morning. One night, the noise had gotten so uncontrollably loud that Ellie barged into the garage to shout every curse she recalled her mom screaming into the phone before bedtime.

She didn't expect, however, to see Joel’s legs extended out from underneath her mom’s wrecked ‘57 Chevrolet. Ellie could hear him grunting as cranking and banging of metal took over the space. 

… What are you doing? 

Joel rolls out from beneath the car on a creeper, face confused and smeared with dark sludge. 

Why’re you up? 

It’s loud. She snaps. Why is her car here. 

Joel sighs. Just trying to fix it up. 

For what. Ellie eyes the cracked windshield. She somehow remembers how a rock hit it on the freeway when she was six. Her mom was livid. She can’t drive it anymore. 

Joel’s face twists uncomfortably. It’s almost comical; the seemingly boiling child stands at a whopping four-foot-three with her fists clenched, burning holes through her bright yellow Spongebob pjs. Her glare sharpens when he mumbles, 

Kid… 

So you stole her freaking car? Her eyes swelter, brows hauled downward and hands in fists. He sits up straight, palms up in surrender, wrench in hand. How’d he even get back into their old house?

No, I — He rushes, She asked me to try n’ get it started again. That’s all. I… I shoulda asked you —

Ellie’s not sure why she’s so enraged, but she’s hollering with a pointed index in his direction, berating him, degrading him with sobbed vulgarities. Pushes him hard when he rises to comfort her. Eyes him with so much disdain that he flinches. 

She hates him. She misses her mom. 

The guest room door slammed shut with the click of a lock. She screamed for her mother for hours. Voice shrieking so loud that the neighbors came knocking after the first fifteen minutes. Cops pounded on Joel’s door and proceeded to conduct a wellness check on the household after an hour. 

Their presence made Ellie swallow her scorn. Ellie’s already received a small taste of what it’s like to be in the system. She vowed to never reenter as if her life depended on it. 

NOVEMBER, 2009

Joel made Ellie chocolate chip pancakes for her birthday. 

Breakfast is silent, per usual. Light clinks of utensils on silverware and breathing are the only proof of life in the room. Ellie refuses to touch the squared slices of pineapple. It was her mother’s favorite, despite her complaints of an itchy mouth after every juicy piece. 

Your mom and I… 

Ellie pauses, skeptic eyes connecting with Joel’s. He’s treading light, she can tell. The nerves in his fingers are evident; The sorrow in his eyes suffocates her. Joel’s gaze drops onto his plate at the scrutiny he receives from across the table. 

She’s a good friend of mine, He mutters before his lips turn downward. Was. 

Ellie snorts humorlessly, Way to rub it in. 

Joel’s eyes flutter shut as he sighs, I’m… Sorr—

Were you the one she told? Her tone is sharp. Unforgiving. I heard her on the phone a few days before she did it. 

A storm flurries in the man’s gaze. A familiar one; It’s identical to when she would catch her mother in the middle of night talking to herself with a bottle in her hand. The winds in his pupils take her back to one of the darkest times of Ellie’s life. Maybe they were closer than she assumed. They look identical when they’re guilty. 

I didn’t—

But he did. He’ll never forget being on the other line with Ellie’s mother as she attempted to keep her cries to a minimum. Her croaked wails terrified him. Left wounds in his chest as his heart raced. I can’t do this to her, She’d said, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t! … Please… You owe me…

Joel did what he could over the phone. Made promises to her that he couldn’t keep, reaffirmed how much Ellie loved her. How badly she needed her mother, and eventually eased her sobs into pained whimpers. He believed the calmness she exuded prior to ending the call was a sign of understanding of her importance, but it wasn’t. Her mind and body merely accepted her fate. She was dead two mornings after. 

And Ellie was a witness to it all. 

Ellie’s eyes roll and sickness floods her, so she stands, You’re a liar. When you’re ready to tell the truth… You know where I am. She doesn’t bother to push her chair in, clean her dishes, pause at his calls of her name. Her feet stomp through the hallway, marrow searing beneath her skin. The guest room door slams shut and she breaks, guarded by the plainness of the beige walls while tears flow. 

She knows he knew. Why else would her mother leave her with him? 

-

-

- 

When Ellie got up to use the restroom hours later, she nearly tripped over a teddy bear holding a birthday cake. With candles. She’s never received a gift before. 

She doesn’t tell him that she slept for an hour with it hugged to her chest. 

The noises in the garage halt for a week. Ellie still can’t fall asleep. Joel has the same problem, she’s discovered. She finds him sprawled out on the couch one night, burning holes through the roof with a picture frame in his arms. She watches him silently for some time, perched behind the main wall of the hallway. 

Hey. 

Joel’s acknowledgement earns a gasp followed by scuffling, and he snorts. He sits up and sets the dusty frame on the cushion in front of him, noting how awful Ellie is at hiding; It makes him smile. Barely, but he’s endeared; Her entire arm was exposed. He can even see her duck-shaped slippers from where she’s tucked behind the wall. 

Ellie. 

She doesn’t come out, and he sighs. His heart twists painfully when he hears a wet sniffle. He’s up and moving when a guttural sob echoes from the hallway, crouching down in front of Ellie with her knees squeezed into her heaving chest. Joel’s heart cracks at her flushed cheeks drenched in salt. Talking won’t calm her, he knows it, but he’s unsure of what else to do. Ellie… isn’t an emotional kid, but he hushes her, attempts to cradle, apologizes softly. 

But when her wet eyes pinch open, she unravels and falls into him completely. Her arms squeeze around his neck in a deadly grip and she cries and coughs and whines for her mother. Joel holds her just as tightly as she hangs off him. 

We're gonna be fine, sweetheart. He mumbles, and he feels her head shake in denial, tucked in the crook of his neck. His knees wobble, and a soothing hand rises to caress the back of her head; He's never seen a kid this hopeless. It makes him wonder. 

What the hell did she witness in that house? 

Ellie’s always struggled to fall asleep alone. 

Her need to be coddled to dreamland was always a mystery to her mother. Skin-to-skin was a normal trait for infants, toddlers, maybe even a little over, but at age ten? Eleven, and unable to fall asleep without the feeling or knowledge of a loved one present? There was only one time where she recalled her mother carrying her to her own room to rest, but the second the door clicked shut, she was up. Awake. Alert and exposed to harm. Or, at least that’s what she convinced herself. 

She crawled into her mother’s bed minutes later and snoozed throughout the entire night. She didn’t hear the end of it when the sun rose. 

Joel doesn’t berate her, though. 

I can’t sleep by myself, she’d said to him after she calmed from her breakdown in the living room. They’d sat on the couch as he rubbed a comforting palm down her back, her small ones coming up to wipe her wet cheeks. 

How come? 

She scoffed, Scared of the dark, I guess? I dunno. I just can’t. 

Joel hummed in understanding. 

I’m like that, too. Sometimes. 

Ellie snickered wetly, You’re old, though. It’s not the same. 

Joel scoffed and snatched his hand away in mocked hurt. I’m not old! 

The gray hairs say otherwise! 

That night was the first time they ever laughed together. The first time Ellie laughed since her mother’s death, and it carried on until she knocked out beside him on the couch. 

For Joel, though, he couldn’t rest. Not when Ellie favored his daughter that much. Whenever he feels as though he’s progressing, letting go of grief, something life changing — disastrous — forces him right back to square one. Meeting Ellie was one of those moments. He tried to keep his weeping to a minimum as he held her sleeping form, eyes glued to the picture of him hugging his baby after her first soccer win. 

DECEMBER, 2009

It’s New Year’s Eve, and Ellie’s trapped inside the garage with Joel. 

Watching him tweak her mother’s vehicle has aided her raging boredom… To a certain degree. When he starts getting nerdy and raving about car parts, she tunes him out, despite the slight interest she’s taken with underneath the hood. 

The connecting wires, the bolts, the valves and cranks and this manual makes absolutely zero sense—

Can you stop dillydallyin’ around n’ hand me that? 

Ellie’s gobsmacked reading is paused when she passes Joel the manual, dark sludge-covered hands staining the fading paper. She cringes. 

Ellie watches silently as Joel inspects the contents, nodding to himself as his eyes flicker from the vehicle to the booklet, mapping out his next moves of attack. His eyes sparkle and curiosity sparks in her. 

Did you fix it? 

Joel only murmurs to himself, and Ellie’s eyes roll. She inches closer to him and waves a hand in front of his eyes. Hellooo? Is it gonna start? 

… I think so, kid. His head shakes in disbelief, If I can get that transmission replaced, it might be alright. 

Ellie’s brows furrow… What on earth is a transmission? 

I’ve been workin’ on cars for a while. I can tell you now that finding such an essential part for a model this old is gonna be tough. Might cost me an arm n’ leg. 

Ellie shrugs, You’ll figure it out, old man. 

He stares down at her blankly, Gee, thanks. Hand me that wrench, assistant. 

Ellie mocks glee on her skip to the rolling cart, Gosh golly dang, does this mean I’m hired? 

He jokingly snatches the tool from her extended hand. Little bugger. And just like that, you’re not gettin’ paid. How’s it feel to be outta funds? 

WAAAAAAA—

Ellie’s fake wails earn her a deep holler. 

Ellie oversees Joel until the clock strikes twelve, following his line of vision on every rusted compartment of the vehicle. Stood attentively at his side as he pointed out the carefully crafted machinery, listing their parts despite Ellie’s protest of forgetfulness. There are so many names for everything; Building cars seems so complicated, but curiosity sparks in her. She starts to think: maybe cars aren’t so boring. 

Another sleepless night for the both of them; Might as well commit to movie night. Fireworks are still going off in the small neighborhood hours later. The booming colors in the sky makes Joel's teeth grind. Reminds him of the time he took Sarah to Santa Monica Pier. 

Joel? 

Mhm? 

… What favor did you owe my mom? 

Thickness builds in his throat the second Ellie mentions her. He sets the large bowl of chocolate-doused popcorn onto the coffee table, reaching for the remote to turn the movie down. Not off, down. Ellie hates feeling like she’s being scolded. 

Joel doesn’t look at her, but her eyes are glued on the side of his face. 

Umm… He scratches his face, Did your mom ever mention me to you? Ellie denies with a hum. 

Joel’s mind whirs back to the first time he met Anna: sophomore year. He was exhausted, drained, barely making it, but despite being miserable, he still cared deeply for his education. He studied until his eyes burned, jotted down notes until his hand cramped and the librarian was gently urging him to head home. 

She… We were friends in college. He fonds, We met at an ice cream truck. 

Weird. Ellie notes causally, She hates dairy. 

… Yeah. She does. Joel coughs to mask the brokenness in his voice. 

Anna was… a genius, to put it lightly. Academically gifted to an intimidating degree. Her mind was a camera; She’d scan one excerpt from the thickest novel once and still manage to repeat it word for word years later. They had comms together; Her voice sounded like tweeting birds whenever she recited her prepared speech like it was nothing. She was an emotional speaker, entranced everyone in the room, and always ended with a question that forced students and professors to self-reflect. Joel wouldn’t call it a crush… Merely admiration. Envy. He was motivated whenever he left comms. 

He’ll never forget the image of her, sweating and worn, carrying what seemed like a twenty-pound backpack — all stuffed with calculus books — while ordering a can of Sprite from the humming, beaten down truck. Anna didn’t leave after the vendor handed her the soft drink. She simply turned to Joel, inspected him from head to toe, and turned back to the vendor. 

I’ll cover whatever he gets, too. With a thumb aimed at him. He nearly choked. 

A free snow cone couldn’t halt the racing in his chest. 

I know what you are. 

What, He questioned without a stutter. 

You fix cars? Anna quirked a brow at him. Joel’s brows pull downward. How did she know that? He’s fixed one car since he’s been enrolled. His buddy pulled up in front of his dorm asking for a windshield repair. But he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. I dunno. 

The green-eyed girl scoffs and sips from her nearly emptied can. 

You down to replace a tire? Some jackass thought it would be funny to leave a rusty nail in our parking lot. 

Our. She must have roommates… or lives where he does, he thinks. For how much? Not a beat missed. 

Her shoulders lift, I dunno. How much does a tire cost? 

Depends on the model. What d’you drive?

A chevy. Don’t ask the year, I’m not sure. It was a hand-me-down. 

A slight pause between them before Anna suggests with a sigh,

Come see ‘er. 

-

-

-

Thar she blows. 

Joel can’t help but snicker at the woman in front of him, posing right next to her teetered vehicle. It’s quite charismatic; the bright pink bumper stickers, the crisp turquoise paint job, the slight scratch on the trunk. It’s nice. Classically vintage; it suits her. 

A beauty, he notes with his eyes locked onto Anna’s. She gives a hum in agreement. 

Revive her, if ya don’t mind. I’m desperate and can’t sue, so. Joel nods and inspects the damage on her tire. The air is nearly fully gone, and it’s making her drive slump. 

Tire shouldn’t be more than thirty-five… Gonna have to head home for some stuff. Willing to wait an hour? When he turns to her, they’re shoulder to shoulder. 

Anna smirks, Whatever you need, mechanic. 

My dad, Joel corrects, He taught me the basics when I was like… twelve. 

Her voice lowers, Good on him… Earned me a discount, eh? A hand claps down on his shoulder and gives it an encouraging squeeze, and he revs to life. 

He swears the tips of his ears are red hot, Sure… minus that deposit. I needa twenty for emotional damages. 

Fuck off. Her eyes are soft, Might never go to the shop again. You’re officially my car fixer-upper. Fuck these grease-balls n’ their price spikes. 

Joel snorts, You get into that many goddamn accidents? 

She leans in closer, and his throat closes. Slams shut. Turns to dust. 

You’ll find out, mechanic.

That’s why you’re spending so much time on it, Ellie notes at Joel’s retelling before a harsh gasp escapes her. Dude, were you in love with my mom or somethin’?

The man stutters and coughs, No — what? I told you she was a frien—

Ellie snickers with a judgmental point, Yeaaah, yeaaah, I know how these things go. You sucker! 

What the hell — I’m not a sucker… And what things—

Anna and Joeeel sitting in a tree! — 

A pillow smacks Ellie dead in the face, and she topples over in cackles. Joel rubs deep in his temples. Ellie would’ve loved Sarah. Two little bullies who feast on his suffering. 

No more storytelling. I’m going to bed. 

You can’t! Remember? Ellie hollers as tears fall from her eyes. She coos at Joel when he lifts himself off the couch and down the hall, trying to mask his small smile. 

Aww! C’mon, old man, it was a joke! 

I can’t wait for you to go back to school, ya vermin! 

-

-

-

An exhausted Ellie creeps into Joel’s room half an hour later. She sighs in relief when she doesn’t hear snoring. Her mom was the worst when she was tired. She tiptoes across the carpeted floors until she’s in front of the unoccupied side of the mattress, stealthily adjusting the blankets and pulling back the sheets. 

She slowly manages to tuck herself in, fixing the pillows so her head rests on the cold side of the case, exhaling happily at the warmth defrosting her limbs. 

The second she dozed off, she yanked to consciousness by raspy sarcasm. Her eyes roll underneath her lids.

You can’t, either. Joel croaks, Remember?

JANUARY, 2010

Five days until school. Five days until misery. Five days until… strangers. Ellie’s skin crawls whenever she thinks about being an enclosed space with snot-nosed boys and soggy lunches. 

And math… Gross. 

Joel has been more than willing to postpone Ellie’s enrollment whenever she becomes anxious, but she always denies his requests. She’s grown to like Joel, but… he’s not the best teacher, especially social studies. Reviewing one of her old packets nearly gave him an aneurysm. She can’t afford to be homeschooled by him. 

What's been the best distraction from her impending doom? 

Binge watching Cars for the billionth time… And helping Joel patch up that blue Chevy. 

They celebrated their first victory last night for repairs, at least: Joel stuck and twisted the key to start up the engine, and it managed to stutter to life. For less than five seconds. The headlights barely came on and an old Foreigner record broke through the crackly speaker. They rejoiced with the brightest smiles as their hands slapped the dashboard before the vehicle crashed out once more. 

A glimmer of hope. A chance for reconnection. Anna’s sending them messages. The joy in that car shifted to grievance; Joel had to cradle Ellie in his lap as she wept into his shoulder. 

But there’s hope. Ellie wanted nothing more than to get this car working after that. Duty calls, though, and the alarm’s coming from a backpack. 

You got this, kid. Stop stressin’. 

Ellie, without a doubt in her mind, does not got this. 

Screaming children, muddy slides, bloody band aids; they’re all on the other side of that office door. Her worst nightmare has come to life, and she desires nothing more than to hide out in her mom’s car forever. The bag strapped around her shoulders matches the weight of a body. She refuses to let go of Joel’s hand as he speaks with the giggly receptionist who’s too happy to see him (what the hell), but it's okay; he’s holding hers just as tightly. Just as paranoid, apparently. 

She’ll be with Mrs. Lawson for the remainder of the year. Ellie hears the receptionist say over her pounding heart, She’s incredible! I’m sure they'll develop an amazing bond. 

Ellie’s palms are sweltering. Joel must feel it because his thumb nuzzles into her wrist. She’s not built for this. Maybe returning so soon wasn’t a great idea. She can’t do this without her mom. 

Cool backpack, Spidey, is said from behind her, and she stiffens instantly. 

She has a Spider-man backpack. 

Hush. An older man’s voice replies. Sounds strained. Stressed, but he only receives a light snicker from her in return. 

Ellie watches with squinted eyes as a young girl gets escorted towards the front of the office by… the principal, she assumes? He seems fancy in his suit slacks. 

You stay right here until I get your uncle on the phone, The suited man is stern towards the girl, who plops down on one of the waiting chairs. Backpack and all, You can explain to him how you swore at a teacher. I’m not dealing with this from you today. 

M’kay, Mr. Harris. 

Ellie observes the entire scene indiscreetly. Her stares are obvious, glued to the clearly agitated dean who stomps into his office. 

Where’d you get your backpack? 

Ellie’s stunned at your sudden whisper. She shocks herself when she quietly stutters,

Um… Walmart? 

You smile, I like it. I want one. 

Ellie simply nods, but gets paused before she can redirect her attention to Joel. 

Are you new? Your voice grows quieter when you look over your shoulder. Right at the principal’s door. I am, too. I just moved schools. 

This shocks the brunette. The new year just started, and you're already locked in the office with evidently angry staff. 

Yeah… I’m new. 

Something in your grin shifts. Ellie’s nails lock into Joel’s hand. … Interesting— 

Young lady! Did Mr. Harris give you permission to speak? 

You audibly ponder like the attendance clerk asked you to solve a riddle. 

No, ma’am. I apologize. 

Then hush. Not another word. 

Ellie watches you fold your hands politely, twiddling your thumbs. Your eyes don’t leave her backpack. 

Ready, kiddo? 

Her eyes finally reconnect with Joel’s, encouraging and chocolate, and she nods. He guides her to the office exit where her new life resides. Before their departure, she can’t help but take one last respectful glance over her shoulder. She finds you staring with a quirked lip and your wrist outstretched like your shooting spider webs at her. Ellie jerks her head forward and releases the breath she’s been holding. 

What a weirdo. 

tagggiiiiessss :3: @inf3ct3dd @fleshunger @sawaagyapong @elliesbitchh @aouiaa @elliesatchel @williamellieslilho @elliewilliamgfooc @bready101 @myluvforstarz

[goopiesglorp]

SORTA NSFW WARNING?? NO NUDITY

//

more racing au😼😼

oh what i would do to be wedged between a dolls thighs right at this moment (staring wistfully into the distance)

[sharkl-e]

baby i’m a race car driver, speedy bitch, catch up, need a reminder? 🤭

streetracer railao AAAAHHHGHHDHD just a little AU my friend and i conjured up with our delusional minds :’)))) god i love them

also, close ups under the cut !!!

[ikkosu]

Rodimus if he ever becomes a dad 🤕🤕

he’s gotta keep em looking drippy

[24kmar]

ꜱᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ ʀᴀᴄᴇʀ! ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ

[bonesuh]

Isagi's official racing fit! (-w-)

[twilighthomunculusart]

Ghost Boy

[scytherst]

what woudl happen if i got a 10 foot takumi fujiwara cardboard cutout

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Run These Streets {7} || Street Racer!Bucky

Summary: It's time to finally see who is the better driver but things don’t quite go to plan. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, illegal racing, smut WC: 2.1k

Bucky's Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven

Hundreds of spectators filled the space around the starting line, screaming their excitement for the race that had become the most anticipated one of the night. 

They all pushed as close to the crudely spray painted lines that indicated where the track began and you looked across the passenger seat to see Bucky idling beside you. His grin was infectious as he revved his thunderous engine that drowned out all the other noise and you blew him a kiss that he caught and pretended to pocket it. 

“Alright, love birds listen up!” Steve shouted as he walked between the cars to take his place at the start line. “I know you two like to get down and dirty but none of that tonight, we are here to race. Buck, you ready?” Bucky answered with another rev that shook his entire car and Steve turned to you. “Ready?”

Adrenaline flooded your body faster than the fuel injectors in the engine that you revved, its response a higher pitched whine compared to the muscle car beside you. 

Time seemed to slow as Steve raised one hand, then the other. The noise of the crowd turned to silence as a calmness washed over you and his hands dropped. There was only you, the car and the asphalt that was eaten by the hungry tires that gripped the surface and threw you forward. 

All the extra power that the Mustang had lifted the front off the ground and stole precious seconds as the slicks burned rubber in your rearview mirror. The small headway wouldn’t help once Bucky’s front tires touched back down and all that horsepower came chasing after you so you had to make the most of the head start and get out onto the streets.

You burst from the underground ramp fast enough to have a second of airtime and it was only the harness that kept you seated before you hit the road and skidded left to head north along the track that had been marked out. Horns tooted and drivers shouted as other Miami racers blocked busy streets until you passed but you paid them no mind as the black beast in your side mirror inched closer.

“Come on, baby, don’t hold back,” you murmured to yourself as you chopped down a gear and pulled the e-brake to drift into the next turn when suddenly Bucky was on your inside. “Now we’re talking.”

You dared a glance across and saw Bucky’s lips moving like he was talking to himself too. It was a reflex, after years of being on the other side of his headset, you could hear his voice talking to you even now. He would definitely be flirting, telling you all the things he had planned for you after the race finished. 

“Concentrate Bucky,” you warned him as if he could hear you, “focus on the road. There’s a tight double turn coming up.”

The street lights blurred as you headed into the turn, braking enough to send Bucky further ahead but it gave you the space you needed to pull to the outside lane and swing in tight and close to the turn. A whoop of excitement tore from you as you undercut Bucky before powersliding straight out of the following turn but the shout was silenced as a deep pulsing sound grew above you. 

You shifted forward and peered up to see a helicopter hovering above the street before your phone rang with Bucky’s ringtone. “Is it police?” you asked after answering the call and putting it on speaker as he pulled up alongside you.

“Looks like it. We’re gonna have to lose it.”

“Fuck,” you growled, knowing that there was only one way to do that. “That means splitting up.”

“I don’t like it anymore than you do but you take the next alley up ahead and I’ll head to South Beach,” he stated calmly, going through the motions that were well versed after years of evading the police in car chases. But this wasn’t a car chase. “There’s a tunnel at the port that it won’t be able to follow in. I’ll ditch the car and take the emergency exit. The underground isn’t far from there and I’ll meet you at the Northside train station.”

Another wave of adrenaline washed through you and you committed his instructions to memory, remembering the layout of the streets you had studied since Bucky started racing on them. “Till the end of the line?”

“End of the line, doll,” Bucky promised. 

There was no goodbye, no I love you. You had your instructions and you would follow them trusting Bucky wholeheartedly as you slammed on the brakes and turned down a tight alleyway that the helicopter had no chance of following. The spotlight disappeared from you and you sent a prayer to anyone that would listen that Bucky stayed safe as you slowed down to the speed limit and merged with the traffic to avoid detection. 

Two cop cars passed by and you held your breath until they were gone but still your eyes were glued to your rearview mirror as you feared they would suddenly appear behind you. Whenever you heard sirens your heart threatened to stop entirely and you pulled into the first carpark you came across, locking the car and heading to the nearest train station on foot.

“Steve, have you heard from Bucky?” you asked as you sat at the Northside train station after trying Bucky’s phone for an hour.

“No, what the hell happened? The scanners picked up a citywide ABP on the cars.” 

You quickly recapped the story and explained Bucky’s plan before Sam took over the phone. “The trains won’t run through Northside until morning.”

Dread began to settle in your bones as you hung up the phone and saw it was a little past 1am and you chewed your bottom lip worrying about Bucky. You called Bucky’s phone again and clenched yours tightly as it rang and rang.  “Come on babe, answer your phone. I swear to god I will-” the words were lost as Bucky skidded through the entrance of the empty train station. 

His hair was a mess and his shirt was drenched in sweat like he had run all the way from South Beach but he was in one piece and even managed a charming smile as he bent over his knees to regain his breath. “Sorry…I kept…you waiting…doll.”

You jumped from the bench you had been sitting on when you weren’t pacing the platform and raced over to him, throwing your arms around him. “You fucking scared me! Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

Bucky grimaced as he pulled the device from his jeans and you saw the shattered screen. “Fell out of my damn pocket.”

You relaxed in his arms for a moment to reassure yourself he was fine before pulling away to call Steve and organise a ride back to the motel. It would a while before they got there so you sat beside Bucky on the bench and rested your heads against each other and laced your fingers together. 

“Guess we’ll never know who’s faster,” he murmured quietly with a chuckle.

“I think I am okay with that,” you replied honestly, “what I am not okay with is us splitting up again. Not knowing where you were nearly killed me.”

Bucky let go of your hand to wrap his arm around you and draw you closer so he could capture your lips in a searing kiss. “I’ll take this as a sign from the universe that we are meant to be on the same team.”

A horn tooted outside and Bucky rose with a groan before massaging his thighs that were cramping from the unplanned half-marathon. The moment you made it inside the motel room you went straight to the bathroom and started running a steaming hot bath for Bucky to soak in and the sound he made as he lowered himself into the water had you biting your lip. 

“There’s room for one more,” Bucky invited with a wink as he spread his legs for you to join him.

“Aren’t you sore?” you asked as his cocked stirred to attention and he laid back further.

“I’ll never be too sore for you.” His hands reached for you and tugged your shirt off when you came closer. Next your jeans disappeared and then your underwear before he pulled you across his lap. “I need to feel you, doll.”

You had the same urge, like how you hadn’t been able to let go of him in Steve’s car. There had to be some part of your touching at all times. Right now you needed more and so did he. Unable to wait any longer, Bucky shifted his hips beneath you and lined himself up with your entrance before pulling you down on him.

Your lips parted with a delighted gasp as he stretched your walls and filled you completely. Water sloshed over the lip of the bath in waves as he guided your hips up and down his length and he tipped his head back in ecstasy after watching the way your pussy took him perfectly.

“I was scared,” Bucky admitted as gently rode him. “I thought I was going to prison for good.”

Your throat constricted at the thought of being separated from him and he swallowed at the look on your face before he cupped your cheeks and pulled you closer. His kiss was all consuming as his tongue danced with yours and his moans filled the air before he rested his forehead to yours.

“I can’t risk this, us,” he whispered as he teased a hand down your navel until he found your clit. “I won’t. I’m done. No more street races, doll, I’m going legit.”

“What do you mean?” you asked as you struggled to think clearly with what he was doing to your body.

“I mean proper, legal racing. No police.” He stopped touching you so you could clear your head. “We’re flush for cash after this week but it’s not worth a thing if we get caught. I could still race, with my best girl by my side where she’s meant to be.”

You smiled at the thought. It would still being doing what you both loved but safer in every way and you quickly nodded. “But Bucky is too well known as a street racer, you wouldn’t be able to go by it anymore.”

Bucky shrugged though there was a small frown above his brows. “I’ll have to get used to being called James again. It’ll be just like high school again.”

“Almost like high school.” You rolled your hips to remind him of what you were in the middle of doing. “There was none of this back then.”

Bucky grinned and pulled you down his shaft. “Trust me, we did all of this in my dreams. And more.”

You moaned at the depth he hit as he rutted up into you and your walls clenched around his cock. “More? Fuck, show me.”

Bucky growled at your neediness and flipped you over onto your knees. You braced your hands against the end of the bath as he towered behind you and thrust himself back between your folds.

“I fantasised taking you in every position imaginable, pictured it was you I was fucking when I was jerking off.” His words spread fire across your skin and the heat centred on your core that fluttered wildly with each thrust.

The throb of your clit had you reaching down your own body and you cried out at the added sensation while Bucky fucked you. “I thought about you too. Imagined it was your fingers inside me when I touched myself or your tongue. It was your name on my lips when I came.”

The purely masculine sound he made behind you sparked your orgasm and it ripped through you with wave after wave of release. Somewhere in the abyss Bucky had lost himself and when your mind came back to your body you felt the warmth of his cum filling you.

You both sank back into the tepid bath water breathless and trembling. You lay there in a peaceful silence while the room slowly lightened with the approaching daybreak until your legs felt coordinated enough to carry you to the bed where you collapsed in Bucky’s arms.

[generativetenebrousautomata]

[s-4pphics]

mourn. teaser (e.w.)

TEASER. 

WORD COUNT: eight thirty :3

WARNINGS: streetracer!ellie, dealer!oc, heavy angst, HEAVY MENTIONS OF ADDICTION AND VIOLENCE IN THE FUTURE, no one’s a good person bc i’m grieving 

A/N: sad

fck neil drukman. zios will d!e.

FEBRUARY, 2019

Ellie’s fist comes down hard on your front door, the aged and loosened wood rattling with the desperate punctures from her twitchy hand. You’re always here. You never miss a fucking phone call. Why won’t you open the fucking door? Her chest falls rapidly like oxygen is limited. The winds are seconds away from crushing her bones into dust, it seems. Panicked curses fall from her mouth; How did you allow her to get this far? Her throat swells in warning as her eyes fill. C’mon… c’mon, you fucking bitch—

Her palm twists around the doorknob, rattling it, strangling it, begging for it to loosen so you can deliver what you promised. You never fucking miss her calls. She whimpers like a dog when the lock doesn’t shutter. You have to fucking be here. 

She doesn’t realize she’s begging with her mouth against the wood. Anyone she can; her mother, God, for you to fucking be home and save her from misery. She’s freezing and fiends to shed her skin like a snake. 

Fucking stupid bitch, Ellie gasps. Her first breath in what felt like years, Open the motherfucking do—

Ellie?

Her eyes, tearful and lost, find yours. Clad in all black with her vice thrown over your shoulder, guarded by your more than recognizable bright orange duffel. Ellie nearly drools at the sight, Please… please let me in, I’m gonna fucking die—

She has angered you in an instant, face twisting with creases between your brows. You always are when she shows up unannounced. In her defense, she warned you before she wandered upon your place. Dialed your number for an hour straight. 

I fucking told you a billion times—

I know, I know—

You trek until you’re in front of her, snarling your teeth like a lion, You don’t fucking know. You’re— Palms connect with Ellie’s chest and she stutters back, — I fucking told you no. Find somebody else. 

Ellie’s rebuttal is sharp as she grips your wrist, There’s no one fucking else and you know it. Don’t pull this shit right now—

You scoff and shove her off to unlock your door. She hates how her mind whirs to shove you to the side and steal away with your bag. Take your drunk ass home—

She fails to deny her intoxication. The stabbing pains in her side won’t allow it, And if I don’t? The fuck are you gonna do? Ellie snorts and it’s dark. Shoot me in the goddamn face? … Call the cops? 

Your door is unlocked, but you don’t open it. She can feel exhaustion radiating off you. It weighs her down. You weigh her down. She hates what you’ve done to her. If anything, you owe her for the damage you’ve caused. So, she preys. Claws at the one inkling of leverage she has over you. The only thing you’ll never back away from. 

Ellie’s eyes go soft. A ploy she’s mastered over the years. I love you so much… You can’t leave me like this… Your sharp exhale is painful to digest. She pads closer with tightly clenched fists; watches yours clutch the knob of the entrance as grounding. I won’t do it here. I promise, She whispers and watches your shoulders droop. Pride disguised as guilt sparks in her chest. She can practically taste euphoria. 

Ellie… Your voice shakes. She’s instantly transported back to high school. The ache in your strained call still remains. Dejected. 

Yes? Her reply is sweet as candy, and she knows she’s got you. Fingers jump underneath the cuff of her jacket sleeve. Eager, anticipating the rush of crushed pills in her nose. 

You’re heaving, chest rising and falling at an increased pace with tearful eyes glued to your rusted roof. All before you choke, If I ever see you again, I’ll rip your fucking throat out. 

Every time Ellie believes she’s grown used to your aggression, she’s proven wrong. Your anger causes her body to lock, feet glued to the floor as her expression drops. You manage to throw yourself into the shack you call home, door slamming in her face and lock clicking, trapping her in icy wind. 

NO! Nonononono—

Ellie’s screaming into the void, screeching like a banshee on cracked concrete as she kicks at your door with a weighted heel. 

On the other side, you drop to the floor, stocked duffel flung as far away from you as humanly possible in your hysteria. Your sobs are earth-shattering and your chest cracks open, scratching at unkept hardwood as you recall how the fuck you got here. There’s no future, no hope, no anything for you. For your best friend whom you’ve destroyed. You’ve ruined her. 

Ruined yourself in fire. 

[goopiesglorp]

I’m curious to know more about the street racing AU! Got any lore bits?

while i don’t have any lore thought out in-depth, i do have a new character sheet and plenty of headcanons to share!

‼️ suggestive/NSFW headcanons are marked with [XX]‼️

Pomni:

- She is incredibly shy and only began doing flags to support Ragatha. She’s very apprehensive about the revealing clothing, but with enough praise from Rags (🤭) she builds the confidence to wear it out.

- She’s a bit of an adrenaline junkie, believe it or not. Sure she freaks the fuck out every time Ragatha tops 100 and loses her shit when they’re caught in chases, but at the end she always says she liked it. She says it’s an anxiety management thing.

- She’s full of energy like a puppy! You’ll always find her cheering and chasing Rags’ car a quarter mile down from the starting line. Maybe she does this because she knows Ragatha likes looking at her in the mirror as she drives away.

- [XX] She is a complete and utter bottom. No rizz. Ragatha has an absolute chokehold on this woman and she is melted into a puddle on the floor. One specific word or one specific glance can have her completely subservient. It might be naïveté, or really genuine love for Rags, we’ll never know.

Ragatha:

- Rags takes her racing and her car very, very seriously. It’s probably because it’s in her nature to put 110% into everything she does. She’s got a bright cherry red sportscar that she’s almost as defensive over as she is Pomni.

- She is…. quite the reckless driver, and she loves her speed. Seldom does she let Pomni in the car with her, solely for this reason—the only thing more important than the car is Pom.

- People usually refer to her as “Dolly” in racing settings. She never liked it being used outside of races until Pomni used it once in a certain tone of voice and she flipped her switch.

- [XX] What a demanding woman she is… she’s very lucky Pomni is so eager to please. She voices her every whim and Pom is always raring to exceed expectations. She adores it when Pomni looks at her with those huge eyes when she excited.

Jax:

- The absolute GAYEST most FLAMBOYANT man you’ve EVER laid your eyes upon. He’s always dressed to the nines in some skimpy getup with his ass out, but… I don’t think anybody’s really complaining.

- Did flags for a very long time until Pomni showed up. He viewed her as competition for a while before starting to race himself, and now he’s got a whole new set of fans.

- He’s really, really popular. Like people grabbing for him out of crowds popular. Maybe it’s his charisma, or his charming smile, or his great ass.

- [XX] I’m not even gonna beat around the bush, he’s incredible in bed. Like so goddamn good. He’s cocky and he loves to tease, both physically and verbally. Also bisexual king.

BOOM lore bits. I’ll definitely come out with more in the future but this is what I could wring out tonight, it’s finals season for me and my college homies 😢