#take a shot every time i say “i love-”
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One day too late ~ LN4 x Reader
Lando x Pregnant! Reader; Coworker! Reader; Very Angsty; mentions of intimacy but nothing explicit; Borderline Forbidden love; Reader & Lando are friends with feelings
S Y N O P S I S:
Carried away at the party, you and Lando share a beautiful night. Lando, worried about the implications on his career, urges you to pretend it never happened, ignoring your feelings for each other...until 6 weeks later you find out you're carrying his child.
Word count: 1.5k
[ Drop a comment to be tagged in part 2 ]
A beam of sun in your eyes pulled you out of your slumber.
Sore. Head pounding. A deep ache in your lower stomach.
It took you a few seconds to realise that this wasn't your room. The unfamiliar sheets, the duvet much thicker and heavier. There seemed to be so much room across the mattress, stretching out in its emptiness.
Then every memory from last night came tumbling through.
After a launch party of the new 2024 season, you’d found yourself a little too lost in the celebrations, Lando right beside you in fits of giggles and dances.
You'd always had feelings for Lando, ever since you joined the PR team during his rookie days - the working time together bonding into a quickly growing friendship. Yet something had always stopped you from taking it further.
And so when Lando placed his hands on your waist last night, his face inches away from yours before your lips finally collided - every rational thought was thrown out the window.
The heat of the party. The excitement and psychedelic blood rush. Climbing into Lando’s car. Your legs, entangled. His whisper of sudden hot, breathless confession. Your heart pounding in reciprocated emotions. Your hands in his curl, his...
You shot up in bed, last night now a vivid image.
Lando was sitting across the room, on his computer, headphones flung around his neck. His eyes flick away from the computer screen at your sudden movement, coming to rest on you, and he draws in a long breath.
You felt the air leave your lungs. How did he manage to look so gorgeous even in the mornings?
“How are you feeling?” You blinked at his break of silence, words not quite making it out of your mouth.
“Yeah, I’m…” Raking your fingers through your curtain of bangs in an attempt to collect your thoughts, “I’m fine.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got the pounding headache too.” Lando shrugged, sighing, before powering down the screen and in a swift motion making his way across the room, over to you.
Awkwardness suddenly overcame you and you did everything to avert your gaze from his.
This proved pointless as he sat himself in front of you, the mattress dipping under his weight. You could feel the warmth radiate off his body, his finger coming to rest under your chin as he forced your eyes to meet.
“Are you okay?” There was a sadness in Lando’s eyes, one that didn’t quite match the gentleness of his voice. You mumbled a reply, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks - his face was so close - forcing your heart to respond with a quickened beat.
“Listen, I’m sorry for last night.” Your brows found themselves furrowing at his words.
“Sorry?”
“We shouldn’t have…” He raked his curls, shutting his eyes tight for a brief moment, as if pained to say the words.
His voice was quieter when he spoke again, “We shouldn’t have done what we did y/n.”
You felt something stab at your chest. “I don’t understand, Lando, I like you, you like me, we’ve known each other for years…what’s…what’s the - ”
He didn't give you a chance to finish. “I can’t risk having…I just can’t risk a relationship right now. We can’t - ”
He pauses, gaze softening as you feel your eyes well up, but you’re determined to keep a stoic expression on your face.
It didn't help that Lando was looking at you with such an intense look in his eye, his hand cupping your cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Are you saying we can't date?”
You felt your voice betray you, a single tear spilling down your cheek. Lando used his thumb to wipe it away, taking in a shaky breath.
He looked away. “Please. I’m sorry.” His eyes were almost telling you to stay, now also welled with redness, but his words said differently.
You felt the world collapse. Your breath hitched. A tremor shot through your limbs as you scrambled out from Lando’s bed. He got up too from his seat, standing limply in the centre of his room.
It was then you realised you were in his clothes, his loose tee reaching your knees, a pair of his joggers clumsily worn over your legs. You paid no heed, now eager to just leave. To run away and hide.
Never had rejection been so cold. It was almost like he’d used you. A part of you wanted to scream at him, throw things and ask him “why,” yet you felt as if life had been sucked out of you.
One of the best days of your life had been merely hours ago, before turning into a nightmare.
“Y/n…” You’d only just reached the door, but his call made you stop in your tracks. There was a shameless hope he’d changed his mind.
“Here. It’s cold out.”
He held out one of his hoodies, passing it to you in a gesture to take it.
You did. Curt and refusing to meet his gaze, before turning around stiffly.
And without another word, you left his apartment, refusing to look back.
----------------------
You weren’t sure when you got home, drenched from the rain that came gushing down along the way.
You weren’t sure of much…only that your relationship with Lando was over.
Over before it had even begun.
Climbing out of bed the next day was the worst feeling. With no energy in your limbs, you called in sick to work, refusing to face anyone at the McLaren office, but more importantly, avoiding Lando.
You stayed in bed, too exhausted from crying to move.
It wasn’t until a week later that you finally showed up at work. The pain seemed to have subdued; now replaced with forever changing moods. At times you were down in the dumps, exhausted and tired - your head slightly foggy - other times, irritable and angry. Yet you ploughed on at work, ignoring the sleepless nights and restless evenings.
Avoiding Lando at work was near impossible, and yet you managed. Only speaking to him when absolutely unavoidable through email, or putting on your best corporate voice.
Eye contact was avoided altogether, even when he craned his head to catch your gaze, you turned away.
That was a satisfaction you refused to give him.
At 2 weeks it seemed the restless nights had been replaced with exhausted ones, a full night's sleep still leaving you fatigued and nauseous in the mornings. You blamed the sickness on heartbreak.
Lando watched you more often now, sitting in the lobby of your office during lunch breaks. You turned down the blinds and shut him out.
-------------------
The realisation came, 6 weeks post heartbreak. A quick glance at your calendar told you you’d missed your cycle. The nausea, tiredness, mood swings all made sense now - each jigsaw piece coming together to fit the puzzle.
Although the fear of raising a baby alone rose in your throat, you were determined to do it. You knew Lando had a right to know. Yet somewhere, deep down in your heart, you refused to give him that.
Perhaps you were running away.
Perhaps this was your revenge.
Your resignation made sure he’d never know.
L A N D O 'S P O V:
They say you don’t know the value of something until it’s gone. I've learnt this truth the hard way.
I’ve watched her everyday since that night; desperately trying to catch her eye at work; take her aside and apologise. Tell her we can make this happen... start over, uncaring of the world and it's concerns.
I've watched her everyday, slowly starting to shrivel. The bags under her eyes, the tiredness in her smile. I’ve watched her at lunch, nibbling at almost nothing at her plate before silently excusing herself away.
It devastates me to know that this pain is from me. I have caused it and she didn't deserve it. How I wish I could tell her that I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.
I miss her smile. Her company; once a comfort. I miss having her by my side; encouraging; so full of energy.
And so this is my chance. My chance to finally set things right.
Clutching the bouquet - glitter roses I spent the last night making - I head over to the PR query desk, determined to start again, if she can give me the chance.
There’s a new member of staff at the desk; someone I’ve never seen before and he tilts his head up at me, hearing my approach, flashing me a smile.
He thinks I’m here for a project meeting and begins to rise from his seat, holding up a clipboard as if ready to pass it over.
“I’m looking for y/n, l/n.” A moment passes.
Legs jittering. Heart tight and constricted; there’s a sense of urgency swelling in me as if telling me to hurry, rushing me to make things right. My fingers tap at the desk, impatient.
He gives a sigh, furrowing his brows and lowering the clipboard back into place.
“I'm afraid she's not here. She gave in her resignation yesterday.”
The words hit me like a boulder to the chest.
My legs feel heavy, a tornado whirling in the pit of my stomach. My fingers unclench from the bouquet and with a soft thud, the flowers thud to the ground; petals ripping apart from impact.
They've crumbled. Glitter littering the floor.
It was over.
I was one day too late.
Taglist: @hc-dutch @racinggirl @aileeincomplexity @kravitzwhore @eringaitskill @adoreyou-ido @landoslutmeout @queenofmanydreams
#ln4#ln4 ang#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 angst#formula one angst#formula 1 angst#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris angst#lando norris x oc#lando norris x you#f1 angst
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BABY PICTURES
WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.
PAIRING(S): Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: in which Jack Hughes’ mother shows Fem!Reader his baby pictures.
Jack was pouting. Which truthfully, Y/N didn’t think there were all that many moments where he wasn’t pouting, but he seemed to be pouting a little extra right now. Maybe she should feel bad, and maybe she should feel a little guilty that he’s sulking because of her, but then his mother flipped the page of the baby album in her hands, and she suddenly didn’t care as much about her petulant boyfriend anymore.
“This is Jack after he scraped his knee for the first time.” Ellen giggled, pointing to tiny, red and teary-faced Jack staring up at the camera, making Y/N snort as she leaned closer for a better look.
“He looks ridiculous.” Y/N laughed, and distantly, she could hear Jack gasp at the comment, crossing his arms and sending her a glare from across the living room.
“I was in pain.” Jack huffed. “Extremely excruciating pain. And my mother stopped to take a picture my misfortune. Who does that?”
To his dismay, Y/N didn’t even spare him a glance, pointing to the next picture of the album and giggling away with his mother, whispering what he was sure was yet another mean and rude comment making fun of him. What kid didn’t fall and scrape their knee? And what kid didn’t cry when they fall and scrape their knee? Normal children shed tears in the face of extreme pain, and Jack Hughes was not an exception to this fact. In fact, he liked to think he was one of the braver children.
“Jack, you were such a crybaby growing up.” Ellen shook her head, amusement lacing her tone as Y/N chuckled and shot him a sly grin.
“So nothing’s changed.” She hummed. “He’s still a crybaby now, too.”
“I am not.” Jack gasped. “Take that back, you liar.”
“And this is Jack on his first day of school.” Ellen hummed, cutting him off and pointing to a picture of a young Jack waving at the camera, missing what Y/N was sure was his entire front row of teeth. She grinned, letting out a small chuckle as her eyes softened at the image.
Usually, Jack Hughes was a handful. He was loud and annoying and he talked far too much for his own good. He made her life increasingly difficult with the stubbornness he wore like a second skin, and he made her want to crawl into a hole half the time they were in public for all the scenes he seemed to always cause. But sometimes Jack Hughes was also very cute like in this photo for example, with chubby cheeks and a bright grin on his face as he stood in his school outfit.
“Awe, Jack.” Y/N cooed, making him perk up a little at the sound. “How cute.”
“I was a cute kid, wasn’t I?” He grinned, and almost as though he was never pouting in the first place, his mood switched at the slightest bit of praise. She rolled her eyes, giving him a flat look as she eyed him while he walked over to her, flopping onto the space beside her and looking over her shoulder.
“You were.” Y/N nodded, making a point to eye him up and down and raised an eyebrow. “I wonder what happened.”
Jack gasped, and the pout from earlier returned once more and she couldn’t say that she was surprised. “Rude, I’m still cute, you know.” He grumbled, and because he was Jack Hughes, the most annoying man she’d ever had the pleasure of encountering on the face of the planet, he poked her shoulder repeatedly. “Admit it, you still find me cute.” He whined. “You literally called me cute this morning.”
“That’s because you were sleeping.” Y/N shrugged. “You’re really cute when you shut up.”
“Yes, my favorite Jack was always a napping Jack growing up.” Ellen added from the side.
“Mom.” He protested, watching as Y/N and his mother snickered together. He wondered how the both of them could claimed to love him when they treated him like this, wounding his pride and ego with every insult thrown his way. He crossed his arms, angling his body away from Y/N as she giggled and wrapped herself around him.
“We’re just kidding, Jack.” Y/N grinned, reaching to pinch his cheek, chuckling when he swatted her hand away with a grunt. “You’re really the cutest.”
“You’re a liar.” He mumbled, shooting her a glare as she fought back an amused smile. “You said you loved me, but clearly you lied to me.”
“I do love you.” Y/N insisted. “And I love your baby pictures, too.”
Usually, Jack felt his heart soften when he watched Y/N and his mother get along. He thought he fell in love with her just a little harder every time he watched her eyes light up when she saw the women who raised him. But sometimes, he wished he never introduced her to his mother. He was almost certain she preferred spending time with his mother over him, and he was even more certain his mother wished Y/N was were the one she raised instead. He almost felt like the third wheel half the time he brought her over and he couldn’t help but wonder who did she even love more, him or his mother?
Jack thought he had his answer, though when Y/N leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw. No matter how often the two giggled at his expense, she didn’t kiss his mother on the jaw, and Jack couldn’t help but shoot a smirk her way as she rolled her eyes and stood.
“There are more I have to dig up sometime.” Ellen hummed, making Jack groan as Y/N nodded eagerly. “I’ll leave you two alone for a while.”
“I’m starting to think you come over for my mom instead of me.” Jack huffed as his mother left the room, making her roll her eyes as she leaned into his side. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her flush against his body, relaxing as her hand found his chest and rubbed slow circles.
“Only you would be jealous of your own mother.” Y/N snorted.
“I’m not jealous.” Jack protested. “I’m simply concerned that you ignore your boyfriend for hours to make fun of him with his mother.”
If there was one thing Y/N had learned after flipping through page after page of crying baby pictures, it was that Jack has been dramatic since the day he was born. This fact didn’t change even in his adult years, but if there was one other thing she’s learned, it’s that he was endearing, just a little too cute for his own good, and just a little too dangerously charming whether it’s the camera he was pouting at or her. She couldn’t help but shuffle closer, hugging him tightly as she smiled softly into his shirt.
“C’mon.” Y/N hummed, pressing a kiss to his chest. “You know you’re my favorite. I do wish I had a baby to cuddle with right now, though.”
“You have me.” Jack glared. “I’m your baby and you can cuddle with me.”
“It’s just not the same.” Y/N teased. “You talk too much.”
“I’ll have you know I got in trouble quite a lot as a child for talking too much. Adult me is a lot better.” Somehow, Y/N wasn’t surprised and a small part of her was almost grateful she didn’t know Jack in his young, obnoxious days as a child. An even bigger part of her felt bad for his mother and the strength she must’ve needed to raise the handful of a boyfriend in her arms along with his two brothers. “And besides.” Jack smirked, leaning down to pull her into a brief kiss. “If you want a baby, I could easily give you one.”
“Jack.” Y/N hissed, swatting his shoulder and making him pout as he rubbed over the spot she’d hit. “One of you is more than enough. We don’t need another.”
#jack hughes#jack hughes blurb#jack hughes fanfiction#jack hughes fic#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes fluff#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes x female reader#jack hughes x fem!reader#jack hughes x y/n#jack hughes x you#jack hughes one shot#jack hughes drabble#jh86#jack hughes thoughts#new jersey devils
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Double The Love || Leah Williamson x Lia Wälti
Based on this request! :)
Summary: Leah’s daughter, Sage, starts to call Lia Mummy one night after spending a lot of time with her over the past few months due to Lia moving in because of Leah’s ACL. Leah and Lia are secretly dating and Sage figures it out over time.
Notes: this is my first one-shot so please be kind! <33
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“Sage! Bed time, c’mon let’s get your pjs on!” Leah called out from the living room, slowly walking into the kitchen.
Leah’s heart swelled with love as she slowly walked into the kitchen. Her two-year-old daughter, Sage, was sitting on the kitchen side, giggling away, as her girlfriend, Lia, stood in front of her. Lia tickled the two-year-old repeatedly, getting more and more giggles out of her.
Lia had been a constant presence in their home ever since Leah tore her ACL during a game a few months ago. The injury had left Leah hobbling around on crutches, and Lia had stepped in to help. She moved in with Leah and Sage and took on a motherly role. From cooking meals to reading bedtime stories, and even teaching Sage how to speak a little bit of Swiss, Lia had become a major part in Leah and Sage’s life.
As time progressed and Lia and Leah spent more time together, the pair caught feelings for each other. They decided to keep things from Sage, not wanting the toddler to get hurt if things didn’t work out.
Sage didn't understand why her mumma, Leah, sometimes winced when she moved or why she needed those crutches. But Lia was always there for her Mumma, she could tell that Lia was helping her Mumma. Sage became curious about her Mumma’s injury and Lia helped answer any questions that Sage had.
Sage’s laugh became contagious and Leah couldn’t help but laugh along with Lia and her daughter.
“Right, bubba! It’s bedtime,” Leah announced as she joined Lia and Sage. “Say goodnight to Lia and Mumma will put you in your pjs!”
Sage lent forward and wrapped her arms around Lia, holding on so her Mumma couldn’t take her as she rested her head on Lia’s chest.
Lia smiled, “I don’t mind helping put her to bed.” She offered, “We’re besties aren’t we, sweet girl?”
Sage gave Leah her cute little pout that she knew her Mumma couldn’t say no to.
Leah walked into Sage’s bedroom, Lia closely following behind with the sleepy toddler attached to her hip. Despite being tired, Sage demanded to be placed down on the floor so she could pick out her pyjamas and a book for her Mumma to read. Leah watched from behind as Lia helped Sage pick out a bedtime story, her heart swelling even more with love.
“You sure you want this one, sweetie?” Lia asked as Sage handed her the book, the same book that’s been read every night for the past week.
Sage nodded, her blonde pigtails moving in unison, “Yep! Me love this book.” Sage smiled, climbing onto her toddler bed. “Mr Flopsy?” She frowned, looking around her bed for her favourite teddy.
“Mr Flopsy’s here, bubba.” Leah said, getting the stuffed rabbit from the shelf.
The three sandwiched themselves into Sage’s toddler bed, Lia sat closest to the wall whilst Lwah rested on the edge with Sage sandwiched between them. Lia and Leah took it in turns, each reading a page of the book to Sage.
As they finished the final page, Sage’s eyes began to close slowly. Lia slipped out of the bed before helping Leah up from it. Leah kissed Sage’s forehead, whispering sweet words to her daughter before letting Lia say goodnight.
“Goodnight sweet girl, sweet dreams.” She whispered, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on Sage’s forehead.
"Goodnight, Mummy," Sage sleepily whispered, her voice soft and gentle as she wandered off into a deep sleep.
Lia's heart skipped a beat. She glanced at Leah, who was standing behind her, her eyes crinkling with affection. Leah didn’t bother to correct Sage. Instead, she'd smile and let the moment linger, savouring the sweetness of the moment.
Sage’s innocent confusion tugged at Lia's heart. She knew that she and Sage shared a bond that went beyond biology. A bond forged through scraped knees, bedtime stories, and whispered dreams.
Leah took Lia’s hand into her own as the pair of them tiptoed out of Sage’s bedroom. The hallway was dimly lit, the smell of Sage’s lotion lingering in the air. They made their way into the living room, Leah pulling Lia down with her as the pair of them sat down on the couch. A comfortable silence fell over them before Leah broke it.
“I-I, umm, I’m sorry if Sage calling you Mommy made you feel uneasy.” Leah apologised, kissing the brunette's head.
Lia sat up and shook her head, “It didn’t, it felt…right.”
“Do you think it's time to tell Sage?” Leah carefully asked, making sure not to overstep.
“Do you?” Lia questioned.
Leah nodded, “I do, I really do. I don't think anything would change, if anything she’d probably love it. I think she’s already caught on that you’re more than just her Mumma’s friend. I’m just worried that Sage might get hurt if things go wrong.”
Lia laughed, she knew Sage was an intelligent two year old and Leah’s guesses were probably correct. “Leah, I’m never going anywhere. I promise you that I’m here forever, I’m not leaving.”
Leah smiled, placing a soft kiss on Lia’s lips, “Could we just see how things go? Maybe we could just start showing more affection in front of Sage and see how she reacts. If she asks questions then we can just be open with her.”
Lia nodded in agreement, “Of course we can, we’re doing things at your pace okay?”
As the days turned into weeks, Sage began to call Lia ‘Mummy’ more often. She'd say things like, "Mummy, can you read me a story?" or "Mommy, can you help me build a fort?" And Lia would nod, her eyes shining with love.
Leah returned to training, Sage attending training with her. The couple arrived to training together everyday, their teammates knew they were together but were still shocked when they heard Sage refer to Lia as ‘Mommy.’
One evening, after dinner, Sage crawled into bed, her eyelids drooping. Lia sat on the edge, brushing her fingers through Sage’s hair as Leah cuddled up beside them. "Mommy," Sage murmured, her voice barely audible.
"Yes, sweetheart?" Lia whispered back.
Sage eyes fluttered open. "You love Mumma?"
Lia's heart swelled. She leaned down and kissed Sage’s forehead. "I do, sweetheart. I love her a lot.”
“You dating Mumma, like Auntie Beffy is dating Vivi?” Sage questioned.
Sage knew what a relationship was and was aware that many of her Auntie’s were in one, the one she adored the most was her Auntie Beffy’s.
Lia looked down at Leah, letting her take the lead on the question. Leah tickled Sage’s stomach before speaking.
“Yes, we are. I love Lia and Lia loves Mumma a lot, we’re a little family, is that okay?” Leah asked. “It mean means you get double the love!”
Sage nodded, “I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you too, sweetheart!” Lia smiled, kissing Sage’s forehead again.
And in that quiet room, with Leah cuddled beside them, they were a family. A family that came unexpectedly but something they all needed.
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leahwilliamsonn evenings well spent with loved ones ❤️
tagged: liawaelti
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#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson fluff#woso imagine#leah williamson imagine#lia walti#lia walti x Leah Williamson#lia walti x reader
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things lost and things found | Lewis Hamilton
part two
word count: 10k
warnings: smut, smut, more smut, fluff.
A man not made for commitment also doesn’t know how to communicate
It's safe to say that since that night in Cannes nearly two months ago, the lines have blurred.
Every night Clem spends with Lewis ends with her falling asleep nestled in his arms.
Some nights, they don't even have sex; he just calls her up to see him.
Their outings are no longer limited to his bedroom or whatever hotel he's shacked up in. They're often found all over tabloids and fan pages, seen out at clubs or dinners or even on simple excursions such as shopping or taking walks.
Clementine tries her hardest to remember that Lewis was noncommittal. He would never ever even think about dating her or taking her seriously. That realization and his vocally telling her to not make things weird every time he can see that he catches her off guard keeps her on track.
Clem knew what she signed up for; quite literally, the NDA she signed entailed every component of their relationship.
Besides the weird butterflies she got around Lewis, life was only getting better and better.
Being around someone who understands her fully and allows her to completely unravel herself to them has really been good for Clem socially and career-wise.
She was less awakward around people, less reserved and she felt like hey, this man has accepted me for my every little flaw, why wouldn't other people.
She was moving up in the world, and people loved her for who she was, and for the first time ever, she did too.
She's won an emmy for her netflix show, her movie was breaking records, and she was finally stepping out of her box and showcasing other skills she had.
Along with this new burst of confidence came new relationships.
She's been trying to go out on dates to see if now was finally the time for her to try to settle down and find something serious.
That what she was doing currently, at dinner sitting across from some NBA players as he rambles on and on about different shots he couldve taken during the game, that he most definitely lost.
Clem hums, eyes feigning interest as he describes how he actually wasn't open when he tried to go for a three-pointer. Shocker, he missed.
When he excuses himself to run to the bathroom, she whips out her phone, seeing that Lewis texted her.
Lewis 🏁
How's your date?
She shakes her head, typing out her response.
dense. how's silverstone?
Lewis 🏁
Nerve-wracking, my car is still shit.
i'm sorry 😞
Lewis 🏁
I'm going to need you tonight.
Lewis, i'm on a date.
Clem scoffs, but the smile on her face as she presses send is misleading.
Lewis 🏁
Is he getting lucky tonight?
NO!
Lewis 🏁
So why can't I?
Clem feels the familiar tingle in her core and places her phone face down on the table just as her date takes his seat in front of her again.
She can't help the incredulous eyebrow raise she gives him as she sees a powdery substance painting his nostril.
"Yeah, it was nice meeting you, love." She smiles politely as she stands and motions for him to wipe his nose. He lifts his camera just as Clem drops enough money to cover her bill and tip the waitress generously.
She hops into the black SUV, thanking her driver for helping her into the back. She unlocks her phone and sees another message from Lewis.
Lewis 🏁
My jet will be waiting for you.
That is precisely how Clementine ended up in Lewis' hotel room, waiting for him on the bed as he took a quick shower.
When he emerges from the bathroom she can only offer him an uplifting smile, he looks so tired and so stressed.
It helps, it always does which is why Lewis wanted her here in the first place. She was like sunrise after the darkest of nights.
"Hi," she coos, opening her arms for the muscly man.
He falls into her arms, his torso bare and his bottom half swaddled in a towel. He lays his head in her lap as she sits against the headboard. He looks up at her face as she stares down at his, and she physically pouts as she brings her fingers up to massage the stress lines from his face.
"That bad?" she whispers as his eyes flutter closed. Lewis sighs, grumbling out a faint "Yeah."
"You don't have to go through it much longer, at least." She tries and she knows it does nothing to take the heavy weight of mercedes off of his shoulders.
"You feel like you're carrying the weight of the world." She hums, her hands traveling down to rub the tension out of his neck. Her fist rubs up and down from the sides of his neck to the crook of his shoulders.
Lewis lets out a relaxed sigh, letting her work on him.
She doesn't know how long she sits there with him snuggled into her lap as she kneads the tension from his body.
After a while, she connects to his speaker and plays music. She has Lewis turn over onto his stomach as she slips from underneath him.
She hums as she sits on his bottom and begins massaging his back. "Your back is bruised."
"I was bouncing around like crazy in that fucking car." He curses.
Clementine bends down, pressing kisses around his back on the purple and red marks adorning his skin.
Lewis closes his eyes, relishing in the comfort she gives him.
Lewis has noticed it, too, the turn their dynamic has taken. He is aware that he has given slight leeway to the emotional part of their relationship.
He finds himself thinking about Clem plenty throughout the days. Buys things he thinks she'll like. He's grown accustomed to placing delicate pecks on her lips and face randomly throughout their time together; he can't help it.
Something about her has him wanting her all of the time, not even in th physical way. He just wants her to be with him.
"Can you come out to the race tomorrow?" He rasps.
She sits up, her legs still encaging his body. "Hmm, I don't think your publicity team will like that, people are already speculating about us."
"I don't care." Lewis argues, "It's about time you come to a race, wanna see you immediately not wait to get to the hotel and then see you."
His words make her heart thump harsher, and suddenly, all of the warnings from her publicist dissipate.
"Okay."
Lewis didn't initiate sex between them that night. He simply turns over with her still on top of him and places his hands on her thighs.
"Come here," he whispers, reaching up to tug her head down to his face.
Their lips lock and it's not rushed or leading to anything. It's like how he kissed her in France. It's just sweet?
She can feel his heart against her chest as she is pressed against him, beating rampantly. "Thank you for showing up for me." He mutters against her lips. She grins against him as she remembers the words she scribbled onto the note she'd given him with her gift.
"Always." she breathes, diving back in to kiss him. One hand travels to her waist, and the other has a soft grip on the back of her neck.
She feels his member poke against her thigh, and she sits up as much as she can with his hand on her neck, ready to free him from the towel, but the hand he had on her waist stops her actions with a grip on her wrist.
"I just want to lay with you tonight, if that's okay?"
Just when she thought she was safe from her tom-foolish thoughts, she felt her suppressed feelings for Lewis take light again. Don't make it weird, she thinks to herself. "Okay."
Lewis sits up, his hand returning to her hip; she is sat in his lap, legs folded, and his body pushes her slightly back as he tugs on the comforter. He falls back taking her with him and pulls the thick comforter over her body which lays against his chest.
"What's one thing that surprised you about me?"
Clem traces her fingers on his chest in deep thought, "that you don't do relationships."
"Why that?"
"You're a lover boy at heart." Clem chortled, "Literally just a sweetheart. Most men who can't see themselves being with someone don't act as affectionate with women."
Lewis lets out a hmm sound, his hand still gliding up and down her back beneath his t-shirt that she wore.
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Good, there's nothing wrong with being a sweetheart; bad if someone gets the wrong idea; I have a feeling you're an easy man to fall in love with."
Lewis presses a kiss to her hairline, butterflies doing summersaults in his belly.
-
They wake up the next morning in the same position, with Clem's face nestled in the crook of his neck. Lewis smiles as he reaches over to turn off his alarm.
"Gotta get up, Clem." He soothes, rubbing up and down her back.
"Mhmm." She moans in denial, cuddling deeper into him. "No."
"Come on, beautiful."
He sits up, forcing her up with him.
She flutters her eyes open and wraps her arms around his neck.
He chuckles at her defiance, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and standing. He taps her thigh and she gets the message, wrapping them around his waist.
He walks her into the bathroom and sits her down on the bathroom counter. "Sit here, be careful." He orders, unraveling her from his body. He almost gives up and tucks her back into bed as she whines at him.
He leaves the bathroom and returns with a small bag of hers. She slumps against the mirror as she hears him rustling about. When she hears the faucet turn on and then feels his big hands massage circles into her cheeks, she opens her eyes.
There, she sees Lewis standing there with a cheeky smile, his hands lathered in her face soap as he massages the suds onto her face.
"Going to have to get my girl ready myself, huh?" He questions.
She only smirks at him and closes her eyes, letting him work through her skincare routine step by step, laughing as he inquires about every product.
When he finishes, he washes his own face and then passes her toothbrush to her. He stands between her legs as they both brush their teeth. Both of them stare at each other with googly eyes, laughing as foam bubbles from their mouths. When she leans over to spit into the sink, he follows shortly after and then pours a capful of mouthwash for her and them himself. And again, they stare into each other's eyes, giggly and gleaming, as they swish the liquid between their puffy cheeks.
This is where Clementine struggled with the status of their agreement. These weren't the actions of a man who didn't intend to be in a relationship. But she had heard of Lewis and his many flings and "friends" and she knew that he was a very affectionate person so once again she willed away the thought that there was any chnace of Lewis ever straying away from his bachelor lifestyle.
She pats his shoulder beckoning him to step away, when he does she hops down and releases the last of the contents from her mouth into the sink and stepping aside so Lewis can do the same.
"I'm going to grab my clothes." She informs.
As she lays her outfit options across the bed, she hears a vibration beneath her shirt, and she leans over the bed, patting until she finds the culprit. When she feels the device, she pulls it from underneath and sees that it's not her phone but Lewis'.
The screen lights up with notifications.
One catches her eye from, Natalie.
Lewis did feel comfortable enough to disclose his other flings to her, and she nearly shit herself when he associated them all with cities. She remembers the way he laughed when she asked if she needed to get tested. Then she asked if he had referred to her as Clementine, NYC.
Natalie, Silverstone. She recalls.
It wasn't like she was intentionally snooping, but as the screen lit up in her hand again, she couldn't help but read the message as it appeared.
Still on for tomorrow?
At first, she feels a pang in her chest, but then she remembers her place, and she gently sits his phone on the nightstand, allowing the screen to turn off.
"Hey, you okay?" Lewis questioned, poking his head from the bathroom, realizing that she had stopped responding to him.
She is stood facing the bed with her hands on her hips, scanning her oufits. "Yeah," she smiles though it doesn't quite meet her eyes.
He eyes her quizically, but when she chuckles at his facial expression, pulls her outfit from the bed, and saunters into the bathroom with him, he relaxes.
Clem is in her head, and she hopes it's not obvious to Lewis.
But she can't help but wonder why he would fly her out just to make plans to sleep with another woman in the span of two days.
She's hurt, and she's jealous, and she knows she shouldn't be, but a part of her wants to slap the shit out of him.
Instead, she refrains and plays into whatever sick bullshit he was playing with her heart unintentionally.
-
She arrives to the paddock with Lewis and she tries not to grimace as he tells a journalist that he brings friends with him to races all of the time, as they pass by.
He opens the door to the Mercedes motorhome like the proper gentleman he is and directs her into his room.
"I'm just going to change into my suit, and then we can head to the garage, okay?"
She nods and pulls out her phone. Already, she sees that they are trending.
Lewis steps out of the room and leaves the door open. A few minutes pass before she hears an audible gasp.
When she looks up, she sees a bright-eyed George Russell.
"Hello, Hi! I'm George, I'm a big fan." He enters the compact room, his hand outstretched before him. She stands from Lewis' bed and accepts his hand.
"Hi, George, I'm Clem."
"I know who you are. What are you doing here?" He wonders.
"I'm a friend of Lewis'. I wanted to see you guys race today."
George stutters out a wow, beginning to ramble on before he is interrupted by a throat clearing at the door. There stands Lewis, with a burning look on his face that makes George immediately drop her hand.
"Lewis." He gasps, "How do you literally know everyone, man?"
She smiles, raising her eyebrows behind Lewis as George rambles about her.
Lewis claps his hands against George's shoulder before speaking, "I love you, kid. But we've got to get going."
And then he reached his arm around George and latched onto Clem and pulled her from behind him.
George stammers out a quick bye, and Clem waves sweetly at him as Lewis pulls her from the motorhome and towards the garage.
"He's so sweet," Clem coos, and Lewis only grunts out a "yeah."
"He looks like a literal prince charming." She extends.
Lewis doesn't want to hear her call his teammate any more kinds of cute, so he opts not to respond.
When they finally reach the garage, he is sitting her down beside Toto, who introduces himself with a warm and welcoming smile.
She accepts his hand, gently shaking it, and in return, Lewis gets whisked away.
She enjoys her time in the garage, whilst Lewis talk to his strategist she is sat beside Toto and a few engineers and she feels like she is on a field trip as they explain the many different parts of their setup. Finally Lewis appears at her side again, beckoning her to follow him. She accepts his hand, lifting from her seat and walking hand in hand with him to his car.
"Wow." she gasps as she studies the racing car.
"You want to get in?" Lewis questions. She turns to him with wide eyes, and Lewis can see the excitement in her dark orbs.
"You don't like people in your car." She reminds, peering back down at it.
"I said I don't let just anyone in my car, are you just anyone?" He is staring at her so intensely it has her body on fire.
She felt shy underneath his gaze as he stepped closer to her.
She stands tall, looking up at him through her lashes. He's nearly bumping chests with her as he looms over her.
"There's an entire team in here, Lewis, and cameras." She whispers only loud enough for the two of them to hear.
He doesn't care. He leans down, his mouth near her ear, "Are you just anyone to me, Clementine?"
She swallows nervously as he takes a step back, "No."
"Then get in the fucking car."
Toto watches on from his seat in amazement as Lewis lifts her frame into the car. He then turns and looks into the camera with his eyebrows raised as to show his impressment.
He put two and two together that she was a personal guest for Lewis. It was obvious since Mercedes had already planned for Tom Cruise and Damson Idris' arrival for the race today.
Lewis leans into the car as he motions to different parts on the inside of the automobile.
Clem honestly couldn't give two fucks about the car, but she was relishing in how passionate Lewis looked and sounded as he spoke about every aspect of it. She hadn't moved her eyes from his face not once, and Lewis froze as he turned to face her and saw the wanting look adorning her features.
It has him hard instantly.
"Behave." He warns, turning his head to survey their surroundings.
"You're fine as fuck when you're talking cars."
Lewis chuckles, and a blush comes up to cover his cheeks. He lifts his hand, his knuckles skimming along her jaw.
"I want to kiss you, but people will see."
She drops her face against his hand, puckering her bottom lip out at him.
"Aw, too bad." She whispers seductively, and Lewis whispers out a quiet "fuck." as she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. His thumb reaches up and drags it back out.
"Gotta be nice to me right now, Clem. Hmm?" He hums, not bothering to remove his thumb from her lip. He smears his finger across, watching as it pops back into place.
"Help me out of this car." She smirks, lifting her arms, "Before you do something you'll regret, there are cameras around."
"I don't give a fuck about the cameras." He rasps and breaks out into a grin when she bursts into a fit of laughter. He smacks his teeth, standing up straight, preparing to get her out.
"You like fucking with me." He declares.
Lewis helps her from the car, his hands probably lingering on her lower back for far too long once she's back on the ground.
"Lewis." He hears, and when he turns around, he sees Tom and Damson.
He pulls Clem with him, introducing her to the pair. He instantly regrets it when he sees the way Damson eyes her down like she's a refreshing tall glass of water.
Tom starts up a conversation with Lew about the business they need to handle for his upcoming movie, but his eyes can't leave Clem's frame, and how Damson brings her hand up to his lips.
He feels like a suicidal maniac when he watches her laugh and smile at whatever he is saying.
He'd met him before, and trust, whatever he was saying couldn't possibly be that funny.
Lewis wants to rip Toto's head off as he directs the two of them into a set of empty seats. He was less than present during the conversation with Tom, and he hoped he hadn't noticed. His arms are folded over his chest, and his foot is tapping the ground anxiously. He tries not to make it obvious when he directs Tom to his spot and takes his in order to keep an eye on Clem.
When the time for the start of the race gets closer he is thankful to see Tom take his place beside Toto.
He saunters over to the still chatty pair and stands in front of Clem. He waits for her to notice him, and when she doesn't, he clears his throat rather dramatically.
She stands when she notices him, shooting Damson an apologetic smile that has him ready to drag her off. Which he does.
He pulls her to a corner of the garage and up the stairs into a random office and locks the door.
"You okay." Clem questions, stepping towards him and placing her hands on his waist. "Lewis." she tries again when he doesn't answer.
He looks stressed and zoned out.
"I- uh yeah." he coughs and suddenly he feels better having her away from Damson. "i'm fine, pre-race jitters." He lies.
Her hands slide up his chest until they settle on the sides of his head.
She tilts his head so that he's staring into her eyes.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
"Okay."
"I'm regretting this." He admits and her eyes squint, "bringing you here, I mean."
That does nothing to alleviate her hurt expression, so he continues, "My car is still shit, I don't want you to watch me lose."
She scoffs, gently slapping her hand against his shoulder before returning it to its place caressing his beard. "Would’ve watched you lose at home too, what's the difference. I'm going to support you all the same."
Lewis leans down and presses a short, soft kiss to her plump lips.
Her eyes flutter closed as he stares down at her, and finally, his hands raised to her hips, pulling her into him. "I don't think that I tell you thank you enough for all of the ways you help me, Clem."
"You don't have to," she whispers, dropping her forehead against his chest. He rests his chin on top of her head, putting his arms over her shoulders as hers wraps around his torso.
Lewis likes this. He thinks he can start every race for the rest of his career like this. When he hears a knock on the door, he groans but shoots Clem a warning look as she chuckles at him.
"Big baby." she teases, moving around him to unlock the door. He maneuvers behind her, reaching to open it, and when he does, he sees Toto there with a knowing smirk.
"Time to race, Lewis."
She allows Lewis to pull her from the office hand in hand, and she knows her publicist is probably in New York and stressed running through cigarettes. She always joked that this Lewis rendezvous would result in her smoking her stress away.
Lewis knows something is wrong with him for sure when he realizes that he doesn't care about the camera or who's watching him show Clem his affection. He knows they're going to be the main topic of every tabloid tomorrow, and he just doesn't care.
She stands in front of him beside his car as the crew bustles around them.
When it's time for Lewis to finish his preparation, he motions his head towards Clem, and suddenly, her hands are stuffed with a balaclava and a pair of gloves.
She turns to the man who handed them to her and he offers her a small smile.
She turns to Lewis, and he can tell she's trying to fight off the grin that desperately wants to appear.
She reaches for his right hand, tugging the glove onto his hand gently, she checks each finger and pulls to make sure the fit is snug. She repeats her actions on his left hand and then Lewis firmly places his hands on her waist. He's looking at her with those sparkly eyes and a loving smile.
She turns the balaclava in her hands, trying to figure out which way to pull it over his head. When she sees the opening, she lets out an "Aahh" that has Lewis chuckling at her.
She stands on her tiptoes, freeing his braids from the ponytail and pushing them back. She hums to herself as she pulls the balaclava over his head.
She settles back on her feet, and she can only see his eyes, but it does something to her.
She reaches between them pulling the upper half of his suit up his body, giggling when he grunts realizing he's got to let go of her to push his arms through the sleeves.
His hands are back on her in an instant, like by not physically touching her he'd fly away.
Clem reaches between them again; this time, her fingers latch onto the zipper, and she tugs it up from his pelvis all the way up his chest until it's set in place.
"I don't know, Lew. I think we've at least got a podium." She whispers, accepting the helmet.
She steps back, allowing his hands to fall, and then hands him the helmet.
"I can feel it in my bones."
"Oh," Lewis laughs, "Can feel it in your bones?" He sticks out his free hand, tickling at her.
Clementine laughs, stepping back and gripping his arm, "Stop!"
He listens, pulling on his helmet and looking back at his car.
"Well, that's me."
Clem feels like a lovesick puppy as she watches his eyelashes flutter with every blink of his eyes.
"Podium." She reminds him, lifting her pinky.
"Podium." He declares, wrapping his own against hers. He lifts their conjoined hands and places them against his helmet where his mouth would be, and she swoons.
"Get in the car, Hamilton."
She's a giddy mess as she steps away from him and finds herself accepting a seat from one of the crew members.
She sighed while watching the screen as Lewis started in P5. He is quickly into P4. She feels her adrenaline kick in as the crew cheers excitedly watching him overtake into third. When he overtakes two other drives all in the same lap the garage erupts in shouts of excitement, just for that to be taken away just as fast when they see a car barrel through off od the track and into the fence.
Clem gasps, her hand coming up to cup her mouth.
She knew Formula One was a dangerous sport, but watching a wreck like that happen in real-time has her mind reeling on just how much danger Lewis puts himself in.
"Is he okay?" She hears as the crew all talk amongst themselves.
"George is out of the race. The other driver is okay." Toto announces, "We're restarting."
Lewis is back in the garage, and he is irritated.
Clem stays back and out of his way as she watches him angrily rant. "That is not right, Toto." He snaps, "back in fifth?"
She watches as Toto nods at him, and Lewis turns to his assistant, rolling his eyes. He looks so frustrated as he throws his hand out, "fucking fifth."
Clem knew that when she was angry that she didn't like to be bothered, so she stayed in her seat. She feels a body plop down beside her, and she turns to see Damson.
"Intense, yeah?" He questions.
"Most definitely." She sighs, "My adrenaline is off the charts right now."
"First time coming to a race?"
She nods, returning the question, "Nah, this is like the NFL to Brits."
She laughs, "Right."
The two chat whilst the rest of the garage is in shambles, and Lewis watches the two with slits in his eyes.
He knows he shouldn't be jealous. Clem was nothing to him but a friend who he enjoys fucking. It's what he tells himself as Damson passes his phone to her. She was just his friend. He'd even encouraged her to get out there and find her person.
But that was before he realized how differently she made his heartbeat.
Lewis doesn't bother going over to her before the race restarts, he can feel her lingering eyes as he manuevers around the garage, avoiding her.
Lewis feels a bit enraged. Initially, it was just the FIA and their stupid fucking rules, then it was the car, and now it was Clementine and the stupid British actor drooling over each other in his face.
It was all piling on top of him, and he hadn't felt so unsettled ever before a race.
He hops back into his car, not sparing Clem a glance, and rolls out into P5.
This time the only thing on his mind is how fucking mad he is.
That anger got him P3.
He doesn't know why he doesn't approach Clem as she waits for him patiently in her seat. He goes around and thanks the crew and the engineers and has a brief talk with Toto and Tom. And then he leaves to go to the podium, all without even glancing at her.
Clem, always aware, remains silent and tries to keep the pout from taking place on her face.
She tries not to take Lewis' actions personal, it's obvious he's wound up. She doesn't know if it's something she did or if he's still frustrated by the race restart. Logically it's the second, she's learned that not everyone's behaviors have to do with her. It's taken years of her enternalizing other people's moods to realize that 9/10 people are just feeling things. She hasn't done anything, she's sure of it.
She is directed into the motorhome whilst Lewis handles other business and she sits in his room on his bed waiting patiently.
When Lewis had brought up the idea of bringing her to the race yesterday, he raved on and on about how she'd be able to walk the track, wait with his team whilst he's on the podium (if he got one), and get the classic guest experience. She hadn't gotten that, which was a letdown since she really wanted to experience Lewis' world, but she understood why that wasn't possible today after seeing Lewis' mood.
But still, it would have been nice not to sit in his motorhome and then the garage all day, just to end up back in his motorhome alone for hours.
When Lewis emerges into the tiny room he is clean and dressed in comfortable clothes. He had been on the phone in the office preparing a few arrangements for the past hour. He sighs as he sees her frame sprawled across the tiny bed.
There are soft puffs of air escaping her, and her phone is clutched loosely in her hand.
He can tell she fell asleep scrolling through her phone.
He sits on the foot of the bed at her feet and drops his head into his hands.
He doesn't know what he's doing. But he does know he can't keep going on like this. Lewis didn't like relationships, he didn't like being tied down, it wasn't fair of him to only want Clem to himself when she would never get all of him.
"C'mon Clem, let's get you back."
Like the sleepy girl she is, she whines as Lewis pulls her body from the bed, placing her on her feet.
"Can you walk?"
She only nods, reaching over to grab her bag and her phone. She doesn't speak to Lewis quite yet, still unsure of his mood. She lets him direct her from the motorhome, his hand tight in hers as he leads her through the paddock. It is so late at night that there are rarely any people hanging around. When they exit and get to his car, the flashes from the cameras wake her up even more, and she uses the back of her hand to block the lights.
Lewis walks her to the passenger side, waiting for her to slip in before he closes the door gently and goes around to his seat.
He pulls out cautiously and begins their trek to the hotel.
Clem forces herself to stay awake, knowing that it's only a short drive.
Still, she is waiting for Lewis to speak, but he doesn't.
"I had fun," she announces.
"I'm glad."
"You got podium." She cheers lowly.
Lewis only offers her a small smile, and uncertainty settles in her gut. Something's not right.
She gives up trying to talk to him after that.
The car is filled with tension and awkward silence. It's so unlike them.
When they pull into the hotel, Clem doesn't wait for the valet to open her door. She clambers out and thanks god as the night breeze fills her lungs. She's never felt so suffocated around Lewis.
As Lewis exchanges formalities with the man she rushes into the hotel and onto the elevator, when she reaches the room she unlocks it with the secondary key taking a moment to gulp down a glass of water.
Lewis follows in behind her shortly after, paying her no mind as he goes to the bathroom and emerges with his shirt and jewelry off.
"You got an attitude?" Lewis questions, standing in the doorframe.
"No, I don't."
"I know you, Clementine." Lewis rasps, coming to stand over her as she sits on the bed.
"You're the one with the nasty ass attitude." She huffs, reaching up to nudge him away from her. He doesn't budge.
"Lose the attitude, Clem." He orders, and she rolls her eyes.
"Or what, Lewis?" She pushes.
Lewis' hand is at her neck in a second. His grip is not tight at all, just holding her in place as he ravishes her mouth. Just as frustrated as he is, she returns the kiss.
"Got something for that attitude," Lewis grunts, pushing her onto her back.
She gasps as he roughly pulls at her pants.
He has them off before she knows it, and his hand lets go of her neck and travels down to pull at her panties. He rips them off of her with a hunger in his eyes like no other.
"Gotta fuck it out of you, Clem?" He asks.
He doesn't give her time to answer as he sinks down to his knees at the end of the bed and pulls her down with him. He lifts her legs over him and wraps his arms around her thighs. His hands settle on her thighs, keeping them apart, and he stares up at her one last time before connecting his mouth to her clit.
She jumps, but his hands hold her in place.
He removes his lips from her bundle of nerves, his tongue traveling down to swipe through her crease. She moans lightly as she fists at the sheets. His fingers travel up to replace his mouth, and he digs them deep into her core, his tongue flicking against her clit before he presses it flat and moves up and down.
Clem gasps as he curls his fingers inside her and suckles extra hard on her. Her hand shoots down to push him away, but he catches her wrist in his free hand, holding it against the mattress.
He stares up at Clem, the whole scene naughty and erotic. He lets her other hand come down to rest in his hair.
Lewis moans into her, his mouth sending a wave of vibrations through her body. Lewis never took his eyes off of her, watching as she writhed above him. He was showing her no mercy as the gushy sounds filled the room.
She tasted so good.
Lewis worked his tongue around her clit, teasing her only for a minute before he smushed his mouth over it again and suckled just the right amount, his fingers still thrust in and out of her, driving her absolutely insane. He moans into her pussy and trails his mouth down to swallow where she is oozing.
Lewis lets her captivating moans egg him on as he devours her like a starved man. He can feel it when she comes when her tight, spongy pussy constricts around his fingers. He happily licks up the juices she releases as she comes undone.
He pulls his fingers from her core and stands, quickly turning her body over. She lands on her stomach with a slight "oomph" noise and turns to look back at Lewis.
He wastes no time hammering into her from behind. He grabs her arms pulling them behind her back and crossing her wrists; with one hand, he holds them against her back, and with the other, he swats at her ass. Groaning as he watches it ripple.
"Fuck."
Clem can do nothing but pant underneath him and let out pathetic mewls as his hand repeatedly strikes her ass. It hurts so good.
Lewis keeps pounding into her hard, his heart racing as he chases his own orgasm. He sees her phone light up beside him, and a message from Damson appears.
When he sees this, he speeds up his thrusts, gliding his thick member in and out of her suffocating walls.
She can only blubber out useless moans as he plummets in and out of her.
He lets go of her wrist, pulling her up onto all fours.
"You get a thrill out of pissing me off?" He grunts, his hand going up to grip her hair.
"No!" she whines, gripping the covers.
"I think you do."
His other hand is gripping her waist, pulling her back to him every time she falls forward.
"Nuh-unh." He orders from behind her, letting go of her hair and holding on to her waist tightly with both hands now.
"Don't run from it, baby. You wanted this, huh? This what you want?"
Clem rasps out a choked yes, her head falling at the intense pleasure running through her veins.
Lewis sounds like a beast behind her, all strangled up and growling out praises at her.
He feels so possessive as his hand lifts and smacks at her ass again. "Fucking, mine." He growls, and Clem falls forward. He doesn't stop as her legs give in, and she drops to the bed again. He climbs behind her, still keeping his pace, and throws his head back as she quivers around him like a candle on fire.
He can feel the heat building in his core, and it eggs him on as he places his hands on her ass, holding her in place.
Clementine spasms beneath him, never experiencing an orgasm like this before. Her heart feels like it's beating outside of her chest as her ears ring and her eyes roll to the back of her head. She can only curse over and over as she feels Lewis drag out of her and return again with much more force.
This was the best sex she'd ever gotten in her life.
Her walls clenched around him, her breath hitching as he moved aimlessly in and out of her.
Lewis shuddered at the feeling, sucking in a sharp breath at the sensation. She is face down, panting into the mattress as he pants above her.
She can't count how many times she has come undone underneath him, but as she feels another orgasm approaching, she can't help the way her thighs tremble underneath Lewis.
Lewis is an incoherent, mumbling and moaning mess above her as he allows himself to succumb to her squeezing cunt, clamping over him. Lewis falls into the abyss, pleasure washing over both of them as he spills into her.
He pulls out with a hiss, shuddering at his sensitivity, and falls over beside Clementine, who rolls onto her back.
"Woah." she pants.
Lewis feels her phone vibrate and he watches as she scambled down the bed to get it, he feels green as he watches her smile at the screen.
Just as she moves to lie beside him again, he speaks up with words that make her feel dismayed.
"I booked you a room."
He turns away from her, staring at the ceiling.
"I- What?" She stutters, turning to face him.
"It's just a floor below, suite 909."
Clem is distraught, and it shows on her face as she jumps away from the bed as if Lewis has burned her. "Lewis, what-"
Her words are cut off as her phone vibrates in her hand. Lewis chuckles dryly, finally tilting his head to face her. Suddenly Clem feels like a little girl again, wondering why her parents never made an effort in her life, wondering why it was so easy for them to push her aside like they didn't care that she existed.
"What's the matter? Are we okay?" She rambles.
Stop talking, Lewis. He thinks to himself as he watches Clem's eyes flash with wetness. Even sad, she has doe eyes, still shining, but this time, there are tears in her eyes and an intense sadness.
"Yeah," he should’ve stopped there, but he kept going. "I'll probably see you tomorrow. If not, it'll be the next time I need you." He motions to the bed.
Clem frowns, letting out an exhale as she bends down to tug on her pants. As she maneuvers around the room collecting her suitcase, Lewis calls out to her. "I put the room key beside your toiletry bag."
She slips into the bathroom, picking up her small bag, and sure enough, the keycard is there. She grasps it in her hand and walks out. She wants to scream at him, tell him how big of a dick he's being, but she's not that kind of person.
She is graceful. But it's taking everything in her to channel the lessons her grandpa has taught her when she is this mad, this hurt.
Clem avoids looking at Lewis as she latches onto her suitcase.
"Maybe you should start considering finding someone who's serious, Clementine."
Is this what this is about? She knew the blurred lines would come back to bite her in the ass eventually.
She freezes, her back turned to him as her hand pauses on the door handle. And her body shakes slightly as a her frown deepens, she feels a stream of tears flow down her cheeks.
And just when Lewis thinks that Clem is going to turn around and argue with him, probably throw something at him and shout at him, she doesn't.
She lifts one hand, swiping at her face, and then softly opens the door and leaves without so much as looking back at him. The door clicks shut behind her, and she walks on down the hallway towards the elevator.
The words don't react, echoing over and over in her head, but as she hears the wheel rolling on her suitcase, she can't help but feel the trembling in her body. She presses her lips together, stepping onto the elevator, and as the doors close, she lets out a gutwrenching sob.
She sniffles as she steps into the suite. Rushing to the bathroom to shed her clothes, she showers wiping all traces of Lewis Hamilton from her body the way she wishes she can erase him from her mind. She scrubs harshly, eyes still full with tears, between the scorchingly hot water, steam and the tears she can barely see anything as she scrubs severely.
For the first time since agreeing to this arrangement, she feels used by Lewis. She's never felt so dirty in her life. As she sank down to her knees, feeling the wails rip through her body with force, she realized why exactly his words and actions hurt her so much.
It didn't matter how much she showed up for him or how much she allows herself to be his shrink and him hers, it'd always be a bad religion, loving someone who'd never love you back.
Lewis is in the same position he has been in since she left, flat on his back with his hands covering his face. His body is quivering as sobs rack through his body.
It was a tough decision, but it was one that had to be made. He could never give Clem what she deserved; he wasn't a committed person. Seven years on and off with the same person is proof of that. He could never be okay with putting her through that.
-
Lewis wakes up the next morning with a pounding headache and lingering loneliness.
He always felt like this when he woke up without Clem in his arms. As he sits up and swipes his hands over his face, his heart aches when he notices her ripped panties thrown on the floor.
He regrets his actions.
He wishes he would've sat her down nicely and explained how things were getting too deep for him. It's Clem, she would've understood.
He realizes just how bad he fucked up when her giddiness to lay beside him last night flickers through his mind like a clip from a movie.
"What if we lay in bed after every meetup and we just talk?"
He feels like he's been shot when her hurt face replays over and over. He treated her like shit last night, all because he was scared of what she made him feel.
He was a mess during yesterday's race; all he could think about down every straight and around every curve was how much he liked Clem, how good she made him feel, and bad she could make him feel just as easily.
He realized that the woman had too much control over his heart yesterday, and he couldn't take that. This was supposed to be fun, casual fun. He never inteded to catch feeling for Clementine Russell, but she was the kind of girl who made you drop to her feet.
He never stood a chance against her charm.
He scrambled from the king-sized bed, rushing to his phone.
-
When he hears a knock on his door, he opens it in a rush; he sees the butler there and offers him a finger to signal to hold on. He rushes to his table, picking up the bouquet of flowers, an array of red, yellow, and orange orchids, dahlias, and marigolds.
"Can you take these down to suite 909?" Lewis pants pushing the boquet towards the man, there is a note nestled between the pedals.
The man tilts his head, pushing the flowers back towards Lewis.
"I am sorry, Sir Hamilton, Ms Russell has checked out already in the early hours of Midnight."
Lewis feels his heart crumble as he steps away from the man, the giant bouquet firm in his hold.
Lewis says nothing as he closes the door and walks away.
-
Clem had left that night, not long after leaving Lewis' room. After her shower, she was on the first flight home, and she hadn't spoken to Lewis since.
Lewis misses Clementine. It's a realization that he came to rather quickly but refused to admit.
Lewis pulls himself out of the leggy woman he picked up at the end of his race. She drops down beside him in heavy pants.
"That was fun." She exhales.
He doesn't know why when he turns his head, he expects to see Clem staring back at him with her dark eyes and cute smile.
This woman is no Clementine, and that's for sure.
He doesn't know why he tries it, but he does. "You can go anywhere in the world under one condition. You'd have to stay there forever; everything is unchanged, and nothing new will ever come. Where do you choose?"
He watches as her eyes scrunch momentarily in confusion.
"I don't know. It's probably Paris. I'm obsessed with their lifestyle, honestly."
Lewis turns his head back to the ceiling.
He wants her to leave. And he wants Clementine to be in her place.
It's quiet and awkward, and she doesn't even try to ask him.
He already knows his answer. He'd be with Clem in his bed, hands connected as they lie naked underneath his covers, heads turned to each other as they talk. He'd watch on as the moonlight supersedes the darkness and the moonbeams are replaced with sun rays. And he'd listen to her feel things like she made him. And he'd be happy and content with spending eternity like that.
Everything unchanged, nothing new.
Lewis begins to think that maybe casual sex isn't for him anymore. Perhaps he's taking Clem's absence extra hard because he yearned for the other form of intimacy, the emotional aspect of being with a woman.
So he tries dating.
And he comes to the same conclusion, date after date.
Their eyes don't gleam like hers.
They don't understand his humor.
They don't care about why losing his favorite toy as a kid was an integral part of the man he became.
They can't carry on discussions like Clem or even talk like Clem.
They don't have her precious smile and her deep dimples. They're not gracious and benevolent.
They aren't Clem, no one ever will be.
Lewis craves Clem; he misses her with every fiber of his being.
And he regrets letting her up from his bed. He regrets telling her to pursue another man.
When Lewis returns to New York, his thumb lingers over the send button.
clemmy 🪂
I need to see you, where are you?
He doesn't send the message; he drops his phone with a sigh, knuckling at his eyes. Why was it so fucking hard? He'd never felt this troubled in his life, especially over a woman he'd never even dated.
He sighs in distress, picks up his phone, stares at the message begging to be sent, and clicks off of the app. Instead, he opens his Instagram. As he goes to search for Clem's name, he sees that she is still his top search, and he feels like a loser as he enters her profile.
He'd take any sight of her he could get.
-
Clementine wouldn't say she was necessarily religious. Her grandpa would probably drop dead of a heart attack if he heard that. But it was the truth. She thought it was fairytale-like sometimes. Yes, she had faith, but she wasn't as devout as many people.
If she was being honest, she thought religion began as something beautiful, putting your complete trust and faith into another person, with the idea that they were quite literally the holy grail. Over time, it's been skewed and manipulated, some for great purposes and others for very wrong reasons.
She thought most religious people were hypocrites. Lewis was a hypocrite for sure, giving her an inch and then taking a mile. Now that she has had time to ponder over it, Lewis Hamilton is actually a sick man. Pouring affection into her and poisoning her heart.
How did he expect her not to fall for him when he treated her the way he did? She feels like a fool herself, too, thinking back to the conversation she had with him the night before it all went to shit.
"You're a lover boy at heart." Clem chortled, "Literally just a sweetheart. Most men who can't see themselves being with someone don't act as affectionate with women."
Lewis lets out a hmm sound, his hand still gliding up and down her back beneath his t-shirt that she wore.
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Good, there's nothing wrong with being a sweetheart; bad if someone gets the wrong idea; I have a feeling you're an easy man to fall in love with."
Lewis was a hypocrite, and she was too.
But the truth is religion gave people purpose. She'd never felt it firmly in a spiritual sense, but she had experienced that strong urge to follow someone's every command. She's believed every word that tumbles from his mouth. Given the opportunity, she would surely drop to her knees at his feet. She's only ever felt the need to praise and put her limited faith and her secured trust into one person. Sure, she had faith, just in a bad religion. She admired one man, Lewis Hamilton, but there was one problem, she could never make him love her the way she loved him.
Clem took his advice. She branched off, presented herself in new ways, made new friends, developed herself, and found someone who would take her seriously, though that didn't last long at all.
clementine
liked by feliciathegoat, pharrell, and 12,898,465 others
clementine so, they've helped me make an album? Clementine, NYC out now on all streaming platforms !!
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feliciathegoat Cool kids doing cool shit 🏌🏿
clementine the coolest 😎
lilyachty ALBUM OF THE FUCKING YEAR
clementine 🤸🏾♀️🤸🏾♀️🤸🏾♀️🤸🏾♀️
user no bc who did my girl like that
clementine no really, it's okay though builds character 😃
user builds character my ass, go beat his ass
user A MOVIE AND MUSIC IN THE SAME YEAR ASVJHKHK WHEN DO WE GET SEASON 2???
clementine yk im filming girl 🙄
clementine
liked by danielricciardo, justinbieber, and 10,898,465 others
clementine two post in one day bc why not, what's everyone's favorite song from Clementine, NYC?!?
danielricciardo In your hands slaps
clementine you sir, have great taste 😘
user daniel what are you doing here 😭
user No really, weird ass crossover episode
user the blue hair to match the album cover the movie * chefs kiss*, your creativity is unmatched queen
clementine you noticing the small details >>>
justinbieber posting us arguing over the order is killing me
clementine no bc we both look so over it 😂
user I love her and Tyler's friendship sm
feliciathegoat i love my bestie
clementine and I love u T 🥹
-
Lewis instantly throws in his airpods and starts the album, one by one he listens to each song. Sure enough every song has small anecdotes about their time together that only he'd know.
He was aware that he was blurring the lines between just benefits and true feelings, but he didn't know that he wasn't the only one feeling strongly about it. He never took her feelings into account.
Just when he thought he couldn't feel any worse about the situation, that realization dawned on him. Clementine Russell loved him and he threw her to the curb like a bag of trash.
He's throwing on whatever clothes he sees first as he rushes from his door.
He doesn't bother calling his driver as he treks block after block; he has one destination in mind, Clem's townhome.
He's there before he knows it, his fist urgently banging against her door.
He sees a light flicker on through the window, and then her door swings open.
She's in her nightshirt with her hair wrapped in a scarf, and her eyes are puffy from sleep. When she sees Lewis, she begins to swing the door back closed, but his hand pushes against it.
"No, Lewis." She snarls, swinging the door open again. She is looking at him like he's the devil himself. "I don't want to see you, I don't want to talk to you, I don't even want to think of you."
"Clem, please." He begs, "Please, I can't take it."
She pauses at the door, taking her time to study the man in front of her. He looks bad, simply put.
His eyes are bloodshot and droopy with bags, his braids are disheveled and clearly in need of a touch-up, and he just looks all around miserable.
She almost gives in until she thinks back to the last eight months where she had been miserable herself. She smacks her teeth swinging the door closed until she hears Lewis shout out three words that take her back to when the roads got foggy, Cannes. When she realized the difference in how she actually felt for Lewis.
"I love you."
She peels the door back open and stares at him intensely. "What did you say?"
He looks like he's watched his whole world get taken away from him as he repeats himself, "I love you. Don't shut the door, please."
"It's not fair, Lewis." She fumes.
"I know." He whispers, and his voice cracks.
"You don't get to do this to me." Clem snapped. "You can't just make me feel things for you and then push me away. You can't make me love you and then hurt me and tell me you love me when it's too late."
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry, isn't enough." She hissed angrily, approaching him and poking his chest.
He reaches up and grabs her hand, holding it close to his chest. She feels him shudder underneath her touch, and his body begins to shake.
"Clem, I'm sorry." his voice is hoarse and thick as he peers down at her, and she cracks when she feels a teardrop against their connected hands. "I'm sorry."
Her forehead drops against his chest, and he wraps his arms around her. "You didn't deserve that; I should have just told you; I was scared; you broke all of my walls, Clem; I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to hurt you in the end."
"But you did, " she cries.
"I know, I did; I was scared of commitment, was scared I would ruin us further down the line." He presses a kiss to the top of her head, "I'm not scared of commitment, Clem, not anymore. I just don't want to be committed if it's not to you."
"You don't mean that." Clem breathes.
"I promise I do, Clem."
She steps back from him, letting his arms fall to his side. "You made me feel dirty."
He opens his mouth, and she puts up her hand, "Let me talk. I let you disrespect me, Lewis. I should be done with you. I should be over you. I don't care how much I feel for you; if you ever, and I mean ever, speak to me that way or treat me like I'm nothing ever again, all gracefulness is out of the fucking window."
"I understand." He breathes, "I will never, Clem, and I mean never treat you like that again."
It's ironic, the two of them standing infront of each other as the sky illuminates in yellow and orange hues.
"It's six in the morning." Clem sighs.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you."
"I wasn't supposed to be here today; you almost missed me," Clem informs.
"I would've found you. Lost you once already. I didn't know how much I cherished what we had until I no longer had it. Until I lost it. I don't want to lose you forever, too."
"It's almost spring," Clem announces.
"Gonna take you to that mountain, Clem." He promises, pulling her into his arms again.
"I've missed you so much. There were so many things I wanted to talk to you about. I missed talking to you." She admits and Lewis holds her tighter.
"I missed listening to you. Swear I did."
"Are we still friends?"
"No, we're more than that. We should’ve never been friends. Always meant to be more."
"I wrote an album about you." She sighs.
She feels Lewis hum against her. "It's beautiful."
"I talked so much shit about you, I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry for feeling Clem, I was a shit person to you."
"My hair is blue." She announces, and he chuckles; there she was, his Clem talking his head off.
"Starting over, right?"
"Yeah, starting over."
Although they weren't laying in bed on their backs hands connected and staring through the ceiling like it was their sky. Things felt familiar to the two as the sun rose and light beamed around them.
Lewis was her sunset, the beauty that comes after a hard and blaring day. To him, she was the sunrise. After the darkness, it will always be light again. She was his light source, and he knew that now. He could never lose something that's always shining.
"Thank you for showing up for me."
Not proofread
the album:
bad religion - frank ocean
in your hands - halle
i think- tyler, the creator
saturn- sza
broken is the man- jorja smith
everything is gonna be alright- infinity song
everything- kehlani
mine- beyonce ft drake
poison- beyonce
are we still friends- tyler, the creator
eternal sunshine- jhene aiko
<3
#black reader#lewis hamilton#f1#formula 1#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton x black reader#poc reader#black female oc#lewis hamilton x black female oc#black reader friendly#things lost and things found part two
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self-talks
・❥・aventurine x reader
★ wc: 730+
★ no reader type or pronouns used or specified
★ cw: aventurine is his #1 hater, mentioned death/ways to die, set during 2.1 quest, written by a mentally-tired high schooler, lowercase intended, lazily proofread
★ no summary for this one, notes at the end
★ if you get what’s happening i’ll give you a cupcake
“[name] doesn’t really love you, y’know.”
that voice. the same, agonizing tone that held itself high as if the owner knew every secret in the world. how aventurine hated how it followed him like an ant and he was a basket filled to the brim with succulent insecurities - as if they themselves were ripe, appetizing pieces of fruit.
the tinted shadow, or should he say figured, of himself wouldn’t stop drilling those words into his head. aventurine tried to prevent the words from bothering him but he couldn’t shake them. it was agonizing having to hear his ‘future self’ talk about you as if you thought he was the last pawn left in a chess game, waiting to be used for the greater good.
“that’s not true.”
because he knew you. then again so did he. future is often wiser than present but if that’s the case then why did he feel anxious at his words?
shaking his head like a parent who caught onto their child’s lie, the ‘shadow’ tsked in mock disappointment. “honestly, i thought you were self-aware of the majority of one’s actions. are you so blinded by the scorching love that [name] provides that you cannot even see that you’re burning?”
he wasn’t burning, and you weren’t so bright that he wouldn’t be able to see anything else besides you, either. it was infuriating how this version of him - more of a shell than aventurine was in the present time, hollowed out and left to rot on a tree branch of desolation - seemed to believe that he was wiser than him about the love of their? his life.
aventurine was as loyal as he could be to you without pushing past his boundaries (which were often as weak as a dam made out of twigs when it came to you). he could say the same about you, the absolute truth to anyone but him. bringing a hand up to his hair aventurine scratched it roughly in discomforting thought. all of this ‘he said, he says’ was making him go crazy.
or crazier than he already is in this deforming dreamscape of twisted memories and second-takes. if he ever gets out of this ‘living nightmare’, the first thing he’s going to do is charge up to veritas and-
“i wonder if [name’s] flocked to ratio yet. clutching onto him as soft weeps leave puffy eyes.”
okay, buddy.
“what’s your deal?” aventurine hissed at the amusement drawn on his face, covered hands digging crescent shapes into his gloves. “you seem so adamant in getting me to believe [name] doesn’t love me, yet i’ll probably never-“ cutting himself off with a quick bite down on his tongue, letting it go swiftly when metallic laced his taste.
he couldn’t think like that. that anxious feeling that sunk into his stomach as if it were made of quicksand tried to open and claw its way out of him.
if aventurine could not ever see your face or hear the voice (that he wanted to put on a record and play it repetitively), he feels as if he would rip out all of his hair that you adored combing your fingers through, floss it through his teeth, tie it up, and ha-
a shaky exhale, “there’s a high chance i’ll never see [name] again, so what’s the point of getting me to openly despise everything that pertains to…what’s the point?”
he only smirked in response, the expression on his face was akin to looking in a mirror of opposition to aventurine’s own. he hated how he looked.
oh. so that’s it, huh? could it be that his ‘future’ version seemed to be nothing more than what aventurine himself already imagine what his future would be like, was that it? whom was molded with clay laced with nothing but pure self-hatred without you being there to swat them away.
inhaling sharply, pain shot up through aventurine’s head as he doubled over. he clutched his head and gritted his teeth as if he had a severe brain-freeze, shaking it as he stomped a foot to the ground as if he were in a tantrum. in all honesty, he looked like he was.
puffs of frustration left him as he glanced up, eyes meeting his own heavy, irritated ones as he stared into them with ferocity. “oh aventurine”, he spoke to himself as he blinked away.
“you’ve got to stop talking in mirrors.”
me if writing bad characterization for my fics was hilarious 😹😹😹 seriously though i need to character study him more. take this while i go cry into my pillow over exams 🙏 this didn’t go as i originally had in mind but we ball!!! i hope this flops harder than a fish on a deck after it has just been caught i hate it sm
#—stellaronhvnters.#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#🍙 - honkai star rail writings#aventurine x reader#looking at it now idk if “x reader” + “x you” is rly for it buttt#aventurine x you#hsr aventurine#aventurine hsr
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I Don't Love You Anymore
joel x f!reader
summary: Joel had been with you for a while, you both had a nice house in New York City, he'd seen the way you'd look at him and he just knew that if he stayed for too long, you'd never find your true love. He knows he's way too old for you and you need a younger man, much younger. So he does something that will tear both you and him apart. Forever.
warnings: angst, crying, pushing and shoving, mention of what reader wears, reader slams her fists and they bleed.
authors note: i've been feeling really down in the dumps lately. I just feel like my life is slowly spiraling downhill. so I thought i'd write some lovely angst to pour my heart and soul out too!
Joel parks his truck on the driveway. Staying inside the car, thinking. Closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. He doesn't want to do this, god, he never ever thought he'd have to do this. Especially with you.
When you both met, you were in the airport and he had just gotten off his flight from Texas. He was heading to New York for a vacation. To get away from the suburbs and get into some classy skyscrapers.
You were walking with your phone in your hand and your headphones in. You didn't bother to look up and the next thing you know, you run into a person. Taking your headphones off, you look up to see a man.
He has salt and peppered hair, small gruff forming on his chin. You run your eyes down his entire body and instantly fall in love.
When he first saw you, he fell hard. Your small little body and the way you looked at him the day you met. He just couldn't stay away from you. He wanted to be with you every second, every hour, every day. He loved you with all his heart. You meant everything to him.
He reminisces on the days you two cuddled in bed together, laughing at each other's jokes. He chuckles to himself as he remembers you with whipped cream all over your face because he had dumped your head in cake since it was your birthday.
He turns the key in the ignition and opens the car door. Closing it, he rests his head on the window and breathes in one more time. He stands up and begins to walk to your door. He lifts his hand up and rests it on the door.
He knocks once. Patiently waiting for your sweet smile and that soft smell of your perfume. He sees the door open and there you are. His lovely girl. Standing there in a gorgeous flower dress, your hair is in a braid with little bows in the back. You smile up at him and he breathes in the smell of you for the last time.
He smiles shyly and you welcome him into your home. "Hey baby, what ya here for?" You twirl towards him and grab his hands. He pulls one back and rubs the back of his neck.
"Uh darlin', we need to talk." His face instantly twists as the small hint of fear crosses your face. "Oh." You gulp deeply as you let go of his hand. "Okay."
He walks into the living room and sits down on the lounge chair as you sit across from him on the couch. You look down at the floor and play with your hands. Waiting for him to say something.
He clears his throat and begins to speak. "I'm leaving. Tonight." Your face shoots up as your eyes instantly water. "What? When? What time? Why didn't you tell me earlier Joel? Where are you going?" His eyes become teary as he sees your panicked state. He never wanted to do this. Why is he doing this?
He closes his eyes and tries to blink away the tears. "I'm uh, heading back to Texas." You stand up and your eyes go back and forth between his face. "Joel what!? Why? I-I thought you liked it here. We have a house and-" He shushes you as he stands up and grabs your hands.
He stares down at your blood shot eyes looking into his. You look up at him mouth agape. "Are you breaking up with me?" It physically hurts him to hear the words. He closes his eyes and looks down. You remove your hands from his and look at him angrily.
"Is this what this is Joel? Your plan on breaking up with me!" He opens his eyes and sees your angry, teary, messy face. Your mascara running down your face and smudging the collar of your dress.
"Now, darlin', I-" "Don't you fucking call me that Joel." You scream at him and his face goes pale. He's never heard you yell like that before. It's like a dagger piercing through his heart over and over again.
You walk up to him and point your finger at his chest. "So all those memories we made meant nothing to you? Am I nothing to you Joel." He shakes his head and tries to back away. "No, you mean everythin to me. I don't know what I'd do if I never met you." You stand up straight and begin to chuckle.
"So if you loved me that much than why the fuck are you leaving me!" You push him and he hits the wall. Hard. Tears start falling from his eyes as he sees his girl a mess. You both just look at each other as you both cry.
He removes himself from the wall and slowly starts to walk towards you. "Don't you dare take another fucking move Joel. I swear to god." He stops in his tracks and stands a few feet away. "You don't deserve me. M'too old f'ya and I can barely do nothin'. M'not as excitin as I used to be when I was younger. You deserve someone who can take care of ya and be there f'ya when you get older." His southern drawl coming out stronger than ever as he cries.
You stare at him in distraught as he rubs his stray tears away. "Don't deserve you? Joel we've been together for two fucking years. If I didn't 'deserve' you, I would've left already." You walk towards him and grab his hands. You looks you in the eyes and shakes his head. He removes his hands and begins to walk to the door.
"Joel, where are you going? You can't just leave!" You run after him and grab onto his shirt. More tears fall from his face as he sees your tiny body trying to get him back. He opens the door and stops to look at you. "I'm sorry." He shuts the door but you immediately open it.
"Joel come back!" You run in the rain. Following him to his truck as he gets in it. You bang on the window as he backs off the driveway and leaves. You fall to your knees and scream and cry until your heart can't take it anymore. Soaking in the blankness of which was once full. You slam your fists onto the pavement of the driveway.
You pick them up to see that they're bleeding but you don't care. Nothing in your mind is making sense. 'Why'd he leave?.' 'Did he even love me?' 'Was this all a lie?'
You scream into the air and cry out. As Joel leaves, he can hear your horrid cries and bangs his hand on the window. Tears fall from his face as he sees your small body becoming a tiny speck. Nothing seems to matter anymore for him, or for you, because it seems as tho he never loved you.
tags!
@morallyinept @mermaidgirl30 @rav3n-pascal22 @mountainsandmayhem @amyispxnk @pinkcrystal44 @guelyury @iamsherloocked @itsokbbygrl @heartpascalispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @brittmb115 @kotourasan123 @simplewanderer @tupelomiss @heartramen @sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts @yorksgirl
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thinking about tashi and art from challengers. thinking about being another tennis player at stanford who actually shows promise. you go to the courts religiously every morning and every other afternoon to perfect your groundstrokes and your volleys. other students barely play against you anymore, and it’s tough to find a partner for any sort of match. that is, until you catch tashi’s eye. well, according to tashi— art claims he saw you first. she says it doesn’t matter anyway, because she’s the one who approached you when art didn’t have the balls to do so.
tashi starts playing you more often and—granted— you don’t stand a chance against her either way. but you love the challenge. it starts becoming a common reoccurrence, until it reaches the point when you don’t even consider asking anyone else to play you. you simply sit by one of the benches, toying with your racket until tashi arrives. you’re not sure when it became routine, waiting around for tashi, nor when art began watching your matches against her from the bleachers. his presence was easily discardable during the matches… at first. but then you slowly grew aware of the other set of eyes watching you during practice.
you thought he was tashi’s boyfriend. you thought he was her boyfriend— until your shared afternoon in the locker rooms with tashi. you could barely stand up when you left, cheeks flushed and tennis skirt crooked. little did you know, tashi told art every single dirty thing about you in detail. the way you moaned, the way you bucked, the way your back arched and you begged her for more.
needless to say, they both made it their mission to see you like that again.
- 🍒
threesomes; oral (f receiving); MDNI 18+. 1.1k+
w/ ART DAVIDSON & TASHI DUNCAN
art finds you in the dining hall a few days later.
you're by yourself, sitting under tashi's poster and flipping through a mass market book the size of art's hand. he doesn't hesitate to approach you, a friendly smile on his face as he asks you if the seat in front of you is taken.
you shake your head, dog-earing your book at the same time as you slouch in your seat and kick the chair out for art. easily, he sits, places his tray on the table, and slides the peach your way.
you don't have a tray in front of you. art doesn't know if you just finished eating, or if you were planning to eat at all, but he knows you like peaches. you take the peach, peel the sticker off, and take a bite.
you open your mouth as if you're going to speak, but art beats you to it.
"you and tashi are getting pretty close." he doesn't mean anything malicious by it. at least, he doesn't think he means anything malicious. he's still smirking, maybe less friendly and a little more teasing by now, and he's tapping the edge of the plastic tray with the blunt nail on his pointer finger.
you lift your eyebrows and chew slowly before you bother responding.
"yeah. we're friends."
art knows that's not necessarily true. he nods, dropping his head briefly.
when he speaks, it's to his salad. "right."
"what's that supposed to mean, art?"
art shrugs, sticking his bottom lip out a bit. he looks behind you at the picture of tashi in her element. he remembers that match. one of the early ones in the season where everyone had been excited to see tashi duncan play in her newly acquired red gear. art had arrived early that day and caught the tail end of your match on the court next to where tashi was going to play. he remembers the immediate infatuation he had with you. how graceful you looked on the court, yet you were able to put just enough power into your shots.
his eyes find yours again. you look like you're ready to accuse him of something, and likely be right. he's not being the most subtle person ever, but that wasn't his aim. he wanted what tashi has and this time he wants to do something about it.
"nothing. i just think you two are a little close for friends."
you sit and watch art. you take another bite of the peach and juice drips onto your lips and under your chin. you lick it clean without a second thought.
"right."
art leans forward, pushing his tray out to the side. "she told me about that day, you know."
you scoff and mirror art's position.
his eyes flicker to your lips when he says, "come on, you had to have known she would've told me. we're friends, remember? all of us."
"are we friends in the way that you and tashi are friends, or in the way that tashi and i are friends?"
you take another bite from your peach and once again, juice drips down. art doesn't hesitate in the way he reaches out, swipes his thumb under your lip to catch the liquid, and then sticks his thumb into his mouth to clean it up. he was likely smooth with it, but his heart pumps so hard that he can feel it in his throat. he swallows before he speaks.
"is there a difference?" he phrases it like a question, but you both know it isn't. you both know the answer.
it's a good thing that you, tashi, and art are such good friends who can do things like this together. sitting on art's bed, combatting your mutual boredom with something much more interesting. art sitting beside you, his back pressed against the wall and his legs spread to accommodate your body. he has a hand on your back, sometimes trailing down to your ass which has your feet folded beneath it. you face tashi who sits just on the outside of art's left leg, her position mirroring yours.
her hands cup your face at first, but once you tug her closer by her fitted jacket, she trails her hands down to lift the hem of your sweatshirt just enough to press her hands into your abdomen. she starts to lift the fabric completely, but it's then that art takes over. you feel his hand sliding up your back and your sweatshirt going with it until he gets to where your bra should be.
except, there's nothing there.
you can hear art's breath hitch as he slides his hand around to your front and swipes his thumb over your nipple. you make a startled noise, and tashi drinks it right up. she digs her fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulls you closer, as close as you can get with art's leg between you both.
sensing the boundary created, art switches his position. he slides up behind you, giving you and tashi free reign to press your bodies together. meanwhile, he gathers your sweatshirt in both hands and lifts it, gently urging you to separate from tashi for long enough for him to throw the fabric off of your body and onto his floor completely.
tashi is quick to attach her hands to your tits and art is quick to pepper kisses along your shoulders and back.
the rhythm is so easy, completely void of any hesitation, except that which exists for consent.
it's a rhythm that only such good friends could have created and mastered.
here, like this, hidden under the pretense of the three of you being such good friends, do they finally get to see you how they wanted. tashi gets to see you again, and art gets to put her words to visuals. and tashi was so right. her words had seemed almost unnecessarily vivid at the time, even though art greatly appreciated it. but how could she not describe this sight vividly?
the way your chest reached towards the ceiling as tashi used her mouth on you, your pert nipples sitting prettily at the peaks of your breasts. the veins in your arms poking through your skin briefly as you placed your hand in tashi’s hair, which art is sure she left loose for this exact occasion. your sounds, god art doesn’t think he’ll ever forget them. the prettiest whines almost mewls slipping past your parted lips and greeting the air. only when art didn’t have his mouth attached to yours that is.
it’s like he couldn’t keep himself away. he had to touch you however he could. but he wasn’t good at this, he didn’t know where he should fit into he equation with tashi occupying the spot he usually aimed for. so he explored. he pressed his lips anywhere they could reach, and he found a favored spot along your tits. he couldn’t help but suck marks along them, even though he didn’t exactly know how you would feel about it.
but when he looks back on his work peeking out through your tank top hours later, he’s glad he left them there.
#–𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 🍒#tashisworld!#artsworld!#art donaldson x you#art donaldson x reader#tashi duncan x you#tashi duncan x reader#tashi duncan smut#celeste writes challengers
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⭑ ”i owe you” pt.2 ⭑
╰┈➤ READ PART 1
⭑ jeongin x female reader
⭑ content includes: non-idol reader, non-idol jeongin, mentions of drinking, unprotected sex, releasing, fingering, mentions of scars and stitches, use of pet names (baby)
⭑ note: i cannot begin to describe how much i love this piece. please read part 1 for it all to make sense!
⭑ minors dni
⭑——————————————————⭑
recollections of that very night begin to flow through your mind and how everyday for weeks you stared into the dark alleyways, trying to picture his body there. immediately your eyes dart to his neck, only to find his tattoos slightly fading…
(SKZ)
your eyes dart back to his face, still questioning if it was true or not.
“i owe you.”
“j-jeongin?”
he slowly nods, a soft smile growing on his healed face.
“i don’t think i thanked you enough for that night.” he stops to look down at his shoes, kicking at the box in front of him to fill the silence, speaking again.
“what you did, it really changed me. you didn’t have to help me, even after i was a total bitch to you.”
the emotions you had five years ago the first time you locked eyes with him grew inside of you again, but in another light. first time it was sympathy and worry. but now it’s love and comfort.
“come have a drink at my place, as way of welcoming you as my new neighbor” you suggest, hoping it can soften the mood.
“you changed your paintings” he sets his shot glass slowly on the table, observing your living room.
“how do you know?” you never knew he would remember so much, and you felt embarrassed.
“i had to distract myself from the pain, it was the only thing i could admire.”
“i thought it was time for a cha-“
“other than you”
the words caught in your throat and your heart stopped beating for a moment. the way he glanced at you never left your mind, and it all made sense now. before you could react, he brings himself closer to you on the couch, resting his palm on your cheek. you were able to get a closer look of his healed scar, secretly admiring your work.
“5 years, y/n. you never left my mind for a day”
his lips clash with yours, aggressive kisses from the beginning. his tongue glides over yours, moving deeper and deeper inside of your mouth. his hand rests on your waist, sneakily pushing you closer to him. it felt like the world was timing you, your bodies frantically rushing to the bedroom, lips still locked.
his hand rides up your shirt, fiddling with your bra strap. your body tingles at his touch, bringing him closer.
“more, jeongin”
“i.n” he mumbles, breaking the kiss you thought would never end.
“I don’t want this to be a one time thing, y/n”
you couldn’t take him seriously while he glides his hands over your skin, exploring every part of your body and feeling his boner against your thigh.
“isn’t that why you moved next to me?”
he laughs, placing his head in the nook of your neck, taking in your sweet smell. he brings his mouth closer to your ear, placing small hot kisses around it.
“you could say so”
the setting sun glorified his body over yours, stripping naked and revealing his bare self to you. there was more than you thought had happened to him. his chest had several stitches everywhere which were slowly healing.
“w-what’s this?”
he looks down, tracing every stitch and bringing his fingers down to trace them onto your bare torso.
“SKZ. i was apart of some underground group. we got into a lot of scandals and fights and deals gone wrong. we were wanted, dead or alive.”
he moves to lay down next to you, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear as you listen attentively.
“i was always the one who got the hurts, because i was always initiating the problems. that day, was my last day being in SKZ”
“what made you leave?” your questions didn’t bother him anymore, he answered you with love and passion, and it couldn’t have been better.
“you. i was a hopeless romantic, and i thought no doctor would date someone like me. so i changed for you.”
you place a peck on his cheek, laying on his chest to hear the rest.
“i wrote your address on a paper, got a stable job, got off the police’s radar and here i am. with you.”
his words made you squirm with joy and sympathy. you wanted to pay off every day of those 5 years he spent for you. you want it to be eternity with him.
“fuck, baby” he groans at the way you stretch around his dick, grabbing onto the sheets for support.
you moved up and down his thick length, moaning with every inch he put inside of you. he felt like an escape of the harsh and cruel worlds you both lived in.
“faster baby, faster” you oblige, taking him in faster and slamming your ass down on him, making him go wild. he brings his two fingers to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip open. he swirls your saliva around them and brings it down to your clit, moving in slow circular motions.
“oh my fu- i.n fuck” your breath became harder to catch at the overloaded sensory.
he bit at his lower lip, enjoying the view of your sex face, pounding body and wet clit. you couldn’t deny that he looked ten times hotter with his scars that must carry so much significance to him.
his dick jerks inside of you and his veins glide again your walls. he only rubbed you faster, moving to place his fingers inside of you too, bringing you to your orgasm. your unholy moans and sweet nothings filled the air, and your release coated his dick, lubricating his final moments before he releases too.
you fall onto the mattress beside him, panting and holding each other tight.
“baby?” you whisper to him softly.
“hm?” his foxy eyes gaze into yours, waiting to listen to you all day, all month, all year.
“i owe you”
FIN.
⭑ TAG LIST
@captainchrisstan @all4minnie @rylea08 @strayywayy @katsukis1wife @kayleefriedchicken
#stray kids#skz#stray kids smut#skz smut#skz x reader#skz imagines#skz stay#stray kids x reader#stray kids oneshot#bangchan#bangchan x reader#lee know#lee know x reader#changbin#changbin x reader#hyunjin#hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin#han jisung#han jisung x reader#lee felix#lee felix x reader#seungmin#seugmin x reader#jeongin#jeongin x reader#kpop#kpop oneshots#kpop smut#kpop one shot
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ch. 18
buddie I 900 words I ao3
He’s drunk.
Not the blazing, head so spinny he could hurl if he stood straight, but in the hours after drunk that comes with a dry, heavy tongue and a slurred voice he still has some sort of control over.
Buck’s in the same boat, or—he thinks he must be, he doesn’t know, sitting criss-crossed next to him outside their hotel room door because they can’t, for the life of them, figure out how to put the key card into the door.
“Hey, Eddie,” Buck slurs, looking at him with slow, wide-lidded blinks. “Where’s—where’s Chimney?”
He draws out Chimney. Chim-ney.
Eddie shrugs. He can’t make his mouth work for the life of him. He’s pretty sure he saw Chimney two hours ago—before the music started? Or at least when he started singing Maneater with one of the Drag Queens.
Buck knocks a shoulder into his as he slips down the wall, the smell of his hair briefly sifting into his nose. He smells like gin and lemons, and a little bit of that fancy curl product he tresses up his hair with before every fancy event.
I know his hair product, he thinks loosely, tilting his head against the wall as he takes Buck’s weight. I know his hair product, and the way he does his hair before work. I know it all because he helps my son do his hair just the same way. I know it all because my son wants to be like him, so I have learned him, for my son. I know it all because I have learned him. I know it all because I have learned him, for me.
I have learned him. I have earned him.
“Does—” And Fuck, maybe he’s drunker than he thought. “Does Tommy know your curl?”
Buck hums, non-committedly. He hasn’t heard a word Eddie said. He tries again.
“Does,” he spits out. Doooesss. “Tommy.” Ttttommyyyy. “Know.” Know.
Buck lifts his head up and ends up tipping too much to the other side. Eddie grabs him by the forearm, tight. The action feels familiar in ways that Eddie, for the life of him, can't understand.
Buck blinks at him, bright blue eyes stupid dilated. “Does Tommy know what?” He whispers. He draws out his name, too. Tom-my.
Eddie looks at him and loves him.
He’s always known he loves Buck. For the first time in his life, though, he thinks—I love you. What does that make me?
Eddie opens his mouth. The back of his throat burns—maybe from all the tequila shots or the lemons hitting the rim of his teeth or the raw pad of his tongue from licking salt off of Buck’s warm palm.
Does he know what you look like covered in blood, Eddie wants to ask. Does he know what it looks like when you haven’t showered in three days because you’re so depressed you don’t know if water burns more than the sun. Does he know what it looks like when you’ve got ugly red eyes because you’re so sad you don’t even know how to hold it. Does he know what it looks like to see you shining, like a savior, in the worst of the worst, in the worst of your days. Does he know what it’s like to lose you, really lose you, and see you swallowed up by white sheets and a lightning scar across your chest. Does he know what it’s like to be loved by you. Does he know.
He thinks—I love you. What does that make me?
Eddie tries to take a breath but it feels like there’s something crawling up his throat, so he tilts his head back up against the wall and tries to take a breath.
“He’s coming to the wedding,” Buck continues, as Eddie stares at him.
Eddie nods. “Good,” he says. Good. Buck. “Tommy.” Tommy. Tommy.
He looks at Buck and thinks of the answer.
It makes him a dead man, this love. It’ll kill him probably. It has to kill him. It has to be like a disease you can’t hear or smell or breathe, and you have to be alone in the hospital with your blood running in circles beneath your skin. It has to be like a disease that kills you before you take your next breath. It’s killing him.
I love you. What does that make me?
It makes a fucking idiot, is what it makes him, because god he’s always too fucking late, running into stupid relationships after relationships after being too fucking late in the beginning of it all. He is too late. He is too late and he is in love and he is burning up right from the inside.
I love you. What does that make me?
He heaves. He can’t breathe. Buck puts his head back down on his shoulder, and all of a sudden Eddie has to learn how to breathe, or otherwise he’ll disrupt Buck’s rest. He can’t disrupt Buck’s rest.
“Buck,” he starts, opening his mouth. Buck sighs, half-heartedly, and tilts back. He looks at Eddie. Eddie opens his mouth.
“I love you,” he says. Nothing comes out. “What does that make me?”
Buck looks at him, confused. He blinks, like he's thinking it through.
“Eddie.” He draws out his name, slow. Eddie.
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Could you maybe write a Sally Face One Shot, where Sal developed a huge crush on reader. But he thinks she doesn’t feel the same way. So he writes a love letter in which he puts no hope in, but then she actually tells him she does feel the same.
Does that even make any sense?😭
Yes…it makes sense and I’m weeping over this omggggg 😭😭😭 bruh this had me screaming and kicking in bed as I wrote it omfgggggg. Sal is pretty smart so I know this mf would write some pretty, thought out, poetic type shit
Notes: gn!reader, established friendship, friends to lovers trope
TW: none, just so fucking sappy and fluffy
Sal x reader- Sincerely Sally 💌
Dear (Y/N),
I want to start by telling you that you’re an amazing friend. I’m beyond grateful we’ve met. You’ve always made me feel so comfortable, so wanted, so important. No words could ever truly explain my feelings for you or the thoughts behind them, but I’m going to try.
Since we met, I’ve seen nothing but good in you and I think you’ve made me good, too. You make me feel good. You make me a better person. I don’t know who I’d be without you, but I know who I want to be now.
I want to be the one on your arm when we walk into a room.
I want to be the one you wake up to every morning and fall asleep next to every night.
I want to kiss you every time we say ‘good bye’ and every time we say ‘hello’ again.
I want to be the one you point to with a smile and say ‘him’ when talking to others.
I want to be the one to hold you when you cry.
I want to be the one to hug you when you’re excited.
I want to go every where you go.
I want to slow dance with you.
I want to head bang with you.
I want to paint with you.
I want to sing to you.
I want to hold you.
I want you.
I love you.
I’m in love with you.
And I’m sorry.
Sincerely,
Sally <3
Sal felt like a total loser while sneaking over to your place, which was just down the street from Todd’s house, and slipping the letter in your mailbox. He felt like he could puke just from writing the letter, there’s no way he could ever say these things to your face. He couldn’t help but hesitate, staring at the mailbox as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. ‘They’re going to hate me. I’m gonna ruin everything. What the hell am I doing?’ Sal thinks to himself, staying frozen in place for a good few minutes as thousands of thoughts race through his mind, shaky hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.
He jumps a bit when he notices the light in your bedroom flick on through your window. He ducks his head and turns to leave, not wanting to get caught lurking around your house in the middle of the night. As he rushes back home, the panic begins to set in because now he realizes he left it…he left the letter behind. It was done. No turning back. He felt sick to his stomach and like he was already grieving the loss of your friendship.
Sal tip toes back in the house, praying neither Neil nor Todd would catch him sneaking in so late and ask questions. He trudges to his room, shedding his clothes before flopping onto his bed. Sal lays on his side and after taking his prosthetic off, stares at the wall for hours thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways you could reject him, every excuse and lie he could use later to act like it wasn’t even serious, like it was a dumb joke or something. Finally, after his brain had tortured him enough, he drifts off to sleep just before the sun begins to rise.
~next morning~
‘Holy shit…’ You think as you hold the piece of lined note book paper in your shaky hands. “No way…no way!” A giddy smile grows on your face as you clumsily drop all the other mail you had in your hands, besides Sal’s letter, on the ground and take off running for him. It was early in the morning and you were in pajamas still but nothing could stop you now. His house was not far at all and you were too excited not to immediately run to him and profess your love for him.
You and Sal had been friends almost as long as he has with Larry and Todd. You’ve slowly fallen in love with him just as hard as he has with you- the issue is that you are both dummies and think the other person sees you as a friend and a friend only. You’d find yourself dreaming of Sal, not knowing he was dreaming of you too. You’d absentmindedly doodle his name on piece of paper and blush, he’d find a strand of your hair on his shirt and smile so big under his mask. You two have been pining for so long but both so afraid to wreck the relationship you already have. Eventually, Sal felt like he couldn’t get anything done, couldn’t focus on his studies or the ghosts or even eating throughout the day. His brain was full, flooded even, with thoughts of you. He just had to get it out, he had to say it to you now or he would be haunted by it forever. Unbeknownst to Sal…you felt the exact same way.
Bouncing up to his doorstep with an uncontrollable smile on your face, cheeks aching and turning red, you knock on the door and ball your fists up out of excitement. Finally, Todd answers the door, smiling at you before greeting you. “(Y/N)! What are you doing here so early? We-“ “Sal! I-I’m sorry. I need to talk to Sal.” You interrupt, your crazy smile making Todd chuckle softly just as Neil comes up behind him. “Morning, (Y/N)! Sal isn’t up yet. He’s still-“
You weren’t trying to be rude, you adored Todd and Neil but you were currently completely 100% hyperfixated on the sleeping blue haired poet behind the door at the end of the hall way and you just had to see him immediately. “I-I’m sorry…” You laugh softly as you push past them, sprinting for his door, gripping the knob excitedly before swinging the door open. The sound of the door swinging back against the door frame stirs Sally from his sleep, making him groan and glance over at the doorway. Before he can react to you being in his bedroom, in your pajamas still with bed head and an adorable love sick smile on your face, you’re jumping into his blankets with arms wide open. As you practically belly flop on top of him, he huffs softly then chuckles, groggily blinking at you.
“Uh…morning…” He mumbles just before you place the folded love letter on his chest, giving him a small smirk. His eyes open wider now, his prosthetic eye not in its usual socket. Sal scrambles nervously to sit up more, his breath hitching in his throat. He was so half asleep for a moment there, he had forgotten all about the letter he planted in your mailbox last night. “Oh I uh….yeah uh-uhm-“ Sal can’t seem to move his mouth correctly, can’t focus his brain on the words he wants to say. And he just breaks down even more when he realizes you’re in his bed, still in pajamas with the cutest messiest bed head. He can’t deal with the cuteness and his gnawing anxiety…So you speak up instead.
“I love you too.” You smile sweetly before pulling yourself up closer to his scarred face and rubbing your nose against his. Sal lets out a whiny little hum as he lets his nervous hands very slowly move up to rest on your back, smiling like a sappy dork as he hugs you softly. He’s not sure what exactly he was expecting to happen after giving you that letter but this is most definitely the best case scenario. “Let’s just…fucking kiss already.” You say with a cheeky smile, eyes half lidded as you lean in closer. Sal sucks in a breath before letting his eyes close along with yours, pursing his lips out as his hands move up your arms and to your cheeks. His big palms caress your face so perfectly, his thumbs sliding back and forth over your skin as you lock lips, gently moving your mouths together as soft sighs leave both of you.
As his hands pull your face closer, your hands wander up and down his bare arms, legs tangled up in his blankets along with him now, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh against his lips. “I’m glad you finally told me…that letter was so beautiful.” You whisper, lips gently ghosting against his now. Sal keeps his eyes closed but smiles brightly. “I wrote 153 of those letters.” He confesses, face burning bright red. “No you didn’t.” You scoff, looking down at him, finding this fact hilarious and also adorable and flattering.
“Oh yes he did!” Todd and Neil are leaning in the open doorway. Oops…you got so excited you didn’t shut the door behind you when you ran in. “Proof!” Neil laughs out loudly as he points to Sal’s trash can in the corner of the room, overflowing with balled up pieces of paper. You laugh as you look over, Neil and Todd laughing along with you. Sal drapes an arm over his face, trying to hold back his flustered smile and embarrassed expression. “Stoopppp.” He complains before you’re standing and playfully glaring at the two boys in the doorway. “That’s enough teasing. Shoo!” You grin at Todd before shutting the door on them and turning back to Sal.
“153, huh? Wow. That’s some dedication, lover boy.” You climb back into his bed, sitting cross legged beside him. “Why didn’t you just tell me in person, Sal? Would’ve been way easier.” You scoot closer to him and run your fingers through his tangled hair. “Uh, I totally disagree. I nearly had a panic attack just putting that letter in your mailbox and then having to walk away from it.” A laugh rings out from you as you toss your head back. “Ha! So, What? You’re afraid to say you love me but not afraid of ghosts or demons or cults?” You taunt him before leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a second. “You’re strange. And I love that about you.” You rest there with him for a moment before a fantastic idea hits you, making you sit up and gasp excitedly.
“Can I read the other ones too?!” Before Sal can answer, you’ve jumped up and ran to the rejected pile of love letters in the corner. “No! (Y/N)! No no nononononono!” Sal jumps up and runs to tackle you, his face blushing so red from his ears and down his neck. You laugh loudly as he wraps his arms around your waist and tries to pull you away from all the other embarrassing things he wrote and considered saying to you. “They’re…in the trash…for a reason!” He laughs and huffs as you you push forward, trying to reach even just one crumpled up piece of paper. “Pleeaaassseeeee?” You plead but your strength leaves you as Sal tickles you and has you cackling on the ground instantly.
And the next 10 minutes are spent wrestling with him on the floor of his bedroom while laughing like drunk idiots and occasionally pressing a kiss to the other’s lips. Eventually, you do get ahold of a few of the discarded love letter drafts and they are either like Shakespeare poetry type shit, or so fucking dorky and corny, full of puns and shit. Larry probably tried to help him with that one lol
#sally face x reader#sally face fanfic#sally face fanfiction#sal sally face#sally face sal#sally x reader#sal x reader#sal fisher#sally fisher#sally face#sal fisher x you#sal fisher x reader#sf sal#sally face fluff#sal fisher x y/n
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Americano PT. 9 | Jude Bellingham x Reader
What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?
A/N: phew! this took me five million years and a bag of candy to write. remember when I told you to remember the house layout? 😉 Enjoy!
small mention: I absolutely love knowing you all are curious about the next chapter of this series. I appreciate and love all comments I get, and try to keep all my promises I make. but, trust I’m human too and need some away from writing. Though, when rude and harassing words are used in my inbox- the joy of writing this series gets absolutely sucked away. (If I’ve answered your message, this isn’t about your comment 🫶) so, please keep your rude words to yourself or I’ll turn off anonymous inbox messages and block you the next time :)
W/C: 4.016
part eight
"I should've just taken a break to go on vacation."
Lina sighs, poking her salad with her fork, and guiding the mixture of greens and dressing up to her mouth.
"Didn't you take a trip to Paris last international break?"
Luis says, raising a brow at her words. He turns his head towards me, nudging me under the table.
"Can you believe her?" He asks, an exasperated chuckle leaving his lips. It causes me to jolt out of my half-asleep state, my eyes widening in surprise.
"What? Who?" I ask looking around and bring a hand up to rub the sleep out of my eyes.
I had rushed out of the house this morning, which meant everyone got the chance to admire my bare skin today.
Well, my stress-induced breakouts were on full display, but having some pimples wasn’t the end of the damn world anyway.
"Are you okay?" Lina joins in, placing a warm hand on my shoulder.
"Yeah, just dozed off- been sleeping horribly." I reply, eyeing my lunch with a grimace.
"Are those exams still keeping you up?"
"More like waking me up.. Do you know how many nightmares of failing an exam a person can take?” I say, my words coming out harsher and louder than I intended. My eye twitches in irritation, and I give them a crazy look.
"Woah, you have an attitude today.." Luis mutters, shifting away from me.
"Don’t piss her off.." I hear Lina say, nudging Luis.
"Never mind, I'm going back to work." I state, quickly putting my tray of food away and walking out of the cafeteria.
I mutter curses under my breath, trying to look as normal as possible to my coworkers when I pass them in the hallways.
Exam season was practically sucking the life out of me, and the added pressure of the upcoming Champions League home game against Napoli was multiplying the stress.
Thankfully, it was international break, which meant that my normal workload was cut in half. Some players not playing for in the national team had requested leave for vacation, so the training center was pretty quiet and empty today.
I only knew of injured players being here for their scheduled recovery appointments.
I finally get back in my office, sighing in exhaustion when I get to my desk. I plop down, rubbing my face to wake myself up further, before starting to work on some more content.
"Why are you grinning like a creep?"
I turn to Luis, chuckling at his choice of words, and let go of the computer mouse.
"I just got a notification that said I passed my written exam." I beam, giving him a cocky look.
"Really?"
"Yeah, ninety-four percent..” I say, turning my head to look at the editing program. The training video we had just shot halfway edited already.
"You've been snapping at us for no reason, but I guess it was worth it- good job.." He says, shooting me a smile, and leaning in to give me a side hug.
"Yeah, sorry about that.." I apologize, fixing my wrinkled shirt. I move my hand towards the mouse again, cutting off a piece of blurry footage that we couldn’t use.
"It's fine, I guess it's payback for making you do random tasks back when you were a newbie.."
"You know, I haven't forgotten how you made me carry that heavy ass bag every morning..”
"I'm sorry, alright. You should've told me earlier that Ancelotti is basically your uncle."
I grumble at his words, jabbing his ribcage with my elbow, sending him a warning look.
"Stop talking and help me out with this.." I mutter, passing him the mouse.
He winces a little, rubbing his stomach, before snatching the mouse off of me with an attitude.
"Didn't know you were allowed to use your privilege to inflict such violence."
I roll my eyes, focused on the moving images on the computer screen. Starting to unconsciously pick at a fresh scab on my hand. Only noticing the damage I’ve done when I look down to see blood trickling down the back of my hand.
"Shit, made myself bleed.." I say, making Luis glance away from the dual monitors.
"Go to the physiotherapy room. They have a shit ton of bandages and bandaids.” He suggests, his hand going up to fix the curls falling in front of his eyes.
I nod quickly, getting up from my seat and walking out of the small, soundproof meeting room. I close the glass door behind me, hurrying over to the physiotherapy room.
I pass the glass panels facing the multiple pitches outside, the sun had been shining brightly this afternoon. Even though the sun had been setting quite early due to daylight saving time.
I knock twice when I arrive, only opening the door when I hear a loud 'come in' in response.
I clear my throat, realizing how silly it is to get a bandaid for a wound like this, but still walk in.
I'm greeted by the sight of first-team physiotherapist Iván, he smiles when he notices me, waving for me to come inside.
He was one of the nicest people working with me at Real Madrid. It would be especially fun when he would bring in his little two-year-old son with him. I couldn’t count on one hand how many times I had carried the cute boy around the training center in my free time.
"Oh, y/n. What brings you here?" He questions, shoving the white privacy curtain out of the way, only to reveal a shirtless Jude lying on the treatment table, his eyes opening to peer over at me.
The personalized shoulder brace he'd been wearing for the past couple matches, was taken off for obvious reasons, and placed on the other side of the bed.
I look away a moment later, feeling my chest tighten, internally wincing at the thought of Jude having a dislocated shoulder and still playing football. Despite all of the aggressive and offensive play we had gotten used to this season, he was handling it well- but I wouldn’t ever utter it out loud.
Because- who wants to inflate that ego even more? Or was that even possible?
"Hi, Iván.. Just wondering if you got a bandaid for me?" I avert my gaze to the physio, and raise my brows. I hold my hand up to show the wound, and smile when he nods in response.
"Yeah, just a second.." He shoots Jude a quick wink, washing his hands before coming over. He begins to rummage through the cabinet, flipping through a pack of bandaids before handing me one closest to my skin color.
"Here you go.. Do you need anything else?" He asks, eyeing the blood on my hand.
"Nope, only this. Thank you.." I smile, quickly wiping down the blood from my hand and gently placing the bandaid on my wound.
I throw the bloody wipes and wrappers in the dedicated trash can, turning around again when I’m done.
I make accidental and involuntary eye contact with Jude instead of Iván, who's already across the room busy with some paperwork. Probably documenting the progress of Jude’s injury.
My eyes automatically dart down to his shoulder, and unbelievably, my eyes slip to his chest, then to his-
I stiffen when I regain consciousness of what I’m doing, and look away with haste. I fight the urge to smack myself in the face, instead biting the flesh of my cheek when I notice him smirk at me.
"What are you looking at?" He questions, voice low and his cocky tone too obvious to ignore.
My eyes widen slightly when he speaks, and I take a step forward as if to say I’m not intimidated.
"Just- looking at your shoulder.." I say, cringing at the way the words leave my mouth.
"So, you’re worried about me now?"
I give him a look of disgust, a chuckle of disbelief leaving my mouth.
"You wish, Bellingham. I heard Ancelotti is confident in putting you in the starting lineup on Wednesday. You better put your best foot forward, and if we don’t end up winning..." I trail off, threatening him slightly with my tone. I then turn around and leave the room.
I couldn’t lie, being rude to him after he'd dislocated his shoulder and still played made me feel a little guilty.
Though, he had a huge gift of being the ultimate douchebag, even when he’d been having his 'decent' moments lately.
“He’s only turned nineteen two- no three months ago, and he’s already scoring in the Champions League..” Luis gawks, grabbing the equipment bag out of my hand.
“I know, it’s so fun to see young players flourish..” I mutter, mentally recalling the interview I just did with Nico Paz. Since it was his first goal for Real Madrid, we had just done an interview in celebration.
“He is a year younger than you.. Is he really that young to you?” Luis teases, pushing me away when I pretend to kick him.
“What? Are you trying to undermine my accomplishments?” I question, trying to kick him again.
“Hey! See, this is how immature you are.. Step back, dude get off…” He says, and I scuffle with him for a moment, gasping when he tries to put me in a headlock.
“Okay, you always do this- stop everyone is looking..” I mutter, squeezing his arm.
“How fuckin’ childish are you?” I hear a familiar voice say. I snap my head up, Luis’ arm loosening as he immediately lets me go.
“As much as I want to be...” I state, my hand traveling up to fix my hair and clothes.
I hear Jude scoff, he gives me a nasty look before taking a step forward, but I notice him freeze in my peripheral vision when he hears someone calling out to me.
“y/n?!” The person shouts, and I look around for a moment before my eyes land on…
The guys from Naples?
What’s his name again?
“Chris?..” I say, my voice low and as enthusiastic as I can manage to pretend.
Fuck, I never even answered his DM’s..
Well, should I really give a guy who looks like trouble a chance?
My common sense says: NO.
I watch him bring an arm around my back, his hand resting on my shoulder blade when he hugs me tightly. Like we’ve been friends for freaking years…
“How have you been? Thought I’d see you here..” He beams, his hand going up to fix the fluffy mop of blonde hair on his head. Aussie accent undeniably mesmerizing like last time.
He is so pretty, but the kind of pretty that told me he was a full on man-wh*re..
“Hi? Good, what are you doing here?” I ask, trying to stop the grimace forming on my face. I lean in, taking a closer look at the badge hanging from his neck.
Surprisingly enough, it says ‘VIP’- I look up at him with a questioning look, waiting for him to explain.
“Oh- this.. someone I know gifted me this pass..”
Yeah, very believable.
He smiles nonchalantly, the skin of his cheeks denting as his dimples show.
I nod as if I understand, glancing at Luis, so he can get me out of this conversation.
“You’re the drunk guy from that night!” Chris suddenly exclaims, pointing at Luis.
Could this get even more awkward.
I tune out the stupid conversation they have, shuffling backwards only to bump into Jude.
Thankfully, not against his injured shoulder.
“Oh, sorry..” I whisper, not even registering his response before he’s rudely interrupted.
“Man- no way you’re the Jude Bellingham..”
I close my eyes in embarrassment, turning around to face Jude instead of both Luis and Chris.
I raise my brows at Jude, giving him a look only readable as ‘send this man away’..
He immediately plasters an all too good, fake smile on his face. Stepping behind me to greet Chris, and begins talking to him about the match.
I can only hear a jumble of both Brum and Aussie accents, it making me want to burst into a fit of laughter. Though, I manage to keep it in, looking at Luis to see if he’s still present in the conversation.
He isn’t, as expected. No surprise, he’s fidgeting with his damn camera again.
I stand there like a statue for the next two minutes, looking back and forth between the two accented men.
It’s a comical sight, especially when I can’t even understand some words.
I sigh in relief when Jude pats Chris’ shoulder, careful with his injury when he goes in for a handshake.
I watch Jude leave swiftly, his facial expression falters immediately, and his hand goes up to rip the shoulder brace off his body, harsher than I’ve ever seen him do before.
"My brain is going to explode, fucks sake.."
I mumble, stretching my arms and legs. I get up from the dinner table in order to walk around the backyard for a moment. Trying to get some fresh air, even though it's past midnight already.
I loved studying at the dinning table way more than upstairs in my room. It felt less lonely- especially since my dad had been gone for a couple weeks now. His work and the case had taken an interesting turn, which meant that his stay had to be prolonged.
I didn't mind, in fact, I loved living alone. Except for when I heard random noises at night. It could've been a bird flying against the window, and I’d still be paranoid.
Since it was our day off, after winning 2-0 against Napoli yesterday- I thought I'd go ahead and continue cramming for my last exam I had in a couple days.
I yawn and stretch my limbs, looking up at the clear sky and stars. It had gotten so much colder since December was almost here.
My pajama shorts are not providing warmth, but I can’t be bothered to go up and change when I’m going back inside in a minute anyway.
I can hear my back cracking when I turn to stretch, making me chuckle. I was only twenty, but those hard ass chairs and sitting in them for long periods of time, made me feel like I was double my age sometimes.
I'm brought out of my thoughts when I hear my phone ring loudly from the dinning table. I jog back inside quickly, throwing my slippers off my feet and snatch my phone. Confusion settling on my face when I read the caller ID.
I immediately pick up, pressing the phone against my ear. Worrying about something horrible happening in the middle of the night.
"Dad? It's late, something wrong?" I say in one breath, left hand clutching the backrest of my chair.
"y/n, nothings wrong. I just need you to listen carefully..”
"Okay." I spit out, just wanting him to get to the point, my brain making up all types of things.
"It's concerning one of my clients. Something unexpected just happened, and he's going to have to stay over at ours for a while."
I pause at his words, frowning in confusion, even though he can’t see my face.
"What? So, you're calling me- because I need to let an unfamiliar guy into our house- so he can sleep here? Is it a criminal?”
I gasp, hand gripping my phone tighter.
“A murderer?! Dad! How can you-”
"-y/n.." He cuts me off, voice stern, but I’m able to hear the grogginess of his tone. He'd probably been sleeping before he was awakened.
"It's no stranger- it's Jude, okay? He's not safe in his own home- relating the case I took on. I offered for him to stay over out of concern for his safety. So, he's going to have to stay with- you for a while."
I stay quiet, taking in all of the information he's giving me. I can already feel a migraine creeping up on me, letting go of my chair to massage my temple with one hand.
"I have to get the guest room- ready?" I say, processing everything and trying to understand what I’m supposed to do.
"Yes, I know you two are- friendly. Please be understanding and responsible. I'll call you in the morning, just get him settled and go to bed. You got that, honey?"
"Yeah, I got it. Uh- I'll get the room ready.." I say, already walking up the stairs and into the guest bedroom.
"Good, again- I'll call you in the morning- good night, sweetie.."
I quickly hang up after saying goodbye, running around, and making the bedroom look presentable. I change the bedsheets and wipe the dust off the vanity with a swift motion. It takes me about ten minutes and a sweaty forehead, before the doorbell rings repeatedly.
I run down the stairs, almost tripping due to my haste.
I take a deep breath when I reach the front door, trying to collect my thoughts and feelings before swinging the door open.
Jude's house was unsafe to stay in, so he's staying here- right..
The front door squeaks when I open it. An exhausted-looking Jude entering my sight, his black suitcase is on the floor, to his right- looking like it’s about to burst at its seams.
Cold air greets my face and naked legs almost instantly, making me curse internally for not changing clothes earlier.
I was too stubborn for my own good..
"Hi- umh, come in?" I say, my voice hoarse as if I hadn't spoken out loud in weeks.
He nods awkwardly, mumbling something incoherent as he begins rolling his suitcase inside.
I motion for him to take his shoes off, which he promptly does without hesitation. I turn away, grabbing some house slippers for him to wear out of the shoe rack.
I throw them next to his feet, watching his eyes flicker up and down as he steps back for a moment.
"You alright?" I ask, worried about the lack of words he's using.
It was unlike him, whether we’re arguing about some stupid shit or I’m filming an interview- he always had something to say.
"Yeah, I'm fine.." He mutters, looking up and finally making eye contact with me.
"The bedroom is upstairs.." I trail off, reaching over to grab his suitcase, but he snatches the heavy luggage up with one hand, immediately making his way up the stairs.
I watch the muscles in his arm flex as I walk behind him. I stop dead in my tracks when I realize what I’m doing and practically start running up the stairs to catch up to him.
I walk ahead of him when we reach the top of the stairs, opening the guest bedroom door for him.
"This is your room, bathroom is there, and the laundry room is over there." I point, turning around to face him.
"Thanks.." His Brum accent is thick, and he looks at me like a lost man in crisis.
I clear my throat, unable to pick between being nice and acting like how we normally interacted.
"Are- do you want to go shower?" I mutter, raising my brows.
I only realize how wrong my sentence sounds the second it leaves my mouth. To cover my embarrassment, I clear my throat again, putting my hands behind my back.
"Yeah- I should.." He responds, and I step aside to let him in the bedroom.
"I'll be downstairs.."
I inform, running down the stairs the second he shuts the door behind him.
I rub my eyes aggressively when I walk into the living room area. Sitting on the couch, I wonder if this is some delusional fever dream.
Maybe it’s just a different genre of dreams, next to those nightmares I had about failing exams.
I mean- who can make this up?
I get up to my feet again, walk up to the fridge, and begin filling up a huge glass with water. I bring the cup up to my lips, and slowly sip on the cool liquid, hoping it will help me feel grounded again.
I exhale deeply when I'm halfway through the cup. Going for my last gulp of water again, I fill my mouth with the rest of the water. My cheeks almost exploding from the amount of water in my mouth.
Suddenly, I'm absolutely- fucking-scared shitless as I'm poked in between my shoulder blades. I turn around in a shift motion, accidentally spraying out the water in my mouth- onto a shirtless Jude's chest.
My eyes almost bug out of my head in shock. My jaw slacks open when I observe the aftermath.
He can only look at me with a blank face. I can’t detect any emotion in his face, but he’s probably equally as mortified as me.
"Shit- sorry.." I blurt, turning around, and grabbing a kitchen towel. I scramble for a second, and start to vigorously..wipe.. his..chest..
I only realize I'm rubbing on his chest like I’m giving him a damn massage- mid-wipe and freeze.
My body goes rigid and my hands are resting on his now dry, naked chest.
I look up at him, only seeing part of his face with help from the dim lights in the kitchen. My breathing slows down, and he looks down at me in return.
I can feel my heart pounding in my ribcage, and I'm sure anyone within meters of me could hear.
His skin is soft and warm underneath my fingertips-
"I- was going to ask how the shower works.." Jude whispers, his warm breath hitting my face. I can make out his brown eyes peering into mine, a series of unspoken and caged words behind them.
His words make me stop breathing for a moment. I remove my hands off of him at lightning speed, the kitchen towel falling to the floor mindlessly and I step back immediately.
"Oh- yeah, sure. Follow me.." I scramble a couple words together, my brain working overtime. I walk up the stairs again. Leading him into the bathroom, noticing he had left the lights on, his discarded shirt on the bathroom counter.
"Here- left is hot, right is cold. This is the best temperature.." I instruct, pointing when necessary and don’t dare to look up at him as he stands behind me.
"This button is for the radio and this one for the ventilation.." I say, pressing some buttons to show him how they work.
"Okay.." He breaths out, his warm breaths hitting the back of my neck. I can practically feel his eyes drilling into the back of my head.
I finally turn to look at him, dragging my gaze up to make awkward eye contact with him.
"Anything else?" I ask, voice low and I begin fidgeting with the hem of my shorts.
"Not really..” He replies, sentence dragged out by his accent.
"Umh- okay.. laundry hamper is there. I'll be in my room.." I trail off, pointing my thumb behind me, and walk out of the bathroom without saying anything else.
I quickly clean up the mess I - no, he caused in the kitchen. I wipe everything down properly and grab my laptop and stationary off the dining table.
I carefully lock the front door and windows on the first floor, setting up the alarm and going back upstairs.
I can hear some noise coming from the bathroom. I begin averting my gaze, just in case Jude walks out of the bathroom half-naked again.
I finally get into my bedroom, jumping into my bed. I try to distract myself with my phone until he's done with showering. So I can finally wash my face and brush my teeth after a long day of studying.
Only, this time- my phone doesn’t seem to be all too interesting. Not even those brainrotting and attention grabbing TikTok’s.
Nothing, and I mean nothing- could distract me from anything that had happened within the past thirty minutes..
#jude bellingham#jude bellingham x reader#jude x reader#jude bellingham imagine#bellingham x reader#real madrid fc#jude bellingham fanfic#football imagines#football fanfic#footballer x reader#football#football imagine#real madrid
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Hey, I love your writing! I was wondering if you’d do a little something based off of the lyrics “Well, every once in awhile, she'll find my number in her phone and we'll talk for hours She'll tell me things I would have never known about when we were together She's saying, "Sorry, it's just such a long walk home" So she's coming over cause it's better than being alone” Spencer Reid x female reader. I was thinking more like a Midwest emo alt type of character, totally not someone you’d expect Spencer to go for?
I think your nose is bleeding (Spencer Reid x Reader)
Thank you very very much for the request!! I hope you like this little one shot, because I didn't know the song, but I hope I could meet your expectations🩷✨
My masterlist
Requests are always open🥰
Warnings: Mmm apart of it being a little messy, I think there's nothing, but it fluff
Word count: 1,232
y/n – your name
Spencer and you were kind of an odd couple, excuse me, a couple of friends for the untrained eye. While he’s a trained scholar with a collection of PhDs on Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering; with an impressive job as a profiler at the FBI, which most of the time had him travelling all around the country, and a shy personality with socially awkward tints, and a genius brain. You are a tattoo artist with a free spirit, a soft spot for poetry, love for sassy comebacks, and a special love for midwest emo music. Once upon a time, almost a year ago, Spencer and you were a couple, but the two of you decided to leave things as friends, because your lifestyles were quite different, which made a relationship considerably difficult for you. However, the two of you decided to stay friends, which seemed kind of easier as you established a set of rules to make sure everything between the two of you could flow naturally.
Even if it was as friends, you knew that the two of you seemed like polar opposites, but the love you shared always made you be better for each other, growing up, learning about the other’s point of view, and becoming empathetic, even if you didn’t see eye to eye under certain circumstances. After your break-up, Spencer and you learned to compromise and commit to make sure the friendship could work, sure, sometimes it was hard considering his packed schedule, and your love for spontaneous adventures.
It was a little later than you would usually close the tattoo studio, so you decided to call Spencer to see what he was up to; you hadn’t talked in a while, so you weren’t even sure if he was in the city, but it was worth it to take the shot.
“Hey, y/n, it’s nice to hear from you” you heard Spencer’s voice through the phone
“How are you, mighty Doctor Reid?” you asked excited because, deep down, you were really longing to hear Spencer’s voice
“I’m… I’m alright, you know, just doing my thing; how are you? It’s been ages” he said trying to hide his own excitement to hear from you. Sure, you were friends, but deep down Spencer hoped that with time and more organization, maybe someday the two of you could rekindle your previous relationship
“It’s only been a couple of weeks, but I know what you mean! I’ve missed you Spence, I hope I’m not interrupting you at work or anything” you said, walking to your car
“No, I’m just home solving a puzzle, and deciding what to order for dinner” he said
“Uh, that’s nice, I was actually thinking about going to Little India to get take out. I’m really craving chicken curry, want anything?” you said jokingly, pretty sure Spencer wouldn’t catch the subtext
“Uh… sure, some chicken tikka masala and flatbread would be pretty amazing, thank you for asking” Spencer said, ensuring you he didn’t catch the joke
“An order or chicken tikka masala, white rice, and flatbread, coming right up” you said getting ready to hang up the call, when Spencer interrupted
“Wait, don’t hang up” he said as you turned on your car engine “I want to go with you, if that’s okay, I mean, if it’s not an imposition” he stuttered this time
“It would be delightful, sure, I love talking to you” you said with a shy smile forming on your lips, “What have you been up to? Any cool cases I can know about?” you asked Spencer
“I flew in today from Atlanta, we went to solve a case there” Spencer stared telling you all about the case, the unsub and how the team managed to save the victims that were abducted, when a car cut you off and honcked at you
“Jerk” you said under your breath
“y/n! are you okay? what was that?” Spencer asked frantically
“I’m okay, I’m okay, it was just some jerk” you said hoping to soothe Spencer’s concern “Did you know I hate driving?” you asked the young doctor
“I didn’t know that” he said sounding quite surprised at your revelation
“I really do! That’s why I’d always ask you if we could carpool when we were together” you confessed
“Hu… That would’ve been useful information back then” he said, making sure of making a mental note about that, to ensure to drive you whenever he could do it
The two of you kept talking, and the 40-minute drive that you needed to get to your favorite Indian restaurant, suddenly felt like a 5-minute stroll with the one you loved. Talking to Spencer like this felt amazing, it was peaceful, it almost felt natural like breathing, he always had the right words for you and even when you paused the conversation for a little while, the silence between the two of you was incredibly comfortable. You arrived at your destination and while you were ordering the food, Spencer stayed on the line with you, speaking about an impressive number of folkloric Indian stories, and facts about the country. You picked up the food and drove to Spencer’s apartment, this time, the drive was quite short, but that didn’t mean it was least pleasant with Spence’s rambling
When you arrived to the apartment building, Spencer was already downstairs waiting for you
“Hey boy-genious, I was at least hoping I could separate the orders before giving them to you” you said, a little butt hurt that apparently, Spencer didn’t even want you on his apartment
“What are you talking about? I’m here to help you carry the bags upstairs” he said a little confused by your comment
“Oh, I thought… Never mind” you said brushing off the butterflies that starter fluttering inside your stomach
“I’m really glad you called, you had no idea how much I missed you” Spencer said as you were entering the apartment building
“I missed you too Spence” you said
The night went amazingly, and the damn butterflies wouldn’t go anywhere. The two of you eat dinner together, and it almost felt as you have never broken up, the conversation flowed, and you could feel how this was one of those moments you’d always treasure in your heart
“I should get going, it’s a really long drive home” you said as soon as the clock struck 12:00 am
“Don’t go, please, just… stay the night” Spencer pleaded with his puppy eyes
“I really shouldn’t” you replied, avoiding eye contact with Spencer. Sure, one would argue that a friend can stay over at another friend’s apartment, but you knew that with Spencer it would be complicated, especially as you weren’t over him yet
“I’m begging you, I may seem alright, but as soon as I go to bed without you I feel so… empty and alone. This apartment is not the same without you, as a matter of fact, my life is not the same without you” Spencer said taking your chin so you could look at him in the eye
“If I stay the night, I may never leave” you said, gifting Spencer a side smile
“Maybe I just don’t want you to leave” Spencer said, leaning forward and starring intensively into your eyes, so you did what any normal person who has the object of his or her desire would’ve done: you leaned forward, and kissed Spencer
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#dr spencer reid#dr spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#spencer reid headcanon#spencer reid fandom#doctor spencer reid#spencer reid criminal minds
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Remember when Louis said Is it my imagination? Is it something that I'm taking? All the smiles that I'm faking "Everything is great Everything is fucking great" Going out every weekend Staring at the stars on the ceiling Hollywood friends, gotta see them Such a good time I believe it this time Tuesday night Glazed over eyes Just one more pint or five Does it even matter anyway? We're dancing on tables And I'm off my face With all of my people And it couldn't get better they say We're singing 'til last call And it's all out of tune Should be laughing, but there's something wrong And it hits me when the lights go on Shit, maybe I miss you Just like that and I'm sober I'm asking myself, "Is it over?" Maybe I was lying when I told you "Everything is great Everything is fucking great" And all of these thoughts and the feelings Cheers to that if you don't need them I've been checking my phone all evening Such a good time I believe it this time Tuesday night Glazed over eyes Just one more pint or five Does it even matter anyway? We're dancing on tables And I'm off my face With all of my people And it couldn't get better they say We're singing 'til last call And it's all out of tune Should be laughing, but there's something wrong And it hits me when the lights go on Shit, maybe I miss you (yeah) Now I'm asking my friends how to say, "I'm sorry" They say, "Lad, give it time, there's no need to worry" And we can't even be on the phone now And I can't even be with you alone now Oh, how shit changes We were in love, now we're strangers When I feel it coming up, I just throw it all away Get another two shots 'cause it doesn't matter anyway We're dancing on tables And I'm off my face With all of my people And it couldn't get better they say We're singing 'til last call And it's all out of tune Should be laughing, but there's something wrong And it hits me when the lights go on We're dancing on tables And I'm off my face With all of my people And it couldn't get better they say We're singing 'til last call And it's all out of tune Should be laughing, but there's something wrong And it hits me when the lights go on Shit, maybe I miss you
… he was so real for that
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Holy. Fucking. Shit.
SEASON 2 TRAILER BITCHES
I'm absolutely loosing my mind! I actually woke up to my phone blowing up about it. And I've spent the last few hours rewatching it and trying to break it down. So I'm going to share my thoughts!
Ive organized all the clips into the separate episodes I believe they are from, so lets start with The Full Moon. Here's my theory about how I think these clips line up and what the episode will be about!
So to start, I'm confident these clips with Vassago and Andrealphus take place in this episode. Probably the first part asking where Stolas is being near the very beginning of the episode. The shot of Andrealphus I'm not sure of though. (I'd like to mention how much I love how his tail comes up and makes it clear he is in fact a peacock)
Next we have these clips of Blizø and Stolas. Stolas is evidently frustrated. While this could very likely be in the later half, I have a feeling this is early in the episode, probably when Blitzø shows up for their full moon meeting. I'm guessing this is where Stolas dumps on Blitzø that he wants to actually be loved. The shot of the flower would also make sense to be in this scene as they are in the garden.
I believe this form we see attack Stolas and Blitzø is Vassago. This is tricky as far as where it goes, but I'm going to place it here as Blitzø is in his signature outfit here like he was in the last scene. Stolas has changed though
Here's where we start to see Blitzø in his outfit specific outfit. I think this is later that day or the next day, him planning to go back to see Stolas and properly express that he indeed loves him. Here I think he is telling Moxxie that he is not going to be working that day and literally dumping the work load on Mox.
I looove these clips! My guess to whats happening here is that Blitzø goes to Fizz looking for help, one of them has the idea to bring a gift to Stolas, Fizz takes Blitzø into this part of the palace with a bunch of Ozzies creations. He pulls out the absurdity large toy as an idea. Eventually they end up deciding on the "Dankee" candle, which Blitzø brings to Stolas. I also love that it looks like he scaled the wall up to the balcony while dragging this comically large candle in a sack.
Here's the part we've all been dreading waiting for... The crystal. I think here is where Stolas gives it to him, and express' how much he hates the transactional deal they have going on. Blitzø completely takes it the wrong way, thinking Stolas is giving it to him as a way to tell him to fuck off.
Here Blitzø also says the "You fucks think you can do this every time" which is alluding to again that Blitzø has experience and possibility was involved with another royal at some point. I know this isnt a new theory, but I think Vassago is a very likely candidate as its very convenient to have this line and Vassago introduced in (presumably) the same episode. This could also just be referring to higher class demons in general, such as Verosika
These next few clips I believe all take place in The Full Moon as well, but I'm not confident on their placement. The shot of Octavia maybe not, but her line what was over it, saying how Stolas doesn't love her or Stella, only Blitzø, is most likely near in this episode though.
For these 3, I think they are during the Stolitz duet, either in the very beginning or ending of the episode (I seem to remember it being said the episode will open with it, but I might be imagining that)
In the part where the images of Blitzø shatter, it's the one closest to Stolas first and then makes its way out, it's also the one closest to him where Blitzø looks the happiest and as they get further he looks more upset/distressed.
The sequence of Blitzø and Stolas' silhouettes could also be almost anywhere but makes sense during the duet. I love the detail of Blitzø's tattoo showing as a heart as a child and as an adult its a broken heart (it's hard to see in these screen shots cause Tumblr decided to nuke the quality)
In the part where Stolas is singing with the celestial imagery he is again wearing a red turtle neck under his cape which bares a resemblance to the one hes wearing when Blitzø is protecting him. I'm not sure if this means anything, but fells worth pointing out.
Again I am sorry for the shit photo quality, and possible bad grammar and spelling. I currently have the posts for the rest of the episodes nearly done so expect those in the next few hours ♡ Id love to hear any other ideas or theories about the upcoming episodes, or anything I missed/got wrong!
Pt. 1: The Full Moon | Pt. 2 :Apology Tour | Pt. 3: Ghostfuckers | Pt. 4: Mastermind | Pt. 5: Sinsmas
#helluva boss#blitzø#brandon rogers#stolas#stolitz#fizzarolli#stolas goetia#octavia goetia#Vassago#Vassago Goetia#moxxie knolastname#andrealphus goetia#Hellaverse#Blitzo#Blitz#blitzo buckzo#Helluva analyzations#season 2 trailer#vivziepop#Spindlehorse
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So here's an alternate universe that zero people asked for:
Harding is shot down.
We know that Harding flew several missions, something that's not depicted on the show, probably for budget or story economics reasons. He flew Trondheim with Blakely, for which he was awarded a Silver Star, and Marienburg (the mission just before Bremen) with Brady. The next time he's on the flight roster is the November 13 raid on Bremen again.
Let's just say he takes that Bremen mission because it's personal now. He sat in that room after Munster and felt every single one of those empty chairs in his soul, and the very next time they flew that route, he decided he was going, too.
We know that there were multiple officers of fairly high rank who got shot down doing observation flights - when he bails out and lands there's nowhere for him to run. He's not young, and while he's in pretty good shape, his gridiron days are well behind him.
("Was it perhaps for revenge?" the interrogator asks with a smile as Harding scowls in his seat. "How quaint. I wonder how Mrs. Harding will see it. I hear Palm Beach is lovely this time of year. ")
The looks on the guys' faces when they see him in the lineup - shoulders squared, in need of a shave, usually very dapper uniform hardly dapper any more. "Couldn't leave you on your own, fellas," he says. "Place wasn't the same without you."
Harding's the escape committee kind - he and Bucky are alike in this. He and Clark don't get along very well. He also decides they need a football team.
("You gonna write her, sir?" Bucky asks one afternoon. "Captain Brennan." Neil stares and Bucky only shrugs. "Come on, sir, it doesn't take a genius." "Doesn't it?" "Not in here, sir." "You gonna write Lieutenant Callaway?" Now it's Bucky's turn to stare and Neil's to smile. "...that was mean, sir." "It didn't take a genius, Egan.")
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this ask may age as bad as milk or as good as wine, buuuuttttt...
guitarspear is canon bc yes
I AGREE. EXACTLY. SO TRUE. Also, this reminds me, I thought I should share something I found on Instagram with you guys posted just earlier this month.
This is from the description of one of Jessica Vosk’s (Lute’s VA) posts about how she’s going to sign some photos of Lute, and then mentioned how there’s a double print of her and Adam if you want to “keep Adam and Lute together forever” 😭
BUT IT DOESN’T END THERE. Here is the top comment of that post.
Yeah,, notice the ❤️ by author???
I’m not crazy I swear… ☹️
I love guitarspear RAHHHH take a shot every time I say I love guitarspear on this blog you’d be blackout drunk
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