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slut4megantheestallion · 14 days ago

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•｡ꪆৎ Imagine Chloe smoking while you eat her out

Warnings ⚠️: 18+, wlw, mdni, smut, fingering, oral (F! Receiving), Edging, Overstimulation, Weed/Smoking During Sex, Mild Degradation & Praise

Bam! Chloe's back hit the mattress, a lazy smirk curling on her lips as she exhaled a slow, hazy puff of smoke. The blunt dangled between her fingers, forgotten for a second as your tongue dragged over her slick folds, your nails digging into her thighs to keep her spread open.

"F-fuck-" Chloe choked out, her head tilting back against the pillow, eyelids fluttering as the weed buzzed in her system, amplifying every little flick of your tongue. She brought the joint back to her lips, inhaling deep before letting the smoke spill out in a slow, trembling sigh.

You hummed against her clit the vibrations making her jolt. "Keep smoking, Price," you teased, licking a long, stripe up her cunt. "I wanna see how long you last."

Her breath hitched, a shudder running through her body. "Oh, you're a f-fucking menace."

Chloe's breath came out in shallow, shaky pants, the blunt trembling between her fingers as you sucked her clit into your mouth, rolling your tongue over the sensitive bud in slow, teasing circles. Her thighs twitched, trying to close around your head, but your hands were firm- keeping her spread wide, exposed, completely at your mercy.

"Shit-fuck-" She slurred, her voice thick with pleasure and weed-induced haze. The room was filled with the musky scent of smoke and sex, the air heavy, intoxicating. Another deep drag of the joint, another slow exhale, and then her head dropped back again, her free hand fisting the sheets beneath her.

You could feel how wet she was, slick coating your lips, dripping down onto the bed, and you hadn't even given her everything yet. Smirking against her, you slowed your movements, teasing the tip of your tongue over her clit in featherlight strokes, barely touching her. Chloe let out a frustrated whimper, shifting her hips to chase the pressure.

"Nuh-uh," you murmured against her, your warm breath sending shivers up her spine. You pulled back slightly, just enough to see the desperate way her chest heaved, the way her body trembled, already begging for more. "You don't get to rush this, baby."

"God, you -" Chloe groaned, gritting her teeth as she tool another drag, smoke spilling from her lips a sigh. "You're a fucking tease."

You only chuckled, dragging two fingers through her soaked fold, collecting her arousal before pressing them against her entrance, not pushing in, just teasing. She bucked her hips, trying to take them, but you stayed firm, waiting.

"Tell me how bad you want it." You cooed, pressing soft kisses along the inside of her thigh, enjoying the way she twitched under your touch.

Chloe whined, her frustration mixing with the high, making her limbs feel heavy, her body burning. "Fuck- so bad- please, babe, I-" her voice cracked as you finally plunged two fingers inside, curling them instantly, dragging against that spot that made her toes curl.

The moan that tore from her throat was sinful, the joint slipping from her fingers onto the ashtray as she fully gave in, body arching as you set a slow, deep rhythm. Your fingers worked her open, thrusting at a pace that kept her right on the edge, never quite enough to push her over. Your tongue was relentless, flicking, circling, sucking, building her up only to pull back every time she got too close.

Chloe sobbed, her hands now gripping your hair, trying to push you closer, trying to get more. “Y/N—please—please—” Her voice was wrecked, wrecked in the way you loved, in the way that sent a heatwave straight to your core.

“Not yet,” you murmured against her, licking slow and deliberate, enjoying the way she trembled beneath you. “You can take more, can’t you, baby?”

She let out a strangled moan, nodding desperately, her body completely under your control. And you weren’t done with her yet.

Chloe was a mess beneath you, her body trembling, skin damp with sweat, her head lolling back against the pillows in utter defeat. The weed had her sinking deep into the mattress, mind swimming in slow, hazy pleasure, but you—you had her floating, dragging her to the highest peak over and over just to rip it away.

Her legs twitched, spread wide, completely open to you, but her muscles kept spasming every time you pulled back, leaving her right on the edge. She was panting hard, lips parted, her flushed chest rising and falling as if she had just run a marathon.

"Fucking hell, Y/N—" Chloe choked out, gripping at your hair with both hands now, the desperation thick in her voice. “You— you can’t just— keep doing that—”

You pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, your lips glistening with her arousal as you smirked. “Can’t I?”

Chloe groaned in frustration, her nails dragging against your scalp. “I swear to fucking God—”

You cut her off by plunging your fingers back inside her, thrusting deep and curling them just right. Her entire body jolted like a live wire, her mouth falling open in a silent moan as her back arched off the bed.

"Fuck—oh, fuck," she sobbed, her thighs clenching around your head, but you didn’t let up. Your fingers worked her hard and deep, hitting that spot over and over, while your tongue flicked against her swollen clit in perfect, devastating strokes.

Her hands fisted the sheets now, her body taut like a bowstring. "I— I can’t, I can’t—" she babbled, her voice cracking, every inch of her screaming for release.

"You can," you murmured against her, your voice low, commanding. “You’re taking it so well, baby. Just a little more.”

Chloe’s breath hitched at the praise, her thighs trembling uncontrollably. The high had her body hypersensitive, every touch magnified tenfold, every drag of your fingers making her feel like she was coming apart at the seams.

You didn’t stop, didn’t let up—not this time. Your pace quickened, fingers plunging deeper, tongue pressing harder, refusing to let her escape. The coil in her stomach tightened, wound so tight it hurt, and then—

"Oh—oh my fucking god—" Chloe shattered.

Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her back arching high off the bed, her mouth falling open in a silent scream before a wrecked moan tore from her throat. Her thighs clamped around your head, her entire body locking up as she came hard, soaking your fingers, your mouth, the sheets beneath her.

You didn’t stop. You lapped at her, working her through it, pushing her higher, until her moans turned into choked whimpers, her hands weakly pushing at your head.

"Too much— too much—" she gasped, shaking, her body twitching violently from the overstimulation.

You pulled back slowly, placing soft, reverent kisses on her inner thighs, soothing her as she came down from the high. Her body was still trembling, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her skin glowing with sweat and afterglow.

When you finally crawled up beside her, pressing your lips to her damp forehead, Chloe let out a soft, breathless laugh. “Jesus fucking Christ,” she muttered, her voice wrecked.

You grinned, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. “Good?”

Chloe turned her head, looking at you with heavy-lidded, glassy blue eyes, still hazy from the weed and pleasure. "Babe, I think you just killed me."

You chuckled, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. “You’re still breathing, Price.”

"Barely," she muttered with a smirk, letting out a long, content sigh before melting against you, her body still weak, still twitching slightly from the aftermath. She lazily draped an arm over your waist, pulling you closer, pressing her face against your neck.

After a beat of silence, she murmured, "You’re never allowed to do that to me again.”

You smirked. “Oh, you know that’s a lie.”

Chloe let out a sleepy chuckle. "Yeah… I do."

And with that, she nuzzled closer, the last bit of smoke fading from the air as the night settled around you both.

#lesbian #chloe price #chloe price smut #chloe price x reader #chloe price drabble #life is strange #life is strange chloe #life is strange chloe x reader #wlw x reader #wlw #Chloe price imagines

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chlerc · 9 days ago

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rocky beginnings ; charles leclerc

— summary; he’s been collecting rocks from every country he travelled to just because you mentioned it once back in highschool but he never thought he’d actually gift it to you till this reunion.

pairing — charles leclerc x f. reader! ( third person story )

word count — 1144.

content — pinning over that one girl from highschool and collecting rocks from every country he visited just because she mentioned it was her habit once. polaroid pictures of the beaches he visited and collected rocks from, notes written with his messy handwriting on the polaroids.

NAVIGATION + author’s note: i forgot where this idea came from i'm not gonna lie, i swear it was a chinese drama but i forgot which and i thought it was cute...

THE ROOM WAS AWASH WITH a peculiar blend of nostalgia and tentative conviviality, the kind that only a high-school reunion could conjure. Fragments of laughter, some sincere, others tinged with a hint of uncertainty floated through the air, mingling with half-remembered stories and recollections of days long past. Charles lingered near the periphery, a glass of tepid punch clasped in one hand while the other nervously traced the edge of his jacket pocket. His gaze flitted around the room, moving from one face to another, searching for a singular visage — her visage.

Years had passed since they last spoke in earnest. They were mere acquaintances now, connected only by the fragile threads of social media, a few cursory comments on Instagram stories, an annual exchange of obligatory birthday wishes. But once, they had been inseparable deskmates bound by shared secrets, shared laughter and shared dreams scrawled in the margins of their textbooks. She had a peculiar habit; a habit of collecting rocks from every place she visited. It was a small thing, almost whimsical, but it was something he had never forgotten.

At last, he spotted her, standing by the old trophy case, the dim light casting a soft halo around her, making her appear almost ethereal. For a moment, he hesitated, feeling the weight of time and lost opportunities pressing down upon him. But then, as though compelled by an unseen force, he began to make his way through the throng, the container in his hand growing heavier with each step he took.

She noticed him before he reached her, her eyes widening in recognition, followed by a smile that had not changed in all those years. The same delicate curve that seemed to illuminate her entire face. It began softly at the corners of her lips, as it widened, her smile seemed to spill over, brightening her eyes until they sparkled with a warm, unspoken invitation. The fullness of her lips caught the light, the subtle dimples that appeared in her cheeks adding an almost childlike charm, a hint of playful innocence. The same smile that lingered long after it faded, the same smile he never forgot. “Charles!” She greeted, her voice carrying a blend of surprise and something gentler, something like familiarity tinged with warmth. “Hello,” he replied, striving for a nonchalance that belied the quickening of his heartbeat. “It’s been quite some time.”

They exchanged the customary pleasantries; the polite inquiries about life, careers, and family. Yet, all the while, Charles was acutely aware of the container in his hand, a silent testament to years of quiet devotion. As the conversation began to wane, he gathered his courage and took a steadying breath. “I, uh, I brought something for you.” He mumbled, his voice catching slightly. He extended the container towards her, his hand trembling ever so slightly. It was a simple plastic vessel, but its contents were far from ordinary — they were the culmination of years spent thinking of her.

She looked at it, curiosity knitting her brows together. “What is this?” She questioned, accepting the container from him with a gentle touch. “Rocks,” he stated painfully obviously, almost bashful. “I remembered how you used to collect them from every place you visited. So, I started collecting them for you. Every time I travelled to a new country for the F1 season or for the holidays, I made a point of finding a beach and picking up a rock.” Her eyes widened further, her gaze moving from the container to his face and back again, a look of astonishment mingled with something else, something like wonder. “You did that? All this time?” Her voice meek like she couldn’t believe someone would’ve done that for her.

He nodded, a flush creeping up his neck. “Yes, and there’s more. I used the Polaroid camera you gave me for my sixteenth birthday. I captured a photograph of the sea in every country I visited and I wrote the date and the location on each one, in my usual messy handwriting.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bundle of polaroids, bound together with a fraying rubber band. He handed them to her, his heart thundering in his chest.

She took the photographs, her fingers brushing lightly against his, sending a spark of electricity up his arm. She leafed through them slowly, her eyes tracing the images — the endless, varied blues of oceans from around the world. She saw the dates and the names, scrawled in his familiar handwriting, each one a small, personal testament to his enduring thoughtfulness. Her eyes glistened, her smile deepening with each photograph she examined.

“Charles, I… I don’t know what to say,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “This is… extraordinary. Thank you.” He shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant, though his pulse was racing. “I just thought you might appreciate them. I remembered how much you loved collecting them, and I hoped… I hoped you still did.” She looked up at him, her eyes meeting him with an intensity that was almost disarming. For a long moment, they simply stood there, suspended in a silence that was laden with all the words left unsaid over the years — all the missed chances and unspoken sentiments. Yet in that silence, there was also a flicker of something new, a glimmer of possibility, a chance for renewal, for rekindling what had been lost.

“You always were the thoughtful one,” she said softly, her smile tinged with nostalgia. “I still collect them, you know. I never stopped.” He chuckled softly, relief flooding through him like a warm wave. “I’m glad, I was hoping that was still the case.” For a moment, they stood together in that small pocket of space by the trophy case, the rest of the reunion swirling around them like a distant, blurred backdrop. It was as if time itself had slowed, giving them a precious few moments to reconnect, to rediscover the connection that had once bound them so closely.

“I’ve missed you,” she confessed at last, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’ve missed you, too,” he replied, the words flowing more easily than he had expected. “More than I can put into words.” They shared a smile — a new smile, one that spoke of second chances and the faintest hope of rekindling something once thought lost. As the evening wore on, they found themselves engrossed in conversation, reminiscing about the past, laughing over old memories, and uncovering how much they still shared in common.

And as they talked, the container of rocks and the stack of Polaroids sat beside them — a tangible reminder of time passed, and perhaps, a bridge to a future that was now just a bit more luminous, a bit more promising, with the prospect of a renewed friendship or perhaps something more — beckoning on the horizon.

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ellieslaces · 1 year ago

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just thinking about the way leon would fuck you after being gone for so long <3 (wc; 643)

he would have been gone for days — weeks maybe — on another covert operation. one you couldn’t have any knowledge of for you safety, and just for the safety of the op and everyone involved.

weeks of lonely days and nights alone in your apartment that you shared with him, the quiet eerie and unsettling because even though leon was a quiet person, he still made the place more alive.

it’d been weeks of getting off on your own — for the both of you. only the thought of each other enough to suffice. not forever, though. you’d spent the nights he was away either sleepless, or fucking yourself with your own fingers, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of yourself until you fell asleep from exhaustion. but of course, no one did it like leon did. no one — not even yourself — could make you cum as hard as he did.

the night he’d come home was like any other of his arrivals home. a mixture of sweetness and lust. gentle kisses and whispers of how much you missed each other. carnal actions and rough touches because this was how you showed your love, how you showed how you really missed each other.

you didn’t just miss each other’s bodies, of course not. no, you missed him. yes, his touch, how he could reduce you to a crying mess within minutes. but he was more than that. you just missed him.

it always started either in the foyer of the apartment, or the living room. there were a few times it started in the kitchen — one night a few months ago he’d managed to surprise you while you were cooking. obviously dinner was long forgotten as he replaced the meal with the taste of you as you laid on the counter, legs thrown over his shoulders as he devoured you with an urgency that should have alarmed you.

but tonight, it began as it usually did. you’d greeted him at the door upon hearing his car in the driveway. as soon as he’d opened the door, you had thrown your arms around his neck, his own strong ones circled around your middle. quick kisses and whispers of greeting were pushed aside quickly and replaced by needy touches and deep, carnal kisses.

it ended up in the bedroom, as usual. your back against the plush mattress, your body caged by leon’s as he kissed down your body, clothes long since discarded so he could have access to you fully. his hands would be practically groping you, large palms running along the warm, exposed flesh of your torso. his fingers — along with his mouth, of course — ended up between your thighs. his favorite pastime, tasting you, as he liked to tease.

his fingers and tongue worked in dangerous tandem, making your mouth drop open, your eyes falling closed as your fingers gripped his hair. before you could actually tip over that impending edge, he pulled back. always keeping you on your toes.

it was then he began to drill into you. needy fervor with a mixture of soft kisses that contrasted with the harsh snap of his hips against yours. sweet whispers of how much he missed you were echoing in your ears, drowned out by the sound of your own whines and moans.

it went on that way — he’d fuck you until you both came, and give you a quick rest before going right back to it. sometimes he’d be on top, other times you’d ride him until your legs gave out and he’d have to thrust up into you from below. either way, it lasted for what felt like forever.

you hated when he was gone, but you’d never grow tired of how insatiable he was when he came home. sweet and loving, harsh and rough all at once. that was your favorite version of leon.

how you can support Palestine! 🇵🇸

#chloe talks #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy smut

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mcrololo · 5 months ago

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Can you do some spin the wheel pp things and create a fic based on the results?

Gonna be real, I'm swimming in wips and ideas enough already, but the wheel gave me tatoo artist x flower shop AU yesterday and I couldn't shake that, so have a little drabble:

Beca didn’t even need to turn and face the entrance when the bell chimed and an even cheerier voice carried over it. She also didn’t bother to bite away her growing smile when she did turn around to find baby blues trained on her.

“What brings you here today?”

Chloe grinned. She gestured a bare arm, decorated with different petals in a variety of colored ink, further into the shop. “I’d like a bouquet. What else?”

“Ha-ha.” Beca smirked. “Wanna pick them out yourself?”

She rounded the counter and Chloe slipped closer, finger tracing Beca’s shoulder. “Got any pink lotuses?”

#this shit HARD. i forgot how difficult it is to end on exactly 100 #chloe is being cheeky about beca's shoulder tat ofc because in this AU she's the one who did that for beca <3 #i spun the wheel a few times btw and got [redacted] and [redacted] and lmao that's just my current fic we've been alive just long enough #but the last one gave me this prompt #pitch perfect #bechloe #rolo writes #answered #anonymous #tattoo artist x florist drabbles

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alchemistdefective · 2 months ago

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@rosegoldscarlet @gensinkyo

#muse: chloe #I HAD TO DO THIS lajsGHJLASG #OKAY I did enough on a drabble time to SLEEP

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majoryeager104 · 4 months ago

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went on a bit of a break but I’m baaaack I had a crazy weekend but like not in a good way 💀

But anyways check out this ART omg

Do I ship it? No. Am I betting money that Aizawa is five seconds away from adopting another traumatized birdie? Absolutely

He looks so done already tho lmao 😭😭

creds to artist! (If anyone recognizes the artist lmk bc I fucking love their style omg)

#hawks mha #mha hawks #bnha hawks #mha takami keigo #mha keigo takami #bnha keigo #keigo takami #takami keigo #aizawa shouta #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #bnha shouta aizawa #aizawa #Chloe’s Drabble

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ineedtherapydesperately · 8 months ago

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I was listening to the Cyclops saga and more specifically My Goodbye and like tell me why is that song so Red and Queen of Hearts coded?? like a Red and Queen of Hearts coming of age kinda scenario like imagine QoH is all demeaning and condescending towards Red and then Red just snaps?? straight up loses her shit?? like hear me out it's so them

like this is absolutely something QoH would say bsffr especially considering the books as well and girlie is here like I raised you to be the Princess of Hearts?? blah blah we're meant to be evil rulers together in the future for the sake of Wonderland

then the lecture would absolutely turn into a 'why are you such a disappointment' rant and then QoH goes on a whole ass tirade against Red again like

and Red just snaps, thinking about her friends like Chester and Ace, thinking about what QoH did to them and thinking about how she was so utterly powerless against her own mother

so she screams, she yells, she cuts QoH out of her life for good because she's so SICK of her mother constantly telling her what to do, how to act, who to kill. she's so sick of living her life under some Queen, ruled by some Queen

but ofc QoH has to slip in her own little off with their heads reference but surprisingly doesn't put up too much of a fight?? like she just lets Red walk out, which surprises Red until she realises that it's a sick ploy because who can Red turn to now?? she just alienated the RULER of Wonderland, their absolute Queen, their tyrant but Red can't find it in herself to care because she's finally free of her mother

and Red being Red can't resist one last quip at her mother before she leaves the court for the final time, packing her bags and headed off to wherever (probably Chloe) and leaves QoH to wallow in this parting shot because Red was right?? she's all alone?? first, Ella left her, and now her daughter and she's all alone??

idk this song got me thinking things but yeah Red is so Odysseus coded and QoH is so Athena coded

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chlerc · 4 months ago

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nonchalant-chalant ; charles leclerc

— summary; everybody in high school always saw him as a cold, detached and nonchalant student. but they never knew he could be so ‘chalant’ to a specific person.

pairing — charles leclerc x f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 5390.

content — 5 occasions the nonchalant guy of the whole high school turns out to be a very ‘chalant’ guy, you even left him in tears. he’s in soooo deeeepppp, like reallyyyy deep for you.

NAVIGATION + author’s note: we got artistic painter charles leclerc before gta VI oh my days??? all these are sitting in drafts rotting.

— I.

Charles had always been the quiet type. The kind of person who blended into the background without much effort, his presence in the room more like a shadow than a force. His cold, nonchalant demeanour kept most people at arm's length. He never spoke more than necessary, never engaged in the idle chatter that seemed to dominate the classroom before the teacher arrived. He was distant, detached, and entirely unreadable — yet there was something beneath that frosty exterior, a subtle warmth, like a fire hidden beneath a layer of ice.

No one really paid much attention to him, except for the girls who admired him from afar. He had a sort of natural appeal, with his sharp features and air of disinterest. But he never seemed to care, shrugging off the attention as easily as he shrugged off everything else. She thought he was just another aloof, handsome boy with nothing more to offer than a pretty face.

But what no one else knew — what she herself wouldn’t have suspected — was that Charles cared more than he let on. It was in the small, nearly imperceptible gestures he made. The way he would glance her way when he thought no one was looking. The way his cold eyes would soften, just a fraction, when she passed by. He had grown used to her presence, though they were in different classes, separated by the walls of the school, by desks and timetables. Yet, every day, his gaze would unconsciously drift towards the window, hoping to catch a fleeting glimpse of her in the classroom opposite his.

That was why he had changed seats. It wasn’t an easy task, especially since the seat he wanted was by the window, highly coveted by the students who enjoyed daydreaming during lessons. His classmate who currently occupied it had refused at first, until Charles, with his usual indifferent expression, pulled out a notebook and mentioned, almost too casually, that he could get him Kimi Raikkonen’s autograph.

“You can get me Kimi Raikkonen’s signature?” his classmate had asked, eyes wide with disbelief. Charles had merely nodded. He didn’t brag about his connections; it was beneath him. But for this, he was willing to play the card.

The deal was struck. Charles traded his own seat for the one by the window, a fact that quickly spread through the school. The rumour mill worked fast, and soon enough, people speculated that he’d done it to sit closer to Léa, the gorgeous girl who always seemed to be surrounded by admirers. She sat just two rows away, close enough that Charles could, in theory, exchange casual glances or whispered conversations with her during class.

That was, at least, what she thought when she heard about the seat change. She hadn’t paid much attention to Charles before — he was too quiet, too removed from the kind of people she usually spent time with. But when her friend mentioned his sudden change of seats, she couldn’t help but wonder if the rumours were true. It seemed so typical of boys like him, drawn to the prettiest girl in the class. Not that she blamed him — Léa was undeniably beautiful.

She didn’t expect to be dragged into the mystery herself. Not until the day he stopped her in the corridor, his expression as neutral as ever, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place. “You’re coming with me,” he said simply, his voice low but firm. “What?” She frowned, confused by his sudden approach. “Where?”

“Just follow me.” He didn’t wait for her to argue, already walking ahead, his long strides forcing her to catch up. She followed, her curiosity piqued despite herself. Charles led her through the school, down the hallways she knew so well, until they reached his classroom. The lesson had ended just moments before, and most of his classmates were still lingering, gathering their things. “Here,” he said, stopping in front of his desk — the one by the window. He motioned for her to sit down. She glanced at him suspiciously, then at the desk. “Why am I sitting here?”

“Just sit.” Reluctantly, she lowered herself into the chair, still unsure of his intentions. The classroom buzzed softly with the sounds of students talking, but Charles remained focused on her, his gaze unwavering.

He gestured towards the window, and she followed his gaze, looking outside. It took a moment, but then she saw it — her own seat in her classroom, visible directly through the window. Her eyes widened as realisation dawned. “You... you can see my desk from here.” He nodded, his expression still unreadable. “That’s the point.”

“You changed seats... just so you could... look out the window and see my desk?” She felt a strange mix of confusion and something else, something warmer, though she couldn’t quite name it. He shrugged, his lips quirking up ever so slightly at the corners. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s a good seat.”

She scoffed, though a smile tugged at her lips. “Right. And I suppose the view of Léa is just an added bonus?” Charles gave her a look, his eyes narrowing slightly as if to say she was being ridiculous. “I couldn’t care less about Léa.”

“Really?” she teased, leaning back in the chair, folding her arms. “Because that’s what everyone thinks. I mean, why else would you bargain for this seat?” He didn’t answer at first, instead, he looked out the window, his gaze distant. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more thoughtful. “It’s not for her.”

There was a long pause as his words sank in. She glanced out the window again, her mind racing, trying to piece together the meaning behind his actions. Charles wasn’t one to express his feelings, that much was clear. But the fact that he’d gone out of his way — made a deal with someone, even used Kimi Raikkonen’s name — just to sit here, just to be able to see her... it said more than words ever could.

She turned back to him, her teasing smile replaced by something softer. “You’re not as cold as you pretend to be, are you?” His gaze flicked back to hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a glimmer of vulnerability in those dark eyes. But then it was gone, replaced by his usual mask of indifference. He smirked, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Don’t get used to it.” She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible, Charles.”

“And yet, here we are.” He raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly against the edge of the desk. Her smile grew, and she found herself looking at him in a new light. There was more to him than she’d ever realised — more than anyone realised. He might have been cold and distant to the world, but in small, unexpected ways, he showed that he cared.

“So,” she said, breaking the silence, “are you going to let me keep this seat, or do you want it back?” He looked at her for a moment, then out the window again. “You can have it. I’ve already seen what I needed to. So, will you stop ignoring me now?” She laughed again, a soft, genuine sound that seemed to catch him off guard. He watched her, his usual cool façade cracking just slightly, revealing something warmer beneath.

— II.

The moment Charles had heard that she was unwell, something in him shifted, though outwardly, his expression remained as neutral as ever. He had always prided himself on his self-control, on not being ruled by impulses or emotions. But this — this was different. There was an unspoken urgency in the way he grabbed his coat, barely remembering to lock his door before he left the house. In the quiet hum of the late afternoon, he made his way over to hers, his steps quick and purposeful.

He arrived at her front door, a bag of medicine in hand, and his usual calm, collected self barely masked the concern that churned underneath. When she opened the door, her face pale and her eyes heavy with the weight of sickness, he felt something tighten in his chest. Her usual spark was dimmed, and he hated seeing her like that — vulnerable and weary. But instead of showing any of this, Charles slipped into his familiar aloof demeanour, the one that gave away nothing.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice hoarse but laced with curiosity. “I was passing by and remembered I had some extra medicine,” he replied, shrugging nonchalantly, holding up the bag. “Thought you might need it.” She raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe for support. “Right, you just happened to have extra medicine on you?” He gave a slight smirk, his lips barely curving upward. “What can I say? I’m a man of preparedness.”

“Sure, Charles Leclerc, always so practical. You’re telling me you carry around medicine for no reason?” she said, a teasing glint in her tired eyes, though her tone was soft. “I do,” he replied smoothly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. He made his way to the kitchen as though he’d done it a hundred times before, placing the bag on the counter. “The last time I was at the pharmacy, I bought extra. You know, just in case.”

As he busied himself unpacking the medicine, she leaned against the doorway, watching him with a mixture of amusement and suspicion. It was strange seeing him like this — so at ease in her space, acting as if taking care of her was second nature. “Charles, you’re a terrible liar,” she finally said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re telling me you just happened to have exactly what I need?” He glanced at her briefly, eyes cool and unreadable, before pulling out a bottle of cough syrup and setting it down. “Coincidence.”

“Mmm-hmm, and what about the receipt?” She stepped closer, her tiredness not dulling her wit. “Receipt?” His brows furrowed ever so slightly, but his voice remained calm. She picked up the crumpled piece of paper that had fallen out of the bag, her eyes scanning it quickly. “It says here you bought all this... today.”

Charles froze for a brief moment, his eyes flicking to the receipt in her hand. He mentally cursed himself for being so careless, but instead of admitting to his obvious concern, he rolled his eyes with feigned exasperation. “Fine, you caught me,” he said, his tone dry. “I’m guilty of being considerate. Sue me.”

A small smile tugged at her lips as she shook her head. “Why didn’t you just say so?” He shrugged, leaning against the counter, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Because then you’d make a big deal out of it, and we both know you’d never let me hear the end of it.” Her smile grew, though it was tempered by the weariness in her body. “You really think I’d make a big deal out of you caring?”

“You? Absolutely.” His voice was teasing, though there was a softness behind his words. She laughed lightly, though it quickly dissolved into a cough, and Charles’s expression tightened with concern, though he masked it quickly. He pushed himself off the counter, crossing the space between them in a few long strides. Gently, he took her arm and guided her towards the living room.

“Come on, you should be resting, not standing here making fun of me.” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “Someone has to keep you humble,” she muttered, letting him lead her to the sofa, where she sank into the cushions with a sigh. He handed her a glass of water, watching her drink with a careful eye.

“And you do a terrible job at it,” he quipped, settling himself in the armchair across from her. “I’m as arrogant as ever.” She smiled weakly, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before reopening. “You’re not as cold as you think you are, Charles.” He looked at her for a long moment, his face unreadable, as if weighing her words. “I’m not cold. I just don’t waste time pretending to care about things that don’t matter.”

“But I matter, don’t I?” she asked, her voice soft but playful, pushing him just enough to see if he’d bite. Charles exhaled through his nose, glancing away for a brief second before meeting her gaze again. “You already know the answer to that.” Her smile widened just a little, and she leaned back into the cushions, her body relaxing as she finally allowed herself to rest. “You’re terrible at hiding it, you know.”

“Hiding what?” he asked, though there was no real challenge in his voice. “Caring. You act all cool and detached, but when it comes to the people you actually care about, you’re different.” Her eyes flickered to the medicine on the counter. “Like rushing over here with medicine the second you hear I’m sick.”

“Like I said, coincidence,” he deadpanned, though there was a faint warmth in his eyes. She rolled her eyes, a tired but amused look crossing her face. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Charles.”

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between them, the kind that only existed between people who didn’t need to fill every space with words. Charles watched her as her breathing steadied, as the weariness in her frame seemed to ease slightly. He didn’t move from his spot, didn’t leave her side, though he could have easily brushed this whole thing off and gone home.

Instead, he stayed. Because despite his insistence that he didn’t care, that he was merely being practical, there was something deeper there — something that he could never quite admit, not even to himself. He might have been cold and nonchalant to the rest of the world, but with her, he was different. Even if he would never say it out loud.

“You’re staying, right?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes already half-closed. Charles looked at her, his gaze softening just slightly. “I’m not going anywhere.” And with that, she smiled once more, a small, contented smile that lingered on her lips as she drifted off to sleep, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts and the quiet realisation that he cared far more than he ever let on.

— III.

It was one of those sunny days where the excitement in the air was almost palpable, with an entire inter-class group from their highschool planning an outing to the amusement park. It was a mix of mutual friends between the two of them, some from her class, others from his, all eager to make the most of the day. The park was alive with the sound of laughter and the constant hum of rides whirring into motion. The scent of freshly spun candy floss and buttery popcorn drifted through the air as they wandered around, hopping from ride to ride.

Everything had been going smoothly until they reached the infamous roller coaster, a towering structure of sharp loops and steep drops that sent a shiver down her spine just by looking at it. The group gathered at the base, all eyes drawn upward to the intimidating metal tracks twisting in the sky above them. “Right, who’s in for this one?” someone from the group called out, already bouncing on their feet with anticipation.

Her stomach lurched at the sight, and she immediately stepped back, her hand gripping the strap of her bag. There was no way she was getting on that thing. Heights, sudden drops, and twists? Not her idea of fun. “I think I’ll, um… sit this one out,” she said, her voice barely audible over the buzz of the group.

Her declaration caused a ripple through the crowd. With her out, they now had an odd number of people. Several heads turned towards Charles, who had been standing a few steps behind her, his hands casually shoved into his pockets. “I’m not going either,” Charles suddenly spoke up, his voice steady but nonchalant. The group turned to look at him in surprise. Charles, the guy who rarely backed down from anything, refusing a ride?

“Wait, what? You’re skipping the roller coaster too?” one of their mutual friends asked, confusion clear on his face. “You love this adrenaline stuff!” Charles gave a half-hearted shrug, his expression as indifferent as ever. “Yeah, well, doctor’s orders,” he replied lazily, eyes glancing upward toward the coaster as if it held no real interest for him. “Doctor’s orders?” She shot him a sceptical glance, folding her arms over her chest. “What are you on about?”

He didn’t look at her, instead keeping his gaze on the roller coaster in the distance. “Yeah, something about my equilibrium. Can’t do steep drops. Inner ear issue,” he said, the lie slipping off his tongue with the smoothness of a well-rehearsed excuse.

Their mutual friends exchanged incredulous looks, some rolling their eyes, already seeing through his flimsy excuse. “Really? Inner ear? Since when?” Charles didn’t flinch, only smirking slightly. “I don’t make the rules.” Her eyes narrowed, scrutinising him. She knew Charles well enough to know when he was bluffing. “So… you’re scared of the roller coaster?” she teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

He turned his gaze to her then, his smirk widening slightly. “What do you think?” His tone was laced with sarcasm, the challenge clear in his eyes. “I think you’re only saying that because I’m not going,” she shot back, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “You’re trying to make me feel better, aren’t you?”

Charles rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe I just didn’t want you sitting out here alone,” he said, his tone light but carrying a weight she wasn’t expecting. She raised an eyebrow, though amusement danced in her eyes. “How noble of you.”

The group began to filter into the roller coaster queue, their friends throwing playful jabs at Charles for his sudden ‘inner ear problem’ before disappearing into the line. Now, with just the two of them left standing by the entrance, she turned fully to face him, still smirking. “Seriously though,” she said after a pause, “you didn’t have to stay behind. You could’ve gone on with them.”

“I know,” he replied easily, not bothering to elaborate further. He kept his gaze ahead, seemingly indifferent to the ride and the group that was now filing away. She tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “When I’m not scared anymore, you’ll go on the roller coaster with me, right?”

Charles looked down at her then, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll ride it with you,” he said, his voice steady but genuine. “And what if I never get over it?” she asked with a playful challenge in her voice, eyes narrowing just a fraction.

Without hesitation, Charles replied, “Then I’ll never ride it either.” She blinked, taken aback by how easily he said it. For a moment, the usual banter between them faded, replaced by something quieter, something heavier. His words, though casual, held an unspoken promise. She felt a warmth spread through her chest but shook her head, smiling as she broke the tension.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, though the affection in her voice was hard to miss. He smirked, leaning slightly closer. “I’ve been called worse.” They stood there together, watching the roller coaster cars rattle along the tracks, the distant screams of their friends echoing in the background. She glanced up at him again, her earlier scepticism replaced by something softer, though she tried to mask it.

“Next time, maybe I'll surprise you and actually get on,” she mused, giving him a playful nudge. Charles looked down at her, a quiet smile playing on his lips. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” They spent the rest of the day together, watching from the sidelines as their friends braved the rides. And while she didn’t muster the courage for the roller coaster that day, the fact that Charles stayed behind with her — even with the worst excuse ever — was enough.

— IV.

The rain had started without warning, a sudden cascade from the grey sky that sent students scattering beneath doorways and trees, scrambling for cover. She, of course, hadn’t thought to bring her umbrella — she never did. With a resigned sigh, she tugged her school bag from her shoulder and lifted it over her head, preparing to dash through the downpour towards the bus stop. The idea of arriving home soaked wasn’t ideal, but at this point, it seemed inevitable.

Just as she took her first step into the rain, a voice called out behind her. “Hey! Are you seriously going to run through that?” She turned, her eyes narrowing against the droplets as Charles approached, completely at ease beneath the wide black umbrella in his hand. He didn’t seem in any particular hurry, strolling towards her with his usual composed stride. His face was impassive, as always, though there was the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“What choice do I have?” she replied, her tone slightly defensive as she gestured to the pouring rain. “I don’t have an umbrella.” He raised an eyebrow, as if her lack of preparation was no surprise to him. “Clearly.” She rolled her eyes, about to turn away and continue her ill-fated sprint when he spoke again.

“Here,” he said, extending his free hand. She blinked, her gaze dropping to the transparent umbrella he held out to her. “You can use this one.” Her first instinct was to sigh with relief at the prospect of staying dry, but as she took the umbrella, something about it caught her eye. The familiar outline of a car, sleek and red, was painted onto the plastic surface, a near-perfect rendition of her favourite Ferrari. She frowned, her fingers brushing the artwork. “Where did you get this?”

“Found it,” he replied smoothly, his face a mask of indifference. “Someone must’ve left it behind.” She glanced up at him, suspicion flickering in her eyes. “Found it?” Charles nodded, his expression as calm and collected as ever. “Yeah, just lying around. Lucky, huh?” She raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips twitching upward in disbelief. “It just so happens that someone left an umbrella with this exact painting on it? You expect me to believe that?”

His gaze didn’t waver, though she noticed the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. “Why not? Stranger things have happened.” She couldn’t help the grin that tugged at her mouth. “Right, and it also just so happens that this is my favourite car, perfectly painted on this umbrella?”

“Coincidence,” he replied, deadpan. “Maybe the owner had good taste.” She laughed then, shaking her head at his stubborn insistence. “You painted this, didn’t you?” His expression didn’t change, though there was a slight twitch of his lips as he shrugged. “Like I said, I found it.”

She looked down at the umbrella again, running her fingers over the brushstrokes. Despite the rain pelting down around them, a warmth bloomed in her chest at the realisation of what he had done. He had painted this — for her — yet he wouldn’t admit it, wouldn’t take the credit.

She shook her head again, her smile widening as she glanced back up at him. “You know, you’re really bad at lying.” Charles raised an eyebrow, his tone still cool and even. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please,” she teased, stepping closer to him so she could peer into his eyes more closely. “You think I don’t know your handwriting by now? That’s your signature brushstroke on the headlights.” He remained resolute, though she noticed the faintest flush of pink creeping up his neck. “You’re imagining things.”

“Mmm, sure,” she hummed, spinning the umbrella around in her hands. “And I suppose if I were to ask Arthur about this later, he wouldn’t mention anything about you spending all afternoon painting it?” Charles finally cracked a grin, though he quickly masked it by looking away. “You really think Arthur pays attention to anything I do?”

She laughed again, her heart swelling with affection at his poorly hidden care. The rain continued to fall around them, but with the umbrella in her hand, she felt completely shielded, not just from the weather but from any of life’s unpredictable moments. That’s what Charles was like — stoic and nonchalant on the outside, but always ready to protect her in subtle ways.

“Well, thank you for finding this,” she said, her voice softening as she twirled the umbrella overhead. The painting glistened under the rain, every detail visible, every stroke done with a care that only someone who truly paid attention to her would know. “Like I said,” Charles replied, his tone still casual but his eyes warmer than before, “it’s just a coincidence.”

She chuckled again, shaking her head as they began walking towards the bus stop, her newly acquired umbrella held proudly above her head. They walked in comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of rain tapping gently against the plastic surface. “So,” she said after a beat, casting him a sideways glance. “Are you going to paint all my future umbrellas too?” He shrugged, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. “Depends. Are you going to keep forgetting to bring one?”

“Probably,” she admitted with a grin. “Then I guess I’ll have to,” he murmured, and though his voice was quiet, she could hear the smile in it. They continued walking, the rain falling steadily around them, but beneath her umbrella, the world felt warm, safe.

Charles’ quiet acts of care always managed to wrap around her in unexpected ways, and though he’d never admit to it, she knew the truth behind his gestures. And as they neared the bus stop, she couldn’t help but smile to herself, knowing that he’d always be there to offer her an umbrella — whether he ‘found’ it or not.

— V.

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and quiet worry. Charles hadn’t even taken a moment to catch his breath as he sprinted through the long corridors, his trainers squeaking on the polished linoleum floor. The message from his parents had been cryptic at best, void of any real details — just that she had been rushed to hospital after an injury. His heart had been hammering in his chest since he’d received the news, and as he approached her room, his panic only grew. His cheeks were flushed, the cold sweat from his rushed journey still clinging to his skin, and his hair stuck messily to his forehead.

He burst into the room, chest heaving, eyes wide and already glossy with unshed tears. His gaze immediately fell on her, propped up in bed with a slight smile tugging at her lips as she watched him stumble in, looking every bit as though the world had just collapsed on him. “Charles, what—” she began, but he cut her off, his voice choking with emotion as he stood at the foot of her bed.

“Don’t mind it, just a little cry...” His words came out in a strangled breath, a pitiful sound as his eyes darted across her body, searching for any sign of trauma. “They didn’t tell me what happened... I thought— I thought you—”

“Woah, woah,” she interrupted, raising an eyebrow at his distraught state. “Why are you acting like I died?” She looked at him in amusement, sitting comfortably under the pristine white hospital sheets, clearly not in as dire a state as he had imagined. But he couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that poured out of him, his words tripping over each other as he tried to explain.

“The hospital— they didn’t clarify,” he stammered, his breath catching as he wiped furiously at his eyes with the back of his hand. “They just said you were here, and I— I ran—” His words dissolved into hiccups, his chest heaving with the effort of trying to calm down. He sank heavily into the chair beside her bed, his shoulders slumping in relief now that he could see she was, at the very least, alive and not in any critical danger. His hand reached up to wipe his cheeks again, trying to steady himself, but the tears kept slipping through his fingers.

She giggled softly, watching him with a mixture of fondness and amusement. Leaning forward, she wiped a stray tear from his cheek with the pad of her thumb, her touch gentle and warm. “Stop laughing, you bully,” he muttered, his voice thick with embarrassment as he avoided her gaze. His eyes were still red-rimmed, his breathing uneven from the emotional onslaught.

“I’m not,” she insisted, though the giggles continued to bubble up in her throat. She shook her head, her grin widening. “You’re just really cute when you’re worried.” He shot her a half-hearted glare, still wiping away the evidence of his tears. “It’s not funny.” She chuckled again before settling back against the pillows, wincing slightly as the movement tugged at the injury she was about to explain. “It’s just a ligament rupture, Charles. Nothing life-threatening. I was on a run, twisted my ankle the wrong way. That’s all.”

He blinked at her, trying to process the words, nodding absently as his hiccups continued to break up his breathing. “Ligament rupture?” She nodded, lifting her leg slightly to show him the bulky brace that now encased her knee. “Yeah, I’ll be fine in a few weeks. They’ve just got me in here for observation.”

His shoulders sagged in relief, and he took a long, shuddering breath, though his chest still hitched with residual hiccups. He turned his gaze to her leg, his expression softening now that he knew the injury wasn’t nearly as severe as his mind had conjured. “I thought it was something worse,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers fidgeted in his lap, twisting together as he continued to avoid her gaze. “I didn’t know what to think. I wouldn’t... I wouldn’t know what to do if it was—”

His voice trailed off, and for a moment, the weight of his fear hung between them, unspoken but palpable. She reached out and took his hand in hers, her fingers curling around his in a comforting gesture. “I’m fine, Charles. You don’t have to worry about me like that.” He swallowed, his gaze finally meeting hers. “I can’t help it.” She smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “Well, now you know. I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out a small, shaky breath, his hiccups finally subsiding as he allowed himself to relax. She was right here, and she was okay. That was all that mattered. But as he sat there, still processing the flood of emotions that had overwhelmed him, he realised just how much she meant to him — how the mere thought of losing her had unravelled him so completely.

“Still,” she teased, her voice lightening the mood once more. “I can’t believe you ran all the way here crying like that.” He huffed, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. “I wasn’t crying that much.”

“Oh, you were, your hair’s all stuck to your head, and your face is as red as a tomato.” She said with a mischievous grin. “Stop it,” he groaned, covering his face with his hand in embarrassment. “You’re making it worse.” She giggled again, her thumb brushing over his knuckles in a soothing motion. “I’m just saying, it’s kinda sweet. You care that much.” He peeked at her from between his fingers, his voice soft as he admitted, “Of course I do.”

There was a moment of quiet, a gentle understanding that passed between them. His hand still rested in hers, their fingers intertwined in a way that felt natural, like it had always been that way. “Thanks for coming,” she said after a beat, her voice quieter now, a note of sincerity threading through her usual teasing tone.

“Always,” he replied, his eyes finally softening, though his cheeks still held a faint blush. He gave her hand a squeeze, feeling the weight of his worry lift now that she was here, with him, safe.

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