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nereidprinc3ss · 3 months

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weber's law

in which spencer reid comforts fem!reader when she's having a panic attack at the rossi mansion

fluff warnings/tags: panic attack lol, spencer is really cute and sweet my little perfect cutie pie angel baby, classic spencer info dumps bc they're pretty much his love language, established relationship, cheesy and sweet at the end a/n: this one is for my queens with panic disorders who are triggered by literally nothing and everything i see you have this ilysm

When Spencer had invited you to a small get-together at Rossi’s, you’d imagined a small get-together at Rossi’s.

And maybe that makes you a complete idiot.

Or maybe Spencer is just so used to FBI work functions that to him, this really is small.

But now you’re sitting on an expensive couch in a very nice house, and you’re surrounded by FBI agents who are all milling around and talking and laughing, and you’re worried maybe your outfit doesn’t look as nice on you as you’d thought it did, and you keep having very vivid visions of spilling your drink all over a furry throw rug that probably costs more than your rent does.

Music that could reasonably be considered relaxing or at the very least not objectionable plays over the sound system throughout the whole house and thus is inescapable—not that you’d get up from the couch even if you could, because Spencer is sitting to your right and he has his hand on your thigh and it’s the only thing that has until this point been keeping you from a full blown panic attack.

Maybe that makes you a complete idiot, too.

Regardless, you try to focus on nothing but the weight of his hand as it travels slowly up and down from knee to hip over the jeans you’re not so sure about, and the feeling of your breath coming and going, as slow as you can possibly summon it without passing out.

Spencer is laughing at something JJ is saying as she stands next to the couch with Will and you really like JJ but her voice seems so loud right now, and nothing is going particularly wrong but everything feels so, so wrong it’s scary.

All the buzzing tension in your body telling you to run away because you’re unsafe and at the same time locking you into place builds until you have to express it somehow. So you revert to an old habit—bouncing your leg rapidly like a rabbit thumping its foot. It’s not entirely conscious, but it feels better than being completely still. That is, until Spencer’s hand strays inward and cups just above your inner knee, where he begins fanning his thumb back and forth over the fabric.

“What’s this?” he murmurs, head angled toward you and voice low enough to not draw attention. You force yourself to plant your heel to the ground even though it worsens the feeling of gears crunching in your chest.

“Nothing. Sorry.”

That gets his attention.

Because of course it does. He’s always telling you to stop saying sorry so often.

His tone solidifies, still quiet but committed to this conversation now and no longer the whispery apparition of a quick aside.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I don’t know, it wasn’t—it’s nothing.”

You barely avoid apologizing again.

For a moment he doesn’t speak, just watches you—and you make the mistake of raising your gaze to meet his. He has that curious, analytical look about him, concern tightening his eyes and knitting his brow. He’s doing that annoying mind-reading thing again, and as soon as he actually sees your eyes, he’s figured you out.

“Do you want to go outside for a minute? Get some air?”

After examining his face for any clues that he’d rather stay in here, (not that you’d really know what to look for), you nod hesitantly. Spencer mirrors your nod and stands, holding out his hand for you to take as you follow suit after setting your drink on a side table (without spilling.)

JJ is now wrapped up in conversation with another agent and the two of you manage to abscond without attracting unwanted attention, which makes you feel slightly better as Spencer leads you deftly through rooms with high-vaulted ceilings and big windows and heavy, expensive looking oak furniture. It seems like you’ve been wandering through a maze when you arrive to a quieter part of the house and he opens a french door for you—which leads out onto an empty patio.

A cool breeze immediately sinks into your skin, and your nervous system is so hyper-alert that it gives you chills. Spencer notices the way you shiver and steps closer after closing the door behind him, his hand finding the small of your back immediately.

“You okay?” he asks, intentionally avoiding impeding your view of the sweeping backyard and the trees beyond. Sometimes focusing on something stationary is less overwhelming, but they’re so tall they seem imposing. Threatening, even.

But then again, everything feels threatening right now.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Spencer seems unconvinced by your monotone—when you glance over at him he’s still watching you like you’re a puzzle to be solved.

“Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re not.”

“Why are you so convinced something is wrong?” you laugh, but it comes out too manic. You cross your arms. He looks pointedly at the motion.

“For starters, that. Often times crossing your arms is a subconscious way of comforting yourself when you feel defensive or threatened. And you could say it’s because you’re cold, but—” he pauses, reaching out to touch your cheek. “I can feel how hot your face is, and you shivered when we came outside even though it’s 71 degrees because your nervous system is overreacting to external stimuli. The leg-bouncing is also often indicative of an activated parasympathetic nervous system. Is me touching you okay?”

Again, you nod—unsure how to deflect when he calls you out so efficiently.

Spencer’s hand slides down to just beneath your jaw, where he rests two fingers. Each second that passes has him looking progressively more worried. You wish you weren’t quite so catatonic—the fairy lights hanging from the pergola shine through his hair and make him glow so appealingly you want to kiss his cheek.

“Your heart rate is really high, honey.”

That would be due to the sense of impending doom. Thanks for pointing it out.

But you’ve lost your words, and along with them has gone your sense of humor. All you can manage for a 30 second span is a meaningless shake of your head as you avert your eyes, staring at the sprawling carpet of blue-green grass soaked in night as each blade doubles with your tears.

“I think I’m dying,” you finally croak.

“Technically, we all are. Very slowly.”

Ah. There’s that social tact he’s so well known for.

“Spencer.”

“Right,” he kisses your cheek as you stare up at him, affronted, and pulls you into his chest. “Sorry. I was actually trying to be helpful. Changes in brain chemistry and hormonal activity associated with panic attacks change your perception of time and make things feel really fast which can contribute to feelings of anxiety. But in reality time is moving just the same as it always is. One second is always one second. Sometimes remembering that helps me to slow down. Not literally, of course. My gravitational pull isn’t great enough to have any discernible effect on the passage of time.”

You sniff, pressing your cheek to his tie. His words make your head spin, seeing as you hadn't been prepared for a lecture in psychophysics—but it spins in the opposite direction than it had been going previously. It's nice.

“Change your perception of time?”

“Weber’s law of perception. Stimulus sensitivity will increase proportionally with increased stimulus intensity. You’re only perceiving time to be going faster because your cortisol and adrenaline levels are making you hyper-vigilant and sensitive to all the markers of time passing.”

“Like what?”

Spencer hums, the bass of it a comforting resonance against your ear, and strokes your hair unhurriedly.

“Like… your internal clock. Your body measures time with your heartbeat, so when your heart rate increases, time seems to go faster. Also environmental cues, which lead you to understand that the world is not stagnant and thus is not frozen in time. Like the sound of the wind chimes…” he pauses, long enough for you to realize that indeed, you can hear the gentle, sonorous ringing and tinkling of steel chimes bouncing against each other. “And the wind itself, which is coming all the way from the Gulf of Mexico. Some studies actually suggest that wind direction can affect your energy levels and mood.”

It’s a gentle breeze more than it is full-blown wind. It feels cool against your hot skin.

Spencer’s hand on the back of your head, still rhythmically smoothing your hair, seems to slow down the passage of time as well. You focus on that, and the sound of the wind chimes and the breeze on your skin for a few minutes, until your breathing and your heart rate slow and soon you regain your footing in the temporal dimension, exactly sure of where you stand on Rossi’s patio and in your boyfriend’s arms.

“You tricked me into doing a grounding exercise,” you mumble into Spencer’s jacket.

“I did not trick you,” he defends, voice quiet to match yours. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Did it work?”

You pull away from him and he lets you, watching on as you sniffle and wipe your tears on your sleeves.

“Yeah, it did. Thank you.”

For a moment, neither of you speak as you gather yourself. He leads you by the hand to a cushioned hanging bench at the end of the patio, taking a seat next to you and gently rocking the swing.

“Do you know what triggered that?” Spencer asks, over the gentle creaking sound. You shrug, observing the dance of the fireflies in the grass.

“Nothing. Sometimes I just feel like everything’s wrong and scary but I didn’t want to tell you and ruin your night.”

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs, pulling you into him with an arm around your shoulder. “You are not ruining my night. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“But all your friends and coworkers are inside, and you’re out here with me.”

He angles his head down toward you and you look up to meet his eyes, even warmer than the sticky summer night.

“I am. Do you know why?”

“Because I suck,” you sniffle, more hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you attempt to look away. But Spencer’s not having it. He encourages you to sit up again so you can look at him properly, before wiping tears away gently with his thumb. When he speaks, it’s in soft, soothing tones.

“No. I’m out here because if all my friends were inside having fun, and you were outside having a panic attack, I would choose you every time.”

You manage a laugh through the crying.

“I don’t know if that’s healthy.”

“Whether or not it’s healthy is an entirely different discussion,” Spencer smiles wryly, before it melts into something softer and more sincere. “All that matters is that it’s true.”

For a while after that, you simply lay your head on his shoulder. Spencer controls the speed of the swing with his much-longer legs, kissing your head and rubbing your arm as you admire the expanse of Rossi’s lush yard bathed in moonlight and the black silhouette of the forest beyond.

Eventually, Spencer speaks again, likely to make sure you’re not spiraling alone in your head.

“Can I tell you an extremely classified secret that I've been trying really hard to keep to myself for three days?” he asks, and the mischievous edge to his voice catches your attention. You hum in assent, already wondering what kind of information Spencer would have a hard time keeping to himself. It could be anything.

“Anderson is sleeping with Childers from Operational Tech.”

“What?”

Despite not working for the FBI yourself, Spencer and Penelope have you so filled in on the drama that you know exactly why that’s shocking.

You pick your head up to look at him like do not fuck with me right now.

His eyes sparkle as he nods.

“Yep.”

“Didn’t you tell me Childers was dating that girl in sex crimes?”

Spencer raises his eyebrows. The corner of his mouth twitches. You gasp.

“No! What? Does Anderson know?”

“I don’t know. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“Wait—Anderson told you this?”

“Yeah!” He laughs incredulously at your complete disbelief. “People tell me things! I’m an excellent confidant!”

“If you’re relaying all of this information to me then you’re a terrible confidant,” you chuckle, still watery—but feeling light years better.

Spencer brushes your hair away from your face fondly, leaning a fraction of an inch closer.

“You don’t count. Telling you secrets is basically the same as keeping them to myself.”

“Basically,” you tease, angling your head up by a few degrees in invitation. Spencer says nothing, does nothing for a long moment—just studies you with soft eyes, continues stroking your cheek. When he takes too long to kiss you, you get impatient. “I’m still kinda anxious, you know.”

He smiles knowingly.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, looking pointedly at his lips. “You should kiss me better.”

“I think that would take more than just one kiss,” he murmurs through a smile, leaning ever closer until your noses are bumping. “I think I would have to devote several hours to that. Maybe even a whole day.”

“How does tomorrow look for you?”

He’s laughing as he finally presses his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet and lingering.

“For you? It’s wide open.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine

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box-of-roses · 4 months

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‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾Dolled Up‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Characters: Daichi, Oikawa, Kita, Daisho, Kuroo, Bokuto, Ushijima

Warnings: fem! Dressed reader for Oikawa

Synopsis: How the captains of Haikyuu would react to you dressed up cheering for him

a/n: This literally came in my head because of how I dressed up for the Haikyuu movie today, so I hope you got a laugh out of it

Daichi

Blushy McGee over here

But also, like so proud??? Like Hell yeah that’s my partner!

He only notices you after the match ends, the moment he sees you his face turns red so quick. Suga immediately takes the chance to make fun of him as you wave and do a small spin showing off your outfit. It’s his missing jersey, not missing anymore, black shorts, and shoes that he can’t see yet that have beads that spell his name on them. Of course, the piece de resistance. His number on your face.

He feels frozen in place. Gods, you were so cute. He’s almost glad that he didn’t see you earlier. But there’s also the part of him that wishes he had seen you earlier. He thinks he might’ve played harder. You rushing down to give him a hug makes it all the better. “Daichi!” You say happily and wrap your arms around his middle. He happily wraps his own around you as well.

The minute the two of you are alone he’s hiding his face in the crook of your neck

You definitely tease him about his red face

Asks if you’re planning on doing this next game and he can’t help but get a little excited when you say yes

Oikawa

The one who acts like it doesn’t affect him, but everyone knows better

Sees you, has to do a double take, and he almost misses his serve

It’s his first serve of the game and Oikawa looks around to find you. What he doesn’t expect to find is you dressed to the nines. He’s not entirely sure where you got it (Iwaizumi because he wanted to see the reaction and laugh at Oikawa about it) but there you are in one of his jerseys, his extra practice jacket, a blue miniskirt, a sign that says ‘My Boyfriend is the Setter (The best one obviously), bracelets he can’t quite makes out from here, and his number on your cheek.

He hears the whistle blow and thinks ‘Fuck’ as he tries to prepare for his serve. Iwaizumi caught the whole thing and hopes someone got it on video (Someone did). He serves and it barely goes over the net and he takes a deep breath.

Once Iwaizumi gets the video it’s kept in safe keeping on multiple USBs

Oikawa refuses to admit that it did anything to him

Gives you his spare jersey for every game now though

Kita

Probably one of the few that actually doesn’t have much of a reaction (on the outside)

Since he doesn’t play much in games when he sees you, he just gives you a smile

Atsumu, Osamu, and Suna try and tease him about it but he’s just sitting there like ‘And?’

After the match is over you run over to Kita. Number on cheek, Pom Poms in hand, and of course, the jersey you had previously asked to borrow on your person. “You did so good!” Your bracelets jingle as you move your hands excitedly. Kita’s name is on one surrounded by hearts and on the back is the number one. You pull out another bracelet from your bag and hand it to him. It has your name on it. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” you say sheepishly.

Suna is standing off to the side with his phone out recording the whole thing. And he’s glad he did otherwise he might’ve missed the blush on his captain’s cheeks as he took the bracelet and put it on. “Thank you, Y/N.”

Kita later asks Suna to send him the video and the resulting photos he also took

The photos are now his lock screen and home screen*

Daisho

Also, one to have to do a double take

Asks to take a photo for his lockscreen which gets you blushing (perfect for his lockscreen)

He’s also one of the lucky few who sees you after the game. He also saw the sign you were holding. ‘My boyfriend is better than your’s, he’s a captain’ with printed out candids of him playing volleyball and one of you two in a small heart in the corner.

Definitely one to tease you

“Oh? Had to stake your claim on me?”

Kuroo

One of the unfortunate few to see you during the game

Completely misses one of his blocks and the ball hits him in the face

Kuroo wishes he had seen you a few minutes later. After they had won the set. Or better yet after Nekoma had won the whole game. Instead, he’s unlucky and catches you when he’s mid-block, your voice rang out in support, and he got distracted. Seeing you in a stark white jersey with his number, his name. He also suspects that’s where his extra set of warm up pants went as he can spot just a little bit of red peeking out. Once he gets hit in the face with the ball he’s reminded that he is in fact playing volleyball right now.

Kenma finds the video online and plays it when he feels bad

You tell him you found it charming that you still have that effect on him, and he melts

He asks you to wear it more often

Bokuto

Akaashi is actually the one to notice you first

Bokuto is the last to see you and only does when he gets really sad about being blocked so much

Akaashi points you out to cheer him up

As you see Bokuto get upset by how many spikes he’s missed you move closer to the bar in the stadium. Akaashi noticed you much earlier and not even he is able to cheer Bokuto up. Once he points you out though you raise your poster higher and scream his name. “You’ve got this Ko!” You wave your sign with a smile.

‘My Boyfriend is the best ace and captain ever!’ is what it says with a few photos of his best shots you had found online. Once he sees you, he immediately lights up. “You’re right! I am the best!” He’s back to his usual self with a ‘Hey, Hey, Hey’

Once he gets a closer look at your outfit at home, he’s smothering your face with kisses

He tells you how helpful you were in cheering him up

Akaashi messages you later asking you to ‘Please do this at all of our games.’

Ushijima

Another unbothered on the outside king

He may not fully get why you did it until you tell him he’s happy about it

He sees you after a service ace, he spots you in the stands. Your loud cheer makes him smile softly before he gets serious again. You’re zipped up in his practice jacket and a pair of your own Shiratorizawa sweatpants and although you don’t have a sign everyone knows he’s your boyfriend. Your cheering makes him happy, but he plays his best no matter if you’re watching or not.

Asks Tendo to help him change his wallpaper so it’s the two of you

Tendo does him one better and takes a live photo of you giggling at something as the lockscreen and the two of you as his homescreen

Ushi tells you that you look nice

When you ask if it’s something he wants you to do for all of his games he just replies “I just need you there”

I hope you guys liked it; it was a very spur of the moment thing so sorry if it's not good!!! My requests are open although I unfortunately go through them at a snail's pace

masterlist

rules

#haikyu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #daichi x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #daisho x reader #daisho suguru x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader

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starcurtain · 2 months

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Everyone on Twitter playfully dragging Aventurine for his crop top and track pants fit, and while I agree that this is hilarious and should be meme'd into oblivion, I also can't help but think that the Aventurine fandom as a whole should definitely embrace turning "He's kind of tacky, wouldn't know a subtle outfit unless it was picked by Jade, and wears bizarrely out-of-touch fits on his days off just because he personally thinks they look cool" into an endearing fanon character trait.

Because like, canonically? It makes perfect sense.

As a child, his family didn't have the luxury of giving him a wide variety of clothes in different styles or fabrics. He wore what he could get. Then, we're only ever shown adult Kakavasha wearing rags until joining the IPC.

We know from his character stories that he was kept extremely out of the loop on world news and mainstream media as a slave and literally wouldn't know anything about clothing other than seeing it on other people.

From the time he was a child, wearing whatever his family could pull together, to the time he became an adult prisoner wearing literal scraps, there was never a need or even reasonable opportunity for him to learn about fashion or the social pressures of "dressing to fit in."

The first thing he's told to do as a member of the Stonehearts is "Go pick out new clothes," and the next time we see him, he's wearing the most peacock-esque outfit possible. When Jade told him to pick out his clothes, he literally went in completely blind with no lessons on how to appropriately dress for any adult occasion at all.

While I do think that one of the first things Aventurine would have done as a new Stoneheart is research how to establish a certain "character" for himself and how to dress to give a specific impression, I also think that Aventurine would delight in finally, finally having the power to present himself exactly as he chooses--and that would likely be very strongly informed by an entire child- and young-adulthood growing up without a single social pressure to "dress normal."

Given that he never had someone to teach him how to dress in any modern intergalactic style in his formative years, I think that it makes perfect sense for his "fashion" sense to be extremely unique to him, with little outside influence except for being strongly based on what he knows best: the luxuries the Avgin people could gather from the deserts of Sigonia-IV.

Ratio accuses him of being "flashy," but Aventurine likely loads up all his personally-picked outfits with turquoise jewels, fur trim, and gold metal accents because that's what he grew up perceiving as status symbols and signs of prosperity. Of course he's flashy! Why would he not want to wear furs and jewels now that he has them?! What do you mean wearing six gold bangles is overkill with a t-shirt? No such thing as overkill, come on!

Topaz dropping the Star Rail equivalent of "You look like what would happen if Fashion Week was themed on the yakuza and the Roaring 20s at the exact same time" every other month.

"Well, I think it looks great!"

tl;dr: Aventurine can definitely do his research and blend his outfits into any scenario if needed, but when left to his own devices, he absolutely wears the most over-the-top and/or bizarrely unmodern and "I couldn't care less what is currently trending" fits because no one ever taught him fashion sense when he was growing up, he's finally got the autonomy to dress himself in whatever he thinks looks best, and he's still a little bit drunk on the opportunity to bath in the natural luxuries he longed for but could never have as a child.

Just sayin'.

#honkai star rail #aventurine #dr. ratio #topaz hsr #honkai star rail headcanon #aventurine headcanons #I see all the “Aventurine is exceedingly stylish at all times” headcanons #and they're fair for sure #but please consider #the dead opposite #dude gets away with wearing the flashiest and tackiest fits possible at work #because being eccentric is part of the Stonehearts' job description #but if you meet him on the streets on a Sunday #you would definitely be doing a double-take #people have tried to tell him that fur stoles don't go with tank tops #but it makes Aventurine happy #so the haters can buzz right off

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lizzy019 · 24 days

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──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────

Simon Riley who definitely swoons every time he sees you angry or upset. He likes seeing that furrow of your brow, your comebacks and the fury in your tone. It's somehow extremely hot to him, despite him not knowing why. He doesn't admit this to you, ever.

Simon Riley who was super hesitant to take off his mask around you. Sure, he knew he could trust you, but he was nervous. Would you even like it? The scarring, the cuts, the busted lip of his and the eye bags hidden under his warpaint? But when he took it off, he was assured he looked handsome by you showering him in kisses and loving words. (He probably got shy after.)

Simon Riley who can't cook for shit, but would definitely like to learn for you. If you can cook or if you can't, he will do his best to learn a few simple dishes so he could say that he's a decent cook.

Simon Riley who hates when you mock his accent sometimes. But he never does anything to retort or defend himself, he takes your teasing because he knows you enjoy it. Though, it does end in some fun and playful wrestling, often ending in laughing fits and some good cuddles after.

Simon Riley who can't stand your shower routine. He absolutely hates the way you clean yourself, and he often convinces you that he should clean you himself. While you don't know how to feel about this, you smile as he gently lathers soap on your body. Just don't expect this to be a one-way thing, he wants to be pampered a little too.

Simon Riley who loves cats so much that he adopted 4 strays. He got them all checked at the vet, paid whatever amount of money to get them their shots, prescriptions, proper food, etc. He'd definitely pamper the little furballs like they were his children.

Simon Riley who probably owns a really nice suit, but never got it tailored after his military work. Every time he puts it on, he winces because the sleeves of the jacket are too tight. You have to convince him that it looks better, that there's more muscle definition while he wears it. It was his favourite outfit after that.

Simon Riley who would wholeheartedly give you the most random massage. Like- full on massage. His warm hands were definitely the most heavenly thing you've ever felt, and the little callouses and cuts on his fingers just made everything more perfect.

Simon Riley who doesn't know how to handle you when you're on your period. He gets you snacks, drinks, blankets, your heating pad, some extra sanitary things, but he doesn't know how to handle your mood swings. One minute, you're all cuddly and sad, and the next it seems he's done something wrong and you're mad at him. But then you're laughing?

Simon Riley who adores when you need his help with opening jars, reaching things on higher shelves, doing a load of laundry while you do something else, it makes him feel useful. But just don't tell him to do the dishes, he probably dropped one or two and they broke.

Simon Riley who literally sleeps with a rock hard pillow. He can't sleep on a fluffy pillow, they hurt his neck. But he LOVES a springy bed and a thick duvet blanket. You don't understand why, neither does he.

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#elizabethposts #call of duty #x reader #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley call of duty #call of duty headcanons #ghost call of duty #call of duty ghost #call of duty simon riley #call of duty simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley cod #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost cod #cod ghost #cod ghost x reader

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experimentfae · 8 months

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Alastor x Wife! Reader

Oneshot / fluff

After you and alastor had moved into the hotel to “help.” Let’s just say that the rest of the hotel residents saw pda all. The. Time.

Vaggie watched as alastor kissed your hand again! “Sweet satan can those two get a room already that’s literally the seventh time he kissed her hand.” She grumbled out “aw come on vaggie you have to admit it’s sweet seeing love like that’s down here, it’s rare, except our love of course.” Stated Charlie.

“I get it, we get like that, but the difference is that we do it SOMETIMES they do it EVERY TIME they have the chance.” She Argued “and besides I just really don’t like that radio dipshit.” “Oh please you don’t like anyone attached to a dick.” Angel dust butted in while he laid on the other couch busy looking at his phone.

Vaggie could only roll her eyes in response “well I think our pda is not of your concern.” Spoke alastor with a smug look which made everyone except you jump a little “satan’s asshole do you always have to come out like that?!” Argued angeldust “it’s more entertaining to watch all of you jump in a little scare.” Alastor replied proud of himself to make them a little scared.

“Dear even if it was quite hilarious we can’t do that to them all the time… it wouldn’t be entertaining anymore like that.” You advised him while you walked towards him to be next to him. “You’re right my dear, wouldn’t wish that.”

“Yep a match made in hell.” Grumbled out husk then he continued to take his beer “husk is right my dear we the perfect pair.” “I don’t think that’s what he meant sorta, but we are perfect for each other.” Just then you looked to see the clock then you let out a gasp “oh Al we don’t want to be late for our dinner reservations.” You stated, “oh yes, we must get ready.”

With a simple snap of his finger’s you and alastor were completely dressed “what’s up with the getup?” Angeldust questioned “it’s our anniversary, so we going to the cannibal colony to alastor’s favorite restaurant.” You smiled “wait you’re a cannibal too.” Vaggie asked in shock “well… I did try demon meat and it’s not that bad.” You answers shrugging your shoulders “so that’s a yes? Or … no?” Charlie questioned further “mmm yeah I believe so.” You answered again.

“Huh didn’t take you for a cannibal.” Spoke husk “yeah have you ate another’s man pecker and Al if she did would you be ok with that?” Questioned angeldust “absolutely not.” You both answered “enough with the questions we must hurry (y/n).” Demanded alastor “goodb- you didn’t get to finish you’re farewell due to alastor, once again he snapped his fingers and you were at the restaurant.

“Thankfully my love we made it on time.” Alastor spoke while he grabbed your hand and guided you inside the restaurant. A host was at the front seeming to writing something “welcome to the FedOnPals how may- when he looked up he immediately panicked “T-The alastor by hen smiled wider “yes me the radio demon and my lovely wife!” Alastor stated proudly also just because you knew he was an attention whore so he wanted others to know he was there.

Of course some of the cannibals in the restaurant seemed nervous. “Well- yes um of course I see you’re name on the list so… let me b-bring to your table.” The man said clearly wanting to get out of this situation as fast as possible.

Of course you two got the best seats in the house “a waiter will be with you shortly very… shortly p-promise.” The host immediately left with only made alastor chuckle “I do love the perks of being an overlord.” “Aw even more than me?” You teased with a smirk, he smiled wider “no dear you know I can’t love anything more than you.”

You smiled “I love the outfits you picked for us by the way very classy.” “Of course, only the best for my wife.” Just then a waiter came in “hello I’m Mindy and I’ll have your orders.” The demoness spoke as she gave you two the menus.

As the demoness left you two picked out your orders, ate, alastor paid then you two left to go to a jazz club to dance “oh honey you rembered my favorite spot.” You spoke with pure joy “I could never forget, besides our love for jazz is how we meet.” You smiled brighten as you pecked his cheek making him lightly blush “adorable.” “Me? adorable!? dear don’t joke like that.” Alastor demanded making you laugh “oh honey alright just having a little fun.”

Alastor opened the door for you, the song ‘lets misbehave’ by Irving Aaronson filled you’re ears “oh that’s a good song.” You stated, you thanked alastor and went through and he went after you.

You immediately dragged him to the dance floor which he happily let you, both you begin doing the Charleston funny enough this song always reminded you have alastor.

He then brought you into the foxtrot dance, you both looked into each others eyes that are filled with love. He the suddenly gave you a kiss making you blush but immediately kiss back.

You two continued dance, happy to in each others arms and having a loving relationship and knowing that you two where always will be inseparable.

<- Back to MasterList or back to Hazbin Hotel

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #alastor x wife reader #reader insert #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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rileyslibrary · 10 months

Text

Ghost is forced to dress up as Santa for the day and talk to kids.

You’re ordered to tag along as his Elf and do some damage control if necessary.

———————————————————————

You lean against his armchair, watching the chaos in front of you. Children are crying, tugging at their parents’ clothes, shouting both in excitement and fear, all while looking at you. A young boy keeps waving at your lieutenant, desperate to get his attention, but Ghost is too preoccupied with coming to terms with his new reality to notice.

You return his wave with a smile.

“Try to stay still, Santa,” you remind Ghost as you nod towards the boy. “Kids are watching.”

He snaps back into focus and redirects his attention to the queue. He stretches one last time, pushing on the armrests, before settling into the chair.

“Try not to tell me what to do,” he murmurs and waves back at the child.

You straighten up and tweak your green hat, triggering the bell at its tip to jiggle in your ear. You feel for him; you really do. He’s not supposed to be here; he’s not built for this. Unfortunately—for him or the kids, you haven’t decided yet—the “real” Santa broke his hip at the last minute, and your military base stepped in to provide a new Santa for the local community.

And what better replacement than Ghost, you may ask? Well, literally anybody else.

Dressed in a red costume with white faux fur trim, the lieutenant looks nothing like the man you experienced on the battlefield. His shoulders threaten to rip through the rented outfit, and the seams at the back hold onto each other for dear life. Since his belly wasn’t big enough to simulate Santa’s, you asked him to stuff a pillow under his uniform. Surprisingly, Ghost complied almost instantly, leaving you to wonder if he was using the pillow as Kevlar, a barrier between him and the kids or if he was secretly enjoying this.

You also convinced him to ditch the balaclava for the time being since he would now have plenty of props to conceal his face—a wig, a long beard, glasses, and a red hat with a white pom-pom, to be exact. Additionally, you attempted to trick him into applying some blush on his cheeks, but he side-eyed you and told you to ‘be careful now’—ironic for a man who paints his face daily.

You rub your temples, trying to keep calm amid the chaos of the mall as you prepare for what’s about to happen during the next few hours. You have no idea why Price chose him to be Santa, but you didn’t question it either. Ghost seems to be the least qualified for the job out of everyone in the base. It feels like a last resort, so to speak—a ‘that’s all we have left in the store’ solution.

On the other hand, you know precisely why the captain chose you to accompany him. “To monitor the situation,” he said—“To make sure we don’t get sued,” you heard. And, under normal circumstances, you’d be happy to tag along with Ghost—be it on patrol, on missions, or even transporting confidential documents. But in this situation? Acting as a troubleshooter rather than a teammate? You’d rather be anywhere else than here, with anybody else than him.

You take another look at him while he sits on the chair. He’s tugging at the uniform, scratching his head, and instinctively pulling the beard to his nose.

“Stop doing that,” you whisper. “It’s a beard, not a balaclava.”

“Price would have been perfect for the job, for fucks sake,” he spits. “He has the fucking moustache for starters.”

“Stop with the ‘fucks’ and the ‘fucking’ Ghost; you’re about to talk to kids! And, as for the captain, he said he couldn’t do it.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, lifting his hands from the armrests. “And what makes him think that I can?”

“I wish I knew, to be honest, but we don’t have time to go through this again,” you murmur, looking at your watch one last time. You approach the barrier, unclip the rope from the stanchion, and turn over your shoulder.

“Operation ‘Santa’ begins now,” you declare. “Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” He replies, shrugging, and gestures for you to proceed.

And so it begins. Your first ‘customer’ arrives, and many more follow. You guide one family at a time into the enclosure and escort them to Ghost, who handles the rest. Some children are hesitant, peeking out from behind their parents’ legs, while others are much more direct with their intentions as they scream in horror at the sight of him.

On the other hand, Ghost is neither your typical jolly Santa nor the irritated lieutenant you’d expect. He appears to be... understanding. He reassures parents that it’s okay and there’s no need to force their children onto his lap if they feel uncomfortable. He initiates conversations with the kids from a respectful distance. He smiles with his eyes and hunches his shoulders to appear less imposing. Sometimes, he lures the shy ones into a handshake, a fist pump, or a high five by lowering his gloved hand to their level.

And then there are those other types of kids: the curious ones, the social butterflies. The ones who look forward to sitting on Ghost’s lap, diving into full-blown conversations with him. That’s when you stiffen up and switch into damage-control mode to ensure he won’t lash out at them. You begin hovering above them, listening, jumping into their conversations and sometimes interrupting Ghost and replying to the kids instead of him.

You would have thought he’d be grateful to have you managing the situation. Ghost, however, seems more irritated by you than by the little girl who’s currently playing with the pom-pom on his hat.

“Oi, Elf!” he says calmly, yet visibly annoyed. “Emma and I are chatting about how she spilt tomato juice on her Elsa costume and wants a new one for Christmas. Could you please falala off and go wrap some presents?”

“B-but I need to know because I’ll be sewing it for her,” you reply, smiling at the little girl. “Isn’t that right, Emma?”

And, although Emma nods her head, more out of necessity than agreement, you get his point. He’s doing surprisingly well with those kids, even without you. Actually, he’s doing remarkably well, especially without you.

More kids come and go, and Ghost slowly adapts to his new persona. He starts making bets with you, predicting which kids in the queue might ask for a PlayStation or an iPad and even speculating who might wipe snot on his costume. You, in response, adopt a more laid-back approach and let him do his thing. After each child’s visit, Ghost turns towards you, whispering in your ear about their Christmas wishes, as if he’s indeed Santa, and keeps logs.

“My man wants a full-sized car wheel,” Ghost murmurs as the young boy leaps off his lap, “can you believe him?”

“What did you say to him?” You ask, stifling a laugh.

“I told him I’ll get it for him,” he shrugs. “What else should I do?”

“Alright, but what did you really want to tell him?”

“That his dad already has four of them screwed in his car.”

As the day winds down, and the final announcement for the day echoes through the speakers, parents and children walk past you and towards the exit. They wave at Ghost and occasionally at you. The parking lot empties, the stores shut their doors until tomorrow, and the holiday lights that decorate the inside of the mall switch off one by one.

You stretch your back and tap on his shoulder, signalling that both of you should pack up and return to the base.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, grasping your wrist with one hand and tapping his thigh with the other. “You didn’t tell me what you want for Christmas.”

You’re exhausted but still manage to smile as you comply with his request. You sit on his lap, and he leans back to take a better look at you.

“Let’s think about it another way,” you say. “What would you, as Santa, give me for Christmas?”

“Coal,” he replies. “And a muzzle, so you don’t interrupt me while I’m talking. What was that all about?”

“Was afraid you’d say something bad,” you explain. “But you were pretty good with those kids.”

He shakes his head and plays with the fur trim on his sleeve. “Nah,” he murmurs. “I’d never say something bad to a kid.”

“Speaking of bad and coal,” you say, combing his fake beard, “you never asked the typical ‘have you been a good kid’ to any of them.”

“There’s no bad kid in the world, love,” he whispers. “All kids are good, even the naughty ones.”

You smile at him, but he doesn’t look back at you. He’s examining his uniform as if trying to find something else to discuss. He finds some crumbs a kid left on his suit and brushes them off.

“Ready to head back to the base, Lieutenant?” You ask, tapping his thigh before standing up. You extend your hand to him, and he gladly accepts it, helping him rise from the chair he’s been sitting in all day. You begin walking towards the exit, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. You reciprocate by hugging his waist.

You walk up to the parked military vehicle that brought you here earlier, still discussing the day. He opens the door but pauses and turns to look at you.

“Resilience,” he declares. “That’s what I would gift you for Christmas.”

“Why?” You ask, turning to look at him. “You think I need it?”

“We all do,” he replies softly, just like when he used to talk to those kids. “Since I can’t protect you from every obstacle life throws your way, I might as well give you the ability to recover from them.”

“That would make me very happy, Lieutenant.” You say, smiling.

He smiles back at you and reaches for your hat to fix it better on your head. His hand moves to your forehead, and he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“It’s Santa to you.” He replies.

———————————————————————

A/N: Bruh, I was so tempted to make the reader pull off a Mariah Carey and say, “All I want for Christmas is you,” when Ghost asked what they wanted, but my gag reflexes kicked in every time, and I was cringing galore.

So, there you go: resilience. That’s what I would like to gift you as well. I wish I could shield you from whatever has troubled you in the past or is currently doing so. To protect you from future worries and make everything ‘falala off’. Unfortunately, I can’t do that, neither for you nor for myself.

But this is why comfort characters and stories exist—so we can imagine, when no one is there for us, that someone actually is.

Just like Santa. Just like Ghost.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x gn!reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #cod ghost #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #cod mw ghost

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elliespassagerprincess · 11 months

Note

house wife reader x mean ellie 👀 ellie works long hours on the weekdays and takes out all of her anger on her docile wife who cooks all her meals, does all of her laundry, cleans the entire house, and make sure ellie’s satisfied 24/7.

Satisfied - (ellie williams x housewife reader)

hi anon! mean ellie? hell yeah. I hope you don't mind, but I added my own twist. I hope you enjoy <3

Pairing: mean ellie x housewife fem!reader

requests are open, feel free to leave one!

HUGE warnings: toxic relationships, murder, gore, violence

Summary: in which you were the perfect housewife

authors note: I'm literally trying to empty out my request inbox, so be ready because there's a bunch of fics coming your way!

"so when last have you seen her?" The police officer asked as he sat across you.

"well she went out yesterday and she never came back"

you saw him look at you and Ellie's house as he was taking notes.

"Any arguments?"

"No"

once again you saw the pen write something on some paper. You wanted to know what exactly he was writing about.

What was talking him so long? You wanted him to fucking leave.

"Thank you for answering these questions, we'll call if we need anything else" the officer said as he stood up.

"Thank you for your hard work! Do I need to walk you out?" You asked with smile

"no, I'll show myself out" was all he said as he walked towards the front door.

As soon as he was out of sight you got up and ran to window to check if he was gone. You watched his car pull out the driveway, and you let out a sigh of relief.

fucking finally.

You ran to you and Ellie's shared room, and between heavy breathes you said "she almost caught us baby".

You walked towards the bed, where Ellie's decomposing body lay. Flies circled her body, her skin was pale and cold to the touch.

You put some of her hair behind her ear "it's ok now, they'll never catch us" you whispered

You loved Ellie. And you would anything for you. Anything including quitting your job and becoming her housewife.

In the beginning you hated it, staying home, cooking, cleaning. But when Ellie praised you, you fucking loved it.

And soon after you became the stereotypical housewife. Cute outfits, aprons that matched whatever you wore. You always woke up before her, to prepare her favorite breakfast. You cooked her dinner.

You fucking did everything.

The two of you were happy. Until Ellie got a promotion. She got more work, the pressure was getting worse for the poor girl.

Ellie came home late and most nights she barley even slept. You tried supporting your wife as best you could. You tried cleaning the house before she came come. You did all her laundry, you even chose her outfits most days.

But it was never enough for her.

One night you cooked Ellie's favorite meal. A prideful smile was on your lips as you put the plate in front of her.

This would cheer her up. You knew it would.

Ellie glanced down at the plate, and she looked back at you. The dark circles under her eyes looked even darker than they did yesterday.

"You are so fucking pathetic" she started.

"I work all fucking day to come to this shit? And look, this table is dusty" she added.

Ellie got up from where she was sitting and she threw the plate filled with food onto the floor. "You have cleaning to do, and don't fucking serve this shit again" she walked out of the dining room and you sat there mouth agape.

This was the first time she's ever said anything like that to you. You sobbed in the kitchen that night. You felt sick to your stomach.

Everything you did was for Ellie and for the first time she wasn't satisfied with you.

Your main mission in life became to serve. To serve her. But what do you do when the one you did everything for, wasn't satisfied?

The next morning you woke up bright and early, and you cooked Ellie a widespread of breakfast. Fruit salad, bacon, eggs pancakes and so much more decorated the table.

You heard the bedroom door open and you saw her walk out, she glanced at the table

"I'm not hungry" was all she said and she walked out the front door.

You were shattered.

Since that day everything you did was wrong.

You couldn't clean right.

Her fingers ran along the cupboard, and she looked at you with a frown.

"Can you not clean right? Should i get a maid? Because you cant do shit"

you couldn't do the laundry right.

you stood in the doorway watching Ellie fit on her suit. She looked herself in the mirror before she made eye contact with you.

"It's still wrinkled and there's a stain" she pointed out.

"fix it" was all she said before she threw the clothes on the floor.

You couldn't even cook right.

Ellie only had one spoon of her food before she pushed her plate to the side

"what's wrong?" you asked

"this is disgusting"

it hurts. Every insult Ellie hurled at you hurt.

You knew she was stressed but it didn't give her the right to take her stress out on you.

One night you tried talking to Ellie. But she didn't want to. She didn't have energy for this.

"Don't you have a house to clean? Oh wait you can't even do that right" she said through a chuckle.

You snapped.

You let out a scream as you grabbed the lamp on your side of the bed. You jumped onto the bed, and you shit her over and over again.

"I"

*hit

"am"

*hit

"the perfect"

*hit

"housewife" you yelled.

Blood littered the walls, and your hands. Heavy breathes left your mouth as you looked at the scene.

"Oh Ellie I'm sorry! This room is filthy! I'll clean it"

you scrubbed the walls, you changed the bedding and you gave her a bath.

Everything was back to normal. It was all clean.

You looked at her decomposing body. She looked peaceful and she wasn't being mean anymore.

This was the girl you fell in love with.

You gave her a kiss on the forehead before you muttered "its time for breakfast" and you left the room to start making your girl breakfast.

You weren't sure how long you were going to get away with this, but for the time being you were happy.

She was better dead anyway.

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mattslolita · 4 months

Text

one of the girls - c. sturniolo

in which ... you're one of chris sturniolo's girls for the night of the versus tour. ( chris x black!fem!reader )

warnings ; smut, fingering, cowgirl, creampie, unprotected piv ( wrap it freak hoes )

"𝒊 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

every moment since you had bought the tickets, you'd been waiting for this day for months — the let's trip versus tour. you've been a fan of the sturniolo triplets since late 2022, and since you weren't able to make the first tour, here was your second chance in 2023 to make the versus tour.

you and your best friend alize had been trying to pick out the perfect outfit for you both to wear, having switched things up many times in between since you wanted it to be a perfect day.

even though as a nick girl she'd be wearing purple, you and alize wanted to match with each other to the t — her outfit contrasted yours only because she wore a cardigan instead of a puffer like you had. the amount of pictures you both took on the uber ride to the venue was insanity, as you both were twinning so hard.

when the day came, you felt excitement course throughout your body as you realized you'd soon be in close vicinity with chris sturniolo — you were a die hard avid for 'black girls 4 chris', something you and alize would joke about all the time. you liked to joke and say you were the number one chris girl ever, whilst alize said that she'd hands down be nick's favorite lesbian.

you knew sometimes your fangirling could get out of hand at times, as you found multiple occasions where chris was your wet dream or you often daydreamed about what it would be like to be with him. his voice, his hair, his personality, that smile, he had lived in your head rent free. you also knew chris probably had no issue at all when it came to hookups, but that wasn't something you cared about — even if it was for one night, one time, you wanted to be in their shoes. you wanted to know what it was like to be one of chris's girls.

the line at the venue had filled quickly, as you and alize had met several of your online friends you made from the fandom — the other girls were sweet and kind, and as you looked at the other chris girls in the crowd you briefly felt a wave of sadness as you thought that any of them could be the lucky one.

your worry dissipated though as you felt alize's excitement radiating off of her body, causing you to giggle. "girl, how are you feeling?"

"how you gon ask me that, y/n?" alize said in disbelief, causing you to giggle as she put a hand on her chest, "we literally finna be breathing the same air as nick sturniolo. hoe, i'm unwell."

some people shot alize dirty looks at her seemingly rude behavior, but both of you paid no mind to them — anyone who was friends with her knew that that's the way she joked around with people, the way she spoke in general.

"i'm so excited to see chris," you tell her dreamily, running a hand through your curly lace front you got done yesterday, "i hope i get picked as his teammate."

"laura's racist if she don't pick us to be one of they partners," alize whispered to you, causing you both to laugh as the line moved forward.

"remember, we get to get pictures and do small talk before the show starts, so make sure we're headed for that line!" you explain to alize who playfully rolls her eyes and swats your shoulder.

"girl chill out, i remember what our tickets said!" alize giggled, "i sure as hell remember how much we paid for them things, ain't no way i'm not speaking to them!"

"and then the merch," you whined, pouting your lips, "that shit was going into my funds for college next semester!"

"then you might wanna start looking for a j-o-b!" alize tells you knowingly, causing you to groan, "i told you, i can speak to my manager for you!"

"girl that man is a pervert, i'm not working there!" you say firmly, "how do you even deal with him?"

"why do you think i act like a dude every time i have a shift?" alize tells you knowingly, "you'll never catch me wearing stuff like this around him."

you felt yourself become excited again as you looped your arm with alize's looking at you guys' matching outfits. "i still can't believe how much we matched with each other!"

"what if we can get a group picture with me, you, nick, and chris?" alize wonders, "we'd all look fine as shit."

"i know chris probably looking fine as hell today," you whispered to alize, causing her to giggle at you.

"girl you always think he look fine," alize says with an eyeroll, causing you to nudge her shoulder playfully.

you could feel your nerves heighten as you got a view of the area where the triplets could be seen doing group photos with the fans. a nerve of both excitement and arousal coursed through your veins as your eyes landed on chris — stray hairs peaked from underneath his black backwards cap, his usual friendly smile painted across his features. you unknowingly bit your lip as you scanned his outfit, seeing as he was wearing an orange tasmanian devil shirt with black jeans white air forces — casual, yet he still turned you on so much.

you took a deep breath as the line drew closer, and you had an even better view of the triplets. they all looked so good, and you felt both excited and nervous at the fact that it would soon be you and alize's turn.

just as you had turned to whisper something alize, chris's eyes had somehow wondered over to you unbeknownst to you — his eyes wandered around the entirety of your outfit, drinking in your brown skin and your thick thighs which were somewhat hidden by your skirt. he almost smirked as he realized you had been dressed in all orange, letting him know you were a chris girl. his girl.

when you looked up from laughing at what alize had said, you could feel eyes on you — your breath almost caught in your throat when you realized he was checking you out. you bite your lip nervously as he swiped his thumb over his nose before giving you a small smirk, directing his attention back towards the fans who were next in line.

you could've melted right then and there, now having to clench your thighs at this. there's no way chris sturniolo was checking you out just now? your mind had to be playing tricks on you.

then again, you didn't doubt chris had thought some fans were were cute. he definitely wouldn't have had any problem hooking up with the older fans if they let him, you definitely would've wanted to hookup with him.

your nerves skyrocket even more when you realize you and alize are up next.

the security ushers you towards nick first, who offers you a warm smile and outstretched arms. "hi, love!"

"hi nick!" you say, hugging him quickly before you make your way towards matt. "hi matt!"

matt gives you a smile, hugging you back as you go to chris next.

his eyes are already on you, having watched your interaction with his brothers — a small smirk is on his face as he pulls you in for a hug, his hands dangerously close to your ass as they reside on your waist. "hi, gorgeous."

it comes out a sort of whisper, which causes your cheeks to warm as you pull away from him with a shy smile. "hi, chris."

you turn to see alize already positioned in between nick and matt, so you took that as the initiative to put yourself in between chris and matt as well. nick puts his arms around alize with a smile, whilst both matt and chris put their arms around you.

well, matt's arm stays around your neck, while chris slips his around your waist, giving it a gentle squeeze causing you to clench your thighs together.

the picture snaps twice, and you turn to wave a quick goodbye to both nick and matt. chris smirks, sending a subtle smack to your ass as you give him a shy wave and you leave with alize.

you still couldn't believe what just happened — you debated on telling alize, but she was so caught up in rambling about the fact that she just hugged and smelled nick so you just giggled with her and let her talk.

the show soon started, and unfortunately you did not get picked to be chris's teammate — but you and alize squealed of excitement when laura asked if she wanted to be nick's teammate. of course that girl was not finna pass that up.

you were front and center of the stage, watching as the show took place in front of you — you knew your eyes weren't playing tricks on you when you saw the glances chris kept sneaking at you. you couldn't help but let your doe eyes wander and stay on his, even when you were recording alize and nick. you had almost missed the perfect swish alize made with the basketball, causing you to cheer loudly for your best friend.

when chris had walked near your side of where the stage was, he gave you a subtle wink to which you smiled and blinked your doe eyes up at him. you were hoping other girls couldn't see it, as they would be quick to make stupid assumptions, because it's not like anything was happening.

the show soon ended, leaving you both nervous and excited once again since you and alize had the small talk with them now. unfortunately you and alize ended up being one of the last people in line, since she accidentally left her phone somewhere on the stage and spent time looking for it.

the small talk line up was in birth order, which you were extremely grateful for — alize had went before you, and now you were up next as you make your way towards nick again.

"hi again!" nick says to you with a beam, holding his arms out for another hug.

"hi, how are you?" you ask him excitedly, as you place one of your posters on the small table.

"i'm feeling good, it was cool to meet everyone," nick tells you, unrolling your poster of all three of them. you hold a pen out to him, which he gratefully accepts, "how are you tonight?"

"i'm doing good!" you tell him excitedly, "i can't believe chris won again, what's going on with you, stink?"

both of you laugh, and he shakes his head. "trust girl, i'm gonna win we just need to give it some time."

"period!" you say, holding your phone up, snapping a few pictures with him, "thank you so much nick, i hope you have a blessed rest of the tour!"

"thank you so much for coming!" nick smiles as you both hug one more time, before you give him a wave as you're off to matt next.

matt smiles at you as you approach him, and you smile back as you set your things on his table. "hi again!"

"hi, matt!" you say calmly, "may i hug you?"

"absolutely, c'mere," he says politely, outstretching his arms towards you, and you slip into his arms.

"how are you tonight?" you ask him, as he signs one of your posters.

"i'm doing good, i can't believe how many people came," matt tells you, and you nod understandingly.

"i'm glad to know you're doing good! i hope you're having fun, too," you tell him sweetly, as he smiles and pulls you in for another hug.

"do you wanna take some pictures?" he asks you kindly, and you nod enthusiastically, handing him your phone as he snaps a couple of .5 photos of you both.

"have a blessed rest of your tour!" you tell matt as you collect your things, beginning to walk away as he smiles and waves at you.

as you're approaching chris, he already has that same smirk plastered on his face as he watches you walk up to him slowly — when you reach him and set your things down on the table, he's instantly bringing you in for a hug.

his hands skim over your skirt momentarily, causing your breath to hitch at the close contact. "hi again, chris."

"hey ma," chris says, swiping his thumb over his bottom lip as he eyes you up and down shamelessly, "did you miss me?"

"i'm a chris girl, of course i missed you," you purred, a sudden bold confidence striking you as you blink your doe eyes at him.

he licks his lips at you and hurriedly jots something down onto one of your posters, and you find yourself unable to look away from him as you take in the way his jawline is so sharp and how the light hits him. he looks so hot, and something inside you wishes he would take you right then and there.

"alright, wrap it up!" one of the security guards yells towards you, causing you to sigh as chris gave you an apologetic smile.

"it was nice meeting you, chris," you say shyly, going to grab your posters.

"you'll see me later, gorgeous," chris whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he pulls away, giving you a wink, "see you soon."

you give him one last smile before you hurriedly begin walking to find where alize is at. as you're nearing the hallway, a buzz in your pocket causes you to take your phone out, seeing a message from alize.

alize🙈🫦

girl tell me why i left my phone AGAIN

i went to go look for it that's why you don't see me anywhere

you curse under your breath at this, silently shaking your head as you begin walking towards the exit — suddenly a hand goes out to grab your arm and carefully yank you towards the door.

"what the fu-"

"told you you'd see me again, ma," chris's voice smirks, and you could feel yourself gasp as you turn to see him, your hand still in his.

"where are we going?" you ask, looking up at him.

"giving you a private tour," he smirks, licking his lips as he looks you up and down once more before pulling you towards the door.

it's nighttime already as the both of you exit out of the door — you feel yourself giggle slightly as the wind whips your hair whilst he hurriedly makes his way towards their tour bus with you.

he looks around to make sure nobody saw or followed, and he quickly opens the tour bus doors. chris signals for you to get inside first, and he couldn't help but watch the way your ass jiggled when you walked up the steps.

as soon as you both were inside, you barely have a chance to look around at the tour bus before chris hurriedly whirls you around to face him, his lips meeting yours in a hungry kiss.

your arms find their way wrapped around his neck as he draws you closer to him, his arms slithering down to give your waist a gentle squeeze before he lands a smack to your ass.

you gasp into the kiss, allowing his tongue access inside your mouth — you moan when his hands roam all over your body, until he hooks his arms under your legs.

"jump f'me," he mumbles into the kiss.

you do as you're told, jumping and hooking your legs around his waist. chris walks backwards towards the sofa couch, sitting down on it as he continues to kiss you.

you move your legs on either side of his waist straddling him, as you whimper into the kiss — you detach your lips from his and bite down on his bottom lip, pulling away with a pop.

"fuck, you're so hot, baby," chris breathes, causing you to whimper again as you grind down on his hard on.

"chris i want you to do whatever you want with me," you breathe, resting your forehead on his as you catch your breath, "i'm yours."

"is that so, sweetheart?" chris grins up at you, running his hands up and down your sides which causes a shiver to run down your spine, "you gonna be a good girl f'me?"

"yes, always," you tell him, grinding down on him again eliciting a low groan from him.

chris reattaches your lips, tilting his head in order to dominate the kiss — he pulls away and leaves a trail of kisses on your neck, sucking on a particularly sweet spot causing a moan to escape your lips.

you shrug your puffer jacket off of your shoulders, as chris helps to take off your halter top as well. your tits spill out of your bra causing chris to groan as he takes one in his mouth, sucking and nipping at it whilst massaging and kneading the other.

"m, fuck chris," you whine, throwing your head back as you grind down on his erection, feeling your panties dampen.

"take this off f'me baby," chris instructs you, taking his hands off of you so that you could stand up.

you hurriedly pull down your skirt, revealing the orange lace panties you wore underneath — chris's eyes darkened with lust, immediately pulling you back onto his lap. "fuck, you had this all planned out, didn't you?"

"no, but i was hoping it worked," you giggled, biting down on his earlobe as his hand went down to rub across your slick.

"look at you, so wet f'me," chris breathed against your skin, rubbing his hand along your wetness teasingly, "take these off baby."

you quickly stood up and rid yourself of the panties, throwing them to the ongoing pile of clothes. chris pulled you back onto his lap, inserting one of his long, slender fingers into your hole, causing a lewd moan to escape your lips.

"f-fuck chris, feels so good," you moan, throwing your head back as his fingers work in and out of you.

"taking my fingers so well, sweetheart," chris rasps, leaving kisses along your neck as his fingers curl inside you.

"please, faster..." you whine out, his mouth leaving a deep purple spot on your neck as he pulls away with a pop.

he speeds his pace as he finger fucks you, loving the way you sound as he abuses your walls with his fingers — he added another, increasing the pleasure and you felt your orgasm approaching quickly.

"so close, chris," you moan, grinding onto his fingers, "m' gonna cum."

"cum on my fingers baby," chris grunts in your ear.

you quickly obliged, feeling your orgasm wash over you as a moan of chris's name escapes your lips and your juices coat his fingers, your legs shaking. you stand up as he licks his fingers clean, grinning up at you as he pulls his pants and boxers down revealing his throbbing cock — your eyes widened, now knowing that he was in fact huge as fuck.

"what's the matter baby?" he grins cockily, grabbing your waist again as you hover over him.

"you're s-so big, i don't-"

a loud moan escapes your lips as chris sinks you onto his cock, and you immediately feel him stretching your walls — tears feel your waterline from how big he is, your mouth fixed into a permanent 'o' shape as you adjust to his size.

"c'mon ma, i know you can take me," chris assures you, gripping your waist tightly as a groan leaves his mouth, "be a good girl, remember?"

you nodded, just as chris suddenly thrusts his hips up hitting your g spot which elicits a moan from you as you grip his legs while your head is thrown back — he grabs your chin as forces you to look at him.

"look at me while you ride me, ma," chris instructs you sternly.

your hands still gripping his legs, you begin bouncing up and down on his cock as it abuses your cervix repeatedly — the slapping of skin as well as chris's low moans and your high pitches ones vibrated throughout the tour bus, and you were pretty sure anyone close enough could hear what was happening.

"fuck this pussy feels so good," chris grunts, watching as your tits bounce in his face, his eyes staring into yours darkly, "who's pussy is this?"

"yours chris, all yours," you moan, throwing your head back as you continue bouncing, "m'close again..."

"hold it baby, i'm almost there," chris pants, his hips thrusting upward to meet your pace, "fuck..."

suddenly chris grabs your phone and holds it up, taking a live photo of you bouncing on his cock whilst he leaves another kiss to your neck.

with a few more thrusts, you feel chris's dick twitch inside you indicating how close he is — he finally releases inside you, painting your walls white. your second orgasm washes over you, as your legs shake whilst your juices release all over chris's cock.

chris helps you off of him, and you stand up immediately grabbing your clothes scattered around — chris lands a smack to your ass as you bend over to pick your shirt up. "chris!"

he just laughs as he pulls his pants up, then hands you your skirt as well. you smile up at him shyly as you slip it on — he rubs his thumb across your lip and plants another quick kiss to it as he holds your phone up again.

"sorry i couldn't take it earlier," he says, pulling your body against his.

"it's okay, taking it here feels more intimate anyway," you giggle.

you hold the side of chris's face as he snaps the camera once, then he places a kiss to your cheek as he snaps another one.

"can i use the bathroom real quick?" you ask him shyly, and he nods, showing you where it was.

once inside you hurriedly pee, letting out a sigh as you finish and wash your hands. you look in the mirror at yourself, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you look back at the girl who just got fucked by chris sturniolo.

walking back outside, you look to chris who has your phone in his hand, as he holds it out to you, which makes you smile and walk towards him, reaching for it.

he puts his hand on your waist as he holds your phone above your head, looking down at you with a smirk.

"boy, if you don't hand me my phone back!" you tell him, trying to reach for it which resulted in him holding it higher.

"few more kisses first, ma," chris grins, puckering his lips out making you giggle.

you press a kiss to his lips and pull away, but he quickly dips down to peck your lips a few more times. he hands you your phone back finally, and you smile as you begin walking towards the tour bus's exit.

"your posters!" chris says before you can leave, hurriedly handing them to you.

"thank you," you said, looking up at him, "i enjoyed tonight."

"anything for one of my girls," chris winks with a grin, planting one last kiss to your lips.

you exit the tour bus, looking around for any sign of life before you make your way around the building — you look around, your body trembling from the cold air before a honk of a horn grabs your attention and you gasp, jumping slightly.

"where the fuck were you, y/n?" alize's voice says worriedly, rolling down the window to the uber, "bitch i was looking for you!"

"shit girl, i'm so sorry," you apologize, climbing into the seat of the uber next to her, "i have so much to tell you."

"hoe, you better tell me where you disappeared to," alize whispers to you half angrily, the other curious.

before you could get a word out of your mouth, a buzz from your phone grabs your attention.

unknown

*one attachment*

y/n

chris ??? are those my panties ??? 😭

unknown

didn't fuck anybody else baby, yeah they're yours

need something to remember you by since today was our only la show

y/n

is this you telling me you wanna see me again?

unknown

i'll fly you out to another show if you're down

y/n

only if my girl can come too !

unknown

i'll get you both a plane ticket

y/n

i'll see you soon then😘

unknown

good

send me some pics to keep me company while you not here😏

"bitch what?!"

( lilly's section 💌 )

this didn't come out as good as i wanted it to, but i hope y'all liked this ! love u guys so much muah💌.

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @prettiest-poision @mrssturnioloo @mattsturniolosleftnut @sturnprime @thenickgirl @guccifrog @nickgetsmewetter @eyeliketoeatpoosay @e1ias3 @sp3aknaur @middlepartmatt @summerssover @riasturns @sturn777 @l0akkzz @hysteria-things @pinksturniolo @chrissturniolossidehoe @chris-slut @hoesformatt @raysmayhem-72 @whosthislyssbitch @lanas-doll @chrisssluttywaist @mbbsgf @jetaimevous @sturnsxplr-25 @moonk1ss3d

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x0xomady · 4 months

Text

But Daddy I love him !

(based on the song from TTPD)

part 2

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

warnings: smut, p in v, marijuana consumption, oral sex, pet names, 18+

(harrystyles!dealer x female reader) both are 18!

summary: senior year of high school y/n falls in love with the new plug at school.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

i HATE high school.

that might sound stereotypical like i’m one of those emo girls that hates everything, but i’m not. i just HATE high school.

for the first couple years everything was going great. freshman and sophomore year were so much fun. i had a big group of friends and i was pretty popular. i was even dating the cute skater boy! it was literally a teenage romcom like ’10 things i hate about you’.

however, that all went to shit.

the downfall of my teenage years first began when my asshole ex thought leaking my nudes to the entire junior class was a good idea. so naturally instead of standing up for me, my friends turned on me and said i was a slut.

after that traumatizing incident, i learned one thing. high school is temporary so why waste my time on bitchy friends?

that’s the attitude i had coming into senior year and it’s the one that’s kept me going for the last few months.

i stopped dressing preppy and popular because my “friends” wanted me too and i started dressing like i want to.

life is going fucking great now. i smoke weed, go to class, and binge watch gilmore girls. i don’t have to go to those god awful parties on the weekends, i can just relax.

the only way thing going bad for me right now was the fact that my dealer moved away. now i had to find a new one which isn’t hard, just annoying.

from what i’ve heard there’s 2 other dealers on campus. one is a freshman that steals shit from his dad and sells it. the other one is a random british guy that moved here last year.

i’m probably going to choose the new british guy.

so that was my goal for today. i’m going to find the new british guy in my class and buy weed so i don’t die during midterms week.

from what i’ve heard about this mystery british guy is his name is either harvey, harry, or harden. i’ve also heard he’s insanely hot and rejects all the girls that ask him out. although, if we’re being real here, most british guys are hot just because of their voices. so, i’m doubting he’ll be that hot. he’s probably going to have nasty ass teeth and be short.

walking down the halls of the school is kind of fun for me. i blast music in my headphones and pretend like i’m not in this hell hole. my outfit is casual and comfy so i’m honestly pretty confident right now.

as i walk into my first class i sit in my usual seat i see a new guy sitting next to me. i glance at him and can’t remember if i’ve ever seen him before. i don’t think i’ve ever seen him, but i can say for a fact that he is very, very, VERY attractive.

the new guy is sitting back against his chair, manspreading of course, with his headphones in. he’s wearing a black hoodie and dark blue jeans. he looks so casually perfect it’s slightly alarming.

i turn towards the front of the classroom as my teacher begins to drone on about different math equations. however, throughout the 50 minute class, my eyes kept wandering back over to the very attractive boy sitting next to me.

i TRIED to keep my thoughts off of him. i mean, i have completely sworn off dating and crushes for the rest of high school because of the last one that fucked me over.

my thoughts are cut off by the boy tapping me on the shoulder. my mind freezes and i turn towards him.

“yeah?” i try to act all nonchalant and mysterious but i said yeah WAY to quickly and excitedly.

the boy smiles slightly and leans over whispering to me. “do ya get a thing he's droning on about?”

oh fuck. the british accent.

“no i really don’t i'm completely zoned out right now.” i whisper back to the british boy.

he nods and leans back in his chair watching the teacher talk. he is sitting there with his knees casually spread and his arms crossed.

we sit there for another 10 minutes listening to the teacher talk about different functions until he announces.

“alright for the last 15 minutes of class go over the problems on the board with the person next to you.” the teacher points to the problems then sits at the desk so we can all work with our partners.

the boy smirks and turns his head back towards me. “ready to fail together?”

i can’t help the small smile that creeps onto my lips. i usually try to stay pretty unbothered and calm at school, but something about the way this curly headed boy was smiling at me made me a bit giddy.

AND he has weed, small plus.

“yeah lets do it” i nod and we start working on the equations together. he scoots closer to me and rests his head propped up on his arm while i start writing things down.

he watches me write for a second before speaking up. “y’have pretty handwriting.”

i look at him a bit surprised but smile a little bit. blush slowly creeps up on my cheeks as he compliments me. “really? never heard that before.” i shrug.

“yeah never seen someone write their three’s with a curl before. it’s adorable.” he smirks and looks up at me for a second before looking back down at my writing.

i’m about to speak up again but the teacher cuts me off. “if you haven’t finished the problems yet, do them tonight and turn them in tomorrow morning.”

he looks over at me with a smile, “we still have quite a few questions left."

“yeah this is going to take a while.” i sigh looking down at the 32 questions we have to work on.

he turns his body towards me more and props his arm up against the back of the chair next to me. “where do you eat lunch?”

i shrug. “probably in the library today because i have a fuck ton of work to catch up on.”

“hm okay. mind if i join you? we could finish the work then.” he has a small smile on his face while i sit there looking flustered as ever.

“oh yeah sure.” i nod and smile a little bit. “i’ll just be on the couches in the back. come find me.” he nods and we both exit the classroom.

holy shit. THAT was the guy i’m supposed to buy from? i’m going to be needing a LOT more weed than i thought.

throughout all of the drama that went down junior year, i have had one friend remain loyal to me. y/bsf/n and i have been friends since freshman year of high school and have stayed close ever since.

as soon as i walked out of math i rushed to find her. naturally, i found her touching up her makeup in the girls bathroom.

“GUESS WHAT?” i squeal as i burst into the girls bathroom.

she immediately drops her mascara and whips around to face me. “WHAT WHAT”

i smile and grab her shoulders. “I’M EATING LUNCH WITH THE HOT BRITISH PLUG”

y/bsf/n face drops and she squeals excitedly. “OMG I SAW HIM THIS MORNING HE IS SO- ”

“can you guys shut up? i’m trying to wash my hands” a random girl glares at us.

“um no? can you go wash your shit covered hands then leave?” she snaps back at her. the girl rolls her eyes and walks out of the bathroom.

i’m too excited to even care. we stand there for the next couple minutes before class starts talking about what i’m going to do and how to talk to him.

another girl walks up to the mirrors and suddenly turns to us with an “i’ve got gossip” look. “you know i heard he only wears long sleeved hoodies and shirts to school because he’s a heroin addict that’s covering track marks.”

both y/bsf/n and i roll our eyes and shake our head. “that’s a dumbass rumor don’t spread shit like that.” i glare at her.

the girl rolls her eyes and shrugs. “might be true.”

“wait wait pause.” my face drops as i look at y/bsf/n.

“what?”

“i don't even know his name. the only thing i know is that it starts with an H” my eyes widen in the realization that i didn’t even introduce myself in class today.

“uhhh i think it’s harvey? i’m like 80% sure.” she shrugs and continues doing her makeup in the mirror as i stand there freaking out.

“harvey?! like steve harvey? theres no way thats his name.” i roll my eyes.

“whatever, just ask him! oooh maybe if you guys hookup he’ll give you free weed!” she smirks at me.

“NO i’m not using him for free stuff. that is so fucked up.”

she rolls her eyes and applies her lipgloss. “fine fine. be all moral if you want.” the bell rings and the both of us leave the bathroom. i head towards my english class with the elated feeling of what’s to come.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

by the time lunch rolls around i’m feeling giddy as ever. y/bsf/n had been hyping me up for the last four periods which wasn’t helping my excitement die down at all.

i walk into the library building and walk to the back where my usual lunch study couch is. i set my tote bag and lap top down and get comfy waiting for “H” to show up. if his name is actually harvey theres no way in hell i’ll be able to take him seriously.

after about five minutes he walks over and plops down on the couch next to me. “ready?”

“yeah lets finish this shit.” i nod and pull out my work while he grabs his. “so can i ask your name? i totally forgot to ask this morning.”

he pauses and turns to me with a smirk. “wait you don’t know my name?”

my eyes widen and i try to play it off. “uh… no how would i know your name?”

he instantly starts laughing and covers his mouth. “really? we’ve been in the same math class for 5 months!”

i stare at him in shock and guilt for a second before snapping out of it and smiling. “i’m sorry. i’m pretty zoned out or high during math.”

“yeah i got that.” he smirks and looks at me. “i even know your name y/n”

i feel blush start to creep up my cheeks as i hear my name drop from his lips. is it from embarrassment or being flustered? we’ll never know, but it’s probably a mix. he knows my name? fuck.

“oh i’m so sorry.” i meet his eyes with a nervous and embarrassed look.

“no you’re good. this is only the second time we’ve ever interacted so i understand.” he still has a smug smile on his face. “well my name’s harry.”

“ohh harry? my friend told me something completely different.” i smile. thank GOD i didn’t call him harvey. i would’ve died from the humiliation if that slipped out.

harry smirks and looks back over at me. “wow already talking about me to your friends? good to know i make an impression.”

my face heats up at his teasing words, but i try to play it off. “well it’s not often a british guy sits next to me in math.”

“yeah i guess thats true.” harry nods and leans back against the couch. “i’ve always known who you were. which might sound creepy but i promise it’s not.”

“really?” how would he know who i am? besides math we don’t have anything together. we don’t even run in the same friend group.

“yeah you’re like the hot girl that got trashed by her friends right?”

i roll my eyes. “yeah thats me. i’m guessing you saw my nudes.”

harry frowns and shrugs. “i didn’t look at them myself but i heard descriptions. i’m not a pervert i wouldn’t look at some random girls nudes.”

“okay thank you but, oh my gosh hearing about it is 10x worse!” i groan in embarrassment.

“hey, it’s not your fault. that ex and those “friends” of yours were total assholes for doing that to you.” harry gives me a sympathetic look before returning to the math problems.

“wait. if you’ve been in my class this whole time how have i not seen you before today?” the realization hits me that i’ve never even seen harry in class before. i would’ve remembered if i had, he’s not a face you would forget seeing.

harry shrugs. “i usually sit in the back on the other side of the classroom.”

“oh. so then why did you sit next to me in the front today?” i look at harry slightly confused.

“because you’re pretty.” he smirks at me.

my eyes widen and i blush a little. “oh thank you.”

for the next 30 minutes we talk mindlessly back and forth while working on our homework together. as lunch time comes to a close i remember why i was originally seeking out harry.

“hey i totally forgot to ask, but are you selling?”

harry puts down his notebook and crosses his arms looking at me with a small smile. “hm depends what you’re trying to buy.”

i roll my eyes and give him a look. “i think you know what i’m trying to buy.” harry chuckles quietly and continues teasing me.

“wow what is an innocent girl like you doing trying to buy pot?” he looks absolutely gorgeous like this. he’s leaning back comfortable with his arms crossed. those emerald green eyes search my face with an amused grin. “i think you’re daddy would be disappointed if he knew.”

“oh whatever.” i try to act annoyed but the way he is looking at me right now is intoxicating. “so you have it? because if you don’t i’m going to have to go to that weird ass freshman.”

harry laughs and rests his head agains the back of the couch. “of course i have something for you y/n. except i don’t sell at school so if you want something you’ll have to come over later.”

oh. OH go to his house? don’t have to ask me twice.

“yeah for sure.” i nod at him and play it off with a smile like i’m not internally squealing with joy.

harry pulls out his phone and holds it out for me to take. “put your number in and i’ll text you my address.”

my heart beat speeds up as i take the phone from him carefully. i quickly type in my number and create a contact with my name as, ��y/n 💞’

a bright smile appears on his face when he sees my contact in his phone. harry glances back up at me and says, “god you’re so cute.”

i blush brightly and feel extremely flustered but i ignore it and nod. “text me your address and i’ll come over after school.”

harry smiles and nods. “alright.” he quickly types something into his phone. i hear a ding from my phone and see a text message from an unknown number. harry’s address is written so i quickly set the contact to ‘harry 🍃’

“cool see ya later y/n” harry nods at me and exists the library.

“bye” i sit there in shock of everything that just happened. he called me cute AND pretty? tonight is going to be un-fucking-real.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

the first thought that comes to every girls mind when they are invited over to a guys house is, their outfit. so that’s where i am now. running around my room throwing shit around trying to find a cute outfit.

y/bsf/n was sitting on my bed telling me different things. “okay don’t wear a skirt that’s trying WAY too hard.”

“i know!” i groan and drop all my skirts on the ground before scrambling back to my closet.

“y/n look. the more you try the more shallow you’re going to come off. so just wear jeans and a cute top.” she shrugs and throws me a pair of my low rise jeans.

“yeah yeah you’re right.” i sigh and put the jeans on with a cute top, and my outfit is ready to go.

“ugh SO cute honey. you’re gonna wipe that sexy ass off his feet.” she claps happily and smiles.

i roll my eyes but smile. “okay whatever i have to go.” i kiss her cheek than head towards the door.

“yay go get high and laid bitch!” she giggles as i leave my bedroom.

harry’s house is a 15 minute drive from mine so i had to leave now if i was going to make it. i hate to admit it, but the gnawing feeling of anxiety and nervousness was finally hitting me.

usually when i’m over at guys houses, it’s very chill and i’m not worried because theres no reason to be. however, this time i’m actually nervous because i’m actually into the guy i’m seeing.

sure we only met officially today, but he’s hot, nice, and he has weed. what’s not to love?

as i drive up to harry’s house and see a decently sized house with a couple cars parked outside. i park on the street and touchup my makeup before walking up to the front door.

before i can chicken out and run away i ring the doorbell.

after a few seconds i hear someone run down the stairs and open the door. there, looking hot as ever, is harry. he’s wearing a white wife-beater tank top, and of course, the heavenly gray sweatpants.

it takes every ounce of self control in my body not to check him out.

“oh hey y/n. come in.” harry smiles at me and opens the door so i can enter his house. i step inside and see the typical suburban house. it’s very clean and there’s voices coming from the kitchen.

“thanks for letting me come over” i look up at harry as he is closing the door behind me.

“yeah for sure. cmon let’s go upstairs you don’t want to meet my parents.” he smirks and nods towards the staircase.

“okay” i nod and follow him up the staircase towards his room. it’s always fun going to other people’s houses and seeing little glimpses of what they’re day-to-day life is really like. it’s easy to put on a persona at school and hide yourself, but at your own home it’s impossible.

harry’s house is extremely nice. his parents have to be doctors or something because this is definitely upper middle class. there are pictures across the walls, awards for each person in the family, and paintings. It looks like harry has a sister… cute.

“that’s pretty.” i say pointing towards the large pairing hung in the middle of the wall. the painting really is beautiful. it was a picture of what looked like the New York skyline at sunset.

harry turns around and looks at the painting and then me. “oh yeah. my mom made that.”

“really? she's talented” i smile and continue following him down the hallway towards his room.

“hm yeah she’s an artist. we have a fuck ton of paintings around the house.” harry shrugs and opens the door to his room with me trailing behind him. “anyways… this is my room. just sit anywhere while i grab my shit.”

i nod and plop down onto the beanbag chair next to his desk. harry hums quietly as he goes over to his drawers and starts rummaging through them. harry’s room is decorated completely with posters, a guitar hung on the wall, and pictures pinned up.

i couldn’t help but admire him for a minute. it really was surprising to me how attractive this man was. theres cute guys, and then theres hot guys… like harry.

he continues looking through his drawers for a minute before pulling out a small paper baggie. i watch him put a couple things into it and then walk over to me.

i take the bag from harry gratefully and look up at him. “how much do i owe you?” i ask while pulling out my wallet.

harry shakes his head and sits down on his bed. “how about you smoke a joint with me and we’ll call it even?”

“really? that sounds like a win-win for me and a lose-lose for you. it’s fine harry i can pay.” i protest while opening my wallet and looking at him expectantly.

“mm nope. sounds like a win-win to me. i get to supply you so you don’t go to that weirdass freshman and i get to smoke with the pretty girl from my math class." he smirks and pulls out a joint shaking it between his fingers teasingly at me. “it’s alright y/n first times on me.” i roll my eyes but sense that he’s not going to give in and let me pay him.

“fine, fine, but next time i’m paying okay?” i never felt good about taking things for free. it made me feel like i owed a large debt to them in the future.

“sure whatever you say, love.” harry shrugs and pulls out his lighter and then pats the spot on the bed next to him. “now get up here with me so you can pay up.”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 2 hours later ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

how did i end up straddling harry’s lap? good question! i have no fucking idea.

it started out chill. we were passing the joint back and forth while having a casual conversation. we talked about the bitches at our school, our summer plans, blah blah blah.

it was all going great and chill until harry decided to switch things up. maybe it was the fact that we are both baked, maybe it’s that we’ve had a weird sexual tension since this morning, but it switched up so fast.

it first started when harry made a comment about my lipgloss.

“hm i’ve never had strawberry pot before.” harry smirks and hands the joint back to me. i look at harry confused for a second trying to figure out what he meant.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean… you’re pretty pink lipgloss is getting all over it and it’s making it taste sweet.” he has the most smug look on his face as he leans back against the headboard of his bed.

i roll my eyes as harry teases me about my lipgloss. “quit acting like you don’t like it.”

“i never said i didn’t like it! i was just saying, i think i have some lipgloss on too.” he chuckles and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. there was, in fact, lipgloss. oops.

i’m too high to even care so i just start giggling at harry’s fake angry expression. my giggling pulls a small smile onto harry’s lips.

“hey! i’m just trying to be a good friend here. you need to moisturize your lips regularly curly.” i erupt into a fit of giggles as harry simply smirks and takes another drag.

“oh you’re such a good girl trying to keep my lips moisturized.” harry rolls his eyes sarcastically and hands me the joint. i take it him from him and take another hit letting the smoke fill my lungs before turning back to harry.

“seriously harry, i’m a great friend. girls won’t kiss you if you have crusty ass lips.” i try to say that with a serious and straight face but i instantly burst out laughing again.

“wow what would i do without you?” he chuckles and takes the joint from me. “you know now that i’ve tasted your lipgloss… i kind of want to taste those pretty little lips of yours.” harry grins and taps his index finger agains my lips lightly.

i smile and shift so i’m sitting on harry’s lap straddling his hips. “that’s fine with me.”

harry puts the joint down on the ashtray next to his bed and rests his hands on my hips. “really that’s okay with you?”

“mhm” i nod and bring my hands up to play with his curls. harry’s green eyes search mine for a second before placing his hand on my cheek. he hums and traces his thumb carefully across my bottom lip.

“such a pretty thing hm.” he smirks and leans his head forward nudging my nose with his. i smile and play with his curls.

“so… can i have a kiss petal?” harry cups my cheek and leans in. without hesitation i lean in and connect our lips. harry sighs against me and holds my head close to him.

i wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss opening my lips to him. harry bites my bottom lip and pulls away for a second. i smile and look at him. “you’re a good kisser”

harry hums softly and kisses me on the jaw making me blush slightly. his hands grip my hips lightly has his kisses make their way down my neck.

“so fucking pretty, you know that? i’m obsessed with you” harry mumbles against my neck. “how did i not ask you over sooner?”

i smile and shift my hips so i’m sitting closer against him, a light blush painting my cheeks. “you should’ve. i would have said yes.”

“hm that right? i’ll keep it in mind.” he smirks and pulls my hips against him. his kisses continue to travel down my neck before stopping at my collar bone.

“lay down for me y/n” he says while kissing my neck.

i roll off harry’s lap onto my back onto his bed. he smiles and crawls over me. he props his arms up on either side of my head. harry looks so hot above me.

“can i taste you petal?” his bright green eyes turn dark filled with lust as he looked at me desperately. i nod eagerly and press my lips against him once more.

“please harry, need you.” i let out a soft moan as harry nips at my neck and travels down my body until he’s between my legs.

“gonna let me see you y/n?” he asks before pulling down my jeans and tossing them off the bed. i nod and watch as harry smirks up at me. his eyes travel down from my eyes to my core.

“so fucking pretty i swear.” he hums and presses a kiss against my clothes center. i moan quietly as his lips travel down my panties before pushing them to the side.

he pulls my panties to the side and lets out a groan as he presses a sweet kiss to my clit. i gasp and hold harry’s hair tightly.

“you taste so sweet baby.” he hums against my clit, sending vibrations up my body. i tug harry’s hair to escape the delicious torture but he just smiles up at me and continues kissing me. his thick ring clad hands holding my hips against his face.

“please harry- ” i whine and press my hips up against him. he sticks his tongue out flat and runs it up my pussy while keeping eye contact with me.

he pulls away for a second and grabs the joint for a second. his lips wrap around it taking a deep hit while watching me sit there impatiently. he smirks and pulls the joint from his lips pushing it between mine. “hold that for me petal.”

i take the joint willingly and take a hit while harry reconnects his lips with my core. i let out a groan as harry sucks my clit between his lips just as he did with the joint.

my body is racked with pleasure as harry hungrily sucks on my bundle of nerves. my hand holds his curls tightly as he eats me like a starved man.

“fuck harry!” i gasp as harry pushes his middle finger into my tight hole. he continues lapping at my clit while pumping his finger into me. the ring resting at the bottom of his finger left a cool sensation run through my body.

“how are you so bloody wet?” he moans against my core while adding a second finger to the mix. my pussy clenches against him greedily as the sensations filled my heat.

harry moves his fingers faster while wrapping his lips around my clit once more. my hips buck up against him searching for the last bit of stimulation needed before i could let go.

“fuck m’gonna cum harry!” i gasp as he speeds up.

“that’s it pretty girl. let go for me, i wanna taste your sweet mess.” he smirks up at me and adds a third finger. this pushes me over the edge, my body consumed with pleasure. harry helps me ride out my orgasm by lapping at my core gently.

he crawls up my body and hovers over me. “i need to feel you baby. is that okay?” he whispers as he presses kisses to my neck.

i nod and wrap my legs around his hips, pressing my core to the front of his sweats. “please harry.”

harry groans and pushes his bulge against me for some relief. “okay petal. gonna fuck you.” he quickly tugs his sweatpants down and kisses my neck. “ready baby?”

i nod eagerly watching him. he sighs and carefully pushes past my tight entrance. my body eagerly welcomes him as i hold onto harrys shoulders tightly for support.

“oh fuck harry!” i groan as he pushes in all the way. he’s much thicker and longer than i thought he would be. my walls tighten against him tightly as he pushes to the hilt.

“so tight and wet for me.” he sighs and pulls back so it’s just the tip left in. harry moves his hand from my wait to my stomach so it’s resting just below my belly button.

as he pushes back into my cunt his large palm presses down on my stomach. at this angle i’m able to feel all of the veins and ridges decorating his cock. a loud whine slips past my lips as harry continues fucking into me.

he quickly brings a hand to hold over my mouth while the other continues to press down on my stomach. “shh i love hearing your sweet moans baby, but we can’t let my parents here.”

he picks up the pace, and the only sounds heard are the obscene squelching coming from where harry is fucking into me. he changes his angle a little bit and my body instantly floods with pleasure as i gasp.

“there it is.” he smirks and continues pounding into me at that angle. the tip of his cock perfectly hitting my spot as i moan into his hand.

harry moved his hand away from my mouth and brings it down to play with my abused clit. he groans as i clench around him and he picks up the pace.

“so- fucking- tight” he groans and pushes his face into my neck to muffle his moans. his hips continue to snap up into my mine while his fingers move quickly against my bundle of nerves.

i’m so overstimulated from the orgasm before this, so it doesn’t take long for my second to build up. “harry!” i whine as his hips move against mine furiously.

“yeah? gonna cum again for me? that’s good baby, m’gonna cum for you.” he moans against my neck and keeps his quick pace up.

my walls clench around his thick cock tightly as my body finally releases. i bite down onto harry’s shoulder gently to muffle my moans. harry groans out and thrusts a few more times sloppily before letting his release paint my walls.

we both ride out our orgasms slowly for a couple minutes. before harry pulls away shakily and speaks. “we’re doing that again”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

2 months have past since harry and i first got together. it’s an understatement to say we enjoy each others company. as y/bsf/n said, we’re “fucking like bunnies”

if we weren’t at harry’s house, i was sneaking harry in through my window. luckily, harry’s parents were very chill and always let me come over. i’d really grown to like his mom, sister, and dad. my parents however, had NO knowledge of harry. if they did, i’d be dead.

harry and i are currently cuddled up in my bed at 1am. i always had to wait until my mom and dad are asleep before letting harry in through my window.

so, here we are now, wrapped up in each other whispering about dumb things.

“ugh anyways i hate her bitchass.” im currently complaining to harry about a girl in our class that’s being an ass to me.

“me too.” harry whispers back. his arms wrapped around my waist so im pulled against him. his tight embrace comforts me like nothing else. i can almost forget all the shit i endure at school when i’m with him.

“you don’t even know her.” i giggle as harry presses kisses to my jaw.

“doesn’t matter. i hate anyone who fucks with my girl.”

i roll my eyes and smile at harry’s cheesy comments. he pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head. i cuddle into his chest as he starts talking about other things.

“i’m so obsessed with you baby.” he whispers against my neck making goosebumps travel down my spine.

“i’m obsessed with you too.” i grin and kiss a sweet kiss to harry’s cheek. in all honesty it is much more than that. i can feel it, im very quickly falling in love with harry.

“good, because you’re mine now.” he whispers and kisses my neck.

it was WAY too soon to tell harry i loved him. i mean for fucks sakes, i’ve only known him for a few months. he is just one of the few teenage boys that has ever been truly kind to me.

harry and i continue talking about mindless things. both of us are too wrapped up in each other to realize how late it is.

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

my door is burst open as light pours into the room. i immediately sit up and panic fills my body. my dad and mom stand there looking furious as the see harry sitting there next to me.

“i- uh” i don’t even know what to say in this situation. my parents are NOT easy going people. this is quite possibly, the worst case scenario.

“who the fuck is he?” my mom yells as he sees harry sitting up. my dad is completely dead silent which is even scarier to me.

“i-im sorry- this is harry.” i say quietly.

“harry? oh so you’re bringing random guys into your room?” my mom yells loudly.

“no mom! this isn’t a random guy! this is harry, my boyfriend.” i quickly stand up and stand between my parents and harry. i give harry a look saying ‘don’t talk’

“YOUR BOYFRIEND?” she looks absolutely furious screaming her head off at me. my dad is completely silent and just glaring at me and harry.

“i’m sorry okay? we’ve been together for two months and we really like each other.” my eyes are begging my mom to stop yelling in front of harry.

instead, my dad steps in. “how could you bring a boy into your room? let alone be sleeping in the same bed as him!”

“i’m so sorry. i just really like him and wanted to spend time with him!” harry is quietly watching, not interfering with our argument.

“NO! you cannot see this boy anymore! get him out of my house!” my dad yells and points at harry.

“w-what? daddy please no!” i beg him.

“no! you went behind our backs and brought a boy in our house!”

“that’s because i knew you wouldn’t let me see him! please don’t do this!”

“yeah you’re damn right i wouldn’t let you see him. i don’t want my daughter getting knocked up at 18! you’re not even out of high school yet!”

my eyes prick with tears as i desperately try to defend harry. without thinking, the words slip out.

“but daddy i love him!”

everyone freezes. i feel guilt and embarrassment flood my body as the words spill from my lips. my moms mouth drops as she looks between harry and i. my dads angry face dissapears as he looks at me in disbelief. harry is sitting there with a small smile on his face.

“you what?” my dad looks at me with utter disbelief.

“i- i-,” i hesitate and glance at harry. he looks overjoyed at my words despite the situation. “i love him…”

“you love this kid? why? you’re a teenager y/n! you don’t know shit about love!” my dad says firmly.

fuck it

“yes i do dad! i know that harry makes me 10x happier than anyone else on the planet! i feel so completely happy when we’re together! that’s why i brought him over tonight. i was having a shitty day at school and needed to feel happy for once.”

i let out all my emotions to my parents telling them how much i love harry. “you can’t make me stay away from him! i love him!”

my parents look shocked at everything i say to them. they turn to each other and whisper quietly. i stand there unsure as they talk. harry remains silent as he stares at me with a small smile.

“okay y/n… maybe we’re a bit too strict with you” my mom says quietly. “you’re 18 you can have a boyfriend.”

“r-really?” this was coming from the same woman that wouldn’t even let me have a boys number in my phone until i was 16.

“yes. you deserve to be happy. we’re just looking out for you honey. we don’t want you to make a mistake and end up pregnant at 18.”

i nod and look at them with eyes full of gratefulness. “so i can have harry over to the house now?”

my dad sighs and rubs his forehead before nodding. “just no sex under my roof, okay? i don’t want a grandchild yet.” he glares at harry.

harry nods and finally speaks up. “of course sir. i care for y/n a lot. she’s an amazing person and i plan on taking care of her.”

he looks at my mom and then back to me and harry. “fine. but no more sneaking through the window, got it?” he looks at me sternly.

“yeah of course!” i grin and hug my dad tightly. “thank you.”

“okay y/n… walk him out for the night. we’ll continue this conversation later.”

i nod and pull away. my parents exit the room and head towards their bedroom. i turn back to harry and smile.

harry smiles back and gives me a peck on the forehead.

“i love you too petal.”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

hope you loved this! i definitely plan on writing more for this story.

(i was a lil high when i wrote this so ignore the bad parts hehe)

- xoxo

523 notes · View notes

in-my-feels-probably · 4 months

Note

Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

I Feel So High School (Every Time I Look At You)

Request: Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

and: art being 10ish years older than reader? that’s all i got. go crazy

Hi! Challengers has been on my mind literally since the day it came out, and I think I've read every single fic on here about it, so I figured I’d give it a shot writing one myself. First of all, I combined your requests, hope that’s ok. Second, this is my first time writing for Art, so please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing his character. I haven’t written a fic in weeks, so my skills are definitely a little rusty. Please be kind! Anyways, I hope you like this. Let me know what you think, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? idk, maybe very vague mentions of sex, art is divorced, swearing, i guess the age gap taboo. let me know if i missed anything)

—

You should have known trying to explain your situation with Art to someone else would’ve been difficult, but finally telling your roommate everything was just as humiliating as you thought it would be. She always had a knack for nosing her way into your business, and not even you were immune to her federal level detective skills when it came to getting information out of someone.

“And I’m seeing him today,” you finished your rant as you sucked in a breath, wincing as you waited for the bomb to drop.

But it didn’t. Your roommate just grinned, standing up and walking over to your closet. You watched with a confused look on your face until she turned to you, already elbow deep in your clothes.

“So…you have a sugar daddy?” your roommate asked, trying to stifle a laugh as she rifled through your closet to help you find an outfit. “No judgment, I’m honestly jealous.”

You picked a pillow up off your bed, launching it at her when she smirked as you flushed. “I don’t have a sugar daddy! I have a…well—ok, I don’t know what we are. But he’s not my sugar daddy.”

“No, he’s just an ex pro tennis player with a famous ex wife who was also a pro tennis player that he had a perfect little girl with, complete with a house in the Hamptons. Now, he’s…what, exactly? A coach? A commentator? Part of Stanford’s glorified alumni? No, I’ve got it! I know what he is — hot. In a beekeeping age, recently divorced, kind of way.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up to help her look through your closet. “He’s only in his thirties. You’re making him sound archaic and washed up.”

“Look at you, gushing over him,” she grinned as she finally landed on something for you to wear, quickly handing it to you. “At least he has good taste. You’re hot, too.”

Your roommate turned around while you quickly changed, sitting down at the foot of your bed. She talked over her shoulder as you got dressed, her voice full of curiosity.

“So, how did this all happen anyway?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Remember alumni week with all the guest lectures and presentations a few months ago?”

“You met Art Donaldson during alumni week? What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have skipped all my classes that week if I thought I was gonna pick up a trophy husband instead of being forced to sit through a mind-numbingly boring presentation from some guy who used to go here that I’ve never heard of.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you grinned, finished getting dressed. “I’m good, you can turn around now.”

She quickly turned around, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

“How did this even happen? I’ve never seen you step foot on a tennis court in your life, and I know they wouldn’t have asked him to speak in a graduate lecture.”

You sat down next to her, nodding. “He did a seminar down at the courts for the kinesiology majors or something like that. They were learning about sports related injuries and how to treat them. He told them about how he hurt his shoulder a few years ago during a match, and he talked about all the physical therapy he had to do.”

“You’re telling me you sat through a kinesiology lecture? On a tennis court? When you don’t even study kinesiology?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “He told me about it that first week while he was here.”

Your roommate giggled, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Oh my god! Okay, okay. Spill. Now. I want to know everything.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but started ranting again anyway.

—

In truth, you didn’t really know what your relationship with Art was. You’d met when returning alumni who’d gone on to excel in their fields came to campus for guest lectures and demonstrations.

In a total mortifying cliche, you ran into Art in a hallway while you were rushing to a lecture that had already started ten minutes earlier. You would have been on time, but your roommate accidentally locked herself out of your dorm, and the RA wasn’t answering their phone. She had an exam she needed to get to, which—in her own words—“trumps your boring book lecture.” You had no choice but to turn around and save her, making the trek back across campus to let her in. That’s how you ended up running face first into Art, your bag and all your things scattering across the floor. By some miracle, at least the halls were empty.

You quickly kneeled, scrambling to pick up all your things. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kneeling to help you.

It was then when you looked up, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. Art Donaldson—famous alumni and world renowned tennis player—was crouched right in front of you, handing you half empty tubes of chapstick, a pair of headphones, and a stray pack of gum. Oh god, you thought to yourself. Why me? Why today? You quickly cleared your throat, standing up.

“God, sorry. Thanks…Mr. Donaldson.”

You cringed as you said it, the title of Mr. feeling off as it rolled off your tongue.

“Mr. Donaldson?” he raised a brow, shaking his head. “No, just call me Art. Uh, you know who I am? Am I actually still recognizable here? I figured no one off of the courts would have any idea who I was.”

You glanced down at his shirt, pointing. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Art paled, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. Good one, he thought to himself. Very humble. He cringed to himself as his cheeks flushed, a small smile on his face.

“Right. I knew that.”

You smiled, pulling your bag back over your shoulder as you let out a little chuckle. “I know who you are. Stanford never lets us forget about their prized students.”

“Ah,” he nodded, grinning. “In my day, it was Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Connelly. Although, Reese dropped out halfway through her degree, so they don’t talk about her much—”

“And Jennifer left Yale to come study here,” you finished. “That’s one they do still brag about.”

Art smiled, leaning back against the wall as he looked at you. You suddenly became very aware of your situation, tearing your eyes away from him to look down the hall where your class was. Art’s eyes followed, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Am I keeping you?”

“No!” you said all too quickly, biting your tongue for a second before you forced yourself to calm down and continue. “Uh, my class already started. It’s not really important, he doesn’t count attendance anyway. And, to be honest, he’s pretty dull. He managed to make Jane Austen boring.”

“Not Bazin’s class, is it?” Art asked, making you raise a brow.

“Yeah, it is. How’d you know that?”

Art smiled, letting out a little laugh. “That’s why I came this way, I wanted to see if Professor Bazin still taught English here. He was a dinosaur even when I graduated. I’m surprised they still let him teach.”

“If they actually read the end of term course evaluations they make us fill out, they wouldn’t,” you mused, making Art grin wider.

“I guess I should let you go then,” Art shrugged, glancing down the hall. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on something you could use in your scathing evaluation.”

You glanced back down the hallway at your classroom, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want to go just yet.

All you did at Stanford was go to and from class and stay on top of your studies. It was monotonous and boring, and you were always up to your neck in papers and projects. Other than your roommate, you hardly had any people left you talked to or hung out with. They all graduated with their undergrad degrees, and you moved on to your graduate studies. Your education was important to you, but it got lonely. You almost never took risks anymore. But as you glanced back at him, that’s what you did.

You took the risk.

“Or…you could save me from my misery?” you stuttered out, an awkward smile on your face.

Art looked at you with an amused expression, tilting his head as he waited for you to continue. You swallowed, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“My classes are almost all entirely in this building. I’m sure you’re sick of talking about tennis, but between here and my dorm, I don’t think I see enough sunlight in a day to keep me going. Maybe you could walk with me somewhere that actually sees the sun? Doesn’t have to be the courts or anything, although I can say with full confidence that I’ve never actually seen that part of campus and I’m in my graduate studies. Uh, maybe you’ve got somewhere in mind? Or you could let me buy you a cup of shitty cafeteria coffee? I promise I’ll refrain from asking you about your career. But, as I’m sure you can tell just by looking at me, I don’t really know enough about tennis to ask anyway.”

As you rambled on, horrified by your own rambling but determined to put yourself out there, Art smiled.

He’d met a lot of girls over the years. Some girls who had a genuine interest in him but didn’t last, and some who saw his fame and fortune as a one way ticket to an easy life.

None of them mattered.

He had married Tashi, head over heels from the first moment he saw her. He had a kid with her, a career with her, a seemingly picture perfect life with her. It didn’t even occur to him to look at other girls until his marriage started to strain under the weight of his career, and he’d almost forgotten what it was like to look at a girl for the first time and feel that sickening but addictive feeling of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. After the divorce, it felt so foreign to him that he didn’t even try. He had resigned himself to being a single father who co-parents and lives the rest of his life comfortably and quietly.

But here you were, rambling on with flushed cheeks and bright eyes trying your hardest to ask him out, and he couldn’t be more captivated.

There was just something about you. You were pretty, obviously. Anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see that. But there was something else, too. You were still young and not entirely pessimistic yet, with your whole career ahead of you. Probably no more than a few heartbreaks under your belt, able to muster up some sort of courage to fight for what you wanted. He used to have that, and he missed it — admired it, even. As you finally cut yourself off and looked up at him with mortification written across your face, Art saved you from further embarrassment with a smile.

“Um…coffee sounds good,” he said with a shy smile. “Not from the cafeteria, though. If it’s as bad as it was when I went here, I’m not gonna let you waste your meal card money on it. There’s a cart outside of the athletics center, I stopped by it this morning. It’s still good.”

Trying your best to mask the shock you were feeling by his answer, you quickly nodded. “Oh, okay. Sounds good.”

You spent the entire afternoon with him. Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch turned into a long walk. Although you both had things to do, neither of you wanted to say goodbye and go on with your day. You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, letting Art show you around campus. He took you to all the places you had never been, and you kept quiet and let him show you anyway when you passed somewhere you had already been a hundred times. He was polite and asked you about your major and career goals, even managing a graceful smile when it was his turn to tell you about his career and how it unfolded after he graduated. He was careful to leave out the end, but he found himself comfortable enough to tell you about the first few years. You asked what you could, but you really didn’t know enough about the sport to ask much of anything.

“I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?” he asked when there was a lapse in silence after you passed a poster with his face on it for a Wimbledon campaign.

“No, not at all!” you replied, tilting your head up towards the poster. “I’m just wondering how you managed it.”

Art cocked a brow, turning towards you. “Managed what?”

“Not becoming a complete asshole,” you shrugged, making him burst out laughing. “I’m serious! You’re not the first celebrity to come here during alumni week. The difference between you and them is that you didn’t show up and immediately start bragging about how successful you had become. As far as I can tell, you’re the same as when you graduated. That seems pretty rare.”

“There’s not much to brag about,” he shrugged, too humble for his own good.

“A career Grand Slam isn’t worth bragging about?” you asked, turning away from him when he gave you a confused look. “Okay, fine, I may or may not have Googled you back in the restaurant while you were in the bathroom. I was running out of things to ask you, and I figured I should know something about tennis. Anyway, I was impressed.”

Art just chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

After walking a few more minutes, the street lamps turned on. It had gotten late enough in the evening that they were starting to light up around the darker parts of the campus. It was your cue to stop walking and look around, both of you realizing how long it had been since you started talking.

“I guess I should be headed back to my dorm,” you said, a hint of disappointment in your voice. “My roommate is probably freaking out by now. She knows I never really go anywhere after class without her—and yes, I heard how pathetic that sounded as it came out. She’s probably gonna call campus security if I don’t show up soon.”

Art nodded, knowing you were right. And yet, his feet didn’t move. Neither of you made any attempt to leave, still standing under the soft light of the street lamps. Art looked at you with soft eyes, absentmindedly reaching to fiddle with his wedding ring with his thumb before he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“Well…I guess this is the part where I ask you for your number.”

“It was nice meeting you, too—” you started, doing a double take once his words registered. “Wait, what?”

Art let out a nervous laugh, shrugging. “You bought me a coffee, it’s only fair that I do the same. I’m here all week. Maybe you’d want to do this again sometime?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, trying your best and failing to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Art smiled and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts. He handed it over to you, watching as you typed in your number before handing his phone back to him. You fought the heat pooling in your cheeks, fiddling with the strap of your bag. Art grinned, breaking the silence.

“Go find your roommate. Tell her to call off the search party.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’m on it. Well…bye, Art.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll text you,” he replied, enjoying watching you shuffle back and forth on your heels.

He made you nervous. And for some reason, he liked that. He’d spent practically the last decade of his life perpetually nervous. It was nice to know someone else felt the same way.

He watched you go as you turned around and headed back to your dorm, a distant but still familiar warmth in his chest. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he could already tell he liked you. By the time you made it back to your dorm and managed to come up with an excuse for your roommate who immediately interrogated you the second you stepped through the door, your phone was ringing. You excused yourself to the bathroom with a bashful grin on your face, answering the call.

—

You spent the better part of a week with Art when you both had time between your classes and his seminars.

It felt surprisingly easy and normal talking to him. Your small talk about your careers and plans turned into more personal topics, and then you were talking about anything and everything. You were fully aware of the age gap between you two, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. If anything, it was part of the draw to him. He was also kind and friendly, with a surprisingly self deprecating sense of humor that made you laugh. Not to mention the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous. You had to actively make sure he didn’t catch you staring at him when his head was turned. He made you want to actually giggle out loud, which is something you never thought you’d do over a guy.

By the end of the week when it was time for him to leave and go back to New York, you both were dreading saying goodbye.

It was late in the evening, about an hour before he had to leave to catch his flight. He’d finally taken you to the courts, once again only lit by the street lamps overhead. It was the first time all week he’d stepped onto the court and actually wanted to be there, not surrounded by onlookers who knew every nook and cranny of his life and career. Instead it was you, the sweet pretty girl who made him genuinely laugh when you asked him why the points system would ever use the term love to describe a lacking score.

He fiddled around for a while, teaching you a few serves and how to hold the racquet to hit the ball. Eventually he was on the other side of the net, watching you giggle and chase after the few balls he’d softly serve your way. He could hear you panting and the sound of your shoes skidding across the court, but your laughter was too sweet to make him stop.

Finally, you stopped to take a break, sitting down on the bench. “Don’t look at me, I might cough up a lung.”

“Very impressive,” he smiled, passing you his water.

“Thank you,” you grinned, motioning between him in the court. “Go on, let’s see what you’ve got. I’m down for the count, but I’m sure the ball machine will be more than happy to fill in for me.”

Art smiled, watching you grin at him with flushed cheeks and glowy skin. If anyone else was asking, he wouldn’t have done it. He wasn’t interested in showing off his skills, or lack thereof to put it more accurately as of late — he’d stopped training as intensely after the divorce, no new tournaments waiting for him to come and win. But the look on your face when you asked was just one he couldn’t say no to. Plus, your knowledge of the sport wasn’t that vast. You probably wouldn’t notice if he slipped up anyway. And if you did, you’d be too kind to make him feel bad about it.

“If you insist,” he groaned, but he was still smiling to himself as he moved to the other side of the court.

You watched him play for a few more minutes. He really was something to see. Every movement he made was smooth and graceful, a far cry from the stumbling around and huffing and puffing you had been doing. Every ball hit its target, every serve lining up exactly where he wanted it to. As silly as it sounded, you actually had to prevent yourself from clapping once he finally slowed down and turned the machine off.

“Look at you go,” you smiled from the bench, handing him back his water as he walked back over.

His cheeks flushed pink, and he was silently praying you couldn’t see it from under the low lights. He was too busy getting all flustered to reply to you, and it made you smile. It was silent for a long moment as you stared at each other, before he finally stood up. You followed him, a sinking feeling in your gut as you realized that it was probably time to say goodbye.

It had been a week you had never even dreamed would’ve happened to you, and yet it did. The one risk you decided to take had led to the most fun you’d had in your entire time at Stanford. You didn’t want to see him go.

As you looked up at him with soft eyes and a melancholy look on your face, like you were looking to him for all the answers, Art felt a sharp tug in his chest. He found himself immediately wanting to fix it, wanting to make you smile again — smile because of him. He’d have done anything in that moment to get you to laugh again.

So, against his better judgment, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was a spur of the moment decision, one he almost immediately regretted. But then he felt you sink into the kiss, your hands coming up to his waist to steady yourself. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you into him, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips.

And that was all it took — he was falling, and falling hard.

—

That was months ago now, and yet, Art still found reasons to visit you.

When there was lapses in tours, or it was Tashi’s week with Lily, he always somehow found himself ending up coming right back to you. He’d pick you up from your dorm, and you’d spend the entire day with him. On weekends, you ended up in whatever hotel he was staying at, telling your roommate you were going back home for a few days. When you weren’t together, you were constantly texting or calling. He even sent a postcard once when the ATP took him to Europe. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face all day when you got it in the mail.

You hadn’t exactly put a label on the relationship, but it was clear to the both of you that you meant more to each other than either of you cared to admit out loud. Quite a bit more, actually.

And Art wasn’t stupid — he knew what your relationship looked like.

Recently divorced, a younger woman by his side. If they knew, the media would paint him as one of two options: an easily manipulated victim of a gold digger, or a washed up athlete who split with his wife that was now taking what he could get, the younger and prettier the better.

But that wasn’t it at all for Art.

It wasn’t just sex, or a new pretty face. You were something different. A breath of fresh air. Someone who didn’t care about his career or money or fame. You had no interest in what he could offer you, or what you could get out of him. You never made him feel pressured to do anything or talk about anything he didn’t want to. He’d spent so many years craving a sense of normalcy and peace. Time and time again, he’d wanted to go to Tashi and beg for a break in his routine. But, always too afraid to disappoint her and everyone else watching him, he stayed quiet. He never got a break. As odd as it was to say, that’s what you were to him when he met you — a break. A minute to breathe, a moment to relax. He always felt that way around you.

Simply put, he was head over heels for you. He didn’t think he’d feel like that for another woman after Tashi until he met you, and it shocked him how easily the feeling came to him.

And it wasn’t just him that had fallen.

You practically hung on every word he said, and soaked up every ounce of praise he gave you. You had never been with someone like him before. Someone so experienced and sure of himself, but just as gentle and patient as he was sure. He made you laugh and smile, and he made you feel safe. For whatever reason he had taken interest in you, you didn’t care, you just didn’t want it to stop. You clung to it, enjoying it while it lasted.

And if either of you had anything to say about it, it would last.

—

By the time you finished explaining your relationship with Art to your roommate, she was already pushing you out the door.

“Go, go, go,” she squealed, tossing you your keys. “Wait!”

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks as she glanced down at the outfit she chose. “Is that a new dress? Did he buy you a dress? Oh my god, please tell me he has a brother.”

“Not sure,” you grinned, smoothing your hand down your front. “Show up to alumni week next time and find out.”

You were already pressing a kiss to her cheek and rushing down the hall before she could get out another word, giggling as you made your way to the stairs.

On the drive over to the hotel, the nerves in your stomach were making you nervously tap your fingers on the steering wheel. You must’ve got caught by every stop light, making the trip even longer. You were practically vibrating once you finally pulled into the parking lot, grabbing your bag and hurrying inside before your nerves got the better of you and made you stand like an idiot in the lobby, trying to muster up the courage to get in the elevator. You coasted on autopilot as you forced your feet to lead you upstairs to his floor, all the way down to his door. You only came back into your body when you raised a hand to knock on the door, pausing to take a deep breath.

Just knock, you thought to yourself. You’re a big girl. Just knock.

You had barely even knocked twice on the door before the door swung open, and you came face to face with Art. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you took a second to take him in. Still as pretty as you remembered, and every bit as alluring. You could feel yourself melting.

The feeling was mutual.

Art let out a sigh of relief, like it was the first good breath he had taken in weeks. A genuine smile crept onto his face as he reached for you, practically making grabby hands like a child.

“Come here, pretty girl.”

You tried and failed to stifle a giggle, immediately burying yourself in his chest. You let out a hmph as you pressed your cheek against him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You could feel his thumb running along the bare skin of your arm, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He nudged the door closed with his foot, tugging your bag from your shoulder and setting it on the floor without even letting you go. He was warm to the touch, and steady against you. He hummed into your hair, squeezing you tighter.

“There she is,” he murmured, letting out a small laugh. “My girl.”

“Hi, baby,” you giggled, the sound making his heart soar in his chest.

He slowly walked you backwards to the bed, supporting most of your weight as you laid down. He was quick to follow, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. His arms hooked lazily around your waist, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

This is what you both had been waiting for. This feeling, this moment. Just this.

“You look very pretty today,” he whispered into your skin, pressing a kiss where his lips rested. “All this for me?”

The humor in his voice made you grin, your fingers running through his hair. “Couldn’t let you be that pretty all by yourself.”

Art smiled, pressing his face further into your neck as he let out a breath. You tightened your grip around him, holding him close. You let your eyes close, resting your cheek against the top of his head.

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you, as easy as it ever was.

—

A/N - Hi! So sorry this took so long to get out, thank you for your patience. I keep rereading this and editing it over and over, I’m not totally happy with it. But something is better than nothing, and I’m tired of staring at, so here you go! Hope this is ok, let me know what you think :)

#challengers x reader #challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #taylor swift #so high school #ttpd #the tortured poets department #the anthology

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imaginaryf1shots · 1 year

Text

Falling | Charles Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x photographer!reader

WC: 2.1K

Warnings: none

AN: Could’ve made it more angst but I was in the mood for fluff. I don’t think it’s my best work but I love it. I’m a bit tired and I wanted to post this so excuse the any mistakes.

REQUESTED

I hope you like it.

Masterlist

Charles Masterlist

Charles walked into the paddock in his team’s kit, he was so out of it today for some reason. His manager was walking with him telling him everything he’ll be doing for the day, he was half listening half lost in his own thoughts. So it made perfect sense why he wouldnt see you, you were crouched down taking pictures of Lando who was posing for you.

Charles all but fell on top of you, you had just enough sense in you to move your expensive camera away from the ground. Letting a soft curse escape your lips at the impact. Charles manages to catch himself just in time not to crush you. You were on your side and Charles was on his hands and knees beside you. Lando? He was on the floor laughing, laughing at your wide and shocked eyes.

Sitting up you looked at the Ferrari driver, who was on his knees dusting his hands, making you both now sitting next to each other. It was then that Charles saw you for the first time. Your hat was on backwards so he had full access to see your face. His eyes moved all over your face taking you in, he never saw you before he’s sure of it, there's noway he’d seen you before and forgotten, your face isn’t the type to be forgotten.

“Are you okay?… You didn't hit your head did you.” It took Charles a moment to realise you were talking to him, he blinked a couple of times, and cleared his throat, Lando watched amused(He’ll be proud later on to be there when you first met). You had a smile on your face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright, are you okay?” Charles checked you for any injuries, he got up and offered you his hand, which you gave him, your soft hand in contrast to his calloused one.

“As long as my baby is okay, I’m okay.” You said waving the camera in indication. “You know you could’ve asked for pictures if you wanted, didn’t have to run me over.”

“I uh, I’m sorry I wasn’t focused.” Charles apologised realising he never apologised.

“It’s alright.” You gave him a smile.

“Charles.” Charles braved and put his hand out for you to shake, you placed your hand back in his telling him your name, before anything else could be exchanged he was pulled away and you went back to the mini photoshoot you were doing to a still amused Lando.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Let’s say this wasn’t the last time you saw Charles, in fact he became one of the drivers who always posed for you and let you take pictures of him, and the fans had more pictures of Charles to rate in their weekly outfit rating when it came to the drivers.

“Come on, why won’t you take pictures of me?” Charles asked following you around the paddock, you were looking through the pictures you already took of him, and there were quite the few that were perfect, in your opinion.

“Charles I literally took over 50 of you just now, I’m not a Ferrari photographer you know.” You told the monegasque driver and stopped in your tracks suddenly he almost crashed into you, again. “Look at this one, you look so good here.”

“I always look good.” He said with a scoff, you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t admit that he’s right, it’s hard to take a bad picture of him. Charles looked at the picture over your shoulder, he was standing so close to you, you felt his body heat.

“I seriously have to go.” You told the driver, after a moment, looking at your watch. stepping away from the Ferrari driver you turned to face him. “Once I’m done with Ethan I can take more pictures of you.”

“You’re going to take some of Ethan, now?” Charles frowned, his upbeat mode gone, but you didn’t really realise too focused on what you had to do.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later Charles.” Charles clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes before he left for Ferrari’s motorhome.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

you were at Ferrari’s motorhome, you were getting food from there that day, Ethan your cousin was in a meeting so you weren’t at Williams’ cafeteria. Taking your food you found the two Ferrari drivers sitting at a table, you smiled to yourself as you watched Charles talk animatedly with Carlos.

“Care if I join you?” You asked the two.

“Yeah, sit down.” Carlos said and Charles groaned with a teasing smile. You glared at the male but sat down next to him.

“It’s great to know that Ferrari has such a welcoming atmosphere.” You said to Carlos ignoring Charles.

“Yeah, this welcome is only for you.” Carlos said and gave Charles a look, the Monegasque kicked his leg under the table. Carlos smirked and shook his head. It didn’t take long before Charles started nicking food from your plate, unlike the duo you weren’t on a strict diet, your plate looked more appetising than his.

“Why are you so annoying, go get your own food.” You said after the fifth fry was stolen from your plate.

“Because annoying you is what I’m best at.” Charles smirked and stole another fry.

“Come on mate, she needs all the food she gets, running around the paddock all day.” Carlos has found himself always amused watching the both of you. Him and Lando have a standing bet on when Charles will confess, the former teammates are waiting for him to get the courage, since you seemed oblivious of Charles’ raging crush on you.

“Honestly Carlos you’re becoming my favourite Ferrari driver.” You said and quickly pulled your plate away from Charles’ attack, your eyes met in a challenge narrowing slightly. Your plate kept moving left and right as Charles’ fork kept coming back.

“How come someone so tiny can be so annoying?” Charles asked giving up on eating from your plate.

“Well I never thought an F1 driver could be stupid but here you are.” Carlos burst out laughing, you bit back a laugh as Charles blinked and stunted.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Charles heard your laughter before he saw you, he couldn’t help but smile. When he rounded the corner his shoulders deflated and the smile on his face fell away. There you are again taking pictures of Ethan and joking around with the rookie. You’re 80% of the time just taking pictures of him, you both looked close and very comfortable with each other. You had your head thrown back in laughter as you both stood so close looking at the pictures on your camera. There’s nothing that the rookie could do that's this funny, in Charles’ opinion anyway.

“Why won’t you ask her out?” Pierre asked coming up behind his friend, he followed his sight and it fell on the female photographer. The female is well known now in the paddock and she took some crazy good photos of him and Kika last week.

“What are you talking about?” Charles acted confused and turned to walk the way he came from, Pierre followed him, determined to make his friend see reason and admit his feelings. Plus the bet money just doubled as more people also placed their bets.

“Come on now, just because she’s blind doesn’t mean the rest of us are.” Pierre said and rolled his eyes. “You’re going the wrong way.”

Charles stopped and looked around, seeing where he was and where he’s going. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know how, okay?”

“You don’t know how…” Pierre was confused.

“I-I’ve never asked a girl out before, they’ve-they’ve always been the ones to approach me first.” Charles mumbled and Pierre couldn’t help but laugh, Charles cursed his friend and went to turn away when Pierre stopped him.

“WAit, wait, just tell her you like her and want to take her out for dinner or something, it’s simple.” Pierre said getting over his laughter when he saw Charles was serious and really didn’t know how to ask you out. “Isn’t she supposed to have a mini photoshoot with you today?” ‘yeah’ “Ask her then.”

“I don’t know.” Charles mumbled.

“Think about it.” Pierre patted his back in encouragement.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Charles thought about it, he did, but every time he got the courage and told himself to just ask you out, he remembered all the times he’s found you with Ethan, the hugs he’s seen you share after races, the hundreds upon hundreds of pictures you have of him, your professional instagram is filled with the Williams driver. It irked him how the rookie could get you, he hated it, he really did. so he decided to sulk in his driver’s room.

Charles was brought out of his thoughts when he heard a knock on the door. He was laying back on his bed. ‘come in.’

he didn’t expect you to come in, he sat up on the bed. You timidly closed the door behind you but didn’t move further in the room, it’s your first time in a driver’s room that wasn’t your cousin’s.

“I was looking for you, a-are we having the shoot?” For some reason you found yourself nervous, Charles and your relationship has always been light and easy going so the heavy air around you both didn’t make any sense at the moment. “Are you not feeling up to it?”

“I thought you’d take photos of Ethan.” Charles said bitterly, you frowned at his words, he clearly didn’t like your cousin by the way he spat his name.

“No, I finished with him today… Do you not like him or something? Did he do something?” You asked and for those who know that you’re related to Ethan can tell that you’re asking for a place of an older sister, but to Charles it didn’t sound like that.

“No.”

“You can tell me, I’ll tell his mum.” You tried to joke but Charles didn’t react to your words at all, sighing you moved closer to him, he was still on his bed looking up at you. “What has my cousin done now?”

A long moment of silence and recognition flickered over Charles face.

“Cousin?”

“Yeah?” yYou were confused at his confusion now. “What did Ethan do?”

“I- I didn't know he was your cousin.” Charles muttered, you raised an eyebrow with a small smile.

“If not a cousin or a brother then, there’s no way I’d spend that much time taking pictures of a single person if I wasn’t under the threat of family.” You joked and sat on the very edge of the bed besides Charles.

“it - it makes sense.” Charles was talking to himself at the moment he connected the dots, it looked like he was debating something with himself while rethinking all his life decisions. He looked from his fingers up to meet your eyes, your breath hitched in your throat and in this moment you understood why you felt nervous. This is the first time you’ve been completely alone with the Ferrari driver. “Do you want to go out to dinner?”

“W-what?” Your eyes went wide, this came out of nowhere.

“Can I take you out on a date?” Charles has no idea where this courage came out from but the more she took to answer he started to doubt himself.

“A date?” It seemed like the only thing you can get yourself to say is to repeat what he was saying.

“I thought I was stupid.” Charles raised an eyebrow, you jokingly hit his shoulder and glared at him, but as he held your gaze.

“I would like to go on a date with you.” Both your cheeks flushed with colour and suddenly you aren’t able to keep eye contact. “I didn’t know you liked me like that.”

“We’ll, you trapped me the first time we met.” Charles joked remembering the first time you met.

“Me? You literally fell down the first time you saw me.” You replied straight away. “Some would say you fell right in love with me.”

“I don’t know about love, but I really like you.” Again you were left speechless, cheeks pink, you hid your face away from him by leaning your forehead on his shoulder. Charles couldn’t stop himself from hugging you and kissing the side of your head, unknowingly making it worse for you. Taking a deep breath you pulled back and pushed your hair back. “Do you want to take pictures now?”

“I don’t know, you did miss your appointment.”

“You should feel honoured to take pictures of me.”

“I feel sick.”

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Lando will definitely be telling everyone how he was there when Charles fell in love with you.

Carlos and Pierre won the bet.