#and the hands around the trophy and the champagne bottle….. just like we talked about 😭😭 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harleysarchive · 3 years

Text

To Fall in Love | Charles Leclerc

Fandom: Formula one Warning: None, quite long around 4500 words, but I didn’t want it to end😂 Pairing: Charles Leclerc x f!reader, slightly Daniel Ricciardio x f!reader Summary: You and Charles are slowly falling in love with each other.

| Next >

A/N: prompts 22 and 23 from Screnwriters list . I had a bliss writing this, really pouring out my fangirl feelings for F1 at the moment. So sorry in advance for the mushiness. PLEASE correct my french sentences if I have written them wrong, it’s been ages since I studied it.

You had just started to work for McLaren’s formula one team, and you were a personal assistant for Lando and Daniel. You really loved your job and the boys were amazing to work with, even after they had had a bad race. They loved you back equally as much. You and Lando had gotten very close during the different races, because he felt like he could vent out his feelings before or after a race to you without feeling judged. He needed that from time to time.

Right now the biggest competition was Ferrari, because McLaren was currently ahead of them on the leaderboard. Which made the team, and you, extremely happy. It felt good to be ahead of such a great team.

You were helping them before the race and went to get a bottle of water for Lando and Daniel. You were so focused that you didn’t look where you were going and you walked right into someone.

“I’m so sorry.” you said and looked up to meet a pair of mesmerizing hazel eyes looking back at you.

“No worries at all.” he said and you instantly recognized him. It was Charles freaking Leclerc, one of the Ferrari drivers. Your eyes widened and you felt your cheeks turn red.

“I did not see you and my mind was somewhere else a-and...” you rambled. He smiled, making his dimples visible for you and you felt your heart tug slightly.

“It’s fine, really.”

He looked at you and you almost felt drawn in by his eyes. You didn’t want to break eye contact. But you quickly realized why you had gotten there in the first place and grabbed the water bottles and left Charles with a confused expression on his face. You hurried back to the garage and gave Lando and Daniel their water bottles.

“You look rather flustered (Y/N), what happened back there?” Daniel asked, which made your cheeks turn even more red.

“N-nothing.” you stuttered and tried to breath slowly through your nose to calm yourself down. It wasn’t even the first time that you had seen Charles, but it was the first time you had talked to him and been so close to him. But what you didn’t understand was, why did you react like a schoolgirl talking to her crush for the first time?

Daniel gave you a look that said he did not believe what you were saying. You didn’t want to look at him to reveal even more of your flustered state and they didn’t have time to pry anyway because the race was soon about to start.

You walked over to the room where they showed the game on a big screen and the camera glanced over the drivers and you felt your cheeks became flustered again when the camera passed number 16, Charles number. Then the race started. All of the McLaren team sat on the egde of their seats, hoping for a good race for Lando and Daniel.

All of you were ecstatic over the fact that Lando landed on P3 and when the cars returned to the garage he ran up to you and hugged you tightly.

“P3!!”

“Can you believe it?” You screamed back with as much enthusiasm as he did when he came back from the race.

“Not really.” he beamed with the biggest smile on his face. You were so proud of him.

“You are amazing, Lando.” you said and hugged him again.

“What, no hugs for the P6 contestant?” Daniel asked when he had gotten out of his car.

“Of course.” you said and hugged him. He tightened the hug lightly just for you to notice and you made a mental note about it. Odd. He had never really asked about hugs before, why now all of a sudden?

“You did great as well today, Daniel.” you said and smiled at him. He already had his signature smile on his face.

“Thank you, I did it because I knew you were watching.” he said winking at you and you just rolled your eyes.

“Now go you two. You stink.”

Daniel just laughed and he and Lando left. Lando had to get ready for the podium and you got ready to join the team back there in just a few minutes.

You stood by yourself outside the McLaren building and watched people go by, either talking to others or looking intensely into their phones.

“Hello again.” you heard a voice say beside you and you turn around to see Charles stand there. Your eyes widened again, but more this time in surprise that he was here by the McLaren building and that he was speaking to you.

“Hi.” you said, thankful that you could answer him without being a stuttering mess and you could feel your cheeks become red.

“You left in such a hurry that I didn’t quite get your name.”

“Oh, it’s (Y/N).”

“Well, nice to meet you (Y/N). I’m Charles.” he said and held out a hand for you to shake.

“I know.” you said and shook his hand. But you wanted a hole in the ground to swallow you whole over that comment. Why did you have to tell him that you knew his name?

He just laughed, making his dimples visible again and your heart did that tugging thing again, what was up with that?

“You did great today, P4 is amazing.” you said, breaking eye contact with him to not get even more flustered than you already were.

“Thank you, but I would’ve liked the P3 spot, but I’m happy for Lando.”

“Yeah, he put up a good fight.”

You looked at Charles again and his eyes had been on you since he saw you standing here alone. He had felt weird after you had just left him in such a hurry before and he couldn’t quite figure out why. So, when he saw you again standing here by yourself, he had to at least know your name. Charles was just about to ask you something when you heard Lando call for you as he was on his way to the podium. You called back that you were on your way.

“Sorry, but I have to go.”

“No worries.”

And once again you left Charles in such a hurry and again he felt confused. But not the same confusion as before, now he was confused by his thoughts and feelings. His mind was asking him so many questions. Why hadn’t he noticed you before? How long have you been working for McLaren? What did you do for them? He wanted to know more about you. He felt like he almost needed to know more about you.

You ran to the crowd of the McLaren team and you spotted Daniel waving at you to get over to him. You walked past some of the mechanics and stood next to Daniel.

“Hey, you.” He said and winked at you.

“Hi.” you said smiling and ignored his wink.

“You look flustered again, are you sure nothing is happening to you?” he asked again.

“I’m fine, but thanks for your concern Daniel.”

The two of you cheered when Lando got up on the podium and you almost felt yourself tearing up when you saw how happy he was up there. He had worked so hard to get it and he honestly deserved it. You looked around in the cheering crowd and in the distance by the side of the podium you saw Charles again. He was looking directly at you. You smiled and waved at him, which caught Daniel’s attention so he followed your gaze and saw what it was you were looking at, or more whom. Charles had waved back at you with a small smile on his face.

“Ah now I understand why you have been so flustered all of a sudden.” Daniel smirked.

“Huh?”

“You have a crush on Charles, don’t ya?”

“No.” You said way too fast for it to sound believable. Daniel just gave you a knowing smile. You just rolled your eyes at him.

“No, I don’t. The first time I accidently walked into him, when I was grabbing water for you and Lando. Which made me feel embarrassed because I walked into him and now we were just talking a bit.”

“And why were you flustered about talking to him?”

You couldn’t come up with an answer without feeling your cheeks burn again. Daniel laughed and pulled you closer to him and all you did was pout over his silliness. He glanced to the side to see if Charles was still looking at you. He was, which made Daniel feel a slight joy in his chest knowing that Charles had witnessed the move he just did.

Charles, on the other hand, had felt something sting inside of him when he saw Daniel bring you closer to him and he didn’t like it. He turned around and walked towards the Ferrari building, feeling quite grumpy and annoyed.

Daniel felt a smirk grow on his face when he saw Charles leave and you were so close to him. Lando got down from the podium drenched in champagne and with a big smile plastered over his face. He hugged the team and they cheered for him. He kissed the trophy he had gotten and then turned to you and you knew exactly what he was gonna do.

“Noooo.” you said and tried to back away from him but you felt Daniel holding your wrists so you couldn’t move.

“Oh it’s coming love, just embrace the stickiness and smell of champagne and sweat.” Daniel said, trying his hardest to keep you still as Lando came closer.

“NooooOOOOO.” you shrieked as Daniel let you go so Lando could hug you. You felt champagne and sweat stick to your clothes and hair.

“Ewwh. Not nice, not nice.”

“Now you know how we feel.” Lando joked with a grin on his face.

“I could’ve lived my whole life without knowing how that felt and now I have to get changed.”

You pushed Lando away and tried to look as angry as you could at the both of them. But that didn’t last very long, because you were too happy for Lando.

“Hey, are you coming with us to dinner tonight?” Lando asked.

“What dinner?”

“It's a dinner for the drivers, the bosses, and some of the employees tonight, but I’m sure we can bring you with us. You are a part of the McLaren team.” Lando answered.

You bit your lip, thinking about this dinner. Maybe Charles will be there? You shook your head at the thought.

“So, that’s a no?” Lando said and you could hear the disappointment in his voice.

“No, no. It is a yes.” you said and the two boys beamed with excitement.

“But you two are telling Zak that you are bringing me along tonight, while I go get something appropriate for tonight. What time is it?”

“It’s around seven but we leave the hotel at 6.30, so be ready before that.” Daniel answered.

“Good, I’ll see you after six.” you said and started to walk towards the parking lot to get a taxi to your hotel room.

“(Y/N)!”

You heard the familiar voice call for you but you didn’t quite believe it at first. Knowing your mind can play tricks on you. But when you felt a presence beside you, you turned around to see Charles stand there.

“Hey again.” he said with a smile on his face and he looked at your shirt. “What happened to you?”

“Lando, he likes to hug when it’s the least appropriate time for a hug. So now I smell of champagne and sweat.”

Charles laughed and you felt a smile growing onto your face. His laugh made your heart tug again.

“Are you heading back to the hotel?” he asked.

“I am, I need a shower and some new clothes.”

“I can drive you if you want.”

“No need, she already has a driver.” you heard Daniel say behind you. He and Lando had just asked Zak for permission to bring you along tonight, which he thought was absolutely fine. You could see Charles' posture stiffen and his look hardened when he saw Daniel stand next to you. You felt a little uncomfortable by the situation.

“Okay, well I guess I see you around.” Charles said and left the two of you alone. You turned to Daniel.

“What was that all about?”

“What was what about?”

“You know what I mean Daniel.”

“Is it wrong of me to want to drive you to the hotel?” Daniel asked and unlocked his car.

“No, but it feels like there is something else going on.” you said and jumped into the passenger seat. He started the car and you could hear the engine roar and the music started to play.

“You just wanted to be driven by your crush.”

“I don’t have a crush on Charles.” you said and you started to wonder, why was Daniel being so overprotective of you all of a sudden?

“Besides, I have to make sure that he doesn’t snatch you over to Ferrari. What would we do without you?” he said, looking at you, but you just rolled your eyes. But what you missed when doing so was the look Daniel gave you. He felt true worry that Charles would snatch you away from him, and Lando.

The two of you talked as normal during the ride to the hotel and Daniel kept on cracking jokes to make you laugh. It was the best thing he knew, your laugh and your smile. It could make his shitty day turn around and he felt happy again. He parked by the hotel entrance and the two of you got out of the car and walked into the hotel and into the elevator.

“See you in the lobby in a while?” you asked when you got to your floor.

“Sounds good.” he said and the two of you seperated. You hurried to your room to get ready. You were so nervous over this dinner that you could die, but you were so excited as well. Imagining yourself showing up there with all the important people, and hopefully Charles would be there as well. You opened the door to your hotel room and rushed into the shower. Then while your hair was drying you looked for an outfit and got yourself ready before the clock struck six. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time and felt butterflies in your stomach when you remembered where you were heading. You put on your shoes and you were five minutes late.

Perfect, you thought and headed towards the lobby. You were also nervous for Lando and Daniel to see you all dressed up. They had only really seen you in your work outfit, casual wear, or some comfy outfits when you were traveling together, but this was a whole different story. The elevator door opened and you pressed for the lobby.

Lando and Daniel were talking to each other when Lando’s eyes widened his eyes. His stare made Daniel wonder what was going on so he turned around and saw you coming from the elevator. You looked absolutely breathtaking and both of them just stood there with their mouths slightly open and eyes locked at you.

“Hey guys” you said and you could feel their gaze on you. “How do I look?”

“Absolutely gorgeous, (Y/N).” Lando said and Daniel just nodded his head. You smiled at them. You talked for a while before it was time to leave.

“Shall we go.”

They smiled and you linked your arms with theirs and headed towards a taxi that waited for you. Zak was already waiting for you in the taxi.

The ride over to the venue was pleasant, all four of you talked and joked together. When you arrived the waiter’s offered all of you a beverage of your choice. You looked around and all the drivers and bosses were there. You saw Max talking to Christian and Daniel soon joined them, Lewis and Toto discussing something not super serious because they were laughing, and Lando asked if it was okay from him to go talk to George.

“Of course.” you said and Lando walked over to the Williams driver.

You let your eyes wander again and glanced over by the bar and you saw… your heart made a jump and butterflies were going nuts in your stomach… you saw Charles and Pierre joking with each other. He hadn’t noticed you yet, but you could see his dimples when he smiled over something Pierre said. You smiled to yourself, feeling the butterflies coming back.

Pierre's eyes wandered around the room and locked eyes with you. You avoided his gaze, because he had caught you staring at them. You could feel yourself become flustered and focused on the drink in your hand.

“Wow, she looks gorgeous.” he said which made Charles follow Pierre’s gaze. He almost choked on air when he saw you here and how beautiful you looked in your outfit. You felt eyes on you so you looked up to meet Charles' gaze. You smiled at him and gave him a little wave. Charles left Pierre by the bar and went straight to you. Pierre gave him a puzzled look but Charles didn’t care.

“Hey.” he said when he reached you.

“Hello again.”

“I didn’t know you would be here tonight.”

“I wasn't, but Lando and Daniel invited me so here I am.”

You and Charles looked into each other's eyes, but broke off the stares when you heard the host announce everyone welcome and to enjoy the evening. Everyone clapped their hands and continued with their conversations as if nothing had happened.

“Do you want a drink?” Charles asked.

“I would love to.” you answered. You would be needing it to calm down your nerves. He placed his hand on your lower back to lead you towards the bar and Pierre, who was still standing there with a more amused look on his face now. You were very aware of where his hand was and his warmth felt so comforting.

“(Y/N), this is Pierre. Pierre this is (Y/N).”

“Pleasure to meet you, (Y/N).” he said and shook your hand.

“The pleasure is all mine. You are an excellent driver.”

“Thank you very much.” Pierre smiled.

“So, what can I offer you to drink?” Charles interrupted, which made Pierre laugh. He hadn’t seen Charles act like this over someone before.

“Champagne if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

“Vous êtes un connaisseur?” Pierre asked.

“Well champagne is one of the few drinks that I enjoy and don’t get a nasty hangover from.” you answered.

“You speak french?” Charles asked as he handed you a glass of champagne. It tasted amazing and the bubbles went straight to your head, making you feel more confident.

“I studied it in school for five yeas but I can barely manage a conversation.”

The two boys laughed at your statement.

You continued to talk to Pierre and Charles for a while, explaining what you did for McLaren and they talked about themselves and racing - of course. Pierre heard someone call for him so he left you and Charles to yourself. He gave Charles a knowing look, which you didn’t notice but made Charles blush a bit.

“You look beautiful tonight.” he said, taking a sip from his drink.

“Thank you, and you look great as well. But you always do.”

WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?! you screamed at your brain, luckily for you Charles just smiled and blushed a bit.

“Thank you.” he said, trying his best not to blush even more. He looked at you, examining your face and features. Your eye color, hair color and smile. It made him feel warm inside and he couldn’t deny the butterflies going wild in his stomach. How your outfit fitted you perfectly and how lovely your personality was. He was used to people making themselves better or fake around him to impress him. But it hardly worked because their true colors always showed in the end, but you were genuine. He liked that a lot about you. Your eyes met and you could feel how you were moving closer to him, until you heard a voice calling for you.

“(Y/N)! Come over here.” Daniel called, which made you take a deep breath. Why did he have to interrupt right freaking now? Classic Daniel.

“I’ll be there in a minute.” you answered back and turned your attention back to Charles. He had a disappointed look on his face and his smile was gone.

“I’ll see you around, Charles.” you said, not sounding too happy to leave him.

“Of course.” he said, as you were about to leave he grabbed your hand. Which he realized he did and he didn’t intend to do that. His surprised expression over his action made his cheek turn bright.

“A-are you coming for next week's race?” he stuttered, not letting go of your hand. You rubbed your thumb over his hand, making him melt on the inside.

“Of course. I’ll be in the McLaren building.” you answered and let go of his hand. He felt a mix of happiness and jealousy over your answer. Happy that you would be there, but jealous over the fact that you worked for McLaren and not for Ferrari. He imagined how it would be if you worked for Ferrari so he didn’t notice Sebastian coming up to him.

“So, who is the lucky lady that has the Charles Leclerc weak in the knees?” he joked.

“(Y/N), she works for McLaren.” Charles confessed, there was no denying it anymore and not to Sebastian. Pierre joined them too.

“I knew that you had a thing for her after the look you gave her before. God, I thought you would drool all over the place.” Pierre said and Charles just pushed him on the arm and rolled his eyes. He watched you as you conversed with Daniel. He had introduced you to Max and the Redbull team and Daniel had one hand on your lower back.This caused Charles to feel that sting of jealousy again and his facial expression couldn’t hide it either. Pierre looked over to see why he looked like he had sucked on a lemon.

“Ah.” was all he could say, because he knew exactly what he was feeling. “Jealousy is a cruel emotion, mon ami.”

Charles just huffed and turned away to talk to Pierre and Sebastian. You were talking to Max about the race today.

“Congratulations on your victory today, you were fantastic.” you said to Max.

“Thank you so much. It felt amazing to win here in Italy.” Max said and took a sip from his drink. “When did you start working for Daniel and why didn’t you work for us on Redbull?”

“I started this winter actually, so I’m quite new to the formula one world, but it has been a great time so far and I really enjoy it.” you beamed making Daniel smile even more. You could feel him pull you closer and again you thought it was odd. Then the host announced that dinner was ready and the crowd started moving to the tables further away.

“Where do we sit?” you asked.

“I think you can sit wherever.” Daniel said and pulled out a chair for you. You thanked him and watched Lando come over to sit by your side.

“Not sitting with George?”

“Noo, I’m here with you remember, and I want to eat together with you.” he said and smiled at you as he sat down next to you. Max joined your table with Sergio Pérez. Conversation flowed throughout the evening and you and Max got along well. He cracked jokes and talked about embarrassing things Daniel had done when he was a Redbull racer, which made both you and Lando cry with laughter. You almost felt embarrassed over how hard you were laughing at Max’s jokes. Your eyes looked around to ensure that no one was looking at your table with annoyance, but no one seemed to care, except for one table.

Charles sat two tables behind you and he could hear your laughter, which again made him feel jealous that it wasn’t him that made you laugh like that. When dinner was over Daniel and Max continued with their conversations at the table with Sergio. Lando excused himself to talk to George again and you wanted a drink.

“Excuse me for a second, gentlemen.” you said and made your way over to the bar, hoping that a certain someone would join you.

“Can I have a glass of champagne please?” you asked the bartender and he poured you a glass and you thanked him. Once again Pierre noticed you standing alone and poked Charles with his foot under the table. Charles gave Pierre an annoyed look. Pierre made a gesture with his head for him to look over at the bar. Charles turned and saw you alone again, but he hesitated to go over to you. You locked eyes with Charles and you took a deep breath before heading his way.

“Is this seat taken?” you asked when you reached the table.

“Not at all.” Pierre said. You sat down next to Charles and opposite of Pierre. You started talking to the boys. Charles carefully put his arm around your chair and you felt your lips tug upwards over his gesture. Your chest filled with a warm feeling. As if the gods had heard your wishes, Esteban called for Pierre to talk. He excused himself to leave you and Charles alone. You turned so you were facing Charles fully.

“Are you enjoying the dinner?” you asked.

“More now honestly.” he said and you felt his thumb grace over your shoulder. The warm feeling in your chest grew even more. “But it’s been enjoyable to hang out with Pierre and the other drivers.”

“It’s so surreal to be here honestly. To see you all in the same place and not competing against each other.”

“Well we try at least to be civil.” Charles joked and you smiled. His other hand was on the table and you laid your hand over his. He froze for a second over your action but then carefully took your hand in his and caressed it with his thumb. You went even further as to intertwine your fingers together. Charles pulled you closer with the arm resting on your shoulders and you followed. The gap between the two of you closed slowly, but as if on queue to destroy your moment, Lando called for you that it was time to leave. You felt your heart break slightly over the fact that the evening was coming to an end. You turned around to tell him that you were on your way.

“Unfortunately I have to leave.” you said sadly, meeting his eyes. Your eyes were flickering between Charles eyes and his lips, that were so close to yours.

“But I will see you next week in Portugal, yeah?” You tried to hide the sadness in your voice as best as you could. Charles didn’t want the evening to end either but his team was also on it’s way to leave.

“Of course you will.” he said and kissed the back of your hand. You just stared in shock over his actions and your mind couldn’t comprehend what just happened or anything that just had happened. You rose from the chair with a last goodbye and walked back to Lando. You could still Charles warm lips on the back of your hand, giving you almost a burning sensation that you didn’t want to fade.

“So you don’t have a crush on Charles, eh?” he said and nudged your side.

“No.” you said and stole one last look at him before you left. He was still watching you and it made you blush. You smiled back at him and then turned to Lando.

“Yeah, whatever you say.” Lando said again grinning like a child and the two of you left the venue. Knowing Lando you would not hear the end of this. Pierre came back to talk to Charles one last time.

“Are you in love, my friend?”

Charles let out a deep sigh and looked down at the ground with rosy cheeks, smiling like a fool. He would repeat this evening in his mind the whole week until the next time he would see you again. He knew it.

“Oui.”

But next time his mission was to get a proper kiss from you.

A/N: Thank you for reading if you made it all the way through! 🥰

#f1 imagine #formula one imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc oneshots #f1 fandom #imagine #imagines #harleysarchive #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one #f1

554 notes · View notes

thebadboyfanclub · 3 years

Text

She Will Learn (Rio x Reader)

Look I will let y’all in on a little secret, the way this account is going to work is by me seeing your requests, making a mental note to finish them and then getting an idea for another imagine that wasn’t requested but can’t move on until I write it so.... Enjoy!

P.S I chose Greece cause I am from there and I never see us anywhere

(Y/n) had met Rio when she was about to graduate college, a business major that was striving for being the first millionaire in her family. She came from a lower middle class first generation immigrant from Greece, her parents were troopers for successfully raising her and her siblings, they never had things to spare yet they had enough to be respectful.

He saw her at a restaurant, completely overdressed and accessorized like she was dining in France, however she somehow made it look like she didn’t think about what she was going to wear, like this was her natural way of dressing, her nails were done and he noticed how... soft her hands looked.

What intrigued him was that she was extremely kind to everyone, she smiled brightly at the waiters and she would often reach over to her friends for a touch of encouragement of just a simple caress, she exuded confidence that made you feel like you would never dare to touch her, still she carried herself with elegance and in a graceful manner.

“Excuse me, can you tell me who are the girls at the table over there?”

“Oh they haven’t been here before but I can tell you they are here to celebrate for the girl in the red dress, it’s her birthday”

“Oh is it? Send them a bottle of champagne please”

“Right away Sir”

He was never the flashy type of guy, he never cared for stuff that showed his status or economic achievements, people that had money knew to never flaunt it carelessly. When it came to her, he felt the need to show off, to woo her and catch her eye, she had this sense of luxury, she looked like she took care of herself way too much to let men not treat her anything less than that.

He watched her face switch into surprise when the waiter came with the bottle of champagne, a few seconds after that her gaze went to him, as the waiter pointed towards him and then proceeded to open the bottle of bubbly.

She had noticed him when she entered for a few moments, although she decided that since it was her big night she wouldn’t waste time gawking at good looking men, she had saved money for months to be able to afford the finest for her big day, every year she wanted her birthday to be like the life she wanted. She send him a smile as her hand went to her heart to show gratitude for the gift.

Except that didn’t feel like enough, she felt like she could push it a bit more, try her luck just a bit, she looked too good to worry about a man turning her down, he would have to be mad or blind to do so.

She walked to him with the glass of champagne in her hand, giving him the chance to take her in. Her legs were exposed as the dress went to the middle of her thigs, they shined and looked so smooth making him wonder how good would it feel to touch them. She had a figure of a dream, as her hips swayed with every step, her posture was proud and she walked like a supermodel, if he didn’t know the owner he would have thought she was the one that had not just the restaurant, the entire block.

“I don’t think we’ve met, I’m (y/n), I wanted to thank you for the champagne, you really didn’t have to”

“I wanted to darling, I’m Christopher but people call me Rio, how wonderful to meet you”

He said, taking her delicate hand in his and pressing a light kiss on soft skin. He could smell the lotion of vanilla she had chosen to moisturize her skin, settle yet unforgettable. His raspy voice made her flustered, trying to mask it with a smirk and confidence, he was intriguing to her, the cool, calm and collected exterior that suited him so much.

“I wish I could stay and talk but I don’t like leaving my friends by themselves”

“I understand darling, we’ll be in touch”

It had been years since then, he had managed to not only stay in touch with you but make her the queen of his life. She was an asset that he so desperately needed, he trusted her with his life and knew she had the best intentions for him, her loyalty was iron made, her degree came in handy when he needed to handle business in a discreet manner, she was the master mind behind a lot of his negotiations, her brilliance on playing the trophy wife that didn’t know anything in front of others was the secret behind his success.

She is his secret weapon, so secret that no one knew she even existed, the few that did didn’t even know her name and the people that knew were the most trusted ones that worked with Rio for years, she liked to be under wraps, walking in and out of the building with the men Rio had hire to protect her and the rookies wondered who was she, he only called her with pet names when others were around but they could only address her as “Miss”, she was the miss of the mister and his most trusted soldier.

Despite that, (y/n) was no fool. She had broken up with Rio and called of the engagement several times, making Rio go wild every time. She wasn’t unreasonable, Rio was out of line a lot of the times, especially when Beth came in the picture, his men feared her just as much as him, maybe even more, so when she found out they had done such major damage multiple times but still took them back in, she would pack her stuff and leave without warning, leaving her ring and a note that wrote “goodbye” behind. That’s when he would hook up with Beth, make up for the loss of his queen, yet when he had manage to convince her to come back and buy her a new ring every time, he felt like he was on top of the world.

“Be honest with me Mick, who did this to him?”

“Everything points in one target, Beth”

“Of course. Thank you Mick, I got him”

She stood by him throughout his healing process, waited patiently until he was back on her feet, took care of his bullet wounds and had many sleepless nights to make sure he was alright. She was his wife to be after all, even kept in contact with Rhea and Marcus, made sure they were alright and taken care of in any way, shape or form.

“Are you ready mama?”

“Almost, can you help me with the necklace”

They were there when Rhea got the call from Beth, acting like there friends even though she caused Rios life and invited her for drinks. Rio knew (y/n) was boiling, wanted to take revenge for what Beth had caused and this time he understood, so they got dressed up to meet her instead of Rhea.

As Rio approached and took the necklace in his hands he saw it was the necklace he bought her for their one year anniversary, her birth stone surrounded with diamonds. When (y/n) let her hair down he got a whiff of her scent, still making him feel weak in the knees, he got closer to her and wrapped his one arm around her, his lips found the nape of her neck and left light kisses. She closed her eyes for a second to enjoy the feeling of warmth and lust he brought her.

“You look beautiful princess”

“It’s my first time meeting her isn’t it?”

“What have you planned gorgeous?”

“That’s for me to know and for her to find out, let’s go daddy”

She knew exactly who she was. Seeing the back of her head made her want to pull out her gun and blast her right then and there, that wouldn’t be classy now wouldn’t it? She approached the clueless woman and sat on her left side, leaving the right seat empty for Rio to join later.

“Can I get dirty martini please? Thank you dear”

She instructed the bartender before taking off the faux black fur coat to reveal a Split Floor-Length Sleeveless Spaghetti Strap Pullover black dress. The first thing Beth noticed about the young woman that sat next to her was the big diamond ring that she wore on her ring finger, mentally thinking of what that girl had done to earn it

‘she probably hasn’t worked a day in her life’ she thought, making herself feel a little bit better, she had to admit that she looked really pretty, the jewelry she had on complimented her skin tone and the dress looked like it was custom made. (Y/n) waited for her drink to arrive before she looked at Beth and got ready to reveal her identity.

“You must be Beth, I don’t believe we’ve officially met. I’m (y/n)”

Beth looked at her puzzled. How did the young woman that looked like she was some old mans pretty young thing to show off knew her. (Y/n) was smiling as she took a sip of her cocktail, knowing damn well that Beth had already made up her mind about what type of woman (y/n) was and completely missing the purpose of this meeting.

“How do you know my name”

“Oh I know everything about you, where you live, the names of your children, your sister Annie and your friend Ruby. Rio has told me all about you”

“Rio? How-”

“I know he doesn’t talk about it, I like to be invisible to the public eye... his secret weapon as some would say. I also know you are waiting for Rhea”

“She ain’t comin”

Beth heard Rio’s voice and her eyes went wide with fear. (Y/n) let out a soft giggle and took one more sip of her drink as Beth turned to look at him like she had seen a ghost, judging by how pale she had gotten she was more of that vibe than he was.

“Excuse me, can we get a glass of neat whiskey for the gentleman? Thank you so much”

(Y/n) ordered once more before hoping off her chair and joining Rio. He snaked his arm around her and brought her as close to him as he could before placing a kiss on her cheek.

“How you feeling mama?”

“Oh I was just having a chat with Beth”

“A-are y-you”

“His fiancé? Yes, we are planning on getting married on my homeland during the summer, aren’t we daddy?”

(Y/n) started rubbing Rios back as she smiled at him, she was super excited for her wedding, he had given her complete control to do whatever she wanted, it was her big day and he knew better than to object to anything.

“Oh we have to show her something”

Rio reached for his pocket and (Y/n) looked over at Beth who was in the verge of a mental breakdown. Rio pulled out his three bullets that the doctor had pulled out from his body, (y/n) wanted to throw them away but he insisted in keeping them, reminding him how he cheated death.

“Lung, spline, shoulder”

He put each one down in front of her. Beth had terrible aim and for once (y/n) was thankful that one of their rookies missed the shots. Beth stayed silent, taking in all the information, not only was he alive he also had a woman he was planning to marry, calling him “daddy” right in her face, she looked like she was straight out of a magazine and even thought she was kind to her that terrified her more, her entire life was crumbling in front of her.

“Now I think you understand that you are in a bit of a jam, Christopher has agreed that I should decide your punishment since he wanted to kill you-”

“Don’t, do that. I’m sorry babydoll, she will learn”

Beth had tried to leave in the middle of (y/n)’s sentence, making Rio grab Beth by the arm and restrain her from doing so. (Y/n) stayed stoic and just watched the scene unravel, she knew Rio would never allow anyone to disrespect her. As Beth sat back down Rio smiled (y/n) before taking her hand once more and placing a kiss on her knuckles. (Y/n) reached for his face and caressed his cheek with her free hand making Beth sick to her stomach, he had never looked at her like that, with such admiration and love.

“It’s alright, I will let it pass this one time”

“Go on mama”

“I feel like it would be too easy to kill you, such an easy way out. So now you will work for me”

“What?”

Beth felt her stomach twist at the statement. Working with (y/n), having to do daily tasks for her, a woman she had no idea even existed an hour ago, now she had work under her and take orders from her directly, for a second she thought that death would be better. (Y/n) left Rio’s side for a second and took Beth by the shoulders, standing right behind her, Beth’s eyes fell on her shinny ring, that only felt like someone was rubbing salt over her wound, he had probably spend a fortune for it. (Y/n) leaned closer to Beth getting next to her ear and causing goosebumps on Beth’s body.

“Think of it as an assistant or maybe help Rio with anything he needs but mostly you will be on call for anything I need. Since you wanted to outsmart Rio and spit where you eat, I need some help to plan the wedding and also take care of our business. What do you think darling?”

“I think it’s an excellent idea”

Rio was pleasantly surprised. (Y/n) was one of the most intelligent people he knew, bring Beth so close to her and making her work for their wedding even though she knew she had slept with him was a very cruel and mentally humiliating way to punish her.

She truly was one of the greatest choices he had ever done, no one could compete with her, she held such power that made Rio feel like he could not only trust her but also submit to her, let her take the wheel and not having to worry about anything going wrong. As he watched her look over at Beth there was no comparison, (y/n) had such way of carrying herself, that je ne sais quoi as some would say, she was the embodiment of female divine energy.

Rio knew that her leaving him all these times was a game of push and pull, making him work for her and a mental slap in the face, yet every time he ran to her like an obedient dog and begged for her to come back and take her spot as his queen in the palace, promised her and gave her everything she wished for, every ring was bigger and better than the one before. It wasn’t like he did it because she wanted it, he was the one that wanted to spoil her, give her everything under the sun, she deserved everything and he was for sure not going to hold back for his sweet little princess.

“And then when all of that is done... Rio can take care of you, I feel like it would bring bad luck to our household if we killed someone before the wedding”

757 notes · View notes

justasparkwritings · 3 years

Text

Green Light

Pairing: Harry Styles X Ex Reader, Harry Styles X New Girlfriend

Genre: Angst

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol use, Mentions of Drug use, Past Infidelity

Listen: Green Light by Lorde

For the #playlistficchallenge by @harrystylescherry

The lights flicker against her skin, dancing pinks and purples and blues giving way to green as the bass thumps through the speakers. The light up floor is causing an illusion against her body as she hastily searches for her peers. Eyes darting across the club, trying to find the couple of the hour, but getting lost in the sea of drunk people dancing to a b-rate Whitney Houston cover, she’s becoming frustrated. Why play Whitney if you’re not going to play the original? She wonders, moving through the perimeter towards what she assumes is the VIP area. Being correct, she waits patiently for one of the guests to notice her, waving her into the exclusive space.

He notices her first, beaten converse and magenta tulle, she dressed to kill. Standing, he moves towards the bodyguard, pointing to her as the guard gave her a once-over. Nodding, pulling the rope back, she smiles at the stranger before deftly moving into the space.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Harry says, hand on the small of her back, flush against the exposed skin, lips low to her ear, guiding her towards their friends.

“You’re such a liar,” She replies, rolling her eyes. The neon eyeliner, drifting over her eyelids and near her brows is striking against the dim lights. The single rhinestones applied carefully to the inner corners of her eyes bounce the light off, shrouding her in a conflicting color story.

“You made it!” Daisy yells, arms reaching to pull her into a hug. It’s tight and sweaty, a sign she’s either been dancing or snorting.

“I told you I’d be here,” Her smile widens at her friend, “Congrats again on your engagement.”

“Thank you!!! Now please, drink. We have bottle service until midnight,” Daisy hands her a champagne flute, which she happily tosses back before reaching for the vodka. “If you’re good, you can have a little of what I’m having.”

“I better behave,” She responds, eyes clocking Harry talking to Daisy’s fiancé, Jack.

“I thought he wasn’t coming,” Daisy’s gaze follows hers, eying the man. His wide trousers and cropped jacket give way to the tattoos covering his chest, swallows in constant conversation. Hair recently cut, he’s scruffy and wanting, his eyes not hesitating to check her out for the second time in two minutes.

“Lies,” She scoffs, eyes rolling again at the sentiment.

“I swear! Jack said he was out of town,” Daisy counters.

“Clearly he’s not,” She looks at their other friends, nodding and smiling to the familiar faces. Their friends from uni, from work, a few from their neighborhood in Holmes Chapel have all gathered to raise a glass at Daisy and Jack’s inevitable engagement. It feels like the kind of New Year’s party Harry would’ve dragged her to, on the pretense that it would be fun to catch up. Knowing he would be right, she would’ve gone and enjoyed the company of the people who knew her before she was on his arm, the people who knew him when he worked all hours at the bakery. Tonight, their friendly smiles weren’t hitting the same, welcoming her into their embrace, no, they were darting between her and Harry, unsure where their allegiance should lie.

“Rumor has it, he’s got a new girlfriend,” Daisy says.

“Super,” She purses her lips, eyes moving to search for whoever his latest trophy was.

“Don’t be like that,” Daisy shakes her head, disappointment oozing from every syllable.

“Like what?” She snaps.

“You’re so mad he’s with someone else, when -

“I thought we were done talking about what happened between us?” She interrupts, frustration and anger coursing through her veins.

“If you were over it, you’d stop looking at him like that,” Daisy holds her own, tone unwavering.

“Fuck off.”

Handing her a drink, Daisy levels with her, “Drink.”

Tossing back whatever was in the glass, she waits impatiently for the liquor to take over, coursing through her veins and reducing her heat to a dull simmer.

In the months after the breakup, she hadn’t seen or interacted with Harry. No cursory texts, no awkward pleasantries exchanged at a birthday party, or running into him at the grocery. She didn’t speak to him, and yet he was everywhere. His voice, his favorite sayings, his touch, his music, all of it spread across the city, taunting her. She had let him go, literally, but figuratively, metaphorically, he was everywhere. Seeping into her thoughts, burrowing into her mind, never able to escape him even in sleep. Tonight, he looked at her like he didn’t know her at all, like she was the villain in his story, not the other way around. Like he didn’t let his work get the best of them, ruining what they had in its wake.

Somewhere between drinks four and five, Harry’s latest lover arrives. Scarily tall and equally skinny, silky brown locks and pouty lips, it’s clear she’s a model. Whether she was with anyone or not, the bouncer lets her into the VIP section without a second thought. She floats towards Harry, sinking gently onto his lap before whispering in his ear. He smiles at her as she places a hand on his scruff covered cheek and lowers her lips to his.

From the dance floor, she stares, unable to stop watching him move on from her. How could it be so easy?

Pulling her attention back to the floor, Daisy spins her, moving them out of sight from Harry. The lights beneath their feet give way to a soft glow about her, the colors bending against Daisy’s white jumpsuit. She’s grateful for her friend, her best friend, grateful for the distraction of alcohol and blow, grateful to be dancing and screaming the lyrics instead of sitting in the tub at home, crying into her room temperature bath water. But grateful and grieving often go together, and as her level of intoxication ebbs, the hurt of seeing Harry with someone knew, she retreats to the VIP section to gather herself.

“You must be Y/N,” The model says, moving from her post next to Harry to her.

“Um, yes?” She responds, eyes traveling up the woman’s legs, slowly making their way to her face.

“I’m Arden, Harry’s girlfriend,” Arden smiles, blinding, and sits down. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Can’t believe everything you hear,” She scoffs, grateful for the bottle of water Jack hands her before going to find Daisy amongst the neon.

“Harry speaks quite highly of you, so does Jack,” Arden continues to smile, blissfully ignoring the contempt she’s displaying.

“You’ve met Jack before?” She asks.

“Just Jack, never Daisy, she’s stunning, right?” Arden asks, laughing.

“Yeah, completely,” She nods, eyes traveling to find Daisy, her beacon in the club. She’s been best friends with Daisy since diapers, their mother’s best friends, hoping and praying they’d each have daughters to carry on the legacy of their familial bond.

“Harry tells me you’re in publishing,” Arden tries again to make conversation.

“Correct,” She nods again.

“That’s amazing, I love reading,” Arden offers.

“Same.”

“I have a lot of downtime at work, I’m a model. I just did the new Rodarte campaign, and Gucci,” Arden is trying her damnest to make this work, but her motives remain a mystery.

“Congrats,” She snorts, unimpressed by the model’s recent credentials.

“Thanks, I just want to say, I know you and Harry are at this weird point in your friendship, but I do hope you’ll work it out.” Arden is serious, glossy blue eyes resolute.

“Did Harry tell you why we broke up?” She asks, eyeing Arden suspiciously.

“A little, but I didn’t ask. It was before me so really, who cares?” Arden forces a giggle, baby blues trying to break through the tension.

“Right,” She nods, a slight eyeroll giving way to her true feelings.

“I just thought maybe you two could, mend your –

“Hey,” Harry says, making his way towards the two of you.

“Hi babe,” Arden seamlessly slips her arm around his waist, pulling him close to her.

“What uh, what are you two talking about?” Harry asks, eyes accusatory as he again takes in your stunning appearance.

“I was just saying that we’re going to Tahiti after I finish my campaign with Gucci. Relax, sit on the beach, drink Mai Tai’s, surf, or really, for me, learn,” Arden rambles on, her hair bouncing in animation, matching her words. Her deft swerve to the topic of vacation surprising, unsure why she needed to lie to Harry.

“The beach?” she asks, looking at Harry. He nods, cursory.

“Yeah,” He sips on his drink.

“Huh,” She responds, eyes narrow. “Will you excuse me? It was nice meeting you Arden.”

Slipping out of the VIP section and into the night air, she feels his presence behind her, chasing after her as she moves through the crowd and into the brisk summer air.

Not bothering to turn around, she asks, “Why are you following me?”

“Why did you just disappear?” Harry demands, coming to stand next to her. His warmth radiating onto her skin.

“You’re here with someone else,” She reminds him.

“You haven’t responded to any of my –

“Harry, you are here with someone else, the very someone else who if I’m not mistaken, is the reason for our demise,” She turns to stare at him, eyes boring into his.

“I, she’s not,” Harry shakes his head.

“Oh right, because I am the sole proprietor of our heartache and failed relationship,” Another eyeroll. Her mother used to tell her that if you roll your eyes too many times, they’ll get stuck up there. A fear she was clearly ignoring.

“You’re not,” Harry scoffs, they’d had this fight before.

“Why are you looking at me like I am?” She’s unwilling to back down, a trait Harry once loved about her.

“I’m, I’m sorry alright?” Harry’s flustered speech gives way to a run of his hand through his curls. Resting his hands on his hips, he stares at her.

“Sorry for what?” She asks again, words clipped.

“Everything,” He shrugs.

“That’s the least specific apology I have ever heard,” She deadpans. He wants to respond with some witty banter, some lighthearted sarcasm, some joke a year ago, five years ago, she would’ve laughed at. But they’re not the same people they were six months ago.

“What do you want me to say?” Harry’s exasperated.

“I want you to tell me how you really feel, because we broke up six months ago, and I still don’t understand why you ran to her, whoever she was, instead of fighting for me. Then tell me why our friends think I’m the viper, I’m the one who broke your heart. Why are you spreading rumors hoping they’ll bite me, when they just show how pathetic you’re behaving?” Her volume increases exponentially as she speaks, until she’s nearly yelling at him.

“That’s not fair,” Harry states, eyes closing as he shakes his head.

“I’m trying to let go, Harry. But you fucking have your tentacles in everything I do! You’re everywhere.”

“It’s so easy for me? You are everywhere. Every new song I write, every role I consider taking, every project. I still fucking talk to you like you’ll hear me, everywhere I go is tainted by some memory of us.” Harry spits back.

“Tell me why, Harry. Why are you going to Tahiti?” She questions, voice cutting through the cold air and going straight to Harry’s heart.

“I like the beach,” He shrugs.

“You are such a fucking liar! No, you don’t!” She yells, arms reaching towards the summer sky as she shakes her head at him.

“Maybe I’m trying out new things,” Harry stares at her, “Maybe I’m trying to be –

“What, different? Better? You cheat on me, after saying that you will always be in love with me, which surprise, you’re not!”

“Not a cheater?” Harry’s momentarily confused, a slight diversion from the rant she’s begun.

“Not in love anymore,” Her eyes are wide, confused by his lapse in memory, “You’re not in love with me anymore. You cheated on me, lied to our friends and now you’re here with little miss long legs.”

“Don’t call her that,” Harry says.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Arden,”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Harry runs a hand through his locks again, sighing in frustration.

“No, you’re not. If you were, she wouldn’t be here with you. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be fighting with me outside the club. If you were sorry, you’d –

“I need your forgiveness! Alright, that’s why I’m out here.” Harry’s voice raises several decibels. He’s been holding onto this for months, long before she found out, long before he willingly broke her heart.

She lets out a shaky breath, “What?”

“I need you to forgive me, to accept my apology, to, give me the green light that it’s okay to be, not yours anymore,” Harry explains.

“You cheated on me!” She yells, finger pointing directly above Harry’s heart. “I have honored you by not telling our friends for what? You don’t get to have or ask for my forgiveness, I’ve already given you too much. Forgiveness went out the window when you fucked someone else Harry! How dare you ask me to forgive you, absolve you, for a sin you willingly committed. You were in complete control of yourself and you still cheated on me. You want a green light? That was fucking it.”

She pushes past him, stomping back into the club and onto the dance floor, into the arms of someone else, someone who isn’t scared to kiss her above the dazzling lights, someone whose bedroom she’ll wake up in, unsure where she is, not caring to leave a note before slipping out into the city. And hopefully, after a few more escapades, the embrace of the rising sun on her walk home won’t echo his voice anymore. The birds chirping won’t sing his songs, and the sting of telling Daisy the truth won’t ring out over overcooked eggs and overpriced mimosas.

Harry had wanted her to give him the green light, but in refusing to do so, she watched the light change for herself.

Next: Talia

#playlistficchallenge #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic #green light #lorde #lyric challenge #happy birthday harry #exes #new girlfriend #engagement party #harrystylescherry

104 notes · View notes

hecohansen31 · 4 years

Text

It Was Fun Till It Lasted

Duncan Shepherd x F1 Pilot Female! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I have been a bit silent the latest weeks, but I just got hit by the inspiration train as of lately (even more after all the F1 glory we have been getting) and I just thought about a small drabble, about Duncan in the race car universe.

Not as a driver, but more like a sponsor.

This is very PWP, even for my sentimental ass, so I do hope that you’ll like it, even though it isn’t the most perfect thing ever (just to warn you).

Also I just wanted to give @guiltyfiend a big shoutout because she has been a constant source of inspiration for me with various fics (‘Quid Pro Quo’ has been the main reason why for the existence of this drabble) so do check out her lovely fics!

I am also personally, maybe (since I don’t feel apprecciated in the other fandoms I am in) of making a few comebacks in this fandom, if any of you would like iit obviously!

So, please, if you want more, don’t forget to leave some kind of feedback I truly apprecciate it from the bottom of my heart and it’ll truly make my heart beat stronger and my fingers write faster!

Don’t ever ever forget to support your beloved writers with feedback, if you liked what they wrote!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Galas can be annoying things, but when an handsome fellow accidentally drenches you in champagne there are many ways your night might change.

WORDS: 5,4 K

WARNINGS: Mention of Sexism, Misogyny, Harassment On The Workplace, Inaccurate Portrayal of The F1 World, Inaccurate Way Of Cleaning Champagne From Clothes, Sex, Slight Dirty Talk, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Sex Between Strangers.

You sipped slowly from the flute of champagne you had managed to steal, meanwhile your boss wasn’t looking, since you had been instructed to avoid getting yourself drunk till you got the trophy in your hand, to avoid replacing the ‘drunk Kimi meme’ in the F1 world.

But it was difficult for you, an introvert, to feel at ease in a room full of different people.

A few of them were gladly ignoring you, but more were looking at you like you were some kind of freak in a costume, which was probably the best description for being one pilot of the only all-female team existing in F1.

You had grown up with the myths of Ayrton Senna and Niki Lauda, thanks to your grandfather and his the passion for fast cars and elegant ones, raising you as some kind of substitute to him, who had never been able to race, having had various problematics with his own health.

An heartattack at seventy had taken him away, just as you signed your first contract with the F2.

You had been partnered with a male pilot, and although the car wasn’t the fastest, you had managed to become much better than your partner, eventually getting yourself fired because females, in a place like F1, couldn’t raise to fame, throwing you in a depression that had brought you almost on the verge…

… but then your newest F1 stable had brought you back, giving you a car that wasn’t definitely one of the best you could have gotten but it had gotten you through a nice first season, and you had actually arrived at the sixth position in the constructors’ championship, alongside your partner…

… who, right now, didn’t look less bothered than you, at this fancy party.

But Abigail could definitely hold the curious gazes better than you.

You might have needed something more than champagne to get through a night like this.

You had begged your stable director to just bring Abigail, the social butterfly out of the two of you, but he had just insisted that ‘having two beauties on his arm would have done him and the stable more good than just one’.

And aside from the blatantly sexist part of the comment, you knew he was right.

Sponsors had been rushing to you this season because the media had focused much attention on the importance of new female figures in races, but now that the novelty was rushing off a few had decided to let you go, so you had to grab a few new ones, convincing them through either the use of your talk and your feminine charm.

‘… I had almost thought that he’d ask us to sleep with the sponsors to get them to stay’ had commented Abigail, as you both set yourself up for the night, the elegant rented dresses waiting for you on the comfortable bed of the expensive suite of the hotel ‘… it was this close to becoming an episode of ‘Law & Order: SVU’.

And now Abigail was being her usual chatty with a few sponsors fawning around her, as you tried to down the flute of champagne almost as if it was a full bottle of vodka, something that you honestly missed and stared at the expensive drink in the glass.

If only your glare could turn it in something that would give you more liquid courage.

A few of the rookies had been tried to talk with you and you had been extremely happy to have someone approach you, but soon the chat had diffused itself and all the drivers had been called back by their own director, and you had found yourself alone, again, and with annoying stares upon you.

Many of the pilots from the other stables had tried to get you in bed with them, and you knew that there were various bets going on about getting you or Abigail to finally relent your ‘haughty pretenses’, not to talk about the fact that the entire media platform and magazines had been set up on you and Abigail, waiting for any false step of yours.

You had been dubbed ‘the sole chance for feminism to raise’ and everyone was waiting for you to fall.

To prove that F1 wasn’t female territory.

So, you had been rigorously swearing off any coupling with the other drivers.

The fact that you found it already quite difficult to combine your training and the various galas you had to attend with an healthy social life, certainly did help with the whole ‘chastity promise’ thing.

And you never regretted such a choice during the race season.

The ‘no sex’ rule helped you during the competition, keeping your mind in the game, but now that the driving season was ended and you were finally enjoying your well-deserved holiday, you couldn’t help but hate thoroughly the situation you had landed yourself in, only able to rely on your hand and a few interesting toys.

But otherwise, utterly frustrated.

And yet unable to come up with a solution on such a short notice.

Dicks didn’t grow up on trees, these days.

You just bumped in them, apparently.

Because, as you were halfway through having your second drink of the night, counting on the fact that the director of your stable was halfway through a successful talk with some well-dressed older gentlemen, hence making him quite busy already and unable to check up on you, you clashed against a wall.

A wall of muscles, at a second glance.

A breathing wall of muscles, at third glance.

But you were far more interested by the fact that the bump-in had just made you spill your entire drink on your Givenchy rented dress, the one that costed more than your apartment rent, something that made a loud ‘shit’ leave your mouth and making the ‘wall of muscles’ raise his head towards you, as he noticed the stain.

And then, when you noticed that ‘wall of musclea’ had a pretty face and an even prettier body, a softer ‘shit’ left your mouth.

What a way to make an impression.

“Oh Gosh, I am sorry!” American accent, no British accent.

That was probably where Mother Nature had drawn in blessing him with all the ‘fucking handsome man’ gifts.

His handsome face was elegantly touched up by high cheekbones and feature that had something of roguish matched with elegant traits and darker colors, making him stand out as someone who wasn’t definitely a pilot or a journalist.

Which was ideal for you.

Such an refined face was matched with an elegant tailored body, the suit definitely made for him and him solely, knowing perfectly how to highlight each and every trait of a body that was obtained through attentive work, a careful one that was meant to impose itself or pump his muscles with no aim, but to give him a lean appearance of power.

That definitely worked with you.

“… oh” brain to Earth, brain to Earth, (Y/N), say something intelligent ‘… it was an accident’.

Tell that to the lady that will want the dress back.

But for now, that wasn’t your main concern.

Which was the handsome man in front of you.

But you couldn’t just hump him right there, not only because you were pretty sure that it would have been described as ‘sexual harassment’, but all the spotlight was set up on you, hence all the cameras were focused on every little small mistake you could have done, intensifying them in a way that didn’t happen with men.

You had to be perfect, but even more than that.

You had to be the male everyone thought you were, although you lacked of the attributes.

So, flirting was considered a hellish sin.

“Gosh, I am… extremely sorry” he repeated again, as his eyes shared a quick glance with yours, and you just nodded your head as if you had to confirm to him that you had heard him clearly the first time, before ducking to the restroom, hoping to be able to scrub away the stain, at least to avoid its yellowish color on the stark white of your dress.

But before you could start raising the dress off your legs, where the stain was more evident, you were followed inside by the man, and before you could utter any protest, he caught the ones in your eyes.

“I swear I am not a creeper” he raised his hands as if to reinforce this “… I just… you shouldn’t scrub on silk, it’ll just ruin the fabric, just ran the water and then wait for it to dry, some alcohol and a bit of bleach might also help, the stain will come out, with a single wash… I swear”.

You had a million questions for the stranger, unsure if you shouldn’t have already screamed at him for having entered the ladies restroom, but you just assumed that he was the first handsome guy ever to come with a cute personality.

And good domestic knowledge.

That was meant to always do something to a lady.

“… thank you” you settled on uttering, comforted by the fact that the guy turned around to leave you some privacy, but you couldn’t just let go such an opportunity, even more when you were in some kind of secluded area, and he didn’t look like the type that had a secret go-pro camera under his clothes.

Some girl that you had once met in a bathroom at one of the races had turned out to have one, as she egged on commenting some shit over Abigail.

Unluckily for her, Abigail was in the other stall and she had flushed in the noisiest way the water, before appearing with some kind of triumphant aura around her.

“… can you please stay?” ‘people will probably doubt you on your “abilities” if you come out after five minutes’ you almost wanted to utter, as a test to know if he looked just like a sex god or he fucking was, although with the way his cheeks blushed of a light red, you simply bit down on your tongue “… just to help me get the stain off, properly… you seem to know much more than me about it”.

“Things happen in college” he commented, as if it was an explanation.

What kind of parties had he been in college?

You just remembered the rush to grabbing the cheapest and most efficient alcohol.

He reached out as kindly as he could to start on the farthest part of your dress, where it wasn’t straight up skin tight, gently dabbing it with a piece of paper you had handed him, the fabric destroying itself on the dress, but the stain became a bit less prominent.

Enough to pass as some kind of enrichment the stylist had done on the dress at the last minute.

You hoped you could make the lady that had rented it to you buy this shit off too.

Because you either managed to get the stain out or get yourself a sponsor for the new year, or you’d have had to probably start living on the road, with only a few shining trophies for losers, such as the one you were supposed to grab tonight, for ‘best promising team’.

As if there was some kind of competition, between your small team and various established ones…

“… what are you doing at such a party?” you knew that conversation during this kind of thing would have gotten it to seem less sexual than it truly was, and although you were as good at small talk as you were at handling a crowd, you did your best to sound as relaxed as you could be.

But your question still sounded like one out of a police interrogation.

“Friend of a friend” it was more like meaning ‘none of your business’ but kinder, and you couldn’t deny his own right to privacy “… by the way, I do think that I should give you my name… in case you want someone to curse for the dress, I am Duncan”.

“I am (Y/N)” you were glad when no light of recognition shone in his eyes, just as his hand lightly grabbed the back of your upper thigh, to make the dress adhere perfectly to your skin and dab the stain more properly, a light shiver at the touch made you understand how truly touch-starved you had been “… and you look as out of place as me in this fucking gown”.

“Don’t tell anybody, but…” and he lightly leaned in closer to you, enough that you could feel the strong but comforting perfume of his cologne, something that smelt extremely male and yet, you couldn’t detect a trace of toxic masculinity in it “… I have never seen a single race of F1 in my life”.

Just what you needed.

“… oh tell me about it” you played coy, as his hands raised up from your legs skillfully avoided your ass, instead choosing to grip on the outer part of your hip, handling you with care but a sureness that made you want to relent the whole ‘male image’ you had created around you.

What would you have given for a night in which you didn’t have to be the one in control, constantly checking every detail!

“… neither a fan of the whole race panorama?” he asked, as his eyes trained themselves on your stomach, barely covered by the white of the dress, showing him a bit of skin behind it, exactly as the absence of your panties, a crazed decision of Abigail, who had thrown away your seamless granny pants.

‘They might be protective when we race, but these are shit’.

You knew you shouldn’t have lied to him about not belonging in the racing setting, but you just wanted to have one night in which you weren’t the prodigy, the promise, ‘the sole chance for freedom to raise’.

You just wanted to be (Y/N).

“Definitely not”.

“Brought here by a boyfriend?” now he was scanning his own ground, and he had a small break from his cleaning duties, as you caught a glimpse of that damned profile, the kind of thing you saw on expensive old coins.

He was definitely some kind of emperor in his own right.

“Nope” you mumbled, before you gave him back his own same coin “… just brought here by a friend of a friend”.

He smirked at his words being spit back at him and you smiled almost foolishly.

You even let out a soft giggle.

How fucking long had it been since you had giggled?

And done it because you honestly wanted.

And not because you were forced in front of journalists or potential sponsors.

His hands were now on the side of your chest, against the slight hill of your bra (you could have forsaken panties, but you needed that support), his hands lightly tracing the ridge of the silicone part where the bra stood attached to your skin, sweaty due to the fact that you had been wearing the whole thing for five hours, before of the event.

“… and you had an idiot spill a drink over it, in the span of an hour” the words were meant for self-deprecation, but the smile that accompanied him was utterly confident.

Had you had panties, they would have definitely hit the ground soundly in that moment.

“… it could have been worse” you mumbled, just as your eyes twinkled with secret meaning.

‘You could have been a complete twat or old enough to be my grandpa’

“… you couldn’t have known how to get out champagne stains” you joked, settling up on a more PG-13 comment, unsure of what to do, since it had been quite some time since you had last flirted, and although his hand told you a story, you weren’t exactly sure if he had gotten all the clues of the game.

He laughed so brilliantly that also a light blush joined your soft giggle.

“Gosh, that would have been awful” his tone was joking, but his eyes were onto you, as they searched some kind of confirm in yours, and you just had to lean in to sign the deal, leaning down to kiss him.

You had never been one for one-night-stands and neither for quick fucks in a restroom, but with the way he lightly gripped you, making sure to position you on top of the elegant porcelain sink, careful to avoid the water: it wouldn’t have been neither.

And you were completely swept away.

He definitely passed the ‘kiss’ test.

His hand went through your hair perfectly, but careful of the small updo you had done, his fingertips lightly scraping the baby hair on your upper neck, in a way that kept you grounded, just as his lips lightly bit onto your upper lips, leaving you wanting for more, just as he backed away with a cunning smirk.

One that spoke of that technique never failing.

And before he could perform again that cocky enchantment, you kissed him.

Releasing on him entire months of sexual frustration.

And you had to say that you surprised him, enough that you were worried that your suddenness would have scared him, but he just needed to regain the control, before his hand without any care went to mess up your updo, in a way that instead of grounding and relaxing you, made you tense up, just as his hand splayed your knees wide onto the sink to have him come up between them.

And after the passionate kiss you had been sharing, you found yourself quickly locked, with one that gripped you by the hair against the cold mirror and another one splayed on your knee

The fabric of your silk dress lightly caressed the skin of your inner thigh, right as his elegant and expensive pants did the same with your core, making you feel that you shouldn’t have seriously worried about the ‘five minutes thing’, or at least you hoped.

But the package seemed fucking good.

“… so, would you like to have a bit more of help?” the way he pronounced the word ‘help’ sounded downright sinful and how could a girl deny him, as your own hands moved to gently tap on his sharp cheeks, the scratchiness of a cleanly shaved beard making you feel like this was all real.

“Just don’t get my dress dirty” it was a whisper, but your eyes played with the dominance you wanted to relent to him, and he just looked intrigued.

“Then spread your legs properly, little one” and as if under a spell they opened properly and let him adjust himself against them as his hands lightly raised up to collect the dress away from your legs, stopping right up on your hips and leaving a bit of dress to cover you, as if he had to leave you some modesty “… good girl”.

You purred at that, leaning in the light petting of his grip having become less pronounced as a grip and more a caress.

“… I saw you out there in the crowd and I wanted to buy you a drink, because you looked at unease as me, I thought that you could use that” he commented as his face lightly moved down to the crook of your neck, his nose making a teasing trail down your profile, just as his beard lightly scratched your skin, making it redden simply for his lips, before he covered it of purplish bruises “… I thought I had done the worst thing ever since with pouring a drink over you”.

“… couldn’t stay mad when you fucking looked like a sex god” you muttered unable to deny the truth, your body arching right against his as his hands, gently dragged he strap of your dress down your shoulders, revealing the awful skin-like bra, but he just seemed focused on your collarbones, his hand working slowly to ease the bra away from you, eventually dropping it onto the small tissues box over both of your heads, so it wouldn’t get on the ground.

An attentive gesture, exactly as the way he gripped tightly your breast, making sure that your nipples were lightly caressed by his thumb, right as he bit down on the softer flesh of your neck.

“I am glad that my good looks were of some use” he joked, and gently looked up at you “… and let me tell you, I have a tongue that will make you forget all about my clumsiness”.

“I do think that I deserve an apology” you muttered, as your eyes met again, your lashes cornering perfectly your hazy eyes, breathy and soft “… a vocal apology”.

And he simply smirked down at you, falling on his knees with a sound thud, as you pushed yourself further down the sink you were on, till you felt the painful dig of the faucet in your back, enough to make you moan in protest, but soon the look of wonder on his face as he unveiled the secret underneath your dress was definitely a relief against the uncomfortable position.

“… didn’t know that you were one of those girls that go without panties” he pushed a knee up on you to spread you further to him, as he took in the proper masterpiece that had been revealed to him down there, and his kisses moved up on your inner thigh “… look like the pretty girl turned out to be a bad bad girl, no wonder I am about to fuck you like a fucking bitch in heat in a restroom”.

And you blushed at the profane words.

But it was just more endearing for you as he pushed himself to properly settle against the nest between your legs, already oozing soft milk and sweet honey, his lips lightly pushing against your own, as he dragged the same beard you had felt on your cheeks against your cunt, the sensation making you hiss, right as again your lips came to soothe your ache.

The plumpness of his lips made you unable to stop yourself from moaning out loud, your eyes closing just as he delivered a slap to your thigh, a silent warning to keep your eyes trained on him and you did, as his lips sucked your softest piece in his mouth.

His tongue was instead a blessing inside of you and this time you were the one delving a bit of pain to him, as you grabbed strongly his hair, some kind of relief to keep you grounded as your body became like a cloud, weighted down just by the tension in your whole muscles.

“Fuck, you do know how to have fun” he mumbled tightly, as he released your cunt, something that made you protest loudly “… when was the last time somebody fucked you this good, (Y/N)”.

And before you could properly reply, his finger slipped inside you, making you hiss out at the feeling of being full, so unlike the stretch of your own fingers, so slight that now you needed a minute to calm yourself from everything, as you waited to answer his reply.

And he gave you a moment to breath, before his finger lightly probed further, reaching inside with a wayward gesture that made you choke up on your own words, as your back arched against the mirror and the hand that wasn’t in his hair gripped so tightly the sink that you were sure you had left an acrylic nail there.

“… a long time for sure” he smirked so devilishly that it broke you thoroughly.

And then his tongue matched his finger and before you knew it your floating was interrupted by your skyrocketing to the ground in a pleasurable trail that brought you back to all the earthly pleasure you could ask for, leaving you numb and tensed, your eyes rolling back as you lost sight of what was going on with you.

And then as you regained, your legs were slack over Duncan’s sides, his lips teasing again the skin of your neck, but no intention to punish you with any pain or tease you, instead there was a desperate soothing in his gestures, as you slowly came back to reality.

Fuck, you honestly should do this more.

Sadly, half of the guys that wanted a hook-up wouldn’t have ever done anything like what Duncan just did with you.

And would probably last five minutes, indeed.

“… was that enough of an apology?” he asked as soon as he saw that you had regained some semblance of calmness.

“Definitely yes” not that you could reply with much more.

Your fingers spoke louder as they went to his belt, undoing it with a bit of problem since you were slightly trembling, but he tried his best to let you do it, but before you could lower the pants, he gently grabbed your hands, something soft in his eyes, as he made you look up at him.

“We don’t have to do this…”.

“Oh, c’mon…” you mumbled, but his question was sincere and you couldn’t help but blush lightly “… I am pretty sure I want to do this”.

He mumbled softly, as he grabbed something from his back pocket, as you lightly lowered pants and boxers in one move,

And you weren’t disappointed,

He was definitely a big guy.

Larger than longer, with a light curve that made you painfully ache for having him inside of you, already half-hard, and your hand gently moved up and down on him, in a gentle foreplay that was completely uninterested about the knocking on the door, eventually dissipating in curses.

“… gotta be quiet baby” he commented, as he pushed his wallet on the side of the sink, getting a condom out of it, something for which you were thankful, because although you were on birth control, he was a complete stranger to you, and although the thrill of it just made it all just more daring, you would have preferred avoiding anything that might have given you an awful month “… I don’t know if you will, since I’ll make you feel fucking good”.

You just smirked at him, with a smile that told him ‘I can take it, sweetheart’.

And he just silenced it with pushing himself inside of you.

The penetration gave you an unpleasant stretch, and you needed a minute, as your whole body shifted against him, completely pushing himself in your arms, and to his credit he didn’t do much more than steady you, as he gave you the time to adjust yourself on him, till your whole body relaxed but your own insides.

Gripping him tighter.

Goading him closer and deeper.

And he gently set up a slow rhythm, making you feel each inch of him, till you were hypnotized with the way his hips moved against you, his upper body lightly stroking your clit, as wetness oozed down him, lubing him up, as he took up more speed and you found your back pushed against the mirror with such intensity that you were sure it would have been broken soon.

But you couldn’t give a fuck.

He gently pushed you in another position turning you around, so that you could face the mirror, meanwhile he took you from behind, the angle being deeper and the slight curve of his cock hitting the perfect spot.

And the fact that you could see yourself being fucked by him was only a bonus.

The way his face became so deformed by pleasure gave it all some kind of dreamish state, as the pleasure intensified desperately and you were there just on the right spot, but not enough stimulation was there for you, till he brought a finger in your mouth, and you sucked him inside, looking at the wanton expression on your face, before you closed your eyes.

And pleasure overtook you.

It didn’t take him too much time for him to finish alongside you, as his hand lightly went in your hair again, pushing as a way to grip on reality for a last time and your muscles spasmed around you, desperately and tightly in a way that almost made you wonder how it would have felt to have his seed on you.

And not in a plastic wrapper.

But for now that was all you could do.

Your legs trembled but he steadied you, something that definitely gave him more credit than you thought, expecting him to simply tug himself back in and disappear, maybe stand a bit next to you, to wash himself, but to his credit he gently handled you better, till you were again seated against the sink, the facet now digging painfully in you.

But you were definitely sore in more pleasurable places.

He gently got you back in your dress, adjusting your bra on your sweaty skin, too sensitive for the powerful orgasms you had felt, his silken touch making goosebumps appear on your skin, as your nipples lightly peaked and he couldn’t stop himself from gently sucking one after the other in his mouth, as you moaned almost as a protest.

“Don’t start something you won’t finish” you warned him, as his eyes twinkled with teasing happiness.

“… I would… but I do think that people need this restroom” and he was right, since you felt somebody halfway through calling the security and you shouted out calmly a soft ‘sorry, I just stained my dress and I am trying to get the stain away’ “… but if you want, I can… leave you my number, for more fun…”.

Which you were tempted to take, honestly.

He was handsome, he had a good dick game and he was definitely respectful of boundaries.

But you knew these things always got too complex for you.

First of all because had you given him your number, you would have to admit the truth and secondly as much as you were free right now a partner that was repeated a few more times was dangerous, because feelings might be developed.

“… I…” but how could you let down a guy like this.

“… you aren’t the type” a sad smile appeared on the man’s face, no hard feelings for sure, but definitely uncomfortable at your rejection and you couldn’t help but simply nod “… got it, well it was fun till it lasted”.

And to his merit he didn’t do anything that might have been rough against you, choosing to instead smile politely as he cleaned himself a bit, before he exited with one last look at you, as if to check if you had changed your mind, but you simply stood painfully uncomfortable off the sink as you dabbed a bit more the stain.

“… thank you for the suggestion and…” ‘…the fucking amazing sex’.

“You are welcome”.

And with that he disappeared from the restroom, as you thought he’d disappear from your life.

The only trace of him was the faint stain on your dress and the slight blush on your cheeks as you joined Abigail again.

‘… somebody got lucky’ she simply muttered, as she twirled her glass, another one in your hands, as your eyes searched for Duncan, he joined a few of the investors, but your eyes diverted immediately from that sight, worried the connection might be seen and questioned ‘… at least one of us got laid tonight’.

You simply elbowed her, as you smiled lovingly at the sponsors.

But you definitely felt rebirthed after the restroom session.

Maybe you were wrong about not seeing him again.

Not that you hadn’t to wait much to meet him again.

That morning you had been asked to take part at a reunion of the stable, alongside a few sponsors that you had found at the latest event, it was a way to get them to know the ‘talents’ they’d fund, and as you expected old and older people to approach you, you were surprised to find Duncan standing there.

Hadn’t he been a complete stranger to the F1 platform?

And as your grew nervous and more nervous, your stable director came up to you and Abigail, slinging an arm over you both as he moved to get you and present you to him, making you blush as much as he did, but he was extremely professional.

You couldn’t, when you discovered he was your newest sponsor.

‘Girls let me introduce to you both our latest sponsor’ your boss commented softly ‘Duncan Shepherd’.

And he was Duncan fucking Shepherd.

The heir to the Shepherd foundation.

What the fuck had you done?

---

Duncan Shepherd (I don’t really have a taglist anymore, so if you are interested on being there for Michael do let me know, and I’ll add you, if I ever think about writing something for him again!):

@blakewaterxx, @melodylangdon, @avocodys, @ahsbitch, @littlegirlsdontplaynice, @accio-rogers

#Duncan Shepherd #Duncan Shepherd Reader #Duncan Shepherd x Reader #Duncan Shepherd x Female Reader #Duncan Shepherd Fic #Duncan Shepherd One Shot #Duncan Shepherd Smut #Duncan Shepherd Moodboard #Duncan Shepherd Writing #Duncan Shepherd Imagine #House Of Cards #House of Cards Imagine #HOC #HOC Imagine

72 notes · View notes

softforcal · 4 years

Text

Monte Carlo : Racecar driver!Cal

Summary: They've been going to the same bar for a while, but have never talked. Then, across the globe, they meet at a club. He's there for a formula one race, she's there as an Instagram promoter for The Grand Prix. Angst and slow-burn ensues.

Word Count: 14k

Warnings: some smut

Tropes: Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Angst, ft. Harry Styles

note: I started writing this when i first got into f1 so it's not 100% correct on how f1 operates but that's ok. Also I’m not from New York but i tried my best lol

Nascar stuff to watch if you want a full experience: Hot Lap, Champagne popping.

****************

She’d met him in a bar.

It wasn't a southside bar. The carpets weren’t stained by booze, ashes from used cigarettes and various human fluids, whether that be blood or sweat or whatever else landed on the floor in a dodgy hole in the wall.

Yet, it wasn’t a North Side bar either. They didn’t have the most expensive bottles of whiskey, no ‘hints of aged oak’ or bottles boasting of being over a hundred years old.

No, it was a middle ground. People loitered outside, men in leather smoking with the bouncers. The women there wore strappy heels and weren’t afraid to kick them off to play a game of pool. It was perfect, and there was nowhere else Celeste would have rather been.

The charm of the bar wasn’t even really the bar itself, but a certain regular.

His arrival was always signaled by the scent that would rush into the bar when a bouncer opened the door for him. The stuff he smoked always seemed to smell different, the type of sweetness that was edged, the type of sweetness that told you not to get too close.

No one could help but look at him when he entered. He was beautiful, the type of guy who could afford to relax in a North Side bar where the extra cost for drinks bought you more discreet eyes.

He never seemed to mind the eyes though, and Celeste wasn’t surprised, after all, she supposed a racecar driver of his stature would be used to it by now.

She’d thought he was cute before the bartender had even mentioned that the gorgeous brunette was a famous race car driver. Celeste wasn’t the type to watch cars, whether they be NASCAR or formula one. Hell, she didn’t even know the difference between the two - didn’t particularly care.

Celeste could understand the man - she wasn’t sure of his name - she wasn’t too picky about being seen either. Both of them were young and alive, chasing dreams and becoming successful at an early age.

The driver must have been twenty-three or four, already a known winner. If Celeste could remember correctly, she thought she’d heard he was one of the drivers for Ferrari, which sounded prestigious.

Celeste was twenty-two and at the cusp of finding stardom in the world of modeling. She’d been discovered by a recruiter at aged sixteen and bounced around smaller brands before landing a gig with Victoria’s Secret. Although she’d yet to walk their runway, one of the designers had showed her picture to a friend and just like that, Celeste had become the muse for one of the biggest fashion brands in North America.

She supposed she was lucky, blessed really, to have been in the mall the day the recruiter discovered her.

And likewise, she supposed the driver was fortunate to have been introduced to driving at a young age.

So there the two of them were, two young stars shortening the vicinity between themselves every Friday night or so. Close but not touching, never meeting.

Later in her life, Celeste would wonder if it was odd for the other patrons who frequented the bar. If it was odd for them to be minding their own business and have not one, but two, semi-famous people just decide ‘this is my chosen bar.’ But in those moments when Celeste accepted a challenge in pool, playing against other drunk university girls, Celeste was just one of the people who’d found a little slice of home in a midtown bar.

***

Calum swirled the whiskey in his glass, taking a deep breath and turning so his back was leaning against the bar top. His eyes found her immediately. She was the type of girl that stood out. Even if he hadn’t been told by his favourite bartender that the girl was a model, he could have guessed.

It was hard to tear his gaze from her as she bent over the pool table to line up a shot. Her little jean shorts hugged her ass perfectly, and the way her thighs were pressed against the table made Calum lick his lips. She wasn't a typical model, or at least didn’t have the thinner body type. She was what his friends would call slim thicc, and Calum ate it up every time she entered the bar.

The girls she was playing with were obviously university students from the school down the road. Calum had seen them once or twice, they liked to get drunk and play pool. They were also obviously fans of the model, and to the models credit, she was very kind to them any time they approached her.

“You should go talk to her.” the bartender suggested, “two pretty people like you, it makes sense.”

Calum smirked against the rim of his glass, humming absentmindedly, “does it?”

“You should do it soon, you know everyone’s been taking bets on when you end up talking to her, who approaches who.”

“Really?” Calum turned to look at the bartender.

“No, but it’s a good idea, maybe I should start that up.” he paused, “come on man, you’re a regular, she’s a regular. You’ve both been coming in for what? Six months now? Most Fridays? Except for when you’re off in Italy or Mexico or wherever, winning trophies and she’s doing modeling gigs. The two of you would make sense together.”

Calum shot the last mouthful of whiskey, setting the glass down, “no we wouldn’t.” he stated, tossing a bill onto the counter. He didn’t look up at the bartender, instead, he grabbed his leather jacket that had been thrown over a bar chair and shrugged it on. It was warm and worn, and Calum produced a joint from inside one of the pockets, tucking it behind his ear and amongst his dark curls. His trusty lighter was in his hand by the time he was pushing the door open to escape the bar.

The cold air wrapped around him and Calum’s nimble fingers moved the joint from behind his ear to his lips, the lighter flicking on. He took a long drag and his eyes closed, the warm feeling wrapping around him pleasantly.

He knew he was being a pussy.

Knew that sixth months was six months too many for him to be in the same vicinity of a girl like that and not make a move. Calum liked to take his time with women, which is why he enjoyed going to the bar alone.

His friends didn’t get it. They were all about driving fast, living fast and fucking fast.

Calum would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy speed, he was a fucking racecar driver for Christ’s sake. One of the fastest in the world, if his last race was anything to go by.

But when it came to women? Well with women, Calum liked to go slow.

Besides, he was only going away for a week, maybe a little more. She’d be there when he got back.

***

The pop of the champagne bottle announced the spray of liquor that began to stream over Calum and his friends. Ashton was pointing his bottle towards the crowd and fans screamed up at them, allowing the expensive liquid to drench them as the drivers celebrated.

Calum’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and two of his friends held his head back as Ashton poured booze into his mouth. He was getting used to this treatment, they were only four events into the year but this was Calum’s third win. He was going to drink a little, but he was saving his energy for the next race, it mattered more to him anyways.

The Monaco Grand Prix held a special place in Calum’s heart and he could hardly wait for the week and a half for it to start.

Champagne dripped down the front of his red jumpsuit and Calum shoved his friends away, heart pumping fast. It only ever beat this way when he won first place, something that was happening with more and more frequency.

The air was still tinged with red from the gusts of coloured smoke that had been released as he’d crossed the finish line.

For a moment something else flashed red across his vision, a shirt the model had been wearing the week before. She must have not had any idea when she’d chosen that colour that it had a deeper meaning for Calum. It was the colour of Ferrari, his colour, a colour that always sparked his heart with fire, the colour that promised a race, promised the elevation into paradise that came with a win.

One of his friends grabbing his jumpsuit drew Calum’s attention, and the image of the girl was gone.

***

Celeste lounged in her chair, celebrating a successful shoot with a slice of pizza. As she bit into the cheesy goodness, her makeup artist sat next to her, “you have to see this.” she said, moving her phone where Celeste could see, “it’s from the race practice today.”

“And it’s Formula one right?” Celeste clarified. She felt bad, knowing that she should logically know more about the cars. After all, she was in Monte Carlo for the Monaco Grand Prix. The brand who hired her to be their correspondent for the paid promotion trip had known Celeste had no background with motorsports, so they had a journalist creating her captions for all of her paid posts. But Celeste still felt bad.

“Yeah this is formula one, you can tell because the cars are thinner remember? just watch this.” the girl said with excitement. Celeste focused on the screen, watching as a red car sped down a track, “oh my god, how fast is he going?”

“Fast.” the girl breathed.

There were two cars, a red and a blue. The red tried to skim past the blue and sent them both spiraling out, the blue coming to stand still as the driver got their bearing, however, the red car hadn’t even stopped spinning before it was off again, speed gaining to catch the car that had taken the lead from him during those brief seconds of collision.

The camera angle switched to the camera attached to the red car and even at massively high speeds, the driver was fixing their mirror that had been damaged in the collision, and driving with only one hand.

One more harsh turn had red overtake the other red that had been in the lead.

The clip cut off.

“Did he win?” Celeste asked.

“He did, but this was just a practice, we still have qualifiers and the actual race.” her artist said, “fuck, Hood is insane, I’ve never seen a driver recover from a bump so quick.”

“I’m shocked the bump didn’t have them both like, flipping or something.” Celeste said, “every time I think about race cars I think about how deadly the crashes look.”

“Just be glad you’re not dating a driver.” her artist said.

Celeste laughed, “thank god.”

***

Celeste had been busy most of the day, but she’d heard the notorious Hood had won yet again, not that it was a surprise, apparently. People on the streets were talking about him, his name whispered over and over again everywhere Celeste went to take pictures.

The other model she was with had done the Monte Carlo coverage for the brand the year before, she’d chosen a club and said that it was the place to be the night of the qualifiers and especially the next night after the final.

It was easy enough to get onto the list for the exclusive club, and the fellow model, a girl named Alexa, warned Celeste not to sleep with any of the drivers, “they’re pigs.” Alexa said as they got out of the limo, “only good for pictures and tags but other than that? They talk a big game about liking it fast but these men don’t have stamina for shit.”

Celeste laughed, following Alexa up past the security who didn’t even ask if they were on the list. Alexa and Celeste where the types of girls who surpassed lists, if a straight man ever tried to refuse them entrance to a club, it would surely mark a coming apocalypse and pigs would be flying.

The VIP section of club was alive with people, full of the rich elite, the type of people who flew out to Monte Carlo with the pure intent of watching Formula One racing. Celeste decided, as she walked amongst people with pearls and diamonds adorning their bodies, that Formula One was an expensive sport. Alexa had mentioned early in the day, as the two of them absentmindedly waited for the cars to zoom past where they were sitting in the crowd, that some Formula One cars could cost around fifteen and a half million dollars to make.

Celeste had nearly fallen out of her seat at the number, and her mouth had gone dry as her eyes went to the track, watching the expensive cars who could at any moment flip and waste so much money.

The thought of cars crashing was swept from Celeste’s mind as she was dragged by Alexa through the crowd of people. The racers weren’t hard to spot. They were all decked out in sponsored caps and casual outfits. The only people in the room who didn’t feel like they needed to dress up, because they didn’t. Every rich person in the room was there for them, the racers had all the power, all eyes on them.

Some were surprisingly young looking, and many of them were smaller than Celeste expected. “Why are they so tiny?” Celeste whispered, stopping Alexa in her tracks as Celeste looked at the racers.

“The more weight that’s in the car, the slower it goes, smaller is better… for once.” Alexa teased, “come on.”

Then they were in the midst of the racers, Alexa hugging a man she fondly called Ash. He was a bit bigger than the others, but still not up to Celeste’s standards. Her eyes wandered, a smile on her face flashed to anyone Alexa introduced her too.

A song came on and Celeste’s hand tightened around Alexa’s, “oh my gosh, this is my song!” Celeste said, looking at her with pleading eyes, “come dance with me?”

“You go ahead, I have to catch up with some friends.” Alexa said.

Celeste didn’t need to be told twice, letting go of her friend to escape to the dancefloor. It was out of the way of the VIP section, filled with a younger crowd that Celeste felt akin to. She meshed in, lost within the swarm of dancing people. The song was new, by an artist she’d followed since his boyband years. His new music was rich and fun, the artist making a true name for himself as a rockstar.

Her hips swayed to the music, the beautiful metallic sheer dress hugging all her curves as she smiled and danced with the people who made room for her. She’d never had issues fitting in, least of all on a dancefloor.

When the song finished, she continued to dance, even though the next songs weren’t her favourites. She was just beginning to sweat when a hand grabbed hers, Alexa pulling her roughly, “Celeste come with me now!”

By the time they’d exited the crowd, it was obvious where Celeste was taking her. Standing in the VIP section, surrounded by racers, looking as handsome as ever, was Harry Styles, the very artist that Celeste had swooned over when his song had come on.

Her heart froze in her chest and she stopped in her tracks, pulled harshly again by Alexa, “come on!” Alexa said, “you have to meet him!”

***

Calum was becoming an expert in the art of opening and spraying champagne. He’d won the Monaco Grand Prix, taking the first spot like he was entitled to it, and keeping it until he’d crossed the finish line. His entire body was on fire, heart racing in his chest.

Ashton stood next to him, he’d finished third, which was also impressive. It was obvious that they’d be celebrating that night, after the interviews. Calum was excited about the night ahead, he’d always found Monte Carlo to be a dreamlike city, wonderous and in a way romantic.

He wasn’t sure what would happen that night, but if it was anything like his triumphant day, he knew it would be amazing. Nothing could pull him away from his post win high, and he was sure of that.

***

It was her.

Calum blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. No, it was her. The girl from the bar. The influencer who’d weaseled her way into his brain without even knowing it, was there, a few yards away. She had a glass of champagne in her hand, but it was still full.

Calum recognized the girl next to his influencer, a model named Alexa. He’d met her at a few of his races, she was a brand endorser for a number of the same brands Calum worked for. He knew he was on her Instagram, tagged a few times, pictures of the two of them standing next to each other, her smile much larger than his. Alexa was a nice girl, he enjoyed her, but Calum generally tried to stay away from models, he wasn’t quite sure why.

Alexa spotted him a moment later, her eyes widening as she motioned him over, opening her arms to pull him into a tight hug, “I can't believe you won!” she screamed, “that’s what? Your third race in a row? What’s your secret Hood?!”

Calum’s eyes darted between Alexa and the influencer next to her, still not introduced, waiting politely for his answer.

“Uh-” Calum wracked his brain for a witty response but nothing came, “who’s your friend?”

Alexa didn’t even seem to mind that he hadn’t answered her question, “this is Celeste.” she said.

Celeste held out a hand, “nice to meet you-”

“Calum.”

“Calum.” she repeated his name, a silly smile on her face. The name tasted sweet on her tongue, “I think… have we met before?” she tried to play it cool, but she knew exactly where she’d seen him. This was the mystery hunk who frequented her bar back in New York.

For months she’d been trying to work up the courage to go talk to him, and now there he was, halfway across the world in a club that was too loud, a new title added to his impressive resume.

Calum nodded, “we go to the same bar in New York.” he didn’t even bother dancing around the idea of where they knew each other from.

Celeste’s heart leaped in her chest.

“You two know each other?” Alexa asked in shock.

“Not really-” Celeste began as Calum said “no.” they both stopped, waiting for the other to continue. Both of them blushed, Calum readjusting his guinness cap on his head.

A man with honey coloured curls appeared, arm going around Calum as he greeted Alexa, “who’s your friend?” Ashton asked.

“Celeste.” Celeste answered, holding out her hand to him.

Calum watched every movement, loving every motion.

“I’m Ashton,” the man said, turning to Alexa, “you need a drink.” he stated, grabbing Alexa’s hand.

“Only if you’re buying.” Alexa teased, allowing Ashton to pull her towards the bar, leaving Calum alone with Celeste.

“So you won today!” Celeste said enthusiastically, “that must be so great for you!”

Calum could see her struggling with her words, “you don’t watch F1 much do you?”

“F1?”

“Formula One.” Calum corrected himself with a laugh.

“No, I don't.” Celeste admitted awkwardly, “fast cars aren’t really my thing.”

“Really?” Calum asked in shock, she looked like the kind of girl who would own a luxury car, but maybe he was getting ahead of himself.

“Yeah, I don't know, fast cars, crashes, guess I’m a bit of a scaredy-cat.” Celeste laughed, sipping her champagne.

“I could take you for a drive.” Calum stated, the words left his mouth before he could stop them, “I mean, my Ferrari is down at the track-”

“I’d have to be really drunk to agree to that.” Celeste laughed, the tone of it twinkling deliciously and making Calum smile.

“Then, cheers.” Calum clinked his beer with Celeste’s champagne glass.

“To F1.” Celeste said, already incorporating the new term Calum had taught her.

Calum smiled at her, “To fast cars, crashes and scaredy cats.”

***

“We are not doing this.” Celeste said, even as she got into the car. Calum closed the door behind her, hurrying to his own side to get into the driver's seat, “Calum, your seatbelt is straight out of bondage porno.”

“Watch a lot of those?” Calum laughed, his skin heating as he turned to look at the model who was holding the harness like a seatbelt.

“Calum!” Celeste said loudly again, jaw-dropping as she looked at him, “no!”

Calum grinned, reaching over to help her put the seatbelt on. He hadn’t pushed her to drink more, Celeste had done that on her own. She’d said after a few sips of champagne that ‘it wasn’t every day a formula one racer offered to take a gal out for a drive’ and had downed her glass. Seeing she was serious, Calum had put down his beer, having only had a sip of it.

He was completely sober, unlike the girl next to him. She was a bubbly drunk, much like the champagne that had caused her to be this way.

Calum grabbed the two safety helmets from the back of the car, handing one to Celeste. She looked at it like it was about to bite her, “what?!”

“For safety.” Calum said, putting it on her himself before putting on his own.

“How fast are we going to go?” Celeste asked.

“As fast as you want.” Calum said, putting on his own seatbelt before looking out at the track. He didn’t want to tell her that he would go over 200 km/h on straights, he knew he was being devious but he didn’t care so much.

He’d done this before, never with a model, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to show up and go for a celebratory lap of the track the night after a win. He’d even left his car on the track, having always planned on coming and doing this. Security was always nice to him, partly, he supposed, because he was a winner, but also partly because he was a nice guy.

“Fast.” Celeste whispered, then she looked at him, “wait, not super fast,” she said, then she frowned, “no, fast? Maybe?”

Calum laughed, “I'll just start, and if you want me to go slower, I can, yeah?”

“Okay.” Celeste said, her eyes lingering on the racer's profile, “pretty.” she mumbled, so quietly that Calum almost didn’t hear her. He felt his skin heating, could feel his ears turning red as the car roared to life, the engine purring.

“Fuck.” Celeste said, grabbing at the car door.

Calum laughed, turning to look at her, “we haven’t even moved yet.”

“What if I don't want to anymore?”

Calum took his foot off the brake and the car rolled about two feet, making Celeste grip the door tighter.

“We can stop.” Calum said, easing off the brake again to move another few feet.

Celeste took a deep breath, then turned to look at him, “Murder me.” she stated.

Calum’s breath caught in his throat and he blinked, taking a moment before he realized she meant that he should drive so fast she’ll metaphorically die. He swallowed thickly. “You got it.” he said, voice hoarse.

“Have you ever taken someone out on something like this before?” Celeste asked, suddenly sounding quite sober.

“We call them hot laps.” Calum stated, “I've taken a few athletes out on some, done some drifting, some donuts-��

“Can we do some donuts? I love donuts.” Celeste said as Calum pulled onto the track.

“Sure.” Calum looked at her, “do you trust me?”

Celeste wet her lips, “no?”

The first part of the track was straight and Calum’s foot went all the way down on the gas pedal. Celeste squealed, thrown back into her seat as Calum grinned. They reached 230 km/h quickly and Celeste screamed as she saw the first turn coming into view.

She didn’t tell him to slow down, which Calum appreciated as he adjusted the car for the turn, hitting the apex (the inner corner) perfectly as Celeste squealed next to him. Calum couldn’t help but smile, pushing the car faster again as he came out of the corner.

He knew this track like the back of his hand. Knew it was 3.4 kilometers, nineteen harsh corners that would have him breaking for around 20% of the drive, giving him ample reason to drift just to make Celeste scream. Fuck. He loved it.

There was no one watching, just him and Celeste, and she obviously knew nothing about racing. Which meant he could get away with doing things that had them both thrown around the car, just for the hell of it.

It was the type of track where he couldn’t go as fast as he wanted, he wanted to be able to show Celeste how fast a car could go.

The sharp turns were coming up and Calum was ready for Celeste’s loud scream as the tires skidded across asphalt, he wasn’t ready for her hand landing on his thigh, holding on tightly.

He held the record for fastest lap in the world at this track, having completed it in 1 minute and 13.60 seconds, almost a full second faster than anyone else in the world. In the car he was in now, it would take longer, but driving always seemed fast to him.

He was focused behind the wheel, moving it expertly, taking each turn as Celeste screamed next to him, never letting go of his leg.

To Celeste, the ride felt like eons, every turn threw her to the side, her eyes unable to keep a track of the road in front of them. She simply had to hold on and enjoy it. Part of her did. Perhaps it was her drunken state, but she wasn’t really that afraid. She trusted the man next to her, even if she didn’t understand why.

The car skidded to a halt and just as Celeste thought it was over, Calum lurched the wheel to the side and threw Celeste to the left, as she squealed. The car continued to go in tight circles, a harsh weight pulling on Celeste as she screamed, eyes closed, mind dizzy.

The car stopped and Celeste took a moment to open her eyes, blinking at Calum.

“That was a donut.” he told her.

“Thank you.” Celeste whispered.

Calum laughed, then his eyes darted down to her hand on his thigh, she followed his gaze, offering him a lazy smile, “you have nice thighs.”

“You do too.” Calum said, voice hoarse. It was true. She’s what Calum’s friends would call “thiccer than a sniccer” and it had not escaped his notice.

“Do I?” Celeste asked, removing her hand from Calum to look down at her lap, “you don’t think they’re too big?”

“No.” Calum said honestly, following her eyes now as he looked at her legs. He swallowed thickly, tearing his gaze away, “where are you staying?”

“I forget what it’s called.” Celeste said, a happy smile on her face, “can I stay with you tonight?”

Calum’s mind was blank for a moment. He wasn’t sure what she was asking for. He wasn’t about to take advantage of her, no matter how badly he wanted her thighs wrapped around his head- “uh- sure.”

“Sleep over!” Celeste squealed, “we have to order pizza!”

“I don’t eat pizza.” Calum said as he took off his helmet, reaching over to help Celeste take off hers.

“What?! Why not?!” Celeste pouted, looking very concerned.

“Racecar drivers are supposed to be small, less weight means a faster car-”

“But you’re so big and tall.” Celeste smiled.

“Yeah,” Calum laughed, “so i try not to eat much, don’t want to gain any more weight than I already have, I'm a lot taller than most drivers.”

“That must mean you’re really good.”

Calum smiled, setting the helmets in the back of the car then going to unbuckle Celeste. He stayed quiet, too humble to tell her that she was right.

Celeste turned to look out the window, opening the door once she’d been released from the seatbelt. By the time Calum had gone to join her on the other side of the car she was laying on the ground, “the stars are so pretty.” she mused.

Calum sighed. At the start of his day, he’d expected maybe winning the race. He hadn’t expected to bump into the model he’d been lusting over for months from New York, in a club in Monte Carlo, only to drive her around then lay on the track and look at the stars with her.

Calum got down next to her, his shoulder just touching hers, “the stars are pretty nice.”

“For my part, I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.” Celeste breathed, “Van Gogh. I'm really tired Calum, can you take me home?”

He couldn’t take her home, not really. All they had was his hotel room. But perhaps it wasn’t bricks and mortar that made something a home, perhaps it was something else. Something not solid, not something you could hold in your hands. Maybe it was a feeling.

He wondered what could be home.

***

Celeste blinked, sitting up in a bed that was not her own. The first thing she noticed was the wall of pillows to her left. Curled up in the pillows was a head of dark curls and Celeste recognized Calum. His back was to her, a redshirt covering his broad shoulders. Even in bed, he wore Ferrari’s colours, it was intriguing.

Calum was awake, and when the bed dipped, he knew Celeste was as well. He rolled over and sat up, looking at her, “how are you feeling?” he asked.

“My head hurts a little,” she admitted, “you took me racing last night?”

“I took you on the track.” Calum said.

She blinked at him, “I remember screaming a lot.”

A smile spread across Calum’s face, “yeah, I think you enjoyed it.”

“I think I remember enjoying it.”

Calum got out of the bed, “I'm going to go get you breakfast, waffles and donuts right?”

“How did you know my cheat meal?”

“You were ranting about it last night, wanted to go find a diner to make you some fried chicken and waffles.” Calum answered, leaning against the doorway, “I don't think they’ll have the deep-fried chicken, but they have waffles, and donuts, sprinkles right?”

“Did I tell you all of my favourite foods last night?” Celeste laughed.

“Nah,” Calum smiled, “just your top hundred.” he teased, “I'll be back soon.”

Celeste looked down, realizing she was also in a Ferrari shirt. It was Calum’s, the red of it more worn and comfy looking than the shirt Calum had been wearing. It was large on her and when she got out of bed it went just to her upper thighs. The fabric was not made for a woman, not made to curve over a large bum, as Celeste turned to look at herself in the mirror next to the bed, her eyes took in the way the shirt teased. Every movement had it riding a little bit higher, sneaking a sliver of bodaciousness that she was known for.

Her hair was still wavy from it’s styling the night before but all of her makeup was gone.

She had some sort of memory of Calum wiping a warm cloth over her face.

Yes, now she remembered. He’d brought her to the hotel and had insisted on cleaning her up before letting her pass out. He’d wiped the makeup from her face gently while she ranted about food. She missed American food, missed the diner in New York that she went to every Sunday morning for deep-fried chicken and waffles.

The door to the room opened and Calum stepped in, a box full of food in his hands. He set it down on the tabletop next to Celeste’s side of the bed, then he began rearranging the pillows, straightening out the blanket.

“Thanks for the breakfast.” Celeste said, picking up a waffle.

“Don’t mention it.”

“So… are you headed back to New York soon?” she asked.

“There’s another race in under two weeks, I think a lot of us are going to stay here, and then head to Canada together, France after that-”

“Oh my god, I didn’t know you raced in so many countries.”

“This is round six, there’s twenty-one in total, so that’s still fifteen to go.” Calum said, not looking up at her.

“Fifteen more races? Fifteen more countries?” Celeste asked in shock.

“Yeah.”

“Shit.” Celeste chewed on her waffle.

Calum looked down at his watch.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” Celeste asked.

“Yeah, I have to go do training, then meet up with my team and talk about the race yesterday.”

“You’re a busy guy.”

Calum offered her a smile, “sorry I can’t stay longer and have breakfast with you.”

“It’s okay.”

“Are you going back to New York soon?” Calum asked.

“Uh…” Celeste’s mouth was dry, “I'm not sure yet.” her skin was prickling. She’d almost forgotten about the charming brit she’d met two nights before. The brit she’d gone home with. The brit she was meeting up with in- “fuck, I have to go-”

Calum laughed, “got somewhere to be?”

“Yeah a date,” Celeste answered, shoving the waffle in her mouth, “I need to give you your shirt back-” she said around the waffle.

Calum’s expression had changed, but Celeste hadn’t noticed, too busy looking around for her stuff, “Keep it.” Calum said, “You can give it back to me in New York.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I have a lot of Ferrari shirts.”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh huh.”

Celeste grabbed her small clutch purse, finding her shirt and skirt on the ground. She pulled the skirt up her legs, the stretchy material hugging her curves as she did a french tuck with the front of her shirt, “Calum, thank you so much for last night, for everything.” she said sincerely, turning to look at the driver.

“Don’t mention it.”

She stepped towards him and wrapped him in a hug. After a moment of hesitation, Calum hugged her back.

“I’ll see you in New York.” she promised as she pulled away, “we’ll have to meet up at the bar or something.”

Calum smiled, but it was forced, “sounds fun.”

“It will be.” Celeste ran to the door, “good luck with everything! Congrats again on your win yesterday.”

“Thanks. Get home safe.”

“I will.”

Then she was gone.

The twelve hours he’d had with her felt like borrowed time. As if he’d somehow stolen those hours from whatever god or being had kept the two of them apart for so long. And now she was gone. Calum felt like Cinderella at midnight, except it was nine AM and he wasn’t a princess in a Disney movie.

He was a formula one driver with a job to do. And he wasn’t about to let a pretty brunette get in the way of his work, even if she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen in his life.

****

They’d followed each other that day, the notification lighting up Calum’s phone. The first of many pleasant phone buzzes signaling a message from the model. She’d posted a picture of chicken waffles on her story her first day back in New York and Calum hadn’t been able to resist the urge to message her about it, congratulating her on finally quenching her craving.

Conversation with her was easy. Two weeks into casually talking, she’d sent him a meme about friends, saying ‘us.’ it hadn’t thrown Calum off, he considered her a friend too. After all, the best relationships start with friendship, something Calum had learned after many failed attempts at love.

Celeste even congratulated Calum on winning second in the race in Canada and it had shocked him that she’d watched it. “What are friends for?” she’d messaged back, warming Calum’s whole body.

Their friendship reached a new height when she asked for his snapchat, and thus began the great dog snap challenge. Anytime either of them saw a dog, they’d take a picture and send it to the other.

Calum was busy with work. Ferrari was ramping things up, and Calum had his head in the game. Because of this, he didn’t have time to go home, even though he wanted to. Which was why he was so excited when Celeste messaged him to tell him she’d be in England when he was there for Round Ten of the championship.

Calum didn't ask too many questions, too excited to see her.

It was an hour before Celeste’s flight to England, and Calum wondered if he should message her. He finally gave in, it was late for him and he knew if he didn’t message her, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Before he could text her, his phone rang.

He’d had Celeste’s number since they’d met, 45 days ago, not that he was counting, and they’d never called each other.

“Calum! I’m not waking you am i?” Celeste’s voice was worried.

“No, what’s up?”

“Is it okay that I called you?”

“It’s fine, you sound worried.” Calum sat down, eager to give her his full attention.

“Have I ever told you I'm not into flying?” Celeste asked.

Calum chuckled, “no, you never mentioned it.”

“Well, I am, and I don’t know why this is freaking me out so much.”

“I mean, it is a long flight, maybe that’s why?” Calum paused, “you’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Are you my captain Calum?” Celeste asked sarcastically.

“No, but you’ll be fine.” he paused, “hey, when you get here, do you need me to pick you up?”

“No thanks! Harry’s picking me up.”

“Harry?”

“Yeah.”

Calum opened his mouth, then closed it, he wasn’t sure what to say, “I didn't know you were seeing him?” he offered.

“It’s funny, I met him the night before I met you. He actually has been coming to visit me in New York, so I figured it’s my turn to head out to him, and when I saw it would line up with you being there i had to come.”

Calum’s skin was cold. He’d thought she was coming to see him, but as it turned out, he was only fifty percent of the reason. Was he even fifty percent?

“But I’m coming to your race!” Celeste continued, “the training ones and the final one.”

Her terms weren’t correct but Calum couldn’t be bothered to correct her. “Is Harry coming with you too?” Calum asked.

“Yeah, he’ll be around, but I do really want to see you Cal.” there was a muffled sound, then, “they’re boarding so I gotta go. Talking to you really helped Cal. I’ll see you soon! I’m so excited!”

“Me too.” Calum forced out.

“Awesome! Love ya! Bye!”

Calum’s mouth felt dry, his body still frozen, but he managed to say “bye.” then the line clicked and Celeste was gone, but had she ever really been there?

***

He was late. Something that never happened, but he’d been late with Celeste. They’d gone out for drinks her second night England and had stayed up talking and ordering room service until three AM. Calum had lost track of time, another thing he’d never really experienced.

Shoving his legs into his race suit and pulling it up, he ran past a few mechanics, eager to get on the track. He’d had a call early that morning that some rich person had paid a lot of money to have a hot lap with him.

It seemed to be the day of things that had never happened to Calum.

He usually didn’t do hot laps, and Ferrari knew that. There was, allegedly, something special about the person who’d requested him, but that morning, half asleep when his phone rang, Calum had been too tired to ask.

Calum was used to camera’s being shoved in his face and he pushed through them, approaching the signature red car that he’d be using.

“Calum, what’s it like driving one of the most famous British singers in the world?” a reporter asked.

Calum looked up, for the first time getting a glimpse at who he’d be driving around.

Harry Styles looked as Calum always supposed he would. His hair was perfect, and the black jacket he was wearing made him look like he’d come straight out of an Abercrombie and fitch magazine. Or perhaps another magazine, Calum didn’t keep up with fashion.

Then came the dimples.

Calum could have thrown up.

“You must be Calum!” Harry exclaimed, holding out a hand and offering a smile.

Calum shook his hand, hard, not smiling, not saying anything.

Then he remembered the cameras. Remembered that this was his job. Remembered that as the top f1 driver, driving a man with a huge fanbase, the video would probably go viral. Calum forced a smile, “nice to meet you.” he said politely.

“So let's get to it yeah?” Harry asked, his British accent way too charming.

Calum nodded, going around the car to escape the paparazzi. He put his helmet on and took some joy in the fact that Harry would have to do the same, and maybe it would ruin his hair.

There were cameras in the car.

Calum wondered what would happen next.

“Excited for your race, mate.” Harry said, buckling himself in, “you’ve always been the one to watch.”

“Didn’t know you were a big formula one fan.” Calum mused, the engine roaring to life.

“I wasn’t.” Harry admitted, “we have a mutual friend, she got me into it.”

Calum wondered how far Harry would go. After all, there were cameras in the car, and Calum had heard about Harry and his tendency to stay elusive.

That’s when he realized it was serious. The thing between Harry and Celeste.

Harry had spent a lot of money to be in the car with Calum. He was facing the cameras, despite his desire to mostly not produce content.

And he was talking about Celeste.

Calum’s foot stepped onto the petal and the car lurched forward. He hoped that Harry wouldn’t talk anymore. Hoped it would be a quiet ride.

“How did you two meet again?”

“What?”

“Our mutual friend.”

Calum wished he’d just say her name. But he understood why Harry was being aloof. Understood it protected Celeste from being prematurely exposed to his fan base, for better or for worse.

Calum respected it.

“Met in Monaco. She mentioned it was the day after she met you.” Calum said, making a point to mention Harry. He supposed it would ease Harry’s mind, knowing Celeste had mentioned him… even if it had only been a few days earlier. Calum pushed the car faster and then braked hard for a corner, throwing Harry to the side.

“That was a good race by the way.” Harry said, “You came in first, congratulations.”

“I like Monaco.” Calum said, “it’s a special place.”

“It is.” Harry agreed. Calum couldn’t be sure, but Harry seemed satisfied with their interaction. Calum wasn’t sure what he expected, after all, it’s not like the guy was going to come out and be aggressive with him… even if that’s what Calum might have done in his position.

The rest of the drive went smoothly, with Harry complimenting Calum’s driving and even letting out happy hollers at sharp turns.

As the car came to a stop, Harry turned to shake Calum’s hand, “maybe I'll see you tonight.” Harry offered.

“Maybe.” no way in hell.

One last smile and the gorgeous man was gone, out of Calum’s car and hopefully his life.

***

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out?”

“Yeah, I need sleep tonight, the race is tomorrow-”

“Did… I- Harry told me about this morning, said he was eager to meet you, did you like him?”

“He’s fine, I’m just tired.” Calum lied.

Celeste was silent on the other end of the line for a moment, “but tomorrow night, we’re still on, right?”

When she’d first arrived and they’d gotten drinks, Calum had promised to do the same thing after the race. But when he’d promised he’d assumed it would be just the two of them. Calum didn't want to go anymore, “yeah.” he said.

“Okay, because I had a lot of fun last night Cal. Anyways, have a good night, get some sleep, you’re going to be great tomorrow.”

“You promise?” Calum asked.

“I’m your captain, I definitely promise.” Celeste laughed, the sound was magic, “love ya Cal! Talk tomorrow!”

“Love you too.”

He hung up.

***

Celeste’s arms wrapped around him and when Calum lifted her off the ground, her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, “you did it!” she screamed in his ear, a little too loud, but he didn’t care.

He set her down and Celeste pulled way, keeping him close as she looked up at him, “that was amazing Calum!”

“It was nothing-” Calum brushed it off, looking down. He could be cocky about his driving, but not with her. With Celeste, his heart always seemed to swell.

“Calum, you hit every single apex!” Celeste said and Calum’s heart fluttered even more.

She’d learned a term used in F1.

He didn’t even know what to say so he just looked down at her, unable to stop smiling.

“Harry’s not coming, by the way, he had to go back to London for work.” Celeste said, finally pulling away from Calum, “so it’s just us tonight!”

Calum let out a breath, smile widening, “so where are we headed?”

He didn't care that other drivers were probably going to celebrate at a specific location. He only cared about taking every moment with Celeste…. As friends of course.

Of course….

Who was he kidding, Calum knew he was walking a fine line. Part of him wondered what would happen when she came to England… before he’d found out about Harry. And although those ideas were no use anymore, he’d be damned if he didn’t still take advantage of their time together.

“Let's get drinks?” Celeste suggested.

Calum smiled, “sounds perfect.”

***

Calum stared up at the ceiling and Celeste rolled onto her side to look at him. Calum smiled, turning to look at her too, “what?”

“I’m just…” Celeste studied him, “I haven't really had any guy friends before. All the guys I know try to be my friend just to get me in bed. And we’re here and you’re not trying anything.”

Calum coughed awkwardly, sitting up, “well, you’re seeing Harry.”

Celeste rolled onto her back, hair fanning over the pillow, “yeah.”

“How is that going? You didn’t talk much about him last time we hung out.” it was true. They’d been together for hours and Celeste hadn’t mentioned him once.

Celeste took a deep breath, “I really like him. I think. I don’t know. When I was a teenager and he was in One Direction he was huge. And, like every other teenage girl on earth, I was definitely a fan of his. Being with him feels… well, it’s odd. He’s a great guy but I almost feel like I enjoy the grandeur of him. I enjoy the Harry that I know from social media…” there was a pause, then, “fuck, this is why I’m trying not to get drunk anymore. I always want to talk about philosophy and end up confusing myself even more. Forget I said anything, I’m being stupid.”

Calum looked at her, watching the way her chest rose and fell. Her eyes were closed. She was frowning.

It was the most vulnerable he’d ever seen her.

Calum laid down next to her, “I'm sure you’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll probably just do what I always do, stick with it until something really bad happens, then run away.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy.” Calum stated.

Celeste smiled, “Never said it was.” she yawned, “can I stay here tonight?”

“Sure… do you need me to build a pillow wall like last time?” Calum teased.

“For your protection or mine?” Celeste flirted, but Calum knew it was just for the sake of teasing, her expression changed, “why did you have to make a pillow fort last time?”

“You asked for one.”

“So you just built me one?”

“Of course.”

“You’re really sweet, has anyone ever told you that?” Celeste asked, pulling the covers over her body.

“No.”

“Well, people should tell you you’re sweet more often.” Celeste’s eyes were closed and from the wispy tone of her voice, Calum knew she was about three seconds from falling asleep.

“Goodnight Celeste.”

“Goodnight Cal.”

***

Calum stared at the deep-fried chicken on top of waffles. Celeste looked like a kid in a candy shop and Calum was shocked she’d even found a place that served her favourite breakfast. She looked adorable, having stolen one of his Ferrari hats and a shirt.

It was big on her, but he loved it.

“Cal, can you take a pic of me and my waffles?” Celeste asked, handing him her phone.

“Sure.” he said, adjusting the camera as Celeste made a face, tongue out, fingers up in peace signs.

He took a few pictures, smiling down at them before he handed the phone back.

“Do you mind if I tag you?” Celeste asked, “I mean, I am the new Ferrari spokesperson after all.” she joked, flipping the hat so it was backwards.

“Sure.”

He watched her. She was so focused on making the post, it was her job after all.

Calum wondered if Harry would mind that she was tagging him. But… as was plainly obvious, he was just Celeste’s friend.

Sitting there, across from the gorgeous model, Calum decided he’d be just that: a friend. He’d be there for her always, or as long as she wanted him around. He’d take her out for waffles and make blanket forts and support her, even if it meant supporting her with another man.

He’d be whatever she needed him to be. And if that was simply a friend, so be it.

***

“Can you believe you’re almost done the world championship?” Celeste asked.

Calum smiled. It had been five months since they’d met. This championship had felt particularly long for some reason, “miss me already?” Calum teased.

He’d been coming back to New York on his time off as much as he could. He was living for the nights he and Celeste spent at the bar they should have met in. The bar that, if he’d had the balls, could have been where they’d met months before. Could have been where they had their first date-

“Of course I do Cal!” Celeste said, “fuck, I wanted to tell you once you got here, but, I can’t hold it in anymore!”

Calum’s skin felt cold and anxiety overcame it. She’d been getting more and more excited about Harry and any time she had news, Calum was scared what it would be.

“Harry and I are getting married.”

Calum’s mouth was dry, when he opened his mouth to speak it hurt and he had to swallow thickly, giving him the time to think, “congratulations.”

“You’ll come right?”

“When is it?” Calum asked, worried by the eagerness in her voice.

Celeste and Harry had just come out as a couple a month earlier, when he’d taken her to an event. Calum hadn’t looked at the pictures but Celeste had sent him snaps of her dress before she went, and Calum had been so upset he’d gone to a gym to punch things.

“Harry wants it soon, weird right? I didn’t think he was the marriage type.”

Calum bit his tongue. He’d never brought up the night in England when Celeste had told him she worried about why she was with Harry. He wanted to bring it up.

He chose not to.

“Anyways, next month I think?”

Calum’s chest hurt.

“So you’re coming right?” the hope in her voice made it worse.

“I’ll be there.” Calum choked out, “I have to go.”

“Aw really?”

“Yeah, sorry, talk later?” Calum collapsed into his bed.

“Good luck in your race tomorrow. Last one, then you’re coming home.”

Home. He’d wondered before if home was a feeling. He’d felt it every time he was in the bar with Celeste, or grabbing waffles, or with her staring at the stars or even the ceiling.

He wondered if he’d ever feel home again.

***

Alexa looked at Calum. He’d not been impressed to be there. Every time Celeste came out in a new white dress, he’d put on a big happy face, but as soon as Celeste was gone he’d frown again, sitting back and sighing.

“Aren’t you happy for her?” Alexa asked. She’d heard about Calum and Celeste being good friends. Hell, part of Alexa wondered if Calum had surpassed her on the friend scale. Not that Alexa had minded, she was busy and working in LA more and more, which made it harder to keep up with Celeste.

“Yeah. Of course.” Calum said.

“You don’t look happy.” Alexa pointed out.

Before Calum could respond, Celeste called for Alexa’s help and Alexa disappeared. Calum pulled out his phone, opening Celeste’s Instagram. The newest picture was one he’d taken. Celeste bending over the pool table to take a shot. She’d kicked his ass that night, and Calum smiled sadly, wondering if she’d still be up for dodgy bar nights after she was married.

Movement caught his eye and he looked up.

Celeste was standing there in the new wedding dress. It had a form-fitting corset that showed off her curves. Plain white and silky with harsher lines rather than a softly rounded neckline. Beautiful tulle layers of soft white fabric puffed out from under the corset.

She looked like a princess.

Calum’s heart leaped in his chest and he looked at her with eyes that betrayed everything… to Alexa, who was watching him carefully.

“What do you guys think?” Celeste asked, spinning.

“It’s the one.” Calum stated.

“I agree.” Alexa nodded.

Celeste beamed, her whole body alight with happiness as she looked at him, “I think so too.”

Celeste turned to go back into the changeroom and Alexa caught Calum’s eye, she frowned at him and Calum looked away.

Alexa felt bad for Calum, and as she helped Celeste out of the dress, Alexa also realized how much respect she had for the man. He’d said he was coming to the wedding. Alexa wondered if that was true.

***

He couldn’t do it.

He had to do it.

Calum sighed, leaning over the sink and splashing water onto his face. When he stood up, the face looking back at him in the mirror seemed put together.

Calum wished it was true.

The door to the bathroom opened and Alexa peeked her head in, “Cal?”

“This is the men’s bathroom.” Calum said, upset that she was disrupting him when he needed time alone.

“Celeste wanted me to come check on you.”

The anger in Calum’s shoulders disappeared and he took a deep breath, turning to Alexa, “I’m fine.” he lied.

Alexa stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her, “you’re at your best friend's rehearsal dinner the night before her wedding. Your best friend, who I might add, you’re in love with.”

Calum swallowed thickly, he wasn’t sure what to say.

“It’s okay to admit it to someone Calum.” Alexa said, “I'm sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Calum sighed, running a hand through his curls, “it’s my own fucking fault.”

“It’s not.”

“It is. I should have said something.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.” Calum said, voice rising, “but I should have. Before the wedding, before the engagement, before-” he cut himself off, turning to rest his hands on the sink again, head bowed, “it doesn’t matter.”

“If it’s any consolation, I think you’re a really great guy.” Alexa said. There was a pause, then the bathroom door opened.

Celeste stuck her head in, eyes drifting between Alexa and Calum. For a moment she was expressionless, then she smiled, “what are you two up to?”

“Just talking.” Alexa said, “Calum needs to tell you something.”

Celeste entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She looked radiant as ever, in a soft lavender silky dress that Calum longed to touch. It lit up the green of her eyes and the tanness of her skin and Calum’s mouth went dry looking at her.

It had hurt to spend the whole dinner seated next to her, watching her laugh with Harry. Calum could barely stand it anymore.

“So…” Celeste said, “what’s up?” she looked between Alexa and Calum again.

“I’m going to give you two privacy.” Alexa said, quickly leaving.

Celeste turned to Calum, concern on her face, “is something wrong?”

Calum’s heart was nearly beating out of his chest. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Celeste waited patiently, searching his face for a sign of what was to come.

This was the time to say it. The time to tell her how he felt.

He couldn’t do it.

Couldn’t bear the thought of making her upset, two days before her wedding.

“You’re not coming to the wedding are you?” Celeste frowned.

“No.” Calum breathed out before he could stop himself. He wouldn’t have said it on his own, wouldn't have brought it up, but now that she had… now that she was verbalizing it, he realized there was no way in hell he’d be able to go. Celeste’s eyes were welling with tears and Calum was quick to wipe them away before they could drip down her chin and tarnish her dress, “hey, it’s not you, I uh- work.”

The lie also slipped out before he could stop it. He couldn’t make her think it was her fault. Couldn’t tell her the truth.

“Work called.” he said, sounding more certain, “there’s a new thing they’re trying on my car so I have to get on a plane.”

“You’re flying out?” Celeste asked in confusion, “but your tournament just ended? I thought you were home for good? I planned the wedding so you could come-”

Calum’s heart broke at her words. He brushed more tears away from her face, hands cupping her cheeks. Celeste grabbed his wrists, looking up at him with those big green eyes.

His voice cracked when he spoke, “I’m sorry.”

Celeste moved his hands away from her face and hugged him, her body pressed against his front. Calum’s arms wrapped around her, “you’re going to have a great wedding.” he said, voice hoarse, “big and white and just what you wanted.”

Celeste cried harder and Calum wanted to go outside and crash his ferrari into a wall.

The door to the bathroom opened and Harry peaked his head in, immediately entering when he saw Celeste crying, “What happened?!” Harry asked.

Celeste pulled away from Calum and stepped instead into Harry’s arms, not saying anything as she cried.

“I got called in for work so I can’t make the wedding, I'm flying out tonight.” Calum said. It was easier to lie to Harry, “Celeste is upset I won't be there.”

Harry studied Calum for a moment, then he nodded, “I'm sorry you can’t make it.”

“Me too.” he paused, “I'll go grab Alexa, she’ll have makeup, I don't want to ruin your night-”

“When are you leaving?” Celeste asked suddenly, turning to look at him.

“In two hours.” he lied, eager to have an excuse to leave.

He was glad Celeste was too shocked by the sudden turn of events to ask many questions or prod him for answers. He didn't have any answers. Knew the lies were weak.

Calum turned to leave but Celeste grabbed his hand, “when do you come back?”

“I don’t know.” Calum answered. He didn't know anything.

He’d go to Italy in a few days, that was Ferrari's home base. He’d learn some more Italian so his mechanics could talk to him, he’d-

“Calum?”

“Yeah?”

Celeste opened her mouth then closed it, then opened it again “don’t hurt yourself.”

“I won’t.” Calum looked at her quizzically, unsure where the sudden warning had come from, “send me pictures from the wedding okay?” he wouldn’t look at them.

Celeste nodded. She said nothing else and neither did Calum.

He left the bathroom, bumping into Alexa in the hallway, “what happened?!” Alexa asked, shocked by the tears that were welling in Calum’s eyes.

“I’m skipping the wedding.”

“Did you tell her you love her?” Alexa whispered, following Calum as he attempted to leave the venue.

“No.”

“So what happened?!”

“Told her I’m leaving the country tonight for work-”

“Calum!” Alexa grabbed his arm and made him stop, looking around to make sure no one was looking at them, “you can’t leave.”

“I’m going to go to Italy-”

“You can’t!” Alexa insisted.

“Why not?” Calum asked, beginning to get angry.

“Just-” Alexa looked around again, voice lowering, “please stay in town. Until after the wedding, then you can go wherever you want, you can be out of here tomorrow night. But… trust me Calum. It’s better if you’re here.”

“Why?”

“I just… I have a feeling.”

“A feeling?” Calum laughed, but there was no humour in it.

“Celeste is my best friend. She’s never said anything to me about you but-” Alexa cut herself off as a server walked by, looking at the two brunettes huddled together in secrecy, “just don’t leave the country. Promise me.”

Calum sighed, “fine. I’ll stay, but I’m getting a ticket for tomorrow night. then I’m gone.”

“Okay.”

Calum studied Celeste’s best friend. Wondered what she was thinking. Wondered what she couldn’t say.

***

Celeste had managed to get herself put together for the remaining rehearsal dinner, it was near done anyways. She’d gone home with Alexa, to the apartment they shared when they were both in the city.

Celeste would be moving out as soon as she returned from her honeymoon and her things were already in boxes, a suitcase packed for the trip Harry had planned to celebrate the wedding.

Alexa watched Celeste mope around. If Alexa didn’t know any better, she would have assumed Celeste had just been dumped.

Except that she hadn’t.

“Your wedding is tomorrow, aren’t you excited?” Alexa asked, passing a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream to her friend.

“Yeah,” Celeste frowned, “but Cal won’t be there.”

“Harry will. That’s what matters right?”

Celeste took a deep breath, “yeah.”

“What are you thinking Celeste?” Alexa asked, a question she’d become accustomed to asking. Celeste didn't open up much, even when prodded.

“I don’t know.” Celeste fell down onto her bed, careful not to drop the ice cream.

Her eyes went to the wedding dress hanging there, then to the picture of her and Calum that they’d taken in Italy months earlier. The two of them at Ferrari HQ where he’d shown her around and explained all the cars to her, talking in mangled Italian to the workers who’d smiled at his attempts.

Celeste groaned loudly, “well. I’m getting married tomorrow.”

“Uh huh.” Alexa didn’t sound too convinced.

***

Celeste paced back and forth, hands on her hips. It was an odd sight but not a surprising one for Alexa who stood there watching the fully dressed bride have a panic attack.

“What time is it?!” Celeste asked suddenly, turning to look at Alexa.

“Eleven forty. wedding is in twenty minutes.”

“Oh my god.” Celeste fell onto a chair, hiding her face in her hands while careful not to smudge her makeup.

“Talk to me Celeste.” Alexa said, kneeling in front of her friend.

Celeste looked at Alexa from behind her fingers, then took a deep breath. For a moment Alexa thought Celeste would actually open up, then her mouth shut, “this is a mess.” Celeste whispered.

Alexa sighed, “Celeste. Is it possible, that the reason you were so upset when Calum left last night, is because you wanted him at the wedding-”

“Of course I want him there!” Celeste frowned.

“But maybe not as someone in the crowd? Maybe as the groom?” Alexa asked.

Celeste looked shocked for a moment, staring at her friend as if she’d just said she believed the earth was flat, “what?”

“You and Calum.” Alexa said softly, “do you love him?”

“Of course I love him.”

“As more than a friend.” Alexa specified.

“I-” Celeste looked distressed, “I’m getting married to Harry-”

“Just answer the question.” Alexa took Celeste’s hand gently.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s gone. He chose work over being at my wedding and left the country last night-”

“He doesn’t have work today, and he didn’t leave the country.”

“What?!”

“He didn't come because he couldn’t stand to see you with Harry anymore.”

“What?!” Celeste said, louder this time.

“He loves you.”

Celeste stood up abruptly and Alexa followed suit. Alexa had expected Celeste to be ranting, but the girl in front of her was oddly silent.

Celeste’s hands were shaking as she pulled out her phone. She hit speaker and the sound of ringing filled the room.

“Celeste? Are you okay?” Calum’s voice was worried.

“You lied.”

“What?”

“You’re still in New York?” her voice cracked. The line was quiet, Celeste bit her lip, “can… can you come, and bring your car please?”

“I-”

“Calum please.” Celeste said.

She’d never been one to beg, but there she was. Begging in her wedding dress.

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Please hurry.”

***

Calum got out of the car but it didn’t matter, Celeste was already running down the steps. Her hands clutched the dress, lifting it up as to not dirty it.

She was, in every sense of the word, a runaway bride.

And Calum had never been more in love with her.

He held the door open for the car. He’d chosen the one without a top, it was old but still luxurious. A few girls had told him it was the black version of the car people drove off into the sunset in Grease, but Calum had never fact-checked that claim.

Celeste was beaming. Glowing really. And Calum was smiling back at her, helping her tuck her entire dress into the car before he closed the door and ran to the driver's seat.

The car roared to life, like a battle cry, or perhaps a battle won.

“I need to go to my apartment.” Celeste said and Calum didn’t question it.

She’d yet to tell him anything. But since they were driving away from the church, Calum guessed the wedding was over. He was guilty that it made him happy.

The radio was playing club music, the type of hype music Calum liked to drive to, and Celeste turned it up. Her hair was getting messed up by the air whipping by them but Celeste was laughing, arms in the air.

She looked beautiful. Like a girl going to her wedding, not one running away.

Calum snuck glances at her at the first red light.

He could almost forget about Harry.

Until they drove up to the apartment and Harry was waiting there, leaning against his car. One of his friends was in the driver's seat, but he didn't get out of the car.

The look on Harry’s face was stony and it was obvious to Calum that he knew what was coming. “Calum, I need to talk to him is that okay?”

“Of course.” Calum answered.

Like Harry’s driver, Calum stayed in his car. Watching his best friend, the bride to be, get out and walk towards Harry. They were both dressed for the wedding, and it was odd to see them out on the New York street, even if it was a quiet one.

“Celeste, we need to be at the church-” Harry said.

“Harry, I love you but I can't marry you.” Celeste stated, “and I’m so sorry it took me this long to figure it out.”

Harry was quiet.

“You’re one of the most wonderful people I've ever met.” Celeste continued, “and I needed to tell you this in person, but I can't do this. We’ve only been seeing each other for six months and we’re rushing things, don’t you think we’re rushing things?”

Harry sighed but nodded, he’d had the feeling too.

“Besides, we’re amazing friends and I do love you Harry, but I’m not in love with you.”

“Not the way you are with Calum.” Harry stated.

It knocked the air out of Celeste’s lungs. It was as if everyone had known her feelings except her, and maybe Calum, “I-”

“It’s okay.” Harry held up a hand, “s’ not like I would have been able to live in New York forever, and you can’t give up your sodding chicken and waffles.”

“Don’t bash the deep-fried chicken and waffles Harold.” Celeste said, faking offense, but then she was smiling and so was Harry.

“Come here.” Harry said, opening his arms.

They hugged and Celeste was happy neither of them were crying. It showed that this was right.

“I’m not going to deal with wedding guests.” Harry mused while pulling away.

“Me neither.” Celeste said, “we could both just not show up? That sounds like a good song.”

“You have left me with a lot of material.” Harry laughed, “well, I'll see you around Celeste.”

“See you around Harry.” Celeste said fondly, giving the brit one last smile before he got into his car and left. Then she bounded over to the car, leaning down to rest her arms on Calum’s door, “hey.”

“That looked like it went okay.” Calum said.

“It did. So, my bags are packed upstairs for a honeymoon that I’m not going on… what do you say we go somewhere?”

Calum smiled, “where to princess?”

“Take me back to Monte Carlo.”

***

The sound of the hotel room door opening woke Celeste up, her eyes landing on Calum. They’d arrived the night before and had immediately passed out, both too jetlagged to do much. Calum offered her a smile and Celeste stretched, yawning the words “where were you?”

“Wanted to get you breakfast but I didn't think the stuff downstairs was up to your standards.” Calum said, leaning on a wall. He wasn’t sure where to stand.

They were in Monaco.

They’d talked and watched movies the entire flight but neither had brought up the wedding.

He wasn’t sure where he stood with her. Wasn’t sure what he was allowed to ask.

Celeste could feel his awkwardness as she studied him. Then she stood up, adjusting the Ferrari shirt she was wearing. “Calum?”

“Hm?”

“Come here?”

Calum smiled softly, uncrossing his arms over his chest, he took a few steps forward. Celeste held out her arms and pulled Calum to her, looking up at him, “Calum. Do you know I love you?”

“Yeah.” Calum said, he’d heard it many times, after every phone call, after every ride he gave her home after a hangout.

“Do you know I'm in love with you?”

Calum’s breath caught in his chest and he wet his lips, mind racing. The thought that he was the reason for her ditching her wedding had crossed his mind but he’d pushed it to the side, instead deciding to be, as always, Celeste’s friend.

“Calum?” Celeste breathed his name, brushing her fingers over his cheekbone.

Instead of speaking he kissed her.

He’d gone so long not saying the words ringing through his brain, they could wait a little while longer.

His lips were soft on Celeste’s at first, hesitant, as if he was afraid she would pull away. Only when Celeste wrapped her arms around the back of his neck did he get more comfortable, one hand cupping her face while the other went to her waist, pulling her closer.

Calum pulled away and his entire body shuddered for a moment, in something like pure ecstasy, maybe shock.

Celeste smiled up at him, kissing his lips once more softly, “Are you okay?” she asked.

Calum laughed, returning her grin, he shook his head a little, “I just-” he couldn’t find the right words to explain how he was feeling, Celeste waited patiently and- god, he loved her so much.

She could see it in his eyes.

Calum’s fingers dug into Celeste’s hips and she beamed at him, brushing her fingers against his cheeks. She could feel what was unsaid and almost appreciated it more because he couldn’t find the words to say it. She’d always had a connection with Calum that seemed to be on another level, and moments like this confirmed it to her.

Moments like this. She enjoyed the thought of that, of more to come.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” Celeste teased, eyes darting down to look at his lips then up at him again.

Calum kissed her, not as hesitant as the first kiss. His hands went to her waist immediately, one of them dipping down to just above her bum. His fingers bunched in the red fabric and the cool air met Celeste’s ass. She was in a thong, Calum hadn't noticed yet because she’d been covered by the shirt since the night before, but when his hand dipped a little lower, he groaned into her mouth and Celeste knew he’d discovered the flimsy fabric covering her.

His hand kneaded her ass harshly, and Celeste smiled against his lips, loving the way it felt, loving the way Calum was groaning in anticipation. Celeste pressed against his front, already able to feel his hard on straining his grey sweats.

Then Celeste pulled away and Calum let her go, eyes opening questioningly.

Celeste pulled off the Ferrari shirt Calum had given her, revealing her near nudity underneath. Calum licked his lips, eyes focused on her chest. Then Celeste sat down onto the bed, her thick thighs looking deliciously curvy and grabable, Calum couldn’t hold himself back. He was between her legs before he could help himself, kneeling on the floor and tearing off her black silk thong.

“Calum!” Celeste laughed, fingers tangling in his curls. She’d not expected him to be so eager, expected him to go for kissing first. She had no idea how long he’d been waiting to taste her.

Calum’s fingers danced over Celeste’s calf and he moved it to be on his shoulder, his lips trailing up higher and higher. He kissed both thighs, nipping a little at the skin, fingers digging in as he held her in place.

“So pretty.” he mused, more to himself than anything.

Her fingers gripped his curls when his lips finally met her, wrapping around her clit. He’d had enough buildup. Enough teasing. He wanted to hear her moaning his name, wanted to watch her come undone under him.

The first moan was soft, more like a whimper, and Calum’s whole body felt like it was lit in flame. He sucked harder on her clit, fingers digging into her delicious thighs where they were on his shoulders. Her skin was warm and smelled like flowers, he wondered how she always smelled so good.

Celeste’s eyes were closed, lips parted, sinful, soft noises whispered into the cosmos as her lover devoured her.

Her lover… yes, that is what he was.

Calum was her lover in every sense of the word. It had just taken her a long time to realize it. He did everything for her and as he brought her to her first high, her heart filled with love. Love that had always been there, unidentified and growing. Now that she knew what it was, she was never going to let him go.

Calum licked his lips, looking up at Celeste. Her eyes were still closed, chest rising and falling softly as she chased her breath. He took her legs off of his shoulders and Celeste opened her eyes, looking down at him with a lazy smile. A comfortable smile. As if they’d done this a thousand times, “hi.” she said, voice near a whisper.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Her smile widened, “come here.” she said, instead of answering his question.

Calum moved to be on the bed with her, settled between her legs that wrapped around his waist.

He kissed her shoulder first, then her collarbone, moving up her neck before he reached her lips. When he kissed her, he kissed her gently. One of his hands came up to brush over her nipple, earning a soft shudder from Celeste that made him smile against her lips. “You’re so beautiful.” he told her, kisses traveling to her neck as she wrapped her arms around him, a sigh of content leaving her lips, “fucking love you.” he murmerred.

Celeste’s skin felt warm and her heart lurched in her chest. She knew he loved her, but hearing him say it was different. She brought his lips back to hers and kissed him like her life depended on it, part of her thought it did.

The pressure of his hard, clothes cock, against her sensitive entrance had her moaning within seconds, eager to get rid of Calum’s clothes. Soon, his Ferrari shirt has joined the one she was wearing on the floor and his joggers following soon after.

“I wanna top.” Celeste said against Calum’s lips and he paused, giving her a look but agreeing. He got onto his back and watched her straddle him, lining herself up with him. She sank down slowly, both of them groaning at the way it felt.

He had to admit it was a beautiful view. The first bounce had her breasts moving in a way that made Calum’s mouth water. His hands reached up to cup her breasts and Celeste moaned, continuing to bounce up and down on him.

Calum hadn’t had many religious experiences in his life.

This was one of them.

One of his hands went down to her ass, giving it a test smack that made Celeste laugh, her eyes opening. Her hands went to his chest and she leaned over him, kissing his neck while she continued bouncing up and down. He could see the way her ass was moving with each bounce and Calum groaned, eyes closing as he enjoyed the way it felt.

He was usually the top, usually the one doing all the work. It was nice to just lay back and relax and be doted on, especially since he loved her. Every kiss made him tingle and his heart was racing in his chest.

He felt the way he always felt after a race. It was exhilarating.

His arms wrapped around Celeste, slowing her motions so he could roll them so he was on top. The pace he wanted was faster than the one she had been giving him, and now it was his turn to make her feel good.

She looked so beautiful under him, and the feeling of her breasts pressed against his bare chest did not go unnoticed. He wanted to be kissing her, touching her, loving her.

He angled his hips differently, hitting a spot inside of her that had Celeste’s legs tightening around his waist, “holy shit.” she breathed, moaning loudly.

Her fingers went to his curls again, tugging lightly at the dark strands. Their lips were passionate and slow against each other, tongues clashing, teeth biting. Then Calum grabbed one of her hands, interlocking their fingers as he pressed it down into the bed.

“I’m gonna-” Celeste began but Calum cut her off with his lips, pace quickening.

The whole bed was moving with each thrust, and Celeste’s whines were getting louder as he kissed her. He could feel her fluttering around him, a sign of her impending high. Celeste squeezed Calum’s fingers tight, high whimpers stopping as her whole body tensed, orgasm hitting her.

She was so tight around him that Calum came too, thrusts getting sloppy as they rode out their highs. Their kisses were open-mouthed, both of them moaning into each other's mouths.

When they were both done, Calum stopped gripping her hand so hard, instead, he pressed soft kisses over her face. “Fuck, I love you.” he whispered.

Celeste smiled up at him, “I love you more.”

“Not possible.”

***

The usual patrons of the bar watched the gorgeous couple play pool.

She was dressed in red, a colour she’d adopted to support her boyfriend. The colour made her glow, but her boyfriend’s smile was brighter. He watched her with complete adoration, even when she sunk a ball and got one step closer to beating him.

They were the same people they’d been when they were strangers.

He’d quit smoking, claiming he didn't need the high anymore, after all, he was with the love of his life. He still sometimes brought a cigarette or two to give to the bouncers, chatting with them outside before joining Celeste in the bar.

Celeste still played pool with girls who challenged her, but this time, Calum would come to stand behind her. Watching, his arms looped around his girlfriend, enjoying the way she chatted to the girls like they were old friends.

But they were happier, elevated versions of themselves. They’d always dazzled before, but together, they were an unstoppable force. They had the type of happiness people could only dream of.

Calum had always heard that if you dated your best friends, things would be okay.

With Celeste, his best friend, in his arms, he knew it was true. Her smile was contagious, it always had been. Watching her dance away, her dress teasing him, Calum was thankful for everything that had happened.

There’d been a time he hated himself for not talking to her, but it had led him to where they were now. He’d never believed in fate.

He did now.

********

taglist: @irwinkitten - @thecashtonexpress - @angelbabylu - @ohhmuke - @fratcalum - @hereforlukescruff - @cakesunflower - @spoopycalum - @calsjackets - @sweetcherrymike - @calteahood - @flannelpunkcalum - @calthesensation - @poppedpins - @singt0mecalum - @boybandsanddeanwinchester - @dammitbands - @drummerboy794 - @alwaysashton - @calumsmermaid - @createdbyfracturedaddiction - @smileybeanlu - @quintodosuniversos - @andtheytoldustotellyouhello - @palliddark - @5secsofsomewhere - @mycoffeeandstudy - @imgonnaregretthisusername - @talkfastcthood - @deviantnines - @raabiac - @bethxhopkins - @dorkyfangirlandco - @honeyboyharry - @seedless-vascular - @musiclover1263 - @fairyintheglass - @eternal-langdon - @cal-pal-cuddles - @converse-luke - @findingliam-o - @only-got-one-dimple - @calinthewatermelonshirt - @snapback-irwie - @cathartichaoss - @old-zeppelin-shirt - @astroashtonio - @wanderlust-mikey - @randompeopleifindattractive - @calashmikeluke0 - @caswinchester2000 - @imadontstopacoustic - @lfwallscouldtalk - @spookymashton - @blahehblah - @toolazymyguy - @quintodosuniversos - @easiercake - @youngblood199456 - @surgarplumbeech - @snapback-irwie - @girlwiththepizzabackpack - @buc-kybarn-es - @gorgeouslygrace - @harryforvogue - @babylon-corgis - @txrran - @thecurlsofgod - @niallisworld - @rbforsmileycal - @alloutofcashton

476 notes · View notes

daybreak-academy-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Daybreak Academy: Chapter 82

Anxious Receptions

Summary: In which the Daybreak Academy headmasters, along with Ephemer and Anora, attend the wedding for one of Invi’s friends. Word Count: 1,844 First | Previous | Next ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆

Something about being in a room full of strangers gave Anora anxiety. She couldn’t imagine why; it’s not like she could easily recall any incidents in her past that made her feel this way. Maybe she had a fear of being called out for something? It definitely felt like she was walking on pins and needles the moment their group of eight sat on the groom’s side during the wedding proper. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t know anymore. Someone was going to find out that she had the least relation to Kadin Nyoka and tell her to get lost, or accuse her of wedding crashing, or maybe even…

“You alright?”

Ephemer’s soft, hushed voice almost made Anora jump three feet in the air. He didn’t need to talk so softly now; the wedding had already taken place and now the eight of them were at the reception. Anora looked over at him and nodded. She reached for his hand under the table and gave it a light squeeze. Ephemer gave a little squeeze back before the two of them turned their attention back to the others.

“So here’s the deal,” Ms. April told the headmasters as she reached for the open champagne bottle, pouring the drink into their glasses for them, “If all of us get absolutely plastered, I volunteer Anora as our designated driver. She seems responsible enough.”

“Hey!” Ephemer almost immediately objected. “What about me?”

Ms. April looked at him. A wide, catlike grin was etched on her face now. “You bungee jumped off the gym building.” she told him- her voice just as amused and mocking. “Your sense of responsibility got thrown way out the window after that little stunt.”

Ephemer's ears and face quickly became a bright shade of red. “It was one time!” he insisted. “And I was bribed!”

That was when Gula let out a light chuckle before cutting in, “From where I was standing, it looked like you were having way too much fun up there if it was a bribe.”

“C-can we talk about something else?”

“By all rights,” Ms. April bemused, swirling her now filled champagne glass, “Anora should know this story. It was your crowning moment, after all.”

Ephemer could only shake his head and try to hide his face from the others. He hated that he could hear Anora’s light chuckles beside him. It was more unnerving hearing even Ira laugh at him too. After a while, their laughter died down enough that Ira started to get up from the table.

“I’m going to get some refreshments. Does anyone want something while I’m up?”

“Can I come with you?” Ava requested. “I wanted to see if they had any more of those little sandwiches.”

Ira gave her a nod of agreement, helping her out of her seat, before the two of them headed toward the drink table. Conversation quickly started back up again between the remaining six of them. They didn’t even particularly notice when the first dance started. What led them all to look over at the dance floor were the sounds of child-like giggles that rang through the reception hall. Ephemer was the first to look over.

Over on the dance floor was the wedding’s flower girl, Vidia, dancing with her father, the groom, Kadin. The little girl happily danced with her much taller father- even if it was just a set of wiggles and laughter from the both of them. Ephemer gave them a small smile as he rested his head in his hand.

“I’d like to have kids.” Ephemer wistfully sighed. Anora looked at him and raised an eyebrow. He only happened to notice it out of the corner of his eye.

“N-not now of course!” he quickly stammered, shaking his hands in defense. “Later! Much, much later! Like, after we graduate, later! I’m, like, the same age Ava was when she adopted me and I still don’t know how she did it!”

“Smooth recovery there, slick.” Gula couldn't help but add in. Ephemer did not hesitate to give the headmaster a rather cold glare.

“No one asked you.” Ephemer hissed back with a prudent scrunch of his nose. “It's not like I'm harassing you for not marrying Ava off yet. You're just afraid of me calling you 'Papa', aren't you?”

“You will address me as 'Father', young man.” Gula teasingly replied without a second guess.

The corner of Ephemer's mouth twitched before he insisted, “Papa Gula.”

“Watch it- or I'll show you why your name means 'short-lived.'”

“You're not my real dad.”

Upon finding she no longer wanted to hear this conversation, Invi started to get up from the table as well. “I’ll be back soon.” Invi told their group. “I need to give Kadin my congratulations.”

She was grateful that no one really paid her any mind. Invi absently smoothed out her skirt as she walked toward Kadin and Vidia. Her heart clenched as she looked directly at the toddler while placing a hand on Kadin’s shoulder. He looked up at her and grinned.

“Heya Invi!” he greeted, ceasing his dance with her daughter to shake Invi’s hand. “So glad you decided to come. Saw that army you brought with you too- looks like some crowd. Practically a barrel of monkeys.”

“You could say that.” Invi politely agreed with a less than easy smile of her own. Her attention was diverted from Kadin when she felt something tugging at her skirt. She looked down and nearly paled at seeing Vidia look up at her with bright, wide eyes.

“Dance, dance, dance, dance!” little Vidia proclaimed, reaching her hands up at Invi. Almost immediately, Invi recoiled.

“O-oh no, I don’t think I…”

“Come on, Invi,” Kadin goaded, “Look at that little face. How could you resist it?”

Invi bit her tongue, trying to hold back some rather choice words to Kadin. She knew what he was doing. Rude. Despite her better judgments, though, Invi bent down to carefully pick the little girl up and started to do a light waltz with her. The toddler happily squealed in delight as Invi spun her around, occasionally pretending to dip her a little too.

Back at the table, the sweet display was being watched by one particularly nosey woman.

“Aced,” Ms. April softly said, nudging the tall headmaster with her elbow, “Don't you think there's something… familiar about that little flower girl?”

Aced looked over at her, confused. “What do you mean?” he questioned. At first, Ms. April didn’t seem to answer him. She leaned a bit closer before telling him;

“Look at her eyes.”

“Her eyes?”

The tiny, older woman gave a solemn nod. “And maybe a bit of her nose and chin. Don't they remind you of someone else's?”

Aced still gave Ms. April a quizzical expression before looking back at Invi and Vidia. Since Invi was holding the child, it was much easier to see their profiles. He studied them for a moment before the resemblance clicked with him. Aced's eyes grew wide as he shot April a surprised look. She raised a knowing eyebrow in return before taking a rather long sip from her champagne glass.

. . .

Everyone but Anora decided to socialize in some capacity over the rest of the reception. Ira became the dedicated drink and snack getter, Ms. April had coaxed Aced into dancing more than once, Gula made small talk, Ephemer even managed to get locked into a conversation with some other boys his age, and Invi happened to find the bride to give her best wishes. As for Ava…

The rather short woman weaved in and out of the tables with excitement. Some of it disappeared when she realized that only April, Aced, Ephemer, and Anora were still sitting there.

“Guys!” Ava happily huffed as she tried to regain her breath. “They're about to toss the bouquet! Would anyone like to join me? April? Anora?”

“Thanks but no thanks, Ava.” Ms. April brushed off with a wave of her hand. “I already know that I'm destined to be an old maid in some form or another. Don't need a bridal mosh pit to remind me of it.”

“What about you, Anora?” Ava cheerfully asked. “You want to come with me?”

Her answer was in the form of a very fervent head shake and wide, terrified eyes. Understanding, but not quite realizing, the urgency, Ava gave a bright smile before heading on off.

“You don’t want to join?” Ephemer teased Anora, giving her a little nudge. “I’m sure you’ll make a great bride someday if you catch it. We can have a pretty awesome wedding, just like this one.”

The face Anora gave Ephemer was a cross between confusion and bewilderment. She looked around the reception hall, and could almost feel her face pale over. There were so many people here. If she got married -to Ephemer or otherwise- it wouldn’t be this big. Without meaning to, Anora gave a small grimace before quickly shaking her head. Ephemer’s joking expression soon fell into one of almost disappointment. Did Anora not want to get married? A small thought flickered across his mind that he wasn’t able to take care of her anyway, so how did it matter. But the corner of his mouth twitched- he wasn’t ready to lose her. Not yet.

“Then how about a ring?” he then asked. “Just… I dunno, something to remind yourself of your loved one, and all?”

Anora gave Ephemer an odd little raise of her eyebrow. Before she could answer, the undeniable squeals coming from Ava diverted their attention. In however long their conversation lasted, the bouquet had been tossed and Ava had apparently caught it. She proudly waved the bundle of fake flowers in the air like a trophy. Gula, who was coming back to the table, let out a small chuckle as he sat down.

“Whelp, looks like my days as a single man are at an end.” he teased- more to Ms. April and Aced than to the teenagers.

“I'd drink to that.” April bemused, raising her champagne glass. Gula raised a bemused eyebrow at her before getting his own, their glasses clinking in agreement.

“Can I join in?” Aced nervously asked, raising his glass as well.

“You bet, teddy bear.” Ms. April agreed with a grin just moments before clicking her glass against his. Aced had to move a bit to reach Gula’s glass as well. The three adults tipped down their beverages with a single, unanimous gulp.

Ephemer watched them with a small raise of his eyebrow. He turned his gaze over to Anora -whose social energy meter was running low, so she was distracting herself by drawing little circles with her finger on the table cloth- and let out a small sigh. He could admit to not always being the smartest kid on campus, but he knew one thing; he wanted to be with Anora. He just had to make her a promise.

And he knew just what kind of promise he was going to give her too.

#daybreak academy #chapter 82 #kingdom hearts fanfiction #Anora #Ephemer #Ava #April #Aced #Gula #Invi #Ira #Kadin #Vidia #Apple and Cinnamon #Season 2

3 notes · View notes

imaginesforyourfandom · 5 years

Text

Physically in Love - Alex Morgan Imagine

(Y/N) POV:

I was pulled up by Dawn who pulled me to stand between her and Jill. I put my arms around them as they rested their arms around my shoulders. I was practically vibrating with excitement as we waited for the final whistle to go. I watched the players continue to pass the ball around trying to keep the Netherlands at bay. These felt like the longest 3-5 minutes of my life.

My eyes naturally fell to Alex. She usually ended up being my center of attention. I won’t apologized for being obsessed with her. We met years ago when I was brought on as the Physical Trainer for the team. It was my job to help make sure that the players were in peak condition. It usually was a lot of collaborating with Dawn and the other members of the medical staff.

Anyways, she and I had met and after a few months of casual flirting. She asked me out on a date. I said no at first because I felt weird about dating one of the players and I didn’t want to risk my job, but eventually I said yes. It was easily the best decision I ever made. I was completely unapologetically in love with her. Thankfully, she seems to love me just as much as I do her.

It was difficult at first because my protective girlfriend instincts made me worry over everything that happened to her, but I like to think that I have a better hold over it now. Everyone use to tease me over how worried I would get over her, but now whenever she falls, I just tell her to walk it off. I think my biggest concern when we got together was everyone thinking that I would show favoritism, but so far it has yet to be an issue because I care about all the girls so much. I know how much they’ve put on the line to get to this moment.

I felt everyone surge forward when the final whistle went. I grinned watching the players celebrate. They were World Cup champions for the second time in a row. I was giving hugs to each of the girls and telling them how proud of them I was. I felt arms wrap around me from behind. I turned and saw my favorite forward grinning at me with tears in her eyes.

“Baby” I grinned as I pulled her closer. “You did it. Oh my god. You won. I am so proud of you.”

She pulled out of the hug and then did something I never would have expected. She pulled me in for a kiss. I was shocked that I didn’t have time to reciprocate before she was pulling me in for another hug. We weren’t technically officially out to people. I knew we both liked the privacy of people not knowing. We have talked about possibly telling people, but I never expected her to kiss me in front of a stadium full of fans right after winning a world cup.

“I couldn’t have done this without you. I love you so much and I don’t care who knows.” She mumbled into my ear as she rested her head onto my shoulder.

“Well, I think the whole world is about to know. I am with you no matter what baby.” I could feel her smile and then pull back. She intertwined our fingers and pulled me along to celebrate with the others. I continued giving hugs though Alex refused to let go of my hand, so it was more of side hugs.

Eventually, she had to let go to do the awards and get the trophy. I grinned and cheered as loud as I could when they announced her winning the silver boot. I was so unbelievably proud of her. Eventually, the team got their medals and trophy and afterwards made their way to the locker room. The moment she could, Alex reconnected herself to me as we entered the locker room. I watched everyone begin to open the bottles of Budweiser and champagne. I saw Kelley going to take a sip and immediately moved towards the defender.

“Kelley, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re still showing signs of a concussion.” I moved to take the bottle from her, but she turned immediately started chugging it. I stood there slightly taken aback at how fast she got it down.

“We just won. I don’t have a concussion. Its fine” she said as she moved towards Sonnett and Ashlyn.

“Oh my god. She is putting herself in so much trouble.” I said as Alex let out a laugh.

“To be fair, we have all tried policing Kelley and it doesn’t work. You got to just let her make that decision.” I groaned trying to let it go and feeling myself grimace at how fast she was putting down alcohol.

“Alex! Come on! (Y/N)! You too!” I shook my head as Alex pulled me with her towards the group. We all took drinks and I felt all sorts of amusement at how fast Alex started drinking. I shook my head knowing the hangover she was going to have later was going to be intense. I turned and surveyed the room watching all the girls. Julie looked like she was having the best time ever.

We all continued drinking and celebrating for a little while. Alex had started to dance quite provocatively, and I could only watch in amusement because it didn’t look great to be honest. I watched mainly making sure no one hurt themselves. Eventually, Pinoe finally got back from doing all the press and drug testing. She was immediately showered with champagne as she too started drinking mass amounts of alcohol. As their PT, I was grimacing. As their friend, I was dying of laughter. They took the team picture and then we immediately started trying to get them together.

Alex and I separated for a little while when we left. I sat with Dawn and scrolled through my phone. Our kiss was trending everywhere. People were absolutely shaking at Alex kissing a girl. There were a ton of fans commenting that they knew that Alex and I were together and calling the team the gayest team on the planet. The comments made me laugh. Most news outlets were congratulating Alex on winning and coming out. I smiled knowing there wasn’t going to be a ton of backlash because Alex didn’t deserve that.

I let out an amused smile watching some of the Instagram’s stories back. I then turned when I received a text from Alex telling me to turn around. She was standing in her seat motioning for me to come back to her. I shook my head at her telling her no causing the forward to pout. She then looked down at her phone and started typing, I waited for the text and laughed when she sent me a bunch of sad emoji faces.

When we got to the hotel, I made my way off the bus and jumped slightly when she came up next to me and intertwined our fingers.

“That was mean.” She said pulling me along with her. She was so drunk.

“There would have been no room for me with Allie sitting next to you.”

“You could have sat on my lap.” I rolled my eyes at her statement and leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“I don’t know how drunk you are, but the comments seem to be mostly positive about us.”

“I knew they would be. Most of the fans have already figured it out and I think most people assumed I was dating a girl anyway. I’m sorry for surprising you like that.” She gave me a serious look which only really made me laugh considering how wasted she already was.

“You don’t have to be sorry. If being out is what you want, then I am happy to be out with you. I love you Alex and there is nothing that would make me ashamed or anything with you.”

“I love you too. Also, stop laughing at me.”

“I’ll stop laughing when you sober up. Which I feel like isn’t going to happen for a few days.”

She grinned at me and turned giving me another kiss on the lips. I smiled and kissed her back this time.

“You’re gonna take care of me when the hangover hits right?” she asked giving me a sweet smile. I gave her a smile in return and kissed her softly.

“No” I said leaving her standing there as her jaw dropped. I headed for the entrance to the hotel and walked up the stairs with the rest of the team humming the four stars song. I heard her running behind me as she caught up to me.

“Wait…What? Really?” she asked concern evident on her face. “You’re not going to take care of me.”

“Do you really think I am not going to take care of you?” I asked with a ‘really?’ expression. She smiled at me with relief which caused me to smile. “Because I am not”

“(Y/N)!” she groaned following me up the stairs. We got to her room as she moved to start changing her clothes. “Are you being serious or are you kidding?”

“Alex relax, don’t get to that point.” I said seriously. “Although, I can tell your already passed that point. I’ll be there no matter what. Don’t worry.”

She smiled and blew me a kiss causing me to roll my eyes. I swear the things I did for this girl. I couldn’t help wanting to be there and take care of her. I was so physically in love with her that not being there wasn’t an option. I would follow her to the end of the earth. I smiled at her watching her fix her hair. She turned and grinned at me. I really am the luckiest person on the planet.

The End.

#Alex Morgan #alex morgan imagine #alex morgan imagines #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt

284 notes · View notes

deaky-disco-queen · 5 years

Text

Joger Week - Day 3: Enemies to Lovers

A/N: I know Nothing About car racing except what’s left of waatching F1 with my dad About ten years ago so this is probably not accurate at all but I wanted to write it anyway.

+++

Roger snarled in frustration, pulling off his helmet and threw it to the ground angrily, Crystal would yell at him for it later but he couldn’t bring himself to care right now as he stomped past his boxing crew, ripping off his gloves.

He could see him. Just the next box over there was John Deacon, celebrating his win with his crew, all of them yelling and shouting and hugging him and Roger grinded his teeth hard enough he could already feel a headache coming.

He hated John Deacon. He hated him so much.

John had beaten him by the fraction of a second and Roger had never been so angry. He had won the past four races and a win today would have meant not only staying on top of the ranking but also extend his lead by a good amount. But John Deacon had ruined it and while he was still on top, John was right behind him and they only had a handful of more races this season.

With his luck, it would probably end up like last season and it would be a really close call. Last year, Roger had come out on top but Deacon had updated his crew and something had changed as his team worked much more smoothly. It could get really tough this year and Roger was angry about it.

“Hey, you spoiled brat! Do you think we have enough back up helmets for your hissy fits? Take better care of your equipment!”

Crystal threw a water bottle at him but Roger managed to catch it and flipped him off before drinking half of the bottle in big gulps. His eyes were drawn back to John and their eyes met.

He grinned- all smug and proud, that bastard- and Roger growled, turning away and chugging the rest of his water. The bottle was thrown into the trash with much more force than necessary.

Crystal showed up again with Roger’s helmet under his arm and a towel in one hand. He pushed it into his face and ignored the blond’s yelp as he rubbed his face down. Roger kicked at him and Crystal backed off, laughing and Roger swatted at him half-heartedly.

“Clean up! The trophy ceremony starts in five minutes!”

He scoffed but washed his face before making his way towards the podium. He was stopped several times by people who wanted to congratulate him and he put on his best fake smile because he was still so angry but he didn’t want to let out his bad mood at them. Especially the fans didn’t deserve that when they just asked for autographs or pictures.

Eventually, he made it to the podium where John and the third place, Tim Staffel, were waiting, talking animatedly with some other people Roger didn’t recognize.

They were ushered up their respective places and got their trophies under loud cheers and Roger was almost blinded by the camera flashes. And then it was time for Roger’s favorite part: spraying champagne everywhere.

It lifted his spirits momentarily as he was too busy getting getting the viewers and especially the big officials drenched. It was fun until he made his way back to the podium, thoroughly wet himself- thanks, Tim- where he was confronted by John. He was grinning, tooth gap visible and eyes crinkling and Roger’s smile froze.

He didn’t look smug now. That was the worst part. He was all proud and smug around Roger but at the ceremonies and the interviews he was always so genuinely happy and it made it hard being mad at him. Because Roger knew how it felt like.

Something crossed over John’s face and Roger was about to make a comment about it but then he grabbed his face and brought his champagne bottle to Roger’s mouth.

He had no idea what was happening but he could hear the people cheer and he just swallowed what John poured into his mouth, their eye contact never breaking.The whole thing lasted only a couple of seconds but it dumbfounded him enough that he stumbled backwards when John let go of him, his mouth full of champagne.

After the podium ceremony, Roger was ushered away by Crystal to a more secluded area for a round of interviews.

He managed to pull through them despite the fact that his head was still reeling and when Crystal showed up again to pull him aways, he was relieved. All he wanted was a shower and a nap.

After leading him towards the changing room, Crystal said his goodbyes and left him alone. For a moment, Roger played with the thought of taking a shower here but he knew once he got under the warm water he wouldn’t want fall asleep pretty soon.

With a sigh, he finally got out of his racing suit, dropping it to the floor and reached for his dark jeans. He slipped into a soft green sweatshirt and attempted to tame his hair but it was pretty useless.

He was just slipping into his boots when the door opened. He thought maybe it was someone from the crew who needed something or maybe an over enthusiastic reporter- it had happened before- but when he looked up, John Deacon was standing there.

He had changed, too, and was wearing a pair of light wash jeans and a loose, white button-down instead of his yellow racing suit. Roger blinked.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Roger didn’t had the energy to have a fight with John right now but he could feel the irritation and anger underneath his exhaustion.

“You were good today.”

John leaned against the wall, arms crossed with a small smile on his face. Roger scoffed and stuffed his jacket that was still in his locker in his bag and zipped it up a little bit harsher than he probably should have.

“Thanks.” he sneered. “I try to be good at my job. It kind of got me here.”

He couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy! What was wrong with him that he just showed up in Roger’s changing room to make even more fun of him? He threw his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his racing suit to place it where the crew could pick it up for cleaning.

A warm hand on his arm stopped him and he yanked it free with a growl, swirling around angrily.

“What? Anything else? Want to make fun of me? I’m fucking tired, leave me alone, Deacon!”

John looked taken aback at that and Roger waited for a second just to see if he would say anything else but he didn’t and he stormed off then, rushing to the cab that has been called for him.

+++

Roger won the next two races. John won the race after that. Prenter won the fourth one and that was probably worse than losing against John.

He slammed the the door of his locker shut, flinching at the loud crash. It didn’t even stayed shut, just bounced right back open and Roger pushed it close again.

“Be careful, you’ll hurt yourself otherwise.”

Roger turned around and there was John again. He had left him alone after the little incident and Roger had been thankful for that even if it had weirded him out that John was doing nothing. Not even giving him one of his smirks when he caught Roger staring at him. He just did nothing. He acknowledged Roger but there was nothing of their usual rivalry. It had Roger on edge.

“What do you care?” he snapped.

John frowned and shook his head. He looked sweaty, his hair clinging to his temples. Roger grabbed his water bottle and pushed past him, back into the garage just to stop dead a couple of steps into it.

His crew wasn’t here. Usually, no matter how long Roger took to get changed, somebody was there for him to bid his farewell to, sometimes somebody still needed something from him but there was never nobody. He frowned as he had planned to use that to get rid of John.

“I don’t actually want to see you hurt, you know?”

John appeared at his side again and Roger rolled his eyes at him.

He felt himself getting irritated again. For weeks, he had left him alone. No jabs, no sneers, no smirks, no off-hand comments and now of all days, John decided to annoy him again. Roger didn’t understand him! He couldn’t wrap his head around anything John does! It wasn’t just his behaviour in the past weeks but the past years.

Both of them had started their career early and Roger faintly remember watching John’s first race at a go-kart track when he was about sixteen. Roger himself wanted to participate but couldn’t due to a broken arm. After that, they kept running into each other at races but never really talked until both of them got into professional racing and then- somehow- it had spiraled into their rivalry.

Roger wasn’t even sure who started it but the media ate it up and so nobody really discouraged it.

“Did you want anything?” Roger asked. “Because if not, I want to go back to my hotel room and take a nap.”

“You’re not even going to the party?”

Roger barked out a laugh and carded a hand through his hair. He heard John chuckle.

“And listen to Prenter bragging and being a general dick to anyone?”

“Isn’t he like that every day?”

He snorted, then sighed. John was staring at him and Roger frowned, not knowing what he was supposed to do. This wasn’t what they normally did. John licked his lips, his head angled slightly to the side and it felt like he was sizing him up. Roger straightened up, squaring his shoulders which only served to make him chuckle.

“Do you want to work out some anger?”

Roger blinked. John was still smiling.

+++

John pushed him up against the wall and Roger groaned, the sound muffled by John’s mouth. He whined and pulled him closer, slipping a leg in between his and grinned when he moaned and rocked up against him.

They grabbed, pushed and pulled at each other, stumbling through Roger’s hotel room towards the bed and losing their clothes in the progress.

This really wasn’t how Roger had thought his day would be going like this, especially not with John Deacon of all people but when John nipped his way down his neck, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He moaned and tangled his hand in his hair.

Their mouths found each other again, teeth clacking together and Roger swapped them around, effectively straddling John who let it happen with a grin and settled his hands on his hips.

“You’re gonna fuck me?” he panted and Roger nodded.

It surprised him, if he was honest, because he had thought there would be a bit of fighting over who gets to top but John seemed more than happy to bottom, asking him where he had lube and condoms and getting them.

Roger fingered him open thoroughly, fascinated by the way his face scrunched up in pleasure and the sounds he made. John was quiet in comparison to most of the people he had slept with but he realized he wasn’t bothered by it.

“Come on, Roger, get to it.”

“Getting impatient?”

John wrapped his legs around his waist and pulled him close, causing him to almost lose his balance. Roger rolled his eyes at him but ripped open the condom and pulled it on. John sighed happily when he sank into him and pulled him into another kiss.

He was a great kisser, Roger had to admit.

Once John gave him the okay to move, he set a hard and fast pace and John’s finger digged into the flesh of his shoulders in the best way. He leaned down again, muffling his moans against his lips.

+++

John left after they were done and they didn’t talk about it. Roger didn’t get upset anymore when John appeared in his changing room. He started showing up in John’s changing room, too.

#jogerweek2019 #joger #dealor #smut

48 notes · View notes

maggotmouth · 4 years

Text

hello, i’m nora ( she / her, 24, gmt ) and i almost exclusively join dark academia rps. please find below everything i have thus far on otto ballantyne, a theatre and classics student who was arranged to be married to one of the students who disappeared. i’ve honestly been itching to write otto again for months, so thanks to this lil group for giving me the opportunity. can’t wait to get my teeth stuck into him again. please bombard me with discord messages for plots. here is his pinterest.

act one: application.

THOMAS DOHERTY , CIS-MALE , HE/HIM → according to the school records , OTTO HORATIO BALLANTYNE has been attending sacred heart for the past four years . i last saw them hanging around the cliffs ; i think they were reciting shakespearean soliloquies to the wind and a weathered old skull. at twenty - three years old , otto has been studying theatre & classics and get this , i heard that he was arranged to be married to alice rosseau before her untimely disappearance , and was desperate to call off the affair — figure it’s true ? everyone around here always associates them with an aged bottle of malbec glugged carelessly at the after - show , the kind of confidence that only a private education gives , white lines of powder snorted off a marble sink with lovers you’ll later deny . in the time since these strange happenings , they have have not encountered any unexplained occurrences . ( written by nora , 24 , she/her , gmt )

act two: the muse !

ok so lemme start off by saying otto is heavily inspired by if we were villains by m l rio and the secret history by donna tartt. very serious actor. into the classical plays, but would definitely fit in a production of posh by laura wade. originally i wrote him for a murder mystery dark academia group but when the group ended i missed him so much i decided to bring him here.

born in south london, but raised in cheltenham. went to eton or harrow or one of those posh english boarding schools for boys. we love the homoeroticism of learning latin with your homies and chanting sonnets in caves by candlelight.

youngest son in his family. was fiercely competitive with his brother nathaniel growing up. having an older brother who was incredibly intelligent and successful made otto learn to treat his life like it was a fight. constantly trying to be better and ‘prove himself’.

otto’s a brat. filthy rich public school boy vibes, very riot club. champagne all over the ceiling and driving well over the limit. custom-made cuff links he loses in taverns when he rolls up his sleeves to lean on the bar. needing to know so much about a character you’re playing that it consumes you ; you can no longer tell which parts of you are otto and which parts are macbeth.

characters who have inspired him: alistair ryle in the riot club, francis abernathy in the secret history, anthony marston in and then there were none, oliver marks in if we were villains, achilles in the song of achilles, dorian gray in tpodg.

a fun fact is he is a natural blonde and spent most of his childhood that way but he now dyes it dark because he thinks that’ll give him more versatility in terms of the roles he can play. blonde ppl are usually cast as only the lover or the innocent n he wants to play villains and heroes and leading men as well.

very gay, n that’s pretty much a known thing by everyone but his family?? his family have arranged to have him married to women twice n both times its not worked out. the first time he basically drove her away with his reckless hedonism and alcoholism, and the second arranged marriage was to alice, one of the four students who went missing

archetypes: the figurehead. the challenger. the magician. the knight. the underdog.

ENTP-T / the debater personality.

theatre arts major, minoring in classics.

trigger warning for internalised homophobia / familial prejudice.

act three: the biography !

heavy is the head that wears the crown, though yours is the size of a tennis ball when you are born three weeks premature, barely formed enough to open your eyes. for those first few weeks all your parents knew were fear and love — fear that you would leave them, love that you had made it through so much, hooked up to wires like a fish in a cryogenic tank. to them your heart that learned one day to beat of its own accord was a miracle. perhaps that’s why you became their golden boy.

being born as a boy on the brink of death makes you invulnerable. you were achilles and the world couldn’t touch you for you were shielded from harm by a mother’s protective spell. should nathaniel lay so much as a finger on your skin, a voice would raise like the sound of a god from the veranda where she sat sipping her wine, play nice, boys! the sound of it thick with merlot. in every fight they took your side ; angel-headed creatures never lied. you soon learned that adults would believe anything if they liked you, that flattery will get you anywhere and to the well-trained mind, conversation was little more than a parlour game.

you harboured your mother’s beauty, the softness of her voice, the firmness of her skin and light in the corners of her smile. of your father, they’d say you inherited his wit, though that was your own — as was the golden hair that tousled your head, taken not from ambrose ballantyne but rather the bout of his three-week business trip to germany when your mother had bedded the gardener. if he knew, he never mentioned it. to believe such a fate would imply that he was not enough for her. though you noticed one day when you were nearing five and the sun was ripe on your freckle-flecked skin that the gardener had stopped coming at all. the grass, once shaven to its scalp, now grew to your knees.

at school, you learned with porridge still clinging to your mouth that the way to win over your teachers was through your smile. yours was the kind of school where the christmas play was not the nativity but rather the story of the gods, and stardom came to you in the role of apollo, sun shining from your beaming face, a bright halo of hair around your head. this was the first time you noticed a coldness in nathaniel’s eyes as your father threw you over his shoulder and your mother drenched you in praise. a bout of food-poisoning on your brother’s part rendered the italian restaurant, visited in your honour, abandoned. you never did find out if he was faking.

the room to his door remained shut after that and you learned to wile away your hours in the company of nannies and children from neighbouring castles, played at knights and rescued princesses from nearby dungeons, a tin-foil crown lopsided on your head. you learned to seek influence in the faces of those around you, how their eyes would widen as they hung like stalactites to your words. storyteller. prophet. riddler. prince. you cut your tongue into a well-kept sword and sparred with it thrice a day.

by nine you had read all of dickens novels. by eleven, all of shakespeare’s comedies — though you understood them as much as a cricket knows the meaning of the cosmos. still, it sounded rich and impressive when asked by aunties at dinner parties, what are you reading in school, otto? he finds the curriculum tiring, your mother would say, stroking a hand through your thick head of hair. otto’s just finished the merchant of venice. soon you grew to ignore your brother’s glowers at your back. your mother’s was the only smile you needed.

in cap and blazer your mother would drop you off at school, gated and turreted, the kind that was the envy of poorer neighborhood wives. when you were young, you were sure the gifts that came your way were yours alone, though as you grew older, you learned to expect them in the same way the school expected cheques from your parents. they named them benefactors, you noticed one day, on the wooden plaques fixed to the common room walls. the same plaques you would one day notice their names engraved upon in the arching hallways of sacred heart. acclaim was bought, not earned, and your success was littered with blood money.

what’s a king without a kingdom? your father surely wanted you to inherit his, though it was not in law and corporal finance that you found yourself a castle, but rather upon the stage. when red curtains split, you found you could become anything with the power of your will — boy, man, lion, snake, each of them wrung out by wordsmiths dead in their graves, a certain romance in the dusky smell of stage lights. when every eye in the room was focused on you — that was when you felt most powerful. like a piece of art, you were something to be looked at and admired — and perhaps in the absence of self-earned merit your vanity blossomed, for even if the trophies that lined your cabinets and the a-grades in columns on a sheet came from heavy pockets, your parents could never buy the sound of applause.

actors are by nature volatile. though your facade was swifter than an arrow, backstage they would call you tempestuous, bigoted, vain. still, it never left the wings of the theatre. there was a kind of reverence surrounding you that words could not taper, godliness following you from school to college, a peer admired in the practice rooms of sacred heart where you poured over chekhov and ibsen but yearned to read sophocles and euripides.

you learned to pride yourself on your looks — a sharpened jawline and a sharper tongue — and found that people would do almost anything for a beautiful face. in the beginning, alice was one so much. first colleagues, then friends, then a frequenter to the table in your family’s house. with arrogance carried in the curve of your brow, you only ever saw her as an accessory. that changed when you met her brother, let yourself stumble, brogues in a size that differed from your own kicked beneath your bed, a shirt with a larger neck size, pulled sheets, the smell of a foreign cologne.

talk travelled. it wouldn’t do to have word of your deviance spread further than the ballantyne house. while your parents would claim they were forward-thinking, more lenient than their parents had been, there was a conservative priggishness to the way they’d brush such matters under the rug, your father scarcely able to meet your eye over the dinner table. soon after, the arrangement was set with you all but exalted from the plans until alice had been informed. too late to back out, neither of you all that eager to be wed, though your families would coo when you fixed your hair or she, in keeping with the role, adjusted your tie. at first it amused you to play house with one such as alice, but soon you grew listless. like a caged beast you felt suffocated by the falseness of it all. you’d leave the dinners held by your joint households and return bedraggled, smelling of whiskey and sex. you’re not sure alice ever knew the reason why you couldn’t love her, though perhaps she suspected. at night, the names that would fall from your lips would never be hers. oliver. daniel. mason. rupert. charles.

act four: character investigation !

otto’s an extremely materialistic character who obtains pleasure through the things you can buy in life rather than that which comes to you by way of humble experience. he likes rolex watches, armani suits, louis vuitton travel bags, silk scarves imported from india. he likes to drink wine from decades gone by, where he can almost taste the funk of a victorian farmer hand pressing the grapes into a pulp, or to read a manuscript from the special collections section of the library that he knows has passed through hands which have gone on to achieve greatness. to otto, alice was always an extension of this hedonistic, pleasure-seeking attitude — she was something to be paraded like the equestrian trophies on his bookshelf, or his name on the honour roll. it’s not that he didn’t see her as a person — he’s hardly a chauvinist, although it could easily be inferred from the disdain with which he talks to some women — but rather that he saw her as someone ethereal and admirable and of high social standing who would elevate his social standing, by extension, were he to spend time with her. (this was such a convoluted sentence omg sorry)

the engagement was not his choice. even the idea of it had never crossed his mind. he had never thought to marry – marriage to otto was a tool used for financial gain — and being already wealthy, he was content to live out his days as a bachelor. he would take lovers, of course, but it would be on his own terms without the involvement of the law. alice was chosen as a match for otto because she was from a wealthy, well-liked family and the two had been friends since childhood. it seemed to their parents inevitable that they would marry, and so all that was left was the agreed arrangement between the families and the exchanging of rings. strictly speaking, if the marriage between otto and alice had gone ahead, then alice would have been nothing more than a trophy wife to otto. it would have been a miserable marriage for her, and he would have grown to resent her for it — not resent her for the fact that he could never truly be free to love someone he wanted (for he still would) but resent her, and by extension his family, for taking the option to do that openly and publicly away from him. she would always be seen as the beard, the scorned lover, the cuckold, and it would dampen any future relationships he held with the stain of that upset.

act five: wanted plots !

people who he was friends with as a child (either in london or cheltenham if anyone in this group has a muse from there) but grew apart from when he was sent to private school / they view him as entitled now and the two no longer have much in common

someone who auditioned for the same role as him, but otto got it, and they’ve resented him for it ever since ! want this bad. or put your thang down flip it and reverse it: someone who got the role otto wanted and he loathes them for it.

hasn’t really dated anyone? at college, he tends to hook up with people in a vapid sort of way? so he wouldn’t rEALly have past relationships with boys unless it was….. incredibly quiet and on the DL, literally meeting up in the woods after school to read plato and play with each others hair. suddenly realised i want this. someone give me someone he reads plato in the woods with and kisses up against tree bark because even though everyone basically KnOWS otto isn’t out n probably never will be :/

alternatively someone who he had a vapid, senseless hook up with and grew attached to :/ rude. in this house we lov angst

i guess some friends he actually likes would be cool. maybe someone who he has a hold over, because he’s quite an engaging character with good leadership qualities, like at parties he’ll be the one telling the story and gesticulating wildly and everyone’s watching him or looking to him for where they’ll go next / how the night will pan out. if he has a hold over someone maybe he has some sort of leverage whereby they’ll complete his work for him if he’s out getting drunk which he usually is. if tht sounds like ur character is naive n could be coerced, hit me up

people he knows on a very superficial and base level in the fact that their only interactions together involve doing coke off someone’s sink and stumbling home in the dark. otto’s a massive hedonist. if he were a greek god, he’d be a mix between dionysus and apollo, but he has achilles’ vanity.

#heretics:intro #heretics:ooc #throws my boy out into the wind x #hope u lov him as much as i do #sorry i will mostly be using medium gifs in his threads cos his icon resources are sparse x

7 notes · View notes

xxxdragonfucker69xxx · 5 years

Text

seal moves in

(i dont remember if i ever posted this so im reposting it, this is from the far far future)

Seven centuries ago the Wyld washed over an entire direction in the wake of a Crusade, and it recedes slowly. Islands of lucidity jut forth like washed-up debris, either raksha playgrounds or remnants of Creation. It is here, scant miles beyond the edge of the world, that Siege Perilous looms. The sun does not reach here, though there is light; the deserts give way to paving-stones and green hills, and a hamlet in the shadow of a castle. The hamlet is empty, long abandoned by the look of it -- but surely less than seven centuries empty, when bleached banners still fly in the square intact. No, these houses were evacuated a mere five years ago, when their ancient hero finally returned to liberate them from raksha encirclement. When the castle's heir took up his rightful seat. When the Seal of Unforgotten Kings came home. A marble statue stands in the Siege's courtyard, gazing down on those who would enter the castle. In those five years, it has seen the Dusk a scant three times.

A bottle of champagne smashed across its sunburst-crowned brow. "I hereby chrishen thish party... open!" Star declared.

Seal glowered up at him, perched on the statue's shoulder. "Get down from there," he shouted. "I wanted to fucking drink that."

Star shrugged, tossing the neck of the bottle over his shoulder and fluttering down. "Desh brought more, I think. Beshidesh, that shtuff schucksh. Gotta drink like a bucketful to get tipshy."

Des had indeed brought more; various bottles nestled in the crook of her arm, and beside her a white-haired boy labored under what appeared to be picnic baskets laden so high they obscured his face. Des clicked her tongue at him. "You know you don't have to carry all that, Sever," she said. "I could have got a ghost to do it."

Shoulders shrugged carefully on either side of the tower. "I don't mind," a basket at face height replied. Severed Tail of the Serpent Resembles Truth By its Writhing carefully adjusted the tower, distributing the weight more evenly, and continued on his way. Behind him, Des frowned and followed.

+++

Seal flung the castle doors open. "Honey, we're home," he shouted, emboldened by the presence of his friends. The empty hall echoed it back to him, white dust swirling in the corners from the sudden breeze.

Take this seriously, a voice said in his head. Seal could see him out of the corner of his eye: the spitting image of the statue outside, standing ramrod-straight and two heads taller than Seal, running a finger across the breastplate of a nearby suit of armor. Brightest Morning Star frowned at Seal. Is this any way to treat your domicile? The inheritance of centuries?

"Shut the fuck up, old man," Seal muttered through gritted teeth. "You're not even real."

Realer than your cleaning skills, the man responded before Star breezed through the space where he should have been standing. "Scho, where do you want thisch?" he said, louder than usual and brandishing a pilfered bottle of Shadow's brandy. He was pointedly not making eye contact, and Seal recognized that he had heard him talking to his preincarnation.

He flushed with anger. "Do I look like I give a shit?" he snapped. "We're gonna desecrate every fucking room in this castle, I didn't make a fucking itinerary."

Schtar shrugged and moved on, sweeping his gaze around the castle -- probably doing that dumb Investigation shit again. "Oh, here we go," he said, opening a door. "Big ol' dining hall, kitschen muscht be thish way. C'mon, let'sh shee if they got schomefing to toasht thish bread with." He disappeared into the darkness, and the other Deathknights followed suit.

Brightest Morning Star reappeared in front of Seal, a phantom wind blowing away the nothingness that obscured him. You haven't picked up after yourself since the last time you were here, he reminded the boy disapprovingly. Or the time before that. You could at least sweep up some wreckage before they see.

Seal grabbed an ornamental vase and flung it at the apparition. It sailed through empty air and smashed against the floor. "Fuck you!" he shouted at the silent hall, but images assailed him behind his eyelids: ruined tapestries with the faces singed away, spears with the hafts snapped in half and buried in discarded shields, the remnants of Seal's last tantrum here. The vast mural of stained glass he knelt before, unable to destroy it, unable to look directly at his predecessor's face. Seal swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, wiping away hot tears. He flung the red droplets on the floor. "Fine!" he declared angrily. "I'll go do your dumb fucking chores. Bitch."

Broom's in the upstairs closet, if it hasn't rotted away, Brightest Morning Star sniped from inside his mind.

+++

The broom was not in the upstairs closet.

Seal stared at the rack where it should have lay, where his-and-not-his memories pictured it beside the dustpan, which was also gone. "Hey, old man," he called out. "Are you fucking senile or did you just have servants do all your shit for you? Don't know where your own goddamn broom is?"

No response. Seal slammed the closet shut, and it rattled the frame pleasingly. "What the fuck now?" he asked out loud. Did someone break into the castle and steal his fucking broom? Glorious First Light loomed in the back of his mind. What if, by taking it from the castle, he'd left it vulnerable?

"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered, and broke into a run. Seal might have hated all this fucking stuff, but it was his fucking stuff. The treasury was filled with priceless First Age artifacts and also a bunch of stuff he'd smashed to pieces, and if some raksha bastard even fucking thought about fucking touching it --

Seal skidded to a halt. There was no raksha bastard. The treasury door was open, and as far as Seal could tell everything was in place. Except for the story crystals he'd smashed to pieces last time he was here, and had left scattered across the floor. As far as Seal could tell, there wasn't even a splinter of crystal on the floor, though their spots on the shelves remained empty.

What the fuck? Seal spun around. The sword he'd bent in half was gone as well, replaced with a completely different one -- a jian instead of a dao. The row of statuettes was artfully arranged to hide the ones Seal had beheaded. Even the trophy case Seal had cut in half was standing straight. He ventured over and tapped a finger against it.

It crashed down -- someone had merely shoved the two halves together so neatly Seal hadn't spotted the join. The noise startled him, and he jumped back -- and, out of the corner of his eye, saw movement. "Hey!" he cried reflexively, and pursued. The castle was a maze of halls and display cases and rooms full of junk, but whoever Seal was chasing seemed to know it like the back of their hand -- Seal only caught a flicker of movement, a flap of cloth disappearing around a corner. "Stop fucking running, bastard!" he shouted, and hurled Glorious First Light.

The spear blasted a crater in the wall at the end of the corridor, coming to rest buried a full hand into the stone -- and a hair's breadth from Des' face, where she was coming around the corner. "Who are you yelling at?" she asked, unflapped, stepping back and tucking her hair back behind her ears. "There's no one here."

Seal came to a stop with one foot up against the wall, trying to yank the weapon out. "Some -- fucker -- stole my broom," he said, grunting. "And cleaned my fucking treasury."

Des raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Stole your broom and not your hoard of ancient and extremely valuable relics?" she asked. "And... swept with it? Surely you should be thanking them."

"I don't know what they fucking did," Seal grumbled. He pulled one last time and finally pulled the spear free, which meant that boy and weapon went tumbling head over heels. From his new position on the floor, Seal swore loudly and freely.

Des' eyes sparked with laughter as she helped Seal to his feet. "Well, if you think the mystery can wait for an hour or two, Star has managed to warm up the pie. Without any slime involved."

"Pie," Seal said fervently, and forgot about the broom entirely.

+++

The pie was burnt. The sandwiches were dry. The brandy tasted like shit. Seal enjoyed the hell out of it all.

They had left the great hall dark and empty and chosen to eat in the kitchen instead. It was cozy, gathered around the slab in the center while the fire blazed in the stove. Des had found a fork and knife; Star and Seal were eating with their hands. Seal wasn't sure Sever was eating at all, but every time he looked there was less food on the plate, so he guessed he must be. Also, Seal was drunk.

"Sol's own fucking cock," he said, wiping his mouth. "This stuff really fucking tastes like a rat's ass." He slammed the empty glass down on the table and motioned for Des to pour him another shot. "But damn if it doesn't fucking do you."

Star's giggle broke into hiccups. "How do you know what a rat'sh assh tashtesh like?" he managed to slur out. "Eat a lot of rat asshesh in your schildhood?"

"Not as many as your fucking mom," Seal shot back. Star gasped, actually offended, but Sever distracted him with a slice of pie and Seal gloated silently at getting the last word.

"So," Des said, pouring herself another glass of rose, which Star and Seal weren't allowed to touch (Sever had a small cupful in front of him). "What sort of magnificent things have you got in this castle anyways?"

Seal shrugged around a mouthful of burger (helpfully prepared by Pho ahead of time). "Treasury mostly," he replied. "I raided the armory but there's a bunch more shit in there. Like five fucking rooms full of random junk. East tower's full of little glass things, no idea what they do. Library, chapel, hangar --"

"--hanger?" Star piped up. "Like a big clothesh hanger?"

"I believe Seal means a hangar," Sever cut in smoothly. "Where First Age flying vessels are often stored."

Star's jaw hung open, comically filled with half-mashed mince. "You got airschipsh?"

A grin spread across Seal's face. "Hey, Star. Betcha can't fly faster than a First Age warbird."

"Betscha can't hit me in the air with a Firscht Age warbird," Star countered, and they were off.

+++

This is not the intended use of a warbird.

"Can't hear you over the sound of this fucking warbird!" Seal shouted, over the sound of this fucking warbird.

These are holy weapons of war, not children's toys!

"Eat my fucking ass," Seal answered hotly, pulling back on the harness-gloves. The warbird responded, thirty thousand pounds of ancient magic carefully yoked to steel and fire, made to cut through behemoths like wet paper. Currently, Seal was trying to keep Star in his sights, though the winged Day Caste was swooping erratically through the air above the Siege Perilous.

At the very least you could shoot him down, Brightest Morning Star replied a little petulantly. It's commendable how quickly you've picked up the controls, but we both know it's really my hand at the helm. Show me what you can do.

Seal waved a hand dismissively, which caused the warbird to spin alarmingly through the air. "I'm not gonna kill him," he responded when the aircraft was back under control. "Just wanna show off a little."

Oh, and smashing a warbird into him at a hundred miles an hour won't kill him?

"He's got Resistance Charms," Seal said, squinting as he finally lined Star up in the center of his sights -- "He'll probably be fine." -- and rammed the throttle forwards.

The warbird's skeleton, Seal vaguely remembered his preincarnation vaguely remembering, was made of orichalcum and jade inlaid with starmetal. But all the architectural parts were mundane steel, so it really should have been no surprise when the warbird intercepted Star with a sickening crunch and the nose of the warbird crumpled inwards, Star's body tearing through it like a cannonball and rocketing backwards past Seal's head. Seal whooped even as the warbird began blaring new alarm sirens; orichalcum and steel versus soulsteel and Abyssal, it was no contest.

I hope you're happy with yourself, Brightest Morning Star spat. Try not to land on my best roses.

The ground rose to meet Seal, and everything went black.

+++

When he came to, he was on fire.

Seal yelped and struggled out of the warbird's cockpit, slapping at himself all over. Half his shirt had burned away, and the right leg of his pants tore off entirely as he snagged it on something falling out of the cockpit. The flame didn't blacken his skin like it should have, but it still stung like a bitch, so Seal spent a good minute rolling on the ground and loosing a barrage of curses.

"Having fun?" a voice asked from nearby. Seal righted himself to find Des sitting at a glass table, teacup in hand. They were in the castle's courtyard, though Seal could see a smouldering streak on the roof where the warbird must have caught it on the way down; empty flowerbeds surrounded them, organizing the courtyard in a geomantically auspicious pattern. Seal could remember every flower that had bloomed here once, the perfected Essence they had channeled. None of them were the black roses spilling out where Bloodthorn was planted blade-down in the soil.

"Practically dust," Des said, setting down her teacup and running a hand over the dirt. "Haven't been watered in two thousand years. Still, there's life in these old things yet." She fondled a rose, heedless of the thorns. Seal was dimly aware that she was making a point, and decided not to care.

"Where's Star?" he demanded. "Fucker owes me fifty yen."

Des shrugged. "He landed over there," she said, indicating a point over Seal's shoulder. He turned to see a divot gouged into the earth, and at the end a pair of craters he had come to associate with the Wings. "Then he got up, mumbled something about his bones, and limped away. Sever was preparing a party in the chapel, so I think he went there to lie down." Seal lit up and turned to go, but Des caught his hand. "Listen, Seal," she said, her voice lower. "Honestly. How are you feeling?"

A butterfly fluttered down to land on a rose. Vibrant blue shimmered against velvet black.

"Weird, honestly," Seal admitted. He came back to flop down into a chair opposite Des. "It's like.... he's still here, obviously, but this place isn't his anymore. It's mine. But he keeps trying to be me, or I keep trying to be him." He grunted in frustration at not having the words, but Des hummed softly and nodded.

"It's complicated," she agreed. "Hard to tell what's you and what isn't. And everything hurts in every direction. You know," she said, saving Seal the awkwardness of having to reply, "you should try talking to Sever sometime. You've got a lot in common."

Seal scoffed. "Sever?" he said scornfully. "I love the guy, but he's got more in common with a filing cabinet than a human being."

Des hummed again. "You might say that. Just as he might say you've got more in common with your spear than with any of us." Seal's anima burst into darkness, but Des laid her hand on his -- gently, communicating her calm. "Exactly," she said. "Exactly."

Seal grumbled and withdrew his power. "Fine," he said. "Let's go see about this fucking party.

+++

They found Sever and Star in the chapel. Star was laying on a pew, an arm over his eyes, still smoking slightly. The Wings had sawed a hole in the back of the pew so they could drape dejectedly onto the floor. Sever was sitting on the floor, a scroll of parchment rolled out down the center aisle. Seal limped closer to discover that Sever was making exactly the itinerary he hadn't made: a room-by-room schedule that spanned the entire night.

"Sol fucking Invictus," Seal muttered. "Did you hand write four fucking copies of the same schedule?"

"It is not the same schedule," Sever explained, handing them out. "These also contain personalized information such as alcohol preferences and sleeping arrangements. But, yes."

Des took her itinerary with interest. "My, Sever, this is.... very thought out. You've placed yourself on a team with Seal for chicken?"

Seal thought he saw the shadow of a blush cross Sever's face. "Star has an advantage because of his wings and Seal has one because of his Caste, so I thought your style of motion would complement Star's best." Des nodded thoughtfully.

"Yeah! We're gonna fucking kick your assh at schicken!" Star called from the pew, where he was now face down. "Juscht asch shoon asch my fasche shtopsh being on fire."

"You owe me a hundred yen, by the fucking way," Seal called back. Star grumbled and fished around in his pockets for a minute, then flipped him a koku and muttered for him to keep the schange. Seal pocketed it and glared around the room darkly. Colored crystal occupied the entire wall behind the podium, depicting Brightest Morning Star with four arms driving his spear down the throat of a serpentine raksha. There was no sun above Siege Perilous, yet Brightest Morning Star's face shone as though the sun were shining through it. Seal exchanged glares with it for a minute before looking away. "Do we have to fucking start here, though?" he muttered. "I hate this fucking room."

Sever looked down with a frown, pen already in hand, but Des caught his hand before he could start writing. "That's exactly why we're starting here," she said. "I've brought some supplies I think you might enjoy." She reached into a basket and pulled out a small silvery cylinder, with a bump at one end, and handed it to Seal. "Hold it like this," she instructed, "twist that nozzle, and press down. No, hold it the other way --"

A hideous shade of yellow-green filled Seal's vision, and he reflexively flared his anima. As Essence blasted outwards from his body his eyes cleared, and he could see that a faint cloud of that color was still hanging in the air, except for what had been blasted away and was now coating the carpet. Des sighed. "It's paint," she said. "You spray it on the walls and it stays there just about forever. I thought you might like to personalize the wall over there." She indicated Brightest Morning Star's shining disgusting face, and Seal grinned.

"Wake up, Star," he said. "Let's commit some fucking art."

+++

They defaced the chapel. They had a mock war in the armory. Seal let Des raid the library for all she could carry, then they built book forts and launched dictionaries across the room (Cascade of Papercut Terror made its debut to thunderous applause). They got scandalously, outrageously, rip-roaringly drunk in the wine cellars, which were full of booze that must have made even a First Age god-king's constitution take pause. They sang extremely rude songs in the courtyard, and did somersaults on every bed in every bedroom. The castle filled with laughter and dust.

Eventually, though, even the most powerful of Exalted wear themselves out. Des found a glory-crystal saga in the library, the dramatization of some First Age romance-battle, and they set up in the great hall to watch. The deathknights bundled themselves up with blankets pilfered from the master room and scarfed down candied berries from the pantry. For something produced in a golden age of magic and science, the reenactment was laughably bad, and they spent a pleasant hour flinging critiques and berries at the projection. "Come on, haven't theshe guysh ever shtabbed anyone in the back?" Star shouted. "Thish ish the worsht fucking form I've ever sheen!"

"Completely horrendous," Des agreed as she popped another berry in her mouth. "But she deserves it. My god, anything to make her shut up for a second."

Seal stretched his arms out and yawned. "She talks more than Shadow fucking does when he's trying to justify his dumb shit as extremely wise fucking shit." He glanced around the room. "Hey, quick question. Where the fuck is Sever?"

Star diverted his gaze to scan the room for a moment. "Guessh he shtepped out for a minute," he said. "Maybe he couldn't shtomach the schitty shpeschial effectsh."

"Seriously, Sculpted Seafoam Eidolon is a Terrestrial spell, would it fucking kill them to put some effort in?"

"I'm gonna go find him," Seal declared, standing up and wobbling momentarily from the Exalted-level alcohol in his system. "Nobody gets to miss this shit."

Des shrugged. "Whatever you say."

+++

Seal found Sever watching the ocean.

The window at the end of the west hall, Seal knew, looked out onto a perpetually stormy sea with grey skies. Seal knew this cause he was pretty sure there was no fucking sea near Siege Perilous, and had been about to smash through the window and check it out before Brightest Morning Star yelled at him not to. He was never sure if it was a portal to some real sea in Creation or just an illusion, or maybe something else entirely.

Sever was curled up in the windowsill, head turned sideways to stare out over the roiling black waves. Seal thought for sure he would hear him coming up, but Sever was so lost in thought that he didn't notice until Seal tapped him on the shoulder. Only Seal's keenly honed battle senses let him notice the instant of reflexive tension before Sever returned to perfect relaxation and turned to face Seal serenely. "Ah, Seal," he said, sounding professional as ever. "How are you enjoying the festivities?"

Seal snorted. "You kidding?" he asked, moving to sit in the opposite end of the windowsill. "This is the best fucking birthday bash I've had in..... uh, ever. So fucking cheers to you." He mimed raising a glass, and Sever smiled faintly.

"Well," he said, rising smoothly, "I won't obstruct you, then. Continue to enjoy your evening --"

"Whoa, whoa, slow the fuck down," Seal said, catching Sever's wrist and feeling again that reflexive tense. "Where the hell are you going?"

Sever waved a hand vaguely. "To clean," he said, not resisting Seal's pull but not giving in. "The kitchen should be scoured, and though I understand the art in the chapel is to be a permanent fixture I'd like to sharpen up the edges and cover some of the more fragile --"

"Hang the fuck on," Seal said, as his brain finally caught up with what Sever was saying. "Was that you earlier, that cleaned up the fucking armory and then ran the fuck away like some kind of freak? What did you do that for? How did you know there was shit in there?" Sever looked like he was trying to answer every question at once, but Seal didn't let him get a word in edgewise. "For fuck's sake, dude, we brought you here to have fun, not to be some weird shadow with a broom. Live a little! Have some fucking fun, man!"

"As a matter of fact, Seal, I am enjoying myself. In my own way." Sever sounded slightly put off by Seal's enthusiasm.

Seal scoffed. "Bull fucking shit you are."

Sever blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I said bull fucking shit on a rat's hot cock you're having fun. You think I don't know angst brooding when I see it?" Seal gestured out over the waters. "Dude, I brood here all the time. It's, like, my number three spot in the castle. Stare at the fucking ocean and think about death or whatever. Right?" he demanded.

Sever blinked again, more slowly. ".... something like that," he admitted after a long pause.

"Something fucking like that," Seal agreed. "Well, bullshit to fucking that. I'm not allowed to brood tonight, and neither are fucking you. No more cleaning either. Des can summon some ghosts in the morning."

"But I'm perfectly capable of --"

"-- of sitting your ass down and acting like a human being, you jackass!" Seal was surprised by the force of his own words. "Sol Invictus, it fucking wigs me out sometimes, you know that?" A mixture of emotions crossed beneath the surface of Sever's face. "I know you are, even if you fucking don't. Yeah, you don't know who you fucking are, your soul was eaten or what the fuck ever, big fucking deal. None of us knows a goddamn fucking thing about ourselves, and do you think it's ever stopped me? Come on," he demanded, suddenly rising to his feet and striding down the hall, Sever still in tow.

"Where are we -- I really must protest --"

Seal dragged Sever all the way to the treasury, scooped a shelf-ful of glass figurines into Sever's protesting arms, and then back into the chapel. "Right," he said, taking the figurines from Sever and setting them on the floor in front of him. "Got your sword with you?"

"Unfortunately," Sever said, "I was not allowed to bring Atrumarkinos on this expedition."

Seal rolled his eyes. "Good," he said. "You'd be too good with it anyways. Here," and in a single motion he summoned Glorious First Light and brought it crashing down on the back of the pew.

Sever flinched so hard Seal thought he might actually leave his body. "What are you doing?" he asked, so pointedly that Seal could almost consider it a shout.

"Improvising," Seal answered, pulling at a bar of wood off the back of the pew. He had to stand on it with one foot and wrench it off with both hands, and only Essence saved him from a fistful of splinters, but in the end he was left with a plank about half as tall as Sever was. He handed it to the bemused Day Caste, returned to his spot, and held up a figurine. "Right. What can you tell me about these?"

Sever peered at it from across the room. "First Age artifice is not my forte, but I believe they are similar to a lesser form of yasal crystal. Each imprisons a minor spirit, hardly greater than the god of a grain of rice. I cannot say what purpose such a least spirit could serve. Perhaps simply to retain a memory, and recount it when charged?"

Seal squinted down at the figurine in his hand, a little statuette of Brightest Morning Star with spear overhead. "Really? Huh." Now that Sever mentioned it, there did appear to be a little light flickering in the middle of it. Seal looked back up, tossing it in his hand to gauge its weight. "Well, I guess you're not wrong. But you're also totally wrong. The only fucking thing these things are good for," he said, winding up, “is for smashing.”

Sever flinched a good ten seconds before the figurine smashed against the wall behind him. A wisp of glowing smoke rose up and whispered in a tinny voice before dissipating. "Come on!" Seal shouted. "I know you have Melee, hit it with your fucking thing!"

"I do not believe this is safe, Seal," Sever called with rising urgency as he ducked another figurine.

"Safety is for fucking cowards!" Seal bellowed as he began to throw them with increasing speed. "Stop dodging and break some shit like a man!"

He had to admit, though, that Sever's evasive skills were impressive. Seal was putting some Essence into his throws now, trying to peg Sever in the arm or leg, and normally would have guessed there was no power that could stop him -- but whatever was driving Sever, fear or common sense, animated him like a madman and kept him just slightly faster than Seal's projectiles. A luminescent haze rose from the floor at Sever's feet, miniature gods dissipating into the ether. And then Seal saw the change come over him. To his adrenaline-charged senses, it seemed to happen in slow motion: Sever' feet squared against the stone, back foot braced and front foot pointed. His spine, usually painfully upright, bent like a coiled snake; purpose set his shoulders and tensed his arms. The crack of glass against the wood echoed throughout the chapel, and Seal could have sworn it was the most beautiful sound in the world, just before the spray of glass ricocheted back and stabbed him in the face.

Sever dropped the plank like it was red-hot and hurried over to where Seal was rolling on the floor, hands clutched to his face, making a sound like a dying elephant. "Are you alright?" he asked frantically, trying to hold Seal still long enough to assess the damage. "I'll get Des, maybe she can moliate something --"

Seal grabbed at Sever's shoulders. "That -- was -- fucking -- brilliant!" he shouted, and confusion replaced fear as Sever realized Seal was laughing. Blood dripped down his face, from cuts of glass and from his caste mark. "Yes! That's what I'm fucking talking about! You're a fucking natural!" Seal laughed, pumping a fist in the air with elation.

+++

Des and Star found them another half hour later, the crystal-saga having ended on a cliffhanger. It was the sound that drew them to the chapel: sounds of shattering glass, splintering wood, and laughter -- a laugh they had never heard before. Des rounded the corner first, then threw out an arm to stop Star and backpedaled hurriedly. "Look," she whispered, so Star stuck his head around the corner to look, and what he saw made his jaw drop.

Seal was standing at the far end of the chapel, piles of glass figurines around him. He was hurling the shards overhand at Sever, who was standing with his back to the chapel's entrance, holding.... a broken-off piece of wood? And was, unerringly, smashing every figurine as it sailed towards him, even when he had to jump to catch it or dive before it hit the floor. Unerringly, the spray of glass flew back towards Seal, who appeared to be playing a game of how long he could wait before hiding behind the pulpit. Blood speckled the wall of crystal behind him, though only Star's Essence-enhanced senses could pick that up. But he didn't need Essence to identify the unidentifiable noise.

Both Sever and Seal were laughing.

#sanctuary in black #i wrote this for hgs birthday.... and then missed like the next three birthdays

15 notes · View notes

arazialotis · 5 years

Text

Moto Grand Prix - Part 1

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: Around 3000

Warnings: swearing

Summary: A request from @acortez82 An idea I liked so much I decided to to a little series out of it. Jared invites Jensen to not just any motorcycle race but the biggest one of all. The final race of the grand prix happening in Valencia, Spain. A hot rival between seasoned veteran Suarez and new to circuits Esposio makes the excitement buzz in the air. Although knowing nothing about the sport, Jensen can’t help but root for the rookie. And just perhaps, he will leave Spain with more than just the love of the track.

Everything I write is beta’d by the wonderful and pristine @misguidedconqueress I couldn’t do it without her!

I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time. This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

Let the race begin!

----

As soon as the clapperboard snapped down, marking the end of filming and the start of winter break, Jensen raced to his trailer; bags already packed, wanting nothing more to run back home to the warm sunshine in Austin. While the rest of the cast and crew were celebrating with champagne, he was putting together the last bits of his travel details. A knock on the trailer door startled him from his thoughts and he went to answer, dreading anything that could keep him at work longer. Jared appeared on the other side, bundled up from the chill up yet still beaming with delight.

“I was hoping to catch you before you rushed off.” He laughed, his breath fogging in the air. Jensen nodded his head, directing him to come in. The wind slammed the door shut behind them. “Man, I am so sick of this weather.”

“You and me both, brother.” Jensen chuckled. “When I signed up to become an actor, I thought it’d be palm trees and beaches. Had I known they were going to ship us off to Canada, I might have thought twice. So uh, you doing anything fun with your time off?”

“Actually that is what I wanted to talk to you about.” Jared started. “But first let me give you an early Christmas gift.” He said, handing Jensen an envelope.

Jensen eyed him suspiciously before taking it from him. “With it still being over a month away, I’m afraid I can’t yet reciprocate the gesture.”

“Would you shut up and just open it.” Jared playfully ordered.

He ripped open the seal with his thumb and pulled out its contents. His eyes widened with shock as he tried to process what he was seeing. He looked at Jared for clarification but received nothing other than a smile. He held two tickets in his hand, one for an airline and the other for some type of sporting event.

Jared couldn’t contain his excitement any longer. “I scored tickets to the MotoGP!” “The what?” Jensen asked, still confused.

“Dude.” Jared chastised. “Grand Prix motorcycle racing. The last race of the year… In Valencia! To determine the winner. Esposio is so close to taking the lead…”

“Wait. Wait. Hold up. So you are taking me to Spain?” Jensen clarified.

“I’m taking you to Spain!” Jared exclaimed.

“Dude!” Jensen went in for a quick bro hug. “This is going to be awesome. God, how can I repay you?”

***

A few short weeks later, both Jensen and Jared had ventured to Spain. Seeing sights, experiencing local cuisine, and breathing in the glorious ocean air revived their spirits after months in the desolate Canadian winter. But the main event had yet to take place. Jared couldn’t keep his mouth shut the entire time. Naturally it caught Jensen up to speed. Apparently, many people were rooting for the racer named Esposio. It was his first tour and he was neck in neck with a long seasoned veteran of the tracks, Suarez. Esposio needed to place first to take the championship, and on top of that Suarez had the home track advantage.

Jared had made a vast understatement when he said he had scored seats. The VIP Lounge which they had access to was positioned right over the Ducati and Yamaha garages and just past the finish line, allowing them a great view of all the action. Jared was already schmoozing with other high rollers in the lounge but Jensen prefered to keep quiet, leaned up against the railing and watching the commotion in the pits. Part of him even wished he could be down there, working in the trenches, but knew he’d screw something up.

Anxiety and excitement heighted as the time for the race drew nearer and nearer. Jared pointed out Esposio, on a Ducati bike numbered 34, decked out in a grey and red uniform. The rider appeared nervous, looking back and forth between other drivers, checking and rechecking his bike’s mechanics. Jensen could understand why. From what Jared had explained, everything for him counted on this last race.

Before the crowd could even realize it, the race had begun. The bikes whizzed passed the stands; already heading into the first corner. Jensen gulped against a lump in his throat, realizing how close the bikes were to each other and how low they got at each turn, the drivers’ knees literally scraping the edge of the track. He kept a sharp eye on 34, dreadfully anticipating a crash at any moment as the bike weaved in and out, skillfully attempting to move closer to the lead.

The bikes drove out of sight, but the crowd could still make out the whirring of the engines. They grew distant, the seconds drawing out, the roar slowly building up until the bikes were visible again. A few made their way closer to the line and flew by once again. The crowd roared, Suarez already taking a place in the top three. Another large group sped past with Esposio caught in the middle. Finally a few stragglers joined the rest, and just like that the first lap was over.

Jensen felt a slap on his shoulder, which drew him from the trance.

“So first lap over, what do you think?” Jared boomed, energized from the action.

“Man. It is crazy. You think they’d let us test run after they are finished?” He playfully questioned.

Jared chuckled. “Dude, you would die before you even got to the first corner.”

“I know how to ride a bike.” Jensen rolled his eyes.

They watched the group take another corner, darting low to the ground. “Not like that.” Jared remarked.

“Not like that.” Jensen agreed.

The racers took each lap at incredible speed, the entire thing couldn’t last over an hour. He had trouble keeping track of the leaders and laps as most everything was conducted in Spanish. So instead he found himself keeping his eyes fixed on Esposio. He was sure tactics and strategy were involved but to what extent he had no idea. Esposio seemed to keep in third or fourth place a majority of the race, weaving in and out, darting dangerously in between other bikes. Jensen was simply amazed.

When it came down to the final two laps, a hush seemed to come over the crowd as everyone waited with anticipation to see if Esposio would be able to pull ahead. Even Jared’s bubbly expression was replaced by intense concentration. Almost as if Esposio had been holding back on the gas pedal, a burst of speed gave way taking him to second place.

The distance between first and second was noticeable and they were both going full speed, Esposio persistently chasing Suarez. The final lap sounded and Suarez quickly glanced behind. Both took the first curve tightly and little by little Esposio was gaining on him. Jensen was practically holding his breath.

Coming up on the fifth turn of the track, they were neck and neck, fighting for control of the inside corner. Suarez beat him to it, pulling a bit further ahead. Esposio had caught back up by the eigth curve, and again started the dance for control. Jensen watched on the screen as Suarez seemed to jolt his bike towards Esposio, almost as a threat. Esposio backed off, taking the outside of the curve, but then came speeding up on Suarez taking advantage at the ninth and tenth.

With only four more turns left, the crowd began to hold their breath with Jensen. Esposio held the lead but not by much. Both riders were so focused on the track ahead, yearning so badly for the win. With only a few more nail biting minutes left, the gap between Esposio and Suarez began to grow and grow as did the hope for victory. Finally, Esposio crossed the finish line and the crowd erupted with a roar. Esposio continued down the track throwing his hands up in the air. His hands came back down on the bike before popping a wheelie, gaining more cheers from the crowd.

As he made his way around the track once more for the victory lap, celebrating with the crowd, it was clear some Suarez fans were leaving the stands with sour faces. Esposio went to the Ducati pit and joined in dancing with the crew, jumping up into the coach’s arms and being lifted into the air.

During the time between the initial celebration and the podium, Jensen finally was able to part with the track to do a bit of schmoozing and grab some hors d'oeuvres. By the time he made his way back, Mayer had already took his place in third and Suarez on second - sporting a clenched jaw that raged with jealousy. As the announcer continued Jensen could barely translate, something about a new driver making history, Clelia Esposio, and the crowd erupted again as the racer made his way to stage.

The red and gray helmet came off with a flow of long hair shining in the sun and Jensen was struck. Time slowed as she made her way to the middle, accepting a medal and trophy. She kissed the announcer on the cheek and laughed before throwing both her hands up into the air with a yell. Time came back to speed as her team raided the podium with shaken up champagne bottles spraying her. She continued to the laugh and joined in the riot as Suarez grudgingly left the stage.

“So we coming back next year?” Jared asked Jay.

“You never told me Esposio was a girl.” He said breathless.

“Didn’t I?” Jared seemed confused. “I’m pretty sure I did. You interested?” He teased.

“Shut up.” Jensen shoved him with his elbow.

Jared chuckled. “Good, less competition for me.”

Jensen pleaded with any powers-that-be he’d be able to meet her.

***

The following morning, after a brisk morning bike ride, Jensen was heading back to his room for a quick shower before he planned to meet Jared for brunch. The hotel was classical romantic, filled with red stone floors and archways. Yellow lanterns hung from the ceiling and vibrant plants decorated the lobby. Sounds of birds echod along with the chatter of guests. Jensen made his way to the elevator, pushing for the doors to close.

“¡Espera!” A voice called before a hand then, an arm appeared; stopping the doors from closing.

As you made your way into the elevator, Jensen caught his breath. Despite the lack of helmet hair or a uniform, he recognized you immediately.

“Lo siento y gracias.” You spoke in your broken middle school level Spanish.

You pushed your button before looking to meet the stranger; both of you staring at each other, his soft green eyes invited you in. You looked away, blushing for the moment that lasted too long.

“Oh, um… No hablo Espanol.” Jensen stumbled.

“Oh.” You laughed, picking up on his accent. “Me neither, at least not well, but I am picking it back up little by little the more time I spend here.”

Both of you remained silent glancing at your feet, waiting for the elevator moving slowly up.

“So um…” Jensen dared to speak again. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but uh, you look very similar to Clelia Esposio.” He kicked himself for asking a question he often was asked by fans. He knew you could easily blow him off if you weren’t interested.

You smiled and bit your lip, but excitement won over and you widely grinned, the victory of yesterday still resonating with you. “Actually that is because… I am…”

“Wow.” Jensen sighed. “You had an amazing race yesterday. I was there, watching the entire time.” “Hopefully not rooting for Suarez, that pig. Oh, don’t tell anyone I said that. Could cause a huge PR Scandal.” You laughed still getting used to all the publicity.

Jensen clearly understood. “You have my word.” He sincerely promised.

The atmosphere was suddenly interrupted as the elevator unexpectedly jolted down and then up again. You yelped and clung to the sides. The doors partially opened showing a concrete wall and then shut again. The elevator halted, the lights went off with only a dim light flashing. Jensen came from the corner he held steady to, to test the doors but they refused to open.

“Jeez.” He complained, taking a phone corded to the wall. “Hola. Ah yes, um… the elevator.” He looked at you desperate. “I have no idea what he is saying.” He whispered.

You gritted your teeth. “I can try.” You took the phone from him. “Hola Senor. Si, el ascensor no trabajar. Si. Mas despacio, por favor… uh huh. Si. Que?! Tres horas?! No. Senor. Por favor. Si, si… okay. Gracias.” You hung up and looked hopelessly at Jensen. “They are aware of the problem and have already contacted a crew, but it could take up to three hours.” You sat down on the floor defeated.

Jensen’s stomach grumbled and he joined you on the floor. Though he was hungry, he couldn’t help but be excited to steal more of your time. After a few minutes of silence, he dared to start a conversation again.

“Sorry for the, uh.” He peeled the sweaty shirt from his chest. “Smell. Went bike riding this morning, the pedaling kind.”

“Oh no problem, I think you smell good.” A blush hit you after you realized what you said. “Sorry, that was weird. Its fine, it smells fine, I mean not horrible. Um… So, you been a fan of MotoGP long?” You nervously ran your hand through your hair, trying to change the topic.

“Yeah, I mean no. I actually just found out about it. This was my first race and I learned about everything this weekend from my friend Jared who bought the tickets.” He explained. “But I think I will probably be a fan from now on.”

“You from the states?” You asked.

“Yeah Texas originally, then moved to Cali. Now I spend most of my time between Vancouver and Austin.” He rambled.

“Those are like opposites.” You pointed two fingers at an imaginary map to visualize the distance. “Cause of work or family?”

“Work.” He briefly stated.

“And what do you do?” You asked.

“Uh, me and Jared are actors.” Jensen shook his head, almost embarrassed.

“Wow.” Your eyes lit up. “Anything I would know?”

He laughed. “Mainly a TV show called Supernatural.”

Your brows furrowed as you tried to recall if you had seen it. “So like… monsters, and ghosts?”

“Yeah. It’s about two brothers who save people and hunt things, the family…” He stopped himself. “Yeah, like vampires and werewolves and shit.” You stifled a giggle. “I guess I’ll have to check it out.”

“Oh, you don’t have to say that.” He waved off.

“No, I want to.” You promised. “So Jared and um.. What was your name again?” “Jensen.” He reached out his hand and shook yours. “Jensen Ackles.”

Your tongue peeked out between your teeth. “Is that like a stage name?”

Jensen’s shoulders shook as he silently laughed. “Nope, that’s my real name.”

“You can tell me.” You pushed. “Clelia Esposio is…” You pointed your finger at him very seriously. “But you can’t tell anyone.” Your demeanor eased. “My real name is Y/N Y/L/N. It’s weird, only family and a few friends know.”

“Well Y/N.” Your name sounded enticing rolling off his tongue. “It is very nice to officially meet you. But I promise my only name is Jensen.”

“Fine then.” You pretended to pout. “Keep your secrets.”

He chuckled. Though the minutes dragged on, you and Jensen filled up the time chatting, getting to know each other, talking travel, playing 20 questions and would you rather. And what was three hours, both of you wished was longer. The lights blinked back on and the elevator shook to life. Both you and Jensen stood up, steadying yourselves against the wall. The elevator was heading back down to the lobby.

“I guess this is it.” You stated.

“I can say without a doubt, would recommend 10 out of 10 getting stuck in this elevator.” He joked. “But perhaps it was only the company.”

You bit your lip. “Ah, but if it wasn’t posted to twitter, who's to say it happened at all.” You teased back.

Jensen thought about it, and gave it. “Actually, you’re right.” He took his phone out of his pocket. “Do you mind? To commemorate the moment.”

“Of course not.” You smiled.

You leaned in close to him, grinning widely as his lips held tightly together forming a slight smirk.

He looked down at it and smiled ear to ear. “Perfect.”

“Find a good filter.” You pleaded. “I don’t want to look ugly.”

Jensen scoffed. “That’s not possible.” You found heat rising to your cheeks yet again. “Say uh, are you and Jared in town tomorrow night still? Perhaps we could go for tapas and dancing.”

“Yeah.” Jensen agreed. “I’d love that.”

“Wonderful. Meet me tomorrow night at Casa Montana? 11?” You asked.

“That should work.” He believed.

“Let me know officially through your tweet.” You winked. Jensen was about to ask for your number when the doors being pried open silenced you both. When they finally busted open, your freedom in containment was broken by the assault of flashing cameras.

“Ms. Esposio. Ms. Esposio. Clelia!” A crowd of Spanish reporters called.

Hotel security escorted you through the lobby, evading the group to the best of their ability. Jensen was left alone and unnoticed except for a bell clerk suffering through an attempt at an English apology. Before you were brought to a guarded service hall, you turned around to glance at Jensen once more, subtly licking your lips and parting with a wink.

----