#ob3

It had reached a new academic year, but this year was different. You've finished high school and are now on your way to university. Ollie was signing with Haas, which meant his life was about to get more difficult. However, the worst part about it all was your best friend was moving away to go to university. 

You’d heard the horror stories about best friends that move away and slowly just lose connection until it was like there was never a friendship there in the first place. With all the change that was happening over the next six months, you could feel the anxiety kicking in. 

Ollie was back home for the break between Monza and Baku and you couldn’t be more grateful because during that break you had to say bye to your best friend and it was worse than Ollie leaving almost every week. 

She understood you in a way that no one else could, there were millions of inside jokes that would be shared between you, inappropriate jokes that would have strangers or other people complaining about but that was your friendship. 

It wasn’t until you were lying in bed blocking out the neighbours party that it really hit you. Noah Kahan’s ‘You’re Gonna Go Far’ playing into your ears as the words suddenly hit more than they ever had before. 

Before you knew it, the tears had started falling down your face as the panic set in that actually she was packing up her car and being wherever she was. You’d tried not to cry for months about her leaving, but suddenly, everything was just far too much. 

Ollie who was lying next to you in bed also blocking out the neighbours party with his own earphones in except this time scrolling on tiktok glanced over at you instantly spotting the tear tracks that had been on your face as you swapped from your normal playlist to your sad playlist needing to just let all your feelings out. 

His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you closer to him as he ran a comforting hand over your back in an attempt to help calm you down however you were too deep into your crying session by now. 

Soon Ollie figured you’d been crying enough and took your phone swapping over to some ‘relaxing sounds’ that in reality just made you want to use the bathroom but you didn’t have the energy to fight him. 

His hand gently pulled your wrist closer to him as he messed about with your smartwatch to start the breathing exercises that were programmed in by whatever company you’d previously bought it from. As you followed the instructions from the watch, you could feel the anxiety of losing your best friend leaving your body and your heart rate dropping back down to normal. 

Ollie sighed, letting you remove your earphones and place your phone on the bedside table before pulling you back into his body 

“I know it’s hard, darling. Trust me, I know, except I was the one leaving everyone behind. I know it from both points of view, and you just need to remember that what you have won’t disappear overnight. You’ll meet new people on your course even if it’s a small course and you’ll never forget about your memories with her. I know your anxiety is through the roof right now, and you don’t deal well with change, but remember I’ll always be here. Even if I’m in Italy or Australia. She’ll always be there whether she’s ten minutes away by bus or half an hour by train” Ollie took a breath, pushing some hair out your face and wiping stray tears from your face 

“Change is hard, and it’ll always be hard for you because that’s just who you are, but I love you for it and remember you’re the first from your family ever to go to university. That’s an achievement. You’re also doing a medical degree technically. I love you” He smiled, and you nodded 

“I love you too. Thank you” Ollie nodded, pressing his lips against yours. 

Everything was changing, and as hard as that was to admit, unfortunately, change was always going to happen in life, and although your facetimes were starting to become irregular, they were still happening. 

No matter what happened in the next few months, at least you always had the memories that you’d created over the past three years at high school. Because you’d left all those friend groups that turned out not to be right, and now you had your best friend. 

It was going to work out, and Ollie knew that after a couple of weeks you’d understand that. 

“Come on time for some ice cream” Ollie hummed, getting out of bed and throwing you over his shoulder, causing you to giggle and cling on for dear life. 

Sitting you down on the counter in the kitchen, Ollie raided the freezer, handing you the carton of ice cream with a spoon as he told Alex to play songs from both your childhoods. After all, much like your best friend, he knew how to make you happy. 

And to quote Lauv “The story never ends”

Coming Soon

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@GlitzyDitsy

You've only been employed with the team for a month, barely knowing anyone yet, save for your friend who referred you to this job. She made it sound enticing enough. You'd help her handle the comms for the whole team, film some social media content, attend press stuff. And at least you could do it together. And the company parties are fun. A good time all around.

She didn't warn you that part of the job was having one of the drivers follow you around like a lovesick puppy, his fluffy hair and big brown eyes melting the last of your resolve.

"What are you doing later tonight?" Ollie asks casually. You remain unmoving, refusing to look at him.

"Just going back to the hotel to rest," you respond plainly. "Got a lot of work to do for socials."

Ollie hums in acknowledgment. It's silent for a while and the urge to look back at him claws its way up within you. You beg yourself to not give Ollie the satisfaction, to not give yourself the satisfaction. God knows all your restraint goes out the window whenever Ollie's close.

With a sigh, you give in, looking over your shoulder at Ollie.

He's leaning back against the couch, arms spread on the backrest, his whole demeanor as relaxed as one can be.

"Need help with those?" Ollie asks, gesturing to the tray of coffee in front of you.

You wave him off. "Later."

You face him full-on, leaning against the counter. He looks back, eyebrows raised.

"Do you need something?" You ask, trying to add some bite to your tone. Not that you wanted to purposely offend Ollie, but you're not quite sure how else to go about this.

"No...?" Ollie begins, looking at you, puzzled.

"Then why do you–"

You stop cold. What are you even going to ask?

Why is he staring? What if he's not and you're just imagining all of it?

Why does he touch you out of nowhere? What if he's that way with everyone?

Why do you like it so much when he touches you?

...Well.

You huff, a hand smoothing through your hair. You practically march over to where he's seated, hesitating for a moment before sliding in beside him. He adjusts his posture, keeping his arm behind you on the couch. He smiles, almost smug in the look of satisfaction that washes over his face.

"Yes?" Ollie asks, tilting his head closer.

"This is bad. Illegal. Breaks about a dozen clauses in both of our contracts," you recite, hands wringing in your lap. Ollie watches you fidget, his hand resting behind you slowly reaching over to steady your movements.

His hand covers both of yours, big enough to wrap around your wrists if he wanted to.

"What are you talking about?" Ollie asks once more, the weight on his hand heavy in your lap.

"Tell me."

You gulp, having never heard Ollie's voice take on such a commanding tone. You turn to look at him straight in the eye. With a final prayer to whatever god is listening, you decide to just spit it out.

"You're staring. You stare all the time. You're touchy, too touchy for someone who I'm supposed to just be coworkers with. How about you tell me what it is you want?"

Ollie's expression falls and he withdraws his hand back. He stutters for a few seconds, unable to find the words.

"Did I do something wrong?" Ollie begins. "I thought–I mean, after Austria, at the club, after my win, you grabbed my ass–"

"Oh my god, Ollie, I was drunk!" Came your panicked reply. "And you were inches away from my face telling me something I had no intention of understanding because I wanted to make out with you right then and there if I'm being honest."

The two of you stare at each other, both stunned into silence.

A beat. A second. A breath.

"Come here," Ollie commands, hands already wrapping around your hips. You're happy to oblige as you clamber onto his lap, straddling his thick thighs on both sides.

You couldn't have been any more eager to get your lips on his, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss, rough and frenzied. Ollie groans against your mouth, pressing you down on his rapidly hardening cock. You can feel it through his jeans, thick and heavy.

"Hurry," you implore, hiking your work skirt up around your waist. Ollie reaches down and yanks your underwear to the side, fingers swiping through your arousal.

"All wet for me, love?" Ollie asks, peppering kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You whimper, his fingers expertly working at your clit.

"God, you're so pretty," he mutters, latching onto a spot just above your collar. You shiver, feeling him tease at your hole next.

Ollie plunges two fingers in, bottom lip caught in his teeth as he watches you immediately grind against his fingers, your wetness coating his hand.

You'd known that Ollie was somewhat adept with his hands, being a racing driver and all, but the way he's curling his fingers in you has you seeing stars. If you had the time to cum on his fingers alone, you would.

"Come on," Ollie urges, pulling his hand away, only just managing to stop yourself from whimpering at the loss of contact. You watch impatiently as he fumbles with his belt and zipper, anticipation thick in the air, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. He finally gets his bottoms open, pulling his underwear down enough to let his cock free.

He gives it a few cursory strokes, pulling you in for another searing kiss.

"Spit on it," Ollie says, voice pitching lower. You obey, letting a drop of saliva loose on his red-tipped length. He coats it all over, tapping you on the thigh.

You don't have to be told twice as you position yourself over him, quickly sinking down in one fell swoop. Both of you gasp, unfamiliar with each other's sensations. Ollie squeezes his eyes shut, mouth agape. You're panting, the stretch of his cock making your head spin.

You anchor yourself to him, bracing your thighs against the couch. You start out slow, trying to get a feel of just how big Ollie fits inside of you. He squeezes at your waist, watching as you ride him.

Picking up the pace, you start to bounce a little harder, the sound reverberating through the whole trailer. It dawns on you now that anyone can walk in and see you like this. The thought spurs you on to go even faster, ignoring the burn in your legs.

"Oh god, oh fuck," Ollie curses, eyes glued to the image of him disappearing inside of you. You reach down to rub at your clit, an action that has Ollie groaning.

"You're so hot," he praises, one hand reaching out to squeeze at your chest through your shirt. Your Prema shirt, the work uniform that reminded you both exactly what you are and where you are at this moment.

"Ollie," you mewl. "Ollie, I need you to cum. Cum inside me. Don't make a mess."

Ollie manages to laugh in disbelief but is quickly silenced when you clench around him, your own fingers speeding up against your sensitive nub.

You gasp, feeling the telltale signs of your release. Ollie practically pins you in place, fucking up into you instead. You're both making more noise than what's deemed safe in such a public place surrounded by activity, but neither of you care. The tip of his cock brushes that one spot deep inside you, again and again, harder each time.

Before you know it, your orgasm rips through you, your nails digging into Ollie's shoulders. He grunts as he's trapped between your squeezing walls, his cock twitching as he, too, reaches his release.

Your labored breaths are the only things that can be heard now, your figure slumped against his. Ollie wraps his arms around you, planting a tender kiss to your temple.

You hear a vague vibrating sound coming from somewhere in the vicinity and you frantically search around before spotting your phone on the floor. You immediately recognize the caller ID as your friend.

Wincing, you get off of Ollie, grabbing your phone.

"Yeah?"

"Where are you? And the coffee? Look, I'm coming by the trailer if you need help."

You give Ollie a panicked look. He understands immediately.

. . . The noise of the crowd still echoed in your ears as you stepped off the stage. The adrenaline coursing through your veins felt like a distant memory, fading with every step you took away from the lights.

You tugged at the sequined dress that clung to your skin, each shimmering piece feeling heavier than it had on stage. The smile you had out there was gone, replaced by a familiar exhaustion that you couldn’t get rid of.

Ollie was waiting for you, just like he always was. His eyes lit up as you approached, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He reached for your hand, his fingers warm against your skin.

"You were amazing," he said softly, his voice filled with that awe he always had after your performances. Like he was seeing you for the first time, every time.

You forced a smile. "Thanks."

He didn’t notice the way your voice wavered, or if he did, he chose to ignore it. He led you to the car, the silence between you growing heavier with each passing moment. You stared out the window, watching the city blur past. The lights, the noise, all of it felt distant. Hollow.

When you got home, you kicked off your heels and pulled the pins from your hair, letting it fall around your shoulders. The sequins on your dress caught the light, but they felt like shackles now.

You could feel Ollie's eyes on you as you moved around the room, his gaze lingering like a weight you couldn’t shake.

"You’re quiet," he said finally.

You didn’t look at him. "I’m tired."

He stood up, his brows furrowed. "Something’s wrong. Talk to me."

The words hit you like a slap. You spun around to face him, the frustration that had been building all night finally boiling over. "You want me to talk to you, Ollie? Fine. Let’s talk. Are you surprised by me now? Now that the lights are off and I’m just… this?"

He blinked, taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

You laughed, but there was no emotion in it, no humour. "You took a star to bed, and now you’re waking up with me. Just me. No lights, no glamour. Just skin and bone. Just me!"

He opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t give him the chance. "You fell for the girl on stage, didn’t you? The one who sparkles under the lights, who makes you feel like you’re part of something bigger. But that’s not real, Ollie. That’s not me."

"That’s not true," he said, his voice low. "I love you. The real you."

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. "You think you do. But you love the idea of me. The version of me you’ve created in your head. The perfect, untouchable goddess. But I’m not her. I can’t be her."

His hands were trembling. "I never wanted perfect. I wanted you."

"Did you?" Your voice broke, the words barely more than a whisper. "Or did you want the fantasy? The one you could show off, the one who makes you feel like you’re living some kind of dream? Because that’s all I am to you. A dream. And dreams always end."

He took a step closer, his eyes pleading. "I know I’ve messed up. I know I’ve put you on a pedestal, but it’s not… it’s not like that."

"Then what is it like, Ollie?" You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hold yourself together. "Because all I feel is… empty. Like you’re killing my light, piece by piece."

His face fell, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want to lose you."

A hollow laugh escaped your lips. "You never had me. Not really. You had the version of me you thought you’d love. But I’m not your Aphrodite. I’m not a goddess. I’m just… me."

He reached out, his hand trembling as he cupped your cheek. "I don’t care about the stage. I don’t care about the lights. I care about you."

Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision. "Then why does it feel like I’m never enough?"

His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a tear. "Because I’m an idiot. Because I… I got so caught up in everything that I forgot… I forgot that you’re more than the girl on stage. You’re more than the image. And I’m so sorry."

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. The tears came harder now, the weight of everything you’d been holding in finally crashing down. "I can’t be perfect, Ollie. I can’t be what you want."

"I don’t want perfect." His voice broke, and you could hear the tears in it. "I just want you."

The words hung between you, fragile and uncertain. You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to. But the scars ran deep, the wounds of past expectations and disappointments etched into your skin.

"I’m not a goddess," you whispered.

"I know," he said, his voice raw. "You’re… you’re so much more than that."

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. For the first time, you saw the cracks in his armor, the vulnerability he always tried to hide. Maybe you weren’t the only one struggling under the weight of expectations. Maybe you weren’t the only one afraid of falling short.

The silence stretched on, but it felt different now. Softer. He pulled you into his arms, holding you like he was afraid you might slip away. And maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to heal. Together.

You stayed wrapped in his arms, the silence between you filled with unspoken words. His heart beat thrummed steadily beneath your cheek, a reminder of something real, something fragile, but still there. His hand traced gentle circles on your back, a silent apology, a silent promise.

"I’m scared," you finally admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Scared that if I remove everything and take it away, there’ll be nothing left for you to love."

Ollie pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. "Then we’ll remove it all," he said softly. "The lights, the glamour, the expectations, everything. We’ll find out what’s real. I’m not going anywhere."

Tears welled up again, but this time, they didn’t feel like a burden. They felt like a release. "You don’t know what you’re promising."

He smiled, a soft, broken thing. "I know exactly what I’m promising. I want to know you, the real you. The one who’s scared, and strong, and human. I don’t want the goddess on stage. I want the girl standing in front of me."

You let out a shaky breath, the weight on your chest lifting just a little. "What if it’s not enough?"

He cupped your face, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. "It already is. You already are."

For the first time, you let yourself believe it, just a little. Maybe he was right. Maybe love wasn’t about perfection or performance. Maybe it was about standing together in the quiet moments, stripped of everything but the raw, messy truth of who you were.

As he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, the world felt a little less heavy. "We’ll figure it out," he whispered. "Together."

And for now, that was enough.