#yes i took this with my phone from my laptop because I don’t know how to ss

[scuderiahoney]

Tangerine

Oscar Piastri x reader

Masterlist // Part 1 // Part 1.5 // Part 2

Summary: You’re definitely not an insomniac. But Oscar keeps finding you awake at all hours, and he’s starting to get worried. Or: I wrote this while actually being unable to sleep, passed out for 3 hours, woke up and finished it. So… here you go, I guess?

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: insomnia, anxiety/mild paranoia?, alcohol, limited knowledge of the actual structure of the MTC and the corporate structure of McLaren in general, a poorly researched night in Tokyo

The MTC lobby is empty, besides you. The lights are half turned off, motion sensors that have gone hours without detecting anything. You’ve stuck to your table in the corner. It’s quiet, just how you like it.

You look up from your notebook after who knows how long, blinking your weary eyes. Outside, the floodlights reflect off the inky black lake. There’s a car, pulling up in the drop off area outside the front doors. It’s Oscar, you think, his car one of a few that are easily recognizable. Sure enough, it’s confirmed when he climbs out of the driver’s side door. He leaves it running as he makes his way up to the door.

Oscar scans his pass and the doors swing open, followed by all of the lights in the lobby flickering on. You squint, fighting the urge to shield your eyes from the harsh lighting. Oscar is rushing through the lobby, a man on a mission, but he skids to a stop about halfway across the shiny tiled floor.

He turns, slowly, and makes eye contact with you. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

You hold back a laugh, thinking that might be a little mean, all things considered. “What are you doing here?”

He sighs, hands hanging at his sides. “I forgot my phone charger, and my laptop, and…” he pauses, frowning at you. “What are you doing here?”

You raise your brows right back. “Working?”

You watch his eyes flicker across your setup. You’re still in the same McLaren sweatshirt you’d been wearing when you saw him that morning. Your hair is piled atop your head. Your laptop sits open in front of you, the only source of light before Oscar burst through the doors. There are papers and notebooks scattered on the tabletop. Your pen is missing- you selfishly hope that as he scours your table, he’ll spot it.

“You got here at 8am,” he says, bewildered. “It’s almost midnight. That’s almost 16 hours.”

He says nothing about the pen. Why would he? He doesn’t know it’s missing. Logically, it must be here somewhere, probably under a paper or clipped to a notebook, but you’ve given up.

“Yes,” you answer, smirking. “You’re great at math, Oscar.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, home? Sleeping?”

You shrug. “I took breaks. It’s not like I’ve been working all day straight.”

You’re not lying. You’d taken a good, long lunch break, and an afternoon walk around the grounds. You’ve gotten up to stretch a couple times, made runs to the break room for coffee. You hope he doesn’t see straight through it, though. Hope he can’t see the dark circles under your eyes, the paleness of your skin, the exhaustion weighing your shoulders.

It’s not that you weren’t tired. You just knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep. One of those days. So instead, you had decided to be productive. Which had led to this- you in the lobby of your office building, hunched over a laptop. Oscar, the driver whose data you’re scouring, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Go grab your stuff,” you tell him, nodding towards the doors he’d been headed to. “You have an early flight tomorrow.”

He blinks wildly. “We’re on the same flight.”

You nod, because you both know this quite well. There’d been a meeting this morning about who had to be where and at what times. You’re on the first flight out with the main team, headed to Singapore.

“I’m not the one who has to drive the car at very high speeds this weekend,” you remind him, pointing the eraser of your pencil at him. “Or the one who has to be in front of the cameras. You need your beauty sleep.”

Oscar laughs at that, a happy sound that makes you smile, too. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right back.”

You think about disappearing to the bathroom or the break room while he’s gone, just to avoid any further questions. You know Oscar relatively well, though, and knowing him, he’d just wait around until you came back. Or worse, come and try to find you. You can picture it- you pouring your third cup of coffee in the last hour, Oscar watching from the doorway with disdain. You stay put, sipping from your mug and scribbling notes.

He’s back within a few minutes, a backpack in hand. His keys dangle from his fingertips. You don’t look up from your laptop as he walks towards you, that is until he’s standing right in front of you. You blink up at him through your lashes. There’s a frown on his face- this close, you know your lack of sleep must be obvious.

He nudges the top panel of your laptop with a single fingertip. “C’mon. Time to go home.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, shaking your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

“What, you just gonna stay here until we all meet up in the morning to go to the airport?” He scoffs.

“That would be ridiculous,” you laugh.

“It would,” he agrees. He seems to see straight through you, though. “Come on. Close the laptop, close the notebooks. You can work on this on the flight, like a normal person.”

“I’m trying to improve your car, you know.”

“I’m not leaving until you do,” he finally says, and you scoff with wide eyes. “And remember, I’m the one who has to actually drive the car. And go in front of the cameras. I need my beauty sleep.”

You rear your head back, unsure how to even counter that. He takes the opportunity to close the laptop for you, and you bat at his hands. Then he’s sweeping your papers into piles, stacking your notebooks and gathering them up into his arms.

“That’s my intellectual property, you know,” you scold him, reaching for the papers. He holds them up above your head easily, and you groan. “Okay, okay, I’ll go, just- I lost my pen, earlier. It’s my favorite one. I just have find it and then I promise I’ll go- you can go home, really, I’ll see you-“

He’s reaching for your head, suddenly, and you freeze. When his hand returns to your view, he’d holding the pen between his fingertips. You blink once, twice, then reach for it, but he’s holding it above your head within seconds, too.

“We’re leaving,” he tells you, firmly. “Come on. Up we go.”

You get to your feet reluctantly and pack your things into your bag. Oscar helps, handing you your papers in neat little piles. He keeps you in front of him as you both exit the lobby, like he’s afraid you might take off running further into the office building. His car is still parked out front, still running, and you see him wince.

“Didn’t expect to be inside for so long,” he says sheepishly.

You laugh lightly, starting your walk towards the employee lot. It’s down a well lit path, but every step feels heavy this late at night.

“Wait,” he says, and you pause. “Do you want a ride? You seem tired. You know, sometimes that’s as bad as driving drunk.”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep behind the wheel,” you tell him. You say it with confidence, because it’s pretty likely you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.

He cocks his head at you, cast in the bright glow of the floodlights. “At least let me drive you to your car. Otherwise, how do I know you’re not going to just go back inside?”

You roll your eyes. “And how do I know you’re not trying to kidnap me?”

You end up getting in the car, because he makes it pretty clear he’s not leaving until you do. You contemplate just walking to your own car, but honestly your feet feel so heavy it’s just not worth the fight. Oscar, to his credit, doesn’t kidnap you. He also doesn’t comment on your very modest car, the only one left in the parking lot. He does try to offer you a ride home one more time, but he lets it go after your repeat refusal.

You say goodbye, climb into your own car, and start the engine. The heat kicks on quickly, thank god, and you start up a playlist. It’s only when you look up, ready to leave, that you notice his car is still sitting there. You can just barely see Oscar behind the windshield, and he waves at you. He’s waiting for you to leave.

You flip him off as you roll out of the parking lot, and you watch him laugh in response.

…..

You’re one of the first ones at the office the next morning, and therefore one of the first ones on a shuttle to the airport. Oscar’s chronically late, or as he would call it, chronically precisely on time, so you don’t see him until he’s climbing on the plane. McLaren’s rented out a charter plane for this trip, with the double header making it the easiest solution.

You’re already settled into a seat, laptop open on the table in front of you, headphones on. You barely even look up when you feel him looking over you, but then he’s tugging one side of your headphones off your ear.

“Did you even sleep?” He asks, brows furrowed.

“Yes,” you lie, raising your brows at him defensively.

Oscar raises his brows in return. He obviously doesn’t believe you.

Before he can say anything else, Lando’s behind him, leaning up over his shoulder. “Oscar, mate, get a move on.”

Oscar rolls his eyes but does as Lando’s urging. There’s not assigned seats, per say, but the two drivers are headed towards the middle of the plane where their trainers and other senior staff are sitting. That���s how these things normally go- it just makes sense. They’ll have meetings on the plane, talk about meal plans and strategies and get ready for the weekend. You’ll spend your flight going through the data just one more time, trying to unlock all of the secrets to give Oscar the best possible chance on Sunday.

…..

Singapore is good. Not great, not perfect, but good. For Lando’s team, it’s a huge weekend. And honestly, 4th place for Oscar in his rookie year is huge too. He’s thrilled, tells you as much after the race, after the briefing.

“I know you worked hard this weekend, put in a lot of hours,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” you say with a shrug.

“Right.” He says. “Thanks, though.”

You smile up at him, knowing it’s wobbly and insincere. You don’t take compliments well. “No problem.”

When you get to the hotel that night, you lay down in the bed and try to fall asleep. It’s no use, really, because it’s not your bed, and because your mind is racing. There’s nothing even bothering you, that’s the stupid thing. Just… a billion thoughts flying by all at once. So you wander the hotel, up and down the stairs, down the halls. You make a pit stop in the exercise room, walk on the treadmill, try out the rowing machine. You’ve never been one for working out, but the internet says exercise can help with sleep issues. It’s worth a try, but it doesn’t work.

You contemplate sneaking into the closed hotel pool, but ultimately decide against it. You’d probably get caught, and then you’d get in trouble, and it would somehow make it back to your boss. Then you’d get fired in Singapore, left to find your own way home. So instead, you head for the vending machines on your floor. There’s got to be something in there that’ll cure the racing in your head. Or at least bring you some comfort in the dead of night.

What doesn’t bring you comfort in the dead of night is a face in the reflection on the glass of the vending machine. You nearly scream when you meet someone else’s eyes. You whirl around, arms in a defensive position, and come face to face with Oscar.

“Would’ve pegged you for flight, not fight,” he says drowsily.

“You can’t sneak up on people like that,” you hiss, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Payback,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face clumsily. “B‘sides, I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I was trying to get a snack.”

You blink at him. “Oscar, it’s 3am.”

He nods, blinks slowly. You almost expect his eyes to stay closed, almost expect him to fall asleep standing up.

“I woke up starving,” he says, shuffling towards one of the vending machines. “Promise you won’t tell Kim? I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

He’s cute when he’s sleepy. You want to tuck him into bed and tell him bedtime stories. You want to kiss his forehead. You blink hard, trying to reset your brain. The sleep deprivation is really getting to you. This is your coworker, your teammate.

You shrug and nod in agreement. “Would’ve kept the secret without the bribe, but if you’re offering…”

Oscar laughs, a quiet sound in the empty night air. “What’ll it be, then?”

He’s leaning against the glass heavily. He must still be half asleep. You can’t blame him. You point at the bag of chips you’d been eyeing, and then at the gummy worms in the corner. He nods in approval of both, selects them, feeds the machine his money. Then he’s picking his own snack- a poptart and a bag of Cheetos. He backs away, but you make a noise and point at the drinks machine.

“And a Red Bull?” You ask, pointing at your favorite flavor where it sits, lit up by fluorescent light.

He turns back, almost puts the money in, and then he pauses and looks at you. “It’s 3am.”

“Right, we established that.”

“Why would you drink Red Bull at 3am?” He asks, bewildered.

You shrug. “Because I like Red Bull.”

“Go work for them, then,” he suggests. You laugh. “Actually, I have a feeling that would be severely detrimental to your health. Too many free energy drinks. Do you ever sleep?”

“Those are big words for 3am,” you tease, nudging his shoulder. “Come on. The tangerine one, please.”

“I’m not buying you a Red Bull.” He shakes his head. “I am walking you back to your room and you’re going to bed.”

“I’ll tell Kim about your snacks.”

“No, you won’t.”

You let him walk you back to your room. He stands there as you swipe the key card, as you open the door and shuffle inside. He says goodnight from the doorway. You close the door after you echo the sentiment, lock all the locks, and lay down in your bed. You close your eyes and try to go to sleep. You really, truly try. But when the clock turns over to 4am, and you realize it’s useless, you roll out of bed and head down to the vending machine. You buy the Redbull with your own money, carry it back to your room, turn on the tv, and settle in until the sun comes up.

…..

Tokyo may just be your favorite city in the entire world. Everything is open all the time. You’ve never felt more seen by a city. The days that you and the rest of the team spend there between the two races are heaven. You have meetings during the day, but they’re short and easy. At night, there are plenty of places for you to roam, plenty of things to do and see.

You spend your nights in ramen bars, in arcades, in toy stores that seem to stretch on for miles. You collect so many souvenirs you’re worried you’ll have to buy a second suitcase. Frankly, you’re going on week two of sleeping only in one to two hour stints, and it’s likely you’re beginning to get a little manic. In Tokyo, though, nobody bats an eye.

You join the team for breakfast in the hotel lobby on Thursday. You’ve somehow ended up at a table with Oscar and Lando- you’d gotten here before anyone else, and Oscar had chosen the seat across from you. Lando asks what you’ve been up to. They’ve been busy with promo stuff, you’ve hardly seen the two of them all week.

You regale them with your stories and hand off your phone to Lando so he can scroll through your pictures. Oscar listens with rapt attention, leaning to look at the photos too.

“How do you do all this and find time to sleep?” Lando asks, an amused tone in his voice.

“She doesn’t, mate,” Oscar replies, pointing at your phone. “Look at the time stamps.”

You roll your eyes and snatch the phone away from them. Lando’s looking at you with wide eyes, Oscar is smiling amusedly.

“Sleep is for the weak,” you tell them, and you swear Lando’s eyes are going to bug out of his head. “We’re in Tokyo, I’m making the most of it.”

To Oscar’s credit, he doesn’t bring up the encounter at the MTC, or the run in at the vending machines. Still, this revelation seems to bewilder Lando.

“Sleep is like, the most important thing,” he says, shaking his head. “For your health.”

“Not all of us have to be in tip top shape,” you say, stabbing your fork into a waffle on your plate. “Some of us get to have fun. Exhibit B. Our breakfasts.”

Lando looks at your plate, filled with waffles and bacon and your cup of coffee, next to it. He casts his glance to his sad looking bowl of oatmeal, then, and sighs heavily. Oscar’s laughing at the two of you, though his plate looks just as sad.

“When you pass out halfway through the day,” Lando says, a retaliatory furrow in his brow, “I’m telling Andrea why.”

“That won’t happen,” you reassure him. “And besides, it’s media day. I have it easy.”

…..

Oscar makes it on the podium on Sunday. You scream your lungs out with the rest of the team, run to the pit wall, watch the podium celebrations. He’s wrapping everyone in enthusiastic hugs, slapping everyone’s backs and grinning so, so widely. All the lost sleep feels worth it, just to see him smile like that.

When he makes it to you, he hauls you into his chest, arms around your shoulders, holding you tight. You could stay like that forever, if he’d let you. He tucks his chin atop your head and you think you’d like to make a home right there, in his arms.

The celebrations go late, and so does the debrief. By the time it’s all said and done, everyone looks exhausted, including the drivers. They start shuttling you all back to the hotel for the night, back in Tokyo so you can get on the plane easily tomorrow morning. You’re just glad to be back in the city. On a night like tonight, buzzing with adrenaline and caffeine, there’s no way you’re falling asleep.

You somehow end up in a shuttle with Oscar. He smells like champagne and sweat, and you tease him about it when he sits down in the back row next to you.

He smiled sheepishly. “So I smell like a podium finisher, then.”

You watch as the city goes by out the window and listen to him chat idly with the others in the van. When you get back, you’re the last one out of the car. He’s waiting outside the hotel, leaning on the wall.

“So, what’s your plan for the night?” He asks, cocking a brow.

“No judgement?” You ask.

“No judgement,” he promises.

You shrug. “Not exactly sure. There’s a lot to do. I’ll probably get some ramen, maybe go shopping. Might just take a walk.”

He nods. “Sleep?”

“Not high on the priority list,” you admit.

He nods again. “Can I come with?”

You blank, staring at him. “What?”

“On your adventure,” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I come along?”

Suddenly your heart is pounding in your chest. He wants to come with? Why? There’s a part of you that doesn’t like the idea, that thinks your sleepless adventures are for you and you alone. The other part of you, the one that wins out, thinks it might not be so bad to have some companionship.

“… sure,” you agree, eyeing him carefully. “But you have to play along. No forcing me to go to sleep.”

“Promise,” he says, holding out his pinky.

You hook yours with his and seal the deal.

…..

You both head up to your hotel rooms to change clothes, and in Oscar’s case, to take a shower. He sends you a text when he’s ready and you meet him in the lobby. He’s in a casual outfit, jeans and a hoodie. You’re dressed similarly, in a pair of black jeans and a crewneck.

“Where to?” He asks, wide grin on his face.

It turns out that Oscar is the ideal late night adventure companion. You start your night out at a sushi conveyor restaurant, both of you joking about how Lando would never dare to eat there. You eat to your heart’s content and make comments about fueling up for the night ahead. He even joins you in having an energy drink, some Japanese brand that you’ve never heard of. Oscar reads part of the label to you, balks at the amount of caffeine in it, and drinks it anyways.

After the restaurant, the two of you climb into a cab and head to the Shibuya district. It’s crawling with people, buzzing with energy, and you feel right at home. Oscar sticks close to your side, hanging onto the back of your sweatshirt as you cross the busy crosswalks in a sea of people. When you turn, though, he’s smiling like he’s having the time of his life. The two of you climb the stairs to an observatory where you can watch the dance of pedestrians and traffic from above. There’s a glow to the city that feels akin to how your brain feels when you can’t sleep- like it never goes out, never turns off.

You tell this to Oscar, who gives you a contemplative look.

“Is it the energy drinks?” He asks. His hand is on your wrist, likely just to keep track of you in the crowds.

You shake your head. “The energy drinks came after the… not sleeping-“

“Insomnia,” he suggests.

“… not sleeping,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes at him. “Anyways. I was like a zombie. The energy drinks make it so I’m functional. I figure if I’m gonna be awake, may as well enjoy it.”

You head back out onto the streets and begin to wander again. Oscar follows along, always holding onto you in some way, always smiling when you look at him. The two of you wander through art galleries and museums lit up with neon lights. Somewhere in the middle of one of them, he slips his fingers between yours. You’re not complaining. There’s something grounding, leveling about his presence.

You stop for drinks at a bar- some sort of local beer that Oscar orders for both of you in Japanese. It’s followed by a vodka Red Bull, at your insistence. Oscar wrinkles his nose but drinks the whole thing, seemingly determined to match you.

Next door, there’s a highly American themed bowling alley. Oscar laughs about how Logan would love it and pulls you inside. It’s the first stop of the night that he’s suggested, so you go along eagerly. He’s snapping pictures, ones to send to Logan, ones for himself, ones of you smiling, renting out bowling shoes. He pays for the game, and you both do terribly. The worker puts the bumper guards up out of pity, because the two of you obviously have no idea what you’re doing. He’s a world renowned athlete, you’re a highly skilled engineer, and yet, you both suck at bowling.

“When did the in-“ you fix him with a glare, and he stops mid sentence. “When did the not sleeping start?”

You look up at the ceiling of the bowling alley and purse your lips, watching the disco ball spin. “Next question.”

He huffs and shrugs, rolling the ball down the lane. “I don’t have a next question.”

“What’s your family like?”’you ask him, and he smiles, softer than you’ve ever seen him smile before.

“Well, I have three sisters,” he starts, eyes lighting up.

Somewhere between the bowling alley, the next bar, and the shopping mall you end up in, you start to really get to know Oscar. It’s funny how the night opens people up. Everything feels safer in the dark, surrounded by other people. It’s creeping up on 1am- in theory, both of you should be sound asleep. The fact that you’re not makes anything okay. You learn about his family, his childhood, his friends back home and in the UK. You tell him about yourself, too. He listens with an eager look on his face, laughing at all the right moments, squeezing your hand at the right ones, too.

You end up in a store that’s packed to the brim with stuffed animals. He lets you drag him around the whole thing, pointing out cute ones and the ones you think are a bit odd. Then you gasp, pointing excitedly, pulling on his hand.

“It’s you,” you squeak, the delirium beginning to set in. It’s a stuffed Kangaroo, and he groans softly. “Look, you’re even making the same face.”

Oscar seems unable to argue with that. Both he and the stuffed kangaroo do seem to be scowling. He smiles instead, picks it up, and takes it to the register. He buys it before you can really even say anything, and the cashier packages it in a bag. The kangaroo’s head sticks out over the paper, your second faithful companion for the night.

By 3am, Oscar is starting to drag. He perks up every time you look at him and smiles brightly, but you can tell. His grip on your hand is looser lately, and his blinks are growing longer and longer. You turn to him, a sympathetic smile on your face.

“We can go back to the hotel, if you want,” you say, poking his cheek lightly.

He smiles. “Are you tired?”

You sigh. “No, but you are.”

“I’m okay,” he insists, shaking his head. “What about the batting cages you mentioned? That sounded fun.”

You pout at him. “Oscar, you’re half asleep. You’d definitely get hit by a ball.”

He nods in agreement. “Maybe I just need another energy drink?”

You cock your head at him, take in his heavy eyelids, his parted lips. “That would be your third one of the night. And that would be very unhealthy.”

He nods again. “Yeah. Okay. Just… I said I’d be along for the ride.”

“We can hang out at the hotel,” you suggest. “The pool area is open all night.”

“I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”

“Me neither.”

You somehow end up with a pizza on your way back, and the two of you plant yourselves in the pool area on one of the chaise lounge chairs, the pizza box in front of you. You eat the greasy, cheesy food, and even Oscar indulges in it. He has his hand planted on the chair behind your back. Every so often you lean backs against his arm just to feel his presence. His knee bumps against yours, and you smile.

The pool is clear and blue. Neither of you will be swimming, but this felt like a neutral enough place. You’d thought about inviting him back to your room but had felt weird about it. There’s something calming about the still water and the smell of the chlorine, anyways.

He leans his head on your shoulder. The heavy weight of him is nice. He’s solid, sturdy, grounding. You’re chatting idly about something that happened at the race, something he’d missed while he was driving the car. You break off in the middle of a sentence to yawn, and then you close your eyes for just a moment. Oscar’s breath hitches.

The two of you are silent for a moment. You stare into the clear water, aching to drift and float and fall asleep. You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest.

“It started when I was a kid,” you tell him. “I just… stopped sleeping. It comes and goes in cycles. Sometimes I’m fine, sometimes I just…”

“Can’t sleep,” Oscar finishes for you, his words contradicting the sleepy tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” you say, blinking slowly again.

Your head droops, resting against his. He’s so warm, so comforting. He must feel you drifting, must feel your grip faltering, because then he’s sitting up, tucking you into his chest.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, drowsily.

“M’so tired,” you admit, curling into him. “Justwannasleep.”

Tears are stinging at your eyes. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t been prepared for this part. The moment when your lack of sleep catches up to you, and you become an emotional, distraught mess. You’re seconds away from full on sobbing.

Oscar seems to sense this. “Okay. Okay, how about- I have a pull out couch in my suite. Why don’t you- if you’re comfortable, you could come sleep there. Maybe it would help to know somebody’s there if you need it? Maybe-“

“Okay,” you answer, nodding against his chest. “Okay, yeah.”

He takes care of the empty pizza box and guides you up to his room. You know there’ll be questions to answer if anyone sees you, but you’re comforted by the fact that it’s 4am and nearly every sane person is sound asleep. He scans into the room, and you let out a sigh when he lets go of your hand. He moves quickly, unfolding the pull out couch, grabbing extra blankets from the cabinets. Before you know it, you’re sitting down on the bed, rubbing your eyes.

It’s strange, now that you’re here. You’re in Oscar’s hotel room. You’ve just spent the night wandering Tokyo with him. You’re exhausted, sleep deprived, still on the verge of tears. Everything feels hazy and blurry.

“I can… go, if you want,” he says, and you blink up at him through your blurry vision. “Or I can sit with you till you fall asleep.”

“That might take a while,” you tell him. “Like, you’re more likely to fall asleep. Even… when I finally get to this point, it takes a while.”

He shrugs. “We could put on a movie.”

That’s exactly what you do. He turns on the tv, spots Finding Nemo on the guide, and turns it on. He sinks down on the bed, leaning against the couch back. You crawl up next to him as he turns the volume low. At first, you just sit shoulder to shoulder. Then he reaches out, wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulls you into his side. You sigh against him. Cradled close, you let the exhausted tears flow. He can’t see you, probably, and even if he can, you can’t bring yourself to care. He leans down, brushes his lips against your forehead.

“M’right here,” he says, softly. “I’ve got you.”

You wake up at 8am with your head in his lap. His alarm is blaring from the side table, and you’re both springing apart. He fumbles for his phone, shutting the alarm off with the shaky hands of someone who’s just been woken up from not nearly enough sleep.

You, on the other hand, have gotten the most consecutive sleep of your last two weeks. You stretch, rubbing the blur from your eyes and blinking at him.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“For what?” He asks, voice steady.

“For… I don’t know. Keeping you up so late? Falling asleep on you?” You shrug. “I… that was a lot, for me to put that all on you.”

Oscar shrugs, so nonchalant about it. “It’s what friends are for.”

You nod, though you’re not convinced. You pull away, and Oscar’s soft smile drops to a flat frown. He reaches for you, but you dodge his touch.

“I should go,” you tell him. “We have to leave soon, people are going to be getting up and- if they see me come out of your room-“

“We can be friends,” he says, again, brows furrowing. “We didn’t do anything wrong, everything is okay-“

He doesn’t understand. It’s fine for him, but this is too much for you. He wants to be friends, but you’re looking at him and thinking about how if you could curl up on his chest every night, you might never have trouble sleeping again. He wants friends, you want more. You can’t have more, though, because there’s no way you’ll keep your job. And he doesn’t want that, anyways. Why would he? You’re just his pity project, the poor girl who can’t sleep, who fails at counting sheep.

“I should go,” you repeat, standing up. You can’t look at him, can’t watch him watching you. “Thank you. For everything. I’m sorry.”

He stands up too, and he grabs your hand. You pause, stuck between ripping your hand from his and running, or whirling around and snapping at him. Fight or flight. Instead, you take a deep breath. You’re still sleep deprived, still exhausted. 4 hours doesn’t fix two weeks of little to no sleep.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, shoulders sagging. “I have a hard time letting people take care of me.”

“It’s okay,” Oscar says. “Just- come sit down? Let’s talk, okay?”

You sink down on the bed, rest your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands. “Why do you care?”

Oscar sits down next to you. He reaches out, knits your fingers together. You’re reminded of the art galleries, of the crowds, of the bowling alley. You split yourself open last night, in the safety of the time when you should’ve been sleeping. He saw you and he’s still here, somehow, hanging on. Your bones are tired. Your head is pounding. You need caffeine.

“I care,” he says, gently, “because I care about you. Because I think you’re a good person, and I want to get to know you better. And because this whole thing is not healthy.”

You sigh. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand methodically, back and forth. The funny thing is, you could fall asleep again, just like this. You could lean into his shoulder, let the warmth of him seep into your skin, and fall asleep. You wonder if he knows it.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, rubbing at your face sleepily. “Osc, I’ve been like this for years. It’s not just going to change now.”

“Not overnight,” he says, softly. There’s a callous on his thumb, you can feel the scrape of it over your skin. It’s oddly soothing. “But I can try. I can be here.”

“Why would you want to?”

“Because despite all the craziness, last night was the most fun I’ve had in weeks,” he says, and you could cry. “I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you. Take you on dates. The whole nine yards.”

You should’ve expected this. Oscar can be shy, and quiet, but he can be straightforward, too. He’s pretty easy to read. He’s blunt with Lando, almost to the point of contention sometimes. But you’d been so focused on trying to prove to him that you were just fine that you hadn’t considered he was feeling the sparks, too. That maybe he wasn’t holding onto you in the crowd just so he didn’t lose you. That maybe he liked the feeling of your skin on his, too.

“If you want that,” he says, voice low.

You blink blearily, pull away to look up at him. “I do.”

He nods, leans forward, kisses your forehead. The rest of it will come later, you think. You can work all the details out when you’re both more awake. Right now, he pulls you into his chest and flops back onto the bed.

“We have an hour before anyone comes looking for us,” he says, rubbing your back lightly. “Close your eyes? You don’t have to sleep, just-“

You blink once, twice, and then you’re fast asleep before he can get another word out.

…..

Oscar wins the sprint race in Qatar, and then takes second on Sunday. He’s nothing but endless wide grins all weekend, despite the heat and the dehydration and his obvious exhaustion. You laugh when you watch him lay down on the floor in the cool down room and smile when he gets sprayed with champagne on the podium. He chases you through the garage afterwards to give you a hug, despite your screeching about how sticky he is.

He tucks you into his chest. “Couldn’t have done it without you, baby.”

Later, you help corral a very tired Oscar and Lando to the shuttles and back to the hotel. They’re each stumbling over their own feet, giggling and laughing about the race, shoving at each other’s shoulders. For a minute, you’re walking through an empty parking lot, far from any other McLaren staff, and Oscar links his fingers with yours. They fit together like puzzle pieces. His fingers are sticky with champagne, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Lando sees and doesn’t say anything, just smiles.

You’re keeping it quiet for now. Time to figure it out between the two of you before you get your bosses involved. You have a feeling it’ll be mostly okay. You’ll figure it out, one way or another.

You follow Oscar up to his hotel room, saying goodnight to Lando as he heads further down the hall. He knits his fingers with yours again, leads you into his room, and collapses onto the bed.

“I’m exhausted,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you?”

You smile down at him, laid out on the bed. He should probably shower, at the very least change his clothes, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him that.

You sigh. “I mean, yeah, but if you’re asking if I’ll be able to sleep… probably not.”

He nods in understanding and purses his lips. “D’you think… would you just… stay, until I fall asleep?” He asks, blinking up at you. “After that you can take my card and get a Red Bull and go do whatever, just-“

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you tell him.

It’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done. He gets ready for bed, and you do the same. You lean against the headboard and he crawls up the bed. He puts his head on a pillow in your lap, curls up into a little c shape. He’s very cat like, you’ve noticed, especially when he’s sleepy. You run your fingers through his hair, the tv playing quietly in the background, and he sighs and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

He’s out within minutes. Oscar is a sound sleeper. You could move him, could shift his head and get up. You could wander the halls, take his card and buy all the energy drinks you desire. But you look down at him, his brow unfurrowed, lips parted, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You could sit here and watch him breathe all night. It’s a terrifying and comforting thought, all at once.

You don’t sleep. It’s likely you’ll crash on the flight home, or maybe shortly after that. With your luck, you’ll pass out in a meeting when you get back to the MTC. Oscar doesn’t scold you when he wakes up and it’s obvious you’ve been awake all night.

He gets you coffee from the breakfast bar, exactly how you like it. And when he finds you in the backseat of the airport shuttle, he hands you a tangerine Red Bull. It’s early, the sun just peeking up over the horizon, washing the whole city with orange. He’s smiling at you, and you’re smiling right back.

When you fall asleep on his shoulder on the way to the airport, nobody dares to say a word.

…..

“Did you hear we’re gonna be sponsored by Monster next year?” Lando asks, throwing a tennis ball at a wall in the courtyard.

You sit up in the grass nearby, eyes lighting up. “You’re kidding. Free Monster?”

Oscar, whose stomach you’d been laying on, sits up behind you and wraps his arm around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Your consumption will be restricted,” he says, and you laugh.

You suppose that’s fair. Besides, Monster is fine, but nothing will ever top tangerine Red Bull.

check out the companion blurb, Glad You’re Here

thanks for reading, hope you sleep better than me! you can find my other fics here! sweet dreams y’all

[luvyeni]

WHAT IS UP‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

okay instead of going straight to my request, I’ll ask you some simple talk questions. how was your day today? was it good or bad? why was it bad? what did you do today? did you eat good food today cause i know i did.

ANYWAYS MOVING ON

what about…ghostface!hyunjin from skz and he just stalks poor reader and basically tells her that he can SMELL her arousal through the phone since reader as a mask kink and she thinks having ghostface as her boyfriend is hot, and then he comes out of nowhere and starts teasing her and poor reader is just so shy now that he’s in front of her and he’s like “aw poor baby is shy now that im right here. what happened to all that big talk on the phone?” idk just add whatever you want!

if u don’t wanna do this plot that’s fine!! i just need ghostface jinnie. im really desperate

❛IT’S A SCREAM, BABY!❜ ( h. hyunjin )

💬nias notes: i guess this sorta part of freaktober since its hallowen themed

p. x fem!reader w. 1.7k+

warnings? unprotected sex, knife play, degradation kink, a little blood and fingering

— 𖦹 ( you can’t help but tease the man in the mask, that’s until he catches you ) !

“Did we even learn this?” You read through the notes on your laptop. “This is next week's problem, I can’t.” You closed the laptop, getting up, going downstairs to the kitchen for a snack.

“I need to but more” You took ice cream from the fridge, your phone ringing making you jump. You smiled, knowing it could only be one person calling you. You threw the wrapping away, running back upstairs to your phone.

You reached your room, quickly picking up the. “Hello,” You smiled, even though he couldn’t hear you. “Hello princess.” His voice was distorted, it made your panties soak immediately. “Did you miss me?” You laughed, “Of course I did.”

“Where are you?” He chuckled, “You know it’s not that easy.” He says, “Let’s play a game, you hide, and I try to find you, and you win I don’t slit your throat.” The man in the mask spoke through the phone. “What happens if you win?” You questioned. “Princess, you don’t want to know.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You teased, knowing you shouldn’t provoke him. “Princess, you know how this works.” His voice seemed to get deeper even with the voice modifier. “You don’t have a fucking choice.”

You got up, slipping on your slippers, leaving out the comforts of your own room to go and hide from the masked man. “I’ll give you to the count of 60 find a spot in the house.” You took off as he began to count down.

Finding a spot in a cabinet, you tucked yourself away. “Princess, you’re so predictable, it’s almost adorable how dumb you are.” You whined, he laughed. “Here I come princess.”

“You know it’s not really safe for a pretty girl like you to live in such a big house alone, too many bad men out there.” He spoke. “Like you?” He chuckled. “Yeah, baby like me, but you like me, don’t you?” You hummed. “I do.” You spoke.

“Yeah, I know you do, otherwise you would’ve called the cops by now.” He spoke. “Instead, here you are answering my calls for the 3rd time, you get a kick out of this, nasty girl I can almost smell how aroused you are.”

You felt your breathing pick up, you tried to hold your breath. “You scared princess?” He said. “No baby, I know you, you’re turned on right now.” You shuffled around, it wasn’t much space to move around so your leg was slapping against the cabinet. “No.”

He chuckled, you could hear him scraping his knife against the wall through the phone, turning you on even more — it was sick you knew that this shouldn’t be arousing you the way it is, your panties shouldn’t be sticking to your folds like they were. “Such a shit liar baby, I know what gets those little gears going.”

“I’m not scared.” You kept a brave face, “Because I know you’ll never find me.” You chuckled. “Really princess, you wanna take a chance like that?” You hummed, “Yes, I do.” You spoke. “Oh, princess you really are dumb.” Your thighs clenched together.

You heard a few steps outside of the room you were hiding in, your breath hitched. “Ah baby, I think I found you.” He said, just as you heard the click of the door. “You’re in here aren’t you?” You didn’t say anything. “Where are you princess, let’s make this easy.”

You stayed silent, even when you heard his voice right out of the door, His knife tapping against the door that was keeping your safe. “Hmm, I guess I was wrong baby, guess you really are good at this game.” You heard his feet retreating, then the door closing.

You let out a sigh, this room was no longer safe — you waited another few minutes before quietly climbing out the cabinet, making your way to the door, quietly opening it so you wouldn’t alert the masked man.

Before you walked about the door was slammed in front of you — you gasped at the thud. “Stupid Stupid baby.” You heard a slight glee in his voice. “Now you should’ve known better.” He flipped you around, pressing his cold blade to your neck, you whimpered at the sensation.

“Pl-please don’t hurt me.” He smiled, even though you couldn’t see it through the mask. “Awe poor baby is scared now? Hmm? No that’s not it.” He lightly dragged the knife across your throat, you bit your lip, trying to hide your face. “Awe that’s it, you’re shy.” He chuckled. “Awe poor baby is shy now that I’m right here. what happened to all that big talk on the phone?” He teased.

He dragged the knife to thin strap of your tank top, slicing right through it, repeating on the other side, the flimsy material falling down — your hands flew to cover your boobs. “Move.” He said. “Move your hands pretty, before I cut them.” You slowly moved your hands, letting your boobs freely bounce. “Nice princess, such pretty tits.”

He moved his knife across your boobs, grazing your nipples with the blade. You whimpered, biting your lip. “Keep hiding those pretty nosies baby, i’ll get you to scream for me one way or another.”

He dragged you back to your room, knife pressed against your neck — as well as his hardening cock pressed against your ass, throwing you on the bed, your boobs bouncing upon impact. “You look so scared princess; it’s turning me on.”

He climbed on to the bed, hovering above you — his knife dragged along your stomach until it reached your panties. “No pants, I knew you wanted this my slutty baby.” He chuckled. “Dumb baby likes to be fucked by slashers in masks like a whore.” He cut right through your panties. “You’re sick baby.”

“Pl-please.” You moaned out, he threw the cut panties somewhere — pressing the tip of the blade on your clit, you gasped. “look who wet you are, you shouldn’t be this excited about this, I could easily cut your pretty body.” That just cause slick to stream out on to the blade even more.

“You’re fucking dripping.” He removed the knife from your clit, replacing it with his glove clad finger, rubbing harsh circles. “Th-that feels good.” He pressed the knife against your hip bone. “D-do it.” You said.

He pressed down, you let out a loud moan as the blade pierced your delicate skin. “Fu-fuck.” He watched the blood from the small cut, your cunt clenched around his fingers. “You’re gonna cum?” He laughed. “Me cutting you made your little pussy clench, go ahead and cum.” He curled his fingers, making your eyes roll to back of your head, cumming.

“Nasty baby.” He pulled his fingers out of your cunt, your essence stuck to his finger, tapping on your lips. “Open slut.” He pushed his finger into your, ordering you to suck. “Good whore.” He pulled his fingers out, slapping your face.

He climbed of the bed, getting rid of all his clothes, except the mask. “Th-the mask.” You said, he cocked his head to the side. “Don’t be dumb baby.” He climbed back on the bed, grabbing a hold of your wrist, pinning them down with one hand. “You like this mask anyway, that’s why your dripping like a whore, trying to hump my thigh.” You moved your hips. “Be still.” He warned.

He pulled his under down enough to pull out his hard cock, his mushroom tip red and dripping with cum, veins adorning the sides. “Is this what you want?” He slapped his length against your folds. “Want my cock.” You nodded, whining. “Pl-please.” You begged, “W-wan’ it so bad.”

He slid right in, wasting no time. “Shit.” He cursed. “Tight fucking cunt.” He pulled out, slamming back in. “Fu-fuck!” He began to move, his cock dragging along your walls. “Feels so fucking good, your pussy is soaking my cock.” He grunted.

He began to pick up his pace, slamming into your hole over and over. “Fu-fuck t-too much.” You screamed, trying to wiggle away, but he held your hips, holding you in place. “Don’t run from my cock slut, this is what you wanted.” He pressed the knife against your throat. “You wanted this, too be fucked like a whore.” He growled. “So *thrust* fucking *thrust* take *thrust* it.”

You were a mess, moaning as he fucked you. “Look at you all fucked out, dumb baby.” He said, his cock hitting your cervix. “Soaking up the sheets over a mask, so sick baby.” You moaned. “I-i’m cumming!” You squealed out, the blade cold against your warm skin. “Hold it, i’m not there yet.”

He sped up his movements, fucking into at a almost inhumane pace. Panting as he chased his high. “C-can’t hold it.” You whined. “I said hold it, if you cum I cut your throat.” Shit, that didn’t help at all, in fact it only made you clench around his cock. “Fuck! You’re squeezing my cock.” He grunted. “Fuck i’m gonna cum, gonna let me breed your pretty pussy?” You nodded. “Pl-please.”

He thrusted into your cunt a few more times, spilling his cum into your cunt. “Fuck that’s it, take my cum.” He sighed, he pulled out just to his tip, covering your outside folds in his cum, pushing himself back in. “Keep it inside.”

“Yah, take the mask off now.” You said, reaching for it, he grabbed your wrist. “Please I want to see your face.” You pouted, he let your hands go, reaching for the mask, revealing the raven-haired man, his face was dripping with sweat.

“You okay, pretty girl?” You nodded, he smiled, throwing the mask somewhere, you gasped. “Hey, don’t break it, I paid a lot of money for it.” He scoffed. “Of course, you did, you’re sick baby.” He kissed your lips. “Only I could fall in love with a crazy girl who’s obsessed with ghostface.” He pulled out his now soft cock.

“It’s not like you weren’t turned on either.” You fought back. “You came 3 times as much as you normally do.” He nodded. “Touché baby, it was hot.” He said, “But I can’t promise i’ll use that knife again, don’t wanna hurt your pretty skin like that.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to.” You said, he helped you get cleaned up, nursing your wound from the blade. “It should clear up in a few days, it wasn’t a deep cut.” He kissed your waist.

He joined you in bed, pulling the the covers over your naked bodies. “Did you like it baby?” You nodded, “You make a good ghostface.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “Only you would say that.” You laughed.

“You know you love me.”

©LUVYENI

[s-4pphics]

click! 2 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 5.7k 

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a rep, all ocs r black coded, crack, alcohol, arguments, more slut-shaming, bullying, disordered eating, brief mentions of sexual harassment/assault, sex for like a second, failed orgasms, masturbation, slight exhibitionism 

one. three. four.

A/N: heyyyyy…. how yall doin🤭🤭 a little something before i go back to work kms 

“So, lemme get this straight,” Abby pinches a lollipop stick between her fingers like it’s a blunt, adjusting the invisible glasses on her face, “The psycho just barged in?” 

“With all of her shit! Didn’t even bother to say good morning or anything!” 

It’s been hours since the squash-loving hermit took refuge in your home, and you’re sizzling with rage as you recall the events from earlier. You clocked out zoomed to Abby’s building in no time. 

“Damn… why didn’t you call security… or the landlord? She can’t just move in without signing the contract.” 

You pace around Abby’s rug-covered space, “Bitch, I don’t fuck with feds and rent’s due in two days!” You holler, “And she did sign the contract! I haven’t signed it yet because I didn’t know she was gonna show up and act like that. You’re not disrespecting me in my own house.” 

Her head shakes, “What’d I tell you? If it were me… we wouldn’t have any problems.” 

You point a scolding finger at the smirking blonde girl, “Yes, we fucking would. Don’t start.” 

But she presses anyway, “I think we’d be a match made in heaven, actually.” She rises from the couch and hovers over you, the tip of your index connecting with her strong, covered chest. Your glare persists, but there’s warmth pulling in your gut from her scent. 

Your skin is flaming; This is why you’ll never be able to have a serious conversation — or anything, for that matter — with Abby. Her raunchy remedies aren’t going to work in this situation; You’re too stressed. 

“But anyway,” Her brow arches and she backs off. Slightly. “You’re an adult and main tenant. You gotta handle it soon.” She ponders for a moment, “But to be fair, you texted her first.” 

“How many times do I have to say that I was lit as fuck! I don’t even remember— “

Abby’s taunting expression makes you pause, nails digging into the skin of your palms. 

“Don’t.”

Your hiss makes her snort, “I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to. It’s not funny.” 

Abby knows you and Dina’s history better than anyone. Knows exactly how you got caught up in “situationship” nonsense, all with liquor and a phone. You can’t fault Abby for recognizing the familiarity, but a burning sting rests in your chest. Embarrassment spreads all over your cheeks, and you announce your departure in a rush. 

Her regret is evident in the way she calls out for you, but you’re out the door in seconds, slamming it as hard as the frame can hold. 

The winter air hits your eyes first… You try to convince yourself, hastily wiping the wet trails off your face. You’re not fucking crying over Dina. Not again. 

You snatch your phone from your pocket to ask Amaya for advice, but your heart swells when you see her messages. 

You think back to all the times she’s coddled you through your emotions: she drops everything to tend to your needs, no matter how big or small. Guilt would put you in the ground if she ruins her opportunity for your convenience; You can’t tell her. She deserves to enjoy herself. You match your best friend’s excitement all the way back to your car.

Abby called twice during the drive back home, but you didn’t answer. You know she wasn’t being malicious, but you’re sensitive, especially when it comes to anything related to Dina. 

You rip your apartment door open and find Ellie lounging on your fucking couch with Love Island playing from her laptop. And eating peanuts… with Chick-Fil-A ranch? 

You slam her device shut, words sharp as nails, “I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m telling you right now, you’re not fucking staying here.” You’re shredding through skin with your glare, but she’s not reacting. Just sitting there and crunching, eyes void. 

“Don’t even think about unpacking. You’re getting out tonight, I can promise you that.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“What.”

She merely shrugs, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“What the fuck— “

More cracked shells, more munching; Your eyelid is jerking. 

“Rent’s on the counter, by the way.” 

You hold back a scoff before marching into the kitchen, eyeing the envelope labeled fake ass mortgage. You hear the contestants from the reality show resume their dialogue, but you’re locked on how thick the letter looks to bother scolding. 

It’s torn open… and filled with hundred-dollar bills. Way more than half of rent. Ellie might’ve covered the heat bill for the rest of winter. 

“I thought you were a fucking photographer.” The shock in your voice is clear as day, mindlessly returning to the living room. 

“I am.” She calls dryly. 

“No, you’re not.” You toss the money on the coffee table. “The fuck do you do on the side? Sell drugs to freshmen?” 

“Sure.” 

When your arms cross over your chest with an accusatory stare, she sighs. “I told you. I take pictures.” 

“Of who? The fucking councilman?” 

Another shrug. “Whoever asks. It’s how I make money…” A light pause. “At least until I secure this job.” 

You squint at her, “I thought you got evicted. You’re clearly fit to pay rent on your own.” 

That seems to shake her a little, staring back with hardened eyes, “And who the fuck are you to question me? The reason I’m here is because of you!” 

“Exactly! This...” Arms waving around the living room. “…is my fucking space! You’re a straggler at best.” 

A weighted huff escapes her before she tosses her snack on the table and stands, leaning over the table. 

“You would’ve been in the same position as me if I didn’t show up. No where to fucking go,” She spits. “If you want me gone, fine. But when your landlord comes knocking on your fucking door asking why you’re two weeks late, don’t say shit to me.” 

You waver slightly and she notices, smirk darker than her pupils. You’re steaming; Smoke is going to come out of your ears soon. 

“The same goes for you. I don’t wanna hear your fucking voice, and don’t touch anything that I paid for,” You command, “Don’t even breathe in my space. Stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine.” 

A condescending grin plasters onto her face. 

“Where’d you hide that lease?” 

Your heart is too weak for hatred… or so you thought. 

Abby, Amaya… everyone you’ve fucking talked to about the bitch right across the hall thinks that she’s dangerous and sick and out for blood. 

They’re all wrong. It’s you. 

Ellie is conjuring up something villainous deep inside you; Her childish antics started off small: bumping against the wall in the middle of the night, leaving her dirty ass shoes out of place by the front door, not laying the rugs that she slipped on flat… Incredibly annoying, but fixable. 

You took the time to construct a new roommate agreement that fit your unique situation the morning after your argument. It was sloppily scribbled on a crumpled piece of construction paper, but it was a symbol of peace. You taped it to her door before you left for your shift, only to return and see it ripped up and scattered in front of your door. 

It’s been five days since then. Five, and you can already feel a bald spot forming at the back of your skull. To think that Ellie was your first option as a roommate just days ago is laughable now. You know that none of the tricks she’s pulling are accidental. You pride yourself in being observant, and you always catch that prideful look on her face when she nails one of your peeves. 

You try to be here when Ellie’s not, but she’s always home when you are. Music blasting in the wee hours of the night knowing you have three upcoming shifts to cover, on the couch rewatching the same episode of Love Island over and over while you make your breakfast, pretending to talk on the phone to friends she doesn’t have as loudly as possible. You’re fucking tired and you’re holding your hand back from slapping her. 

But the worst part is that she’s stocked your fridge with fucking squash. Top to bottom in all colors there is. Filled the drawers with one called cucurbita argyrosperma. You were torn between curling in hysterics and beating it over your new roommate's head; The petty side of your brain wishes that you were allergic so you could “accidentally” eat some, die, and get her locked up, but you hushed it. She’s fucking with you, but rent and some bills are paid for the month. What a sick turn of events. 

You’re plotting, though. Something’s brewing, and Abby’s helping you. It’s finally Saturday, and college kids are fiending for a rager. 

The only quality that you respect about Ellie is that she’s clean. She washes her dishes, does her laundry (separate from yours, thank God), and she’s deep-cleaned the bathroom twice already. Ellie despises large messes more than you, though, since you’re willing to sacrifice your tidy abode to piss her off. Let the ruckus in!

You heard her leave early this morning, and you’ve noticed that when she’s gone, she’s gone, which gives you all the time to plan. You skip to the bathroom like a kid in a candy store, showering, brushing your teeth, doing skincare. You whip up the hardiest breakfast you can before your mall venture with Abby; It’s been days since you’ve last nutted, and you need a new vibrator. And new paintbrushes. 

“… Why haven’t you beat her ass again?” 

It only took Abby buying food for you to forgive her. You slurp down your strawberry milkshake, “Fear of permanent imprisonment.” 

“Does Maya know what’s been going on?” Abby asks, shaking her head. 

“Fuck no, and she’s never going to. Have you seen her Snaps?” You whip out your phone and show her Amaya’s stories; She’s exploring and meeting new people. “She’s having a ball! The second I tell her what’s been going on, she’s gonna drop everything and come back. I’m not doing that to her.” 

“You’re the only outlet I have, so suck it up and listen to me bitch and moan.” You continue, “Who’s coming tonight?” 

She smiles, “As many as I could get.” 

“Please tell me Armani’s coming.” 

“She is, for sure.” 

Your heart flutters. Armani… She’s everything you could ever want and need. She’s kind, smart, drop-dead gorgeous, and she bench presses with Abby on the weekends. She has your clit jumping like a salmon in the freshwater, and you’re going to see her tonight. 

You jump awake at your alarm, eyes stinging as you glance at your phone. It’s a little past nine; Pregaming hours. 

You throw your lazy body into the shower and conduct your special-occasions ritual, blasting your music as loud as the speaker would allow, scrubbing your body with exfoliant to your heart's content. 

You exit, water cascading down your shoulders and back, towel engulfed around your body. You have no idea what to fucking wear; What color does Armani like? Do lesbians qualify for the red nail theory or is that something heteros made up for TikTok followers? What if she doesn’t like eucalyptus scented body wash? 

You swallow your doubts with a shot glass. 

Outfit prepping takes longer than expected, but you’re dressed, titties are out, and your thoughts are swirling like the liquor in your gut. You should call Amaya and tell her you love her—

Another shot, more dancing. You’re spinning around your small room to the bass of the beat, sloppily pulling every shot that you can, back arching and hips throwing in any direction they can. 

The bass sounds louder the more you dance, every thud rattling the poster-covered walls of your room. 

It’s not until the bass surpasses the song that you realize it’s not bass at all. It’s knocking… on your bedroom door. You snicker; Abby’s here with your girl. 

You don’t know why she’s boxing with your door, though. Beating the shit out of it. When you yank it open, you’re instantly annoyed at who appears behind it. 

A… gray sweat clad Ellie propped against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest and red hairs framing her face. You force your eyes upward, right in between hers. The dots on her face look like skittles. Since when does she have a fucking tattoo? Are you hallucinating or is it a fat ass leaf with eyeballs?

You barely registered what she said, “Can you turn that off? It’s almost eleven.” 

“Why, absolutely-the-fuck-not.” You slur, and she cringes, nose wrinkling at the scent of liquor on you. “Where’s Abby?” 

Ellie’s biceps are… out on the prowl. And the veins in her hands are still there. Just checking. Right between her eyes again. 

“Who the hell is that?” 

“My bitch.” You chuckle.

Ellie’s eyes widen and you correct yourself. 

“N-Not bitch like whore. Bitch like… like, that’s my bitch! She’s great, love her. BFF… not over Amaya, though.”

Ellie’s getting annoyed; Her nose won’t stop twitching. “… Is she coming over?” 

“She should be on her way.”

“Is she stupid?” 

“What.” 

“Is your… bitch stupid?” 

“Um, no, she’s not fucking stupid. What the hell are you on.” You snap, offended for your friend. 

“Tell her to stay the fuck home before she gets buried.” 

… Did Ellie just threaten to kill one of your sneaky-links? Before she gets buried? 

“And what the fuck are you gonna do? Just so you know, whatever you do, she’ll double it and send it back! And I’m jumping in, so— “ 

Your roommate’s gawking in disbelief. “… I meant buried by the snow, you fucking idiot. There’s a blizzard outside.” 

You’re flatlining, you can feel it. 

“There’s a what.” 

“Check the damn news.” She pushes herself off the wall and turns towards her room, “And go to bed. Looks like you need it.” 

Her door slams shut. She’s definitely poking fun at your eyebags. You thought you did a good job at concealing them. 

A fucking blizzard? December just started. You check your phone, reading the influx of messages from your dad, Amaya, Abby telling you to stay safe and indoors and the party’s cancelled because of the storm and you want to fucking die—

You tear a slit in your blinds and… yup. Pure white is pelting from the dark gray clouds in the sky, the formerly black street painted ivory with ice. Not a car in sight, and if they are, they’re covered entirely. 

The harsh reality hasn’t even set in yet. The girl you want to strangle is trapped inside with you; She’s not going anywhere, either. You’re going to be forced to see her everywhere in your two-bedroom apartment. And you’re not having sex tonight. 

Plan PISS-ELLIE-OFF was a bust. You’re drunk and hungry—

Your eyes bulge; When was the last time you’ve gone grocery shopping? 

You clumsily rush to the kitchen, nearly ripping your fridge door off the handle. When you're met with the pack of cream cheese and mini croissants you bought last week and all of Ellie’s fresh groceries (including squash), you almost start crying. You slept away all your pre-storm chore hours. 

Ellie pads in the kitchen with an empty ice cream carton and spoon, headphones blasting in her ears. She doesn’t acknowledge you as she throws away the carton and grabs the unopened bag of salt and vinegar chips. Your mouth waters. 

You watch as she rips the bag open, the salty, bitter aroma traveling into your nostrils. 

“Ellie.” She can’t hear you over the fuckery penetrating her eardrums! 

You tap her shoulder harder than necessary. “Don’t touch me.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THERE WAS A STORM?”

Her veiny hand — fuck — pushes one of her ear cups over to the side, not even bothering to look at you as she fills her bowl to the brim with the crunchy snack; You never noticed how heavily pierced her left ear is. 

“Who are you again?” 

Alright. Your tongue gets loose, “You know, you don’t have to act like a fucking cunt all the time! I tried to be nice to you and—” 

“Yeah, ‘cause shit talking me with your friends is so fucking nice.” She scoffs and turns, pointed glare set on you. Your stomach drops. How the fuck did she know that?

“Drop the fucking act already. You’re also a cunt…” Her eyes drag over your appearance. “Amongst other things, evidently.” 

Ellie’s eyes hold so much disdain, and you instantly feel exposed and gross. Your face sears with embarrassment, arms mindlessly crossing over your chest in attempts to cover up. 

“… What the fuck does that mean?” You know what she means. 

“You think I’m a fucking freak and a loser and a bunch of other shit I’ve been called since forever?” She sneers, “Then you’re a fucking slut. How’s that for nice?” 

Your body locks up, freezes, and you fight back vomit. Ellie grabs her bowl and exits the kitchen, door slamming shut, leaving you to simmer in her spite. 

You don’t feel hungry anymore. 

You didn’t drink enough last night. You’re awake, and you remember everything. And you’re so fucking hungry. 

Guilt festers in your chest like rats, and anxiety is building in your fingers. Your head hurts so bad and your mouth is dry, but you refuse to move from under your blankets to get water. You didn’t even have the energy to take your make-up off last night, mascara and small sparkles smeared all over your pillowcase. 

You wallow, using the heavy wind outside as stress relief. People really think you’re a whore with no self-respect, even after a year. Your heart’s hitting against your ribcage at an alarming pace. Deep breaths, that’s all you can do. 

Tears jerk in your eyes as you recall every unwanted stare, every cat-call, every grope and dirty text message you’ve received from people you both know and don’t. You freeze and… that’s it. You just don’t move and hope they can read that you’re scared. 

Does Ellie feel the same way when people talk poorly about her? 

Your breathing techniques aren’t working so you sit up, shaking your hands and digging your palms into your wet eyes. You’re suddenly too hot for blankets. 

Your clock reads near noon; You’ve been awake for hours. Your feet plant on the cool wood and sigh in relief before standing and snagging your new paint brushes off your dresser. 

Your hands tremble as you fill a water cup and grab a black canvas, setting up your workspace on the floor. You squirt hues of blue, green and white on a dried paper plate and let your brush do the work; You’re not thinking, just painting, smudging, trapping yourself in emptiness. The scene you’re creating is drying your tears; You wish you could escape into the grass field, even for a second. 

Your water cup is brown by the time you finish; How long have you been sitting here? The needles in your legs tell you long enough. Your vision will have to wait. 

You unlock and quietly open the door… It doesn’t matter, though. Ellie’s awake and silently sitting on the couch. You pay her no mind and venture to the fridge for your croissants and cream cheese, throwing your pastries in the microwave. 

Eyes are on you. You feel them in your back. 

When the microwave dings, you spread cream cheese all over the buttery dough. Ellie’s hoarse voice freezes you. Not again. 

“The blizzard… isn’t stopping.”

You finally inspect your roommate: leg bouncing and brows furrowed, nails between her teeth, eyes locked on the window that shows the heavy snowfall. 

“Usually how they work.” 

Your sarcasm doesn’t move her, “They said it would pass after a couple of hours yesterday! It hasn’t let up yet!”

“Never listen to weathermen. They make shit up as they go.” You keep your voice curt while you make your plate. It looks a hot mess; You wish you had blackberry jam. 

“They can’t make shit up when there’s money on the fucking line!” You hear footsteps from behind you; Ellie’s pacing. “I have a client today. Their photos were supposed to go in my portfolio before I submit it!” 

Her statement makes you pause. You didn’t think about that; It’s impossible to travel anywhere at the moment. How the fuck are you going to get to work? You can’t afford to miss shifts. It’s almost that time of the month. 

“This was one of the biggest bookings I’ve gotten and I’m gonna miss it because of the fucking weather!” 

You don’t know why she's talking to you, so you cut the conversation short. “You’ll figure it out.”  You enter your room without another word, slamming the door as hard as noise complaints would allow. 

After a few minutes, Ellie’s door slams, too. 

Hours pass and you’re covered in paint. Your one flower field turned into three, one with detailed butterflies, one with raining rose petals, one with your mother’s name spelled out with clouds. 

Your fingers are sore, but you feel lighter. Those croissants wore off a long time ago; You’re starving. What you’d give for grilled eggplant and shrimp with Greek yogurt and lemon juice—

A soft knock lands on your door, and you stiffen. You stand, legs popping and arms stretching over your head as you wobble to your door. 

The second it opens, you're hit with the smell of garlic and herbs and your mouth waters. Ellie stands over you, playing with her fingers. You don’t register that you’re missing pants until she gawks at your bare legs; Warmth spreads across your body and you maneuver so she can’t see them behind the door. 

A moment of awkward silence before she chokes, “There’s, uh… there’s soup on the stove.” You scoff, ignoring the growling in your stomach. 

“I don’t like squash, Ellie.” 

The door slams in her face and she sighs behind the wood. 

…

Later that night, you sneak into the dark kitchen, the big pot of soup still on the stove. You open the lid and inspect its contents: shredded chicken, carrots, fucking… green leaves of some sort. You grab a spoon and taste it to be safe. It’s good, and there’s no squash in it. You eat two warm bowls. 

The storm calms when you wake the next morning. Thank God; You haven’t had coffee in days. 

Ellie’s gone for the day, so you blast music while in the shower. You dry and dress in silence, yanking your underwear and jeans up your legs, throwing on a pair of earmuffs over your earphones and a puffer. 

You almost slip on the ice from the sidewalk on the way to you and Abby’s coffee shop before heading to class like normal. You go grocery shopping before your first shift. 

Work drags on like normal, legs numb from standing and throat dry from sale attempts at checkout. Who the fuck wants to apply for a credit card for a coffee machine website? 

It’s not until your shift is on its last limbs that your heart stops in your chest. The bell rings to the hardware store, and you instantly rush to the back to retrieve your other coworker. It’s Dina. What the fuck. 

You burst into the break room, “Raja, Raja, I need a favor.” 

She slurps her ramen, exclaiming what around her soggy noodles. 

You search for any heads and whisper, “There’s someone I used to fuck outside! Can you take care of her, please, I can’t— “

“Okay, okay, damn. I got it— “

The service bell rings, “Go, go! Hurry up!” Your coworker swallows her noodles and plasters her smile on her face. You hide behind the cracked door and listen to everything. 

“Hey, ladies! Sorry about the wait!” 

“No problem!” Dina’s laugh sends a pain in your chest, “I just needed a new bike lock. Someone tried to steal mine, like, what the fuck.” 

There’s an unfamiliar laugh that melds with Dina’s. “No problem! Would you like to sign up for a Coffee Brewers credit card with your purchase? They’ll repair all filter baskets and decanters for 45% off!” 

You almost smile; Dina doesn’t drink coffee. Raja checks them out, and you peer out the small opening of the door. Dina and… whoever the fuck that is are snuggled up behind the service counter, her head resting on the random’s shoulder. They’re whispering and laughing and you’re disgusted. And sad. 

They depart with a small bag and Raja almost smashes the door into your face. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

“Mourning.” 

“Damn… sorry, man.” 

You shrug and thank your coworker before returning to your position. What could’ve been. 

It’s late when you get home. 

Ellie’s on the couch; You feel her watch as you unlace your boots and unravel your scarf. You set your bag on the floor and grab your Cheesecake Factory brown bread loaf for your grilled PB&J. Ellie clears her throat; You say nothing. 

She coughs louder when you butter your bread. 

“Are you sick or something?”

Ellie whips her head around, “No, why?” 

“You’re coughing like you’re gonna die.” 

Your roommate doesn’t reply, so you turn and toast your bread on the stove. 

“How was the soup?” 

Your eyes bulge, “Huh?” 

“Did it taste… like, decent?” 

You stare down at your sizzling toast, “I dunno what you mean.” 

Voice flat as ever, she says, “The soup… you had some— “

“No, I didn’t— “

“Wha— I know what was in the pot when I ate. You had some—” 

You face her, skin boiling, “Okay, and what about it? Yes, I ate some! I would’ve had three bowls instead of two if I wasn’t so fucking tired! It was good as fuck! I slept like a baby!” 

She calls your name but you ignore her, “Sorry, I got my disgusting, slutty germs all over your stupid chicken noodle soup! Is that what you wanna hear! What, are whores not allowed food, either?! Why’d you offer it to me then?!” 

Another rushed call of your name, but you press on, “Y’know, you’re actually weird as fuck! Who calls someone a filthy, bottom of the barrel gutter rat then offers them soup the next day! What kinda limbo fuckery are you playin’ at— “

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP… BEEP—

You gasp when the fire alarm sounds. When you turn, your toast is charred black and surrounded by dark smoke. You cut the heat off and push the pan over. Ellie’s running with a towelette, waving it around the beeping alarm. 

You grab a washcloth and help her, and eventually it cuts off. Ellie rushes over to the front door and switches the ceiling fan on. 

Your sandwich is fucking ruined. Great! 

You don’t know why you’re sobbing, but it’s loud. You just want to go to fucking bed. Ellie’s just standing there with a towel in hand, fiddling with her earlobe. How embarrassing. 

You push yourself off the counter and turn to go to your room, but Ellie calls for you. 

“What?! What now, Ellie!” 

She cringes, “I— You’re not a… slut?” 

Your teary eyes squint at her. “Are you asking me— “

“No! No, I’m… Sorry? You’re not a slut.” This is the weirdest apology you’ve ever received in your entire goddamn life. 

“Well, fuck me! Thanks!” You snark between sniffles. You yank your bedroom door open.

“You’re good at painting!” She shouts, and you stop. 

For some reason, you sob harder, and she panics, “Uhh… I mean, like, for an amateur! Like, you’re decent enough!” 

Now you’re… laughing? You need to sleep now. Ellie chuckles uncomfortably, and you snicker darkly to yourself, “Life is a fucking joke, oh my god.” 

Your fingers dig deep into your wet eyes, and Ellie’s sock-covered feet pad closer. 

“Look, I’m not… I don't know what to say.” 

“Then don’t talk.” 

“‘Kay.” 

She stands there in silence and watches you wipe your face on your sweater sleeve, mascara smearing all over the fabric. 

“Why didn’t you use squash in the soup?” 

“Uh… you wouldn’t have eaten it if I did.” 

You nod and stare at the wall. “So, what? That was a peace offering?” 

Ellie contemplates what she should say. 

“Not really… I mean, I was hungry, but I didn’t care if you ate… some of it, if that makes sense.” 

It doesn’t. “Whatever, I’m going to bed.” Her lip curls like she wants to add something, but she doesn’t. 

“… Alright.” 

“Don’t worry about the pan. I’ll get it tomorrow.” And just like that, you shut the door on her again. 

You don’t have the energy to shower, so you undress and tuck yourself in. Your room is warmer than usual. 

Ellie’s been acting differently since then. 

For the past three days, she’s been greeting you whenever you’re in her line of vision. She even mumbled hi before she took her seat in stats yesterday. It’s awkward and stiff, but there’s always a wave somewhere in her movements. You nod back at her every time. 

You’re not sure where your relationship lies with your roommate, but it’s not as… bad? Seeing her doesn’t bother you as much as it did; You suppose it’s the same for her, too. 

You’re exhausted; Finals are around the corner, and you’re busting your ass. You had to get another job for the holiday season since it’s you and your dad’s first Christmas together since you were little, and you want to get him something nice. 

All you need is a good nut and you’re set for the next two weeks. You miss Abby. She’s been just as busy with nonsense as you have, but you found time to see her later tonight. 

You’re stuck in the library trying to make the concept of categorical variables stick, but it’s not working. You’re in a block because you’re thinking about Abby. She should be here to pick you up soon. 

You slam your book shut when your phone goes off, a message from… Ellie. 

You set your phone down with a small smile. What a weirdo. 

You force yourself to study for another hour. Heavy hands clamp down on your shoulders and you shriek, other students looking up in confusion, your hand clasping over your mouth. 

Abby’s laughing behind you, warm breaths hitting your ear before she kisses your cheek. 

“Hi.” She whispers. 

“Hi yourself.” 

“Pack that shit up.” Abby points at your books and messy stacks of paper. “Let’s roll.” 

You don’t hesitate, shoving everything in your bag in anticipation of your nut. Your clit’s cheering; She’s finally happy. 

You’re warm, well-fed, and Abby’s drilling the fuck out of you, but you can’t cum.

Your face is shoved into your friend’s pillow; She’s hitting exactly where you need her to, and it feels good. You’re tipping, but you haven’t tipped. You’ve been on the verge of orgasming for the past ten minutes and it’s driving you crazy. 

Your voice is barely there, “Just cuuum, just cum, just cum—“ You’re begging… yourself into her pillow. 

Abby sounds so sexy behind you; You’re shocked you’re not convulsing at the sound of her voice alone. 

After some time, her hips slowed into a stop, tip nudged inside you. 

“… You good?” She exhales.

You throw her two thumbs up. You’re not good at all. 

Abby snorts and pulls out, gently patting your hip, “Sit up and talk to me.” 

Your legs give out from underneath you and you lay flat. Abby hands you a washcloth and you wipe between your legs while she unstraps her dick. 

“I think I’m broken.” You muffle into her slobbery pillowcase. 

“You’re not broken, you’re just not feeling it. It’s fine.”

She’s too sweet. You want to cry, “I’m sor— “

“Don’t you dare. Finish your Wingstop.” 

“Okay.” You grumble. 

Abby drops you off after the movie finishes. The red string that connects her clit to yours snaps as you waddle back up to your apartment. 

You enter your shared home and you’re instantly freezing; Ellie’s not here. She hates sleeping when it’s cold. 

You and your pussy sigh in relief. Just five minutes by yourself; that’s all you need. Your shoes and backpack are thrown to the side in the nick of time, bursting through your bedroom door and rummaging through your drawer. Your cunt screams eureka when your vibrator turns on. You don’t remember charging the son of a bitch! 

Your pants and panties are lunged across your bedroom and you leap into bed. Your toy’s buzzing in your hand, and your walls squeeze in anticipation. Foreplay be damned. 

Your eyes shut the second the vibrations hit your clit, trying to imagine a sweaty Abby on top of you, fucking you deep, choking you out. Your orgasm is right there, walls desperately trying to milk the brisk air around you. You shove two free fingers inside, and your muscles latch onto them, pulling them in deeper. It’s right there, just a little more. 

“Please, please, c’mon, fuck— “

Your pleas go ignored. Your imagination has never failed you, so why can’t you fucking cum? 

Desperate sobs combine with your moans, brain filled with Abby, and Dina. Even Armani slips her way in there and you’ve seen her twice in person, but it’s useless. Your peak never comes. 

You’re seconds away from shattering your window with your fucking vibrator. You and Ellie can’t afford to get that shit fixed—

Your clit jumps at the brief image of your roommate, pissed off and berating you about breaking a fucking window. You hate that you don’t fight it, the visions of her and her strong arms, her twitchy nose, her dot-covered face. It’s stirring something vicious in your tummy, and you can’t keep your mouth shut. 

You see her on top of you instead of Abby, her short hair loosening from her bun and framing her blushing face. Pretty, moss-filled eyes stare back at you, annoyance and bother replaced with something darker. Needier; She wants you to take from her. 

“Fuck, fuck, mmh— “

Your hips buck when your positions switch in your mind, a blushing, spent Ellie, reaching for you, pulling you close, begging to touch her. 

You’re so loud when your orgasm splits your brain in two, your stress melting away in an instant, nasty, unspoken visuals of your pouty and weird housemate fluttering beneath your eyelids. You ride your high until you can’t, vibrator clattering to the floor, walls flexing around nothing. 

You’re so tired that you don’t bother moving. You pull the covers over your trembling form and knock out, not even bothering to turn your shaking toy off as it rattles on the hardwood. 

It’ll be dead by the time Ellie comes home. If she does. 

…

…

…

Ellie lays on her side in her bed, knees pulled to her chest, her tattooed arm wrapped around her tummy and a hand covering her mouth. Her face is burning hot and her stomach is swirling. Whenever she blinks, she can see you, eyes rolled to the back of your head as you surrender to your release. 

Her heart is racing and minutes away from crawling up her throat. 

She completely forgets to put in that maintenance request for your broken heater; She’s warm enough under the covers for tonight. 

A/N: hi again its finna pick up LEMME COOOOOK LEMME COOK

TAGGIES LOVE YALL MMMWAH : @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane @muthafuckingstargirl @mina-281 @yuckyfucky @aimformyheartt @elstoy @skylerwhitwyo @sawaagyapong @nil-eena @dewylittlestars @sakiigami @feelsoseencantdream @ellieslittlegf

[xxblairexxss]

Pick me up (Part 1)

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff

Charles got a call from Monaco prison and he wished you took it more seriously.

I had this in my draft for quite a while so I guess I should share it with you guys because I think it’s adorable!

✧.* tags! @i83andrew @cltrlne

“Is it recording?” You took a step back and accidentally hit your hind foot against the leg of the armchair. “Oh my god. Wait, let me sit first.” You plonked yourself on the mint coloured seat and brought your hair up to tie it into a messy bun.

The sound of a dial tone resounded from your phone. You had enabled the loud speaker once the call was connected to the number you had clicked. “I’m so nervous!” You covered your grin and whispered to the other phone that was propped up against your mirror and was recording, the time at the top end of the screen started calculating every seconds.

“Hello…?”

“Oh!” Your mouth formed an ‘O’ as you quickly pressed on the space button. “Hello, this is a collect call from the Remand Prison of Monaco for inmate Y/N Y/L/N.” Came on the text-to-speech voice from your laptop that you had set aside.

“What the heck?!” You heard Charles’s voice went louder into the phone as he cleared his throat after.

You clicked on a different tab and pressed on the spacebar key again. “Say yes if you would like to accept this call.”

“Yes, please.”

“Baby!” You cried out.

“Honey, what the fuck is going on?” You had a hard time to control your giggle hearing how tensed he was.

You sighed. “I–I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?!”

“Can you come pick me up?” You faked a wept and quickly covered your mouth to bury your smile, as if he could see your face.

“How did you get arrested?” You could hear he was getting stressed and then came a soft sound of a door being closed. You were so sure he had segregated himself because his voice was louder this time.

You held your tongue, trying to make it looked as if you were having trouble to talk from heavy crying. “I told you I was going to go to Starbucks, right?”

“Yeah? And did you get possessed or something?”

“No! I found this cute mug and this old lady tried to steal it from my hand so I whacked her in the head.”

He breathed out and you knew he was trying to calm himself down so there was only silence in the air for a few seconds. “You….beat an old lady for a mug? Honey….” The tone of his voice changed from fretted to full of disappointment.

“She tried to steal it from me!” You replied, defending yourself.

“Didn’t give you a reason to smack her! What were you thinking? What— what am— are you okay, honey? Did they do anything to you?”

“No, but they made me wear this jail outfit. I don’t like it and it’s cold here.” You could barely took a breath when he replied to you straight away.

“The audacity of you to complain about that after you punched someone, Y/N. What am I supposed to do now? When can they release you? How many years?”

“They said you can come pick me up but you have to bring a pen because there’s some agreements you have to sign.” You answered. You had been silently giggling so you hoped the phone call didn’t pick up the sound of it.

“What agreement? Oh my god, how serious is this matter? What else should I bring?” He sounded like he was walking back and forth, probably from the agitation or he was indeed, looking for a pen.

“I don’t know! You need to come in 30 minutes or they won’t accept any appeal and you’ll have to wait for another month.” You pulled the phone away and winced when he howled in distress.

“Y/N! You should have told me earlier! Can you please take this seriously? We spent 10 minutes on the phone already. I’m coming.”

“Charles, wait!” He ended the call before you could say anything and convulsed with laughter, your body and shoulders shook from it. “I need to call him back before he literally go and pay the prison a visit. Bye!” You clicked on the red button on the screen of your phone and the video ended.

[craisinsensation1029]

Tri Harder

Chapter 2 ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

also on AO3 <3

Suguru Geto & Satoru Gojo

After an innocent party game, Geto & Gojo make it their mission to fuck you. That's it.

Ch 1 | Ch 3

fem reder, alcohol, provocative dancing, making out, semi public sexual activities, vaginal fingering, NOOOO ONE IS STRAIGHT ONCE AGAIN

~7k

MDNI

When Shoko didn’t answer her phone the following Monday, Gojo knew there was only one place she would be. He always picked Geto up from work, but he wouldn’t be driving straight home today.

“We’re going to see Shoko.” Gojo was peeling off the pavement the moment Geto closed the passenger door. “I was knocking on her door earlier and she didn’t answer. Hasn’t answered my texts or calls either.”

“Yes, my day was fine,” Geto yawned, throwing his laptop bag into the back seat. “Thank you so much for asking.”

Gojo looked over at Geto who was donning a black, button down shirt with khaki chinos. For the past two years, he worked as an English teacher for highschool freshmen and sophomores after he graduated. 

Gojo on the other hand was working for his family’s accounting company, although even he would use the word working rather loosely. More like, he graduated from college because he had the resources to do so, but he knew money would never really be an issue. He worked from home mainly because he needed something to occupy his time while his friends were busy.

“How was your day, angel? ” Gojo teased, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as they arrived at a red light.

“If you want a nickname, you can just ask,” Geto laughed lightly. “No need for you to keep throwing this temper tantrum about it. You being all jealous is cute though, I’ll admit that.”

“Not jealous,” Gojo grumbled. “But you know what’s actually crazier than you accusing me of being jealous and throwing a temper tantrum?” He looked over and raised a brow for dramatic effect.

“I don’t know.” Geto shrugged. “But I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“The fact that you were telling me to be nice when you were busy being two fingers deep in someone you knew for like, an hour. ”

Geto contemplated his word choice before he spoke. “Well, she said thank you afterwards. For all intents and purposes, I was being extremely nice,” he reasoned. “I was providing a service, if you will.”

“You’re so full of shit.” Gojo shook his head as he continued driving. He wasn’t always the most careful driver, but was always mindful when Geto was in the car. The threat of being scolded for his driving skills had him obeying every traffic sign and speed limit until they reached their destination.

Gojo drove successfully without any criticism, and parked in front of the building. He and Geto got out of the car, Geto holding open the building door for them.

They made their way towards the back of the library where Shoko usually holed herself up and cut herself off from the rest of the world. Her head bobbed to whatever was playing in her headphones as she scrawled something in her notebook, highlighting it quickly afterwards.The table was littered with cans of empty energy drinks and candy wrappers, a telltale sign she had a big test coming up soon.

Geto pushed some of the empty cans aside so he could get a clear view of her. He then sank into the seat across the table from her while Gojo pulled out the chair next to her, spinning it around and sitting in it backwards. Gojo folded his arms over the top of the chair, looking in Geto’s direction to start the conversation.

“Shoko,” Geto mused, a gentle smile gracing his face. “Glad to see you’re alive and well after the party. You were fast asleep when we left.”

She looked up, capping her highlighter with a wistful smile on her face. “It was a great birthday.” She took one of her headphones out of her ears as she said your name. “I’m glad she took care of me and Utahime the next morning. I swear, we always get more fucked up whenever she’s around. Her and that damn cooler full of drinks.”

Gojo quickly cleared this throat at the mention of your name. “Oh, yeah! About–”

“No,” Shoko cut him off. 

Gojo felt like a deflated balloon careening through the air. “What the fuck?” His voice came out more frantic than he planned. “I didn’t even say anything.”

Shoko’s eyes traveled from Gojo’s to Geto’s, pointing an accusing finger at both of them. “Okay, you both listen then,” she demanded. “I’ll have you know that she is Utahime’s friend before she’s my friend. They were like, childhood neighbors or something. She just happened to go to the same med school as me,” she explained.

Gojo and Geto exchanged a look that told them everything they needed to know, but Shoko continued. “Utahime always says it's unfortunate enough that I know you two, and doesn’t want any more cross contamination.” She shrugged lazily. “That’s why you’ve never met her. For what it’s worth though, Utahime was super fucked up at my party, I don’t even think she remembers you two were there.”

Geto raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” He remembered very clearly being acknowledged by Utahime… and threatened several times.

“Well she normally always complains afterwards whenever you two happen to be around.” She spoke of Utahime’s distaste for the pair as if it were the most casual thing on the planet. “But in the morning she only talked about how much fun she had.” A sly smile played on her lips. “Anyway, don't start blaming me that you never met her friend and couldn’t… do whatever it is you two do.”

“Ugh,” Gojo groaned, throwing his head back in disbelief. That was cockblocking to another level. Preventing them from even wanting to meet you was utterly ridiculous. “What’s her problem?”

“I think she’s still pretty upset about the whole graduation dress thing… among other stuff,” Shoko reminded him.

Graduation Day, Three years ago 

Gojo stood happily with Geto and Shoko on the day of graduation. Utahime bounded over to get in on the picture they were taking. She unzipped her gown, causing Gojo to let out an obscene gasp. 

“You just got a degree and that’s what you decided to wear?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she growled, immediately clenching her fist. “I chose this dress months ago, and I look great.” 

Gojo rubbed the back of his neck, a grimace painting his face. “You should have chosen your dress years ago if this is what you went with after deciding for months.” 

Her lips formed a scowl and Geto’s voice interjected before she could say anything. “Satoru, not everyone is able to afford the style they want,” he reasoned. “She’s probably just working with the best she had available, you should be nice.” 

Her scowl deepened as she looked from Gojo to Geto. “And what is that supposed to mean?” she seethed. 

“Oh.” Geto was taken aback. “Was that dress actually your first choice?” 

“You two are the worst.” She stood next to Shoko. “I hate them.” 

Gojo rolled his eyes. “That was eons ago. You don’t see me getting my torches and pitchforks ready every time she calls me a blue eyed, unblinking freak.” That was among the less colorful choice of words she had in her arsenal whenever she referred to Gojo.

“I’m still unsure where her animosity for me came from,” Geto mumbled, recalling the same dress situation. He truly thought it was just a last minute option, but he pushed the memory aside. That was Utahime’s issue, he was fishing for information about you. “So, what do you all do when you guys hang out?” he pressed gently. “It seemed like she already knew all our other mutual friends.”

Shoko shrugged. “Drink, hangout. Nothing crazy.” She tapped her chin with her highlighter. “We’re going out to some club this weekend since Kento and Yu are finishing their programs this semester. She might be there,” she teased.

“What club?” Gojo asked immediately.

“I don’t knooooow, ” Shoko sighed. “I can’t really seem to remember… if only I had a pack of cigarettes to jog my memory a bit…” Geto looked at Gojo and raised a brow. Gojo grumbled something unintelligible and took a twenty out of his wallet, sliding it to Shoko. “Well I’ll have to make sure I have enough to get Utahime drinks at the club too. Not like she would accept anything from the likes of you two.”

Gojo took a fifty out of his wallet this time, grumbling, “Do you remember the name of the club now?”

She let out another sigh as she said your name. “Well, she’s still my friend too, you know? I can’t get Utahime something without getting her something, that’s just rude.”

Gojo fished out another fifty along with some miscellaneous singles that were in his wallet and slid it toward her. Geto bit back a laugh as Gojo rolled his eyes. “Do you remember now?”

Shoko picked up the money with a nod. “It’s actually all coming back to me now.” She smiled at Gojo sweetly, “Club Phoenix at ten. You’ll probably want to come a little after that though, so Utahime is already drunk.”

“Can’t believe I had to give my friend over a hundred bucks to tell where she’d be hanging out this weekend,” Gojo groaned, shaking his head. “Something tells me we need to reevaluate this friendship.”

“Your own stupidity cost you…” she paused to count the money before pocketing it, “one hundred and twenty seven dollars.” She moved to start packing up her things. “Why didn’t either of you geniuses just ask for her number?” she laughed. 

Gojo’s face immediately fell, and Geto shot him with an equally blank stare. Shoko let out another laugh as she shoved her things into her bag. “Give me a ride home, would you?”

“Yeah, just use me again,” he mumbled. Gojo hated the unintentional comedian he became with the way Shoko’s sides were splitting with laughter, but he stood anyway and reoriented his chair to its original position. 

Geto picked up the empty cans and wrappers on the table, discarding them in a nearby garbage can. “Still find it hard to believe youre studying to be a doctor when you smoke and drink like a sailor.”

“It’s called duality.” The three got into Gojo’s car and he dropped Shoko off. She waved goodbye, still laughing as she said, “See you on Saturday!”

When Geto and Gojo returned back to their apartment, Gojo immediately flopped onto the couch with a groan. “Why didn’t you get your angel’s number?” he taunted. “Hmm?” 

Geto let out an easy laugh as he stripped off his shoes and slid into the kitchen. “I guess I was a bit too preoccupied to think about that.” He grabbed the chicken he seasoned the day before from the fridge along with some vegetables. He chopped the vegetables diligently as he preheated a skillet. “Doesn’t matter now though, we’re seeing her this weekend.”

“Too preoccupied?” Gojo scoffed. He got up from the couch and joined Geto in the kitchen. Plopping down on one of their dining room chairs, his hand cupped the side of his face and his elbow rested on the table. “Well I guess if I were in that closet for hours, I would have forgotten too.”

Geto slid the chopped vegetables into the pan, delighted by the fragrance of the onions and garlic as they began to sizzle. “By that logic, shouldn’t you have thought to get her number because you had less time?”

Gojo scrunched his nose. “Just shut up and cook.” He shook his head, unable to shake the conversation from earlier. “I still can’t believe Utahime is being so… vindictive.” 

Geto started to move the vegetables around in the skillet, adding the chicken once the vegetables were browned. “If she's still upset about that ugly dress, so be it.” He wasn’t as bothered by her dislike of him, he didn’t care about egging her on either. Referencing you, he said, “If she wants to be around us, she will. She’s met us now, I don’t see Utahime being a real obstacle.”

“You sure?” Gojo asked, extending his legs. “Well, Shoko did tell us Utahime is easier to deal with when she's trashed.”

Geto waved off his last statement. “She’s a real nonfactor if you ask me. It's us, right?” he asked with a smirk.

Gojo smirked back and nodded in response.

Gojo and Geto had both been to club Phoenix plenty of times. Their whole friend group used to sneak in when they were all underage, giggling when they were let in although it was no secret to the bouncers that their IDs were fake.

The club had a live DJ every night, the drinks were shitty and the food was questionable in every aspect, but it was always a good time. The dance floor was always packed and strobe lights illuminated the space without being too disorientating. There were some couches placed in the alcoves while the others lacked furniture and remained in the dark, untouched by any lights and hard to be seen from other areas in the club.

Even as years passed by, they still found themselves enjoying the space even though they had been to many more upscale clubs since then. Tonight was no different. 

Geto wore dark jeans with a short sleeved buttoned down shirt, opting to keep the first few buttons undone. Gojo similarly wore dark jeans with a cotton tee, and they both wore casual sneakers. They each took a shot for good measure, and Gojo put on his shades before they got into an Uber and headed over to the club a little after eleven.

Music pulsed in their ears the moment the pair got past the bouncer and walked into the club. Every bar seat was filled and even more people stood surrounding the area as they flagged down bartenders for drinks. The DJ was amping up the patrons on the dancefloor, shouting something into the mic neither of them could really make out. Whatever it was, everyone on the dancefloor cheered and continued dancing. 

Gojo’s eyes darted over to the couches, hitting Geto’s chest when he saw Shoko. She was sitting with Nanami and Utahime, but you were nowhere in sight. “Let’s go ask if she’s here,” Gojo insisted.

“Don’t bother,” Geto answered over the music, nudging his chin in the direction of the dancefloor. 

There you were. You wore a baby blue sequined top that was low cut in the front and in the shape of a butterfly, tastefully showing cleavage. Thin straps held up the top that tied around your neck and back, the expanse of your smooth skin glowing under the lights on the dancefloor. The top cut a little above your belly button, the ring now changed to match the color of your top. 

A white mini skirt hung dangerously low on your hips, and a white lacy garter with a heart buckle graced one of your thighs. The ensemble was probably illegal in a couple countries, and Geto and Gojo were grateful they were able to gaze at the outfit in the flesh.

The barely there edges of your skirt swayed as your hips moved to the beat of the music. Your movements were fluid and carefree, a smile gracing your face as you danced. Next to you Haibara danced wildly, exuding the same carefree aura as yours as he brought his drink to his lips. He then extended the straw in his glass towards you which you happily accepted. Your lips wrapped around the straw taking a sip, and Haibara drank from it again.

“You see what Utahime did? We could be sharing drinks with her,” Gojo grumbled with a shake of his head. “Let’s go over there.” He was already pushing his way through the crowd before Geto could dignify him with an answer.

Gojo had little difficulty navigating through the sea of drunken people to get to where you and Haibara were dancing. Geto followed closely behind with ease.

Gojo tapped you on the shoulder, and you turned with a large smile on your face. “Satoru?” you yelled over the music. Your eyes trailed over to Geto. “Ah, Suguru, too!” You reached up and wrapped the crook of your elbows around their shoulders for a quick embrace. “Nice to see you both again!”

Haibara turned, pumping his fist with an excited gleam in his eyes. “Woo! Didn’t know you two were coming out tonight too!” He brought the straw back to his lips, promptly finishing his drink. He shook the glass full of ice. “You two came at the perfect time! I’m going to get another drink and check on everyone, keep her company, will you?”

“Go, go,” Gojo encouraged. “We’ll make sure she’s safe, don’t you worry!”

“You two are awesome!” Haibara gave him a thumbs up and pushed through the crowd in the direction of the bar.

You turned your attention back to the pair, their bodies towering over a large majority of the crowd. “Did you guys want to say hi to everyone else?” Your body was still moving idly to the music. “Shoko actually bought us a shit ton of shots earlier,” you laughed. “She was telling us she found a hundred dollars on the ground earlier in the week.”

Gojo rolled his eyes beneath the shades. At least Shoko actually used some of the money for what she said she would. “I don’t mind catching up with them later,” Gojo answered. He wasn’t even here for them. “It’s just nice seeing you again, let’s dance!”

You threw your arms in the air excitedly as a song with a faster beat began to boom through the stereos. Gojo positioned himself behind you, first taking a moment to fully appreciate the way you moved. The way your hips swung was enough to put anyone in a trance, and the bit of your ass that peeked beneath your skirt was the icing on top of the cake.

Geto stood beside Gojo, equally transfixed by your movements. Your body in motion was truly a marvel to behold. There was no way he could stop himself from admiring the way your hips rolled. Eyes still on you, he nudged Gojo as discreetly as he could, and pointed his chin in the direction of one of the dark, empty alcoves. Gojo nodded at the silent message.

“How about I grab us some shots?” Geto suggested. “Seems like we have to catch up to you.”

The shots from earlier already had you feeling warm, but you always came out to have a good time. You turned to face Geto and nodded, a smile creeping across your face. “I could go for another shot.” Pausing, your lips formed a pout. “Oh, my wallet is over with the others, I can go get it really fast.” You squinted through the crowd to look for the best path to get back over to the table.

“That sounds good, Sugu,” Gojo agreed. He placed his hands gently on your hips, letting his fingers drum gently against the spot. “Oh, the drinks are on us. Don’t worry.” He averted his attention back to Geto. “How about you just wave us over when you get them? We’ll come to you.” 

He lowered his shades just enough so Geto could see where he was gazing. His eyes lingered at the portion of the bar closest to the empty alcove. 

Geto nodded in affirmation, and then scanned the sea of people surrounding the bar. “It might take a while, don’t have too much fun without me,” he chuckled as he started making his way through the crowd toward the bar.

“Just let me know how much the drinks are later, I’ll pay you back,” you insisted. It was hard to ignore the way his hands felt on your hips, flashbacks of being pressed against him in the closet quickly flooding into your mind. 

Gojo’s hands gripped your hips a little tighter, letting his thumbs press into the dimples of your back. He couldn’t resist letting his fingers squeeze at the flesh there, so soft and pliable under his touch. He moved in closer, letting his crotch press firmly against your ass. The little bit of fabric the skirt had to offer worked to his benefit with him being able to feel the mounds of your ass pressed against him. He didn’t bother suppressing his groan, letting the surrounding music drown out the sound.

He leaned his head so his lips were aligned with your ear. “The drinks are nothing,” he asserted. “Trust me, angel. ”

You shivered feeling his lips brush against your ear as he spoke, and felt desire quickly swirling in your belly hearing the nickname. Previously hearing the nickname in Geto’s sultry voice was one thing, but hearing the hunger in Gojo’s voice as he used it was just as arousing. Come to think of it, his voice was almost… teasing.

You turned your neck to face him, your lips curling into a smile as you saw the smirk forming on his lips. He removed one hand from your hips briefly to take off his shades and fold one of the legs into the front of his shirt. The hand quickly returned to your hip, his own hips starting to move in sync with the music.

“You’re far too kind,” you gushed, feeling the gyration of his hips against you. His body felt like a brick wall pressed against your back, firm, sturdy, secure. You faced forward and stretched your arms until your fingers were brushing the base of his neck. His pulse began to beat rapidly beneath your fingertips as you started moving your hips in sync with his.

Gojo wished he could help himself, but he already knew how your body felt beneath his touch, and yearned for that feeling again. One hand stayed on your hip and the other hand started to glide up the side of your body. His hand splayed as it appreciated your waist and passed over your rib cage before snaking beneath the material of your top. Racing at his touch, your heartbeat quickened, matching his own racing pulse that was still thumping beneath your fingertips.

Gojo was grateful you weren’t wearing a bra as his hand cupped the bottom of your breast, giving it a slow squeeze as he continued to grind his hips against yours. Your breath hitched and your hips stuttered at the touch. You could already feel the nipple of your other breast harden against your top, letting out a soft whine at its lack of stimulation.

He gave your breast another squeeze, this time moving his fingers to gently pinch your nipple. Your movements stuttered again as you tried to stifle a moan. “Aw, come on. Keep dancing with me, angel,” Gojo taunted, his voice breathy against your ear. 

“Satoru, ” you whimpered.

“Told you it would be better if I had more than seven minutes,” he chuckled.

He continued rolling your nipple between his fingers as his hips continued to roll against you. Using the hand that was still on your hips, he urged the movements of your hips against his. The sensation of your nipple being pinched and his hand taking control of your motions made you clench. A soft whimper escaped your lips as you submitted to his urges, once again moving your hips in sync with his. 

Grateful to have you gyrating against him again, the hand on your hip traveled south to grip your ass beneath your skirt. “Fuck.” He took a moment to give each cheek a squeeze, desperately pressing his stiffening length against you. After more greedy squeezes, his hand rested on your hip between your skin and the band of the skirt. His hand was a passenger to the circular movements of your hips. “Yeah, that’s it. Just like that, angel,” he groaned into your ear.

You were on the verge of panting as the hand on your hip slid up and made its way under your shirt, now gripping your other breast. You didn’t think your heart could start beating any faster. His hand squeezed your breasts a few times before he started kneading that nipple between his fingers. You couldn’t help the whimper you let out at the feeling of both of your nipples now being rolled between his long fingers.

You were a clenching mess, feeling his length pressing against you with each movement of your hips. Another desperate whimper left your lips as your fingers dug into the skin of his neck. Your eyes fluttered at the sense of euphoria, uncaring of anything else going on. Your back arched as your hips continued to move, thrusting more of your breast into his hands.

Your breasts were soft and warm in his hands, and Gojo expertly squeezed them while he continued to knead your nipples. Your eyes closed and your head lolled at his touch, a look of bliss crossing over your face under the strobe lights.

Gojo didn’t care who saw, but he glanced at the other club goers on the dance floor. They weren’t paying you two any mind, either too inebriated to care or engaging in their own form of dancing. Or some combination of the two, for that matter,  

He glanced towards the couches where he saw Shoko sitting when he and Geto came in, but only Nanami and Haibara were there. He shrugged and looked toward the bar. 

Geto was just receiving the order of shots on a tray when he glanced in Gojo’s direction. A playful smile danced across Gojo’s face when they made eye contact. He squeezed your breasts as he kept eye contact with Geto. 

Geto’s lips rose to a small smirk watching Gojo massage your breasts and roll against you. He couldn’t help but take a moment to stare at your blissed out expression. His cock already seemed to jump to life just knowing how good you must have been feeling right now. He didn’t want to miss out on any more fun. He waved Gojo over, still watching as your head lolled with your eyes closed.

Gojo reluctantly removed his hands from beneath your shirt. “Sugu has the shots, come on.” He grabbed your hand as the two of you navigated to the end of the bar where Geto was. 

The smirk hadn’t left his face as he took in your flushed appearance. He took one shot from the tray and handed it to you. “Only if you want to,” he affirmed.

You took the shot from him, placing your other hand on your hip. “I’m not a baby, let's go.”

“That’s my girl!” Gojo chanted, grabbing a shot from the tray.

Geto grabbed a shot, and the three of you clinked the glasses together before quickly downing them.

Your lips pursed as it coursed down your throat, immediately setting your body temperature ablaze. You looked over to Geto and Gojo who were already downing another shot. Thinking about shots you took earlier and all the sips of everyone's drinks you had, you weren’t going to argue with them for not asking if you wanted another shot or not.

You put your glass on the tray as Geto glanced at you. He took a step forward and let his palm graze the side of your face while his other hand settled on your waist. His thumb brushed against your cheek. “You look amazing tonight, angel.”

His voice simply wanted to make you melt. “Thank you.” You tilted your head so your lips brushed against his when you spoke again. “You look great too.”

“Come here,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips against yours. You both tasted like alcohol, but neither of you cared as your lips slowly moved against each other. You were putty in his hands as he kissed you, willing your body to mend to his touch.

With one final brush against Geto’s lips, Gojo was reaching for your hand. “Come on you two.” You let his large hand encase yours as he pulled you toward the empty alcove. Geto took a hold of your other hand, and you instantly felt your blood running even warmer.

Letting go of your hand, Gojo pressed his back against the wall. He circled his arms around your waist, pulling your backside flush against his front once more. Geto let go of your hand as well and stood in front of you, effectively sandwiching you between their bodies. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just your own desire, but being between the two of them had your heart beating rapidly yet again.

Geto stepped in closer, letting his hand rest under your chin. His mouth hovered over yours as yours as he spoke. “Were you having fun with Satoru, angel?”

“Oh, she was,” Gojo answered with a laugh, letting his hands travel beneath your shirt again. His hands grabbed your breasts, squeezing the mounds with more force this time. You let out a moan against Geto’s lips as Gojo’s fingers began to pinch at your nipples again. You clenched around nothing, pressing your thighs together desperately to ease the ache. “ God, Suguru. Do you hear her?”

“Mhm,” Geto answered, letting his lips graze against your parted lips before they started trailing down your face. He kissed the corner of your mouth, and trailed down lower to the skin of your neck. “You know, she sounds really pretty when she comes too.” His lips latched on to the base of your neck, sucking at the skin there. “Don’t you want to hear that?”

“Oh, for sure. Nice of you to finally learn how to share.” Gojo took his time letting his hands trail down your body once more, eager to become familiar with every dip and curve. His hand dipped down, easily lifting the soft fabric of your skirt and nudging your thighs open. “Let me take care of that for you.” You parted your thighs, and a finger was brushing over your clothed clit. Another moan left your mouth as another finger joined, rubbing your clit in slow circles over the fabric of your underwear. “Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this.”

Gojo eagerly bypassed the crotch of your underwear and pushed a finger inside of you, his erection still present from before throbbing against you as your wetness enveloped him. You whined, clenching around the digit as he wasted no time pumping it in and out of you. “I know you’re dying for more.You can take one more, be a good girl.” He let his middle finger join his index one, inching both digits deeper until they were seated fully inside of you. “Mhm, just like that.”

Geto continued ravishing the skin of your neck, taking his time to let his lips caress the spot before sucking it, wanting to mar the same spot from last time that had since faded. He shifted the hand that was on your chin to grip the back of your neck, his other hand shifting to massage one of your breasts. He moaned into the skin of your neck as he let his finger knead your stiffened nipple. 

Every part of your body was vibrating with arousal. “Fuck,” you whimpered out, continuously clenching around Gojo’s digits and desperately arching into Geto’s touch. It felt like you were being tugged in every direction; Gojo’s free hand on your hip keeping your backside pressed against him tightly and Geto’s hand securely on your neck, keeping you at an angle where you had no choice but to let him keep ravaging your skin.

Geto pulled the breast he was massaging out of your top completely, moving his mouth’s attention from your neck to your nipple. He let his tongue circle the peak, looking up to see your lips part and release another moan. “God, angel. You’re such a slut. ” He chuckled lightly before he closed his lips around the bud, sucking it into his mouth,

Gojo felt you clench instantly at Geto’s words, causing him to buck his hips against you. “Shit,” he murmured, curling his digits to reach your g-spot. “For a slut, this pussy is fucking tight.”

Geto pulled your other breast out of your shirt, moving his mouth across your chest to suck your other nipple into his mouth. His teeth nipped at the bud gently before his tongue flicked against it, alternating between hard and soft sucks. He moved the hand that was resting on the back of your neck to the front, gently squeezing at the sides. He sucked your nipple into his mouth harshly before coming off with a lewd pop. “That’s better for us, isn’t it?”

Gojo couldn’t stop the smile that was spreading across his face even if he wanted to. “Of course it is.”

Geto returned to your other nipple, rolling his tongue around it before letting his lips trail back up to your neck. The hand on your neck applied more pressure and he let his other hand begin to stimulate your nipple again. You were a moaning mess, opened mouthed and legs trembling. Geto’s length was practically a brick against his thigh. He pressed his thigh against one of your legs, groaning at the friction it provided.

“Ah, please,” you whimpered. It all felt like too much, but your body still craved more. Gojo’s erection pressed against your ass and Geto’s against your leg, your nipples being played with, being filled with Gojo’s fingers, the choking, the euphoria of the alcohol, it was hard to say what more could even constitute as, but you wanted it. 

“Please what?” Geto ground his leg against you, erection shamelessly throbbing. “You want Satoru to make you come?”

You nodded pathetically, tears threatening to spring from the corners of your eyes. “Please.”

“You hear that? Our angel wants you to make her come.” Geto peered up at Gojo, a smirk dancing across his lips. Geto’s gaze was back on you. “I think you should be more polite, angel. Ask him again, he wants to hear you.”

“Satoru, please,” you pleaded desperately.

Gojo steadily pumped his fingers in and out, plunging his fingers deep and keeping them curled against your g spot as your breaths became more ragged. “Come on, let it out,” he encouraged, letting his thumb rub against your clit. “I want to know how this pussy feels,” he mumbled into your ear.

Your legs trembled as you gave into his demands, body slumping against his as you spasmed around his fingers. Your voice was nothing but a string of moans as his fingers stayed inside of you, moving slowly as your juices coated them.

“Fuck, she does sound pretty,” Gojo groaned, making eye contact with Geto. “I want to see for myself how she tastes.” He slowly removed his digits from you, keeping you propped firmly against him as he slid his fingers into his mouth. He moaned around them, keeping his eyes on Geto. “Delicious.”

“Yeah?” Geto pressed in closer, his hips now slotted between yours as the hand that gripped your breast moved down to caress the skin of your thigh. He maneuvered the hand on your throat behind you, now gripping Gojo’s chin. “Let me have a taste then.”

Gojo grabbed at the back of Geto’s neck to bring their lips together. Your body was tight between them as both of their erections throbbed against you, and you could feel wetness saturating your panties again. You whined, gripping at Geto’s muscles under his shirt and wiggling your hips in any way you could to get more friction. Despite the overstimulation, you couldn’t stop, desperate yet again for more.

Gojo has never been a gentle kisser. As soon as their lips joined, he shifted his hand to grip Geto’s hair. His fingers clutched his tresses tight as he began pushing his tongue past Geto’s lips. Gojo let out a moan of satisfaction once Geto’s lips parted, letting his tongue roam the inside of his mouth.

Geto could taste you on Gojo’s tongue, and could feel you writhing between the two of them. If there was even a pocket of space between the three of your bodies, he closed it, letting out a moan when Gojo bit down on his bottom lip. “Fuck, she does taste good,” he gritted out, giving your thigh another squeeze. “Think I’m going to need another taste.”

Gojo let his tongue trace the shape of Geto’s lips before he shoved his tongue back inside his mouth. Geto moaned into Gojo’s mouth before letting his own tongue sliver into Gojo’s mouth. The familiar gesture was charged with arousal, the kiss growing sloppier the longer the two kept their mouths pressed together. The lewd sound of their lips moving against each other made you clench again. You panted, grinding yourself against Geto’s thigh, aching for another release.

When Geto pulled back, a thick trail of spit connected their lips together. “Oh angel, are you feeling left out?” Geto teased, feeling your pelvis against his thigh. “Can’t have that, can we?”

Gojo smirked, sucking the trail into his mouth as he peered down to see you humping Geto’s thigh. “Oh, Sugu,” he cooed. “I think she wants to come again.” Gojo released his grip from Geto’s hair and put a hand back on your breast. “Make her come, I want to see.”

“If you insist,” Geto snickered, stepping back only slightly. Gojo kept a hold on your hip while Geto pushed the fabric of your panties aside to pump his middle and index finger inside of you. They slipped in with no resistance, already soaked from your previous orgasm and more recent arousal. “Mhm, that’s it. Just as tight as I remembered.”

“Ah,” you moaned, throwing your head back as you clenched around him. You knew it wouldn't take much to bring you to another orgasm. Gojo’s hips thrusted against your ass, making your hips rock on Geto’s fingers. You let out another moan, tears prickling from the corner of your eyes as he pinched your nipple again. “That feels so good,” you breathed.

“Mhm,” Geto hummed. He slowly nudged a third finger at your entrance, his cock throbbing when you slowly started to envelop them. He watched as they disappeared inside of you until all three were knuckle deep and curling against your g-spot. The way your pussy started to clamp down on him would give a claw machine a run for its money. “Fuck, you can do it,” he praised. “Come for us one more time.”

Gojo swiftly moved his hand from your breast to beneath your chin, tilting your head upwards to look at him. The lust swimming in his eyes was evident. “Keep your eyes on him,” Geto instructed. “If you look away, I’ll stop.”

You whined, willing your eyes to stay open and keep your body upright. It felt good, too good. How could greed really be a sin when having more proved itself to be better, much better. 

You squeezed your eyes tightly at a curl of Geto’s fingers, a guttural moan escaping your lips. Gojo tsked despite his cock throbbing at your moan, letting his hand squeeze the sides of your chin. “Don’t be rude. You heard him, didn’t you?” Your eyes jolted open at his touch. “Keep those eyes on me, angel.”

Geto didn’t stop, his slender fingers still moving in and out of your heat. His eyes bounced between your weeping pussy and the desperation to please plastered all over your face. “Do I need to stop?” he taunted, slowing his movements. “Don’t tell me she isn’t being a good girl for us.”

“She just needed a little reminder,” Gojo chuckled lightly. His grip didn’t leave your chin as he looked down at you, eyes struggling to stay open and body writhing with pleasure. “Fuck angel, you’re so fucking pretty like this. Open your mouth.”

You didn’t have the capacity to ask any questions as you parted your lips. Gojo titled his lips downward to spit into your open mouth. You clenched around Geto’s digits as you welcomed his saliva into your mouth. “Fuck,” Gojo gritted out, keeping a tight hold on your chin to smash his lips against yours. Your lips were barely aligned as they moved against each other with little grace, but neither of you cared. You moaned into his mouth, hips grinding frantically on Geto’s fingers.

Geto quickened the pace of his fingers, every stroke only aiming to brush against your g-spot. Your moans turned into pants against Gojo’s lips as your body was reaching its peak. 

You cried out as your pussy locked down on Geto’s fingers, pulsing around the digits erratically. Your chest heaved as his fingers exited you. Between the alcohol and the back to back orgasms, you could barely keep your eyes open. 

Through fluttering lids, you saw Geto bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean with a smile. Gojo parted his lips, and Geto placed his fingers on Gojo’s tongue. Gojo sucked them diligently, moaning around his fingers and savoring your taste again.

Gojo wrapped his arms around you tightly while Geto put your breasts back in your top. He put a hand under your chin, leaning his own head to be eye level with you. “How about you come home with us, angel?” A soft small graced his face. “We can have some more fun.”

You were already exhausted and overstimulated, but there wasn’t a hint of hesitation in your voice when you answered, “I’d love to.”

Joo did some lovely art that i appreciated sm!!! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) more skin tones on the linked post!!

just ch 3 left to upload :p

[number1jeonginstan]

A/N: I got a little bored, then I thought about fem!Felix and then I got carried away, but damn I need her in my life, like seriously, someone get me her, or fem!Innie and Minho because damn...

WC: 1.5k

Pairing: Fem!Lixie x afab!Reader (WxW, if you don't like it, don't read!)

Warnings: Mommy Kink! Calling Lixie a whore once or twice, Kissing, dildo usage, fingering, oral (reader receiving)

“Hey, could I borrow a pen?” you asked the girl beside you. Her hair was in two small pigtails, freckles adorning her face. She was one of the prettiest girls you had ever seen, her smile radiating, she simply nodded, rummaging through her pencil pouch and finding a pen with a fluffy pompom. 

“Here you go” she whispered before continuing to write down what your professor was saying. You smiled back before going back to your own notes. 

As you guys were wrapping up, you turned back to her in an attempt to give her pen back. “You can keep it” she grinned, “it looks cute with you”

“Can I get you coffee as a thank you then?” you asked, not wanting her to walk away. “I’m Y/N by the way” you giggled as the two of you walked to the nearest coffee shop on campus. “I’m Lixie,” she said, her cheeks ridden with a slight blush. 

“What would you like to drink” you asked as the two of you set down your bags at a nearby table. “Anything with a lot of sugar” she replied as she took out her notebook. 

“You got it!” 

You came back to the table holding an iced americano for yourself, an iced caramel macchiato for Lixie, and a brownie for the two of you to share.

 “Here you go” You placed the cup in front of her as she took a sip you watched as her eyes brightened. “Is it good?” 

“So good, how did you know what I like?” 

“Just a guess” You placed the brownie on the table, already split in half as you sat down. “I brought this for us to share if you don’t mind” 

“Do you like brownies?” she asked as you took a bite of your own. You nodded a quick yes, covering your mouth with your hand as you continued to chew.

“I’ve been told I make the best brownies, if you ever want to come over, I can make them for you” 

“Really?” you asked, your expression a bit shocked. “Omg, of course, here give me your number and I’ll invite you over one day” 

She handed you her phone as you typed out your number, you didn’t see the slight glimmer in her eyes watching you. 

That was how the two of you’s friendship started. From that day, the two of you were inseparable. Whether it be going to the library together, or just getting coffee, or even going out to parties, the two of you were stuck like glue. It was to the point that you both had keys to each other's apartments. 

You barely ever put it to use, but since you forgot your laptop at her apartment last night after having your weekly binge-watching session and she wasn’t answering her phone, desperate times called for desperate measures. 

You entered her apartment, still smelling the scent of banana bread the two of you made last night as a midnight snack wafting through the air. As you walked to her room door, you heard slight muffles which you didn’t think much of. 

She must be showering, you thought to yourself. You heard some whimpers and even the sound of your name, but you were in dire need of your computer, so you pushed past it, opening her door only to see her on her bed, hands pinching her nipples as she was riding a dildo, moaning your name. 

“Fuck y/n~ need you so bad”

“Lix?” you gasped, watching her eyes shoot open, she quickly covered herself with her blanket, hiding herself. She slowly popped her head out, too ashamed to even look at you.

“How much of that did you hear?” she whispered, her entire face red. 

“Nothing, I promise. Unless you wanted me to hear?” 

You slowly walked up to her bed, lifting the blanket off her body, admiring it to the fullest extent. Her breasts were tiny, while her nipples were hard, just begging to be played with. Her cunt was soaking with the dildo still inside it. If you closed your eyes and listened, you bet you could hear the squelching of her cunt around it.

“Baby, be a good girl and get on the floor for me okay?” 

She simply nodded, removing the silicon toy covered with her juices. Before she could put it anywhere, you told her to hand it to you, and she complied. 

The toy itself was a bright hot pink, like everything in her room, and you felt your lips open at the look of it. She was easily taking this seven-inch thing inside of her. You were about to have so much fun.

She gravitated to the floor, kneeling in front of you, waiting for your command. She was fully naked, her juices running down her thighs. You let out a slight moan at the sight bestowed in front of you. 

“Fuck, you look so good, but let’s see how you taste?” 

You placed the tip of the dildo at your lips, groaning at the taste of her. You were already getting addicted, knowing that after you had fun with her, you were going to eat her out for hours. 

“Taste so good for me baby, so sweet all for me” 

“Just for you Mommy” Lixie replied, whimpering at the sight of you taking it in your mouth. She slowly began to press her thighs together, trying to relieve herself. You had come seconds before she was going to cum, stopping her from reaching her high. 

“Aww, kitten can’t control herself, can she? She’s just a dumb little girl”

“Yes Mommy, I’m just a dumb little girl, please I need you, it hurts so bad” she whimpered. 

You chuckled at this, telling her to get closer as you sat on the edge of the bed. You placed the suction cup of the dildo on the floor. “Be a good kitten and ride it for me okay” she simply nodded, slowly pressing the tip against her aching hole, moaning at the stretch.

“So big Mommy, feeling so deep in my cunt” 

“Yeah, my kitten is a little whore, taking such a big dick inside such a tiny cunt” 

“Yes, a whore just for you Mommy” she whimpered as she got back up before falling back down, riding it just like you had asked. 

“Such a good girl for me” 

You bent down a bit, capturing her lips with yours before deepening the kiss, your tongue dominating hers. Lixie began to slow down a bit, too entranced by the way your mouth felt on hers. 

“What did Mommy say, can’t you listen to simple rules, baby?” You grabbed her ass, kissing her lips again before slamming her cunt up and down the toy with your help.

“Fuck Mommy!” she screamed underneath you, “feels so good, wish it was you who was inside me” she whimpered, her walls clenching around the toy.

“Don’t worry, Mommy is going to be inside you soon, but first you got to help me” You pulled down your leggings, tossing them somewhere in her room before grabbing her hand and running it along your underwear. 

“Look how wet you make me, can you take care of Mommy while you ride your little toy?” you asked as she attempted to paw off your underwear. 

“Yes, I can do that for Mommy” she whimpered, the toy reaching a specifically deep part inside of her as she shifted to try and take your cunt in her mouth.

You sat in front of her legs spread open, your underwear hanging off your foot as she dove straight into your pussy. 

She was lapping up your essence through your folds as she was pinching her own breasts, moaning into your cunt as she kissed your clit. 

She hummed into your clit before slowly adding a finger to your hole. You could feel yourself clench around it, she was so skilled, her finger hitting that gummy spot inside you with just a few tries. 

You clenched even harder as she added a second finger, continuing to fuck herself on the cock below her, not slowing her pace down like before.

“So good for me baby, so good for Mommy” you moaned, grabbing her hair in your hands, and pushing her face harder into your cunt. 

The two of you were so close, her moaning into your cunt while fingering you while the cock inside of her was hitting all the spots it needed to. It only took another thrust of her fingers and a pinch of her nipples for the two of you to convulse, your thighs squishing her face as a creamy white ring at the base of the cock beneath her came to fruition. 

“Fuck Mommy, that was so good” she yelled as your thighs separated from her face. 

“Who said we were done, baby?” 

[folkloresthings]

in honour of us both going to uni tomorrow, i have a lil drabble request…fernando with a younger gf doing a degree 🫣 nando is my guilty pleasure ngl

EL ur a genius 🤍 my two fav things. also made her do a journalism degree because i’m doing a journalism degree so what

A WORLD AWAY. ❨ fernando alonso x reader ❩

“how’s your essay going?”

fernando’s soft spanish accent is muffled through the speaker of your phone, his face propped up on your desk next to your laptop. the glow of the screens and your newest candle illuminate your face in the top—right corner, hair scraped back and a large hoodie hanging on your shoulders. fernando still thinks you’re the most beautiful thing.

“not terrible,” you sigh, glancing at the word document that has laid untouched since your phone had rang thirty minutes ago. “need some more sources to fill it out a bit. i’ll probably have to stay up to finish it.”

“not too late,” fernando orders, brows raised. “you need your sleep.”

glancing at the clock, you mentally work out what time it is with him. he’d have only been up for a few hours, morning in singapore while it was night in london.

“yes sir,” you chuckle, sipping your lukewarm tea. “how do you feel for quali?”

the usual updates from your boyfriend pour in, and you know he could talk for hours about his job and the race. frankly, you’d let him. your degree was exhausting at the best of times, but you were in your final year now and with the deadline for your dissertation looming, the stress was piling on. fernando’s calls to rant about work or just dissect a race distracted you from your own responsibilities, even if it was just for a little while.

“go to sleep, mi amor. you look exhausted,” he sweetly worries, head titled adorably in the camera. “you can finish it tomorrow.”

“wanna talk to you, though,” you pout, already shutting your laptop and crawling under the covers of your bed. “i miss you.”

“i miss you too, cariño,” fernando murmurs. while the other wives and girlfriends jetted off to as many races as they could, your degree kept you far too busy to be able to visit fernando as much as you wanted to. you went to as many races as you could — but both of you felt the hardships of the distance.

“but you need to sleep. i’ll speak to you later, okay? i love you.”

“i love you too. goodnight.”

when you did get the chance to visit fernando at work, he was ecstatic. showing you off was his favourite thing to do, bragging about your academic achievements and whatever article you’d written most recently. it made a nice change to people asking, or not so subtly whispering, about the evident age gap.

you were almost twenty—four, fernando eighteen years your senior. it gained a lot of attention when you first went public, and still did two years into your relationship. you’d learned to deal with it, but you could always feel the eyes on you when you entered the paddock.

“don’t worry about them,” kika always told you, walking arm in arm to hospitality for a coffee. she had her own struggles, with her and pierre’s smaller, but still noticeable, age gap. “you love each other. that’s what matters.”

and, god, you did love fernando. watching him race, embedded in his element, he was easy to adore. when, every time he took him helmet off, he found your face in the crowd and sent you a wink.

“i’m so glad you could come,” your boyfriend mumbles in your ear when you hug him after the race, congratulating his impressive P5. it wasn’t podium, but you were proud no matter what. your chest seized as his words flew straight to your heart — you knew how much it meant to fernando to have someone there to support him, even with the tough facade he so often put on. you only wished you could be there more.

“a few more months and i’ll have graduated, then i’ll come to every race,” you tell him happily, lips squished where his hands press to each cheek. lingering forward, his soft lips fall on yours and kiss you adoringly. a thank you, everything he wasn’t very good at vocalising when he wanted to.

“i’m so proud of you,” fernando mumbles against your lips, hands heavy in your hair.

“i’m supposed to be the one telling you that.”

“i mean it, mi amor. you’ve been working so hard, and i know it’s not easy being with me. but i’m glad that you are,” fernando admits. your teeth find your bottom lip, willing it not to wobble as your eyes begin to sting with warmth. no matter what happened with the race, or your degree, or even the scandal of your relationship — you had each other.

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 3

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

4.7k Words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, NSFW, smut, 18+, mature themes

Part 2, 4

The next day is what you can only describe as controlled chaos. The office is a whirlwind of papers, people and pieces of presentation sent to and fro across the building. Maureen in marketing needs approval from Mark in finance who’s busy balancing the budget for this year and the spreadsheets from last year. Sharon has been on the phone for Three. Whole. Hours. trying to make sure the prototypes will be ready before noon tomorrow.

Tom called in sick and Mrs. Magna told Nancy to tell him that if he doesn’t show up today to never show up again. Period. That was ensued by a thirty minute yelling match between Nancy and Tom that ended when you gently took the phone from Nancy’s white-knuckle grip and told Tom if he didn’t come in you’d personally shove your foot up his ass.

Tom was in the office fifteen minutes later, quarantined in the conference room with his laptop, a growing mountain of crumbled Kleenex and very, very, grumpy. The day dragged on and on and while people who had finished with their portion of the project headed home for the day you stayed, even after your piece of the pie was secure, because at the end of it all you knew it fell to Nancy to review and review and review the final product for any mistakes and you weren’t about to let her do it alone.

As you worked, you caught up with each other, not having time to really talk since the white elephant party over a week ago. “So how was break?” You asked as you filed away two early projection models in their appropriate folders. She sat cross legged in front of you, stapling documents together. “It was nice, mom came this year, and I thought it would be a lot more barbaric but it actually was very civil. I'm proud of them for working out their differences. The way it went down last year I was still cleaning fruit cake off my ceiling a month later, remember?”

You giggled together because you did remember. That was Nancy’s Christmas reunion debacle from the previous year. You hadn’t been there but you did drop by to help her clean up and have a little wine. A bottle and a half in you both were too drunk and giggly to climb the ladder and scrap the candied fruit and cake from the ceiling.

“What about you? Did you go see your parents?” You smiled and answered. “Yeah they’re doing good, they said to tell you hello by the way. My brother too.” And the side eye she gave you was hilarious and aggravated all in one. “What? He still asks about you.” She rolled her eyes and restacked the papers in her hands. “Well he can stop.” You laughed as she shook her head. “He’s still got a crush on me after all this time.”

“Yes! He’s obsessed! I don’t know why you won’t go for him, it’s not like you’re seeing anyone anyways.” She scoffed at you. “I am not dating your brother. Not after what he did.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Nance, you can’t still be on that.” She looked offended. “After we both nearly drowned at the lake that summer. You remember, he practically pulled me under!”

You laughed remembering. “He was trying to save you!” She laughed with you and pushed on your arm. “Yeah well he sucked at it. We both nearly died.” You both were in fits of giggles at this point, papers nearly forgotten in the glow of your memories. “Besides, how do you know I’m not seeing anyone?”

Your eyebrows raised at this. “Ohhh, something to confess?” She looked up from her work, eyes sparkling. “You know the guy that moved in across the hall?” You did. You both had run into him one day coming back to her place for a drink after a Saturday outing together. “You mean Mr. Dark Eyes, the one who came over and fixed your window for you?”

She practically beamed. “That’s the one. He asked me out for drinks tomorrow night.” You waggled your eyebrows at her and she laughed and rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that. He’s just being nice.” It was your turn to give her an accusatory look. “It’s absolutely like that Nancy! He’s into you. I can see it! I think you should go for it, I’m glad for you, it’s time you got a little action.”

She picked up the stack she’d finished stapling and set it to the side, beginning another. “You and I both. I mean it’s not like you’ve been seeing anyone either.” You paused, thinking of Johnny. You wouldn’t call it seeing someone, but there was something between the two of you, it was momentary, your lapse in response but enough for her to notice and immediately catch on.

“Oh my god, wait. You have been seeing someone haven’t you?” You immediately refuse. “No.” “Bullshit.” “Seriously! It’s nothing.” And she wouldn’t stop until she’d pried it out of you so you began recounting your encounter at the gym, leaving nothing out.

“You’re fucking with me.” You shake your head. “No, I’m serious. Just like I told you.” She put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. “He legit did all that?” You nodded and she smiled. “I think you should go for it.” Your jaw dropped. “You’re serious?” She nodded. “Oh yeah, he’s totally into you. All that weird shit just means he’s obsessed. Is he hot?”

You immediately nodded. “Oh yeah, he’s strong and tan. He’s got this pretty white smile and dark hair. I knew he was a personal trainer the minute I saw him.” She hummed approval. “Definitely go for it.” You laughed nervously. “I don’t know, we'll see where it goes.”

The sun had long descended past the horizon, but you had it done. Two hundred and fifteen pages of statistics and sales projections that concluded the project. You both cleaned up the papers and put everything away. She turned to you when the elevator had stopped at the ground floor and the cold night air chilled you as the doors opened. “Wanna go out for a drink, I know I sure could use one.”

You shook your head. “I’m beat, I’m going home, eating and sliding into bed.” She nodded in understanding. “Don’t forget your homework.” She winked at you mischievously and giggled as you let out a frustrated groan. “I’m thinking about skipping it.” She shook her head. “Better not, with what you’ve told me so far it seems like there’d be consequences.” And she was right, who knew what kind of thing he’d cook up if you slacked out on it. You said your goodbyes and headed home.

You find yourself in front of your door, mentally exhausted. You slide the key in the lock and feel it give as you push the door open and walk into the cool interior of your home. Flipping the lights on you drop your purse and jacket on the couch and head for the kitchen. It’s been a long day and you hadn’t even had a chance to go grocery shopping this week but you’re pretty sure you at least had a couple of eggs left in the fridge.

If all you could manage was a few scrambled eggs before you did your homework and fell into bed then so be it. You’d eat better tomorrow. You open the door on the fridge and are immediately taken aback by what you see. It’s fully stocked. There’s a whole pack of water bottles on the bottom shelf of your fridge. The chiller drawer is packed with spinach, sweet peppers, broccoli and carrots. There’s deli meat and boneless skinless chicken breasts, a few types of cheese and a new gallon of milk. Individual packs of yogurt and gatorades in all different flavors.

You open the door on your freezer to find a few more frozen packs of chicken breasts, pounds of lean hamburger meat and sausage. Rushing to the cabinets you pull them open and find low carb tortilla wraps and bread, granola bars and some kind of chips called “Veggie Straws” that you’ve always seen on the shelf but never tried.

As you turn around you finally notice the bowl of fruit on your counter. How could you have overlooked it walking in? Bananas and apples and oranges, all ripe and fresh. You didn’t do this. Either you were losing your mind and key moments in your life we’re missing like puzzle pieces lost or someone had been in your house.

Your eyes widen, breath hitched. They could still be in the house. You turn around and survey the space around you, the dark comforting tone had a queer eerie feeling setting in around the edges. The corners and shadows leering with the unknown. Nothing looked out of place or was missing, but what kind of a person came into a home to stock the fridge and leave without taking anything?

You checked the doors, the windows, no broken locks or pried open hinges, no immediate signs of forced entry. Your shoulders stiffened when the realization hits you, it takes your overworked mind a moment to remember but there it was. Your gym bag, you were nearly certain you had closed it but it was open when you opened your locker to change. Johnny.

You grabbed your purse and pulled your phone out, flicking through your contacts and hovering over his name. You momentarily waver between calling him or the police. What were you going to say? Yes officer, my home has been broken into. Did they take anything? Well, no. The opposite really. What did they leave? Groceries. Lots of them, stocked my whole kitchen with fresh meats, veggies and fruit. Yeah, we’ll get right on catching the ever elusive grocery fairy, ma’am. Top priority, don't you worry.

You started the call and he answered on the second ring, tone light and cheery with enthusiasm. “Bonnie! How was work?” You skip the pleasantries. “Do you have something to tell me, Johnny?” And you don’t know why you expected him to take the matter seriously.

“Aye lass, I did think about ye all day, sometimes with mah cock in hand, how’d ye know?” His response momentarily scatters your thoughts to the wind but you take hold of them once more and push on. “What? No! Johnny, have you been in my house?” He laughs, actually laughs. “Oh that. Yeah, did you check the fridge?”

Your brow furrowed in frustration, of course he doesn’t see it as an intrusion instead of some kind of regular thing. “Johnny, how did you get into my house?” You sit down in a chair and what he says makes you bolt upright again. “Easy, hen. I just made a key.” You’re pacing now. “You made a key to my house! How?”

And he says it casually like he’s explaining how to tie a shoe or giving someone easy directions. “I went into yer bag, found yer keys, pressed it into a mold and had one made. Simple really.”

“You can’t do that Johnny.” He interrupts. “S’alright Bonnie, I’m yer personal trainer.” There it is again. That phrase, like it’s the simplest thing to understand in the world, normal even. He’d picked you out, told you he was going to train you, you didn’t exactly protest and now anything was fair game, including crossing every single kind of boundary you could have and making copies of the keys to your home so he can come and go as he pleases.

“Besides, yer fridge was empty. What were ye gonna have fer dinner?”

“None of your business. And what if I don’t know how to cook? Did you think about that Johnny?” And this seems to be the first real thing to give him pause. “Yer right, lass. I didn’t even think about that. I’m about five minutes away, I’ll be right over.” Your eyes widen in panic. “No Johnny! Don’t come over!”

“S’alright lass, it’s really no trouble. I’ll be right there.” The last thing you needed was him showing up at the door. “No! Johnny I’m serious, don’t.”

He’s quiet for a moment and it feels long, you almost expect a knock at the door, even though he couldn’t possibly be there that fast, unless of course he was lying about being five minutes away and was actually right outside the whole time, or even in the house still.

“Alright. I won’t come over on one condition.” You grab for it, ready to agree to anything that will keep him from showing up. “Yes, anything.”

“I want ye tae FaceTime me while ye do yer homework.” And you’re almost relieved with the simplicity of it, but there was an underlying unease that you couldn’t shake, what was he up to? You answer slowly when you can’t come up with a good reason to say no. “Ok, I’ll call you back.”

But before you can hang up he interjects. “No. Don’t hang up, talk to me.”

“Talk to you? About what Johnny?” You start to look around the kitchen for what you’re gonna have, if he’s making you talk to him the whole way through it then it’s better to get started now. “For starters, How yer day was.”

It starts slow, your relinquishing of the accounts of the day, but as time went on and you kept talking it all just came to the surface. The stress of the day, the brutal meticulousness of it, and he made it so easy, he was so attentive, listening and responding, asking questions and letting you vent it. He even laughed so hard when you told him about threatening Tom that you couldn’t help but laugh with him, bent over in front of the stove as you let the stress bleed out of you.

It felt good, right even, like something you'd been missing out on, a key component you hadn't realized you’d been without for so long. And you found a peculiar twinge of adoration for him in the bottom of your heart, like tea leaves spelling out your heart's true desires, whether you like what you read in them or not, there they were.

You sat down to eat and he told you about his day as you ate. It was much more appetizing than a plate of scrambled eggs, you had to admit. You nearly choke on a cherry tomato when he tells you he missed you. “It’s only been a day since you last saw me Johnny, you can’t miss me.” And is there longing in his voice, or just your tired mind playing tricks again? “Aye, but I did.”

There’s a momentary pause, a space of uninterrupted silence, pregnant with things unsaid. You finally break it. “Well, I’ve got dishes and then I’ll do my homework.” What he says next makes you smile, and you’re glad he’s not able to see it. “How will I know ye’ll call me back?”

“Don’t be stupid, I’ll call you. If not, you'll be pounding at my door, won’t you?” You can hear the smile in his response. “Better believe it, lass. Call me.” And he hangs up.

You quickly finish up your dishes, change into something comfortable, just a tank top and shorts, and prop your phone up. Pressing the call button on Johnny’s name in the contact list you see the screen go black as you wait for him to pick up. Your image is reflected back at you in a little square in the top right of the screen and you use the time to adjust your hair and pull the hem of your shorts down lower to cover more of your thighs.

His face pops into frame and he’s smiling ear to ear and you ignore the eruption of goosebumps on your arms when you see it. “Hi, lass” You back away from the screen and into the open space you’ve made in your living room to do your exercises. “Hi Johnny.”

“God yer beautiful.” And you feel your cheeks heating under his compliment. “Stop it, Johnny. Let’s crack on.” You see him sit back on his bed as he responds. “Alright lass. Start.” So you do, starting with the sit ups. You don’t have him there to hold your feet so you slide them under the couch to hold you steady as you do the exercise. He talks you through it, counting for you so you can focus on just your movements, keeping track of your pauses in between sets so they’re evenly spaced and consistent.

“Good lass, now yer toe touches.” You rise and face the camera, bending down with legs straight as your fingertips brush your toes. “Good, just like that.” And each line of praise is like a shot of vodka, a shock of ambrosia to your system, intoxicating. You know he’s looking down your shirt with each rep, but it’s a thrill you find exhilarating instead of embarrassing for once. Halfway through he has you turn around so he can make sure you’re not dipping at the knees.

You do the first one and he groans, quiet but you still catch it. You call over your shoulder and ask if he’s ok and he clears his throat, voice full of audible gravel even in his one word response. “Aye.” You finish and all that’s left is your lunges and stretches. You bend your knees and step into the first lunge, one leg at a time til you reach your goal of ten.

You’re finished and you turn to face the camera, you see he’s laid down on the bed, eyes intense and holding yours even from the small screen of the phone across the room. “Stretches now, lass.” He sounds out of breath and you wonder what you’d see if he flipped the view to his back camera.

You sit on the floor, legs V’d and begin to stretch them wider and wider. You curse your decision for shorts and blame it on being tired and not thinking it through. You know the crotch of your shorts is pulling taut against your pussy, barely covering your panties as you stretch further and further. You start to strain, little puffs of breath and groans escaping your lips as you widen your stretch. “Hold it, bonnie.” And you do just as he asks, holding it against the potent pain accumulating in your calves and inner thighs. “Just a little more, doing so good fer me.”

You hold it for another five seconds and he finally lets you release. You’re breathing heavily as you draw your legs back together and if you aren’t mistaken you think you can hear his labored breathing as well. “Johnny.” His voice is thick with strain. “Aye, lass.”

“What are you doing?” His smirk is devastatingly handsome as he speaks. “Nothing yet, lass.” You feel emboldened and press your luck, eyes connected with his as you command him. “Flip your camera Johnny.” His eyes hold yours raptly for a few seconds before he does as you ask and the shot flips to his chest and legs lying on his bed. He’s got a dark blue comforter and you can see in the frame a pull up bar and a few weights on a rack in the corner, just what you’d expect but the first thing to catch your eye is the raging bulge in his gray sweats and your breath hitches as his hand comes into view, wrapping around the base of the stretched fabric and adjusts it to better accommodate his length.

“See what ye do tae me, hen?” You do see, you can’t look away as his hand squeezes himself through the cloth cage. Your mind, overworked and fried is trying to get you to say something, anything, but the only thing that will compute is his name. “Johnny.”

“Get up and sit down on the couch, lass.” His voice holds a tone of gentle authority, you could probably protest but you’re tired and trying to swim against the current of what your body wants is a task you’re not up for at the moment, so you give in and let him command you.

You sit on the couch at first, eyes still glued to where he’s fisting his cock through his clothes. “Sit back, hen and spread your legs.” You do sit back but you don’t spread your legs, at first. “Come on, bonnie. Jus’ like we practiced.” So you do, not as wide as you would when stretching but enough to give him a view and the tingles of anticipation thrumming through you has you on edge, like you’re standing before a cliff and about to jump, there’s no going back from this.

He groans and you watch with keen eyes as he pulls his sweats down until he’s just in his boxers, the same dark blue shade as his bed spread. “Ye wanna see more, lass?” He’s tempting you and it’s working, you do wanna see more but it’ll come at a price. “Yes.” He wraps a fist around his cock and you shift uncomfortably as your panties dampen. “Take yer shorts off.”

You sit up and tug your shorts down your legs, feeling dirty but heightened as you do, like you’re liberating something inside yourself even you don’t quite understand. He hisses air through his teeth as he spots the wet patch quickly growing and soaking the gusset of your panties.

He pulls his boxers down and his cock springs up into view, finally free and it makes you bite your lip. He’s thick and has length to boot, a good seven inches of it guessing by the comparison of his hand up against it.

There’s a neatly trimmed patch of dark hair spreading out from the base and you can’t help but moan as he wraps his hand around it and begins to tug lazily. His voice is husky and deep when he speaks.

“So pretty, hen. Are you that wet all fer me?” And you’re beyond words so you just nod, eyes glued to the way he tugs on himself. He curses under his breath and your pussy aches from the lack of stimulation. You snake a hand down your chest, descending toward the pain, itching to relieve the tension. “That’s it, lass. Let me see ye touch yerself fer me.”

So you do, just overtop of the fabric, a roll of your fingertips overtop your clit, enough to make your head tip back and moan blissfully. “Good girl.” You look back up to see him working his shaft in earnest, firm grip and steady movements. You feel emboldened by his reactions and lean forward again to rid yourself of the cloth barrier. He stops and watches as your pussy comes into view for the first time.

“Steamin’ Jesus. Fucking gorgeous.” He resumes his movements as your fingers settle over top your bare clit and you start to rub tight little circles over it, just how you like. “Show me Bonnie, show me just how you like it.” The sexual tension between the two of you, the stress of the day all come to a head and you reach down to spread your wetness up and around your clit, moaning low and sultry as he watches you play with yourself.

You reach your other hand up and squeeze one of your breasts through your top and look back up into the screen. Watching him pick up the pace, making fast even strokes over the tip of his cock with each movement. The motion of his hands, the way his tip disappears into his fist and reappears with each pass is mesmerizing. You can feel the beginnings of an orgasm building and it just drives you on as you think about coming in front of him for the first time.

Your fingers pick up speed and your moans rise in pitch as he talks you through it. “Mmm such a bonnie little pussy. I wanna see ye come for me lass. Can ye do that fer me? Come nice and hard fer me?” You suck in a deep breath as you work your body into a frenzy, pinching a nipple between your fingers as you feel yourself nearing the edge.

You look up to see him vigorously stroking his cock. His breathing is heavy and loud through the speakers and you wonder if he’ll be loud when he comes. You’re close and even though he’s not even in the same room as you he can tell, spurring you on. “That’s it hen. Just like that. Do it. Cum fer me.”

It’s all it takes to send you spiraling. Your pussy clenching around nothing as you fall over the edge and succumb to the pleasure. You let out a long drawn out moan as you do, body tensing as you pant and writhe on the couch in full view.

You look up when he calls your name, watch as his strokes quicken and shorten and then all at once he’s coming undone, legs tensing and white hot cum shooting from the tip of his hard cock. It arcs through the air before landing in spattered lines across his thighs. The guttural yell that falls from his lips as he does is loud, just as you’d expected and you wish you could feel it, the rumble of his chest when it sounds.

You’re both breathing heavily and coming down when it hits you, the post nut clarity. You just had very raw, hardcore phone sex with a man who made a copy of the keys to your home, came over without you knowing while you were at work and invaded your personal space.

You’re ashamed and a little sickened by what you’ve just done. Quickly closing yourself off from view you snatch your panties and shorts from the ground and redress. “Fuck, lass. That was fucking amazing.” You’re already working on damage control in your mind, blocking out the experience, no matter how much you enjoyed it, it was wrong.

“No Johnny. It wasn’t.” You can see him switch the camera around and he’s way more relaxed now, smile a mile wide on his face. “Aye, it was. Cannae wait tae see ye, tomorrow.”

You don’t even know if you’ll show up now, how could you after that? It was just a mistake you told yourself, a tired slip up, absolutely a one time thing. You close your eyes and when you open them he’s looking at you and you swear you can his adoration for you swimming in them. “Go to sleep, lass. I wanna see ye tomorrow at 4:30.”

You say nothing and hang up. It’s very late before you fall asleep that night, debating whether or not the consequences of not showing up tomorrow are something you can afford to risk. If you don’t show up he could just pop into your house at any time. It’d be better to just show up and act like nothing happened, that was the key, just brush it under the rug and hope he’ll do the same.

You’re nervous about it all day at work, and you know Nancy knows something is wrong but you insist everything’s ok. You’re too ashamed to tell her about any of it and she relents and leaves you alone but she knows you’re lying. When four o’clock hits you’re out the door, won’t be able to stop this frenzied state of mind until you can clear things up with him and make things go back to normal.

The next day when you walk in the door and sign in he meets you at the desk and before you even have a chance to say anything he’s on you, lips crashing into yours in a passionate and very explicit kiss right in the lobby of the building surrounded by patrons and gawking onlookers.

He doesn’t even give you room to breathe let alone get a word in as his body presses up against yours and he grabs ahold of the back of your neck to keep you locked against him. When he pulls away you’re shell shocked and silent. As he pulls you against him and walks you further into the building you know things have taken an irrevocable turn.

[wnobin]

NO BUNNY BUT YOU! 🐰

petsitter! wonbin x fem! reader

series synopsis: your friends refuse to look after your bunnies, tokki and dokki, while you’re on an overseas programme for a week. luckily, winter knows the right person for the job.

series masterlist

part two: god had to nerf him

wonbin sat in class, shaking his leg as sungchan, who sat next to him, talked his ear off about how betrayed he felt over the flower pot incident.

“i can’t believe you let winter frame me for that! i wasn’t even anywhere near the staff department that day, i shouldn’t even have been a suspect!”

“do you even know what i had to do. i had to pay off my debt by sorting files and paperwork in the student office for a week!”

“yes sungchan, of course i knew what you did because you never shut up about it!”

“so you listened to me suffer and complain and you still never told me you broke it???”

the both of them continued to bicker over it until class ended, other students occasionally turning their back to see the taller male place his head in his hands, exasperated while wonbin rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“don’t call me when you’re out of toilet paper next time. i’m drinking all your milk in the fridge when i get back to the dorm later.”

“whatever makes you feel better,” wonbin mumbled as they started to pack up, checking his phone to see a text from winter telling him that she and her friend were waiting outside of his lecture theatre. “you can head back to the dorm first, i’m gonna go over to see winter’s friend’s room and see her bunnies.”

“i hope one of them bites you. best if both of them bite you.”

“oh my god, sungchan. i’m sorry, what do you want me to do to make it up to you? do you want me to be your slave for a week?”

sungchan simply threw his hands up in the air, shrugging as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. they both walked out of the classroom, wonbin already spotting winter leaning against the wall, waving at the two of them. “hey, wonbin! over here!”

“so this is y/n, whose bunnies you’re gonna be looking after!” wonbin took a look at you, who was standing next to winter and clutching your laptop, holding it to your chest. you were dressed in a basic outfit, an oversized hoodie and baggy jeans, but you wished you were more dressed up. wonbin was probably the most attractive guy you’ve ever laid your eyes on. he was taller than you, almost towering over you and he had long hair that seemed smoother than yours and he smelled so good. you tried not to let your nervousness show, managing to muster out a soft “hi.”

wonbin felt like his heart was just struck by cupid’s bow. your eyes were slightly tired but you still had a small smile on your lips and you looked so warm and cozy in your hoodie. it was cold out and he could tell by the way your cheeks and tip of your nose was slightly red. he cleared his throat, sticking his hand out for you to shake. “hey- hi, good morning, i’m wonbin!”

oh my god, why did i do that.

the usually stoic male was obviously flustered and stumbling over his words. he had never shook a stranger’s hands before, why did he do it now? it was clear that wonbin thought you were attractive and his brain was short circuiting. wonbin could hear sungchan’s snickers that he didn’t even try to hide from behind. he stepped on sungchan’s right foot in attempt to get him to shut up before turning around and giving the other a death glare.

wonbin might have been one of the most attractive guys on campus, and he knew it as well, he just couldn’t get in a relationship because he had no idea how to talk to girls, always managing to embarrass himself in front of them. he wasn’t going to let sungchan mess his chance up this time. however, sungchan wasn’t the only one who noticed wonbin’s flustered state. winter covered her mouth and tried to suppress her giggles as she watched you awkwardly shake wonbin’s hand, confusion on your face. “nice to meet you, wonbin… i’ll bring you over to my dorm and explain how to take care of tokki and dokki! thanks for doing this!”

“of course, it’s not a problem at all! i love taking care of animals!”

“that’s not what you said last night.”

wonbin shot winter a glare, the girl still giggling to herself and laughing at her own comment. he felt sungchan pat his back, taking his leave. “i’ll go back to the dorm first, see you later!” you and winter turned your backs, leading the way to your unit. you didn’t notice sungchan giving wonbin two thumbs up and mouthing good luck while taking out his phone. he was definitely going to tell the rest of the guys about this.

“so tokki is a girl and dokki is a boy, i would say they’re rather calm and they don’t make big messes so they’re relatively easy to take care of! they just need some attention during the day and they need to be fed twice daily! the most important thing is to separate tokki and dokki at night so they don’t mate.”

you explained more to wonbin as the three of you made your ways over to your dorm room. wonbin tried his best to digest the information you were giving him, trying not to get distracted by staring at you. he noticed the abundant amount of animal keychains hanging on your bags. you had a small bunny keychain on your zipper and a smaller cat keychain attached to your laptop case. cute, he thought.

your dorm room was neat and tidy, not smelling strongly of the animals you kept which was a surprise to wonbin. he had always heard bunnies had a strong smell. “so the white one is tokki, the girl, and the brown one here is dokki, the male.” you showed wonbin where you kept the bunny food and how much to feed them and other essential information. you also gave him a key to your dorm which had a small keychain attached to it. “is this… tokki and dokki?”

you sheepishly nodded, giggling shyly and admitting that you had gotten a few keychains custom printed of your bunnies. “that’s cute,” wonbin mentioned, your cheeks turning red but he couldn’t see as your back was turned. you opened the cage and let tokki and dokki out, bringing them closer to wonbin to let them get used to his scent. their nose twitched as they warmed up to the stranger. “he’s gonna look after you guys for awhile okay? his name is wonbin and he’s very sweet.” you cooed at your bunnies while petting their head. they seemed to open up to wonbin surprisingly fast, already rubbing their head against his hand when he gave them pets. tokki even let him hold her without any complaints.

“wow. tokki and dokki don’t usually take to new people that nicely. tokki shat on karina during their first meeting and dokki still glares daggers at me even until now. they must think you’re their dad or something.”

winter’s comment caught the both of you off guard, both of you getting flustered as wonbin cleared his throat, gently handing the bunny back to you. “well, it’s getting late i should probably head back soon. you still need to pack your luggage right?”

“oh, right! i totally forgot, i still haven’t gotten started yet.”

wonbin waved goodbye to you as winter stayed behind to help you pack, you could already tell she was about to tease you for how you practically looked at wonbin with heart eyes the entire time. before she could say anything, you put your hand over her mouth. “don’t.”

“whatever, you know i’m gonna tell the girls this when we’re done packing!”

taglist: @istphanie

[kelcemenow]

Touchdown - Chapter 1.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1676

Warnings This is a slow burn. I always like to set the scene in the first chapter.

CHAPTER 1.

“Where are my car keys?”  

“Why would I know where your car keys are?”  

You let out a slow exhale of breath before furiously checking the coats that were hanging up in the porch, for the third time, “Didn’t you use my car last night to pick up the pizzas?”  

Jess took a quick sip of her coffee before shouting through into the lounge, “Yes, and I handed them back to you.”  

You made your way towards the sound of Jess’ voice, “Right. And I put them down on the…” You paused as your eyes fell on the keys that were positioned exactly where you had left them the night before.  

“Well, would you look at that.” Jess smiled and raised her eyebrows, a smug expression that she often threw in your direction. “Honestly, you are the most unorganised person I know.”  

“Not everyone has their underwear in colour order, because it’s weird.” You grabbed a cushion from the sofa and playfully hit Jess on the back of the head before returning to packing your handbag ready to leave for work, throwing the car keys into the bag.  

“Alright, alright, maybe I am too organised, but do I lose my car keys every morning?”  

You stopped to look at her, your eyes wide with a forced innocence, “Not…every morning.”  

She cleared her throat and nodded gently, the self-satisfied look still plastered on her face, “Whatever. Anyway, why are you getting so stressed about this? You didn’t want this job in the first place.”  

“I’m not stressed…I just don’t want to completely bugger this up. It’s the closest job to being a broadcaster, it’s at an actual television studio and a show that is actually on TV.” You held your hands out to emphasise your point. “And it’s a ‘foot in the door’ situation. I work for ITV doing this gig for a year or so and then I can do what I want to do.”  

“Yeah…but sport.? You hate sports.”  

“I don’t hate sports. I just don’t see the point. I’ll learn.” You said, shrugging your shoulders lazily.  

“And it’s American sports.” Jess wrinkled her nose, “I don’t know how you’re going to do it.”  

Reaching up onto your tiptoes, you grabbed your coat from the hook and picked up your bag with the other hand before making your way out of the house, “Really supportive, Jess.”  

“Kill it!” She shouted as you closed the door.  

______________________________________________________________

“And this is where the presenters hang out before or after the show…and this…” You were being shown around the studio by Hannah, a young blonde girl who worked in your department. The studio was huge, and you were trying desperately to remember the identical corridors and seemingly hundreds of doors in an attempt to stop yourself from getting lost. Hannah must have noticed your eyes that were frantically darting around.

“Honestly, you’ll probably only use about 40% of the entire building.” She placed a hand on your shoulder and lowered her voice, “I’ve been here 3 and a half years and I got lost just yesterday.”  

A small chuckle escaped your lips and you ran a hand through your hair.  

Hannah paused for a second, “I tell you what, why don’t we grab a coffee?” 

You nodded with a smile as you followed her through some heavy double doors into the studio cafeteria. It was a vast room with food servers and drinks machines lining one wall and countless tables and chairs. Some were filled with people talking loudly, some had individuals typing furiously on their laptops. Hannah brought two paper cups filled to the top with coffee over to a small table that was next to the window. Outside, it was a bright and warm day. There was a small group of people sat under a tree reading and talking. Businessmen and woman were coming and going from the building speaking on their phones or checking pieces of paperwork.   

It was a busy atmosphere, but it didn’t seem to worry you. You thrived on being busy. You performed better under pressure during your studies at university and the small journalist jobs you had after you had graduated. But this was the big leagues. This was national television. And it was sports.  

“So, do you watch The NFL Show?” Hannah smiled as she sat down.  

You took a short breath and looked down. “Can I be honest?”  

Hannah pressed her lips together and frowned.  

“I’ve never watched an American football game in my life.” Leaning back slightly in your chair, you nervously waited for her reaction. 

Hannah kept her face still for a moment before bursting into laugher, “Oh Y/N, it’s like looking into a mirror. I hadn’t either before I started working here!”  

You let out a sigh of relief and picked up your coffee, “Really?”  

“Babe, we work in research, social media stuff. So, I don’t really think it’s vitally necessary to be a fan of the sport. We are the fact checkers, the worker bees. We make sure the Facebook posts are good, the stats are spot on and the presenters are telling the truth. But I’ve watched a few games with my husband and it’s not bad!”  

“Oh, I’m so glad! I was so worried it would be a problem.”  

“I mean, don’t go broadcasting that around the building, but no, it’s not a problem.” She smiled. “Where have you worked before here then?”  

“Well, I graduated 4 years ago, I got a first in media and journalism. Then I worked for my local newspaper back in my hometown and various temporary jobs but I realised that I need to move to London if I really wanted to work in journalism or broadcasting.”  

Hannah nodded gently, “Makes sense. Well, that sounds great. I can tell you're going to do just fine here!” She glanced at the clock above you head, “Shall we make a move? I could show you the studio for a bit?”  

“Sounds good to me!”

______________________________________________________________

“But wait, why have they stopped again?”  

“Jess, I don’t know.”  

Jess reached forward and grabbed another slice of pepperoni pizza, “This is going to take hours if he carries on doing that.” 

“What?” 

“Him! That referee man just keeps stopping everything, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”  

“Jess, we don’t know what we’re talking about.” You laughed through a mouthful of pizza.  

“They are quite fit, aren’t they?”  

You leaned over her leg to pick up your phone, “I’m there to work, I’m not there to look at the players.”  

“Yeah, but sometimes they come to do interviews and that sort of thing, right?”  

You shrugged your shoulders as you checked your emails.  

“Oh, and if you end up having to go over to America for the Super Ball thingy…”  

“…Super Bowl.” You corrected her. 

“…Bowl? Well, that doesn’t make sense either. It should be Super Ball, because they play with a ball? Right?”  

You snorted a laugh, your eyes still scanning the screen on your phone, your thumb swiping lazily.

“Super Ball, Super Bowl, whatever it is, promise you’ll take me? I could do with a holiday!”  

“Jess, I doubt I would be the one to go! And anyway, it’ll be a miracle that I last that long in the job. I think I’m in over my head.” You took another bite of your pizza and pulled the blanket over to your chest.  

“Y/N, you said it yourself, you’re there for research. Just do what you need to do for a while and then you can be a big-time journalist.”  

You smiled at Jess as she put the last of her pizza in her mouth and turned back to the TV. Even hearing your own words being repeated back to you didn't seem to calm your worries or concerns. You closed your eyes and rested your head back on the sofa, letting the sounds of the TV buzz in your ears.

______________________________________________________________

Staring at a computer screen full of numbers for roughly 9 hours a day isn’t exactly how you expected to begin your journalism career in London. Your day was spent checking game scores, going back to previous seasons, and comparing player performances along with individual stats. Scrolling through social media and posting, commenting, liking; it became boring. Ordinarily, you enjoyed mindlessly wandering around Facebook, but you wanted something more, a challenge, something less mundane.  

Your momentary daydream was interrupted with the sound of your office phone ringing.  

“Hello?”  

“Is this Y/N?” A stern, male voice asked.  

“Erm, yeah.”

“Great. I need you to do something for me.”  

“O-okay.” You stuttered whilst you reached for a pen to jot down the details.  

“We need you to contact Kelce for a response.”

Blood rushed to your face. Who is Kelce? A response for what? Your eyes widened whilst you waited in silence for the mystery voice to speak again.  

“Kelce? Travis Kelce? Tight end for the Chiefs? The fastest player to reach 10,000 yards?”  

You cleared your throat, “Yeah, yeah of course. I’m…I’m on it-“  

The call ended abruptly. You nervously returned the phone to the holder and searched around your desk area for some sort of clue for to what to do next. Just then, you noticed Hannah weaving her way through the desks. Lifting your chin above the half wall, you tried to catch her eye. She smiled and waved, before heading towards you.  

“Hey girl, what’s up?”  

You lowered your voice, “How do I get in touch with a player?”  

“A player?” Her eyes lit up.  

“Yeah, for a statement or whatever.”  

“Ooh, fun job!” Hannah leaned over your desk to grab a laminated sheet of paper that was taped up on the wall. She pointed to a number, “Give Terry a ring, he can probably put you in touch with whoever you need.”  

“Trevor, something Kelce?”  

“Travis Kelce? He’s cool, he’ll give you a statement over the phone, no problem.” She stood up, “Anything else?”  

“No, no that’s all. Thank you so much!”  

Hannah winked, “Anytime, good luck!”  

______________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading! I have lots of chapters coming up for this series so if you want to be included in my taglist just give me a shout!

[amberlynnmurdock]

Blind Faith (Ch. 12)

Chapter Twelve: Losing Faith

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Matt and you go to the bar dinner, where you meet one of Matt's old colleagues.

A/N: I'M BACK WITH AN UPDATE! I'm sorry it took long! I had my birthday and then things got really busy! I'm excited for this chapter because we finally introduce the villain of the story...ahh, it only gets crazier from here. Thank you all who've read and stuck with this story, I'm really loving writing it <3

Tags: @starry-night-20 @sumsytee @queerqueenlynn @mattmurdocksstarlight @marvelcinematiquniverse @hailey-murdock (please let me know if you want to be tagged/if I missed you!)

Ao3 Link

gif is from https://emziess.tumblr.com/

Nelson & Murdock

With Karen away and Foggy at a wedding with Marci, it was only you and Matt this Friday—the Friday of the bar dinner, which Matt was taking you as his plus one. 

All day, the two of you seemed to be strangely avoiding the topic. You’d drop off files at Matt’s desk and quietly walk away. He’d open his mouth to say something and then tell you never mind. Matt decided to skip lunch and get a head start on work for Monday, while you stepped out to grab a sandwich. It wasn’t awkward at the office—just more tense than usual. You weren’t even sure how you’d be getting there tonight—if Matt was picking you up with a driver or you were getting a taxi by yourself. 

It was nearly two in the afternoon, and neither of you had brought it up yet. Even though it was tonight! 

You sat at your desk with a pencil in hand and a brief in front of you. You mindlessly drew scribbles in the margins, thinking of all of this, when suddenly Matt came out of his office. His tie swayed gently in front of him as he reached out to feel for the doorway. His eyes were hidden behind his dark red glasses. When he stopped to talk to you, you smiled at him. 

“Hey,” you said. 

“Hey,” Matt replied. “I was uh, thinking—about tonight.” 

“Oh yeah, me too,” you replied perhaps a little too quickly. 

Matt gave an uncomfortable smile and scratched the back of his neck. “I was just on the phone with Foggy—he said it was alright if I got a driver for us on the firm card. Takes us there and back. That is if you don’t already have plans of getting there.” 

“No, I don’t have plans,” you answered. “I figure it makes the most sense if we go together, right?” 

“Right,” Matt affirmed. “Well then, I’ll call the company now. Maybe be ready by six? It’s pretty slow today, without Karen and Foggy. I was thinking we could close early so we can get ready.” 

You perked at the mention of the office closing early. “That works for me. Sure, I’ll be ready by six.” 

“Great, I’ll order the car then,” Matt was about to turn away, but you stopped him short.

“Don’t you need my address?” 

Matt laughed uncomfortably, “Oh right, yes. What is it?” 

“West 45th and 11th,” you told him. Matt nodded in response and went back to his office. After he made the call, Matt said you could go home to get ready. 

“Do you need me to do anything before I go?” You asked Matt once more before heading out. He sat at his desk, laptop open and Orbit reader on. Matt shook his head. 

“Just get home safely, that’s all. I’ll be at your apartment at six with the driver,” Matt smiled. You smiled, knocked on the wall of his office as a goodbye, and left for home. 

You were thankful Matt let you go home early, because boy, did it take you a long time to get ready. You already had your dress laid out, but it was the decision of hairstyle and makeup that took you the longest. 

After a long while of scrolling Pinterest for hair ideas and makeup looks, you finally decided that simplicity was best. You’d blow out your hair and curl the ends for an effortlessly natural look. For makeup, you decided on a very, very soft glam. 

Never mind your hair and makeup—it was your dress that was the star of the show. When you picked it off the rack, you thought nothing of it. You loved its dark red color and leg slit, square neckline, and thin straps. But it wasn’t until you tried it on, with your hair and makeup done, that you really thought you made the right decision in choosing it. 

The dress fit you flawlessly—it hugged every curve of your body, and it cascaded beautifully at your waist with the slit teasing a glimpse of your skin. You twisted from side to side to see it from each angle. And despite feeling beautiful in this dress, despite having an opportunity to meet other lawyers in the city, you couldn’t help but wonder what your savior would’ve thought if he saw you in this dress. 

Immediately scrapping the thought away, you checked the time. It was a half hour to six—Matt would be here soon. 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

Your friends were getting ready for their own night out in the city and they wouldn’t let you leave until you took one tequila shot with them. Hannah was the one who suckered you into doing it—she said you needed to loosen up before schmoozing with the big shots. You took one small shot of tequila, enough to calm your nerves for the evening. 

Then, your phone vibrated in your purse. Matt Murdock. 

“Hello?” You shushed your friends as they began to laugh. 

“I’m here with the driver,” Matt said on the line, “are you ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” you slipped on your black heels and waved goodbye to your friends. “I’ll be right out.” 

After you entered the elevator, you glanced at yourself in the dainty mirror. You normally felt a rush in your chest when you went out with your friends, but this time, the rush was different. You weren’t going out with your friends, so you were absent of that familiar feeling. It was a rush that reminded you of the times you’d meet your savior on your roof. A feeling you’ve missed over the past few weeks. No time for thinking of that. 

When you stepped out of the lobby, you were surprised to see Matt through the doors of your apartment building, standing in a tuxedo against the door of the car. He had his cane in his hands in front of him, and his head was tilted down toward the pavement. When he heard you open the door of the building and the bell chimed, he looked up behind his dark red glasses and stood up more straight. Matt smiled, and you weren’t going to lie—he looked quite handsome in his tuxedo, so much that his smile could’ve made you melt right there. 

“Thanks for getting me,” you said, breaking a small silence. “You look really nice, Matt.”

Matt seemed taken aback by your compliment. He stammered with his thank you and smiled again. 

“Thank you,” he finally said. “Let me get the door for you.” He turned around and opened the car door, letting you inside. You walked carefully in your heels—it’s been a while since you’ve worn them—and you almost slipped on a pebble, had Matt not quickly grabbed your waist and steadied you. His hands felt warm and strong through the thin fabric of your dress. You gasped as you grabbed onto his arm to pull yourself together. 

“Sorry,” you breathed. 

“It’s okay,” Matt said softly. “I’ve got you.” 

You stepped into the large black car and settled in the seat. You smiled at the driver who smiled at you in return through the rearview window. 

“Well, don’t you look awfully pretty,” the older man said. Matt climbed into the car on the opposite side and smiled. “Doesn’t she look—“ and when the driver remembered Matt’s disability, he shut his mouth. Matt chuckled in response and told him it was okay.

“I’m sure he’s right,” Matt said after some time and you were on your way to the dinner. 

“Hm?” You hummed in response, caught off guard. 

“That you look pretty,” Matt explained, cane folded and resting in his lap. He fiddled with the strap at the top. “I’m sure you look very pretty.”

Your heart grew in your chest at this, the sweetness of Matt’s words and tenderness in his voice, almost shy. You smiled to yourself.

“Oh, it’s okay,” you argued gently. You didn’t want him to feel compelled to compliment you—you weren’t fishing for compliments. “You don’t—you don’t have to—“

“I mean it,” Matt interrupted you. “I—well, what kind of dress are you wearing? What color is it? I can… paint a picture in my mind.”

You paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. It probably meant a lot to him, to describe little things like this. And he seemed genuinely interested. Who were you to refuse? 

“Well, my dress is long. It has a slit on one side. It has a square neckline with thin straps. It’s a dark red color. Almost maroon. I love this color,” you said the last part aloud, not meaning to. 

“I’m sure the color looks beautiful on you,” Matt said. 

“Thank you,” you blushed. “I love it.” You started to wonder… and you remember Matt mentioning an accident in the past, but had he always been blind? And as if he read your mind, Matt spoke up again.

“I haven’t always been blind,” he spoke quietly. “It was an accident from when I was a kid. So, I know maroon. If you’re wondering.” 

“I was,” you said honestly. He hummed in response. 

After a few more lights and a couple more blocks, the driver finally pulled up to the venue of the bar dinner. You looked at the stunning building in amazement behind the tinted windows of the car. 

“Are we here?” Matt asked. 

You nodded your head. “I believe so.”

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

The Bar Dinner 

Walking up the steps to the venue was half the battle. It was like nearly every attorney and law firm in New York City was at this event—crowds of people lined the steps, people coming in and out to have a smoke on the terrace or meet colleagues. You and Matt finally managed to make it past security and joined more guests inside. 

You were hit with an immediate mix of colognes and perfumes—men dressed in fancy suits and women dressed in extravagant gowns. You were relieved to see their gowns—you were afraid your dress was too much—but clearly, it wasn’t enough. These people all seemed to know each other, whether they were colleagues from law school or opposing counsels—it seemed they left their differences in the courtroom. It was apparent that you stood out like a sore thumb, being one of the youngest people at the event. Many of them were older folks or Matt’s age. 

You quickly scanned the crowd and found no one as young as you—fresh out of college and only studying to get into law school. You felt your heart rate pick up and suddenly felt very self-conscious. You felt Matt’s hand touch your elbow for guidance.  

“Should we get a drink?” 

“Yes,” you said, almost too quickly. There was an opening at the bar, and you guided yourself and Matt to it. All the bartenders wore the same thing: white button-downs and black vests. Men had their hair slicked back and women had their hair in a bun. 

You approached the bar and ordered yourself an espresso martini, while Matt opted for Macallan 18, neat. It was apparent both of you were ditching your normal orders from Josie’s, and for good reason: neither of you would be spending a dime tonight. 

Matt leaned on his elbow at the bar and faced you. 

“So,” he said, “What do you think so far?” 

“I think I feel really out of place,” you confessed. “There are so many people here and they all look so…”

“Pretentious?” 

“That sounds about right,” you giggled. “Yeah.” 

The bartender placed your drinks at the bar, and Matt reached into his back pocket to leave a tip. Suddenly, you both heard someone call Matt’s name. 

“Mr. Murdock,” a light, feminine voice called. From behind you came a tall woman, older, with a pixie cut and black hair. She wore a simple yet elegant black dress that had an open back, as opposed to the full coverage it gave up to her collarbone. To pair, she wore oval gold earrings and gold bracelets to match. “What a pleasure,” she said. She placed a soft hand on Matt’s shoulder and squeezed a bit before returning it to her side. 

“Geri Hogarth,” Matt instantly recognized her voice with a smile. Your eyes widened at the name of Hogarth and you nervously sipped your martini. 

“How’s Franklin?” She asked Matt as she sipped her own drink. You were curious what a prestige attorney chose as a beverage—it actually didn’t look like alcohol at all. Maybe a Diet Coke?

“Foggy’s doin’ well. I think he’s happier being back in the streets,” Matt chuckled. 

“He was so good for us, but I know that’s where he belongs. With you,” Geri added with a warm smile. She spoke so eloquently like she took her time to speak every syllable of a word. And when her dark brown eyes fell on you, you found yourself standing a bit taller, with your shoulders back. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.” She stated. 

“This is __,” Matt introduced you to Geri. “Our new legal assistant.”

“Ah,” Geri smiled at you and held out her delicate, freshly manicured hand. “It’s a pleasure. You’re in good hands at Nelson & Murdock, __.” 

“Oh, I know it,” you agreed, beaming at her. “I really love it. I’ve learned so much from Matt, Foggy and Karen.” 

“And are you thinking of law school?” 

“I’m studying for the LSAT now,” you told Geri proudly. She held your gaze so carefully—you couldn’t break the eye contact. 

She laughed and looked at Matt. “I sure don’t miss studying for that test.”

“I agree,” Matt smiled. “But __ is very smart. She’ll do better than us. She’s really impressed us all.”

“Really,” Geri raised her eyebrows, interested. “Well, Ms. __, if you ever choose to leave Nelson & Murdock and you’re interested in something different, let me know.” Geri reached into her small silver purse and pulled out a business card for you. You took it gratefully and immediately tucked it into your own bag. 

“Stealing my legal assistant, are you?” Matt joked. “She’s ours.” 

The way Matt said this made your heart skip in your chest. You played it off cooly and laughed. You smiled at Geri. 

“Wow, definitely. Thank you, Ms. Hogarth,” you said amazed. 

“Call me Geri,” she said. “It was lovely to meet you. I’m sure I will see you around.” With one last squeeze of Matt’s arm, Geri went off into the crowd. You looked at Matt in disbelief. 

“I can’t believe I just met Geri freakin’ Hogarth!” You said excitedly. Matt chuckled and took a sip of his Macallan. 

“She’s a great woman, great attorney,” Matt nodded. “It’s nice having a connection like that. All thanks to Foggy, though. Before we started our firm again, he was there for a while.” 

“I had no idea,” you shook your head, “and she calls him Franklin?” 

“That’s his real name,” Matt smiled. “We know him as Foggy, of course.”

“Listen, Matt—I’m not leaving yet, but rest assured I’m keeping Geri’s card for the future.” 

“By all means,” Matt raised his hands in surrender, “but don’t leave us yet. We need you.”

“Oh, please.” 

“It’s true,” Matt nodded. 

“Well, you guys came at the right time in my life, too.” 

Matt finished the rest of his drink. With his senses, he picked up that you were almost done with your martini. He gestured in your direction. 

“Another espresso martini?” 

“Please,” you said softly. 

Matt ordered another round of drinks for you both and cheered with you. 

“Do you want to schmooze with more pretentious lawyers of Manhattan?” Matt asked. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

Schmoozing was so easy—comical, but easy. Many, if not all, of the groups of men you and Matt decided to join, were drunk and on their fifth or sixth drink of night. And the dinner was only an hour in. Matt put his grievances with you in a box in his mind and tucked it far away to be able to enjoy this charade with you. He laughed behind his whiskey glass as you gassed up the drunken men who bragged about their mediocre wins in court. These men just loved to talk, and you loved to pretend you loved to listen. 

Matt listened carefully to your heart beat—it was beating faster than normal, probably because of the loud setting and alcohol, but from the way you spoke with airiness in your tone, and your laugh, he knew you were happy right now. Happy to be at this event. Perhaps even happy with him. 

You seemed to notice Matt listening carefully. He stood with his hand on his cane, the other holding his nearly empty third glass of Macallan. You boldly strutted over to him and grabbed Matt by his forearm, leading him away from the group of men without saying goodbye. 

“What’s wrong?” Was Matt’s first question to ask on instinct. You were pulling him away, and he was too focused on you to pick up on if anything was going wrong. 

“Nothing,” you giggled softly. “I just got bored. Let’s bother the next group.” 

Matt laughed and nodded, finishing the last of his Macallan. You finished your martini as well. 

“Actually, before then, let me get us some drinks,” you suggested, feeling the alcohol swish in your system. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.” 

When you took the glass from Matt’s hands, your fingertips brushed against him, and an undeniable feeling of connection spread across both your palms. He wanted to ignore it, but he couldn’t, your touch was so distinguishable. It reminded him of how depraved of it he was. 

“Okay,” Matt said, a serious demeanor falling over his entire body. For a moment, he was reminded of all he put you through. He was reminded of that dreadful night on your rooftop when he yelled at you, all because you wanted to know the truth. And here you were, with no idea that it was him. What would you even say? 

It didn’t matter. You were on your way to the bar, pushing past people and politely smiling your way through. It was no doubt so many of the people would love you. You were charming, one of the younger attendees of the crowd, and so ambitious. Matt waited patiently and listened to your heartbeat so he knew you arrived at the bar safely, even if it was only a few feet away. He closed his eyes behind his dark red glasses and listened as you ordered both your drinks. 

Even from here, he could smell your perfume. It was new, he noticed. With notes of pomegranate, musk, and magnolia. It was enticing. It stirred something in Matt, something he had to seriously stop thinking about immediately. 

And then suddenly, like a dark stormy cloud quickly rolling over fields, a stronger scent of cologne overtook your scent from Matt’s senses. It was a disgustingly overwhelming cologne with notes of amber, woody, and lavender. Nauseating. Overbearing. It completely covered your scent from his senses. And when he heard that oh-so-familiar pompous voice over the crowd, speaking to you, Matt froze in place. 

Oh, no. 

“What is a beautiful young lady like you doing at an event with a bunch of old head lawyers?” The pompous, masculine voice said. Matt hadn’t heard that annoying voice in years, not since he and Foggy left their job at Landman & Zack. God, Matt couldn’t stand his presence, his obnoxious attitude, and his greed. He was Matt’s age, son of a partner, son of thee Zack, an ungrateful, conniving person. It was Zachary Zack. Yes, that really was his name. 

“A beautiful young lady like me is trying to order drinks,” Matt heard you say in return. He wanted to smile at your quickness but he couldn’t. He stood in place, listening from afar. 

“I see you’ve got two drinks there,” Zach said. “Are you here…alone?” 

“If you read the invitation carefully, it said two representatives from each law firm were invited. So no, I’m not alone.”

“I don’t assume you date your boss, do you?” Zach joked. Matt’s grip on his cane was so tight, he was sure he broke open his cuts again. 

“No,” you answered curtly. “I don’t assume you date coworkers, do you?” 

Zach let out a laugh, placed a hand on his chest. You took a good look at the young lawyer and raised a suspicious eyebrow. He had tan skin—he seemed like the type to spend summers in the Hamptons—and sandy blonde hair. He was wearing a three-piece suit and a giant gold watch on his left wrist. You hated that you found him attractive. 

“Smart girl,” he smiled a bright white, dazzling smile. “Thank God you’re not a coworker.” 

And to Matt’s dismay—no, his fear—you smiled in return. He didn’t have to see it to know you were smiling, he knew it by the way your heart picked up and you let out a laugh through your nose. It was telling, it was happening, and there was nothing he could do about it. Unless…

Matt started to make his way to the bar, tapping his cane in front of him, ignoring the shoulders he pushed through and elbows he dodged. When he finally reached where you stood, he could sense every muscle in Zach’s body tightened as he too recognized Matt Murdock after all these years. 

“Murdock,” Zach announced like he was a game show host, “never thought I’d see you at one of these fancy events. Never seemed your style!” It was a poor attempt at friendly conversation, and Matt knew his true intentions. Still, Matt smiled in return and held out his hand. 

“Is that—Zachary Zack?” Matt pretended to guess, to be shocked he was running into a former colleague. And of course, it worked. 

“Sure is, buddy,” Zach said through gritted teeth. He shook Matt’s hand and gave it an aggressive squeeze. Matt pulled his hand back and gripped his cane. 

“__,” Matt said your name, “This is Zachary Zack. From—“

“Landman & Zack. Come on buddy, I can introduce myself—wait, Murdock is your boss?” Zach said in disbelief. You smiled, amused at this interaction. 

“Yeah, he is,” you said. “How do you guys know each other?” 

“We uh, used to work together at Landman & Zack,” Matt explained. Zach nodded and caught your eyes—his eyes were so blue. He seemed goofy, in a strange way. You couldn’t tell if he was a douchebag or just a really loud man. Regardless, his energy did something to you—intrigued you. 

“Until Murdock and his buddy—what, Foggy?—decided to start from the ground up and build their own firm. Gotta say it was pretty respectable to leave a big firm like that. To take a risk,” Zach seemed to calm his demeanor when Matt came over, something Matt picked up on immediately. He was trying to impress upon you. Matt didn’t like that. And his fake compliment was really him saying he and Foggy were idiots for deciding to start their own firm, but the joke is on him. 

“Oh, you know, we learned a lot from you guys. What to do and what not to do,” Matt mustered a smile. 

“Hmm. So, your name is __?” Zach returned his attention to you. You grabbed Matt’s hand and gave him his glass of Macallan. 

“It is,” you said, meeting his eyes. “Nice to meet you, Zach.” 

“Tell me, are you in law school? Studying?” 

“I just graduated with my pre-law degree from New York University.”

“Impressive,” Zach smiled. You liked this calmer demeanor from him, it was more friendly and seemed genuine. “Are you thinking of law school?” 

“Of course,” you nodded. “I’m studying for the LSAT now.”

“Ah, the LSAT,” Zach said wistfully. Matt clenched his jaw. “I remember those days. Hey, if you ever need help with it, I know some people on the Board who write the questions. I’d love to have you come to the office one day and I can show you some tips. I, uh, kind of scored a 173 on the test.” 

Matt rolled his eyes behind his dark red glasses. I scored a 175. 

“Really?” Your interest was piqued, by not only his offer of help but also an invitation to another big law firm in the city. “I’d love that.” 

“Here’s my card,” Zach reached into his pocket and handed you his business card. It was thicker than Geri’s and had silver font. “Actually,” he interrupted and pulled out a pen, “here’s my personal number.” 

You raised an eyebrow and squinted your eyes. Zach raised his arms in defense, “I just want to help. Seriously.” 

“Alright, Mr. Zack. Thank you,” you smiled. Zach smiled in return. “It was lovely meeting you, Ms. __. I hope you do call me.” His attention fell on Matt again, and his expression turned hard. 

“Well, it was nice seein’ you Matt—you’re not offended when I say that, right? Ha, just kidding buddy,” Zach playfully punched Matt’s shoulder, but Matt stood as still as a statue. He conjured a smile as best he could and loosened his grip on his cane once he knew Zach was far enough away. 

Matt exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. You flipped Zach’s card in your fingers and read, and re-read his name. He was a partner at Landman & Zack. And he invited you to reach out to him. 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

In the car ride home, Matt was awfully quiet. Maybe the alcohol had finally settled in him, maybe he was tired. You kept fiddling with Zach’s card in your hand, reading his numbers written out just for you. You looked over at Matt whose gaze was out the window.

“Did you have fun?” You asked him softly, feeling the liquor settle in you. 

“Yeah,” Matt said—he pressed his lips together in an attempt to smile. You couldn’t help but shake the feeling that something was wrong. 

“Did you?” He asked after a bit. 

“I did,” you looked at Zach’s card in your fingers. Your savior came to mind out of nowhere. His smile under his black mask, his voice low in your ear, his fingers caressing your body…most of all, his words that promised so much, his words that gave you so much faith. The more you looked at Zach’s name, the less faith you had in your love for your savior. It was like watching a home you used to live in slowly fade into the distance. You couldn’t help but keep watching as it got smaller and smaller until it was completely out of your sight. 

It was time to move on. 

[ticklishprincey]

Tell Me What's Wrong

Did I just now notice there are no platonic tickle fics of my boys? Yes, yes I did. You’re welcome. Warnings: Cursing because this is Blitzo we’re talking about, tickling (obviously) if there’s any more let me know Blitzo sat in his office, pretending to be busy. Truth was, he wasn’t doing anything but staring at a blank google search bar, watching the cursor blink as the computer waited on his input. He had long forgotten what it was he had wanted to search for, and was staring off into space with his head resting on his hand. Normally, Stolas would have checked on him to make sure he was alright (as he did so often throughout the day) but he was off on some sort of business trip. Blitzo didn’t really pay attention to what it was for, but he regretted that decision now, as it might’ve eased some of the worry and anxiety eating away at him. He thought about sending him a text, but thought better of it, not wanting to bother the prince in case he was in a meeting. A knock on the door interrupted him from his thoughts. Did he not put the do not disturb sign on the door when he came in? He mentally cursed his absent-mindedness. “Boss?” “Fuck-” Blitzo thought. Moxxie would definitely notice his sour mood. He debated dismissing him, then thought better of it, not wanting to hurt the imp’s feelings if he really needed his help. “Come in, Mox, door’s open.” He said begrudgingly, once again pretending to look busy as Moxxie entered. The smaller imp looked him up and down before pulling up one of the office chairs to sit with his boss. A half-hearted scoff escaped Blitzo before he shut his laptop to look at Moxxie. “Is there something you need?” Moxxie shook his head, a look of concern evident on his face. “You haven’t been out of your office all day, sir. Is something wrong?” “Shit shit shit he noticed-” A brief look of panic, quickly transforming into a half-hearted smile from the older imp. “No, nothing’s wrong, just busy-” Blitzo was cut off by a scoff from Moxxie. “Bullshit. You’re never this busy, we have no clients and it’s Saturday. Something’s up and I don’t like you lying to me.” The look of worry on Moxxie’s face made Blitzo’s stomach flip in guilt- He hadn’t thought anyone would notice if he didn’t show up. “Mox, I really don’t have the time to argue-” The older imp was cut off by Moxxie tackling him to the ground, pinning his arms above his head with a sadistic smirk that seemed out of place on the usually composed imp. “Then don’t. Tell me what’s wrong.” With every word the smaller demon delivered a sharp poke to Blitzo’s ribs, drawing out surprised squeaks from the leader imp. “Mohohoxxie! Nohohothing’s wrohong, cuhut it oUT!” A loud squeal escaped Blitzo, immediately followed by a stream of childish giggles as Moxxie grinned and scribbled his claws all over the imp’s ribcage. “Big boss man can’t handle a few tickles? What’s the matter, can’t take what you dish out?” The teasing tone of his co-worker made Blitzo’s giggles climb in octave, a blush coming across the demon’s face. “FuhuHUhuHuck oFF!” Moxxie chuckled in response, gasping in mock-disbelief. “How rude! Maybe someone should teach you some manners~” Ignoring the other’s yells for mercy, Moxxie dipped his head down to blow a raspberry directly on Blitzo’s belly button, sending the older imp into hysterical laughter. “NONONONOOHOHO MOHOHOX OKAY OKAY I’LL TELL YOHOU JUHUST STAHAHAP!” Moxxie backed off immediately, climbing off of Blitzo and helping him back into his office chair. The older imp breathed heavily for a minute, then started talking. “I- I guess I just miss Stolas. Work is sort of a distraction usually, but I haven’t been able to get anything done-” Moxxie nodded in understanding, a look of sympathy crossing his features. “I get that. He should be back by tonight though, he sent his plane times in the group chat this morning.” Blitzo took out his phone not having noticed the messages before now. He happily read that his lover’s plane would be arriving home in less than an hour. “Thanks, Mox. I guess you’re not all that bad.”

[depressedbagpipe]

Ka-Chaow (Charles Leclerc x female!reader)

Chapter one

Words: 3310 Warnings: mentions of alcohol and being drunk (guys, please, don't drink alcohol), some anxiety thrown in there, a couple of bad words, google-translated italian A/N: it's lights out and away we go! welcome to my crazy world in which i got into f1 right when the season was ending and now i can't wait to see every race. also, cause I'm still kinda new and I'm not Italian, any mistakes that i make in regards of *everything*, feel free to correct me, and be nice about it ;) A/N (II): italics are thoughts and phone calls and the email, bold and italics are messages, just bold is the location ;)

Series Masterlist Next chapter

Chapter one

London, November 18th, 2022

The weight of my bag was the only thing preventing me from sprinting to my desk. Several manuscripts I had yet to finish, together with my laptop, and all my personal items, hung from my shoulder as I made my way into Mr. Williamson’s wing. I cringed at the sound of my heels over the polished floors, making various heads turn my way as I sprinted by as fast as I could. 

Eventually, I got to my desk, conveniently placed just outside Mr. Williamson’s office. The slight clutter was hastily thrown away with a flick of my wrist, making space for my bag, and turning my computer on at sprint time. A quick glance at the office before me told me Mr. Williamson hadn’t arrived yet. Thankfully. 

Checking my wristwatch, I sighed in relief at the time. 

9:32 am. New record. 

Now relaxed, I took a seat in my uncomfortable chair and started typing away on the keyboard, going over all the emails and meetings I had to schedule for the day. 

Half an hour later, Mr. Williamson showed up.

‘Good morning,’ he said in his usual hoarse morning voice.

‘Good morning, Mr. Williamson, would you like your usual coffee order?’ I asked in rehearsed practice.

‘Yes, please,’ he responded, struggling to open his office's glass door.

‘You gotta push,’ I noted while I grabbed my coat and my wallet, trying not to laugh.

‘Right,’ he grumbled, finally opening the door and leaving it open. 

He stumbled a bit over the expensive rug, looking around before taking a seat on his bigger and far more luxurious desk. His briefcase fell over when he placed it on it, dangling over the edge, and only once he was fully seated, I left my post.

That’s how every morning went for the past year. I would arrive in time –usually–, be ready at my desk until Mr. Williamson came in late –usually–, make sure he got to his seat in one piece, and go down to the ground floor where the company’s private Starbucks had its own space. 

One Americano, and one iced vanilla latte to go, please. Once again, those words were deeply burned in my memory. 

‘How is he doing this morning?’ Jeremy, the morning barista, asked as he took the order.

I shrugged, swiping the company card over the payment terminal. ‘Still pissed off drunk.’

‘So, the usual?’ he chuckled, motioning me to the end of the bar while Amanda, his workmate, made the drinks.

We both leaned over the counter separating us, talking in hushed voices, so the other customers wouldn’t listen to our conversation.

‘Honestly, I don’t know how much he can go on like this. I’m starting to feel bad for the guy.’

‘Girl, he cheated on his wife, and she rightfully left him. If he deals with his own mistakes by getting wasted every night, it’s up to him,’ Jeremy sent me a pointed look.

I bit my lip. ‘I know, but you should see him. It stopped being funny eight months ago. Do you know how many meetings I had to reschedule because he wouldn’t even pick up his phone? And I don’t mean his personal phone, I mean the company phone in his office. All he has to do is press a single button and talk,’ I winced at the memory.

‘Here you go, have a nice day!’ Amanda gave me the drinks, and I smiled gratefully at her. 

‘Well, as soon as he keeps ordering Americanos, I’m not complaining. I’ve doubled my hours here solely based on his caffeine ingest. And you know how much I need the money, so he better keep those orders coming,’ Jeremy winked.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. ‘If he ends up in rehab, I’ll blame you.’

He shrugged. ‘Fine by me. He’s an asshole.’

I laughed with a small shake of my head. ‘Bye, Jeremy! See you in a couple of hours!’

Getting back into the elevator, I made a mental note of everything that had to be done that morning. Meetings, meetings, and more meetings, until either Mr. Williamson got fed up and left, or I dropped in exhaustion for a quick nap.

The walk back to my desk felt longer than usual, the hefty workload of the week finally catching up to me as it normally did every Friday. I left my own coffee on my desk and quickly gave my boss his Americano, to which he merely responded with a grunt. He had his sunglasses on and was massaging his temples as if his life depended on it. 

Making a face at his state, I bent down and took off my heels, knowing the constant clicking would be painful in his hungover head, and went back to my desk, making sure the door to his office was closed. Grabbing the phone, I was quick to cancel the first meeting he had in ten minutes.

With a sigh, I grabbed one of the manuscripts and resumed my reading, reading every page twice and making sure no typo was missed. 

It was both a blessing and a curse, working at Ink’n’Paper. We were one of the world’s leading publishing houses on all sorts of literature, and consequently, the huge workload that we bore was overwhelming. Ink’n’Paper had been my first and only real job in the publishing industry, starting as an inexperienced intern and working my way up until I became the assistant of a household name in Historical Non-Fiction. It hadn’t exactly been my first option, non-fiction, but the pay was good, and I was desperate to prove myself. Next thing I knew, it had been three years since I’d started, and I was pretty much the only one making sure the whole department didn’t burn down due to my boss’ sudden neglect.

It was a few hours later, still sometime before the end of my workday, that I –or rather, Mr. Williamson– received the email. I had been managing all his accounts ever since the very first day he stumbled into the office completely drunk, Vodka bottle in hand, and screamed how much of a cunt everybody was on that floor, and then passed out on his rug, not before puking all over himself. After the embarrassment and degrading task of cleaning, not only him, but his rug too, I had taken over his entire life, managing even his dental care appointments for him, knowing he wouldn’t even be showing up to half of them.

I was surprised at the sender, for the name was oddly familiar. Maurizio Arrivabene.

Frowning, I quietly opened the message.

‘Buonasera, Stephen. I know it’s been a while, but as you’ll understand, these past few years have been a rollercoaster here. I was actually thinking about your past offer, and I know I’m a year too late, but I would love to look into it more. I’ll be in London next week after the season’s over, maybe you’d like to have some coffee (or tea, whichever you prefer), and talk about the book? I know here at Ferrari we need some push, whatever results we get this weekend. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Take care, Stephen. Sincerely, Maurizio.’

I widened my eyes at the email. Maurizio Arrivabene. Ferrari’s old team principal. I quickly gathered my planner and a pen and pushed open Mr. Williamson’s office door. Thankfully for me, he now seemed much better.

‘Sorry, Mr. Williamson?’ I took a few tentative steps toward him.

‘Yes?’ he lowered his spectacles, halting his typing on his keyboard.

‘You’ve received an email from one Maurizio Arrivabene,’ I pronounced his name in a heavy accent, the same way my dad would whenever he talked about his homeland. ‘Something about a book offer, maybe?’ 

His face broke into a smile. ‘Oh, Maurizio!’ he stood up from his seat. ‘I haven’t spoken to him in a while! How is he?’ he asked me. He still reeked of cheap alcohol.

‘I don’t know, sir, but he wants to meet with you next week.’

He clapped. ‘Fantastic, schedule a meeting with him.’

I coughed. ‘Well, the thing is, he sent an email to you, directly. I believe he’d like something more casual,’ I said, yet I opened my planner to check his schedule.

‘Well, then, I shall phone him immediately!’ he grabbed the phone on his desk, and rapidly frowned. ‘What’s his number again?’

I pursed my lips. ‘He didn’t write any, sir. I think you shall write to him directly.’

‘Of course! Let me just…’ he sat back down and typed something on his computer. ‘What was my email again?’

I groaned soundlessly, quietly making my way to him and fastly typing his correct credentials. Standing closer to him, I noticed the many wrinkles in his suit and the many hair strands that fell on the wrong side of his side part. Shaking my head, I pointed at the email.

‘There it is.’

‘Okay, when am I free for tea?’ he responded after a few seconds, his eyes reading over the words.

‘Well, you did cancel three meetings with the entire Editorial Department so… I rescheduled them for next week, but you should be free Friday afternoon after work,’ I checked all the time slots available, scribbling down the possible dates.

‘Why couldn’t we meet on a weekend? We don’t work on weekends,’ he said.

I paused. ‘You don’t work on weekends. I do. And I’m guessing this is a possible job offer, therefore counting it as part of the workweek at least allows you a free meal covered as company’s expenses,’ I recited off my head. Too many times I have said that.

Mr. Williamson widened his eyes. ‘That’s brilliant! You’re right, let’s schedule for next Thursday.’

‘Friday.’

‘Friday. Wow, who taught you that?’ 

‘You did, sir.’

‘Well, I’m a genius, then.’

‘If only you were sober enough to realize that,’ I muttered as I finished writing on my planner. Louder, I replied. ‘Remember to save the day and respond to the man. Don’t keep him waiting.’

I walked back to the door. Mr. Williamson nodded his head. ‘Will do!’

With another sigh, I sat back on my chair, cracking my fingers before typing in the response to Maurizio Arrivabene on behalf of Mr. Williamson, and making sure to set reminders in his calendar for every day of the week until his tea date. 

The pay is good, at least. 

—

‘You should have seen him. I mean, he’s like a toddler!’ I complained from my spot on the couch. 

‘I don’t know how you keep working like that, you’re basically a babysitter at this point,’ my mother said from the other side of the phone.

I hummed in agreement, looking up at my feet. They dangled from the other end of the couch, as I took up the entire space by laying down. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what to do. I told Rosanna from Human Resources to notify me whenever there was a new vacancy, but it’s been months.’

‘Honey, I can’t tell you what to do, but do you think head editor is the right job for you?’ she asked. 

I stopped. ‘I think so. I mean, I’m good at it.’

‘Yes, but do you like it?’

I paused again. 

That question had been roaming in my mind for months. At first, the job had been nice. Reading manuscripts for a living, correcting the mistakes, meeting with the authors, and getting to know them first-hand… Again, maybe historical non-fiction wasn’t what I originally envisioned my future like, but the pay was good enough to get me my own apartment and to live independently. At the rate the economy was going, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. 

But then Mr. Williamson had suddenly neglected his own job when his life started spiraling down, and I had been the unfortunate soul to try and collect the pieces of his broken person. I was suddenly managing, not only my life, but his, and needless to say, he wasn’t an easy person to handle. Despite the many conversations to get him to sober up, every morning was a complete wild card, not knowing whether he would even show up, and if he did, would he be conscious enough to work.

On the bright side, thanks to his many absences, I had learned how to manage the editorial department pretty much completely on my own. I knew the names of every single worker, even the janitors and the night guards working late shifts. I had written, rewritten, corrected, presented, contacted, hired, fired, and despite knowing I was perfect for said role, my heart still longed for something different. The reason why I even had studied Creative Writing all along. 

‘But only writing doesn’t pay the bills’, Mr. Williamson had said one morning, a month into my newly appointed role as his assistant. And ever since then, I had almost forgotten about my own dream of becoming a novelist. 

‘What do you think I should do, then?’ I asked her.

‘Honey, you’re old enough to make your own decisions,’ she laughed.

‘Mom, I need your advice! I know I’m old enough but right now I’m at a crossroads!’ I complained, lifting my arm and covering my eyes with it. 

‘You know what I think about writing for a living,’ she mused.

I groaned. ‘Yeah, I know it’s not your cup of tea, but I promise, I’m good. Great, even.’

‘I wouldn’t know, you never let me read anything.’

‘Well, yeah, it’s embarrassing.’

‘You need to get over that eventually, honey.’

‘It’s easier said than done,’ I sighed. ‘Besides, everything I have written so far was just reports and boring commercial synopsis for historical books, unless you really wanna read that…’

‘Honey, whatever you choose to do, just make sure it makes you happy. And that at least you’re getting money out of it.’

I took a deep breath. ‘I think I need to sleep this one over.’

‘It’s probably for the best. Let me know, whatever you do,’ my mother said. ‘I gotta go now, book club starts in fifteen minutes and I still gotta walk by Linda’s house to return her copy. Will you be fine?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Good. Wait, your dad wants to talk.’

‘Great.’

‘Hey, chicken pie!’ I chuckled at my dad’s voice.

‘Hi, dad,’ I smiled.

His tone was excited. ‘You’re seeing the practice?’

I nodded before answering, my eyes glancing at the TV, where the first day of race weekend was airing from the Yas Marina circuit. ‘Of course, I am. Not paying much attention, though.’

‘Well, nothing interesting so far. You wanna FaceTime tomorrow for quali?’

‘Yes, please,’ I groaned in delight. ‘I wish I could be there to watch it with you, though.’

I could hear his smile through the phone. ‘It’s alright, chicken pie, I know you’re busy lately. Everything alright with your boss?’

I could hear my mom yelling at him in the background of the call. 

I bit my lip. ‘Ask mom, she got all the details. Shouldn’t you be leaving for book club too?’

It was his turn to groan. ‘Don’t remind me.’

I laughed. ‘What was it?’

‘To Kill a Mockingbird. No bird in it.’

I audibly laughed at him. ‘Please, don’t say that out loud, you’ll be banished from the club.’

‘Oh, what a pity would that be,’ he said in his most mischievous voice possible. ‘Wish me luck, Principessa.’

‘Ciao, Papà!’ I laughed, finally ending the call in a fit of giggles. 

Shaking my head, I leaned my head back on the pillow and continued watching the practice, remembering the puzzling email addressed to Mr. Williamson. 

Multiple explanations littered my head as to how on earth Mr. Williamson knew someone as Maurizio Arrivabene, both from such different spheres, but then again, Stephen Williamson had always been a renowned author and an even bigger editor. It was possible that both men had coincided at some point in history, but I tried not to dwell much on it. I had a week until I found out what the fuzz was about. 

Groaning again once the free practice was over, I finally stood up from my couch and walked towards the small kitchen, opening the fridge in hopes to find something available to eat. Some leftovers caught my eye, and with a shrug, I took them out, threw them in the microwave, and sat down back on the couch once the food was warm enough to eat. 

Browsing through HBO for something to see, I settled on my annual rewatch of Parks and Recreation, anything to get my mind off the horrible week I just had. 

My phone pinging broke me out of my daze. Wiping my hand clean on my dirty pajamas, I quickly read over my friend Angela’s message.

‘You shouldn’t check Alec’s Instagram story, but I also think you should.’

With a frown I opened the app, seeing the familiar purple-ish circle around my ex-boyfriend’s face. The video was enough to bring a few tears to my eyes. His arm was around some other girl, and her crimson-painted lips left stains all over his cheek. His smile was wide, and he looked quite happy, wherever he was. 

I rapidly closed the app off, throwing my phone to the other end of the couch, now in desperate need of a glass of wine just to forget what I had just seen.

Breaking up with Alec had been hard, but seeing him off with someone else was even harder. Not only two months ago we were talking about living together, and now it felt like I was seeing a stranger through my screen. My job had been slowly taking over every aspect of my personal life too, and while I couldn’t blame Alec for feeling neglected all of a sudden, especially after three years together, it still hurt. I still missed him every night, morning, and any other time in between. He had been my best friend for so long, and one of my main pillars ever since I stumbled out of college, completely lost, and in frantic need of guidance in the adult world. We were both still kids that had become adults together, and I was having a harder time than I wanted to admit to trying to forget about him. 

Taking a big breath, I closed my eyes, touching the soft couch in an attempt to ground myself. 

Big breath in, big breath out. 

After a few minutes, I felt myself calm enough, resuming my dinner and my binge-watching, now more than ever desperate for sleep after the intense day. Technically I had every weekend off, but I still had many manuscripts and emails to send the next day, thankfully from the comfort of my own home. 

It was only in bed that I allowed myself to relax, turning off my phone, and grabbing my crochet set. It was a habit I had picked up lately, something so far out of my field of expertise, yet so relaxing once I got the hang of things. Working on my silly bucket hat every night before sleep was pretty much the highlight of my existence. And I was so invested in it, that only after I was finally done with it I realized I had been sitting for three hours in the same position, my eyelids dropping and my back hurting. Getting the needles out of the way, I finally laid in bed, and it only took a few minutes to fall soundlessly asleep.

—

A week later I found myself in the same position, crocheting a summer top in my bed, late in the evening after yet another exhausting week, when I received Mr. Williamson’s message. 

‘Book a flight to Italy. We’re going to Maranello.’

Next chapter

General Taglist: @angiewhoohooo, @azaleaniath

[islandtarochips]

THE WARRIOR WITHIN (Modern Warfare I Fanfic)

Arthur’s Note: This is a fanfic story about that game called “Call of Duty: Modern Warfare”. There will be some skip forward in this story for most of you already know how the campaign worked (If not, I suggest you should watch it on YouTube to see the WHOLE campaign). So I don’t want to bore my audience reading this. This fanfic story is also a crossover for my mutual OCs and mine! Joining into this mission! I will also be showing the name of the OCs and the owners who own them at the VERY bottom. And also, let me know if I missed anything or did I make any mistakes from here. So I hope you guys enjoy it! Fa’afetai tele lava!

CHAPTER ONE:

~After the Incidents from Verdansk~

It was a disaster. 

Officer Alex Keller and the Marines had already lost the Russian Gas. Most of the marines are also dead because of the Al-Qatala.

Laswell is on the brink in these heavy situations. Already been angered by the General of the Marines. So she can’t ask for their help anymore. Not after what happened to their men from that mission. 

She had already called Price about the Russian Gas and was already planning on striking London. So he’s already debriefing.

But she knows that Price needed more help. Even Alex needed an assistant in Urzikstan to find that missing gas.

So she started to contact the first person that she could think of. To help Alex first.

“¿Hola?” A female voice had answered on the line.

“Officer Martinez?”

“Laswell? Is that you?”

Laswell smiled softly, able to hear a friendly and familiar voice. “Yes, it’s me. Am I calling you at a bad time?”

“No no! Not at all! I just finished talking with Colonel Vargas from a meeting. Why? Did something happen?”

“BIG time. The Wolf had sent Al-Qatala to steal the Russian gas. And they had succeeded. I’m sending Officer Keller to go to Urzikstan to find it but he needs assistant.” Laswell sighs before continuing to speak. “Are you up for the task, Aly?”

There was silence on the line. Laswell understands that there’s a LOT for her to take in. But she REALLY needed help.

“Aly?”

“When do you need me?”

Laswell looked at her phone feeling a bit surprised that Aly agreed to start this mission. “As soon as possible. I’m surprised that you’re agreeing with this.” She heard a giggle from the line. “As long as it doesn't involve the cartel business.”

Laswell chuckled softly. “Well, Alex will meet you at the location that I’m going to send you. So that you BOTH can go over there.”

“But it’s only the two of us that you’re gonna send. Would that be enough?”

“Don’t worry, I’m going to call an old friend. I…hope that we still are.”

Laswell started to walk over to her laptop to type in someone’s name before it showed on the screen. And taking a deep breath. “I’ll let you and Alex know about the situation. Hopefully she’s okay to send some of her Marines to assist you guys. Give me a call when you get there, alright?”

“Of course. But…you sure you don’t want me to help you out with this call? Because…when you told me about your past ‘FRIENDSHIP’ with this woman. Isn't a very good kind of friendship.”

Laswell chuckled softly after hearing Aly’s worried tone. “It’s fine, Aly. I’ll be okay. I have my way of talking with tough shells.”

“Well…if you’re sure, Kate. I’ll talk to you later, ok?”

“Sure.”

“Alright…good luck talking with her, Laswell.” Then she hung up.

Laswell looked at the screen of her laptop as she sighed deeply. Don’t even know if she could call this person or not. But she knows that it’s the world that needs to be saved before it’s too late.

So she took the risk by making a video call. “Yeah…wish me luck.” She mumbled those words to herself.

She waited as her laptop started to ring. Feeling anxious but hoping that this person answered.

Then she saw the call being answered as she cleared her throat. She looked at the woman on the screen with a man next to her. A woman who is wearing a uniform to show her General rank standards. While the man next to her was just wearing any other regular military uniform.

“Laswell. Been a while.” The woman spoke with an unsatisfied look.

Laswell slowly swallowed the nervousness into her throat after seeing this woman on screen. “It has been, General Kalani.”

She saw the man standing next to the General as she recognized the face. “Ah. Rangi Toa. Are you still a Lieutenant or up as General like her right there?”

Hearing a soft chuckle from this man as he started to speak. “Colonel, ma’am. And it’s good to see you again.”

Laswell and the Colonel gave each other a soft smile before Kalani interrupted. “What is it that you want, Laswell? And I’m sure that this call is not about checking up on me. Is it?”

“No…it isn’t ma’am. I just needed help. For your Marines-’

“Absolutely not.”

“But you didn’t get to hear of what else I was-”

“ABSOLUTELY. NOT. Laswell. We’ve already discussed this a few years ago and I’m STILL keeping my words.” Alana said with a bit of anger in her tone. Which gives an awkward and a bit of an uncomfortable look from Rangi. While he feels a bit sorry for Laswell.

“General. Please. The world is at STAKE here.” Laswell begged the General as she started to explain about the situations with the Wolf, The Al-Qatala and the stolen Russian gas. Which annoyed Kalani even MORE.

“Why not send YOUR Marines?”

“We…We already tried that. We’ve lost MANY.”

“Tch. No surprises there. Everything that involves you ALWAYS has a cost of losing MANY.” The General scoffed while snaring her words to the CIA woman.

Laswell gripped her hands into a fist trying not to lash out on her. She took a deep breath before looking down. “Alana…I know in the past…you’ve lost one man. The man which I promise to bring back alive under my guidance.” She continues to speak as she still keeps her posture. “But you can’t just let the past hold you from HELPING someone.”

Alana glared at Laswell through the screen. “Oh. I don’t let the past get to me. But the ONLY person from the past that I won’t be helping is YOU. So I’m sorry. I just can’t RISK it.”

“General, please-”

As the General was about to hang up the call she felt Rangi’s hand touching her shoulder. He gave her a soft look. “General, if I may?”

Alana looked at her Colonel. Seeing he wanted to talk to her about reconsidering. She glanced at the screen where Laswell was at before looking back at Rangi.

He gave her a pleading look which it gave her in with a sigh of defeat. She looked back at the laptop screen. “We’ll get back to you, Laswell.” Then she turned off the mic and the video. Leaving Laswell in the dark.

She started to feel even more anxious about what they’re going to talk about. She needs help and needs answers NOW. The clock is ticking and the enemies are already on the run. With the gas in the wild and the terrorist going to strike in London.

So many things have been going through her mind right now. She was a confident woman but now that confidence has been whipped away. Ever since they lost that gas. She was walking back and forth a little while trying to calmly breathe.

Then she heard Alana calling from screen after a minute or two.

“Laswell? Are you still there?”

Laswell quickly got to the screen as she lay her hands on the table. While leaning forward. “Y-Yes. I’m here.”

She looked at the General seeing her staring into her own soul through the screen. Before seeing her sighing. “I will send you only TWO members of the Task Force.”

Laswell raised her eyebrows with surprising feelings inside of her. “A…Task Force?”

“Yes. The Warriors Task Force but only two will be available. The other ones are on their leaves so I CAN’T bring them back.” Alana explained before started to send info of those two soldiers. To Laswell’s laptop.

“One shall go to London. She’s in Afghanistan right now.” Alana explained before Rangi jumped in.

“But I’m sure it’s not TOO far away. Only 7 hours to ride from there to London. Will that be a problem, ma’am?” Rangi asked while looking through the camera.

“No, Colonel. She’ll be there during a fight scene if the bomb activates. Who is she?”

“Sergeant Agnes Falagi.” Alana answered before showing the photo of a female soldier that has brown hair, brown eyes and light brown skin. Smiling in the picture.

“A demolition expert. It…may not be fitting for the mission that you’ll be sending her to.” Alana looked at Laswell on her screen. “But I know that she can do it.”

Then Rangi leaned down as he smiled at the camera. “They called her blast by the way.”

Laswell thought about it. “Huh. A codename that matches her occupation. Very creative.”

“You can say that my brother has his unique creativity of calling his team.” Rangi said as he chuckled.

Alana smiles a little while looking at him before starting to send another file into Laswell’s laptop. “Before I explained further about our next soldier. Is there anyone else going with yours?”

“Yes. Her name is Alyssa Martinez. Aly is what they call her.” Laswell explained before seeing the file that Alana had sent.

“Alright then. So you don’t mind having a combat medic on their side, right?”

Laswell raised an eyebrow at that question. “A…combat medic?”

“Trust us, Laswell. She may be a medic that deals with injuries but she can fight.” Rangi reassures her.

“I trained her. So she’ll be able to defend the two of your officers and take care of their injuries.” Alana said while seeing Laswell was looking through the info on the screen.

Seeing a woman with brown hair and red highlight color. Laswell saw that she almost looked like Alana. She was silenced for a bit before looking at the General. “General, is this-” “My daughter. Dr. Aelan Kalani. She’ll be going with them. I’ve already sent out an email to her. She’ll respond and will go.”

Laswell started to feel a light weight has been lifted off from her chest. “Ok. I’ll take them. And I’ll explain to them about the situation.” She smiled at them. “Thank you, Alana. I promise this will be the LAST.”

“BETTER be. Now, I’ll let you do the rest. And they better be back in ONE piece. Good luck to you, Laswell.” She hung up on the call.

Laswell sighed with relief. “Thank you, Rangi…” She whispers before closing her laptop and standing up. She walked away while dialing the numbers on her phone.

“Kate?”

“Alex. Aly will be with you in a few hours. We’re also sending ONE more with you as well. A combat medic. Her name is Dr. Aelan Kalani. She’ll be assisting you.”

“A combat medic?” Alex said with a confusing tone.

“I know but trust me. She’s perfect for the mission to assist you and Aly. Alright?”

“...whatever you say, Kate. I’ll accept it. Talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later too.” Then Laswell hung up as she took a deep breath while stepping out of the tent. She looked around to see other marines soldiers were running by or walking by. Doing their patrols.

She looked up at the sky and took a deep breath again to calm her anxious nerves. “I hope this mission will go well…”

Will it?

—----------------------------------

Kahaluu, HawaiiMarine Corps Base

Alana and Rangi were walking through the hallways.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this, Colonel.” The General said with a disappointing tone.

“I…know, ma’am. But Laswell sounded like she REALLY needed our help. And-”

“ENOUGH.” Alana stopped him as she put herself into a halt. Before turning around while glaring at him. “You KNOW the consequences of losing those soldiers outside of our field, Colonel. The PACIFIC field.”

“Yes…I know. But I trust my brother and his team. They’ve been running around, saving lives for how long? Don’t you think that this is an opportunity for them to EXPAND their skills and abilities?” Rangi said as he looked at the General.

“Expanding their DEATH? That’s reassuring.” Alana crossed her arms as she took a step forward to Rangi. “Rangi…I appreciate your enthusiasm for your brother and his team. But I can’t risk it JUST yet. You know how bad the outside world is. YOU’VE seen it, haven’t you?”

Rangi sighed as he remembered about his experienced from few years ago. “Yes, General. But I FOUGHT to survive. Alongside Hōne. HE knows the consequences. And he KNOWS what choices to make. Even though Laswell has been telling him to NOT do it. He still goes for it. To let ME and our MEN escape.”

Alana was silenced when Rangi continued talking.

“You were blaming yourself because of his death and then you blaming KATE for his death. That is NOT the way to honor MY older brother’s death wishes.” Rangi sighed as he stood up straight while looking at his General. “With all due respect ma’am. Your way of GUILT is selfish. I’ve known that. Because I have felt that way ever since I told Kanoa to give that news to our PARENT, to our FAMILY, to our little SISTER.”

Alana kept looking at her Colonel seeing he’s trying to hold back his emotions. “But I didn’t bother to go. Because of my GUILT. The guilt that keeps me from seeing my family. Afraid of what they’ll say to me.”

“Colonel-”

“I’m not finished.” Rangi said as he looked at his General. “General Kalani. Ma’am. I’ve been working with you for a LONG time. And so have my brother and his team. I’ve SEEN how much you’ve changed. In a GOOD way.”

Then he raised one finger up. “BUT. The only thing that you HAVEN’T changed is how you interact with an old alliance or…friend. That causes his death”

Alana has no words. It feels like Rangi had read her so well. Of how she acts, of how she feels and of how she interacts with others.

“Kalani…please. You know what Hōne might say about this. Fesoasoani i taimi uma ia i latou e le tagolima, tusa lava po o le a le leaga o lo latou faamoemoe.”

Alana just stared at Rangi for a few seconds before taking a deep breath. Before she softly spoke, “Always help those in need, no matter how bad their intention gets.” She looked at her Colonel as she smiled softly. “You sure do have his wisdom, Rangi.”

“I learned from the best.” He said as he gave her a soft smile back. “So, are you gonna give them a call or what?”

The General chuckled as she turned around and continued to walk. “I’ll call Blast to go to London. ASAP. Just check my email to see if my daughter responded and explained EVERYTHING to her.”

“Ioe, tina.” Rangi responds before going in the opposite direction. To be Continued…

----------------------------

Words: 2445

Characters:

Alyssa "Aly" Martinez (later be Price) - @alypink

General Alana Kalani -> Me

Agnes "Blast" Falagi -> Me

Dr. Aelan Kalani -> Me Rangi Toa -> Me (But it wasn't written) To my MUTUALS! Let me know if you want to be tagged to see the next CHAPTER! I'll be tagging these guys who I asked for their OCs! @revnah1406 @kaitaiga @deeptrashwitch @caelums-fate @welldonekhushi and

@caelums-fate

Hope you guys like this one! Thank you for reading!

[theundercoversquid]

Meeting the family

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x author reader!Reader

Request: writer reader x charles can you add the third chapter to the leclerc story, this time the reader can meet charles family. you’re amazing. thank you - @lilimgy

Paired with: I just read your story charles leclerc x writer reader and I just fell in love it was great I wonder if charles and his family talked about the relationship between the reader and charles, if he wanted to meet the pascale reader, if arthur was constantly hanging out with charles and lorenzo was wondering about this relationship, then charles would talk to the reader and then with aike if introduced. please please please please write. - @lyragarcia

Paired with:  Hello there. I hope you're good. Can you please continue author reader x Charles Leclerc? For example, the reader may move to Monaco, or learn about media relations, Charles may always want to read the reader's new novel, Charles may introduce the reader to his family. Please keep writing because it's so beautiful. - @miamedyu

Warnings: 

Masterlist

A writer and formula one driver masterlist

Charles' family was determined to meet you. They had heard so much about you from Charles, and they wanted to meet the person who had Charles wrapped so tightly around their fingers.

It had started with Charles constantly smiling down at his phone. Immediately shutting it off whenever someone got too close. Then it was him tentatively showing them a photo. A photo you didn't know existed. Your hair and eyes are wild as you sit hunched over your laptop in your PJs, trying to get the idea written down before it disappears.

It was either the second or third night that you had stayed over at Charles. And at about three o'clock in the morning, you woke up in a daze. Dashing to your computer to write down an idea that had come to you.

In your hast, you had managed to accidentally wake Charles. But instead of being angry at you, he had instead followed you in a sleepy haze. Interested to see what had gotten you so worked up. And he had been awarded with one of his favourite picture of you. A picture of you in your element doing what you loved

His mum had cooed at it. Saying how adorable you looked and how in love Charles must have been to follow you and take the photo.

Arthur and Lorenz, on the other hand, had teased him. Masking their interest as amusement. Taking the mickey out of Charles.

When Charles had immediately leapt to your defence, ignoring the fact that they were also making fun of him, they knew you were the one.

"How do you feel about meeting my family, ma Cherie?" Charles spontaneously asked you. As you sat cuddled into his side.

Slightly startled by the sudden question, it took you a moment to process it. "I would love to meet your family." You smile at him. Flattered that he felt ready to take this next step with you.

"Perfect, Charles grind. "We are meeting them for  supper this evening."

"What?" You yell, lurching away from him.

"What's wrong, mon amour." Charles questions unsurely 

"Tonight?" you squawked out. "You want me to meet your family tonight!"

"Yes?" Charles questions. Unsure what the fuse was.

"You haven't given me enough warning!" You complain, bounding out of your seat and running to the bathroom for a shower.

Thankfully you end up getting ready in time. Charles watches as you run around getting ready. Trying to assure you that his family won't mind that you don't have any gifts for them.

You still aren't very impressed with Charles when you make it out the door.

When you make it to the restaurant, Charles accidentally reveals that he had booked this ages ago, which had been planned long in advance. You were just the last to know.

You hadn't been sitting for long before the rest of his family arrived. When Pascal spots you, she gives off a little squeal. Rushing forwards to wrap you up in a hug.

When she lets go, she gently grips onto your shoulders. "We have heard so many nice things about you." She tells you, a motherly smile on her face.

"And I you." You tell her shyly. Your checks warming under her gaze.

When Pascal releases you, you are greeted by Arthur and Lorenzo sizing you up. Slightly deflating under their gazes, you stick your hand out for them to shake. They both stare at it for half a second before Arthur grabs your hand, giving it a firm shake before letting you go and finding a seat. Lorenzo then does the same.

Turning to Charles, you look at him with terrified, pleading eyes. Unbeknownst to you. Charles has already kicked his brother under the table, and Pascal is warning them with her eyes.

Taking your seat beside Charles, your hand darts out. Grabbing his as you give it a tight squeeze. Charles squeezed back. Though not as tightly. Assuring you that you will be okay.

Taking a deep breath, you proper for what is to come. As though sensing your nerves, Pascal asked you a simple question. Sweeping you into a conversation. The further through which, the more you feel yourself relax.

"So, how did you and Charles meet?" Arthur suddenly asks.

"At a book signing." You tell his family. Who immediately look surprised at that. You guess that they weren't expecting something a bit more glamorous. Maybe in an F1 paddock or a nightclub. Not a cosy bookshop.

"Who was it?" Lorenzo asked this time.

"Me." You answer sheepishly. "Charles came to my book signing, and I met him there."

"Really?" Pascal asks, shocked. Suddenly she repeated your full name to you as if releasing something. "I'm a massive fan." She suddenly tells you. "I introduced Charles to your books." Laughing, she shakes her head. "I just hadn't thought that you would be the same person. I hadn't made the connection." 

"That's okay." You assure her. "I was so far out of context I never would have expected you to make the connection." Then you leave forwards. A conspirative tone comes across your face. "Which one is your favourite?" You ask her, a mischief glint in your eyes.

Pascal looks at you. A pondering look on her face. "I couldn’t tell you." She ends up admitting. "That's like being asked to pick a favourite child."

At that comment, all her sons immediately claim that it is them. Sending you and Pascal into a fit of laughter as the boys begin to bicker about who is the favourite. Pascal then turns to you. A soft accepting smile on her face. When you blink, the look is gone, and instead, Pascal launches into a discussion about your books. A debate that only a true fan could embark on.

And at that moment, you know that you fit in here. The sound of your boyfriend and his brother bickering in the background as you and his mum debate about books. You definitely weren't going anywhere any time soon.

[likeysoob]

I’m so blind by likeysoob

Episode 1

“You ever thought high school would be easy?” My mom looked up from her phone to answer me. “Oh no sweetheart. I always thought it was going to be hard.” At least I’m tying to look for some hope before high school starts. I look down at the table just being lost in my thoughts until my mom puts a plate of food in front of my face. “Thanks mom.” I said then begun to eat.

When I finished with my food, I went upstairs to lay in my bed. My eyes started to burn but I didn’t really feel sleepy. As the time rolls around 9pm, i decided to go on my laptop and watch some videos. I really dont have friends. They all left me for some reason. I guess i was boring? They were bad friends anyways. I have online friends but I dont want to talk to them right now.

My cat just lays on the floor by my feet. 2 hours pass by and i start to feel tired. I get up and change into my pjs then lay in my bed. My eyes slowly began to fall as i feel my cat snuggle by my feet. I hope that tomorrow will be a good first day of high school.

Well, i woke up not good. My body hurts and i really dont know why. My mom was yelling at me saying i was late and now…“ I CANT BELIEVE YOU SLEPT THROUGH 3 OF YOUR ALARMS Y/N!” Yeah…she still is. I didn’t say nothing back and just let her continue. Soon, we were close the school and she was talking about basic high school stuff. Once we’re here, i unbuckle my seat belt and open the door to leave. “Oh and! No talking to boys! No boys!” I turn around towards her and smirk, “wasn’t planning on to mom!” I watch her drive off and smile to myself. “That’s because i like girls…”

When i reached the main doors, i took a look around. “Why is this school so big?” “I know right!?” I jump back in fear. I turn my full view onto the person next to me. Holy shit. Who sneaks up on someone like that? “Oh sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” The random girl apologized. I dont give 2 shits though. “Um yeah…it’s whatever.” I say, the girl smiles at me, man she’s pretty. “I’m Ning Yi Zhuo but just call me Ning!” She takes out her hand for me to shake and i do. “This is my 2nd year here and I’m still not use to how big it is…are you new here?” Ning asks me. “Um yeah actually, i just got here and yes, i do know where my classes are.” She smiles at me. “Great! I’ll see you around! The bell is about to ring!” Ning runs off. I actually don’t know where my classes are, i just don’t want to talk to people right now. I walk inside the school doors and turn the corner to see some boys already fighting. “Man it’s too early for this shit..”

After running around this whole school, i bump into someone who was clearly right in front of me…why am i so blind? I should really get glasses. I look up and see this girl with short hair. Damn, shes cute, why are there so many cute girls here?! “Oh im so sorry!” She said and i shake my head, “no it’s my fault, I wasn’t watching where i was going!” God this is embarrassing. “It’s fine!” She says, we stand there in silence. “Uh, sorry i got to go!” I ran out of that situation the fastest i can. Where the fuck can I find this class?

I soon found the class. Should i go in? Class ends in 10 minutes. As I’m deciding, the door swings open and a student walks by me. I look inside and the teacher is staring at me. “Sorry I’m…late?” You know, it really looks like i was skipping from the teachers point of view. “I’m sorry, im new here? I was having trouble finding my class…” the teacher only looks at me. The fuck? Bitch speak. I give him a side eye and go sit on an empty desk, hopefully it wasn’t that persons desk that just left right now. The teacher continues on with his lesson, im not sure what class this even is. I turn to the right of me a see this girl with light pinkish hair. All she does is smile at me and looks up to the teacher.

The bell rings, i get up from my chair and grab my bag. Before i could take a step out the classroom, someone calls for me. “Hey! You!” I turn around to see that pinkish haired girl from before. “Yeah?” I respond to her, “I’m Rei, what’s your name?” Her voice is pretty, “oh um im y/n!” I say awkwardly. Omg my voice cracked, im going to die now. “Pretty name, you’re like really pretty! You like to sing or dance?” It feels so overwhelming what she just said, my name pretty? me being pretty? “Yeah i really love singing!” I itched my neck. Great i look like a fool who doesn’t know how to talk. “That’s great! Me and my friends are trying to gain members for this music competition and id like for you to join!” She says while pulling something out of her backpack to give it to me, it’s a flyer. “See you around!” She walks off. I look down at the flyer she gave me.

Wow…the girl on the flyer is really beautiful….like really. Wait, they don’t even have what day!? I guess I’m going to have to message them. I put the flyer into my backpack and go to my next class.

The rest of the day was boring. No one interesting in my classes, rude ass teachers, and nasty lunch. Didn’t expect to the lunch to be this shit when this school is so big. So now I’m in my bed just laying down waiting for my mom to come home. I think high school will be easy, like what’s even going to happen this year? My life is boring.

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