#Trash Pile of OCs

[matchalovertrait]

While Dulce was on the hunt for the notebook, Antonio got acquainted with Cosi! He's more of a cat person, but he loves all kinds of animals. He would help Dulce, but that would be an invasion of privacy, no? You know what's definitely okay, though? Taking out the trash from the trash bin that is not even halfway full yet.

Start from the beginning (Gen 2)

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[daggerbeanart]

[the-coincidence-child]

{ Aslan's little trash pile in the shed is keeping me up all night }

{ @subaruwu idc if this boy scratches tf outta Subaru but for the love of god SUBARU GIVE YO SON A TOY ROCKET PLZ HE'S NEVER OWNED ANY TOYS PLZ (lying he just destroyed them in panic/rage when he moved in with the Sakamaki's). }

[enniewritesathing]

99 for John.

Does your character live by any kind of philosophy? What is it?

John believes that if you make a promise, you better keep it. Or promise to not do [x]. To him, promises are kind of sacred. Breaking one or not being to keep it is... well, he's very intense about that.

I don't know if I'm gonna make a story out of this, but way back when, there were promises between John and Jacob. Jacob had John promise not to cut his hair in solidarity (and pointing out he hated the sound of scissors anyway, lol) and John promised to win a tournament trophy for Jacob for his birthday since it was the following day. Unfortunately... Jacob died and John did not win that trophy. Upset is a severe understatement.

Years later, John had another chance to win a tournament but not just any; it was the Juniors World Championship. Got all the way to finals that the date fell on Jacob's bday, but lost to Leo de Koning (he's actually in The Montage too). To make matters worse, John was outskilled in every sense and he got his ass beat. idk how Leo knew about Jacob (maybe through an interview, as kind of a thing with finalists) and he mocked John. He was demoralized and he almost hung up his gloves until Eli talked to him (not just him though, but ofc him going through what John was going through at the time.)

Did John get single minded after that? Maybe, but goddamn it, he promised his brother he was gonna get that trophy for him and he did.

[thatbugkidd]

INTRODUCING... MY DRONESONA/OC, SCRAP

Scrap is a unique type of drone, a Collector Drone. Collector drones are a byproduct of worker drones, built with a few differences to be more efficient at their primary tasks. They are slightly smaller and more compact, but much heavier and hardy. These drones were built to be able to hold extremely heavy loads, much more than your average worker drone. They can also endure much harsher conditions, and are overall a bit more resilient.

They were often tasked with "collecting" things, hence the name. Trash, scrap material, valuables, minerals, etc etc. Primarily, they were used to mine the planets, collecting and transporting materials they gathered. They are equipped with an extra pair of arms, that are removable and replaceable via a port on their sides just below their primary arms. As well as ANOTHER pair of ports just on their backside for a third pair of appendages if they're ever seen fit to use it.

Their second pair can be swapped for extensions that help with their tasks (eg, clawed hands for digging) and are often equipped with tools under the last cap of their finger joints, such as screw drivers, a drill, tape measure, etc as they were often also used to help at construction as they were excellent for carrying heavy materials where trucks and other vehicles couldn't reach.

Unfortunately, because of their heavy machinery, upkeep and maintenance was very important but oftentimes difficult to provide. Because of this, not many were built in the first place, so when the core exploded on copper-9, most of them were destroyed or permanently powered down. Scrap, being kept below the surface in a bunker for repair on damages, had been very jostled but managed to reboot with a big chunk of memory loss and now faulty code that went awry.

This caused a malfunction in their tasks, so she now collects anything perceived as dead. She wanders copper-9 digging through corpse piles of drones and humans alike, scavaging for anything interesting and looking for history as she explores the dead planet.

The backside port allows the third pair of appendages to slide up and down for added mobility!!

Also featuring @kalpeavaris 's drone OC, bishop hehe >:3

[feyreswaterybowels]

⭒The Silent One⭒

#3 Azriel x Fem!OC

⭒Part 1⭒Part 2⭒Part 3⭒Part 4⭒

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Azriel finds the guy that sold Cassandra. Lots of bonding happens with Cassandra, Azriel and other members of the IC. Slight cliffhanger.

Warnings/Tags: mentions/implied rape. Mention past sexual abuse. Mentions pregnancy from rape. Slow burn. Violence. Brief victim blaming. Found family. Protective!azriel. Protective!IC. GRAMMER ERRORS—I plan on going back to edit this please don’t judge me too hard I’m gonna have a busy week and just really wanted to get this posted for y’all🩵

Authors Note: all reblogs, likes and comments are welcome, appreciated and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for the next chapter. Regular italics are inner thoughts and bold italics are mental communication.

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Azriel stands in the darkness of night watching. Waiting. Body thrumming with anger. Calm cold anger. The kind that got people killed if they didn’t give him what he was looking for.

Only moments after Cassandra’s departure had his shadow returned to him. Telling him where to find this Vale. This horrid male who was taking females away from their family and selling them off—profiting off of them like livestock.

He sees the male, recognizes him from the briefs flash of memory Cassandra let slip at dinner, the one where this mad had choked her, slammed her against the wall just for needing to use the restroom.

The male is loading something up in the back of a wagon, the building behind him dark and dingy. Azriel let his shadows take him closer. Closer. Until he was standing in the alley between this man's house and another. The smell was horrid, small creatures scurrying about looking for their meal for the evening.

The male retreats into the building and Azriel lets a shadow loose to follow him—to be his eyes inside of this building. Inside is just as dark and dingy and piled high to the roof with…stuff. The blue skinned male navigates the maze of boxes and bins and trash with ease. He seems to be the only one here but Azriel knew better so he waits following the man through the seemingly endless maze.

That’s when he hears it, his shoulders going tight, his jaw clenching. Crying—no sobbing. A girl begging to be left alone as the male grabs her and pins her down to the floor.

“Fuck,” he growls. He pounds his fist against the outside of the building, taking chucks of the stone out. It’s loud enough to distract the man, to get him away from that girl as he rushed from the room under the floor, locking the locks and coming out. Looking around wildly for the source of the sound.

Azriel winnows, leaning against the wagon the man had been loading before, whistling to get the man attention. He whirls around, black eyes narrowed in anger, freezing in place when they land on him.

“Shadowsinger?” He grunts, narrowing his eyes at Azriel. “What brings you to these parts?”

Azriel looks him over, the smell of shit, piss and rot was overwhelming even from this distance.

“Vale,” Azriel says, to let the male know he knows who he is, rightfully see the fear in his eyes. “I’m looking for something and I hear you’re the one to help me.”

“I ain’t got nothing you need, pretty boy,” Vale sneers, crossing his arms, looking Azriel over. Trying to come off as tough but it’s actually laugh-able.

“Are you sure?” Azriel asks, pushing off the wagon. Letting his wings spread wide, walking closer, towering over the male. “See, I’ve got this female telling me you bought her from her dad and sold her to a pleasure house. I mean, tell me I’m wrong, man. I’ve just gotta check on these things. It’s a pretty serious accusation and all.”

“That chick’s got the wrong guy. I would never do something like that. These bitches are always trying to get us males in trouble,” Vale said, seeming to relax. Big mistake.

“You think so? Just tell me if you know her man. About this tall, really pretty, tan skin, white hair. Wings.” Azriel growls the last word, the man’s eyes widening again, taking a step back.

“Look, man, it’s not like that. Her dad owed me money, so he gave me her instead cause he couldn’t afford to pay me back, okay? So I didn’t technically buy her,” He stammered out, trying to explain himself.

“Oh,” Azriel said, nodding his head. “Well, I mean, if you didn’t technically buy her then no law was broken.”

“That’s right!” The male nods, sighing in relief. “No law was broken, man. I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t do that—”

“Yeah. I get it,” Azriel nods, shifting. Looking towards the building, then back to the low life in front of him. “And that female inside? Did you buy her? Is she here of her own free will allowing you to rape her daily?”

“Fuck,” Vale whispers, turning and running down the cobble stone road. Azriel stands there watching, a grin stretching his lips as he lets the male think he’s getting away.

“Send Morrigan,” He calls out to Rhys as he watches the male.

“She’s coming.”

Then he's gone again, just as Vale looks over his shoulder to try and spot him, only to smack hard into a body that came out of nowhere. He looks at the shadowsinger towering over him, swallowing thickly.

“What do you want from me?” The male nearly cried out as Azriel grabbed him and pulled him up, slamming his face first into a stone wall. The resounding crunch of his nose breaking is ever satisfying.

“Her name is Cassandra,” Azriel snarls into the man's ear. “She told us what you did to her. What you did to that female you have locked in that disgusting building. We know there’s more girls. We will find them all and when we do, I’ll let each one take a turn with you. Their weapon of choice. And you’ll feel exactly what they felt.”

“Ple-please. Please, just kill me,” The man begged, fighting in Azriel’s grasp but he was no match for Azriel’s strength.

“And what kind of justice would that be? Did you stop when those girls begged you to? Did you give them death with they would have preferred that over you using their bodies?” Azriel asked, scenting the smell of urine as the man pissed himself. “You deserve everything you’ve got coming to you.”

Before the pathetic excuse of a male could beg or plead any more Azriel grabbed the back of his head, smashing it into the wall, letting him fall unconscious to the ground. He left him there binded and hidden by shadows, stalking back to the building where he spotted Morrigan easily.

“Don’t tell me this is where he’s been keeping those poor girl?” She asked when she spotted him approaching.

“Unfortunately, I think it is. She said under his house but he could live here. I’ll question him more. I know there’s at least one female inside,” Azriel explained, guiding Morrigan into the building. Be could get the female on his own but he knew it was safer to have a female companion—after all they’d been through the least he could do was make sure a female was the one to comfort them.

They get to that basement floor, unlocking the various locks and pulling the hatch open. It’s as dark and dingy down here as it was in the rest of the building. Morrigan enters first, taking Azriel’s hand to steady herself on the old wobbly stairs.

“Your wings won’t fit down here,” She said, hushed. He nods at her. “Send a shadow if I call for help.” It’s said jokingly but he knows she’s serious. He’d rip the floor from this building to help her if she needed it.

Mor squinted her eyes in the dimness of the sellar, resisting the urge to plug her nose from the horrid smell.

“Hello? Is anyone down here?” She calls out, looking up from at Azriel when there’s no reply. “Hello, my name is Morrigan. I work for the High Lord. The male keeping you here is—”

Morrigan’s cut off when I body slams into hers, knocking her to the ground. She cries out in surprise when a sharp sting slices across her cheek.

“Stop, hey, stop! I’m here to help!” Mor calls out, trying to catch the hands of the female fae on top of her.

“Mor!” Azriel’s deep voice calls.

“I’ve got it!” Mor calls back, grabbing the girls wrists. “Please, stop! Vale is gone! He can’t hurt you, please, stop!”

The girl stops fighting then still tense where she’s straddling Morrigan’s middle section.

“He’s gone?” She whispers and Mor nods.

“Yes, he’s gone. He can’t hurt you any more. I swear,” She promises. Eyes finally able to take in the sight before her.

A fragile, naked, malnourished body sits atop her. Eyes not only shut but scarred as if they’d been cut—maybe by the same person that took Cassandra’s tongue. But what really got Morrigan, what had her ready to lose the contents of her stomach was the rounded belly attached to that nearly skeleton body. Her eyes welled and she helped the female to shift off of her body.

“Are you pregnant?” Mor whispers, trying to keep her voice from breaking as the female nods.

“Please, don’t let him take this one too,” She cries, reaching out to find Morrigan’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Promise me I get to keep my baby.”

“I promise, no one is going to take your baby away from you,” Morgan swears, a single tear falling down her cheek. “What’s your name, sweet girl?”

“Neema, my name is Neema,” She answers and Mors eyes widen. The girl Cassandra told them about.

“You and your baby are safe, Neema. We’re gonna take you away from here, okay?” Morrigan says, standing and helping the pregnant female stand as well.

“I have my friend Azriel here too, he will not touch you, he’s only here to make sure no further harm comes to you. He’s handing me a cloak for you to wear,” Morrigan explains so the female doesn’t feel uncomfortable. She nods, allowing Mor to wrap the cloak around her.

“Are there any other females here?” Azriel asks gently, wishing he hadn’t with the way she clenched at the deep mess of it.

“Not—not that I know of. The females come and go. There’s been no others for months…” Neema answers, grasping the fabric tighter around her body.

Azriel and Mor share a look the last females had to have been Cassandra and the other two she mentioned.

“I’ll stay and check the building before I head back,” Azriel informed, consciously softening his voice so as not to scare the female again.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

Morrigan winnows away with Neema and Azriel searches every inch of the building with his shadows. No signs of any other females. He leaves the building, needing to relieve himself of the horrible stench.

He retrieves the still bound and unconscious male, winnowing him to his dungeon. He strips him, places a gag in his mouth, dumps him into a chair and binds him to it. He would be dealt with later.

The sun would be rising soon and he wanted to be there when they informed Cassandra they found the male and the female—her friend?

He enters Rhys' study, Cassian and Mor there too.

“How is she?” He asks, glancing at Morrigan then his brother.

“Resting,” Rhys answers. “Madja looked her over. Thankfully the baby seems healthy, Madja’s main concern is getting Neema to gain some weight and begin healing herself.”

“We offered her to live amongst the priestesses in the library, she agreed,” Morrigan said, her brown eyes bloodshot and cheeks flushed.

“Good, that’s all good, they’ll help her heal,” Azriel nods his head crossing his arms. “I have the male in my dungeon.”

“Have you gotten any information out of him?” Rhys asks, standing from his desk.

“Not much. He admitted to knowing who Cassandra was, receiving her from her father and holding her. He never admitted to selling her but that information won’t be hard to get out of him,” Azriel explains and Rhys nods in agreement.

“You get whatever information you can out of him and then he’s dead,” Rhys orders, Azriel doesn’t need to confirm he already knew what Rhys decision would be.

“Are we telling Cassandra?” Cassian asks, the first words he’s said the whole time.

“We are. She needs to know he’s here, it may bring her some comfort knowing he’s locked away and Neema is safe. I think you should be the one to talk to her, Azriel,” Rhy says, turning his attention to the shadow singer.

“Me? Not Mor?” Azriel asked, a bit confused.

“Yes, you. She’s comfortable with you. You’re the one that apprehended him. I believe she would prefer to hear it from you,” Rhys nods.

“Okay, I can do that,” Azriel agreed.

“You handle that, I’ve got some business to attend to with the priestesses. We’ll all meet up in a few hours to discuss further action.” Rhys stepped around his desk, patting Azriel’s shoulder when he passed by him.

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An hour goes by before Azriel tracks Cassandra down. Finding her in the library, flipping through a book where she’s sat in the large window seat that overlooked the city below. A steaming cup of tea next to her.

“I thought you couldn’t read?” Azriel asks, leaning against the door frame, grinning when those green eyes meet his.

“I can’t. I’m looking at the pictures,” She said, holding up the book, some romance book from the looks of the two people in a colorful garden.

“Ah,” Azriel says, walking further into the room. Trying not to focus on the way her eyes track up and down his body the closer he gets. He holds his hand out for the book, flipping it over the read the title, snorting at it. “Secret Garden Romance, huh?”

She shrugs, taking the book back.

“I asked the house for a book with a lot of pictures, this is what I got,” She said, a small sweet breathy laugh escaped her lips and he couldn’t help his own smile.

“Did you end up getting some sleep?” He asks, watching her set the book down and grab the warm mug.

“I slept but not great,” She shrugs. “I can’t stop thinking about my sisters.”

“We’re gonna do everything we can to find them, I promise you that,” Azriel said, not even waiting for a beat. He would find her sisters and he’d beat the shit out of her father too.

“You know I took my older sister's place. It was supposed to be her he sold off but the way she had cried when he told her. I couldn’t let him do that to her so I told him to take me…I didn’t really know what he meant when he was selling me. I thought I’d be a servant like the ones we had when I was a kid or something. I never thought…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath.

“You’re not to blame for what happened to you. You were protecting your sister. You did a very selfless thing. You're safe now and your sisters will be, too,” Azriel said, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned towards her.

“Well, what about you?” Cassandra asked, gently changing the subject. “Did you ever get any sleep?”

Azriel sighed with a head shake. “No, actually. That’s kind of why I came to talk to you.”

Cassandra fixed him with a curious look, leaning forward as if to give him her full attention for whatever he needed to say. He looked into those glowing green eyes, filled with curious concern.

“We found that male. Vale. We found him,” Azriel said, watching the vast range of emotions flash through those emerald eyes.

“He’s here?” Is what she asks, fear tinging her voice. Azriel straightens his back.

“He will not touch you,” he declared, holding her gaze. “He won’t even come near you.”

I’ll fucking kill him if he does. He thinks but doesn’t add it out loud.

“He can’t get out of…wherever he is?” She asks, and he wants to reach out so badly to comfort her. The ache in his chest drawing him to her.

“No. He’s being held in a very secure place. I promise you’re safe here. You’re safe with us.” Azriel promises. You’re safe with me.

“Were there any females with him?” She asks and Azriel nods.

“The girl you told us about, Neema. She was the only one there—it had been only her for months.”

He watches as her eyes fill with tears, offering his hand for her to hold. She takes it, thumb tracing his scars unconsciously.

“Just her…alone with him for months. Gods, is she…I feel like okay isn’t the right word for what I want to ask,” She says, sadness written all over her face.

“She will be okay,” Azriel said. “She’s in bad shape. Pregnant, malnourished but we have an amazing healer and a library below the mountain. Many priestesses live there. Many of them have experienced similar traumas. They’ll help her heal.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. He wasn’t sure what was going through her head as she sat there silently, grasping his hand and tracing his scars.

“I want him to die.” It’s fierce. Heated. Emotional. And it does something to Azriel’s heart, to his brain. He squeezes her hand. “I want him to feel everything we felt. To know the fear he put us through. I want him to suffer and then I want him to die.”

“He will die. I swear to the Mother. I’ll get every drop of information from him and when it’s time his death will be painful and slow,” Azriel swore, gently swiping a tear from her cheek.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

The next day is a day Cassandra would remember forever. She hadn't slept much the night before but Morrigan had practically begged her to have lunch.

Cassandra wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for a day out in the city but she felt safe with Morrigan. She nearly asked if Azriel could come too until she learned he would be spending the day collecting information from Kamari and Vale.

Morrigan picked out her outfit for the day and it was one of her favorites she’s worn since being here. A flowy silk top that tucked into a dark pair of slacks that raised high on my hips. They emphasized her longer legs in a way she had never noticed before. She had also pinned Cassandra’s hair up and out of her face.

She liked the way Azriel smiled at her when he saw her dressed this way. She blushed but was quickly rushed away by Morrigan, shouting something about wanting you to herself for the day for girl time.

Their first stop was a place she called the River House. A beautiful home that her mother would have loved. Morrigan had only had them stop here briefly to grab a few tote bags, wanting to shop while they were out but promised to bring her back and give her a proper tour of the house.

The city was even more beautiful when you were in it. The sun was shining bright in an endless blue sky. Better than any dreams she had ever had about it.

They went to bakeries, where Cassandra single handedly filled half a tote with various pastries.

Then a clothing shop where Morrigan helped her pick out some new clothes. A few everyday pieces. A gorgeous gown she wasn’t sure where she would wear it but Morrigan swore she would need it sooner or later. And then the softest, satin, dark blue nightgown—it had reminded her of the stones that glowed atop Azriel’s hands. Morrigan herself had picked out quite a few outfits and gowns of her own and a lace set that looked like something the girls in the pleasure houses would wear but she paid no mind to it—she was sure it would look gorgeous on Morrigan wherever she planned to wear it to.

Then they went to a place near the river for lunch, the glistening river was the perfect view while they ate.

“Do you feel like you’re settling in okay?” Morrigan asked, sipping on some kind of iced fruit tea while they waited for their food.

“I’m still…adjusting. I enjoy the company of everyone. I feel like I can trust you all. It’s just odd.” Cassandra says, taking a drink of her tea that was just slightly too sweet but she wasn’t complaining.

“What’s odd?” Morrigan asks gently.

“Trusting strangers more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else,” She says it like a confession, like she should be ashamed for feeling that way.

“I don’t think that’s odd,” Morrigan shrugged. “You’re around people like you, people you can relate to and get to know. It’s easy to feel safe with us in turn, causing your trust. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Cassandra smiles at Morrigan.

Their food comes soon after and they talk the whole time. Morrigan gives her the rundown of how Rhys, Azriel and Cassian all knew one another. She explained more about their titles and what each one of them did as a member of the inner circle. She told her about so much that Cassandra could believe she’d spent her whole live knowing practically none of it.

When they go to a bookstore Cassandra looks at a few before putting them back. Morrigan grabs them and tells her they’ll teach her to read—that she’ll love these books and so many more.

And when they finally get back to the House of a Wind it’s late. She's exhausted from carrying around nearly overflowing tote bags and eating more muffins then she can count.

A top the house where they have to land they’re greeted by the three males. Their solemn faces wiping the smile off your face. She caught Azriel’s eyes, sees the look of pure death there—a look that she just knows means he wants to kill someone.

And just like that, her perfect day with Morrigan took a turn straight down hill.

Tag List: @aelinwya @starlightandsouls @fullmoon-94 @aetherl0l @caticorn61 @lilah-asteria @blackgirlmagicforever @div94 @purple-writer8 @little-missbookyworm @saltedcoffeescotch @namelesssav @slytherintaco @whatsupb @little-missbookyworm

[naffeclipse]

A Tease

Reader x Grease

Commission Info

I am rattling @o-cinnamonstickz for commissioning one of my monster boyfriend OCs and letting me go absolutely feral with this guy! Grease is such a menace and the poor reader must sweetly suffer him. After stealing a break while on a late shift, the reader will run into Grease behind the diner, and one tease will lead to another.

Content Warning for suggestive themes.

———

The customer smiles as he hands you back the black check presenter, his mouth spread a little too wide to show off his molars. You feel the money tucked within, but with an inward groan, you fear there is no tip. You wish him and the few others eating with him a good night. Maybe you’ll get lucky and one of his friends will pity you and dump a few quarters on the dirty table.

As they all throw down their napkins and scurry away, out into the night of Hebron, you step back to the cash register. Feeling the inside of your apron pocket, you brush against the worn and half-crumpled box of cornstarch hidden within before snagging your pen to tuck behind your ear.

With a few taps and clanks, and a little slam to get it to open properly, you deposit the cash for the meal. Stealing a glance over to the table, you find the dishes piled high, the clear cups half filled with watered-down soda, and not even a dime in sight.

Great. Just lovely. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose and huff through your nostrils. Where did the virtue of tipping go? Is it just tourists or is it simply everyone that steps through the diner doors who forgoes the practice?

Such questions will only leave you with a headache pounding away at your temples. Biting back a few choice words due to their rowdiness and the not-at-all-subtleness in looking you up and down, you slip the bill into the towering pile that has collected throughout the day.

It’s close to the end of your shift, right? You keep yourself from staring at the clock in the diner too frequently lest the hands get stuck in one place, endlessly ticking without spinning. Everything seems stuck in time here. 

The Hebron Diner, aptly named after the town Hebron, in which you and this poor restaurant reside, is a vintage theme with black and white photos of old cars driving between the trees and sepia pictures of scenery from the nearby national park. You’re growing to hate the lilac coloring of the tables, stools, and booths, and your own stupid waitress attire is drenched in the same hue. Your apron is white—a poor choice, considering how well it shows the stains of burger grease and ketchup. 

You return to the table and begin gathering plates. One hardly touched his fries and you think the other merely played with his country-fried steak. Only an hour to go and then you’re free to rush home and scrub off the smell of fast food from your skin and hair. As the darkness holds over Hebron and its neon-dusted but quaint main street, your hope for the end of a long shift grows. 

You bring the dishes back into the kitchen. Darren, the cook, seems content to clean the grill while the diner remains open but inhabited by hungry customers. 

“Hey, would you mind taking out the trash?” he calls over his shoulder, never even looking up from the faint steam that sizzles over the grill top. “I’ll keep an eye out, let you take a break for a minute if you do.”

“Deal,” you answer without hesitation. You still need to wipe down the table, but you’ll do that after your break. You’ve earned one. 

Dropping off the dishes, you look to Darren for directions on which garage. He jerks his head in the direction of the trash bag sitting in a gleaming silver can, and you quickly tie it up and lift it from its container. Without another word, you breeze outside towards the dumpster. 

Darren scratches your back, you scratch his. You don’t talk to him much, but your habitation as coworkers is seamless as butter on fresh hotcakes. 

The coolness of the night washes over you, chasing away the heat and stress of the diner. A faint street light shines into the employee parking lot filled with cracked pavement and the remnant odor of grease traps. 

The dumpster is located on the other end of the small lot, unfortunately. The light doesn’t quite reach there and deep potholes collect water and whatever may fall into their depths. Your heart skips a beat, your fingers white-knuckling the tied-off garbage at your side.

There are monsters out there. You never thought of such things since you were a child, but the world became a lot bigger and unknowable, and this town became a lot smaller and strange since you discovered the truth. There are things in the dark that hide with mouths full of teeth. They like to watch you. They hope to follow you home and catch you where no one will hear you scream.

Is your paranoia striking because you’re alone now? The darkness is thick and inky, wrapping around the edges of the weak streetlight.

No. Stop being a child. Heaving the trash bag up with a soft clatter, you grind your teeth. The night isn’t what scares you. You push yourself forward, one foot after the other, until you catch sight of one of the potholes. It brims with dark liquid shining iridescently. It stands between you and the dumpster, and you catch an unmistakable ripple across its surface. There is no breeze tonight.

Your breath catches in your throat before you roll your eyes. A name is on the tip of your tongue, ready to call out, but you stop yourself.

A wicked grin crosses your lips. A juvenile idea infiltrates your brain and you run with it. You set one hand on your hip before arching a brow, staring down at the oil puddle. Does he really think you don’t know he’s here?

Dropping the trash bag into the puddle, you promptly sit on top of the black material—not allowing logical thoughts such as the fear of something sharp poking you or the general distasteful smell reeking from it stop you—and throw the puddle outwards in a thick, black splash.

You recline back on it, hands on your knees, as you shift your hips slightly to sink into what feels squishy and crumples slightly, perhaps old food and cardboard boxes. Gross. You ignore it and keep sitting pretty. Underneath you, the puddle begins to bubble and froth. The iridescent sheen of purples and blues and yellows flash in a way you haven’t quite seen before. 

Then the thought lingers a little too long before it manifests into something searing with embarrassment. You might as well have plopped yourself into a demon’s lap.

No. You hold firm. This is payback. He’s stalked you, hunted you down, and grabbed you. The least you can do is embarrass him with the rotten cherry being a trash bag on top of him. You lounge as if it were a throne.

Then a growl emerges from below you. Goosebumps roll over your arms until every tiny hair pricks. Your heart begins to thump hard and fast like a rabbit fleeing from a fox.

You spring off of the garbage bag as if burned. Breath caught in your throat, you whirl back to face the sleek ripples of the oil puddle. 

The black liquid rises, funneling into the figure of a man, lithe with muscles and powerfully sleek not unlike a tiger. The trash bag is ripped upwards in a grip of indignation. Your gut clenches as claws, iridescently gleaming and dark, sink into the thin black material.

A creature of living oil. A demon. Grease.

Two dark tendrils drip down from the top of his head, the tips resting at his shoulders. A long, sleek, and wicked tail snaps behind him. His face is flat with a sharp jawline, lacking a nose but his mouth bears bone-white teeth. Two pale blue eyes, centered with black pupils, pierce you in the darkness of the parking lot as if he might devour you whole. You’re reminded so vividly of a tiger before it strikes.

“How disrespectful,” Grease snarls, his silky and dark timbre carrying a slight threat underneath it. “I’ve come to see you and you put trash on me. Must I remind you who I am?”

You shift on the gritty pavement from one foot to the other. The candle flame of mirth inside of you is not yet extinguished. A small voice warns you in the back of your mind that you’re pushing your luck, but you are nothing if not a glutton for punishment.

“I know who you are, oil boy,” you say, much braver than you are. “You’re not as slick as you think you are.”

His grin widens.

“Oh?” He steps forward, his shoulders lowering like a cat about to bounce. The sway of his tail is excited, thrilled for a chase. “Neither are you, little nymph.”

A brief burn infiltrates you at the nickname he’s unfortunately bestowed upon you. Your brow furrows as you take a step back. A powerful concoction of adrenaline and confusion floods your veins, interrupting the flow of your thoughts as a primitive instinct to survive takes hold.

“What…?” Your tongue is too heavy.

He tilts his head, revealing a terrible mouth filled with shark-like teeth. Fear spears your heart.

“If you want to sit in my lap, you merely need to ask.” He cackles a heinous sound of black glee.

Red heat fills your face, coloring you in both rage and embarrassment. No, no, this is backfiring. You should have known he would have twisted it in his favor. He’s so seductive and intimidating. You forget which part of him is more dangerous: his teeth or his words.

“Ah, just how I like you, all pretty and pink,” he purrs deep in his throat. His black tongue, oily and black as midnight, swipes over his teeth as if he just found dessert.

Forget this. You twist on the balls of your feet, pushing off the cracked pavement in a dead run for the back door of the diner.

It’s over before it’s truly begun. Long, slick claws snatch you by the arms. Grease rips a gasp from you as he whirls you around and pins your back to the wall. You glare up at him, a breath rattling into your lungs. 

“Let me return your little favor.” His voice coils within you. Your heart beats against your ribs, wild under his devouring gaze. “A little tease for another.”

The sleek tip of his tail finds your ankle and begins winding up your leg. You bite back a yelp at the squeezing, staining pressure from the tendril. A chain to ensure you can’t run.

“I wasn’t teasing you,” you protest, but it’s a lie. A filthy lie that is only met with a sinister chuckle from Grease. 

“Don’t be so coy. It’s not a good look for you.” 

Fighting words long to fly off your tongue but his own emerges from his jaws. Dripping black saliva coats it like thick honey. Your eyes widen. He leans in closer with a monstrous grin. The tendrils upon either side of his head twist up gently and press into your cheeks, securing you into place as you suck in a sharp breath. Your palms press flat against the wall at your sides. He bends low to find access to your neck.

The cool, slick caress of his tongue on the curve of your throat draws out a shiver. It fills your chest and rolls down your spine. Tenderly exploring your skin, the tip of his tongue licks slowly upwards before disappearing from underneath your chin with a cool trace. You gulp.

The fiend. You would curse him if you weren’t half-paralyzed underneath his mouth. Your fingers inch toward your apron pocket.

“On second thought, why stop with a tease?” Grease slips back just enough to capture your gaze and watch you squirm. A threat of blush is bearing down upon your defenses. “You deserve more. A proper… tantalizing…”

He finishes his thought with a too-wide smile and his tongue flicking out of his mouth, closing the precious little distance between your lips. The gallope of your heart roars in your ears. You can’t name the roiling in your middle. It is too hungry, too excited for an oil demon’s touch. 

Still, you lean forward in the slightest, just to catch him the slightest bit off guard. His tail loosens from your leg. His eyes widen, but he presses in—

You snatch the box of cornstarch out of your apron and whip it in front of you, spilling out fine white powder onto the oil demon. He screeches in fury. Backing away from you as the cornstarch latches onto his chest, he writhes and hisses, claws raking at the substance gluing up his sleek form.

“You—! You—!” He howls but all you can do is steal one breathless sound before sliding out from underneath him and grabbing the door handle. Twisting it, you fling yourself into the kitchen.

You twist back to slam the door closed but catch a sharp, pale blue glare, frothing with a promise so vile, it ignites your core into a hot bubbling mess.

Grease will make you pay. But not tonight.

You lock the door and fall back against it. Deep gulps of air heaves through your chest. You slowly push your hair away from your sweaty face.

You got away. For now.

[st4rg1rl-16]

━━ ✶✶˖° 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗜𝗩𝗘 | 𝗡𝟰𝗦.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴(𝘀) ━ 2019 to 2023!f1 grid x driver!female oc

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ━ twitter goes crazy after some youtubers sexualise the only f1’s female driver and the worst of it all is that she reads every tweet

𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 ━ 2019, 4 april / 9 april

𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ━ shanghai, china

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ━ charles and arabella being a little horny (again), mentions of virginity but nothing happens (yet) sexism, sexual objectification so basically men being trash (what a surprise!)

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ━ i suck at warnings anywhore! pain so soon? this is nothing! sadly, arabella is going to suffer a lot :(

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ━ @namgification @louvrepool @d3kstar @omgsuperstarg @whoselly @yl90 @wcnorris

• — need for speed’s masterlist

A COMFORTABLE silence hung over the room, without counting the sounds that the skin of their lips made when they collided with each other, their breaths and sighs or the distant song of birds. A bluish light from the dawn of a cloudy day painted the white walls of the hotel room. You could still see the moon thanks to the large window that was located on the other side of the room, in front of the bed in which both of them were tangled in each other. Although it was already April, it was still cold in Shanghai.

Her long, slender fingers curled into the short strands at the nape of his neck, giving a small tug earning a growl that he felt in his mouth as he caught her lower lip between his teeth. He separated from her, taking a few seconds to observe her and he could swear that there was nothing that could compare to what he felt in that moment when he saw her green eyes that were looking back at him lazily but intensely full of life, her brown locks piled up at the top around her head, her cheeks were red and her lips, oh her lips, her lips were red and swollen thanks to him. Because he had been the one who had left her like this, him and no one else. He watched as she rolled her eyes before he felt her grip tighten on his arm and how with the hand she had on his neck she pushed him even closer to his face to press their lips together again.

Their lips met again and neither of them could be happier. Charles's hands took on a life of their own as they began to roam over the girl's body as his life depended on it. He felt her skin crawl beneath his fingertips, his chest swelling with pride as she let out a breath into his mouth.

"Charles..." She sighed his name against his lips when his left hand passed over her hip and he smiled into the kiss. He raised her hand again very slowly until he brought it to her collarbone and where he gently caressed the skin of her neck before curling his hand around her throat. He pressed his body even closer –if it was possible– to hers.

His hand was big enough to cover her entire neck, he liked that. He moved his thumb caressing the edge of her jaw as he separated from her enough to break the kiss but not enough for their lips to stop touching.

"Tell me, ma belle" He murmured, because even though they were alone in the room it felt like a sin to speak out loud and break that intimate bubble that they had managed to create around them. Arabella's breath hitched in her chest as she saw his sly smile hang on his lips and she felt his grip on her throat tighten for a second "Tell me, what do you want?".

She mentally cursed not only herself but him as well. Her lips parted feeling the need to breathe harder and harder, she really felt like she was drowning. She looked into his eyes and then at his lips, she licked her own, managing to taste him. Charles almost looked away from her eyes when he felt her tongue lightly touch his lips but he held strong.

He tightened his grip, feeling her erratic pulse through her neck, and pushed his hand up, making her raise her chin. He insisted "Mmm?".

Fuck it.

She looked at him pleadingly and practically moaned "You. I want you”.

He analyzed her for a few painful seconds that to Arabella seemed like hours before he crashed his lips against hers. While they were kissing she felt him turning them on the mattress and a second later they were sitting, she on top of him.

The kiss was aggressive and fast but she still felt that he was trying not to hurt her, she smiled earning the grip his hand had moved down from her throat to her ass. She let out a moan and immediately wanted to hide under a rock when she saw him pull away from her but she calmed down when she realized it was to take her shirt off of her. She nodded when he gave her a look asking if it was okay, she thought that it was adorable so when the shirt went over her head she gave him a short kiss to which he smiled sweetly before bending down and starting a trail of kisses from her chin to her cheek and down the column of her throat.

She bit her lip not caring that they were swollen and beginning to sting due to her action, she closed her eyes throwing her head back leaving him more room to paint her neck with kisses.

She moaned again as she felt him suck and bite her delicate skin. She should have stopped him, she should have considered that it was not a good idea for him to mark her that way but she was drunk, too drunk from that sensation that she didn’t know how to explain nor that sensation that she didn’t even know how to name. She didn't care, she only cared about him. It was all him, she felt him throughout the room, in every pore of her skin.

Him, him, him. It was all him.

She was so immersed in that simple pleasure that she didn't even feel uncomfortable or insecure about being in a bra in front of a boy for the first time. It was strange, she really thought the first time was going to be a disaster but for the moment she was quite comfortable and she was quite enjoying it. Had she really missed this all these years?.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt his chin brush against one of her breasts, his kisses had descended from her throat to the skin that covered her esophagus and were about to reach the beginning of her breasts. His hands had moved from her waist and bottom to her back, both hands large enough to cover almost her entire back. She felt one of his fingers caress the clasp of her bra.

“Can I take it off, mon ange?” She lowered her chin again and after looking into his eyes for a few seconds, she finally nodded. She didn't trust her voice at that moment, she didn't believe that anything other than moans, gasps or some sigh was going to come out of her throat.

She let his hands take hold of the hook of the black bra and soon she felt it peel away from her skin. Swallowing, she helped him take it off by passing both arms through the straps. She looked at it in the monegasque's hands and she scolded herself for not having chosen a prettier bra, not that that one was ugly but it was too simple. She shook her head slightly without Charles seeing her, that wasn't important now.

He threw the bra across the room, almost hitting a painting that it looked like it was expensive. He grimaced and she laughed lightly making him smile.

He looked at her, laughing and almost naked on top of him. The expensive painting that he almost broke couldn't compare to the work of art he had in front of him. A small sigh came from deep in his chest. He brushed aside a couple of unruly strands that had slipped past her shoulders and pushed them back, letting them join the rest of the long hair that covered her back. This caught the girl's attention, her laughter began to die, leaving behind a pretty but unremarkable smile.

She shifted a little uncomfortably under his gaze and he denied, caressing her waist, his other hand gripping her chin and forcing her to look at him again when she looked away from him. He looked at her with all the sincerity in the world "You're beautiful, mon ange."

"Really?" Her voice was almost not heard but he did, he would always hear her. He nodded, taking her hand and bringing it to his bare chest, placing it on top of his heart.

"Really" He caressed her face with the hand that was previously holding her waist "You're like an angel, the most beautiful thing anyone can see in their life".

She licked her lips and brought her free hand to his neck. She approached him and rested her forehead on his before closing her eyes "Kiss me, Charles."

And he, more than happy, obeyed. Their lips met for the thousandth time that morning, their tongues began to curl around each other until her lungs began to demand air, they reluctantly separated. Charles kissed her lips chastely before moving his lips to her cheek, down to her jaw and then to her neck as he had done before. After thinking about it for a second he took her hand to one of her breasts and began to caress it, testing the terrain.

Moans soon filled the room when his lips accompanied his hand, especially when he began to pay attention to her nipples. With his lips glued to her chest he looked up at her and he could swear he almost came right there. Her eyebrows had furrowed together, her eyes were closed in enjoyment and her mouth was slightly open while moans came non-stop from the depths of her throat.

Charles's pants were starting to feel pretty tight.

He separated his lips from her skin and flipped them over again, so he was on top of her again. The spanish girl complained when she felt the loss of contact to which he let out a small raspy laugh before placing his lips back to her chest although they didn't stay there as they began to move towards her stomach.

Arabella's eyes widened when she felt his hands get tangled in her pants and her panties. She sat up quickly making him stop and look at her confused.

She covered her face with both hands and let out a loud sigh, muttering curses in her native language. The monegasque frowned at her, crawling across the bed until he was in front of her. Once he was in front of her, he took one of her hands, forcing her to uncover her face, which was red with shame.

“Hey” He whispered when he got her to uncover completely and look at him, he looked at her worried “Have I done something wrong? Something that made you uncomfortable or...”

She was quick to interrupt him “No, no, no. The thing is...”

She bit her lip, uncomfortable with the situation. Charles raised an eyebrow at her, positioning himself more comfortably on her side. He looked at her expectantly, making her gaze nervously travel around the room, avoiding his eyes. She pressed her lips together making them disappear in a fine line when he took her hand and intertwined their fingers.

"It's okay, ma belle" He gave her a small smile "You can tell me if you want."

She took a breath and bit her lower lip again "It's just... I've never been with someone like….that, I-I'm a virgin" She murmured her last words, trying to avoid them, but he managed to hear her.

He opened his mouth, surprised more than anything. It took him a while but he reacted, he began to caress the back of her hand with his thumb to calm her down.“Oh, okay. It's okay, nothing happens. We can go slow, I'm not in a hurry”.

He smiled at her when she finally looked at him. He knew that she was worried about what he would say or think, he could see it very clearly in her eyes but it was true that he didn't care too much about sex, he wasn't with her for that reason.

She covered her face again, letting out a sharp complaint "This is so embarrassing"

He laughed lightly, twisting his hands around her wrists to move them away from her face again, he pushed her making her back make contact with her mattress again. He soon lay down next to her and hugged her. They both looked at the ceiling in silence. Charles knew she was embarrassed –not just because she herself had just admitted it verbally– it was noticeable in the air of the room, in how it had changed. He let out a small sigh and began to caress her shoulder gently.

“After Azerbaijan the race is in your country, are you excited?” He changed the subject, wanting to distract her from her thoughts knowing that she was overthinking, it was something he had observed in her. Arabella had a hard time expressing her feelings out loud so everything was stuck in her mind and he knew that right now her head was in chaos.

He felt her shift against his chest, he tensed for a moment because she, like him, was still naked from the waist up and her could feel her breasts pressing against the skin of his own torso. He kissed her hair letting her get comfortable.

"I'm nervous" She admitted, tightening her grip around his torso. "I'd like my first victory to be at home”.

“Maybe you win here or in Azerbaijan” The girl's gaze traveled to the large window from which much of Shanghai could be seen. She was grateful for having accepted Charles' idea of traveling to the chinese city a week earlier.

She separated her chin from his chest and raised her head to look at him. He followed her with his gaze, tangling his fingers in the rebellious brown locks "And you, how do you feel? It's going to be your first home race in Ferrari”.

He grimaced “I just hope I don't eat the wall like two years ago.”

The girl opened her mouth remembering it “It was you! God, I didn't remember that”.

She remembered when she saw the boy's car hit the wall in the 2017 race in Monaco, they were both still in Formula Two. She still remembers seeing the car smashed against the wall as she drove past it, not much later she was named the winner of the race.

Who was going to tell her that the driver of that car was going to be her teammate and that they would both be half naked in bed? The world was really small.

“You won, right?” He looked at her with half-closed eyes and she nodded, laughing. He clicked his tongue “I remember I wanted to congratulate you but I never did.”

“Maybe thanks to that we are here today”.

He kissed her forehead “And I wouldn't change it for anything in the world.”

SHE frowned when she saw a tweet about how some YouTubers mentioned her, she moved her right thumb to the link and waited for the screen to take her to the YouTube video.

When the video's headline appeared on her screen, her brow furrowed even more. 'Moto2: Argentina Race, summary and our opinion' Her eyes traveled curiously across the screen observing every little detail, apparently they were a couple of spanish boys, one with hair dyed blue and the other brown, it seemed that they were not very far from her age, they had set up a channel in which they commented on Moto GP races and according to their number of subscribers, apparently they were doing quite well. She raised an eyebrow, sensing what the matter was going on.

She pressed play and the blue-haired boy began to speak “Bienvenidos otra vez a…”Welcome back to…

She rolled her eyes heavily before stopping the video and beginning to search through her comments for her name. She stopped a couple of times reading her last name but when reading the comments she could see that they were only talking about her brother, she bit her nail as she continued scrolling down through the comments. She finally started to find her name.

She moved the thin red line until the number 6:02 became present, she pressed the center of the screen again and quickly one of the boys' voice rang through the room. She was thankful that she was back in her room because she didn't know what to expect, much less how she was going to react, so she was thankful that Charles wasn't present.

“Oliver Torres was going very well until he had to go to the pits” Her ears perked up when she heard the name of her younger brother. The blue-haired boy nodded at his friend's words and turned in his chair.

“Yeah, he's really not having any luck this season” He lowered the hood of his head and looked at the camera “At least he doesn't have anyone giving him shit like his sister with Hamilton”.

The other snorted before laughing half-heartedly “Ah, yes, Arabella Torres.”

"He doesn't like her" His buddy laughed, hitting him on the arm, to which the other stretched out making a face.

“It's not that I dislike her, but I don't think it was a good idea to put her in Formula One” He shrugged his shoulders.

The blue haired one looked at him interested "Why?"

“I feel that the FIA accepted her just for being a woman, so that there is diversity. They have Hamilton and Torres, they already have the minimum diversity acceptable by society”.

“That's twisted but I wouldn't be surprised if it were true”.

“Hmm, I also don't like her because he's too narcissistic. She thinks she's the best but come on!, she hasn't won anything. She said she was going to beat Hamilton but she's done everything but win, it's no big deal. Her racing style is shit and I don't know, she isn’t that good”.

“But she is pretty”.

They both looked at each other for a few seconds in silence before starting to laugh. The brunette nodded "Yes, she's hot. Very hot, how old is she?”.

“Eighteen”.

“Ah, okay, then it's legal for me to say this” They laughed again as if it were the best joke in the world “She would be a good fuck, have you seen that ass?”.

“Yes but I'm more of a tits guy, you know.

“It's not that she lacks in that area” He put her hands in front of his chest and squeezed them making an obscene gesture “Some good pillows”.

“Do you think they are natural or she had surgery?”.

Disgusted, she ran out of the video. She dropped the phone and lost her gaze to some fixed point in the room. She suddenly felt disgusted with her body, as if she had the sudden need to cover herself as much as she could so as not to be seen.

How could they talk about her as if she were just a piece of meat with eyes? Was it only her chest and her ass that were important and not that she drove a car every weekend that went three hundred kilometers per hour with the possibility of die every time she sat on it? She pulled her sweatshirt down trying to cover herself as much as possible and lay down on the bed. She felt tears pool in her eyes as she crawled into the sheets. She brought her knees to her chest and hugged them, it didn't take her long to fall asleep through tears.

A couple of hours later, which was actually seconds for her, the noise of her phone indicating that someone was calling her. Her gaze traveled around the room, she felt disoriented not knowing what day or time it was. She could tell that at least it was still daylight thanks to the large window in front of her bed. She ran a hand over her face, feeling the roughness of her cheeks thanks to the tears that had dried on their way to her neck. She let out a sigh and immediately sat up, sitting on the bed. She groaned when she felt a sting in her skull, something that used to happen to her when she fell asleep while or after she cried.

Blindly, she moved her hand across the sheets to touch her phone, picked it up, and looked at the screen. The YouTube application was still open but there was no trace of the video, she looked at the time and breathed a sigh of relief, it was still early.

The phone was still ringing indicating that her brother was calling her.

She pressed the green button present at the top right corner of the phone and brought the device to his ear.

“¿Si?” Yes? She asked fearfully because the truth was that she almost never spoke with her brother, at least not on phone calls, but they did send each other the occasional message to congratulate each other when one of them took a trophy home or to ask about their parents in in case one couldn't talk to them but the other could. They both had a very busy life, him in Moto2 and her in Formula One, so it had been at least six or seven months since the last time they saw each other because it's not like they coincided too much, when one was on one side of the world the other was in the other. It was strange, but that was their relationship.

“I've seen the video” From the tone of her voice he knew that he was angry and the truth didn't surprise her. Since Oliver had entered his teenage years he had acquired some anger problems, of course she couldn't blame him because she was just like him except that when her little brother received some kind of comment or something he didn't like he was quite vocal about it while she decided to keep quiet and let her actions speak for her.

And now you cry like a little girl, her conscience scolded her.

"I'm going to kill them, who the hell do they think they are to talk about my sister like that?" She came back to reality when she heard his growl, behind his voice she could hear motorcycle engines roar. She assumed that he was training for his next race, she felt bad for him, she hoped that the issue would not affect her training.

“Oli, it's okay. Everything is okay” She tried to reassure him “They're just two assholes talking nonsense”.

“No, Bella. It's not okay” He shook her head even though his sister couldn't see him “Do you know what they're saying about you on Twitter? They are talking about your body as if it were theirs to comment on, it's disgusting”.

She saw how her free hand began to shake and she sighed again, she closed it into a fist trying to make the tremors stop. She suddenly felt guilty, guilty that her brother was having a hard time in that moment, he was only sixteen years old and he was witnessing his older sister being sexualized on the internet. It wasn't something a little boy should have to experience.

She heard a door close on the other side of the call “Arabella, I've read tweets where they say what they want to do to you. There are people who have gone to jail for less, it is very disgusting”.

“Fuck” She cursed out loud. She was thankful that her parents didn't have social media.

"Whatever you do, don't look at Twitter, okay?" He sounded like he was pleading from his tone but she knew he was actually trying to be nice and make her say yes but they both knew that as soon as the call was cut off she would run to the blue bird app. He pursed his lips, swallowing his words “I think mom told me that you are in China with your friends, go out with them and entertain yourself as much as you can. Forget it, okay? I'll tell Nick so he can do something”.

“Mmmh, yeah, okay” She nodded quickly, wanting to end the call. She sounded like a masochistic but she really wanted to see what they were talking about her.

“Please, Bells”.

"It's okay, I'm not going to look at it" She promised him. Her face was distorted into a grimace, her chest hurt when she breathed. I'm sorry to lie to you, little brother.

"Please, don't do it" The youngest Torres begged, knowing his sister. He knew that she was going to look at it and that she was going to mentally beat herself up about it, then she would smile in front of the world and say that she didn't give a shit to keep up the appearances. That was his sister, trying to seem strong in front of everyone when in reality she was just a scared girl.

"Goodbye, Oliver" She cut off the call before he could answer her. She pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at the screen, moved her finger across it and exited YouTube, the home screen soon coming into view. She stared at the blue bird icon for a few seconds, biting the inside of her cheek.

Her gaze went to her hand, which was still shaking only more rapidly now. She wrinkled her nose regretting what she was going to do but still didn't stop her finger when it moved across the screen.

Her eyes moved frantically across the screen; people talking about how they wanted to fuck her, comments about how she was only in Formula One to be the sex doll for the other drivers, some sick bastards explaining with every detail what they would do to her in bed if she gave them the opportunity and, of course, lastly, a little few comments defending her.

She brought her hand to her mouth trying to suppress the sob she could tell she was fighting to get out of her.

You should have listened to your brother.

SHE FELT Lando's arm slide down her shoulders which woke her up from her trance, she looked at the briton finding his unique white smile.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his tone wasting concern despite the big smile that hung from his lips as he spoke.

"Yes" Sh nodded, passing her arm around his waist so that they could walk more comfortably, she looked at the backs of the others walking a couple of meters more in front of them before looking at the curly again "Why do you ask?”.

"It's just that you've been all morning like in another world, I don't know” He shrugged. His index finger traveled to the junction of his sunglasses to push them up through the bridge of his nose.

It had been three days since the twitter thing had happened and, although she couldn't stop thinking about it, she hadn't talked to anyone about it. She ignored her brother's calls and messages and apparently, fortunately or unfortunately, neither Charles nor any of the others had seen the tweets. The truth is that she thought she had been lucky because she preferred to enjoy her free time with the boys without feeling the clear discomfort that the fact that they read the tweets would bring, she knew that they would try to cheer her up and that they would try too hard that things would become uncomfortable.

She leaned her head against Lando's shoulder and a short time later she felt how he rested his chin on hers. They kept walking until they met the others, who had stood near a bar.

Pierre smiled ladily when he saw them hung together "Is there anything you want to tell us, guys?".

Immediately Daniel began to make noises to annoy them, forcing Max to follow him who resisted but ended up following him with laughter. The gaze of the youngest of the McLaren duo traveled to the Ferrari boy who didn’t look very happy, and moved slightly away from the girl.

Arabella rolled her eyes extending her arm to push the frenchman, simulating discomfort but the smile on her face betrayed her “Que pesado el Pedro” So annoying, Pedro (spanish version of Pierre).

Gasly frowned confusedly at the unknown language in which his friend had spoken to him while the other spaniard laughed loudly. He turned to his best friend, leaning over to murmur in his ear and that no one listened to him “What did she say?”.

The monegasque shrugged while still looking at his teammate laughing with her compatriot while they spoke in spanish. He smiled slightly happy to see her laugh again because these last few days he had noticed that her mood had changed, she was acting strange. He had decided not to mention it knowing that she had a hard time talking but he had set a deadline, tonight he was going to ask her if she was still acting like that. He was relieved to see her gradually becoming the Arabella he knew again. He felt his chest warm up when he saw her smile.

Merde, Charles. You're in too deep, huh?

"Well, let's eat" Norris raised his voice and made his way among his friends to enter the bar although he stopped his steps by turning around to look at the others. Everyone looked at him expectantly wondering what was wrong while he looked at them pursing his lips “Does anyone know Chinese?”.

The other curly haired laughed, hitting his hand against his shoulder as if he had said the funniest thing in the world while the dutchman rolled his eyes, passing between them to lead the group and, finally, go to the bar. He looked at the british “They also speak english, Lando”.

“Oh”.

Ricciardo's laughter got louder, he bent over holding his stomach “Ah, it hurts”.

Carlos looked at him entertained "Look how happy he is always, I want to be like him at his age”.

"Hey, I'm not much older than you." He quickly stopped laughing, put his back straight and looked at the male spaniard who smiled mockingly at him.

"But you're older”.

He opened his mouth to answer him but the hand of the only girl resting on Sainz's shoulder and pushing him towards the bar interrupted him.

"Come on, Carlitos" She kept pushing him, an equally mocking smile stuck to her lips "Don't bother grandpa anymore”.

"Oi!" The Australian exclaimed and both spaniards began to laugh.

Charles looked at them –at her, rather because he only looked at her– with a smile as he followed them from a little far away. His best friend made a noise calling his attention, he looked at him finding that he was already looking at him with a small smile on his face.

"What?" He asked confusedly at what the blue-eyed one laughed catching him in his arms, Leclerc complained when Gasly's arms surrounded his head.

"You like Arabella" He sang causing the younger to stop his movements, he looked at him alarmed but Pierre ignored him "It hurts me a little that you didn't tell me, you know being your best friend and all that but...”

“What are you talking about? I don't like her!” He exclaimed getting out of his grip. The frenchman analyzed him with his eyes, he was on the defensive mode, he definitely hid something.

"Yeah, of course" He took his phone out of the back pocket of his pants and put it on his face "Well, look, how together you can be seen here, holding hands and everything”.

Charles snatched his phone to be able to see the photo better.

"Merde” Shit.

Meanwhile, inside the bar, Arabella was smiling at Verstappen who in a gentlemanly act was holding her chair to sit down.

She gave him a smile “Thank you, Maxie”.

The boy blushed, waving his hand like saying "it's nothing." Lando let out a sharp laugh when he saw the intimidating dutchman blushing.

“And you don’t hold the chains for the rest of us? So rude of you" Ricciardo complained to which the Red Bull driver raised his middle finger in his direction.

"I can hold something else for you if you want”.

Arabella laughed, taking her phone out of the bag that hung from her shoulder, which was ringing indicating that they were sending her messages. All the color left her face, leaving her as white as a paper sheet.

"Mierda” Shit.

[professorsnape394]

Day 3: Haunted Hijinks

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC

Rating: 🥰

Prompt: Haunt

Summary: Peeves has it out for the new Professor and only Severus Snape can help.

A/N: So I had initially intended for his to be a shorter story but it ended up being even bigger than my last. I apologise if there maybe isn't quite enough Snape for you, but good news is there will be a part 2!

Warnings: ghosts?

Word Count: 2518

Credits to Gif Creator

Week 1

The haunting started just as I had anticipated. Doors slamming, objects randomly disappearing and reappearing in different places, drawers sporadically flinging themselves open and emptying their entire contents onto the floor.

I wasn’t scared. I knew it was coming.

When I first joined the school Minerva was over the moon to have her favourite student joining the faculty. I received an overwhelmingly warm welcome by everyone… everyone, except two.

The first was to be expected. Severus Snape was never a man for comradery. Despite the fact we had both attended Hogwarts at the same time as teens, my presence here didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. While I had been admittedly disappointed by his cold reception, I wasn’t surprised by it. Snape rarely acknowledged me, even when we had shared classes together. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he didn’t even know I existed.

The second, less then pleasant reception, came from a poltergeist.

As confirmed by Minerva, Peeves had a habit of making every new professor’s life at Hogwarts a living hell. Everyone had experienced the same treatment, all except one.

The torment was to last one month exactly, worsening as the weeks went on. This was his way of initiating you into the faculty apparently. The silver lining of it all though, was after the month was done, no professor would be pestered by the poltergeist thereafter.

The first week passed without issue. Yes, it was annoying to go to pick up your hairbrush only to have it vanish from plain sight. And constantly tidying up the contents of my desk was becoming a bit of a nuisance but nothing I couldn’t handle for the next few weeks.

Week 2

“Peeves!” I groaned, jumping from my chair, as my whole desk hit the floor. “I’m trying to work.”

The room echoed with deep belly laughter, an apparition of the ghost appearing as he zoomed from one side of the room to the other.

Books flew from their spot on the bookcase, smashing into the opposite wall before fluttering to the floor. One after the other the shelves emptied themselves, leaving only the bare bones of the old oak bookcase.

While trying to right my upturned desk, a loud creaking caught my attention.

“No!” I screamed, watching the shelves come crashing to the floor with a loud thud.

This had been the way of the week. Standing by, watching the poltergeist wreak havoc on my chambers, powerless to stop his antics. Within the short space of a week Peeves had turned my life upside down. Every day I awoke to each room in my quarters being completely trashed by the ghost. My clothes were piled high, the empty drawers dumped beside them, class assignments and student essays lay scattered across the floor, he had even taken to raiding my bathroom cupboards, squeezing out the contents of every bottle he came across, smearing it over the floor, walls and mirrors.

Despite my efforts to clean up after him, I soon realised it was a futile task. No matter how quickly I cleaned up one mess, Peeves had already created three more. It was halfway through the week when I realised it would be easier to live with the mess for the next two and a half weeks. Paying my dues turned out to be a lot messier than I had anticipated.

Week 3

The penultimate week took a different toll than the others. I saw Peeves a lot more than he had previously allowed; choosing to take to his physical form and follow me around the castle grounds.

He whispered nonsense in my ear, spoke over me while I taught, interrupted my conversations with my colleagues and worst of all he sang. Day and night, Peeves belted out a badly pitched tune, throwing in the occasional made-up limerick to just to taunt me.

Last night was a particularly difficult night. Somehow Peeves had gathered every radio, gramophone and record player from around the school and scattered them throughout my bedroom. Dozens of different melodies blasted through the speakers, all while Peeves sung along to songs that he never even knew the words to.

My three-day migraine turning into four, I was surviving purely off of caffeine and sheer will power at this point. I hadn’t had a minute of sleep since the week began, and I wasn’t sure I could cope with it any longer.

“Not long now, my dear.” McGonagall encouraged, gently patting my arm reassuringly.

Struggling to keep my eyes open, I took another large swig of my morning coffee. “How did you put up with it, Minerva. I don’t think I can last much longer; it’s beginning to affect my teaching.”

“I’m afraid it’s just one of those things we have all had to endure, my dear.”

“Not everybody.” I huffed, turning my narrowed gaze to the potions master at the far end of the table. “How did he get away with it? Why doesn’t Peeves make his life hell.”

“That would have to be a question you ask Severus.”

“Pft.” I grunted. “He’d never tell me. He hasn’t even spoke to me since I started here.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“No but…” I didn’t have any excuse.

“Then maybe now is your chance. Severus had never been one to make the first step, but I know he’d appreciate it if you paid him a visit.”

“Do you think he even remembers me? I mean it’s been years since we were in school and even then we didn’t exactly run in the same circles.”

“I’m positive he’ll remember you, Y/N, maybe more than you’d expect.”

“What’s that supposed to mea- “

Before I had a chance to finish my sentence, my mug of coffee flew from my grasp, levitating in the air tauntingly, before finally tipping its entire contents onto my lap.

I jumped from the table with a gasp, thanking Merlin the beverage had time to cool before I was scolded.

My cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Not only was my dress and robes stained dark with coffee but the entire school had been privy to my torment.

I immediately ran from the Great Hall, hoping to escape any further public teasing from the spectre.

By the time the school day had come to an end my head was pounding from the lack of sleep, Peeves had interrupted all six of my classes today, and I had heard students whispering about the coffee fiasco on more than one occasion.

This was my breaking point.

Putting aside my shame and anxiety, I stormed down to the Dungeons to find out how Snape escaped the poltergeist’s awful induction. I was willing to beg on my knees if that is what it took.

“Y/N?” Snape breathed, seemingly shocked at the sight of me on his doorstep.

“I need your help Severus. Please.”

“Come in.” He granted, clearing his throat as he returned to the room.

I took a seat by the fire, waiting for him to join me. Instead, the potions professor paced around the room, never quite settling on one spot.

“It’s nice to see you again.” I called over my shoulder to him, hoping to break the ice.

“Is it?” He stumbled. “I mean; yes, it is.”

“It’s been a long time; I don’t even think I remember the last time we saw each other.”

“Graduation.” He said without hesitating. “I saw you afterwards in the Hog’s Head with Potter and Black.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot about that.” I chuckled nervously, wondering how he possibly remembered that when I couldn’t.

“I remember Sirius got so drunk that night, he ended up sleeping at mine and-

“What do you want, Y/N.” Severus snapped, his entire demeanour changing as he made his way to stand in front of me.

“I need your help.” I repeated.

“With the Poltergeist I presume.”

I nodded simply in response, suddenly understanding why the students found him so intimidating.

He had changed a lot since school. He was no longer the scrawny little teenager whose clothes never quite fit. He was a man now, tall and built out. His clothes fit him perfectly, they even showcased the outline of a bicep on either arm. His voice was like velvet, deep and rich, and it hit my ear in exactly the right way. His face, while no longer youthful, suited the aged lines etched into his forehead. His eyes had always been my favourite though; dark as the night sky and just as mysterious. I never could bare the intensity of his gaze and experiencing it now made me feel just like that awkward 14-year-old again.

“Peeves is not one to be stopped. With exception of Dumbledore and the Bloody Baron he listens to nobody. A deal was struct with a previous headmaster to allow the spectre to have his fun for one month, after which he is not to intervene with the professors to ensure the sanctity of the school and the students education.”

“But he never tormented you.” I whispered, hoping to gain some more insight.

“I cannot help you.” Snape’s eyes saddened.

“Why not? Is it because we were never friends in school? I tried to talk to you Severus, I did, but you just never seemed interested, I- ”

“I cannot help you, Y/N, because I did nothing to deter the ghost.” I opened my mouth to object, but Snape never gave me a chance to speak. “Peeves never haunted me because he never wanted to. It is my understanding that before the castle was built, these dungeons were the grounds in which Peeves was brutally murdered, more specifically, this very room. The ghost refuses to enter my chambers at all. I cannot help you, Y/N, because the only place in this whole castle where you can escape the phantom is here.”

My shoulders drooped at the revelation.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked like he really meant.

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault.” I puffed, trying not to sound as disappointed as I was. “I guess I’ll just have to suck it up like everyone else, I guess.”

Realising Snape probably didn’t want me to stick around for some unnecessary small talk, I immediately tried to make myself scarce. However, while heading out the door I was forced to stop in my tracks.

“Y/N.” Severus called after me.

God, I loved the way he said my name.

“If you ever need a break from him. To do your marking or even just to read for a bit, you can come here. There door is always open.”

“Thank you, Severus. I really appreciate that.” Though it wasn’t likely I’d ever take him up on the offer. Being in such close quarters with a man like him was bound to set me nerves on edge.

Week 4

With 7 days to go until my living hell was no more, I was sure I could power through the fourth and final week.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Day one came in full force. I awoke to the deafening sound of fireworks; fizzing and sparkling at the end of my bed. My heart pounded in my chest; the combination of insomnia, my high caffeine intake and now this, heart palpitations had become a regular occurrence for me.

Nevertheless, I promised myself to power through the day, trudging out of bed to start my classes. I waded through piles of my belongings; the floor hadn’t been visible for a fortnight now and I was almost starting to get used to it. As I made my way to the bathroom, I flicked my wand turning off each blaring radio as I went, hoping it would earn me a moments peace before I was thrust into the chaos of Hogwarts.

True disaster stuck, however, as I approached the hall leading to the bathroom. A sharp shiver shot through up my spine as something squelched underneath my bare feet. I closed my eyes, praying it wasn’t what I thought had happened.

My favourite sweater lay sodden in the middle of the hall, amidst a pair of drenched leggings and a stack of soggy assignments. The hall had been completely flood, the source of course being; the bathroom.

“Please please please.” I repeated to myself as I gripped the door handle tight.

Giving me no time at all to mentally prepare myself for the inevitable state of the bathroom, Peeves appeared on the other side of the door, yanking it open forcefully, taking me with it. I was instantly flung into the deep end, finding myself standing in the middle of a domestic rain shower. The shower, the sink AND the toilet all had water spurting out of them, drowning the room until I was in an ankle-deep puddle. Even the bath was overflowing, given that Peeves had deliberately put the stopper in it before choosing to burst the pipes.

I let out a long and frustrated scream.

“This has gone too far, Peeves!”

A far away laugh echoed through the chambers, he clearly got his desired reaction out of me.

While tempted to succumb to the ghosts’ antics; ready to ball myself on the floor and cry it out. I remembered I did have one other option.

No longer possessing a sense of shame I trudged my way through the castle halls wearing only my saturated silk pyjama set and a pair of waterlogged fluffy bunny slippers. My hair clung to the side of my face in strands of tangled curls, the wet ends dripping onto the floor behind me as I walked.

“Please don’t say no to this.” Were the first words out my mouth when Snape opened his door to me.

“Alright.” He answered without question.

“Can I stay with you.”

“Okay.”

“It’ll just be for the week and I can sleep on the couch, or even on the floor but at least I’ll sleep. And I’ll have to use your shower too, as you can probably tell my bathroom is currently incapacitated. I’ll stay out of your way as much as possible, and I’ll literally owe you the biggest- Wait, what did you just say?”

“I said okay, Y/N.” It was clear the potions master was struggling not to roll his eyes at me forcing him to repeat himself.

“…But why?”

“I’m not quite as unaccommodating as people seem to assume. I’ve witnessed how much you have struggled these past three weeks. And I know, if you’ve shown up here begging for my help, it must be bad. So okay, you can stay for the week. But be warned, there will be some ground rules.”

“Oh My God, Severus I could kiss you right now. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

If he were anyone else, I’d have definitely thrown myself at them, crushing their torso to show my sheer gratitude. With Severus though, I knew he was not one for physical forms of affection, and given that I was soaked to the bone I realised it wouldn’t be wise to subject my saviour to my same fate.

“We’ll discuss my stipulations after dinner this evening. Now you best hurry up and take a shower if you want to make it in time for your first lesson of the day.”

As I sprinted to his bathroom, I could have sworn I spotted a small smirk tugging at the corner of Snape’s lips.

He really wasn’t as grouchy as he let on.

[kalisburnerphone]

Amazing // Choi Seungcheol

Summary: Seungcheol doesn’t understand why she won’t let him take care of her when it’s all he wants to do. He has no idea how she found out about what he’s been doing every month for the past six months but he’s sure he can get her to agree with his logic.

Warnings: Idol!Seungcheol x OC!Solana, kinda one-sided situationship, a tiny bit suggestive,Seungcheol on his glucose guardian agenda, curve/plus-sized, foreigner!oc, Seungcheol calls her Sol, princess. I think that’s about it, let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: This is part of an idolverse series that’ll be posted in non-chronological order. I’m not sure how many parts members will have but there might be instances of crossovers.Mingyu, Seungcheol and Minghao are the only ones that I have anything written/plotted for. I’m not promising frequent updates because I’m currently on an intensive training program before starting grad school but I have some free time starting Thursday so I’ll try to work on pieces during that time. I only just got back into posting my work in the kpop community after a break from it but I do enjoy anime as well so you may come across it on my dashboard. Lastly, I am absolute trash when it comes to titles and summaries so please bare with me in advance.

Solana and Seungcheol rarely argued and if they did, it was usually about the same thing; Seungcheol spending his money on her like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to do. And in his mind, it was. Seungcheol understood that she was more than capable of providing for and taking care of herself but he felt as though she shouldn’t have to with him around.

They’d met before he’d even acquired the amount of money he had today so he knew for a fact that it wasn’t why she was with him which is exactly why he spent it on her. Seungcheol in most instances believed that actions spoke louder than words and if he felt like buying his girlfriend’s entire shopping cart on her favorite jewelry site than that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

Usually Sol wouldn’t say anything because no matter how much she told him not to, he’d find a way to justify his actions and just do it once again. This time however, she refused to let him.

“Yah!! Choi Seungcheol!” She exclaimed as she entered her apartment. His head pops out from the kitchen where he’d been peeling tangerines when he hears her.

“What’d I do?” She only ever called him by his government name when she angry or irritated with him.

“Y’know what you did! I thought we agreed that you’d ease up on excessive amounts of spending that you do on me?”

“We did, I haven’t spent excessively on you since the last time you gave me an earful for buying everything in your cart from The Jade Jewelers. What’s this about?” He asks tangerines forgotten as he follows her to the living room area, arms crossed over his chest as he looks at her rummaging through her bag before pulling out a small pile of paper.

“You’re really going to play dumb with me right now? You haven’t been spending excessively? Then explain this.” She spits out pressing the printed sheets to his chest.

Seungcheol takes the papers from her hand, looking them over before ‘shit’ is whispered from his lips. “You weren’t supposed to find out about this.”

“Well, no shit Seungcheol. Explain yourself.” She snaps as she sits on the couch with her arms crossed and looking directly at him.

“How’d you find out?”

“That’s not important. I’ve been living here for six months and you’ve been paying my rent this entire time after I told you I didn’t like you spending excessively on me especially when it came to things that I’m capable of handling on my own.”

“I know you’re capable, I do, but just because you can do all these things for yourself doesn’t mean that you have to. I’m here and I’m willing, wanting to do these things for you but you won’t let me.Why can’t I do nice things for you?”

Because it makes this feel like it’s more than what it is. It’s what she wants to tell him because as much as Seungcheol acted like it wasn’t that big of a deal, it was to her. She’d constantly have to remind herself that they weren’t in a relationship. They hooked up whenever he had free time and him paying for her KTX ticket and accommodation in Seoul was as much as she said she’d allow him but Choi Seungcheol had a way of getting whatever he wanted.

“It’s not that you can’t do nice things for me, it’s just that you have a habit of behaving like a damn glucose guardian when it comes to expenses.”

“Okay, and? If I want to behave like your sugar daddy and pay and do everything for you then you should just let me. Think about it,” he says dropping in the space next to her wasting no time in pulling her onto his lap.

“I cover all your basic expenses and necessities and all you have to do is sit pretty and get that degree. Sounds like a win-win situation to me.”

“No. Now either fix it or I’m transferring the money to your account.”

“I’ll send it right back. Play with me if you want to.” He smirks at her.

“God, you’re so infuriating.” She huffs getting off his lap and moving down the hall to her bedroom.”

“Yahhhh, we weren’t finished yet.” She can hear him pouting as he follows behind her.

“Yes, we are because you’re going to do it again regardless of what I say right now.” She responses slipping off her jacket.

“Sollllllll, are you really that upset about it?” When she doesn’t reply, he wraps his arms around her waist and rests his head on her shoulder. “If I compromise with you, will you stop being upset with me and go back to calling me Cheol?”

“Does that compromise include you not paying all my bills?” She replies sarcastically.

“Watch it, princess. Don’t want that mouth getting you in trouble don’t you? I’ve already let you slide with the sass, don’t push it.” He speaks into her ear before lightly nipping at her neck.

“I’ll let you pay your phone bill and groceries but that’s it. Despite what you say I know you only moved out from the dorms this early because of me and to allow us more privacy. The least I can do is cover your rent and utilities, I can’t help it because that’s just who I am and you know this. Now, forgive me please?” 

Seungcheol asks spinning her around in his arms. She was just about an inch or two shorter than him so he didn’t have to do much to look her in the eyes. “I don’t want you mad at me on my last night before I leave.”

“Forgive me,” there’s a peck to her cheek followed by another until Seungcheol has pressed kisses all over her face and has her a giggling mess.

“Fine, fine,Cheolll.” She laughs trying to escape him but he’s not having it.

“I can’t hear you princess, what was that?” He teases as he grasps her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“I forgive you,” 

“And?” he encourages though he already knows that he’s gotten his way once again.

“I’ll let you take care of me even if it means putting my pride and independent nature aside and letting you pay my rent.” she sighs dramatically.

She’d never admit it but seeing Seungcheol be domestic had a tendency to do things to her. Things he’d never let her hear the end of if he knew. She’d seen a lot of different sides to Choi Seungcheol in the two years since they started all this but domesticated Seungcheol was her second favorite.

“Y’know what’s amazing?” He asks and she’s so busy staring at him that she misses the teasing lithe in his voice.

“Hmmm?” Her hands are draped over his shoulders, fingers playing in the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands around her waist resting on the curve of her ass as he leans in closer to her ear.

“We both know that I have no problem getting your pussy wet but when are you finally going to admit that me being all domesticated and taking care of you gets you all hot and bothered the same way it does to me? Hmmm?”

The way her breath hitches is enough to let him know that he’s right but he doesn’t act on it.

“C’mon, I cut fruit and we have new episodes to finish.” He says kissing her cheek as he leaves her standing in the bedroom like he didn’t just read her for filth. It takes a few seconds for her to recover but once she does she’s following behind him.

“Yah! Choi Seungcheol!”

[leodette]

Bowl of Cherries | MV33

fandom: Formula 1

pairing: Max Verstappen x OC (aka our darling lilli)

names/faceclaims: -

summary: one clumsy moment, and suddenly plans have to change (not that anyone compains)

warning: mentions of mild injury, possible light swearing

requested: yes / no

author's note: for our beloved lilli aka @maxlarens! Happy birthday babe, enjoy your day! ❤️

**********

They were supposed to leave. Their reservation was getting close, but neither of them kind of rushed. There wasn't a reason after all.

"I'm such a clumsy idiot that it screams problem," the woman muttered while sitting on a couch, already dressed in her little black dress and diamond necklace. The man was kneeling in front of her, a bag full of frozen peas in his hand, pressing it to her swollen ankle.

"Looks like heels will go straight to trash," she snorted, and Max just looked up and smirked.

"Do you understand that I can cancel that reservation with a single phonecall, right? No need to panic that we can't make it," he pressed the bag tighter and she hissed.

"Lils, baby, I know it hurts, but this will help it at first," he gently pressed his lips to her knee without any side intention but to comfort his fiancée.

"I know. But please, let me be angry at myself for ruining our anniversary, at least for a few minutes, okay?" she frowned at him, and he chuckled before a wrinkle appeared on his forehead.

"Wait, you think that you ruined our anniversary?"

"Well and didn't I?"

He scoffed and grabbed her hand, decorated with a timeless moi-et-toi diamond engagement ring, pressing it on the frozen bag.

"Hold it and sit still," he ordered before standing up and shrugging off this blazer, then quickly walking away from the living room.

She looked after him with a worry in her eyes. It was her clumsiness that destroyed their anniversary plans, the first anniversary they wanted to spend in their favorite restaurant as future husband and wife. Instead, her ankle was pulsing with pain, quickly turning into a size of an orange and a color of blueberries. The first drops on the window kind of woke her up from her thoughts. The sky outside turned gray, the heavy clouds full of water hanging just above the small principality they both called home. Jimmy and Sassy both patted over to their mistress, jumping on her lap and curling together, seeking warmth and comfort and quiet. She burried her fingers in their warm fur, her palm gently vibrating with their purring, and it almost made her smile. The possitive thing of the evening was that the cats came willingly to cuddle with her. And that certainly didn't happen too often.

"Okay, let's get you out of this dress."

She nearly jumped out of the couch when Max's voice sounded just behind her, Jimmy merely opening one eye to give his master a judgemental look before closing it again.

"Now you two, off to the carpet with you," Max gently scooped one cat with each hand and set them on the floor, earning a hiss and a swing by tail before both kittens marched to the guest bedroom. The comforter there apparently seemed like a good alternative.

"They plan to kill you," she muttered when her fiancé put a pile of clothes next to her and then grabbed the hem of her dress, pulling it over her head. Max helped her unclip the bra and put on one of his hoodies followed by joggers, then took off her necklace (which he left on the coffee table) and pressed a packet of cooling gel to her injured ankle.

"Okay, here we go. Let's call it a practice," he grinned at her, and she yelped when he swiftly lifted her bridal style, marching with her towards the balcony.

"I'm heavy," she murmured and burried her face in Max's neck, earning a chuckle.

"Yeah, and I'm Mona Lisa. Lils, schatje, you know I wouldn't let you fall, right?" three-time world champion pressed a kiss to her temple before opening the balcony door and stepping outside. And when she lifted her eyes, her jaw dropped. He put an air matress there, secored by few ties so it wouldn't fly away in the storm, and thrown their most fluffy blanket on it. There was the step he was using for excercise, laid with a various types of tapas and charcuterie - cheeses, sausages, crackers, olives, sundried tomatoes... and a bowl of cherries, grapes and watermelon.

Max gently laid her down on the matress and disappeared again, but just a few moments, to change himself in more comfortable clothes, before joining her again.

The rain was puring down, the wind bringing a smell of the sea to them, few lightning bolts appearing over the mountains.

"Open," Max ordered with a smile, and she opened her mouth, allowing him to put one of the blood red cherries in between her teeth. She chewed and spit out the cherrystone, before he gently took her face in his palm and pressed the softest kiss on her lips.

"Happy anniversary, Lils," he stroked her jaw with his finger.

"Happy anniversray, Maxie," she whispered back, allowing him another kiss.

[almostangrything]

Quick question. What fandom(s) do my mutuals follow me for?

Tagging mutuals (yes all of you)

@lavenderwhirls @yumnasfunblog @sleepdeprivedsimp234 @alchemicalwerewolf @b3nnyrabb1t

@usernose @omghiiiiii @jook-pook @i-stole-the-sky @littleorangemushrooms

@secretly-a-goose @i-am-thoroughly-confused @blairthebword @funsizedcrow @sarkylittlemonster

@onward-magic-princess-barista @brantheblessed @eliza-rivers @wttt-massachusetts @oliversdumbshit

@thecedarsights @thecrazyalchemist @monarchofthequeerpotatoes @beauty-queen-official @dont-put-rice-in-a-toaster

@rat-detector @fake-sassafras @official-nissan @honeysucklethornsandalligtrhorns @wespirallin

@novatheassholeofacat @estherstarlight @laurie-mp3 @well-gosh-diddly-darnit-minyard @10turtlesinatrenchcoat

@clover-ass-sucker @asmileforyourscrapbooks @worshipping-cheesus-christ @logan-bear-bear @nineparlor69

@l0nestarr3d @normalbeing404 @sleepinggoddess222 @oddvanilla @pile-of-cats

@sayyestoheavensayyestome @legoangstissogay @teethburglar @swagchaosdinosaur @the-cheese-slut

@whosbex @https-chaos @an0thergl1tch @imkindanerdy @eater-of-the-alt

@dion-daemos-child-of-hades @dearfraumilena @totally-italy @deathclawfaggot @dead-end-gurl

@melondaskelet0n @rainystarfish @nickolasnickname @heulevescant @mydinnercult

@aerowolf @gay-little-isopod @urlocalloca @ember-oc @remusawoooo

@soulful-rodent @asleepygeorgian @irisandthegayestpotatoes @lostlosersclub @kililvr

@refusingtotiemyshoelaces @thetravel1 @floridasnatural @ask-thing-i-impulse-made @gently-decaying-flowers

@worm-brainzz @what-shitfuckery-is-this-ew @the-trash-eating-llama @xanny-7 @photogenic-strawberry

@spravdiukr @approximately-174-gremlins @weird-arcanefangirl @goldengay49 @gayoticbeing

@grungycxvern @bettathanyou @10dunksfansinatrenchcoat

that's my list have fun yall

[vamp-orwave]

OC Deep Dive 🚬 Lex Kelly

what common/uncommon fear do they have?

I guess you could call it anthropophobia, but really it's only for other vampires. Vampthropophobia. She gets serious anxiety being around licks she doesn't trust, and even those she does are on thin ice. Because the fact is, any of them could eat her, at any time, with no warning, and it might not even be their choice. Because of this, she hates being touched, cornered, crowded, or towered over, which can make Anarch gatherings a real gauntlet.

do they have any pet peeves?

When Malkavians, Caitiff or Duskborn (aka 3/4 of her coterie) are stigmatised by the other Anarchs. She doesn't care whether someone has a good reason for it. Equality or nothing -- or what else are we fighting for, exactly??

what are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

A grimy adaptor board, sockets filled to bursting with plugs for her phone charger, pedestal fan, laptop/tablet, router, and TV / a depression nest made out of loose clothes, towels, and stained sheets piled atop a second-hand floor mattress and peppered with trash / a very sturdy bucket full of cleaning supplies hey that's cheating those are all groups of items!!

what do they notice first in a person?

How tall someone is, whether they look strong enough to overpower her (someone tell Lex [SHE KNOWS] that anyone can learn Potence), and what their eyes do when they see her. After that, it's class signifiers, then anywhere they could be concealing weapons.

on a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

She doesn't enjoy pain exactly, but she can't stomach any pleasurable physical sensations without a 1 or 2. Sometimes she'll go looking for the grounding and catharsis of a 4 or 5, though preferably not inflicted by others. When facing enemies it can get to a 6 before she'll even complain, but an 8 would have her on the ground for the rest of the night, and a sustained 7 or higher would make her crack within a couple minutes.

when under pressure, do they go into fight, flight, freeze, or fawn mode?

Typically she will freeze, relying on Cloak of Shadows to keep her safe until the danger passes. If there's no waiting, she'll flee, and try to make an exit for others if necessary. If there's no fleeing, she makes an (unsuccessful) attempt to support combatants. If she's on her own and can neither run or hide, she knows fawn can buy her time.

how would a stranger likely describe them?

Unkempt, dumpy, and shifty-looking. Nerd-adjacent NEET loser. Probably on something.

do they have any hobbies?

Digital painting, ink and pencil sketches (which you can find here), beach bumming, video essays, guerilla stickering, online leftist infighting, and junk food.

I was tagged by @kavalyera!

I'm tagging @superfastsquiddle @garygoldenbignaturals @craigthetourguide @lealdog @pretend-pretend-vampire

@sarahrune @iravaid @grauline @witchknightblack @spookebee

AND the person reading this! 🫵🏻

dividers by sarahrune and animatedglittergraphics-n-more, art by yuzu-zi, heroforge, @balketh, and unknown

[splatoonpolls]

SPLATOON OC TOURNEY ROUND 3!

part 1. 6/4 1pm CET

Dapple by @jesterjamz vs Fisbowl by @batjokes-yaoi

Muffin by @demi-s-fucked-up-dog vs Skittles by @mothlight-hours

Adam J Moreno by @shadow3142 vs Trito by @toldentops

Mitski Pincilpusher by https://novae-viking.tumblr.com/ @novae-viking vs Mako by @hightide-eraa

Moon by @ace-octo-pix vs Lin by @corn418

Sicily Dyerize by @ghosthoodie vs Jett by @calicocoffee101

Static & Specter by @princess--bongwater vs Talia Yareli by @gingergari

Tami by @wyrm-in-a-closet vs Nixie Gill by @salt-pile

part 2. 6/4 7pm

Sushi & Bayo by @turtle-trash vs Big Swig by @libbecnoir

Keen Eye For All That Glitters, Hand of the Storm Surge (or Surge for short) by https://shadowlugia711.tumblr.com/ @shadowlugia711 vs Maddy Medusa by @anemonequeen

Axis by @lynxz-studios vs Musa by https://gogogo956.tumblr.com/ @gogogo956

Robin & Ivy by @possiblycringe vs Crimson & Carmen by https://mirruno-zelia.tumblr.com/ @mirruno-zelia

Typhoon by @nylonvintage vs AStra by @scales-in-sweaters

Elky by @the-knowable-enitity vs Berkut by @trickyhofnarr

Ally by @frippp vs Bingo by @razzafrazzle

Pumpkin by @judithan-xing vs Kelsie by https://rosegolddoodle252.tumblr.com/ @rosegolddoodle252

PREVIOUS ROUNDS!!!!

[ereardon]

The Back Seater and the Baker || Chapter 5

[Bob Floyd x f!OC]

Overview: Bob hasn't seen Haley Nichols since he was fifteen. But when Haley shows up out of the blue with one sentence that throws Bob for a loop – "I'm turning thirty in two weeks, are we still on?" – all of the feelings from their childhood return. Bob never thought that Haley would remember the marriage pact the two made when they were just kids, even if he never forgot. So what happens when Bob falls all over again for his childhood crush? And what will Bob do when he discovers the real reason she came back to capitalize on the pact is to secure her inheritance and save her bakery from bankruptcy? Will he believe Haley when she confesses that she loves him, too?

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x OC [Bakery owner Haley Nichols]

Tropes: Marriage pact

Chapter summary: Haley and Phoenix go wedding dress shopping; Bob and Peanut have a conversation about sex; the Daggers throw Haley a bachelorette party

Warnings: Cursing, angst, alcohol, mention of vomit

Word count: 2.8K

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here

You looked up from a pile of fabric samples. “I can’t pick.” 

Phoenix shot you a look over her champagne glass. “White.” 

You rolled your eyes. “They’re all white, Natasha. It’s a wedding dress.” 

“The venetian lace is gorgeous,” the saleswoman said, holding up a gauzy square. 

“Too expensive.” 

“There’s always satin.” 

She said it like it was trash and not already too expensive. “Let’s see some satin options,” you said. The saleswoman bristled but rushed off when Pheonix trained her eyes on her. 

“Fuck her,” she said and you laughed, settling back into the chair and taking a sip of champagne. “OK you’re drinking, but I’m going to ask you again. Are you pregnant?” 

“I promise I’m not,” you replied. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Find that hard to believe given the timeline.” She meant the fact that the wedding was in a week. 

You shrugged. “We’ve never slept together.” 

Phoenix did a spit take, champagne flying everywhere across the cream carpet. You tried to stifle a gasp that barreled into a laugh until the two of you were dissolved in laughter. “Oh, my God, the boys are gonna have a field day with that one.” 

“Just hasn’t been the time,” you replied. 

“What’s the rush?” Phoenix asked. “If there’s no pregnancy. What’s the rush?”

The truth sat, sour, on the tip of your tongue. Was that where sour was felt on the map of taste buds? Either way it filled your mouth, threatening to swallow you whole. You could tell her. You could tell her and the wedding would be off and you would go home with nothing but a bruised ego and a foreclosure on the way. 

But that option also left Bob heartbroken. It would leave you heartbroken, too. Because as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were falling for Bob Floyd, all over again. 

“I love him,” you said simply. This time, the truth was sweet. A rush of rainbow on your tongue. A fizzy, familiar feeling. Warmth. “I always have.”

“I’ve watched Floyd go through a lot,” Phoenix said, her dark eyes never leaving yours. “But if this is what breaks him, I’m not sure there’s going to be a way to glue him back together. So don’t break his heart, Haley. He has a big one. Too big. He loves too much and too fast and too well. So God, don’t hurt him.” 

“I won’t,” you whispered. 

***

“You want deviled eggs as an appetizer?” You stared at Bob, mouth agape. 

He nodded. “They’re my mom’s specialty.”

“Oh. That’s um…” 

Bob laughed. “You can veto, Haley. It’s your wedding, too.” 

“Thank God,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, but veto.” 

“Are your parents flying up?” he asked. 

“Um, no, they’re not.” You didn’t have the heart to tell him that your parents weren’t really involved in your life anymore. That no one besides Calvin even knew you were in San Diego. That the bakery was failing. That you were going to marry Bob to solve all of your problems. “Grandma Lee is coming though.” 

You had called her the night before and explained that you were getting married. You hadn’t invited her: that she had done herself. 

If my only granddaughter is getting married, I need to see it with my own eyes, she had said. When you had protested, she added, Do you want the money or not? 

Bob frowned. “Grandma Lee, really? I thought you two didn’t get along.” 

You shrugged. “That was a long time ago, Bobby.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

The two of you were silent for a moment. You felt sweat start to prickle at the base of your neck, between your breasts. For a few days, Bob had ridden the high of a successful mission once they were back on land. It was that euphoria that had colored everything, that had made him agree to the marriage. But you worried that once those rosy glasses faded, he would realize how obscene it was to marry a complete stranger. Someone he barely knew. 

He cleared his throat. “Want to go out for dinner? I was thinking Mexican.” 

“I think we should have sex.” 

Bob looked like he was choking. Every inch of his face went pink and then a deep red, cheeks puffed out, eyes wide. 

You actually leaned forward, pressing one hand to his leg in concern. “Bobby? Are you OK?” 

It took a second, but Bob let out his breath, blue eyes still searching yours frantically. “What did you just say?” 

You removed your hand, anxiety settling into the swell of your stomach. “I mean, we’re getting married,” you whispered. “Shouldn’t we at least do it once?” 

“Peanut,” Bob whispered, his voice rough and sandy and hitting every note perfectly so that goosebumps rose on your arms and legs. “I’ve thought about making love to you a million times.” 

“But?” 

He shook his head slowly. “That’s what I want, honey. I want it to be special. Not something we do to get it out of the way. I want you to want it. I want this to be the last time someone new undresses you for the first time.” Bob leaned in, trailing one thumb over the corner of your mouth, down your cheek, fingertips sliding to the tops of your breasts, grazing the exposed skin where your shirt stopped. “I don’t want anyone else to ever touch you like this,” he murmured. “You’re mine, Peanut.” 

“Bobby,” you whispered, gripping both sides of his face with your smaller palms. “I’ve always been yours.” 

And then your lips were on his, one of your legs slung over his lap until you were straddling him, the heat of Bob’s body burning against yours, his hands groping greedily over your back, pulling your hips flush with his, a small, pathetic whine exiting his lips as his hips tilted up to meet yours. “Haley,” he rasped, pulling back, lips pink and raw. “Honey.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Let me take you out,” he whispered. “Not Mexican food on a couch. Not pizza on the floor or beer at the beach. A real date. Let me take you home and make love to the woman who is going to be my wife.” 

You leaned back, threading your fingers through the hair that was curling up at the tops of his ears. “OK, Bobby,” you replied softly. “You have a deal.” 

“That’s the first time I’ve said that,” he said.

“Said what?” 

“My wife.” He smiled. “It sounds good, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” you murmured, watching the light twinkle in his eyes and feeling a sadness sweep over your organs., “it does.” 

***

“Peanut?” Bob’s voice was far away on the phone. “Are you there?” 

“I’m here,” you said, standing in front of the mirror, smoothing down the sides of your dress. “Where are you? Our reservations are in twenty minutes.” 

“Honey, I’m sorry.” There was a loud bang in the background. “Flight emergency. Bradshaw and I got called back to base.” 

“Oh.” You couldn’t help the disappointment flooding every single one of your pores. You looked around the room at the candles you had bought, and the bag filled with tissue paper on the dresser that had a new set of lingerie in it, specifically for later that night. There was also an entire can of whipped cream in the fridge and a bottle of prosecco. “That’s OK.” 

“It’s not,” he said. “That’s why Phoenix is on her way to pick you up.” 

“Oh, Bobby, I’m not really in the mood to go out without you.” 

“Haley? Sorry the connection is terrible. Listen, I have to go up in the air, I’ll text you when I’m grounded. Bye!” The line went dead. You sighed, kicking off your heels, tossing the phone on the bed just as the doorbell rang, two harsh dings followed by a loud knock. 

“Fuck, coming!” You practically tripped on your way to the door, tossing it open, a frown lacing your features. “Jake?” 

In the doorway, Jake grinned, white teeth blinding against his tan. He leaned one hand against the door frame. “Hi Princess. Grab some shoes.” 

You shook your head, walking inside, and Jake followed you, shutting the door softly. “Not in the mood, Hangman. I’m just going to wait until Bobby gets home.” 

He chuckled and you turned around with a frown. “Sweetheart,” he drawled, “it’s a trap. This is your bachelorette party. Now put on some shoes and get that fine ass in the car. Phoenix is waiting for us.” 

“Bachelorette party?” 

“Didn’t think we could let you get married without one final night of debauchery, did you?” he asked. “Shoes, Nichols. Purse. Condoms if you’re feeling frisky.” 

You groaned, heading into the bedroom and slipping on your stilettos, grabbing your small shoulder bag before reappearing in the hallway. Jake was nowhere to be seen. You rounded the corner into the kitchen where Jake had the fridge open, his head stuck inside. 

He straightened up, holding out the can of whipped cream with a raised eyebrow. “Making pie?” 

“Fuck off,” you muttered and he laughed, placing the can back in the fridge and closing the door. “Let’s get this over with.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Jake replied, holding open the door. “After you, Mrs. Floyd.” Your heart skipped a beat. You looked up at Jake, eyes wide. For a second, the two of you stood in silence in the doorway to Bob’s house, practically frozen. You were worried Jake could see the reservation in your features. 

And then it passed. You stepped out the door into the breezy evening air. “I’m going to ask you one favor.” 

“I make no promises.” 

“No shots with gross names like blow job or slippery nipple.” 

Jake cackled, opening the passenger door for you. “It’s your night. We’ll play by your rules. At least, to start.” 

You slid into the seat of his Jeep and groaned. 

***

Charleston was bachelorette capital, aside from Nashville, so you were more than familiar with the flocks of women parading down King Street in pink sashes and swaying to the beat of invisible pop songs. 

What you hadn’t expected was your own bachelorette party to be made up of five aviators, four of which were men. Coyote, Hangman, Rooster and Payback all sat at a table wearing pink furry boas drinking margaritas while Phoenix did a lap on stage with one of the drag queens. 

“You’re next,” Bradley said, tipping his head toward the stage. 

You groaned. “Absolutely not.” 

Phoenix climbed off the stage, brushing back her dark hair, not an ounce of sweat on her face. “Come on, Princess, you’re the bride, it’s a must.” 

“I’m so going to rat on you guys to Bobby!” you shrieked as a man dressed as Dolly Parton dragged you onto the stage. The brightness of the lights hit you just as the dagger’s cheers filled the air. 

“Hello Darlin’,” Dolly said, thrusting a microphone in your face. “Your friend over there said you’re a bride-to-be, is that right?” 

You scowled down at Phoenix who cheered shamelessly. “Yes.” 

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” “Haley.”

“And what’s your fiance's name?” 

“Bobby.” 

“Well, dear, I think we need to sing a song for Bobby in that case.” She took a deep breath. “If I should stay // Well I would only be in your way.” 

Dolly pressed the microphone beneath your chin. Somehow the words floated out of your mouth as the cheers from the squad grew. Even the heat of the lights softened and you found yourself swaying with the music. For the first time in a long time, there was a courage that bubbled to the surface. Maybe it was the two Long Island iced teas that Phoenix had poured down your throat. Or maybe it was the fact that despite the circumstances, you knew that Bob Floyd was the one. 

Out of everyone, it was Bradley who got so drunk that the six of you were thrown out of the club. That’s how you ended up at Phoenix’s house at three in the morning eating cheeseburgers on the floor wearing a sequined ball gown she had pulled out of her closet and insisted you wear while Payback tried uselessly to scrub the pink paint off of his chest that read Bride Tribe in loopy lettering. 

“It’s not coming off,” Payback whined, tossing another crumpled paper towel on the ground in a huff. 

Jake cackled. “Told you not to write it so big, Nix.” 

Phoenix popped a french fry into her mouth and then laid back, head resting against Jake’s thigh where he sat pressed up against the couch. “He deserves it. Remember when he puked at my thirtieth?” 

“Don’t say puke,” Bradley moaned, looking slightly green around the gills. 

“Party pooper,” Phoenix tutted. 

“What if when I have a baby it comes out wearing glasses?” you asked, the drinks finally hitting you. 

“Have to have sex to get pregnant.” 

“Phoenix!” 

“Oh shit.” She rolled over and buried her face against the shaggy rug. “Sorry!” 

Jake grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Wait, you and Floyd haven’t banged yet?” 

You groaned, tossing yourself against the floor next to Phoenix and kicking her with one bare foot. 

“That’s excellent,” he muttered, practically to himself as Bradley scuttled onto his knees, stumbling up into a semi jog toward the toilet. The sound of the door slamming was followed immediately by violent sounds and you winced. 

“Fuck,” Payback said, shaking his head. “That’s on you, Nix.”

“Why am I to blame for everything?” Phoenix demanded. “It’s Haley’s bach party, she’s the instigator!” 

“Oh my God,” you said, shaking your head. “I see why Bobby likes you so much.” 

“I see why he loves you,” she replied, brown eyes wide. You were stunned. Natasha was many things. The life of the party. Fearless, bordering on reckless. Demanding, in the best way. Formidable. But this was the first time she had shown a sliver of approval. It radiated through your body like microwave rays. “I mean it,” she added.

“Thank you.” 

Just then, your phone rang on the coffee table. You reached for it, pulling it down as Bob’s contact flashed on the screen. “Haley?” 

“Hi,” you whispered, standing up and stumbling into Phoenix’s room at the end of the hall. You sat down on the edge of her bed, closing your eyes. The room was spinning. That was worse. You opened them again, wider, the yellow light from the lamp burning your retinas. God, you needed a taco. 

“Just wanted to make sure you got home OK,” Bob said softly. 

“I’m with Phoenix and the team.” 

“I know,” Bob replied. “I thought it would be nice.” 

You frowned. “This was your idea?” 

“I wanted you to have a fun time,” Bob said quietly. “Something different, a little out of the ordinary. Life is serious, Haley. But you don’t have to be. Not everything is life or death.” 

Bob’s words forced tears to spring at the corner of your eyes. It wasn’t the tequila and it wasn’t the impending hangover. It was the fact that even in your drunken haze, you knew you weren’t good enough for Bob Floyd. A man who cared so much, so deeply. A man who would lay down his life for yours without thinking. 

The man of your dreams. 

“Bobby,” you whispered, the truth sour at the tip of your tongue, begging to be spilled. 

“Get some rest, Peanut,” he said quietly and you swallowed the truth back into the bitter pit of your stomach. “I’ll pick you up in the morning, OK?” 

“Alright.” 

He paused, but the line didn’t go dead. You sucked in a breath. There were two things that you and Bob had yet to do as adults. The first was obvious: have sex. The second, less so. 

You had yet to say you loved each other. 

You did. That was, without a doubt, the truth in a sea of lies. You had loved Bob Floyd since you were a little girl in the low country. You had never really stopped. But it felt different, to say it now. When so much was riding on the two of you. When the future was almost within grabbing distance. 

“Goodnight, Bobby,” you murmured. 

He sighed. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

You flopped back against the bed, clutching your phone to your chest. As you closed your eyes, the light beyond your eyelids started to swirl. 

The last thing that crossed your mind before you passed out into a drunken delirium was how devastated Bob was going to be when everything was said and done. 

And how broken you would be, too. 

Tag list (if notifications aren't working for you please turn on notifications for my library page @ereardonlibrary instead)

@wkndwlff @bobfloydsbabe @teacupsandtopgun @blue-aconite @clancycucumber230 @yanna-banana @whisperofsong

@marvelshauntedhouse @that1nerd-20

@double-j @topguncultleader @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav

@minamisulemisa @shawnsblue

@seresinhangmanjake @brehonodea @babyminghao @crthurston

@angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @mizzzpink @mygyn @sadpetalsstuff @averyhotchner @oneelleandaneye @shanimallina87

@wittywhispers @wildlyobserving @eyesthatroll @localhockeygirl @xomrsalliej4787xo @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox

@sexytholland @djs8891 @rxmtoon @darkestbeforethedawn16

@cactajuice @purplevortexx @dempy @lemur46

@louie-bug @arson-tm @valkyrja-siren-blog @avengers-fixation

@fudge13 @phantomxoxo @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @not-two-shrimp @horseshoegirl @abaker74 @evans-dejong @storysimp @emma8895eb  @briseisgone @katiedid-3 @beacheybabes97 @mandylove100 @justabovewater20 @londonbeachgirl

[concreteburialplot]

VIRALITY // 09

-> 09 - Lavender Haze

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x fem!oc (vallie)

masterlist/intro: here | crossposted: ao3

word count: 7.1k

warnings: mention of alcohol/dependency, weed, arguing, angry/jealous/dom ruffilo, business talk, oral (f receiving), p n v (unprotected), dirty talk, cream pie, fingering, d/s dynamics if you squint, almost getting caught, kinda messy ?, mention of std testing/birth control, fluff ?????????¿ cuddling, important plot stuff, 18+ ONLY MDNI

a/n: don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

VALLIE

When we get to their house, I’m grateful for the empty driveway, which means no Jolly and no Folio. Nobody else to know about this.

I round Nicholas’ car to open the passenger door for Noah.

“Hey, hey.” I pat his cheek to wake him up.

The singer looks up at me with glazed over, sleepy eyes. His drinks finally caught up to him, especially the last ones before we left which he claimed, “helped with the pain”.

The whole bar fight was quite sobering for me, but a small bit of alcohol is still running through me, and that tiny bit is not helping me with this 6’3 drunken baby. His slim face is so beat up and while my patience is waning, I still feel guilty. While he’s paper thin, when I pull on his skinny arm, he feels so heavy.

“C’mon Sebastian let’s go.” Nicholas finally makes his way around, snapping at Noah to get up. I’m glad Nick is here but he wasn’t much fun on the way home either. He kind of reminded me of a father having to pick up his drunken teenager. It makes me wonder how many times he’s done this song and dance with Noah.

Nicholas dips into the car and pulls the long-haired boy out easily. He comes to just a bit, enough to notice who’s holding him and seems to relax. I notice how sleepy Noah leans into Nick and nudges his head into the crook of his neck. I can tell Nicholas isn’t happy with the situation but even still, he wraps an arm tight around Noah’s waist. The scene is so delicate considering the circumstances of how we got here.

Nick gestures to me to sling his right arm around my shoulders to help carry a mumbling and incoherent Noah inside. We hobble him through the front door of the empty house and by a miracle we got him upstairs to his room in one piece.

The actions of babying a drunk Noah and throwing him into bed felt all too much like déjà vu. His room was the same, if not worse, than from that night of the party. There are so many clothes and so much trash on the ground that I can barely see the floor. Nicholas and I basically used our feet to push a path through to his bed. There was only a tiny sliver of mattress even visible, the rest was piled up with just… garbage. At least, it looks like garbage. We plop him on the bit of mattress just like last time and try to navigate our way out. Just as we reach the door, there’s a stir behind us followed by a sleepy groan.

“Nicky?” Noah’s voice cracks.

Nicky

Nicky?

Nicholas tenses up immediately, I can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t like the name or if he doesn’t like me hearing it.

“Nicky.” He whines again, calling him over.

Nick sighs and looks at me gesturing me to go on without him. I make my way to the door and watch from behind the doorframe while he makes his way back over to the boy.

When Nicholas reaches the bed, Noah’s tattooed arms swing around his waist, pressing the side of his face into Nick’s tummy while he’s still laying down. I squint my eyes to see what Nicholas is doing to find that he’s brushing Noah’s hair out of his face.

“Thank you.” Noah mumbles against his shirt.

“I know.” Nick replies softly.

I step out of the doorway before Nicholas turns to leave to make it seem like I hadn’t just witnessed that.

Once I’m alone with Nicholas, I sense that he’s fuming which is a much different vibe that the one that was just stroking Noah’s hair.

“Why the fuck would you take him out drinking in the middle of the day?” He asks through grinding teeth. The way he poses the question implies that it was my idea, like it was my fault. Which I guess it half was.

“I don’t know? He made me go to this meeting with Bryan and-”

“He took you to meet Bryan?” He interrupts.

“Yeah? To brainstorm for the music video?” I answer as if it was obvious.

“Music video?” He sucks at his teeth, taking an aggravated step back. “Funny how this is the first time I’m hearing about a fucking music video.” He drags his fingers across his forehead in a pinch. “I need a drink, or a blunt or… something.” He sighs then turns away from me heading towards his room down the hall.

I decide to follow him, “Why is a music video bad?” I ask, confused.

He glares at me from his open bedroom door, “If you’re gonna pry you might as well help me with this blunt.”

I tug at my bottom lip in thought. I shouldn’t stay here with him, and I definitely shouldn’t be smoking with him while still a bit tipsy, but curiosity gets the best of me. “Fine.”

His room is dark and lit with LED, neon, and decorative lights on almost every surface. Opposed to Noah’s, his room is neat, tidy, and spotless. His bed is pressed against the wall and perfectly made with grey sheets, a black duvet and coordinating pillows. I set my bag down on the ground in front of his bedside table and sit on the end of the bed right behind his desk chair. He has a similar gaming set up to Noah’s, two monitors, a long light-up mousepad, and some other neon lights. There’s even some plushies in the corner of his desk that I recognize to be some animals from video games. He sits on his gaming chair which is black and blue opposed to Noah’s black and red. Reaching across the desk, he grabs a jar, a lighter and part of a wrapping leaf.

“I thought you said you can’t roll?” I ask as he starts filling the brown wrapper with ground weed.

It isn’t until the smell of green hits my nose that I realize there’s also a sweet smell filling the room, something like butterscotch. I track the smell to find a burning candle sitting on a bookshelf across the small room.

“I can’t. But Folio’s been trying to teach me.” His focus is on evening out the grounds across the leaf. His tongue begins to carefully dampen the edges of the wrap and the sight of it sends a buzzing down between my legs. He was so good with just his cock… I can’t imagine what his tongue would do to me.

I press my thighs together and shift in my seat then clear my throat, “So, what’s so bad about Noah wanting to make a music video?”

He sighs harshly, “It’s not about the music video, it’s about him making decisions without us.” His tongue does one last swipe before sealing the roll completely. “And because of,” Gesturing towards Noah’s room with the blunt between his fingers, “That.”

I furrow my brows, “Because of what?”

The lighter sizzles the end of the roll and burns a cherry red when he inhales. “The drinking.”

The words flash me back when I overheard them in the kitchen when Nicholas asked him about meetings. Guilt swells in my chest knowing I contributed to it today. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault he’s a fucking drunk.” He exhales thick smoke above us. “He gets like this then does a bunch of shit without talking to us first. That’s how Just Pretend got released as a single before we even have an album finished.”

He’s getting riled up but seems to stop himself from continuing, choosing to take another hit, maybe in the hopes of it calming him down.

I take the blunt from his offering hand and put it to my glossy lips, leaving a rim of light pink when I pull away to exhale. “He really did that?”

“Vallie, our album is barely halfway done. We haven’t even chosen a title yet.” He says watching me inhale again. “That is who you wanna put the focus of the band on, that is who you wanna draw people in with: a drunken fucking mess.” He hisses and snatches the roll the second I offer it back. His tone and actions are getting increasingly more aggressive, in a way I’ve never seen him before – not that I’ve really known him for that long, but it makes me nervous either way.

“I mean… he is the lead singer.” I counter, even though I know he’s not going to like it.

Nicholas’ thick brow hangs low over his eye, “He’s a liability. Since you’re so concerned with money and numbers, that should be very clear to you.”

He’s right.

If Noah can get as unhinged and unpredictable as he’s saying and as I saw today, he is a liability.

I’m a fool for not realizing it sooner, but maybe the glimmer of hope from his small cooperation blinded me.

Regardless, Noah’s reckless behavior is something to think about… when I’m not cross faded with the band member I already fucked.

“It doesn’t really matter if he’s a drunk, Nicholas.” I steal the blunt back and perch it between my index and middle fingers. “If we do this correctly the girls will be flocking to him.” I take in a short puff and let it out. “And to you, to the band as a whole.”

He rolls his eyes so hard I think they might fall out. “Oh, cut the business jargon Vallie. We get it, everyone wants to fuck Noah fucking Sebastian.” He shoots up from his seat in aggravation.

So much for the weed calming him down.

My brows knit together confused at the inherent jealousy. If I was more foolish, I’d think this jealousy was over just me, but it seems much more complex than that. It’s murky and conflicted and I feel a piece or two missing in the puzzle.

It’s not uncommon for band members to be jealous of their frontman and to an extent, I feel this is true for them as well. But there’s still something more than that.

Something more complicated.

More confusing.

Could it be…

No, of course not. Right?

Perhaps it’s not just me he’s jealous over.

I shake the thoughts from my head, today is not the day to unpack any of that. Maybe it’s the weed that’s making me overanalyze things.

The smoke over filling my nose reminds me that I’m in possession of the still lit blunt, so I take it and smash its sizzling end into the ashtray.

“This isn’t about whether or not people want to fuck Noah, this is about the success of the band Nick.” I stand to meet his face, so he’ll actually listen to me. Well, look up at his face anyway.

Never in my entire career have I ever had to convince anyone this much to make more money.

“The band is already successful.” He snaps back, his eyes stone cold grey looking down at me.

I’m not about to insult his band again so I shift the topic, “As I said before, fangirls don’t mean just for Noah. Sure, he’ll get the most, that’s natural. But they’ll be there for you too. Don’t you want that?”

“No.” He says shortly.

“You don’t want your own group of girls that you get to pick and choose from at every show?” I say, leaning heavy on the clichés of it all. “Girls that are begging to be backstage and are willing to give you anything you want?”

But it’s not until then, as it’s coming out of my mouth, that I realize the idea of it settles a weird pit in my own stomach. It’s something also reminiscent of jealousy but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Odd.

“No, I don’t want fucking fangirls Vallie.” He says through gritted teeth.

“What kind of fucking rockstar doesn’t want fangirls?” I can tell he’s being purposely difficult and it’s making me begin to lose my composure.

“Oh my god, are you really this fucking dense? This isn’t about fucking groupies.” He nearly spits the word.

I’m trying to put puzzle pieces together in my head but they’re not fitting. I don’t understand his anger, where it’s coming from or the reason.

“Then what the fuck is this about then? Because I called him hot at our meeting the other day? Because we went out drinking today?”

Bingo.

His eyes narrow down at me and I’m suddenly extremely aware of his height. He’s not as tall as Noah, but he still towers over me. “I just think it’s funny that you’re trying to make a sex symbol out of a man who couldn’t make you cum if he tried.” He hisses, his steel eyes warn me not to push.

But I do, I always push.

“Oh yeah? What makes you so sure?”

He gives a breathy chuckle and brings his hand to hold my chin up by the tips of his fingers. “If he wasn’t a passed out drunken mess right now, I’d drag him in here to prove me right.”

My eyes widen not just at his words but at his deep voice that shifted into something sinister. He has to be joking right? He wouldn’t actually bring Noah in here to do…that, would he? And why is the thought of it… of both of them causing a throbbing between my legs.

Regardless, fear creeps up my chest one rib at a time and gets lodged in my throat. My mind can’t comprehend how Nicholas can go from his normal sweetness to something that scares the shit out of me.

“Why do you care if he couldn’t make me cum?” I ask for some stupid reason. “And you only made me come once, how do I know it wasn’t just some miracle? I was drunk after all.” I pop a brow and cross my arms over my chest.

I never was one for cooperation.

His hand seamlessly slides down from my chin to around my throat. There’s no pressure beneath his fingertips but they’re taunting a good squeeze.

“If you don’t keep your mouth shut, I’ll have to prove you wrong.” I swallow hard under his grip and squeeze my thighs together. I shouldn’t be this turned on by him talking to me like this. “Did it feel like a miracle? Did it feel like I don’t know how to make you feel good?”

My eyes glance at the barely cracked open door nervous that someone would see, and he catches me. “Noah is passed out. Nobody else is home, nobody to help you out of this.” He growls and presses a tad on the sides of my neck. My eyes widen at him, at how easily he can control me from just one hand on my body. The rest of my body is begging to bow to him. “Answer the question.”

I gulp slightly and question my options. I could take the safe route, the route I should be taking, and tell him what he wants to hear so I can leave. However, that’s not what the pooling in my panties is telling me to do. I readjust under his grasp with still crossed arms and a straightened back. “I’ve had plenty of guys who’ve only been able to make me cum maybe once. You’re probably the same.”

I didn’t think his brows could lower any further and his eyes turn a dark stormy gray. Long, messy strands of black hair shadow across his face menacingly and there’s a tinge of true terror in my stomach. In one fell swoop, he slams me onto the bed with his hand still stapled around my neck. He nestles his head by my ear while his hand trails down my body, “I know you’re used to talking to the others like that, but you’ll learn not to talk to me that way.” He whispers lowly and the grip on my throat tightens ever so slightly. His hand lingers around the waistband of my skirt and somehow already found the hidden zipper. He roughly tugs it down past my ankles and forcefully spreads my thighs open with his leg. His hand moves up from my throat to grip my jaw hard and looks straight into my eyes, “I can fuck you better than that pathetic mess ever could.”

I’m melting under his touch; he looks nearly angelic despite his devilish demeanor. His raven hair is long, wild, and framing his face perfectly. His necklace with the thorny circular band symbol hangs just above my face and it takes every ounce of self-control not to pull it into my mouth. I want all of him, every part.

 Though everything right now is really intense, all I want to do is kiss him. So, I do just that. Quickly, before he has a chance to stop me, I gently take his face into my hands and meet his lips with mine. He gives in immediately and matches my energy making the kiss soft and tender even though he’s about to tear me apart. I really enjoy this about him, this duality he contains, and I can’t tell which side of it I like more.

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to escalate and for our tongues to be fighting for dominance, but his hand never leaves my jaw. He draws a finger up my drenched covered slit then circles around my swollen nub. A small whimper escapes me into the kiss and a smirk tugs across his face. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already making a mess.”

I squeeze my eyes shut trying my best not to fall apart in his hands already. My hands are burning for him and all I want to do is touch him. I feebly go to palm the visible strain in his sweatpants, but his hand leaves my throat and snatches my wrist, pinning it to the bed. “You’ll touch me when I want you to touch me.” He growls. My eyes widen at his words and renders me speechless. “Is that understood?” He demands and I nod quickly.

His hands rake down my body until he’s on his knees between my legs, his fingers hook into the band of my panties and rip them down. Fingertips ghost-trail up my inner thigh which only worsens the pulsing in my clit begging for him. He then gently runs two fingers up my folds using my arousal to easily glide up and down slowly, from my bud to my entrance. I’ve never had any other man take his time like this, it’s almost like he’s taking the time to learn my body and how I react to anything he does. Like a predator learns its prey. His fingers spread me apart, causing every muscle in my body to tense up from being so exposed to him.

“So pretty.” He mutters. The sides of his fingertips begin to slowly scissoring around my clit and I unintentionally let out a small whine. I feel him smirk into a kiss he presses onto my inner thigh. “Maybe making you cum will fix your little attitude problem.”

The comment pisses me off, but it’s not enough to risk not getting his mouth on me, so I let it slide. I’m nearly vibrating under any touch he gives me and I’m so desperate for more.

He leaves a trail of kisses up my thigh until he reaches my core, each kiss reminds me how much my lips miss his. Time is moving too slow for my growing impatience. The second his tongue meets where I need him most, pleasure blooms across my body. He then slides two fingers inside, curling them directly into my sweet spot. I bite down on my bottom lip to contain my noises. In delicious unison, his tongue and fingers work together perfectly. His tongue is circling and rolling against my sensitivity and making me feel a knot in my stomach begin to grow already. There’s so much pleasure and tension built up in my body that all it wants to do is let it out in noises. I bring a hand to cover my mouth to stifle any moans that threaten to escape.

He rolls his tongue flat against me and pulls away just a bit. “Nobody’s home and Noah’s passed out.” He reminds me. “You can be as loud as you want for me.” He says before going to lightly kitten lick at my clit. “I wanna hear how I good I make you feel.” I look down to see him giving me a prideful smirk that makes me want to ravage him back.

That’s all the invitation I need to let my moans pour out with every roll of his tongue or curve of his fingers. My hand flies down to grip his hair, raking it through and gripping the root. “Fuck!”

“C’mon baby let it out,” He says against my core. “I know you can be louder than that.”

A loud moan rips out of my chest and my hips roll up into his mouth, “Fuck Nick!”

I’m so close already it’s embarrassing. Goosebumps erupt all over my skin and I’m tingly all over, down to my toes. My body is overwhelmed with his tongue rolling and swiping at my sensitive clit and his fingers knowing exactly where my g-spot is. I’m so needy and so desperate, I feel like I could just explode.

I grip on tight to his locks and rut my pussy into his mouth. He is the only thing in my head. In this moment, my mind belongs wholly to him. He lets me know that he loves the way I’m reacting to him by using his free hand to grip onto my thigh tug me closer. The louder I get the harder he works and the harder his fingers dig into my thigh.

The tight knot in my stomach feels like it’s about to snap. “Fuck, Fuck!” I cry, my legs involuntarily closing in around his head.

“Give in to me baby, cum for me, will you?” He says between licks. “Be a good girl and cum for me.”

I’m nearly blinded by his words. I’ve never been called anything like that before nor have I ever thought I’d like it. But that was it, that tipped me over the edge.

My back arched violently from the bed and my fingers curled tightly into his hair. Euphoria washes over my entire body and I’m seeing only fuzzy white. I can’t control the noises that leave my mouth but I’m sure if anybody heard them, they’d assume this was an exorcism.

He doesn’t stop until I fall limp under him and twitch at every tiny flick of his tongue. He finishes by cleaning all my juices up with one fat stripe up my slit. He looks up and chuckles at me, “You did such a good job for me.” He presses a kiss on my knee. For some reason his words make me feel warm all over.

He pulls his fingers from me and the emptiness they leave behind makes me crave his cock even more. He brings them to his lips, taking each tattooed finger into his mouth, sucking them clean. He smirks at the taste and at how I’m looking at him like I could devour him whole. The violet glow from the lights around us illuminate his features beautifully. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear there’s starlight draped across his skin, sprinkled above his brow, across his cheek bone and down the perfect slope of his nose. The purple reflects into his silver eyes making them look as though they encapsulate some lavender cosmos. Everything about him is so delicious, it’s hard to focus on just one part of him. He’s gorgeous.

He tethers me back to earth when runs his hands up and down my thighs as if to soothe me. “Are you okay?” The front of his brows tilted up.

“Yeah, yeah.” I nod my head.

“Do you want to continue?” He asks.

I inadvertently smile at the question. “Yeah, I do.”

The ends of his lips curl into a happy grin then leans down to gently cup my cheek and presses a soft kiss to my lips. He feels like ice water on a scorching summer day. I know I’m going to regret this when it’s over, but right now, it feels too good to pass up.

“Hold on let me get a condom.” He goes to reach behind him into his nightstand.

“Oh um, we don’t need one. I’m on birth control.” I say shyly. “If you want to that is, of course.”

He gives me a skeptical look, maybe surprised that I even said anything. “Are you sure?”

I stare at him just for a second contemplating if it’s a smart idea but the insatiable need for him convinces me it’s fine. I nod.

He pats my outer thigh telling me to make room for him. I scooch backwards in the bed as he slides his sweats down, letting his cock spring free. My mouth waters at the sight of it – the first time on the couch I only felt it in the darkness, but now I see it, every ridge and vein. I’m throbbing at the mere idea of him inside me. “Please fuck me.” I ask desperately, looking up at him.

He grips my cheeks and looks directly into my eyes. “It’s cute that you think you can tell me what to do.” He hisses and I’m suddenly once again afraid of what he could do to me.

He teases my entrance with his tip rolling it up and down my slit excruciatingly slow. While he is deliberately taking his time, the lustful glint in his eyes tell me that he’s just as needy as me. Finally, he slides in, stretching me out a bit painfully. I don’t remember him being so thick, but it was probably the alcohol that helped me to adjust to his size.

He lets out a deep groan once he’s bottomed out. “Fuck you’re so tight.”

Heat fills my cheeks at his comment and I’m putty in his hands again. I go to grab his face but quickly pull away remembering his instruction to not touch without permission. He looks at me confused with knitted brows.

“I just um, I just,” My stomach is suddenly filled with butterflies with razor wings, “Could you kiss me again?” I ask with a timid, almost embarrassed voice.

A smile tugs at his lips like it’s the easiest task he’s ever been asked to do. He leans down, cups my cheek in his hand and meets our lips once more. It’s gentle and sweet while he rubs his thumb across my cheekbone tenderly. “You were so good for me.” He says quietly within a small gap between our lips.

The praise makes my heart swell, only making me want to be better for him. I wrap my arms around his neck pulling him closer into the kiss and wrap my legs around his hips pulling him deeper inside me. Slowly he begins rolling his hips into me, his length filling me over and over.

“Fuck.” I breathe out as he speeds up, “Fuck you feel so good.”

His head falls into my neck and begins peppering open mouth kisses into it while he buries himself into me. He kisses on all my sweet spots only increases the buzzing in my clit. His cock is so big that it fills me up completely and then some. He stretches me more than I thought was possible – it stings, but in the best way. I blink the tears from eyes from the pain.

“So good baby, taking fucking all of it.” He grunts as he thrusts into me hard and fast.

I’m so fucked out, my body has basically gone limp below him as he fucks me senseless. I’m on a pink fluffy cloud of building pleasure and my eyesight blurs everything around me. I can’t think about anything other than him. Right now, I am his, wholly, completely, entirely.

I let out a strangled moan as my hands reach around him to his back, digging my nails into it. He hisses at the pain of it.

“What did I tell you about touching?” He asks in a low whisper beneath my ear and fear climbs up my spine.

“I’m sorry.” I squeak.

His thrusts increase when he pulls back. I whine at the loss of contact on my neck. His hands roughly grab each of my wrists and pin them above my head while his length drives into my sweet spot.

His grip tightens around my wrists while the other slithers down my body. His fingers ever so lightly graze my skin and leaves a trail of goosebumps behind. The pads of his fingers find my aching clit and begins kneading slow circles into it. I wriggle beneath him from the sudden stimulation and let out a whimper.

“What did I say about touching?” He repeats and I dare not stay silent again.

“I’m not allowed to touch you.” I struggle to say past the noises threatening to leave me.

In contrast to earlier, his face now is angular and sharp. His thick, dark brows are low and menacing.

“Why can’t I touch you?” I ask meekly, although perhaps not the smartest idea.

He dips his head into the crook of my neck while his hips continue to crash against mine like waves to sand. “Because when you touch me, I can’t be responsible for what I’ll do.” He whispers low and raspy. “It makes me want to fuck you like that pussy is all mine. It makes me want to fuck you until you’re so sore that you can’t stop thinking about my cock, not even for a second.”

My eyes widen flutter closed and roll my hips up into him. His words are driving a rampant pulsing in my clit that he’s so deliciously helping with his fingers.

I blink up at him, “Maybe I want that.”

His face his twisted in concentration and now confusion. “What?”

“Well, I… maybe I want those things. Maybe I want you to take my pussy as yours. Maybe I don’t want to stop thinking about your big fucking cock. “I straighten out my shoulders. “Maybe I want to feel empty without you inside me.”

“Fuck.” He breathes out and speeds up, both in his thrusts but his fingers on my nub.

My body fills with tingling, budding excitement. He rails into me mercilessl, and I love every second, every inch of him – no matter how much it hurts.

His face falls into the crook of my neck and fills my ears with raspy breaths. “Fuck I’m close.”

“Me too.” I breathe out. “Cum inside me, please.”

He lets out a deep groan below my ear. “Fuck.” His thrusts become quick and hasty, but still precise and deliberate. The added speed to his momentum tips me over the edge.

“Fuck!” I yell out as my orgasm crashes into me like tidal wave. I feel the need to anchor myself to something, anything. One arm hooks around his neck, holding on for dear life. My other arm is tangled in the duvet and yanks on it so hard that it rips the sheet off the corner. My eyes roll back in bliss as he drills into me ruthlessly. Moans, curses and his name all tumble from my mouth.

It seems that enough to push him over the edge too. “Fuck. Fuck I’m gonna cum.” He grunts just before he stills for a moment, and I feel his cock twitch and spill his seed deep inside me. He lets out a long groan as he continues to rut into me through his orgasm.

When we come down from our high, Nick pulls from me and lands next to me in bed. He leaves me with an emptiness between my legs that apparently only his cock can satiate. But being filled to the brim with his cum definitely helps with that.

My eyelids are heavy as they slow blink up at the ceiling where the glow of his lights illuminate the edges of the room. Our mutual heavy breathing is the only noise filling up the room.

“You alright?” He asks, looking at me in the dimness.

“Mhm.” I turn my head slowly towards him, he’s glistening in sweat, the baby hairs that frame his face are stuck against his skin. He looks beautiful like this.

I never really thought a man could be beautiful. Handsome? Sure.

Cute? Yeah.

Hot? Of course.

But he supersedes them all. He’s stunning, angelic, nearly ethereal.

Of course, this gorgeous man has to be my client. I shouldn’t even be in his bed right now.

The warmth of his body next to me isn’t doing me any favors. After the whole Noah/bar situation earlier and all of me and Nicholas’ … activities, I’m drained completely. I can’t help but nuzzle into him, laying a bit on his arm.

I half expect him to pull away or make some snappy remark, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls his arm out from under me and wraps it around my shoulders.

My first instinct was to run but my exhausted body refuses. I cuddle onto his chest sleepily. My arm stretches across his front.

I am far too tired to be worried about the consequences. Through in my half-awake state I mumble, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“We shouldn’t be doing any of this.” He clarifies while raking though my hair gently. “But I can’t help it, I don’t know. I can’t help what you do to me.”

My cheeks burn hot at the compliment. “Shut up.”

I think about it for a moment longer and it sets an odd, confused, sad pit in my stomach. “No but really we shouldn’t be doing this.”

He’s silent. “I know.”

I gulp staring at the wall.

I don’t even really know what “this” is, but I don’t want to think about it now. And I certainly don’t want to ask. I’m not even sure if it is anything or if it’s anything I want more of.

“If the others find out…”

“I know.” He stops me.

Another factor slips into my mind. “If they find out, they won’t take me seriously.”

I see his face twist in thought, maybe trying to calculate if that’s true. “Yeah, maybe… I guess.”

I don’t have the energy to explain the implications of it all, so I leave it. I sigh and hide my face in his chest.

Suddenly there’s a stir from outside the room that disrupts the calm peace between us.

A door opens from down the hall.

Nicholas’ eyes shoot open, “Fuck it’s Noah.” He whispers urgently. “Get under the covers.” He directs and I listen.

I quickly flip the duvet over the top of both of us and lay as flat as possible beside him. He places an extra pillow on top of me.

There’s a soft knuckle knock at the bedroom door that’s been cracked open this entire time.

“Uh, come in!” Nick calls.

The door creaks open. “Hey.” Croaks a still somewhat drunk Noah.

“Hey dude… what’s up?” Nick asks.

Discreetly, he slips his hand beneath the covers and taps his finger gently against the bed. I take the hint and intertwine the tips of our fingers together. My tummy flips at the way he gives my fingers a little squeeze. It’s a small gesture, but it’s one that says some version of ‘partners in crime’.

“Were you… were you watching porn or something?” He asks, no doubt with a propped brow.

“What?” Nicks voice cracks. “No, no, I’ve just been watching…” He takes note of whatever’s on the TV. “Bob’s Burgers.”

“Oh…” Noah trails off unconvinced. “I just heard loud… noises coming from your room.”

My cheeks flush cherry red in embarrassment that I had been that loud. Nicholas gives my fingers another tiny reassuring squeeze.

“Nope, nope.” Nick shakes his head. “Nope, just Bob’s Burgers.”

“Right…” Noah replies. “Also, um, I just wanted to say thank you for rescuing me… us, from our mess.”

Us.

Our.

Nicholas nods, “Yeah of course, no problem.” He says hurriedly.

There’s an awkward silence between them. I can only assume it’s Noah giving Nick an odd look.

“Okay well… I’ll let you get back to… Bob’s Burgers then I guess.” Noah tapers out.

As the door begins to keep closed Nicholas blurts out, “Drink water!”

Noah pauses at the door, “I will. Thanks.” Before closing it behind him.

Both Nicholas and I are frozen in place until we hear Noah’s door close. I pop my head out from the duvet and the moment our eyes meet we bust out laughing. I press my forehead against my arm flat on the mattress laughing probably the hardest I have in a while.

Nick hits my shoulder playfully. “Shhh!” He whispers between his own giggles. “He’s gonna hear us!”

I swat his arm, “You’re laughing too you asshole!”

My chest hurts from both how hard I’m laughing and how much I’m trying to stop.

“’Were you watching porn?’” I imitate Noah which causes another fit of laughter.

“God.” Nick shakes his head. “That was pretty bad.”

I sigh and drag my hands down my face. “God I’m so fucking embarrassed.” I whine and land my face down into my folded arms.

“Yeah, I guess that’s kinda my fault. I thought he was knocked out.” Nicholas rakes through my hair softly. “I would say I’m sorry… but I’m not. I loved making you sound like that.”

I prop my head on my arm to scowl at him. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended to be compared to a pornstar. Jesus.”

He chuckles and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear then trails his fingertips across my jaw, tilting my chin up. “I’ve never heard a pornstar sound as good as you did with my tongue in your-“

I reach up and cover his mouth before he can finish because I know if he does, I won’t be able to leave without having him again. “Shush!”

He rolls his eyes with a smile tugging at the corner of his lip.

Quiet falls over us before panic courses through me and I perk straight up. Oh my god I’m such a fucking idiot.

Nick wiggles his brows at me, “You good?”

“Jesus I’m so stupid. I was only concerned about the birth control but I didn’t even fucking ask if you’re clean?” I ask, the reality of my horny decisions hit me all at once.

Truthfully, I was selfish, and I wanted to feel him fully. Though it didn’t occur to me until just now that he is a musician after all.

“Yeah?” He answers without hesitation. “Are you?”

“Yes. Of course.” I reply like it’s obvious. “But are you sure? Because I know, like, being in a band and everything…”

“Yeah, I got tested recently. I’m clean.” He leans over and pulls out a folded paper from somewhere in his bedside table, and hands it to me. “Here. Proof.”

I unfold the paper to reveal exactly what he said, negative test results. But then I notice the date. “Recently? This is over a year old?” I flip the page towards him.

“Yeah,” He clears his throat. “I haven’t slept with anyone since then.”

I scoff, “You? Haven’t slept with anyone in over a year?”

“Except you? No.” He shakes his head.

I squint at him skeptically and cautiously hand he paper back to him. “I find that hard to believe. I mean you’re…well you.”

“I’m not quite sure what that’s supposed to mean but,” He sighs and sits up a bit, “My ex and I broke up just before that.”

“Got it.” I nod. I wonder if that’s the ex Noah mentioned in the kitchen weeks ago, Alice. But I’m certainly not going to ask and then have to explain how I know that.

I lay back down and reclaim my spot from earlier, cuddling into him with my head on his chest — even though I definitely should be trying to escape before the rest of them get home. It’s been a long while since I’ve had someone to cuddle like this, it’s nice and warm. I probably shouldn’t feel safe with someone I barely know, but I do, and I can already feel it starting to lull me to sleep. Sleep is not something that comes easy to me, most nights I only get about 4 hours of it.

His fingers begin to play with my hair and my heart swells. I can’t help but nuzzle into him further, he makes a small comfortable noise. The pads of his fingers start to massage my scalp.

I’m not sure if he just assumed I fell asleep, but a quiet hummed melody comes from his chest. It’s familiar and comforting but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

I know this song

What is it

Without lifting my head, “Is that twinkle twinkle little star?”

He chuckles, sounding a bit embarrassed. ���Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was cute.” I dig my teeth into my bottom lip to hold back a smile even though he can’t see me. “I liked it. Keep going?”

He’s quiet.

“Do you ever sing? I don’t hear a lot of other vocals on your tracks besides backups.”

He laughs, “No, no. I can’t sing. Not really anyway. The only thing I think I’m half decent is twinkle twinkle little star, that’s why I hum it. I don’t really know why. Maybe I sang it a lot as kid or something? But I hum it sometimes if I’m stressed or nervous.”

I stay silent for a bit. “Are you nervous right now?”

Quiet.

“Yeah, I guess a bit. But mostly I thought it’d help you sleep.” His finger tucks a hit of hair behind my ear.

“Why are you nervous?”

“I don’t know.”

But I know.

“Me too.” I reply quietly.

He seems to understand as I do.

I hear his heart rate pick up under my head. My own heartbeat matches his and suddenly I feel like I’m in high school hanging out with a crush for the first time. I’m so grateful that I’m not facing him because my face is burning hot.

“Can you sing it to me?” I ask.

He chuckles anxiously, “No, no, no. My voice isn’t that good, and the song is so lame.”

“C’mon,” I search for his hand and hesitantly intertwine our fingers. “Please I wanna hear it?”

He lets out a small, flustered groan, “Fine. But you can’t make fun of me. And this doesn’t,” He gives my fingers a tight squeeze. “This does not leave this room. Ever. Got it?”

I giggle. “Got it.”

He timidly begins singing and his voice is light, soft, and smooth. Which isn’t really what I expected from his deep, grainy voice. It’s beautiful and soothing, nonetheless.

Between his voice and his fingers massaging my head, I don’t last long enough to even hear the second verse.

Next Chapter -> 10 - Maybe Both, Maybe Neither

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A/N: The love for this story has honestly been so overwhelming (in a good way obv) and I couldn't be more grateful. I really thought this would flop lol so, thank you so much for every like, reblog, ask, or comment. It means the world to me truly. Thank you.

i love hearing your thoughts so feel free to share! (i'm really bad at responding to comments/asks but i still love them 😅 i'm so sorry)

ALSO! Thank you so much for the love on my new series, Intertwined 💗 New chapter coming soon! 💗