#which i could fucking deal with if they just said that instead of flat out ignoring me.

[dreamcast-official]

hm.

[thebiggerbear]

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe." - Soldier Boy Prompt Response

Summary: You're tired of running and you go to Soldier Boy for protection. He agrees to do it but not without a price.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. The original character I wanted to respond to this prompt with before deciding to make it multi-character. This scenario immediately popped into my head reading the line and I just had to write it. Hope it's okay.

Thank you to my beta @rieleatiel for her services. You rock, girl!

Sequel

Warnings: violence/murder; implied assassination attempts; sexual propositioning; Soldier Boy being himself; starts out as a blackmail type dynamic that appears as if a little dubcon at first; language?

Word Count: 2528

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

SB Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

You can also read on AO3

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Beau version ✨ Dean version ✨ Jenny version ✨ Tom version ✨ Jason version ✨ Anael version ✨ SDV Alex version

You never thought in a million years that you would be seeking out one of the most dangerous Supes in the world for protection. Then again, you never would have thought that a multi-billion dollar corporation would be after you, intent on seeing you torn apart and scattered to the four winds. You didn’t exactly blow the whistle on them, but you didn’t exactly tow the company line either—something Stan Edgar was less than thrilled with and now the evil son of a bitch wanted you dead.

It was no secret that Edgar and Soldier Boy had a falling out of sorts after the truth about his being handed to the Russians had come to light. His old team may have made it happen, but it was Edgar pulling the strings all along. Surprisingly, the Supe who had been so focused on revenge hadn’t hunted Edgar down after this revelation, which made you wary about going this route. However, after narrowly escaping the latest death squad sent after you, you decided you had no choice but to take the gamble. There was nowhere you could run that Vought wouldn’t find you and you just hoped this would be more of an ‘enemy of my enemy’ situation rather than a ‘handing you right over to your enemy’ situation.

Once you had managed to track him down in Hong Kong while you were busy running yourself, he had shockingly agreed to a meet, and even more shockingly agreed to help you. Not without certain stipulations, of course.

“Let me in that sweet pussy of yours and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

You should have known, especially from the way he had been eyeing you up ever since he caught sight of you. Screwing your face up in disgust, you flat out refused. “Not happening.”

He shrugged and began to walk away. “Then you must not need my protection that badly.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “You’re seriously turning me down because I won’t fuck you? Whatever happened to the ‘Soldier Boy is America’s son’ bullshit? The OG superhero who fought Nazis and protected people?”

Soldier Boy stopped and slowly turned back towards you. “I’d be putting myself on the line to protect you. For that, I deserve one hell of a payment.” 

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. “So now you’re blackmailing me into sleeping with you? Unbelievable.” You had heard he was more like America’s Asshole than its Son, but you still couldn’t believe your ears. You had even offered to help him take Vought down with what you knew, so long as he kept you safe. You knew he’d want that kind of information. Why else was he hopping from continent to continent in the last few months, trying to shake Vought just like you were? Instead, his dick was taking top priority. Typical. 

“It’s the least you can do, doll.” He faced you fully again, shield hanging off of his arm as if it weighed nothing. “Like you said, I fought for this country, fought the Nazis, and now you’re asking me to play bodyguard while taking on Vought for you. I deserve something worth all that trouble.”

You ran through all other options in your mind. You still had a contact that could possibly put you in touch with someone that wouldn’t mind tapping into Vought’s offshore accounts that weren’t supposed to exist. You were already on Vought’s kill list; what would a few hundred thousand dollars of theirs matter? “I could pay you,” you offered.

“I’m not interested in money.” His eyes roved over you as he approached. “Besides,” he murmured as he came to a stop in front of you. You tensed as he reached up to tuck a strand of your hair that had gotten loose from under your ball cap behind your ear. ”I haven’t had a looker as pretty as you in a long time. Been locked away.” He gently gripped your chin in between his thumb and index finger, his eyes intent on your mouth before lifting to meet yours. A hint of a smirk started to appear on his handsome face when he most likely heard your heart beat starting to increase.

He released you and even took a step back from you, allowing you physical and metaphorical space. “Your call.”

You bit your lip as thoughts chaotically swirled inside your head. On one hand, you refused to be manipulated or pushed into sex with this asshole. No matter how physically attractive he might be, you weren’t willing to get on your back just so he would help you. But on the other hand, the cold hard truth was that you were tired — tired of running, tired of little-to-no sleep, tired of the paranoia that came with such a flight. Hell, at present, you hadn’t slept in almost two days and you were running on fumes; there wasn’t enough caffeine or energy pills in the world to get you through another day with no rest. Your reaction time was already dragging if your last narrow escape was anything to go by. If you continued this way, you’d be dead before the sun started to warm the sky; you were certain of it.

Soldier Boy stared you down. “What’s it gonna be?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you glanced behind you at a small noise far off down the street. Thankfully, it was an old woman tossing something out onto the pavement, but you couldn’t deny it put you further on edge. You turned back to the Supe whose eyes stayed trained on you. You took a deep breath to steady your nerves and readied your response. His lips began to quirk upwards into a smile; he knew what your answer was going to be before you even said the words.

Vought Tower had been completely demolished. Luckily, it had been mostly evacuated before the destruction occurred. A fight between Soldier Boy and the now-dead Homelander had caused most of the damage, but the C4 that had been carefully lined throughout the infrastructure is what ended up bringing it down. 

Before it went boom, Soldier Boy had approached Stan Edgar, who refused to cower in a corner. The Supe respected that, but it didn’t change what he’d come here to do. He gripped Edgar by the throat and lifted him in the air, choking the older man and ignoring the fingers that desperately clawed at his hand.

“I thought we had an agreement,” Edgar rasped out.

Soldier Boy shrugged. “She made me a better one.” He then snapped the man’s neck and tossed his body aside like a rag doll. 

“Oi! We ought to get out of here,” Butcher warned after seeing Stan Edgar lifeless on the floor. “Frenchie’s about to blow this place to fucking hell.”

He glared over at the Brit and picked up his shield. He still didn’t trust him, not after what he and his merry band of assholes had tried to do the last time they’d teamed up, but he’d made a deal with you and he was intent on keeping his end of it. The only conditions Butcher and Captain Lesbo had given this time around was: no civilian casualties and Ryan was off limits. He did his best with the first and he could give less than a fuck on the other. As far as he was concerned, the kid was Butcher’s problem as long as the kid didn’t come looking for some payback once he got older, which Butcher assured he wouldn’t. That, and there better not be Novichok gas waiting at the end of this mission for him. They’d reluctantly agreed, knowing they had no other way to kill Homelander and take down Vought all in one swoop.

“After you.” Soldier Boy gestured for Butcher to leave first. The man scowled but obliged, keeping a wary eye out as he moved. Smirking, Soldier boy followed. The Supe might have enjoyed the reaction—or even tried to settle the score from Butcher’s previous betrayal—if he didn’t have you to get back to. He needed to let you know that you no longer had Stan Edgar or Vought to worry about. He’d kept up his end of the bargain you’d both made — now, finally, you were free.

You woke up to the sound of someone moving through the darkness in your room. You grabbed the gun from beneath your pillow and bolted upright as much as you could, trying to get your eyes to adjust so you could get a good shot.

“Relax, it’s just me,” Soldier Boy assured you. 

Recognizing his voice, you slowly lowered the gun and focused on his location. When your eyes finally adjusted, you realized he was near the foot of the bed, completely nude, his hair damp from a fresh shower. “Ben,” you breathed out in relief. “You scared me.”

Through the beams of moonlight shining into the room from the window, you saw him give you a smile and lay his shield down on the floor next to him. “Didn’t mean to.”

You slipped the safety back on the gun and stashed it into the drawer of your nightstand. You hated having it under your pillow at night; it was super uncomfortable and you only needed to do that when Soldier Boy — Ben, as he’d asked you to call him instead — wasn’t around. “Everything go okay?” 

“Better than okay.” You glanced back to see a smirk adorning that handsome face of his, with an all-too familiar gleam in those green eyes. You watched as he slipped on some sweats and then made his way to the opposite side of the bed. You moved onto your side to face him, smiling as he climbed in next to you and sat up against the headboard, turning to grin down at you. Within seconds, he had his arms wrapped around you, pulling you up against him, and he was kissing you a proper hello. He only pulled back when you needed air and tenderly rubbed his nose along yours, nuzzling you. “How about you, doll? Everything go okay while I was gone?”

You nodded and snuggled into his bare chest, letting out a relieved sigh when you felt his warm hands stroking your back. “Everything’s fine,” you assured him, closing your eyes. You’d never admit it aloud, but you felt so much better when he was around. Not only did you feel protected but you just felt better in general. You’d have to be under the pain of torture to admit to him (or yourself) that you actually missed him when he had to leave.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and let his lips linger there, continuing to rub your back just the way you liked. “Edgar and Vought are gone,” he murmured. “The Caped Cunt, too. You’ve got nothing more to worry about.”

Your eyes snapped open and you lifted yourself up to meet his gaze, your brows furrowed. “What?” You asked in shock.

“You heard me.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb, his grin now a smug smile. “You’re safe, baby.”    

Your eyes widened when the realization hit you. “That’s where you went?”

Your only answer was the lengthening of that smile. 

“Jesus, Ben.” So many thoughts and emotions swirled within you all at once. You were free, truly free. You no longer had to worry about Vought death squads hunting you down, Homelander coming for you, or Stan Edgar sending after you any ragtag Supes he could scrounge up. You were free. Although, Ben hadn’t told you that he was about to go on his most dangerous mission yet. He might be America’s original superhero and he might be tough to kill, but that didn’t mean he was completely invincible. He’d admitted as much to you over the last few months. “What if… What if you didn’t—”

He kissed you, effectively cutting you off. “I did,” he hummed against your lips. “Told you I would.”

You nodded, gently tracing his facial features with your hands before gliding down to his shoulders, dipping down the warm expanse of his back and then slowly returning to his chest. As always, he remained patient whenever you did this ritual of checking him for any wounds or injuries, knowing you wouldn’t find any but needing to assure yourself just the same. Truthfully, this man had come to mean more to you than you’d ever imagined would be possible. Hell, there had been a time when it wouldn’t have been possible at all.

When you were done, you met his gaze head on. “Do I want to know?”

Ben remained silent, but his eyes said it all: no, you didn’t want to know. You and Ben may have planned for the downfall of Vought and the ends of Homelander and Stan Edgar, the very same bastards that had put a target on your back in the first place, but that didn’t mean you wanted to hear the gory details of their deaths. You were just grateful Ben had come back to you alive and unharmed. 

You gave him a thin-lipped smile in understanding. “Thank you,” you whispered. 

Ben studied you for a moment, then pulled you in and kissed you again, his fingers slipping through your hair until he grabbed the back of your neck and urged you to meet him more fully. Just as you were getting into it, he broke away and chuckled. “You’re real eager for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” You shot him a look and the smirk was suddenly back on his face. Without warning, he picked you up to rearrange you in the bed how he wanted you. “Too bad that you need to get some rest. We’re blowing the fuck out of here tomorrow and you’re gonna need to keep up.”

As if he would leave you behind if you couldn’t. “I thought you said Butcher would leave us alone after this.”

“I don’t trust that dicksucking Brit and I trust his bitch of a boss even less.”

You rolled your eyes, smirking when you felt him settle in behind you, knowing how much he enjoyed spooning you like this. “‘Kay,” you agreed. He had successfully protected you this far; you’d follow his lead on this one, too. You shut your eyes and snuggled into your pillow, content to feel his hands on your back caressing you once more.

You were just about asleep when you heard him murmur in your ear, “Sleep. I’ll keep you safe.” You smiled when you heard the words he’d been saying to you every night now for many months and your heart lightened when you felt his hands trail from your back to cup protectively over your rounding stomach, rubbing gently. ‘Safe’ is exactly how you felt right in this moment, and the little girl moving to meet her father’s embrace—like she always did when she sensed he was near—only cemented the knowledge that this was the first night neither you nor she were in danger any longer. It gave you a sense of peace you hadn’t known in a long time.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[cod-sins]

Heyyyy. I loved ur konig hcs! 💕. Can we get hcs for Ghost/ konig ab what they would do if they’re civilian s/o was getting stalked while they were away and they call them asking what to do ? xx

.ೃ࿐ Format: Hcs

.ೃ࿐ Reader: Undisclosed. Established relationship.

.ೃ࿐ Ratings: SFW

.ೃ࿐ Word Count: 1.2k

[A/N: Hey anon thank you so much for requesting this, it was so much fun to write I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. :) Also Ghost is more of a full fic than a headcanon sorrey got carried away. 😋]

𝑮𝑯𝑶𝑺𝑻

Ghost was stuck in a safehouse somewhere in the deserts of Mexico waiting for his rescue team to come pick him up. He was absolutely done with this mission, having to carry around 30 extra pounds of military gear in the scorching heat just to eliminate a "single fucking target" was no joke. He'd much rather be at home in his flat, throwing something on the telly [lol] and laying around with you. He smiles at that thought.

He checked his watch. 1435 read the time. '3 more hours.' He thought. Three more hours until he arrived back at the base. Three more hours until he makes it to the airport. He glanced up at the ceiling his mind filled with all the things you were gonna say to him, how you would fuss over his injuries and insist on him relaxing in the bath while you cooked for him. He plays out these thoughts in his head until his mind becomes hazy and he begins to fall asleep.

Ghost is a fairly light sleeper so the first time you called he answered immediately.

"Hello?" "Ghost! I'm so sorry I know you said not to call you unless it's an emergency but there's this guy who has been following me around all day and I- "Y/N slow down I can't understand you." He said calmly despite his heart starting to beat faster.

You took a deep breath and resumed. "I was at the grocery store earlier and I noticed this guy who kept following me around. Every single aisle I went down he was there, even after I left the store he kept following me. I don't know what to do he's still waiting for me to leave this building." Your voice trembled as you spoke.

Ghost could feel his blood beginning to boil as you talked. The mere thought of someone trying to harass you or even worse hurt you drove him crazy. He should be there protecting you not waiting around.

"Alright, I want you to listen to me carefully and do exactly as I tell you, do you understand? Do not hang up this phone Y/N. First I want you to tell me where he is and what he's doin'."

You told Ghost the man's location--he was outside across the street pretending to be occupied by a street vendor. He kept glancing at the shop you were hiding in.

"Right listen carefully, I want you to make your way to the closest bank the one we always use. Stay in populated areas where people can see you do not take any shortcuts. Don't go down any alleyways don't give him the opportunity to have you alone. Once you make it to the bank talk to the security guard and tell 'em what's happening. Make sure you point the guy out."

You agree and with a shaky hand you grab your bags and make your way outside. The stalker takes notice of this and begins his pursuit. You hastily make your way to the bank--updating Ghost with every step. As soon as you make it inside you talk to the security guard and tell him your situation. He immediately calls the police which scares the man off while they escort you back home in a police car.

As soon as this whole ordeal is over Ghost forces you to take self-defense classes. He would also like it if you knew how to work a gun but if you weren't comfortable with that he'd opt for getting a dog instead. (Plus he's quite fond of the animal.) He just wants you to be safe he couldn't stand the thought of losing you. ):

𝑲ö𝒏𝒊𝒈

All you wanted to do was go home and fall asleep in you and König's California-sized bed. You had a long grueling day; dealing with shitty customers who thought they were entitled to everything and awful coworkers who barely did their job forcing you to work overtime and pick up on their slack. Whilst working you accidentally burnt yourself cleaning the coffee machine because your boss had distracted you to ask if you could close shop tonight.

You were so busy walking home that you didn't notice the man behind you following your every step. It was only when you tripped and dropped your bag--all your items spiling out that you realized that he was there. He quickly stepped in helping you pick up your items despite your initial rejection.

He was very adamant about helping you even though it was clear you were uncomfortable with the situation. Quickly thanking him you began speeding up your walk while fumbling around for your phone. You glanced back and noticed he was still following you. The sun had begun to set and the remaining light was slowly fading away. Your car was in the shop so you were forced to walk home at night.

You glanced back once more and saw that he was still behind you even though you had taken multiple turns and crossed several different streets. Starting to feel anxious you dialed your boyfriend. It took him a few moments to answer which felt like years to you.

"Hallo?" A tired voice spoke from the phone. The sound of his voice instantly filled you with comfort almost making you forget about the situation you were in. "König I'm sorry to wake you I need your help, there's some dude who won't stop following me. I don't wanna go home yet because I don't want him to know where we live. It's starting to get dark out and my phone is gonna die." You said sounding exasperated. The sound of shuffling could be heard over the phone as you continued down the street.

"Where are you now?" His demeanor had completely changed sounding more gruff and serious. You stammered out your location telling him specific landmarks. A theater, a bar, and a park across the street. König instructs you to head to the bar first, 'get lost in the crowd' he told you. 'Then go out the back way and head to the park.' You do as you're told hovering down while you squeeze between heavily intoxicated people. You make it outside the bar then hurry across the street.

It's now completely dark out and without any light it's hard to see inside the park. "I want you to go hide in the park behind the bushes where he can't see. Stay low turn off your phone light and be quiet." König continues to instruct you as you find a hiding spot. You watch as the man leaves the bar, he walks a few feet down then he turns around still not able to find you.

Once he realizes you're completely gone he curses and stomps his foot then marches off into the distance. You cringe at the thought of what he would do to you if he found you. König brings you back to reality asking if you're alright, you tell him your status and he makes you stay on the phone until you've made it back home.

Similar to Ghost, König would also want you to learn self-defense maneuvers, he'd teach you himself (because he's so big he makes a good example) and he'd equip you with your own knife. König would also give you pepper spray and a whistle and a tactical flashlight. You'd have to stop him at the flashlight or else he'd have you lugging around military gear like Ghost.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Inbox: OPEN

[tpwk-formula1]

Kinktober Day 16 - Breeding - GR63

George Russell X Reader

TW - This is probably gonna be my shortest fic for Kinktober! Crampie, breeding kink, talks of pregnancy, unprotected sex

WC 780+

Y/N POV

"When are you finally gonna let me put a baby in you?" Goerge asks the second we get back into the car from a family visit where I spent most of my time with the new baby of the family.

"George, be so for real right now. You know damn well we don't have the time to raise a baby right now," I tell him softly knowing we were both so ready for kids but neither of us knew how to do it with George and I's busy schedule.

"I think we could make it work. I mean you could easily go remote and not have to travel as much, and I would make sure to hire some help for the times I'm not able to be there. If we make a baby now, you would be giving birth around December which means I would then be home for the most part until March," George tells me softly as he drives us back home. It definitely gave me something to think about. I knew if I accidentally got pregnant we would be able to make it work so I don't see why we couldn't plan it.

"Okay, but if we don't get pregnant in the next couple months then we should wait a little longer. I like the idea of you being home the first few months of the baby being home," I tell him softly bringing his hand into my lap so I can play with his fingers. A nervous tick I had picked up when we first started dating. Now married I still found comfort in having George close.

"Deal," George said with a boyish giddiness.

When we get home it doesn't take long for us to make our way into the bedroom and completely stripped into nothing.

George loved to tease but tonight was different. Instead of spending his time edging me with his tongue before finally making me cum on his cock he just fingered me a bit to make sure I was wet enough to take his long length.

"God, you feel so good," George says while softly slipping into my pussy.

"Oh fuck," I gasp feeling George fill me in a way no one else ever could.

"Om my god," I moaned when George started thrusting his hips faster making me clench around him.

"God, I can't wait to watch you swell with my babies," George groans while softly rubbing my flat tummy that will one day hold our kids.

"Georgie, it feels so good," I moan loudly making George speed up his thrusts and making me whine that turned into a loud moan when George started teasing my clit.

"George, I'm gonna cum," I announced making George speed up his actions bringing me over the edge, where George starts cumming with me filling me up with his cum.

When we both came down from the high of our orgasm instead of pulling out George softly picks me up before turning us around so I was laying on George's chest while cock warming his softening cock.

"Don't wanna see a drop leak from that pussy," George mumbled into the top of my hair making me chuckle softly.

"Think that time worked?" I joked with a smirk making Goerge laugh softly.

"Not sure, maybe we should go again for the best odds?" George asks making me smirk and start to grind my hips into George to get him hard again.

When George is rock hard within moments I start bouncing on his cock using his chest to keep myself stable.

Neither of us ever lasted very long as the angle allows for George to reach new places in my pussy.

"I can feel your cum leaking out," I whine not wanting to waste any of his cum.

"I'm gonna give you more, don't worry pretty girl," George tells me while angling his hips to be able to thrust up into my pussy.

It's only a few minutes of rough fucking before George and I are both cumming again.

I stay seated on George's cock while cuddling before falling asleep.

6 weeks later

"I guess it worked you smooth talker," I joke when George and I flip the pregnancy test around to find the small little double lines.

"Oh my God, we're gonna be fucking parents," George says letting the shock settle between us.

"I'm excited," I whisper making George wrap his arms around my waist before kissing the back of my head and nodding.

"You're gonna make the best mum," George tells me making me smile.

"And you're gonna be the best dad," I reply back with a smile still stretched across my face.

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 7)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: here we are! and CHARLES WON MONACO! (also sorry for the lance slander RPM influences me far too much)

P7 - 2.5L water bottle

"Oh for fuck's sake."

The lyrics rapping over the Metro Boomin beat were cut off as you turned off your engine. You huffed spotting the asshole in green getting out of the Aston Martin in front of you.

Mother fucking Lance Stroll.

Stroll got on your every nerve from the fact that he, as a paid driver, was the epitome of what you hated about F1 and the cash is king nature of the sport. It didn't help your opinion of him that his treatment of the Hospitality workers was very telling of his personality (i.e a spoiled little bitch) - but he also treated the rest of Aston Martin like that.

His engineers he bossed around. His PR team he bossed around. His fucking team principle he bossed around. You had never ever seen a driver be able to literally pick and choose what Media they wanted to do until Lance Stroll. Not even Räikkönen had gotten away with things that way Stroll did.

The worst part of it all, though, was that Lance's attitude of I can do whatever I want meant that he really thought he could get any girl he wanted.

Namely - you.

Your Supra wasn't exactly inconspicuous and Lance had (unfortunately) been in F1 long enough to make the connection that the flash JDM car parked in the lot tended to belong to you. And even though your windows were tinted a few shades darker than legal limit, Lance was getting out of the car right next to you. There was no chance he didn't know that it was you.

If anything, he likely made his driver park next to your Supra on purpose.

"Lord give me strength." You muttered seeing him come up to your window.

But then Lance Stroll had the fucking audacity to tap on your window.

You immediately reached for the handle and opened the door which caused him to stumble for the lack of space as you did so. "Oh, woah! Hey!" The Canadian accent pissed you off for no other reason than it reminded you of Drake. Someone else you fucking despised.

"Don't touch my car." You said, voice flat.

"Oh, er. My bad. Nice looking ride."

"Thanks." You said curtly, internally cringing at how he said 'ride' like that. You went around and grabbed the vast array of things you always hauled with you. Said items for today consisted of your gym bag, your workbag, your lunch bag and your comically large 2.5L water bottle. You always were carrying a lot.

"Need help?"

"No."

"I insist."

"Don't."

"Why you always gotta play hard to get?"

You said nothing, forcefully biting your tongue. You were out of practice with Lance Stroll's shit since Domenicali had finally relented and cut the amount of shifts you would be rostered on Aston Martin. Which had been a shame since the crew were quite nice and you really taking the piss with Nando.

Still, Lance Stroll was insufferable - and you were evidently out of practice dealing with his spoiled delusions. You were just glad his father wasn't around. God help you when it came to the European races.

"I have to get to work." You said and locked your car. There was a call from behind where some Aston Martin people were waiting Lance but he ignored them. Instead, falling into step with you.

"I don't see you around Aston Martin anymore." He said, trying to make conversation.

You kept ignoring him, hoping he'd get the hint. Pulling out your phone, you started to compose a to text to Oscar. He would coming here with Lily and had said something about finally introducing the two of you. Your eyes checked the time at the top of your phone screen. Based on what time it was, Oscar should've been here by now - and could save you from Lance Stroll.

to: piazzas 👼

where the fuck are u ?? lance stroll is trying to talk to me send help

"I don't know." Was all you said, typing away with one hand as the other held a bag, hoodie, bottle and lanyard. You lifted the arm to tap in through the gate and then continued to ignore Lance - who continued to walk beside you and speak.

"That wouldn't be because you're working for McLaren." Lance said. This made you fingers pause as the blatant comment caught you off-guard. You sucked your teeth and took a deep breath. You adjusted your grip on your bags and continued to type another message.

to: piazzas 👼

srsly im gonna fucking rage at this point

"I don't know what you're on about." You said and felt relief seeing the Read time-stamp arrive below your sent message and three dots finally pop up as Oscar typed a response.

Lance made that irritating sound - his laugh. "You know my dad will pay you double what they're paying."

from: piazzas 👼

I'm at the McLaren motorhome. In a meeting with some PR. Can you come?

You huffed and pocketed your phone. Your shift was at Ferrari today and so there was no logical reason for you to walk into McLaren. Then again, it was early and you were yet to get dressed. It should be okay. People rarely noticed you since you looked like some random trainer with the amount of stuff you always carried.

Except, right now, Lance Stroll was not getting the hint and pissing off. Meaning you couldn't exactly freely walk into McLaren no questions asked.

Especially after that comment about you working for McLaren.

"What do you say?" The annoying idiot stood there, still waiting on you apparently.

"What?" You asked, shifting the items in your hand and pausing in your steps. You were in front of Ferrari right now and considered going in to dump your stuff before sneaking off to McLaren. That would at least get rid of Lance.

"Just say the number. How much. Dad wants you onboard and so do I. And all that legal stuff we can sort out." Lance said with a nonchalant shrug that pissed you off more than it should've. "My trainer isn't really working for me anyway."

You stared at him. Was he being serious right now? Your mouth fell open at the audacity and you glanced at his manager behind him who was looking up at the sky, clearly uncomfortable.

But, of course, unable to say anything.

"Ah, Stroll! Mademoiselle is with us today!" You turned your head to the French accent of your other favourite Team Principle. Fred Vasseur arrived with one half of the Scuderia drivers beside him. Your eyes widened on the sight of Carlos there, sunglasses pushed up in the head of hair that had its own fan-accounts and was the star of many, many Tiktok thirst edits.

Fuck.

Last night, your uncle had thrown you for a loop. Carlos Sainz had somehow infiltrated your uncle's sphere with a video of him refusing to sign a Barcelona jersey.

This, your uncle took as a good omen and a worth his approval.

"Approval for what?"

"None of these drivers are worth your time. But this one seems good." Your uncle's voice had sounded through the speaker function of your phone as you balanced a ball on your head. Last night you had present for his usual call to his sister and Dia was adamant you cop it.

And cop it you did. His newest idea was not Jude or Vinicius - but apparently Carlos Sainz.

"What? Because Carlos didn't sign a Messi jersey?"

"His name is Carlos?" Your uncle had asked and you had, in turn, just groaned. You half expected him to make some ridiculous comment about the similar names being a good omen or something.

"Yeah. Carlos Sainz."

"Sainz? Hm." There was a short pause from your uncle. "Is his father a rally driver?"

"Yes." You had frowned, not expecting that.

"Ah! I know him. Good family."

"What?" You said, still stuck on how your uncle knew the Sainz family. "How do you know him?"

"Why didn't you tell me about him before?"

"Because... I never noticed Carlos." The football you had been kicking slowed as you found yourself frowning at the phone on the kitchen table. "It's... I don't know. It's just Carlos."

"I want you to talk to him. To 'Just Carlos' as you say." Your uncle was not relenting. "Go have dinner together. He has a good face."

Your uncle's attempts to get you married to what he deemed was a 'respectable man' and not, in his opinion, 'some limpy Frenchman' (you would often remind him Charles was from Monaco nor was it was like that between you two) or 'some tatted up Australian wanna be Italian' (you would also remind that Daniel barely identified as Italian). However, all of your uncle Carlo's options had always been footballers which, you and Dia knew, was just a ploy to move you from car circuits to football pitches.

But last night, you found, Carlos Sainz apparently had the Ancelotti tick of approval and he was adamant you and Carlos apparently go out for dinner.

You took your uncle's comments to be why you suddenly found yourself feeling a little awkward seeing the driver in the flesh. The on you admittedly never paid much attention to before.

"Maybe next race you can have her." The Spanish driver - who apparently had your uncle's approval - said. Carlos took a sip from the small coffee cup in hand. He was on his piccolo, you noted.

Carlos came up to you and you felt yourself caught out and taken aback by him openly reaching for the strap of your gym bag and your bottle, prying them for your hands. The surprise had you letting go and once Carlos had a grip on them, he nodded at everyone in green. "See you guys on track." And put a hand on your back to guide you into the home. His clear dismissal towards Lance made you smile and it made your face warm up even more.

Your smile dropped.

What the fuck?

"Um. Thank you." You said, once you were out of earshot.

"He's an idiot." Carlos said, with a tired sigh. This made you laugh.

"You're telling me."

It was then that you realised your laugh was nervous. You cleared your throat. You were going to rip into your uncle. And then yourself for being so stupid. Because this was stupid. You barely ever noticed Carlos. What? You find out he really hates Barcelona and has really, really great hair and suddenly you're tongue-tied around him?

"Ha. Yeah. I get that. And I can hold that." You went to reach for the strap of your bag on his shoulder. Carlos moved away.

"Don't insult me." He said, tsking you with a grin on his face. "Let's go. Fred spoke all morning about your pizzas."

"Yes! I did." Fred said, reappearing with his assistant who was handing him a paper he was half reading as he spoke. "Guenther didn't let me have any last time."

You couldn't but smile, remembering Guenther's loud curses echoing throughout all of Haas when he found you plating some aside for Fred. You gave Fred a salute. "I'll get right to it. Let me just dump my things in the backroom."

"I'll take them there." Carlos said, evidently not relenting. You sighed and let him carry them for you as you both made your way to the backroom.

Unfortunately, this meant walking through the entire motorhome in which case many Ferrari staff did a double take seeing you walk with Carlos. Whilst it wasn't uncommon to see you around, nor for you to have any interactions with drivers - you literally made their food and coffee - but Carlos was holding all your many, many belongings and walking to the small backroom that were reserved for Hospitality.

"Thank you." You said, appreciating the chivalry. What you didn't appreciate, however, was how your body was reacting to Carlos.

You didn't get why you were suddenly so... hyperaware around Carlos. Seeing driver content wasn't something new to you. Why did it affect you like this? Maybe addressing it would just help.

And so your mouth just came out with it.

"My uncle likes you."

"What?"

You quickly elaborated. "He saw a video of you refusing to sign a Barca jersey."

Your uncle had even sent you said video of Carlos, the driver windswept in his Ferrari, driving off when a fan passed him a pen and the jersey. You had to admit he did look good in the video and the way he drove off like that had made your eyebrows shoot up, impressed.

"Your uncle... Don Ancelotti?"

"Yeah." You said with a laugh at the name. The Don. You were proud of your uncle and what he achieved, earning him such a nickname. Dia always said her brother's intimidating Don cigar smoking aura had been passed down to you - and not his own children/your cousins.

You weren't surprised Carlos knew about who your uncle was. It wasn't exactly a secret. And considering the world of Formula 1, that wasn't even the craziest connection for someone working in the Paddock. An Alpine techie was distant cousins with Mbappé, a Haas mechanic was close cousins with LeBron, and Valentino Rossi's babysister's best friend's brother was a PR manager for George Russell.

So, no. No one really paid much attention to you and your uncle. The most it had ever come up was the odd few comments of the Paddock's EPL fans coming to you lamenting Carlo Ancelotti moving from Everton to Real Madrid.

"Woah, that's pretty cool." Carlos said, his eyes widening. "I definitely need to let my dad know."

"Apparently they know each other?" You asked, hoping he might shed more light on the connection your uncle somehow had to Sainz Sr. Your uncle hadn't managed to explain that curious bit.

"Do they? He never said." He said and you blew a raspberry. You really were going to give your uncle a piece of your mind. You shook your head and Carlos laughed, saying something that went to deaf ears as he took his sunglasses off his head - causing some strands to fall across his forehead as he was looking down at you.

Fuck.

He used the other hand to run through said black locks.

Double fuck.

The man seriously could've made it as a hair model.

You looked down from his hair to meet his eyes and felt yourself flush even more knowing he'd caught you staring at his hair. You cleared your throat again - when had it gotten so dry? - and spoke. "You um, you could really make bank doing hair endorsements, you know?"

"Bank?" Carlos asked, not picking up the slang.

"Money." You explained the slang and then thought of the Spanish translation. "El dinero."

"Ah, so was it the Don who taught you Spanish?" Carlos asked, lips turning up to grin.

"Nah I don't really speak Spanish." You shook your head and explained. "I just know that word from some from lyrics and stuff."

"Stuff? From living in Los Angeles?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. You blinked, surprised he knew that tidbit about you. "I remember you telling Max about it back in Torro Rosso."

Carlos' observational skills evidently had you in surprise. First it was him remembering your Egyptian heritage and now this?

"I, uh. Yeah for a year and a bit. I worked in a garage." You explained, feeling more awkward and, well, something else that you refused to acknowledge as nervousness.

You didn't get nervous. You had literally served countless celebrities and prided yourself on not getting starstruck or fucking nervous.

And yet, here was Carlos running a hand through his hair catching you off guard with how hyperaware you were of him.

"Ah." Carlos laughed and you stared at the way a thin gold chain glittered around his wrist. "Well, if you know any hair sponsors you'd recommend, let me know."

"Oh, yeah. Done." You said, going back to the previous conversation. "But I'm expecting a cut, then." You said, opening up a locker and beginning to stuff the bags into it. "Hoy por ti - "

" - mañana por mi." Carlos finished the phrase, amused. "It's different in Spanish, though, you know?"

"What is?"

"English you say scratch my back or something. In Spanish it's more about generosity. You take care of me so I will take care of you next."

"Oh." You said, taking in the mini Spanish lesson. Admittedly all your Spanish came from working with Tyler in the garage on Fairfax Ave and, of course, song lyrics. There had been a few funny conversations with Fernando - but nothing intimate such as I will take care of you.

You didn't really know what to say next. Your face was already flushed and you'd probably be able to cook something on your cheek from how hot it was.

You were going to kill your uncle. Real Madrid could win Champions League without him. And even if they didn't - well, Guenther would be happy to see another team finally have a chance.

"Also," Carlos casually continued, unfazed - or not noticing - your lull, "there's going to be a game tomorrow night. I'm not sure if you were planning to watch it."

Thankfully, his words momentarily did distract you from the inner monologue. Real Madrid wasn't playing this weekend. Atletico Madrid was.

Maybe it was Carlos being from Madrid or following the Spanish league religiously but, either way, it wasn't a game you had intended to watch.

"Oh, I mean I like Griezmann." You said, referring to the famed Atletico player, "but I don't watch La Liga games unless Real Madrid is playing." Besides, if you showed any interest in any other team, The Don would have your head. Your uncle still didn't know you owned a jersey of another team. Even if it was only for Mo Salah.

"No, the Liverpool game." Carlos corrected. "They're playing Manchester United, are they not?"

This was surprising. There had been no indication in the past of Carlos ever caring about any other team besides Real Madrid - let alone being that interested a whole other league. If you ever were going to talk EPL with a driver, it was probably a passing conversation with Lewis. Maybe George if the Wolves were involved. And that was when the drivers themselves initiated the conversation.

Max, and his love for your team's biggest rival Barcelona, was who you used to talk to about football, who you used to stay up and watch games or play Fifa with.

And since that was no more, you sort of lost any passion for it.

So this was very much news to you.

Carlos Sainz. Talking to you about EPL.

More than that - asking you if you were going to watch an EPL game.

"Uh, yeah maybe." You finally spoke. During your drive to work, you had vaguely thought about changing your schedule so as to be able to watch the game. You had played around with the idea of doing a workout after your shift tomorrow so you could stay up after qualifying and watch the match.

The only issue was that this would you mean you wouldn't be able to work out before the race on Sunday - and you were definitely going to be stressed working a whole weekend at Ferrari.

But if you watched it you could stream it on one of the TVs in the driver's gym - that way Oscar could workout with you also.

Suffice to say, you hadn't yet made up your mind.

"Lando and I were going to watch it. He's a fan of Manchester United." Carlos said, looking at you expectantly. "Don't worry, I won't tell the Don."

It was that look which made your eyes widen slightly, the thought suddenly dawning on you: was Carlos asking to watch the game together?

Something erupted in your stomach.

However, your reflex to any driver interaction had immediately kicked in.

"Oh, nice. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to watch it with the schedule. You guys enjoy, though."

Carlos opened his mouth but thankfully someone, a man dressed in the red uniform, appeared in the doorway calling for Carlos. The interruption was very much welcomed as the driver nodded and was resolved to leave you before your body gave you any more confusing signals.

You took a second, a steading second, before you slammed your locked shut and went out to look for Oscar.

“And there’s the young rookie, Oscar Piastri. Looking really good after his amazing win in Jeddah. 9th, outperforming everyone’s expectations!"

“Yes! He’s just arrived with his - is that his trainer?”

“She looks tough enough to be one. Wait is that — “

The commentators immediately realise and change the subject to something else to do with Fernando’s winning streak and Aston Martin’s upgrades. You sigh at the clip that had been playing on the TV in front of you where you could be seen handing him the Antinal Dia had been adamant Oscar have.

Zak had informed Oscar who had informed you about the conversations had between all the TPs about, well, you.

It was startling to say the least. 

"I'm afraid people are starting to catch on." Oscar's PR Manager said with a stern look as she stared at both you and Oscar. Her name was Sophie and despite her young age putting her in the same ball-park as you and Oscar... it still felt like you both were students in trouble, being told off by your teacher.

Oscar had asked you about a Sophie Wright a few months ago. You briefly knew of the girl from her interning days, following other PR members around the McLaren motorhome over the years. She was a little on the shorter side, the chubbier side and, unfortunately, these two appearance traits meant she was excluded from the other PR girls who definitely already had a group chat going.

However, you also knew this meant she would be good at her job. Sophie could blend in the background quietly, unnoticed and do her job well. You also doubted she would easily jump around for a better opportunity and do Oscar dirty. Then there was the fact that when you served her a skinny latte one time, she made sure to read your name badge and thank you with a genuine smile.

And so you had given Oscar the thumbs up.

Never, in a million years, did you think you would be here though. Getting a debrief from her as Sophie tapped on her iPad. You risked a glance at Oscar who looked indifferent and nonplussed.

"Sorry Soph," he said, "but I'm not exactly aware what this means exactly."

There was some noise at the door and in walked Zak Brown himself. He was still talking to someone outside in the hall and said a 'yep, bye!' and then finally turned to address the room he was halfway in. "Ah, here we are. Just the people I need to see." His eyes fell on you and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

"No trouble at all. I know you're friends with Oscar and just wanting to help him out." Zak said, coming to sit down. "Ah, so you've seen the clips." He looked at the TV where Sophie's iPad was still screensharing the clip from yesterday.

Thursday's media days was always the least loved day for everyone - save for the bloodthirsty journalists. Drivers hated all the mundane questions and the paranoia of microphones and cameras everywhere. And you hated media day because it meant extra long barista shifts.

"Yes, Sophie showed me before but I thought Tezza should see it." Oscar explained, using your nickname. Your heart warmed at how considerate that was. You met his eyes and smiled softly at him. Your love for the kid grew daily.

"Good thinking!" Zak said, nodding agreeably to his driver. You fought to keep your face passive as you regarded the McLaren CEO.

Your opinion of Zak Brown was that he got further than he ever dreamt to get from starring on Wheel of Fortune. And whilst you did admire him for not being brought up in the snobbery and pretentiousness of the generational wealth that F1 tends to circulate through... you did note how he sucked up to the those snobs and their pretentious generational wealth.

Namely, how he did anything and everything for to make Lando Norris happy. In your opinion, it was a lil cringe at times.

"Well, the problem is that it's getting harder and harder for me to just make it out to the rest of the Paddock that you and Oscar are just friends spotting one another at the gym." Zak said. "Christian Horner is running rampant, scared you'll turn Oscar into the next Max Verstappen."

You snorted at this. Unfortunately this drew everyone's attention to you and you knew you would need to explain. "Max and Oscar are polar opposites."

Oscar could very easily become a World Champion without you. He was smart, dedicated and very talented. And whilst Max was all those things, he didn't need someone to train him up so much as tame him down after all that Jos did to him. You guys had just as much sessions on anger management as you had sessions on endurance training.

"Either way, it's coming to be viewed as a breach." Zak said. "And if you breach your contract then - "

"I know." You interrupted him. He didn't need to explain that to you.

"There's also the issue that people think you two are dating." Sophie spoke up from the front. She tapped on her iPad a few times and up came up a few screenshots of Twitter threads hypothesising about the two of you. "Your Twitter had a followed increase of 150% since Oscar followed you. Which didn't help."

"And whose fault was that?" You said, looking at Oscar with an unimpressed look. "You're lucky I deleted that shit so quickly."

"Yeah look, my bad. The timing was off." He said, accepting responsibility. You still remember all the notifications of the Twitter shit-storm Oscar set off. You literally had to delete your account because of it.

"Yes, Christian did bring that up." Zak said. "And it's a good thing Oscar's lovely Lauren is here - "

"Lily, sir." Sophie quickly corrected her boss. You wanted to groan. Oscar just looked down to hide his smile. Under the table, you kicked at his legs.

"Lily! Sorry." He gave a sheepish look to Oscar. "Yes, you and Lily this morning was a good idea."

"Unfortunately, Daniel did like a few of these Tweets." Sophie added, bringing up the screenshots of a Tweet about you and Oscar that was liked by none other than @danielricciardo.

You clenched your fist, your nails digging into your palm as you thought of how fucking petty that was. Daniel wasn't a fucking idiot. Aside from the fact that he knew your type - (admittedly, the tall/dark features combination always got you) Oscar was so young.

If anything, you thought of Oscar, genuinely, as a younger brother. As you had Max. Daniel knew that. So he knew exactly what he was doing by liking those kind of fucking Tweets. Tweets you wouldn't put past Red Bull to send out themselves.

Because, if anything, they would be praying it wouldn't be true about you and Oscar. Otherwise Christian Horner wouldn't have any leg to stand on. That was how you got around being connected to Charles, anyway. Family was the exception.

"I know your contract has you tied to only working for Red Bull and Ferrari's drivers but--"

"Red Bull and Charles Leclerc." You corrected in a tight voice, your eyes falling down to the table in front of you. "I was only granted exemption to work with Charles as he was considered family."

This caused him to frown as he pulled out his phone and began typing at it. "I thought you were allowed to work for Red Bull or Ferrari. No new teams."

"Yeah, no." You said, making Oscar chuckle at the Australianism. "No new teams outside of Red Bull and Torro Rosso." You specified.

"Christian didn't say that." Zak said.

"It was kept really quiet." You explained. "Charles was, um, he granted exemption from my Red Bull contract because he - well, he was considered family." You cleared your throat, not able to even look at Oscar. "I was signed for Torro Rosso and Red Bull. Never Ferrari."

"That's not what Toto said at the meeting." Zak said, shaking his head. "He made it seem that you could work for Ferrari."

You said nothing. Toto Wolff had approached you once or twice but your answer had always been the same, no matter what he offered. Eventually, he dropped it. You just didn't realise he dropped it because Toto had sought out the fine print.

"Wait so why aren't you Charles' trainer?" Zak asked, looking up from his phone. "He'd be insane to not have you!"

You froze. How were you supposed to answer that? For once, you had hoped the F1 rumour mill had properly run its course and Zak would know better than to ask that obvious question.

"Eh, Leclerc's loss." Oscar interjected with a casual shrug. "Let's be glad we don't need to worry about that."

The hidden meaning behind his smooth words were clear and you felt your love for the boy increase tenfold at his save.

"What - if I may," Sophie started, trying to be sensitive with her wording and her eyes darted between you and Oscar, "what were the grounds for family?"

You took a moment to think of how you might answer. You really didn't want to but if this might help the boy beside you, you would. "Charles - and I, like, I dunno. We grew up together? Everyone just knew." You pulled at your hoodie sleeve, feeling every bit uncomfortable with the question.

"You didn't date?" Sophie asked. Your face must've shown something very unpleasant because she was quick to amend. "I'm only saying because the grounds for family are always a grey area."

You pressed your lips together and went back to staring at the table. "There was nothing romantic between Charles and I." You said. The room fell silent for a moment as Zak tapped on his screen a few times and then he spoke up.

"You also trained Daniel. He told me in 2021." Zak said and put the phone down and you wanted to roll you eyes. Of course Daniel would say that. "And I don't want to get into all the drama but you were dating him back when you were training Verstappen."

Zak did have a point.

A key point that you had forgotten.

You paused and watched the screen in front of you and the liked by @danielricciardo Tweet. "Christian's always had a soft spot for Daniel so..." You trailed off. "But yeah, you're right. It was fine even though I was contracted to Max under Torro Rosso then Red Bull."

"Hm." Zak said, bringing a hand to his chin as he leaned back, pensive, in his chair. "I can see how romantic grounds could be argued." He said it with a laugh, looking between you and Oscar.

You raised an eyebrow at the comment. You honestly weren't sure if this was just Zak Brown being Zak Brown - i.e saying dumb things to suck up since he was out of his element - or if he actually meant that. Either way, it pissed you off.

Because there was no fucking way you'd let that happen to Oscar.

"No it can't. Contracts aside, I'm not forcing someone I think of as my younger brother into a PR relationship with me." You said.

"It could work, though." Sophie said, taking a professional tone as you turned your glare to her. "This is what I was trying to say before. The Twitter comments about you and Oscar are not necessarily negative. If anything you've helped increased Oscar's public image and Red Bull wouldn't able to say anything about you two on romantic family grounds."

You were seething.

Thankfully, Oscar was more level-headed than you.

"Yeah, look guys. Tezza's pretty but not my type." He finally chimed in, lighthearted. "Besides, I think we should focus more on the car and that way it's a fair advantage to both me and Lando."

You looked back at him and took a deep breath. Oscar smiled at you, chill as always, and you took another breath. You wanted to give the boy a big hug.

"Look, Zak," you said, looking back at the TP, calming down a little more, "I'm sorry. I'm causing you all this shit."

"You got Oscar into the points." Zak waved off. "Don't worry about it. I just want to find a way that works for everyone." You sucked on your teeth. Whilst it was nice to know that Zak Brown was willing to take risks on you also wanted to know how this conversation would've gone if Oscar hadn't finished 9th in Jeddah last weekend.

Such was the way of F1.

Sophie then tapped on her iPad and the TV showed a picture taken by Ky Millman. It was of Oscar hugging you after the win in Jeddah. Some comments were displayed and you found your lips turning up as you read them. They were, as Sophie said, sort of positive.

kymillman

liked by mclaren, saintescuderia and 15'483 others

kymillman SUPPORT FOR SUCCESS! Oscar surprised many with his amazing performance in Jeddah and goes to celebrate with a F1 Hospitality worker and friend @ynusername!

view all 76 comments

halaaaamadrid girl help his shoe game pls

ln44girlieee @mclaren we need content from this duo plssss u have them right there

logansversion as if mclaren is going to post a couple?

f1fanforever they're friends?

ln44girlieee idc the level of sarcasm between them would be SO GOOD

oscarpastries i love THIS! 😫😫😫

justanotherinchident omg charles finna be RIOTING!

team44roscoes wait why would charles be upset ?? i thought @ynusername was with dannyric?

maxiel4eva_16 yeh 😒 jumping on all them aussies

You rolled your eyes at the last comment. Maybe it was a good thing you were off Twitter and barely used Instagram anymore.

"It'll be hard to argue that Oscar is family since you haven't known him as long as you did with Charles," Sophie spoke up, bringing your attention back to her, "but we can maybe try to build it up from a PR point a view."

"That Oscar and I are family and not dating?" You asked. Sophie nodded. You looked at Oscar, wanting his confirmation.

"Yeah, sure thing Vin Diesel." He laughed.

"Hey, hey. Fuck you." The grin on your face was contagious and he broke out laughing also. You liked this new idea and turned back to look at Sophie a lot more positively. You were glad McLaren gave Oscar the girl.

"Okay, so what do we do to show the world I've adopted Oscar?" You asked.

"I think you'll find my dad's already half adopted you." Oscar corrected. "He wants to see your Supra."

"That's perfect!" Sophie said, excited. "Maybe Oscar can post a story of the interaction sometime this weekend? Make sure Lily is there. Maybe you can play the tired third wheel of them!" Sophie looked at you as ranted off her ideas. You nodded, suddenly less excited.

Whilst it was nice to know there was a plan in place to help you and Oscar continue to work together, you didn't like the way Sophie said for you 'play' a role. The one, sole consolation you had going for you these past few years was the lack of needing to play any PR role. Hearing Sophie speak was giving you flashbacks to times long gone.

"Happy with that gang?" Zak said, placing his palms on the table. "We'll work on building the PR and hopefully that will get Red Bull off our back as we also improve the car!" He stood up and left, not joining Sophie and Oscar as they said goodbye to the boss.

"Wait, does this mean I need to actually start using Instagram?" You asked.

"Yes." Sophie said. Then she looked up from her iPad. "Don't you? You were tagged in it?"

"Like, I have an account but I stopped using it. I'm pretty sure I deleted the app." You said, pulling out your phone to see that yes, there was no pink app downloaded. You pressed the download button, knowing what was in store for you.

"Download it. You're already at 2.4k followers." She said, bringing up your profile on the TV screen.

"The fuck? I had like three hundred last time I checked."

"Five." Sophie corrected. "Your growth has increased since you started training the F2 winner who follower Y/N Tessio after the most controversial Formula 1 Tweet that ever was Tweeted." Sophie said, eyeing Oscar with a raised eyebrow.

"I already said sorry about that."

"Do you know how stressful you made my first day? Helen scared me!" Sophie asked, humour on her face. "Though, nothing like jumping in the deep end."

The Instagram app had finishing downloading and you logged onto it - thank you pre-saved passwords - to be met with a fucking plethora of notifications that suddenly had you overwhelmed. As such, you immediately went out of the app and put your phone in your pocket. You could deal with that all later.

"I'm not using Twitter again." You said, thinking back to the Tweets Daniel had liked. "Fuck that."

"Yes, only Tumblr or Reddit over here." Oscar said, pointing to you.

"Tumblr?" Sophie looked at you, surprised.

"Yeah? What of it?" You asked, defensive.

"Nothing. Just surprised. I would ask to follow you but Tumblr is the safe haven of anonymity. I get it." She nodded. "Alright, perfect. I'll draft up a PR plan. In the mean time, do you mind if I review your profile and send you some tips?" Looking at you for the last bit.

"By all means." You said, half wishing you could give her control of it like Oscar and be done with it. You just wanted to be able to work with Oscar without causing him any trouble and not having to worry about this PR bullshit.

"Perfect!" She said, beaming.

Your phone buzzed. It was a text reminder about you needing to go back to check on some dough you'd prepared. Back at Ferrari. You sighed and stood up.

"Alright, sounds good. I gotta get back to work. Take your supplements and electrolytes. The green one." The last bit was aimed at Oscar as you met his eyes and then turned to leave the room and walk, head down, out of the McLaren motorhome.

You took a deep breath as soon as you made it into the open air. With how things were going, it was likely that you would be having another gym session today. You arrived at Ferrari and saw the back of Carlos' head. You felt yourself gulp and turned to hide behind the coffee machine. Maybe you would watch Liverpool play.

The mention of your connection to soccer was also pointed out in the room you had just rushed out of. Sophie made a small sound and rounded on Oscar, shoving something in his face.

"Did you know that half of Real Madrid are following her? Jude Bellingham just commented on the post!"

She stared at Oscar, hoping he might provide an answer. The young driver just shrugged. "She did say something about her uncle coaching a team." Sophie stared at him, incredulous. "How was I to know? I don't watch soccer."

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[whenlostinthedarkness]

Chapter 2 | Part Two: Silk Chiffon

Lead Singer!Reader x Lead Guitarist!Ellie Williams

Summary: A smoke session in the hotel leads Reader & Ellie into a conversation about the past that affect their future.

Warnings: Sexual Content(f/f fingering, oral, and dry humping), and Infidelity.

WC: 5k

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been reading this series so far & for the positive feedback 💜 Enjoy

Series Masterlist

"Do you ever think about us?”

Ellie's words echoed in your head like a prayer sung in a cathedral. Over and over and over.

“I uhm-I mean..”, you couldn't help but stutter.

Meanwhile, Ellie stifled a laugh as her eyes remained on the ceiling and her mind reveled in the amusing way you were reacting to her question. “You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.”

Your pupils searched around the room as your hand came up to scratch against your bare arm. You needed something to tame the anxiety running marathons inside of you and your surroundings were the only thing you could use as a tool to calm it.

“I think about us.” Ellie said it so casually, you had to question if what you heard was real or a hallucination.

“What?”

Ellie's chin lowered, her eyes following along with the movement until they rested on you. “I think about us.”

She shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, when in reality, what she was confessing to was something so thoroughly massive in your brain.

“In what way?”

Ellie’s eyes left yours as the confidence seemed to drain from her once sharp facial expression as she shrugged her shoulders. Suddenly, she grew shy at the thought of talking about your relationship together and how it still runs through her mind on a near daily basis.

The temperature seemed to rise in the hotel room even though a soft breeze was flowing freely through the window. Without a word, you turned to walk the short distance back to the couch and took a seat in the same spot you once occupied before; Ellie followed shortly after.

The strain in the room was severely obvious.

You presumed the only reason Ellie had asked a question like this or brought up this sort of conversation all together, was due to the fact that she was clearly very high and spaced out. Which, you weren't wrong about.

Ellie was indeed very high and sunken down deep in her mind as she dared to travel to the one set of memories that were usually barred with yellow caution tape. The memories always appeared so enticing and leaving her wanting to visit the scene of the crime again..but never being able to push herself fully over that barrier to engage with them.

Now, it was different. She was high, you were high, and a shared hotel room was proving to be a nudge in Ellie's rib as she became consumed with thoughts about something else. Someone else.

It was suddenly like you were a hyper fixation of hers that she was bursting at the seems to talk about, yet, she held it in. Instead, opting to keep quiet and let her thoughts be silent or get distracted by something else that wasn’t her life. Yeah - that's what she needed, a distraction.

“You still wanna watch that movie?” Ellie’s voice was so fucking soft yet at the same time very hoarse, it almost made you melt right then and there into the couch.

“Yeah,” you gulped, “anything in mind?”

“How about….”

Your finger aimlessly flipped through all of the options on the screen as Ellie scanned each of the selections until she found the winner.

“But I’m A Cheerleader- that one!”

You shook your head with an amused smile, "Typical".

“What?” Ellie's smile returned to her face as the room relaxed for the first time in several minutes.

“You’re just so predictable- that’s it”, you said playfully while shrugging your shoulders.

“It’s my favorite fucking movie. You should already know I’m biased to it.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” you waved Ellie off as your thumb clicked a button on the remote that started the films opening scene to display on the large flat screen tv.

In her best efforts to fight off the chill in her body, Ellie grabbed the blanket she had packed along with her and spread it along the lower half of her body as she allowed herself to relax into the cushions.

“How old were you when you saw this for the first time?” You wondered as your eyes watched the cheerleaders twirling high up in the air as the camera panned to an up-skirt view.

“Too young.”

“Like how young?”

Ellie shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe like ten..eleven. Something like that.”

You nodded with wide eyes. “Damn, ten?”

Ellie chuckled at the disbelief in your voice. “Yep. One could say it was my gay awakening.”

“What about Princess Jasmine?”

“She’s different. She’s an angel and can do no wrong.”

A thunderous laugh left your lips which instantly made you slap a hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound.

“Plus, I was too young to understand I wanted to fuck Princess Jasmine so she doesn't count as my gay awakening.”

Ellie enjoyed your laugh, enjoyed it that much more when she was the one inducing it. It’s like she got a shot of pride directly injected into her veins whenever she could sprinkle a moment of joy or humor or any other emotion that made you feel good. She wanted to make you feel good always and would if you let her.

It's comical in a way. When Ellie was 19, it was as if she had to keep trying to convince herself that she didn't care about you nearly as much as she knew, deep down, she did. In fact, it was as if she was fucking up on a near consistent basis purely just to keep up the act that she was only caring about herself. If the act was more for you and the public, or herself, she wasn't sure. It only became more difficult for Ellie to keep up with this act the further and further you both got into your relationship.

When things were going really well between you both back in your college days, fuck, was it good. On the other hand, when things weren't going well, usually because of something Ellie did, they really weren't going well. It was almost like the good moments were a spotlight shedding on what could’ve been if you and Ellie both had been just a little bit older and more matured and established in yourselves. Sort of like how you both were now.

Yours & Ellie's conversation tapered off naturally as the both of you started watching the movie. Not that Ellie was having much luck in concentrating on the film.

You, on the other hand, were fully entranced on the current scene where the main characters, Megan & Graham, sneak off to have sex for the first time.

The film made it exceptionally pretty. The soft pink tones, the gentle touches, the intimate eye contact between the characters- it truly set the mood for what your first intimate experience with another girl felt like.

Your gaze was too concentrated on taking in all of the details in the movie, that your sober mind had never bothered to notice, that you missed the heavy gaze Ellie held on you as she moved her body slightly. Now, she was seated on the couch, but her body was twisted so she was facing directly towards you with her knees pulled up to her chest.

Eventually you caught on to Ellie's stare, nearly catching you off guard when your eyes met.

"You okay?"

Ellie didn't answer verbally, just opted for a nod as her mind was deep in thought. You mimicked her nod of the head and returned your eyes back to the movie while trying your best to ignore the heat from Ellie's eyes that you could feel were still concentrated on you.

"I miss you."

Your eyes returned to where they were moments ago as you looked into Ellie's green eyes. "We see each other like everyday Ellie."

Ellie nodded, "Yeah, but not like this. I feel like we are walking on eggshells together most of the time and now it just feels..I don't know. Natural. Like old times".

You knew exactly what Ellie meant. She was talking about how things were when you were dating, but now you were far from that and hadn't been even close to that for a couple years.

"I mean..things are different now."

"But why?”

You matched Ellie's position as you twisted your body to face hers. "What do you mean why Ellie. You know why."

Ellie knew you were right, yet there was some part of her that wished things between you both would've gone back to normal after your breakup. Surely wishing something like that was foolish, yet Ellie lived to be the fool.

"I just miss you."

"What things do you miss?" You asked genuinely as the movie now became background noise to the first conversation the both of you had really ever had regarding your past relationship.

Ellie's brain immediately went through film clip memories in her mind of all of your good times together. The late night escapades, the movie nights, the jam sessions, even the sex. It was all something that felt right and natural. Ellie missed all of that, and tonight was feeding a hunger for that feeling she wanted to have again with you. She didn't want it to stop.

"Shit like this..," Ellie shrugged, "..watching a movie, smoking weed, cuddling on the couch.."

Ellie's voice trailed off on the last part as if she were ashamed, which, in some ways she was. However the need for this feeling with you was outweighing any guilt that she could be feeling right now.

"The cuddling huh?", you teased with a warm smile. "Do you think that's a good idea? Cuddling?"

The answer was clear. You knew it, Ellie knew it, yet the both of your bodies somehow began to scoot closer and closer to one another.

"What's so wrong with cuddling?" Ellie asked with innocence which made you roll your eyes.

"I think you know why we can't cuddle Ellie."

By the time you finished your sentence, you and Ellie had hunched backs as you both naturally leaned in towards each other like metal to a magnet.

A heavy sigh fell from Ellie’s lips as she fought a battle within herself that she didn’t know the outcome of. That hunger, that want, that nostalgic feeling coming back was making her want to take in spoonful after spoonful of you and this feeling. On the other hand, she knew it was bad to even entertain such a concept.

She had a loving girlfriend at home that was great in every way possible, but why didn’t she make Ellie feel like this? She kept asking herself this question over and over. Until she couldn’t take it anymore. The two choices sit like two different entrees on fine china. Ellie’s mind kept going from one to the other, trying to decipher if she wanted normalcy or if she wanted you.

“Fuck it.”

A breath gasped out of your mouth and vibrated against Ellie’s lips as she held them against yours like her life depended on it.

Your first thought was shock, but relief soon chased it as you found yourself melting into the tender kiss.

One of Ellie’s hands went up to cup the side of your face as your mouths continued moving slowly against one another’s. It felt so sweetly familiar.

For a second, you were nineteen again and kissing your college roommate for the very first time. The pent up tension and feelings were coming to fruition and that similar sense of relief that you felt when you were 19 was present in this very room as Ellie cradled you in her arms with a grip that held a fear of you trying to leave.

What Ellie didn’t know is that you too had an appetite for this sorta of feeling and you weren’t planning on cutting it off anytime soon. At least not tonight.

Ellie's girlfriend wasn't a thought in your mind or hers as you instinctually moved into Ellie's lap to straddle her waist. Both of your lips moved fervently against the other as tongues collided and saliva coated both your mouths like a shiny clear gloss.

Everything felt second nature and habitual. The way one of Ellie's hands gripped your waist tightly as she pulled you as close to her chest as possible, and the other rested at the swell of your ass. Natural.

The way one of your hands cupped the side of Ellie's face as you ground your hips down towards her; so fucking natural.

Ellie let out a groan at the friction as she tried to pull you tighter to her body, even if it was impossible for you both to get any closer. Her strong grip on your hips was enough to have you mewling into her mouth which only made Ellie feel more starved and deprived of your alluring noises, the warmth of your skin, and the way your mouth fit against hers like the missing puzzle piece that had been brushed under the couch for ages. It was a sensory overload that you both had missed and craved, yet suppressed time and time again - and for what reason?

At this very moment, everything else was quiet and nonexistent. All that was in both of your worlds right now was two past lovers who desperately needed one another.

Ellie allowed you to gently push her to fall backwards so her back rested on the couch as she gazed up at you sitting on top of her.

The quiet and stillness suddenly made everything stop. The eye of the tornado had passed and now it was stillness- A calm just after a storm that caused a kind of damage that could destroy towns.

Ellie mimicked your heaving chest and wide eyed gaze as you stared down at her and she stared up at you. Images of her girlfriend were now flickering through her mind, yet her hands never even thought about straying away from your hips.

As much as this moment was a moral battle for Ellie, there was also a sense of comfort in the familiarity that was your legs resting on either side of her.

Silently, your eyes made a treaty with one another that spoke of consent and allowing whatever happens, to happen but that didn't make you any less hesitant. You had nothing to lose, but Ellie had an entire relationship to lose.

You both could stop the betrayal with just a kiss - you both should stop the betrayal with just a kiss.

Yet still, Ellie nodded as she sensed your hesitancy. She wanted you to know that she knew exactly what you were thinking and feeling and still she wanted this so incredibly bad. Who were you to deny that you wanted the same exact thing when it was consenting right in front of you?

You couldn't nod any quicker and Ellie couldn't move any slower as her hands squeezed your hips in a nearly feral manor. This made you smile and feel a sense of shyness as Ellie looked at you as if you were the Mona Lisa in the flesh.

Gently, Ellie's hips rose up off of the couch to collide with your center, making you bite your lip as you brought both of your palms to rest on top of Ellie's stomach.

Your eyes remained fixed on her as you bent the upper half of your body downwards towards Ellie; your hands sliding all the way up to her shoulders as you did so.

You were now hovering directly above her like a mobile above a babies crib. Ellie's tongue wet her lips as she looked at you as if you were a meal she had been starved of for years, which you had been, but all by choice.

In a challenging nature, you ground your hips down onto Ellie's. Her eyes squinted harshly at the interaction as she slid her hands down so she could unashamedly knead your ass.

Your faces were so close together that both of your breaths were hitting the other with a vapor of warmth that was charged with anticipation and excitement. Ellie was finding it all torturous.

"Please."

Her voice was so quiet it was nearly drowned out due to the audio from the movie, but your focus was on her and only her. You heard her perfectly clear.

"Please what?" You questioned knowing damn well you speaking would lightly brush your lips against Ellie's as you remained hovering above her.

Ellie let out a groan paired with a rolling pair of eyes as she squeezed your ass harder in the hopes that would get her message across...but she should know you better.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to use your words El."

You wore a near devious smile as you turned your face to the side, allowing your mouth to graze along the skin of her freckled cheeks and travel downwards towards her neck.

The tingling feeling made Ellie shiver the closer you got to that euphoric spot just below her ear and when your lips did finally meet that thin layer of skin, you paused entirely, making Ellie huff out of frustration and neediness. You found it all very amusing as your lips continued ghosting along.

“Are you not having fun?”

All Ellie could manage to do was sigh loudly which seemed to spur you on even more.

“Awe you don’t seem like you’re having fun.” You sealed your sentence with a severely light peck to her neck in the exact place she wanted, making Ellie’s hands squeeze your ass again as her eyes began to close. “Then again, maybe you are.”

“Shut up.”

Suddenly, Ellie sat up, forcing your body to sit up along with hers. She wrapped one of her arms around your waist and firmly held you against her as she swapped your position with hers. Now, Ellie was above you and moving quickly to take off her hoodie.

You laid in awe as you took in the view before you. Ellie in a white tank top with messy hair that was stuck up in multiple places, yet the image was as close to the past as it could get in your mind. Except now it was fast forwarded a couple years- Ellie’s facial bone structure was more pronounced, her upper body was more lean and muscular, and her eyes had dark gray underneath them from exhaustion, yet you felt like it complimented the green in the nicest way.

Once again, silence consumed the room, even as Ellie lowered herself downwards and kissed you without warning-not that you needed one.

From here, the race began.

In contrast to earlier, both of your locked lips were desperate and chasing one another. Saliva began dripping along the sides of Ellie’s mouth as she left open mouthed, gasp filled kisses that only separated when she desperately needed to have your bare skin touching hers.

Quickly, Ellie moved to rest inbetween your legs before her fingers found the hem of your flimsy t-shirt. The further the material moved upwards, the more present the urgency was as you assisted Ellie in lifting the material the remainder of the way up until you were tossing it on the floor.

You swore you saw Ellie’s eyes pop out of her head when your bare chest was on full display for her to indulge herself in shamelessly-and shamelessly she did.

A guttural noise came straight from her chest as Ellie’s hands moved to squeeze your tits together, making you lull your head to the side out of sheer pleasure.

“Ellie,” you whined, making that same noise slip off of Ellie’s tongue as she moved her face and began furiously kissing along your collarbones.

Her tongue glided along your skin, leaving trails of wetness in her path, until she got to the place her mouth had been watering for.

Your nipple felt velvety against her tongue as she lapped it up using various circular movements. This feeling used to be a phantom, but now it was in the flesh and she couldn’t believe she had been depriving herself of the delicacy that was you for all these years.

Your fingers twirled the hairs that sat along the back of Ellie’s neck, occasionally pulling them whenever she hit a particularly heavenly spot. Ellie gently grazed her teeth along your nipple while her other hand stayed firmly placed on your ribcage- half in order to keep her own balance, the other half just so she had an excuse to be touching you with every limb that she had.

Ellie began sucking on your nipple and you couldn’t help but arch your back off of the couch, naturally making yours and Ellie’s centers grind against one another. Clearly Ellie was enjoying the friction-and so were you-as she continued sucking even more harshly on your nipple, just the way she remembered you liking it.

By now, you were dripping wet as the currents of pleasure, from the friction and Ellie’s mouth, had you rocking your hips against Ellie as you searched for any sort of abrasion in order to ease the pressure that was weighing heavy on your clit.

“Take this off, you spoke through heavy breaths as your hands moved to the back of Ellie’s shirt. You were tempted to just start taking it off yourself, but you were still hesitant in whatever was happening between the both of you and the only thing that was reassuring you it was okay was Ellie giving her consent.

Ellie swiftly moved upwards and discarded her shirt so it met yours on the floor-a silent consent. Now, the both of you were matching with bare chests exposed to one another.

The moment Ellie moved back down to kiss you again, both of your bodies began sinking up in a rhythm that was getting both of you equally worked up. Ellie’s hand moved to your thigh and lifted your leg up to her hip as she ground her hips down against yours again, but this time with much more access and ability to move against one another with an added pressure.

While the both of you continued fucking with clothes on, Ellie’s hand had managed to slink in between both of you. Her fingertips pressed firmly against your clothed center, feeling the slightest bit of wetness that she was hoping she would find seeping through the thin cotton of your sleep pants.

In unison, you both made a noise of pleasure as Ellie continued rubbing along your clothed core, until you gave her bicep a squeeze.

Ellie released the suction of her lips against yours and peered down at you with a cautious facial expression. “You okay?”

You smiled slightly at the worried expression on Ellie’s face and nodded. “Yeah, I'm good. Really good.”

Ellie’s eyebrows relaxed from their tense state, yet she was still confused. “Are you sure this is okay?”

You shrugged as your eyes averted from Ellie’s worried look. “I think that’s a question you should be asking yourself, not me.”

There was that reminder again about how wrong this situation was, but how could something that’s so wrong feel so incredibly right to Ellie?

Silently, Ellie’s mouth moved to your neck as her hands went to rest along either side of your body. “The only thing I'm thinking about right now is how you taste.”

Her lips left a long kiss to your neck as your eyes nearly rolled to the very back of your head as she did so. “Take off my pants then.”Ellie snickered at your confidence as she obeyed your command.

She maneuvered her body so she was sitting back on her knees-her hands were quick to reach the top of your pajama pants and shed your lower half of it’s top layer.

“God damn,” Ellie sighed words that were meant to be internal, but at the sight of the dark spot that was gathering in the center of your panties, she just couldn’t help herself.

As much as she wanted to enjoy this moment and take her time, Ellie also couldn’t fight off her primitive urge to have your cunt on her mouth.

Swiftly, Ellie’s thumbs hooked on the sides of your panties; you raised your hips upwards to assist her in fully discarding the material off of your legs.

The natural scent of your pussy filled Ellie’s nostrils as she felt her heart start to speed up. Her hands were quick in moving to wrap around your thighs as she settled her face so that it was just above your warm and visibly wet center.

Ellie started off with slow kisses to your inner thighs and lower stomach,trying once again to take her time, until she physically couldn’t take it anymore.

Her teeth sunk into your thigh, making one of your hands raise up to rest on the back of her head and your crotch raise up to move along Ellie’s face.

Ellie’s tongue moved along her lips-the faintest taste of your wetness hitting Ellie’s taste buds for the first time in years. She was desperate now.

Her face moved down, pressing a long lick to your center and allowing you and her to both have some relief from the built up tension. She found herself humming in satisfaction as her tongue peaked out to gently lay flat along your dripping clit, causing you to jerk your body upwards from the sensitivity that was already very prominent. Ellie bared her teeth in a grin before she went back for more.

Ellie’s tongue made out with your cunt as she gave you the sloppiest, messiest head of her life. Your wetness mixed with her saliva as it dripped down her chin while she licked up your center faster and faster with each lick.

Your hand squeezed her brown locks as Ellie wrapped her lips around your clit, sucking it with all the pressure she could muster up before popping it out of her mouth.

Her eyes would briefly glance up at you to watch your every facial expression and bodily reaction to make sure she was hitting every spot that once drove you wild; she was happy to know your body was still a well read book in her library.

Ellie’s tongue went back to give quick, but long licks to your cunt, making sure to leave more pressure then the next. One of her hands moved to your inner thigh and pressed it down gently to ensure you were keeping your legs fully wide open for her, especially when her lips would take a break from the licking and go back to suck on your clit again and again and again.

You could feel the warm tension in your lower abdomen spreading throughout your body as you fully allowed your voice to moan and groan out whatever words came to mind that would accurately describe the ecstatic feeling that Ellie was putting on you.

“’m so close,” you whined as you subconsciously squeezed Ellie’s hair in your hand even more as you tried your best to keep your eyes open so you could watch the way Ellie looked in between your legs.

At your confession, Ellie began to slow down. Infact, her tongue was licking along your slit, but purposefully not putting too much emphasis on your clit because she knew you would be coming undone all over her tongue if she did.

As tempting as all of that sounded to her, she hadn’t even had her fingers inside of you yet.

Your eyes squinted as you watched Ellie’s tongue as it moved tantalizingly slow. By the way the corner of Ellie’s eyes were pinched, you knew she was smiling deviously even though her full face blocked as her tongue dragged up and down your cunt.

Her eyes looked straight into yours as her mouth disconnected from your center. A line of spit connected the both of you before Ellie wiped her lips with her thumb. With that same thumb, Ellie glided slowly along your cunt as the severity of your wetness made a squelching noise that had Ellie regretting she had ever removed her mouth from you.

Ellie’s teasing had you making noises as if you were a new born baby crying out for its mom. Begging and pleading and writhing so you could have your way, but Ellie wasn’t having any of it, she was much too entertained by how you were acting.

“What’s wrong?”

All you could do is respond with a whiny tone as her thumb dipped inside of your cunt for a brief second that didn’t last nearly as long as you needed it to.

“You like that? You want my fingers inside of you?”

Your nodding was so quick, it made your entire head vibrate. Ellie snickered with amusement as she watched you grinding yourself down onto her fingers that were beginning to pick up speed as they rubbed along your pussy.

“God you’re so hot.” Ellie’s eyes were super glued to your lower half as she watched the way your hips rolled into her hand, leaving your wetness to glisten on her fingers. She could only imagine how good you’d look riding her fingers like this.

The next time your body ground down, Ellie tested the waters by slipping the tip of her middle finger inside of you with ease, thanks to your wetness. Your little, bitchy whines were enough of an answer for her to proceed, But first Ellie wanted to take you to bed and ensure she had enough room to properly fuck you into oblivion.

At the disappearance of her fingers, you looked down with a mix of anger and shock. However, Ellie was quick to give clarification as she stood up from the couch with her hand outstretched towards you as she nodded in the direction of her bed.

You nibbled on your lower lip as you placed your hand in Ellie’s palm, just before she assisted in getting you to a standing position.

And from there, everything felt like a blur.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

so just to confirm, jikookers genuinely believe that in an extremely homophobic military system and country that just reaffirmed the illegality of any form of homosexual interaction during enlistment (to the point that they can face a prison sentence), two queer individuals in a gay relationship would put themselves, their relationship, and their careers at risk by enlisting in the same camp together through the buddy system in which they will have to be together essentially at all times surrounded by other soldiers, supervisors etc for 18 months? there is no private time or sneaking off in the military so jikookers genuinely think that while already dealing with the stress and difficulty of enlistment within itself, jimin and jungkook would subject themselves to an extra stressor of controlling their emotions and actions with each other at all times for that long? like you all actually think they said “yeah fuck it we’d rather be by each others side while facing the risk of getting caught, sent to prison, and having our careers destroyed instead of being separated for just 18 months out of our whole lives”. like how do u think they’d even remotely survive those 18 months?

***

You know, when you put it that way I think you have a point. It's ludicrous to think two queer men can co-habit in the same unit without climbing all over each other and outing themselves. Jikookers must've been deaf, blind, all thinking faculties out to lunch when Jungkook talked about how Seven is autobiographical (the female subject in the song not being just a technicality). Expecting Jungkook of all people to go days, weeks, and months on end without fucking his main squeeze is kinda nuts ngl. Especially when everybody knows gay men are overly promiscuous, deviant, sex-addicted sons of Lucifer who just happen to look good in perms and eyeliner. One glance at all that cake Jimin got in the back and Jungkook will start keening like blue-balled bonobo before jumping him in broad daylight. Right? Perhaps it's a wonder jikook survived 10 years in the spotlight while being in the most hyper-visible group in a homophobic society, even representing their homophobic country in official capacities.

What good is a relationship if you cannot have sex for any period of time, after all? Can you even call that a relationship?

Also, your point about how there's no private time in the military is a godsend because it just reminded me of a curious phenomenon that happened this year. I noticed it happened maybe two or three times this year when ARMYs and even people tangentially related to ARMYs collectively hallucinated seeing Seokjin and Hoseok outside the military base. In fact, this is what's convinced me beyond all reasonable doubt that BTS's fandom is a cult.

Anyway, I'm rambling.

Jikookers must be dumb, high, or both to think it's a good thing for jikook to possibly mean more to each other and still choose to enlist together under the Buddy program. Clearly it's unthinkable for a couple to weigh the strength they could gain by being together, as more important than the risk of being caught in an explicitly compromising situation. It's silly of jikookers to think companionship can happen in all sorts of ways even while in the military; and flat out ridiculous of them to believe that jikook at the end of the day started out as friends, have been through some of their most life-defining moments together, and are still one of the closest pairings in BTS.

Thank you for taking the time to share such an enlightening opinion with me, Anon. Your ideas were persuasive and yes, you have me convinced. It is impossible for jikook to be jikooking in the military ergo jikook must not exist.

[pftones3482]

"Ummm they toned down the abuse from Gabe in Percy Jackson because it's a kids show, stop being mad about it"

Ignoring the fact that it's also a children's book, let's take a look at some children's media in the last couple decades that depict parental abuse towards children that isn't physical, but still makes the abuse feel real:

1. Harry Potter. I'm loathe to even put it on here bc of how much I hate JKR, but HP DOES depict child abuse in probably one of the best ways of any modern media. As far as I can remember (correct me if I'm wrong), the Dursley's never lay a hand on Harry. But it is never even questioned if they're awful people towards Harry - they literally make him sleep in a closet.

2. Matilda. Like do I even need to explain this one? Abuse from not only her whole family (again, NONE of it physical from what I recall), but also from other authority figures. And she's not the only character who deals with parental abuse - Miss Honey is a grown adult shown to be dealing with the negative effects of an abusive parental figure.

3. Phineas and Ferb. Laugh all you want, but Doofenshmirtz's parents were genuinely awful to him. His stories are just tamed down in a way that's palpable to a much younger audience while still also being clear abuse - a young child can chuckle at his stories but STILL understand why maybe some of his stories would turn him evil.

4. Avatar the Last Airbender. Zuko's father physically disables his own son. Not to mention the constant emotional neglect and manipulation on top of it, the writers never held back on how bad his father was. Even if he hadn't scarred Zuko, he would still be a clear depiction of an abusive parent.

5. The Willoughbys. The parents are so awful that the kids literally plot to murder them. The parents abandoned them to freeze to death on top of a mountain. Enough said.

6. Percy fucking Jackson.

Percy Jackson IS a book made for kids that depicts child abuse from a parent - and not only does it depict child abuse, it depicts spousal abuse.

I know Percy doesn't know that Gabe is physically hurting Sally in the beginning of the book. But we as the audience know that Gabe DOES hurt Percy. There is not a single sign in the new show that Percy has anything more than a snarky, annoyed view of Gabe.

Gabe is supposed to be smelly and disgusting, a drunk (which, even if they can't depict that in a Disney show, you can still play around with his grossness), a slob, and a gambler. He's barely even greasy in the show. Literally they could have just had him belch a few times or eat messily and it would have given off a better impression of his character. Instead, he just quips back and forth with Percy and then later is just...whining. He's whiney. He does not ring as a man who abuses his family, emotionally OR physically, he rings as a pathetic step-dad figure who can't support himself (which is ALSO not canon, because in the book he runs an auto store! His abuse towards Sally is not for lack of money, it's just because he's a dick!!!) The fact that I think that Doof's parents in Phineas and Ferb are more overtly abusive than him on screen is actually absurd.

And Sally fell flat. Her character in the book doesn't yell literally ever - not once in the whole series can I recall her legitimately yelling at someone. Her persona is kind and gentle in the books and as for wits, she's clever, and sneaky, and cunning. She fights back with Gabe in ways that we as the audience can see, but Gabe misses because he's so dense.

Take the bean dip scene.

In the show, she basically is like "Yeah yeah I'll make the bean dip, shut up" and Gabe just whines about the sour cream while they yell at each other.

In the book? That's her bargaining chip to take the car for the weekend. That's her ticket out of the house. Bribery. Not just placating a whining husband - she bribes him in the books.

And her yelling back? Just feels so unnatural to Sally Jackson as a whole. I saw someone say she feels like Disney girl-bossed her, and they're right. She doesn't feel like Sally Jackson. She feels like just another cut and paste Disney woman who's snappy and doesn't take shit.

And to be clear - the OG Sally Jackson also didn't take shit. She was just so much more clever about it, in a way that made sure Percy never saw her actively yell. She doesn't have to be snarky and rude to get her way. Percy knows she's fighting back without physically fighting, and that's what makes her so strong. Sometimes you have to fight more with your wits and cleverness than you do with screaming and fists

(Gee...wonder what other character Percy ends up really admiring that also holds that philosophy in life?)

Anyway...all that said, stop blaming the fact that it's a children's show on Gabe's watered down personality. Children's shows/movies and family shows/movies have been depicting serious parental abuse and neglect for decades, in both realistic and more humorous ways that don't take away from the neglect. Kids can handle it, because there are kids going through it.

To say that "It's a kids show, kids shouldn't have to see that," is a disservice to the kids who need to see that, so they know that they can get away too, and they don't have to get physical to do it.

Also, this version of Gabe? Doesn't deserve to die. He's just annoying, not an asshole that scares Percy more than literal monsters do.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

me: don't think about it

me: Charlie going to the demon over lords like "hey look! heaven attacked and we fought and (mostly) didn't die and a sinner got yeeted up to heaven! Will you please support my (newly rebuilt) hotel now??"

(most) demon over lords looking at charlie like: shit the second most powerful person currently in hell, who was BORN with that power, is trying to fuck up the power that WE clawed our way to the top of (she's ruining it by giving sinners hope) (meaning they won't be so eager to sell themselves off to bigger demons) (meaning bigger demons will have less power) (if she has it her way they'll be fewer sinners at ALL) (which won't work) (bc this is all still Stupid) (BUT) (if the people of hell start thinking they have a chance...) AND she wants us to stick OUR necks on the line in the fight against heaven (who don't traditionally go after her or her family anyway but love hunting US) now she's also got her dad actively backing her up, so we can't just say a flat "no" or try fighting her over it, especially not since she's shown herself to be not so lame after all.... we need a way to get all of hell doubting and mistrusting her, so they don't go to her hotel thing instead of to us... but what can we use against her? what weak spot does she h-

over lords, looking over at charlie's girlfriend vaggie, and her newly returned, never-before mentioned angel wings: ......Hmmm...

charlie: trying to explain that her gf WAS an exorcist yes ok, and sure she DID kill lots of sinners but- No charlie didn't know that when they started dating but they've worked through it and vaggie- look she fought on hell's side during the hotel battle she was right there with charlie up in heaven advocating for sinners getting a second chance-

What? Yeah she, she went back to heaven that one time. No I guess she's not banished exactly, they just tore off her wings and left her to die here after she- NO she does NOT want to go back- yes ok she COULD but she doesn't WANT to, the hotel is her home now and- look she almost died fighting for it-

it wasn't a LIE, she just, she was scared and didn't tell the truth! What do you mean "can't trust your judgment"? I know her and I knew she'd have my back and she DID, the whole POINT of the hotel, which WORKS by the way, is that people can change-

NO SHE ISN'T SPYING ON US FOR HEAVEN! she hates them! no I'm not "just" saying that because "she said so" I can TELL we've been together for THREE YEARS- YES FINE SHE WAS HIDING SOMETHING FROM ME ALL THAT TIME OKAY but look at what she's done and been DOING! Yes, thank you Caramilla- she got her wings back and used them to fight for- she- WHAT?! NO! She's the hotel manager- she's OUR hotel's manager- she can't leave, that's- wh- fire her? It's her HOME! I'm her partner not her boss!! No I'm not listening to this! This is stupid- the whole hotel wouldn't even BE a thing if I hadn't MET her and it wouldn't work without her! I-

vaggie: I'll go vaggie: charlie's being modest. she's got things covered here vaggie: I'll be hell's spy in heaven, if it'll help. IF you all support the hotel.

and the overlords smile and promise-

(of course of course they will, really, it's nothing against her just a little PR issue, a matter of building trust, so naturally she'll report only to them yes? she and charlie will make a little deal not to contact each other otherwise? they're just worried, you see, wouldn't want an angel taking advantage of the princess of hell's confidence again, so glad she understands)

-nice and sharp and already watching eagerly as charlie's newfound backbone crumples while she stares at vaggie, wordless again just like up in heaven, and doesn't react when vaggie takes her hand and gives her a pleading look-

back at the hotel, alone, vaggie is swapping out her hotel vest for the clothes she was in when they met, wrinkled and crammed at the bottom of drawer, while charlie sits on their bed refusing to watch. vaggie doesn't pack for heaven. she walks over with just her spear and holds it out- here. she'll feel better, about being away, if charlie keeps this with her. charlie doesn't take it. charlie doesn't answer. charlie's crying and she latches on tight when vaggie drops the spear to hug her. she should've been able to stop this- she can't keep the hotel running on her- she doesn't WANT to TRY doing this alone-

she won't be. vaggie reminders her, lucifer and the others are all here, charlie isn't alone anymore. she's got the hotel. she's GOT this. and vaggie will come back

but she's tired of being scared and she's not gonna risk both their dream because of it. not again.

so, vaggie goes to heaven, supposedly to help sir pentious settle into his new life up there, with the help of emily to smooth things over and the fact that adam and lute swept her under the rug instead of making her fall an official thing- and considering the circumstances, emily argues, they were in the wrong anyway, especially now a sinner HAS been redeemed

meanwhile charlie stays in hell, at the hotel, without her.

and she's short tempered with worry, impatient with the everyday problems of the hotel- vaggie up in heaven with LUTE the woman who ripped out her eye ripped off her wings tried to kill her- all because charlie couldn't convince the overlords- couldn't convince (wasn't enough to convince?) vaggie to STAY- and,

the other's notice, notice that asking how things are NOW is too raw but asking about the past is easier, lighter, get's charlie lost in memory instead of on of her worry spirals, and there's flashbacks of them getting together- there's vaggie up in heaven quiet and listless as she shadows sir pentious around keeping lute at bay and he looks over at her nervously, he brings up how much he misses cherri, and how he could use a few relationship tips for when she (surely) eventually ends up here too-

charlie and vaggie, both of them apart in the present, neither of them okay, maybe vaggie's snooping up in heaven leads her to lilith and gets her in trouble- maybe charlie makes deals she regrets down in hell trying to keep things going without her- but we see them in the past, together, and them pulling on those memories now, trying to get back to each other again

or something like that.

[stinkysam]

Eddie Brock - Alien

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : How about being Eddie and venom's new hot tall neighbor who just moved in and them having bi panic and simping over him

Reader : male (you/he)

A/N : bold is Venom talking // Part TWO

Their neighbor had quickly and quietly moved out.

Yeah, the one that played loud electric guitar. He's gone.

They didn't care when or why he left, even though Eddie had a little idea about it.

But now there's someone new that's moving in and despite being reluctant at first, Venom and Eddie quickly warmed up to the idea, especially after seeing you, the new neighbor, through their window.

You had moved in rather quickly before knocking on their door to present yourself. You shared your name and where you came from and exchanged a few more words, Venom silently listening in the back of Eddie's head.

"Holy shit." Venom said in his head.

Eddie said nothing, listening to you instead.

"He's hot !"

Instantly Eddie felt awkward, not knowing how to talk to you anymore. He didn't think of it, but Venom was right, you were kinda… hot.

"Eddie, tell him you like him."

Eddie coughed out a "No" discreetly enough for you to not notice it.

"Then invite him in !"

The inside of this flat flashed in Eddie's mind, showing his trashed kitchen and hanging car tires. He closed the door on himself more, so you could not see it, in a way that made you think you were taking too long and needed to end the discussion.

Which you did, quickly thanking him for his time and leaving to your side of the apartment.

"Good job he ran away !"

"That's your fault, V." Said Eddie, closing the door behind himself.

"How ?!"

He did not answer, feeling like it would be too complicated to explain and looked around. It truly looked like a fire hazard. Holes in the ceiling, claw marks on the walls, the cereals on the floor, ketchup on the walls along burn marks and so on…

"He is a tall one…"

Eddie said nothing, waiting.

"Was he taller than you ? I don't remember, I was lost in his eyes."

This made Eddie laugh. "You, lost in someone's eyes ?"

"Yes ! Beautiful [eye color] like… huh… I don't know."

To invite you in, he needed to clean up first and by the Gods he didn't want to. Especially since Venom would try to help but make things worse instead.

"Eddie. If we're looking for a human mate, it could be him."

"No." He said tiredly.

"Admit he was hot !"

"...No."

"Lies ! Lies ! Your pants are on fire, Eddie !"

"Alright !" He whisper-yelled, "He is hot ! Fucking handsome, even, happy ?!"

"No !! Because you made him leave ! He thinks we hate him !"

"No he doesn't."

Eddie sighed in annoyance "If you promise to help me clean up the place correctly, I promise to invite him in, alright ? Do we have a deal ?"

"Yes !"

And so they spent the next couple days cleaning up the flat and making it more comfortable and normal looking for a human, getting rid of the holes any way they could by hiding them with paint or wood planks.

During that time Eddie couldn't stop thinking of you. Wondering if you'd be happy to be invited. He began to wonder what your laugh sounded like and how big you could smile, trying to imagine it in his head while Venom was rambling.

"Do you think he's gonna like us ?"

"I don't know, Venom."

"He shall like the place ! We made it humanly welcoming !"

"I don't know if we should tell him about you yet. He might not react so well to an alien."

"When !?"

"I don't know…"

"Without me, your chances of attraction are low."

"Oh really ?"

Would it even work between the three of you ? What if he scared you ?

Once everything was cleaned up and replaced with better furniture, Eddie prepared himself. Showered, clean clothes, and freshly shaved to knock at your door.

When you opened, wind was knocked out of his lungs and Venom had to push him to make him say something. You were really something.

"I was- I was thinking, maybe you could come in for a beer or two ? I feel like we left on the wrong foot the other day." He said, looking you in the eyes. Even your eyes were beautiful to look at, Venom was right.

You agreed, closing the door behind you as you followed him to his apartment.

You spent a good hour there, drinking and laughing together until Venom had enough and decided to intervene.

"What is that !?" You yelled, jumping out of your seat and ready to throw your beer at the black gooey thing behind Eddie's back.

"Hello !"

"No ! [Name], don't !"

"I am Venom. Hello [Name]"

"It knows my name !"

"He's an alien, a symbiote. He's nice ! Please put your can down."

You slowly obeyed "Symbiote ? What is that ?"

"A living organism living in symbiosis with another species."

"An alien ?"

"You're the alien to me."

"Are you gonna eat me ?"

"No !"

"No ! Though humans are tasty."

"This doesn't help, V."

"I think I need another beer."

[nottragic-stilltoothsome]

"Revange, please"

Summary: Although their relationship progressed lightyears past the fling that it started as, Astarion loves to be petty almost as much as he loves his new partner.

Ship: Astarion x Fem!Tav

Category: Short fluff with some (hopefuly funny) banter

Warnings: Mention of past abuse, mention of sex

With the blessing from Dolly Dolly Dolly, they could finaly revert to walking in a relaxed group, with considerable breathing room between them, instead of how they traveled from the Underdark to the Last Light's Inn - like prey animals, almost like sewn together, to make sure no one was left in the cursed darkness.

Astarion and Tav could finaly fall considerably behide.

Tav has silently hoped she would get a moment alone with her lover. She had something she wanted to talk to him about, preferably out of other's earshot. Privacy during their adventure was particularly hard to come by.

"So", she began, trying to sound nonchalantly (or at least unrehearsed). "I was thinking about our conversation from last night, about not sleeping together".

Astarion was careful not to let his face drop.

He was so naive to let himself actually belive her words yesterday. Words, that she was aparently already going back on.

He looked past many, many years of experience and genuinely trusted that she meant what she said. That she cared for more than... that. More than what everyone else always wanted from him. That she cared for him, for the person he was.

He should have known better, he should have predicted this and never made a fool of himself by telling her about all of those pathetic feelings.

He looked back at her. Her eyes hopeful, cheeks slightly flushed, as if she was embarrassed.

It was him who should be embarrassed. He was, in fact. He had to try to salvage the situation, somehow.

"Yes, my love?", he asked, but the pet name felt flat on his toungue now. He got used to meaning it. How could he mean it now? When he knew what she truly wanted, just like everybody else? "Are you getting impatient? One night of waiting was more than enough", he purred.

Tav looked at him like he was crazy.

"That's actually not what I wanted to talk about at all. It's slightly concerning that you would think that". She blinked, banishing the thought, as if making mental note to deal with that later.

Astarion looked at half-drow, expectantly.

He couldnt deny the instant, heartwarming relief that filled him to the brim.

Still, the Vampire remained cautious, unsure of her intentions.

She hesitated.

"It felt lonely, without you, last night. I was wondering, if...", Tav avoided his eyes. "If you wanted to, of course. I wanted to know..."

She could cause others psychic demage by mocking them and talk their enemies to give up without fight, but now of all times, she found herself at loss for words.

Apparently fed up with her own innability to speak, she cleared her throat and blurted out:

"If you would want to come my tent tonight. Not for sex", she clarified.

Astarion raised an eyebrow.

"What for?" He asked.

"For... Affection?"

She finaly met his gaze, in all seriousness, as if asking in a matter-of-fact tone would cause her case to be any less corny.

Tav awaited his answer.

Clearly, she was somewhat afraid he would burst out laughing, demaging her pride beyond repair.

And, of course, Astarion would not disapoint.

His laugh (albeit, unbeknownst to Tav, comming from a place of relief rather than amusement) temporarily alerted the others, which caused her cheeks to burn hotter than Karlach's engine.

"Okay, fine, fuck you, too", she wasnt really mad, but she much preferred to growl at him than to hide her face in her palms, which she saw as her only other avaible reaction.

"No, no!" Astarion rushed to say, with a sinister scheme already forming in his mind. He stopped and faced her. "I will consider it".

Tav raised her eyebrows. Vampire's grin was not a good sign for her.

"If you say please"

Tav chuckled, with a hefty dose of disbelief. She wasn't sure if he was serious.

And couldnt help but smile a little, at his audicity.

Astarion didn't elaborate, standing his ground, so she said:

"Oh, I get it. It's a revange. For the party after we saved the Grove" She made him say please then. "Begging for cuddles is much more humiliating than asking for sex" Tav complained. "The latter you can blame at a kink at least. Or flirting".

"Please, do explain to me more how I'm comming up a winner. And do stall, I'd love an audience" with his chin Astarion gestured at the group ahead, who seemed to develop an interest in the couple and why did they stop.

"Fine", Tav hissed, her entire face burning with shame. She crossed her arms on her chest and looked into his eyes, as she finaly spat out a hateful: "Please".

"I'd be happy to", the Vampire said sweetly after a prolonged pause, when he delighted in the silence left between them after her plead.

"I'm honored" Tav said, sarcasm dripping from each syllable, but she was already dropping her feigned annoyance and letting it turn into a genuine smile.

Astarion looked pretty happy, too, and not only in a sadistic way that took pleasure into seeing her all frustrated.

"Hey, Soldier!" They heard Karlach from up ahead. "You guys comming?"

Astarion and Tav caught up with the rest of the group, making their way to the camp, motivated by their plans for the night.

[evilfloralfoolery]

Detestable Misery- Part 1/2

Pure self-indulgent snzfuckery right here. Indigo is miserably sick. Grimm is a sweet, helpful pain in the ass. I'm sure it's no surprise that this eventually happens. I'm too impatient to post how we got to this point, BUT WE DID.

________________

Indigo is a pile of blankets and misery, huddled deep beneath several layers of quilts and chenille. 

The incessant knocking can wear itself to death before he even considers moving.  Whatever it is, it can and will wait.

That is, until the door creaks open.

Indigo clutches a dagger and waits. Whomever has waltzed in uninvited had best–

“Indy? You in here?” 

Gods, really?

“No,” he says in a most vehement and flat tone.

If Grimm had any manner of common sense, he would step back from the threshold of that door and make haste in the other direction.

But of course, he does not.  Instead, the man invites himself in, walks straight into the living room area, and just . . . sits beside him.

As if he belongs there.

Indigo pulls away the blanket that is cloaking his entire body (including his head) and fixes the other man with a stare that could cause Antarctica to tremble. 

“Now is not the time,” he says.

Grimm sits back, taking in the sight of his voluminous mess of tousled hair, wrinkled navy satin pajamas, and general state of complete and utter disarray.  “Fuck, Indy. You look like shit.”

Honestly. . . 

The corner of his lip curls. “Thank you ever so much.” 

“Hey, don't be pissed.” Grimm pats his knee. “You're still pretty.”

The audacity of this smirking bastard. . . 

“As I said, now is not the time.  I think it best that you leave.”

Grimm doesn’t miss the veiled threat.  He simply chooses to ignore it.  Indigo would have added a biting finish to the commentary, had his own body not seen fit to engage in a convulsive fit of coughing.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”  He lays a hand on Indigo's shoulder, as if to soothe his prickling indignation.  “I thought you looked tired earlier.  But this is some next level flu shit.” 

“Grimm, please.”  Indigo clears his throat with a rough noise and does his best to look as serious as possible.  “You needn’t stay with me.  I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

“Whatever.”  Grimm waves a dismissive hand.  “That’s not part of our deal and you know it.” 

Which was not only bothersome, but also inherently and infuriatingly true. His only manner of recourse is to drag himself into the bedroom and lock the other man out, which is precisely what he attempts.  Except that his legs refuse to comply.  His attempt and rising and flouncing in the opposite direction is met with an unsteady weakness that would have sent him stumbling to the floor, had it not been for Grimm’s exceptional reflexes.

“Whoa there,” Grimm says, as if he is some manner of show pony.  “I think you’d better sit your ass back down right now.” 

Like he has a choice.

He sinks back onto the cushions and crosses his arms over his chest in a classic “shivering” pose, realizes the utter ridiculousness of it, and flops back against the couch with a sigh.

“If you would be so kind as to–”  He grits his teeth. “--stay, I would . . . appreciate the company.”

Not entirely a lie.  But appearing weak in front of others had never been his strong suit. Still, it isn’t as if his body is giving him a choice in the matter.

“Hey.” Grimm squeezes his arm. “Don't sweat it.”

“Grimm, you needn't–”

“Shut up, Indy.”

Indigo huffs a sigh. “Gods, I am an unkempt mess.”

“Yeah.” Grimm slips an arm around his shoulders. “Come over here. I'm toasty as fuck.” 

The sentiment is so natural, so artlessly bandied about as if it is the expected and common response.

He allows himself to lean into Grimm's touch. . . that is until his sinuses disagree with the solution.

He snatches the blanket from his lap, thinks better of it, and steeples his hands over his mouth and nose instead.

“Hh’EKTSSH! EH’KGSSCH! Huhhh-IKGDSCH!”

Sneezing into his damnable hands. How utterly vile. 

“Bless you,” Grimm says. 

Gently. With such soft compassion.

Warmth pinkens his cheeks, but Grimm is more concerned with petting him than watching his expressions.

“Thank you,” he says with a careful clearing of his throat. “How did you. . . know of my disquiet?” 

“Dunno.” Grimm shrugs a shoulder. “Just did.” 

Against his better judgment, Indigo curls himself into Grimm's embrace and allows the other man to stroke his tangled mess of waves. 

“Want me to make you some tea or something?” 

Grimm's impossibly deep voice is a dark rumble against his ear. 

“Not at this moment, thank you.” Indigo shivers just a touch and Grimm drapes one of the heavier quilts over his shoulders without losing contact. 

His breath catches and he ducks beneath the cover of the blanket with a sudden, violent “--EKGGISSHuhh!” 

“Bless you,” Grimm says. 

A clean square of cotton finds its way into his palm and Indigo sighs with more relief than he intends to portray.

“Thank you, Grimm. I was certain I had used them all.” 

“You might’ve.” Grimm rubs the space between his shoulders. “That's one of mine.” 

“One of. . .” Indigo sits up. Looks at the thing.

A sly smirk curves those damnable kiss-worthy lips. “Uh huh.”

“Oh, ah. Well, then.” Indigo dabs at the edge of nose and promptly wishes he hadn't. “IhhhAESSSHH–uhh!” 

The sneeze practically rips itself from his chest in the most heaving, unnecessarily dramatic way possible and he is more than grateful for the handkerchief’s thick confines. 

“Fuuuuck, Indy. Bless you.” Grimm shakes his head. “Goddamn.” 

“Yes, I am aware.” Indigo gives his nose a short, almost demure blow and seeks refuge beneath the heavy blanket yet again.

And against the inviting warmth of his companion’s body. Grimm is a veritable furnace, practically radiating heat. 

“Ugh, I feel positively abysmal,” Indigo murmurs into Grimm's shirt. 

“It's okay, Indy.” Arms tighten around him, drawing him close. “I've got you.” 

Gods, what is about that damnable phrase that dissolves his defenses in such a manner? Because Grimm does, indeed, have him.

In many, many ways. 

“You know what you need, right?”

Indigo sniffles into the handkerchief with a most indecent liquidity.  “Some manner of bullet to relieve me of my misery?”

Grimm snorts.  “Fuck, you’re dramatic.” 

Indigo chuckles with a hoarse rasp of breath and Grimm rolls his eyes.  The action isn’t at all serious, of course.  Purely performative.  But Indigo appreciates the candor. 

“You need a long soak in that fancy ass bathtub.”  Grimm untangles a snarl of silver from Indigo’s unkempt mane.  “Maybe a comb, too.” 

“I haven’t the energy for such indulgences,” Indigo says.  Or rather, mumbles.

“Yeah?  Well, lucky for you, I’ve got plenty.”

“Grimm . . . “

“Shut up and let me help your sick ass.” 

Hard to argue with that.  

“Very well,” Indigo concedes with more than a little reluctance.  

Truth be told, he would much prefer to simply lie against Grimm’s chest for the better part of the afternoon, if he were able. 

(TBC....)

[artificial-transmutations]

Hey! I really enjoy your stories! You're very talented. For an idea, was thinking a story where a girlfriend catches her boyfriend cheating and turns the two of them into gay lovers? In any event, thanks for all the content!

Cheating never pays

"Babe, please, let me explain! It's not what it looks like!" Gus was only wearing a towel around his waist as he stood before his girlfriend, Chrissy.

Chrissy was looking at him, hands on her hips, a disappointed frown on her face. "Oh, I don't think you need to explain anything, it is exactly what it looks like!", she shouts angrily, looking over to the open bedroom door, where she could see the other woman in the bed, pulling up the blanket to cover herself.

"Look, I'm really sorry about that, but I just can't help it." Gus said. He didn't look at Chrissy while he said that. Instead, he stared at the ground, biting his lip. "It's not like I feel anything for her, too, she's just some woman!" Gus quickly added. "You just can't help it?" Chrissy was fuming now. "What are you, some kind of animal?! Is it so hard to just keep your fucking dick in your pants?" "Calm down! I'm a man, you know that, and men have needs. It's not my fault you're never 'in the mood'!" Gus shot back. The other woman had climbed out of bed by now and was getting dressed. She couldn't help but smile a little at the fact that Gus was forced to explain himself to his girlfriend - a fact that was not lost on Chrissy. "And what about you?! Are you a man, too, with 'needs' and no self-control?" she yelled at her. "Oh, I have self-control, alright. I just have needs, too, you know? Besides, I think you're exaggerating. I didn't do anything wrong here! The name is Kelly by the way. "

"Great! Nice to meet you, Kelly! Would you like something to drink while my boyfriend fucks you?! " Chrissy shouted sarcastically. Kelly had difficulties closing her blouse. It was like it was at least two sizes too small in width, but too lose in the front. "Well, I guess not, seeing as you have nothing to offer!" she retorted. "You bitch!" Chrissy shouted. "Chrissy, please!" Gus said. "Kelly is just… someone. Some bitch I picked up, there's nothing to it!" Gus tried to salvage the situation. A mistake, clearly, as Kelly turned towards the man now. "I'm just 'some bitch'? Ha! If I remember correctly, the only bitch here is you." She had given up to close her blouse now, but it wasn't necessary to be decent anymore. Her once ample breasts had completely receded into her chest now, leaving her flat-chested like a slim man. "Really", she continued, "you with your constant whining and begging and excuses. It's pretty clear who the bitch is in this relationship." With each of her sharp words, Gus felt himself get weaker and smaller. He lost some of his height, a good deal of his muscles, some of his fat even, leaving him much smaller and slimmer by the end of Kelly's sentence. Kelly however seemingly absorbed everything that Gus lost. Her height shot up a good head, giving her a commanding presence, while the blouse finally fell off her frame, leaving her naked from the waist up. Her hair receded into her head until it was just a very short buzzcut. Her muscles inflated somewhat, adding to the intimidating look that was further pronounced by her face, which lost all feminine softness, only to be replaced by raw masculinity. "Hold on now!" Chrissy interrupted. "What do you mean by relationship? Gus here is certainly not much of a man, and you're right that he is a whiny bitch. But he is my sorry little bitch! I own his ass!" As Chrissy spoke, Gus changed further. He dropped the towel, as he could feel his manhood shrink down to half its former size. His build became even more lithe as his face softened somewhat and his hair turned into a non-menacing medium cut dyed blonde. Finally, as Chrissy mentioned his ass, this asset of his expanded to a juicy plump behind. At the same time, radical changes happened to Chrissy herself. The first thing to change was an obvious and huge bulge that formed between her legs. The growing male organ audibly snapped her panties and formed an obscene tent in her skirt. Her whole build changed according to her new gender: Her hips narrowed, and her chest became a set of muscular pecs, supported by a widening frame of shoulders. Her arms also grew thicker; they looked almost brutish compared to how slender hers used to be. Lastly, her face changed. She, too, became short-haired and while her face looked somewhat more brutish and less intelligent, it made up for in determination and anger. She… he was no longer hiding his emotions, but he was living them!

The change wasn't over yet, however, and Kelly smiled broadly at the transformation. "Well, you can tell yourself that you own Gussy here, but I'm pretty sure he would love to be mine. I'm more of a man than you will ever be!" With these words, a coating of manly hair swept over Kelly's body, and she too grew a cock worthy of the true alpha man she was becoming. She had stopped caring about her modesty and had let the blanket slide to the ground, revealing her very erect and large cock to the world.

Both new muscular men glared at each other for a moment, with Gussy fearfully looking between the two clearly superior men. "What did you say your name was?" Chris rumbled. "Ken." Ken growled back. Another moment of silence followed, and the only thing that moved were Gussie’s eyes and two large, throbbing cocks. Finally, Chris broke the silence. "Fine. I guess we can share." Ken nodded happily and shouted a command to Gussy. "Hey, bitch, suck me off, pronto!" As Gussy quickly got to work on Ken's mighty cock, he could feel Chris slapping his voluptuous ass. "I want a turn, too!", he rumbled. and lined up his own cock to Gussie’s ass. All of Chris' anger from before was unloaded by the merciless pounding that followed. Quickly, he and Ken got into a rhythm spit-roasting Gussy, who was overwhelmed by the experience. Every now and then, Ken and Chris kissed over the sweaty back of Gussy and, finally, with a simultaneous groan, both came into their little bitch. The three of them stayed together, after that. For the outside world, they were a polyamorous gay relationship. Internally, however, there was a clear hierarchy. Chris and Ken were together, and they shared their little cum-dump bitch Gussy, who loved to serve both of them and had no say in how he was going to get used.

If you enjoyed this story, be sure to visit my riot page! There's a slightly less censored version of this story and a lot of bonus content, like other picture candidates for this story!

[roseshewrites]

POV: Lucifer comforts you during an ugly cry

-Depressed reader

-Self loathing reader

-Artistic reader

If you need an ugly cry, now's the time. Lucifer's got yah. 💖

You were curled up on the window seat by your bed, staring despondently out at the hellish night sky. 

It had been a bad day for you. 

Nothing had gone wrong per se, but for some weird reason this morning, you had woken up feeling so...sad. You tried to ignore it. You drank your morning coffee, said hello as cheerfully as possible to the other inhabitants of the hotel. Even going so far as to help Charlie and her dad with their day to day patron check ins and inventory detailing.

And to be honest, it was nigh impossible to feel fucking sad around them both. Charlie, with her bright happy demeanor, and the ease that Lucifer chuckled at your jokes, you started to feel around midafternoon that maybe your bad mood that morning was just a random event. 

But, no. 

Because as soon as you were alone, as soon as you realized you had your own shit to do and got back to your room, the silence and isolation of it hit your ears and heart and you just stood there staring at the mess on the floor. 

You had so much to do. Messes to clean up, artwork commissions that people were waiting on, written pieces that needed editing and published; your bathroom was a mess, and you had no clean towels, so you couldn't shower this mood away. The clothes you're in are still relatively fresh but have been worn all day to now, so just to get out of them and into some pajamas would be a blessing. 

 But you had no clean clothes either. They were all in a pile on the floor. 

You don't know how long you stood there just staring at everything, but it was awhile. Long enough for you to curl up on your window seat, fall asleep in the hell's afternoon sun, and ignore the pain that beat in your chest with your heart, and that threatened to make pinpricks of tears form in your closed eyes. 

You had awoken tireder than before, hungry and thirsty, and now just flat out pissed at yourself for napping the day away instead of taking this low maintenance time at the Hotel to deal with your own business. 

You gulped, fighting that emotion, feeling your cheeks heat up with rage at yourself when a soft knock echoed from your door, and you jumped, not expecting it at all. 

"Hey-O, it's Lucifer. Can I come in?" 

His deep voice boomed a bit. Definitely hard to miss. 

"Y-yeah," you called hesitantly, then cringed when the door actually cracked open, spilling light with it onto the carpeted floor of your room which illuminated each and every embarrassing pile of clothing, art supplies, and random clutter that you hadn't been able to bring yourself to pick up in the past week no matter how you berated yourself for it. 

"Oh fuck" you said, "I'm so sorry. It's a mess in here. I'm sorry." 

But Lucifer was already cheerfully making his way across the room, not paying any attention to the inner workings of the room. Thank god.

He waved your apologies away going, "No, no, I've seen worse I promise!" 

Maybe he was inwardly judging you for it. But nothing on his face suggested that at all, actually he seemed mainly focused on having a seat beside you. You scooted over so he could, and the two of you sat in silence for a little bit. 

You played with your hair, willing yourself to speak to him, as he surely must have come in here for a reason, but the words for idle chatter were definitely not in your vocabulary right now. You settled with letting the side of your forehead rest on your window, the cool glass easing your aching head a bit. 

"You okay, kiddo?" He said softly. 

You shook your head silently, not wanting the tears that leaked out at that question. Why was it when someone asked when you were okay, everything hurt even more? 

"I don't know what's wrong with me," you whispered, the tears tracking past your lips, salty and hot. Your lip trembled unwillingly. Embarrassed about this, you bit your lip and fought to get your crumpled face somewhat under control. 

"I could tell something was wrong earlier." 

You peeked at him. He was blurry through the tears but you could make out the round shape of his face, how hell's moonlight illuminated his blond hair and cast shadows across his cheeks. He had his hat off and was holding it in his hands. 

Lucifer spotted you looking, and smiled, his kind crimson eyes crinkling. 

"You could?" You whispered. 

"Yeah, hun. You wanna talk about it?" 

"I - I just-" you gulped, stifling a sob that wanted to rise, and you wanted to talk, but the golfball of anger in your throat prevented you. 

"Hey, hey!" He scooted closer, closing a small dark hand over yours. You nearly flinched at the closeness, but you appreciated the gesture anyway. "Tell me about it. I'm not here to judge, honey, I swear. I promise." 

"I just FEEL like this for no reason!!" You burst out, the emotional whirlwind coming undone, finally undammed in your voice which was horrible and made your heart beat fast, "I have NO REASON to be sad. NONE. And why?! Because my brain decided it one day?! And I'm just stuck like this forever?!" 

The tumultuous sob that broke from you then was ungodly. You had felt this constant sadness as an undercurrent in your chest and stomach for as long as you could remember, and had coped with it as best as you knew how for all that time. And here it was, rearing its ugly face in the form of choking, hot angry sobs that had your body and throat trembling in front of the King of Hell, of all people- 

"Oh sweety, no. Come here. Come here..." 

You felt arms around you, strong and warm, and you tensed, then when you realized he really didn't mind, melted into his arms and allowed him to truly hold you, your face pushed into his chest and silently scream into the fabric of his warm clean smelling jacket. 

He held and rocked you, stroking your hair softly, the rumble of his deep voice vibrating as he said, "Let it out. It's all right. Just let it out. I'm here." 

You clutched his jacket and your breath was hot as the ugly cry wracked you, his shoulder steadying and his hand playing with your hair as he continued to comfort you, as your breathing slowed steadily until it was a series of hiccups that filled you with tiredness. His shoulder was wet, but he didn't seem to mind. 

You sniffed, whispering, "I'm sorry." 

"Why?" 

"Because. I'm upset for no fucking reason. No reason at all." 

"It's called depression, honey. I've been there. Sometimes, you just feel that way. Sometimes it seems like it lasts forever. Like it'll never stop. Right?" 

"...Yeah.." You sniffed again. "I can't. I don't remember. I've never been - completely-" 

"You've never felt all the way normal?" 

"Yeah." 

He released you, digging into his pocket for a handkerchief which he handed you, and you took gratefully, blowing your nose with an embarrassing amount of snot and leftover tears leaking from your itchy eyes. 

"Tell you a secret. I never have, either." 

You looked up, surprised. "You?" 

"Yeah," he chuckled, "Me." 

"The King of Hell has major depressive disorder?" You choked into the wet napkin, unable to help a sob-sounding little giggle - "-Sorry-" 

"No, laugh it's okay, because it is kinda ridiculous, right?" He grinned, "Me. One of the first angels. God's favorite. And there's something chemically wrong with my brain! Go figure, right?" 

"Dude that's fucked up," you giggled, hiccuping. 

"It is, right?!" 

"So effed. Fuck God, honestly-" 

"You're not joking," Lucifer said so seriously that you cracked up into a hysterical giggle, and his booming chuckles filled the room musically. 

"Ahh, fuck," you said, feeling warmer, a lot better, and a little adrenaline-rushed. But calmer. 

"Wanna tell me about it?" 

"It's this," you gestured at the room, "God it's a mess. I have so much to do, and...I've been doing none of it." 

It all poured out of you, then, your story- how over your own head you were with your own chores, the physical ones that were only as simple as laundry, and keeping your area clean, and then continued with the work you needed to do that people were expecting from you. That you expected from yourself but were somehow unable to find the energy for. 

"It just sounds like you're overwhelmed, that's all. And that happens with depression," he related. "You've been fighting for so long, it catches up with you, and you just melt down. I get it, sweety. I do." 

"It just never has before. I usually don't let it get to me like this." 

"And that's okay," he reassured you, "Really. You gotta take the good with the bad. And if you happen to need some help, that's all right too. You might need medication, something to take the edge off. In my experience it doesn't kill the depression entirely, but..." 

"It makes it tolerable?" 

"With how deep yours goes, yes," he said. 

"That sucks." 

"I know, hun." 

"I might never be free from it," you sighed.

"Well there's definitely no cure-all for it, but like I said, there are ways to cope, and ways to fight it, and make it through without losing your mind entirely." 

"I want it to stop. I don't like being this way." 

"Me neither," he agreed. "When it comes to having felt that way for your whole life, I understand. There might not be a way out, but there is a way through. Get it?" 

You nodded, "I think so." 

"Ready to get up and clean your room a little?" 

You smiled, "Yeah.." 

"Come on," he hopped up, taking your hand and helping you up too. You stumbled because you had been sitting so long that your legs were asleep. 

Lucifer cut on some lights- not the overheads, those were too bright for you and made you want to hiss- so the bedside lamp on your night stand was switched on, and the both of you commenced to picking up around the room. 

Lucifer was asking you the occasional question or remarking like "Where do I put this?"- and, "Oh I loved that book, you have good taste-" 

All this until your dirty laundry was confined to a hamper in your closet, your artwork (some of it wrinkled) put into neat piles on your desk, your laptop was found somewhere under the bed, along with a series of truly monstrous dust bunnies and several pairs of shoes you'd forgotten you even owned. 

"I'll do something for you, but just this once," he winked, then snapped his fingers and with a golden -pop!-, your dirty laundry flew into the air from the hamper, rippled itself clean then cascaded one by one into your dresser drawers nicely folded and put away. A fresh scent of tide lingered in the air. 

"Don't go asking me to do your laundry all the time though, kid- oof" 

You had caught him up in a sudden warm hug, squeezing him tight while he chuckled into your shoulder. You'd forgotten you were a whole head taller than him. 

"You're welcome," he grinned up at you. "You gonna be okay?" 

You nodded, and smiled in return, loving how his eyes glinted and shone with that jester like amusement. 

"I'll be okay," you told him. 

After he left, and after you had showered and gotten changed, you sat at the end of your freshly made bed and sighed, waiting for that returning feeling of hopelessness. It tried, but it didn't go very far. You were very tired. 

No, there were a lot of ways that you would never be okay. But there were also people surrounding you who loved you, and care for your well-being and existence. There are ways to cope, like Lucifer was saying, and all that. 'You can be gentle with yourself,' you thought. 'Maybe come back to your work after tomorrow...take a day to unwind and brainstorm..' 

With that in mind, you turned off the lights, crawled in between clean sheets, and dozed off knowing that your journey into healing would continue to grow into something much better than it is now. 

You just have to work on it. 

[causeitsagame]

SECOND/FOLLOWUP PROMPT. In case of capture, the former Remnants would be questioned about where Izuru is and where the rest of the remnants are, which of course, no one wants to reveal. Fuyuhiko lets himself get captured, because a) his pain tolerance is super high, b) he's been trained to deal with torture, c) Hajime is not being made into a lab rat AGAIN and Fuyuhiko needs to make sure of that, even if it means a world of pain. Angsty mood today! Have fun at the gardens! -xoxo hajihiko

(Torture warning, etc etc. NEVER WOULD HAVE GUESSED IT FROM THE PROMPT)

"Put his hand flat on the table."

Unimpressed, Fuyuhiko spread his hand flat before any of the special operatives in the interrogation chamber could force the matter. "Are we doing something with the fingernails, or lopping pieces off?"

For an answer, the officer overseeing matters lifted a broad, heavy knife.

"Sure thing," Fuyuhiko said. "Hey, Knife. Mind if I ask a favor?"

Knife grimaced at the nickname. "You've got some nerve, Remnant, to dare to ask for any mercy after what you've done to the world."

"No mercy. I'm just hoping that you can start here," Fuyuhiko said, and swapped which hand was on the table. He wiggled the new hand's pinky. "See the scar, there?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"I had that cut done when I was little. It showed me what I might be ordering on some asshole who let me down, y'know?" In the silence, Fuyuhiko wiggled the finger again and continued, "It feels like a half-finished job. So, mind starting there?"

Knife looked at his companions with a flat, irritated expression.

"It probably doesn't make much sense to start with something he's been trained to tolerate since childhood," mused Red, and ran a hand through his messy copper hair.

"Fuck it, let's do the fingernails," sighed Stain, who must have been in a rush eating lunch.

"Whatever," Fuyuhiko said airily, and met and held Knife's gaze. "You getting started any time soon, or what?"

"The man knows what he wants," Knife calmly replied, and put away his knife in a locked case. When he returned, his hands instead held thin but wickedly sharp bamboo skewers and a rubber mallet.

Well, this was gonna fuckin' suck.

"I see you understand what's about to happen to you," Knife said in the same smooth, level tones. "I want to see if you understand how it can be avoided."

Fuyuhiko held his gaze. "You'd better remind me."

"We brought down your aircraft after it attacked one of our vessels. We didn't have piloting skills or missile targeting in your dossier, suggesting that it was on autopilot."

"Yeah," Fuyuhiko freely admitted. This wasn't anything he needed to hide, and maybe they'd think twice about going after the others. "Kazuichi had a hell of a program in that thing. It was fun to watch it work."

"And while you were holding our attention, the rest of the Remnants vanished. Where?"

"You said it yourself: I'm holding your attention, dumbfucks." Fuyuhiko grinned lopsidedly. His head already felt fuzzy and distant as he prepared himself for the agony to come. "Why would I tell you where they went, now?"

He didn't actually know where his friends had gone, but it was best if these assholes thought he did. There'd be more pain, that way.

"Very well," Knife said, and motioned for his companions to hold Fuyuhiko in place. "Just remember: you know how to make this stop at any time."

Nodding, Fuyuhiko tensed his core muscles in anticipation. They'd really have to work to get screams out of him. As the first skewer was lifted, he pictured sobbing faces on Jabberwock pleading for him not to go. The mallet struck, and the memory exploded into raw agony and loud, screeching static.

Fuyuhiko gritted his teeth and threw back his head as black-and-white nothing scoured through him. All thought cut out momentarily like a broken television channel. But he hadn't screamed.

Knife waited a few seconds longer, nodded, and reached for the second skewer.

This time, Fuyuhiko pictured Sonia. She actually knew how to operate heavy machinery, she'd argued. She might be able to put up more of a fight before they caught her. But she wasn't trained for what came after, not like him. That was so inarguable that it'd stopped her in her tracks, and soft, frustrated crying served as her good-bye.

The mallet struck again, and Sonia also exploded into static.

Ten fingers equaled ten memories to hold onto before the mallet hit. As Fuyuhiko was thrown physically into his holding cell, having to catch himself with bleeding, raw fingertips, he was proud of himself for not mentioning a single one of those memories to the interrogators. The hardest part was over, now.

Three hours into sleep, a jolt of music woke him. Whatever godawful song they'd picked, the volume was loud enough to thrum through the metal walls and flooring like an approaching earthquake. Sleep deprivation. A classic, and not a bad technique to try against most people.

But most people hadn't dealt with Ibuki Mioda's discography for years on end.

Fuyuhiko moved his pillow so it looked like he was trying to block the noise. In actuality, he wanted to hide his face. On future nights, they'd surely crank the volume to a level that even he couldn't tolerate, but for now, he wanted to hide the fact that he could still sleep.

The next day brought electricity. "Not very good at this, are you?" Fuyuhiko coughed after Stain slammed a fist against his chest, and he felt his heart's irregular rhythm steady out. "Don't get it that close to my heart, dumbass."

"Noted. You're the torture expert, after all," Knife levelly agreed.

"Huh. Yeah, you guys aren't supposed to do this kinda stuff, are ya?" Fuyuhiko wondered. His smile up at Knife was knowing, hungry. "Or is that what 'good' does, now?"

Knife's hand flexed around the sparking wire it held. "Officially, you should be put on trial. But unofficially, we shot your plane down and killed you. You have zero advocates who will argue otherwise, and an entire planet full of people who won't care what we had to do to find the rest of the Remnants. Talk."

"I'm not gonna be able to talk if you stop my heart again."

"True," Knife airily agreed, and gestured at one of Fuyuhiko's mangled hands. Red obligingly poured water over the raw, bloody tips, and left enough on the table to form a small puddle under them. "We'll keep the flow well away from your chest, now."

This was gonna fuckin' suck, too.

Fuyuhiko clenched his jaw as he remembered Peko grimly accepting his plan. She'd been the one who held onto Hajime, and kept him from coming after the plane. While Hajime could easily have thrown her off, seeing Peko of all people accepting Fuyuhiko's imminent capture and torture broke through his outrage. This is how it has to be, Peko's agonized expression said. Respect his decision. He's made it. He understands.

The wire touched his mutilated flesh, and memory again exploded into agonized static.

After a week of pain, it was time for another conversation. "You don't have to tell us right where the other Remnants went," Knife said in a disturbingly friendly voice. "If you can point out some past hideouts they might use, we can send people to look for clues. Why not think about that as option? You wouldn't be selling them out, but we'd count that as cooperation."

"...Catacombs beneath Paris," Fuyuhiko said with feigned reluctance. That meant nothing to them, now, but Mikan and Gundham had used them like a biohazard stockpile before three generations of deliberately infected vermin exploded onto the city streets. There'd be all sorts of evidence for these assholes to dig through, and ideally, some leftover rats to gnaw on them while they did.

(And more importantly, there was absolutely no way the Remnants had fled to Paris.)

Four days later, Fuyuhiko awoke to Knife backhanding him. "Not Paris," Knife said. His eyes glinted in the darkness. "Give us a better suggestion."

Fuck. Fuyuhiko should have been awake for that. That jolt of pain was a missed opportunity. "Can't seem to remember anywhere else," he said, and wiped away blood from the lip Knife had split. "You'll have to help me remember."

"…Very well."

And so the pain began again. What memories Fuyuhiko had of love and friendship exploded into agonized static, over and over and over.

But each night when they threw his increasingly battered form back into his cell, Fuyuhiko smiled. He'd done it. He'd held their attention. And since they hadn't broken him right at the beginning, that meant that he'd won.

When he was younger, his father had taught him a very useful technique. It was one thing to simply suppress knowledge, his father explained. With tremendous pain tolerance, as men like them must develop, even the most valuable knowledge could be protected until help arrived.

What if help would not arrive in time, though? What if the knowledge would cause great harm if it could actually be carved out of them and handed to their enemies? Then, Fuyuhiko's father explained, they must go a step further. They must turn their enemies' own attempts at torture against them.

With tremendous self-control and dedicated practice, sufficient amounts of pain could be used to rewire memories. His father explained that when he'd been tortured, he pictured the shifting glint of sunlight on their backyard pond. So much pain running through him took his mind to its absolute capacity. Picturing something else—instead of the demanded information—let his brain latch onto that replacement image, instead.

Instead of pushing the memories down into some hidden safebox, enough pain could be used to scour them clean. It took enormous practice with controlling one's thoughts, and even more with suppressing pain, but dangerous knowledge could be treated like mere tinder: set alight. Abandoned. Destroyed.

Fuyuhiko had tried picturing sunlight on water, as his father had, but that hadn't worked for him. He'd found success with picturing television static, instead. And now, each time Knife and his crew tried to torture him, they were helping him to burn away another memory that was too dangerous to hold onto.

Staring up at the ceiling, Fuyuhiko did wonder where all those people had gone. It was good that he didn't know. They'd stay safe, this way.

He didn't remember much about the group, any more.

But he must have really cared about them.

[yuanmir]

[20:07]

summary. roommate to lovers. (sfw) warning. none. note. i have a hyperfixation on eren and created this blog for the sole purpose of satiate my thirst of fluffy eren. word count. 1.3k

EREN JAEGER — ROOMMATES 

Being roommates with Eren wasn’t as bad as some -jean- made it out to be. Although his anger issues were indeed a hassle to deal with, he just became silent to you. Choosing to calm himself before talking it out with you. Plus, he always did the house chores for two weeks as an apology. 

Being roommates with Eren was nice. He was an excellent cook, did his chores accordingly and respected your privacy. However, being roommates with Eren meant seeing his friends almost every day. Apparently, out of everyone in his friend group, yours and Eren’s flat was the biggest — thanks to you—. It wasn’t horrible, Eren did send out a text two hours before they came over or told you the day beforehand. And gradually, you started to open up to his friends.

Jean and Connie saw you as a kind soul that had to live with the crazy monster (“ you’re an angel for putting up with that maniac.” — jean). His childhood friends, Mikasa and Armin, were very welcoming. Although it was mostly them telling you all the embarrassing stuff Eren did as a child and said boy blushing and yelling at them to stop. 

A few of his friends were respectful and kind toward you. Sasha emptying your fridge, Annie and Historia helping you wash the dishes. Reiner and Bertholdt laugh at Eren and Jean as they have their usual fights.

It made your once lonely home full of energy. 

Being roommates with Eren was life changing. 

━━━━

Being roommates with Eren meant slowly falling in love with him. His intimidating emerald eyes, his silky dark brown hair which stops at his shoulders— which you have no idea how he’s able to keep them in perfect condition when he’s using a three in one—. He was sculpted by a god, you were sure. And oftentimes you’ve found yourself sculpting his face during your class only to get teased by Mrs. Pieck. 

However, you could never grasp his traits. Even if you stayed the night trying, it felt somehow incomplete. Sometimes it was the eyes, other times the nose and it wasn’t until the first rays of the sun that you found yourself on the thirteenth try. 

Coming back home, you’d be greeted by Eren giving you a cup of well deserved coffee. Ruffling your hair before going on his morning jog. You smiled at the plate of your favorite food waiting for you as well as a ‘ don’t force yourself’ note with a messily drawn smiling emoji. 

A laugh escaping your lips, shaking your head at the silliness of the message. The small act reminding you of why you fell in love with Eren.

━━━━

Being roommates with you makes Eren forget how to breathe. It started slow at first, thinking it was because he spent all his time with, he started to confuse his feelings. But the face you make when focused on an assignment, the adorable smile you’d have whenever you saw a video of a cat, the mesmerizing laugh you’d let out whenever Mikasa and Armin tell you another stupid thing Eren did as a child. 

Eren began to second doubt his feelings. Maybe he didn’t want to just be friends, maybe he wanted to be something more. These thoughts and wants were the reason he stayed up late, imagining it was you instead of the pillow. Your arms around his chest, your hair tickling his skin. Your breaths burning his skin. Eren groans. He was acting like a teenager with a crush. 

�� fuck..” he mutters in the darkness of his room. 

Maybe he does have a crush on you.

Being roommates with you turned Eren into a puppy. Whenever you would go out together for shopping or to the uni, he would trail behind you holding the shopping bags or your art supplies. He would glare at anyone who was looking at you weirdly. 

His friends of course noticed his behavior. 

Of course they wouldn’t be his friends if they didn’t help him. But they first teased him at every chance they got, even in front of you. Jean laughed his ass off when he found out (unfortunately for Eren, he was the first to find out). 

From accidentally forgetting the day they were supposed to hang out, leaving you and Eren alone to asking you about your type (and having to deal with a depressed Eren and a flustered Armin, because apparently you liked blond. — Eren almost dyed his hair blond had Annie and Connie not stopped him).

Thankfully— or not? — for Eren, you were aware of this little charade and was greatly amused. You returned his feeling of course, it has been for a long time. But you didn’t know when he started to return them.

━━━━

It was a saturday. 

Today was the day Eren would ask you out. Supposedly he was at his American football training, but he lied so could surprise you. He brought some flowers, a bouquet made of dahlia and a couple of hydrangea. Thanks to Historia and Mikasa — and a hell of changing into multiple outfits—, he was dressed up for the occasion. 

Inhaling a breath, he checked himself in the hallway mirror, muttering a small ‘you can do it’ to himself. Knocking on your studio’s door, he waited. Sounds of chair scraping and rushed footsteps halted when the door opened. 

And there you were, even with clay plastered on your face, you somehow still looked as beautiful as everyday. You were confused at the flowers in his hands and his dressed up self, a pang of hurt clawing at your heart. You pushed it deep inside, ignoring it to the fullest extent. 

Eren smiled at you, “hey.”

“hi.” 

You stood there, staring at each other's faces. A blush on both of your faces, Eren coughed. “Can I come inside..?” you snapped out of your trance, repeating a series of ‘yeah, yeah sure’. 

Closing the door behind him, horror struck you. Before he came in, you were on a ‘ try to make another Eren to somehow calm my delusional self’ marathon. The sculpture wasn’t finished, but it was detailed enough for anyone who knew the crazy maniac to recognize his face. You prayed your talent was trash enough for him not recognize his own self.

“ Is that me?” fuck.

“About that..” You hide the blush on your cheeks with a hand, you ramble on about how it was a coincidence and you certainly did not make his face on a daily basis. Eren was relieved, you at least were interested in his looks. 

It was risky, he wasn’t sure if you view him in a romantic way. But he took the risk.

“Babe.” 

You went quiet. A staring contest between you two, until Eren exploded into red. “Sorry. I- I don’t know why i said that—”

“Please go out with me.” 

“Huh”

“....” it was your turn to be all flustered. And there you were, two idiots who were too flustered to talk as they did just confessed to each other in a stupid way. If anyone saw that they would be cringing, honestly who would confess like that? Stupid you, stupid sculpture who didn’t want to look like the love of your life—

“The order is a bit wrong, but,” Eren stops your train of thoughts, extending the bouquet of flowers toward you with a smile on his face. Your hand twitches, you wanted to sculpt this beauty of a man.

“ Yes, I would like to go out with you.” 

A beat, then two and your heart was beating so loud you were sure he must’ve heard it. A smile broke out and you rushed over to hug him. Hiding your face who was heating up by the second. 

Eren was surprised but still hugged back nonetheless. 

“ So about the sculpture.” He was never letting you live it down. 

—© yuanmir. 2023