#cloud based paper

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - dub/con, afab!reader, cockwarming, medical malpractice, nonconsensual drug use, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, and obsessive behavior.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

“It really is a shame to lose such a lovely patient.

His hand drifted from your thigh to your hip, rocking you back as you tried to squirm away from him. He was too deep, too big, and you’d been sitting on his cock for too long. Whenever you tried to shift your weight, though, the arm wrapped around your waist would tighten its hold and drag you back into place, leaving your ass slotted against his hips and your cunt struggling to clench around his base. You didn’t know how long he’d kept you like this, but it must’ve been longer than an hour, if not two, three, four. Despite your foggy senses, you could feel slick dripping down your thighs, an empty void in the pit of your stomach where pleasure should’ve been. You could remember hearing that Harper was a good doctor, but that couldn’t be right. Doctors weren’t supposed to make you feel so bad.

“I mean, I know it should be a doctor’s goal to see their patients off as happy and as healthy as can be, but—” He paused, sighed, and you could picture him rolling his eyes, feigning wistfulness as he let out an airy chuckle. “Good, obedient patients can be so rare, especially in a town like this. I’m allowed to mourn the loss of my best charge yet, aren’t I?”

You felt him twitch inside of you, and in search of a distraction, your gaze fell to the collection of papers fanned out over the desk in front of you. You knew you were supposed to be reading them, but the text seemed so impossibly small, and your last round of medication was still clouding your senses, making it hard to focus on much of anything beyond the throbbing in your core, the feeling of his cock stretching you open despite your body’s best attempts to force him out. You could recognize the phrases, signal out words like ‘unfit’ and ‘dependent’ mixed in with the rest of the benign text, but when you tried to put it all together, none of it made sense. It was all you could do to check the boxes Harper pointed to, sign your name on any dotted lines that hadn’t already been filled by his. You could only hope that, when you finished, he’d let you stand up, get off of him, go back to your cozy room with its nice, soft padded walls. You couldn’t imagine having to sleep in his office, again.

“And you’ve been so cooperative, too,” he went on, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You felt his lips against the shell of your ear, then your cheek. “Always taking your medication, always following your treatment plans, always coming to our little sessions with an open-mind – the pinnacle of an ideal patient. Honestly, sometimes I think I could tell you to stick your hand in a vat of boiling water, and you’d do it with a smile on your face. All for the sake of your recovery, of course.”

It was him moving, this time – shifting forward until your stomach was pressed against the blunt edge of his desk and he was all-but draped over you, his body pressed flush against yours. You let out a pitchy whine by way of protest, but Harper didn’t seem to notice, only humming as his hand found yours. “Almost done, little mouse. Just one more page.” He was practically cooing as he took you by the wrist, guiding your hand to the bottom of the final page. Two thick, cutting lines occupied most of the available space, his neat signature taking up the first. He brought you to the second, almost daunting in its vacancy, his index finger tapping against the back of your hand. “You remember your name, right? Can you write it for me?”

It was so hard to think, to stay awake, to try and remember a time where he hadn’t been planted so deeply inside of you. “If…” you started, only to trail off. You blinked once, then twice, and did your best to force your tongue to move. “If I do, can I go home?”

Usually, Harper hated it when you talked about the orphanage, about school, about home. You hadn’t meant to, you just wanted to go back to your room, and you moved to correct yourself, to promise that you didn’t want to be anywhere but this hospital, his hospital before he frowned and prescribed you another electrotherapy session, another dose of the small, white pills that left your thoughts blurred and your body hot. But, anything you might’ve been able to spit out died with a breathy laugh, a peck to the corner of your jaw. “Of course,” he purred, rocking his hips gently against yours. “Sign, and I’ll take you home tonight.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to smile. Hastily, smudging the ink more than once, you scrawled your name across the brutal line, dropping the pen and going slack against Harper as soon as you were finished. There was another open-mouthed kiss to your throat, then the dip of your shoulder, and he dragged you back onto his lap with a playful squeeze to your thigh, a grin pressed into the crook of your neck. You squirmed unabashedly, now, your hands  graspingly weakly at the arms of his chair in hopes of pulling yourself to your feet, but Harper held you tight. “Where do you think you’re going, little mouse?”

“I need to— You said I could go—”

“Just give me another minute, darling.”

His cock pulsed against the walls of your cunt, and you felt something break open inside of you.

“I want to appreciate this moment before we get you to proper, brand-new home.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #degrees of lewdity #dol #harper the doctor #dol harper #harper x reader #yandere harper #dol harper x reader #yandere drabble #yandere degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity imagines #yandere dol #dol imagines

[hashtagloveloses]

The headline is pretty awful but this is one of those things that gets worse as you read it:

The 14-page petition, filed in Shelby County, Tennessee, probate court, alleges that Sean and Leigh Anne Tuohy, who took Oher into their home as a high school student, never adopted him. Instead, less than three months after Oher turned 18 in 2004, the petition says, the couple tricked him into signing a document making them his conservators, which gave them legal authority to make business deals in his name.

"Michael Oher discovered this lie to his chagrin and embarrassment in February of 2023, when he learned that the Conservatorship to which he consented on the basis that doing so would make him a member of the Tuohy family, in fact provided him no familial relationship with the Tuohys."

Oher was a rising high school senior when he signed the conservatorship papers, and he has written that the Tuohys told him that there was essentially no difference between adoption and conservatorship. "They explained to me that it means pretty much the exact same thing as 'adoptive parents,' but that the laws were just written in a way that took my age into account," Oher wrote in his 2011 best-selling memoir "I Beat the Odds."

But there are some important legal distinctions. If Oher had been adopted by the Tuohys, he would have been a legal member of their family, and he would have retained power to handle his own financial affairs. Under the conservatorship, Oher surrendered that authority to the Tuohys, even though he was a legal adult with no known physical or psychological disabilities.

While the [movie] deal allowed the Tuohys to profit from the film, the petition alleges, a separate 2007 contract purportedly signed by Oher appears to "give away" to 20th Century Fox Studios the life rights to his story "without any payment whatsoever." The filing says Oher has no recollection of signing that contract, and even if he did, no one explained its implications to him.

The [movie] deal lists all four Tuohy family members as having the same representative at Creative Artists Agency, the petition says. But Oher's agent, who would receive movie contract and payment notices, is listed as Debra Branan, a close family friend of the Tuohys and the same lawyer who filed the 2004 conservatorship petition, the petition alleges. Branan did not return a call to her law office on Monday.

"Mike's relationship with the Tuohy family started to decline when he discovered that he was portrayed in the movie as unintelligent," Stranch said. "Their relationship continued to deteriorate as he learned that he was the only member of the family not receiving royalty checks from the movie, and it was permanently fractured when he realized he wasn't adopted and a part of the family."

For years, Oher has chafed at how "The Blind Side" depicted him, saying it hurt his football career and clouded how people view him. He has said that based on the film, some NFL decision-makers assumed he was mentally slow or lacked leadership skills.

"People look at me, and they take things away from me because of a movie," Oher told ESPN in 2015. "They don't really see the skills and the kind of player I am."

"Beyond the details of the deal, the politics, and the money behind the book and movie, it was the principle of the choices some people made that cut me the deepest."

#original post #the blind side #michael oher #this is one of the worst things i’ve ever read #this movie always was awful but somehow it got worse

[cherry-leclerc]

million dollar man ☆ toto wolff

genre: age gap, porn with plot, angst, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature, mentions of homicide, bits of humor, child neglection, divorced!toto

word count: 16.5k

Toto Wolff, self-made billionaire, is on cloud nine; he has all he’s ever wanted. A beautiful wife, family, a great team. But when that starts slipping from his fingers, he desperately tries to keep hold of what is not his anymore. As a possible solution to cure his blues, Lewis kindly invites him to a place he runs off to when times get tough; to relieve some stress. But he just never expected a cosplaying angel, dancing around a metal pole, to be his salvation. And also, his cruelest life lesson. 

nsfw warning under the cut! 

18+…dry humping/ thigh riding, sexual tension, penetrative sex, oral sex (m!receiving f!receiving), size kink, breeding kink, praise, foreplay, riding

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

Typically, we keep it light here: occasional minor angst fics, but light, nonetheless. That will not be the case this time around. Because of that, I firmly believe that it is necessary to give a few warnings. There will be mentions of drug-use and homicide and if that is not something you are comfortable with then that is totally okay! I have more options for you to read over at my masterlist! This is purely fictional. With that, this story is based and inspired by Million Dollar Man and Yayo by Lana Del Rey (*run*)—what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending. 

cherry here!…toto is like—a special appearance, here in this blog. probably won’t write for him all the time, but hey! we love him!originally this was going to be named yayo but have since changed my mind to million dollar man. IT WILL MAKE SENSE AND I’M SORRY, ANONS. please don’t hate the villain in me. consider yourself warned. 

There was no room for love when it came to the world of motorsport. Toto’s first marriage was a transparent reminder, given its falling out. The Austrian didn’t seem to care, almost; Mercedes was at their prime, but by then, when Susie came along, he felt a gist of hope. She must’ve known the sacrifices that would be made—the expectations. 

And yet, he sat there, signing the divorce papers once again. What had he done wrong this time? He had given her everything she could have ever wanted—spent time he didn’t even have—with her. 

Neither of us were happy anymore, she would whisper apologetically, eyes trained downwards. But I’ll always love you, Toto. You must remember that. 

Suddenly, he was fifty-two and with no true purpose in life other than to stabilize his broken team. If it wasn’t false accusations from other team principals, then it was trouble with the hydraulics, and if it wasn’t that, then it was losing his World Champion. Mercedes was already dwindling down to a mess, but with Lewis leaving—it felt like he was losing his mind. 

“You understand where I’m coming from, right, Toto?” 

Looking up at Lewis and Penni, his manager, the Austrian sighs, forcing a tired smile. No. He didn’t understand—did not want to understand. But he had no right to prevent the Brit from expanding one final time before retirement. I just feel like I need to do this for myself, but thank you for the infinite support. Mercedes will always be home to me. 

Promises. Fuck them, they meant nothing at the end of the day, so why bother? 

“Do what you need to do. I’ll always be here for you; no matter what.”

It was a bittersweet feeling to have. On one hand, the brunette felt optimistic. Maybe this was a chance to start over, perhaps offer up the golden seat to Carlos or Kimi. They had proven themselves in their own way and maybe that could bring better opportunities towards the team.

On the other, he felt like this was it. Maybe it was time to move on, retire with a sorrowful smile and live out the rest of his years. He could try fixing things with Susie. The thing was, he just re-signed as team principal, so none of that would work out even if he wanted to. 

Running a large hand through his brown hair, he groans and takes a sip of whiskey. Wincing at the taste, he jumps up in alert from his seat when there’s a knock on the glass door. May I? He nods.

Entering with an easy smile, Lewis raises his dark brows in a teasing manner. “Drinking ain’t gonna help, I promise you that.”

The brown eyed man grins. “You have something else in mind, cause if so, I’d like to hear it.”

The Brit hums, tilts his head to the side. Lewis had been with Toto for as long as he can remember; he was there when Toto and Susie met, and long after when they tied the knot. He swore they were happy, and that may have been once true, but he also knows sometimes even that can’t be enough. So, when news came out to their inner circle that the two were getting divorced, he felt sorry for him. He knows what it feels like to have it all, to suddenly go to sleep alone every night. But there was always one place that always helped— even people like him.

“You up for Vegas?”

-

He should have said no. He was too old for any of this nonsense. Too mature. Only, one thing led to another, and before he knew it, he was entering one of the top-tier stripclubs in all of Las Vegas. He knows that while there is nothing wrong with the profession, he can’t help but feel sinisterly dirty. He blames it on the fact that Lewis was beaming right besides him. Maybe if he hadn’t once been his boss, then the feeling would be different.

“Oh, c’mon. Ease up. No one will even know that you were in here.”

It’s true. While the club was a part of the infamous Vegas strip, it was also exclusively exclusive. No one could get in if there was no form of proving to be millionaires, and even that was ridiculously low. NDA’s would be signed as if it were something normal. Made him wonder what kind of things occurred between these four walls. 

Toto chuckles deeply, dark eyes roaming the entire room, loud music blaring. “How did you even know this place exists?”

Lewis winks, lousy arm waving at the bouncers. “You know how everyone thinks Formula One drivers are players and are up to no good?”

“Yeah?”

He smirks. “Well…they’re fucking right.”

After a couple of drinks, a few new friends—who would make great potential business partners—and a bit of gambling, the fifty-two year old found himself having a decent time. The atmosphere was a tad bit suffocating, but one time won’t kill him. He deserved it. 

“Oh, oh, you might want to take a seat,” Lewis chants excitedly. “People get pissed if you block their view.”

Abruptly, the stage lights up. It was a bit alarming, the sudden speed these men took to claim their seats, trampling over each other to get front row. Carefully, he crouches down onto the couch of giddy men. This wasn’t a normal setting; girls were caged behind glass as if to protect them from these males and their slithering actions. A red head professionally swings around the steel pole, black skirt flowing, adding to the illusion men love to taste. 

Whoops and hollers echo the red room as the Brit nudges Toto’s broad shoulder with a wicked grin. “Good, no? She’s my favorite.”

The Austrian scrunches his nose, half joking, half not. “Is this why you were always dozing off during our meetings?”

“Exactly why.”

It was an impressive art, he’ll give credit where credits due, and his eyes were bulging out of his head, but that’s about it. When he stood up to go and order a new drink, a string of boos were thrown at him. Even Lewis shook his head with disapproval. Man, you’re missing the show! He sends a sly grin. “I’m tough to win over, but they’re great, don’t get me wrong.”

The bartender shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s what they all say. Until they lay eyes… on her.”

“On who?” He’s quickly hushed as soon as the room changes gears. The once red club enhances into a soft yellow glow, the fast paced music slows down to an angelic piano intro. 

A round of applause for everyone’s favorite girl—Peaches!

If the fifty-two year old ever thought he’s heard it all; loud cheers from fans, loud cheers for the other dancers; then he must have been mistaken, and awfully foolish. His ears ring with the sudden howls from everyone in the room. Turning around, he’s found with a girl, standing with golden angel wings. A shiny reflection colors her hair as she delicately bows, shy smile sewn onto her pouty lips. White dress wrapped around her figure as if it was tailored for her, and only her. 

Yayo.

The way she pranced inside the glass box like a butterfly makes the men grow wild as they pant feverishly. She’s barely doing anything—hasn't even done half as much as what the other girls had done—and somehow, all eyes are drawn on her like a sticky potion. Toto’s heartbeat gets stuck in his throat as he tries his best to swallow it down. Sad eyes flicker throughout the club as she spins, dress fluttering like a flower in the summer breeze. 

You’re someone desirable in all senses, and it appears as if you know it as well. 

Let me put on a show for you, daddy. 

Dropping down to your knees, you crawl towards the glass as you draw your soft brows together, as if pleading to be let out. Hot breath paints the glass before you press a kiss. 

Then, you’re looking at him, and it’s as if you could point out all the fucked up shit he’s ever done. His heart speeds up as you tie your shiny legs along the pole, sensually spinning as you throw your head back. Like a signal, water sprinkles inside the box as it lubricates you down, dark mascara trickling your features. 

Arms toss your hair back before sharing a quick wave as you step out, red lights turning back on. And just like that, Toto is left empty and alone once again.

“That shit was insane,” the Brits voice shakes him away from your spell as he flops down on the stool right next to him. “She must be new because I for sure wouldn’t have forgotten a pretty face like hers. What’d you think?”

Toto blinks. “She might be my favorite.”

-

Thank you, Ro, you say as you sign on the bottom x, waving him off as he tilts his head in agreement. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be outside, like always. 

Even after all this time, you still got trepidatious. There came times where the connection was completely off, that you just wanted to bolt away, screaming like a baby. But you needed this job to survive, plus, it paid a pretty penny. 

“Where do you want me?”

Once you spot the massive businessman, manspreading on the couch that he made out to look like a toy, you gulp. You had caught a glimpse of him already, basically performed for him, but you didn’t think he was the one who called for you.

He’s strikingly handsome in a way you couldn’t quite comprehend. Dark, untamed hair covers his face. Long nose catches your attention as you squirm. His hands are practically the size of your face and you could only imagine what his thick fingers must feel like. Curiously, your eyes dwindle down to his lap as you picture what rests between his legs.

“Oh, right. Um…”

You grin. “First time?”

He winces. “It was a friend's idea.”

“Hmph. Heard that one before.” Inching closer, you pour a glass of water. “Here. It’ll help.”

His hand swallows you whole as you gape down at the difference. Electricity zaps you as you flinch and he catches on. Bringing the cup towards his pink lips, he closes his eyes, lashes fanning his tan skin. Being taken care of by a beautiful, young lady, made him cringe in all kinds of ways. He felt like a child, then like an old man. To be fair, he sort of was.

“I’m not here for…you know.” You quirk a neat brow. You don’t want to fuck me? Your question has him choking on the ice as he raises his hand up. “N-no, I just th—”

“I’m afraid you’re just wasting my time, and time is money. Have a good day, Mr. Wolff.”

Gaining his composure, Toto storms over to you, grabbing your hand. “I’ll still pay you. Triple what you make, but please don’t go.”

Your cheeks are dusted light pink when you turn around, wings brushing against him. If you’re lucky, you reach his toned chest, but the height difference was scary. Enticing. You almost wish he would fuck you like a pornstar. 

“You know what a girl wants to hear. I’m in.”

Turns out, he just wanted a companion. Someone who wouldn’t pity him. Didn’t hurt that you were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, either. Narrowing your eyes, you click your tongue. “She said that?”

He sighs. “Maybe I was changing.”

“Perhaps, but that’s what a marriage is for. You change, sure, but you change together. Things can’t possibly stay that same, that’s just stupid.” Tucking your legs beneath your butt, you continue. “And what? Your number one driver decides to leave out of the blue? Even after it was mutually decided that he would stick around at least until 2026?”

That was something no one knew, but who were you going to tell? Toto grimaces. “It sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

“It fucking sucks.”

The Austrian chuckles deeply at your outburst. You blush at the cunning sound. “You’re a terrific listener. I’m glad you stuck around to talk.”

“I’m glad I did, too.” You play with the hem of your dress. “You’re a kind man, Toto. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

-

He slips away that night with a tranquility he hasn’t felt in quite a while. On the way back to Monaco, he wonders if you were some kind of guardian that he had to meet in order to move on from his bittersweet feelings. Because it sure did feel like it since he felt he now knew what it is that he had to do in the upcoming season. All thanks to you. 

“…Toto….Hello?” Bono smacks his hand against the table and the Austrian flinches. They were in the talks of what position he would stay in now that Lewis was departing from his life-long engineer. “Do you want me to continue or?”

The brunette clears his throat, awkwardly. “We have a few weeks of break before the new season begins, correct?”

“Correct.”

He stands up to his full height. “Then let’s talk later. Enjoy your break, Bono. See you soon.” Then he’s walking out the sliding doors, with a dumbfounded engineer piercing his eyes at his large back.

Elizabeth, Toto’s rough voice speaks to his personal assistant. Clear my schedule for the next few weeks. Oh, and also; get me the first flight out to Las Vegas. 

-

Cursing at the dusty wind, you huddle your way into your beat up car, fingers sliding your Dior glasses down the bridge of your nose. They were a gift from a recent client, and you never shamed them away. Taking a sip of your sparkling water, you sigh in relief at the refreshing taste. Screw Nevada for being annoyingly hot. 

Tap tap. 

Squinting your eyes at your window, you only catch a glimpse of a man’s clothed crotch as you yelp. Swinging the door open, you take out your pepper spray. “Go away creep, I will use this if necessary!”

"Warten! Warten!"

“Huh?”

“I said wait,” a thick accent clarifies. You bite back a smile. “Hello.”

Bringing your hands up to your hips, you giggle. “Hello, Mr. Wolff. Back for more?”

He can try and pretend that he was better than crawling back to you, even if all you both did was have a meaningful conversation, but he doesn’t have time for lies. 

“I just wanted to thank you.” Your lips separate, slowly. “For everything. You helped me figure out lots of things.”

“Oh, wow… I, umm… You’re welcome?”

Intaking your soft aura, he closes his right eye due to the bright sun. “Can I take you out for coffee?”

-

You didn’t go out for coffee at a local cafe, but rather at his mansion he just blew his money on without batting an eye. Inhaling the yummy scent, you swoon. “This smells amazing.” 

He smiles. “It’s from Germany.”

“Authentic. How’d you get it?”

“Don’t underestimate power.” Your eyes grow wide at his cold tone and the Austrian laughs. “Relax. I’m from Germany. It’s my favorite, so I always carry one with me. Call me old-fashioned.”

“Let’s just leave it at old.”

He flashes a devious grin, lines tracing his face. “Ha-ha. But seriously, thank you for helping me out of my little…crisis.” Midlife crisis, you correct him as he glares. You snicker. 

“I’m glad I was able to help.”

“Can I ask you something?” Sure, you cheer as you sip on the hot drink. He fixes his glasses. “How did you end up working at Machiavellian Nights?” Your stomach drops. “You don’t have to answer.”

“No.” He nods. “I’ll tell you, because oddly enough, I trust you.” Okay, he whispers. “Are you close to your parents?” 

“What?” Are you? He nods again. You smile sadly. 

“That’s lovely, Toto. Appreciate that.” You release a shaky breath. “My father passed away when I was fifteen and my mother pretends to not know me.”

He gulps and you continue. “It was not always like that, though. We had a close relationship. She would braid my hair every night before bed. I would curl hers before every date. She was an amazing woman. One I could admire.”

“What happened?”

You lower your head, lips wobbling. Letting out a wet laugh, you brush a hand up against your nose. “Men are deceiving. Men are shit. Men are a complete waste of time and— I miss who my mom used to be.”

Handing you a napkin, you silently thank him. “She met him when I was only seventeen. It was fine at first; I was so happy for her. I would be moving out for college eventually, so I felt relieved that she had someone to rely on. Connor was great.”

The fifty-two year old is momentarily lost. Nothing sounds as bad as it seems, but he refrains from telling you so. “Then she got pregnant. Oh, Toto, I was so excited. A baby sister. Could you imagine? I bought everything my first job could afford. Onesies, blankies, pampers, I bought it all. And I never once expected anything in return.”

“That’s where things began to change. Connor swore I was trying to win my mom over and leave Rosie with nothing. Kicked me out before I even had a chance to defend myself. I thought —okay, I’ll just talk to her and explain that it was never my intention to do any of that. But she wouldn’t listen. She gave birth six months ago.”

“And you ended up...” You hum, bringing the mug up to your lips. 

“It was either that or fast food. Salary is shit in that industry. And the customers aren’t bad. I could say yes or no at any given time.”

The brunette fiddled with his watch. “So, you could have turned me away?” Laughing, you nod. He fakes a smug look. “And why didn’t you?”

Tapping a lazy finger onto your chin, you close your eyes before fluttering them open. “I had a feeling you had shit locked away. Just like me.”

-

He bids you farewell, claiming he was glad to have met you, even with such circumstances. The way he hugs you goodbye makes the pit of your stomach fuel with fire as you brush away the urge to climb onto him and kiss his pain away, even if he promises to not feel any. 

Take care of yourself, you beg, head resting beneath his heart. His breath hitches. You need to look after yourself, above all. Oh. And good luck with the new season. 

He wonders why such a pretty plea makes his heart break. Perhaps it was because even though your life was at rock bottom, you still looked out for others. Or maybe it was him, but he couldn’t pinpoint it at all. He wouldn’t try either because as stated before, he was leaving for good. He could make room to visit you the next time he was here for the Las Vegas GP. Even then, he wouldn’t risk you like that.

But like a kid at a candy shop, he finds himself signing the NDA once again. Welcome back, Mr. Wolff. The usual? “That sounds great, thank you.” Taking a seat, he watches the vivid room, hoping to spot you. Set after set, he’s torn when you don’t show up. Others seem to notice you missing as they violently spit slurs of; Bring out the pretty one! 

“Would you be kind enough to treat me to a sweet drink? Paloma’s are my favorite.”

Your sultry voice salutes him like a perfect hug as he looks down to where you bite down onto the inside of your cheek. Your eyes crinkle as you beam up at him. “You’re here…”

“I always am.”

He cringes, desperation humbling him as you take a seat. “Your act…you didn’t go on and I just thought you were out sick or something?” Leaning over to take a sip of his dark drink, loopy eyes train on him before sighing.

“Ugh, I wish. I’m on my period. I asked for the night off, but I’m still up to no good. Make a little bit of money, eh.” He clenches his jaw. “What are you doing here anyways, Toto? Oh shit—Mr. Wolff.” Smiling warmly at the bartender, you hug your red lips around the glass.

“I wanted to see you.”

Choking on the fruity drink, you clutch onto his thigh. He stiffens, but still pats your exposed back. You wore a silky red dress, just like the rest of the girls strutting through the busy club, but somehow, it looked better on you. Enhancing your soft features, tugging against your curves like an envelope. Perky tits begging to be licked— sucked on. 

“Why?”

“I…I don’t know.” You frown. “I have no idea, but you’ve lingered on my mind from the moment I saw you, dancing sadly. Why was that?” 

You purse your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He huffs. “Think a little bit harder, then.” His firm tone makes you sit up straight, drawing circles on his lap, as a tactic to not pull your strong gaze away. You don’t even notice his hard cock pushing up against the denim. 

“I had just received a restraining order against Rosie.” He deflates. “I’ve never even met my newborn sister and they got a fucking restraining order.” You scoff. “Unbelievable.”

Toto was lucky enough to be a part of his kids' lives, but simply picturing the idea of Stephanie or Susie getting a restraining order against him, crushed him. Seeing you so upset about it makes him want to track down your mother and Connor and yell at them for how they’ve treated you. But then he would probably find himself with a similar piece of paper.

“Just when I think they’ve done it all, there always seems to be more.” You laugh, taking another sip of your cold drink. “They’re getting clever.”

“How are you so okay with any of this?”

You narrow your eyes, offended by his question. “You think I am? Toto, I feel like the odd one out. My own mother makes me feel like a culprit for simply wanting to give my baby sister a pair of shoes.” The brunette furrows his brows. You giggle. “I got Rosie a pair of ballet shoes. They’re the cutest thing you’ll ever see.” 

His lips quirk upwards. “So, you’ve tried to meet her?” You shake your head, hair whiplashing. I called my mom, brought up the idea. I guess she didn’t like it because next thing I knew, hello, restraining order. It’s sick. “They don’t deserve you.”

Your mouth stays agape as you blink back at him, doe eyes ringing him in. “I’m done trying. I get tired too, y’know?” Edging closer to your seat, you cup your hands against his ear, getting a whiff of his musky, expensive scent. You almost let out a moan. “You have kids, right? Were they cute when they were babies?” 

He nods, enthusiastically. “They’re heaven sent.” Your eyes twinkle, and he feels bad for a split second. “Want to see?” He dangles his phone towards you as you beam. Do you mind? “Not at all. As a father, you must know, I like to brag about them.” Rolling your eyes, you swipe through his gallery as you coo.

“Oh my goodness! She looks just like you,” you point out when you spot a blond girl. He grins. That’s Rosa. Flickering your eyes up to him, you gasp. “Rosie.” 

“Huh? Similar…that’s funny.”

Your grin widens. “Oh, handsome. Just like his father.” Benedict, he informs you as he blushes at the comment. Swiping once more, you tilt your head. “Very cute—like insanely adorable—but he doesn’t resemble you at all.” He laughs, throwing his head back.

“That’s my youngest, Jack. He looks just like his mother.” He retrieves the phone from you before handing it back. Squinting, you analyze the older blond. “Identical. It’s almost as if you didn’t partake in the game, Mr. Wolff.”

“Oh, trust me, I did.”

Burning up, you rip your gaze away from the device, trying to erase your filthy thoughts. Especially of him and his ex-wife. “She seems nice. Beautiful, too.” He hums, slipping his phone back into his pocket. 

“I can tell you have a soft spot for kids.”

“I don’t want to scare you off, but it’s an obsession. I can’t wait to be a mommy.” He swallows a groan at your innocent wish. “I would try to be the best; I just know I would.” 

The Austrian rubs his arm. “It’s getting late. Are you still going to be around?” 

You yawn. “I think I’m out of here, too.” 

“Can I take you home?”

The sexual tension is as thick as thieves. It suffocates you whole as you stare out the window of his Mercedes Benz. His digits taps against the leather wheel, legs barely fitting from how massive he is. Head almost touching the roof of his car. I swear I’ll go back to school, God, but please help me keep the last bits of my dignity. 

“How tall are you?” Come again? You gulp. “What’s your height? Curious, that’s all.”

His head rolls back, Adam’s Apple jumping up and down. “Meters or in feet?” You bite down on your tongue. Smart-ass. 

“Feet, if it’s okay with you,” you reply sarcastically. He clicks his tongue in amusement.

“6’5.” 

“Oh my God.” You smile sheepishly when he frowns. “You’re huge.”

“They normally say that after I have sex with them, but thank you.”

Heat rushes to your cheekbones and the tip of your ears. “You know what I meant.”

“Oh, of course, my mistake.” Pulling into your small driveway, he blinks slowly. “You live here?”

“Yes, don’t drool over it, please,” you growl at his rude tone. His brown eyes spin towards you when you hurriedly grab your things. He grabs the back of your dress quickly and you freeze.

“I didn’t mean it like that, it’s lovely, but I just thought…you said you made good money?”

High heels crunch against small pebbles as you scowl at the fifty-two year old. “I want to go back to Uni and I’m saving up, is that so wrong?” He’s embarrassed now, fixated on the empty passenger seat. You scoff. “Glad we agree. Good night, dickhead.”

Toto lets out a quiet laugh. Your eye twitches at the sound. Marching over to his window, you click your fingers as he rolls it down. This is funny to you? “Not at all. You acting like a child is.” 

“I am not acting like a child—”

“Oh, you’re not? Fuck. Again, my mistake.” Grinding your molars, you glare at the brunette. He aims for a soft smile. “I wasn’t making fun of your living arrangements, please, do you really think that low of me?” You look away, wiggling your neat brows. “Come and live with me.”

“Excuse me?”

He climbs out of the car, making you stumble back. “In the meantime, while I’m here, which is not for long. When I leave, you can keep the house.”

You grow light headed from his delirious offer. “Are you asking me to have sex with you in return for a new home?” His jaw drops.

“No, I’m being a good friend. You’re a sweet girl who has dealt with some shitty people and I want to help. Please, accept.” His voice is soft but somehow demanding. As if he already knows you’re going to agree. 

Inching closer, you poke his chest. He raises his arms. “Are you real?” Super real, he states, rolling his chocolate eyes. What do you say? 

“But my things—”

“I’ll send for them.”

“My downpayment—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Cool!” you cheer. “Let me just go grab my boyfriend.” His smile falls. Letting out an evil laugh, you clutch onto your stomach. “Ha! You should have seen your face.”

He pinches your forearm and you yelp in surprise. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Too late,” you yodel as you skip around, back into the black Mercedes. “You’re going to regret it anyways.”

-

We still have to talk about the preparations required for the unveiling of the W15. Please tell me you haven’t forgotten? 

Massaging his temples, Toto grimaces. “I haven't, but also, we don’t have to. It’s all ready to go; George and Lewis just need to show up.”

Elizabeth gasps. “And you.”

“Elizabeth, that was implied.” The assistant hums sheepishly as she continues talking his ear off. He groans. “I’ll be there, don’t worry. You’re doing a great job, keep it up. And please, enjoy your break. You’re going to wish you had when the season starts.”

“Of course. Take care, Toto.”

Once they hang up, he picks up on reading through articles about everything and anything people have been saying about Lewis’ new contract with Ferrari. He was happy for his driver, but it still stung. 

“You look tired.”

Chocolate eyes direct over to you where you stand with an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties. At least he hopes. “Oh, y’know. Catching up on work. Can’t be gone for too long, if not things get out of control.”

Rolling your eyes sarcastically, you slide your way closer to him. “Can I see?”

“See what?”

Squinting at the screen, your eyes glimmer brightly. “I love all things gossip. It’s my guilty pleasure.” Taking a seat on his thick lap, your delicate fingers start playing with the keypad. He grunts, placing both hands behind his head as his jaw ticks. “Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton: The Unstoppable Duo.” You giggle. “He’s cute. Take it back, they both are.”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “You’re evil.” 

Tossing your hair over your shoulder, you shrug. It looks so soft, he’s itching to run his fingers through it. “I see why you’re upset about this whole—‘I want Lewis! No, I want Lewis!—thing.” His smile falters. “It’s brutal.”

Hauling you off of his lap, he places you on the chair next to him, hoping you wouldn’t notice his hard print. “Is it?”

“Mhmm,” you chirp, chin propped onto your knees. “You must not mind people talking about you.”

“I do mind. I mind a lot.”

Perplexed, you take in his exhausted state. You never wanted to be famous, and seeing him live like this made you realize you had made the right choice. With slight hesitance, you brush his hair back; he sighs in relief. “It’s good to take breaks in between. That way you don’t have a stroke, old man.” His eyes fly open.

“Just because you’re younger, that doesn't mean I’m about to drop dead, sweetheart.” You squirm, forcing his orbs back closed as he squirms at the clumsy action. 

“Wanna feel something nice?”

Toto’s mind wanders to a steamy place once you leap off your chair. His chest heaves up and down from nervousness, hearing your soft steps. Straddling him, you press a soft kiss onto his cheek. Relax, Toto. He nods, grips onto the sides of the wooden chair, knuckles turning ghost white. Digging your hands into his broad shoulder, you begin to massage him at a steady pace. He moans. “How are you so good at this?” Your lips curl.

“I like to think I was a masseuse in my past life, now shhh.” 

The brunette’s main focus was between two things; actually letting loose and enjoying the much needed massage and the urge to slide your panties to the side and fuck you senselessly. Both were pretty good ideas in his book.

“Stop grunting,” you whisper in the nook of his ear as he shudders. You bite down on your pouty lip, leaning all the way back, and his hands instinctively reach out to catch you. His brown eyes flutter open as he admires the way you tower over him, even as you lay back, but also the way your fingers push adamantly against the knots in his shoulders. He growls animalistically. “What did I say, Mr. Wolff?”

Cold stare. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

Grabbing his large hands, you place them over your hips, an inviting smile dancing across your pink lips. Squeeze if you have to. He almost comes inside his pants as you lick your lips once more before continuing your actions. And it almost seems like you want to get a rise out of him. To make him groan, moan, grunt, cry out— for you. 

Purposefully, you dig your knuckles extra hard before pinching down with your nails. He hisses, grasping your sides hard as he throws his head back, floppy hair hitting the chair. You force a whimper away as you feverishly grind against his crotch. That kind of hurt, Toto.

“Fuck…I’m sorry,” he spills out as he starts a massage of his own. You smirk, repeating the same painful actions, pushing him to do the same as before. This was no longer a peaceful massage, you both knew that. It really hurts, you whine as you place a small hand against his chest, hips moving feverishly against his rough pants. The burning sensation makes you let out a pathetic wail as you rest your head against his shoulder. “A-are you okay?”

Then, you press your forehead against his; lustful gaze challenging him while tears cover up your pretty eyes, making them shimmer even more than before. “Never been better.” With one last rub against his slacks, you’re climaxing as you plow your red nails onto him.

Gasping for air, you return to tracing soft circles against his wide shoulders as he’s left dazed and confused. His cock still hurts from how hard he is, but you don’t seem to notice. Or you ignore it. It doesn't matter, because you’re already jumping off him, lips bruised from how hard you had bit down.

“I thought your hands would hurt a lot less, Toto. You ought to be nice to me.” 

Then, you’re skipping away, back into your room like a shy rabbit.

-

After the encounter in the dining room, you pranced around as if nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had. Toto’s mind was probably playing tricks on him because there was no way you could act so nonchalant, hallowing your lips around the cherry popsicle. Is it red? You stick your salivating tongue towards him.

“That’s a dumb question.”

You frown. “Grump.” A beat. “Can I take the Mercedes on a spin?”

“No.”

The frown grows deeper. “Why not? I swear I won’t scratch it. In fact, I won’t let anything happen.”

“Tempting, but still no.”

“Fine,” you grumble, munching down on the icy treat. He smiles, fingers typing against his computer. Can I ride you? His digits freeze midair as he flickers his brown eyes over at you. Holding the car keys directly to your face, you hum playfully. Yeah. Why not, Peaches? Just take care of me! “Of course, my sweet Benz. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“You are worse than my four year old.” He inhales sharply, rolling up his sleeves as he tries to ease his crazy heartbeat with water. You giggle.

“He said yes.”

“The car talks now?”

You blush. “That’s what I’m sayinggg…”

Analyzing the strand of hair that hits your chin, he folds his hands. “How did you choose Peaches as your stage name?”

You swallow the last piece of your popsicle. “It’s not an interesting story. I have a co-worker who goes by Foxy because she once fucked a fucking grandpa in the woods and he died of a heart attack once he saw a fox. Pretty cool, huh?”

His jaw drops. “You’re crazy.” Shrugging, you kick your legs up on the armrest. He swallows. “But I still want to know. No matter how boring it may seem. I can guarantee you I won’t think the same, pessimist.” 

Gingerly squinting your round eyes, your lips for a thin line. “When I was younger, my mom would bring me a peach everyday after work. That way, when she would pick me up from school, she would have it ready. The sweetest ones were during summer, of course, but the ones out of season were still pretty good. Up to this day, I still don’t know how she got her hands on those.” He nods. “Simple as that.”

“I think it’s sweet.” His long legs stretch out to kick your chair away. You squeal. “Makes you seem a tiny bit human.”

“Hey!”

He smirks. “Way better than Foxy. That story is just a murder case waiting to be taken to trial.”

“She did receive a handsome inheritance,” you whistle and his eyes grow wide. You snicker. “I’m kidding.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lets out a heavy sigh. “Do you enjoy your job? Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?” You shake your head.

“Wait, let me rephrase. I do enjoy pole dancing. So many outsiders assume we’re sluts, but it’s not like that. It’s an art, whether you believe it or not.” I agree. You grin. “I have fun, but no, I don’t want to do this forever. I want to be an elementary school teacher.”

“Really?”

You wince. “Seems inappropriate, I know, but I think I could be really good at it. I would cut them slices of sweet peaches any chance I get. I’ll even figure out where to buy some more once the season ends.” Scooting closer to the table, you flick your wooden stick onto his lap. He aims for a deadpan expression. “And I just want to make it clear that I do not sleep around. But when I do, it’s because I want to. I have needs too, Toto.”

The fifty-two year old grinds his teeth together. “I’m sure you do.”

-

Wobbling against the shiny tiles, you gasp before a warm hand saves you. You let out a breath of relief, turning to see Toto shaking his head in disapproval. 

“This is why you should leave to work on time. Now you’re just a mess.” Glaring at him, you fix your rollers as you walk out onto the private driveway. You were excluded from the rest of society, but part of you liked that. “How are you even going to get there?”

Spinning around, you almost crash into his chest before you regain your composure, close proximity making you struggle to find the words. “Toto, I never told you this, but…I can fly.”

“I’m being serious.”

You shrug. “I’m going to take the bus. Go back to your precious emails.” As soon as you twiddle your finger, he scoffs. 

“I would take you—”

“But you’re busy— it’s fine.”

“Can you stop talking?” Beady eyes narrow up at him as he continues. “But I can’t because I’m drowning with work…You can take the Mercedes.” Your eyes light up. 

“Are you fucking with me?”

He wishes he was fucking you, but no. “You better treat it like your own.” You click your tongue. See, you shouldn’t have said that because now my alter ego just grew. He points accusingly and you scrunch your nose. I promise. Handing you his keys, he watches carefully as you pull away, blowing him a kiss. 

A few hours pass by before he feels the need to check up on you. He tries texting first. Busy night? Nothing. He tries calling. Nothing. He starts thinking you might've crashed on your way there, so he hurries out the door. 

Paying the taxi driver, he marches past the doors as he is handed a piece of paper. He smiles back politely. “Don’t you guys think we’re past this?” The men take a quick glance at each other before nodding. Have a lovely night, Mr. Wolff. 

Loud music makes the brunette wince, face twisting uncomfortably. Brown eyes study the club as he tries to decipher where you could possibly be. Maybe you didn’t make it and he was right after all. Jogging over to the bartender, Toto pants. “Peaches? Have you seen her?” 

The young man points to the glass box, where you start your set. He sighs in relief as he takes a seat, rolling up his sleeves as he admires. Everyone cheers as you smile erotically. The Austrian can’t help but be one of them too. 

Spotting him, you freeze. You narrow your eyes for a split second before you snap out of it, continuing your desirable movements. The music ends and just like that, you’re done. Hollering echoes the room when you brush past by. 

“What are you doing here?” 

A cheesy grin plays out. “I came to see you.” Weren’t you busy with work? He shakes his head. “Well, yes actually, but I thought you were dead in a ditch when you didn’t reply to my message or answer any of my calls.”

“Why could that be? Oh. Maybe because I’m working,” you hiss. “Listen, if you’re here as a client— fine. But if you’re here as Toto— leave.”

He narrows his eyes sharply and your breath hitches. “It’s Mr. Wolff, darling.”

You purse your lips. “Very well, Mr. Wolff.” Strutting away, you make sure you sway your hips. The brunette groans, falling back against his chair. 

The night flies by as usual, until they book you. “Mr. Straforx, sitting in the back booth,” Ro informs you as you suck on your bottom lip, listening attentively. “Interested?” 

“Very.”

“Actually, I am too.”

The rich accent makes your stomach flip as you muster up a stern glare. Toto’s lips form a firm line as he stands as tall as a sequoia. Fuming, you shake your head, perfectly done hair slapping your face. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wolff, but I already agreed to somebody else. But rest assured, if I have time left, then I will get to you.”

“Is money the issue here?”

Your jaw ticks, temples grinding together harshly. “You think that’s all I care about?”

He shrugs. “I could lie and say no, but who am I kidding? We all care about money.”

Flustered, you scoot closer to Ro, who stands amused with the entire interaction. “Ro, tell Mr. Straforx that I’ll be there in a minute, and make sure to apologize on my behalf.” The older man nods, tipping his head towards the Austrian as he strolls away. “What are you trying to do, Toto?”

His lips flip to a teasing smile. “Mr. Wolff.”

“Oh, don’t you dare pull that card on me.” Your face pinches up. “This is an important client, I can’t say no.”

“How much do you want in order for you to come with me instead of him?” Your berry lips separate. “Name a price. I’m a self-made billionaire, sweetheart—a couple of millions are nothing to me.”

“I could never ask for you to do that,” you whisper, timidly fiddling with your necklace. “Deal with it. You’re not my boyfriend.”

His nose flares at the cruel reminder. “I never claimed to be. I’m a client.” Pause. “Two million.”

You gasp. “Are you insane?”

“You’re right, that’s childsplay. How about five?” When you still don’t say anything, he grins devilishly as he places a large hand on the lower part of your back. “Ro! Yeah, tell Me. Straforx that she’s coming with me. I’ll give you a bonus, don’t worry.” Your friend nodded happily. Press the button if you need anything. 

You roll your eyes, sourly. “Thank you, Ro. Thank you so much.” Pushing you into the private room, you yelp. “Let go of me!”

The brunette scoffs. “Calm down, I was barely even touching you.”

Shivering, you focus your attention on the luxurious drinking options. Half of these were probably worth what you make in a year, but the rich fed off of that. The brown eyed man hums. “Is that something you’re interested in?” You quirk a brow. A drink? He shakes his head. “Do you want me to touch you?”

You blink up at him swiftly, rubbing your thighs together. “You’re reading into it. I don’t.” Digging his large hands into his pockets, he clicks his tongue. Okay. Then ask me to leave. We can pretend none of this ever happened. A sad whine bubbles up your throat as you fear that he might actually walk out if you even dared to imply. “Just don’t be a jerk.”

A threatening chuckles booms past his lips as he serves himself a drink you can’t even pronounce. He takes a slow sip before he raises his glass up towards you. “You’re getting to me a  bit more than I’d like to admit. I mean, you must know that, right?” Demented, you play with your dress. 

Tonight, you were cosplaying a wide-eyed devil. There was nothing threatening about your appearance, not if you didn’t count your crimson red lips. Plump, round, tempting. Your black gartner drives him to complete insanity as you bite down on your bottom lip, nervously. Your red dress is too short for his liking, but only because others get to enjoy the sight of your heavenly legs. The ones he was drooling over to nuzzle his face in between. Then your horns tussle your hair messily as you pant. He hasn’t even touched you and you were already dripping.

“That’s not true, Mr. Wolff.” The grin widens.. 

“You can call me Toto when we’re alone, sweetheart.” You shiver, lowering your gaze. No, you were right. It has to stay professional in this setting. The brunette rolls his tongue before squinting his eyes at you, fine lines forming. The sight alone makes you melt. “You should have thought about that before you came all over my thigh.”

Shocked at his vulgar words, you bat your eyes, flustered by the reminder. You had done that. But you had the upper hand that day and that was long gone as he towered over you. Inching closer, he drops down to his knees, him still appearing taller even with the action. You squirm. 

“You were not playing fair that day. How come you only got to finish, and I didn’t?” You were hurting me, you cry out like a child as he scoffs at your weak attempt. Tugging you closer to him by your smooth legs, he droops them over his wide shoulders. Oh God. Turning his head to the side, he presses warm kisses. Your skin burns with every single one. “You know that’s not true.” Then, he’s hiking your tiny dress up.

Toto is hit with instant lust as he spots the wet patch of arousal. You whine, legs shutting around him. Do something—anything—but please, touch me. The corner of his lips lift up as he bites onto your red undergarment, pulling it down. Oh, you sigh at the intimate vision. Once you’re on full display, he groans. Your pussy glistens back at him, begging to be stretched out. “You’re…”

Humming, you place your soft palm against his cheek. “Toto…”

Like a starved man, he dives in, lips sucking on your clit as you fly forward, eyes screwed shut. He eats you out as if this was his true calling in life, the way he pinches your hips when you rock yourself against his face. He’s enjoying every second, every drop, as you find pleasure with the way his tongue swirls inside of you, finding new places you didn't know existed. The brunette nips quickly as you gasp, then he strikes his tongue. Warm sensation settles inside of your stomach. T-toto, holy fuck, oh my God. 

You can feel the way he grins against your pussy as he continues his handy work. Slurping your juices, his dark eyes find yours as you pant, light sweat fanning your face. His large hand presses your dress down, further adding to the friction as your tummy is pushed down as well. Wailing, you writher an embarrassing amount that would normally have you pouring out apologies if it weren’t for his strong gaze. 

“Taste so sweet,” he chants, kitten licks taking place. Your head rolls back against the couch, hand clutching onto his hair as he grunts. “Open your eyes for me, schatzi.” But you’re too busy trying to make this moment last, ignoring his command. Pressing his nose against your small hole, you squeal and look down. A coy expression takes over as he pulls away and rubs his fingers against your puffy clit. 

“You s-so fucking good at this,” you pant, chest rises up and down, horns sliding down a bit before he extends his long arm, pushing it back. Your chest tightens. “I know what you’re going to do…Go easy, please.”

Taunting circles edge you further as he bites the squishy part of his cheek. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to try and make your fingers fit.”

Your words come out menacing as you scrunch your eyebrows together, a worried look clear to the Austrian. Kissing the inside of your thigh, he nods. “You’re an extremely smart girl.” Another kiss. “I’ll go slow. You won’t even feel any discomfort, just pleasure.”

“Wait!”

Panic strikes his face as you disconnect his left hand from your breast. Bringing his hand up, you inspect the wedding band. Why are you still wearing this? He groans. “Publicity. No one knows yet. They won’t know for a while, so I can’t take it off until then.” You hum, then slide his ring finger into your mouth. You can taste yourself, long digits immediately hitting the back of your throat as you gag. “What are you—”

Then he feels it. Your soft tongue and the way it lubricated the steel before you gently bit down and started pulling his hand back. His cock grows more pained from how hard he’s become. With a pop you smile, eyes crinkling as you show off the metal. “Better.”

“You’re…” I know, you seductively whisper as you return his hand to where it laid. Is that not what you like about me? The man practically growls as he slams two thick fingers inside of you. Your body jolts as you cry out. So good, Toto. His cock twitches at you ragged praises. His fingers barely even fit inside your tiny hole, but it sure as hell reaches your g-spot. White splotches burn your eyes as you dig your nails onto the side of his thick neck. 

“Just like that. Oh, Toto.” He adds a third finger, and you hiss at the burning sensation. “That’s too much! Fuck.” He makes up for it, drawing figure 8’s between your velvety walls as you open up to him. Your legs start to slip down his shoulders as he spits. Keep them in place. You whimper, but obey, nonetheless.

The pad of his fingers continue assaulting your sweet spot, curling at a perfect angle. Your moans grow louder. Chocolate eyes flicker up to face your fucked up state. “Close?” You nod, vigorously. A warm strip teases your slippery lips. “Good. You’re doing so good, Peaches.”

Your hips buck suddenly as you suffocate him with your body, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Picking up on your candy nectar, he groans like a madman, greedy tongue swiping to lick every last drop. Shuddering at the feeling, you push his head away from in between your legs and grab him by the collar. For a second, he thinks you might kiss him, but when you don’t he realizes he’s disappointed. Instead, you plant a kiss on his cheek, hot breaths wrapping around his skin.

“Guess that makes us even, Mr. Wolff.”

-

“And then I rode a pony! I begged mama to let me get on a horse instead, but I just got a good scolding. But you would’ve let me, right papa?” Toto theatrically grins at Jack. 

“Don’t tell her, but yes. I would have let you because you're a big boy now, aren't you?” The four year old nods, blond hair covering his eyes as he brushes it away with powdered hands from his donut. I miss you. When are you coming back?

Pressure tugs at the Austrians chest as he sighs. Jack was too young—he wouldn’t understand that he and Susie would no longer be living together. It was a mutual decision to tell him when the time was right, but it still killed him to lie to his son. Especially when he beams back with bright eyes. Toto winces. “Soon.” A pin drops. “Have you eaten your vegetables for the day?” Jack sprints away.

A soft laugh is heard from the other side of the screen as Susie comes to view. “He has not, by the way. Hi, Toto.” The brunette waves. “Are you actually busy with work or are you trying to forget about all your fatherly duties?” 

“Is it that obvious?”

The blond chuckles. “Whatever it is, it’s great that you’ve taken time to yourself. Just don’t take too long.” Signing off, the fifty-two year old is left staring at his own reflection. 

“He’s cuter than the pictures.” Toto flinches with surprise. Standing in a summer dress, you lick your lollipop. “His voice is super squeaky; it’s adorable.”

“Do you need something?”

His question may seem rude, but it’s not meant to come off as so. His voice is filled with genuine concern as he furrows his brows. You shake your head. “I’m bored, that's all.”

The brunette scoffs. “And by all means, you came to bother me.” A giggle dances out of you as you brush your hair back. Your sweet scent reaches him, even though you stand far enough away to make a run for the hills. “But I do have time. What do you have in mind?”

“I want to talk to my mom.” Your words shock him but he listens attentively, watching you as you sit on top of the table, legs swinging with rigidness. “I want to try and fix things.” He frowns. But you’ve done nothing wrong. You shift in an uncomfortable manner. “Well…”

“What did you do?”

“Remember how I got a restraining order, but I’ve never stepped close to Rosie?” He nods. You nibble on your thumb. “I s-sort of lied.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve met her, kind of…” You pout, hazed expression carving out through your doll features. “But I can explain.”

He sighs. “Please do.”

Your cheeks flush. “A few weeks before I met you, Connor called me. And I picked up. He told me he was willing to let me meet my sister, but only if I let him borrow fifty grand. To be honest, I don’t care if I never get my money back— I just wanted to be able to recognize Rosie’s face. Of course I said yes.” The Austrian listens carefully, loopy eyes dedicated to you. “I bought her ballet shoes, the one’s I told you about.”

“She was perfect. She giggled like the most angelic thing and her eyes crinkled in a way that made me love her instantly. I asked why Connor needed the money and if they were in trouble, but he only ignored me. Then he tried to kiss me.”

“He what?”

A timid smile plays out. “It’s okay, he does that sometimes, but I’m always able to push him off because most of the time he’s drunk out of his mind. I don’t normally care, but he had Rosie… What if because of some stupid mistake he put her in danger? I gave Rosie her gift and paid an Uber to take them back home.”

“My mom found out about the meet-up and marched right to my work. Don’t ask me how she got in. She yelled at me with such anger that I almost wanted to cry. She said I wanted to steal both Rosie and Connor from her. I promised that wasn’t true, but she didn’t care. Then I got my restraining order.”

The brunette’s words get stuck as he gapes at you. Clearing his throat, he drums his fingers against the table. “You should have told me the truth,” he begins. Hurt slashes your face—you thought he would understand. He offers a friendly smile. “But still…you’ve done nothing wrong.” A beat. “I can help you. Well, my lawyers can.”

Tears form inside your jello eyes. “Are you serious?”

He nods. “Your sister can’t grow up in a household that doesn’t want her, but keeps her just to twist the knife. Connor will pay for what he’s done to you.” Leaping off the table, you cross your arms. No. You can’t bring that up. He sends a sharp glare. “What he did was wrong, can’t you see?” Your bottom lip wobbles. She’s going to hate me even more. Tenderly, he sighs as he strolls over, cupping your face. “She shouldn’t, but if she does, at least you’ll be free from him. Has he only tried to kiss you?”

Closing your eyes, you release a wet breath. “He’s touched me a couple of times.” The Austrains eyes darken. Pushing his hands down, you quickly take a step back. “But by then I was due to move out, so it doesn’t really matter!”

“It matters a little,” he growls. “None of this is normal.” You flinch at his strong tone. “Sweetheart, tell me one thing; what would you do if God forbid, he did the same thing to Rosie?” 

You gasp. “I would murder him.”

“So, you agree that we have to do something about this?” Hesitantly, you nod. “I’ll reach out to my attorney as soon as possible. I promise you that all of this will get taken care of.” Muscular arms drape over your shoulders as he hugs you. Bewildered, you blink as you stiffen. “You don’t hug much?”

“Nope.” 

He booms with laughter, chest vibrating as you smile at the feeling. Everything about this feels right, so then why does that scare you?

-

He vows to be back as soon as he’s done with the car reveal. I don’t care, you reply as you pop a mint into your mouth, getting ready for work. 

You’re going to miss me, watch.

And damn him, the fucker was right—you did. A part of you wishes he would rush past the doors, yapping about he thought you were dead and didn’t ask for permission to take the Benz. But he was across the world, smiling wide at media duties as you watched behind a tiny screen. It’s good that he’s taking time to see Jack, too.

“Why are you sighing so sad?” Roxy asks, fixing her combat boots. “Not getting any clients? Though I doubt it. They love you.”

You let out a forced laugh. “I’m not sad—tired.”

The red head furrows her brows suspiciously before hugging you. Your arms dangle lazily as you scrunch your nose. She giggles. “Does this have to do with Mr. Toto Wolff? He’s hot—crazy hot.” She untangles herself from you. “He must be the devil himself.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yeah,” she cheers happily. “But also, you’re totally in love.” Your stomach drops. No, I am not. Roxy rolls her eyes. “You’re a good liar, but you’re not that good. I’ve noticed the way you look at him. Like you want to eat him alive as you kiss him until your lips snap.”

You wince at the image. “You have a way with words…”

She beams, thin brows raising up. “I’ve also noticed that you haven’t gone into the private room since he walked in through those doors. So what, you’re just going to keep pretending?”

“You’re such a creep!” you squeal, delicate hand slapping her thigh. She squeals lightheartedly. You’re missing out on a shit ton of money. We’re talking dough. And yet you don't bat an eye because you don’t want anyone but him. Did I nail it?

You pinch your fingers together as you huff. “You’re crazy. Crazy. There is no way I could be in lo—” Hey! The ringing sound makes your blood run cold as you fear to turn around. Look at me. Foxy stares back at you with anxious eyes. Do you know her? Looking down onto your lap, you nod. “That’s my mother.”

“Oh shit.”

A dry hand yanks you by the arm as she spins you around. “I’m talking to you. Why won’t you look at me?” 

You flinch. “I’m working, you can’t be doing this—”

“I don’t give two shits if you’re working or not, if I say we need to talk, then we need to talk.” Ro shakes his head, distressed as he apologizes. I’m so sorry, Peaches. She said she was your mom and I…I didn't know what to do. You smile back softly. 

“Don’t worry. Can you get me a room?”

As soon as your mother enters the dark area, she whistles. “Fancy, but really? Bending over for any man willing to pay you a couple cents? That’s disgusting.”

Your cheeks burn up as you fight back tears. “What do you want? Is Rosie okay?” Panic rushes through your veins as you grab her by the shoulders, shaking her violently. She’s so thin, you think you might break her. “Is she okay, I said?”

“She’s fine,” she yawns. “So…this is what you’re up to? It always…catches me by surprise. Not really.”

“I had no choice,” you whisper meekly. “You gave me no choice.”

The older woman smirks. “Don’t you dare blame me. No one makes you do anything— this was your decision.” 

You let out a tired sigh. “Just tell me what you want…”

Her eye twitches, as if she remembers why she was so angry to begin with. “I got your complaint; you’re suing me for being a bad mother and Connor for…assaulting you? Do you realize how stupid that sounds?”

“I’m not lying—”

“Really?”

“Why would I lie?” you yell back, acid sliding down your cheeks. “I would never make up such a thing. He assaulted me countless times as you never did a single thing.”

“I never saw anything.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “You walked in on it! You called me a slut! I was seventeen for fuck sakes. But no—you blamed me for sleeping with your husband instead.” You take a good look at her; dark undereyes, frail figure, needles imprints everywhere. “You can’t keep doing this. You need to think about Rosie—”

“Rosie, Rosie, Rosie—I could not care any less about her! She just bugs with all her crying. It’s exhausting.”

“She’s just a baby.” Grabbing her hands, you soften your gaze. “If you don’t want her, fine, let me raise her…I swear I can do it.”

Your mother perks up. “You would do that?” Yes. Of course I would, you respond instantly. You’ll never hear about us ever again. Her thin hand cradles your cheek warmly, and for a moment, you let yourself lean against it. Then she pulls away and strikes you harshly, causing you to stumble back. “Why would I ever please you like that?”

Bring your hand up to your stinging flesh, you sob. “I-I…what?”

“Here’s what you’re going to do; you're going to drop the charges against me and Connor.”

“No.” 

She clicks her tongue. “Are you sure?”

Rising up with shaky legs, you keep a firm face even though it begs to howl in pain. “I said no. You’re not going to hand her over willingly, okay…Then I’m taking you to court.”

“Like hell you aren’t.” Tugging your arm, she presses her face insanely close to yours. You wince at the smell of intoxication; you can’t even tell what kind. “I will fucking kill you, do you hear me?”

You let out a wet laugh, ripping your arm away from her tight grip. “I don’t care. I don’t care anymore, but I am saving my sister from you two—no matter what.” Her nostrils flare as she heaves. You let out a sad whimper. “When did you become so inhuman? You used to be kind, beautiful, ha—”

“Heartbreak does that to a person,” she simply states before walking out, leaving you to yourself as you finally come crashing down.

-

He didn’t expect for there to be a racket, but the house felt awfully quiet. He knows you weren't at work—he had checked. He thought maybe you could have been out with friends, so he sighs before resting on the couch. He sits there for an hour or so before heading upstairs to take a shower. 

As soon as he enters the bedroom, he finds you covered with thick blankets as you cry. Alarmed, he rushed to your side of the bed. Oh my God, you shriek at the anonymous person before squirting. “When did you get here?”

“That doesn’t matter—what’s wrong?”

You hope brushing your tears away would stop him from asking questions. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

A pinched up expression maps out. Your chin forms a peach seed as you let out a weak sob and stand on the bed, making you the same height as him, throwing your arms around his neck. He’s stunned, but snaps out of it as he hugs you back, calloused fingers playing with your soft hair. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom visited me at work. She said some nasty things, but that doesn’t matter to me, what does is that she won’t let me adopt Rosie,” you muffle against his neck, salty tears wetting his collared shirt. “She’d rather raise her out of spite. She’s not made for this, she's malicious.”

“What else did she say?”

You pause, sniffling before pulling back with a reindeer nose. “That’s it.”

The Austrian lowered his gaze with subtle threat. “No, tell me everything she told you.”

“I swear that’s all.”

His brown eyes scan your face, but you remain still, only shaky breaths being released. He clenches his jaw. “Where does she live?” Your face drops. Why do you want to know? “Where does she live?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Stop being so stubborn and let yourself be helped—”

“I don’t need your help anymore, Toto!” You purse your lips, trembling hands brushing your hair back. Anger rushes over him as he inspects the purple bruise.

“Who did this to you?”

Sitting back down on the bed, your nose twitches. “I’m moving out.”

“Who fucking did this to you?” His voice is lethal. Thank you for trying to fix things, but I’m sure I can do it myself from now on. “What you don’t seem to understand is that you don’t have to. It was your mother, correct?” Forlorn, you agree with your silence. “What have they done to you?” he whispers, pain lacing his raw voice.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this,” you whisper, salty tears sliding down. “I’m going to kill your image—they’re going to hate you because of me.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” the brunette ricochets back. “All I care about is that you’re okay. That you find the happiness you deserve to have.”

Grimacing, you sniffle, shaking your head. “I’m starting to think that doesn’t exist. Or at least I’m so unlucky that I won’t get a piece,” you joke. “The closest thing I’ve felt to that is when I met you.” His heart melts as he stares back, adoringly. “You’ve helped me in so many ways, Toto. Thank you for that.”

“But—”

“I know.” Rising up on the fluffy bed, you tower over him a bit, pressing kisses on his temples, cheeks, nose, neck. “You’re the only man who's ever made me feel something real. I can’t explain it, but I hope it makes sense.” 

He gulps. “It does. You want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve made me feel the exact same way from the moment you stepped into my life.” He closes the gap between you two as you stumble back against the mattress, but his large hands prevent you from getting away. “You’re not perfect—you’re flawed. You don’t have your life together—but you’re trying to. You’re not the tough girl you make yourself out to be—but that’s because you feel the need to build up walls to protect yourself from others.” Your stomach churns with every word he speaks. “And somehow…you have me wrapped around your finger.”

It happens so quickly, the way he presses his lips against yours. He can taste the saltiness but doesn’t dare to pull away. Like an animal, you move your mouth against his, whimpers flowing to his ears like symphonies. Toto knows why you never made the first move; you were scared to admit your feelings. But he was too.

Almost as if you read his mind, you run your fingers against his scalp as he breathes out, against your open mouth. “You won’t do the same, right Toto?” 

“What, sweetheart?”

Gloomy eyes reflect against his own. “Leave?”

“Unless you ask me to, then no.” He pecks your temple. “I can’t even imagine living without you anymore.”

That’s all it takes as you jump on him, silky legs wrapping around his torso like a piece of ribbon. He grunts loudly when you bite down on his bottom lip before letting go. “God, Toto, you’re—” As soon as he sucks on your throat, your sentence dies. Writhing against him, you try pushing him off as he chuckles, then he sets you down against the white sheets.

Immediately, you crawl back to the edge of the bed to where he still stands. Frisky hands tremble as you aim for his belt. Such a pretty girl, he thinks as you slip it off. You don’t have to do this. “I owe you, remember?” Then eager hands push his pants down, along with his boxers.

You knew he would be big, but that was an understatement. Toto was huge. Being 6’5 should have been a warning itself, but still. Drooling over his cock, you lick your lips, doe eyes fixating back to him. “I might not be able to take it all in my mouth,” you sheepishly state, red faced. The fifty-two year old has probably had a much better encounter; you were just making a fool out of yourself. Running his thumb against your cheekbone, the corners of his lips fly up. 

“I’ll walk you through it.”

Humming, you delicately wrap your hand around his length. Even just feeling it makes the heat in your belly grow. He clenches his jaw. Jerking him off, you wrap your lips around the pink tip. The Austrian releases a dirty groan, hips bucking as you smile around him. Pulling back, you stare up expecting the next step. Start off how you normally would. 

Pouty lips welcome him down your throat as you whine, the vibrations sending him into an orbit. When your palm slithers to what you can’t reach, he tsks. “You haven’t even tried.” Soft brows pinch together as if to say; Probably because I know I can’t either way. His nostrils flare. “Relax your jaw.”

Doing as you’re told, you gag as you squeeze your eyes shut and curl your toes. Your back arches, ass flying up as you struggle. A large hand reaches out to smack it. Yelping, you ease your mouth, thick member sliding down furthermore than you could have even imagined. There you go. 

Swallowing around him, you bob your head at a steady pace, reliving the steps, too scared to mess up. The Austrian throws his head back, sharp jaw in clear display as he pants. “Just like t-that, fuck. You’re doing so…shit.” While he’s enjoying himself, tears burst out as you clench your eyes, lashes becoming darker. The feeling is definitely getting him off, but he wanted to make things easier for you. 

Brushing your untamed hair back, he traces the bridge of your nose. Your orbs remain closed, and he finds himself missing them. “Breathe through your nose.” Ragged breaths fly out as your fingers dig against his thighs. He hisses. But gradually, it gets better. Glossy eyes stare up at him, lips stretch around his cock as you continue your filthy movements. 

As if to prove yourself to him, you deepthroat him even more as his head rolls back, floppy hair following along. Soft fingers brush against his legs as he shudders, face twisted with pleasure. Pulling away, you swirl your wet lips against his tip, feeding off of his precum before forcing yourself back down. 

Thick ropes of cum slide down your throat as you moan loudly. The brunette grunts, shaky breaths flying past his lips. With a teasing pop, you kneel up as you open wide. He moans at the sight of his release swimming inside your sinister mouth, then you swallow. Even though your throat is extremely sore, you still beam at him.

“Where have you been all my life?.” Climbing over you, he lays you flat, slipping your dress off. He’s stunned to find out you’re completely naked. Cherry red feathers on your cheeks. “Are you sure you didn’t know I was going to be back?”

Your lips curl. “No idea.”

He wraps his mouth against your bud as you whimper, hand massaging his head as he repeats his actions to the other. You could definitely fall asleep to this. When you open your eyes, you’re impressed to find out he’s completely stripped down, toned body exposed. The sight makes you grow excited, nervous.

“Are you on birth control?”

You curse softly. “I’m not. Crap.” Disappointed, you’re expecting him to climb off, but he doesn’t. Instead, he let out a raw chuckle. “I t-told you I don’t fuck men on the regular—”

“I don’t need the reminder,” he grunts. His brown eyes soften. “What’s your wish in life?”

Confusion paints your face. “To have you?”

“Cute.” Flustered, you focus on his contracting abs. Foaming at the mouth, you try to picture rubbing your core against them. “The other one,” he demands.

“Oh…” No. He can’t possibly mean… Your heart stops beating. “To be a mom.”

“There it is.” 

Briskly, he pushes into you as you wince in pain. I know, I know, he coos. But it’s better this way. It won’t feel so bad in a few minutes. Crying against his humid chest, your jaw hangs open. “It really hurts, Toto. Oh…it burns.” Hot tears reestablish themselves inside your orbs. “You’re too big.”

“Breath, sweetheart, breath.” His voice calms you down as your mewls lessen. “See?” You hum. “I’m going to move, alright?”

“O-okay,” you respond, dizzy. The feeling returns—less painful—but returns, nonetheless. Panic expands through your chest as you begin to think he might split you in half. His cock was just so thick and veiny. But it felt delicious between your velvety walls. “Fuck, baby,” you pant.

“I knew you could do it.” A warm peck lingers on your shoulder. “You feel so tight, schatz. So warm.” He sighs in relief as your tiny cunt compresses against his length, easing the pain from being as hard as a rock. Worse. Strong arms pick your legs up over his bare shoulders, making him travel deeper. 

“Toto, Toto, Toto—”

Eyes entertained against your slippery hole, he raises his brows. Yeah, baby? Getting a hold of his hand, you bring it over your stomach. His jaw clenches. “I can feel you.” Writhing in ecstasy, you toss your head to the side, small whines echoing between the vaporized walls. Pouding into you at a faster pace, he growls, bite marks being left behind on your legs. You hiss, clamping your eyes even harder, which makes you clench around his cock even more.

“Do that again,” he begs. “Do it—” You oblige, attention set on how he moans feverishly, hands adding pressure to your legs. For sure his imprints would be left behind. Taking advantage of the little power you have, you untangle yourself, greedily climbing onto his thick lap. 

“Looking good, Mr. Wolff.” 

He looked more than good—he looked eternal. The way his chest heaves, his soft pants, sweaty hair framing his handsome face, dark eyes praising you as if you were Athena herself. A confession finds into your brain as you halt. Beads of sweat cover his long nose as he appears concerned by the sudden break. Is everything okay? Rubbing your eyes as if you just had the worst nightmare, you blink hastily. 

Roxy couldn't have been right—she never was. Except, she is this time. It's as if a warm glow towers over him, your chest feels awfully vacant, but you’re not scared because you know your heart has found its home in the palm of his hand. You laugh in amusement as you touch his face all over. He smiles, eyes crinkling. “What’s so funny?”

“I love you, Toto Wolff.”

A lump forms inside his throat as he tilts his head. “You do?”

You shrug sheepishly. “I do.” Kissing his lips, you sigh with content. “I love you, I love you, I love you; I adore you.” He can hear the clock ticking as he stares back with his lips slightly parted. “You don’t have to feel the same, you dont have to say it back—I don’t care, but I can’t keep living a life of regret…”

“I love you, too.” Cartoon eyes blink back at him as he chuckles. “Do you believe me?”

“Uh…” Your lips stretch out. “Yes.”

Shifting on top of the Austrian, you make sure to slip him back inside as you moan in unison. Riding someone has never felt so addicting. Gasping at the raw feeling, you dig your nails onto his shoulders. When you look down at him, you are pleased to find him struggling to catch his breath. His fingers pinch your hips harshly as you bounce harder and faster, as if he would regret his words and leave you. “So big.” You drool, hair flourishing around you. “Stretching me out so good, Mr. Wolff.” He growls at you captivating words. “Making it so easy to ride you, huh? Cock brushing against the perfect sp—oh my God.”

Your face twists up with pleasure when the tip of his cock brushes against the mushy part that makes you almost black out. Movements slow down but it’s not long before he lifts you up and slamming you back down. “Toto!” you squeal, flimsy arms reaching out to balance yourself on his wide shoulders. Everytime he hauls you up and you look back at him, he represents like a giant. Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging wide open. “I-I’m close-e-e.”

“Me too,” he grunts. Like a devilicious man on a mission, he slaps your face carefully, forcing you to connect your glossy orbs with his loopy ones. “Gonna let me cum inside? Carry my baby, just like you’ve always wanted?”

“Yes,” you chant. “Yes—all of it—yes.” Cradling his cheek against your sweaty palm, you smile. “Cum inside of me, Wolff.”

With one final push, you both release loud moans, a strong wave of orgasms crashing violently against one another. Huffing, he makes a ponytail with your messy hair before letting go. “You think it worked?” You giggle.

“We’ll have to wait and see.” Leaning towards him, you kiss him gingerly. His mind grows blurry with how meaningful you make it seem. I’m yours—my heart is all yours—but please don’t break it, it seems to tell him as his enormous hands squish you closer to him, as if that were possible. 

“I know of a few ways we can make sure.”

-

Though you had mutually admitted your feelings to one another, there still didn’t appear to be a proper label to it all. Time was slipping, he would soon have no other choice but to leave and face all his responsibilities. 

But you can come back with me, he would desperately bring up as he fucked you against the wall. Tits would be bouncing at a hasty speed as you look back with your mouth in an O. I want you to. You won’t ever have to worry about anything, I promise. You can go back to Uni. You’ll get custody over Rosie, and Jack will be over the moon. We could have a family of our own, just you and I, Peaches. Huh? How does that sound, baby?

It sounded perfect; like a dream. You could taste it already. Early morning calls that you wouldn’t mind because he’d be laying down next to you. Quiet time as you jot down notes and he stresses over the next big decision for the team. And at the end, you would be glad you made the choice to choose him. Just like he chose you.

With shaky hands, you brush his messy hair back as he dotes on your bambi eyes. The way they glimmered extra bright that night; like starlight. The brunette’s face would soften up when you trace his nose, the curve of pink lips, his lines. Everything about him was breathtakingly dominant. 

You’d be a fool to deny. 

So, you accept. 

-

If Toto were to be told that he had died and ascended to heaven; he wouldn’t second guess the possibility. Because being with you felt exactly like that. Every passing second only adds to the amount of love he bottles up for you. It would overflow and he’d be okay; bring out the next. Oh, that one’s full, too? Okay, next. 

All of it made sense. You matched perfectly in sync with him like a cozy glove and he wouldn’t have it any other way. There’d be whispers from others, but he doesn’t care. He’d deal with just about anything for you. 

“You’re leaving so soon.” A click. “Have you thought about quitting?”

He can see you grow as stiff as a tree. Your back faces him, but he can still spot your reflection. Of course you looked absolutely lovely, but there was something different about…God. He doesn’t even know what to call it. 

“I’m not quitting.”

The Austrians' lips form a thin line; shoes clicking against the floor even more. A boom of lighting fills the room as you flinch. He smiles slowly. “Right—not yet, at least. Not until you move to Monaco.”

More heavy silence. “Sure.”

Now he’s worried. Strolling closer to you, he brushes his warm hand against your shoulder, kissing your exposed skin. “What is it?”

His heart stops when he notices you blinking back tears; bloodshot eyes tracing his tall figure. His first assumption is the most obvious; your mother and Connor. They had probably done something, said something, and now they’ve got you—

“I’m taking the car. See you later.”

He blinks. The cold demeanor was something unusual on your behalf, but leaving without a goodbye kiss was alarming. Toto tries to suppress his feelings with a bottle of scotch, but nothing seems to work. He has to see you. 

Gathering his wallet and house keys, he strides out the door before he spots his laptop wide open. As soon as he returned, he would have to answer endless emails, but for now, that wasn’t his priority. Inching closer, he reaches down to slap it shut when his pulse runs cold.

We should think about Jack.

He’s too young to understand anything of what’s going on, Suse.

Let’s just try one last time. I swear I’ll change. 

I love you. 

He knew instantly; you had read the messages. He had sent them, there's no doubt, but that was so long ago. The date was right there; all before he met you. Before opening up to you. But he doubts you spared enough time to spot the tiny detail. You saw his texts and that’s all; the rest was blocked.

Toto’s palms get sweaty, ears burning red, and heart racing faster than a fucking F1 car. How must you feel? You had made him promise that he wouldn’t hurt you and now this? The confusion was completely explainable, but he had to get to you fast.

It’s as if he owns the place, marching fiercely past the open doors that swing once they spot the Austrian. NDA’s were rather foolish when it comes to him now because he just held that much power. That much respect. But he can’t think of why something feels off.  You were hurt, and he felt awful, but no…there’s something else. As if there were an actual wolf lurking deep in the woods; ready to pounce. The hair in the back of his neck stands up, goosebumps forming, and eyes flickering all over the rich club, hoping to find you.

“Hey,” he pants when he spots the familiar redhead. Foxy lives up to her name because her laser glare has him scared for his life. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance before strutting away, a row of men following. The Austrian pushes past them all, pleading just like any other, but for a completely different reason. “Have you seen, Peaches?”

“Yes.”

“Great! Where is she?”

“Around.” 

The dancer beams at the group of businessmen who relax against their seat, hunting down without shame. They wore wedding bands, but who cared, right? Toto’s large hand grasps her wrist, tugging her away as she gasps, causing a commotion. He doesn’t care, he just has to find you.

Brown eyes glimmer threateningly but also soft because they’re both aware he needs her, for she only knows where to find you. “Listen, I know she told you what happened, but it was all some misunderstanding! The messages..they were sent to my ex-wife a long time ago. Before any of this, I swear…you have to believe me.”

Foxy narrows her thin brows, digging a sharp nail against his toned chest. “No, you listen—Peaches is one of the sweetest girls I have ever met; she's my other half, so when you hurt her…” A beat. “That’s it. She doesn’t forgive.”

His shoulders drop like an avalanche. “B-but it was a...you don’t mean that.”

The redhead struts away, long legs prancing like a vixen. “Believe me; don’t believe me—I don’t care. Just leave her alone.”

But he can’t do that anymore, he's in too deep. No matter how many times Foxy cursed him to leave, he just wouldn't. He would explain. Even if it were that last thing he did. All's fair after that. 

“Mr. Wolff?” A red drink is extended out towards him kindly, to which he shakes his head with a forced smile. If you can even call it that. He’s sure he looks awful, dressed in all black, but it perfectly represented him for who he is and how he was feeling. It’s almost as if he were ready to show up to a funeral. 

As time ticks at a snail's pace, he grows more nauseous. There’d be a moment where you see him and he doesn’t know how you would react. Fuck—he doesn’t know how he would, either. To some it may be embarrassing to weep in front of a group of worldly men, but if you looked at him a certain way where he knew it was over? He’d be the first, and without hesitation or shame. 

He’s come to recognize your set as fast as a racing strategy. The stage would light up a soft yellow; swallow the room like the early sun. The piano keys would start off slow, taunting, and almost sinister—Yayo. And of course, you’d prance around like a broken angel, wings brushing your hair like his long fingers would.

But this is strange.

He’s too busy analyzing the colorful club when the lights burn black, only the glass box raining a bright red. He doesn’t even recognize it’s you. 

The intro isn’t the notorious piano lullabies, but rather scratchy violins. Million Dollar Man slithers across the crowded room like a venomous snake, waiting to strike anyone who doesn’t lay their attention on them. 

And this time, you’re no angel, you’re no devil. You’re both. It’s confusing and alarming, but also beautiful and breathtaking. While your dress is cotton white, your makeup is dark and tempting, lips dark red. Your knee socks are tied with a simple ribbon, making men drool like some type of fuckery. You look miserably broken. If anyone were to guess, then they’d say that you’re high off drugs, but that’s not the case. You're high off heartbreak. 

And the simple necklace you wear, with his marriage ring attached to it, is a pelluid indication. Even if it was new level petty.

Toto is in such a trance that he doesn’t even feel when a group of hands push him to sit down, eager to have a clear view of their own. They all secretly envy the Austrian when they notice that he had landed himself the best seat in the house without even trying. 

So, was it fate to be sitting here, in front of you? Was it fate to have met, then hurt you without the means? The music is almost terrifying, along with your black wings and white halo. All of this is utterly puzzling; was he supposed to be into this, or fear it? Was he supposed to feel his heartbeat in the pit of his stomach, drumming against his ribcage, or was he supposed to be at ease? But most important; would you spare him this time to apologize, or would you kick him out of your life? The last notion scared him the most as he sat like a tired soldier, brown eyes blinking to where you start to seductively twirl.

I don’t know how you convince them and get them. Shiny legs drag behind your delicate figure as your eyes roam the room, sighing with every lustful stare. This is purely pathetic, it didn’t make you feel the way you intended for it to do, but shit. All you wanted to do was flee the state and never look back. But there were too many things tying you back; Foxy, Ro, Rosie…A stinging sensation begins to form behind your orbs and you fiercely blink them away, refusing for the thought of Toto to be what brings you down. 

But in a moment like this, what were you supposed to think about? Toto was many things; devilishly, cunningly handsome, tempting, brilliant, intoxicating; but he was also a fucking no-good, professional heartbreaker, a screwed up man who roamed earth without a sense of direction, who truly never deserved to fall in love again, especially with someone was tainted and loyal as you—

But the eyes don't lie. He’s become known by you; someone in your favorite book whom you look for in every page, despite it all. His orbs remind you of your favorite kind of dark chocolate, swirly and dreamy; enough to make you swoon, but they’re filled with more than just that. They’re desperate, as if ready to run endless miles if that's what it took for you to speak to him. They’re loopy, blazing nervously when you spot him, brows knitted with concern.

And he deserves it…you think.

Still, that doesn’t stop your stomach from churning, causing you to panic at the thought of spilling your lunch in front of everyone eyeing the glass box you're hidden behind; it could only ever do so much. Everyone can see your usually tantalizing persona fly out the window, a frail—shattered—girl taking your place. 

He’s tricked you. He made you let your guard down, let him in, and then ramshackled you whole; and he hadn’t been nice about it either. How could you have ever thought he would choose you over someone who actually held his kid for nine months? You had seen the messages that sunny morning; birds chirped, flowers bloomed. He had been busy doing God knows what, and when his bright laptop dinged, you couldn’t help but peek. As you once told him; you loved gossip.

Jack is asking if you remember where he last left his stuffed bear? You know, the one with the white spots? 

Susie. You had heard a lot about her—you’ve read, a lot, too— she was someone to admire. Helped create a path of perseverance for young girls; it was astonishing. The thought of Jack made you smile, then the bear, then her. Which is why you aimlessly scrolled once, playfully, and then you came to a rude halt. 

If someone were to grovel that way for you, you would helplessly fall for it. Fuck, he pratically begged for a second chance. Heat weaved through your body, anger rising, and then falling cruelly with a sense of undeniable ache. You had cried; sobbed. Then you got ready for work.

When he had asked what was wrong, you wanted to stab him with the nearby knife, and the thought scared you half to death. You could tell he was deeply wounded by the cold shoulder, but why the fuck should you care? 

Here—in Machiavellian Nights—trapped behind a transparent case, with disgusting men eyefucking you, you realize; there’s no place to run. An attraction is what you are; tourists are what they all represent. Toto’s massive figure swallowed his seat whole, long legs spread open naturally. And you hate it how handsome he looks, dark clouds painting his usually happy eyes. His chest dances up and down, wrestling to catch a breath. The hollers make him flinch in the slightest, grimacing.

The Austrian is apologizing, cryptically. I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry. His lips aren't moving, but you can hear his pleads as the music continues. 

C’mon! Dance, someone demands from afar, rough hand smacking the glass. Gasping, you purse your lips, continuing. Ignorance is horrible; especially coming from you. The idea of going on without you feel like a nightmare—torture. He tries standing up, and he doesn’t really know what his game plan is exactly in order to get to you, but heads turn and harsh arms force him back down. 

It isn’t that hard, boy. To like you, or love you. It was as if you got yanked back into what is truly your reality. You can’t have good things in life. Your father hadn’t died—he had abandoned you. Your mother did too. And Toto…

Toto Wolff was just the same.

You’re glad no one can hear you choking back on tears, you wouldn't dare to fall. But emotions were running high, your throat felt raw, your eyes stung, knees felt wobbly, and it was too much. But aside from your hurt, an eerie feeling hugged your chest, forcing your rib cage to poke you as a warning. You allow yourself to look back up, rapidly scanning the unlit room. Everything was blurry—which didn’t help—but what was it?

You’re no longer focused; your legs sway, your gartner slides down, your nose is starting to get runny, and it was all a mess. Connecting your gaze back to his, you narrow them down like deathly blades. This is all your fault, they scream at him, enraged. If you hadn’t walked into my life, then I wouldn’t be this way. 

You’re screwed up and brilliant. 

“You fucking ruined me!” Running towards the glass, you violently slap and punch, over and over until you no longer feel any pain. Red bruises form rather quickly and everyone begins to murmur.

Look like a million dollar man.

“I hate you, Toto Wolff!” Muffled whimpers flow like a waterfall as everyone turns to face the fifty-two year old who sits with a hurt expression. 

“I can explain,” he pleads, instantly rising up to his scary height and rushing over to where you’re caged. His large hand pathetically grasps it, fingerprints painting the shiny protection between you and him. “Sweetheart…”

So why is my heart broke?

“I’ll regret you for the rest of my—”

Chaos ensues; the volcano erupts. It’s suffocating, the way everyone tramples over one another, scattering like lab rats. The yells of terror make his blood run ice cold, swiftly turning around to face the open room. Foxy lets out a scream filled with agony as she crawls over to the stage. Acid slides down her face, makeup running. The other dancers run to hide where the bartender stands with his mouth wide open, orbs flickering with urgency. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but he has to get you out of here.

“Open it!” Foxy cries, hands hitting the clear box so forcefully that her nails begin to chip, light gore beginning to slide down. “Open the fucking stage right now!” She lets out a string of pleas, but no one is listening—they can’t even try to with all the loud noise. The alarms go off and that’s what snaps him out of his spot of confusion and what makes her cry and fall back against her arms.

The glass isn’t shattered like in the movies, all over the floor, no. There’s just a singular hole, scratches circling around it—and spikes of blood coloring the crystal clear mirror. 

Even with eyes closed, face sticky with tears, and blood spurting out of your mouth and chest, pooling around your angelic body, you were still beautiful. The ring lays flat atop your unbeating heart, shining one last time against the cherry lights. You were gone as soon as the bullet hit, but Toto was the last person you had seen. And you wish you had time to tell him you never meant any of it. You could never hate him; you loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

“I…no. No. No.” Fists punch urgently, cuts finding a place in his pale skin. “Open it!” More pounds. “Let her out! Why is no one letting her out?” Trepidation sleeks over him as he stops his actions, taking a second to look at you. Your dark wings had somehow turned darker, your white dress is now drowned in crimson red, your halo is no longer on your head, and your lively skin is now ghostly pale, almost gray. “Peaches…” His voice quivers so much, he almost doesn't realize it's coming from him. “Get up, sweetheart—come on, just stand.”

His chest tightens when you go unresponding. “T-think about Rosie! She loves you; she needs you. I need you,” he declares, voice cracking. “The text messages are a mishap! I only love you, Peaches, that’s all! I swear I do, I swear it’s you…”

He dreads to turn around and face what was now his life. The music cuts, but the frightful screams continue. Toto blinks back the stingy feeling as he flickers up to make eye contact with who’s responsible for ripping you away from him.

You share the same eyes, but hers are sullen now. Her hair looks as if it could have once been glossy, but is now as dry as the desert. Her lips are nastily chapped, but an uncanny curl slips through as she ticks anxiously when Ro and the rest of the guards hold her without an ounce of remorse, cuffing skinny, needled wrists.

Your mother looks down at the gun, at her daughter, then at Toto. An unhinged stare strikes her impentent face.

“I brought her into this world…I can also take her out.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

#toto wolff #toto wolff smut #toto wolff angst #toto wolff blurb #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff x oc #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one x you #mercedes amg f1 #formula one x y/n #formula one x oc

[generalsmemories]

The general's hair

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ based on the ask: "If requests are open, can I request Reader tugging Jing Yuan's hair to keep him from dozing or just wanted him to pay attention? You can choose the "severity" of the tug =DD" requested by anonymous

✧ content: established relationship, fluff, suggestive scenes (not nsfw, but you can tell it's hinting at it lmfao), humor, mentions of other characters

✧ a/n: dear lord we almost hit 500 jing yuan lovers. as he deserves, truly. thank you all for liking my two works so far!! here's another one while i still work on the lenghty angst fic of mine hehe. p.s please don't question my titles, i am very much terrible at them-

One of Jing Yuan's striking features is his voluminous hair that adorns his head like a lion's mane. Tied into a high half ponytail while the rest of his locks flow freely down to his shoulders. It's eye catching for sure, with a red ribbon securing the ponytail in place, it's hard to not turn one's head when he takes a walk outside of the divine seat to escape his duties. 

You're well aware of how tempting his hair is to touch everyone. It's the one thing you always reach for whenever you're bored after all.

The first thing you always do whenever he's fresh out of a shower is brush it out while running your fingers through it, or make sure every drop of soap reaches every strand when you take a bath together. A pastime activity Jing Yuan adores doing with you, almost sounding like he's purring in delight whenever you take some extra time to massage his scalp while you wash his hair.

It's also the first thing you would always grab onto to ground yourself when Jing Yuan wants to show his love for you more intimately and passionately. Your primary instinct to pull his strands while trying to get him so much closer to you, a breathless plea for him leaving your lips every now and then. Your husband takes great pleasure from this, merely chuckling while leaning down to press his lips to your ears. Gently telling you to breathe while pressing himself closer to your own sweaty body. During these moments his hair cascades down the side of his face, making him seem a lot more ethereal than usual. And while you can hardly breathe from the sensory overload you always somehow manage to slide your fingers from his lips to thread through his hair with a wry smile, whispering how beautiful he is.

His hair has unfortunately for him recently become the thing you have pulled whenever you notice him start to doze around whether that be in meetings or in general. It was initially something you had done out of desperation since no matter how many times you told him to listen, your husband would already nod off a few minutes after promising you that he wouldn't. Whenever you had complained he has joked that your voice was too soothing to listen to regarding reports that he could fall asleep to it.

So you tried to let one of the cloud knights or Qingzu deliver the reports to thwart that, but then he would downright not pay any attention at all. Which would make some meetings run longer than normal.

God forbid if Fu Xuan even tried to attempt to deliver a report, lest she wanted to get poked fun at or have more people fall asleep other than the general.

So while you were trying yet again to give a report for the general, you were suddenly struck with the memory of one of the many nights you had spent together. The nights where the general would look so much more awake whenever you pulled at his hair from desperation.

… Hey if it worked there, it should have some sort of effect now too, right?

So without looking too suspicious, you went behind the seat. When you passed Jing Yuan's laid back form, your available hand that was not holding the papers reached out to the same high ponytail you had just tied a few hours before and pulled with enough strength that made his head jerk away from his resting hand.

A surprised moan suddenly rang out throughout the Divine Foresight.

And you thanked the Aeons that the only ones present at that moment were the same guards stationed at the very entrance and Qingzu, who only gave you a deadpanned look.

But when Jing Yuan turned to look at you, more awake than he had ever been in any morning and eyes filled with confusion, you were sure you had hit the jackpot to make every meeting go faster. 

Good news for you and everyone else, not so good news for Jing Yuan though.

“The second matter of the day is the replacement of the newly appointed Cloud Knights who will be transferred to the Luofu from another fleet…”

“Ouch- Dear, pull my hair any harsher than that and I’m afraid you won’t have any strands to brush out in the near future,” Jing Yuan whines when your hand lets go of his high ponytail when he has successfully sobered up from his nth impromptu nap of the day.

You merely glance over at him with a raised eyebrow before walking away, “General, please be aware that you have a meeting with Lady Fu Xuan in a couple of minutes and these are just the briefings of what she will tell you personally,” you respond back, Jing Yuan letting out a huff as he leans back into his seat, rubbing the spot you had just pulled a few minutes ago with knitted eyebrows.

“... Let alone something to grab later tonight-”

“Jing Yuan.”

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x you #star rail x reader #hsr x you #jing yuan x reader #x reader #reader insert

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* I'll keep you warm (Yandere!Lynx Shifter X GN!Reader)

CW: Intense temperature exposure , Yandere behavior, dub-con, dead dove, imprisonment/abduction

Inspired by @lonelyafacy 's monster suggestion ❤️

Mother Nature was a cruel and indifferent witch, unforgiving towards those foolish enough to tread her wilderness. (Reader) smacked their dying flashlight, becoming numb to the harsh winter cold through their snowsuit.

The weather had turned for the worse, changing from a snowy winter's day into a blizzard that lasted into the night, separating (Reader) from their group. Their lips were stuck together with frozen blood, and their eyes could barley stay open. The snow coming down was deceptively sharp, nicking their cheeks above the slipping scarf and turning their skin into fragile paper.

Although they pushed on, trying to use the stars amongst the flurry of white as their guide, their limbs were losing their feeling, and (Reader) was beginning to wonder if it was worth the battle. The flashlight flickered again as though it could hear their thoughts. (Reader's) knees buckled, causing them to collapse by the base of a tree. They pulled their limbs in under their body, and fell unconscious, incapable of keeping themselves awake through the cold.

Am I dead?

(Reader) smelled something cooking before they realized they felt warmth. They hadn't been anywhere near civilization, so the first semi coherent thought they had was that they had died and this was heaven. Until their muscles began twitching in pain. A large hand pressed (Reader) back into a mound of furs when they forced themselves to move. The hand was warm and strong, even through the blankets (Reader) could feel it.

"Sleep." A gravelly voice commanded.

(Reader) kept their eyes closed, face mostly buried in the cloud like bedding. "Where am I?"

"My home. I found you outside." The unknown man responded while moving around the home, floorboards creaking under his weight. "Sleep more. It'll hurt less." His sentences were short and curt, but (Reader) didn't mind. Whoever he was had saved their life, so he couldn't be too bad of a person. (Reader) fell asleep again.

After thirteen hours (Reader) woke up and was able to sit up without pain, still feeling exhausted despite sleeping for such a long time. Their stomach hurt from hunger. "Hello?" They called out for whoever had rescued them.

A giant entered into view, wearing a hood that obscured his face from (Reader). He held out a wooden bowl filled with some kind of stew. "Can you eat?"

(Reader) reached out from the blankets, immediately going into shock when they saw their own naked arms. "Where are my clothes?"

"Drying. You think I'd put you sopping wet in my bed?"

Embarrassed, (Reader) turned red, ashamed for doubting their hero for even a second. They grabbed the bowl, thanking the man quietly.

"The blizzard has gotten worse. Even I can't leave right now. Once the storm has passed I'll point you in the direction you need to go. Until then, stay warm. Heal up."

"...Thank you."

"You already said that."

"That was for the food. Thank you for saving me."

Although he had his back turned to (Reader) they could see him tense under their words. (Reader) assumed he was uncomfortable with their presence, based on how he kept his face hidden. "My name is (Reader)."

"You don't need to know my name." The man's response was almost panicked, growling as he stormed out of the room.

(Reader) was left upset over the fact that they seemed to anger their savior. He must be anti social..

They finished the bowl of stew and waited under the fur blankets, unable to take care of their dish without walking around in the nude. After some time he returned, taking the bowl without a word, his hand seemed huge in comparison to (Reader's).

"Thank you." They smiled up politely, hoping he was looking. The man shuddered again, hurrying away with the bowl. (Reader) cleared their throat. "Are my clothes dry yet?"

"Your jacket was frozen solid when I found you. It took a few hours just to thaw. Everything is still damp."

"Why were you outside in this weather?"

"I was on my way back from some last minute hunting and gathering."

"Ah, I see. Thank you. Again."

"There is no need to thank me." His body seemed to relax. (Reader) smiled, hoping that this meant they were wearing him down.

"You saved my life. I got separated from my friends and couldn't find my way in the dark. I would have died out there if it wasn't for you." (Reader) spoke as sincerely as they could. "You're my hero."

He took a deep breath. "I have... lived alone for a very long time. No one knows that I am here. I almost... left you, when I found you."

(Reader's) heart grew heavy with guilt. "I promise I won't tell anyone about you." They briefly imagined that under his cloak was a kind of Quasimodo esque being, who risked his identity to save them.

Even without seeing his face the man seemed surprised, turning to (Reader) and staring from under his hood.

"Cain."

(Reader) gave a large toothy grin. "It's nice to meet you, Cain."

They sat together in a strangely comfortable silence, before a gurgle reminded (Reader) that, unfortunately, they were still human. "Do you have a restroom?"

His relaxed demeanor stiffened again. "It is.. down the hall." He quickly handed an oversized shirt to (Reader) before turning his back for privacy, and pointes in the direction of the facilities.

(Reader) threw the shirt on without thinking too much about it, and painfully hopped to the toilet. The building was a cozy little cabin, (Reader) was just now realizing, with pictures hung up on the wall of a family. They wondered if it was Cain's family. But the need to go was stronger than their curiosity.

They collapsed onto the toilet before realizing that there was an odd smell in the bathroom. It wasn't the normal bad stench of a toiletries, but it smelled rotten.

In the corner of the room was a pile of clothes, and other than that the restroom seemed to be empty, with nothing that could be causing such a smell standing out to (Reader). (Reader) didn't want to be snoopy, but... They finished hurriedly, praying that Cain couldn't hear them, and picked up the clothing. The clothes were heavy, torn into shreds and soaked in old, dried blood. A chill ran down (Reader's) spine. Cain didn't want anyone to know he was here. He considered leaving me to die to keep that secret.

How far could I make it in just a shirt?

They left the restroom, trying their best to appear normal. The family on the walls taunted them. Did the blood belong to one of them?

Cain sat by the fire, still hiding under his cloak. Next to him was (Reader's) clothes, hung up on the back of a chair. Maybe I'm just jumping to conclusions. (Reader) sighed, placing a hand on their heart to muffle it's pounding. He still saved me.

(Reader) touched their shirt, feeling the warm dampness and was relieved, because it meant Cain hadn't been lying about that at least. "How long do you think this storm will last?"

"Hopefully just the night. It could last up to a week though."

They shivered at the thought. "Do you have a couch I can sleep on? I wouldn't want to take your bed. Again."

"You can take the bed."

"I'm really fine-"

"Take the bed."

(Reader) could feel the adrenaline shoot to the tips of their toes. "O-okay." Although there was a smile on their face, the previous comfort they felt around Cain was dead. They had trusted him so much simply because he rescued them that they had forgotten that Cain was still a stranger.

Cain grabbed (Reader's) wrist as they passed, his hand engulfing their forearm with his inhumanly large mits. The air became heavy, and (Reader) could feel their arm sweating in his strong grasp.

"Your hand smells like blood."

Frightened, (Reader) smacked at Cain with their free hand, knocking his hood back. Although his face looked only a few years older than (Reader) his shaggy hair was a light grey, and atop his head were two pointed ears, pressed back against his scalp. If it weren't for the coloration, (Reader) CO m wouldn't have noticed the ears at all with how flatly they laid against his head. Shocked, he released (Reader's) arm, giving them enough time bolt out the front door, back into the blizzard.

Snowflakes pierced their skin as they ran, and the warmth they had gained in the cabin was gone the moment they left it's protective embrace, robbed by the harsh environment. Barefoot, (Reader) ran in a random direction, not capable of rational thought. With fight, flight, or freeze, they learned in that moment what kind of person they were.

Between the clouds masking the stars and the onslaught of snow, (Reader) was left completely blind. Without any clothes it felt like their muscles were shredding in their legs. (Reader's) legs gave out much more easily than they had the first time.

(Reader) could barely hear Cain's footsteps above the roar of the wind. Through the trees a large grey monster stalked into view, walking on its hind legs like a man, it's terrifying size was more reminiscent of a bear's. It's ears were flattened, and there was an almost human like expression of disappointment on its face.

"What were you thinking, running off into the woods?" It's voice was hoarse, but it was recognizably Cain's.

As he approached his fur receded, shrinking back down into his more human form, still with animal ears, now naked in the snow. He bent over (Reader's) violently shivering form as they crumbled.

"Did you forget that there was a storm?"

(Reader's) eyes stung as they tried to cry. "Please don't kill me." They weakly pleaded.

"Why would I save you, only to kill you later?" His warm breath thawed (Reader's) cheek. "You were unconscious for a long time when I found you. I thought you were dead. Unlike myself, you needed shelter suitable for a human. So I took one. I didn't have time to clean up everything. I needed to bring back everything I had caught to begin preparing a meal for when you awoke and making it comfortable for when I would eventually make you mine, so I was hoping that you would understand. That I killed them for you."

Cain's hot tongue licked (Reader's) cheek, the juxtaposition between the extreme cold and his sudden warmth made their skin feel like it was being torn off. (Reader) gasped out in pain, too cold to scream.

"I really did almost leave you in the snow. Because what if you left? Found out what I was and told the other humans? But look at you... Were you even conscious when you begged me to save you? Or was that your body acting on its own?" Cain got onto his knees, his skin searing (Reader's) flesh. His fingers digging into their shoulders felt like flames dancing across their body. Each touch from Cain burned. It was neither comforting nor pleasant.

"Ah, but now you're nearly frozen, yet again. Do you want me to warm you up?" Everytime Cain shifted his weight above (Reader), they were exposed to the blistering wind. As the parts of them hidden under Cain's body warmed up in his unnatural heat, the more excruciating the exposure to the outside was.

Tears melted (Reader's) fragile eyes. "Please, warm me up, Cain." Their primitive need for survival made (Reader) beg like a pathetic coward.

The loving smile on Cain's face was brief, before his face began shifting, becoming the humanoid monster he was moments earlier. Dwarfing the terrified human, he ran his rough tongue across their cold body, purposely allowing their body to freeze without his touch before warming (Reader) back up. He relished in the needy whimpers escaping (Reader's) lips as they suffered in the deadly temperature. (Reader) grasped at Cain's fur, trying to pull him in to steal his heat.

Clawed paws grabbed (Reader's) thighs, pressing their knees to their head uncomfortably. (Reader's) eyes widened in horror as Cain revealed his cock, resting it across their exposed bottom. They didn't have time to protest before their body was folded into a mating press, no preparation for their tightened hole, no warning to help them relax. Cain pressed his tip to the opening, and snapped his hips into (Reader's), thrusting in his entire member without lubricant.

Cain's dick was already hot, but with the added pain of the sudden insertion it was like being fucked by an iron poker. The scream (Reader) couldn't find earlier now ripped through their throat, the sound of their agony drowned out by the howling wind.

(Reader) pushed Cain away in surprise, but immediately regretted the action when he playfully leaned back, allowing (Reader's) chest to be assaulted by the snow and hail pelting them from all sides. They pulled him back, cringing at how Cain chuckled in their ear.

He fucked them in the snow, pressing deep into their gut painfully, and humiliating (Reader) further by licking away their tears as they sobbed under his body, incapable of pushing him away. Cain could stop at any moment, but the threat of frost bite kept (Reader) latching onto him, begging him not to let go. Their desperate cries only encouraged Cain to continue teasing them, watching with glee as their skin chapped and bled without his touch.

"It hurts..." (Reader) moaned as they pulled him in deeper.

"If you keep whining like that you'll only make me cum faster." Cain threatened, biting (Reader's) neck to hold in a gasp when they tightened around him. Their knees smacked into their temples as his pace sped up, his twitching cock threatening to release deep inside (Reader).

"No! Don't cum inside me!" (Reader) blubbered into the monster's fur.

(Reader) felt a wave of heat blast inside them as Cain pumped his thick load into their raw hole. As they wept loudly Cain continued happily smacking his wet pelvis into his beloved's, just the action of fucking his seed into them turning him on again.

Cain was already planning their futures together, as (Reader) imagined their death. This wouldn't be so bad, fucking (Reader) like this; purposefully keeping them needy so they clung to him like they wanted it.

Maybe one day, (Reader) would love him in the same way as Cain loved them, and would beg Cain to make love to them, but for now, he was content fucking them like a desperate, wild animal.

Blood from the wind burns and from the tearing from rough sex stained the white white under their bodies. Cain turned back into a human so he could kiss (Reader) passionately, taste their mouth salty from their tears.

"Let's go home, (Reader)."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #cw dubcon #tw dubcon #rough cnc #gender neutral reader #minors dni #romance #bad writing #smut #dead dove do not eat

[getodrools]

angry sex with nanami but he’s usually always a sweetheart to you…. do you see my vision 🌚

ᯓ★ warnings. mdni | f! reader | pwp, veryy angry desk sex, he's veryy passive-aggressive, slight bondage ( his tie ), gag ( readers panties sob ), spanking, orgasm denial, edging-ish, cum shot.

NANAMI IS TOO BUSY for this attitude. Of course, reminding you that too—Well, twice too many now, “It's such an inconvenience when you start this, sweetheart.” Gentle voice soothing to ears, but the hard press of his cockhead nudging an unfathomable wreck into your pussy aches.

Nanami sighs… a mix with the adrenaline of pumping an angry hard-on into gummy walls and crude annoyance. He had a growing mean boner, the kind that was pent up from frustration and was filled with the need to ooze it out into you – throbbing to show you why giving him his time to work is very important!

Yet, you lived to act up—to be a brat, and scoot his papers away for his attention. Tsk tsk, he'd remind you how those very papers is what gets you spoiled if he turns them in… But the way you kept weeping and groaning, even flicking his items off his desk, tugging at his pant leg, and closing his laptop right in the middle of an email! Toiled his very last nerve with you.

“Don't you start.” Your wanton moans turned into whines, well from what he could hear through the soiled panties stuffed between your lips, “Weren’t you just bothering me for this? So take it.” Oh but you were trying!

It's just that having your ass—now littered in clear marks of his fingerprints—hanging off the very edge of his desk – you so toyed with, was growing an everlong pit in your tummy… Knees folded and pressing into cold marble, chest mushed too, even with wrists wrapped in a knot; folded into his mottled tie behind your back, you couldn't cease his onslaught for a breather.

The twist in limbs made ease for Nanami to fuck right up into you. Straining your arms back further as he’d snatch up the knot to force your body with his, and at each drag of his strong hips, the log of meat would fill your pussy right out.

Dammnit! This time was his working time!

When the clock ticked a ringing minute, it'd remind him of all the paperwork he should be filling out right now! But having your spoiled self balled up and cluttering his desk instead of work, he couldn't help but prowl even harder.

Shaking his head like a disappointed dad, “Maybe if you didn't always bother me, I might get work done on time,” He swears he's growing greys, “And then maybe, we'd have more time together, and this wouldn't have—” A clammy palm strikes a fierce bolt down the crack of your ass, “To happen.” And another… Nanami is a very patient man, especially when it comes to you, but today was a damn busy day!

Muffling out pleas, your eyes flutter at the meddling thwacks scratching down bare skin.

He was furious. Upset, annoyed, all of the above. And when tightend balls swung into your puffy hood, eliciting wet claps had your sappy entrance weeping. The deep strokes made all of you shiver, and vile swats to your backside was expressing it all very vividly… Let alone from the obvious and the mean clamor in his voice each time he'd grunt out exactly why you were pissing him off…

Your head bobbed like a damn bobblehead, like the very one on his desk you were just poking at—but dangling off the edge, the design of the carpet below you began to whirl and swirl around. Mind boggling at the tight clench your pussy ceases with as Nanami barrels into your core. You were on the brink of being a broken damn— a flood ready to just spurt out, but the selfish man unplugs your little hole.

“Nu-uh.” Worming himself out – almost hesitantly, but he stuck to the lesson you needed… sticky, translucent webs glob around his thick base as driplets trickle-down your knobbly thighs; shaking at how close you've got to cloud nine and beyond…

Heaving through sappy fabric mashed between teeth, you slump down, whining. Kicking your toes Nanami chuckles at your little shimmy.

“Oh? You don't like it when you can't get something done?” The irony in his voice irked your gears right off!

With sobs falling pliant to deaf ears, he was too busy mashing himself between your ridden and swollen doughy globes to finish himself off. Slipping with your muck and sliding between torn cheeks, he rushes down against your body; nth inches throbbing in bitterness and grinding against your perk holes ‘till hot cum shot out his rubbery tip. Feeling his messy high splatter a thick pool down the curvature of your back, whining to feel yours, but as shot after shot trickled against your skin, reality settled.

Expecting forehead kisses and apologies to his roughness, maybe even a warm bath… but Nanami tucked himself back into his pants, pulled his chair up, and turned his computer back on.

… Long, dreading hours of being trapped in that burly position on the corner of his desk was rotten of him! – He went right back to work! Leaving you folded with cum drying out into your skin as your pussy oozed out in the bare open, still hanging right off the uncomfortable ledge of his desk…

Nanami acted like you weren't even there. Those taps on his computer and soft hums were antagonizing as you were wriggled limp and helplessly right next to him.

That snobby, spoiled little attitude was surely fixed…

<– BACK: PINNED ⊹ ࣪ ˖ NEXT: MORE NANAMI –>

#🌐 𝐿𝒜𝒱𝐼𝐼 𝒲𝑅𝐼𝒯𝐸𝒮! #ᝰ kento nanami! #nanami smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kento nanami #jjk nanami #nanami x reader

[luveline]

hi hello!! I want to say I absolutely adore and love your writing and have for a few years now! I have a steve request (could fit with kbd or not!) (also so self indulgent lol) where reader grew up with a very emotionally distant father and was determined to make her own family so different than the one she grew up with, and sees steve be so kind and loving towards their children and is so happy her kids won’t feel how she does with her own father and thanks him for being wonderful 🫶🏽 sorry so long and personal but i know you would write this so beautifully!!

thank u for requesting! dad!steve x mom!reader, 1.4k

“What do you want to get your sister for her birthday?” 

You can barely hear his whispering, let alone Avery’s response. “We want…” she’s lisping and listing, unfamiliar with her own voice even as her vocabulary grows, “to get her… um, a big teddy bear.” 

“How big?” Steve whispers back. 

You hold Bethie’s face above your shoulder, your arm around her, the other patting the base of her spine. She’s getting heavy, but she’s only little. She can barely speak, only mumble nonsense into your neck as she fights sleep. “Shh, shh,” you shush her gently. “It’s okay, Bethie.” 

Across the landing, Avery and Steve lay on their stomachs in her room. There’s a pad of paper between them and crayons spilled rainbow across the carpet. Steve draws without looking up; he’s a brilliant artist even now he doesn’t have time for it. Avery chokes a purple crayon with each of her fingers and draws a huge jagged line under his work. “What’s that?” he asks. 

“Lightning. I think we should get her a big teddy, like, big as your hands.” 

“That’s not big in terms of teddy bear, honey.” 

“Oh.” 

“What’s the lightning for?” 

“The cloud.” 

“You want me to draw some puddles?” 

She thinks Steve being able to draw things near immediately is as magical as the television, and the radio. Something seemingly out of nothing. She doesn’t understand how often he’d practise, didn’t see his box of sketchbooks, the hundreds of iterations of your face, your hands, the trees lining the street on the way to your first apartment, her baby wrinkles. 

“What else should we get for Beth?” 

“Um.” Avery pauses, lifting her face to Steve’s. An odd feeling swells when he immediately looks up from the paper pad to meet her eyes. He smiles at her. She smiles back. “Why are we smiling?” she asks eventually. 

“I’m just looking at you. You know you’re beautiful.” 

“I don’t know!” she says, immediately flustered. 

“Yes, you do. You’re sooo pretty, like mommy.” He reaches over to chuck her chin gently with his knuckle. “That’s why I’m smiling. Looking at you makes me happy.” 

“Looking at you makes me happy.” 

His chin tucks in gently. “It’s ‘cos we love each other.” 

“Yes,” Avery says, like she’d suggested it herself. “That’s what it is.” 

You feel Beth fall asleep though you can’t see her. She curls into you all warm and soft, her pyjamas and her hair tickling you, her soft snores damp against your shoulder. You press a kiss to her arm.

Laid to bed for the night, you dot another kiss onto Beth’s smooth forehead and turn out her light, shutting the door carefully so as not to make any noise. 

Avery and Steve are still on the floor, though she’s climbed over the pad to hug him. They look funny, both on their tummies, Steve’s long legs out. He’s sort of curling around her, his nose to the side of her neck, his one arm up on an elbow and the other behind her back. 

“I love you too,” he’s saying. 

“A lot.”

“Yeah, Avery. So much they don’t have a word for it.” 

“It’s a big feeling.” 

“Love is the biggest feeling.” 

She laughs as he starts to tip onto his side. One moment she’s on her belly and the next he’s pulled her onto his chest, totally corkscrewed her and then put her right. “Let’s stay here forever,” he says. 

You’re pretty sure your father would’ve had a heart attack rather than confess he liked you. It’s a weird thing to know you’re loved —to be told you’re loved without being told, to expect it because you should— but to feel the absence of it more strongly. Your father never would’ve laid down with you like that. He wouldn’t have kissed you behind the ear, or talked about big feelings without hesitation. He never looked after you like that. 

“Your back will hurt.”

“Avery, my back always hurts.” 

“Not good. You can go to the hospital.” 

“I don’t think I’ll go to hospital, I’ll,” —he feels you watching, and smiles at you as he tips his head to see you— “be okay without that. Maybe I’ll go to the doctor at his office instead.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” He rubs her back. “Thanks, honey.”

Later, after you’ve knelt down to draw with them for a while and Avery’s succumbed to the childhood pain of feeling sleepy, you’re sliding clean towels onto a shelf in the linen closet with Steve beside you choosing new sheets for the next two (or four depending on how busy things get) weeks. It’s not work that needs talking, and after a few years together you start to run out of things to say, but you decide you’ll fill it anyway. 

“Thanks.” 

“For what?” 

“You’re a good dad.”

Steve kisses your cheek, squeezing your arm as he bundles the new linens to his chest and passes back out of the closet. You follow him out. 

“Hey, I mean it,” you say. 

Steve looks at you in surprise. “Oh, sorry. That’s the miscommunication thing, right? I was supposed to say something, not just kiss you.” 

“No, I don’t need you to acknowledge me, Steve.” You laugh softly, “Just need you to know. You’re such a good dad. It means a lot to me that you’re so good because I know they can feel it. The girls.” You clear your throat. 

You hadn’t been expecting to get teary. Heat burns behind your eyes unbidden. 

Steve’s eyebrows jump. “You’re upset?” 

“It’s such a relief to know you’re you.” 

And Steve must understand how you feel about it, his parents stunningly absent for the majority of his teen years and even now. You don’t see them much, but when you do you’re greeted with handshakes and strange looks, like this is a blip in both of your lives. Like somehow your children will grow themselves and Steve can be the man they wanted him to be. He knows what it’s like to be alone and not enough. To miss the mark. To physically feel the space between you and the person who should love you most. 

He puts the linens on the end of the bed before standing in front of you. Your cheek is warm in his hand when he gives it a brief squeeze, your shoulder less so, your hand similarly cold. He threads your fingers together for a playful yank. “What are you thinking about?” he asks seriously. 

“Avery’s never gonna question if you love her.” 

He shakes his head. “Nope.” 

“You’re very emotionally mature.” 

“Wouldn’t say that.” 

“Me neither.” 

He looks tired tonight, hair falling into his eyes, t-shirt ill-fitting, rumpled at the hem, and his voice slightly scratchy as he murmurs, “Loving you makes me who I am, maybe you should be thanking yourself.” His lips twitch. “I should’ve said that at our wedding.” 

“You should’ve, I bet your mom would’ve cried.” 

“I doubt it.” 

He opens his arms invitingly, and you fall into one another for a quick, tight hug. You’d been expecting a longer embrace with a sweeter touch, but you know why he’s doing it this way: he doesn’t want to cry before bed, and the wound of your absent parents is a weary one. It’s taken too much time and energy from you both already. 

“Love you,” he says. 

You weasel your head back to take him in, savouring the stretch of his hands behind your shoulders and his genuine smile. “Biggest feeling in the world,” you say. 

“Liked that one?” he asks, encouraging your face back into his neck. “You gave me a family,” he adds, quieter, “I don’t really get how there are parents walking around who aren’t obsessed with their kids. I love them so much I can’t breathe sometimes. All i want is to make sure they know that… I was looking at Avery earlier and I couldn’t believe she was mine.”

“Steve.” 

“I think she has my two moles on her cheek. That’s crazy.” 

“What?” 

You and Steve creep into her bedroom to investigate. Sleeping, she’s his carbon copy, and sure enough, on her right cheek just adjacent to her lips, she has two small moles just like him. 

#kisses before dinner universe #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #afab!reader #mom!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff

[gomzwrites]

The taskforce 141 reactions to your display of jealousy

a/n: I’ve seen a fair amount of fics and writings that show them being jealous, but what if we are the ones that get jealous then? ;) 

In this fic, the reader is more like in denial sort of jealousy + first time feeling jealous kind of thing. I decided to do a mix of displays from reader, Price and Ghost are subtle, Soap and Gaz are more direct!

I might do another one where it's more action-based and possessive like reader beating the strangers up or something

also the relationship between reader and tf141 is not exactly publicly known :)  Notes:

dividers drawn by @gomzdraws (click for better resolution!)

reader's texts are in purple

Tags: xgn!reader, established relationship(basically already dating), incorrect military terms, implied nsfw but its sfw I swear, cursing

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Captain John Price

Captain Price has been going around giving meetings and distributing tasks as you follow along and help him carry the essential documents all day. In the last meeting, he will meet one of the operators to explain the upcoming missions. You decide to wait on the other side of the room as you watch the captain carry out his duty. 

Everything was fine as the conversation went on. You may be standing at a distance, but you can faintly hear the discussion. You can tell he is quite impressed with the soldier’s skill, and the exchange was beginning to be less serious as they started talking about things that were out of topic. You watch from the corner of your eyes as the person starts leaning closer, even cracking jokes as they pat John’s shoulder.

Well, whoever that is, they sure know how to butter the captain up.

You thought for a moment before internal cursing as you shook your head.

Get a grip; he is the captain; surely he knows what he’s do-

Your thoughts stop as you watch the person lean in and whisper something to John’s ears, and you notice how the Captain shifted slightly and cleared his throat. The soldier proceeded to shuffle something into his back pants pocket before leaving, even winking at him before the door was closed. 

What the fuck? 

You furrow your brows as you watch Captain sigh, walk back to his desk, and take his seat. You waited until he gestured for you to come to him with his hand, and you decided to act naturally as you organised the messy papers and reports on his table. 

This is not something you should be worried about in the first place, so don’t even bring it up. You say this to yourself internally as you take a seat next to him and read through the documents. But your mind keeps racing, and there's a burning feeling inside you, clouding your thoughts as you tap your finger softly on the table repeatedly.

"Y/N", the Captain said as he lifted your chin up. You followed his hand and slowly glanced up and stared at him with a hint of embarrassment. Did he find out what I was thinking already?

Yes, sir?

You answer back with the most steady voice you can muster at the moment. You watch as he softens his gaze and brushes your hair away. You recognise that look.

You’re not talking to the captain now; you’re talking to John.

He doesn't say a word as he takes out the paper from his back pocket and places it on the table. You try to maintain your composure and remain as calm as you can when you see a number scribbled on the paper, but you can't help but let out a cold glare at the paper for a second.

That piece of shi-

He taps your chin twice lightly as he grabs your attention again before running his hand down to your neck and resting it there. You know this signal, so you promptly hold out his favourite lighter that you carry around and light up his cigar. He hums appreciatively as he takes a drag and puffs out the smoke. 

He looks back at you, silently telling you to keep your eyes on his as he takes the cigar out of his lips, twisting it between his fingers before he rolls and holds the cigar vertically, the evenly burned red-orange cherry side at the end facing downward. You follow curiously before watching him plant it firmly on the paper, twisting it until a hole appears as he smiles and kisses your cheek.

"You know I’ll only look at you, sweetheart," he whispers with his deep, husky tone as you blush and glance away. 

You knew? You say it softly as he leans in and brushes your neck in slow circles as he nods and chuckles. 

"Course I do, I know everything about you," he said before taking another drag from his cigar as he smirked and leaned in closer.

"You look like you were about to punch that person in the face; it’s pretty hot, actually," he says as he watches you shake your head and roll your eyes lightly. 

Hot? Woah, who knew you liked me being violent? 

You joke back as he kisses your ears softly, feeling his beard tickling you as you sigh. He gives you a dark look, dipping his voice another octave lower as he moves his hand from your neck slowly down to your hip.

Oh, I love it when you get all rowdy and rough, especially if you’re doing it because of me, like last night, hm?

That instantly makes you go red as you give a nervous laugh and squirm in your seat at the memory. He gives you an amused look as he puts his hand on your waist and pulls you in closer. 

Well, it looks like tonight will be the same.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

John Soap MacTavish

You were idling around the base after just finishing healing from a previous mission. Technically,  you’re not supposed to move around so much, but you were already getting bored as you stared up at the same ceiling for days. You know Soap has been helping you out immensely by practically moving into your room and keeping you company. But he went on a mission and won’t return until today, so you decided to sneak out of the room and brew yourself a cup of tea. You hum as you take in the smell and sigh. 

This is certainly better than water, that’s for sure

you think to yourself before deciding to walk around and explore the base. Well,  just glancing around to see if there’s anything new that has happened. That’s when you spotted a few jeeps with a group of people and a few regular faces you recognised: Ghost, Gaz, Price, and your boyfriend Soap getting down from the vehicle. You wanted to wave and call out to Soap before noticing someone else beside him, but what really caught your attention was the jacket the person was wearing; it was his jacket. Your favourite jacket of his. 

You stop dead in your tracks from a distance as your grip on the tea mug tightens. You observe as Soap and the gang talk and laugh, you know like they always do post-mission, and yet something just doesn’t seem right for you as you fixate your gaze on the person that has been clinging to Soap, wrapping their hands around his arm as they also joke along. You can see Soap politely patting their arms away as he bumps their shoulder.

Right, he’s doing something about it. You thought to yourself before you quickly went back to your room. You knew Soap wouldn't do anything that would upset you, but yet you couldn’t shake that thought away—the thought of someone else whirling him away. You hate it; whatever it is that you’re feeling, it feels wrong, even toxic, but you just can’t help it. You know it's not his fault, and you’re well aware that he can’t control everyone’s actions. You decided to lie on your bed and pull the blanket over yourself as you tried to sleep it away.

Not long after, Soap knocks gently at your door and enters your room. He notices how you are facing the wall and bundled in a blanket, breathing normally, which indicates that you aren't sleeping despite your eyes being closed.

Heeeeeyyyy, how’s ma favourite cutie feeling, hm?

He asked in his usual light tone as he sat on your bed and petted your blanket. He stared at you as he leaned in and kissed your shoulder softly.

Ya awrite? 

He asked as he noticed how you were quieter than usual. Your heart broke slightly as you noted how his tone became worried, so you turned around and gently brushed his cheek as you shook your head.

I'm okay, dear. Just tired. You lied as you smiled and watched as he took your hand and cupped his own face. “Anything ah can do for ye?”,  He asks again with puppy eyes as you chuckle, pulls his face close to you, and kiss his lips softly. Cuddles. You whisper softly as he smiles and hugs you close. Ayeee, then it's cuddles you're gettin’

He says as he lays down beside you, nuzzles his neck on your shoulder, and pulls you close to him. You sigh happily as you let the jealous thoughts slowly dissolve away, but that doesn’t mean you forget about the incident.

A few days later, when you were doing laundry, you spotted his jacket again—the one that fuc—you mean, the other person—was wearing that time. You stared at it as you lifted it up from the basket, and instantly a whiff of perfume or cologne that you did not recognise got picked up by your nose. You frowned and glared at the jacket for a moment, seething in anger as you decided to toss it into the washer. After washing and drying it, you had an idea and opted to wear and keep it. Naw, this is my jacket now. You thought to yourself as you walked around the base with the jacket, a proud look clearly showing on your face as the jacket had a clearly huge "Soap" behind it.

Soap notices as he smirks and walks towards you, crossing his arm as he stands beside you. “Oi? Is that ma jacket?”, he says as he takes a good look at you, grinning ear to ear as he glances you up and down. He won’t lie, he never knew how good you looked wearing his stuff.

Your jacket? I have no idea what you’re talking about; it's mine now.

You replied back nonchalantly when you noticed that same person who was with Soap the other day staring at you from across the hall. You gave them a death glare as you turned and pulled Soap down by his collar, making him jolt forward as he gasped slightly at the sudden motion. You kept eye contact as you whispered to Soap.

Not only the jacket, but you’re mine as well

Your lips barely brush his ears slightly as Soap blushes and gives out a surprised laugh.

Well, well, well.

He replied back in a shocked tone as he watched the direction you were looking at before he gave an "ah" sound as he made the connection. He giggled as he stared back at you with a loving stare. “Hmm, didnae take yer a jealous one”, he says before holding you closer to him by the waist and kissing your forehead. Mmm, you give a grunt as you feign annoyance and glance away. He laughs as he nuzzles you close and gives you a hug. “Aw~ dun get mad at me, yer know I love ya, and only ya”, he kisses you on the neck softly to tickle you as you drop your frown and giggle at him to push him away playfully,

Oh fuck off, don't go all sappy on me now. 

You roll your eyes as you try to wiggle your way out. “Nuh uh, I will show yer how much I love ya”, he says before he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder. You let out a yelp as you move around and let out a whine. MacTavish! Put me down this instant!  You say it with a laugh as he smacks your ass and shakes his head as he walks towards his room.

“Nope, ah won't, you're going to get all the love you missed.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Kyle Gaz Garrick

You wake up early after preparing yourself, walking slowly to the kitchen to carry out your routine. You like to start your day off with coffee, and on the other hand, Kyle likes to have tea in the morning. Jasmine tea with two teaspoons of sugar and some milk, just the way he likes it. So every morning for the past few months of dating, you always make sure to brew him his tea as well when you make coffee. You shuffle around the shelves as you look for his mug, being confused when you don't see it at the usual spot. You glance around before you hear Kyle speaking to someone on the other side of the place. You follow the voices and take a peek behind a wall as you watch him talk to someone with his mug in his hands already.

Hm, so he brewed it himself today? That’s odd, maybe because he woke up earlier.

You didn’t think much of it as you went back to the kitchen to make yourself a coffee and go on with your day.

The next day, you walk to the kitchen and find his mug, only to find it not there again. You frown as you try to rationalise your thoughts.

Okay, maybe he was in a hurry.

You think again as you shake those thoughts away and carry out your duties. But then it starts to bother you when the same thing happens again the next day and again for the following two days.

He never brought it up and neither one of you talked about it. You assume maybe you messed up the way you make his tea or maybe he changed his preference. But it still confuses you, and it hurts a little too; he could’ve told you if that's the case. However, something else is notable: he has been getting more headaches recently, and you’ve asked him about it.

Are you sure it's not something serious? How about going to the medical bay to check if everything’s alright?

No, no, it's fine; it's just stress.

You decided enough was enough as you woke up extra early today to question him in the kitchen about why he started making tea for himself. But then that's when you saw it—a figure that opened the top shelf and took his mug out. You recognise that person; it was one of the recruits Kyle has been speaking to lately. You immediately stepped forward and grabbed their hand as you spoke calmly.

What do you think you’re doing?

“Huh?”, The person gets caught off guard as they glance back at you, a frown forming on their face as they continue; it's almost as if they’re annoyed that they were stopped by you.

Erm, making coffee for my superior? Why? Because I can? So you’ve been doing this for the past few days? Yeah.

The recruit replied back with a proud look as they rested their hands on their hips, not hiding the fact that they were doing Gaz this favour for obvious reasons when the blush on their cheeks was prominent.

That’s when it clicked: he hasn’t been making tea himself, and the source of his headaches is because of this dumbass. Kyle can’t hold his caffeine; it always gives him a splitting headache. You also know how he has trouble rejecting kindness from others and has always kept silent about his actions. You sigh as you take the mug from the person.

Hey! What’s your problem? Give it ba-

You watch your tone.

Your sharp voice cuts through the air as you turn and stare down at them, leaning closer to the recruit as venom seeps out of your mouth.

Sergeant Gaz doesn’t take coffee; if you wanted to flirt with someone, at least be smart about it. Oh, wait, never mind about that... (You trail off as you firmly press your hand on their shoulder, gazing down as the recruit gulps and shivers nervously under your scrutiny.) You probably don’t even know he’s taken already; poor you. How did you end up here with such an empty head anyway? I thought everyone here was smart and observant; clearly, you’re not.

The recruit gasps as tears prick up in their corner, and they immediately falter and shamefully run away as you sigh.

Okay, maybe that was too far.

You mumbled before hearing something shuffling behind you. You felt your back warm up as Kyle hugged your shoulder from behind. You smile as you kiss his arm and stare up at him.

“I'm sorry; I should’ve told you about it.” His voice is a low whisper as you softly caress his arm soothingly. You know, you could’ve poured the coffee away or let me drink it. You speak gently as you slowly turn around to face him.

“I know, but I didn’t want to waste it or deny the coffee when someone had made it for me.” You sigh as you brush your hand on his cheek and continue.

Well, they won’t anymore, and only I will be the one making you tea from this day on. You give a smile when Kyle chuckles and kisses your forehead. “I’ll have to admit that watching you speak like that was pretty cool”, He said it with a smirk as you shook your head. Ah, so I wasn’t cool before? You tease him back as he quickly shakes his head and kisses your hands. “I didn’t say that.” He giggles as he sighs and rests his head on your shoulder. “Can you make me tea again? Just the way I like it?”, He whispers with a smile as you nod and kiss his cheek.

Always.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Simon Ghost Riley

It was one of the sparring sessions where Ghost and Soap were tasked with providing training and demonstrations to the new recruits. You decided to join and watch from the side and provide any needed assistance, but truthfully, you just wanted to watch Ghost. It's moments like these where you get to see him roll up his sleeves and flex his muscles. Sure,  you get to see all of him whenever you’re in his bedroom, but watching him display himself confidently in public? That’s a different kind of look you will never get tired of.

The session went on normally, and most recruits were obedient and managed to replicate what Ghost and Soap have been demonstrating, with just a few slower soldiers that require more attention, which they supervise and guide on a one-to-one basis.

And there was this one recruit that Ghost has been teaching for some time now. You note how the recruit was standing slightly closer to him, and the way they looked at Ghost made you uneasy—not in a way that you think that person is going to hurt him, but in a way that you feel that the person has an ulterior motive. You don't miss the way the recruit brushed their hand across his arm, or how they were pressing their body against his in a way that was definitely unnecessary in the training, or how they deliberately messed up a step and let out that annoying giggle-

I'm overthinking. 

You thought to yourself when you realised you were frowning and your hands were balled into a fist. You decided to step outside and take a breather as you tried to calm yourself. You sat on the bench alone as you breathed out and ran through your mind again.

Stop overthinking. They’re just training; Ghost is literally an adult. I don't have to fret over something like this, do I? Okay, what was that question? Of course I don't. Right, but why the hell did they stick so close anyway-

You drown in your own inner monologue as your eyebrows furrow, and you sigh again as you rest your head on your knees, all the while Ghost has been watching you at the corner.

He saw and noticed when you were staring just now. Well, you always do stare, and he likes it, but this time he felt your gaze was different, and from the way you stand with that tense shoulder and the way your hands were forming a fist, It didn't sit right with him, so he told Soap to take over the recruit, not even answering the "why" from the person as he quickly followed you when you left.

"Love…?" Ghost said as he cautiously stood behind you and looked down with a concerned expression, he watched as you glanced up and smiled at him.

That’s not a smile he knows.

Oh, hey Ghost! I'm just resting, don’t mind me.

"No, you’re not; I can see you thinking." Ghost replies back instantly as he takes a seat next to you and rubs your hands, softening his gaze as he leans in and rests his forehead on yours. "What is it, love?", Ghost asks as he takes in your demeanour. He watches as you clench your jaw and hold your breath, then glances away as you sigh, and then you look back at him again as you frown. He always likes observing you, and he can tell that you’re contemplating, so he gave your hand a squeeze to urge you to continue.

I just… I just didn't like how the recruit was acting around you; I don't know why.

You finally spit it out as you nervously grab his fingers and fiddle with them as you try to calm down. After saying it out loud, you do feel a little childish, and you don't know what his response will be either.

Ghost remained silent for a moment as he processed your words and thought back about the training. He did find the recruit slightly annoying because they’ve been deliberately repeating the same mistake over and over again, but he has not realised why they did so. Until now.

Oh

His thoughts click as he tilts his head slightly and looks back at you, now with a smirk growing as his mask shifts slightly.

"You’re jea-" No.

You cut him off as you turn away from him and face your back at him. He watches as redness forms at the tip of your ear. He chuckles as he leans in and rests his head on your head, kissing your hair slightly as he watches your pout which makes your cheeks get puffy.

Cute. So this is what you’re like when you’re jealous. He thought to himself before he raised his hand and pulled your cheek, causing you to gasp as you thrashed around.

What the-hey! Get off!

You complain back angrily as he does not stop and squishes your face after he pulls it a few more times. You protest more as you grab his hand until you can't help but giggle at him when you know he won’t stop.

Stop it! You’re going to make me have wrinkles!

He gives a soft huff of air as he shakes his head and grabs your right cheek with his thumb and index finger and bites it gently, 

“I don't mind wrinkles”, he whispers as you let out a "hmph", grabbing his sleeve as you glare at him. He laughs again as he plants a kiss on the cheek he bit earlier.

I hate you.

I love you too.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

a/n: this is for all the Ghostie lovers out there to make up for the last fic <3 Im a firm believer that Ghost is silly in relationships, like come on man was putting out puns and jokes during the mission in the game! also bonus from my friends' reactions to Gaz's part:

Likes, reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated Have a good day/night! :D

#cod #cod x reader #cod imagines #cod mwii #cod mw2 #mw2 imagine #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #cod fanfic #call of duty x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #gomzwrites

[lxkeee]

⋆.˚ ⭒˚FLY ME TO THE MOON ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

—part two

pairing: lucifer morningstar x fem! archangel raphael! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: friends to enemies, so it's angsty

notes: hehehehe idk yeah, this is now a series of sort 🤯 also, eat well simps /affectionate. I'll be basing off the seven virtues' appearance off from esbellesantos' Fanart but I wouldn't like fully follow their headcanon personality and make a different personality for them.

Part One | Part Three | THE SEVEN VIRTUES

So many years have passed after Lucifer's trial, during those years [y/n]'s gigantic and majestic wings finally grew. Three pairs of majestic wings now prodding on her back, a golden halo on top of her head. The [y/n] that was just a background character has now risen up the ranks, God seeing her potential and granted her the title of archangel, now one of the seven virtues of heaven.

[y/n] who was once upbeat and cheerful has now grown cold and mature as she took the responsibility god has placed upon her shoulders. Heart closed to other immortal beings but opened to the mortal ones.

She rules a specific area of the skies, as the seven virtues are tasked to watch their own territory and to make sure to maintain peace and order with the heavenly beings.

She sat on the chair just by her balcony, a small table in front of her. A cup of steaming coffee on the table as she read a newspaper containing some daily heavenly news. A gold wedding ring on her ring finger. She stared at the bright, white, and blue scenery outside her home. Clouds all over the place, other lower ranked angels flying around.

She lives in a huge mansion by herself despite being married.

“Darling I am here~!” a male spoke as the sound of the door to the living room was slammed open. Speaking of her husband, familiar footsteps tapping on the pristine white and gold marbled tiles as the person arrived to the balcony of the living room.

“Azrael, to what do I owe you the pleasure?” [y/n] asked, gently placing back down her coffee cup on to the table. Tilting her head to look at her husband. Tall, slender, mischievous.

Don't get her wrong, she and Azrael don't like each other romantically but they are more on platonic. They only got married... Well... Because of boredom and they did promised each other to marry each other if they remained single even when they've reached a certain age. They promised to divorce each other if they find the one that is right for them. Despite their odd friendship, the two trust each other a lot. Azrael was one being there for her when Lucifer fell from grace.

“I just have some news to share with you, I think this will catch your interest dear.” Azrael winked at her, leaning against his black staff. Eyes half lidded as he awaited for her reaction.

[y/n]'s eyes stopped moving along the words of the paper she was reading, tilting her head to look at the taller angel with curiosity, eyebrow raised. “Really now? Tell me dearie.” she says with a smirk, lifting her coffee cup and bringing it to her lips.

“Lucifer apparently wants to have a meeting with heaven. He wanted to propose another idea of his.” Azrael says with a smirk, his smirk widening as he watched [y/n] choked on her drink.

She clears her throat, getting the caffeine out of her esophagus. The revelation brought back so many memories that it caught her off guard.

“I'm sorry, what did you say?” she asked again, eyes blinking. Having second thoughts whether she heard him wrong.

Azrael crosses his arms and smirks, “You heard me, he's coming up here to tell us about his plans for the wayward souls down there.”

“Really now?” [y/n] asked with a scoff, wiping her lips with a clean white cloth. She lost her hope in humanity, she believes that the people who didn't properly use the free will gifted to them by Lucifer, shouldn't be given another chance as they wasted that opportunity to live a good life.

“I doubt that the others would agree to whatever plan he has to show.” [y/n] says, sipping her coffee once more.

Azrael laughs, wiping a tear off his eye. “My, you used to agree with his views. To see you disregard his plans before even hearing is just too cruel, [y/n]” he says with a mischievous smile on his face, a sing-song tone in his voice.

“They got gifted free will and look what they have done with it. I believe those souls are better off staying down there and looking back at the times they could've done better.” [y/n] says coldly.

Azrael shrugs, the smirk never leaving his face.

“Well, I don't really care about mortal life that much considering I am the angel of death. My duty is to guide them to the afterlife.” he says, shrugging. Walking to the railings of the balcony and leans his back against it.

“Well, that's the only reason I came here. I have duties to attend to and the meeting will be happening in a few days. I'm sure it would be quite a lovely reunion with all eight of us.” Azrael says with a smirk, excited how the meeting will go with all seven virtues plus Lucifer in the same room. He can tell it would be tense and chaotic.

“Good luck in your work.” [y/n] says with a lazy shrug making the taller angel laugh.

“Adios~” he says before disappearing in a puff of sparkly black smoke.

Turning back to the world outside her home, dull [e/c] eyes looking over the blue horizon. She sighs, closing her eyes as she sighs.

“A meeting huh, it's been awhile since I've last seen him.” she mutters, eyes opening. Cold and calculative. “This should be interesting.”

Timeskip to a few days later...

Lucifer paced back and forth inside his room, a guest room heaven prepared for him. The meeting would happen in two hours and he is beyond nervous. It took so much time to convince them to listen to him but they finally agreed because he persisted.

He expected that it will be only Sera to judge his plans, the anxiety and fear he felt when Sera told him that the seven virtues themselves would grant him an audience to his plans for hell.

He doesn't know much about the seven virtues as it was only implemented a few years after his fall but he knew that it consists of powerful angels that kept the order and peace of heaven. He can list a few angels that are probably one of the seven virtues.

But despite all this, his heart has been aching. He's in heaven, he's standing on the same ground as [y/n]. He misses her, so goddamn much.

Did she miss him too? Probably not.

Remembering how bad their goodbye was, there wasn't any to begin with.

Lucifer sighs, patting up his dark pink suit to ease up the creases. Despite the years that have already gone by, [y/n] never left his heart. He never forgets, every detail of his world no matter how miniscule it is... He can't help but think, [y/n] would've loved this, this is her favorite color, her favorite food, and etc.

He loves Lilith but he also loves [y/n] (more even!) and he knows it's too late to admit that and he's afraid to admit to himself that... He may have made the wrong choice of ignoring her advances.

His gloved hands moved to his collar, adjusting it. “Don't think about her Lucifer, you have a meeting to do and this is for the sake of your people and family.” he says to himself. Taking deep breaths to calm his fast beating heart.

He is ready to propose his plan on making a hotel to redeem sinners.

The seven virtues of heaven sat in a u-shaped table, all seven virtues wearing a mask that hides their faces. In front of them stood a very nervous Lucifer.

Not a single one of them aside from Lucifer talked, they listened to him talk about his plans for hell.

It is a good plan but without proof, it is useless.

“With the hotel, I am sure sinners would find a way to redeem themselves and join you guys here in heaven.” Lucifer says, a nervous smile on his face as he ends his presentation. Standing in front of the seven virtues is a real nerve wrecking. He can sense the power emitting from each and every one of them. One wrong move and he's done for.

“The idea is cute and all but without evidence, this... This is completely useless.” Gabriel says, a bored tone in her voice as she lazily held the folder filled with the details of Lucifer's plan and letting it fall into the table with a loud thud.

Lucifer flinches from her remark and the sound of his hopes and dreams of his people hitting with a loud thud on the table from Gabriel's actions.

“I agree.” Michael says, removing his mask. A mischievous smile on his face. “Lucifer, you don't know what these mortal souls are capable of. How can you be so sure the hotel would work if you yourself aren't sure they wanted to redeem themselves in the first place?” Michael asked, voice filled with authority, eyebrows raised as he asked the question, looking down on his twin brother, Lucifer.

Lucifer flinches, starting to get nervous.

“Well... We wouldn't know if we'd tr—” he says but getting cut off.

“You've never seen the horrors and atrocities these mortal souls commit with their free will. War, corruption, death, murder, drugs... Anything you can name it. What makes you think these people would want to make themselves better?” Jophiel says, his voice shaking. A laugh escaping his lips as he remembers the horrors he's seen on earth, a mocking laughter.

“They're truly terrible, these souls don't have a place here in heaven.” Michael sneered.

Azrael just smirked as he watched the scene unfold, [y/n] keeping quiet beside him. His hand intertwined with hers to comfort her.

“But they're souls, human souls just the same with the one's up here in heaven.” Lucifer defended, clenching his fists.

“They are not the same, the souls here in heaven have earned it.” Camuel says with a smile, finally removing his own mask.

“Ugh, the work I have to do carrying each soul to their destination is quite tiring. Annoying even. Especially when a soul curses at me for bringing them to hell when they only have themselves to blame.” Azrael says with a groan, smirking as he removes his mask. Looking at Lucifer challengingly.

Lucifer's eyes widened at the cruelty of their words, six virtues now staring at him face-to-face, aside from one virtue who kept quiet.

“Well, each one of us already said our opinion aside from Raphael here... Or should I say, [y/n]? Do you have something to say?” Azrael says, a teasing smile on his face. [Y/n] glaring at Azrael as she slightly squeezed his hand.

Lucifer's eyes widened, heart beating faster than ever before when he heard the name. Even more so when the last virtue removed her mask.

Cold, bored, calculative, and dull.

No longer the bright sparkling [e/c] eyes Lucifer loved before.

“Is this even necessary? All of you had already said what needed to be said.” [y/n] says, removing her hand from Azrael's as she leans her elbows on the table. Putting her chin on her knuckle. A lazy and bored look on her face. A shiny gold band on her ring finger, a wedding ring.

She's married? He asked himself but that question isn't too important as he is focused on something else. How cold she is. That something Lucifer isn't quite used to.

The others looked at [y/n] expectantly making the woman sigh, “Very well then, I would have to agree with the others.” she says coldly.

This isn't his [y/n]. Where was the [y/n] who used to be so kind, bright, cheerful, and had hopes for humanity? What happened to her?

Lucifer stood in fear, not knowing how to act now that [y/n] is revealed to be one of his audience.

“Humans. They are selfish and vile creatures. Destroying the planet our creator had given them, killing and hurting their own kind. Poverty, hunger, corruption, death. If you haven't given them the apple, they would be living in peace and harmony and with no worry in eden but you took that away from them and now they're doomed to suffer.” [y/n] coldly explained. “You cannot see it personally and that is your burden to carry, your punishment.”

Lucifer can't speak, mind blanking as a loud ringing was heard on his ears. Hands shaking, he couldn't breathe.

Where was the one person who believed in him? Did he fucked up so much to even lose her too?

“You're really mad huh?” Azrael says, placing a hand over his cheek. A similar gold band on his ring finger. Lucifer's eyes widened.

Azrael is married to her. Lucifer thought. Defeated.

“Well, this court finds no evidence that this hotel would be effective. I suggest you leave now or you'll face the consequences.” Michael says, voice is booming and filled with authority. The other virtues glaring at him. Halo's shining down on Lucifer as if to mock him, to show him that they are in power.

Why do you still look so disappointed in me? More so even?

Lucifer asked, looking at [y/n] who avoided his gaze.

Azrael showing off his wedding ring to him with a smirk on his face, making Lucifer's eye twitch.

“This meeting is over.” Michael says, glaring down on Lucifer. “Leave or else you'll suffer the consequences.” Michael says, angelic weapons now aimed warningly at him.

Fear coursing through his veins, Lucifer left. Despite wanting to stay and talk to her, he couldn't. Poofing away in a cloud of sparkly red smoke.

“You okay?” Azrael asked beside her as they flew back to their respective territories. Passing by many clouds, the skies now have a dark shade of blue as the sun has set a few hours ago.

“Nope, but I will eventually.” she says with a sigh making the dark haired male smile.

“You know, I didn't expect him to be so small. You used to be the same height but now you're taller than him.” Azrael mutters with a small laugh.

“They don't have the sun there, Azrael. They don't have the necessary vitamins to grow taller.” [y/n] says with a small laugh. The joke making the male angel laugh hysterically.

“HAHAHAHA! Since when did you make such jokes [n/n]? A really dark one too!” he says before winking at her, “No pun intended.”

The unintended pun making the girl chuckle. Azrael smiled, happy he got to make her smile after that stressful meeting.

I based off the seven virtues here aside from Raphael and Azrael image.

Also, I based this off from the "more than anything" song that Lucifer tried to look for ways to help his people and also based off from that one panel of an episode (I forgot which one) where he was wearing the same outfit Charlie is wearing, the pink suit? Yeah, I imagined he did the hotel concept and told Charlie about it.

TAGLIST:

@adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z

#AZRAEL AND READER ARE PLATONIC OKAYY #lucifer morningstar x reader #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel x reader #lxkeee answers #lucifer morningstar #lxkeee updates #probably #should i make him a love interest? 👁️👁️ #love rival of Lucifer? #they are besties who got married for shits and giggles okay lmfao

[nanamis-baker]

Unexpected Blooms

Chapter 1 | Whisper of the Petals

Pairing: philosophy student Geto x art student f!reader (College AU)

Summary: A mystery blooms on your doorstep. A breathtaking bouquet of white flowers, a silent whisper of apology… but it's not for you. Delivered under the name of a man so handsome he takes your breath away, the mix-up sets your heart racing.

Fate seems determined to keep throwing you together, and soon you're caught in a whirlwind of chance encounters and undeniable chemistry. It was almost as if it was trying to bring you together.

Content: Fluff, slow burn, Reader falling for Geto (Kinda), Geto being a gentleman but also an idiot.

Status: Ongoing

Word Count: 10.6k

a/n: Big big thanks to my love @whereflowerswenttodie for putting up with me and beta-reading this. Seriously can't thank her enough!🌷

Series mlist | Next Chapter →

A frown creased your brow as you spotted a bouquet of white roses outside your apartment door. The fresh blooms whispered apologies, but the sentiment felt misplaced. There was no reason anyone would apologise to you, right?

Unlocking the door, you carried the bouquet inside, its beauty undeniable. White, velvety roses, their centres a pale blush in the fading light, stood proudly in the centre. Delicate baby's breath, like a cloud of tiny white stars, surrounded them. A few sprigs of eucalyptus peeked out from the arrangement, their fresh, invigorating scent filling the air with a clean aroma.

The flowers were surrounded with brown paper arranged in a vase, and tied at the base of the clear glass vase was a simple white ribbon, its frayed edges hinting at a vintage charm. The entire bouquet held a quiet elegance that felt at odds with the confusing message of the flowers themselves.

Whoever sent it clearly had an eye for aesthetics. You placed it on the coffee table and searched for a card. Surely, there'd be an explanation nestled among the petals, right? You looked through the delicate flowers, and finally found it! A small white card that was tucked discreetly among the flowers.

Pulling it out, you read it as your frown deepened. The message written across it felt like a riddle:

"I apologise for not being there for you enough. Forgive me, please? -Suguru Geto"

Suguru Geto? The name brushed against the edges of your memory, yet you couldn't quite grasp where you'd heard it. This stranger's apology left you bewildered.

It seemed like there was a mix-up; these flowers weren’t meant for you. So you decided to call the flower company responsible for the delivery- their contact details were printed behind the card- hoping for some clarity.

You dialled the flower company, the phone balanced between your ear and shoulder, as your fingers traced the elegant script of the note. The words were written in cursive, each letter precise and controlled. As you pondered the identity of this apologetic stranger, the line connected.

The call confirmed your suspicions. The flowers were originally meant for Suguru Geto's girlfriend, not you, but because of some mistake, they were delivered to your address. You asked them how to return the flowers, but unfortunately, the company policy prevented them from retrieving the delivered flowers, leaving them in your possession.

The expensive blooms sat accusingly on the table- You had to return then, right? You politely requested Geto's contact information to return them, but their policy prohibited sharing customer details.

Their policy - or lack thereof - felt absurd. First, they deliver the flowers to the wrong address, then leave you holding the beautiful (and expensive) bouquet?

You were about to hang up, feeling disappointed when the person on the other end inquired about your university. You raised an eyebrow at the question. Apparently, this company provides exclusive student discounts to the students of your university, and Suguru Geto also used it for these flowers.

So he was a student at your university.

Disconnecting the call, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You opened Instagram and typed the name into the search bar. A quick search yielded several profiles, and the third one seemed to hold the key as your college name was in the bio. Though the profile was private, a sliver of hope remained. You crafted a message and sent it off:

"Hey! I received some flowers with your name as the sender - I think they were meant for someone else. Please let me know if we can meet so I can return them!"

Without waiting for a reply, you kept your phone aside, your eyes lingering on the growing pile of dishes in the sink. With a sigh, you decided to tackle the growing problem.

The sound of water running and the rhythmic clinking of dishes filled the air as you cleaned them.

Minutes ticked by, measured by the steady rhythm of your cleaning and the nervous flutter in your stomach. Just as you were about to rinse the last plate, your phone vibrated on the counter, a welcome interruption.

A message. It was from Geto. Relief washed over you, quickly followed by a jolt of anticipation. After drying your hands hastily on a dish towel, you grabbed your phone. The message itself was short and to the point:

"Hi. Yes, those flowers were meant for my girlfriend. We can meet here if it’s okay with you."

A small map icon accompanied the text, and you recognised the cafe he was referring to instantly. It was a cosy little place a few blocks from your apartment, with mismatched furniture and a perpetually overflowing basket of croissants and muffins - a familiar and safe space.

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Yeah, you were okay with the place. You typed a quick reply, sending it off with a silent hope.

Moments later, your phone buzzed again. This time, it was a confirmation. You were meeting Suguru Geto.

And here you were, seated across from Suguru Geto at a small, round table bathed in the warm glow of a nearby lamp.

He was, undeniably, handsome. But it wasn't a flashy, in-your-face kind of handsomeness. It was subtle, a carefully curated blend of features that somehow managed to be both sharp and approachable. His hair, raven black, was pulled back in a messy bun, a few strands escaping to curl around his forehead.

A pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, framing eyes the colour of polished obsidian. They were intelligent eyes, you noted, with a hint of something deeper lurking beneath the surface. He wore a simple outfit – a crisp white button-down shirt peeked out from under a light grey sweater, the sleeves pushed up slightly, revealing strong forearms, marked by a network of bluish-purple veins that ran up like delicate maps.

"I would like to apologise for the flowers," Geto began after the two of you had exchanged some pleasantries. His voice was kind. "I hope they didn't cause you any trouble." A hint of nervousness flickered in his dark eyes.

"Flowers can't cause trouble," you said, a playful lilt in your voice, "but it seems as if apologies are becoming a habit for you." He had apologised on the note accompanying the flowers, he had apologised when you saw him at the cafe first- for causing you the trouble of coming all the way here - and now he was apologising again.

Geto's cheeks flushed a delicate pink, spreading upwards to touch the tips of his ears. His hand flew up to rub the back of his neck, a gesture that seemed endearingly awkward.

"Ah, right. My girlfriend... Well, she was upset that I haven't been around much lately. The flowers were supposed to be an apology, but..." He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the table for a moment. "Things didn't work out. We broke up this morning, actually." He gestured towards the bouquet with a wry smile. "So, these are a bit… redundant now."

A pang of sympathy stabbed at you, but you masked it with a playful shrug. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as a bustling group entered the cafe, momentarily distracting you.

"Actually," Geto started, bringing your attention back, then hesitated. He leaned forward slightly, the proximity sending shivers down your spine. His voice dropped to a low murmur as he said, "You should keep them. Consider them an apology for the trouble?" His dark eyes held yours for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before he quickly looked away.

There you sat, as a stranger offered you flowers that were meant for his girlfriend, while simultaneously detailing his recent heartbreak. It was undeniably weird, but a strange curiosity gnawed at you. What kind of dynamic existed between him and his ex?

As if sensing your unspoken question, Geto spoke up, his voice tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "We weren't together for long, just a couple of months," he explained. "My best friend... well, he's been struggling with health issues lately. I had to be there for him, you see. But my girlfriend took it the wrong way – felt like I was avoiding her. I tried to explain, but..." his voice trailed off, a flicker of frustration crossing his features, as his brows furrowed slightly.

He seemed to catch himself, a touch of self-consciousness creeping into his tone as he looked at you. "I apologise for unloading all this. You probably don't want to hear a stranger rant about his breakup."

"No, no, it's alright," you interjected quickly, wanting to ease the tension that had settled between you. Just then, the waiter approached your table, balancing two steaming cups of coffee- your cappuccino and his espresso- the arrival provided a welcome interruption.

A comfortable silence settled between you as you both reached for your drinks. You stole a glance at Geto as you lifted your coffee mug to your lips.

There was an aura of composure about him, a quiet confidence that drew you in. He sat with his back straight, his gaze fixed on his cup. Perhaps it was the way he held himself, or the faint hint of a smile playing on his lips, but he seemed completely at ease, radiating a sense of being ‘collected’.

Curiosity tugged at you, battling with the comfortable rhythm of the moment. You decided to break the silence, leaning forward slightly.

"So, what are you studying?" you asked, eager to learn more about the man sitting across from you.

Geto met your gaze, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. "I'm majoring in philosophy," he replied. "It's always fascinated me – the questions, the search for meaning..." he trailed off.

"Philosophy, huh?" you said, raising an eyebrow in question. "Interesting choice. What drew you to it?"

Geto offered a grateful smile. The conversation flowed easily from there, bouncing between his major and yours – philosophy and art, a surprising but intriguing combination. Time seemed to melt away as you delved deeper into each other's worlds, the awkward initial encounter fading into a pleasant exchange.

As he spoke, you found yourself captivated not just by his words, but by the way his eyes seemed to flicker with an unspoken curiosity, a constant need to look beyond the surface, to delve deeper.

You noted the intensity in his gaze, a spark that hinted at a mind housing complex ideas and theories. He spoke with a quiet passion, dissecting concepts and questioning assumptions in a way that both challenged and enthralled you. The more he spoke, the more you realised the philosophy major wasn't just an academic pursuit for him; it was a reflection of his very being. It was the key that unlocked his perspective on the world, a perspective that strangely resonated with your own artistic desire to peel back the layers and expose the hidden truths beneath.

You found yourself listening intently to Geto's passionate words. So, when the insistent chirping of your phone sliced through the comfortable bubble of conversation, you were startled. Glancing at the screen, you groaned. "Shoot," you muttered, scrambling to gather your things and finish your coffee- the liquid, once steaming, was almost cold now. With a sigh, you set down the cup and looked up at Geto.

Geto looked back with concern in his eyes, his dark brow furrowing slightly. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just… remembered I have a meeting I absolutely can't miss," you explained apologetically. "This completely slipped my mind…" It was your club meeting, and today you were supposed to propose the club budget for the upcoming semester.

Geto nodded in understanding, although there was something akin to disappointment in his eyes. He was quick to hide it before you could completely decipher it and signalled for the waiter for the check. Just as you reached for your wallet, he held up a hand. "Uh, this is on me. Consider it another apology." He flashed you a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he handed the waiter his metallic card.

You blinked at him, torn between amusement and a touch of bewilderment. Flowers (though originally meant for someone else), coffee, and now even the bill? "Geto, you're apologising a lot," you pointed out, though a teasing smile playing on your lips.

He chuckled, "There just seems to be a lot to apologise for today," he replied, a faint blush creeping up his neck again.

His bashfulness was oddly endearing, and you couldn't help but return his smile. "Maybe save it for the next time, huh?"

Geto held your gaze for a beat longer than necessary, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before he chuckled softly. "Next time, huh?" he echoed, mirroring your smile.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you couldn't help but interpret his lingering gaze and repeated ‘next time’ as a hint of… interest, maybe? As you exchanged contact information, a warmth bloomed in your chest. Geto was undeniably intriguing, with his quiet intensity and flashes of awkwardness. Perhaps there will be a next time - a chance to get to know him better. You waved goodbye, a silent hope for a future encounter hanging in the air as you both exited the cafe and stepped into the golden glow of the late afternoon sun.

The rest of the week was a whirlwind. Assignments piled up, deadlines loomed ominously, and sleep became a luxury you barely afforded. The weekend was something you needed badly.

Finally done with your last class for the week, a sigh escaped your lips as you exited the building with Yuta. You waited for Maki to join you as you adjusted the strap of your backpack, feeling the familiar weight of your textbooks pressing down.

Yuta, his backpack slung casually over one shoulder, spotted Maki approaching in the distance. His smile faded as quickly as it appeared, and he nudged you with his elbow. "Uh-oh, looks like someone's not happy.”

You followed his gaze and couldn't help but chuckle. Maki was indeed sporting a scowl that could curdle milk.

As she approached, you noticed a glint of something akin to fury in her eyes. "What are you laughing about?" she demanded, her voice clipped.

"Nothing, nothing," you reassured her, shaking your head. "How were your classes?" you asked, hoping to distract her from the anger, but it turns out the classes were the reason for her displeasure.

Maki crossed her arms, her scowl deepening. "Don't even ask," she muttered. "That idiot professor should be thanking his lucky stars murder is illegal. The man doesn't teach – he rambles! And then expects us to decipher enough from his incoherent ramblings to do well on the assignments."

This piqued your curiosity. Maki wasn't one to get flustered easily. In fact, you'd always admired her calm demeanour, even under pressure. But this professor, whoever it was, had pushed her buttons. You opened your mouth to ask more about it, but Maki abruptly turned to Yuta, her anger seemingly forgotten.

"We're still on for today, right?" she asked, a hint of hope peeking through the remnants of her scowl.

"Absolutely," Yuta confirmed, a small smile playing on his lips.

Maki's scowl vanished completely, replaced by a playful grin. "Can't wait to crush you at bowling again, Yuta."

Honestly? You wouldn't be surprised. Maki was undoubtedly skilled, but you had a sneaking suspicion that Yuta might be throwing off his game a little – just to see that smile light up Maki's face whenever she scored. It was sweet- an unspoken dynamic that warmed your heart.

The afternoon melted away in a flurry of strikes and the sound of the bowling ball hitting the pins. Your shoulders strained with each successful strike, and the dim lighting pulsed a little brighter with each frame completed. You watched with a grin as Maki demolished her final set, securing first place with triumph. Yuta, the gracious competitor, conceded second place with a playful jab at her skills.

By the time Inumaki joined your group mid-game, the sun was dipping below the horizon, painting fiery streaks of orange and purple across the sky. Laughter and friendly banter filled the air as you exited the bowling alley, the aroma of french fries and soda pops clinging to your clothes. The four of you stood by the intersection, ready to leave for home.

"Aren't you going home?" Maki called out, noticing you lingering at the intersection.

You shook your head, "No, I was thinking of going to the library. Got an assignment due soon."

"Want some company?" Yuta offered, Inumaki nodded his agreement behind him. Appreciation warmed your chest, but you knew you needed to focus.

"Thanks, but I think I'll be alright. Shouldn't take long anyway."

Finally waving goodbye to your friends, you made your way towards the library, your backpack slung over your shoulder. The semester was about to end, and the weight of the assignments and upcoming exams pressed down on you, but you were determined to conquer those deadlines and do well in your exams.

As you crossed a familiar cafe, a fleeting thought of Geto flickered across your mind. Despite exchanging numbers, there had been no message, no follow-up. A small pang of... what was it exactly? Disappointment? Sadness…?

You shook your head as you entered the elevator, focusing on making it to the library. There was no room for distractions, not right now.

So, you pushed the thought away with a mental shove, a futile attempt to silence the unexpected flutter in your chest. The joy of spending time with your friends had evaporated, replaced by a low hum of disappointment that gnawed at your usual optimism.

Stepping out of the elevator and into the library, you were met with the comforting hush of turning pages, the smell of books and the rhythmic tick-tock of the grandfather clock. You scanned the room, heading straight for your usual table, a worn wooden sanctuary nestled in a quiet corner.

But your sanctuary was no longer yours. Sprawled across the surface were textbooks, and occupying your usual chair was a familiar face. Surprise shot through you- you were thinking about him just moments ago, and here he was, in all his glory.

Geto sat there, his hair styled in a slightly messy half-up, half-down that sent a smile tugging at your lips. His glasses perched low on his nose, and a part of you wanted to reach out and push them back up a little for him. The familiar glint in his dark eyes, a glint that held a hint of something you couldn't quite decipher, sent a wave of unexpected comfort through you. He seemed completely engrossed in his book, oblivious to your presence.

For a moment, you hesitated. You didn't want to disturb him - he seemed so peaceful, lost in the world of his book. But perhaps you were staring for a little too long because Geto looked up as if sensing your presence. Recognition flashed on his face as he raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You smiled at him as a way of greeting. "You seem to be very comfortable in my seat," you said, a hint of amusement dancing in your voice.

His eyes met yours, a mischievous glint mirroring your own. "Your seat? I thought this was a public library," he replied, his long, slender…pretty fingers pushing his glasses up his nose with a smile as he took you in. Did you just find his hands attractive? Internally, you scolded yourself for getting flustered.

“Uh-huh, but I usually sit there,” you said, trying to sound firm, but your smile betrayed you. Seeing Geto here, unexpected as it was, eased a tension you hadn't realised you were carrying.

"Well, too bad I'm here today," he chuckled, gesturing to the seat next to him while efficiently removing some of his belongings. "But you're welcome to take this one." You shook your head in defeat, but a small smile played on your lips. Taking the offered seat, a sigh left your lips at the familiar comfort the wooden chain provided.

"What's so special about this seat, anyway?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

"It's like my little corner," you explained, gesturing towards the window. "The view is amazing – a perfect distraction when my studies get overwhelming. Plus, with my back to the rest of the library, it's easier to ignore the world and just… focus."

The city lights shined below, a tapestry of twinkling points gradually emerging against the fading hues of orange and purple that lingered from the recently set sun. The distant hum of traffic and the occasional wail of sirens created a low hum that was strangely comforting. A sense of peace settled over you, the world outside softening into a gentle blur compared to the focused intensity in Geto's eyes as he looked out the window.

"All the reasons why I love this spot," he said with a knowing smile. Something flickered in his dark eyes as he turned to you, but it was gone before you could even name it. His voice softened as he leaned back in his chair. "Assignment due soon?" he asked.

You nodded as you reached into your bag, pulling out a stack of blank sheets and a handful of pencils. "It's for my elective," you explained. "Graphic Designing. I was just hoping to brainstorm a basic structure before diving into the project."

"And you prefer paper for it...?" Geto asked, a hint of curiosity lacing his voice as his brows furrowed, a small ‘v’ forming between his eyebrows. You couldn't blame him, most people preferred using their tablet for such things.

"I prefer planning on sheets of paper," you explained, tapping one pencil against the table in a thoughtful rhythm. "Somehow, it feels less restricting and allows the ideas to flow more freely. There's something about the immediacy of sketching, the scratch of lead on paper, that feels more personal. It's like the idea goes straight from my mind to my hand.”

Geto nodded in understanding. His expression turned thoughtful as he said, "Maybe that's why I prefer physical books over e-readers. There's a different kind of connection you form with the material, wouldn't you agree?” There was a sincerity in his voice that resonated with you, and you nodded in reply, beaming at him.

Maybe you were imagining things, but it felt as if Geto shifted a little towards you, leaning in slightly.

You took in the books in front of him- most of the titles were related to philosophy and ethics, but one particular book caught your eye. You raised an eyebrow, as you looked towards the man beside you. "Business, huh? Unexpected choice, Geto.” You teased him lightly.

Something changed in Geto's expression the moment you mentioned the business book. It became guarded - distant - a mask falling into place. "Yeah, I am expected to join my family's business- a pharmaceutical company, so I was just doing a little reading," he said, his voice clipped.

You wanted to ask more, but something in his tone told you not to do so - that he would tell you when the time was right. So, you didn't push further, instead focusing on creating a structure for your assignment

You grabbed your pencil, and in the corner of your eye, you saw Geto push his AirPods case towards you. You lifted an eyebrow, a silent question. He gave a small smile, a hint of his previous ease returning. "It's just some music," he explained, popping one of the earbuds in his ear. "Might help you concentrate."

"Thanks, Geto," you said, a genuine smile spreading across your face. You took the other earbud, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest at the unexpected gesture.

Every now and then, as you reached for a different pencil or adjusted your sheets, your elbow would brush against Geto's. The contact was brief, just a feather-light graze, yet it sent a little spark through you that you quickly dismissed as waves of concentration.

The soft touches, fleeting as they were, felt strangely intimate in the quiet library. They were a subtle reminder of the presence beside you, a grounding force that anchored you in the moment.

Soon, you found yourself completely absorbed in your design. Ideas flowed from your mind onto the paper, fueled by the calming music and the quiet hum of the library. You lost track of time, the world shrinking to just you, the paper, and the pencil in your hand. Before you knew it, you had created a framework, something that satisfied you with its potential.

You stole a glance at Geto, his brow furrowed in concentration as he took down some notes from his book. Feeling your gaze, he lifted his head, a gentle smile gracing his lips. The soft melody playing through the AirPods had faded out without you noticing, leaving a hush that descended upon the library. You could now hear the faint tick of the clock with each passing second and the distant hum of fluorescent lights.

"You done?" He asked softly, his voice barely a murmur. you nodded, afraid to break the comfortable quietness of the library.

"Can I see?" His question held a genuine curiosity that tugged at a corner of your heart. A wave of self-consciousness washed over you, your cheeks burning as you looked down at your creation. The jumbled mess of lines and shapes sprawled across the page – a chaotic storm of ideas only you could decipher... yet.

"Honestly," you blurted out, your voice barely audible, "it's a bit of a mess right now. Just a tangle of ideas only I can understand. But I promise, once it's finished, I'd love to show it to you."

The flicker of disappointment that crossed Geto's features at your refusal was quickly replaced by a spark of anticipation. His brows lifted slightly, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Sure, I would love that too," Geto said, his eyes lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. It felt like he was searching for something – solving a puzzle you didn't understand.

Soon enough, he looked away, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by a familiar guardedness as he started packing his things. "Are you ready to leave? It's getting late," he began, but then he added, "We could stay if you have something else to do."

You shook your head, a wave of accomplishment washing over you. You could feel a satisfied smile tugging at your lips - the day had gone well. You stretched a little, "No, no, I'm done - we can leave now," you said, gathering your things. When you were done, you met Geto's gaze, facing him completely as you stood up.

A flicker of concern marred his expression as he leaned in slightly. "You got something..." His eyes narrowed, fixated on the side of your cheek. Before you could react, his fingers reached up with unexpected tenderness, brushing away something invisible. His touch was light as a feather, his thumb strangely comforting as it grazed your cheek, sending a spark dancing across your skin – a feeling entirely separate from the cool night air that drifted in through the library window.

You froze, surprised by the sudden intimacy of the gesture. It wasn't just the touch – the silence in the library, broken only by the faint ticks of the clock, and the cool night air whispering secrets through the window, all conspired to amplify the feel of his fingers on your face. A stand of his hair fluttered slightly, as his gaze was fixed on the side of your face. He seemed utterly focused, almost like he was performing a delicate operation requiring his full attention.

A warmth bloomed on your cheek, spreading like wildfire as Geto smirked, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. His thumb lingered for a beat longer than necessary, almost as if he was afraid to let go – scared this moment wouldn't come back again.

Finally, with a slow reluctance, he pulled away, glancing down at the dark smudge on his thumb. "Graphite," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. You nodded, still a little dazed by the touch.

"Come on, it's getting late. I'll walk you home," Geto said, his voice soothing.

A mixture of surprise and a secret thrill fluttered through you. "You don't have to do that, Geto," you mumbled, as you grabbed your backpack. You were about to sling it over your shoulder, but Geto gently took it from your hand, carrying it for you.

"But I want to," he said firmly, "Unless you don't want me to – then that's a different story." He added with a playful glint in his eyes.

A small smile tugged at your lips. "I mean," you said, trying to sound casual, "I wouldn't mind having a bodyguard for a while." Your gaze, perhaps a little bolder than intended, flickered down his form. The way his loose shirt stretched hinted at the lean muscle beneath. You could tell he had a strong body, despite the baggy clothes he wore.

A throat cleared, snapping your attention back to his face. Heat rose to your cheeks as you realised you'd been caught staring. "Shall we leave now?" He asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze for a moment longer. The walk home promised to be interesting, filled with unspoken words and a newfound awareness simmering between you.

You let out a sigh of relief as you pulled on a pair of comfy jeans and your favourite oversized sweater. The mountain of assignments was conquered, the exams aced (well, mostly aced), and ten glorious days of freedom stretched before you. Sure, you might have unintentionally sacrificed three of those days to blissful hibernation in bed, recovering from the mental marathon, but that was neither here nor there. Today, fueled by a renewed sense of purpose, you were determined to visit one of your favourite places – the little library tucked away about fifteen minutes from your house.

The bus ride was filled with the rhythmic rumble of the engine and the quiet murmur of fellow passengers. As you disembarked at the nearest stop, a wave of cool autumn air washed over you, washing away the warmth of the bus. The crispness hinted at the changing season, with the shadows of clouds lengthening across the sky and a gentle rumble promising a possible afternoon shower. The five-minute walk to the library was a familiar one, your feet almost on autopilot as they navigated the well-worn path.

A smile crept onto your face as the quaint building came into view. You'd stumbled upon it quite by accident one rainy afternoon, seeking refuge from the downpour. Back then, the sight of the small, unassuming structure – shrouded in the twilight and slick with rain – had caused a flicker of hesitation. Who in their right mind would just enter such a place? But then, an inexplicable pull had drawn you closer, urging you to push open the weathered wooden door.

Stepping inside that day had been one of the best decisions of your life. The library, if you could even call it that, was an explosion for the senses. The warm aroma of aged paper and leather books mingled with the earthy scent of potted plants that lined the shelves and window sills. The entire place was a symphony of wood – the floorboards creaked softly under your weight, the bookshelves stretched high towards the ceiling, and carved wooden beams crisscrossed overhead. But the most captivating feature was the large, floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the bustling street outside.

Here's the twist: the window wasn't quite what it seemed. From the outside, it appeared opaque, a carefully crafted illusion that shielded the library's interior from prying eyes. It offered a sense of sanctuary, a hidden haven for true lovers of literature. But step inside, and the window transformed into a crystal-clear portal, offering a glimpse of the outside world while preserving the library's atmosphere.

But there was something else entirely about the place. It felt as if the library itself possessed a subtle sentience. It exuded a quiet, welcoming aura for those it deemed worthy – a gentle tug on the heartstrings, a barely-there whisper that beckoned you closer. Yet, for those who weren't meant to enter, the library remained stubbornly opaque. To them, it was just another unremarkable building on the bustling street, easily overlooked and forgotten. The library held its secrets close, revealing them only to those who held a genuine love for literature.

The real secret of the library, however, wasn't its charming ambience or clever window. Nestled amongst the shelves were rare copies of forgotten texts, first editions of literary masterpieces, and obscure volumes on a variety of topics. Here, within these walls, resided stories waiting to be rediscovered, knowledge waiting to be unearthed.

The library, you mused, operated on an unspoken trust system. Another twist about this hidden place? Everyone returned the books they borrowed, or so the whispers went. No matter how rare and valuable the books were, people always returned them.

You flashed a smile to the small, old man sitting behind the desk by the door. His hair was the colour of moonlight. Age had etched a map of wrinkles across his face, each line seeming to hold a story waiting to be told. You assumed he was the owner – a collector with a love for written words twinkling in his old, experienced eyes. Perhaps he was a custodian of knowledge, eager to share it with those who held a similar reverence.

You made your way through the different sections. Your fingers trailed across the spines of the books, each title a whispered promise of adventure, knowledge, or escape. You paused at a shelf labelled "Forgotten Tales," drawn in by the faded lettering and the air of mystery it exuded. All the titles sparked your imagination- whispering promises of something great - an escape.

One particular book with a faded green leather cover and gold filigree snagged your attention. The title and the description hinted at a fantastical world you yearned to explore. With a satisfied smile, you flipped it open, the scent of aged paper and forgotten stories filled your senses.

As you neared the end of the book, you felt a brush against your fingers. A library card, tucked snugly in the back pocket, threatened to fall out. Curiosity bubbled up, and you carefully retrieved the card, smoothing out the worn edges. Your gaze scanned down the list of previous borrowers.

Then, there it was, nestled at the bottom, the latest entry – the name of the man who occupied a significant space in your thoughts, the name that had been a part of almost all your thoughts lately.

Suguru Geto.

When you first found the bouquet with the apology card, you thought the name sounded familiar. Now, as you held the library card, you realised why. Geto's name had been a recurring presence, etched onto the library card of almost every book you'd borrowed from this place.

Intrigued and a touch bewildered, you clutched the book tighter. Surely, it couldn't be your Suguru. But the name wasn't common, and given the conversations you'd shared and the connection you felt with him, you wouldn't be surprised if this Suguru and your Suguru were the same.

You tried to imagine him reading the book, and the image flowed into your mind with startling clarity. You saw Suguru, brows furrowed in a familiar crease of concentration, his glasses perched low on his nose as he leaned into the text. Completely absorbed, his long, slender fingers would trace the words on the page, lingering on a line that particularly intrigued him before carefully turning the page. A picture of meticulousness, he might even reach for a pen, but you knew it wouldn't be to mar the book itself. Instead, he'd jot down notes on a separate sheet, preserving the book for its future readers.

Yeah, you wouldn't be surprised if this Suguru and your Suguru were the same.

You approached the desk, the book clutched in your hand. The old man looked up from his ledger. His gaze was kind, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling further as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

You placed the book on the counter, the worn leather cover whispering its secrets. He asked for your name, picked up a well-inked pen and with practised ease, began inscribing your name on the library card of the book. As he finished, you couldn't help but steal a glance at the list of previous borrowers. Suguru Geto's name still held its prominent place.

The old man met your gaze, and for a fleeting moment, a knowing glint flickered in his pale eyes. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, so you almost dismissed it, attributing it to the play of light filtering through the window. Yet, a shiver danced down your spine, leaving goosebumps prickling your skin.

"Thank you," you said, your voice barely a whisper. The old man simply smiled, a hint of something deeper lurking in his expression. He handed you the book, his fingers accidentally brushing against yours- the touch cold, but not strange.

Leaving the library felt different this time. The autumn air held a sharper tang, the world outside more vibrant. A shy smile played on your lips, a secret bloom hidden amongst the vibrant tapestry of the world. This wasn't just about the book, the library, or even Suguru himself. It was about a feeling, a nascent awareness that had blossomed within you, painting the world in shades you never knew existed. The book in your arms felt like a bridge, another connection to Suguru Geto.

The post-semester break was gone, and a new semester had begun, but the usual thrill of diving into his course was muted. That didn’t mean Geto wasn’t looking forward to it- He had never been this excited about college.

Geto found himself fidgeting in his seat in the class, his mind wandering to the corner table of the cafe where he'd met you just weeks ago. The thirty minutes of conversation with you felt like a lifetime compared to the two, frustrating months he had spent with his ex-girlfriend. There was electricity in your presence, a spark, and Geto felt like a moth, drawn to it. And here he was- checking his phone every few minutes, hoping for a message.

His professor’s words faded into the background as he found himself thinking about your spot in the library, where he last met you. He had a book propped open in front of him then, but the words blurred before his eyes. How could he concentrate anyways, when you were right next to him, offering the best distraction?

There you were, sitting on the chair, brow furrowed in concentration as you drew. The rhythmic scratching of your pencil against the paper accompanied the music flowing in his ear. Your hair cascaded down one side of your face, momentarily obscuring your features.

You were completely absorbed in your work, and Geto was completely mesmerised by you- a captivating scene he couldn't tear his gaze from. He felt as if you were a world away from him, but at the same time, he felt an inexplicable closeness, as if he were witnessing something intimate- a glimpse into your soul.

He dared a few stolen glances at your drawing. The network of lines and shapes didn't quite make sense to him. But a strange sense of contentment washed over him. It was alright- he was willing to wait - wait till he understood you enough to understand those drawings - to unravel the mysteries you presented, one conversation, one shared moment at a time.

The semester break brought a flurry of messages, a stream of random thoughts and experiences. It began with you sending your finished assignment, the same one where you'd been sketching in the library. The framework that had initially puzzled him now held a glimmer of meaning.

Your designs were bold and innovative, and a surge of pride, unexpected and unfamiliar, filled him. You thanked him for his "help," but the sentiment felt misplaced. He hadn't truly helped. However, the thought of being there for you, in whatever way he could, fueled a new kind of excitement, a yearning to be a part of your world, a world that seemed to hold a secret melody waiting to be played.

The shrill bell jerked Geto from his thoughts, marking the end of the period. He shoved his books into his bag with a sigh, enduring the usual barrage of small talk from his classmates, smiling at them and trying to be polite, before making his escape. A familiar mop of white hair came into view just outside the classroom, a grin stretched wide across Satoru's face.

"Seriously, how are you already here?" Geto asked, trying to muster irritation, though he was happy at the sight of his best friend.

The blue-eyed man just shrugged. "Shoko has some extra work, so she won’t be there for lunch today," he said.

Satoru leaned in conspiratorially, his elbow finding Geto's shoulder, resting on them. "Now, tell me, Suguru. Anything exciting happened during your break besides missing your charming best friend?"

Geto couldn't help but chuckle as they made their way towards the cafeteria, the sound of chatter and occasional bursts of laughter filling their ears. The sweet aroma of the campus bakery greeted them, and Geto had to restrain Satoru before he could make his way towards the bakery. He pulled on Satoru's collar, steering him away from the bakery.

The dark-haired man pinched the bridge of his nose, a concerned sigh escaping his lips. "Hold on there, Satoru," Geto said, his voice firm. "You are not buying sweets right now- not before having a proper meal or something."

Satoru hasn’t been well for the past couple of months, which was far different from his usual boundless energy. Geto knew the culprit: Satoru's diet, which, well, consisted of desserts and sweets rather than a balanced meal plan. His best friend treated sugary treats like they were sustenance, and the lack of proper nutrients was taking its toll.

Satoru's eyes widened in mock protest, and he pouted, but a playful glint hinted at his underlying acceptance of Geto's nagging.

After making sure his best friend wouldn’t buy sweets, Geto left Satoru to get them some food, as the blue-eyed man looked for an empty table. He balanced the lunch tray in his hands as he navigated through the bustling cafeteria, spotting Satoru sitting on a corner table. Setting down his and Satoru's lunch on the table, Geto collapsed into the faded plastic seat. As he passed the sandwich to his friend, his head lifted on autopilot, his gaze drawn magnetically towards the cafeteria doors.

There you were, a burst of sunshine amidst the sea of faces. You were laughing, the sound of a melody that washed over him, light and infectious. He couldn't quite catch the joke - something the guy with the black hair or the girl with the green hair said. But it didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was you, head tilted back, the carefree joy radiating from every inch of you.

Suguru couldn't help but smile as he watched you. A lightness, a feeling he hadn't experienced in a while, bubbled up within him. Just then, a voice cut through his thoughts.

"That's her, huh?" Satoru asked, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Geto's head snapped back so fast it almost gave him whiplash. He hadn't confided in Satoru about you yet, the whirlwind of emotions still swirling within him. Satoru must have seen the shocked expression plastered on his face because he leaned back with a smirk.

"Come on, Suguru," he chuckled. "We've been friends since diapers. I don't need a crystal ball to know what's going on."

Geto flushed, realising he was indeed an open book to his best friend. "Great," he muttered, more to himself than Satoru. He was going to be teased endlessly now.

Satoru's grin widened, his dimples deepening. "Oh, and Shoko knows too, I am twenty bucks richer thanks to you. We made a little bet, you know." Satoru winked.

Geto groaned, burying his face in his hands for a dramatic beat. He wasn't hiding anything, not intentionally. He just needed some time to untangle the jumble of emotions you ignited within him. His friends, however, seemed to be a few steps ahead. Stealing a peek through his fingers, he saw you settling down at a table nearby. Relief washed over him – at least he could still admire you from a safe distance.

Across from you sat a girl with vibrant green hair, and next to you was a guy with hair the colour of faded snow, similar to Satoru's. The black-haired guy occupied the seat next to the girl. Geto watched you interact with your friends, a warmth spreading through him as you effortlessly weaved between jokes and stories. Then, you reached into your bag, pulling out something.

It was a book.

A very familiar book.

He could practically feel the worn green leather cover beneath his fingers, and smell the faint scent of aged paper, even though you were the one holding it. This specific edition, with its unique gold filigree and slightly chipped spine, was only available from one library – a place he'd stumbled upon quite by accident.

His gaze darted to Satoru, gauging his friend's reaction. Sure enough, Satoru sported a smug grin, the traitor muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "Whipped already." Geto rolled his eyes. College student, whipped? Please.

He turned his gaze back to you, but a jolt of surprise shot through him. Dark pairs of eyes stared back at him - they weren’t your eyes, though.

The girl with the green hair peeled her eyes away from Geto and turned them back to you to say something, her eyebrows raised in amusement. A frown marred your face at your friend’s words before you turned your head enough to face Geto. The frown melted into a surprised smile as your eyes met his. And then, you waved. A small wave, but a wave nonetheless.

Suguru felt his cheeks heat up, a warmth spreading from his neck to his hairline as he waved back. He might be in college, for crying out loud, but at that moment, he felt like a middle schooler again, his stomach churning with a mix of nervousness and exhilaration.

You held his gaze for a moment – or maybe it was a lifetime – before the guy with the greyish-white hair gently nudged your arm, and the four of you got up to leave.

He looked back at Satoru, whose smug grin stretched from ear to ear. "Not now, Satoru," Geto groaned, holding up a hand. "Let me process this first." He knew he wouldn't hear the end of it, but a tiny spark of hope flickered within him.

It hasn’t even been a week into the new semester, and you were already burdened with a new assignment. So, for this perplexing task, one person sprang to mind: the guy with the ebony hair and charcoal eyes. You'd texted him earlier about the assignment, and now, with a mix of anticipation and nervousness, you approached your usual corner of the library.

There he was, perched in your chair, a relaxed vibe emanating from him. A white t-shirt peeked out from under a black zip-up hoodie, paired with comfortable-looking baggy jeans. The absence of his glasses softened his features, likely replaced with a pair of contacts. He was, unsurprisingly, nose-deep in a book, completely absorbed in its world, just like you'd pictured him reading the book tucked away in your bag.

A hesitant smile tugged at your lips as you approached the table. This time, unlike your first encounter, he seemed to sense your arrival, glancing up with a smile that lit up his face and instantly ignited a warmth in your chest.

Your heart did a little skip-a-beat before your mind intervened with a voice of reason. Maybe that smile was a default setting, a friendly courtesy he extended to everyone. Yes, you two had shared conversations before, and there was a connection you had felt building. But was it enough to break through the barrier of a polite smile?

Before you could drown in such thoughts, Geto's voice cut through them. "Hey," he greeted, a smile playing on his lips. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he added, "Planning to do your assignment standing up?"

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks. "It's a little hard to sit when someone else is occupying my chair," you teased playfully, nudging him gently as you attempted to squeeze into the space beside him.

Geto chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "I thought we talked about this whole 'your chair' thing?" he said, the smile still lingering on his face. You shook your head playfully.

Reaching into your bag, you retrieved your laptop and pencil case, the familiar weight grounding you slightly.

Geto followed your movements with his gaze. "So," he asked, leaning back slightly, "what's this assignment all about?" He seemed genuinely interested, and your heart again did that little thing.

"The assignment is to analyse two artworks through an ethical lens," you explained, laying out the details for Suguru. "We pick any two and dissect them based on moral implications, the artist's intent, and how they might affect the viewer."

It was an important assignment, worth 30 percent marks for the subject - it consisted of a report submission and a presentation. You were willing to work hard for it and complete it.

Geto nodded along, his brows furrowed in concentration. "Sounds intriguing," he murmured. Internally, a spark of excitement ignited. Maybe you could get a glimpse into Geto’s mind - see how it works.

"Actually, I had a couple of ideas in mind," you said, a hopeful note creeping into your voice. "What about 'Guernica' by Picasso and '12 Angry Men' by Sidney Lumet?" You stole a glance at Suguru, gauging his reaction. "But of course, we can discuss other options if you have any preferences." There was no sense of going with these topics if Suguru wasn’t aware of them.

Suguru surprised you. "Oh, no need," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice, "I'm familiar with both." Without further ado, the two of you dove into ‘Guernica’.

You took the lead, dissecting the painting's raw portrayal of suffering. You pointed out the distorted figures, the bleak colour palette, and how it all coalesced to evoke a sense of overwhelming despair. Geto readily agreed, analysing the artwork through a utilitarian lens. "Picasso," he observed, "forces us to confront the immense human cost of war."

"But it's not just the humans, is it?" you countered, your gaze lingering on the image of a horse in the centre, its body contorted in agony. "The way Picasso depicts the animals – the terrified horse, the dead dove – broadens the impact of war's devastation. It forces us to consider the suffering inflicted on innocent creatures caught in the crossfire."

Suguru's brows furrowed in thought. "Excellent point," he conceded, a hint of awe colouring his voice. "The horse can be interpreted in several ways – it can be viewed as a symbol of Spain itself, ravaged by war. The dove, traditionally a symbol of peace, lies lifeless, highlighting the destruction of hope brought about by conflict."

The discussion flowed easily, weaving between the artistic elements of the painting and the deeper philosophical questions it raised. The two of you explored the symbolism, the historical context, and how each element contributed to the overall message of the artwork. The more you delved into "Guernica," the more you realised it wasn't just a depiction of war; it was a powerful indictment of its inhumanity, a plea for peace, and a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.

Next, you shifted gears, tackling Sidney Lumet's "12 Angry Men." You highlighted the film's claustrophobic setting of the jury room, emphasising how it served to intensify the ethical debate and forced character development within the confined space. Suguru built upon your point, drawing a parallel between the jury room and a microcosm of societal justice. He explained how the film, through its close-ups and shifting camera angles, explored the characters' internal struggles with prejudice, reasonable doubt, and the crucial importance of open-mindedness during the deliberation process.

"Lumet's masterful use of camerawork is particularly noteworthy," You elaborated, remembering the lessons from your class. "Notice how he employs wide shots at the beginning, establishing the initial hostility and division within the jury. But as the discussion progresses, the camera zooms in on individual faces, capturing the emotional shifts and the gradual erosion of preconceived notions."

As the discussion flowed, a surprising synergy emerged between you and Suguru. Your artistic background provided a vivid understanding of the emotional core of the works, painting a picture with words that resonated deeply with Suguru's philosophical analysis. He, in turn, added depth to your interpretations, weaving a tapestry of ethical considerations that transcended the canvas and resonated with the complexities of the real world.

The afternoon melted away, fueling discussions about the artworks. Your hands brushed against Geto a few times, as you tried to point at something on the screen or as he reached for a pencil to help with your notes. Warmth crept through you every time, but you ignored the feeling, choosing to focus on your assignment.

Suguru's insights provided a fresh perspective, a new lens through which to view the artworks, and a thrill of discovery shot through you. Gazing at your notes, filled with your combined observations, a contented smile played on your lips. The satisfaction wasn't just from a job well done- you were mesmerised to see how Suguru’s mind worked, and the depth of his knowledge.

The sun dipped below the library windows, casting long shadows across the tables, filling the space in shades of peaches and amethyst. Gathering your notes and laptop, you realised how much time had flown by. "Wow," you remarked, surprised by the lateness of the hour. "This was... a lot of fun."

Suguru mirrored your smile, a hint of amusement sparkling in his dark eyes. "Why, you expected something else?" he countered, a playful lilt to his voice, but beneath it, you detected a flicker of concern. Was he worried you hadn't enjoyed yourselves?

"Of course not," you teased, returning his smile. "It’s hard to be disappointed when it comes to you" A light blush crept up his cheeks at your honesty.

He began stacking his books, a thoughtful pause settling between you. "So," he continued, casually slinging his bag over his shoulder, "how about we grab some coffee before heading back?" His voice held a hint of nervousness.

"Sure, I'd love that," you replied, a genuine smile warming your face. Suguru's smile widened in response, and then, in a move that surprised you both, he extended a hand towards you.

Your gaze flickered up to meet his, the surprise you felt mirroring in his dark eyes. It was as if his hand had acted on its own accord. But the surprise quickly melted away, replaced by a flicker of confidence – and perhaps even a spark of hope.

You accepted his gesture, your hand slipping into his. The touch sent a wave of comfort through you. His skin was warm, a stark contrast to the coolness of the library air. There was a comforting solidity to it, a silent invitation that extended beyond the confines of the assignment. For a blissful moment, you wished you could hold onto that feeling forever.

Together, you exited the library, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. By unspoken agreement, you found yourselves heading towards the familiar cafe where you'd first met. Suguru pulled out the chair for you and helped you settle into the chair before making his way towards his chair. After you placed the order, Suguru surprised you by bringing up the presentation format.

"You still have to work on that, right?" he inquired casually.

"Yeah," you confirmed, "but I think it'll be pretty straightforward after all our work."

"Absolutely," Suguru agreed, offering a reassuring smile. "Still, if you need help finalising it, don't hesitate to let me know." His words were laced with a genuine concern that warmed your heart. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done enough- as if he didn’t just spend his entire afternoon with you to help with your assignment.

"But Geto," you protested, "you've already done so much. The analysis itself was practically a seminar, thanks to you."

Suguru chuckled- a soft sound that sent shivers down your spine. "No worries about that," he reassured you, his dark eyes holding a sincerity that left you speechless. "Honestly, I had a great time too."

The waiter arrived with your order, setting it before the two of you, the smell of coffee and choco-chip muffin filling your nostrils. You grabbed your cup, sipping the warm liquid, when Suguru started, his cup in his hand, “I am curious,” he began, “Why didn’t you choose that book for the assignment?”

He didn’t need to elaborate further - You knew which book he was talking about. “Oh, it didn’t make sense to select that book, though I wanted to.” You took another sip of your coffee as you continued, “Honestly, I don’t think people would be familiar with the work, my professor included, and I didn’t want to risk losing marks,” you explained.

Suguru nodded in reply. Curiosity gnawed at you. “How did you find that library, Geto?”

Suguru met your gaze, and a genuine smile softened his features. "By mistake, of course," he chuckled. "I was supposed to be at a different place near the building, but I ended up wandering into the library instead; I had read the address wrong." He paused, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. "Spent hours there before I even realised it. When I finally came out, it was dark."

The memory seemed to bring him amusement, and he let out a light laugh. "What about you?" he asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

You recounted your own experience of that rainy evening. Suguru listened intently as you painted a picture with your words.

Soon, the coffee was gone and the muffins had disappeared, victims of your lively conversation. Suguru reached into his pocket to settle the bill, but this time you were quicker. With a playful smile, you beat him to it, placing some bills on the table before he could protest.

He chuckled, his features softening. "Looks like the roles are reversed today," he conceded, raising his hands in mock surrender, causing you to laugh.

Finally, as the two of you made your way out of the cafe, Suguru surprised you again. "I'd like to walk you home," he offered, his voice sincere. The offer was tempting - it was a chance to prolong the time spent by his side, even if it was just for a moment.

But a part of you hesitated. He'd already done so much, dedicating a significant portion of his afternoon to helping you out.

As if sensing your internal conflict, Suguru spoke again, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I want to," he reiterated, his gaze holding a warmth that sent a shiver down your spine. "Besides, I live nearby."

A slow smile spread across your face as you gave in, not that you opposed it, to begin with. "Alright," you agreed, "Let's go."

The walk home was filled with unspoken emotions, the comfortable silence punctuated only by the rhythmic tap of your shoes against the pavement. With each step, the streetlights seemed to blur, the world shrinking to the space you shared with Suguru. Every brush of your hands, accidental or not, sent warmth coursing through you, a delicious tingle that left you breathless. His touch, when it happened, was a revelation.

Soon, too soon, you were facing the entrance of your apartment, Suguru standing beside you. You wanted to extend this moment, to make time slow down somehow. You turned to face him, to look into his eyes, hoping to see a glimmer of what you felt in his eyes too.

Before you could meet his eyes, a sudden gust of wind whipped around you, a playful villain stealing your breath and tossing your hair into a frenzy. Instinctively, you reached up to tame the strands, but Suguru's hand appeared beside yours before your fingers could graze a single lock.

Time seemed to slow as his fingers brushed your cheekbone, moving the hair and tucking it behind your ear, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the cool night air.

But that wasn't all. His touch lingered a feather-light caress that sent goosebumps cascading across your skin. Slowly, oh so slowly, his hand travelled down the length of your hair, his fingers gently combing through the stray strand. The sensation was electric, a current that arced from the point of contact, igniting every nerve ending in its path.

His touch lingered at the ends of your hair, a whisper of a promise against your skin. Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs, a drumbeat echoing the turmoil within you. You wanted to pull away, to retreat from the dangerous territory his touch had ignited. But a stronger force, a current far more powerful than reason, held you rooted to the spot.

You met his gaze, your breath catching in your throat. His dark eyes were pools of molten dark chocolate, swirling with unspoken emotions that mirrored your own. A hunger flickered in their depths, a hunger that both terrified and exhilarated you.

The unforgiving wind blew again, causing Suguru to blink, and the moment was gone. The hunger you saw in his eyes was no longer there, and you were questioning yourself- maybe you were imagining it. But then you saw the way his chest rose and fell, the slight flush on top of his cheeks and the way his hands were touching you. 

No, it wasn’t your imagination.

Suguru carefully retracted his hand, “Here we are,” he said, his voice hoarse. He was affected as much as you were.

“Here we are,” you echoed, too lost to think of anything else.

Finally, Suguru cleared his throat, the sound breaking the spell. "Well," he began, his voice hesitant, "I guess I should…"

He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. His gaze flickered to your lips for a fleeting moment, a spark of desire igniting within its depths before it was quickly extinguished.

"Yeah," you whispered, the word catching in your throat. Neither of you wanted the night to end, yet neither of you dared to suggest otherwise.

Suguru offered a ghost of a smile, a bittersweet farewell that mirrored the emotions swirling within you. "See you in college, then?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

See you in college? That’s it? Come on Suguru, say something more than that. Offer something more than that. But you didn’t say what you wanted to say, just repeated his words.

"Yeah," you replied, your voice barely audible. "See you in college."

“Please let me know whenever you start on the presentation format. I would love to help you with that - whenever that is” he said, voice still low, but it was dripping with sincerity - honesty - as if he wanted it more than you did.

You could only nod, but that was enough for him, it seemed.

With a final, lingering look, Suguru turned and walked away, his retreating figure swallowed by the darkness. As you watched him go, an ache settled in your chest.

a/n: Okay so it's here! The first chapter for my first series! Honestly this idea has been brewing in my head for over a month now and I am so glad to finally share it.

I hope you liked it, please let me know what you thought about it, feedbacks are always welcome! xo

@shiin-ye @whereflowerswenttodie @nakariabnrb

Dividers: @/benkeibear @/cafekitsune @/saradika-graphics

#getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #jujutsu geto #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto smut #geto #suguru geto #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru geto smut #getou suguru x you #getou suguru x y/n #college au #jjk #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fluff #jjk x y/n #tasha's works ✍️ #tasha's whisper of the petals 💐 #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo

[tainted-liquor]

'Watch Your Fucking Mouth! ...₊˚⊹♡ Ft. 42Miles

...˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

e42!Miles Morales x Autistic!BlackFem!Reader

ingredients: Sugar, Lemon zest, n a lil bit of smiles!

TWs: 'ual harrasment, Miles choosing violence, cussing, bullying

A/N: this is designed for blackfem readers on the mild to moderate end of the autism spectrum. NOT every autistic person is the same, but this is specifically modeled based on MY experience with autism, because this is how I see the world. Enjoy

Reader has a kirby/retro games special interest btw

For the past 7 months, you've been dating your beloved boyfriend, Miles Morales! Of course, this was way easier said than done. Miles had a permanent stone face, a smooth and focused voice, and struggled to describe or depict his emotions. Regardless of that small barrier, he made every effort in the world to make sure you understood where he was coming from. By now he had a pretty good understanding of what to do and what not to do, even going so far as developing somewhat of a routine with you.

You were walking hand in hand with Miles, listening to him recall his day before you briefly paused to look at a cute little shop housing tons of adorable plushies, but most importantly Kirby plushies. Miles stopped, watching as you stared down the cute little sleeping Kirby in the window. Miles chuckled to himself, finding the whole ordeal adorable as you ripped your eyes away from the display window. "You want that plush, huh?" He asked, leading you back in the direction of the tiny store as you nodded eagerly. "Aight, c'mon. Go get it" he nodded as his heart throbbed in his chest while he watched your face light up.

You left the store with 2 new action figures that you fought to pay for and several Kirby plushies. "Happy?" he asked, smiling subtly as his hand found purchase right in yours. "Mhm! I fucking love Kirby man he's just so...cool!" you beamed, rocking your arms side to side with joy. "Aight, c'mon. I gotta get you home before your mom blow my top off" he chuckled, rolling his eyes with faux annoyance as he led you home. "'Kay. Can you walk me to school tomorrow, please?" you asked, gazing into the paper bag holding your merchandise.

"Of course, mama. You want me to bring you a croissant from that bakery?" He asked, watching your side profile with a soft smile gracing his features. "Yes please!" You beamed while rounding the corner to your house. "I think when I get home I'm gonna play with my kitchen set or something...that shit was fun" You giggled as Miles pretended to help you up the stairs like a bodyguard, pressing his imaginary earpiece and muttering an 'all clear'. You waved goodbye, peppering every inch of his face with kisses and tiny bites.

The next day rolled around within the blink of an eye, prompting you to do your daily routine of a hot shower and self-care. You quickly touched up your Fulani braids, slicking down your edges and adding pink star clips to tie the look together before throwing on your uniform, mentally cringing at how the waistband felt against your stomach. You charged down the stairs with your backpack, waiting on the couch for a couple of minutes before getting a text from Miles informing you that he was outside. You flung the front door open, immediately smiling as you caught sight of your boyfriend. "Hey Miles!"

"Hey. I gotchu your croissant, c'mon" he smiled as he gestured behind him with his head. You locked your front door, walking alongside him as he handed you your food and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You walked the entire way to school, giggling like children as you showed him some dumb 'school tea pages' on your phone. "Niggas be irritatin'...HELP LOOK AT THIS ONE!" you guffawed, tears clouding your eyes as you showed Miles a 'lala bop' video. His eyes widened, jaw hanging open as he read the caption before bursting out in laughter.

"Nah that's TRAGIC...how you 15 with 17 bodies? That's fucking CRAZY!" He gasped, shaking his head in disbelief as you made your way into school. "Aight, Imma see you during 3rd, okay?" He reassured, giving you a kiss on the cheek before walking in the direction of his advisory. You waved bye in between bites of your croissant as you skipped over to your advisory, ready for another boring and dull day of school. You hated the constant cycle of sad blue and white days, praying that something would spice up the day. Well, you got your wish! It just wasn't what you were expecting...at all.

Miles walked through the halls, scrolling through your Instagram on his phone before deciding to make a slight detour to the bathroom. He huffed in annoyance as he saw a small line leading out of the boy's bathroom, opting to lean on a neighboring locker while he continued to mind the business that paid him. "YEO! Miles!" Someone shouted, prompting him to snap his head towards the noise. He locked eyes with his friend Terrence, smirking slightly as he dapped him up. "What's good witchu? You trynna skip 1st period?" Miles asked as he tucked his phone in his back pocket.

"Yessir. Who the fuck bouta be up at 8 AM doing math? They must be fuckin' stupid or some shit, like. Fuck is you talkin' bout" Terrence complained, rolling his eyes with an obvious grimace. "Nah, I feel you. I just do the homework they posted cuz fuck I needa go to the class for if you post the lessons?" Miles grunted, dawning the same grimace as his homie. "Bullshit, that's what it is. But YO! I heard from niggas that you dating what's her name now?" Terrence poked, smirking slightly. "Y/N," Miles corrected "And yes, that's my girl. Why?" He asked, furrowing his brows slightly and turning his head to the side. "Okay, I see you my boy. Her shit mad yurky too I understand" Terrence joked, elbowing Miles slightly with a...disgustingly lustful expression.

"Pardon?" Miles asked, leaning his head towards the shorter boy in an attempt to make sense of his previous sentence. "I'm sayin', she got a body on her. Can't be there for the personality, that bitch a fuckin' geek, just tell her you trynna hit!" Terrence giggled. "Yo, Terrence. Watch your fucking mouth" Miles spat, feeling anger and rage bubble throughout his veins. "My bad gang, I assumed you was in it to hit it! C'mon man, don't tell me you like-"

BOOM!

There was a universal wave of "OHHHH!" and gasps. Splotches of blood littered the floor as the metal locker dented slightly. "Say it again. So I can fuck you up, c'mon" Miles grunted, delivering a disgustingly heavy kick to Terrance's head. "No te quedes callado ahora, vamos" He giggled, leaning back against the locker like nothing ever happened. The news took absolutely zero time to get to you, considering you were two rooms down from the actual fight. "Fuck" you whispered, mentally preparing yourself to have to yell at your boyfriend for two hours.

"MILES FUCKING GONZALO MORALES! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING! WHY WERE YOU EVEN FIGHTING THE NIGGA IN THE FIRST PLACE!" You screamed as soon as Miles showed up at your bedroom window after school. "Baby I'm not gonna subject you to the shit he was saying, but just know it was for you" He cooed, subtly ignoring the fact that you were practically berating him in real time as he mushed his cheek against yours. "DO YOU EVEN HEAR ME RIGHT NOW?" You yelled, ripping his face away from yours as you held his jaw in both hands. "Yes, 'm sorry. I swear I am, but I do not like when niggas talk about my girl" he grunted as he rolled his eyes. You sighed, rubbing your temples as you called upon your ancestors to give you the strength to deal with this boy.

"Look, I can handle myself. Don't do that shit again, aight?"

"Yes my love."

Taglist:

@ashsostrange @chessbox @faeriesoiree333 @janaeby @an1bara @fivestardior

#miles morales x reader #atsv #spiderman atsv #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales fluff #miles molares #across the spider verse #miles morales headcanons #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x you #42 miles morales

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞

꧁ eddie x female reader

a multi chapter mini series— based on thoroughfare by ethel cain

listen here (apple music) + here (spotify)

summary: jumping into his truck at seventeen, eddie takes a journey in hopes to find love. years pass with no such luck, along the way he stumbles across you, a timid drifter who reluctantly agrees to join him, heading west. you’ve never trusted men, but something in those kind, deep colored coffee eyes stirs up a feeling you’ve never felt before. strangers to lovers trope, one bed trope.

triggers: 18+ smut

author’s note: no upside down, eddie was raised by his mom and dad in florida and they were in love.

The wet shell of a sunflower seed stuck to the tip of your finger. Slicked with salted spit and the tart bite of cherry chapstick, you hung your hand out of the passenger window, waiting for the western wind to blow the husk from your finger.

His thumb rubs against the rough edges of the flint wheel of his zippo, the sweet tang of tobacco invading your nose as the flame sparks leaving a burning cherry on the white paper. A slight chap to his lips from too much sun yesterday at the motel pool in BullHead City, you had supposed. Still, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. The only time you could was when his eyes caught yours, daring you to look away.

The way he stared at you with a smirk twisted on his mouth took every bit of breath from your lungs. Holding your gaze in a cozy embrace with the deep warmth of his russet colored eyes until you finally forced yours to break away and look out the window instead. Bottom lip bit between your lips as a growing heat travels over the apples of your cheeks.

If you would have looked back at him you’d have noticed the way he licked his lips as he watched you sigh as if you hadn’t been breathing. Snapping another sunflower seed between your teeth before putting them on the crest of your lips to put them out of the window— he had your movements memorized. Each more tantalizing than the next.

Neither of you were able to deny the tension between you lately, letting it build and fester, aching for relief in the form of pleasure.

The last eight weeks had started to wear heavy on your chest, and you found yourself daydreaming about the beginning of this adventure, like a record on an endless spin to your favorite song.

Not a single radio station would come in wherever the hell it was in Texas he was right now. With every crank of the tuning dial, only the agonizing noise of static strained through the speakers to keep him company as he drove along this highway that never seemed to end.

He cursed himself for not buying a map at the gas station he filled the truck up at this morning. His gut instinct usually guided him on which roads to take, and today was no different. Only today felt like he was pulled by something else, something deeper within himself.

The sky was a mix of cyan and cotton clouds, already hot for May, he was just about to give up on the radio before he popped over a hill and an oldies station came in clear as could be. And something else came into view, plenty far away yet.

Hot wind whipped at your shirt, providing next to nothing for comfort as you trudged along the broken asphalt. You now understood why this place was called the Lone Star State, because you haven’t seen a damn soul in miles. For today, you didn’t mind the loneliness. Leaving home, years ago, you didn’t have a destination in mind, only the knowledge that you needed to get the hell out.

Whatever highway you were on looked to be deserted. As if the state built a multi-laned monstrosity elsewhere and gave up on this slow, lonely stretch, leaving it to the elements. Prairie grass poked through the splintered road, tumbleweeds swayed in the ditches, collecting and tangling as one like a tawny bundle of barbed wire.

Looking behind you, a vehicle showed in the distance like a wavy mirage in the desert. You had half a thought to stick your thumb out and catch a ride to the nearest bus station, but when the vehicle got closer your conscience took over, and anxiety thumped in your chest.

Please don’t stop, please please.

The engine hummed to a lower gear, and you automatically put a hand on the pistol at your waistband. Moving further over to the side of the road where whoever was driving could see that you weren’t interested in their good deed, you kept your head down and kept walking.

Tires slowed and you went into a small panic, wishing you had something sharp to hold between your fingers, but the barren highway offered no such vice.

You heard faint music as the vehicle got closer, crawling almost to a stop as you quickened your steps hoping they would just keep going and leave you be.

“Pretty hot out today… need a lift?”

The voice felt like velvet on your skin, a warmth you’d never known. Endearingly charming, no southern twang like someone from Texas would have. You ignored him, letting the crunch of gravel on your worn boots answer instead.

You had never been given the luxury to trust someone, and you’d be damned if you were gonna start today with some stranger on the side of the road. Heart rate kicking up, you all but bolted to avoid him.

“Baby don’t run, I’ll take you anywhere,” his drawl wrapped around you like a vice, soft and pillowy, and finally your curiosity got the better of you, as you came to a halt. You wanted to look this asshole in the eyes and flash him the pistol you kept, maybe fire a warning shot over the hood of his truck so he’d get the message. That no, in fact you did not need a ride, not from him.

Stopping so his passenger window lined up with you in the center you eyed the only other beating heart on the side of the road.

His hair was past his shoulders, brown and wavy, more than likely frizzy in high humidity. Eyes that were shaped like Bambi’s colored like a bottomless cup of coffee without creamer. His nose sat with a fading sunburn painting along his cheeks, each dwelling a poked dimple in the center. And you swore the key to Heaven was buried in his smile.

When he spoke it was clear that his intentions weren’t to cause you any harm. Minutes ticked by as he waited for your answer.

“Hey, do you wanna see the West with me?”

It was a simple question asked from the quirked mouth of a guy you’d never met before, you would have remembered those eyes in any setting. He leaned an elbow out his window as he threw the truck in park, twisting in his seat to face you a little more. A cigarette dangling from his large hand.

The butter colored sun shone against his caramel curls like a breakfast roll full of sticky sugar, the same light changing his eyes into a whiskey auburn.

He was a complete stranger, but what was even stranger was your one word answer that spread that million dollar grin further onto his face than you thought humanly possible.

You moved your hand from that handle of the gun in your tattered jeans, bearing more holes than actual threads of denim. It was meant for situations just like this, and you had nabbed it from your dad right before you walked out the front door for the very last time.

Instinct told you to run, but something in those dark eyes brought you a wave of calm, whispering out as if you’d known him for years. Your boots had already blistered your heels from walking this far, so what the hell?

Pressing a thumb into the release of the door handle, you swung yourself and your knitted bag into the moth-bitten navajo rug that covered the seat.

His smile didn’t fade, never so much as creased into a frown as he waited for you to get situated. Before he put his truck into drive he explained where he was going.

He was making the grand gesture of looking for love like the kind he grew up watching with his own mom and dad. Explaining that love like that was out there waiting for him, and he was determined to find it, no matter the distance.

Suspicion jumped to your brow, and you tried to stifle the scowl on your lip. “What?” he chirped, a little twist to his lips, “don’t believe in stuff like that?”

This bastard clearly didn’t know heartache the way you were practically related to it. You sigh lazily before looking over at him. Trying not to break his dreams before he even had the chance to realize what a waste of time it was, you simply murmur, “honey, love’s never meant much to me, but I’ll come with you if you’re sure that’s what you need.”

After years of living and growing without being loved, it had become almost useless, something heard in songs or read in books, surely it wasn’t real. But hell, you’d humor this man whose smile danced like a western sunset against a salty ocean breeze, what was the worst that could happen?

A large calloused hand reached across the cab of the truck, and you shook it with a small grin as his voice rubbed like silk across your soul, “I’m Eddie.”

And so it began, the journey to find a love daring to be something greater than anything he’d ever known, hell bent and determined it was out there, wherever that may be.

He had asked about your life. Never pushing when your answers were too short, or ended the conversation entirely. Letting you have your space, he built a trust between the two of you that you weren’t sure about at first.

The roads were desolate, and you couldn’t imagine walking along them alone. You thanked whoever cared that your thoroughfare crossed into his, almost as if destiny had placed you there. Knowing you needed a friend after leaving the only thing you’d ever known and not having a single soul to rely on.

But as time went by, you realized just how much you could rely on him.

That first day, he drove until the windshield bled to ink. Stars dotted across the sky once the sun went to rest, and he encouraged you to follow suit, pulling a hooded sweatshirt from behind his seat and tossing it towards you. Your hesitation told him all he needed to know, that the uncertainty of him was rooted deep. Too deep for you to let your guard down around him.

That pearl handle poked out from your hip and his kind eyes met the scared look in yours. He rubs his lips together before he speaks calmly, “you uhm,” he looks over at you to show how serious this was to him, even if you couldn’t see it in the dark, “you don’t have to worry about using that with me… I’m not that kind of guy.”

His innocence spoke through his eyes in words he hadn’t said, showing you that he wasn’t lying, that you could trust him. You took a deep breath, wondering if you were insane for feeling comfortable with a guy you just met, but it wasn’t long before you whisper, “okay.”

When you snuck a peek over at him, his face was lit by the dim lights of the dash, a smirk nestled on his lips, cheeks welled with the deepest dimples you’d ever seen, and your shoulders eased for the first time since hopping in.

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the night. Your head resting on the window, his sweatshirt rolled under your neck as you fell into a sleep so tender and warm you felt like a baby being lulled to bed as he sang along to the radio.

The heat from the window warmed your cheek when you woke, leaving a less than glamourous mark. Letting out an embarrassingly long yawn, you stretch your arms above your head, feeling your back crack into submission.

“Shit, ‘m sorry, how long did I sleep?” you ask, covering your mouth again from another yawn.

Eddie smiled tiredly, his hair was wrapped into a bun at the base of his neck, sunglasses topping his nose, pushing up from his cheeks as he grins, “don’t apologize for sleeping when you’re tired,” he said, shrugging, “besides, you probably would’ve woken up if I crashed.”

A chuckle hits your dry throat and you cough, “where are we?”

“Still in Texas believe it or not,” he groans, turning it into a long yawn, holding a hand to his mouth, swallowing a bit, “I hoped we could’ve made it to New Mexico before I pulled over but I’m starting to think that ain’t gonna happen.”

You figured he would have stopped to sleep at some point in the night, even if it was just for a few hours. Guilt throttled you at the thought of him staying up while you were asleep. “I can drive while you take a nap.”

“Nah,” he says with a lazy smile, looking over at you, “not that I care if you drive my truck or not, I just think we could both use some decent sleep, watch a little tv, eat, plus… I need a shower.”

Taking a whore’s bath in the gas station sinks had kept you clean, but you almost cried outright at the thought of water, cold or hot you couldn’t care less, running down the length of your body. But the lack of money burning in your pocket stopped that dream in its tracks.

You had a couple hundred bucks left after selling off your car before leaving home. The cost efficient option would be to drive while he slept. “It’s really not a big deal, I promise I’m a good driver.”

The charm you tried to emanate when pulling out your license to show him that you indeed weren’t lying, fell flat as Eddie waved you off, “deodorant only lasts so long before we’ll have to ride with our heads outta the window.”

He laughs in your place as you stare out of the windshield, mind racing over the trouble of being able to afford a motel room.

“C’mon,” he smirks, that same lazy smile stretched on his face, you wondered if he ever got mad. “We survived almost a whole day together, if I was gonna rob you I would’ve done it already.”

“It’s not that,” you say, picking at your nails, fighting the urge to bite them to shreds, “I wasn’t walking because I wanted too…”

Wheels turn in a tired mind as Eddie nearly chokes when he realizes what you meant.

“Don’t worry about it,” he confirms, brushing you off as if it wasn’t a big deal that you’d be bunking with him for free, and when your facial expressions didn’t change, he lowered his voice, and took off his sunglasses, “seriously sweets, you’re doing me a favor keeping me company, ‘m not gonna make you pay for a trip you didn’t plan, okay?”

You sighed, and shook your head yes.

The nearest motel was a hole in the wall type of place. Adhering to the kind of people that either paid by the hour or stayed for weeks at a time. The perk being it was next to a gas station where you refused to let Eddie pay for the armful of snacks he had carried to the counter. Including two hotdogs that you couldn’t be bothered wondering how long they’d been spinning in the warmer.

His boots clunked against the sidewalk as he jumped from the bed of the pickup hauling his duffle bag over his shoulder, the hotel keys wrapped around his forefinger. Outside of you both relieving yourselves on the empty shoulder of the highway last night, this was the first time you’d seen just how tall he was.

He squints in the sun and cocks his head, “bet you a dollar the carpet is orange.”

Room 8 consisted of two full sized beds, a lamp between the two, an arm chair and a small television. A stiff neon brochure for adult channels lay next to the remote, and you scrunched your nose as Eddie pushed it to the floor with the heel of his boot.

Laying out the snacks neatly on the table, you hand him the other hot dog, licking a drop of mustard from your palm. He thanked you, and took a bite consuming almost half of it before dropping onto the bed closest to the door, laying flat on his back.

Having four walls around you gave you a sense of peace you hadn’t been expecting. Slipping off your shoes you wiggled your bare toes and sat on the bed facing away from him, rolling your socks into one another.

“How’s the hotdog?” you asked over your shoulder, moving your bag between the side of your bed and the wall for the bathroom.

A muffled sound comes from the other side of the room as he shovels another bite in, “rubbery, but not too bad for having been made at midnight.”

You snort and swing your legs into the bed. Grabbing the hotdog from the comforter and peeling back the white paper around it, taking a small bite. It was warm, and tasted a hell of a lot better than the moldy ham sandwich you ate yesterday. A satisfied hum leaves your mouth and you giggle.

“Hotdogs for breakfast… don’t think I’ve ever had this before.” You laugh again before taking another bite of the squishy snack. Eddie looks up as he chews the remaining bite, realizing this was the first time he’d ever heard you laugh loud enough for him to hear, what a beautiful sound.

“Stick with me, we’ll have breakfast for dinner, too,” his tongue pokes out to lick a smear of ketchup from the corner of his lip, and he yawns loud and proud.

You cross your feet beneath your legs, a content little smile on your face. “Do I still owe you a dollar if the carpet is also brown and green?”

Your combined laughter echoes across the wood paneling and the pictures of dogs playing poker. The two of you joke about the severely dated room, agreeing that this was probably the place to stay in its prime. But the sheets were clean and that’s about all you could ask for at this point.

Eddie’s eyes were nearly closed as he scrubs large hands down his face, his voice strained, “mind if I shower ‘fore I fall asleep?”

“Not at all,” you say, jumping from the bed and looking through the snacks to find the licorice, “take all the time you need.”

He tosses the remote to your bed and unzips his bag, pulling out a toothbrush and a clean pair of boxer briefs, a minute passes and he scratches his head before diving back into the bag, yanking out a folded pair of sweatpants.

Sighing as he peels off his boots, he walks to the bathroom door and before shutting it, he pokes his head back out, a curious little grin on his lips as he asks earnestly, “you’re not gonna run away, are you?”

You swallow the bite of licorice and smile back, “think you’re stuck with me, if that’s cool with you?”

His grin broadens to a cheshire smile and he says he won’t be long, promising to save some hot water.

Neither of you can quit the grin on your lips until the door unlocks, and Eddie mutters “cool,” to himself before leaving the steamed bathroom.

Diners with smudge stained windows and siding that was warped from the sun's rays, came few and far between on those lone, dust covered roads. Eddie had pulled into almost every one. “Never know when the next one will pop up, sweetheart,” he smirked, sending a wink your way that had your stomach fluttering.

Each menu, although stickier at some places than others, was relatively the same. Eggs, Bacon, Toast. Waffles at the fancier joints or maybe a bowl of fruit alongside a flapjack.

He watched you intently as your eyes scanned the menu, keeping his promise of having breakfast for supper a few week into your trip. His own stomach had been grumbling since you packed up from the last motel somewhere on the border of Oklahoma and New Mexico. A wrong turn near McCamey had taken you North to Amarillo, three hundred miles in the completely opposite direction.

Instead of screaming about the wasted fuel, Eddie had only shrugged. He was excited to cross into the panhandle, and to make a check along the list of states you’d scribbled onto a napkin a few days into the trip to cross off as you came through them.

That quiet, suspicious drifter he had picked up three weeks ago seemed to blossom with life the more he peeled back the bricks that you had surrounded yourself with. But Eddie was charismatic, easy to talk to, and you found yourself deep in the throes of explaining things to him you haven’t talked about in years.

When your cheeks would heat and embarrassment creeped up your neck, you apologized for talking too much. He only shook his head, a small smile on his lips as he said that he didn’t mind, he wanted to know more.

The waitress strolled back over with a cigarette hanging from her lip, a gray ash practically a mile thick on it as she grumbled about the specials and set glasses of water on the table—ice already melted besides a sliver of a stubborn cube.

“I’ll take a cup of coffee,” he charmed, folding the menu placing his hands on top of it, “two eggs hard fried, a couple of sausage patties and wheat toast, also one of those slices of lemon meringue pie I saw in the display window.”

Without so much as a grunt, the waitress lifted her eyes to look you over. Setting down the vinyl menu, you place your order and lick your lips at the thought of the homemade lard crust on the rhubarb pie.

Looking out the window to the dry landscape, you sigh with a breath of content. You had never been this far west before, never been anywhere really besides the small town you grew up in.

Two coffees sit in front of each of you and Eddie thanks the waitress, a dimpled grin on his cheeks as he opens a packet of sugar. Warm eyes look at you as he stirs the coffee into a swirl, “Nothing like home, huh?”

A smile presses to your lips and you sip the bitter liquid, chipped porcelain against your front teeth, “definitely not, the air is dry here.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, slipping the spoon into his mouth to clean the coffee up, taking a big gulp of the burnt— probably microwaved— concoction, “it is, but that’s the beauty in the journey, exploring different places, meeting new people.”

He tucks a curl behind his ear, a tiny silver hoop in his lobe, you hadn’t noticed before and you ask, “you keen on picking up strangers on the side of the road?”

A laugh bubbles from his throat, and he smiles big showing all of his teeth, “in all the years I’ve been on the road, I never have, not until you,” he takes a sip of his coffee, a pretty blush rides on his cheeks, “guess I haven’t run out of luck just yet.”

You hide your own smile, itching your nose, “how long has it been?”

Eddie thinks for a minute, “well, I left Florida when I was seventeen..,” he adds up the years on his fingers with this thumb moving to each one, “… shit,” he says with a smirk, “almost nine years now.”

He was older, not by much, but you had both left at a younger age. Calling the open road and warm air home for years. Living like a Steve Earle song sporting a two pack habit and a motel tan, it seemed like fate put you on the same road that he was traveling that day.

But you push that thought away, Eddie was looking for love, and you were just tagging along like a pet, a friend at best.

“Do you ever miss it?”

He stretches himself across the booth, arms on the back of the peeling seat, pearl snaps straining against the denim from the broadness of his chest, and you find it hard not to look, “Nah, I’ll go back someday, me and my girl.”

That flutter happens again in your stomach and you feel almost nauseous at how infectious his smile is.

You spend the rest of dinner that way, trying to shove down a grin with each bite of breakfast food as the sun fell behind the mountains. Letting the butterflies swarm, with each time he looked into your eyes.

Not knowing that Eddie was also slowly losing his own battles, leaving with something more in his stomach that was sweeter then the stiff meringue on that damn lemon pie.

🌵 taglist: @joejoequinnquinn @micheledawn1975 @dashingdeb16 @hereforshmut @welc0me-t0-hellfire @aropodcastfuck

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie drabble #eddie blurb

[thegnomelord]

what if reader worried about speaking around the 141 boys because he worries what if his voice alone is too overwhelming for simple human minds to grasp and the sound of it alone could accidentally melt their brains into mush? Being finally comfortable to say a few words around them but still being hyper-aware of keeping his voice and all aspects of his form under control so nobody gets hurt.

Okay the absolute angst you could come up with this is astounding anon but also I'm in the need of fluff after a depression inducing exam sooo;

Imagine Calling Their Name For The First Time

CW:SFW, Fluff, Gaz, Price, Soap, Ghost x Eldritch reader (separate) slight hurt/comfort with Price, each part is roughly 600-700 words.

Imagine GAZ — As a cat, your presence used to help him sleep calmly on nights when his mind was hell bent on reminding him of his failures. Petting your belly or scratching down your spine while you laid on his chest gave his hands a mindless task he could succeed in, the sensation of your fur on his fingers just enough to keep him lucid and grounded when it felt like his bed wanted to swallow him whole. But now that you've revealed your true nature... things have changed.

He was the first one on the taskforce to trust you again; but make no mistake, it still took him months to stop jumping at shadows in the corners of his eyes. He still touches you, but it's different. Now his touches are contained to a pat on your shoulder or a small scritch under your chin when he thinks no-one's looking.

Even in the body of a cat you'd been silent as the grave, so he knows better than to force you to speak. Hell, he even offers an alternative after he sees how you struggle to express your thoughts through paper and pen: Sign language

It's a joint effort as he doesn't know it either, but you can't be mad at him when he giggles so sweetly every time your uncouth hands sign something ridiculous. It's hard to move your fingers with finesse when you've forced yourself in such a limited body and it translates to your language with it ending up bastardized and warped when compared to the real thing just as you are to reality itself.

On a night when his mind has run him ragged and chased away any hope of sleep, you find him on the roof of the base. He's easy to track when millions of your eyes dot the night sky; though you may be a god, you are so small you escape his notice as a storm of thoughts clouds his bloodshot eyes, not even the blanket you drape over his shoulders gets a reaction.

So like a young fool, you try something else.

Just like your sign language, just like you, the sounds escaping your throat are a distorted mockery of the real thing. What should be clean notes come out filled with whistles and chirps and the whispers of a million dead sacrificed to you over the millennia, each one speaking a fraction of a second out of sync to form a low and warbled "Kyle."

His name comes out like tar and sticks to the fabric of all that is, the air around you vibrating. He deserves far more than this, but it's the most human you can make yourself sound.

His head snaps to look at you, mouth agape and wetness around the corners of his eyes. For a second your nonexistent heart shreds itself into pieces thinking you'd broken him and you're ready to disappear into the blackness you crawled out of in an attempt not to harm him further; his hand stops you, pulls you by the front of your clothes so his sturdy hands can wrap around your body.

"Took your sweet time." He whispers so quietly even you need to strain your ears, burying his head into your shoulder. His rapid heart drums so hard against his ribs like it's trying to leap into your cold chest, and for a moment you can almost believe you have one of your own.

Against your better judgement you open your mouth again, speaking in just as quiet a voice as him, yet it still shakes every bone in his body. "You broken?"

He hugs you tighter. "Nah." Gaz gives a weak chuckle, squeezes his arms to check if you hadn't disappeared; that you're more solid than the dead men in his nightmares. "Keep talking to me, please? Say my name again, yeah?"

How can you refuse?

Imagine PRICE — At first, he doesn't know what to do with you.

Finding out the cat Soap and Gaz had begged his ear off into getting is actually some unspeakable god is one thing. Realizing he'd been letting said god use his tits pecs as stress balls and nap on them is a whole 'nother can of worms. Having to chastise a damn god about what is and isn't appropriate, let alone why trying to burry your head into his pecs in front of recruits isn't, is just down bizarre.

But he still treats you like any other soldier in need of guidance, he gives you structure despite the fact you, by definition, are structureless. He's strange like that, perhaps due to age, perhaps due to his asinine stubbornness, but he's a little more resistant to your existence than most. This lets him sit you down every week on the same day and try coaching simple words like 'yes' and 'no' and 'here' out of your throat, wearing ear muffs more for your sake of mind than protection.

Granted, you're as bullheaded as you are old, so most days he ends up talking with himself. But he considers it a small victory every time he manages to pull a word out of you.

Then your hubris makes a mission go to shit, because while you may be immortal in your human disguise, the three bullets in Price's chest that nearly kill him can attest he isn't.

Humans often speak of a god's wrath and they are right; you make a blackened hole out of the enemy base when you find him bleeding out, steel and stone bent into obtrude ways to ensure it may never be restored. You are lucky he's too exhausted to see parts of you burst out of your human back, tentacles of liquid abyss reaching through solid walls to grab the enemies and pull them down into the waiting jaws of nothingness. Not even a bug can save them from being erased from existence like they're drawings on a paper sheet...

But they hardly speak of a god's sorrow; you stay by his bedside while he sleeps, every inch of every surface of the room dotted by your eyes so you can make sure his chest continues to rise and fall in an even tempo, bearing your teeth at Death until it scampers off.

But it's still not enough with how regret claws at you, so you lean over to cover his body with your own, mindful of his sutures as you bury your head into his chest and let out all the words clogging your throat.

It's the tremble of his bones that finally wakes him, his eyes fluttering open to be met with a sea of maddening eyes across the ceiling staring back at him. But with exhaustion clouding his mind the incomprehensibility of the sight simply washes over and past him like a small wave, not even tickling his brain.

But your voice gains his attention, the soft saccharine croon in your voice, the little crackle of lightning in the bleakness behind each syllable vibrates every rib in his chest as you mutter something into his skin, like you're trying to pass a secret to his heart without him hearing it.

"Now what's that, Mittens?" He calls you the name he used when you were a cat, raising a hand to ruffle your hair. Your body hovers over his, enough to feel you against him but not enough to crush him. "Speak up, c'mon, ain't going to hurt."

You raise your head to look at him, his eyes are too blurred to see the gateways to oblivion yours have become, little drops of starry tears bleeding from the ceiling. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry for getting you hurt." You speak before you can even remember you shouldn't, "I'm sorry John."

He just chuckles as much as the stitches will let him. "Well look a' you." He slurs and kneads the muscles at the nape of your neck, hand trailing down to hook his fingers over the harsh edge where your back is still hollowed out like a rotten tree until he can feel solid nothingness press against his skin. "Only took me nearly dyin' for you to finally talking in full sentences." He draws in a sharp breath and pulls you by your back so you're splayed out on top of him fully. "Go on, purr for me some more."

So long as he forgives you, you'll speak until the whole world's gone deaf.

Imagine GHOST— Ghost is the most vary of you after you reveal what you are, he still is in a way. You can feel his eyes on you whenever you two share a space as if he's just waiting for you to drop the charade and turn monstrous, but at the very least his fingers don't twitch for the trigger of a gun each time you draw close.

He doesn't force you to speak, not when he's not much of a talker himself. A simple grunt or a shift of the eyes is all it takes for you to understand him and vice versa, he even learns a few simple words in sign language, though he doesn't acknowledge it when Soap calls him out for growing soft on you.

Because your control of your human body is amateurish at best, he pulls you into sparring frequently. Of course he won't admit that he likes the power trip he gets when he pins you down, even if he does mock your godhood in his deep baritone that makes something new churn in your stomach. And he pins you down frequently, your superior strength of little use when he knows better techniques.

Somehow, this time you manage to knock him down on his arse with only a little cheating on your part. He stares back at you and you grin down at him to the best of your ability, not quite right but close enough, and with a happy glow in your eyes you let out a short and quiet "I win." without even noticing, the air around you vibrating with the laughter of reality.

You freeze and it feels like the cold oblivion in your veins turns to ice, and Ghost uses that distraction to grip your shoulders and roll you over so he's on top of you. But this time something feels different; you can't read his mind like you do communicating with your kin, but you see the tenseness in his muscles, the stiffness in his shoulders, the dark look in his eyes like he's on a mission.

"I win." He growls, pushing all of his weight down to pin your shoulder on the ground despite you not struggling as he rests his hand on your throat with his fingers on your silent pulse points. "Now, say my name." He orders. "Go on, sing fer me."

You swallow and feel the tightness in your throat from the resistance of his hand. It's funny; he is like a fly to you, yet you're the one who feels small. "Ghost?" You warble out with just enough intonation to phrase it as a question, something echoing in the silence behind your voice like the crackle of flame and the snapping of old bones.

A shiver races down his spine as he feels the you wiggle and shift beneath your human suit, pushing against his hand as if to caress him through the thin separation of skin. It makes something hot burn in his chest, something primal demanding to feel this supposed god trapped beneath him; to taste twisted divinity and maddening oblivion.

"No, not that one." He growls, lifts his mask just up to the bridge of his nose and then leans down so his eyes are level with yours. "Say my name." His order is clear even as he mumbles it against your cold lips.

You breathe in his scent, the edges of your form rippling in and out like fog or a glitching computer in a desperate attempt to hold on to your body. You tilt your head so your lips brush against his, suddenly short of breath despite the fact you don't need to breathe. "Simon." You whisper and you can taste heat on your tongue with each letter, the ground beneath you shuddering.

You feel him smirk. "Much bettah." Then the hand on your throat is tilting your head up further and his lips descend on yours. Distantly you can feel a bit of your oblivion seep from the pores of your skin, dark abyss clutching him tightly as the sweet taste— of heat, of life, of Simon —steals your ability to think.

You suffer a thousand deaths when he pulls away, the air turning heavy like cement. A low warbled whine escapes your throat and Ghost just chuckles. "Say it again."

You do, you do it as many times as he asks, each word rewarded with a kiss that leaves your eternal mind blank like paper.

Imagine SOAP — You think he's gone mad when he's more bummed out about losing a cat than learning you're actually a creature beyond human comprehension that can destroy him with a blink. If anything, it's like he sees no difference between human 'you' and cat 'you'.

He's touchy and tactile, his fingers always lingering on your cold skin like he's trying to pass the warmth of life into you; his hand ruffling your hair after a job well done, his fingers feeling up your bicep when you work out, the little tap tap tap on your side when you and him cross paths in the hall, his possessive grip on your hip whenever some recruit gets too close to you.

And all the while he's yapping for the two of you, talking with you as if you'll answer only to continue speaking about some other topic a second after you remain silent. You let him because the sensation of his touch and the sound of his voice outweighs the annoyance you feel when he tries to pry words from your mouth.

Even after witnessing first hand what you can do, how reality pours through your fingers like wet sand, he's arrogant to think he can withstand what you are. He's worse when he's drunk, booze loosens the chains on his tongue and inhibitions and makes your Icarus to jump into your lap when you're reading.

"Now what's thaet for?" He slurs as he knocks the book out of your hand, "Thought yea was some all knowing dobber." He nearly makes you topple over when he winds his arms around your neck and pulls your head down until your noses touch, the scent of booze washing over your face.

He hopes to get a reaction out of you- even elephants swat away flies when they buzz in their ears long enough -maybe a curse or a harsh 'MacTavish' with how many mannerisms you've picked up from them; the only thing that makes it's way out of your hollow throat is a small hum of surprise, ringing like the inside of a dead planet and scrapping against his ears like an iceberg on the ocean floor.

Soap gives you an indignant huff like you've offended him, shifting in your lap until his knees are on either side of your hips, thick thighs caging you in on the couch as if something without true form can be contained. "What's thaet s'posed tae mean?" He tries to lean in but overshoots, bonking your foreheads together before nuzzling his nose into your hair. Under the veneer of standard issue bodywash and cologne he can smell something exclusively you, like the heat of a dying star and the cold of the void you spawned from.

You furrow your brows, worry gnawing on your stomach. You know alcohol is poisonous to men though you've seen them drink plenty of it, and Johnny is more out of it than usual. "You are drunk." Each letter crackles though the air like firecrackers, his hair standing on end as your words are warped by an accent of a language so ancient the earth is too young to know it.

"Nea I'm not." His brain is so drowned in booze your voice barely gets pop rocks to fizzle in his ears, but he wiggles his hips like a tempter and when you don't catch the hint he grabs your hands and places them on the curve of his arse. "'M nae as think as ye drunk ah am." He whines, pulling back to look at you with wide blown pupils before he grinds his hips down into your lap.

His name flies so fast out of your mouth it nearly sucks the air out of the room, "Johnny." the lights overhead flicker, your traitorous hands gripping his rear tightly. Your voice continues to echo after you've closed your mouth, each letter creating little pockets of nothingness in the space you share for a second before reality can fill them back up.

"That ah am." He grins like a child and bonks your heads together, placing a wet kiss on your cheek seconds before he passes out on top of you. You sigh and recline back into the couch, letting him use your shoulder as a pillow while he snores like a pig.

And, perhaps, you let yourself whisper his name a few more times...

#Gnome's Imagines #Eldritch reader #cod mw2 #x reader #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #x male reader #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john soap mactavish x male reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john price x male reader #john price x reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon ghost riley x reader

[novacqnes]

a fool to want you // abby anderson

summary: abigail anderson’s a colossal pain in the ass with a roster full of a girls to match— unfortunately that only made you want her more.

**part 2**

warning: college!au, angsty, abby’s a player and very smug, smut; face-sitting, fingering, fem receiving, masturbation, top!abby

word count: 4.5k

pairing: abby anderson x fem reader

a/n: i wouldn’t be myself if i didn’t capitalize off my current abby obsession and write something

college is a fucking scam. 

and no, not entirely in the way of paying tuition fees although that sucked too. the so-called fraudulent part of the institution lay in the housing, the very room that cost you upwards of thousands of dollars. hard-earned cash brought into fruition via your blood sweat and tears. aka the kind of money that cost you a liver, and then some. now you weren’t expecting luxury— far from it. all you required was a serene, tranquil vicinity to unwind from the burdens of post-secondary life. which was fair because you’d paid for it, right? 

wrong. everything’s a fucking scam. 

clutching the cotton pillow to your ears, you slammed your fist against the drywall to no avail. dorm room walls were cheap and astoundingly thin, making way for even the slightest movements to travel over to your room. it was three o’clock in the morning. a time for most to catch up on sleep, maybe even cram for an exam if the situation called for it. unfortunately, you didn’t fit into either of those groups— and it wasn’t by choice.

your neighbors had a deep appreciation for cordiality, it extended well into the early hours of the morning. so much so that they’d taken it upon themselves to lull you to bed with obnoxiously loud music— and for the third time this week. the cycle persisted for hours. culminating in an endless repetition of parties and copious amounts of sex. completely obliterating the possibility of you obtaining any sleep, especially the night before homecoming.

“one of us should go over there,” you spat, turning towards your roommate on the opposite side of the room.

dina shrugged, “i tried last time you should do it. i think she has a thing for you.”

you weren’t entirely familiar with the person behind the parties but from what you’d heard her name was abby and she was an asshole— a suave sweet-talker, but an asshole nonetheless. with a particular inclination to flowers, more specifically leaving them at your door. according to dina, the mystery woman had weaseled her way into just about every girl’s pants on campus, with record numbers flowing from her room into the hall. the girl had wicked stamina and that was exclusively based on what could be heard through the paper-thin walls. despite this, the plan was straightforward— be as direct as possible without dropping your pants.

you knocked twice before the door swung open, a half-naked woman standing before it. reddish-pink hickeys littered her neck and chest, trophies she wore proudly. a blue lace bra was lazily strung around her chest along with a torn purple thong that hung just below her navel. the woman was practically exposed but held not an inkling of shame— if anything she appeared dignified despite being borderline nude.

“can you turn the fucking music down?” you shouted, clamping your hands over your ears.

the woman eyed you with a particular level of indifference, crossing her arms over her chest. a strong musk of what seemed to be vanilla, sweat, and weed crept into the hallway, clouding nearly all of your senses. the smell lingered in your nostrils, sending your mind into a tailspin as the noise persisted.

she rolled her eyes, turning back towards the dorm, “some girl’s here for you.” from inside emerged a tall woman, broad and especially muscular. her face and shoulders were decorated with dark brown freckles that spread down her back. she was the very definition of intimidation personified, in a gray tank top that clung to crevices of her body carving out a perfect outline. by the time you’d realized what you were doing, it was already too late. abby extended a hand to the top frame of the door as she leaned against it, smirking. 

stop gawking, stop gawking. 

“i’m abby.” everything about her screamed cocky— from her voice to her face, even her posture for heaven's sake. it should’ve bothered you. the way she looked at you, the slight glint in her eye that seemed to sharpen as she scanned down your body— studying each of every component like it was within her right. thus you expected the annoyance or at least some indication of it to creep in. rather you were met with an unfamiliar warmth, one that made you nervous and strangely giddy. that should’ve bothered you, yet it didn’t.

“i know who you are,” you stammered, “uh i sleep in the dorm next door and i have an early class tomorrow, can you just turn the—“

“y/n, right?” her eyes, clouded by lust fell to your lips as you shifted from one foot to the other. your name rolled off her tongue effortlessly, and a part of you wanted to hear it again— just as much as abby wanted to say it again. she got off on it, she adored having the upper hand even in the most minuscule conversations. she could see it in the way you inched closer to her without even noticing. it was a power that you weren’t even fully aware of. 

“yeah?” you held your breath as she ran her fingers along the rim of the door before dropping them at her sides. the silence was torturous, gnawing at you from the inside out. this is where the “asshole” reputation stemmed from. she was a tease in her natural element and unbeknownst to you it was worsened by your presence. 

she smirked, “i sit behind you in chem, you look even prettier from the front.”

asshole. 

incessant heat rose to your cheeks, consuming them as the rest of your face fell, victim. you felt like a stranger in your own body— it resembled a foreign vessel on the verge of collapse. you shouldn’t have felt this way. you couldn’t allow yourself to. abigail anderson was a conceited jerk who thought about nothing more than the hookups she could accumulate in a day. this is what she does— and you needed to believe it.

“didn’t notice you,” you shrugged, refusing to let her get the best of you. abby squinted her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. bulging green veins pressed along the surface of her skin as her muscles flexed. she liked challenges. at that moment it became about much more than just sleeping with you, she was practically infatuated. 

you see, abby loved women. she adored the way they felt, their curves writhing underneath her. the subtle cries that fell from their lips at the slightest yet most intoxicating touches. and especially the addictive warmth she got just by being around them. it earned her the reputation of a womanizer across campus and while she wouldn’t deny it— this time her motivations were different. she wanted to charm you, she wanted to tease you, leaving on you edge while simultaneously granting you everything you could ever ask for. calling it crush felt strange but there wasn’t any other word for it, she was whipped.

“you get my flowers?” 

you nodded, eyes darting toward the ground. images of purple lilacs crept into the corners of your vision. it was a reoccurring thing— each morning you awoke to a new bouquet splayed out in front of your door. there was no note, just a small card that read “to y/n, from abby,” and she’d been at it for weeks.

“good….we’ll keep the music down,” she offered you one last glance before retreating into the dorm. she lowered the speakers to a minimum continuing over to her bed. there she was awaited by a girl whose name she didn’t even know. not that it mattered much to her in the slightest. abby found her mind occupied by more pressing matters, all involving you. she couldn’t seem to shake the image of you in sheer pajamas from her memory. spurring it to do the complete opposite— latching on and burning its way to the forefront of her mind. 

she wrapped her hands along the ankles of the mystery woman, gently pulling her toward the edge of the bed. abby forced her eyes closed, allowing pictures of you to pervade them. her hands trailed down between the woman’s inner thighs, teasing them as she cried aloud. she curled her fingers along the woman’s entrance, snapping them upwards in an almost ritualistic manner. abby repeated this over and over again until she was convinced it was you. 

her chants grew fervently, “abby, abby, abby” traveling to the opposite side of the room where you slept. the noise was low at first and only noticeable to you. it began as a gentle whisper, prodding your ears before inevitably reaching your pussy. you didn’t want to succumb to it— secretly you adored the way it made you feel. the slight tingle that persisted with each chant. slowly you moved your hand to your navel, eyes darting over to a passed-out dina before proceeding. 

you closed your eyes, pushing your index finger below the hem of your shorts. beginning slowly you rubbed your clit in controlled, delicate circles, suppressing the grunts and moans brimming the surface of your tongue. filthy images of abby intruded your thoughts, taking center stage as the cries of another woman became fuel. gradually you sped up employing another finger in the process. fragmented white spots clouded the outskirts of your vision as you worked faster, pressing down on your poor clit with much more force. 

the woman’s chants become disheveled and scarce fizzling out as you chase your high, streams of pleasure ripping through your body. tears brimmed the corners of your eyes, you squeezed your legs together quickly breathing a sigh of relief. the realization was subtle initially, revealing the bits of truth you were reluctant to hear. however, one thing was for certain— the image of abby never once left you. 

“so how’d it go last night?” dina asked, her voice pulling you away from your thoughts. 

you snapped your head towards her, “what?” the two of you continued to class although your mind consistently found its way back to abby’s door. 

maybe she knew? oh god, she knew. 

technically you hadn’t done anything wrong but you couldn’t help but feel nervous. last night instilled you with a new, daring sense of bravery that you hadn’t experienced all semester. in your hands, you fiddled with the new bouquet— this time they were a collection of pink roses, all varying in color. you weren’t how long she’d keep it up but then again you weren’t complaining.

“last night with abby? they turned the music down so i’m guessing she must really have a thing for you.” her voice was drenched in all types of suggestive undertones, most of which you consciously chose to ignore. you despised yourself for feeling this way— there was nothing special about the way abby looked at you. she was the campus player and only a fool would be deceived into believing otherwise.

during chemistry you sat in your usual spot, secretly hoping abby would walk in. today you made more of an effort towards appearance, applying a bit more makeup than usual. wearing an even shorter outfit and dousing yourself in perfume. now that you knew abby was watching you wanted to impress her even if it was only for a short while. you rarely if ever sought attention from anyone in class but with her it was different. you wanted to stand out, vying for her attention amongst others. 

halfway through the lecture, abby strode in, blue eyes directly locking with yours. a slight smirk took shape on her lips as she made her way towards you, taking the seat right beside you. your heartbeat sped rapidly, hammering against your chest. she leaned back in her chair completely disregarding the professor. to be honest, abby hadn’t planned on coming to class, and she had no intentions of staying. 

she began, “y/n—“

“i have to focus.”

“i’ll be quick,” she leaned over closer, nearly brushing your thigh, “you got any plans for tonight?” shit— the thought of homecoming had completely slipped your mind. let alone what you planned to do. hanging out with dina was out of the question. and you preferred not to attend any fraternity party alone in addition to one of abby’s. you’d rather not spend most of the night watching her tongue your entire class for hours on end.

“i was thinking about having a party in our resident hall for homecoming, you wanna come? you can bring your friend—“

“i have a date,” you said louder than intended, it garnered a couple of stares from fellow peers and abby included. although this couldn’t have been further from the truth. yet it seemed better in hindsight. she fell silent for a moment, cerulean eyes peering through yours. for the first time, she was at a loss for words— and it was unusual for her. abby rarely had to chase, especially not against other people on campus but with you, she almost felt obligated to. somehow, someway it acknowledged the budding feelings that began to stir deep inside of her.

“if that falls through you know where to find me, promise i’ll make it worth your while— and if you do happen to show up, you should wear that perfume again, you smell really nice,” she whispered, the corners of her lips tugging up into a cocky grin. you expected her to leave right after although she made no attempts to. rather you felt her gaze settle on you, forcing the heat to buzz underneath your skin in response. everything about her demeanor was so arrogant and unbelievably hot. you hated admitting it you refused to. but you didn’t mind the attention, even more so you welcomed it. 

soon the class drew to a close and you were the first one out. the surface skin felt like it was on fire, overwhelmed by an unprecedented force. you couldn’t think straight. memories of abby and last night refused to let up occupying more space in your mind than usual. you’d gotten yourself off to the thought of her. yet the only thing you could focus on was the fact that she’d complimented you. still, you could feel it, her breath against your ear and the gentle brush of her skin against yours. it was small but impossible to forget.

as time inched by classes emptied with most students choosing their preferred method of celebration, except for you. your room was empty so you took advantage of the extra space by dressing yourself for the second time that day. you opted for a tight outfit one that revealed your assets without showing them outright. from the room over you could hear people begin to pile for abby’s party, queuing your exit. not before spraying yourself with perfume once more. 

you walked along campus with no real goal in sight. the sky was a captivating mixture of cobalt and rosè, a sight that left you in awe. the sun was slowly easing its way down, shielded by the fluffy white clouds littered across the expansion. it was utterly beautiful. high pitched sounds from nearby insects rang out into the void as more followed suit. you continued even further heavily immersed in the nature around you. and it communicated one thing. 

college was most definitely a scam, but this certainly wasn’t. 

in all your days of living on campus, you hadn’t noticed this. largely because you’d been so concerned with yourself to really explore and truly venture out of your comfort zone. in many facets, it reminded you of abby, and more specifically what you felt for her. honestly, you didn’t know what it was, or what to call it. you had these preconceived notions of her of who she was that you hadn’t even bothered to investigate yourself. thus it kept you in a bubble one in which you’d never be able to confront your desire for her.

upon realizing this you turned on your heel sharply, speeding back towards your residential hall. as you pushed past the doors you were gearing up to fight— homecoming parties were usually a battle zone. yet once you stepped foot inside it was completely silent— alarmingly so. you continued towards abby’s door searching for an indication of a party but there weren’t any traces of one person let alone dozens of people. 

you knocked on abby’s door once before it swung open. there was no party, no music or stray girls, and beer cups scattered across the room— just abby. a small grin spread across her lips as you stepped inside, the room was dimly lit by white candles. the sweet aroma of vanilla and cinnamon wafted in the air, reminiscent of your first encounter yet with a noticeable difference. you sat on the edge of her bed, purposely leaving a few feet between the two of you. the mattress dipped as abby took a seat on the opposite side, allowing for more tension to accumulate in the atmosphere.

she turned towards you, “where’s your date?”

“i don’t wanna talk about that,” you whispered. a warm giddy feeling aligned the pit of your stomach stirring nausea. but it was almost pleasant? abby affected you, one that you couldn’t quite describe. it was powerful and enticing enough to lead you back to her room and stay. it mimicked a fierce wave edging along a wet beach shore— you knew what was coming, nonetheless, you chose to remain. 

“why are you so far away?” her voice was light, bordering on insatiable. it took everything not to look her way, let alone even make eye contact. you pressed your legs together fighting to contain the desire that was slowly mounting itself inside you. abby could sense it but she wanted— no needed to ease it out of you.

“you make me nervous,” you admitted, biting down on your lip with enough force to draw blood. sheer hints of aluminum lingered on your tongue but a bloody lip couldn’t have been further from your concerns. the air was thick and the scent grew stronger as abby stirred beside you. she didn’t move any closer although you secretly wished she had. since the moment you’d laid eyes on her a part of you, although tamed longed to be near her. you wanted to feel her muscles against the surface of your skin, observing the way they contracted underneath her clothes, bearing the utmost strength and intensity. 

she chuckled, “is that what you came here to tell me?” 

you shook your head, silently picking at your cuticles. the pain was distracting but not enough to force the words from your mouth. it wasn’t a matter of knowing it— abby already knew it. she could smell the lust practically radiating off your skin but she wanted to hear you say it. it served as confirmation— the girl she’d wanted all along was in the very palm of her hand. 

your eyes flickered between hers, “you meant what you said earlier….making this worth my while?”

“come closer.” hesitantly you lifted yourself from the edge of the mattress, taking a seat just a mere inches away. you hadn’t been this close to her since earlier on, but even then it was never of this magnitude— never this sexually driven. 

“what do you think?” she whispered, cupping a hand over yours. slowly she ran her thumb over your skin, fulfilling only a portion of your desires. your eyes fell towards her lips before trailing back up to her eyes. a similar need lingered in her gaze but abby refrained from making the first move. which wasn’t a stance she took often. 

you slipped your hand out from under her grasp bringing them to her face. you pulled her in closer, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. abby’s hands traveled up your arms stopping at your elbows where she held them there, ushering you closer. 

breathless, you pulled away, “is this okay? am i doing this right?”

“you’re perfect y/n, keep going,” abby cooed. she scooped you up in her arms pushing you back on the bed. your tongue swirled over hers allowing a low moan to escape from your lips. abby pressed against you harder, bringing her hands further south where they slipped under your knees. her touch felt magical making it even easier for you to lose control of yourself. you reached for the hem of abby’s shirt pulling it over her head as you kissed down her neck. offering extra attention to the skin just above her shoulders. 

“fuck— i wanna taste you,” abby purred, sliding the lace panties down your legs. you pulled your dress up, offering her an ample view of your body. however she refused to rush, she wanted to prolong the experience turning her attention towards your chest. she cupped your tits in her hands, bringing them to her mouth. needing at one mound she latched onto the other, swirling her tongue around your nipple. she continued sucking fervently allowing her free hand to roam down your thigh. 

“yes, yes— just like that,” you cried digging your fingernails into the surface of abby’s skin. creating sharp crescents all along her bicep. she brushed her finger to your pussy watching as you shuddered away.

abby pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, “you gotta relax for me, alright?” you nodded, spreading your legs open further she began at your clit. going back and forth in slow torturous circles. you attempted to move your hips forward, desperate for more when abby pulled away, shaking her head. 

“be patient. i’ll take care of you, i promise.” the pleasure was practically overwhelming. you threw your head back as abby applied more pressure to your clit, slipping her index finger into your dripping pussy. wet squelching sounds pervaded the air around you the faster she went. curving her finger up to meet your spongy g-spot. her pace increased, revealing veins that traveled up the expanse of abby’s arm- however it didn’t deter her. 

“how’s that hm? better?” her tone was tauntingly low and addictive. moans spilled from your lips in response as you clutched onto her, near the verge of seeing stars. 

“c’mon baby, tell me.” this time she slipped in her middle finger, watching as it slid in effortlessly. instinctively you clenched around her yelping at the newfound contact. your entire body was set ablaze, engulfed in flames as abby worked bringing you to new heights. soon began to move along with her hand, desperately chasing your orgasm. 

“i’m so close— fuck— don’t stop, don’t stop please.” your voice became caught and your vision darkened, pitch-black shards clouding it. you buried your face in her neck as abby held you close. her arm pressing into the small of your back.

“i know it’s a lot, but you can trust me,” she whispered. you pulled away from her, hot tears brimming the corners of your eyes. you expected the sex but you hadn’t expected this. there was a certain level of vulnerability present between the two of you, it was both raw and completely unprecedented. before you even had a chance to comment on it, abby silenced you, pressing her lips to yours.

“i want you to sit on my face.”

“what?” you sputtered, unsure if you’d heard her correctly. however, abby’s face remained completely unchanged. she shot you a reassuring smile before laying flat on her back. huffing a quick breath you inched over to her, placing your legs on either side of her head. you lowered yourself on her mouth, moaning at the warm contact. abby wrapped her arms around both of your thighs, hungrily pressing you to her face. 

it was nearly impossible to move under her grasp. abby kept you bound to one place as she ran her tongue along your pussy. sloppily lapping your fluids that escaped into her mouth. she hummed at the taste, relentlessly flicking her tongue against your folds. a small knot began to develop at the pit of your stomach, growing and tightening with each movement. abby worked tirelessly against you, desperate to push to your last and final high. your moans grew louder and more ardent, replicating that of the mystery woman from earlier.

“abby, abby, abby,” you cried, doubling over as your legs gave out, surrendering completely to abby’s will. she continued lapping your fluids, sucking feverishly until you were a babbling mess— way past the point of oblivion. triggering the massive knot at the basis of your stomach. 

shakily you tumbled over on the opposite side of abby, out of breath and sweaty. when she joined you clear fluids coated the outskirts of her mouth and her chest was completely doused. with the last bit of strength you could fester you turned towards her placing a kiss on her mouth before pulling away. clear remnants of your orgasm still immobilizing you. 

“thank you,” she whispered, running her hand across your back, gently easing you into a slumber as you nuzzled into her. the gentle thump of abby’s heart lulling you.

you awoke to hushed whispers coming from the door. abby’s space beside you was empty. she stood by the door, her face beet red and contorted. across from her was a blonde woman, she looked utterly unfamiliar but she blended in perfectly with abby’s past hookups. she wore little to no clothes and her under eyes were decorated with red at the rims. indicating that she was most definitely high. 

“got your text abs, c’mon let’s get outta here,” she giggled, tugging on abby’s arm. 

“now isn’t a good time, you need to go.” her voice was alarmingly serious which was a rare sight. you did your best to remain silent, yet the nature of their conversations left a bad taste in your mouth. 

“why?” she sneered, pushing her way into the dorm, “is it because of her? she know you have a girlfriend?” 

girlfriend? girlfriend? 

“you hear that? i’m her girlfriend,” she shouted.

you could throw up. your head spun in circles, spurring nausea already building in your stomach. abby had a girlfriend? confusion laced with anger completely distorted your vision. yet you didn’t spare another moment. it was too late for explanations, now you were the fool.

you should’ve seen it coming. 

abby whipped back towards you stammering, “shit y/n— just let me explain.” 

it was too late. the girl wrapped an arm around abby’s waist planting a kiss to her cheek that only made you taste the bile. you needed to get out of there with whatever was left of your fragmented dignity. you pushed past abby and the blonde, ripping your arm from abby’s grasp when she tried to touch you. it no longer had that same effect— it was foreign. 

“y/n wait— hear me out please.” 

you tuned out abby’s voice storming into your room before slamming it shut. a sharp pang ricocheted throughout your body as you seethed, grappling with your emotions. you hated this. you hated the control she maintained over you, it was paralyzing. but what made it even more infuriating? all the more screwed up and deranged? you still wanted her. 

college is a fucking scam. 

#the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us smut #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson angst #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fanfic

[her-devils-advocate]

Year 850, then; Year 854, now

pairings: Levi Ackerman x (GN!) reader

genre: Hurt/comfort, fluff, fluff and comfort, angst, angst and fluff

summary: Two tender moments between you and Levi after being injured in battle, leaving him to worry and look after you in his own ways.

Warning for the ending of aot spoilers

word count: 3,765

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54818275

Year 850, then:

It had been a gruelling expedition, one that had resulted in a multitude of casualties, including your own. It was a routine mission, you and your squad had been tasked with surveying the land, finding the safest route to one of the scout bases and supplying it ahead of time. You only needed to bring simple necessities like spare food and medical equipment that the upcoming squad would require during their stay there, as well as clearing out any titans that had happened to be found along the way. A small risk, all things considered.

On paper, it was one of the safest missions that the scouts had taken in a while. After the previous expedition had resulted in many deaths, the scouts had put a small pause on activity outside the walls while everyone recovered and re-evaluated future missions.

Levi had scoffed at the mention of Erwin sending you as the squad leader, mumbling under his breath that such a mission was beneath you and your team. You had reassured him that you were the best choice; that it would be a simple in-and-out mission. You and your team would be back before he knew it.

“I still don’t see why we are bothering to send you of all people on a supply run to that dusty old base. What a waste of time and resources when you should be focusing on training your team. How are you supposed to prepare your team for the upcoming missions while wasting energy supplying another?”

“Levi, it’s alright.” You remember the smile that lights up your face when you see him roll his eyes, his lips pursed in what was definitely not a pout. The captain would never do such a thing, of course. That's what he told you when you gleefully pointed it out, at least.

“Having me lead the squad is probably just a precaution, in case anything happens. I highly doubt that we will encounter many titans, if any. You know the route is usually empty each time we send out supplies. I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”

“Tch, sure. If anything, it will give me the peace I need to finish that paperwork.”

You mentally cursed yourself for tempting the universe to put you in your place, forcing you to eat your words.

On paper, it was a simple task. 

In actuality, the pouring rain obscured your vision, making it almost impossible to see more than a few feet in front of you as the dark clouds dimmed the world around you. The heavy rain mixed with the steady march of the horses along the ground. Their hooves drummed against the wet earth, vibrating through your cold and tense body, splashing through the slowly growing puddles. The howling wind echoed in your ears, taking the words of your squad and drifting them up to the dark clouds above. 

It was a perfect recipe for disaster, especially when neither you nor your team could spot the two abnormal titans rapidly approaching your position. 

The last thing you remember is the shooting pain as one of the titans reached its elongated limb to swipe at your horse, sending you flying through the air and crashing into the ground.

That's how you find yourself lying in a lumpy bed, the scratchy material rubbing against the sections of tender skin not currently covered in bandages. You sit up with a small wince, pain rolling over you in long waves at the motion. You carefully wiggle your arms and legs, happy to feel them move at your command despite the hot flush of pain. 

Hange and Commander Erwin arrive shortly after you wake, sitting beside you and keeping you company as you give your report of the mission. They don't miss the way your eyes flicker with shame, guilt reflecting in your eyes for not noticing the danger until it was too late, despite battling the elements. 

You are usually careful once you and your squad are in Titan territory, always on high alert and on the watch for the slightest hint of danger. While it’s not the first time you’ve found yourself on the bad side of luck, the guilt and feelings of failure never seem to lessen. 

“You will be happy to know that everyone survived. They are a bit battered here and there, but your squad will be alright in time. You are the most injured out of everyone, in fact, congrats!” Hange says, amusement and relief shining in their eyes as they watch you sigh, sinking deeper into the frustratingly stiff pillows.

“That is good news, thank you Hange. Not that I don't appreciate you both visiting me, seeing both of your faces certainly helps to brighten my day, when I’m not in trouble or receiving bad news, that is.” 

You hear the two chuckle, despite being friends with Erwin, you have forced his hand enough to be given a few small slaps on the wrist in the past. 

“But where's Levi? I figured he would be here to lecture me on getting injured at the very least.”

Erwin gives you a knowing smile, sitting up in his chair a little straighter, “Don't worry, I’m positive that you won't get away from that lecture. I've already gotten my version from him at least twice now.”

You raise your eyebrow quizzically, you knew of Levi’s frustrations with the mission yet you never figured he would chew Erwin out over it.

Before he has a chance to continue, Hange lets out a loud laugh, desperate to share a fact they know Levi would happily keep to himself.

“Shorty refused to leave your side when you were brought in, even with the medics stating that he was getting in their way. He only left just before you woke up to fetch you some food, claiming you're ‘a damn brat when hungry’.” 

They lower their voice to mimic him while crossing their arms and glaring as they speak. You let out a small, surprised giggle, the action causing you to wince as your ribs protest.

“You know, if anything, he’s probably going to be even more pissed that you decided to wake up after he left,” Hange says with a small wink.

As if on cue, Levi opens the door with one hand, carefully balancing a plate of unusual food on the other.

“I got held up by the damn brats. Braus and Springer found me in the kitchen and decided to take over, wanting to show me a secret they had when it came to making the most out of our shitty reserves or something. I figured there was no harm, those kiddos have been vibrating with nerves ever since they got the news.”

He pauses once he takes in the sight before him, his eyes widen when he finally spots you awake. You give him a warm smile as you see the relief that washes over him. His eyes linger on you briefly before he clears his throat, trying to push down the visible urge to rush over to you despite the small audience. 

“Apparently they have found a way to make eating potatoes for the hundredth time in a row more exciting for them. Didn't bother to share that with the rest of us. They also told me not to share this information with Erwin since they don't want to be lectured on using our reserves for their little experiment.” 

Levi turns to the man in question, ignoring the amusement glinting in Erwin's eyes as Levi’s glare hardens. “I told the kids that the day they get to tell me what to do will be the day all the titans are finally killed, once and for all.”

You can’t help the giggles that erupt from you despite trying to hold back, rapidly dissolving into loud laughter that only grows even more frantic when Hange joins in. Their laughter is even louder as they grasp at their sides, rapidly running out of breath themselves. Tears roll down your cheeks as you try to catch your own breath, bringing a hand to clutch at your tender ribs as each gasp causes the pain to flare angrily. 

“Oi, what’s so funny, you two?” Levi’s displeased voice cuts through the growing chaos, only betrayed by the subtle redness of his ears and the softness of his eyes as he watches you struggle to compose yourself. Hange waves their hand in his direction, yet each time they try to speak, more giggles slip from their lips. 

He scoffs before shoving the plate onto your lap, mindful to avoid your injuries before pulling Hange out of the chair beside your bed and settling down into it, ignoring their cries of protest.

“Hey! I was sat there first, shorty. Erwin!” “Yeah, well I’m sat here now, four-eyes. Don’t you have a titan to go poke? And you,” Levi turns to glare at Erwin, who was simply content to watch his soldiers bicker despite their positions, “don’t you have some paperwork to fill out or something?”

The tall blonde slowly stands from his chair, ushering Hange out of the room alongside him before turning towards you with a kind expression.

“We know when we have overstayed our welcome, we wish you a speedy recovery.”

You give Erwin a small nod before looking down at the food placed on your lap. You notice the thin slices of potato that had been cooked until they were crisped. You glance up at Levi, raising a single eyebrow.

“Don’t ask me, the cadets wanted to make something nice for you. They were worried.”

Once Erwin and Hange can be heard moving further down the medical wing while Hange happily chats the other’s ear off, Levi moves from the chair he had rudely claimed. He nudges you, silently requesting you to shuffle over to give him room on the uncomfortable bed. Once he is settled, you rest your head on his shoulder as he carefully brings his arm around you, protectively pulling you close to his side.

“Just them?”

“Tch, shut up and eat your meal.”

Year 854, now:

Thick clouds of dust begin to settle over the ruined ground, it sticks to your hot skin as you breathe heavily. Silence uncomfortably blankets everyone as they let the moment sink in. You had done it, you had all succeeded. Not that it feels like a success.

Your whole body screams out with each movement you make, you had stopped keeping up with your injuries hours ago, simply having more important things to focus on. The stakes were too high to risk caring for every injury. The adrenalin and fear had kept the pain manageable as you pushed your body to its limits, but now, nothing can help as you try to stifle your whimpers.

You don’t know how to feel, already emotionally and physically past your breaking point. You can hear Armin wail somewhere behind you, the sound is haunting as each scream stabs deep into your heart. You don’t want to turn around; you can’t will yourself to do so. You know you should be there to help comfort everyone, but your body is frozen. You’ve always been good at lending a comforting shoulder to the 104th cadets in the past, but now you doubt that anything you do could bring any peace to them.

With Armin's sobs breaking the tense silence, sound reluctantly returns to the world. The bitter victory has no celebration, only relieved sighs and mourning.

You spot Levi from a distance, perched against a fallen rock. Dark blood slowly oozes out from his extended leg, having been broken multiple times and further injured during the final battle. 

You allow yourself to feel happy, knowing that he will be alright and that you are both alive. 

Your stubborn body unfreezes, despite the pain and exhaustion, allowing you to slowly stumble your way towards him. Your eyes are glued to the destroyed ground as you approach your captain. You take the time to rack your brain of things to say, what can you even say after everything you have both been through? Everything feels too casual, too insignificant compared to the lifelong trauma, both the physical and mental kind, that has been thrust upon you both in the past couple of weeks. You feel selfish for your happiness at his survival, having said too many goodbyes in such a short period. Too many good people have been lost in the twisted war.

“Well, look who showed up…”

Levi’s tired voice stops you in your tracks and your question dies in your throat with a quiet choke when you look up to the crowd now surrounding you. 

They are all there: Erwin, Hange and their squad, Levi’s squad, and the dozens of scouts that had risked everything to get you both where you are now. Your eyes blur with thick tears as you catch Hange’s eye, gazing at you in sadness. You want to scream, to run away, to run up and embrace them. You try to compose yourself, but the tears pour down your cheeks when you see the spirits of your squad smiling at you in pride. 

“Hey boss, you’re looking pretty banged up” The tall redhead of your group approaches, you remember the day he first joined your squad, all smiles and false confidence. Next to him stands his closest friend, you had chosen both of them at the same time, not wishing to split them apart. Next to them is your second in command, a quiet girl with a strong heart.

“Hi Leon, you can say that again. It’s good to see you again… It’s really good to see you all.” Your voice wavers as you take in the sight of them all, you gradually lost them one by one. Some before Eren’s little stunt, some after. Yet each loss hit hard.

“We’re proud of you, we knew you could do it.”

Your team salute you and the captain one last time before joining the others, fading away with a mixture of emotions on their faces. Some are sad to leave you both behind, some are happy to have gotten a final goodbye at last and some are relieved to see you still alive.

You take in a deep breath, willing your bruised heart to slow down before it bursts out of your chest. Your hands feel numb and you feel your body begin to shake as your mind tries to catch up.

“Oi, sit down before you hurt yourself even more. You look like you're about to pass out.” Levi’s voice is void of emotion as his damp eye looks up at you in concern. You sigh before waddling over to him, your body feels like stone as you collapse against the hard rock, being careful to keep a gap between your bodies, not wanting to possibly hurt him.

“I feel like I might, I also feel like I’m about to be sick.” In any other situation, you would laugh at the way his face scrunches up in disgust at the thought.

“If you do that, you better lean the other way. I don’t want to be covered in it.”

You allow yourself to let out an amused scoff, it feels unnatural to laugh as you scoot closer to him to lean your pounding head against his shoulder.

“Aye aye, captain.” You weakly raise your fist to your heart, giving him a lighthearted salute. You hear a small scoff of his own in return. 

“How…how are you doing?” Your whispered words crack as they fall past your lips and you feel him stiffen beside you.

“Good question, you?”

“...Good question, I’m going to go with tired for now.” You can feel your energy quickly fade as black splotches begin to take over your vision, and your body feels light and heavy at the same time.

Levi’s hand brushes your own. He gingerly takes your hand, softly rubbing circles into the back of your hand. “I’m going to need you to control your breathing, you’ve already lost a lot of blood with your current injuries. I need you to stay awake until we can get you sorted. Alright?” 

You give him a non-committal hum in response as you try to keep your eyes open. They feel like lead and you want nothing more than to fade into the warm embrace that sleep would bring. 

Even besides Levi, the panic continues to swirl around you, dancing maliciously with the pain and nausea. A part of you knows that there is no reason to be scared, you won, yet everything is still unknown. Where do you go from here? Can either of you last for much longer in your sorry states?

Before you can get too lost in your mind, a sharp wave of pain rushes through you when Levi gives you a gentle jab with his elbow, his eyebrows are furrowed with worry as you let out a deep grunt.

“I’m serious, don’t you dare fall asleep until we know you’re in the clear. Do you hear me?”

His words are harsh and yet you can hear the frantic worry that's hidden just below the surface. You want to reply, to tease him for his worry, just like old times, but when you go to open your mouth, you feel as if you are miles away. The world grows darker and the part of you that's not overwhelmed with panic feels guilty for the added stress now thrown onto Levi.

Light chatter surrounds you when you open your eyes, you squint as the harsh sunlight invades your vision. You can feel a thin blanket covering your body and a stiff pillow supporting your head; you feel groggy as you try to take in your surroundings and you mumble incoherently. The chatter dies instantly, a blurry head popping up in your light of sight, blocking the sunlight peaking through the medical tent flap.

“Captain Levi, they’re awake!” Connie’s voice booms through the small, cramped tent. You wince as his voice pierces through your skull, causing it to pound angrily. You had hoped you could sleep through the worst of your injuries, but you have never had the best luck.

“We can see that, quiet down.” Levi’s voice causes your heart to lighten. You groan as you bring yourself to sit up within the medical cot, Levi’s hands holding onto you tightly as he helps guide your stubborn self into a comfortable sitting position.

Connie is hovering nervously by the side of your bed, while Jean and Armin are sitting on the floor nearby. Levi has claimed the singular chair within the tent, placing it as close to the cot as possible. His leg has been wrapped up in bandages once more while his old ones have been replaced with clean ones. You scan his body for any more serious injuries, relaxing when nothing new stands out.

“Hey, I’m alright. We’re all okay.” Levi gives you a knowing look as the rest of the group nods in reassurance.

“Mikasa has already left…She wanted to leave with Eren before…They wouldn’t have given him a decent burial here.” Jean says awkwardly, unsure of what to say or how to say it.

“Way to make things depressing, Jean.”

“Alright, how would you have told them, Connie? I would love to know.”

“Enough, don’t start, you two.” The pair stiffen as Levi’s gruff voice cuts their bickering short.

“Sorry, captain.”

You watch the shenanigans in amusement, your eyes shining with more tears as you take the moment in. They are all okay, they will be okay. The gloom that surrounds you all begins to vanish as a new form of normalcy tries to settle in. 

Levi gives them a stern look before slowly standing from his chair. You watch as he grits his teeth, doing his best to keep his mask of nonchalance firmly in place despite the agony he feels. 

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think? I’m going to find you something to eat. You’ve been asleep for hours and I know you haven’t managed to eat much during all the bullshit.” “Levi…” “What? You’re a damn brat when hungry, it’s more for our sake than yours.” You can’t help the smile that finds its way onto your face despite your concern. You can hear the others snicker, trying to stifle their amusement before he turns on them as well. 

“Oh, captain. It’s alright, please sit down.” Armin rushes up to Levi, his hands hovering before him as if he’s scared to try and place them upon Levi. After a moment of uncertainty, Armin proceeds to gently help Levi sit back down. Your heart warms as you watch Levi reluctantly accept their help without any pushback.

“Connie has already sorted out the snacks,” Armin explains in response to Levi’s questioning glare.

“Yeah, I found a basket of fruit and sandwiches that everyone had put together when we made the camp. Before anyone says anything, I know it’s bad considering…yeah…but I managed to swipe a few for us.”

You thank Connie as he tosses a slightly squashed sandwich in your direction, not realising just how hungry you are as you bite into it. You feel Levi’s hand grasp yours as he slowly eats his own. A peaceful silence falls over the tent, only to be quickly broken.

“Hey, Armin. That was pretty brave of you, y’know.” Connie’s loud whispering catches the attention of everyone as you all slowly turn to watch the pair. Armin raises his eyebrows, confusion plastered clearly on his face.

“Telling the captain what to do like that. I’d have fainted if I were in your shoes.” “Well…” Armin takes a moment to consider his words, a playful gleam in his eyes.

“Remember 4 years ago? He did say we could tell him what to do when all the titans were dead.”

Your eyes widen as your shoulders begin to shake with restrained laughter. Jean and Connie are frozen in shock as Levi lets out a loud groan.

“I was hoping you kids had forgotten that, don’t get cocky.”

You don’t miss the way his voice softens as the group's playful behaviour sinks in. You squeeze his hand, receiving a light squeeze in return when you shuffle to lean closer to him.

His voice is low, just loud enough for you to make out his whispered words. 

“I think we’re going to be alright.”

“Yeah, I think we will be.”

#♥. writing #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #aot x reader #levi ackerman x you #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot #snk #this was inspired by me thinking about chips while thinking about Levi...somehow

[stariikis]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐧𝐫𝐤 ˖ ࣪⭑

synopsis ; like the moon needs the stars, riki's whole life would crumble without you. his inspiration, greatest motivation, and his muse.

pairing ; artist!nishimura riki x muse!reader genre ; fluff, established rs, realllly really short drabble of thoughts

this love's possessing me, but i don't mind at all

There are a million ways to say, 'I love you.'

Aren't there?

One chasing after their certain eye-candy may purchase a whole bouquet of that person's favourite flowers. Another would pour their heart and soul onto a piece of paper, a subtle love confession decorated with stickers and fanciful designs. Another might try their hardest to impress them with whatever their forte is.

Riki, however, takes all these and mashes them into one gorgeous painting on an easel.

He emerges from his 'workplace', one of the study rooms in your shared apartment. A blank canvas, about the size of his hand, accompanies him out. Not to mention the various brushes, the bristles sticking out all over the place revealing how loved they are. The paints, watercolour in a small box, acrylic aligned in their designated tubes, and oils of any colour possible.

Lips puckered in a pouting motion, he scans you as if wondering what light he wants to paint you in today. Where he wants to set up his painting station for the next few hours.

The reasons for his choice of background go from the smallest of things to the most obvious. It could simply be the style of your choice of clothes, but once it had been because of the way you reacted when he woke you up in the morning.

He used a fiery red base colour for that artwork. Perfectly encapsulating the constant frown you wore the rest of the day. His words, not yours. They could only ever be his words.

When he finally dismissed you from 'work', he paid you for your efforts with a kiss.

Your sour expression morphed instantly. In the blink of an eye, it was almost as if you had never woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

it's taking over me, don't wanna fight the fall

Today he quietly brings you to the edge of a field, just as sundown occurs. He looks up at the sky, cotton candy clouds bleeding into a warm hue of orange. Nothing leaves his mouth. An absolute silence has overcome him.

And knowing that there's no need for you to break it, there's no need to coax him out of this state for the better, comforts you deep down to the core.

It's like you know exactly how to go about routine, as you settle yourself in the wispy, tall grass and wait for him to set up his materials. However, after propping up his easel, he doesn't unpack his paints and brushes like he usually does. He doesn't unroll his scuffed-with-paint marks apron.

He merely gazes at you, soft and mesmerised.

As an artist, he should have neutral feelings towards his muse. He should be evoking surrounding emotions and feelings. He should be drawing them from deep within himself, and expressing them on the canvas before him.

A muse is only meant to be an inspiration. At times, it's the subject of the art piece. However, it's never the sole purpose.

But the way Riki looks at you proves all that wrong. The way his calloused hands held yours on the way to this destination. The way he scoots closer to you just as you drift off into sleep, and whispers all the newest paintings he's made. He confesses all the sketches he makes are of you. He can't get you out of his mind, he murmurs in a shaky tone, he can't rid himself of your influence on his artistry.

But he's so in love.

Why would he ever want to?

it's like supernatural ₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖

thank you for reading! i'm so sorry to anyone expecting me to write any other members. i'm just too addicted to writing for riki... i promise they will have their own fics soon. pls scold me if i don't churn them out... TT

#stariikis #enhypen #nishimura riki #enhypen riki #enhypen x reader #nishimura riki x reader #riki x reader #enhypen niki #nishimura riki x you #ni-ki #riki x you #riki imagines #ni ki x reader #niki imagines #niki fanfic #ni ki #niki fluff #niki x reader #nishimura niki #riki fanfiction #riki fluff #enhypen ni ki #enhypen nishimura riki #niki x yn #riki x yn #ni-ki x yn