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roosterforme · 12 days

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You rendered Bradley speechless and left him wondering if your students were the ones who wanted to know what he looked like or if it was really you who was curious. He wanted to know everything about you, but the urge to ask for more was mingling with his duty to keep things professional. You and he teetered on the edge... until you didn't.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley looking hot

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley found himself homesick in a way he never did before. He still had weeks and weeks of this deployment to go, stuck on the aircraft carrier, endlessly curious about someone he barely knew anything about and a classroom full of kids he'd never met. But he felt like he wanted to know more about you and them.

At least he was too busy now to dwell on the fact that it had been days since the last mail call. He was never one who was lined up, eager to collect something from a loved one. Vanessa and all of his other ex girlfriends never sent him handwritten notes or snacks. He'd gotten sporadic emails in the past, but nothing that made him smile and laugh out loud. Never anything that made him sad when he realized he had reached the end of the note, hoping for more.

He wanted to go back to the lounge and check his email, but he was afraid he'd have nothing new to read. There was really nobody else other than you who would send him anything right now, and he was sure you had something better to do with your time than comment on the photos he'd send of his jet and the engine parts. And even if you had written back, how long could he really keep this conversation with you going? How soon would you run out of interest in his deployment?

Bradley knew he'd be much better at talking to you in person, but how the hell was he supposed to get there? Jesus Christ, you were probably married. You probably already had someone back home wrapped around your fingers, and here he was, still thinking about you.

"Pitiful," he muttered, making his way to the lounge anyway. He would keep it professional with you. One hundred percent. But he still wanted to know if your students got to see the photos and if they had any questions about them.

When he logged into his email account, his heart skipped around a bit when he saw that he had something new from you. Then he opened it up and read it, and his lips parted softly in surprise at what you'd sent.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now.

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

Bradley read it again. Still surprised, he read it a third time. Were you the one asking for the photo? It seemed like you might be. Or was he just projecting here? Shit. Maybe. He'd been thinking about how he'd respond if you asked him something personal, and this felt like you and he were teetering right on the edge.

You even echoed his own thoughts, but it still made him warm all over to know that you looked forward to hearing from him. That it made your day better when he sent an email. He decided he was going to keep this going as long as he could.

He logged out again and headed to the mess hall for dinner, because there was no point in responding until he had the photo you just asked him for. One where you'd be able to see exactly what every inch of him looked like. As he ate his meatloaf, his thoughts all settled on that one pertinent question: were your students really the ones who were curious about how he looked, or were you? Because it sounded like it could be the latter. He fucking hoped it was. And he fucking hoped you wouldn't be disappointed after tomorrow when he sent you exactly what was asked of him.

----------------------------

You thought you were ready, but you weren't. Not for this. Not for him. Not even close. Thankfully it was still early enough that none of your students were in the classroom with you, because Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw had responded to your slightly tipsy email from a few nights ago. He sent exactly one photo, and your only response was to softly moan, "Holy hell."

To say he was attractive looking standing there in his flight suit next to the jet with his name on the side of it would have been the understatement of the century. He was hot. Unbelievably hot. Top tier. You shamelessly zoomed in to get an even better look at his face which was complete with a crooked little smile and a fucking mustache.

"Who does he think he is?" you asked the empty room, voice filled with need. "The audacity."

Even his messy, wavy hair looked soft enough for you to want to rub your face and lips against it. Where did that idea come from? You uncrossed and recrossed your legs as the most delightful thoughts filled your mind. You already knew he was sweet, kind, attentive and humble, but now you knew he was easy on the eyes, too. If only you could hear his voice.

After several minutes of uninterrupted gawking, you realized he'd written a few sentences to you as well, addressing you just as he always had. But this felt more personal. Maybe a little intimate.

For reference, I'm 6'1" and 205 pounds. That should give you and your kiddos a good size comparison, yeah? Also, just a little curious myself here.... are you sure they were the only ones who wanted to know what I look like? Or did you want to know, too?

So he called you out. Your whole body felt too hot and too light. You were floating off of your chair even as your heart pounded. You must be two feet in the air by now. He already knew what you looked like, but now you cared more than ever what he thought about you. Because you had a massive crush on your classroom pen pal.

"How embarrassing. You drunk emailed him! How are you supposed to respond to this?" you whispered as you closed your laptop and pressed your fingers to your lips. It was hard to tell if his tone was playful or not. He was smiling in the photo, which made you think that he was. But perhaps he was trying to put a stop to any topic of conversation that could be considered personal.

Then it hit you like a bolt of lightning. No way was this man single. He was handsome. That would have been enough on its own. But he also had an impressive career, all of his hair, and he was tall. And that didn't even scrape the surface of his sweet personality! You couldn't embarrass yourself further. You just couldn't. You wanted him to keep writing to your class, because they were already so attached to him. You couldn't ruin this for them.

When your students came flooding into the room, they led off with the same question they had every morning now. "Did we get anything in the mail from Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

"Not yet," you replied, still trying to decide how to respond to his photo. "But hopefully soon. He did email another picture though."

All of them were immediately headed for your desk, wanting to see what their pen pal looked like. You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself as you opened up that photo again, and then the kids all interjected into your thoughts.

"His jet is so cool!"

"It's huge!"

"He looks exactly how I thought he would!"

"Can he send us more stuff?"

It took you a good, long while to get them all into their seats. Clearly you weren't the only one who was entranced by him. Their questions overflowed, most of which still had to do with the aviation topics you'd been teaching them. Bradley Bradshaw had turned your classroom upside down, in a good way. And the more you thought about it, the more you just wanted to make sure you weren't missing out on something here. This man was better looking than the last three guys you went out with all combined, and he already made you feel tingly inside before you knew that for a fact.

You went home after work and did it again. You drank some wine and logged into your work email account and wrote back to him less than a day after he wrote to you. Part of you recognized that you'd look desperate, but you simply had to know so you could stop thinking about him if necessary. You started typing.

It was definitely, absolutely my students who wanted to know what you look like. It had nothing to do with me. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. That being said...nice photo. Very nice.

My kids also wanted me to ask you if your spouse or significant other is in the Navy. And they'd like to know how old your kids are if you have any. Once again, just to be clear, I'm only asking these things on their behalf...

"Send," you whispered, doing it before you could stop yourself. Then you were left with your intrusive thoughts and the rest of the wine, ultimately deciding to just go to bed. He wasn't going to respond right away. He was busy working. You just hoped it didn't take too long.

But it did. Days passed. You normally tried not to think about your work email account during the weekends, let alone check it. Saturday was miserable as you logged in almost hourly to check and double check if you had something new from Lieutenant Bradshaw. It was so bad, you ended up initiating a movie night with some of your friends, opting to lock your phone in the center console of your car rather than take it into the theater.

Sunday was no better. You took yourself to the beach for the afternoon to try to read and sunbathe. But there was a group of guys in US NAVY TOP GUN shirts playing football, and you wondered if Bradley ever did this kind of thing with his friends. Or his family. Jesus Christ, why couldn't he just write back and tell you if he had a pretty wife and six adorable kids who loved to play football on the beach with him?

When two of the guys in the TOP GUN shirts purposely threw the football toward your towel and tried to play it off as an accident, you didn't even feel like returning their flirtatious banter. Neither of them had a mustache or soft looking brown hair. Neither of them left you wanting to know more.

You went home and tried so hard not to check your work email, but you failed miserably. But then you were happy you caved, because he wrote back. Bradley Bradshaw actually responded again. And a few seconds later, you were giggling and trying to control the squeal that escaped your lips.

When the mail arrived on the aircraft carrier yesterday, I was one of the first officers in line, and I wasn't disappointed. I got the second box from your class, and I can't wait to start reading and responding to everyone's notes this week. I'll let you know when you've got more mail coming your way.

Since your students seem to be showing quite an interest in my personal life, please let them know I actually don't have a spouse or significant other at all. Nor do I have any kids. Their letters (and your emails, too) are the only ones I'm getting this deployment. No one else has been writing to me. Nobody stateside is waiting for me. I hope that answers their questions to your liking.

And now it's your turn to answer a question for me. Is there a guy in your life who is going to try to beat the crap out of me if I tell you that I think you're gorgeous?

I'll just be waiting impatiently for your response.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

----------------------------

Bradley was so tired. The kind of bone deep exhaustion that only comes after the completion of a dangerous mission when your adrenaline finally wears off. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to be back at home in his bed in San Diego with a soft, warm body next to his and a sweet voice in his ear. But he was picturing your face and your body, already convinced you'd have the sweetest voice he'd ever heard.

Shit. He needed to focus on what the admirals had to say instead of drift into daydreams.

"No need to report to the strategy room in the morning, Lieutenant," his commanding officer said as Bradley unzipped the top of his flight suit. "Take some time to rest."

He saluted the admiral and walked off toward his bunk and a hot shower. But even as the steamy water eased the ache in his muscles, he thought about how he already knew he wouldn't be able to sleep right now. Not when he still had a few messages from your students to respond to. Not when those notes always made him smile.

This time you'd only included a very short note in the box, but it wasn't typed up and printed out. It was written in your pretty penmanship on a sheet of lined paper.

Lt Bradshaw,

I hope this package finds you well. Please prepare yourself for approximately seven hundred more questions. Thanks again for sharing your time with us.

He didn't mind one bit. In all actuality, he was living for this shit, already thinking about how he could maybe visit your classroom someday soon. Several of the kids asked him if he could. They all asked him to take more pictures of life on the aircraft carrier. Then he laughed for a solid minute over the photo that Jayden sent of his Cocker Spaniel named Vanessa.

But Bradley had purposely been neglecting his email inbox for the last few days. He was too afraid to read your words telling him that you were in fact taken, and that he was stupid for thinking you'd been the one who wanted to know what he looked like. He was rather enjoying the delusion that you might let him tell you how pretty he thought you were over email and maybe someday in person. He decided to respond to the rest of the notes in the box before getting rejected, otherwise it would be too hard to do this.

He finished writing back to Oliver and Cooper and then tucked the box away under his bed before drifting off to sleep while dreaming of his own bed. But the next day, he had literally no work to do. He's been given the entire day off. He hit the gym and avoided the married woman like the plague. Then he ate lunch and contemplated going back to the gym again, but his feet carried him to the lounge instead. At the very least, he promised you that he'd let you know when you had mail on the way so the kids could get excited. He should take the time to tell you he'd be sending more responses to your class by air mail.

Somehow Bradley had convinced himself so thoroughly that you were in a relationship, he almost couldn't fathom anything else. But there was a new message from you in his inbox, and it felt like a gift when he opened and read it.

Lt Bradshaw,

I must say, I was surprised to find out that my emails and the letters from my class are the only ones making their way to you. Not that I'm complaining. Not one bit. I just find it hard to believe that you don't have a lot of interested parties hoping for a chance to be the one you think about when you're deployed and all alone.

My last boyfriend didn't like it when I talked about my fourth graders. He didn't really see any value in what I do for a living. He would have never taken the time to read something they wrote let alone answer their questions individually. So no, there's nobody who would be upset with you for making me feel like there are butterflies permanently living in my belly now. If you want to tell me you think I'm gorgeous, I'm certainly not going to stop you.

Here's my personal, non school affiliated email address. Just in case you feel like using it. If not, you can keep responding here, and I can take the hint that we went far enough.

I hope you're doing well and staying safe.

Frantically, Bradley checked the date and time stamp. "Fuck," he growled, his fingers not quite able to keep up with his brain when he realized you'd sent this to him days ago. More than five days ago! "Shit. Fuck!" He had been keeping you waiting! As soon as he got his hands working at the same speed as his thoughts, he copied and pasted your personal email address and started a new thread like his life depended on it.

----------------------------

You were just curling up with a cup of sleepy time tea after a long day at work, wishing someone would put you out of your misery, when your phone vibrated on the couch cushion next to your leg. You were half tempted to ignore it, reasoning that it was probably time to accept the fact that Bradley Bradshaw already lost interest in you and delete his photos from your downloads folder. You should learn how to stop embarrassing yourself.

Then you glanced down and saw that you had a new email. It was from a now familiar sender. It had been sent to your personal account. You immediately scrambled to unlock your phone and read it.

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'd like to take it further.

Yours Truly,

Bradley Bradshaw

-------------------------------

What the fuck, Bradley, you smooth man! Take it further, take it further, take it further! I love how impatient they get when they want to hear from each other. Now go ahead and get a little more personal. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who sent me messages and asks about this fic.

PART 4

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colonelarr0w · 1 month

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"My love, mine all mine"

JJK Characters as oddly specific romantic scenarios.

Contains -> Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Choso Kamo, Ryomen Sukuna, Hiromi Higuruma, Ino Takuma, Yuuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

SATORU GOJO as randomly giving flowers.

The action is unpredictable, unexpected — very similar to the unpredictable tendencies of the Special Grade. Gojo is never a one-trick pony, never does he want you to grow bored or tired of him (not that you ever will, obviously). Money did not matter to him, not when it came down to you. If a bouquet of flowers cost an arm and a leg, Gojo would gladly take a saw and get to work.

If he happens to see a bouquet of flowers that would just look gorgeous on your desk, he’s throwing various bills at the florist and beelining for where he knows you’ll be. Gojo loves you, which is absolutely not a secret to anyone around him, and him randomly going out of his way to buy you flowers only reminds you of that bursting love that he has for you … and only you. And maybe, just maybe, he'll leave a small handwritten note with a scrawled declaration of just how much you mean to him.

SUGURU GETO as admiring the rain.

How serene and tranquil it is to just admire nature’s tears with Geto. Neither of you have to say anything, not that you want to — lest you want the loving silence to be tainted with whispered words. You don’t mind the silence, and nor does he. It's comfortable, peaceful, and it allows you both to momentarily forget about the world that you lived in. Instead, you could bask in the warmth that Geto emanates, clinging to it like a moth would cling to a light that they found.

Geto’s arm is loosely draped over your waist, your side molding into his own like two pieces of a puzzle. Your head tucked against his shoulder, ears perked to listen to the rain’s gentle pattering. Geto’s fingers trace mindless shapes into your skin, content to sit in your presence. You carry with you a softness that Geto knew could never be replicated, reminding him that the things that have been done to him and by him are things long left in the past. For now, he could be Suguru – and he would only ever be Suguru around you.

KENTO NANAMI as tying untied shoelaces.

Late night walks where your shoes just won’t seem to cooperate. For as tight as the knots initially felt, they only loosened with each step you took. Even his steps had noticeably slowed to be in sync with your own, being sure to not accidentally leave you behind. Always attentive to you, reminding you that he loves you with a gentle squeeze to your fingers. The eyes behind his eyeglasses soften as you return his squeezes, but their softness is replaced then by a flicker of concern as you stumble, nearly rolling your ankle against the pavement.

And so he pauses your walk, releasing the gentle grip he has on your hand and touching his knee to the ground. Fingers loop through the undone laces, expertly knotting them before softened eyes flicker up to your own. Your cheeks flush at the sheer adoration that swims in his eyes, your gaze flickering away from his own as a mumbled thanks falls from your lips. But he does not miss the curl of your lips – wearing that sweet smile that Nanami wishes that he could forever commit to memory. Nanami imagines an alternate scenario from his position, one where he holds silver and slips it onto your finger. Eventually…

TOJI FUSHIGURO as late night drives.

With gentle music and the soft rumble of the engine, it’s no wonder that you feel so incredibly safe sitting in the passenger seat of Toji’s (Shiu’s) car. Your hand rests on the back of Toji’s, which lays against your thigh — squeezing every few seconds in a silent ‘I love you’. His declaration spoken in a language that only you understand, one crafted for you and one used only when you were around.

Your drives aren't known to have a set destination, just filled with senseless turns that never have a true end thought out. Many of them are silent, the car only filled with the sounds of your pre-prepared playlist of songs that both you and Toji enjoyed, but there are times where the car is filled with soft conversation recounting past experiences or simply reciting the day’s events. But one thing is for certain, only you could make the great Toji Fushiguro soft.

CHOSO as shared routines.

Your presence in Choso’s life has brought about notable changes to the course of his day — namely his routine and how he decides to spend the mornings and nights. What was once simply waking up and immediately moving about has now become remaining tangled in the sheets for five (sometimes ten) extra minutes. What was once a simple brushing of the teeth has now become a multi-step skincare routine and lengthy shower.

His day just wouldn’t be the same without your shoulder brushing against his own as you both cleaned your teeth. It wouldn’t be the same without you brushing through his hair and styling it for him with the gentlest of hands. His nights wouldn’t be the same without your body against his in the bath, sponge rubbing away the day’s tension. And it certainly wouldn’t be the same without you wrapped in his arms, gentle snores fanning against his neck as you doze off — wrapped in the comfort of his embrace.

RYOMEN SUKUNA as shared glances.

They say that the eyes are the true window into the soul, detailing the true feelings of what resides within and bringing it forth in a discreet, almost unknown, manner. Fleeting glances can speak the same amount as a full-length conversation. Softened irises can shine with love and narrowed pupils can convey rage equivalent to that of a freshly sharpened dagger. Sukuna’s eyes were no exception to the rule — the love he held for you couldn’t be hidden behind pointed glares, not when they softened immediately upon finding you.

The moment your eyes met his own, soft and gentle, something in him promptly melts. How funny that the King of Curses would find himself staring at you — a simple sorcerer — with crinkled eyes. Was he smiling? No, no he’d never admit to ever smiling, but the sight of you just brings one to his face so naturally. Your head turns so that your gaze meets his own, silently reading each other’s eyes before you smile at him. And though he wants so badly to scoff and turn the other way, for you … he returns it.

HIROMI HIGURUMA as being picked up from work.

It was no secret that there were creeps lining the streets of the city, prowling around underneath the cloak that night provided and waiting for the best opportunity to strike. Wandering around at night, while not inherently dangerous, did not sit well in the stomach of Hiromi. He knew that you were able to handle yourself well, you were no stranger to defending yourself in situations where you needed to – but he still could not quell the pit of worry that bubbled in the pit of his chest whenever you were kept late at your office.

And so, to keep a sound mind, Hiromi would wait outside the double doors of your office building, smiling against your hair as your body molds into his own. His nose nestles itself into your hair, inhaling the familiarity of your scent – a soft mixture of lavender and rose. The hug lasts for as long as you need it to, broken only when you decide to take a step back. The passenger side door to Hiromi's car is then opened for you, your hand is held as you step inside, and a kiss is pressed to your cheek all before the door shuts.

INO TAKUMA as sharing food.

Relationships are meant to be 50/50, an even split that ensures that one party does not contribute more or less to the relationship than the other. To say that Ino believes in balance in his relationship with you would be the understatement of the century – he never wants you to feel as if you're doing too much or that he's doing too little for you. Ino also believes very heavily in sharing everything with you; personal stories, clothes, drinks, and of course, food.

Never will he order the same thing as you, knowing that at one point or another, you'd try whatever snack or meal he had ordered for himself. Your eyes would flicker to his plate or to the ice cream in his hand, then to his eyes, silently asking permission. With a smile akin to that of a lovesick teenager, Ino extends whatever it is that he's eating to you, feeling his heart warm at the sound of your satisfied hum. You kiss his cheek in thanks before offering him whatever it was that you had ordered. Rinse and repeat, and suddenly you're both sharing two meals as opposed to enjoying one for yourself – and neither of you would change it for the world.

YUUJI ITADORI as stargazing.

Something about the silence that night provides paired with the gentle light that the stars in the night sky had always been so calming for you, always carrying with it a sense of serenity that could only be replicated by something as soft as a mother's love or a hug. And like a moth drawn to a light, you found yourself admiring those very stars every single night – now you had someone to share that peace with, someone to bask in the warm light that the stars provided.

Laid out over a blanket, two pairs of eyes watch the twinkling stars with a fascination only replicated by that of a child. For a moment the world is silent, filled only with the sounds of your breathing and Yuuji's. His hand is intwined with yours, thumb rubbing back and forth against the backs of your knuckles. Your cheek is against his shoulder, both your eyes and his shut in complete serenity. Those are the nights where you can just be children, as in reality, it is what you both are.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO as interlocking pinkies.

Not everyone is affectionate, not everyone is able to easily convey their love through prolonged physical touches such as a hug or a passionate kiss. Certain love languages come easily to some people, but to others it may be a touch more difficult. Some convey it through words, others convey it through actions that are a little more hidden, secretive. Megumi, for as quiet as he is, falls into the secretive category when it comes to displaying his love for you.

He loves you, hell, he would devote himself to you entirely if given the chance, he just finds it a touch difficult to display that love for you through means of physical touch. That does not mean he won't hug you or indulge in your kisses, it just means that he may not be the one to initiate those actions. But there is an exception to this little rule, and that is the fact that Megumi will always link his pinkie with your own when walking on your side. The smile that worms its way onto his face the moment that his skin touches yours is missed by everyone, but never ever will it be missed by you – and to him, you are all that matters anyway.

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wonderfulwonderrful · 2 months

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The Lonely Hearts Party

Fluff | Toto x reader fem!mercemployee

Summary: You have been receiving the most gorgeous flowers at your desk every Wednesday morning for weeks now as a mysterious admirer seems to be in love with you. The entire factory, your besties at work, and you all wonder who he is. Could it be the one you truly wish for? Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader Mercedes employee. Genre: Fluff and romance. Author's note: This is a Toto x Reader fanfic set at the Brackley Headquarters on Valentine's Day. Happy Valentine's Day to all of you! Send you lots of love. Masterlist > My Toto Woff fics

The most beautiful flowers have been arriving at your desk every Wednesday morning for almost a month now. Every week, as you reach your office in the early hours, they are already in place to welcome you.

You love smelling them; they are always fresh and sweet-scented, and you love to look at them even more.

You feel a rush of excitement to read the handwritten note that always comes attached, filled with a different poem paragraph each time, something along the lines of "She walks in beauty, like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that's best of dark and bright."

Every girl in your department finds it so romantic, the mysterious admirer, but you and your besties at work, Rose and Oliver, who work in the same station that you, joke about finding it a bit creepy.

"The Creepy Flower Guy" is a nickname you came up with to refer to him as an inside joke, being the three of you true crime enthusiasts.

—Maybe it's one of those garden gnomes HR placed outside —Oliver jokes as he finishes eating his scrambled eggs after you told them about the new Lilacs you received that morning at the breakfast quick break. —Perhaps he fell in love with you by watching you walk past —he jokes.

The hilarious idea of a tiny plastic guy sneaking into the headquarters, wearing his little red hat and fast feet to get incognito to your office, and on his tiptoes, placing the flowers on your desk makes you giggle.

You have to give it to HR this time; those gnomes were a great addition to the garden's pond; every time you sit on the benches near it, you enjoy the new scene the mechanics or engineers put together every few days, having fun moving the gnomes around or placing them in the funniest scenes, even someone during winter knitted them Christmas sweaters.

—Or maybe one day we'll find you dead on the floor, poisoned in your desk after inhaling azaleas for too long —Rose adds with the most casual tone as she bites her sandwich.

—Or you go missing! Kidnapped at the parking lot by "The Creep" —Oliver adds.

—GUYS! —Ava turns around after overhearing the conversation; she is sitting at the same long table in the cafeteria, not getting your usual dark humor, a bit concerned, and creeped out. —You three need to cool it down with those goddamn crime podcasts!

—NEVER! —all of you answer at the same time.

—You freaks!

As you all finish breakfast, in a rush because the "off-season" is always the busiest time at the factory, you ask out loud. —Who do you think it is?

—It's evident! It's... —Grace from the control room team starts saying.

—Lewis Hamilton! —and she finishes along with the other five people on the table now.

Oh, the classic joke.

The entire table burst into laughter. It's a common joke to do about Lewis since almost every family member or friend thinks that working in the Mercedes racing team instantly makes you Lewis's best friend and that you always hang out with the guy, which couldn't be further away from reality.

Most of you only see him in corporate gatherings or pass by from building to building, usually on his way to the simulator or in the hallways on a lucky day.

He is always sweet and polite with the team and staff but quite distant; he still is Lewis fucking Hamilton. Unless you are part of his immediate team or Toto's, you get that privilege reserved for the key players only.

Even so, almost everyone has a Lewis or Bottas story, and ALL of you have Niki's anecdotes cause that man is bonkers and a LEGEND.

Most of them go hilarious as all of you try to act human around them, like the one Oliver has where he bumped into Lewis one day as Oliver was getting out of the bathroom and Lewis was on his way in, offering him a completely wet hand to introduce himself, which Hamilton noticed and sweetly and quickly patted Oliver on the shoulder with a "nice meeting you, man" and quickly got in.

—REAL theories only, guys! —you address the table. —Is my life a joke to you all? —you mess around, getting on your feet and closing the lid of your topper. —Please don't answer that.

Another week goes by, and a new stunning bouquet arrives.

—Oh, how exquisite! That man is so into you. Those blue mophead hydrangeas sure are expensive! —the receptionist points out to you because you are a total flower ignorant who only goes: "Oh, pretty, colorful, smell cute" without giving it much thought.

Most of the time, you have no idea what you are looking at, but you have fun googling it and trying to decipher; in your defense, no one has pampered you like this before.

You are brand new at the getting flowers game.

The following week, a couple of bets start happening at the building as the word spreads, and many wonder who the mysterious guy is.

Some think it's not a guy but a girl, as one day after a meeting, as you all are leaving, one of the engineers approaches you and makes the clever remark that the attention to detail about the type of flowers, the color palettes, and the scented notes is too much for a simple guy. —Either he is getting advised, or it's not a guy! Maybe you could obtain a reference from the company that delivers it.

This entire thing feels surreal and truly takes you by surprise since you have always considered yourself the most average girl, especially in looks and more so in the sea of beautiful blondes working at Mercedes.

Which, for some weird reason, reminded you of when you dropped your resume after one of your buddies from college - who still works there at the machine shop - gave you the heads up there was a job opening that suited you perfectly; he even had to insist you a couple of times, because you were almost sure they wouldn't give you a callback.

To your eyes, Mercedes was one of those companies that cared about looks or looked for a specific ethnic type; it turns out you judged too soon; they care about skills, productivity, and professionalism, too, and it ended up being a bit more diverse than you expected the place to be.

It still has many areas for improvement, but it's become your favorite job ever.

By the end of the day, you wait for Rose to come out of her meeting to leave together, standing in the perfectly lit hallway leaning on the impeccable white wall; it's "Cheap Thursday" at your favorite local pub, and you two desperately need fuel to finish the heavy week, so nachos and a couple of pints sound like heaven.

After what feels like an eternity, a group of people comes out of the double doors by the end of the corridor facing you, and you catch a glimpse of a very hurried-up Toto getting out, too, looking handsome and elegant as ever.

You feel his dark eyes looking you up for the briefest moment, making you shiver and blush like a teenager in front of her crush.

Thank god he doesn't stop his pace and gets out of your view within seconds but leaves you distracted enough not to notice Rose approaching you till she is by your side, looking almost pale as a ghost, whispering in your ear.

—I swear it's Toto's handwriting! I just saw him writing on the board for over an hour, and his calligraphy looks exactly like the one of "Creepy Flower Guy"!

—Come on?! Toto? Shut up! —a crackle comes out of your mouth, thinking it's the most ridiculous idea. —The billionaire smocking-hot boss falls in love with the average employee; what do you think this is? An 80s telenovela? Fuck off...

—Well, his handwriting is the same cursive style, and the "r" and "t" are almost identical —Rose starts to overexplain, trying to justify herself, looking timid and embarrassed now, and you instantly feel awful at your reaction.

—I'm so sorry, Rose, I overreacted; I tend to be too blunt! —you quickly wrap her into a hug.

—It's just that I have been seeing that calligraphy for a while now, and I found it freaky similar.

—Now, how can we make sure, Rose? Any ideas?

She shakes her head. —I'm not friends with his assistants or anyone on Toto's team.

—No one is friends with his assistants. I wouldn't be surprised if they turn out to be ex-MI5 agents or worked for the KGB —Rose starts to laugh hard, agreeing. —I think getting to the Prime Minister is easier than reaching Toto under their hands!

—You are screwed then.

—Let's rule Toto out for the moment —you add.

—Yeah.

That night at your flat, a crazy thought comes to your mind as you brush your teeth; the wackiest thoughts tend to happen to you when you brush your teeth; you need to make yourself with a piece of paper handwritten by Toto to compare it with one of your notes.

You know Toto places sticky notes on the far wall inside his office; you have noticed those on your many and regular trips to the CFO's office as your boss always sends you to deliver the reports in person by the end of every week, always passing in front of Toto's office on you way there, which most of the time it's empty since he spends the year traveling, but you try to do your best when he is in, slowing your steps a little bit more to enjoy the view and fixing your appearance a little bit too before crossing in front of him.

Still, his assistants are always at their front desk near there, making it impossible to sneak in.

If only you could make it inside Toto's office without raising questions and with a good excuse. You laugh at the idea; it's wild and ain't going to happen, and if it does, your ass is getting fired.

As the Mission Impossible cord from the ceiling scene comes to your mind, it's time for you to go to sleep.

As you anxiously roll from side to side of the bed, struggling to shut your brain off, you remember that Niki's surprise birthday celebration is scheduled in two weeks; you could volunteer to help organize the event and usher the people around, including Toto.

There is the slightest chance to make it to his office and take a quick photo of the sticky notes on the wall; it's borderline mental, but you really want to find out because Rose sounded so sure!

This is fucking insane.

Two weeks, two new bouquets later.

When you finally reach the upper floor, where the "top-tier people work," almost everyone has left to get to the party on time.

Being on time in Mercedes is a must, so there are few people you need to usher there.

You got accepted to join the Niki's celebration committee as a helper minion. Weirdly, it will be hosted in the base race of all places instead of the Silver Arrow Lounge, where most celebrations are usually held.

The decor is ready, the cake is at the counter, and the many photo props and snacks inspired by Niki's red cap are in place; even the catering and most of the people invited have arrived.

But Allison and Toto are nowhere to be seen, and the head of HR is on her nerves about it, thinking it could ruin the surprise or that two of the most influential people there are going to miss such an important event.

As you approach the bosses' offices area, you quickly search in the surroundings for them; it helps you that all offices have glass panel walls.

You venture to wander more, but nada, they are not there, and at this point, no one is there. As you return to the stairs, you pass in front of Toto's office once more.

You just need to snap a quick picture. What could go wrong? No one is near to see you, and there are no cameras around since Toto dislikes that.

"Okay, Y/N, listen, it's just a couple of steps; you have your phone in your hand; it won't take more than a few seconds..."

You feel your body acting on its own and your feet slowly moving ahead.

You gradually enter the luxurious and immaculate office.

"Okay, like four steps more, and I'm close enough to zoom in the picture."

When you almost reach his desk and the perfect distance to snap the photo, you sense movement outside, fuck, fuck, fuck. You feel someone standing behind you, right at the door.

Busted!

—Yes? Can I help you? —Toto's voice comes severe but calm.

You feel your heart in your throat as you slowly turn around.

—Yes, you can! —you quickly reply, pretending to be looking at the cool helmets and steering wheels at the corner. Is it the best move your mind could come up with? Certainly not —...Sir... —you kind of finish saying, remembering he is the boss.

Toto stares at you, waiting for you to continue as you stand motionless in the middle of the room, looking straight at him. His eyebrows go up a little, and a tiny, amused smile forms on his lips as he moves his hand, gesturing you to continue.

—They are all waiting for you at the race base, sir... to start Niki's surprise reception. He is about to arrive.

—And they sent you to get me?

—Yes —you feel the need to explain yourself more, feeling nervous. —Niki has no idea who I am, so I'm not blowing the surprise away if I bump into him on my way here!

—Interesting... —he lets out gradually.

Oh god, Toto has no clue who I am either, right?

Fuck, I'm such an idiot!

—Oh, I, I'm Y/N —your brain starts working again as you quickly introduce yourself to him, offering him a hand to shake.

He looks even more perplexed at you but grabs it; it's awkward, and you want to crawl into a hole or hide beneath the expensive rug you are stepping on.

—We should get going; I have places to go, and I'm on a schedule today.

—Oh yes, of course, sir —you quickly exit his office as he closes its glass door behind you. Well, you literally pass below his muscular arm.

Toto doesn't move much, so you squeeze in, almost brushing his body as you out, and he simultaneously closes the door, fuck, he is tall and smells so so so good.

It's a quiet walk downstairs; just the sound of your steps and breaths fills the room. You feel intimidated by Toto's presence, not used to having him that near you and being a shy-natured girl.

He seems to slow down his step, prolonging your agony.

Should I say something? But what about? Work? Something casual? You assume he wonders the same since you feel his eyes on you every few steps, but he dares to break the ice before you can.

—So y..

—I'm To... Oh, sorry, go ahead —he says at the same time.

—Oh, no worries —you nervously place a strand of your hair behind your ear. He follows the movement of your hand with his eyes. —What were you saying? —you look straight at him, Jesus; he is way cuter up close; that's some strong jawline, you can't control your eyes going all over his features.

—That I didn't introduce myself upstairs. I'm Toto, by the way —he offers you a kind and unintentionally sexy smile.

You notice, a bit way too much, how all his traits soften and how relaxed and joyful he looks when he smiles.

It turns out that "The Creepy Employee Girl" should be your nickname now.

After perceiving him as less threatening, you joke around to make the air less awkward. —Really? I had no idea! I thought you were that Lewis guy everyone talks about! But nice to meet you Toto By The Way —you fool around.

He laughs a bit. —You never heard of me before? I guess I'm losing popularity around here nowadays!

—You must hang around more to be part of the "popular squad".

—Who holds the title right now?

—The gnomes.

—Oh, yes, they are quite popular.

—A bit too much, yeah.

As you two reach the entrance to the race base, he rushes his step to hold open the door for you, letting you go first; you feel his intense gaze follow you every step as you pass right across from him, making you feel things he shouldn't.

Everyone who got invited is already there; the usually squeaky-clean and clear white counters now hold cups, party hats, bottles of champagne and sparkling water, delicacies, and a big red cap-shaped cake.

—Great! The boss is here! Please, bring Niki in —you hear the HR director speak through the intercom as she looks your way, sounding so relieved, and a minute later, all of you start cheering as Niki enters the room.

You expect Toto to instantly leave your side and go near the big names of the company and his precious stylish drivers, but no, he stays right next to you.

As Niki almost reaches you two, getting hugs all his way down, he comes closer to Toto first and says in a low voice, but you are still able to hear him. —Is the cake vegan?! —looking concerned before tightly and roughly hugging him, knowing they would call him to blow out the candles and bite the cake soon.

—No, sir, this time they brought Lewis his own cake —you inform him, getting in the conversation, as the two of them turn to look at you.

—Oh, thank god! I almost spit out last year's "fake" cake! Hi Y/N! I didn't notice you there! This mountain was on the way —he pats Toto's chest a bit too strongly. Niki makes a funny face, eyebrows going up, not sugarcoating around as usual but earnest and light-spirited.

You laugh, exhaling cute sounds; even you have to admit you have a lovely, infectious laugh.

—Hi sir, happy birthday!

How on earth does Niki know my name?! He knows who I am?! WHAT...

—...the fuck were you thinking?! —Oliver looks shocked and pale as you update him and Rose about your little adventure today. —You honestly thought it could be Toto?!

—Can a girl have a dream?! —you shrug as you keep typing violently on your computer, wanting to finish that notice as soon as possible to move on to the next task, starting to feel stressed.

—You could have got into serious trouble, like big trouble, like getting fired trouble —Rose says, dead serious. —I feel terrible for enabling you!

—I know it was reckless and stupid, really stupid! —you admit, feeling dumb now about your actions.

God knows what got into you!

The next day, on your way to the cafeteria for lunch, you sense something is going on; everyone is acting weird.

Until you enter the room to find Toto having his meal in there, alone at a table, aware of the looks he is getting.

What is he doing here? He usually goes out for lunch or eats inside his office.

The fuck.

He waves a hand at you; you look around to see if he is addressing someone else till he arches an eyebrow, slightly annoyed, so you hurry up to reach him.

—Well, you weren't wrong! By all the looks I received on my way here, and fairly now, it appears I don't hang around much —he invites you to sit, stretching his arm, pointing to the chair in front of his, before continuing. —It wasn't unusual to see me everywhere before; of course, it was the early days, and we were a smaller team back then —he almost looked sad and nostalgic about it.

—Look at you, man of the people!

—Eat your salad —he rolls his eyes at you as you get your lunch out.

—Is that like a boss order, or?

—Maybe, if I'm feeling moody.

—So, I guess most of the old guard is gone?

—Are you low-hand calling me old?

—Well, how ancient are you?

—I'm almost 70 —he makes you smile and looks all pleased with himself and his dumb humor. —I know, I look good for 70!

—Who would have thought you had a sense of humor? You always look severe and bossy.

—Can you stop low-key insulting me?

—Neva'

After two weeks of having lunch with Toto and getting to know each other more every day, you two become friends; some days, a different person joins you; at some point, you can't believe you are sharing quinoa recipes with Lewis and comparing drinking pub stories with Niki.

—Is it me, or have you abandoned us, the peasants? —Oliver says to you when you return to the office.

—Oh, come on! You can join, you know that! He knows who you two are; we talk about you guys a lot, and he greets you daily!

—Now that you are part of the "big farts" table, hanging with the famous, why would you care about two random coworkers? —Rose overdramatizes.

—OH COME ON!

—Apparently, you don't care about the old and wise saying "Bros before hoes," —Oliver adds.

—Of course, I care about you two hoes. Please join us tomorrow. PLEASE?! —you beg them with the biggest smile and puppy eyes ever seen.

—Eating with the boss and talking to him? I'm not risking it! —Oliver says, dead honest, not trusting himself.

—He is trying to reconnect with the team; he isn't going to judge you! Besides, Toto knows you are my besties.

Two long "aw" come your way.

—That's so cute, but NO! —Rose ends the conversation.

As you admire the new bouquet of tulips you get delivered the next day, your phone suddenly buzzes on your desk, distracting you from finishing updating the chart with the latest data.

—Lunchtime already? 😩🥙

—Who this? 👀

—Luke, I'm your father.

—He dead 🙏🌫️

—Oh, shit, sorry! Bad joke!

—💀💀💀

—There's no need to be that explicit.

—It means dying of laughter!

—Oh, shit, I'm old, it's Toto By The Way.

—I'm saving you with that name! How did you get my number?

—By boss privilege.

—YES! LET'S LUNCH PLEASE! I'm Hungarian.

—What?

—Typo sorry, hungry!

—HA! See you in five! 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

—Could going to lunch with someone at the cafeteria be considered a date? —you turn around in your office chair to address Oliver.

—Dreaming is free, bestie!

On your way to meet Toto, you bump into the most annoying senior engineer, Mr. Schäfer, in the corridor.

OH GOD! Please don't talk to me, please don't talk to me, you think as you two cross paths, but sadly, you notice him stop his step after making eye contact with you.

—Miss, Y/LN. A minute?

SHIT!

—Sorry I'm late! "Gwen Stefani" got me on my way here!

—Who? —Toto looks at you, amused and confused.

Shit! You burped out.

—Ahem, Mr. Schäfer —you quickly correct, taking your water bottle out of your bag and drinking it after rushing there. Toto stares at the couple of drops that escape your lips and slide down your chin and neck, and he swallows hard.

—What did you call him? —Toto asks, clearing his throat.

—Oh, don't mind me!

—Yes, mind you! It's a pretty accurate nickname, I must admit it, even if I shouldn't, but it fits —Toto shrugs nonchalantly, with a chuckle on his face.

Schäfer is really pretty, lean, blond, pale, has big bambi's brown eyes, and his voice is so annoying.

And now you feel embarrassed.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, as you two eat, Toto says: —Do I have a nickname?

—Oh, no, no one dares.

—Why? Do people fear me? —his expression changes to one of concern. —Maybe that would explain why people always seem to slow down their pace in the main corridor as soon as they see me inside the elevator. I always try to press the hold button to wait for them.

—This leaves me with a question: How do you fit in there? Your hair sure is touching the ceiling —he looks at you with an "Are you kidding me?" face. —No, for real!

—Don't avoid the actual question!

—Okay, okay, it's more like you intimidate. You look a bit, ahem, stern.

—Really? So, that was your first impression of me?

—Well, not really —you feel your cheeks turning red, fuck. —The first time I saw you, IRL.

—Sorry?

—In real life! You were being interviewed at the reception on that pearl/grey, awful porn movie-esque rug, which is inappropriate to say because the interviewer was a kid; anyway, It was something adorable to see. So that was my first impression of you, sweet and kind —his eyes soften at your answer, and you feel your knees touching beneath the table. —And also well lit —you joke.

As you do your best at not being honest and admitting to Toto, you fell in love with him the first time you saw him. It was instant.

—Oh.

Another week goes by, February starts, and the most stunning bouquet to this moment arrives. Okay, this one is a lot.

—Good lord, "Creepy Flower Guy" went full force with this one; what did you do to him?! —Rose asks, jaw on the floor as she stares at that humongous thing.

—I have no fucking clue.

—You think he is about to reveal himself? —Oliver points out. —Maybe this is a "going out with a BANG!".

—Honestly, I don't care much about it anymore —you admit. You feel several heads turning your way, shocked.

"It's not who I would like it to be," you think. You don't need to say more to know that Oliver and Rose get it.

That working day was cut short since it was the Monster-sponsored "Spartan Race," a cross-fit competition.

Many coworkers listed at the contest held outside on the garden grounds where a fancy circuit got built, but not you. You volunteered to help deliver the medals to the participants at the finish line.

In the meantime, you take a good spot with Oliver to watch the competition unfold and cheer for Rose.

—You go, Rambo! —you scream at her as she completes another obstacle course.

You watch Toto pass in those goddamn shorts, looking so hot, all sweaty. Toto's shirt's tight fabric on the skin leaves little to the imagination.

You meet him at the finish line an hour later, as you are now doing your duty. As soon as he notices you, he starts to jog in your direction with the most mischievous smile.

—Oh no, no, no! Don't you even...! —you receive the biggest and tightest hug from a sweaty, wet, and full of dirt and mud Toto.

—OH GOD! Get off! —you pull him away, making yucky faces.

—I was hoping to bump into you at the circuit! —he tells you, still with a lot of energy, as you place his gold medal on his neck, he is bending to your height.

—I'm not that sporty; you would have to drag me to the finish line.

—I would have gladly carried you around in these powerful arms! —he jokes while flexing.

You roll your eyes at him.

The next day, at your desk.

As you blast the newest episode of your favorite crime podcast, Rose and Oliver start making eye contact with you, trying to grab your attention, moving their eyes several times to the left as you take out your AirPods.

—WHAT?!

—Sure, those things cancel noise! I have spent about an hour trying to talk to you!

Oh shit, you jump a little at the sound of Toto's voice near your ear.

—Were you listening to a murder podcast? At work?! You are going to hurt your ears; I was able to hear it from here —Toto is leaning on the left side of your desk.

—Maybe... I was... —you look at him with squinted eyes, and he looks back at you the same way.

—What is that thing?! —Toto says, a bit disgusted at the exuberance, pointing to the enormous bouquet beside your computer.

—It's a long story —you try to avoid the subject.

—I want to hear it when I return. I will not join you at lunch today or the rest of the week.

—Bummer, where are you going then? —you turn in your chair to face him.

Everyone looks at you with a "Did you really ask the boss that?" face.

—Austria, It's my mom's birthday.

—Aw, sweet, wish her a happy birthday for me!

—I will —you look at each other tenderly, both wanting to say more. You suddenly feel the desperate need to hug Toto, but a simple: —See you next week, then! —comes out of your mouth, ending the interaction.

It's almost Valentine's Day, and Toto has returned from his little adventure in the mountains; he laughs when you text him that. You two talked even more than usual every day during his absence.

So you text him if you could go up to his office.

—Knock, knock —you say as you pop your head in at his door.

He brightens as he sees you, fully smiling at you, making your stomach feel butterflies.

—Please, come in!

You approach his desk, holding something in your hands; it's an envelope with an invitation in the old-fashioned way. —Hi! —you smile big at him. —I have the obligation to invite you to the traditional "Lonely Hearts Party" on Valentine's Day!

—No one wants the boss at an outside-the-office party —he looks at you a bit taken out.

—Yeah, I know, we know. But still, you are invited. It's for singles only, assuming that you are single, which no one thinks you are, so here —you feel Toto's hand touching yours as you deliver him the envelope, leaving you with a lingering sensation on your fingers, a very Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy moment in your delulu mind.

—I'm going to be in Brazil, but thank you anyway, and yes, I'm single —he pays attention to your reaction to his words, and you pray for him not to notice the little happy smile forming on your lips. —Are you... are you like... seeing someone? —he asks you.

—I'm going to attend the Lonely Hearts Party, you think?! Listen, my neighbor, Miss Tailor, is 80 and has a boyfriend; even that old rag has seen more action than me this year!

Toto's palm goes onto his face, bursting with laughter; he is laughing so hard at your comment that no sound comes out of his throat, just hallows of air, and he goes all red, not believing your words. —You are quite something! —He lets you know and looks at you with adoration, his face resting on his hand and his elbow on the desk.

—I know —you nod, kidding. —Anyway, have a nice day, and see you later!

During that day's lunch break, Toto demands you to explain to him in detail all about that "Creepy Flower Guy," he even ventures to guess who he is after listening to the whole story.

—Milo, Ben, and Ansel all have stared you down when you walk past in front of them, with lust obviously, and I heard Finn once complimenting your good looks to say it nicely —he informs you.

Is that jealousy you detect?

Toto does pay attention.

It's Wednesday, and your car is out in maintenance, so you make it extra early on that day at the office; you wanted to avoid risking it being late since you aren't used to using public transport to get there.

You make it just in time to witness Mike walking away from your desk inside your desert office through the glass panel wall from afar. As you walk to your chair, you notice new flowers are already in place. You feel your heartbeat going full speed and a wave of disappointment washing you over; what were you expecting, for it to really be Toto?

That entire day, you remain all moody and quiet, and your friends notice it, but you say nothing about it.

You even ask your boss to leave early, being unable to handle being near Toto today, which leaves him worried, judging by the four texts and two missed phone calls you received from him, wondering where you are and if everything is okay.

Four days later, you are like nothing has happened. As you walk your way to enter the building where you work, you notice Toto sitting alone in the distance, having a call; you slowly start to walk toward him, switching paths.

He finally has returned from his trip to Stuggart.

—Well, the "Creepy Flower Guy" saga has come to an end, my friend; I found out who he is —you inform him, unenthusiastic, as you sit on the bench in the pond's garden right next to him.

—You don't seem so excited —Toto's eyes look slightly concerned as he tells you.

—Well, no, to be honest.

—Drumrolls —Toto says, trying to lift your spirits, slapping his thighs, making the sound. —And the creep is?!

—Mike, from financial.

—Magic Mike?! —Toto lets out a bit too loud.

—Yep!

—Are you sure? Like 100%? But how?!

You nod. —I saw Mike near my desk in the early hours a couple of days ago, and the flowers were there as he was walking away from the crime scene! Also, by the drawer full of flower receipts at his office desk. They all match the types of bouquets I received and have the exact dates.

—Are you creeping around in people's offices again?

—WAIT A MINUTE! I wasn't creeping into your office!

—Oh no? What were you doing near my desk? Looking for Niki's cake?

—Shut up! I was looking for you.

—Yes, I love to hide myself in there —Toto playfully and softly pushes you.

—And NO! I wasn't creeping around in Mike's office; Anita sent me to get the notice she needed, and I went there; it turns out Mike was on holiday, but he left the instruction to collect it from the drawer on his desk, and then I opened the wrong drawer and BAMB! It was full of receipts and bills from the flower company that delivered my flowers. Not to be nosy, but Magic Mike is doing pretty well; I had no idea how expensive they were!

—Wait! But you aren't telling me! Are you into Magic Mike? Do you fancy him?

—No, not him, anyway.

Toto stares intensely at you and wants to say more. If you weren't so in the zone, you would have noticed it and given him a chance, but no, you continue blurting out words.

—But I will go and thank him, I guess. I don't want to hurt him; he is lovely. Everyone told me to go out on a date with him. I don't feel like it right now, but it's not always love at first sight, right? Maybe that doesn't even exist; I was expecting to fall in love, you know, movie style, but that may not be real, or at least not for girls like me. Besides, Valentine's Day is approaching, and I don't feel like spending it alone again —you let out a sigh after talking forever.

—Weren't you going to that Lonely Hearts Party? It sounds fun. It's better than going on a date with someone you don't like just to feel better —Toto tells you a bit moody.

—Oh god, I love you; you are always right; you are so annoying —you add while hugging and kissing him on the cheek. —Is there any chance I can fit in your suitcase for Brazil? I wouldn't mind spending Valentine's Day with a hot Brazilian or at the beach.

Toto laughs while shaking his head.

—I have to go! —you complain, checking the hour on your smartwatch. —Unfortunately, I have work to pretend to do!

—Sometimes I feel you forget I'm the boss here —he jokes with you as he crosses his arms and watches you walk backward, still facing him, getting further away.

—YES SIR!

It's the Wednesday before Valentine's Day, and to everyone's surprise, the flowers stop arriving.

"Did Toto tell Mike I don't like him and to stop sending me flowers?" You take out your phone to text him.

—Apparently, even "Creepy Flower Guy" gave up on me.

—Really?! —Toto replies.

—Yes. No flowers today.

He gives you no further information, no replying text comes your way.

It's Valentine's Day, and you are wearing a shiny red mini dress with matching bow heels to the Lonely Hearts Party.

You took your time doing your makeup, which you feel you nailed, and your hair looks sleek.

As you check yourself in the mirror, you feel confident and hot!

After several drinks and enjoying the music and the vibe, you relish the party, but your mind keeps wandering to the anticlimactic ending of the flower guy mystery.

The only crime and murder here was the one of your feelings and heart.

Two hours later, you start to feel bummed out enough after witnessing many hookups and new couples forming, slightly envious of them and feeling lonelier than ever, aching that Toto was here with you instead of Brazil. You decide you've had enough and are about to leave when you feel a soft finger tap on your right shoulder. You turn around to see who it is.

Definitely, you aren't ready for the scene that greets you.

Toto is standing right before you, holding a bouquet in his hands, looking extremely handsome, with a shy smile on his lips.

—What are you doing here?! —you look astonished at him. Am I that drunk?! Thinking you are seeing things now.

—I felt like delivering them to you in person from now on —he offers you the roses.

Your brain takes its time to process his words and what's happening. This is really happening.

—You are? —you try to say and instinctively grab the bouquet.

—The Creepy Flower Guy, yes.

You laugh at the sound of the nickname on his lips.

—Let's call him "flower guy" from now on.

—Yeah, let's call him Toto better, or my love, if you prefer. I hope you aren't as disappointed this time.

—But Mike? —you ask, confused.

—Have you ever heard of the terms invoice and tax returns? He does my accounting, too. Mike helped me deliver the flowers till I felt ready to show myself. He is a long friend of mine.

—That's why he had all the receipts; that makes sense. Wait!

You close the distance between Toto and you and place a kiss on his lips; getting on your tiptoes, he slowly and hungrily starts kissing you more, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer, not letting you move an inch away from him.

—Thank you for the flowers, my love but weren't you supposed to be in Brazil by now? —you ask him as you both catch your breaths.

His lips are so soft and warm.

—Oh, I'm going to be in Brazil soon, but I forgot to mention to you that you would also be there. Happy Valentine's Day, my love! —he gives you another long and delicious kiss.

—Shouldn't I have packed? —you ask against his lips, already overthinking.

Toto shakes his head.

—We aren't going to need much clothes, anyway. -

Would you like to read another fic?

My Toto Woff fics > Masterlist

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melissa-kenobi · 4 months

Text

Still Yours

[PS5 Harry Osborn x Reader]

A/N: hola, yes I am writing for Harry :) I love him too he's so adorable. :3 & yes there shall be a pt 2 for my Peter fic :D

Summary: Harry comes back.

***

"Just got a tip." MJ says as she checks her phone. "Raft's moving a couple of inmates to Ravenscroft tomorrow for evaluation."

"Did they say who?" Peter asks MJ as she walks to the door, grabbing her keys on the way.

"Nope! But I'm gonna find out." MJ smirks, a cheeky grin on her lips.

"Be careful MJ." You call out from the kitchen as she gives you a salute and walks out the door. Peter laughs as he walks up to you and gives you a hip bump, reaching for the jar.

"Hey! Not my cookies!" You say, ready to throw soapy water at him, but not before you hear MJ let out a shriek.

"MJ!" Both you and Peter call as you run out in a frightful shock after her only to see someone you never thought you'd see again.

Harry Osborn.

MJ runs up to him and gives him a big hug, squeezing the life out of him, a huge grin etched on her face. Peter follows after her, watching his best friend with a gentle smile.

"Woah!" Harry laughs, holding himself up with the help of a cane. "Doctor's haven't cleared me for MJ hugs yet!"

"Sorry..." MJ apologises sheepishly as she pulls back.

You watch from the steps as Peter hugs his best friend, taking comfort in the fact that he was here, telling him how much you had all missed him. Harry glances up from Peter's hug to see you standing by the steps, hands and arms still covered in bubbly soap, curly hair tied up, a few strands framing your features and a look of longing etched onto your face.

"Y/N..." Harry faintly whispers your name ever so sweetly as he looks at you. You watch his eyes soften as he pulled away from Peter and took a wobbly step towards you, almost falling, but Peter catches him, helping Harry stand up right. You hold in your tears as you rush back indoors, slamming the door and falling to the floor.

It had been two years. Two excruciatingly long fucking years since he went to Europe without mentioning a single word to you. No calls, no texts, nothing.

You had to find out from MJ, someone you'd barely spoken to in high school had told you. Mary fucking Jane had to tell you that your so-called boyfriend had gone to Europe and that no-one knew when he'd would be back or how to contact him.

You called him every single day, leaving voicemail after voicemail until his phone told you that his messages were full and that you couldn't leave anymore. You called Peter, each week asking if he had heard anything from Harry, but alas nothing. You had cried every night, praying, wishing that he would contact you somehow. That he hadn't just upped and left without good reason.

But no. Nothing.

So you got on with your life.

Got a job as kindergarten teacher, helped Peter with his Spider-Man stuff, became really good friends with MJ and moved on. Because if Harry had moved on, then so could you.

But now he was here. He was outside the door and you didn't know what to do.

***

Moments later Peter ran indoors calling your name, Harry following behind cautiously as he took in the appearance of the house.

"Y/N?? You still here?" Peter calls but can't seem to find you anywhere in the house. "I don't think she's h-

"Pete..." Harry sighs as he finds a handwritten note on the table. He still recognises your handwriting, a hand tracing over the note softly as he reads it. "She's gone."

"What do you mean she's gone?" Peter scoffs as he reads the note you wrote.

Hey Pete and MJ,

I'm sorry, seeing Harry again brought up some things. I need to clear my mind before anything. If you see him, tell him I did miss him and I do want to talk, soon.

Make sure he doesn't come after me, please Pete? And make sure you don't eat my cookies ... I'm talking about you Ms Watson... :)

Love you guys,

Cookie xx

Harry hears the sound of an engine being turned on and rushes to the door to try and catch you before you leave. He calls your name but it falls on empty ears as he watches you ride away on a black motorbike, curly hair blowing in the wind.

"She rides motorbikes now?" Harry says, eyes filled with adoration, but heart heavy with how much he had missed with you.

"Yeah...but she still doesn't let anyone touch it." Pete smiles, reading the bit about making sure MJ doesn't eat your cookies. However it soon turns into a frown as he looks at Harry. "She's changed alot since you left Harry."

"I know Pete. I know." Harry sits down, sighing deeply. "How do I fix this Pete?"

Peter exhales heavily. "I don't know."

***

It was coming up to 2 weeks since you had run from Harry. From everything.

You don't know why you did.

Maybe you were scared. Scared he didn't need you anymore. Maybe he didn't love you anymore.

MJ had messaged you a million times, making sure you were okay, even sending you pictures of her and Peter with your cookie jar, making sure you'd seen she hadn't eaten any of them. Peter, on the other hand, thought he was subtle. He had swung around where you were staying, keeping an eye on you making sure you weren't falling back into old habits.

Cookie 🍪: pete, you know I can see you?

Pete 🕷: whaaaat? im with mj at home

Cookie 🍪: *sends picture attachment*

Pete 🕷: :O

Pete 🕷: sorry cookie, just wanted to make sure you were safe :(

Cookie 🍪: im okay petey :)

Pete 🕷: i know. harry says hi. he misses you. we miss you

Cookie 🍪: I'll be home soon, promise, love you guys x

Pete 🕷: love you too cookie x

You decided to go home after Peter's text.

***

Seconds after pushing the keys in the door, you were tackled in a massive hug from MJ, who squeezed the living hell out of you and would not let go. You'd barely gotten your helmet off before it dropped to the floor.

"MJ! I'm fine, you can let go now!" You mumble against her hair. "Please, my bones are gonna crack and you don't even have super strength..."

"Don't ever do that again. Please?" MJ says as she pulls away holding your face.

"Sorry red, I promise I won't." You say squeezing her hands gently, making her pull a face at your nickname for her. Peter smiles as he sees you, pulling you into a albeit gentler hug.

"You good?" Peter asks as you nod in response, wallking backwards towards the staircase.

"I'm gonna put my stuff away and I'll-

"Hi..." Harry breathes out, walking down the stairs, coming face to face with you. His red hair, a slight mess on his head, a smile askew on his rosy lips while he observed every inch of your face as if you'd disappear again if he said something wrong. You could sense those feelings you'd buried deep for him wanting to resurface. No, needing to resurface. A red curl had fallen onto his forehead and you instantly to brush it away.

You weren't ready, but it was now or never.

"Hi." You mumble back, suddenly shy as you avoided looking at him. Because if you did, you were sure it was going to break your heart again.

"We'll leave you two to talk..." Peter says, squeezing your hand in comfort, before heading upstairs with MJ. "Hear him out, Cookie..."

You nod back at Pete and MJ, giving them a smile.

"Hi...I er- sorry I already said that..." Harry says shy, stuttering over his words making you let out a small laugh.

He hadn't changed.

His head lifts up, eager to hear your sweet laughter again, "So you and Pete?" Harry says as he smiles softly at you.

"What? No! No way- he's with MJ!" Your eyes go wide before realising he was teasing you. "You're teasing me..."

He hold his hand up in surrender as a soft smile appears on his lips, as he tilts his head, eyes filled with a gentle longing. You couldn't help but notice how much it suited him, how much he had matured. He was still the same Harry you knew, but his features had grown. He no longer had that beanie he always wore, his eyes were brighter than before, filled with hope.

Harry seemed to notice the look on your face and sighed, "I'm sorry, I am so sorry- about everything. Can- can I explain?"

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. "Let's sit down."

You walk over to the couch and take a seat, Harry following suit, sitting closer than you expected.

"Sorry.." He instantly apologised, shuffling back. You don't know what made you put your hand on his leg, making him freeze as he instinctively went to hold your hand.

"I didn't- sorry..." You mutter, looking down, feeling like a shy teen all over again.

Harry lets out a small laugh, squeezing your hand and rubbing the top of it with his thumb. "Reminds me of our 3rd date at Coney-

"When the stupid candy guy pushed me into you and-

"I caught you, but your face was a red as a tomato, and you wouldn't look at me for the rest of our date till I-

"Till you kissed me..." You finish off blushing as you looked up at Harry. Gosh, you really did miss him. "What happened Harry?"

His lips turn into a grimace, eyes still on you. "Europe was a lie. I was in the city in isolation undergoing treatment. I didn't want you guys to worry. I didn't want you to worry..."

"Harry..." You mutter softly, gently playing with his fingers. "I wish you would have told me, so you wouldn't have had to go through it alone."

"No. It was my choice and I had to live with that. I couldn't put you through that pain." Harry sighs, looking at your entwined fingers, his heart aching. "I saw what my father went through when my mom passed, and I- I didn't want the same to happen to you."

"Is it the same thing your mom had?" You asked, looking at him, tears in your eyes.

"It was..." He smiles as you glance up at him. "We think it's in remission."

You gasp in joy and pull him into a hug. "Really? That's wonderful news!"

Harry feels his heart pound as you hug him- he's missed this. "I- I missed you, more than anything. I'm so sorry for the way I left things, for what I put you through, even though I was trying to protect you. I hurt you even more. I listened to all your voicemails every single one, and then one day they just stopped. I thought-"

Pulling back slightly from him you stare at him. "You thought what? That I'd moved on?"

He nods.

"Harry... how could I? You are the love of my life, I never stopped loving you, even when I was so frustrated and angry with you." You admit, because you truly never stopped loving him. "But I understand, I understand you trying to protect us. To protect me."

"I- thank you." Harry sighs in relief, he hated having this feeling of you being angry and disappointed hanging over him. "I- you still love me?"

You bite your lip and look down, feeling shy all of a sudden, Harry puts a finger on your chin and tilts your head up. "I still love you too. I never stopped, all I could think about was you."

"Harry..." Tears slowly fill the corners of your eyes before you wipe them away.

"Can we start over?" Harry asks sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Would you like to go on a date with me? Coney Island?"

You smirk at him, "Are you going to try and kiss me again?"

"Are you going to turn red again?" Harry teases back.

"I did not! It was cold!" You lightly shove him, but he catches your arms and pulls you into him. Harry places a gentle kiss on the top of your head as he holds you in his arms snugly.

"Is that a yes Cookie?" Harry softly asks, absentmindedly rubbing your hip.

*thump* *thump* *thump*

The two of you jump up only to see MJ and Peter roll down the stairs, Peter trying to help MJ but ending up on the floor, MJ on top of him as she looks up at you with a huge grin on her face.

"Say yes, you doofus!" MJ laughs, and Peter is nodding enthusiastically like a golden retriever.

You throw a pillow in their direction before rolling your eyes at their antics. You can't stop the smile on your face as you pull Harry into a kiss and whisper yes.

***

"Hey, how comes you never let me on your bike? And you never let me eat your cookies!" Peter asks with a fake sad face as he reaches to touch it. But before he can, you lightly slap his hand away.

"You're Spider-Man. You don't need a bike." You deadpan.

"Besides, Harry's my fiance now. So what's mine is his." You smirk as you settle onto your bike, Harry slipping on behind as he wrapped his arms around your waist, placing a kiss on your cheek. "Including my cookies."

"See ya Pete!" Harry childishly sticks his tongue out at Peter as you ride away laughing.

"MJ, you gotta learn how to ride a bike..." Peter mumbles to himself.

***

#ps5 harry osborn x reader #harry osborn #ps5 harry osborn #marvel's spider man 2 #ps5 spiderman #spider man 2 ps5 #insomniac spider man #insomniac harry osborn #insomniac peter parker #insomniac mary jane watson #harry osborn x reader #harry osborn x y/n #harry osborn x you

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eksvaized · 5 months

Text

[ Stalker ]

>>> Ghost x Reader

You were Simon's guilty pleasure.

No matter the day, the time, or the hour, you were always in his mind and consumed his thoughts entirely, leaving no room for anything else.

He tried to reassure himself that he wasn't doing anything wrong. But deep down, he was well aware that he was allowing his dark side to take over him again, and this time - even if he didn't want to - he wasn't able to escape the darkness, which devoured him and kept him captive.

Simon knew his obsession wouldn't end well. It never did. But you intrigued him, and he wasn't strong enough to fight the allure.

The only interaction you two had so far was a one-night stand. After bumping into each other at the club, you invited him back to your place - he was gone by the time you woke up and you never saw him again.

But he saw you. Often.

Initially, he just followed you on all of your social media accounts using his burner account. However, staring at you through the screen didn't satisfy the hunger building inside him, and he grew bored with only just looking at pictures of you.

That's when he began driving to your apartment block, parking his car across the street and spying on your windows all night until the sun would rise up and he would be forced to leave because he didn't want to be seen by you or raise the suspicion of your neighbours.

Most of the time, your curtains were drawn - you liked your privacy and wanted to keep the noisy passerby out of your business. Sometimes, however, if Simon was lucky, you would forget to close them and he could watch you as you stripped your clothes off and changed into something more comfortable before going to bed.

Today, like usual, he parked his car under a broken lamp post and turned the engine off. Tonight was a special day though - he didn't want to be stuck just admiring you from afar anymore. He had other plans.

A knock on the door woke you up.

You blinked a few times while taking a glance around the living room. Even with the curtains closed and the sun gone, the moon's radiant light found a way through, painting the room in a delicate shade of grey.

You sat up and rubbed your eyes, before sliding your palm across the couch and fetching your phone to check the time.

2:00 AM.

Another knock.

You stood up and switched on the light. The room was chilly, so you reached out for the blanket, which was thrown on the edge of the couch, and wrapped it around your body, hoping it would warm you up.

Even though you weren't expecting anyone, you dragged yourself to the front door and opened it. You were surprised to see no one, but just as you were about to shut the door, your eyes traced over the ground and you noticed a neatly wrapped package.

You picked it up and looked to whom it was addressed. There was no name, but there was a handwritten note.

'To my love'

When you returned to the living room, you unwrapped the package and discovered a box of chocolates.

You had no clue who had brought them, but you figured that someone had just mixed up the apartment numbers and placed the package at the wrong door.

You didn't complain, though. Even if you should have returned the package to the intended recipient, there was no name, so you decided it wouldn't hurt to eat the heart-shaped chocolates with a sweet filling instead of throwing them away - they were, after all, your favourite; it was a lucky coincidence.

When you entered the bedroom and walked over to the window to draw the curtains, you spotted a car parked outside across the street. You didn't think much of it or the man sitting inside'; perhaps he was just waiting for someone.

And Simon was waiting, patiently, counting every second that ticked by. His finger tapped against the steering wheel, as his gaze kept shifting from the watch on his wrist to your now-dark window.

He knew you had to have retrieved the package by now. If he was lucky, you helped yourself and sampled the treats inside, too. And if his calculations were right, in about thirty minutes, you were going to pass out.

He waited and waited, shifting in his seat every few minutes, unable to keep still because the anticipation was oozing out of him as he envisioned all the different ways this night could end.

Simon lit one cigarette after another since it gave him something to do instead of allowing his thoughts to spiral, and get darker as they wandered to place and scenario, which he didn't want to imagine.

As much as he wanted to get out of the car and make his way back to your front door now, he forced himself to sit still as the time passed. He didn't want to spoil everything just because he couldn't hold his composure and gave in to his desires rather than thinking with his head.

Thirty minutes had passed. Then another ten, and finally he threw caution to the wind and decided to take a risk.

He strode inside the building and up the stairs, his heavy boots making no noise as he adjusted his skull mask - in all honesty, he didn't need to wear it, but he did, just in case.

Simon had taken care of all the cameras a month ago, and so they weren't an issue anymore. He could come and leave with nobody seeing him.

He grew heavy with anticipation that mingled with the excitement and thrill of being aware of the wrongness of his actions as he got closer and closer to your door.

This was not how he intended to see you again - sneaking into your apartment late at night. But after your first encounter with him almost three months ago, he was not able to corner you again, no matter how hard he tried to instigate those accidental meetings, where you bump into each other, recall the fun you had last time and exchange phone numbers.

He tried to act normal for once. He really did. Because this time, he wanted to control his obsession and let the relationship develop as spontaneously as it could.

He went to the usual spots you hung around. He carefully considered what he was going to say to you before asking you out, but it seemed as if you were avoiding him. Of course, he knew you would never do such a thing. How could you?

After spending so long watching you, following you, hiding in the shadows, while keeping track of your every move and getting to know you from a distance, he knew you would never do anything like that on purpose. Not to him, not to anyone else.

Simon stopped at your front door. It was locked, but that wasn't going to stop him. He had learnt a number of skills in his life, and one of them was picking locks, which he used frequently, and which were going to come in handy now.

After he got inside and closed the door, he found himself in a dark hallway. Even though he had been here only once, he knew his way around, which meant he could stroll through the darkness without bumping into anything or knocking something over, causing you to wake up.

Despite his stature, he moved with surprising agility, gliding through the room without making a sound.

He saw a box of chocolates on the coffee table as he passed the living room. When he noticed it had been opened and half of the sweets were gone, the corners of his lips curved, and a sly smirk appeared across his face.

Simon became even more confident now that he knew his plan had worked and you were asleep in your bedroom down across the hallway.

He opened the door and scanned the room before his gaze spotted the bed and his eyes settled on you.

Your body was concealed under the blankets that were tightly wrapped around you, but he could see the outline of your body as your chest gently rose and fell.

He took a deep breath and walked inside, remembering not to open the door all the way since it would creak.

The smell of your sweet perfume was all over the place, overpowering him and sending his mind into a downward spiral.

You were sleeping. You didn't know he was here, and you will never find out. You would know if he...

No.

Simon shook his head. He wasn't going to do that. He couldn't. Not to you, and not like this.

As he approached your bed, he slowly sat down, keeping his eyes wide and fixated on you to make sure you were still sleeping and unaware of his presence.

He simply sat there watching you at first, unable to tear his eyes off of you. His glance swept across your face, examining your dark lashes, parted lips, and flushed cheeks. You were flawless, without a trace of a single imperfection.

Simon leaned forward, dipped his head and softly pressed his lips to your forehead. He was about to kiss you when he stopped himself and drew back.

He raised his hand and tucked the sheet down, revealing more of your face and letting the fabric drape just below your collarbone. His hand trailed across your jaw before brushing a few loose hair strands.

Your skin was so soft.

As you laid there, unaware of his presence, lost in a blissful slumber, wrapped in warm blankets, you looked angelic. The soft moonlight filtering through the window only enhanced your beauty, making your skin glow.

For almost an hour he didn't leave you, but the sun began to rise and he knew he was running out of time. You will wake up soon. If you would find him here in your apartment sitting on the edge of your bed, you would freak out and he refused to ever do anything that would upset you.

He forced himself to stand up and was about to leave when his gaze was drawn to your phone; its corner was sticking from underneath the pillow.

You awoke many hours later, around midday; for the first time in a long time, you had slept through all of your alarms.

You took your phone and unlocked it.

That's when you discovered a photo of yourself asleep that appeared to have been taken earlier tonight.

A shiver raced down your spine, and you froze, letting the phone slip out of your hand and fall to your lap. Your eyes darted around the room. Everything appeared to be in place and looked to be the same as it did before you went to bed.

You lived alone. You didn't have a roommate, and no one, but you, had the keys to your apartment.

As you attempted to slow down, your mind was racing with possibilities. Your heart was hammering loudly in your chest, and only one question kept swirling around, causing chaos in your head.

Who took that picture?

#call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #writing #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #oneshot

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shoukiko · 5 months

Note

hi you know what’s cool? tf2. do you have any equally cool headcanons about any of the characters you want to share?

OH YOU BET I DO!!!!!! Lemme just

*Spits in hands and rubs them together* Lemme just..

My TF2 Headcanons!

I'm just gonna write them down as they pop in my head :3

Scout is really bad at reading, also has really bad hand writing.

Borderline chicken scratch, disgusting!!!

Pyro actually understands what they're doing, they just reallllyyyy don't care and don't see what's wrong with it.

My unhinged pookie bear.

Medic would love to look at your insides.

He's not shy about it either tbh, fuckin weirdo

Heavy is the biggest softie when it comes to romance.

He melts at physical touch

but like

the good kind

Heavy also really likes to read in his free time, it's what makes him so smart and knowledgable on things.

Soldier would pick random flowers he finds outside just to give them to you.

He also doesn't really know how to put his feelings into words so he just ends up yelling things like "I LOVE YOU" or "YOU ARE NICE TO LOOK AT TODAY"

Spy is the type to give you handwritten notes on holidays with a nice wine.

He has cursive handwriting, very very elegant.

Soldier would give handwritten notes too, but...they aren't that elegant

"I think you aren't annoying to be around"

Engineer would play his guitar for you, like alone. You can be in your room and he would sit on your bed and play for you, maybe even sing.

He's a really good singer. Like almost Luke Bryan level

Yes I like Luke Bryan

Engy would be that one dude who asks you to hold the light while he works, then get mad at you when you're doing it wrong.

Demoman has dreads, I do not make the rules.

He's also a jewelry man when he's ot working

He wears rings and necklaces. Very pretty hands tbh

I also like to think he's very stylish when he's not wearing the uniform.

He's not always an asshole either, it's just the alcohol, he can be poliite if needed, but then he wishes he had something to drink.

Snipers RV smells, it just has to.

One day you get so tired of it that you clean it yourself because he keeps forgetting.

He realizes how much better it is, forgets how longs it's been and is really grateful

You'd teach him how to at least keep up after himself and he actually gets better at it.

He still pisses in jars tho...

Spy looooves shoulder rubs, he'd fall asleep if you did it to him.

Bro is pretty fit under that suit, like you'd be surprised by his physique.

I will stop here! If you guys want more please let me know! I have to get to my other asks so I must finish.

#tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 medic #tf2 spy #tf2 pyro #tf2 heavy #tf2 sniper #tf2 engineer #tf2 soldier #tf2 demoman #tf2 x reader #team fortress #tf2 imagines #shoukiko #tf2 headcanons #headcanons #answered #answered asks

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liauditore · 8 months

Text

smooshing together my interests like making two plushies kiss. some random nonsense under the cut (horror themes).

DECKED OUT 1.0: The newest and only one of her kind! We have no idea how Tango managed it, but, and I don't say this lightly, she's the best we have. Equipped with the latest redstone technology and standing at a whopping 70 metres tall (Tango was always known for not being particularly subtle...), it's no wonder Tango and her are inseparable.

TANGO TEK: One of the greatest engineers I know. There's.. really no reason for him to be out in the caverns, but his heart seems to belong to piloting. There's no talking that guy down, if anything he seems to take any sign of doubt or worry as a challenge. I hope he knows guys around our age usually grew out of that sort of bravado half a decade ago, but who am I to stop him?

[shrill, sharp inhales are heard, piercing through the microphone.]

[???]: H-Hey! This is [INTELLIGIBLE]. Do you copy?! Do you copy?! We. We're in a situation o'er here! T-Tango, he--!

[An inhuman screech echoes from afar.]

[Heavy footsteps are heard, getting louder and louder]

[???]: [INTELLIGIBLE]

[???]: We need [INTELLIGIBLE] rescue, stat! Send everyone you can! We're deep down, at the-- [INTELLIGIBLE]! Please, it was the mech, it--!

[The audio abruptly cuts off]

Impulse finishes off the day the same way everyday. Review the paperwork, make sure all the mechs are fully powered off, lock up the compound, make tea, go to bed.

He's had the kettle for months now, yet it still feels brand new somehow. It lets out this high-pitched noise he can't stand and it takes so damn long. But he has no other option around these days.

He watches it boil, sitting on a dusty desk strewn with papers. Mostly business documents, most of those covered in scribbled drawings of future projects, a couple of handwritten recipes, an old sticky note from Bdubs that just read "HERE'S YOUR (crossed out) REDSTONE" that he found amusing and stuck to his desk, a birthday card with a cheesy message written inside signed off by "Your Rancher C:".

Impulse missed Tango.

He'd been missing for far too long.

#my art #my writing #tangotek #decked out #hermitblr #there will be a part two to this coming very very soon i have been rotating this in my head for too long #also mech ppl please avert thine eyes i have drawn mechs properly like twice #cw horror themes #cw implied death

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spockandawe · 2 years

Text

Lectern Book Case Dimensions

Lectern books!!!!

Once again, I'm running further behind than I wanted to be, but I said I was going to do geometry to this thing, and goshdarnit, when has being redundant stopped me before.

Only, I don't think I'm being entirely redundant. I've seen other people do the basic geometry, but I wanted to come up with something that was completely customizable, from the viewing angle to the size of the hinge gaps. I wanted something that would work for books that were too large to be traced and drawn directly onto my available boards (cough cough, my latest wip).

I'm not dumping that entire writeup in a tumblr post, because I'm a dirty filthy engineer who littered the entire thing with subscripts and greek letters. I had such a good time, I'm not sorry at all. But here's what I do have for you. I made a nice diagram writeup of my dimensions and the equations that drive them. Tumblr's resolution may sabotage me, so a link to a google drive pdf copy will follow

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1QlycJjwsweGxPmR0InFTpqy9DXLIfDnB/view?usp=sharing

Here's a copy of the final version of my handwritten notes that drove this, which I share for my personal satisfaction

And now, here's a link to a google doc describing my process, equations included, and including a partial discussion of how to assemble the case.

This still isn't quite as accessible as I would like it to be, I do want to have a version of this that someone who DOESN'T bind books can still follow. I'm in the middle of building a prototype that will hold a standard three-ring binder. I'm going to keep working on that, but I think my personal life is about to get bananas, and I don't want to just leave this sitting on my computer taking up space.

Like with the fore edge painting slideshow, I'm not an expert, and I'm not the final word. I worked out this process for my own satisfaction, and the next step in satisfying myself is that I want to enable more people to do cool things. Take this, copy it to other platforms, share it with your friends, hoard it on your hard drive if you think it will be useful. It would be cool to get named for credit if you repost it, but that's not my main priority here. This is what I have for now, and I want to share it! Anyone who tries this, have fun!!!

Edit: This comic is literally me dumping a huge column of equations out on an unsuspecting audience

So I've added a spreadsheet link within the google doc! If you open it up and make a personal copy, it should let you enter your input values and it will spit out the dimensions of a trapezoid and two triangles for you. I have not had an opportunity to test it, please move with caution before cutting up a bunch of boards, but that was a hilarious gap in my goal of making this craft ""accessible,"" hahaha

#crafts #bookbinding #lectern books

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lecturenotesindia · 2 years

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Engineering semester exams might be difficult if you don’t know how to study for them over the semester properly. You can find Engineering 1st semester Study Materials Online from LectureNotes.

You can find Engineering 1st semester Study Materials Online from LectureNotes.

#Tips for engineering students to ace their first-year exams #How to score good marks in engineering 1st year/ semester #Advice to first-year engineering students

#engineering Handwritten Notes #engineering 1st year Study Notes Online #engineering 1st semester Study Materials Online #best engineering Online Notes #engineering semester exams

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harrysthighertat · 1 year

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Valentine’s Day

summary: you come home from a long, shitty day of work to a Valentine's Day surprise from Harry.

warnings: fluff and implied smut

word count: 2.3k

a/n: I'm a little nervous to post this cause this is the first blurb I've ever written. I really enjoyed writing it tho and I can definitely see myself writing more of them in the future, so I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback. sorry if it ends a little abruptly, it's way past midnight and my brain was fried by the end of this. but I hope you still enjoy it! :)

—

It's 7.30PM when you finally park your car in front of you and Harry's shared apartment. You let out a sigh while turning the engine off. No matter how much you love your job, the extra work, stress and having to stay at the office late to cover for your coworker's maternity leave, was wearing you out and you felt incredibly guilty towards Harry for coming home so late and going to bed so soon after arriving home from work. The past few months have been a constant cycle of waking up at 5AM, being at the office until at least 7PM, having dinner with Harry while trying very hard to keep your eyes open and hold a conversation with him then going to bed straight after dinner and repeat.

Thus, you were incredibly grateful when Harry offered to not do anything special for Valentine's Day and make up for it when work wasn't so busy. It meant that you wouldn't have to lose any of your much needed sleep on getting him a gift or preparing a surprise for him. And Harry deserved better than getting a half assed gift after how much he's been there for you during this stressful time. Every evening he insists on packing your lunch for the next day, he wakes up at the crack of dawn with you just so he can kiss you goodbye and wish you luck at work and he leaves sweet little handwritten notes everywhere saying how much he loves you and how proud he is of you, just to name a few out of a million things he does for you. You wanted to show him your gratitude with the most special surprise because he deserved nothing less, but unfortunately it had to wait.

Although Harry missed spending quality time with you, especially on a day such as Valentine's Day, he knew that it was only a couple of days until your coworker was back at the office and he would get to spend his evenings loving on you again.

Earlier that day you had texted Harry notifying him that you'd have to stay at the office late again. You offered to grab some takeout on the way home, which had become a habit of yours over the past couple of months because of how bad you felt that Harry had to do the daily household chores and cook for both of you while also having work of his own and barely getting to spend time with you, but he told you not to worry about it.

You grab your stuff from the passenger seat and step out of your car onto the sidewalk. You walk up the couple of steps to your front door, unlock it and push the door open. As you enter the apartment, you're welcomed by the smell of homemade food and your body immediately relaxes. You put your keys in the basket on the side table in the hallway and place your bag underneath it. Then you shrug off your coat, put it on the hanger and change from your boots to a pair of warm, fuzzy slippers.

Once you've checked yourself in the mirror, you walk towards the noises coming from the kitchen. In the doorway to the kitchen you stop yourself and look at the scene in front of you in awe. Not only do you see your boyfriend, who’s putting away the kitchenware that he’s used while wearing a pink and red polka dot apron that his mom gifted him for Christmas last year with a nice, lightish green dress shirt and fitted dark green trousers underneath, but the dinner table is beautifully decorated with bordeaux red table runners, pink lit candles and a bottle of your favorite red wine.

The smell of food is even stronger here and you notice the tray in the oven. Homemade vegan lasagna. Your favorite. In the background Dreams by Fleetwood Mac is softly playing. The soothing music, comforting smell of your favorite homemade meal and the sight of the love of your life standing right in front of you is a heavenly combination and you feel tears welling up in your eyes from how good it feels to be home, especially after the long, shitty day you had at work.

You quickly blink the tears away and walk over to your boyfriend. As Harry hears you coming up from behind, he turns around. As soon as his eyes land on his lovie's face, a smile grows on his own. “Hi baby, I didn’t hear you come home. How was work? I missed you.” He grabs your hands, pulls you closer and softly pecks your lips.

You return the favor and say “Hi bub, work wasn't too great today." Harry can tell you've had a stressful day and you don't feel like talking about it, so he doesn't press on the topic. "I'm starting to understand my coworker." You say though. "If these were my usual tasks I would also get someone to impregnate me just to have an excuse to get a couple of months off." Harry bursts out laughing and your heart flutters in your chest at the sound of it.

You almost tear up again when you say "It feels good to be home. With you. Sorry I couldn't get home sooner." Harry squeezes your hand to reassure you that it's okay.

Then you gesture to the scene behind you. "What’s all this for though?” Harry turns around to see what you mean as if he hasn't spent half of the day in the kitchen to decorate and cook and make sure everything was perfect for when you got home.

“Well, I couldn’t not treat my girl on Valentine’s Day, so I thought I’d cook you your favorite meal and decorate the table so we can have a romantic candle lit dinner tonight and celebrate Valentine's Day just a bit.”

He then remembers the other surprise he got you that morning. “Oh and I got you something else, wait here…”. He walks out of the kitchen to where he hid his surprise from you, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

A few seconds later Harry returns with a gorgeous bouquet of red, pink and white tulips. He hands them to you as he says “Happy Valentine’s day, baby.” You hesitantly accept the bouquet. When you slowly bring the flowers to your nose and inhale, the flowers smell fresh, and soothing and heavenly and remind you of a warm, sunny day in spring. Then a frown grows on your face.

“What’s wrong? Do they smell bad?” Harry asks concerned.

“No, they smell lovely.” You answer, frown still present on your face.

“Do you not like tulips? Shit, I thought tulips were your favorite. But I should’ve listened to the sweet old man at the flower shop and got you the roses that he recommended for Valentine's Day. I’m really sorry, I can go back tomorrow and get you those.” He says, panic in his voice.

Your features soften a little. “No, they are my favorite and they’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“What’s got you frowning then?”

You look down as you fumble with the flowers in your hand. “I- I just feel so bad. Everyone's out today celebrating their relationship, showering their partner with love while you barely even get to spend time with me because I leave for work so early and don't come home until the evening hours when I'm too tired to stay up for longer than an hour. I feel like such a bad partner. I didn’t even get you anything today."

"Hey, look at me." Harry says, as he grabs your hand with one of his and places the other on your chin to gently lift it so that you're looking at him. He moves his face a little closer to yours and kisses the place between your brows before moving down to your lips, placing a kiss on both of the corners of your mouth in hopes of removing the frown from your face.

"None of that. Of course I miss you, but I know how much you care about your work and I know that this is not forever. You've been working your ass off and I'm so proud of you. And I don't mind at all that you didn't get me anything today, baby. After all we said we weren’t going to do anything special today. We've got to feed ourselves wether you're busy or not and you know I love cooking, especially when it's for you. So I figured I'd cook you your favorite dinner just to make today a little more special. Plus you didn't think I made all of that lasagna just for you, right? I'm treating myself to a lovely dinner with the best company I could ever wish for too. Although if you did want to have the whole tray to yourself, I wouldn't mind either. Anything to make my baby happy. I just wanna take care of you and show you how proud I am of you for working so hard.” He rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand and kisses tip of your nose, then your left cheek, your right cheek and finally your mouth.

Then he pulls back to look at you again and you notice a smirk appear on Harry's face. "Besides, you didn't think I didn't notice my favorite lingerie set being gone from our underwear drawer this morning, did you?"

You try to suppress a smile. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He's right though. You are wearing a red, lace lingerie set underneath your outfit that you specifically decided to wear today. It's the matching lingerie set that Harry got you on his birthday as he claimed it was more a present for himself. You'd been so tired and stressed it lately that your sex drive was low and it had been a while since you and Harry had been intimate with each other. Therefore you also hadn't been able to show Harry the lingerie set in action yet, but you had secretly been hoping to change that tonight.

When you were getting dressed this morning, Harry had pretended to still be asleep while peeking at you through his eyelashes.

Harry smiles and kisses your lips. Then he leaves a trail of soft little kissen from your mouth to your neck where he stays for a few seconds while his hands roam your body until he leans back to look at you with a teasing expression on his face. "Right, so you're not wearing anything special underneath this?"

You notice Harry's eyes have turned a darker shade of green. You look behind Harry at the timer on the oven to see how much time is left before the lasagna is ready. Enough time for a little teasing.

“Want to check for yourself?” You say as seductively as possible. Harry kisses you hard and you laugh into his mouth at how fast he moves to unbutton your top and almost gets his ring stuck on it in the process. As he's working on the last button of your blouse, a loud beeping noise startles both of you. The lasagna is ready. Harry drops his head to your shoulder and sighs in frustration.

You laugh at his dramatic reaction and pat him on his back. "Come on pretty boy, if we don't eat soon I will actually eat the whole tray myself 'cause I'm starving."

During dinner you catch Harry staring at your exposed cleavage a couple of times. You hadn't bothered buttoning your blouse again because you knew it would only be a matter of time until you wouldn't be wearing a top at all.

When Harry said he was too full for desert, which you knew was only an excuse to continue what you started right before dinner because desert was his favorite and he would always leave room for it, you decided to be an even bigger tease by insisting on having a piece of the cheesecake Harry bought for desert.

The second you finish your last bite, Harry's on your side of the table. He grabs your face in both hands and presses your lips together hard. He moves one hand down to the side of your ass and taps it to signal you to get up. Once you're up he guides you to sit at the edge of the table all while kissing you passionately. He keeps one hand on the back of your head while he unbuttons the last button on your blouse, revealing the red, lace bra. He momentarily pulls back from kissing you to admire how stunning you look in his now new favorite lingerie set on you until he reattaches his lips to yours and lets his hand explore your body. After some time he starts kissing and sucking on your neck, leaving marks in different places. Harry hasn’t even touched you and you’re already a moaning mess for him. Finally he leaves a trail of kisses from your chest down to the top of your skirt. He uses his hands to bunch up your skirt around your waist and looks at you to check if you’re really okay with this. When you push his head back to your skin he laughs at your impatience and takes that as his cue to continue. He gives you one final look before his face disappears under your skirt.

It’s safe to say the lasagna wasn't the only thing that was eaten on that dinner table that night.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #valentine's day #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles concept #harry styles x yn

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mylasteverlution · 6 months

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Please go into detail about the feld computers

Okay so! We get quite a bit of information about the Feld Playback Experiment, a lot more than I realized before writing this post. The interface of the game (menus, dialogue engine) is actually designed to look like its on a Feld computer. Plenty of other people have talked about that, so I'm not going to go into it here, but I will drop this archived post from the developer's blog for those who are interested.

One thing I do want to highlight from that post:

This computer uses long strips of film for feedback (projection), memory (storing on magnetic tape) and interfacing (submit commands in handwriting) purposes

The strips of film for feedback and the magnetic tape storage are what I was expecting. But using handwritten commands for input was not on my radar! This would be what's called offline handwriting recognition, where text is converted by the computer after it's written (as opposed to online, where you use something like a stylus on a screen and the computer interprets it as you're writing). This is comparatively pretty difficult to achieve, and very error-prone, as everyone's handwriting looks slightly different. Most modern versions of this use machine learning techniques, but I'm assuming these computers used very basic character extraction and recognition engines.

Trant is the only in-game source we get for the Feld computers. And after doing some digging I found him saying something similar:

"As I was saying, the device itself was very elegant, fragile even. One could write directly on the tape using a special chemical solution. The machine would then analyze the handwriting, perform operations and project output onto a white screen. It was a beautiful, delicate thing."

I initially interpreted him saying they "perform operations and project output" to mean that they can process internally, unlike radiocomputers. But this post from the developers is making me think otherwise (thanks @sollandan for sharing this on my other post!):

"These machines have on-air processing. Large prime number stations criss-cross the air. Advanced tape computers use arrays of antennas to sieve through their calculations to perform advanced calculus on site: to run programmes and communicate between the remote corners of the world."

The advanced tape computers being referred to here have to be the Feld computers. I'm still not sure how this kind of processing would work. As far as computing goes, prime numbers are used primarily in cryptography. Maybe their version of 'processing' somehow involves decrypting? People have theorized that the world in Disco Elysium is made of information. If all the information already exists, maybe it's just a matter of decoding it? I'm honestly just spitballing here, but I'd love to hear other people's theories.

Regardless of how they work, it seems pretty clear to me that the Feld computers are meant to parallel the rise of digital personal computers in our world. Like how Trant described them here:

"An elegant folding mechanism of rollers and ferrotape ribbons, portable enough to be a take-it-home solution, revolutionizing business machines, possibly even bringing them to the average consumer."

This reads almost exactly like promotional material for early home computers made by IBM, Apple and such. (Side note: 'ferrotape' here refers to ferric-oxide coated tape, used for magnetic tape storage and popularized for use in computers by IBM in the 50s.)

But in Disco Elysium, this revolution never took place. Computers never made it to the average consumer, as is clearly demonstrated by even the RCM having only limited access to radiocomputers. The only characters I know of with access to computers are Soona (obviously) and Trant (plus his kid), who seems to be much wealthier than the average citizen of Revachol. The thematic significance of this form of communication never becoming available to the masses is not lost on me.

That said, I think ending this on one of the most interesting hints we get on what happened to the Feld Playback Experiment is appropriate:

YOU - "Why did the revolutionaries destroy it?" TRANT HEIDELSTAM - "Who knows? Maybe it was an accident, or maybe they didn't want the technology to end up in the wrong hands. Either way -- they're all gone now, all three versions of the prototype. Nothing but debris and ashes remains inside that building." He takes a step back; the boardwalk creaks mournfully in the wind. SHIVERS - Two seagulls circle in the sky. You look up and think: really? Or was there a fourth prototype that remains hidden in the mausoleums below Coal City?

#thanks for asking!!#this was a great excuse to spend way too much time researching fake computers #and again i'd love to hear other people's thoughts!!#cyan.txt #disco elysium

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pandiongames · 5 days

Text

Substratum Protocol, the Solo+ Apocalyptic Mystery TTRPG by Pandion Games

The Substratum Protocol campaign is nearing its end! There are less than 24 hours left to join over 600 scientists on the expedition to save the planet!

If you haven’t yet, check out the campaign before it’s too late!

There have been some fun updates since launch, including additional artwork by Galen Pejeau, new rules for environmental hazards, and a big story update!

If you want to see what the game is about, we also have a free preview PDF for you on the campaign page.

An Anomaly

During our interview with Rascal News, we realized we had made a fundamental mistake in writing an open-ended mystery: We said what was at the core of the planet, an interdimensional portal. The portal being is now just one possibility. We spent last weekend updating all the writing to now be an anomaly. The otherworldly abilities you get from taking stress are now Anomaly Influences, rather than Portal Influences, for instance. The Expedition can still decide it's a portal, but calling it an anomaly opens up a huge range of possibilities. What is the anomaly that's splitting the earth open?

Is it a massive cosmic egg hatching a world eater as part of a natural lifecycle?

Did an advance interstellar ship accidentally exit hyperspace at the center of the planet due to a miscalculation, and its damaged engines are holding open a hyperspace bubble?

Is there a cult of advanced species calling forth eldritch gods with a powerful ritual that consumes planets to power it?

Substratum Protocol is about letting the clues and your answers determine what is really happening, and we think this update opens the floodgates for it.

Depth Sector Deep Dives

In our campaign updates, we have been talking about the different sectors players can visit and their inspiration. These are all available publicly on the campaign - but we wanted to share the Fracture Opening sector with you here.

How the Depth Sectors Work

Substratum Protocol is a collaborative mystery game. The text gives hints and whispers of possibilities, but strays away from definite answers. What you discover and imagine at your table becomes canon to the story and the setting. Each sector shows its location in the Fracture, includes in-universe handwritten notes from an unknown scientist, relevant art, and a table of events - each giving a glimpse into what the sector contains. Scientists can spend as much or as little time in a Sector as they want. When they're ready to venture deeper, whoever leads the way rolls for the Travel Action.

The Fracture Opening

This is the first sector of the expedition experiences. At 1,300 kilometers long, it covers the distance between New York City to Miami, Florida. London, England to Naples, Italy. Melbourne, Australia to Alice Springs. Buenos Aires, Argentina to São Paulo, Brazil. It is massive. Where did the fracture open in your game? What exists teetering at its cliff walls? The world at the surface is a hellscape of the apocalypse, and much of the Fracture Opening is littered with crumbling buildings, detritus, and ancillary debris of civilization. Oceans spilling over the edge seem small in scale. Sitting suspended over it, is the Fracture Observatory. The Fracture Observatory, the home of Mission Control.

Furthest from the anomaly, this sector is rooted most in the reality of the surface. Here, players may find groups of survivors from the cities that tumbled into the great fracture, steam vents, cave ins, and earthquakes make finding solid footing and a reliable path difficult, and even here, strange subterranean creatures may make an appearance. Old research stations, part of the Substratum Protocol's monitoring efforts may still be intact here, and dangerous fast flowing waters threaten to whisk away scientists into massive whirlpools to further below. When we were first designing Substratum Protocol, the thought was that players would start in the action of the expedition and wouldn't really spend time on the Fracture Observatory or on the surface. The Fracture Opening was our way of showing what the surface was going through while still being en route. It is meant to showcase the incredible destruction happening, and give the players a sense of urgency to stop it from getting worse. How do the scientists descend into the fracture before being left to their own power? Lowered on a cable lift? Paraglide down? Or perhaps they are more like hell jumpers, free-falling through the gargantuan opening (or Link entering the depths in Tears of the Kingdom!)?

The title screen fades to klaxon alarms and screams of the world above, slowly giving way to a deafening silence of rushing wind as the expedition descends past the cliff walls into the abyssal black depths of the Fracture Opening...

Join the Expedition!

#ttrpg #indie ttrpg #mystery #solo ttrpg #hintsandhijinx #horror #journaling #crowdfunding #ttrpg community #solo journaling

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 8 months

Text

Note: let the games begin. can't wait for the "I could fix him" comments. anyway, direct follow up to part 6! other parts are here.

Warnings: angst. toxic relationship, manipulation, gaslighting, possessive behaviour, suggestive. mention of blood,murder and drugs.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: Sihtric came back home to you, covered in blood, and he expected you to believe every lie he told you.

wordcount: 3,8k

Masterlist

'I think you had a little too much wine there.'

'I did not kill anyone,' Sihtric lied when you asked what had happened.

You leaned against your bathroom wall and watched your mechanic dry his hands, after he had been washing the blood off his skin for minutes, leaving your sink splattered with red droplets. You didn't want to let Sihtric in your house at first, but he had simply pushed past you. And when you started to question him, he became hostile.

'Where… where does all this blood come from, Sihtric?'

You felt sick to your stomach upon the sight of your sink.

'I only fought, okay? I only punched someone in the face,' Sihtric lied again, 'stop asking about what happened,' he said sternly and threw the towel in your dirty sink.

'But you… you can't expect me to-'

Sihtric walked over to you and took your face in his hands. He stared down at you with his big, piercing, wild eyes as he trapped you against the wall.

'Stop asking,' Sihtric said, 'you will stop questioning my story, you hear me?' he breathed hard as his eyes darted over your face, 'you will forget whatever you saw today. You won't mention it to anyone, ever. Yeah?'

'Y-yeah,' you said, averting your eyes.

'No,' Sihtric hissed, 'look at me!' he commanded, and you looked back up into his mismatched eyes. 'I did it to protect you,' he said, and his expression softened as he lightly caressed your cheeks with his thumbs, 'I did it because I love you, you understand that?'

You simply nodded and held your breath.

'You love me?' he asked as his hands trailed down to your waist, 'tell me you love me.'

'I- I love you,' you whispered.

You cursed yourself for still enjoying his touch, after everything, and you allowed him to lean his forehead against yours.

'Again,' Sihtric smiled darkly, 'tell me you love me, little lady,' he licked his lips, 'tell me you're mine.'

'I love you.'

'Tell me you're mine,' he breathed.

'I'm… yours.'

'Good,' Sihtric sighed.

You slept in Sihtric's arms that night. And for the first time since you got together, he almost felt like a stranger. The way he had acted, the way he had spoken to you, you had never seen this controlling and possessive side of him before. Except, maybe in the hospital.

You laid awake that night, remembering how Sihtric had demanded to see you in the hospital, after his crash, and how he had hurt you with his bruising grip. He hadn't done that again after that day, but his behaviour seemed to slowly turn towards that same direction; he was holding you in a firm grip, figurally this time.

And despite everything, you were still head over heels in love with him, and you hoped it had just been a really strange day.

Eventually you fell asleep, thinking that tomorrow might be better.

Sihtric woke up before you, as he had to go to work. He was starting to make more hours this week, slowly building up his previous work life again. He had kissed you goodbye and you vaguely remembered hearing his motorcycle engine rev before he rode off into the sunrise.

When you woke up, you found a handwritten note on the pillow next to you;

Come see me at work, I'm working alone after 3. I'll take you back home.

I love you, darling x

You felt your cheeks burn up at the note, and you made sure to do your daily errands as fast as possible.

You quickly packed a small backpack, with some clothes more suitable for a bike ride than the dress you had on, but you wanted to look nice for Sihtric when he'd see you, so you would change over there. And then you finally took a bus to the repair shop.

You hopped off the bus in your floral summer dress and made haste to your mechanic, who you found shirtless, smudged with oil and grease as he leaned in a car, working on an engine once again. Sihtric looked up when he heard someone walk in, and he gave you a cocky smile as he leaned his elbows on the car.

'What's a pretty lady like you doing in a place like this?' he flirted, and it made your face heat up straight away, as per usual.

'Hmm… my car broke down, sir,' you grinned, playing along.

'I see,' Sihtric nodded with a sly smile and closed the hood of the car, 'and how can I help you, lady?' he asked while he wiped his greasy hands on a towel, which he then threw over his shoulder.

'I'm not sure,' you twirled your hair as you walked up to him, 'is it true you guys offer a ride home?'

Sihtric bit down on his lip, circling his filthy arm around your waist and he pulled you against his sweaty, greasy body. He hummed softly as he looked down at you with a cheeky smile.

'Perhaps,' Sihtric taunted, 'but I don't have a car. However,' he licked his lips and slid his hand down to your buttocks, 'you could spread those beautiful legs for me right now, and I'll promise I'll give you a good ride,' he winked and squeezed your ass.

You giggled and slapped his chest.

'Sihtric! You heathen,' you laughed, completely flushed, 'don't be like that, you're at work.'

'And?' he frowned, 'there's no one here. And you're teasing me with that dress, lady.'

'Maybe, but… you're not serious, are you?'

'I am serious, lady,' Sihtric said, settling his other hand on your hip, 'did you forget what I told you?' he smiled and leaned in, softly nuzzling your nose before he pecked your lips.

'Hm?' you hummed, smiling, 'told me what?'

'I told you,' Sihtric said, pulling away from you while holding your hands, 'that I'm taking what's mine,' he growled and spun you around, bending you over the hood of the car, 'whenever I fucking want.'

'Sihtric,' you breathed, your head was spinning as his big, rough hands grabbed your hips.

And god, how horny you were right now, it was a sin. But the fear of someone walking in on you two held you back. But Sihtric clearly didn't care about that, as he pushed up your skirt and unclasped his belt.

'Sihtric, no,' you giggled.

You pushed yourself back up and turned around.

'But I want you,' he said, 'now.'

'Yes, and I want you too,' you breathed, 'but anyone can just walk in on us.'

Sihtric sighed and clicked his tongue, then he took your chin.

'And?'

'Can't you… get fired for that?' you frowned.

'I own half of this shop, lady,' Sihtric said sternly, and he pushed your skirt up again, 'I can do whatever the fuck I want,' he smiled darkly and unzipped his dirty cargo pants, 'and right now,' he seated you up on the car, 'all I want to do,' he pulled down your panties, 'is fuck my girl.'

Sihtric captured your lips in a heated kiss, and you surrendered yourself completely in his strong, greasy arms, and let him have his way with you. And god, he felt good. The way he filled you up completely, and how you heard his low, heavy grunts in your ear as he pulled your hair. Sihtric knew exactly how to fuck you hard, and still make you feel loved entirely.

And luckily, no one walked in.

After the sudden hot, rough, and rather quick sex, you got dressed in your jeans and t-shirt, while Sihtric closed up the workplace and cleaned himself up. He put on his leather jacket and looked up over his shades as you approached him, and he smiled. Sihtric circled his arm around your waist and pulled you in for a soft kiss.

'You good, love?' he asked sweetly, 'did you like that, baby?'

'Yeah,' you smiled, feeling a little tired, and wrapped your arms around his neck.

'Good,' Sihtric whispered and pecked your lips.

'Did you like it?' you suddenly wondered.

Sihtric chuckled lightly and whispered, 'I loved it, lady,' before he gave you a tender kiss, 'and I love you.'

'I love you too,' you smiled shyly.

You hated yourself for how he could make you so easily aroused and shy all the same within the blink of an eye.

Sihtric took your hand and walked you out of the garage. He got on his bike, and as he was about to push his motorcycle off the standard, he changed his mind. He looked at you, smiled, and turned around in the seat of his bike, then took your hand and pulled you closer.

'Come,' Sihtric said sweetly.

You got on his bike, seated in your regular spot, except this time you faced Sihtric, instead of looking at his back, and he wrapped your legs around his waist as you sat pressed up against him. His hand rested on your waist and one cupped your cheek, smiling softly as he looked at you, biting down on his lip. Your eyes darted over his black shades, not being able to see his eyes through them, so you took them off. You smiled at each other and you snuck your hands under his leather jacket, holding onto his waist as he leaned slightly back on his bike.

'How lucky I am,' Sihtric said with a smug face, and he pulled you in for a few soft kisses.

'And me,' you whispered, completely head over heels.

Sihtric hummed softly when he kissed you again, and you had a heated, yet gentle make out session on his motorcycle. Something you could cross off your bucket list, you later thought.

'You're my girl,' Sihtric whispered against your lips as he held you close.

'Only yours,' you smiled and kissed his lips again.

You felt Sihtric softly bite your lip, and he tugged it lightly with his teeth, making you chuckle.

'Tell me you love me,' he breathed.

'I love you,' you whispered.

Sihtric hummed. 'How much, baby?'

'So fucking much,' you managed to say in between his open mouthed kisses, 'I'll do anything for you,' you nearly moaned as you tugged his jacket.

'Anything, love?' he chuckled softly.

'Anything, Sihtric.'

And Sihtric smiled against your lips, knowing he had you completely wrapped around his finger. And he would be the first to admit; you had him wrapped around your finger all the same. But you weren't aware of how smitten he was, or how to use it for your own benefit at times. Whereas Sihtric was cunning enough to realise how to use you, if he had to, or when he simply wanted to.

'Alright,' Sihtric smiled and gave you one last, soft kiss, 'let's go. I'm taking you out for dinner.'

You felt a little out of place as you sat in some fancy, high class restaurant. The food was delicious, the atmosphere was pleasant, but this was way above your budget. You figured not to question Sihtric, and you just enjoyed watching him devour a steak. He fucks like a beast and eats like a beast, you thought, and you fought a grin tugging at your lips.

Sihtric was sweet to you again today, like how he had been with you when you first met, until the more recent events. He joked around and made you laugh, and after you both had finished your dinner, he moved to sit next to you. Sihtric wrapped his arm around your neck and gave you soft, sloppy kisses, for everyone to see, to which some elderly couples gave you two a disapproving look. But Sihtric didn't care, it only amused him. You were his, and he had no shame showing his love for you in public. You, on the other hand, were a little uncomfortable with displaying your affection in public, you had never really done so in your previous relationships, but as Sihtric took the lead, you simply followed.

When Sihtric paid for everything, you couldn't help noticing that the name on the credit card he used didn't match his own. It didn't even come close to his own name, actually. You didn't say anything about it and politely thanked the waiter before he left your table. Sihtric said he needed the toilet before heading out and pecked your lips, brushing his fingers sweetly over your cheek before he got up. You smiled at him, and when he walked off, your eyes landed on his leather jacket next to you, in which he had just tucked his wallet. You fought the urge for a moment, but your curiosity won. You innocently looked over your shoulder, and when all seemed clear, you reached for his wallet. You found the credit card he used and frowned at the name again, it didn't make any sense. And when you shoved the card back, you suddenly saw his wallet held five more credit cards, all with different names, none of them matching Sihtric's own name.

You thought about your recent discovery as you had your arms wrapped around your biker boyfriend when he brought you home. You tried to come up with rational reasons as to why he would have those cards, but you had to stop fooling yourself. The only reason he would have them was if he's either a fraud and took out money using fake names, or he had stolen all of those credit cards without the victims realising it yet. And neither of those reasons appealed to you.

Back home you tried to bite your tongue again, but it was just impossible.

'You had a good evening?' Sihtric asked when he held you in his arms, while watching tv on your couch.

'Yeah,' you smiled, 'thank you.' You kissed his cheek.

'You're welcome, baby,' Sihtric hummed, 'one more?'

You fought a smile and gave him another kiss.

'But,' you began, 'I, eh,' you cleared your throat, 'I couldn't help notice the, eh, credit card you used. The name on it was not yours, was it?'

Sihtric frowned, 'what do you mean, love?'

You stared into his eyes, trying to find anything in there that would give you a hint of what goes on inside his head, but there was nothing.

'T-the name on your card,' you stammered, 'it… it wasn't yours.'

'Yes it was,' Sihtric chuckled lightly.

'No, it wasn't.'

'Don't be so silly, baby,' he scoffed, 'I don't know what you're talking about. You must be mistaken.'

Sihtric took your chin and gave you a soft kiss.

'But… okay, then show me the card?'

'What?' he asked.

'Show me the credit card,' you said.

'Why would I do that?' Sihtric asked, offended, losing the sweet demeanour in his voice and posture, 'I already told you, you're mistaken.'

'But I saw… I'm not-'

'You don't believe me, lady?'

'I know what I saw, Sihtric,' you scoffed.

'So you're calling me a liar?' Sihtric gave you a sudden threatening stare.

'N…no,' you said and looked away from him, but he took your chin again and forced your eyes back up to his.

'Then what are you saying here? Hm?' he asked and moved his hands up in your hair, 'what are you accusing me of?'

Sihtric stared at you as he bit down on his lip, and for some reason you felt lightheaded.

'N-nothing,' you said quietly, 'I'm sorry.'

'Mhm,' Sihtric hummed and kissed your lips, 'I think you had a little too much wine there.'

'Yeah… m-maybe,' you agreed, pulling him in for another kiss.

Sihtric quickly learned that whenever you questioned things, he could easily make you forgive and forget by just making out with you, or even better; having sex. And you didn't even realise it.

A few weeks later you met up with your friend, Thyra, who wanted to know all about that good looking guy you had been sharing pictures of on your social media.

'So, what does this Sihtric do?' Thyra asked and sipped her drink.

'He's a mechanic,' you said with your mouth full of food.

'Oh,' Thyra smiled and gave you a cheeky grin, 'I see. Tell me more.'

'Well,' you giggled, 'oh,' you said as your phone buzzed, 'speaking of… hold on,' you opened Sihtric's texts.

Sihtric: where are you?

Sihtric: baby?

Sihtric: hello???

Sihtric: answer me!

You: calm down love

You: I'm over at Sam's Bar

Sihtric: why? how?

Sihtric: with who?

You: I'm with my friend

You: Thyra. and I took a bus x

Sihtric: are you drinking baby? x

You: no?

Sihtric: I'll pick you up

'What…' you sighed, 'sorry, hold on,' you smiled at Thyra.

You: honey what do you mean

You: I just got here?

Sihtric: I'm picking you up baby

You: no, why? I don't want to go home yet

Sihtric: this is not a matter of discussion

Sihtric: I'm coming over

You: okay but at least stay for a drink?

Sihtric: maybe love x

You shook your head lightly.

'Is he already giving you trouble?' Thyra laughed.

'I don't know, but he's coming over,' you chuckled, 'he's… quite something.'

'How so?'

'Well,' you hesitated, 'I recently found out he's a member of the Ragnarsons.'

Thyra stared at you.

'What?' she scoffed, 'the biker gang?'

You nodded and quickly took a sip of your drink.

'An outlaw? Girl,' Thyra frowned, 'what are you doing with a guy like that?'

'I.. he's… I love him,' you said shyly.

'I… don't even know what to say. How- like, how far in it is he?'

You looked away from your friend.

'Hey,' Thyra said firmly, 'spill it.'

'Fuck,' you groaned, 'do you remember that warehouse fire a while ago?'

'Yeah,' Thyra said, her face growing concerned.

'He… he did that,' you said softly.

Thyra stared at you again. 'You've got to be joking.'

'Don't tell anyone, okay? I'm not even supposed to talk about this.'

'What does that mean?'

'Sihtric, he told me to not… you know, discuss his business with others.'

'And is that the only thing he tells you to do?' she asked, cautiously.

'Well, I guess,' you shrugged, 'he's quite persistent, but I haven't done anything I didn't want to.'

'What does that- what did you do?'

'Well,' you felt your face heat up, 'we kinda… well, not kinda, we had sex while he was at work. That was a first for me.'

'What?' Thyra suddenly laughed, 'at his work? The garage?'

'Yeah,' you grinned, 'the shop was still open.'

'Are you… you're telling me you had sex in public?'

'Yeah, but, no one saw us!' you said quickly, 'and… he's like… he fucks like really good,' you blurted out and laughed.

Thyra sat back, shocked, and she shook her head disapprovingly.

'What are you doing, honey?' she asked softly and took your hand, 'sex in public? Dating a guy who committed arson, and probably a whole bunch of other crimes…'

'I don't know about much else. I only know he has a bunch of credit cards that don't have his name on it. And he deals drugs?'

'What?!' Thyra yelled.

'Shh!' you hushed her fast.

'Please tell me you went to the cops?' she hissed.

'What? no!' you scoffed, 'I'm not turning in my boyfriend! I asked him about it, and he told me not to worry about it, okay? And he took me to this fancy place after we had sex at his work, so, you know, he treats me well.'

'Gods,' Thyra whispered, 'this isn't you,' she said, 'since when are you okay with all this?'

'I'm not, I mean…' you sighed and buried your face in your hands, 'I don't know, okay. I just- I only know that I love him.'

'Love him?' Thyra scoffed, 'sure. You love his cock it seems.'

'What the fuck is that supposed to mean?' you snarled.

'Oh, come on, since when are you so naive?' Thyra asked, 'this guy clearly manipulates you. You confront him about things, he fucks you, and you simply forget about it.'

'That's not true,' you said, hurt.

'That's what it looks like,' Thyra said, 'look, I am not telling you what to do with your life. But please, be careful. These biker guys,' she shook her head, 'they are no good. None of them.'

'But he said he wants out, you know, of the club.'

'And you believe him?'

'Well, yeah.'

'Did he tell you that before or after he fucked you?'

'Both,' you admitted after a moment of silence.

'What else are you not telling me,' Thyra asked, 'I can tell you're hiding something. I promise I won't rat him out, but you have to share whatever it is. Or it will eat you up, I know you. Is he asking you to do things for that club?'

'No!' you said, 'he tries to keep me away from everything.'

'Then what is it?'

Reluctantly you told her about the day you had that encounter with the fellow biker, who handed Sihtric drugs in your presence, and how Sihtric came back home to you, covered in blood.

'He said he only fought.'

'Is he…' Thyra's eyes grew wide, 'is he the guy who killed his half brother?'

'What?' you said, bewildered, 'no!'

'Are you sure? Because I read about that in the news, I think it was a day after you said that stuff happened.'

'No!' you defended your boyfriend, 'he would… he'd never do that,' doubt settled in your bones as you continued, 'I, he never… he never said he had a brother in the first place.'

'Well, if he killed him, I suppose he wasn't very fond of him, makes sense he wouldn't mention him' Thyra remarked, 'I don't remember his name, I only remember they wrote that the guy had an eyepatch,' she said.

Your stomach turned at her words, remembering the biker at the traffic light. You had no idea he was apparently dead. But surely, Sihtric wouldn't have done that? He told you he only got into a fight that night. Maybe something had happened after Sihtric already left?

'Tell me,' Thyra said, 'how much do you really know about this guy?'

'Enough,' you lied, 'and I know that I love him,' you said, truthfully.

And just as you said those words, you heard Sihtric's motorcycle approach, and you glanced over your shoulder. You and Thyra watched him park his bike and he took off his helmet. He hung his helmet on the handlebar and put on his shades. And as Sihtric walked up to you, he took off his leather jacket, showing off his muscular arms as he wore a dark grey sleeveless shirt.

'Oh, girl,' Thyra sighed as she saw Sihtric approach, 'you are simply kept cock drunk by that guy.'

You didn't even hear her as you looked at Sihtric, who gave you his sexy half smile as he walked up to your table and he lowered his shades for you. He took your chin and leaned in.

'Hey, baby,' Sihtric purred with a wink, and gave you a quick open mouthed kiss.

'Hey, handsome,' you giggled as you looked up at him, completely smitten.

And Thyra immediately saw the way Sihtric had you wrapped around his finger when he sat down next to you, putting his arm around your neck, keeping you locked against his side, in a possessive manner.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @bel-bottoms @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @n4tforlife

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric fic #sihtric #the last kingdom fic #modern!sihtric

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wyattjohnston · 1 year

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not perfect (but we were) - nico hischier

summary: sierra needs a rescue and there’s only one person she can think of to call.

word count: 3,559

note: this is for @ryngrvs's birthday bingo! i hope you have a fantastic day, c, and that you get lots of fics to read 💚 this doesn't hit the technical definition of bingo, but i used 5 prompts per your rules! thanks to @matthewtkachuk for reading it even though she was absolutely about to fall asleep when i begged.

prompts: 1. exes to lovers 2. handwritten notes 3. car troubles 4. "could you leave?" 5. blind date

There was a moment, just before it all went to hell, where Sierra thought she was actually going to make it. She’d just gotten off the turnpike at the correct exit, she was ten minutes from her final destination—she could practically see the restaurant.

And okay, it had taken a few turns of the engine to get it to start when she hopped in that morning and the battery light had been on for more than a few days already. The engine light had come on halfway to Woodbridge. Maybe they were signs she should have found a different mode of transport or just rescheduled entirely but it was too late to think about those things when she was desperately trying to corral her spluttering car off the road before it died a sad and final death.

“Betty,” Sierra whined to her ten-year-old Beetle, “I thought you loved me.”

She put the car in park and turned the key in the ignition, even if there was no chance it was going anyway, tapping the steering wheel as she tried to think of her options. She wasn’t good with cars, had never needed to be, and she knew she gave off that vibe whenever confronted with anyone even tangentially related to a mechanic, so calling a tow truck was out of the question.

It was just that it was midday on a Wednesday and she had very limited options for who would be able to come rescue her.

Very limited.

“Uh, hi?”

“My car broke down and I need someone to come get me.”

Sierra heard shuffling on the other end of the phone, some distant voices, before his voice came back through the speaker with a shocking clarity, “Sierra—it’s Nico. Did you mean to call me?”

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth, staring darkly out her windscreen. She didn’t like to be the woman who called her ex when she was in a bit of strife. “You’re the only person not working right now.”

“I’m at practice?”

Sierra sighed in frustration, but still said, “Sorry. I’ll try call a tow truck. Sorry. Bye.”

With the call ended abruptly after, Sierra stared down at her phone and hoped to god that she could search tow truck new jersey and whoever she got would be nice to her and her questionable car decisions.

At least, that’s what she started to hope before a text came through from Nico that said Send me your location. Practice is nearly over.

And then another immediately after from the person she was meant to be meeting that said leaving now b their soon.

Sierra felt her blood run cold and there was no way of knowing which message it was that caused it. She blindly sent Nico her location, with no accompanying message because she was trying to come up with a response to the other text that didn’t sound as flaky as she felt. That conversation was immediately muted.

Despite it not even being remotely cold outside—though compared to the beginning of the month it was arctic—a chill was seeping into the car with the engine dead and the heating not functioning. From the back seat, she pulled the coat she’d brought just in case and struggled around in the driver’s seat to pull it on.

She flipped up the collar and pushed her hands deep into the pockets of the coat, ready to force a nap knowing that Nico would be at least half an hour away. Her hand touched a piece of paper before she could shut her eyes and, out of sheer curiosity, Sierra pulled it out to look at it.

It was halfway unfolded when Sierra realised exactly what it was; there was no heading back.

Familiar handwriting stared up at her and before she’d even started to read it, Sierra felt her stomach drop but also simultaneously warmed to the core as she heard it in her head. Nico’s voice was all too clear.

Hope you have a good day today! Stay warm, drink lots of coffee. Ich han dich gern.

Sierra folded it back up again, throwing into empty space behind the gearshift to never think about again.

She definitely thought about it—and the many other letters just like it—in depth for however long it took for there to be a knock on her window that scared her so much that she squealed involuntarily.

Nico looked apologetic, at least, when she looked at him through the glass. She sighed again, her shoulders up around her ears, and unlocked the door so she could open it just enough to talk to him. He had other ideas, though, and opened it wider because he wasn’t going to speak to her through a tiny crack in a car door.

“Are you alright?” he asked before anything else.

“Frustrated, but yes. I’m alright.”

She wasn’t forced through more small talk, and she didn’t blame Nico for not even trying when she refused to look anywhere but through the windscreen. He was nice enough to not remind her that she was the one who called him.

“Do you want to take out your things?” he asked, gesturing to the scattering of belongings Sierra always had in her car. “In case you need any of it while it’s at the mechanic?”

Sierra agreed; the tow truck was already on its way because Nico had had the foresight to call for one as he was leaving Prudential Center.

Sierra watched Nico cross in front of her car, and only moved when he opened the rear passenger’s side door and started putting some things into one of the many bags floating about on the backseat. She couldn’t let him clean out her car alone so she joined him in reaching into her backseat and filling a bag.

“Do you know why Betty broke down?”

“Battery’s super dead,” Sierra said, not looking up at him. “I shouldn’t have driven her.”

Nico moved to the front passenger’s seat with the bag and started to move things out of the footwell. She couldn’t let him clean her car out alone, but she was long past being embarrassed by the collection of crap her car seemed to accumulate.

“Did you have a job interview out here?”

Sierra looked at him, then, through the gap between the front seats, and managed to get out a soft no that had Nico tilting his head waiting for further clarification—he moved back to picking things up when it became clear nothing more was coming.

She was caught up in how afraid she was to tell Nico it had been a date she was going to and only realised that Nico was lifting up the paper from the console as he was unfolding it.

He didn’t say a single word after reading it, just folded it back up neatly and added it to the bag. Sierra watched on, her stomach flipping in horror, still at a complete loss for words.

The tow truck arrived just in time for the silence to become smothering—Sierra took her time walking back to Nico’s car to deposit her things on his backseat, just so she could take a few deep, centring breaths without him noticing.

Sierra stood beside Nico as he talked to the tow truck driver, trying to not look completely out of her depth. There was no real pressure for her to listen and understand but she knew that there was always the possibility that the person they were talking to would decide to take advantage of Nico for not being American, so a balancing act had become part of their routine.

It all took far too long, even with the tow truck driver being decent enough to speak to both Sierra and Nico with respect and decency. The wind was picking up, a cool bite getting through Sierra’s jeans and she kept catching herself as soon as she was leaning closer to Nico’s body heat—Nico either didn’t notice or he was kind enough to not mention it.

Sitting in Nico’s passenger seat felt as familiar as it always had, she fell into the seat and immediately played with the seat’s positioning to fix it after whichever giant teammate of Nico’s had been sitting in it and moved the vents so that she could hold her hands up to them to restore some warmth to her fingers.

“I found the letter in my pocket,” she said when they were back on the turnpike. “It wasn’t just sitting in my car.”

“I—” Nico cleared his throat. “Yeah, I figured. Do you find a lot of them?”

“Not as many as I did the first week,” Sierra said, thinking of the notes she’d found in obvious spots like in the book she’d been reading, the pocket of her purse or in a pill bottle when she’d needed the extra strong anti-inflammatories for the first time in months. “How many are there?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know where I would have hidden them all.”

Sierra’s roommate found a few, too, because there were only so many places in their two-bedroom apartment to hide things. Nico had found all possible hiding spots, though. More than Sierra had ever expected.

Apparently not content with silence like Sierra, Nico asked, “What were you doing out there? Dressed so nice? If it’s not a job interview?”

She tried not to bristle, saying calmly, “It doesn’t matter now.”

Nico took his eyes off the road for a brief moment to look at her, Sierra could only see it out of her periphery—she didn’t want to give anything away in her face and knew he wouldn’t think anything of it because she never liked it when he took his eyes off the road.

Sierra picked at her nail polish where it was growing out, peeling flakes of purple off and only caring a little that she was dropping them into the footwell.

“We can turn back around,” Nico offered. “I don’t have anything else to do today.”

“It’s fine.”

“Sierra.”

Through gritted teeth, she said, “My sister set me up on a blind date. It’s fine. I wasn’t really interested anyway.”

She couldn’t help but look at him after he went firmly silent, curious about whether she could get a read on what was going through his mind. Sierra was devastated that she couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all, it hadn’t even been very long since they broke up.

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and Sierra tried not to sigh out loud as she turned back to look out the windscreen.

“A blind date? In 2022?”

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, “That’s your problem with it?”

“I don’t think I have a right to have a problem with anything else.”

“I guess not.”

Sierra didn’t know what to expect when Nico told her he was coming over. Asking questions would have been the smart play but part of Nico’s appeal was the half pieces of information he gave—always just enough to remove stress from the situation and still keep it fresh and exciting.

That didn’t necessarily mean the same thing when they were broken up.

Still, when her doorbell buzzed and Nico was waiting on the other side holding her car keys in the air, she couldn’t help but squeal and throw her arms around his neck in excitement. It wasn’t until she was pulling back, excitedly saying ‘Betty!’ with Nico’s hand pressed against her lower back that she realised what she was doing.

His cologne nearly drew her back in.

She managed to stay strong and took the keys from Nico, rushing down the steps towards her Beetle and barely refraining from laying across her in a hug. She patted the hood instead and beamed up at Nico gratefully.

He passed along the message from the mechanic that they replaced the battery and something about an oil filter that she didn’t understand—the whole reason she’d had Nico do it for her in the first place. She nodded as he spoke, trusting that he trusted his mechanic.

“What do I owe you?” she asked hesitantly, picturing the already low numbers in her bank account dwindling even further. If she was extra nice in the lead up to Christmas maybe her boss would give her a nice bonus.

Probably not, but she’d have to really fucking try.

“Nothing.”

Sierra was incredulous, “You get free work from your mechanic?”

Nico nodded once, short and stiff, before averting his gaze entirely. With the keys still in her hands, he surprised her and managed to unlock it solely to reach in and open the hood. Sierra knew him well enough to know that he was going to change topic.

“Nico, what do I owe you?” she asked again as he was lifting the hood and beginning to point to things in the engine bay that Sierra didn’t care about.

The mumble that left Nico’s mouth was maddening.

“Nico,” she said, desperate for any answer. He closed the hood and Sierra registered the surprise on his face when he saw just how uncomfortable and furious she was.

“Could you leave?” she snapped, knowing that there was nothing else to say if he wasn’t going to let her pay for the work done to her own car.

His eyebrows pulled together, always so expressive and telling. “Leave?”

“Leave.”

Taken aback, Nico asked, “What did I do?”

“You can’t just pay for my car and expect me to be okay with it. You know that. We aren’t together, Nico. You made sure of that.”

“You don’t have the money for it and I do. It’s fine, Sierra.”

“It’s fine if we’re together, Nico. But I don’t know what you want from me when you do this. Thank you for picking me up and thank you for dealing with the mechanics. It should have ended there.”

Nico was so blasé, so seemingly unfazed by it, that he shrugged at her, a little proud, “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a huge deal!” Sierra couldn’t help but shout. “I miss you so fucking much but I can’t have you and then you go and do this and it’s not fucking fair!”

“I’m—I’m sorry, Sierra,” Nico said, the pride draining from his body instantly. “I didn’t think about it that way.”

“I know, Nico, but still need you to go before my heart gets broken again.”

“I didn’t mean to break it the first time. You know that, right?”

Sierra remembered every second of that day, could remember the very specific way her heart crumbled—slowly and piece by piece. It brought tears to her eyes to even remember it.

“That’s not what I felt like. I remember the conversation about the team and it getting you down and it causing you stress and you not wanting to take that out on me—you weren’t, though.”

“No?”

“No,” she said resolutely, all but snapping at him. He flinched. “You broke up with me anyway, and we’re still broken up so. Could you please leave?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, muus. I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He nodded, quick and firm, before he patted Betty’s hood and started to walk away.

Sierra raced back inside before she could do something stupid like hold him again. Let him hold her. Let him tell her all of the ways he never meant to break her up before he did exactly that.

Sierra looked out her bedroom window when she was securely inside to see Nico staring down at his phone and it was only then that it occurred to her that, if he’d driven Betty to her, he was stranded.

Sierra closed her curtains abruptly and decided it was a good time to re-organise her chest of drawers. Getting rid of clothing was hard, even if it was something Sierra didn’t wear often. There was always the possibility of the perfect pants coming along to match a slightly out there top, or sometimes it was just because the dress that she’d folded up and pushed to the back had been part of one her best memories of her time with Nico.

That specific dress—delicately embroidered with flowers, described as very flirty by her roommate—deserved better than being scrunched up and hidden but as much as Sierra couldn’t bring herself to throw it away, she’d felt her heart seize whenever she saw it hanging up.

She pulled it out, gave it a shake to bring back some of its shape. If she hadn’t been so on edge, she may have missed the piece of paper floating out of it.

I will never forget this dress, muus. I’ll find another reason for you to wear it. It was the best night of my life, just being there with you.

Her eyes screwed shut, tears prickling at the corners. She held both the dress and the note to her chest, crumbling them in desperation to—Sierra didn’t really know. Merge them together? Return to the night? Bring Nico back?

Impossible, she knew, no matter how hard she tried, so there was one other option.

Sierra ripped her car keys off the bed and nearly bowled over her roommate as she ran back outside, ignoring her questions about whether or not she just saw Nico outside.

As Sierra was opening the driver’s side door, she ran her hand over the roof and said, “Let’s go, Betty. We’re on a mission.”

Betty drove just as well as Sierra had ever known—even better, perhaps—and getting to Hoboken was a breeze. Sierra knew her way around New Jersey, having lived in various areas of the state her entire life, and she knew the route to Nico’s apartment like the back of her hand.

In record timing—and with a few speeding tickets surely coming her way—Sierra arrived and she didn’t let her nerves get the better of her. She sat in Betty for no longer than it took to turn off the engine.

She stood at the front door to Nico’s apartment building and pressed the buzzer. Waiting patiently for him to answer the intercom was difficult, her chest heaving as she failed to control her breathing.

A panic rose within her when she was still standing at the building’s doors five minutes later; no response at all from the other end despite a second press of the buzzer. There was no video camera that connected to Nico’s apartment, she knew that for a fact, so it couldn’t be that he was actively ignoring Sierra specifically.

She pressed the buzzer again for good measure, third times the charm after all, and then melted entirely into a puddle on the doorstep when there was still no answer. She buried her heads into her hands, out of frustration and to protect herself from the wind that was still getting progressively colder and her cheeks and lips were struggling.

It was silly, truly, to have rushed over to Nico’s almost as soon as she’d told him to leave. Silly would be the best word to describe so many of her decisions.

“Sierra?”

Her head snapped up so quickly that she felt a twinge and she nearly tripped over her own feet in a rush to stand up.

“Did I beat you here?” she asked, looking over her shoulder to see whether or not she’d missed the door opening.

“My Uber driver got lost.” Nico was speaking hesitantly. Even his half step up the stairs was an indication of how unsure he was. “Are you okay?”

Sierra admitted, easily, without a second thought, “I miss you.”

“You said. Before. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I did,” Sierra nodded, moving closer to Nico. With the height difference of the steps, they were face to face. Sierra inhaled deeply and released it slowly as she thought about exactly how she wanted to word her thoughts. “I didn’t give you a chance to respond properly and you said you didn’t mean to break my heart and I have to know what that means.”

Nico looked less unsure in that moment; Sierra had been expecting the exact opposite. He smiled at her, albeit sadly, and half shrugged in an apologetic manner more than morose, “That’s what it means. I really thought I was making you miserable, muus. You deserve better than that.”

Sierra made sure to make eye contact with him as she said, “The only time you made me miserable was when you told me we should stop seeing each other, Nico.”

“I’m sorry, muus,” he whispered, dropping his eyes to his hand that he was pushing into his pocket. “I was actually going to give this to you before but I thought better of it.”

It was a small piece of paper, torn from wherever Nico had found blank paper, and Sierra took it with a slightly shaky hand. She was smiling, though, as she took it, her heart beating rapidly against her ribcage.

She’d barely finished the last word before she surged forward, pulling Nico towards her with her hands holding his cheeks.

Muus, I’ll always be there for you when you need me. You just have to call. Ich han dich gern.

#nico hischier fic #nico hischier imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #homemade fic #fic: devils

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