#*sigh* the sacrifice they made for their family | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brailsthesmolgurl · 8 months ago

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"Where's Mummy?"

A oneshot fluff, entirely headcanon based, featuring all 3 of the LNDS men being a father. Requested by a lovely follower of mine. Hope this is an enjoyable read for you all. The names of the kids are based on my take, but if you want to include names of kids you had thought of with your husbandos, you may slot that in on your own will!

Want some angst? Go with this series of mine, tears guaranteed: Damnation

Warnings: Fluff as per usual however, there shall be suggestive themes for this, soooo let you imagination run free :)

RAFAYEL - FATHER TO A GIRL

"I'll be fine. Stop worrying would you?" Rafayel groaned with a smile. "Our daughter will be alright." He walked beside you, accompanying you towards the front door. "I am more worried about you with your work instead. So take care of yourself, please? For our sake?"

His concern made you rolled your eyes playfully, leaning in to give him a long kiss. "I will be home by evening, I promise." Your eyes stared into those mauve purple eyes of your husband's, only to have him yank you back into his arms and pressing his lips to yours again. Provocating you into a minor makeout session. Breaths becoming heavier by every passing minute.

You bit your lip the moment he pulled away, reminiscing the feeling of his soft and tender lips against yours. "Don't want you to be late, unless you want to call in sick for the day, hmm?" He winked, a hint dropped for you to decipher. "You know I can't Rafayel." Your answer made the man pout, arms crossed, but eventually surrendering to the reality of your situation. He press a small kiss against your cheek and sent you off on your way. He stood at the entryway, watching you get onto your bike and rode it out of the front yard and onto the empty streets.

Heading back in, he sat at his usual thinking corner, eyeing the piece of artwork he had yet to finish. Thomas was expecting this piece to be done by two days ago. But an artist's work should not be rushed, Rafayel being an advocate for quality over quantity. He sighed, walking over to pick up his palette stained with an array of colours, before sitting himself in front of the artwork and continued working on his piece.

Hours had passed since then, the strokes of the painter finally stopped when his artwork is finished. He grabbed his phone off of the coffee table and called Thomas. "Rafayel, where the hell is the piece of---"

"It's done, you can come and collect it tonight once it is all dried up." Rafayel spoke, then Thomas started to inform him about the upcoming interviews that he has to attend, one for the local magazine, one for an exhibition taking place abroad... Pitters and patters of feet across the marble floor made Rafayel lost his focus. He turned around to find his daughter, Mariela awake. "Daddy duty calls."

The phone call ended abruptly, with Thomas ending his note on 'There was also an artwork you have to---' Call ended. Ever since Rafayel had taken on his duties as a father, he made sure his works are delayed long enough just so he could spend time with his own family. Recently, you had been called on for many more missions as there has been a shortage of deepspace hunters.

Rafayel and you had discussed about the delegation of responsibilities while being parents to a newborn. Rafayel insisted that you should quit your job so that you could stay at home with him and Mariela. Money not being any concern to your family to begin with. But you could not, you could not abandon your duties as a deepspace hunter, especially when there are not a lot of new recruits coming in.

So you both settled on a solution that meets both ends. Rafayel would delay his paintings and take care of Mariela if you happen to not be at home, but your sacrifice would be to not work past evening times. Him not wanting you to overexert yourself and still being able to spend time with you as a family. The miniature version of you and Rafayel clumsily walked over to him. Small and chubby hands rubbing her cheeks in circles.

"Good morning my little fishie." Rafayel knelt down and gave her a hug, a usual greeting for morning and night. "How was your sleep?"

"Good." She replied, arms curled around her father's neck as he carried her up in his arms. "Where is mummy?"

"Mummy has to work so today, you will hang out with daddy, yeah?" Rafayel sat her at her baby chair by the dining table. He took a plate of ready-made mini pancakes and poured a cup of warm milk into a cup. "Mummy even made you your favourite breakfast." The idea of having his kid eating such sugary stuffs in the morning is unfavoured. But since y/n had woken up extra early today to prepare the breakfast for her daughter, Rafayel will let it slide for this once. but we all know he too soft of a father to reject that if it ever happens again

Watching his child dig into the pancakes, Rafayel started allowing his mind to wander. Mariela's name came about while his wife was pregnant, and you had both agreed on wanting your child to have names related to the sea to remind the child's origins of being half-Lemurian. Rafayel was thrilled to have their names being related to the waters he used to live in and so the naming process is entirely within his control. Both of you settled on Mariela eventually, the name a direct representation of the star of the sea.

...

When y/n rode past the main gates and towards the yard, you found you husband, with your daughter standing next to him, waiting for you at the front of the door. Mariela the size of a toadstool next to her 6' tall father. But her big, doe-like eyes took the shade of Rafayel's, a mirror of his lilac-blue mixture. "Hey there!" You greeted excitedly, quickly pushing yourself off of your motorbike and rushed over to hug your daughter tightly in your arms.

"Mummy!" The brunette toddler giggled, arms wrapped around her mother and head tucked into your neck. The hug between the two was interrupted with Rafayel hugging both of them. Three of them within a circle of a hug. "Hi, mummy. I missed you."

"I missed you too, so so much." A big kiss was given to the toddler's cheek and they all walked further into the house. "What did you do with daddy today?"

"Daddy taught me how to draw fish and he taught me Wewuma." She spoke, a wide grin evident on her cherubic cheeks. This made y/n confused and you turned to look for Rafayel for an explanation but sees him being on the phone. Assuming it is Thomas on the other end of the line.

"That's good darling." You held her close to you, legs directing towards her bedroom. "But I think it is nap time for you okay? Mummy and daddy will make dinner and then later we are going to have pasta!" Mariela's eyes lit up at the word 'pasta', for she is a huge lover of carbs just like you. No doubt you two are of the same bloodline.

Once you had laid your daughter to nap, you started prepping the ingredients in the huge kitchen. Rafayel came by your side and hugged you from behind, breathing in your scent deeply. "I missed you wifey." He mumbled into the crooks of your neck and drew circles on the side of your hips.

"What is wewuma?" You turned over slightly, the question directed towards your husband. But his expression matches yours, confusion written all over his face. "Our daughter said you taught her wewuma today."

That sentence made Rafayel laughed, releasing you from his embrace and with him smacking his hand against the marble counter a couple of times. "Wewuma!" He continued his laugh, but mellowed down when he noticed that you became more confused than ever. "I taught her how to speak Lemurian." He said, the wide, cheeky grin not leaving his face anytime soon.

"Oh." Realisation hits you about his lesson for the day and you shake your head, chuckling at how your daughter had the word pronounced earlier. You can't blame her, as she is not a preschooler yet. Rafayel attached himself to your back again, his lips pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear and you blushed. Despite being married for quite some time, his intimate actions never failed to make you feel like a giddy teen girl.

"Lemurian is already a dying language. So, wifey..." He nibbled your ears lightly, whispering his question quietly. "How about we make one more little us?" His arms tightened around your hips and you felt something pressed against your bum, making you gasped in teasing pleasure. He turned you around forcefully and pushed you up onto the kitchen counter effortlessly, spreading your legs. "Right here. Tonight."

˚ · • . ° .

ZAYNE - FATHER TO A PAIR OF TWINS

"Thanks a lot, my love." You leaned forward to hug your husband, after knowing that he had planned an itinerary for you to get yourself pampered for a whole day. That includes making the necessary bookings and paying for all of the expenses. Not to mention the extra money he had given you so you may use it to buy anything you please from the mall you would be visiting later in your itinerary. "You deserve it. Given how much you had cared for the kids the past few days as I was busy with work." He leaned down slightly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as a loving gesture. "In return, I shall take care of the kids today."

Zayne fetched you to the middle of Linkon city, where all of the activities planned out in the itinerary are located before he headed back. Not wanting to go home to his toddlers being awake from their sleep. When he arrived home, he heard the creak of a door as he was placing his shoes on the shoe rack. Lumi and Iver, hand in hand, facing their father.

"Daddy?" The both of them spoke in sync, given their connection as twins. Fraternal twins, a rare occurrence for any mothers in life. They are considered a miracle given the statistics whereas out of 100 births that happen, only 2 mothers would end up with fraternal twins. And the percentage of getting fraternal twins are way lesser as compared to conceiving twins of the same gender.

Short way to put it, y/n and Zayne have a very special family, in fact they may be one of the few families within Linkon city to have a pair of fraternal twins. Hence, they are very lucky indeed. Both of the twins were named after snow or winter season, with Zayne's evol being the main inspiration. Zayne's daughter Lumi, carries the meaning of snow and light, while Iver's name means winter in French.

Contrary to their names, none of them have any features that are pale as the cold weather, except for their milky white skin. There had always been a debate on which child inherited the looks of which parent, in this case, Lumi looks like her mother and Iver takes on his father's looks. And it could easily be differentiated from their hair and eye colour.

"Both of you just woke up?" Zayne's voice was gentle, going over to both of his kids and bending down to their eye level. They are both 3 years old, so you can imagine how tough it was for him to lower his height just to meet their eyes. "What do you want to eat?"

"Daddy, can we watch you make eggs?" Iver asked, his hazel green orbs twinkled under the sun rays shining in through their sky light. "The ones that are flat?" He even used his hand to draw a line in the air, to demonstrate the word 'flat' to his father.

Zayne smiled, nodding his head and walked towards the kitchen with the two toddlers bobbing behind him. Their standard breakfast had consisted of nothing but nutritious food which are vital for their growths. For their father is a doctor afterall. Zayne sat them both into their respective baby chairs and put on an apron, not wanting to dirty his outfit, and he started to cook, with the twins watching his every move. A few 'wah' and 'daddy, daddy, do it again!' slipping from their mouths every once in a while when Zayne does something out of the blue.

Half of the day passed, Lumi and Iver sat in the living room after Zayne had given them a bath and a change of clothings. They will be heading out soon for dinner. Zayne has never been a huge fan of cooking, but only does it out of necessity. The same rule applies even now, breakfasts can be done at home but for dinners, if time allows for both of the parents, Zayne would much rather eat out with his family.

"Daddy, time! Time!" Lumi shouted from the living room when they heard the cuckoo's chime, hailing from the handmade wooden clock that you bought a while ago. Although the toddlers had yet to enter pre-school, they are both surprisingly fast-learners. 9 months in, both of them had already started learning alphabets, and by now, their vocabulary has expanded beyond the age of usual three year olds. You strongly believe Zayne's genes are the cause behind this.

Zayne appeared from the room, a long-sleeved black turtleneck clad to his well-built physique, his iconic black slacks makes yet another appearance, and his hand held a dark grey coat. The weather was getting chilly and he decided to bring along a coat for you, the colour identical to his.

"Lumi, Iver, get your coats and I will help you to wear them." Zayne instructed, picking his car key off of the key holder on the wall. He had decided to go with the Maserati Levante i am not sponsored by them but the cars does scream his taste today, a comfortable SUV for his family of four.

"It's okay daddy. Iver will help me." Lumi responded, arms held up horizontally as Iver put on one of the sleeves for her light grey coat, then running over to the other side to help her to put on the remaining sleeves. "My turn." Lumi did the same for her sibling. When they are both done, they walked over to Zayne and held their arms up in sync again, urging their father silently to help them to tie their coats.

Zayne did just that, hair as dark as the night cascading in front his face when he bent down to help his kids tied a knot to secure their coats. Satisfied at the way their knots turned out, he gave each of them a kiss on their cheeks. "Are you both excited to see mummy?"

"YES!" Both of the kids shouted, arms raising, a sign of elatedness. Zayne held onto both of their hands, one on each side and slowly walked them to the car.

...

Zayne had chosen a western restaurant for dinner, reservation timing marked at 6pm. Now, here he sat, with both of his kids secured tightly behind in baby car seats. He was parked temporarily at the valet parking, patiently waiting for his wife. Soft piano music was played in the car to ease the silence as the kids were sound asleep in the back.

Seeing a familiar figure closing in, Zayne got out of the car and walked towards the passenger side, greeting you with a warm hug. "I could not have asked for a better day to pamper myself." You sighed contently, face flat against his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne. A scent he would only use whenever he is out with you, a soft mix of pine wood and oakwood as the top notes, vanilla as the middle notes and cinnamon as end notes. A scent you are all too familiar with.

"Then I shall plan more of this for you." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. "You must be hungry, I had already booked us a table at one of the nearby restaurants." He opened the car door and you got into the car. Getting into the car, he added. "The kids are sound asleep behind, I will wake them up once we arrived at the restaurant."

"Hello my babies." You greeted once the car door to the back was opened, watching your twins stirred in their sleep, before eyes slowly fluttering open.

"Iver..." Zayne cooed to his son, standing on the other side of the door, unbuckling the baby seats for the twins. "We had arrived at the restaurant. Let me give you a lift, alright?" You had never imagine Zayne with kids, given how cold he is of a person. Not mean and ignorant, but just, monotonous, quiet and calm. Having kids with him was unexpected, but him asking for kids was even more shocking.

The young man lifted his son into his arms, smoothing the back of his son's coat to make sure he is fully covered from the brazen cold wind and he headed in after locking the car. With you, holding onto your half-awake daughter behind in, walking swiftly into the restaurant.

The dinner was enjoyable, with the twins munching on to their kids meals and with you sat next to Zayne, having a delectable meal based on the waiter's recommendation. "The food here is good." You commented and your twins looked up, Lumi smiled and nodded, while Iver, with his face stuffed, nodded as well. "So what have you kids been doing today?"

"We watched cartoons." Lumi said, eyes mimicking your eye colours radiating her giddiness. You assumed the cartoons would be more educational rather than entertaining as Zayne does prefer the twins having to gain some form of knowledge from the cartoons. For him, the method is practically killing two birds with one stone. "Daddy also read some storybooks for us." Iver added in, still chewing onto his food, which made Zayne leaned forward to wipe the boy's lips clean with the napkin. "And we took a nap on daddy's chest."

"Be careful of choking, Iver." Zayne warned, his tone soft, giving him son's cheek a soft pinch. Zayne's lips tugged upwards, there is no way he could be mad at his own twins. That is how much he loves them.

"That is good to hear. Sounds like an eventful day for today. And I think daddy did a great job." You happily stated, resuming your meal. A hand on your thigh made you jerked slightly and you looked over, your husband's smile had exchanged for a smirk.

"It is my responsibility to take good care of the kids." He eyed the twins, and facing back to you, his orbs turning a shade darker. "But, it is also my responsibility to make my wife feel good. Mentally..." He trailed off, hands smoothing up your thighs till his thumb glided slowly over your intimate area. The table cloth a good disguise as Zayne's fingers worked his way to pull your panties to the side, collecting the wetness that was pooled there.

You shot daggers towards your husband as this is a public area but he paid no mind to you. The tip of his middle finger, the one adorning the wedding ring, slowly pushed its' way inside of you, pumping an agonizing pace into you. "And physically, of course." pls do this to me too Zayne, i want more babies too

˚ · • . ° .

XAVIER - FATHER TO A SON

"DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!" Lucian came bursting in through the door leading to his parent's room, causing Xavier to stir in his sleep. Eyebrows furrowed at the loud sounds of his son's voice at the early start of the weekend. The copy of Xavier jumped onto the bed and grabbed ahold of his father. "Wake up daddy!"

"Yeah, yeah I am awake now." Xavier yawned, rubbing his eyes with one hand and the other coming up to secure his son on him so he don't fall off. "What's the matter?"

"Mummy said you can take me to go get ice-cream today." His light blue eyes just a tone lighter than his father's when he propped himself up on his father's chest, patiently awaiting for a response. "Daddy please?"

"Okay okay." Xavier chuckled, hugging his son tight in his arms and the young boy laughed. With that, Xavier got out of the bed, with Lucian in his embrace. The hallways outside of the room wafted the smell of noodles and he knew immediately that you are still within the house.

But he was wrong, when he saw you being all dressed up, in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, sitting at the front of your door when you are tying the shoelaces to your sneakers. "Where are you going?" Xavier asked.

You turned at the sound of his voice and watched as Lucian was placed onto the floor by his father and the little boy came running to hug you. "I am heading to the mall with Tara for a little while. She needed me to help her pick out a dress." Standing up, you checked your outfit in the standing mirror for one last time. "At the meantime, you okay with bringing Lucian out for ice-cream?"

Xavier smiled and nodded obediently, taking long strides to press a loving kiss to his wife's lips and he sees her off. Lucian waving his small hands to say bye-bye to his own mother. "Have you eaten yet kiddo?" Xavier asked his son, only for the toddler to shake his head. "Alright, come on, let's have breakfast together. Then we will go for ice-cream later."

Xavier placed Lucian into the baby seat at the dining table and he took off the lid of the pot that was on the stove and he noticed that you had made tomato soup noodles. A dish that you had recently learned from social media. Your first try at making this dish however, was a failure. With Xavier finishing the tasteless noodles and struggling with diarrhea for the next few days. This time, he had his fingers crossed, hoping that the soup would be edible and not cause any unwanted effects.

Before giving the bowl to his son, Xavier tasted the soup base first, to taste if it would be too hot for his son to ingest. To his surprise, the soup was sweet and tangy, which marks a win for your cooking this time. He hungrily filled up his own bowl, before scooping a few spoonfuls of soup and noodles into Lucian's bowl. He also made sure to cut the noodles short enough so it would not cause Lucian to choke on his own food.

"Did mummy made this?" The 3 year old asked, eyes wide, moving in between his father's lips, and to his bear-shaped plastic bowl. Lucian have had a fair share of his father's cooking. The experience of watching his father cook was just as traumatic as eating the food his father had made. There was even this one time, Xavier nearly set the kitchen on fire because he added in some cooking wine into a very hot pan filled with oil and that made Lucian cried for the whole night.

"Yes, your mum made this." Xavier ate his noodles, slurping onto it like a champ. "If she asks me to make breakfast for you, we can just skip breakfast and go for ice-cream instead." Xavier acknowledges his incompetence when it comes to cooking, and it is the only one thing he would not dare to compete with you. he just cant cook anything that deals with fire or electric, just admit it with me boys and girls

...

"Daddy, what do you want?" Lucian asked his father, looking at the flavours that was on display. "Do you want the blue one? Or the green one? Or the red one?" He swung his short legs back and forth, all the while sitting on Xavier's shoulders. The little one did not feel like walking earlier on and that was why Xavier gave him a lift on his shoulders.

"Which one would you like kiddo?" Xavier smiled politely at the waitress behind the counter and the waitress returned the smile, a blush coming onto her face. Who would not blush at the sight of a good looking young man with a son that looks just exactly like him? "How about the blue and red one?"

"Okay!" The young boy excitedly agreed, watching the process of the ice-creamed getting scooped out of the canister and placed onto a cone. Xavier slowly lowered his son down and held onto the hand of the young boy before making the payment at the counter. "Thank you!" Lucian spoke to the cashier when the ice-cream was handed to him and they both took a seat by the window in the store, facing the streets.

Xavier had always wanted a boy, the sole purpose being he could train the son well enough so you can be protected. You were not buying into his idea to begin with but the moment you found out that you were pregnant with a boy, Xavier could not be more than glad. He was so happy to the point he said. "We should name him Lucian, as he shall be the light in our lives." Xavier's words touched your heart and since then, Lucian has been the light in both of your hearts. just like you are the light in OUR HEARTS hello?

The young boy took a lick out of the blue ice-cream, then switched to the red ice-cream and took another lick. Seeing his tongue turning purple, Xavier pointed at his son. "Your tongue is turning purple because of the ice-cream, kiddo." Taking his phone out, he took a picture of Lucian with his purple tongue hanging out of his mouth. He then sent the picture to you, with the caption 'Brain Freeze'.

"Daddy, here." Lucian stretched his arm out, the ice cream in hand and held it in front of his father's face. Xavier took it as an invitation and he took a big bite out of the ice-cream. His action made the young boy flabbergasted, mouth forming an 'O' when he realised that his father just bit off a whole chunk and now he is left with a few more lick of ice cream.

The son's intense gaze at the ice-cream made Xavier felt guilty that he took such a huge bite. His son was not much a naggy child, but he still would not want to upset his little boy. "I'm sorry kiddo, I can---" He wanted to offer to buy the boy another ice-cream but Lucian only laughed, his tone amused.

"That is so funny daddy, when you go AHHH---" Lucian mimicked the way Xavier bit the ice-cream, mouth widely opened and face all crinkled up to show just how big of a bite Xavier had conducted. His son's reaction made Xavier laughed as well, Never knowing his son has such a sense of humour.

The door opened, chiming of the bells at the door could be heard and Xavier looked up, seeing you walking in with a bag in your hands. "Hey boys!" You called out and Lucian turned in his seat and called out to you, arms opened and waiting for you to hug him. Xavier took the ice-cream out of his son's hand so he would not dirty your shirt and he stood up, taking his place to stand next to you.

"How was the outing with Tara?" Xavier took the bag from you and pulled a chair over from the other table as you set your son back down onto his chair. The ice-cream that your husband was holding previously was returned to its rightful owner.

"It was eventful. We only managed to find the dress she wanted at the highest floor." You fanned yourself, sweat beading at your forehead. Your husband took a piece of tissue out of the tissue holder and he dabbed it across your forehead, not wanting to ruin your makeup since you are still on an outing with him. "Thanks a lot."

"No problem." Xavier purposely avoided your gaze, hiding his smile. "The tomato-based noodle soup you made this morning is very good by the way. I enjoyed every bite of it." He complimented, looking over to his son and noticing the young boy, staring out of the window, in the direction of two kids playing by the park, chasing one another.

"Daddy, mummy." Your son's voice beckoned the both of you to turn your heads to face him. His stubby little fingers pressed against the window, pointing towards the two kids at the park. "Can I have a brother?" The way he phrased the questions sounded like siblings could be bought off of a shelf. Your jaw dropped.

But Xavier was expecting this, expecting the fact he would not just settle for one child. He loves you so much, not only as his lover, but he also loves the way you look, with your stomach bulging during the days you are pregnant, carrying a miniature version of him inside. And not to mention, he enjoys the process of giving you a baby. Just the thought of seeing you pregnant again, his cerulean eyes catch yours, similar to a gaze of a predator awaiting to jump onto its prey. He reached his hand out to take yours on the table, giving it a small squeeze of comfort.

"Of course you can." Xavier's gaze darkened, hungry for intimacy. He dragged his fingertips up and down your arms, and stopping right at the back of your hand to draw mindless circles on it. Doing all that without getting his eyes off of you. "Daddy will not stop until you get a brother."

Sorry this took wayyy longer than expected, the toughest part was to find the pictures that would match the faces of the kids and also having to do research for their names and figuring our scenarios that would make the fathers take care of their kids. Other than Rafayel, Zayne and Xavier are going to be out most of the time due to their work!

But I had fun creating this piece, hope you guys enjoyed this! Lots of love <3

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #fluffy #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel sfw #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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pearlywritings · 1 year ago

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In father’s embrace

synopsis: HSR men as dads and what your family dynamic is like.

pairings: Blade, Gepard, Loucha, Sampo, Jing Yuan x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, implied initial mortal x immortal in Blade’s

word count: 5.2k words

a/n: Luofu Xianzhou timeline is hell, so Blade’s one is quite vague. Here’s the Genshin version!

Blade

Blade tends to say that he has no connection to his past, but that is not true and very few (mostly Kafka) know he is lying. Even with his life and death fucked up he can't simply let go of someone his heart has been always full with, of someone who he promised himself to by the altar, even if under another name, of someone, who gifted him the joy of both his previous and current life - your daughter.

The blade - a cold weapon with no feelings - should not experience being lucky, but that’s what he was, when you clutched him in your arms the first time after his return from the dead and sobbed in his chest, telling him how much you missed him, how much his little angel missed him.

Back then he should've left without a trace, maybe even coming to you in the first place was a mistake, but he just couldn't. And his resolve crumbled completely when a white-haired toddler in your arms gazed at him with the same soft eyes as yours and reached out to his face, hesitantly asking "dada?".

As much as Blade is capable - he loves you and your daughter. He is quite absent due to his involvement with the Stellaron Hunters, but you understand how important that magenta-haired woman's ability is when it comes to restraining the mara in his body. After all that's the reason why he can visit without fear of hurting you or his little girl.

Some other sacrifices had to be made - one of them was moving from the Lofu Xianzhou, but that was alright and your daughter loved her new environment. Besides, dada has been visiting more often ever since you moved! And no one really bothered or chased after you (after all, you are still registered as his wife and higher ups of Lofu know), which, you assumed, was somehow connected with a young girl that once came with Blade.

Kafka once brought up a proposition of moving you two to the Stellaron Hunters' base for Blade's easier access, but he declined. At least his loved ones should have a peaceful everyday life.

With a tired sigh the black-haired man lowers himself on a sofa in the living room of the house you two purchased to start a seemingly new life. The red-hot iron in his eyes disappears behind the heavy eyelids and for a moment Blade allows himself to relax. The little wonder, that is his daughter, ran to your bedroom to fetch some hair accessories, after you encouraged your husband to let her style his long locks.

He doesn’t move when you sit next to him, hip to hip and heart to heart. He welcomes your sneaking fingers, curling his, creating a secure lock of hands. The weight of your head resting on his shoulder is grounding and he can’t help but press his cheek against it.

It’s soothingly silent.

It almost reminds him of the past.

“For how long will you be staying this time?

Even your question, spoken in a tender, understanding voice, is familiar. You used to ask him the same thing in-between his Cloud Quintet-related missions.

These days it’s difficult to sneak and see you during breaks though.

“Fifteen days,” his breath is even, and eyes are still shut, but he senses a smile that tugs on the corners of your lips.

“That’s a lot. She will be so happy,” and he knows that you are as well.

The rapid stomping of little feet bursts into your peaceful serenity, and you simultaneously glance at the doorway. Low and behold - the soon-to-be hair stylist is proudly running into the room, tightly clutching your jewelry box with various hair pins inside.

“Dad, I practiced! Mom says I’ve been making huuuuuuge progress!”

A tiny smile touches his pale lips - it’s such a miracle that a monster like him is blessed to have the most adorable child in the whole universe. With her and you by his side, this life gets more and more bearable.

“If mom says you’ve been, then it must be the truth,” he nods, letting go of your hand - but not before giving it a little affectionate stroke with his thumb, - sliding down and onto the floor, turning his back to the girl.

Giggling excitedly, she gives you the box, which you quickly unlock, and starts looking through the many intricate pieces of jewelry (many are your beloved’s presents), until finding the perfect one.

Having his hair being touched is weird. He was aware that the white luscious locks used to draw attention, but only you were honored to run your fingers through them, and only his baby was allowed to tug on them, making her father wince. Now it’s different - she is oh so careful, brushing, collecting stray locks and braiding, not once causing him pain.

Blade sighs again, but looks at you from the corner of his eye, catching you snickering in your palm upon gazing at something that your daughter is turning his hair into. Well, that’s concerning.

But at this very moment he can’t bring himself to care. If he gets fifteen whole days before his next mission, he is going to savor this time with his family - no matter how disastrous he’s going to look by the end of it.

Gepard

A family man. So no one was surprised when in the end the leader of the Silvermane Guards ended up with three kids - two sons and a daughter. Partly it was dictated by the rules of nobles and his family among them, but ultimately it was your mutual sincere decision.

It’s obvious he is not there for many of his kids’ first times, as sometimes his duties prevail and even the Supreme Guardian cannot help it, but he really-really tries to be there as much as possible. He appreciates the videos you send him, has every single one stored in his phone’s memory and sometimes, when there is no communication, in his spare moment he replays them to remind himself that soon he’ll return home and see his kids and you.

Only one time he really fucked up because of work - during your first pregnancy you both underestimated the soon arrival of your due date and he left on a mission with his troops, reassured that he’ll be back before the day you go into labor. The snowstorm was severe and the connection was cut, so the message Serval sent him when your water broke was not delivered. His soldiers would bring to their graves the image of a deathly pale Gepard, when many hours later he checked his phone back at the base and nearly broke the screen, trying to type his sister’s number.

After that he started taking paternity leave seriously.

You do not keep in touch with his parents a lot - there were instances where they disapproved of you, but all of his siblings are always welcomed in your house and to see their nephews and niece, because they supported your relationship from the moment they met you in flesh.

Serval is an enormous help when it comes to babysitting. It’s like her part-time job honestly - you even offered to pay her, but she declined, suggesting offering her a helping hand whenever she’d need instead. Oh, and to be the first one out of all the Landau siblings (after her brother, of course) to know about the latest updates on your kids.

The kids that are adorable. All three won the ‘blue eyes’ lottery, which, given the previous generations of Landau, is not a big surprise; both boys look like Gepard, while the girl took more after you in appearance. The man really doesn’t want to play favorites, but sometimes he is just too weak for his little princess, who looks just like her mom. She is the youngest too with a pretty big age gap between her and her brothers, who were born a year apart, so there is literally no jealousy, because your sons took their father’s example and became her protectors.

Even from a 'big bad dragon' that is their aunt…

When you step inside your house and hear the kids still fussing somewhere in the rooms, involuntarily your gaze falls to the old grandfather’s clock in the foye. Almost midnight. All three should be long asleep with Serval sending you a notification of her success. Which you didn’t receive and for that reason had to cut your date short and hurry back home.

Your husband looks as concerned as you are, locking the door and straining his ears to determine what’s going on. With both your coats abandoned, you carefully step further into the house, making your way to the line of light coming from under one of the doors.

Two jaws almost kiss the floor when you see Serval lying on the floor tied and gagged with a scarf. Alone. For a moment you fear the worst.

Rushing inside, you let Gepard search the other rooms for intruders. Helping your sister-in-law to sit is no problem, but the knot behind her head is awfully tightened. In the end you manage to yank it down to free her mouth, quickly switching to the rope constricting her hands.

“Y/n, oh my god,” she gasps, finally able to speak. “Who taught your sons to tie knots like this!? I didn’t know a sixteen- and fifteen-year olds can be so strong-”

“Come again?” Stunned, you stop untying her wrists, looking at the woman with widened eyes. Your boys did what?

“My precious nephews - whom I really do not want to strangle - took the game of knights too seriously, and when - maybe a half an hour ago? - I decided to play the dragon who was stealing the princess - my niece of three years, - they attacked and tied me!”

“Huh…” is all you can say, feeling relief wash over you. At least there are no burglars or kidnappers and your kids are safe.

When, listening Serval’s huffs of complaints, you move to untie her legs, the heavy steps of your husband are heard in the hallway, accompanied by the boys whining and begging their dad not to come to the living room, because the dragon would eat their sister.

His tall figure appears in the doorway, with your daughter in his arms, looking very sleepy, and two almost carbon copies of their dad pulling at his jacket to give them their sister back.

“Serval, what in blazes have you told them?” The judging tone and the squint of his blue eyes are directed at his elder sibling.

“It was just a game, Geppie! A silly game they turned into reality.”

“Aunt said she’d eat her,” your oldest pouts, eyeing her cautiously. “And she told us stories about the cannibals the other night-”

“Serval, you what?”

“Hey, they asked me to! Oh, thanks, Y/n,” she shrugs the loosened rope off of her. “Where did you even get this?”

“Aunt Lynx gave us,” the second son chirps, hugging Gepard’s side. “She showed us how to do knots.”

“This little-”

Suddenly you feel a headache coming. With big family come big challenges, but something of this caliber hasn’t happened in a while. It makes you smile though - you almost forgot what it was like - to raise two boys. Seems like your girl brings the borderline naughtiest out of them.

Loucha

To begin with it's worth mentioning that your and Loucha's marriage started as an unpredictable necessity. You both needed to enter the world that allowed only married foreigners' access. So, quickly figuring that your goal matches, you got married on a neighboring planet, spent a month there to make the marriage more believable in the sense of its duration and learning more about each other. Yeah, all of that just to fulfill your respectful jobs. You invented and rehearsed all the possible answers to the questions, perfected your affectionate act and were actually feeling quite comfortable around each other.

It was almost funny, when on the 'how many kids do you plan to have?' Loucha confidently answered 'two', and a couple of years later your first son was born, and then, after 7 more years, another one was too.

Admittedly, the oldest one was kind of unplanned, but at that point you traveled so much together, shared so many memories, even ended up caring for each other on a lover-like level, that you decided to give it a shot, just like you did with the continuation of your marriage.

And Loucha couldn't be more pleased. Surprisingly, he found the peace of those first years he spent settled down to raise your boy delightful. And there was something exciting about having a little wonder with a perfect mix of both of your features in your arms, as your husband's hand is resting on the small of your back, leading you through the crowds of the new planet's lively market, as the child's eyes shine with marvel, taking in his surroundings.

When Loucha suggested having another one it simply felt right.

Your sons are so lucky in the sense of seeing the universe, because their father is a traveling merchant. Sure, he doesn't always take you and your two boys with him, but whenever his deal allows him enough freedom and your kids are doing great in school and can be taken on a little vacation - you three are going with him.

Usually he gets to take care of the youngest one, since only Loucha's vast knowledge can satisfy his curiosity, while the oldest one calmly walks hand in hand with you, content with listening to their conversation and pointing out to you the things he already knows himself, receiving a soft praise from you and an approving nod from his father.

Back home the roles reverse - the oldest is spending most of his time with Loucha to learn all about medicine and healing techniques, while the youngest is more interested in sharing your hobbies.

The two hardly ever quarrel as siblings tend to do, and it must be because of the overall serene atmosphere of your family dynamic, your soft nature and your husband's tranquil behavior.

More than a decade ago Loucha wouldn't have imagined himself with a wife and kids. Nowadays, however, he doesn't like the thought of not having the three of you by his side.

It is a quiet afternoon. A little house you rented for a little vacation has a nice yard - perfect for the kids to have fun outside. You occasionally glance at them from the window of the kitchen to make sure everything is fine, while your hands never stop moving - washing, cutting, stirring.

At some point you are so caught in the moment of tranquility, that you do not hear your husband walking in, until he softly hums to alert you of his presence, and puts his palms on your waist.

“Smells delicious,” you smile, feeling his chin on your shoulder, and grab a piece of a tangerine you are meaning to use for dessert, offering it to him.

“Mhm, I am trying to cook what we had yesterday at that restaurant.”

Ah, right, the restaurant the kids enjoyed. He remembers how you sneaked to the kitchen and came back with a little less credits, but with new recipes and an excited smile on your face.

“Hopefully my rendition will be to our boys’ liking. And don’t think I forgot about you - those Loufu Xianzhou-style noodles are already on their way!”

“So thoughtful of you, darling,” his silky voice caresses your ear and not a second later a kiss is pressed to your cheek. “Do you need any help?”

“Weren’t you busy?” You decide to clarify, clearly recounting how he locked himself in one of the rooms earlier that day to test something. To your question Loucha shakes his head.

“All done already. And I missed you and the kids.”

“Then go and play with them,” you urge, turning to face him to offer a sweet smile. “I’ll handle it here, but the boys could use some quality time with their father.”

“You say that as if they didn’t drag us all around the city yesterday and then climb into our bed and refuse to leave.”

“I mean, it’s the first time in two months they properly see you. That last deal of yours was exceptionally time-consuming.”

“You kept me updated on them so well and those video calls we had… it didn’t even feel like I ever left.”

You only huff and return your gaze to the stove, yet leaning into his chest a little. For a minute it’s quiet, and the man is taking his time before parting from you. That is until he takes a deep inhale and nuzzles his face in your neck.

“Thank you, Y/n.”

“What for, handsome?” There is that teasing lilt in your voice he came to love. Over the course of your lives together he discovered many things to love you for, and if not for that desperate decision to get married - he thinks he’d hardly ever feel the same about his life.

“For everything.”

He leaves your side with a kiss on your shoulder and the next time you glance out of the window again - he is already there, hoisting his youngest in one arm and chasing after the oldest one with his hair swaying in the gentle wind. And your heart is at peace.

Sampo

In all his life Sampo has managed to never impregnate a single woman and he considers that a success. For all the crap people speak about him Sampo is not an idiot, even though he acts like a fool at times. He is extremely self-aware and bringing a child to this world is probably the last thing on his list.

But no one said anything about someone else’s child, right?

Your and Sampo’s relationship is… strange, not going to lie. One evening you happened to help a scared woman to escape from some drunkards (whom you lately found out were the Silvermane Guards, sober and on duty), only for the long wig to slip and the heavy coat to slide down, revealing shortly cut but nicely styled hair and obviously male broad shoulders. The only thing the man managed to get out was a sheepish “hehe”.

And boy did that “hehe” change your life.

That day Sampo Koski got off the hook, since you didn’t comment anyhow and just let him go, which, given you were an overworlder, he found intriguing. So he dug a little bit, out of pure curiosity. Besides, this man didn't like staying in debt to someone and he needed information to see how he could pay you back.

That’s when he found out you were a single mother. An opera singer, but divorced and with full custody over a six-year old daughter.

And honestly, he didn’t give it much thought at first. He simply arranged a nice bouquet of red roses for you, paid Natasha a little for a handmade plushie and left it all at the door steps with a ‘thank you’ note.

Until a couple of weeks ago, disguised again, he didn’t stumble into a group of kids obviously bullying a little girl, mocking her for not having a father, and throwing something among themselves that she tried to catch. And he recognized the toy. And one glance was enough to see how much she looked like the woman he met only once. And against his better judgment Sampo walked to the children, easily snatching the toy and effectively scaring everyone off. Only with that little girl still being there, eyes full of unshed tears and fingers digging in the skirt of her pretty dress.

That tiny ‘thank you’ when he handed the plushie back to her and she hugged it tightly to her chest made the conman’s heart clench, and for the second time that day he sent his plans to hell, keeping her company near the house you lived in until you arrived from work.

That day he learned many things - how much your daughter loved the toy and what a sweet little thing she was, how tired a person can look and how much a throat can hurt from the whole day of singing during rehearsals, how nice a home-made dinner can be once you are invited, but most importantly - how even such a damned man like him can be gazed upon with gratitude and not from one, but two people.

From that day many other instances happened, but in the end he just stuck around. It was strange, it was new, but in a sense it was comforting, especially when you would come home - on Friday, for example, - and he’d be there, entertaining your daughter and then greeting you with a smile and a silly wave of his hand.

You don’t have a husband, and your daughter doesn’t have a father - but with his presence Sampo Koski manages to fill those voids even if a little bit.

Aeons you love days off. A morning to finally sleep in and do not run around like crazy in attempts to get yourself and your kid ready. Even breakfast wasn’t on you today, because the ‘silly man’ stayed the night and told you to get your sleep, assuring you with that confident puff of his chest that the Sampo Koski would offer you his best service, which effectively made you giggle.

Tonight he even cuddled with you, letting you bury your face in his neck and be a little vulnerable in the arms of a man with whom you had the most peculiar relationship ever. But after such equally peculiar moments you really start thinking of suggesting moving from the couch in the living room to your bedroom permanently. It’s been months already, who would’ve thought.

Barefoot and not even glancing at the robe on the chair near the window you leave the room, rubbing at your eyes and brushing your hair away from your face. You are craving the cup of your morning drink, and so you let your legs carry you to the kitchen at first. However two voices coming from your wardrobe room instantly peak your interest and make you halt in your walking. What on earth could your daughter and your clown of a man be doing there?

And soon enough you find it out.

“Sit still, please!” The girl begs with an eye shadow palette in one tiny hand and a huge brush in the other. “It’ll smudge if you keep turning to the mirror!”

“Just can’t wait to see how beautiful I am, princess, ‘s all~”

There, on the floor among the rows of your clothes and shelves with beauty products and accessories, none other than Sampo is sitting, willingly offering his face to your daughter’s practice of applying makeup. And gods he looks absolutely hilarious.

But that’s not what exactly concerns you.

“Is that my dress?” You point at the red shimmery thing snuggly sitting on the man in front of you and that’s when the two notice you.

“Yes, mommy!”

“Say I pulled it off, right?” With a smirk the green-eyed menace winks at you and it looks even worse with poorly done lashes. You have to stifle your laughter. “Though I must admit, we had to keep it unzipped - my chest appeared to be bigger than yours-”

And that’s when you regret not bringing slippers with you - one flying in his head would be of great help.

“Sometimes I really hate you.”

“Nuh, sweet thing, you love me!”

“Well,” you step closer, grabbing a tissue to try and fix at least the overly bright blush on his cheeks, “maybe. Maybe I actually do.”

Suddenly Sampo is tongue-tied and silent, trying very hard to fight off the stupid grin forcing its way onto his face. But with thoroughly smeared red lipstick on his mouth it looks so damn comical.

“Mom, do you think pa looks pretty?” Your daughter hopefully asks, putting aside her tools, and that little two-letter word doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you. You feel a real blush burning under your deft fingers.

“Yes, sweety, Pa-mpo looks very pretty,” his head whips in your direction like you’ve just told him to go and surrender to the Belobog’s esteemed order keepers.

“...Pa-mpo?”

“Would you prefer Da-mpo instead?” Cocking your head in question, you smirk at him, relishing in the pout he is wearing at the moment. “Or maybe Sam-pa?”

“No, thank you very much,” he huffs. “Little princess called me ‘pa’, so be nice and respect it.”

And now it is you who is surprised. You haven’t really discussed with Sampo who he was to your daughter, and who she was to him - but if he is making this step of acknowledging the matter, then who are you to spoil it? Who knows, maybe things will work out quite pleasantly in the end.

“Alright, pa, I will respect that.”

“Hey! For you I am your precious popo baby, a koskiss to your lips, the love of your-”

“Don’t even dream of it.”

Jing Yuan

Yanqing would be enough of an answer to the kid question, but it is not. Sure, his young disciple is practically a son to the General, but it doesn't mean the man doesn't want his own children.

He does and he has. On multiple occasions Jing Yuan's subordinates walked in on him with a small figure sitting in his lap or perched on his strong arm, observing what the dad's been up to with his plans and documents. You scolded your husband for this many times, but the bastard only smiles and keeps stealing his daughter to work to keep him company. Or she sneaks on her own - that caused you many almost heart attacks when she was no older than a couple of decades.

For Jing Yuan it’s all good though - he gets to spend time with his baby and have you inevitably join him in search for your adventurous child.

The General has a separate folder for all the pictures of his daughter on his phone - every single one he takes and every single one you send him when he couldn’t bring his girl to some of his meetings (yet he really tried, until you put your foot down and saved many of his subordinates from the prolonging of said meetings). Even the background, hidden from prying eyes behind the passcode of your and her birthdays, is his little one, cradled in your arms, as the two of you are watching kites flying in the sky.

Yanqing at first was set on treating her with the same respect he does his mentor and you, his wife, but you quickly put an end to it, basically turning the boy into her older brother. He didn’t mind at all - if anything he is sometimes way too eager to push the two of you to go on a date so he can babysit. Often you would return to the two fast asleep either on the girl’s bed or cuddled to Mimi with toys scattered and at least two books lying on the floor. The huge lion adores the girl - sometimes you feel like it thinks of her as its own cub, and the thick mane of hair your daughter got from her father does not help.

And it appeared to be as eager to steal your daughter from you as your husband is…

“Y/n!” You practically jump when the doors to your bedroom fly open and Jing Yuan bursts inside. Immediately you notice his disheveled state - hair down and a mess, the robe he wore this morning for comfortable work in his home office is falling off one of his shoulders and a shoe is missing from his foot.

“Aeons, Yuan, don’t scare me like that,” you put a comb down on your vanity table and fully turn to face him. “What happened?”

“Is our precious baby with you?” He steps further into the room and starts looking around frantically. Okay, now that got worrisome.

“No? You took her earlier this afternoon after lunch to play in your study while you work. Have you really forgotten that? My love, you are getting old.”

You hear clearly as he curses under his breath, raking thick fingers through his hair. The golden eyes look at you and in them you spot a flicker of anxiety.

“...Jing Yuan, don’t tell me that you managed to lose our daughter.”

“I didn’t, I swear,” he winces at the full name usage, watching you rise from your seat and quickly approach him. “She was right by my side, watching the animal videos on my phone, but then I got immersed in the latest reports from the Sky-Faring Commission and when I finished whose - she was gone!”

“Uh, want me to call your phone? Maybe she still has it.”

To that he puts a hand in the robe’s pocket and brings out his device. Oh god.

“It was lying on the floor, still playing videos.”

“Okay, deep breaths,” you are not sure if you are telling it to him or to yourself, but you too take an inhale, meanwhile busying your hands with adjusting his clothes. “Even buried in work you’d still notice if a human sneaked in, right?” He nods. “And you’d notice if she left - she would’ve warned you about that.” He nods again, lips pursed and eyes staring at one point. “Yanqing is not as skilled to come unannounced and take her, and he wouldn’t do it without your permission, so-”

“Wait,” his hand catches yours and realization flashes in his features. “Mimi came.”

“...Mimi?” Before you can ask him to elaborate, your husband turns around and rushes out of the bedroom. Concerned and a little bit intrigued, you quickly follow.

In one of the rooms of your huge house the two of you finally find the lion, and Jing Yuan almost drops on the floor in relief when his girl is spotted in the animal’s embrace.

“Is she…sleeping?” You ask, glancing from behind his broad back.

“It appears so. Hey, Mimi,” the maned head lifts, two ambers taking in your appearances and a pleased huff is let out through the nose upon recognition.

“Well, my dear,” you pat his shoulder, shaking your head, “it appears that people were right - like the owner, like the pet. Congratulations, your lion took your habit of stealing our daughter to heart. Good luck prying her from it.”

“You say it like it’s something hard to do,” there it is, a confident smile is back on his face as he strides closer to the animal, ready to bend down and get his girl. Only for that lift of the corners of his lips to be gone when Mimi growls at him in a warning and shields your daughter’s little body with its head.

You only smirk and leave the scene to go and get your phone - there is no way you are not filming your husband dealing with the consequences of his own behavior.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade x reader #blade x fem!reader #gepard x reader #gepard landau x reader #gepard x fem!reader #loucha x reader #loucha x fem!reader #sampo x reader #sampo koski x reader #sampo x fem!reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x fem!reader #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fluff

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cherry-leclerc · 8 months ago

Text

million dollar man ☆ toto wolff

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

word count: 16.5k

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

nsfw warning under the cut!

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

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You up for Vegas?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly why.”

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

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

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

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

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

Yayo.

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

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

Let me put on a show for you, daddy.

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

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

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

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

Toto blinks. “She might be my favorite.”

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

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

“Where do you want me?”

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

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

“Oh, right. Um…”

You grin. “First time?”

He winces. “It was a friend's idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighs. “Maybe I was changing.”

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

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

“It fucking sucks.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Correct.”

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

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

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

Tap tap.

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

"Warten! Warten!"

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, wow… I, umm… You’re welcome?”

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

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

He smiles. “It’s from Germany.”

“Authentic. How’d you get it?”

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

“Let’s just leave it at old.”

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

“I’m glad I was able to help.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I always am.”

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

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

“I wanted to see you.”

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh? Similar…that’s funny.”

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

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

“Oh, trust me, I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I take you home?”

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

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

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

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

“6’5.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not acting like a child—”

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

“But my things—”

“I’ll send for them.”

“My downpayment—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

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

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

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

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

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

Elizabeth gasps. “And you.”

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

“Of course. Take care, Toto.”

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

“You look tired.”

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

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

“See what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I do mind. I mind a lot.”

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

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

“Wanna feel something nice?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s a dumb question.”

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

“No.”

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

“Tempting, but still no.”

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

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

“He said yes.”

“The car talks now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m being serious.”

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

“I would take you—”

“But you’re busy— it’s fine.”

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

“Are you fucking with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Very.”

“Actually, I am too.”

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

“Is money the issue here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp. “Are you insane?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it that obvious?”

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

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

“Do you need something?”

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

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

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

“What did you do?”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

He sighs. “Please do.”

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

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

“He what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp. “I would murder him.”

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

“Nope.”

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

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

You’re going to miss me, watch.

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

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

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

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

“Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh shit.”

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

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

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

“Don’t worry. Can you get me a room?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not lying—”

“Really?”

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

“I never saw anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

She clicks her tongue. “Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That doesn’t matter—what’s wrong?”

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

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

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

“What else did she say?”

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

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

“I swear that’s all.”

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

“I’m not telling you.”

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

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

“Who did this to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

“What, sweetheart?”

Gloomy eyes reflect against his own. “Leave?”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll walk you through it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lips curl. “No idea.”

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

“Are you on birth control?”

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

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

Confusion paints your face. “To have you?”

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

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

“There it is.”

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

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

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

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

“Toto, Toto, Toto—”

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

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

“Looking good, Mr. Wolff.”

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

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

“I love you, Toto Wolff.”

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

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

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

“Uh…” Your lips stretch out. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d be a fool to deny.

So, you accept.

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

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

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

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

“I’m not quitting.”

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

More heavy silence. “Sure.”

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

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

“I’m taking the car. See you later.”

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

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

We should think about Jack.

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

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

I love you.

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Great! Where is she?”

“Around.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this is strange.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he deserves it…you think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toto Wolff was just the same.

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

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

You’re screwed up and brilliant.

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

Look like a million dollar man.

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

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

So why is my heart broke?

“I’ll regret you for the rest of my—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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fastandcarlos · 6 months ago

Text

Missing Piece : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: you’re supposed to be used to oscar going anyway by now, but no matter how hard you try, it still hurts just as much

“As soon as I land, I promise I’ll give you a call, make sure that you don’t have too much fun without me.”

Your head nodded as you buried it into the crook of Oscar’s neck, refusing to let him see you, scared of what would happen.

He smiles down at you, kissing against the top of your head.

Like you, he’s trying his best to hold it together, reassuring himself that it’s only a couple of weeks and that the two of you have spent longer apart before. You could still text, still call, but it was never quite the same. Oscar knew you masked a lot, you tried not to be bothered when it was time for him to go, but deep down he knew every time stung just a little bit more than the last.

A final kiss was pressed to the side of your head as Oscar unwrapped his arms from around you, taking a hold of his suitcase as your eyes fell to the ground.

Your voice was almost silent as you said goodbye to Oscar, unable to bring yourself to watch as he closed the door of your apartment. On the other side, he sighs, knowing that the silence is how it needs to be in order for you to survive.

Straight away the silence in your apartment makes you tense up, struggling to picture yourself getting back to life with Oscar by your side. Once you were sure his car had had enough time to drive away, you finally let yourself fall. First one tear fell, quickly followed by another, and then another, until you were laid out on your sofa relentless wiping underneath your eyes. The scent of Oscar’s jumper that you wore only made things worse, he was almost there with you, to comfort you, but not quite.

Several shaky breaths came from you as you looked around the place, little reminders of Oscar placed around the rooms as he had all but moved himself into your place.

The kitchen was still full of his favourite snacks, the music playing in the background was still his playlist that he had been so excited to show you, many items of his clothing were hung on your radiators, unable to dry them in the blistery winter breeze.

Each sight makes you weaker and weaker, makes your heart ache more, silently crying out for Oscar to return to you and end your nightmare.

Every time Oscar went away it was the same old story, you tried to convince yourself that this time would be the time when you’d crack on, prove to yourself that you didn’t need Oscar to survive, but each time you failed. Maybe you’d last a day or two at most, but then you’d encounter a job or a sign of him that would send you spiralling back to the beginning again.

You found yourself alone again, on the other side of the world to the true place that you called home.

Oscar hated himself for being the reason you left behind everything, as much as you tried to convince him that you loved Monaco, he knew you wanted more. Times like these, when he left you all alone, more than anything you wanted the comfort of your family with you to scoop you up and keep you going.

Whenever the two of you spoke about it you reassured Oscar that he was worth it, that you were willing to make the sacrifice in order to make your dreams together succeed. But a small part of you had also hoped that it would all get easier, and it was anything but.

Admittedly, you were lost without Oscar, he’d been gone two minutes and already you found yourself a crumpled mess in your living room, wondering if you were going to survive.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Meanwhile, driving down to the airport, Oscar isn’t sitting pretty either. He’s restless, going through his list in his head once again, sensing that something isn’t quite the way it’s meant to be. Beside him Lando watches him closely, wondering what’s got into him as Oscar frantically searches through his rucksack to find what he’s looking for.

“It’s got to be in here somewhere,” he whispers to himself, searching through every single pocket. “I knew I should’ve put it in a safer place,” he continued to scold, getting more and more stressed.

Lando kept his eyes on him, “what on earth has gotten into you? Surely it can’t be that important, whatever it is.”

Oscar shot a glare across at Lando.

It was more important than anyone could ever imagine, and he refused to go any further until he had it in his hands.

“What are you going to do?” Lando asked after Oscar asked for the driver to stop the car and let him think for a moment.

Oscar glanced back across at his friend, shrugging his shoulders at the fact that they were already running late for their flight.

“I’ve got no choice, I need to go home again.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It had only been a few minutes, but already Oscar had missed you, already Oscar was excited to be reunited with you again. He sent his apologies to everyone before entering your apartment block, racing up the stairs.

He was bouncing on his heels, as if the two of you were going to see each other after weeks apart as he pulled out his key. He fumbled slightly as he placed the key into the lock, turning it sharply and bursting into the room.

Oscar shot into the room, glancing everywhere to catch a glimpse of you, only when he did, his heart sunk. The key dropped to the floor, expression shattering, words failing him. You were too wrapped up in yourself to even notice that Oscar had returned, your sobs being the only noise in the room.

Whilst silently, the guilt of it all ate away at Oscar.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

“I can’t wait to tell you all about it.”

“I can’t wait to hear all about it,” you responded, smiling widely as Oscar told you about the fight that had happened during the McLaren team dinner that night, only wishing that you’d been there to see it.

“Luckily me and Lando managed to sneak out before we got caught in the crossfire,” he assured you, giggling away to himself. “It’s going to be so awkward at the team briefing tomorrow morning.”

As Oscar spoke, you were slightly thankful you weren’t there and a part of it.

It had been a couple of days since Oscar left, and after the scene that unfolded that he left, he promised to call you every free second of the day that he had, refusing to leave you alone with your own thoughts for too long.

“I bet things are a lot busier here than they are at home,” Oscar smirked, almost envious of the calm environment you found yourself in.

His eyes lit up, enough to bring a smile to your face too.

“Your mum has been ringing me nonstop, I don’t know what you’ve said to her.”

“Not a lot,” he chuckled, lying through his teeth, “I just mentioned things were a little bit tricky for you.”

“A little bit?” You challenged, raising your eyebrow at Oscar. “I think your mum thinks I’m on the verge of a breakdown, you know she’s forcing me to send her a photo every time I have something to eat.”

“Good,” Oscar responded, failing to see the problem with what you were saying. “No one’s there to check up on you love, at least if mum is keeping an eye on you then I know too that you’re taking good care of yourself.”

You gasped, hand over heart, offended that Oscar had taken his mum’s side rather than your own. He knew you were only messing as he mocked your reaction, stunned that you didn’t see how caring his mum was being.

“If it helps, would you like me to send you photos of my food too?” Oscar offered, continuing to tease you. “I know you love race day food.”

Your eyes narrowed at him, you didn’t just love race day food, it was your obsession. Secretly, it was the only reason you actually went and supported Oscar.

“I’ll block you,” you warned, “and then no one will be able to check up on me, I’ll just live in my own little bubble of peace and quiet in the apartment.”

Oscar’s head shook as he took a sip from the drink beside him, glancing on the clock at his bedside that was getting later and later. You knew that Oscar wasn’t brave enough to tell you what he was thinking, but you knew his expression well enough by now to know that he was starting to get sleepy and needed to rest for work tomorrow.

As he looked at the screen again, Oscar knew that you knew exactly what he was hinting at too.

“I’m sorry.”

Your head shook, refusing to listen to him. “Don’t be stupid, you’ve got work, it’s important that you’re ready for tomorrow.”

“I promise that I’ll speak to you in the morning,” Oscar insisted, shuffling around on the bed so that he was laid down, phone above his head. “I’ll keep you updated as much as I can with how tomorrow goes.”

He did a good job of keeping you in the loop, tried his best to share as many updates as he possibly could with you. It wasn’t always easy, and at times Oscar had to be very sneaky, but it would be worth it to get your reply and know just how proud of him you were.

“You’ll sleep soon too, won’t you?” Oscar quizzed, doing the math in his head to know that it wasn’t far off getting late for you either.

“I will now that I’ve spoken to you,” you hummed, happy to let Oscar go for the night, and happy to know that you’d been sleeping much more comfortably too.

“I love you, wish me luck for tomorrow.”

“You don’t need luck Oscar…I love you.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

He’s barely able to sit still as Oscar listens to yet another gate call, hoping this time it’s for him, but not quite. His frustration builds and builds, restlessly fidgeting whilst Lando sits beside him as if he’s got all the time in the world.

Knowing how close you were only hurt Oscar more now. He was desperate to be back where he belonged, back with his best friend and back in the place that he called home. He’d been away from the missing piece in his life for too long, and now he was ready to fix the jigsaw that was his life again.

The journey felt like an age, every slight stop tormented Oscar, knowing it was pushing the time of his arrival further and further back.

What hurt him the most though was the lies, the ignorance he had for you. When he landed and turned his phone back on he was met by dozens of calls and texts, most of them full of panic. He hated that he couldn’t tell you the truth, but his mum had assured him that she would try and keep you as calm as possible.

The car barely had time to stop when it pulled up outside your home, Oscar was out like a bullet, grabbing his belongings and racing up the stairs. Standing outside your door, he composed himself, taking a deep breath in and out before knocking on the door, hoping that you were home.

You weren’t expecting anyone, lazily moving across to the door. A sigh came from you as you took the latch off, pulling down on the handle and opening the door, slowly turning your eyes up.

Oscar’s smile was bright as your eyes met, a chuckle came from him, relieved to see you and see for himself that you were alright. It took you a moment to realise who was before you, but as soon as you did, you were stepping forwards, throwing yourself into Oscar’s arms and legs wrapping around his frame.

He barely had a moment to react, Oscar dropping his case and catching you just as quickly.

There were no words spoken for a while as you both let the reality set in. Your head was buried closely into the crook of Oscar’s neck, this time trying to compose yourself for a different reason. Your tears were no longer of sadness, but of overwhelming joy to have Oscar home.

“You’re not supposed to be here yet,” you laughed, pulling back and meeting Oscar’s eyes once again. “Y-you’re here early,” you commented, pressing a kiss against the tip of his nose.

Oscar nodded proudly, “we were finished and I couldn’t wait any longer, I just wanted to get back and be with you again. I’ve missed you so much, it’s been so hard being away from you this time.”

The grip that you had on Oscar was bone-crushing, filled with happiness knowing that you weren’t going to be by yourself anymore. It didn’t matter anymore where you were in the world anymore, just the fact that Oscar was back with you again was enough to make everything alright.

“How come you changed your mind? How did you convince Zac to let you come home?” You quizzed, feeling Oscar carry you across and down onto the sofa.

“I had my ways,” Oscar proudly joked, “I’m kidding, we had everything sorted so I could fly earlier. Told him that I couldn’t wait to get home any longer to my missing piece and he sent me on my way.”

You’re missing piece?”

Oscar nodded in reply to you, “of course, the one thing that was missing to make me my happiest. I had work, I was in my race car, but you weren’t there, so everything wasn’t quite fulfilled.”

“That’s cute,” you whispered.

And Oscar meant every word of it too, it was no understatement how important you were to him, and knowing that you’d been having such a tricky time of things recently only left him feeling worse whenever he had to go away.

“Please tell me you don’t have to leave now, or any time soon,” you whispered to Oscar, terrified that your moment was going to be cut short and he was going to be pulled off into another direction to complete yet another task.

“I’m all yours, I promise, I don’t plan on going anywhere for a very long time my love.”

“Good,” you smirked, cupping either side of Oscar’s face and pressing a kiss to his lips. You’d experienced the hurt, the longing, the bitterness and jealousy, but at last you were able to experience the happiness again, the relief that Oscar was back with you and he was right there to be able to take care of you.

And luckily for you, it was a job that he absolutely adored too.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 reaction #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri drabble #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #formula 1 fic #formula one #f1 fic

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ashwhowrites · 6 months ago

Note

I know I sent in a request a few days ago, but that one was pretty long so I figured I'd also throw in a shorter request while they're still open: smutty Older!Simp!Eddie x reader in which they are basically the Gomez and Morticia of the Stranger Things universe. No plot, just Eddie and the reader being disgustingly (said with affection) OBSESSED with each other.

FUCKING LOVE THE ADDAMS FAMILY. HAVE A TATTOO TO PROVE IT

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Gomez and Morticia

Eddie had a few girlfriends in the past, and well they ended badly. All of Eddie's friends can agree that he was not boyfriend material. He kept to himself and often forgot a relationship takes a lot of work and sacrifice. It was his way or no way.

But then he graduated and became more grown-up. And he fell in love. He fell in love hard.

Her name was Y/N, Eddie met her at a concert. She was dressed to impress with her short shorts and high black boots. Her makeup was angelic and sharp enough to cut him, and he loved it. He loved how she captivated him the whole show. The band faded to nothing as he watched her dance and sing along. He swore he had never seen anything so gorgeous in his life.

She was just as smitten with him. Her claws were always dug into his skin. They were never separated, hand in hand wherever they went. She adored his long hair and how it felt against her skin. She felt breathless whenever she looked at him. The way he dressed, the way he smelled, and the way his voice sounded. Everything about him she was helplessly in love with.

It was impossible to turn either of their heads. They were both young and attractive, and people noticed that. Girls ran after Eddie like a damn ice cream truck. With their small tops and long lashes. They bounced up to their table, ignoring Y/N as she looked unbothered. Neither she nor Eddie acknowledged they were there. Their advances were simply not heard as Eddie stared at the way Y/N licked her ice cream cone. His melting in the small bowl, untouched. Y/N looked up and made eye contact with Eddie, the tease she was she slowly licked the ice cream and swirled her tongue. Her insides burned as he growled. He grabbed her cone and threw it on the table, with no care for the ice cream that now was smashed against the table. He grabbed her hand, and she smirked as he raced them to the nearest bathroom.

If any guy had the nerve to walk up to Y/N, he was quick to regret it. Eddie's deep glare and loud snarl. Eddie gave them a warning to run, if they didn't listen that was their problem. Eddie had no problem decking anyone in the face for coming near what was it. Then of course Y/N would be turned on by his possessiveness. And they would find the nearest place to hook up.

If anyone wanted to have a conversation with one of them, it was nearly impossible. Robin lost count of how many times Eddie would steal Y/N's attention and it would never return. Steve gave up on talking to either of them, he knew he stood no chance.

No one ever experienced a relationship like this. A couple that is so in love with each other, that never fight and would do anything for the other. They would die for each other and no one questioned it.

Eddie worshipped her like the queen she was. He lived to please her and happily do anything she asked. She was on the highest pedestal in his eyes and that's where she belonged.

They belonged together and only together.

~~~

"How was your day?" Eddie asked, his lips leaving kisses down Y/N's neck. She sighed at the feeling, the tension in her body from the day melting away with every kiss.

She dropped her head to the side, giving him more room as he nuzzled against her neck. His teeth lightly bit into her skin.

"Tiring. I hate work." She moaned out, she could feel his head body sitting behind her. The comfy bed underneath them.

"Yeah? I hate work too. Why don't you lay down and I'll help you out." His whispers were setting her body on fire. Her thighs clenched as she panted.

She stood up, slipping out of his grip. His eyes were on her, obviously. He licked his lips as she stripped down, her naked skin calling to him as he dropped off the bed and onto his knees.

He kissed her knees, then up her thighs. His soft lips kissed every inch of her skin as he made his way up to his feet, landing a kiss on her lips. As he kissed her, he turned them around and softly landed them on the bed.

The kiss grew hungrier as Eddie's hands grazed her skin, moving his body in between her thighs. He swallowed her moans and shivered as she tugged on his hair.

She whined as he pulled away, but was satisfied when he kissed back down her body. He whispered compliments against her skin, everything he loved about her falling from his lips as he landed on his knees again.

He grabbed her legs and put them on his shoulders, dragging her body to the very edge of the bed. She propped herself on her elbows as she looked down at him.

His dark eyes eating her...as well as his mouth

She arched her back once his tongue touched her aching clit. The simple touch had her shivering and gripping the sheets. All the aches from the day washed away as his tongue swirled in circles.

She barely made a sound, just cracks from her throat as she dropped against the mattress. Her hands moved to his hair as she greedily moved her hips. Eddie always obeyed, leaving his hands behind him as he let her ride his tongue. His eyes open as he watched her rock against his mouth, she was enchanting in every which way.

"Eddie?" she panted, softly tugging his head to get his attention

"Yes, love?"

"make love to me" she moaned

Eddie smiled like a man who won the lottery. Stripping out of his clothes and eagerly laying on the bed. She climbed on top of him, sinking her wet cunt onto his hard cock. He moaned the second she was around him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, lips on her chest as she began to bounce on him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, their bodies pressed against one another. Not even room for air between them. His tongue teased her nipples, and she shivered against him as she rode him faster.

She rolled her hips in the way he loved. Watching with bliss as he let go of her nipple to moan out. His head was thrown back as he let all his sounds go. She leaned forward and used her tongue to lick up his neck and into his mouth.

The sound of their heavy breathing and skin connecting echoed around the room. Her hands were flat on his shoulders as she used the leverage to feel him deeper.

She released the kiss as she felt herself getting close. His hands on her ass as he helped her move her hips.

"Fuck Eddie yes" she moaned

Eddie growled like an animal as he lay back, bringing her body with his. Her chest was flat against his as he used the new position to fuck his hips up into her. The feeling made her eyes roll in the back of her head. Her forehead pressed against his as she looked into his eyes.

"Cum for me, baby. Want that pretty pussy to cum." He said, his eyes staring into hers as she nodded.

She bit her lip as she concentrated, the feeling in her stomach burned and burned then it snapped.

"EDDIEEEE" she screamed as she felt herself cum all over him. Her whines and moans hit his lips as he watched her fall apart for him

"God, I love you," he said before he smashed his lips onto hers.

She cupped his face and slowed down her hips. But she kept moving to help him chase his orgasm. He pulled back from the kiss as he felt the need to cum. Her hands stayed on his face as she smirked and raised her eyebrows. She had so much power over him, she knew the way his body felt when he approached an orgasm.

He moaned as he kept his eyes on hers as he emptied himself inside of her. He loved how she already knew everything to do. She moved her hips to help him ride it out before gently lifting herself off of him.

But she stayed on his lap as he gently kissed her face

They belonged to each other

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlx @ineedmentalhelp123

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #ashwhowrites #eddie smut #eddie munson smut x reader #Eddie munson smut

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moosesarecute · 2 months ago

Text

Missing mates

Rhys couldn’t breathe.

He felt completely lost in his world. Because he had lost his world.

Or, he hadn’t lost her completely, but at the moment he didn’t know when he would get his High Lady home and the wait felt like forever.

With Feyre in the Spring Court, Rhys could vomit at the thought, he didn’t feel like himself.

He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep and he felt like he couldn’t breathe either.

To think that his mate was in a different court. To think that she didn’t think highly enough of herself to think that she was a part of their family. That she could sacrifice herself to go back to a place she withered away.

He almost cried at the thought alone. Ignoring the primal urge to go to the Spring Court and bring her home got harder for every minute that went by.

He stood in their shared room and watched the bed. How was he going to sleep in it without Feyre?

A careful knock on the door pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts.

Knock, break, knock knock, break, knock.

Not even his sister’s childish knocks could make him smile.

His sister.

Rhys rushed to the door and opened it.

“Is he awake?” He asked immediately.

“You actually think I would have left his side if he was awake?” You asked sounding annoyed.

The exhaustion was visible on your body. Both in your posture and the bags under your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you continued. “I’m exhausted, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Rhys opened the door wider and you walked in. He sat down on the bed and you sat in a chair.

“How are you holding up?” He asked you.

You couldn’t help but sigh as you leaned back into the chair. Your eyes were closed.

“I feel empty and lost,” you answered honestly. “The usual when the bond is quiet. You?”

“I’m okay,” Rhys lied. He didn’t want to put his emotions on you when you already looked so exhausted.

You opened your left eye and gave him a knowing look before you closed it again.

“I feel like I’m dying,” Rhys changed his answer and let out an exhausted laugh. “How do you do this? Azriel is on a mission like every other day.”

You sat up and opened both your eyes this time.

“You get used to it in a way. It gets less overwhelming after a few years.”

“Years!? I thought it only lasted a few weeks before it started to get less intense.” Rhys was actually shocked.

You smiled as you thought back at the first years being mated to Azriel. Even though it was overwhelming and sometimes also annoying, you loved to think back to the time when you two were clinging together at every time. At the time when being even a room away from each other made you feel like dying.

“It gets a little better after the Frenzy, but after that you have to build up endurance to be away from each other for longer periods without the instincts taking over. I don’t know how to explain it, it just works.” You were deep in your own thoughts as you spoke. Your eyes were focused on the wall behind Rhys.

“I still don’t understand how you didn’t grow crazy. You hate it when Azriel is protective.”

His words pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Firstly, I don’t mind Azriel being protective, but after accepting the mating bond it was way too much. Secondly, I wouldn’t call walking around and spraying my mate with a bottle of water ‘not going crazy’.”

It sprung upon him. He hadn’t smiled in over three days and suddenly he was laughing.

And with his laugh, you also started laughing.

It was hysterical. Tears ran from your eyes from laughing to much.

“I had forgotten about that,” Rhys said in between laughs. “You are crazy.”

When the laughter died down you both went back to your tired stares.

“Have you slept yet?”

The way you spoke made him understand that you already knew the answer.

His gaze turned to the bed he sat on and you spoke again before he could say anything.

“Sleepover in the living room?”

“We must have been under sixty the last time we did this just the two of us,” you said as you laid down. “Feels like forever ago.”

“Because it was.”

You laid in comfortable silence.

“Can I ask you something, little one?”

“Of course, Rhysie.”

You turned towards him. He drew a nervous breath.

“You spent fifty years apart and I can’t even do three days without absolutely losing it. What am I going to do?”

He felt like his life had stopped. That he couldn’t move on.

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself. Azriel and I had been mated for over 400 years when we ended up under the Mountain. You two have barely been mated for two weeks. You could still be ravishing each other in the Frenzy right now and no one would bat an eye. You’ll be just fine!”

He listened to the words you said, but he still couldn’t understand a way forward.

“But how do you to that? How do you live through this?”

It wasn’t like him to be this self conscious, but nothing in his mind felt right.

“You don’t live through it,” you started. He could see on your face that he had brought up uncomfortable memories. “You do what you need to do to survive it. Sometimes that might be to pretend you’re someone else and that there isn’t anyone to miss. Other times that means you’re struggling to get out of bed, even to go to the bathroom, because everything seems pointless without him. Sometimes you just have to cry and scream and other times you have to sit in the quiet.”

The more you spoke the more distant he could see you become. You were lost in your thoughts.

He carefully moved his hand and nudged yours carefully.

You looked towards him.

“The point is, you just have to do what gives you the courage to get to the next day. The rest of us will help you through it. And when all of this is over, you two are going to take at least a month to yourself. You have deserved it.”

He could do that. One day at the time. One day. And even though currently a day lasted longer than a month usually would, he could do it.

“Thank you.”

“Believe it or not, being mates for centuries have actually taught me something,” you said with a smug smile.

“Maybe I should start listening more to my little sister.”

You both turn to look at each other.

“Nah,” both of you said.

Rhysand was alone in the living room when he woke. The ache in his heart was a little smaller than the past days.

Seeing your mattress empty beside him gave him hope.

He got up and immediately made his way to his sister’s old bedroom. The room Azriel was currently healing in.

The door was open and as he peeked inside he saw what he needed to see.

Azriel sat up in bed with a cup of tea in his left hand, his right was occupied brushing through your hair.

“How long have you been awake?” Rhys asked his brother.

“A couple of hours,” he answered silently, not looking away from you. “She hasn’t slept much, has she?”

“I’d say about three hours the past three days,” Rhys answered. “It’s good to see you alive and awake.”

“You too,” Azriel answered.

Rhysand made his way back to his and Feyre’s room. Suddenly, life seemed easier. He felt hopeful for a good ending. And he was very much looking forwards to holding Feyre as she slept on his chest.

#acotar #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x rhysand's sister #rhysand’s sister

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o0sleepingdead0o · 7 months ago

Text

Prepared for Anything Pt. 2

Part 3, MasterPost

Gotham was a terrible place to live.

It was great.

People weren’t overly friendly or familiar with people they didn’t know, meaning they paid Danny no mind. No one mentioned he had fangs. No one commented on his slightly pointed ears. And no one questioned his strange ability to ward off muggers and would be criminals without even having to speak to them. His ghost aura came in handy sometimes.

It also mean that rent was dirt cheap. Especially in Crime Alley where Danny had taken up residence. It was made even cheaper by the fact that Danny didn't need heating with his ghostly physiology. It cut a lot down on bills. Not that it really mattered much. As Ghost King, he had an abundance of funds that he wasn’t sure he could dry it up within fifty lifetimes, let alone his one. However immortal it was.

The downside was the old wiring. Leaving him here. Eating Mac and cheese out of the pot he’d been cooking up as he watched the fire flicker and smoke plume out the windows.

Now, Danny hadn’t been planning to flee his apartment, it’s not like he woulda been in any danger, but his neighbour, some guy named Jason, had gone door to door, ensuring everyone was following the fire drills that children learned in elementary school which were ultimately incredibly flawed. Who really believed that an entire school of children would stay calm and collected during an actual fire?

Jason was nowhere to be seen now, though. Danny wondered if he was okay, but that guy currently helping a family out onto a fire escape, Red Bird. . .Red Helmet or something, would probably make sure he was. He was apparently a crime lord, but a good one?. . . .

. . .

Gotham was weird.

Just as the red guy and the family reached the ground, a scream for help called from the second top floor. They sounded young. Danny looked up to see a little girl at a window and flames raging too close for her to go anywhere.

Well. . . that was concerning. Who had left such a young kid unattended?

Red Dude was dashing out to the front of the building to get his bearings, looking for a way up. He wouldn’t be able to reach the girl using the fire escape. Danny took another bite of his Mac and Cheese, watching as the man’s grapple gun jammed.

Danny heaved a deep sigh.

He supposed he would have to get involved.

Leaving the crowd of tenants that had huddled on the sidewalk, Danny trudged back across the street and into an alley. He went far enough that no one would see him and opened a portal. With one hand, he reached in, found purchase on his quarry, and turned away to drag the ladder out and behind him.

Danny found Trigger-Happy-Dude starting to scale the building. Danny interrupted him before he got too far.

He belatedly wondered where the fire-fighters and cops were.

“Oh, hey, look what I randomly found in that alley.”

Red Dude paused to look at him. Looked at the ladder trailing behind Danny.

“It’s a ladder.” Danny raised it slightly from his lazy hold, noting how much he felt like he was giving an infomercial right now. “Pretty long, huh? Long enough to reach that floor, I bet.” Danny added helpfully with an encouraging nod. “How fortuitous.”

The Red Dude was quick to drop down and take it from him, but stared at Danny the whole time as if was abnormally weird.

Which was rude. Danny was just abnormal, thank you very much.

“Uhh. . .good work.” Red Dude said, setting up the ladder with Danny’s help. The vigilante tested it for stability.

Danny scoffed. As if he would purposefully tamper with it.

Which wasn’t too far-fetched in this city.

Red Dude deemed it acceptable. “Hold it steady for me, would ya?”

Danny nodded.

The man climbed up and Danny held both sides, pouting down at his pot of Mac and Cheese he’d had to set aside for the moment.

Ah, the sacrifices he makes.

Across the street, there were a multitude of cheers as Red Dude reached the little girl and settled her on his front like a backwards piggy-back hold.

Danny stepped aside when Red reached the bottom to pick his pot back up.

Sirens cut into the roar of flames above their heads and the loud call of the tenants that had lasted rather short, a few half-hearted cheers dying on the wind.

It was the middle of the night. Everyone was tired.

The mother of the little girl ran up to take her child and flagged down the first paramedic to arrive on the scene.

Danny returned his gaze to Red Dude who equally eyed him. Or at least, Danny assumed. His head was facing him.

“You’re that guy who punched out Joker.”

Danny paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. He slowly brought it the rest of the way. “How’d you know about that?”

“Cameras.” Hood tapped his helmet with a finger. “I saw RR and Robin’s video feed.”

Danny hummed, nodding along as he chewed. He wasn’t terribly concerned. Danny was just a random guy that happened to punch another random guy. It probably happened all the time in a place like Gotham. There was no need for further investigation into who Danny was. The vigilantes had probably forgotten all about him until this instant.

Red Dude looked at his pot. “That’s what you’re eating?” He said, somehow conveying judgement through the modulator.

“Yep.” Danny took another bite. After a moment of contemplation, he left the fork in his mouth to produce another from his hoodie pocket. He held it out to Red Dude. “Mac and Cheese?”

The dude leaned back slightly and his crossed arms gave the impression he was offended. “You just carry forks around in your pockets?”

Danny shrugged. “Ah, ya know, never leave home without a back-up fork.”

Red Dude considered him for another moment and Danny thought he’d decline. But then, he shrugged, his stance relaxing somewhat. “Sure.” He accepted the fork.

#Danny #danny phantom #Danny fenton #Red Hood #jason todd #dpxdc fanfic #crossover fic #dimension travel #I'm having fun #this fic is nonsense and I don't care

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ghost-1-y · 1 year ago

Text

Sacrifice

Surtr!Kyojuro x AFAB!Worshipper!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, masturbation (Kyo), getting caught masturbating (Kyo), knotting, Kyojuro is in heat, Kyo has a massive breeding kink, lactation kink (Kyo loves your titties), size kink, pregnancy kink, pregnancy (at the end), using horns as handles, implied belly bulging, mommy kink (reader referred to as both “mommy” and “mother”), love confessions at the very end, douma being an asshole, incorrect interpretation of norse mythology, reader is given as a human sacrifice to Kyo, mentions of animal sacrifice, reader referred to as “pretty girl” sometimes, please lmk if I missed anything!

Summary: The legends stated that the mighty fire giant would one day bring about the beginnings of Ragnarok and engulf the world in flames. You had been told of these prophecies since childhood and were a firm believer in appeasing the proclaimed Ruler of Fire through worship and sacrifice – just as you had been taught by the village elders since you were a mere child. What you didn’t expect, however, was for the village to turn their back on you and suggest that what would be needed would be a human sacrifice to appease the giant once and for all.

Word Count: ~6k

Divider Credit: @/benkeibear

A/N: So sorry this took so long!! I've had a mess of a week so far. I hope the fic is worth the wait! Apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors (I tried my best).

A fire blazed in the heart of the village, crackling with embers floating gracefully and smoke ebbing above the tallest of houses – its heat a sharp contrast to the bitter cold of the autumn night. Members of the village surrounded the bonfire, sitting with their families as they feasted, bellies full with the meat stew that was provided for them. A single bowl was left untouched amongst each family – a welcoming invitation for the dead to engage in the festivities that were part of Vetrnætr.

As chieftain, you engaged with the families, wishing them good health and happiness as they did the same for you, before engaging in sumbel with them as you poured wine onto the grass below.

“Freyr will be most pleased by your worship.”

In a way of parting from families, you’d praise their good faith before moving on to the next family. The smiles were abundant amongst the villagers, and, once you’d made your way fully around the bonfire, you removed your sword from your scabbard and raised it high into the air.

“Today we celebrate, and are thankful to the god Freyr for a wonderful harvest. Please join me in this sacrifice, in order to show our thanks to the deities of all the Nine Realms.”

However, before you could commit to the sacrifice – the poor lamb that was before you – a cold hand gripped at your shoulder, which made you turn in confusion.

“Perhaps I should tell you, before you engage in such an act, that the priest has some… concerns,” the man – Enmu you believed his name was – whispered. You sighed and sheathed your sword once more, your blood beginning to boil as you’d wondered what he could possibly want in the middle of the village’s celebration.

You trudged your way through the temple that resided on the outskirts of the village. The door creaked open as you walked through, and before you sat the village priest, who sat on a cushion made of feathers and animal skin. He upturned his lips upon seeing you, yet it wasn’t a true smile.

You knew he didn’t know how to, after all.

“Ah! My lovely Chieftain,” Douma drawled, “such a beautiful night to celebrate Vetrnætr, isn’t it? Although, I doubt that Freyr will grant you the beauty or fertility needed to continue your lineage this upcoming year, truly a shame,” he said, faking a pout.

You fought the urge to ball your fists. The village elders, and, apparently now the village priest as well, had been pressing you for a child – particularly a son – however, despite many suitors attempting to lay their claim to the throne, and therefore you, none had been successful.

Despite this jab, you maintained composure, “what do you need from me, Douma? You’ve interrupted the sacrifice.” You stared him down, and he forced a small laugh.

“Oh my, a harsh tongue doesn’t suit you, dear Chief” he sneered, “You see, I have become aware of some rather concerning events – ones surrounding Ragnarök in particular,” he paused, observing you for any kind of reaction, “unfortunately, it seems Surtr has traveled from Muspelheim to Midgard.”

Your eyes widened, “how would he be able to do such a thing? He isn’t a deity–”

“–ah, but he is a jötunn, and therefore would have the ability to travel between the realms,” Douma countered, “did you never pay attention to my lessons during your youth?”

You rolled your eyes, “you speak as though we do not dedicate sacrifices to him with each solstice. You know appeasing his anger is one of my most steadfast beliefs.”

Douma hummed, “well, it appears that you did not follow through with this past solstice, my dear Chieftain – rather dedicating it to Freyr than to Surtr – and, to be completely honest, I am quite disappointed in that fact.”

The door shut behind you, and two warriors stood on either side of you. You grabbed the hilt of your sword, sensing distrust in the air.

“Do you know, Chieftain, what would be required to adequately appease the Ruler of Fire?”

You pulled out your sword and swung at the warrior on your right, an attack which was quickly blocked by his own weapon. You landed a kick to the left one’s stomach, only for it to be trapped in an unwavering grip by the warrior’s arms. You attempted to swing your sword at him in retaliation, only for your arm to also be grabbed by the one on your right.

Douma stood up and walked towards you, gripping your chin – the cold of his skin causing you to wince.

“A proper, human sacrifice.”

A blow landed to the back of your neck, and your vision faded to black.

—

You awoke to a chill that laid upon your skin, feeling as though you were made of ice rather than of flesh. You were completely bare, lying on a wooden floor of what you presumed to be the priest’s sacred temple, as your vision was fully obstructed by a cloth which wrapped around your eyes. Upon moving your arms – which were thankfully in front of you and not behind, you noticed that your wrists were also bound by rope to prevent you from making any potential escape from Douma’s clutches.

Outside, you heard footsteps approaching, and the door swung open – causing you to flinch at the loud creak that sounded from it. A rough hand grabbed at your arm and pulled you up to your feet, forcing you outside where you heard murmurs of villagers on either side of you. Your cheeks flushed deep with embarrassment, the idea of your beloved villagers seeing you in such a state bringing tears to your eyes in pure shame.

“All of you, please say your final goodbyes to our beloved Chieftain – for she has volunteered to become the sacrifice that will appease Surtr and end his threats of Ragnarök!”

You couldn’t hear the cheers of your people over your pulse pounding in your ears, completely helpless as you were all but dragged along the dirt and gravel pathway before being placed on a horse. A faint rustling could be heard before you felt a rope tied around your neck.

“Be careful not to fall off, my dear Chieftain, lest your neck snap as you’re dragged along the rugged terrain by your horse,” Douma whispered to you before saddling himself onto a separate horse, and you could only assume that this rope was also tied to the horse in some way, thus forcing you to go wherever Douma led you.

You begrudgingly held tight against the horse’s mane as it went into a trot, the wind blowing harshly against your naked skin as the voices of the villagers slowly faded away, replaced by the clopping of hooves as you traversed to a place unfamiliar.

The horses did not stop, and you could only tell the passage of time as the cool of night gave way to the blazing heat of the sun that seared itself into your back. Hours must have passed, and your muscles grew sore the longer you traveled.

At some point, the horses slowed, and the sun’s heat was obstructed by a shadow which loomed above you. Again, a faint rustling could be heard before you were taking off of the horse’s back – yet the rope stayed wrapped around your neck, yet it was no longer taut if you tried pulling away from the horse’s body. You were dragged into the cool shadow, before a hand gripped at your hair.

“Such a shame you never produced a son,” Douma muttered into your ear, “you wouldn’t have to die if you were nice and fertile, my dear Chieftain.”

You could only imagine the nasty grin on his face as he pushed you forward, causing you to lose your footing and fall what could’ve been roughly two meters before hitting solid rock. You heard laughter above you before it started to fade away.

Luckily, the fall seemed to loosen the cloth which covered your eyes, allowing you to see out of one of them, yet you doubted it would be of much help as you got your bearings and realized that you were indeed alone in a dark cave, being left to starve and rot as a form of sacrifice to Surtr.

You decided, that if you were going to die anyway, that you’d at least explore the cave you were pushed into.

It was dark, yet not damp, the stone beneath you as dry as the walls that surrounded you, and you wondered if the sun somehow reached its way into the depths of this cave to evaporate the moisture. There was no life, not a single lizard or insect to be seen – although a few animal bones would be strewn about here and there as you continued your descent further into the cave.

You traversed further, being careful to not trip over any rocks or pitfalls. After what seemed to be an hour of exploration, you saw the tiniest spark of light in the distance.

Perhaps a way out? You thought, and walked closer to this flickering light, and the rather narrow tunnel you were in gave way to a large cavern – with a large bonfire in the middle, one much larger than the one in your village during the celebration of Vetrnætr.

Unlike the blazing heat of the sun from earlier, the warmth of the bonfire was comforting, with its orange hue flickering along the walls of the cavern.

As you got closer, you heard the slightest shifting from the other side of the cavern, followed by what could only be described as a low growl. You froze, unsure of how to proceed in front of a potential predator with nothing to defend yourself with. You slowly crouched and walked towards the bonfire, and, despite your hands being tied, managed to pick up one of the smaller logs on the outer ring of the fire before dousing the tip of it in flames – a weapon, should you need to use it.

As you slowly walked around the bonfire, you found a rather peculiar sight – realizing that the growl did not come from the likes of an animal.

But who– or what was before you was certainly not human.

The being before you was huge, possibly even a jötunn. You were never one to doubt your beliefs, but the idea that a creature from another realm was before your very eyes was difficult to swallow. However, from what you could remember from your religious texts, a jötunn is the only creature you could bring yourself to categorize it as.

The creature had large, curved horns that were sizable in their girth, and its tusks – not fangs – emerged up from its lower jaw. What’s more, it had pointed ears on either side of its head which emerged through hair resembling that of fire, locks that matched the finest gold and ruby gemstones that would cost a fortune in your village.

Unlike the face, its body looked quite human – although its very naked form boasted large, dense muscles throughout its entire body, and a cock that made you swallow absentmindedly from just how threatening its size was.

The creature was stroking its girth, thumbing itself over the leaking slit – a slight shudder escaping from its throat. It started to fuck itself into its grip, thrusting quickly as though chasing its release. Its other hand was fondling its balls – which looked heavy and full of seed, before having its hand move slightly upward towards the slightly swollen base of its cock, softly massaging it to seemingly ease the tension it caused.

Fully flushed with embarrassment, you backed away from the creature before you, each step seemingly calculated in order to escape this situation.

Is the creature sentient? It seems to be humanoid– does that mean it can think like a human? What if it’s a predator and kills me?

Thoughts rushed through your mind, seemingly going into a frenzy as you worried about potential outcomes of this situation.

Crack!

In your panic, you managed to step on a stray twig that managed to stray from the center of the bonfire.

The creature stopped its movements, and immediately turned its head to the source of the sound.

Its amber and crimson eyes opened and glared into yours.

“F-Fuck—!”

With one glance over your naked form, the creature before you released its seed, spilling it all over its fist and shaft, with the remaining drops dribbling onto its lower abdomen. It continued to slowly rub its fist up and down its length, closing its eyes as it played with its tip up until the last of its cum dribbled out from the slit, before tensing and looking back at you, eyes widening in shock – as though it couldn’t believe you were actually there.

“I’m sorry!” the creature exclaimed, a blush so red blooming across its cheeks that it seemingly felt the same amount of embarrassment as you. It hastily wiped itself clean on the furred animal skin it was laying upon. “I– I can explain, really– just– who are you? Why are you here?”

You were in shock, so much so that you couldn’t even eke out a full sentence. Your eyes drifted down to its cock once more, which – much to your surprise – was still standing incredibly tall and proud as it curved up towards the creature’s stomach. Heat prickled across your cheeks and down your chest as the fiery-haired being used its hands to cover itself up in front of you – sensing that you might be uncomfortable from bearing witness to such an event.

This is ridiculous, you thought, you are the Chieftain of your village – compose yourself!

“I am Y/N, leader of my village and child of a family of famed warriors,” you introduced yourself.

The creature raised an eyebrow to you in response.

“And what exactly brings a village leader into my cave?”

You hesitated, humiliation flooding your veins even more so than before.

“I– I was overthrown by the village priest and have been made a sacrifice to Surtr, the Ruler of Fire.”

You expected laughter from the jötunn before you, closing your eyes to hide whatever dignity you had left from what Douma stripped from you. However, instead of hearing a cacophony of hearty noises from the creature’s throat, you instead heard the thud of footsteps approaching you.

Slowly, the jötunn reached forward and removed the bandages which obstructed your vision, loosening and pulling them away with his large fingers, careful to not touch you unnecessarily in the process.

Your eyes widened as you looked up at the giant, his eyes surprisingly kind as he looked down at you. He bunched the bandages in his hands before tossing them to the side, then continued untie the ropes that were digging into your wrists and cast them aside as well.

“If what you say is true, please inform your village that I do not take human sacrifices.”

Your heart seemed to have traveled up to your throat, its beats both fast and fluttery.

“That would imply that I could go back– wait, what are you talking about?”

Then, the creature did finally let out a laugh – a small chuckle that rose from his chest and was deep and bassy as it rose through his throat.

“My dear human, I am the one you people refer to as Surtr.”

You stopped, instinctively stepping back – away from the creature that just claimed to be the harbinger of destruction – the one to bring flames that will engulf all nine realms and Yggdrasil itself.

You did what you believed best, and forced your body to the rocky floor of the cave, bowing in absolute submission and respect for such a being – nearly cowering in the presence of such raw power presented before you.

“Stand up, please, there’s no need for that here.”

You looked up at the being before you, rather confused by his words.

He sighed, “you humans have beliefs of me that are so far from the truth, it’s saddening.”

A pause, the only sound in the cavern being the crackling of the wood against flames.

“My real name is Kyojuro, the name ‘Surtr’ is a title bestowed upon me that I did not wish to receive. I am not going to harm you or your village, I do not wish for such evil. Whatever “priest” thought that a human sacrifice would appease this nonexistent will of mine is, to put simply, a fool.”

You let out a shaky breath, and he reached out his hand – one that dwarfed your own – toward you.

“Stand up.”

He was smiling as you took his hand, with a gaze that was comforting and kind as he sent sparks through your skin with his touch.

The prickling heat returned to your cheeks.

“I’ll help you get back to your village,” he promised.

You froze, your heartbeat quickening once more as you registered his words.

“I can’t– please, I can’t go back, not after what they did to me,” you started, preparing yourself to beg and plead this god-like creature for mercy.

Kyojuro frowned, “I understand, but I can’t keep you here. You need to leave, I– I can’t have you stay.”

You knew it was selfish, to leave your people in the hands of Douma, but after what he did to you– after how he humiliated you.

Where the fire in your village was scalding, his was warm. Where those treated you with indifference or malice, he had been nothing but kind.

Was it really worth going back?

“I’d like to stay,” you decided.

Kyojuro stopped, each and every second becoming more and more difficult for the jötunn. Every passing moment he ignored his very obvious problem, he became this much closer to just bending you over and taking you like a wild animal. His blood was hot in his veins, and fire licked at his lower abdomen, pleasure bubbling once more to the surface as he continued to endure his heat.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me, human,” he warned. He was using every ounce of his willpower in order to maintain his composure. His heat was going to near its peak soon, and he needed you away from him before that happened. He came to Midgard to weather it alone in his cave, and you were only making it all the more difficult.

“Kyojuro,” you uttered softly, and the creature before you let out a low growl, “will you let me stay if I…help?”

His cock twitched, precum dribbling slowly out of the tip, with the base of it swelling up once more.

“I don’t want you to try and sell yourself to me as though you’re a piece of meat. I–” he swallowed, “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t allow you to do that.”

“Kyojuro, I want to help you. I want this,” you assured, and he balled his hands into fists, as though the rope holding him together was about to snap.

“Y/N–” he warned, and you rolled your eyes.

“Please, fuck me, Kyojuro.”

The jötunn grabbed your arm, “if– if we are to do this, you must know that I am in heat, and I–” he swallowed, “I may not be able to control myself should we continue.”

You took your hand and brushed your fingers across his tightened grip, causing slight shivers to flow down his spine.

“Lose control, Kyojuro, I can take it.”

He groaned, and with his strength, picked you up and collided his lips with yours. Your hands sought either side of his face, kissing back with fervor as he moaned into your mouth. His tusks surprisingly didn’t obstruct your access to his mouth, and every once in a while he’d nip at your bottom lip, before laving his tongue over the swollen skin and pushing it into your mouth. You let out a small moan at the intrusion, and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers finding purchase in his wild, fiery hair.

His grip on your body moved from your hips back towards your ass, cupping and massaging the muscle with his hands. His cock was stiff against your inner thigh, the precum spreading along your skin with each small movement. You wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning as his cock slipped between your legs and along your slit – the sheer girth of it a little worrisome as it pressed against your heat.

“Shit– so big, Kyojuro, hah–” you panted, and he growled.

“Never had cock this big before, have you? Don’t worry, dear, I’ll get you nice and ready to take me.”

He shifted your weight onto one of his arms, the muscles flexing as he shifted his other hand beneath you. Two of his fingers started rubbing along your clit, making small circular motions as his other hand groped at the fat of your ass. He lifted you up a little more so his mouth was in line with your breasts and pursed his lips around one of your perked up tits, sucking at it and licking broad stripes with his tongue. He groaned around your tit as he played with your pussy, reveling in how wet you were for him already. The mini vibrations sent electricity down your spine, and you moved your head to rest on his broad shoulder, giving small kisses to his neck as you whined from his ministrations.

“Lips feel so good, dear, love it when you kiss me like that,” he sighed, giving kisses to each of your breasts, “want to apologize for my earlier…release, you were just so beautiful…seeing you all naked ‘n presenting for me like that…made me want to breed you, pretty girl,” Kyojuro confessed, causing you to shiver as he softly whispered such filthy thoughts into your ear.

“Mmh– don’t apologize, Kyo– liked watchin’ you,” you admitted, and he let out a light chuckle, which made you lightly slap his rocky chest. He responded by giving a small bite to your breast, before licking it better with his skilled tongue.

“Yeah? You like the idea of me wanting to breed you? Getting you pregnant with my young?” he asked, his fingers moving from your clit down towards your entrance, where he inserted a single thick digit into your heat. You whined as your pussy clenched around the intrusion, and nodded in response, licking a stripe up his neck before kissing back down it again.

His finger thrust into you, curling against that one sensitive area inside of you as his thumb reached for and played with your clit. The moans that you let out echoed throughout the cavern, with the only other sounds being the shlick of Kyojuro’s finger deep in your cunt and the crackling of flames. After a while, he added a second digit, and slowly but surely worked you towards your peak, the tension slowly building up in your gut.

With one last swipe against your clit with his thumb, you came undone, your orgasm causing you to shudder and whine in his hold as he worked you through it, curling his fingers and rubbing your clit as you rode out each wave.

“Kyo–” you moaned, trying to grind your hips down on his fingers, and he smiled before meeting your lips in a heated kiss. He continued thrusting his fingers up into your now weeping cunt, prepping you nice and good to take his much thicker cock.

He walked back toward his makeshift bed – a pile of furs and animal skins which he must’ve collected prior to his heat – and gently placed you down on top of them. His large hands moved down your thighs, rubbing softly up and down your plush skin as he stared at the slick between your legs. He lowered himself between your thighs and inhaled deeply as he tried desperately to memorize your scent. He licked a stripe up your slit, causing you to jolt at the sensation, and moaned as your taste spread over his tongue like honey.

You squirmed underneath his touch, which made him hold your hips in place as he started to devour you. His tongue flicked over your clit before collecting more of your juices on his tongue. Your hands found his horns and gripped them tightly, pushing his head further between your thighs, earning a groan from Kyojuro. He pursed his lips and sucked at your clit before licking at it in circular motions, moving his hand between your legs again and pushing two digits inside your cunt once more, thrusting in and out of your hole with his fingers. After adding a third finger, he started curling his fingers into that one spot again, his movements quick and deft as he brought you to your second orgasm.

You moaned loudly as you came undone, legs shaking as your grip on his horns tightened, trying your best to buck your hips up into his face as he lapped up all of the juices that seeped out of your pussy. Only when you were able to open your eyes once more did you look down to see Kyojuro humping himself onto the fur pelts as he messily gathered the rest of your release onto his tongue.

“Kyo– please, I need you,” you whined, and he looked up at you with a fire ignited in his eyes. He got up, stroking his thick cock as he looked down upon your much smaller form.

“Get on all fours for me.”

Without hesitation, you rolled over and got on your hands and knees. Kyojuro kneeled behind you and placed his cock in between your wet folds, rubbing the tip up and down as his precum mixed with your juices. He shuddered before slowly pushing the head inside, causing you to tense slightly from how big the intrusion was.

“Relax for me, won’t you?” he asked softly.

You tried your best to relax, and he started to push more of his length inside of you, filling you up more than you ever thought possible. For a moment, he stayed like that, relishing in the feeling of your cunt tightly wrapped around his throbbing cock, his hips flush against your ass as you whined for him to move, please.

“Let me have this moment, dear, I– I haven’t felt something this wonderful in centuries,” he confessed, and you let out a soft mewl before complying with what he wanted.

After a few more moments, his cock dragged out of you slowly before thrusting back in. He rocked into you, slowly at first, which was most likely for the better considering how huge he was. He growled as he thrust into you, his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he reached underneath you to hold your stomach, pressing up slightly as he fully fucked his cock into you.

“Shit– you feel that, pretty girl? Feel my cock deep inside you?” he groaned, and you nodded helplessly, letting out a whine as he continued his movements. “Feel so good wrapped around me, so fuckin’ tight f’ me.”

You choked out another moan as he started increasing his speed, his groans becoming more frequent with each thrust. Kyojuro took his hand and gently tilted your chin up so you could look at him.

“Won’t last much longer, pretty girl,” he leaned down and kissed you, “gonna pull out, promise.”

You whined, “no– please, need your cum, Kyo– need it inside.”

He moaned loudly, “you have no idea what you’re asking of me, pretty. You’d end up taking my knot–”

“I want your knot, Kyo! Please give it to me–!”

Kyojuro thrust even harder into your sopping cunt upon hearing that, “fuck, you want my knot? I’ll get you fucking pregnant, fill you up with my young ‘n get your belly all swollen, you sure you want that?”

“Yes! Please Kyo–! Please–”

With a couple last thrusts, Kyojuro shot his seed inside of you, thick ropes painting your insides white and filling you up to the brim. You moaned as you felt the warmth spread deep inside of your cunt, and, before his release could begin to seep out of your pussy, a burning stretch began inside your abused hole. Realizing this is what Kyojuro meant by his knot, you tried to look behind you to catch sight of his cock seemingly expanding inside of your pussy, keeping his cum nicely plugged inside of you.

Kyojuro was panting, his voice rough as he pulled you up onto his lap.

“Good fuckin’ girl, taking my knot so well.” He looked down at your chest as you sat in his lap, his cock still rock hard and throbbing inside your wet cunt.

“Can’t wait to see these breasts filled with milk, gonna be such a good mommy, aren’t you?” he said before taking one of your tits in his mouth and sucking at it, as though he were trying to get you to produce milk already for him, and eventually his young, to feed on.

“Kyo, I– I’m sorry, but I’m not fertile, I– I’ve never been able to produce an heir with another man,” you sighed, and his eyes looked up to meet yours. “I’m really sorry, it’s why I was thrown down here in the first place” you continued, hoping your words wouldn’t anger him.

Instead of becoming angry, he simply placed you back down on the fur pelts and brought your legs up towards your shoulders so that you were folded completely in half. He then crouched over you, keeping you locked in a mating press with him.

“I’m no simple man, my dear human,” he kissed your lips, “if I say I will breed you and fill you with my young–” he paused, thrusting deeply into your cunt.

“–I mean every single word.”

Kyojuro started fucking into you with renewed fervor, his stamina seemingly having increased despite already releasing inside of you once. His cock reached deeper inside of you, and you could swear you felt him all the way in your throat. Every single thrust of his hips had you a whining mess, taking his knot until your pussy molded into the shape of his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it, take it all,” he groaned before pressing his mouth to yours once more. His tongue plunged past your lips – prompting you to suck on it, causing him to fall over the edge again, his hips stilling as he pumped a second load of cum into your needy cunt. You whined as he didn’t stop – continuing to fuck into your abused cunt despite cumming twice, his cock still stiff and leaking with every thrust. You felt his seed sloshing around in your womb, feeling so incredibly full by both his cum and his fat cock.

“Mine,” he growled while pumping himself into you, “you’re fucking mine.”

You could only nod and whine in response, having been completely fucked dumb by his cock.

“Pregnant.” He pummeled his cock deep into your cunt, “getting you pregnant. Fuck. Gonna have a round belly filled with my young, tits swelling with milk, I’ll keep you here – gonna be the mother to my children, gonna treat mommy so well, hunt for you, protect you, everything you could ever want.”

You moaned, your cunt clenching around his cock upon listening to his promises.

“Wan’ it,” you managed, “wan’ to be a good mommy so– fuck– so bad.”

Kyojuro groaned, his cock twitching inside of you as it swelled even more. “Can’t stop thinking of my young suckling on your breasts, tits producing so much milk that all of them have their fill– shit, gonna cum again, gonna fill you up– fuck!”

He spilled into you once more, filling your cunt up completely with his seed, ensuring that it takes, making good on his promise. His fingers flicked at your clit and your own orgasm came crashing down around you, pure euphoria flowing through your veins as you let out a silent scream from the seemingly endless waves of pleasure addling your mind.

Kyojuro rolled over and had you collapse on top of him, his arms reaching around your torso and holding you close.

“Did you mean what you said? About wanting to stay?” he whispered, slight insecurity being carried through his tone.

You gave him a quick peck to his lips, “yes, Kyojuro, you– you’ve been so kind to me, much more than anyone else in that damned village. I’d love to stay with you.”

He smiled softly at you, his eyes glowing with warmth as he cradled your head into his neck, petting at your hair as the two of you fell asleep next to the flickering bonfire.

—

A few months had passed, and you were waiting for your lover to return from his hunt. He had promised a large meal today, and you were excited to see what he had planned for the two of you.

You rubbed your baby bump as you cozied up next to the fire, resting in a heap of animal furs which acted as bedding for the two of you. You were surprised to find out that you were pregnant, but Kyojuro had sensed it about a month after you two had first met, and proceeded to treat you as though every step you took turned the rocks beneath your feet into gold.

The bump was rather large for only being a few months in, and your breasts were already swelling and leaking with milk, but Kyojuro had told you that it was normal – considering that his young would be half-jötunn. He quelled your fears of labor, saying that he would help you in every way that he possibly could when it came time to have the baby.

After a few hours, Kyojuro came back to the cavern, carrying your meal over his shoulder.

“How is my love doing?” he asked with the biggest smile on his face, causing you to giggle as you attempted to get up to greet him. Kyojuro rushed over to you, ensuring that you don’t so much as lift a finger while carrying his young. He leaned down and gave you a soft kiss before dragging your meal to the bonfire and beginning to cook it.

“Mmh– Kyo? Could you help me a little bit, my tits feel so swollen,” you pouted, and his ears damn near perked up at your words.

“Oh? Does mommy need some relief?” he asked teasingly, and you nodded. Kyojuro walked over to you and knelt down, his hands reaching to massage your breasts slowly. He kneaded them and licked at the milk which dribbled out, letting it coat over his tongue. His lips wrapped around one of your tits, and he sucked slowly, moaning as he drank from you. You whined when he moved to the other tit and performed the same actions, relief sinking in the more he suckled the milk out of you.

“Taste so good, pretty girl,” he whispered before getting up again to cook the meat he brought in.

You pouted again, “need you, Kyo, please,” and he laughed.

“You can have me after we eat, does that sound okay?” he compromised, and you sighed but nodded in agreement.

You laid back and rested upon the pile of furs, smiling in contentment as you looked at the two meals that were set out before you.

“I love you, Kyo,” you admitted, unashamed by your feelings as they echoed throughout the cavern.

Kyojuro froze, glancing back at you briefly before continuing to prepare the food, trying his best to hide the blush that traveled across his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“I love you, too, my little flame.”

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Text

To Be Alive In Summer

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Betrayal had never been in your cards, and you definitely didn't see yourself being the one responsible for the act. When having to go undercover, first comes the problem of staging your death.

WORDCOUNT: 8.3k

WARNINGS: Angst, betrayal, intense gore, violence, death, allusions to intimacy, weapons, vulgar language, recovery, torture, happy ending, etc.

A/N: The final request is finished, hope you enjoy it @l-inkage! Onto the AUs next.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You didn’t want to do it, but in this job, comfort was always an option and never a guarantee. It needed to be done. And that meant sacrifices had to be made to the dark altar of your contract with One-Four-One.

But this one just might break you in the process.

“Are you sure that,” you pause and think over the instructions that Price had just given you—straight from the top of the line. “Are you sure that this is the best way, Sir?”

The man’s lips are flat, eyes narrowed, he doesn’t like this either—especially if you don’t. John’s a Captain, he tallies out orders and expects people to listen without hesitation; doesn’t express his worry about their safety because that isn’t what this is about at the end of the day. It’s about keeping the good people outside of bases like these alive and breathing.

And right now that hinged on you being dead.

“Berto needs mercenaries,” Price grunts, “and any record of you needs to be wiped before we send you in.”

Vito Berto—head of a crime family that had been picking up traction in recent years, so much so that One-Four-One had to be put on it for covert reconnaissance before any more people ended up dead.

You would be sent in under the cover of an experienced mercenary; one among the ranks that Berto would need for a hostile takeover planned in three months on the Palace of Westminster in London. The House of Parliament.

Vito was one cocky son of a bitch if he expected no one to get word of this.

Your job was to uncover the exact date, time, and the mission plan before getting out as quickly as possible. In order to do that, the soldier holding your name needed to be dead so nothing could be traced back to you, your task force, or your loved ones.

And people needed to believe it.

“Can’t the records just be forged, Sir?” You ask, the meeting room dark and pulsing with the cold air from the vents. “What about Gaz and Soap?” Your throat closes for a moment and you speak slightly lower. “Simon?”

Price sighs and crosses his arms, fixing the stance of his feet.

“They’ll deal with it.” Inside of your pockets, your hands twitch.

He won't. Not inwardly.

“I…” your jaw clenched.

Your relationship with Ghost was…strange. You’d both had your fun, of course, and you had a casual air about that sort of thing—it had happened, but nothing more could ever come of it. There was a modicum of soft care with you two; an acknowledgment of partnership in the field and out of it.

You didn’t have to explain to people that Ghost was closer to you than others. You’d seen his face; that says enough.

“It needs to look real,” Price explains, tilting his head down to you. “Not only for Laswell's state of mind but yours. I won’t be putting you in without giving you the best chance.”

“You can’t tell them?”

“Negative. Security measure.” You frown, biting at your lip.

John closes his eyes and shakes his head. A second later a hand is set on your shoulder and the man leans in slightly to reassure you like a relative. You look up into your Captain’s gruff face, seeing the small amount of care he levels into his cerulean irises for you.

He squeezes your flesh, watching hard.

“We need you for this, Trick.” The nickname was exactly why you were the only one who could do this.

You were the first choice. No one was better at undercover work.

“How long would I be gone, Price?” Shifting out of the hold, you cross your arms and level him with a dead stare. “How long do they have to live with this lie?”

John grunts. “Less than three months, yeah? But all of it’s up to how long it takes to gather intel. Full black.”

“Exfil point?”

“Town five miles from Berto’s estate. Cafe with a red door near the bookstore. Woman inside’ll be your handler.” You turn away to glare at the far wall, hesitant even when you know you shouldn't be. This was your job.

Brown eyes keep flashing behind your eyes—a skeletal mask that stares with stained glistening blood, blood you yourself feel reflected on your own visage. A shared damning of two people who would never see those great halls of the afterlife. Neither of you are good.

Simon had to understand.

The Captain sees the shift in your expression.

“You in?” He asks you with a blank look.

You take a deep breath, chest heavy and heart hurting. “I don’t like it,” your voice is low, monotone. “But, yeah, Sir, I’m in.”

“Good,” the man nods, hooking his thumbs into his belt. “It’ll happen in three days. Be ready.”

You watch him walk out of the room, patting you on the shoulder one last time before the door shuts behind him with a click of finality that pierces your lungs. You clear your throat and swallow down saliva, turning your face away as if ashamed.

It’s the quiet that gets to you in that moment—the encompassing nothingness. So often you would have moments like these with Simon. Just sitting; not taking. But this silence was so different.

This was betrayal.

After you steady the slight tremor in your hands, you scoff and shake your head backing up a step before leaving the room; turning off the lights.

You walk down the long hallway, feet heavy as your mind runs, and overhead the lights buzz like flies. Eyes stuck to the floor, your shoulders are hunched in with thought and your lids half-closed in a display of obvious inner turmoil.

The shadow that waits for you, leaning against the wall, you walk past entirely—missing it and not hearing the confused call of your name behind you because of it.

“Trick!” Your hand comes up to itch at your chin, fingers pushing into your flesh. The aggressive Manchester accent slides off of you until large fingers curl into the back collar of your vest rig.

You breathe in sharply, blinking in surprise as your feet get pulled back a step or two, pace halting as Ghost curls around your body, staring down at you. His brows are narrowed, that mask still on and the bottom fabric twisted in the obvious downward press of his lips.

“Bloody hell is wrong with you, then?”

Sighing, you scowl and shake him off of you, moving back to allow yourself some air. Did he really have to show up now? Why was he even here, you had to ask yourself. Was he…waiting for you?

“Nothing,” you don’t look at him, speaking low. “Distracted, is all.”

Ghost crosses his arms slowly, his brows flinching briefly as he makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Meeting go well?”

“Fine.” He can tell something’s wrong; you know he can—he’s the best at interrogations for a reason. Ghost knows when someone is lying to him.

You glance at his chest before you begin to open your mouth.

What could telling him hurt? Just a hint. He’d get it—I know he would. Berto had the nickname ‘The Tanner,’ given to him by his men. When he found out anyone had double-crossed him, he’d take a large breaking knife and separate the thin layers of skin from his victims. Intel suggests he keeps them awake for all of it, stopping when they pass out only to start again when they wake back up.

If there was any leak in this base…any at all…you wouldn’t be coming back.

You wouldn’t be coming back to him.

Simon’s thighs shift.

“Talk to me.” He always speaks like he doesn’t care about the answer, but you’d be a fool this far into your… relationship? To believe that he didn’t. You’d seen Simon panic over your injured body before—it told you enough.

The easy moments and the side-eyed looks when he thought you didn’t notice or weren’t doing the same to him.

Your fingers twitch, forcing a smirk that didn’t convince even you. Your heart was telling you to explain it to him, but your brain was firmly set behind iron doors; tongue held back by iron tongs.

“Personal matters, Simon. Nothing you need to worry about, Big Guy.” He doesn’t look away from your eyes. Brows set in a line and that mask jeering at you; almost mocking.

The Lieutenant doesn’t answer and your heart is visible from under your gear.

“J-just,” you stutter, face getting hot as you look away. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s…”

Trailing off, you rub at the back of your head in a self-soothing motion.

Simon blinks slowly and you hear a large chest-rattling sigh. He shrugs in that way only he can—a fast jerk of shoulders that looks more like he’s trying to push off a bug than simply trying to move past what you’re saying to him.

“Doesn’t make a difference,” it does. “Garrick and MacTavish are waitin’ down at the firing range. Best get down there ‘fore one comes looking like a kicked dog.” You can still feel him digging into you. Knives and the suspicion in his tone.

You don’t want to do this to him. Not after all that you’ve gone through together.

“Right.” Your feet are moving before he is, planted into the floor and pushing off through the small pinches of electricity in the nerves. Pushing out a hard laugh, you try to send him a light smile. “Did you tell them to be ready to get their arses beat?”

Simon looks down at you as he walks beside your form in large steps; arms swinging. “Haven’t seen ‘em yet. Waiting for you.”

If it were possible to shrivel up from guilt, you’d be nothing but bones.

“O-oh,” you huff, but it sounds like all of the air has been expelled from your lungs. “You didn’t have to do that, y’know.”

Simon grunts, accent grating as he stares ahead. “Wanted to.”

“Good. That’s nice.” You feel like screaming. “Thank you.”

It’s nearly instantaneous how fast his eyes go dark with concern. “You sure that head of yours is on straight, Trick?”

You push open the doors outside and wonder if you even have the ability to answer him; out of everyone, you can’t lie to Simon.

“No,” your lips admit quietly, self-degrading in its own right.

A hand grabs you by the wrist and before you can slip out, you’re being pulled back into the building and pushed into a side room.

“Hey!” You shout, eyes flashing as the door is shut behind you. You’re released and the light is immediately turned on. “Simon, what the hell are you doing?”

“Enough,” he levels, and your arms are clasped so you’re facing his chest, looking up into his serious and hard gaze. “Fuckin’ speak to me.”

You’re surprised at how insistent he is about this.

“I’m not telling you anything,” you speak through stutters and he growls in his throat. His hands are like motel lava even under his gloves and above your skin—burning like a brand.

“What happened in that meeting room, Trick?”

“It’s classified,” you say, harder than intended, spitting the words with a hint of desperation. If not for your own safety, then for his, but you know that if he keeps asking then you’ll tell him the truth.

They were going to stage your death, and they won’t be making it pretty.

“Fuck classified,” he leans in closer, curling over you. “You’re acting like someone’s bloody taking you hostage.”

“Simon! It’s not—”

“Cut the bullshit!” You growl and try to shove away from him, struggling with glaring eyes that go sharp with the onset of tears. “Somethings got you worried and I wanna know what it is.”

Simon wasn’t the greatest at articulation, but neither were you.

You knew he was trying to tell you he was concerned. The man was holding you tight, but not hurting you; his face close and his shoulders wide. Along your face his eyes were darting, as if he could peel back your skin and make you explain what Price had told you.

The Captain had given the Lieutenant a look as he’d seen him waiting for you but had said nothing. That alone had tipped Ghost off to something being wrong.

But you weren’t having it.

Yanking out of Simon’s hands, you shake your head and put on your worst glare—meeting muddy brown and huffing.

“Mind your own business, Riley. It’s for your own good.” The man blinks in mute shock, fingers in the air twitching before they fall to his sides.

You speed-walk out of the room before he can speak, lips slightly parted at your strange behavior.

For his own good? What in the hell did that mean?

Simon’s jaw clenches, a grunt in his chest as he aggressively rolls his wrist. He turns to follow after. The both of you don’t talk for the rest of the day.

—

Your body shakes along with the helo as it takes off, carrying you away from the scene of gunfire down below. In your earpiece, you hear the loud calls and yelling from your friends. Gaz is calling out to Price to give him permission to move up; the Captain too busy grappling Soap to the ground.

Ghost is taking cover behind a wall, but he’s not quiet.

“Trick’s in the damn building!”

No, I’m not, you want to flick on the line and tell him. Over the three days before this operation you'd barely spoken—in fact, you’d been avoiding all of them fervently by the mass amount of guilt in your stomach.

In the nights, you hadn’t even slept, and now you’re sure it’ll take even longer too.

Their forms become tinier, and you grasp the roof’s handle as the helo rises farther and farther.

“Price!” Simon barks. “We have to get her—”

“There’s no time!” John responds, grunting and forcing Johnny down as he spits curses and tries to call your name over the comms. You flinch violently, looking away for a moment. “We’re surrounded!”

“I can get through!” Bullets wiz through the comms, and you can nearly imagine you are down there—trapped in the house down the way after being shot and injured by hosties. But you’d never been in that house. Never been alone down the way for recon.

You’d been at the second exfil point. Price knew it. Laswell knew it.

But Simon had not.

“Negative, Ghost! Keep where you are, we can get to her later. We need to—” The building you were supposed to be in explodes in a fiery wreck; a great bloom cloud going into the air as the helo shakes from the after-blast.

You have to turn your face away, shielding your eyes. The pilot calls to see if you’re alright, but you don’t answer. All you can hear is the screams.

“Trick!”

“Simon, get back into bloody cover!”

“Fucking Hell! Trick, answer me!” It gets too much—the bareness of his panic for you. The panting breath; the running stomp of feet.

You rip the connection from the radio on your vest and place a hand over your mouth, breathing as if you had really been in an inferno like a piece of fodder.

Simon had already been through so much in his life, and doing this to him as well as the task force was the definition of betrayal of the loyalty you’d cultivated.

Of the love.

Because you did love him—even if you’d never say it to each other. If he found out about what you did, which he would eventually, in one way or another, he’d hate you for the rest of his life. So perhaps you were mourning, as you stare below as the helicopter takes you higher and higher up. Farther away from him. You were mourning what you had, because you knew it would never be the same.

Simon Riley would never trust you again, and all you had to blame was yourself.

The tiny tears dribble out of you and fall all the way down to the ground, where the man still screams for you to answer him; John barks orders with a sheen of panic in his eyes from the bare-bones ferality of the Lieutenant. Brown eyes blazed and cities burned in his pupils.

John had underestimated the bond that the two of you shared.

And he just might pay the price for it.

—

Getting through selection was far easier than getting through SAS training, Vito Berto seemed to only want mercenaries that had the faintest hint of the ability to hold a smuggled weapon. It made sense because if the people he was planning to send in were well-trained, it would be easier to trace to him—ability equaled a higher level of intelligence. Planning. Resources.

To fit in, you made sure to miss a few of your shots, even if it made your instinctual perfectionism rise. John would have torn you a new one if you’d missed this many during your selection all those years back. Probably would have asked how a Muppet like you had gotten this far with shite aim like that.

But Berto ate it up like Sunday dinner. Gave you the nickname Cross, actually. Like the crosshair of a scope.

It was safe to say you despised him.

But the days grew longer and the nights short with all of your running around. You’d found out that your Captain’s timeline was incorrect—the attack wasn’t in three months, it was in two. And while Berto was cocky, he wasn’t reckless.

He somehow knew there was a breach in the ranks; you could see it by how he looked over the squads in the underground bunker, all of you hidden under rock and stone like prisoners. The man would sneer, eyes filtering back and forth from the perch.

Sometimes you had to stop yourself from simply taking the shot presented in front of you and deal with the consequences afterward.

Price had been clear: all of the people gathered here needed to be taken care of quickly and quietly—if you snapped, the rest would disappear like roaches. Alive and biding time.

During those two months, the thoughts of Simon wouldn’t leave you.

Moments that seeped in behind closed eyelids after you’d slunk back into bed, the USBs full of vital intel stashed into the lining of your uniform in a small hidden pocket. His twitching smile and those deep scars along his face; the ones that would never go away.

In those moments you wondered what it would be like if you had told him how much you cared for his quiet company or his dark humor. The way he would level a hand on the small of your back off duty at the bars as a way to silently shield you from the stares from patrons.

You’d never be able to tell him now.

Vito “The Tanner” Berto knew of a leak, and when you came back to the bunker after sending out the multiple USB sticks, the physical files, and the first-hand accounts of what was going on—eager for just a little more to make this betrayal worth it…he was waiting.

You could only fight off so many others, no matter how subpar the training on their part, before sheer mass overtook ability. Like a house of cards with a bowling ball, you were shoved to the ground surrounded by multiple dead bodies of those you’d taken down with you—writhing and hissing as if a feral animal.

Restraints were leveled with your wrists; your head pulled back so your nose faced the ceiling. You only stopped struggling when the chilled barrel of a pistol was set under your chin.

Breath stilling, it was hard to understand how, even then, all that was in the front of your mind was Simon. Simon and his brown eyes. Simon and his screams when that building went up in fire and smoke.

“Trick!”

You could still hear the exact pitch and rhythm like it was yesterday.

“Cross,” Berto mutters, gun heavy as it digs into your flesh. Men pant and grapple to keep you back as you sneer and jerk your arms. “I should have known it would be you.”

“Well,” you growl, teeth bared, “obviously you didn’t.”

A slow smirk runs on his lips.

“No, but I’ll have to rectify this. I can’t have you getting in the way.” You can only hope that the intel gets out before the end of the second month—if not, then all of this was for nothing.

Why couldn’t you have left when you had the chance?

“Fucking Hell! Trick, answer me!”

He was why.

Simon—the source of all of your problems and the only person who could fix them besides yourself. It’s a sick joke really.

Vito grabs your chin and you huff out a swift breath, heart skipping beats as he burrows his digits tightly into your skin; hard enough to leave marks. He sighs and clicks his tongue and you have to keep back a whimper as his nails create crescents along your jaw.

“You won’t tell me anything, will you, then?”

“Negative,” you spit, heated.

He scoffs. “Of course.”

Berto throws your head back as you try to snap out and bite at his hand, rabid, but the man’s already gone and the mercenaries behind you yank you back like a dog on a leash. Your knees slide along the floor and you rage trying to turn around before the others are forced to shove your face into the ground. There is a distinctive snapping in your nose bridge as the concrete comes up to meet you; the tears come instinctually after—unable to be stopped as you yell in pain.

Blood floods your nostrils and mouth, making you cough as Vito’s voice echoes in your ringing ears.

“Let me get my knives.”

—

They had you chained in some damp back room, the corners riddled with mold spores and the air heavy with condensation. You were tied to the ceiling—feet dangling uselessly below you and the tips of your boots dragging across the floor with a quiet scrape and a creak of metal.

Above you, on the hook, the chains were tied so ruthlessly that you’d lost circulation to your arms entirely, nothing but an electric buzzing far inside of your bones. Akin to the static of a TV screen in between connections. Your clothes had been shredded by blades—long sections of your flesh underneath, cut away.

Blood stains most, if not all, of the floor. It drips from your nose; it falls like rain to pool at your feet in rippling crimson.

Simon had been your partner during required interrogation training and he was far better at it than you. The man could go for hours through the mental strain that was leveled out by other soldiers on him; stoic and silent. It was the way his eyes would blank that told you he could live through far worse—that he already had. You’d had your fair share as well, but never before had you felt as hopeless as this.

There was a slim chance that anyone would come for you here. Laswell and Price would carry the guilt of it, but you didn’t want them to.

The blood slips over your lips, and the taste of copper makes you gag; spitting out saliva from your lips.

It was half your choice, after all.

You try to slip into a happy memory as the lights fade in and out, the footsteps and mutterings outside the door of little interest anymore.

ironic, that the man with the mask of a dead person brought you comfort when so little could.

You never got to tell him how much you loved him. A thin smile comes across your lips.

“Shouldn’t be out here this late,” the man utters as you lay out in the field, arms and legs splayed and twitching when the long grass brushes against them. “Past curfew.”

“Like you aren't out here with me?” You raise an eyebrow, looking up at the stars now that the large base lights have been dimmed. The air is cold, and the breeze makes you shudder through a chill. But you don’t wipe that smile from your lips. “Bit hypocritical, Simon.”

You hear a low grunt.

“Out ‘ere because you weren’t answering your damn door.” A shadow slips to your side, and the man settles down with a huff on his lips. Simon retired his combat mask for a simple balaclava instead, and he sighed long as he settled his arm on the bent form of his right leg.

You blink over at him, raising a brow.

“Looking for me, Ghosty?”

“Bloody hell, Trick.” You chuckle, shifting your arms to rest on your chest as you look back at the stars far above.

“Oh, it’s alright, Big Guy.” The man shakes his head. “I won’t tell anyone you’re going soft for me.”

“I’m not.”

“You definitely are.”

“Trick, I’m tellin’ you to—”

“Shh!” You wave a hand in his direction, silencing him and making him blink at you in deep annoyance and confusion. Ghost’s eyes were narrowed, the black of his face paint gone and smelling like standard issue body wash.

He must have gotten out of the shower and come to see if you were still awake before making his way outside when you never answered the door. Funny how he knew where you would be.

“Fucking what, then?” He growls, shoulders wide.

You place a finger to your ear, shifting so you’re sitting up on one elbow and facing Simon. On your face, a wide smile lingers, but on his, the dark brows narrow with knowledge of a deceitful event incoming. “Listen.”

A silence falls, Simon’s ears twitching for something in the long grass or across the field. Nothing. Nothing but the breeze and the way your face glowed as you watched him, eyes glinting with amusement.

After a long minute or two, he looks at you with utter bewilderment. You lean in closer, poking a finger into his bicep.

“Can you hear it, Simon?” You’re one of the few he lets call him that, though never in public.

He glares. “No.”

You flutter your digits in the air, giggles trapped in your mouth. A whisper hits the Lieutenant’s ears. “Silence.”

“Bugger off,” he hisses as you reel back and belt out laughter, holding your sides and lightly curling into yourself. “You’re worse than Johnny. Jesus.”

“Aww, c’mon!” You let your laughter die down to chuckles, sanctity of night broken, but not so between the two individuals who look at each other with brimming affection none will name.

“You’re the one that came to find me, remember?” Your tease makes Ghost roll his eyes, looking away across the open area with its wave-like grasses.

“You’re right, then, I did,” Simon grunts, his hand coming up to rub his neck. “Mistake on my part.”

“Jerk,” a soft slap is leveled to his arm and he chuckles deeply. “But you can’t fool me, Ghosty. I know you’ll always come lookin’ for me—I’m too important to you to lose.”

“Keep kiddin’ yourself, Trickster.” He doesn’t say how he would agree with the statement, it was true after all. “I won’t be dragged into your bloody messes.”

He wouldn’t leave you behind to drown in them, even if it was as simple as you sneaking out of your bunk to watch the stars.

You’d both known each other too long for that.

You smile over at him as he sighs before slipping off his mask, itching at his stubble with hard fingers. The air settles. No comment about it entering in on the see-through waves—there didn’t need to be one.

“Mhm,” you hum, beaming. “You keep thinking that, Big Guy.”

“Trick!” Your memory shifts, and you sit up immediately. You’d thought you’d just heard…

Eyes dart out over the field, jumping back and forth rapidly. You look to the side, but Simon is gone entirely.

“Simon?” Heart beating, you stand fully up and turn in a fast circle, confusion and fear infecting your mind.

“Trick!” Pain sparks in your body, and you hiss and grab at your clothes. You blink so fast that you half-believe the world is ending.

“S-Simon?!” What was happening? What was hurting so bad? Where did Simon go?

“Trick, fucking wake up!”

Your eyes snap open and you instantaneously feel the burning pain inside of your ribs.

The ground is underneath you, hard and wet from your own blood as you yowl and cough, air entering your lungs in quick bursts.

Hands encase your cheeks, shaking your head—keeping you present.

A skeletal mask littered with droplets of human fluid stares down at you, and behind it, panicked brown eyes slash through your psyche in the small moment between agony and confusion.

Simon?

“Holy hell.” It’s that same Manchester accent. The same scrape of vocal cords. “Alright, Sweetheart. Keep those eyes open—keep ‘em on me, yeah?”

What was going on? You try to open your mouth to say something but all of it is lead. Were your ribs broken? How? And why was Simon’s bottom covering pushed up to his nose; his lips stained with blood?

The man frantically goes to press into his radio.

“This is Bravo 0-7,” he breathes, and you whimper as your throat gets clogged with congealed saliva and blood. You cough violently, gagging, and Ghost quickly turns you on your side to help you expel it. His hand is hard on your shoulder.

“I say again, this is Bravo 0-7!” Those browns never leave you, shocked and serious. “Price, I’ve got ‘er. It’s not good; had to revive but I don’t know how long she’s got.”

Revive? You’re spacing in and out, limp, and trying to breathe.

Simon tears open his medical pouch and begins wrapping tourniquets—packing the wounds with gauze until you can get proper medical treatment on the helo back to base.

“Bloody…” he trails, Price barking an order over the connection to bring you out; the firefight was moving to the East to give him an opening to sneak back out. “C’mon, Trick.”

Everything swims; you want to go back to that field—those stars.

Simon was here? Truly? The thought was hard to understand in your state.

“S-Sim—” Your voice gurgles, and you can’t feel your legs. You had to tell him. Tell him the good and the bad; all of it.

“Don’t talk,” he growls, moving you as your body seizes in a state of static shock. “I’m getting you out of ‘ere.” You’re lifted up in one grand movement, Simon grunting as he shifts you carefully into a bridal hold. “Then you’re going to explain this to me when you’re squared. Won’t take no for an answer.”

You could feel the anger sizzling off of him even half-conscious. The mixing emotions that convulsed into a mess of adrenaline and desperation. Forcing your eyes to stay open, you blink up at him as he glances down at you at the same time, just before he exits the door he had broken down.

The visible skin of his lips and chin tighten; going down with the twitch of with a serious frown. Something flutters behind his eyes as he stares before glancing away and clearing his throat.

“Eyes on me, Trickster. Don’t you dare close ‘em.” You grimace as he begins jogging, heavy boots echoing along the empty corridor as the sounds of gunfire and pandemonium sound off from the other side of the bunker.

It was hard to push back the black at the sides of your vision; already it was seeping back in. Ghost holds you tight, unwilling to even let you slip an inch from his grip as the lights above swirl, brightening and dimming.

“Oi!” You’re jostled, and you snap back to it, tensing as your wounds flex and pull. Simon glares. “What’d I just say?”

Your weakly poisoned grimace makes his lips twitch up.

“Good.”

There’s the sudden flick of a safety being clicked off, and the Lieutenant halts in a jerking of feet and a ruffle of canvas.

“I’ve heard about a Ghost making his rounds, hm?” Berto stands at the end of the hall, pistol held in front of him. “I saw an apparition disappearing to find one of its own. No worries. She’ll be a ghost, too, soon enough. Perhaps I’ll have to put you both to rest together.”

The voice makes you go panicked, remembering the tear of flesh and the sharp blades slicing your skin away, chunks that peeled, and the long stripes of flexible tendons. Your lungs fight for breath, your head weakly slapping into Simon’s neck after an attempt to move your body. Limbs shake and battle nerves; the fabric of your brain.

Your blood stains the man’s gear all the way down the front. It’s dripping to the floor, down his arms and off his elbows. You’re bathing him in it—a full-body baptism of betrayal.

“Berto,” Ghost says, accent casual despite the gun leveled at him. The name is drawn out. “Apologies, but I’m taking back what’s mine.” He tilts his head. “Scratch that, I’m not apologizing for getting back on a Bastard like you, eh? Pity I can’t hang you up like a hog, I’m proper good with a blade too, but as you can see, I’m on a crunch.”

Vito’s face goes confused, skin scrunching. “What—”

The bang of a bullet being discharged echoes down the way. The clatter of a great expulsion of air from lungs. Stumbling. Gargles.

The slam of a body to the ground.

Smoke spreads up from under the clutch of your knees, where Ghost holds the abyssal body of an M19 forward, his finger lightly on the trigger before he shifts it back in well-practiced discipline.

“Slag,” he spits.

Simon hikes you farther into him, lending over his available body heat as you shiver. He presses his face into the top of your head, sighing in relief before starting his pace again. The man’s lips brush your flesh as your lids flutter.

“Still with me?” You whine into his neck, fingers twitching. “I know it hurts, Love. I know. Easy with it.”

It didn’t just hurt, it burned. Buried like the nine layers of Hell.

He keeps whispering to you, slinking around corners and stepping into shadows. By the time he makes it outside with you, the chill of the air on the bottom of his face he didn’t even bother to re-cover, you’re tapering on the edge of oblivion again.

Teetering like a porcelain doll on the end of the high shelf.

“Bravo 0-6, leaving the bunker now, I need that MedEvac prepped and ready to go,” Simon speaks quickly, not wasting a single instant.

John’s voice wafts through. “Copy, 0-7. Helo is comin’ in, be ready it’s going to get hot!”

“Affirm. Keep it frosty down ‘ere.” There’s a low chuckle and the swift wizz of bullets.

“Get our Trickster back in one piece, Ghost.” Simon hears the buzzing of helicopter blades in the night, a slick form descending from the dark clouds not moments later. He turns away from the flurry of air, walking hurriedly backward so the air doesn’t aggravate you.

“Trick,” Ghost calls to you above the noise, hearing the hurried feet of medics coming out to take you from him. Your face is scrunched and you burrow into him. “I’m handing you over!”

You try to open your eyes enough to convey your unease at that. You have to tell him. You have to explain why you had to do it. The guilt is eating you; gnawing with red teeth and gripping with devil’s claws. You have to explain that you love him even if he hates you now.

Medics grapple you away, and you are in pain, lips peeling back to gasp sharply, thrashing.

No!

“Fuck,” Ghost growls, pulling you away from the men as they ask him what in the bloody hell he’s doing. He doesn’t even know—all he knows is that he’s pissed at you for what you did, but never in a million years did that mean he wanted to see you in pain.

Simon can’t lie, when he was told you were alive, the universe had held its breath. A miracle. A ruse. But alive. Alive and trapped.

“Stop it!” He yells, caging you into him. “I’m here! I’m right here, Trickster!”

You’re already too gone for it, not recognizing the metal of the helo as you’re settled on your back, the loud slam of the door. Fingers pull and prob as you hiss and snap, suffocating.

Ghost holds down your shoulders, his eyes right above yours—but you’re not looking. The helo takes off

“Bloody hell,” Simon yells. “Look at me!”

You don’t know what compels you to do so, but your eyes open just the slightest bit wider. Brown melts into your pupils, taking you in and reminding you of chilled summer nights. Simon. You pant but stop struggling.

The medics jump into action, ripping away the remains of your shirt and pants so they can get to the wounds; assess the damage done.

“That’s it,” Simon sighs long, swallowing. “That’s a girl. There we go, Sunshine.”

You blink, face peeled as everything swirls far more aggressively this time.

“Listen to me, Trick. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, you understand. You said I’d always find you, yeah?” Hands grab your cheeks. “Well, I fucking did, eh? I found you. We’re gonna fix you up, Sweetheart. It’ll all be gone by morning.” You stutter down a breath, ragged throat stretching.

“Let ‘em fix you up—”

“I love you.”

It all fades to black, but all you remember is the sweep of horror that spreads behind the man’s eyes.

—

“You went back,” Price’s arms are crossed, and he stares at you as your fingers play with the sheets of the hospital bed. “Why?”

You sigh and rub at your face.

“Trick.”

“I felt like I needed to,” you give away, twitching your fingers out in an expression of nonchalantness. “I felt…” Your voice trailed off into a growl. “Bad.”

“Feelings aren’t a part of this, Trickster, you bloody know that,” John hisses, leaning his head closer as you glare silently. “If you’d left when you could, none of this would have fucking happened.”

“I feel bad, Price!” You break, snapping. “I fucking know! But I-I thought if I just got a bit more intel, then this would have been worth it.” Taking a deep breath you shake your head and rub at your face, all of the bandages and stitches pulling tight. “It’s eating at me. I can’t…I can’t just act like what I lied about can be forgotten.”

You shrug as the man listens silently, monitors beeping and the small buzz of the overhead lights.

“Soap barely looks at me—Gaz gave me that fucking pity smile and it makes me want to scream.”

“They’ll get over it.” The Captain repeats what he said months prior firmly. “They know the Op was top priority, they’ll grow up and be back to fucking around in days.”

You scoff, muttering in a dejected tone. “He won’t.”

John is still, fixing his feet from under him as he rolls his nose and looks away slowly.

Simon hadn’t come to visit once in the time you’d been here in the ward—four days. That fact alone makes you restless. You don’t remember what you said to him, if you said anything. But you knew that he wasn’t going to be going out of his way to be near you anymore.

You’d taken a grenade to the relationship you’d built. Toy building blocks are scattered.

“Simon’s…Simon,” Price ends on. You groan and itch at the IV in your hand. “He cares about you more than anyone, yeah? He just needs time. Wasn’t himself after the set-up.”

“I’ve been told,” Gaz had informed you about the Lieutenant's self-isolation after your ‘death’. The snappy orders—deathly glares. He’d gone back to the ruthless man he was in the field and instead of being directed at his enemies, it was directed at them.

Kyle explained how he’d argued with Price about how he could have gotten to you, before abruptly falling silent and stalking away as if a flip had been switched. Snake eyes and clenched fists.

They’d heard him in the gym late at night, reaming on the punching bags. They didn’t think he slept more than three hours per day if the red lines in his eyes were anything to go by.

And then they were told that you were alive but captured, and he’d gotten worse.

You’d nearly started sobbing when the Sergeant had told you all of that.

“I betrayed his trust, Price,” you level. “I…I never wanted to do that to him. Ever. Not Simon.”

A shadow passes by the door just as the Captain grunts. “That’s the job.”

“That’s not the job I signed up for when I got into this. We don’t lie to our own.”

“‘We get dirty, the world—’” You cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘stays clean’.” Your eyes level with his. “I can do the dirty work, John, you know that. Infiltration and undercover work is what I’m good at.” The man nods slightly. “But if you ask me to betray One-Four-One’s trust again, I’m out.”

Blue eyes blink in shock, but you don’t let him speak.

“Find someone else to get fake blown up in a building. I can’t get his fucking screams out of my head.” John watches you silently, eyes narrowed.

You meet that gaze head-on, not backing down from this.

The Captain shakes his head a minute later. “Bloody made for each other,” he mutters under his breath, grunting. Another shadow slips past going the opposite direction, probably a nurse.

Without another word John turns and exits the room, tossing a hand behind his head casually in a way to say goodbye.

You huff and roll your eyes, heat on your cheeks.

The day wains, and you let the nurses come in to do their checkups and replace the IV. As the curtains are pulled back into place, supper sits heavy in your stomach.

You wanted to see Simon.

You knew it wouldn’t go well, and wouldn’t be the goody-goody outcome you prayed for…but you felt wrong without apologizing in person. It went against your morals, and already those were incredibly skewed. Maybe he’d yell, or even ignore you as if you weren’t there.

Simon wasn’t above not speaking to people he didn’t like.

You had to try.

When all was dark, you shuffled out of the hospital bed and fought the weakness of your legs. Shaking like a leaf, you walked around with only your tied gown, unapologetic of the slit down the back showing flashes of your bra and underwear.

It wouldn’t be anything the Lieutenant hadn’t seen before.

Walking through the silence, you sigh and stand outside of his door; dread in your heart and seeping from the pulled stitches of your wounds. Your bare feet on the tile make you shiver.

Lifting up a fist, you hesitate.

Your hand hovers over the wood, sliding forward before you pull it back to you. Closing your eyes tight, you clench your jaw once and take a deep breath.

Knock-knock-knock. Knock-knock.

The sequence was your call sign. If you knocked like that, he would know it was you—whereas Simon's own was just a single slam of the side of his fist.

The only real problem now was that he wasn’t answering.

You stare dumbly at the barrier, blinking like a fool. It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to understand the realization that he wasn’t ignoring you—he just wasn’t in his room.

Taking a step back, you rub the back of your neck in exasperation and hurry to the nearest exit.

“Of course,” you breathe. You know exactly where he is at a time like this.

The field holds a standing shadow, a ghost of issued fatigues with a thick jacket against the chill that leaves you shivering. Simon stares out over the training grounds with his hands in his pockets, balaclava pulled all the way down to hide him from you.

You come to a slow halt behind him and stare.

It’s not long before the man gunts, turning his head back from over his shoulder to look at you blankly. He knew you were there.

The eye contact stays for a long, long while—until you’re hypnotized in the shades of brown and amber and the large build that seems to broaden because of your appearance.

“I’m here to apologize.” You say it breathlessly. “I’m not asking you to hear me out, but I have to let you know I regret doing it. Price said that it was time-sensitive and I—”

Stopping yourself, you look away. It sounded too much like an excuse, you hissed to yourself. At the end of the day, it was still your acceptance that pushed the pawn forward.

“I’m sorry, Simon,” you breathe. “I betrayed your trust.”

His eyes are piercing you, but you still can’t look at him. The man slightly turns your way. His voice was monotone and grunting out like a dog.

“You think I couldn’t handle it?” Your heart starts, and you’re shaking your head instantly.

“No.” You explain quickly—honestly. “It’s that…I didn’t want you to.”

You hear his lips take in a quiet breath. Simon rolls his shoulders before looking away from you. Nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

“You said you loved me.” Your body freezes, jaw going slack as your face drops. You don’t speak, mute as if the air in your lungs has been stolen.

You had done…what?

All of your tricks couldn’t get you out of this one.

“I,” you force a fake laugh, hands beginning to shake. “I, what? No, I’m sure that’s not what I said. A-are you sure it wasn’t, like, an ‘I appreciate you’ or maybe a…a,” your voice catches. “A whole ‘I’m fond of you’ sort of thing…? Hm?”

Simon takes a step forward and you take one back. This was worse than torture, you decided. The pain in your pulling stitches and re-set nose was welcome here.

“Trick,” Ghost utters, and you stare hard at his neck, humming. “Stop talking.”

“Copy,” you whisper quickly, shoulders falling.

He’s so close you can feel his body heat melting into you, and you want nothing more than to touch him. Simon’s hand comes up to your chin, and he angles it up as you stop breathing, lips parted.

“I heard you in the med ward talkin’ to Price. Was outside the door the ‘ole time.” The shadow.

He tilts your head to the side to stare at the medical tape over the slashes in your skin. The scars won’t bother you—you had plenty of others to show as well. But Simon was…studying you. Assessing.

His eyes blink slowly with those long pale lashes, and they slide up to you as he leans in close to your ear. Still, you stand comatose.

“You put me through a fucking heap ‘o hurt, Love.” You stare over his shoulder, not speaking, not moving.

Simon leans back and lets go of your chin, brushing a finger over your nose and the puffy skin there.

“Never do that again.” It’s final, how he says it. But the layers of depth are plain to hear. Simon speaks low and even—gaze trapping yours like a curse.

You know he won’t talk about the things you’ve heard. The aggression or the late-night gym trips. You’ve known him for years, and know his brain like the back of your hand.

Shivering, you nod once, content with not answering verbally to break the sanctity of the moment. Seeing Simon like this made you ease your fears. You clear your throat to push back the stuffiness.

“Thought you held grudges, Big Guy?” Nearly not heard, you mutter and pick at where the IV needle is supposed to be.

A hand catches yours and stops you from making it bleed.

“Do,” Ghost grumbles, turning your hand over and moving his face closer until you feel his breath. “Just not with my Bird.”

His balaclava is suddenly up to his nose, and those lips that had been covered in your blood previously situated themselves perfectly to yours.

You gasp, arm outstretched beside you in shock.

You’d kissed him before, but this felt different. More intimate. Simon’s arms slip around your waist, and you retaliate by locking your shaking arms behind his back, feeling the gentle passes of his lips.

Mouth to mouth, you breathe each other in as if grasping for the other’s soul in desperation. A desperation that tells you how much the beast of a man around you was terrified of your death and the body he had to carry into the helo—of the lengths he would go to stave death from touching your tender flesh.

No, only he was allowed to do that, and he was a reaper in his own right.

A small death that infected you at every breath puffing into your mouth, every whine and whimper he could draw like water to swallow down as ambrosia. Nectar of the Gods, and it was right there in his arms. Back. Alive.

To be alive in the summer field of this old military base was to accept that death, and into it, hope that the few moments you had together truly made a difference.

Simon would hold you there—and when that was done, wrap you in his jacket and carry your battered body back inside; watching your swollen lips and the wide eyes as they gaze back at him.

Because he could hate you all he wanted for this, for the lies, for the way you made him care…but the both of you would still be alive to do so.

He guessed that was all that mattered.

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