#I just want to have some balance so I can spend time w the people I love and still have time to write | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sluttybwunni · 1 year

Text

a pirates greed (m)

[send me requests i like them]

masterpost : recent

pairing : afab!reader x monkey d. luffy

✸ ... synopsis: after saving an entire country, luffy just needs his favourite stress reliever all to himself

wc: 3.6k

warnings : established relationship, porn w minimum plot, post-wano luffy being a whore !!! absolutely rough nasty nd animalistic, unprotected (cmon yall know better), petty argument, faded law, reader is a lil mean, your captain just loves eating you out! use of devil fruit (canon), creampie, drool kink, luffy has a lip ring, overstimulation, mention of blood, praise kink (both parties), cumplay, semi-public, oral (m rec)

getting severe brain rot from just thinking about how needy and greedy luffy would be during a post-battle victory banquet...

especially after how nicely that black dress outlined your ass.

he just wants to put his hands all over you, but nami's banned him from any physically exerting activity, including dancing since he's still recovering from the damage he took.

poor guy almost begged to have himself buried in your sopping cunt, whimpering and gasping under you because he's been so stressed after all that fighting!

it's only right you help your boyfriend release all that pent-up energy right?

but to his dismay you were busy with traffy, his tattooed hands tracing over the thin fabric of your dress as you two danced.

"damn him." luffy chanted in his head continuously, wishing you'd stop focusing on law and pay attention to him instead.

your captain worked so hard to defeat kaido.. so why are you smiling and spending time with law instead? that's not fair. you should be rewarding luffy with your touch for being so strong all the time, no?

he couldn't even hear zoro's drunken babbling as he fixated his eyes on the two of you from his table. luffy thought it was too polite of you to let law touch you like that... way too polite. no longer able to deal with the ache in his shorts. though what made his heart palpitate the most was how the both of you seemed to be having a jolly fun time. he grazes his teeth over his lips, excusing himself from his best friend before stumbling towards the dance floor to reach you and law.

"actually i already rolled some spliffs, we can go outside n hit some right now if you'd like," law said with a deep chuckle, gazing at you with his half-lidded eyes. "go do that with your side, look he's starin' at you as i speak." you joke, nodding your head in the direction of kidd as law harshly exhales, rolling his eyes."fffucking hell will you drop that? i was zooted outta my mind when i said.." your conversation gets cut short when you feel pair of hands other than law's snake around your waist from behind.

you momentarily freeze— only to find relief when you hear luffy's voice. he's clinging onto you, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. the threads of his strawhat slightly bent against your skin as luffy pressed himself closer; hiding the stony expression on his face. “(name).. you've been dancin' with traffy the whole time. it's annoying.” luffy whined against your earlobe. your captain continued to press and grind his body against you, something hard rubbing against your ass.

"i know luffy.. but me and law haven't properly hung since we left zou." you responded as luffy lifted his head from the warmth of your body to send law a glare while you both tried keeping balance on the floor as the surrounding crowd of people continued dancing. "so (name)-ya you coming? strawhat can tagalong if he wants." law spoke, putting his hands in his pockets as he glanced towards the exit.

"w--"

“nuh uhn..” luffy shook his head before you could even respond, his face wincing in a grimace.

"luffy, i—"

"no."

"you're supposed to rest lu.. you're still recovering" you softly exhaled, turning in his grip so you could face him. "well ya could've just stuck around me. ion like that you spent time with tra-guy in the first place." luffy continues whining, his voice growing annoyed and impatient.

he seemed restless, his breath uneven. "also ya promised you'd only dance with me." you giggled, scanning the way his pretty lips formed a pout, eyebrows furrowed in disappointment. “don't worry, it won't happen again lu, you're still my number one dance partner.. and i spent all day with you yesterday, n the day before.” you respond, letting another giggle leave your lips.

but luffy doesn't find it funny, he slowly loosens his grip on your waist— tossing his lip ring through his teeth as his obsidian eyes look into yours. "this is the thing with you, ya don't keep your promises (name)." he mutters his voice going a little deeper causing your smile to fall. wait.. huh?

"what's that even mean?" you retort. luffy's feeling all sorts of emotions right now.. but he can't tell why his breath is so shaky, or why his heart was feeling heavy. he'd been so stressed over the past few weeks, the pent-up anger was possibly getting to him.

“you keep breaking ya promises! thats what it means.” luffy snaps. for a second his eyes soften after he realizes he raised his voice, but he doesn’t move from his position, hands still on your waist. law, witnessing the sudden quarrel— decides to walk off leaving the two of you alone.

the tension between you felt heavy. "the fuck? luffy since when have i broken any of our promises. me and law well, dancing just.. happened. it didn't even mean anything we're friends." now you were getting agitated. "that's not even the main problem.." he muttered, luffy's gaze eats you up— and the glint in his eyes almost speak a magnitude of unsaid words.

"..i'm YOUR boyfriend (name), ya didn't like when hancock was all over me so why—" "can you stop bringing that bitch up??" you knew it wasn't great of you to dance with law all while your boyfriend was watching you, but you didn't think it'd be that big of a problem. you trace your hands over his— removing them as you angrily turn around to stride away. but you can never really get away from a man with the power to stretch, so luffy beats you to wherever you thought you were walking off to, stretching his arm and pulling your body back towards him.

“m’sorry… i— (name) i'm just feelin stressed right now. can you please just...” luffy rasps in a softer tone trailing off as his arms cage you. you stay silent for a couple of moments, trying to process the exchange of words you shared seconds ago. but the more he presses your back against him, the more you feel the stiffness between his legs. you don't quite know what to say, so you turn 180 degrees to press a hot kiss against his lips.

luffy's taken aback by the suddenness, but that doesn't stop him from enjoying it. he returns what you gave to him passionately. pulling you even closer, as if he's wanting to get completely lost in the kiss. you hum against his lips when luffy swivels his hips, grinding his dick against your inner thighs.

he seems so eager, so desperate for you and it shows. really lost in the kiss and in the moment, as if all he can think about is being balls deep in your dewy cunt. and who's to say you don't want him just as much. the way luffy's frenching you seems almost animalistic, and you could feel how he's having trouble controlling himself with every passing second that you're pressed against him. trying so hard to maintain his composure.

and when you break the messy kiss, a string of saliva still adjoining your lips— your captain looks at you with a blush, still panting heavily. watching the drool that slowly dripped from the corner of luffy's mouth was something that shouldn't have been so hot to you.

his eyes travel up and down your body and back to your lips. the faint taste of mango luffy had gotten drove him insane. he loved when you slathered your plump lips with lipgloss, regardless of the flavour or color— and he adored making a mess of it, ruining it. his own lips being stained a hint of red.

luffy seems lost again. almost unable to think by himself. he leans towards you once more, seemingly going in for another kiss. but he stops himself for a moment to admire how soft you feel— hands grasping your ass through the flimsy fabric of your dress. your head was spinning, maybe from the shots you took earlier, or the way luffy had devoured your mouth. "i-"

"shut up." you huff out, pulling him towards the nearest slightly secluded space you could find. and luckily, there was a nicely lit room with a thick futon neatly unfolded on the carpeted ground. pressing him against the wall, you brought a nasty, wet kiss to luffy's lips once more. one that left his stomach fluttering. he sucked and drug his tongue back and forth against yours, in the messiest ways he could think of. too lost in your lips to get off of the surface behind him.

he couldn't help the blood that rushed even more to his cock once you tugged hard on his hair. luffy couldn't put it into words, but he was such a slut for the way you painfully grasped his raven locks every time you enjoyed something. he muttered your name a couple of times between heavy breaths before he quickly wriggled out of the red material of his top letting you suction your way down his neck, teeth grazing his collarbone.

and you didn’t need any command to lower your head and place luffy's nipple between your lips. you only bothered to unbutton and drop his shorts low enough to free his aching dick, rock-hard and covered with pre-cum. fuck you wanted to slobber all over his length so bad. though luffy catches you by a fistful of your hair, preventing you from going further.

"stop, i wanna suck." you whine out, but luffy shakes his head, pulling his boxers up just enough to cover past the tip of his cock. pushing his back from off the door- he lays himself on the futon, hauling you with him. "no, i want you t’ sit on my face first." for a second, you stilled, as if the statement shocked you. "you... you want that?" you tested the waters, but luffy didn't just want it. he needed it.

"please… i’ll make ya cum so good (name) just sit on my face." luffy insists, eyes glossed over. face sitting was something he'd yearned to try with you for so long. so impatiently, he pulls you to straddle him, your dress sliding up your thighs. he wastes no time ripping the expensive fabric of your panties— taking a few moments to rub the pads of his calloused fingers along the wet patch you left beforehand.

you nervously let him pull you further up by the hips until your pussy is just above his mouth, the scent of your sweet arousal hitting his nose. “smell so good (name) m’gonna taste you now yeah?” “please do captain” you respond breathlessly. and before you could take another breath, luffy’s making out with your cunt— tongue lapping vigorously over your clit sending a pleasurable shiver up your spine.

you immediately try to raise your hips afraid you’ll suffocate him if you give in to the pleasure, but luffy’s hands grip your thighs painfully, preventing you from squirming away. because luffy doesn’t care if he suffocates as long as he’s got his tongue sloping in and through your folds. and something about knowing how anyone could walk into this room, seeing the two of you sent electricity through your core.

you felt the coolness of luffy's lip ring make contact with you constantly, and you couldn’t quite decipher his muffled words, but you could tell by the way he desperately stuffed his face between your legs that he was in ecstasy. “sso.. mmh feels good lu!” you barely manage voicing out, already close to your on-coming high.

but as much as luffy wants to stay between your thick thighs and fuck you with his mouth, he was restless, and hard. feeling his own heartbeat pulsing right at the tip of his dick. he suctions at your clit roughly, earning a loud cry from you before you’re already cumming— a slightly clear stream of liquid flowing from your cunt.

and of course, luffy being the greedy man he is takes everything you give him, leaving your cunt only after he’s had his fill. “taste n' look so pretty when you cum..” he coo's almost cheerfully before moistening his lips, a more serious look returning to his face as you free your legs from his face.

"here, taste yourself pretty" he whispers, pressing a slow kiss against your lips. though you only manage to come back to your senses enough to comprehend that he's torn off your nice pair off underwear, feigning a faux an annoyed look. "does ripping all my expensive lingerie get you off or something?"

"m'to impatient to take it off slowly.." he pouts, as you drag yourself off of him.

“is that so..? my turn now.” you whisper, before you're on off of him and on your knees tugging roughly at his unbuttoned shorts causing them to slightly tear.

"hey! those were m—"

you cut luffy short before he could complain about your petty revenge, giving the tip of his cock slow kitten licks and a few pumps before sealing your lips around it's pretty head, making him let out a throaty whine as you take or inches of him.

"i'll forgive ya if you open your mouth n take me deeper.." luffy breaths out lowly fully relaxed on his back now. one hand under his head and the other, guiding yours. you part your lips further, warm breaths of air fanning over his flushed tip.

“ahh.. fuckk baby— use that pretty mouth like you do best” luffy slurs, and something in you almost switches like a trigger. his coaxing encouraging the worst in you. especially since it was incredibly rare of him to use pet names with you. so you suddenly take as much his size as you can luffy shuddering in pleasure.

every ridge and vein on his length felt as your drag your tongue, every lick and suck of your mouth on him resulting in obscenity; gagging, wet noises, moaning. everything only making your hole flutter more.

his shut tight. opening them after a few seconds, to admire how your lips sank down on his cock. "gooddd, it's like ya mouth was made jus for— nggh.. sucking off your captain huh?"

"hold on.." you suddenly whisper, causing luffy to whine from the lost warmth. you take something out from between your cleavage. what was so important that you needed to stop? and suddenly he tenses his thighs.. you're scribbling on his cock. it tickles and it’s heaven. luffy couldn't even see what you are creating, but the sensation was fucking amazing. especially since he was so sensitive.

“thereee” you say, admiring your work.

“so pretty.”

“what did you do? i wanna see”, luffy begs, squirming needily. and you raise your hand, waving the wand of your cherry red lipgloss in your hand. luffy glances down to look at his aching cock, to find the words. 'all mine ♡' scribbled in red.

something about that act felt so endearing to him that luffy felt he'd tear up from the gesture— and from the fact that you were teasing his poor friend. he gives you a lazy smile. but as his eyes wander the room, he finds himself making eye contact with the tall mirror that but on a perfect display of your backside. you were almost on all fours now as you slobbered his cock, head tilted down and ass pointed up.

it looked so soft, and you looked ever so stunning. unfortunately for you, luffy was as restless as ever. he could never control himself whenever he saw that damn ass of yours. so you didn't blame him when he tugged on a fist-full of your hair to get you off his cock.

"wait m'not—"

"(name)... i— wanna fuck you from behind, please can't wait anymore.. want ya to put that cute ass on me."

"you're so impatient."

well, who were you to deny captains orders?

with a quick sound rustling of fabric, you'd immediately discarded your dress, pressing your face down into the futon as luffy teased your hole momentarily with the head of his cock. holding you in place by the hips and seconds later, he's already buried inside you— stuffing himself to the hilt. so fucking tight he thought.

luffy bit down onto his lip muffling the whimpers that endlessly slipped from his mouth— to the point that it drew a bit of blood. he pounded like he wanted everyone near to know, to hear how he was making a mess out of you. though he was shameless enough for it, luffy couldn't decide whether he wanted to be the only one that got to see your messy cum stuffed cunny, or if he wanted a live audience as he fucked you to the point of drooling. and who's to say you would mind the latter?

head thrown back in pleasure, his dark hair stringy from sweat, his furrowed eyebrows as you continue to tighten and clench around him, pulling you further onto his cock. he giggles breathily, "l-love when you squeeze me like that" only earning a incomprehensible mumble from you. something about the way he moaned and spoke was so ..slutty.

"cmonn.. i know ya can talk louder than that!" he sneers, and that was luffy's favourite part about doing this with you. he loved pleasuring you to the point of not being able to speak, knowing he's the only one who can make you this dumb on dick.

he loved the freedom that came with exploring new ways to make eachother feel good, and nothing made him happier than sharing in such freedom with you.

luffy's hands roughly fist your hair, pulling your head up in order to better show you what he's doing to you. "look in the mirror (name), look how gorgeous ya- gaahh, look when you're all fucked out. see? so pretty baby~" he taunts.

"gonna cum, wan' cream all over you!"

"yeah? captain's dick feels that good?" he lets off another breathy moan. "y-ya like it when i stretch ya out like this?" and when you let out a string of praises chanting his name like your life depended, he decided you deserved a treat in return for always being this good for him. so luffy bit down on his thumb and blew until you felt an unfamiliar sensation deep in your guts causing you to mewl out. he was way bigger all of a sudden, and his cock seemed to fill and rub against areas you'd never known could be reached.

"ah luffy thats.. you're- so deep” you almost wanted to sob as he watched you wriggle under him, your senses overloading from the stimulation luffy inflicts upon you. it was crazy how he could be so sweet and caring with you one moment, and the next having every bone in your body tingling from euphoria.

"keep— ah god.. moanin' out like that! let tra-guy know that yer all mine" luffy rasped, only further perusing with his erratic pace. it was ruthless almost— and hearing those pretty sounds from you didn't help the burning sensation he felt in his lower stomach.

"sso- so close!"

"pl-please need you to fill me full with your seed.." you whimper feeling your knees almost buckle when his cock starts to forcefully rub against your cervix.

"i gotcha! gonna.. stuff you up- mmm, so good n watch it spill out.." he laughs between his far from quiet moans, one of his hands tracing your ass until he snakes it down between your legs, rubbing at your clit without mercy. your vision blurred and your fingers gripped at the futon tightly, “ah fuck! L-LUFFY! LUFFY!"

and as you finally cum around him, clenching around his pulsating length once more. "that's it! so good baby, so good..!" he continues to fuck into you, hitting deeply over and over again, pushing you into the softness below— then it's his turn to orgasm. his sticky white filling your womb until it started to leak out. luffy pulls out just in time for your body to slump down onto the cushioned surface.

but he doesn't let go of your hips just yet. luffy's gaze hazily follows the milk colored substance that seeps out of your fluttering cunt as he draws heavy breaths. taking his middle and index working them into your sensitivity— watching the string of cum that shadows his fingers as he pulls them out.

luffy being luffy, couldn't help but want to taste it, because what would be the point of all this work if everything went to waste?

"say ahhh." was the only thing you could make out, before you're being flipped onto your back, a strong hand resting on your chin. through your blurred sight— you watched luffy lick two of his fingers slowly, savoringly before he gathers the drool in his mouth letting it drip down to yours. and you let him, letting your mouth hang agape to accept every bit of his filth.

"swallow... atta girl..!" he smiled brightly watching the lewd expression you made tasting your guys aftermath. he runs his hands back to your ass, kneading it slowly but without any ulterior motive other than that he loves holding it when you calm down together.

"i love you (name) m'sorry i got so mad at you earlier."

"no, i should apologize. you were injured n bored and i wasn't even checking up on you."

"speaking of injuries.. i think still i need some stress therapy." luffy says with a sly grin, laying beside you on the futon.

you catch on almost too quickly, shaking your head— breath still uneven. "no no no, we're done. we can't have any of your wounds reopening."

"don't ya wanna suck me off still? a bit of head can't do any harm!"

"you realize this room has no door right?"

"......when has that ever stopped us?"

oh god.

... ✸ a/n: i was baked past cloud 9 when i wrote the other half of this but, ion wanna hear noone say shit such as “luffy ain’t slutty like that” nah man he is 🙏 down with sex ignorant luffy !!! #ace luffy is still canon but so is slut luff

tags !! @svanesworld , @selkiemaiden , @dilvcslut , @iluvs-world , @eaves-dropper , @yourmumsthings , @sanjisblackasswife , @roronoaswifey , @movie-enthusiast22 , @luffypedia , @pandoras-box0 , @xxdiaqiaoxx , @girlmeetsbullshit , @n9hida , @w9vyy , @juno443 , @roronoazorohater , @soloplayer0901 , @deathkidz

#monkey d. luffy #one piece #luffy x you #luffy x reader #luffy #op luffy #strawhat luffy #one piece headcanons #luffy smut #mugiwara no luffy #one piece smut #op smut #trafalgar law #sluttybwunni

2K notes · View notes

da-rulah · 10 months

Text

Come Home to Me - Secondo x f!reader

Summary: No one ever thought to question why Papa Emeritus II was such a bitter man. People assumed it was a product of his upbringing, of the pressures being an Emeritus brought him. But they had no idea that years ago, he was a completely different man. A man that you so easily fell in love with...

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 10.3k (can I EVER write anything short?)

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST. jealous themes, themes of abandonment, poor childhood, mentions of alcohol addiction, domestic fights, anger, hurt, mild violence, bad break-up, description of panic attack, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v sex

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

Secondo doesn't get anxious.

At least, that's what people would think to look at him; the burly, scary, angry looking Papa who would practically glide through the hallways of the Ministry he headed. And to look at him now, today, people wouldn't suggest anxiety be the baseline emotion for him either. But it certainly was; masked by a particularly foul mood, but it was definitely anxiety.

Because he'd just heard from his elder brother, that you were returning to the Ministry.

It had been years since he'd seen you; he'd been a Cardinal then. He'd always been a hardened man, bitter from his childhood of neglect and abuse at the hands of his deadbeat father, but... you had been the softness to balance him out. Until he'd fucked that all up, as he was always destined to do. He always knew his fiery temper would fuck him over someday.

And he'd been right....

8 Years Ago.

"You can't go," he told you firmly, no hint at all that he was willing to compromise on this.

"Secondo, please..." you tried to reason with him, "I have to! This is my job!"

Secondo chewed on the inside of his cheek, shaking his head as he looked down at his gloved fingers picking wool bobbles from his cassock. He stood awkwardly across from you in his quarters, letting you hover near the door as if you weren't welcome in here. The atmosphere felt cold, frosty even.

"You know, it's really rather telling that you would rather go swanning off on some tiny little tour of Europe with mio fratello than stay by my side," he rages, "This new little project of his is bound to fail, you know. It did for our father, it will for him."

Frankly, you were dumbfounded by the idea he thought you'd prefer to spend time with Primo than him. Of course you didn't, but you had no choice. Your job at Primo's side was an important one and not exactly negotiable. Secondo had never mentioned any form of jealousy before now, so why on earth would he bring that up if not just out of sheer spite?

"Ah, your silence says all. You know what? Go. Go ahead. But do not expect me to wait for you, Sorella."

"W-what... what do you mean?" you asked, tears welling up in your eyes.

"You want to disappear for months on end with Primo? Fine. But I have needs, and I cannot be expected to wait for your return. I will not become some idiota with blue balls because his girlfriend is too busy fucking his fratello in another country."

"You really think... what the fuck is wrong with you?!" you shrieked. How dare he. "Secondo, if you loved me at all you wouldn't even think of doing such a thing. And you'd trust me enough to know I would never!"

Secondo scoffed, turning in his place and heading towards the small liquor cabinet he kept in the corner of the living space. He wrenched open the door and pulled out a bottle of whiskey along with a tumbler, and poured himself a small drink.

You stood and watched him, tears now silently trickling from your eyes. You couldn't understand why he was reacting like this. You'd been happily in a relationship for almost ten years, celebrated so much together. But ever since he became a Cardinal, he'd been overworked, stretched thin by the clergy and reminded consistently that he was only second best to his eldest brother. Secondo by name, Secondo by nature, he had confided in you numerous times. He had a bitter side to him, you knew that. It had been present his entire life, a product of a neglectful childhood.

But he'd never, not once, projected that side onto you. Until becoming a Cardinal, slowly imploding on himself at the weight of the pressure put on him.

"It's one way to establish yourself, I'll give you that. Quicker than sleeping with a mere Cardinal, eh?" he chuckled, devoid of humour and instead laced with venom. Had he... really just insinuated that?

"You don't mean that."

"Do I not?" he asked, arching an eyebrow with a vile smirk. He quickly necked the drink in his hand, hissing at the burn of it down his throat that he'd come to relish more and more lately. He was soon pouring himself another.

"My job requires me on this tour. It's eight weeks, Secondo. That's all. Sister Imperator said-"

You were interrupted by a sudden smash - Secondo had thrown his half full glass against the far wall of his living space. It splintered into shards, leaving a splatter against the fading wallpaper. You felt droplets of it hit your arm, a few splinters of glass reaching too without harm. You flinched naturally anyway, both at the sudden noise and the feeling on your skin.

"I DON'T CARE WHAT IMPERATOR SAID! IF YOU LOVED ME AS YOU SAY YOU DO, YOU WOULD STAY WITH ME. BY MY SIDE. NOT HIS!" he screamed, storming towards you and grabbing your arms by your sides. You stiffened in fear - he'd never laid a hand on you before. "You say you love me, and yet, you abandon me."

"N-no... I'm not-" you were shaking in his grasp, your eyes wide and words failing you.

"If you go, I will never forgive you."

You stared at him, your reddened eyes wide with fear and desperation. You were stuck... You had to go, you had no choice. Being fired from your job would mean the end of your residency at the Ministry and you would lose everything. But go, and you lose Secondo.

He was overreacting, and you weren't sure why. Did he truly believe you were trying to sleep your way to a top seat within the clergy? Did he really think you'd run off with Primo, given the chance?

"I... I love you..." you whimpered, voice shaking and quiet as your lip trembled. His piercing monochrome eyes searched yours, waiting for you to tell him you'd stay. But you couldn't. The Ghost Project needed you, and Primo needed you. You had no choice, but he couldn't see it that way.

Without a word, he shoved you backwards, letting you stumble to keep your balance as he stepped back, picking up the open bottle of whiskey from where he'd left it.

"Just go," he snarled, taking a drink from the bottle, before storming into his bedroom and slamming the door, your body jolting from the sound as you stood and broke down on the spot.

Not going, you would lose everything. But going... you had lost him.

Those eight weeks on the road were hell - and not the Hell you had been promised.

Secondo hadn't spoken a word to you after you'd told him you were going. Your relationship was over the second he slammed that bedroom door. You spent any down time you had hiding from the world, crying into the last scrap of his clothing you had snuck from his things that still smelled like him.

You would wonder constantly what had changed in him, why suddenly he couldn't see past his bitterness and had thought so little of you. He had ignored your phone calls, your letters... He had stewed in his anger and his growing alcohol dependency, buried his sorrows in anyone who would consent, and driven himself into the ground until his younger brother, Terzo, had decided enough was enough and harshly forced him to face his reality.

But it was too late.

As soon as you had come back from your first tour with The Ghost Project, you had put a request in for a transfer to an Abbey across the country. You had been hurt too badly, the thought of having to see Secondo in the halls, leading sermons, hosting seminars had burned in your chest. Primo had tried to talk you out of it, but your mind was made up and solidified only by the look of dismissal Secondo gave you when he'd seen your face for the first time during Mass.

The grief you felt was not only for your relationship, but the man you once knew and loved so deeply. He wasn't him anymore; and you couldn't watch him live in indifference while you were so incredibly heartbroken.

Within a week of your request, you were packed up and on a bus to a much smaller, more quaint Abbey in the midwest, where you would help to lead a congregation as a Sister of elevated importance.

Over time, your wounds healed. You dated, albeit in brief stints. You devoted yourself to the church and rose in the ranks of your own volition - not because you had opened your legs to a Papa or higher ranking clergy member, as had been predicted by your former lover.

You were doing well, focussed on you and your congregation.

Secondo, however, had never been the same since you left.

As if he wasn't already an angry and bitter man, he became insufferable in the years following your departure. Sure enough, Terzo's intervention had managed to quell the alcoholism, but it had done nothing for the anger that consistently simmered at surface level at his father, his brothers, his childhood... but mostly at himself.

He'd never been able to forgive himself for the way he had treated you; the only good thing he had ever had in his life, and he managed to torture you slowly, like a child plucking the wings from a butterfly before delivering the final blow. Even when he'd seen you for the first time after the tour, he couldn't look you in the eye.

Then he'd never seen you again.

Now that Primo had told him you were coming back, your latest promotion to the highest ranking sibling beneath Sister Imperator herself bringing you back to the Ministry and the headquarters of the Satanic Church, he was petrified.

He wanted to run. He wanted to hide. Given the option, he'd abdicate from his position with immediate effect and live out the remainder of his days in a cabin in the Italian Apennines. But that wasn't an option, and he had to face this.

He had to face you.

Sister Imperator had called a meeting of the higher Clergy to welcome you back, and to explain your place in the Ministry to those you'd be working closely with. That included Papa Secondo.

Papa.

When you'd first heard that news, you couldn't help the small smile that had tugged at your lips. He'd always wanted that title, always deserved it. You were happy for him, glad to see that he was where he rightfully should be.

But when you saw him for the first time in that meeting room, sat in his chair at the head of the table, that happiness had dissipated. Fear and dread had filled you, a pain in your chest you thought you'd got over long ago. But the scowl on his face told you the feelings he had toward you were still just anger, spite, bitterness. And no matter how much time you'd had to heal, that scar still pulsated and burned in you.

You remained professional, hardened much like Imperator. You had to be. If you showed him how weak he still made you feel, your authority might be brought into question. You'd worked too hard for that.

As the meeting adjourned, the table got up to leave and you along with it, until you heard his deep and commanding voice from the end of the table.

"Sorella _______, I ask you stay for a moment."

You froze, too frightened too look back at him, too weak to tell him no. Primo and Terzo, who had both been sat on the opposite side of the table to you, shared a look that read as 'oh, shit...' before their glares fell on their brother. Secondo ignored them, shooing the rest of the clergy out of the doors.

Nobody said a word, simply leaving quickly and quietly until you were alone with Papa.

A moment of silence passed between you both; Secondo had so much he wished to say to you, so many apologies and regrets he'd practised so often in the last eight years but they all vanished when your eyes fell on his. He saw the fear in them; it reminded him of that night.

"I... It's... You look well."

That was it? That was all he could say to you?

You drew in a deep breath, allowing yourself a second of composure before clasping your hands together in front of you and masking your disappointment and hurt with a business-like demeanour.

"As do you."

"How have you been?" he asks, although it's cold and merely to fill a silence.

"Busy. Yourself?" you mimic his tone; you'd rather be anywhere but here right now.

"Troppo (me too)."

You nodded. "Congratulations. 'Papa'... what you always wanted," you forced a smile, gesturing at the robes and mitre he adorned.

"Ah, sí, sí..." he kicked at the titles at his feet, shuffling as he stared down at them awkwardly. "Sorella, I-"

"It was good to see you, Papa," his head snapped up at the use of his title, it sounding foreign and wrong coming from you. "Now if you'll excuse me..." you dismissed yourself, bowing your head to him slightly and gathering your notebook and pen before making your way out of the meeting room. Secondo stared after you, lost with his apology he'd finally found and mustered up the courage to deliver still dangling from the tip of his tongue.

Re-familiarising yourself with the Ministry's halls was hardly needed as you traipsed through them late into the evening. But that had just been an excuse...

In fact, what you were truly doing was torturing yourself with the ghosts of a past life. It was as if you could see them, plain as day; the ghostly figures of a young and fresh faced Sister of Sin with a smile that beamed so bright, and of a young Bishop, his face free of deep set wrinkles and the permanent scowl the world knew today.

They run through the halls ahead of you, hand in hand. Her laughter bounces from the stone walls as he tries to shush her, stifling his own laughs and the grin across his face. You followed them, chasing the memory through the halls.

Rounding the corner, they stop outside of a door. The young Bishop pulls the Sister close to him, tumbling back into the doorframe with a thud and another string of stifled giggles. His palm caresses her cheek, a look of pure adoration in his mismatched eyes before he leans in, pressing his lips to hers as she melts into his embrace against the door.

He reaches behind him, turning the doorknob and the two spectres disappear through the wood, the door remaining closed and leaving you alone in the empty corridor.

You kept staring after them, tears heavy and building in your waterline. Your hands trembled at your sides, a nauseous feeling settling in your stomach as you remembered so clearly the night those ghosts ran through the halls together, spending their first night alone and in each other's arms in secret.

From what you knew, he still lived in the same suite. The door you stared at still belonged to him, and the likelihood was he was in there right now.

A part of you ached to talk to him. You wanted to know what had changed him all those years ago, still craving answers to questions long since forgotten. But part of you knew it was a conversation not worth having; after all, what good would it do now?

Footsteps echoed from the opposite end of the end hall, stomping on the stone as they drew closer. You ducked behind the corner, barely peeking from your hiding spot as Secondo drew closer to his quarters, that scowl still etched onto his face when he pulled his keys from a pocket beneath his robes. Before unlocking the door, he hesitated, pressing his forehead to the wood and shutting his eyes to take a deep breath.

You allowed yourself a better view, peering out from the corner to take in the look of exhaustion, of sadness on his features as he leaned against his door. Pain seared through your chest, flashbacks of that exact expression from years ago flooding your memory, from times where the world would get on top of him and threaten to crush his shoulders with the weight they added.

You were the only thing that could comfort him then. Nothing else would work – you wondered what he did these days to ease the ache. Little did you know, nothing could.

He’d mask it well, yes, and attempt to bury it deep down beneath layers of a personality that wasn’t totally his, but the fact remained he was still just so sad beneath it all.

Secondo straightened himself up with a deep breath, and pushed the key into the door turning to unlock it. You sighed quietly to yourself and turned to leave out of sight, but Secondo stiffened, his head whipping around to the corner where he caught the back of your head as you turned. He’d heard that sigh, known who it belonged to instantly.

“________?” he asked, his voice softer than you’d have expected, like anything above a whisper would have you darting down the corridor never to be seen again.

You froze in place, aware he can now see you but unable to move. You don’t want to face him. You don’t want to run from him.

“Wait, don’t... don’t go,” he whispered; something he wishes he’d said to you the day you’d left the Ministry instead of hiding in a pit of his own self-loathing and self-pity. He thinks you’re going to run; but you can’t. You’re just... stuck.

He doesn’t know what to do, just staring at the back of your head as his heart rate raises and his breath quickens. He’s panicking; he knows that. He’d learned what a panic attack was in the days after you’d left the Ministry; like a heart attack.

You heard him behind you, the sound of his panic as words failed him. Your head whipped around to see him stood there, clutching his robes over his chest as he stared wide eyed at you. You’d never seen him like this, and it frightened you.

“S-Secondo? Are you... are you alright?” you asked, rushing to his side on instinct, yet stopping yourself just a few feet away from him with your hands outstretched. You weren’t sure if you should touch him, if you should cross the boundary that not only he, but you had put up so long ago.

“C-can’t... can’t breathe...” he panted, leaning against the stone doorway and squeezing his eyes shut.

Get him inside, make him comfortable, your inner voice told you. You looked to the side, seeing his keys still dangling in the lock and turned them for him, pushing open the door to an empty and cold apartment that sent such a wave of nostalgia through you it could have knocked you clean onto your ass. But you shook it off, reaching for Secondo’s shoulder and gently guiding him through the door.

“Sit down,” you instructed softly, reaching for the light switch behind you, your arm working on muscle memory alone. You didn’t have to think about it, no time in the current predicament. Secondo stumbled to the couch, sitting down with a thump and leaning back into the pillows while you shut the door and made your way over to the kitchen.

Reaching for the cupboard you knew had glasses in – nothing had been changed since the day you’d left – you picked one out to fill with water, then coming down to his level and kneel at his feet to remove any feel of intimidation standing before him would have brought.

“Secondo, hey...” you caught his attention, his white eye opening to look at you through his lashes. “Can you sit up for me?”

He took in a deep lungful of breath and sat himself upright, his forearms coming to rest on his knees as he hunched over. His breathing was erratic – some deep and long, some short and staccato. He was trying desperately to regain control, to not come across as weak in front of you but he feared you being in front of him was truly the reason he was so breathless.

He always did used to say you took his breath away...

“Here, drink.” You held up the glass in front of him. He stared at it for a moment, his eyes still wide and panicked. “Papa, please...”

“Don’t... D-don't call... me that...” he told you, but he didn’t sound angry. He sounded tired, mostly, between the panicked breaths. You chose not to argue for the time being.

“I’m sorry... Still, drink. It'll help,” you promised, raising the glass again.

He took it from you, gulping a third of the glass down and swallowing with a loud exhale. The irregular pattern calmed considerably, the cold of the water cooling the heat that had risen to his face and chest in his panic.

“Good... See? It helps. Now just... breathe with me, okay? Copy what I do,” you told him, taking in a deep breath and counting to four in your head as you did so. He copied you, no questions asked, no arguments; just breathing in as you did. After four, you slowly began to exhale, counting to eight this time. He copied you again, his exhale a little shaky as if his lungs were clawing at his exhale, trying desperately to hold it in.

You repeated the pattern a few times, holding eye contact the whole time. He seemed to be searching for something in your face, any hint of hatred, anger, resentment... but nothing. His panic eased when all he found was concern, and the same softness he remembered so fondly. Able to find no negativity in your expression, he could relax and give your breathing technique the room to work and calm him down.

“Mi dispiace. I... I don’t know what came over me,” he says, embarrassment and sadness in his tone. He wanted to hide again, staring down at the glass in his hands instead of at you, sitting quietly and awkwardly on your knees in front of him.

“No, it’s... fine. I’m just glad you’re alright,” you smile awkwardly, shuffling back and standing, dusting the non-existent dust from your knees. “I’ll see myself out,” you said, turning around to leave, “Just rest for the eveni-”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your eyes focussed on the wall by the front door.

The wallpaper had never been changed in all those years, the colour of the pattern worn and yet, there were small rips in the paper, tiny grooves carved into the wall and a very distinctive faded brown stain.

Your eyes zeroed in on it immediately. It wasn’t particularly large, or even that dark against the wallpaper but you couldn’t help but notice, and your chest tightened.

“Ah, I uh... have been meaning to redecorate,” Secondo chuckled from the couch behind you, with no humour at all. His tone was different to earlier that day in the meeting room; that cold indifference had vanished, as if the curtain had fallen and his mask had dropped. He was too weak to put up a front, too tired of playing the resentful scary Papa character.

You turned to look at him, a slight look of pity mixed with something akin to longing that he tried to ignore for his own sanity. It would do him no good to delude himself into thinking you might have missed him as much as he had missed you in the last eight years.

“But then... I suppose it served as a reminder,” he shrugs, averting your gaze and taking another sip of water where he sat.

“Of what?” you asked, fragility to your voice. Secondo sighed, meeting your eyes again.

“The biggest mistake I ever made.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between you, his eyes watching you closely as you shuffled in your spot.

“Do you... get panic attacks often?” you asked, trying to divert attention away from that conversation. You weren’t sure if you were ready to have that just yet, if ever. Why cut into a healed scar?

“Not anymore, but... I used to. After you left,” he said matter-of-fact, no hint of accusation at all. “It used to start as shortness of breath like this,” he waved his hand in the air to illustrate his point, “but eventually, I suppose, I had to learn to breathe without you.”

Tears welled in your waterline, and you had to look down at the toes of your boots to flush them away.

“I’m truly, so incredibly sorry, amore mio...” he whispered, willing you to look at him, to hear him finally say what he’s wanted to for years.

“W-we don’t have to... do this...” you stuttered, holding back a sob as a tear fell to the floor where you stared at your feet. Hearing him call you that again... If you weren’t careful, it would consume you. Secondo didn’t miss your tear, his chest tightening when it hit the floor.

“No, per favore... Let me say this, I need to get this out,” he begs, standing to move towards you, his hands outstretched like he wanted to take yours in them, to hold onto you as he apologised. You whipped your hands from in front of you and took several steps back.

“That’s not fair,” you scolded, “you need to get this out? What, to clear your conscience? So you can feel better?” you accused. Your anger wasn’t unwarranted, he knew that. But he could see how much what he’d done had affected you – still affected you. The guilt ate him alive. It would always eat him alive, no matter how many times he apologised.

“No, I just... I didn’t want to hurt you, I want to make it right!” he pleaded. You shook your head with a smile at his audacity.

“Make it right? Now? After eight years?” you scoffed.

“Well okay if I can’t make it right, just... bearable. Per favore, amore mio!” The nickname slipped from his lips without thought; it still felt natural to him. You were still his ‘love’ after all – you never stopped being that. But hearing it again for the second time that evening was like the venomous sting of a scorpion’s tail to your heart.

“Stop calling me that, you lost that right,” you cried, having to bite your tongue from unleashing all of your anger, all of your hurt on him.

“I... I know. Mi scusi...” he quietened his voice, looking down at his hands in shame. His shift in demeanour stunned you into silence, your chest heaving with uneven breaths as you calmed yourself from the point of near-eruption. “You should be angry at me.”

You scoffed at his audacity. “Thank you for your permission,” you spat.

“Where do we go from here?” he asked, looking up to meet your eyes finally. His looked strained, tired. Even disguised by the paint, he seemed weary and frail. “Can I say anything at all?”

You mulled it over in your mind, running in circles. Was there anything he could say? Would you listen to anything right now, or were you too riled up to care about his excuses? The younger you, the you who loved him so deeply all those years ago was dying to get the answers she craved. She reached out to you from your past life, desperate for closure, just to understand no matter what those answers were.

“You can tell me why.”

Secondo’s brow furrowed. “W-why?”

He seemed scared, like he hadn’t expected this but how could he not? What was the point in him apologising if neither he nor you knew why he was apologising, what his 'sorry’ was for?

“Yes. Tell me why. Tell me why you suddenly thought so little of me, that you genuinely believed I would try to sleep my way to the top. Tell me why you were so adamant I was choosing your brother over you. Tell me why you turned into a bitter and twisted shell of the cardinal I adored. Tell me why you chose the bottle over me when you came home at night. Tell me why you ever doubted how completely, soul-destroyingly in-fucking-love with you I was!” you screamed at him, getting louder and louder with each passing syllable and pointing an accusatory finger at him as tears of rage freely flowed down your cheeks.

“Because it was easier!” he yelled back, meeting your gaze, “It was easier than watching you leave with him! I was jealous, sí, because everybody always chose Primo. Ever since I became a Cardinal, I was told that was as far as I could go, that was it for me! Primo was the golden boy, he was Papa, he was going to find a wife, have a kid and that kid would be Papa and where would that leave me? Cast aside, again, as always! Fuck, even Terzo got more attention for his damn looks than I ever got for my hard work, my devotion!”

You shrugged and stared at him incredulously as he yelled. “Why was any of that my fault?” you screeched.

“B-because you... you were choosing him too!” his chest heaved, and for the first time ever you saw tears in his eyes too, glinting off the light of the room. “I needed you, ______. You were the only one who saw me for who I was, and you chose him too!”

You tried to protest in anger, shaking your head and taking a step towards him to defend yourself but he continued before you got the chance.

“Nihil... he always said I would never be Primo. But as Cardinal, I was expected to do everything for him. I lived in his shadow every... fucking... day. It drove me mad...” he looked up at the ceiling as he screamed through grit teeth, trying to let gravity defy the building tears, “And then Papa was to go on tour again, to bring back the Ghost project and perform for thousands of adoring followers and I was to sit here and wait for the only person I’ve ever loved to forget me and fall for him like the rest of the masses...” He was sobbing in anger now, forgetting the fight against the onslaught of waterworks and giving in to the pain he felt.

“I never... I never thought you slept with him. Not really,” he admitted. “But I was told over and over it was only a matter of time... And I believed them. So, you ask me why? Because it was easier to believe you had already fallen under his spell and remove myself from the equation, than to watch it happen while I was still by your side.”

You were stunned into silence, watching the man you believed for the last eight years had become void of emotion spill every single one he’d buried spill from him. He’d never told you any of this, not once expressed any resentment to his elder brother. And Nihil... you wanted to ring that old man’s neck.

“I just... I got lost, amore. The more I drank, the worse it got. The bigger the disappointment,” he’d stopped shouting at you, his voice strained and quiet, “You started to hate me, and I took it as proof of my suspicions that you would someday leave. And then when you did...” his voice cracked, the words sticking in his throat. He sank to sit on the edge of the couch, defeated and weak. He removed his mitre and held his head in his hands, quietly sobbing with cloudy black tears from his makeup dripping to the floor.

You stood awkwardly playing with your fingers, wiping your own tears away with the back of your hand as they fell. Your lip trembled holding back a breakdown. Now, you were beginning to understand the weight of the responsibility he’d bared back then, of the pain of his dismissal and rejection throughout his life. It still hurt you deeply that he couldn’t see past it to know you would never have chosen anyone over him – but at least you understood.

“Terzo got me clean after you left,” he said, sniffling and raising his head but still unable to look you in the eye. Instead, his gaze focussed in on the corner of the room, at where the liquor cabinet used to sit. You followed his eyes and noticed it wasn’t there anymore, now an empty corner he’d never filled with anything else. “But it took a long time. I knew what I’d done, but... I didn’t want to face it. I’ve been so angry at myself, amore. Angry at everyone, but never at you.” He looked you in the eye then, “it was never your fault.”

“No, non è vero, fottuto idiota, (no, it wasn’t, you fucking idiot,)” you seethed, taking a deep breath and shaking your head. Secondo chuckled humourlessly. Oh, how he’d missed you scolding him in Italian.

“Sí, sí... fottuto idiota,” he sighed, dragging his palms down his face and smearing his tears with his paints. He looked down at his gloves, smeared with grey stains where the white mixed with the black, and he chuckled again. “Sono un disastro, no? (I am a mess, no?)” he said, holding his hands up briefly for you to see the mess before he removed both gloves, dropping them to the couch beside him. You scoffed again, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips; but you hid it from him, looking down at your feet again. “In more ways than one, I have always been a mess. But it was never your job to clean that mess up.”

“Didn’t stop me from wanting to,” you told him. You looked up again, now that the almost-smile had faded, “I loved you more than you ever realised.”

Secondo nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. “My biggest regret is not seeing that at the time. I’ll never know love like that again...”

You tilted your head to the side in pity, scanning the man before you who looked and sounded so much more broken than you could have imagined. You had no idea this was affecting him still to this day, no clue that the angry persona you’d left behind hadn’t just created a bitter old man who’d forgotten what he was bitter at – he was, in fact, bitter and angry toward himself. He’d never forgiven himself.

But how could he? How could he ever forgive himself for what he’d put you through, for treating you like he did. He was disgusted by himself, but in true Emeritus fashion, he didn’t know how to deal with his emotions, and it spiralled out of control. This was his personality now, a figurehead to be terrified and intimidated by.

You remembered how he could be though. Those figures you followed through the halls earlier that evening, that had guided you back to Secondo’s front door just when he’d needed you; they reminded you, however painfully, that there was a time when he was happy. Both of you were so happy.

“Do you remember the first night I spent here?” you asked him after a few moments of silence, raising your arms to hug at yourself, enveloping yourself in a protective shield in case this train of thought went terribly awry and you needed your defences up.

Secondo looked up at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. You continued, giving yourself no time to back out of your train of thought, and no time for him to reply.

“Sister Imperator had almost caught us in the gardens. We were making out, behind one of the bushes when we heard her heels on the cobbles...” you laughed. Your smile was so beautiful to him still, just like all those years ago when you’d met eighteen years ago. It infected him, tugging at the corners of his own lips as he smirked and let his mind wonder back to that night.

“Sí, I had hair...” he chuckled.

“We ran... we just, ran...” you sighed, smile widening as you took a small step towards him. “You dragged me through the halls until we stopped hearing her heels.”

“The old bat could never have kept up with us.”

“No...” you laughed. “You kept shushing me, as if you weren’t the one making me laugh.”

“As much as I enjoyed your laughter, amore, you were going to blow our cover,” he teased. “I believe I had no choice but to silence you... if memory serves me.” His smile faltered as he remembered that kiss in his doorway, leading you inside his quarters for the first time, spending the night entangled in and bewitched by everything you.

What would he give to kiss you again? What would he sacrifice for a chance to hold you in his arms one more time?

Everything. Anything.

“Eighteen years passed by so quickly,” you sighed. “I always thought I would spend the rest of my years with you...”

“Sí... anche me... (yes... me too...) I took you for granted, amore mio- oh...” he caught himself, a sinking feeling in his chest, “Mi scusi... I must stop calling you that.”

Guilt settled in your stomach for the way you’d scolded him for that earlier. Truthfully, you desperately wanted him to never stop calling you that.

“You... you don’t have to... stop, I mean,” you stuttered, twiddling your fingers and avoiding his eyes. When you did look up at him through your lashes, you saw the look of confusion in his features, and the faint flicker of hope in his eyes.

“But... I thought you said-?”

“Y-yeah I did, I just... I was angry,” you shrugged, folding your arms protectively again, as if literally shielding your heart.

“Are you not angry now?” he asked gingerly, gently ‘poking the bear’ as it were.

“Yes... No... I am, but...” you stopped yourself, sighing and dropping your arms by your sides in exasperation. “I want to be. I want to be so angry at you. I want to hate you and scream at you. Hell, I’d punch you if I could but...”

He stood then, taking a step forward. “But what, amore...?” You met his eyes, biting your lip as he took another small, yet significant, step towards you. Could you say it? Were you brave enough?

“If I’m angry, it’s because I still care, isn’t it?” you asked rhetorically, “I’m angry because... because I still love you.”

Time stood still for Secondo. His heart pounded in his ears, his chest tightening at the admission that you – sweet, wonderful you – still loved him, despite the hell he had put you through.

He acted on impulse, no coherent thought process registering. Closing the distance between you, he pulled you to him by your waist, desperately pressing his lips to yours. As if you had expected it, you immediately melted in his hold, your eyes fading shut and lips encapsulating his in submission. You were tired of hating him, tired of being angry. Being honest with yourself, you had only ever wanted to be in his arms again since that night he told you to leave.

Finally, here you were.

His bare hands grasped at the fabric of your habit like he was clinging for life, dangling over a gorge only you could pull him up from. You felt much the same, your fists balled in his robes pulling him to you by his chest. Your lips fit together as they always had, moving in nostalgic synchronicity. You felt alive again, synapses in your brain firing in every which way and alighting the spark you’d let dim to nothing but an ember until now.

Secondo pressed his forehead to yours when he parted from you, his eyes remaining shut while he coped with the racing of his heart. It wasn’t until he raised one of his hands to cup your cheek that he realised your cheeks were wet with fresh tears.

“Amore...” he breathes, tickling your lips below his, “I have loved you every single day of the last eighteen years...”

You don’t bother holding back the sob that jumps from your chest – you couldn’t if you tried. Secondo’s thumb swept over your cheek, wiping away the tears as he shushed you gently. Your fists, balled so tight in his robes, had started to shake as your bottom lip did.

“I-I’m scared, Secondo... If I let you in again, I-I couldn’t... couldn’t handle losing you again,” you wept.

“No, no no no amore mio, I wouldn’t be so foolish. Not again. Per favore, credimi... ti amo (Please, believe me... I love you,” he begged.

“Sí, credo che tu, (yes, I believe you,)” you told him, your lips finding his once again and fists pulling him impossibly close to you. He huffed a sigh of relief into the kiss, his fingertips ghosting over your jawline gently despite the desperate nature of the act.

You tilted your head to reach a more comfortable angle; one where you could run your tongue along his bottom lip, begging for progression. He submitted with no hesitation, allowing entry with a low hum from deep within his ribcage. The hand around your waist squeezed at your hip as your kiss deepened to desperation.

Breathlessly you pulled apart from him. “This is where I’m supposed to be,” you told him firmly with a sob, slamming your fist to his chest, “this is home.”

“Sí, amore,” he gripped your wrist, holding your fist tightly against him, “come home to me.”

You crumbled then, your knees buckling as you wept into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, giving in to his own sobs as he held you upright. He pressed his lips to your forehead, peppering kisses across your face wherever he could reach until finally he found your lips once again.

Truly, his arms did feel like home. You hadn’t felt so complete ever since the last time he’d held you, an emptiness you’d tried to fill with work and frivolous relationships but nothing and no one could ever fill the void he’d left. Now you were home, you wouldn’t dare let go again.

You’d never kissed anybody so desperately in all your life, bruisingly desperate in fact. Your lips pressed and moulded together so hard, it was bordering on painful – yet nothing could have been more painful than the last eight years. No, you needed this. You needed him.

“Take me to bed, Secondo...” you mumbled into his lips. Secondo stilled, his hands coming to sit at your waist and pushing you back; not even half a step away from him, yet you already missed the warmth of his chest along with the rhythmic thumping of his heart.

“Amore, I don’t wish to rush you...” he spoke cautiously, his eyes scanning your face. “We don’t have to go there tonight...”

There he was; for a split second, you could have sworn you saw a glimmer of the man you’d fallen in love with eighteen years ago... His paints vanished, his deep-set wrinkles smoothing out, his hair tucked and poking out from beneath his Bishop’s biretta. That same kindness, that care and cautiousness of the night he first brought you to his quarters...

He’d said the same to you then, ever so chivalrous at all times but you knew then as you knew now – you were ready. You needed him.

Slowly, you raised your palm to his cheek, noting the strange feeling of his paint-covered skin on your fingertips. You traced the lines where the white met the black, smudged together in places where his tears had streaked down his face. It amazed you how much the years had aged him, what the stress had done to him and yet, he was just as handsome to you as the day you’d met.

“I think we’ve both waited long enough, caro,” you smiled, relishing in the way his brow softened, and his eyes glinted with happiness. He brought his hand to yours, holding it in place as he turned his head to press kisses to your palm. He laced his fingers with yours turning to the direction of his bedroom and leading the way. Once inside, Secondo took a step away from you.

“Un momento, amore. There is something I must do...” he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, letting go before he stepped into the bathroom to the left. You could hear the faucet squeaking as he turned it, the unmistakable rush of water hitting the porcelain sink below.

In his absence, you couldn’t help the way your gaze wondered as you remembered the details around you. The furniture remained unchanged but worn slightly with age, the shine of the dark wood not as prevalent as it had been. The bookshelf in the corner was still covered in tiny knick-knacks and ornaments, some of which you had bought him. One still sat on his nightstand; a small statue of Baphomet depicted as he traditionally was. On the other nightstand – the side that used to be yours – sat the same deep green glass vase you remembered, all the shine gone as it sat empty and covered in a layer of dust.

That vase used to never sit empty, fresh flowers in it constantly. Secondo made a point of it, always replacing the flowers before they could wilt too much with different varieties all the time. He loved how it would make you smile, how you would bury your nose in the petals to smell the latest additions. Seeing it sat so sad and empty stung a little, but you understood.

So enthralled in your journey down memory lane, you didn’t notice the end to the running water next door, nor the footsteps of the man coming to stand with his chest to your back as one arm snaked around your waist, the other tilting your chin up to look back at him so he could press his lips back to yours again.

You turned in his arms, sinking into another slow and passionate kiss. When you raised your palms to his cheeks, you distinctly felt the smooth skin now void of the greasy and smeared paints. This was how you remembered him; not with the full skull paint and certainly not smeared with tears and despair. He removed his paints for that very reason.

Secondo removed your veil from your head, letting your hair fall around your face in that beautiful way he always loved. Within seconds his fingers were threading their way through your roots while his other hand held you tightly to him by your hips. It was all too easy to lose yourself to his kiss, quickly becoming more needy as time ticked by.

He made sure to move at your pace, though. It wasn’t until you started to undo his shirt buttons – his robe removed and folded in the bathroom moments ago already – that he even attempted to undo the zipper at the back of your habit. It wasn’t until you kicked off your boots that he did the same to his loafers. It wasn’t until your hands scrambled for the belt around his hips that he let it slip from your shoulders and pool at your feet. It wasn’t until he was stripped bare by your frantic hands that he allowed himself to unclasp your bra and drag it down your arms, followed by your panties that hit the floor with the rest of the hastily removed garments.

He was too frightened you would startle easily, realise what you were doing and suddenly slap yourself with the reality that you still hadn’t forgiven him, and run off feeling embarrassed and angry. He needed to give you the space to run safely, if you needed to.

But as you had already told him – you were going nowhere. He was certain of that now.

Now completely exposed to each other, there was nowhere to hide. The warmth of his bare skin under your palms sent a thrill through your body, already responding to the way his fingertips dug into the meat of your hips as he kissed you with a new fervour.

With your hands cradling his jawline, you stepped backwards, bringing him with you until you were able to sit on the edge of his bed, shuffling back while he crawled over you. It was too easy not to separate your kiss from each other, in tune with one another enough that you could move as one. You felt the pillows behind you, laying back and bringing him with you as he settled between your thighs.

Already, you could feel him pressing against your core. You ached for him, desperate to have him. It was as if there were pulses of arousal flowing through your body and accumulating at your core, where heat had begun to pool.

As much as Secondo wanted to dive in, to take you as he once had so many times, he knew this was not a moment to rush. Instead, he focussed his efforts on trailing his lips down your jawline, following the curves down your neck and collarbone as his palm kneaded at your breast opposite his mouth. Slowly, he savoured the velvet smoothness of your skin on his tongue, taking your nipple into his mouth while your back arched up into him in pleasure and anticipation.

Secondo had missed these little noises you would make. The mewls and whimpers as he brought you to the brink of desperation; he adored them. If he himself hadn’t missed you the way he did, he could spend hours working you up to release. Another time though, perhaps. If you would want another...

The hand that kneaded at your other breast snaked its way down between the two of you where his length was resting against you at the inner junction of your leg and hip. He allowed his fingertips to brush over himself only for a moment, before he dragged his middle finger through your glistening folds and circled your clit once, twice...

You gasped under him, hips chasing the high and in turn grinding into his hardness which earned a deep moan from him against your breast. He could feel you were ready for more, drifting his finger to your entrance and starting with just one as he pushed inside, feeling your warmth envelope his digit. His cock twitched against you at the feel, like a silent plea to be buried inside you. All you could do was hold him against you, an arm around his waist and one around the back of his head forcing him flush against your body.

From the way you rolled your hips against his finger that slowly but surely curled over and over inside you, Secondo knew you needed more, and so alongside his middle finger, he slid his ring finger too. The way he curled them both inside you had your eyes rolling back in your head – he always was good with his hands, and just as he could then, he could read you like an open book, reciting verses of pleasure and passion from your pages.

He began to move them inside you, readying you for him. As the seconds ticked on, his need to sheath himself inside you grew increasingly hard to ignore, his hips grinding into you from above. His lips found yours again, abandoning your breast in his frenzy to be close to you.

He overtook your senses; all you could do was see him, hear him, smell him, feel him, taste him. You decided in an instant that was all you wanted for the rest of eternity. Just him.

You needed more of him, all of him, and so you lifted your legs from the mattress, spreading your thighs wider in a way of presenting yourself to him to hopefully, finally, fill you with more than just his fingers. Secondo growled against your lips, his resolve crumbling. His hand slipped from inside you and instead came to grip the back of your thigh, pressing it back to give him the room to easily slide his member through your folds, effortlessly catching his tip on your entrance so that slowly, maddeningly, he could push himself into you.

For a moment, neither of you could focus on anything other than that feeling; of filling you, of being filled. Both of your jaws went slack, moans spilling from your lips and mingling in the millimetres between you. When Secondo was fully enveloped in your heat, his forehead met yours while he gathered some form of composure. He could feel his chest tightening, the wounds of the last eight years stitching themselves back up. He let out a sob through gritted teeth, and whilst you too were completely enthralled in the overwhelm of emotions, it was all you could do to console him in that moment.

“I-I’m here, caro. I’m right here,” you reassured him, your fingers tracing patterns across the nape of his neck. He had to take several heavy, deep breaths that puffed his cheeks up on the exhale each time before he could even bare to look you in the eye. When he did, he found nothing but love in them, your irises swimming with it.

“Ti amo, amore mio...” he repeated, his voice cracking with emotion. You smiled at him, such softness in your features as a prickle of tears glistened in your eyes.

“I love you too, caro.” You always had. You pulled him to you for another kiss, quickly falling under his spell once again. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him as his hips started to sluggishly roll against yours, dragging his length through your heat achingly slow. Both of you needed to savour that feeling, one you had missed out on for so long.

As your tongues danced together, so too did your hips, meeting in the middle as the two of you picked up a comfortable pace, effortlessly working together to drag the groans and whimpers from the other.

Neither of you were under any illusion that this would last particularly long, despite dragging it out to relish it at first. But the longer you stayed banded together, the harder it was not to give in to the pleasure, to that familiar heat coiling in both of your abdomens.

Secondo squeezed the underside of your thigh as his cock twitched and kicked inside you, begging for a release he was trying too hard to stave off. Your walls fluttered around him, rippling and sending jolts of electricity through you. Your bodies worked together, keying into a frequency you had only ever been able to register together. Nothing and nobody else had ever come close to understanding either of you. It was the two of you; it was always supposed to be.

“A-ah!” you cried against his lips, squeezing your eyes shut while your body dangled over the edge of a sensational orgasm. “S-Secondo...”

“Ooh, say that again, amore. Let me hear you...” you asked, ready to let go at the sound of his name from your lips once more.

With a few more thrusts you gathered the strength you needed, opening your eyes to meet his beautifully mismatched ones and holding his cheek as you moaned his name one more time for him.

“Secondo...”

That was it for him. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried, his cock spilling inside you and his thrusts becoming erratic. You could feel him inside you, length pulsing and warmth spreading that triggered an almighty break in your body, orgasm ripping its way through you. The shouts of pleasure the two of you made together sounded like a symphony to your ears, and the both of you gripped onto each other for dear life as if this were a dream, and you might wake up at any moment.

But neither of you disappeared; no puffs of smoke, no fading into the darkness. You stayed in each other's arms, coming down form your highs and catching your breaths while the weight of the world seemed to drift from your shoulders. That baggage you’d been carrying for years, the pain and hurt... it didn’t exist in that moment.

You weren’t kidding yourself into thinking that everything was perfect, and you could instantly go back to playing happy families with Secondo; not at all. But that moment? That was perfect. It offered you a relief of your woes that you’d needed for so long. And now, instead of bottling up your emotions, the two of you could begin to heal. Really heal.

It would take a lot of work, probably some shaky moments; hell, maybe even some therapy for the both of you but for the first time in eight years, you felt peace.

Home. This was home.

A sliver of golden sunlight shifted slowly down the wall as the sun rose outside, pouring in between the curtains that hadn’t been drawn completely closed the night before. Eventually, it hit your eyes like a blindfold, waking you with a squint and a grumble as you flipped onto your other side to avoid it.

The white spots in your vision cleared after a few moments, and you found yourself staring at a bed that wasn’t yours. At least, not anymore. It once had been, shared with the love of your life.

And yet, he was nowhere to be seen, the sheets on his side wrinkled and haphazardly strewn aside. You sat up slowly, wiping the sleep from your eyes and holding the deep green sheets against your bare body. Even the bathroom door was wide open, no sign of him at all.

For a moment you almost convinced yourself last night had never happened, but even you couldn’t deny the evidence of being sat completely nude in Secondo’s bedroom. Perhaps he’d had second thoughts about what had transpired. Maybe it was too much too soon.

It wasn’t until you looked around at the room and your tired eyes fell upon your nightstand – or at least, the nightstand that was once yours – that you relaxed, a warmth spilling through your chest and raising goosebumps on your skin.

Your vase shined in the sunlight, newly polished and casting a green imprint on the wall behind it. Inside it, a fresh bouquet of queen of the night tulips with splashes of white jasmine offsetting the deep purple. You could smell the jasmine from where you sat, a favourite scent of yours.

Secondo regretted nothing of last night. He, much like you, saw that as your fresh start – as fresh as the bouquet before you. He felt the same relief as you did, the same hope for some kind of future together.

Staring at the flowers, a smile spread over your lips you couldn’t contain. Part of you knew why that vase had sat untouched and empty since your departure. Secondo bringing it back to life again the moment you came back to him was all the reassurance you needed that you were welcomed home with open arms.

“Primo will be angry when he sees the stalks in his garden,” Secondo chuckled, breaking the silence as he leaned against the doorframe looking devilishly handsome with his skull paint fresh and crisp, his black shirt tucked into his slacks and cinched with a belt. His arms were folded over his chest, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. A smirk played on his face, enjoying the look of shock in your features when your head whipped around at his sudden voice.

“You didn’t...” you scolded playfully.

“Oh, I did amore...” he smiled, pushing off from the doorframe and coming to sit on the end of the bed in front of you. “Let him be mad. He will understand in time.”

A comfortable silence settled over you as he lifted his hand to brush your bed hair from your cheek.

“You were always most beautiful like this, dolcezza,” he spoke dreamily, taking you in in the morning sun, wrapped in his sheets with messed hair and a bare face. Your eyes fluttered shut, chasing the feeling of his fingertips. You let yourself enjoy the blissful silence for a moment, but one of you had to break it eventually.

“We’ll need to work on this, Secondo. All that time... we can’t erase it in one night,” you told him, bringing your knees up to rest your arms and chin on shyly.

“Sí, sí, quite right. It’s only a start, amore. I will prove things are different, te lo prometto (I promise).”

“I don’t doubt you, my love,” you smiled, reaching out for his shirt collar and pulling him gently to meet your lips in a soft, gentle kiss to seal his promise.

A promise you knew he would fight both heaven and hell to keep.

Major thanks to @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading once again! There's no tag list for this one since this is a request from two people that got out of hand... I hope, dear anons, you enjoyed this!

#the band ghost #ghost #ghost bc #ghost band #ghost the band #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #papa emeritus #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus ii x reader #secondo #secondo x reader #secondo smut #papa secondo #papa secondo smut #papa ii #papa emeritus ii smut #papa emeritus smut

579 notes · View notes

mysticheathenn · 6 months

Text

Messages of Self-Care

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is all about what kind of self-care you need right now in your life, etc.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

MasterList

Patreon Link

Ko-Fi Donations

Next Up: What's Your Fairytale Love Story? (Patreon, This Week)

Pile l:

What Kind of Self-Care Do You Need Right Now? Tarot: 2 of Wands, 5 of Pentacles, 3 of Pentacles (reversed), 4 of Swords, 6 of Pentacles

Balance & Courage. Right now in your life, you are lacking balance. This could be in any area of your life but for most of you, there is a misalignment with your finances as you have 3 pentacle cards establishing that this reading is specifically finance-focused. There is a mix in this pile as some of you may possibly have issues with spending money because the way you spend money is a coping mechanism of a way that you can remain in control of your life or feel better when things are going wrong. Others of you finances are tight because of your job not paying enough for you to survive but there are some of you that are being paid enough you just suck at budgeting. The remainder of you are giving away your money to others way too much when they are in need without holding people accountable in paying you back because you don't want "drama." Either way, you are looking for a break financially so you can rest and not stress every second of the day about not having enough money to pay for things you need in order to survive or have a roof over your head. This message of self-care is your cue for most of you who have ideas of plans to do better than what you are doing to chase after those ideas and goals. Now is a better time than never. I am hearing if you start now in implementing your ideas/goals withing 6-8 months you should see some sort of return that will look like the 10 of Cups/Pentacles. Last message for this group has to deal with your mentality around money. I may suggest looking into LOA (law of attraction), Neville Goddard, and other teachings in dealing with your mentality around money if you are a part of the spiritual community (Tumblr has a lot of resources). Others who are religious...pray to your spirit team and god to help move you in the direction or remove things not needed in order to bring in your financial break.

Extra Messages: Similar to how you choose a card. Close your eyes, take a deep breathe, open them, and whatever word stands out to you meditate on that word for a message to come through for you. Too many messages for me to type out.

Freedom, Beauty, Commitment, & Forgiveness

Pile ll:

What Kind of Self-Care Do You Need Right Now? Tarot: The Star (reversed), 8 of Wands, The Moon, 5 of Cups, Knight of Pentacles (reversed)

Release. Healing. Self -Love. There are many messages for you here pile ll. Some of you are dealing with depression, grief, or some sort of emotional loss because you are either have to let go of something or someone who isn't good for you or you are not happy with your current life right now. Others of you are lacking between self-love and self-care. You are not taking care of yourselves but this is more so in a self-love kind of way. You are talking down to yourself and hiding in the shadows not wanting people to see you. I was about to continue that sentence but then I caught myself and realized I was about to list the signs of depression (not a doctor only going off from experience and what I was medically diagnosed). Those who resonate with being unhappy with your life you are unhappy because you are not taking the steps that you are needing to take in order to get to where you want to be. Some of you want your manifestations, wants, and desires to land in your lap and that's not going to happen. You need to put in some sort of work. The wild thing is you know what you need to do and for some of you the thing is simple but you are overthinking it. For others of you the thing is scary and you hate the unknown and fear failure. For those who are dealing with self-esteem issues and insecurities, you is kind. You is beautiful/handsome/a cutie/etc. You is amazing. You need to be your own hype man. Find something that you like and hype yourself up from there and don't tell me you don't have one thing you like about yourself. It can be something as small as you like your left toe. Start there and build yourself up. If you are still stubborn and refuse to see one good thing about yourself ask someone you trust what is one thing they like about you. Don't demean it or cast it assign take the compliment and build off of that.

Passion, Dreams, Protection, Transformation.

Pile lll:

What Kind of Self-Care Do You Need Right Now? Tarot: 3 of Wands (reversed), The Empress, 8 of Swords, 6 of Swords (reversed)

Stuck Energy. Some of you may have kind of been drawn to pile ll but not fully as this message kind of relates to some of that message but not fully. What I am saying is this pile's cards are straight forward when they tell me that you are dimming your light and also not wanting to let go of the old you for the new you because of XYZ reason. Some of you are holding yourself hostage in the same place mentally because either the people around you continuously keep triggering the old you or because you don't want to let go of those around you so you refuse to grow. Overall you are dimming your light to let other people shine and to hold yourself complacent and that's not ...that's not it my love. You are meant to shine bright in the light not hold yourself prisoner to the same song over and over again as if this is looney tunes hell. For those who have seen the original SpaceJam remember when Micahel Jordan agreed to stay stuck in the cartoon world if he lost and he would do the same thing over and over again (lose to basketball, sign autographs, do humiliating things, etc) that is your current energy right now. Break from the prison chains and see yourself for who you are. Step into your most authentic self and be dammed who doesn't like it. Be dammed with who all you lose. Remember that whatever you lose you gain back 10x forward. You lose your friends okay so what better friends who will align more with you are on the way. Don't be too uncomfortable with the idea of shining that you hold yourself so far back that you miss out on life. Not just life but YOUR MOST ABUNDANT LIFE. Sorry for the all caps I just need that for dramatics and to emphasize how much you need to shine your inner light to the world. Someone needs your inner light and now. Maybe it's me. Maybe it's that one family member you thought hated you but doesn't. Who knows either way shine baby shine.

WillPower, Talent, Good Luck, Clarity, Happiness, Peace, Answers.

Pile lV:

What Kind of Self-Care Do You Need Right Now? Tarot: Ace of Swords, 4 of Pentacles, Ace of Cups, 2 of Swords, 9 of Wands (reversed)

Pile lV you remind me of the meme where people make fun of moms and wives when they ask for help and it's not fast enough for you so you do it yourself then complain about having to do everything yourself even though help is right there. I'm getting the sense you don't ask for anything, but for some strange reason end up shocked when you get exactly that.....all for what?? To not be a bother, to be a "cool/easy girl/boy/person". I had a friend like you once...she would complain about something in her life and when I or a solution would come about she would be blind to the shit and get nothing done, just complain because it's easier than doing the work. It's easier than bothering someone. Some of you just like to have a struggle story because you think life hands out I struggled and concurred trophies. Why is that pile lv? Why do you refuse help? Why do you pride yourself in struggling when all you want is peace? Make it make sense...please. I'm not going to lie though for some of you I fall into this trap also of not allowing help because I know I will get it right the first time instead of leaving it up to the possibility of someone messing things up. But even so, there comes a time in your life when you need to ease up and let in help. Let in ease. Let in Peace. Let in this emotional and even mental fulfillment you are seeking. You can't bring that when you are constantly controlling things. I'm getting a specific message for a few of you asking god/universe/etc for help and when you get the help you go.."no not that kind of help" Beggars can't be choosers, my love. You have to give some type of way in order to achieve what your end goal is in life. Whatever that is for you..there are to many of you with different messages so take what resonates and leave what does not.

Manifestation, Protection, Commitment, Lighten Your Load, Freedom, Good Luck, Financial Health.

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

#spirituality #tarot reading #witchblr #tarotcommunity #tarotblr #pick a card #tarot cards #pac tarot #pick a pile #pac reading #pick a photo #pick an image

168 notes · View notes

ofbreathandflame-archive · 5 months

Note

Not to come off as nitpicking but why can’t Feyre be a high lady? It’s not as if tamlim or Beron are any better and theyre centuries older than feyre. I get everything but I love feyre

Hi anon!!

You don’t come off nitpicky at all! Thanks for the comment!****

[long post - more under the cut - disclaimer at the bottom]

First — I agree with you. There’s no moral reason I can think of that rules out why Feyre can’t be High Lady; so, I agree with it. I’m going to go a step further and say it’s fine that Rhysand makes Feyre High Lady of the Night Court. Obviously, Feyre will learn and ease herself into the role.

Do I think Feyre should be a High Lady? No — but I think that’s because, as I mentioned in a previous post, I’ve always felt that Feyre chafes in structured, heavily-ruled settings and has been characterized heavily as a character whose strength comes from an admonishment of rules and expectations (In my opinion, based in the text ofc).

I also think that the story doesn’t lead with reasons why Feyre specifically should be High Lady. If we go with the logic that Feyre is an inexperienced young-girl who needs to learn how to lead then we acknowledge two things: (1) that Feyre has to learn and (2) Rhysand made Feyre High Lady. That way, the expectation is that Feyre does not know anything but will learn. Traditionally, women have consolidated power by marrying into it; its quite normal for women to be “the queen” because they married into power. If anything – I think it simply makes no sense that there hasn’t been a High Lady in almost 15,000 years; it seems like an obvious choice. There’s also genuinely no difference between Lady of the Court and being High Lady.

The problem with the story is that it does not want to acknowledge -- or at least fully acknowledge many things. The first is that Feyre wants to be made High Lady (or - to push back against that - the story wants her to be High Lady). If Feyre wants power, she's acknowledging she has some skills to be president. But like...she simply doesn't. She has many skills - none that really align, though. I also feel comfortable saying that Feyre doesn’t even really want to be a leader, and her narration often opposes the idea that she wants to be in positions of power; I think we can argue that Feyre wants power over her own life – but that is not the same as wanting power over an entire group of people. I often feel insane because I think its actually kind of weird that the story never spends time developing Feyre as a person with skills that translate to leadership – or even ambition. Let’s think about similar characters like Jude or Dany, the story goes out of its way to establish why they want power, and the skills they have.

Dany is a strategic genius at literally fourteen years; she has to grapple with her kindness and how it can be to her detriment. She has to establish boundaries between the members of her Queensguard. She uses her wits, sensuality (though – I have words for Grrm), strategy to cement her claim to the throne; she is advised to practice her rule in Essos. It’s not just the fact that Dany has a claim to the Iron Throne – she’s proven she’s got the skills to be both kind and harsh; political and strategic, wrathful and powerful. Dany is not a fighter – she is a queen. She’s calling the shots and she’s still kind. Jude is shown the horrors of Faerie very early on in the story – and that anecdote at the beginning of the story essentially informs the story.

And like Dany, Jude has to learn to balance kindness with politics; she learns early on that her kindness, while altruistic, can operate as (1) selfishness and (2) can ultimately amount to nothing. It’s not saying that these characters aren’t kind, or evil, but that they learn, to some extent, how to navigate these worlds by themselves. The story is not arguing that these girls are good and kind and therefore “worthy” to be made the leader; these stories are also not concerned with needing to moralize why the female leads are more deserving – we can just see that they have qualities that will translate well into leadership. So (at least in Dany’s case), when they make a mistake, we can actually think and discuss the validity of what makes it a good / bad action. We’re not just running with the fact that “well Dany is a girl and abused!” but rather “what can Dany do to improve and not make these mistakes again” – Dany herself literally always weighs her past experiences with new ones to avoid mistakes that can detrimental to her campaign. We know Dany has the skills.

Every time we question the validity of Feyre’s actions were often met with that initial argument, which is, that Feyre is essentially “just a girl” and “under duress” and “traumatized.” But they also don’t want to admit that Feyre doesn’t have a lot of the skills necessary to be leading the court, which is true (and not even a criticism, but literally a fact). It’s a fact that Rhysand made Feyre High Lady because she was his mate – which isn’t a negative and literally how nobility has kind of traditionally operated under in the past. Even Feyre going UTM says nothing about her skills as a leader. It's always bothered me that people use the fact that Feyre goes UTM to prove that she deserves be High Lady. It's just...she didn't go down there to save Prythian; as a matter a fact, Feyre only goes UTM because she realizes she royally fucked Clare Beddor - she goes there out of guilt. Once she gets down there, she has no choice but to complete those tasks because of the bargain. That matters. It really does. I also think this logic – someone like Nesta would also be qualified to lead the NC. It's why I think people get testy with the whole 'who would be a better high lady' or whatever. Because the way the book sets it up, everyone, including Feyre sisters are all equally if not more qualified for the role. I'd argue, Nesta has even stronger claim to a leadership. To be clear I am not arguing that Nesta should be HL or would make a good; only that the story provides more concrete examples of why she could be HL than it does its own main character, and by the end of Nesta's book she's clearly the stronger character (*cough* which is why I argue SJM obsession with Rhys comes at the detriment of feyre's character!) - and there are more concrete, intentional moments where Nesta shows skills that are actually relevant.

Again it proves that Feyre can be brave, but naught else. I really thought MAF was going to actually delve into the idea that Feyre feels like a fraud because of she really only went down there for Tamlin and to try to rectify her mistakes – and she ends up in this position of power that she seems super uncomfortable with. Similar to Katniss’s ordeal in The Hunger Games. Like – we don’t even kno the names of the two Fae she killed. The story decides that not deal with it. Feyre literally says something along the lines of “its not so bad I killed those not bad because at least everyone else was freed” – but the whole point should have been that she realizes that she’s not just sacrificing her own body for Tamlin, she’s taking someone’s life for the chance to be with Tamlin. Because she loves him. That should have challenged Feyre’s morals, earnestly. There should be a deep dive to what that means. We know that Prythian becomes free – but y’all that was the afterthought. Feyre deadass only asked for Tamlin’s curse to be lifted. She didn’t even consider the people when she made the bargain and if SJM (or Amarantha) were smart enough she would’ve picked up on it all.

The story essentially bastardizes why Feyre decides to go UTM. Feyre doesn’t learn anything; she doesn’t learn how to read because she realizes It almost kills her, she doesn’t stop making weird, impulsive bargains, she doesn’t learn how to navigate politics, or listen for hints of information when Tamlin says no to her – nothing informs her actions, she doesn’t learn new skills in her arsenal – things just always go well for her. Feyre isn’t diplomatic – at the High Lord meeting she literally attacks another High Lord, she doesn’t show any prowess with Keir, doesn’t do things her own way and decides to defer to “the way its always been”

I’m not talking about how moral it is for Feyre to be able to do something. I’m saying that Feyre never has to learn skills to handle adversity; when she doesn’t get her way the story throws temper tantrum for her. Beron said something mean so Feyre had to attack him – what does that prove? She essentially insults all of the High Lords, doesn’t make amends with Summer or Spring – and the story just expects them to follow her because….shes just a girl. And they do – for no other reason then the fact that Feyre is Feyre. And because there’s no emphasis on her actual skills, when we ask “what makes Feyre deserve to be High Lady’ – we get a frustrated response that says “well – she’s new at the job! She’ll learn!” but like…she never does. And again, what qualified her to be there in the first place If she supposedly still doesn’t have the skills. What moment informs this idea?

So, to stop my rambling, I agree that Feyre should be HL, but I also believe the story should develop her character's actual skillset instead always relying on bastardized generalizations of plot points that the story uses to basically argue that Feyre "deserves" the title without ever giving any skills to actually fall back on. the difference between , then Tamlin and Beron (maybe - we don't know) is that they inherited power, Feyre wants to lead. She wants to be High Lady. She isn't burdened with the responsibility she wants in (or story wants in). That means she should have skills to reflect that want.

***[two things I should note: (1) I was already writing a post that touches on some of the things I've discussed - so there's a lot of universal 'y'all/they/them thrown around - but I am not talking about you nonny; its toward the middle and end (2) this is a longer post bc I combined some of things I already wrote a couple months back! I really appreciate your comment and kindness]

#anti sjm #anti rhysand #anti feyre #anti feysand #anti acosf #anti sjm: feyre archeron #anti acomaf #anti sjm: nesta archeron #anti acotar

131 notes · View notes

chelseeebe · 1 year

Text

fatefully.

summary: your roommate is incessant in setting you up with his friend. when things get tough, can he persevere through your anything-but-normal life?

i acc liked this and then the more i kept writing, the more i started to h8 it but i hope that you can appreciate some eddie fluff hehe. i have had the worst eddie brain rot recently idk what’s goin awnnn i acc rlly want to do a p2 w some angst (obviously) but i don’t know.. potentially.

modern!eddie au

smut(18+), mentions of hospitals and sick brother ! erm alcohol n weed usage 2 no use of y/n!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ❤︎ ❤︎ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

you were losing the will to live. the continuous banging had been going on for what seemed like hours. the pillow doing nothing to muffle the sound either.

the roommate situation with steve had been going well so far. he kept to himself, kept his shit clean and seemed to be an incredibly polite guy from what you saw of him. not that that was very often.

trying to balance an internship and a supposed to be part-time but was something more like full-time bar job meant that you rarely crossed paths. mostly coming home in the early hours and crashing before you had to be up again in a number of hours to do it all again.

either way, it all seemed well and good until tonight. he'd bought some girl over before you got back. you could hear the giggles through the door the second you walked in. rolling your eyes and hoping that they'd at least shut up when they heard you were home.

nada.

you could hear every second of their session and the subsequent pillow talk that followed. making out that her name was georgia and she had an incredibly high-pitched, whiny voice that made your teeth clench.

though, you must've dozed off at some point, waking to the god-awful sound of your alarm. ready for another twelve hour long day on four hours of sleep. oh goody.

when you finally get home after what felt like the longest day ever, steve’s still awake, slumped on the couch watching some intense movie. he was alone, no georgia in sight. so you thank the high heavens that you might actually sleep tonight.

‘hey,’ smiling politely as he pauses the tv, sitting up properly.

‘what’re you still doing up?’ you ask, he’d normally be asleep, or at least in bed at this time, most people were.

‘ah, i got way too into this movie,’ he chuckles, ‘you always get back this late? you must be exhausted.’

you hang your bag on the hook, shimmying out of your jacket and placing it on top. spending far too much time focussing on making it sit perfectly, rather than having to look him in the eye after everything you’d heard last night.

‘i am.. especially after last night,’ rolling your eyes at the wall.

‘yeah.. shit, sorry ‘bout that,’ he adds sheepishly and you can hear the couch shift as he stands up.

you shrug, spinning around at last, having spent an awkward amount of time fiddling with your jacket, ‘your friend not staying tonight?’ wiggling your brows at him.

‘nah.. it’s not like that.. y’know.. she is just a friend,’ flashing you an awkward smile from across the room.

‘hmm you seem pretty friendly for just friends,’ walking into the small kitchen and opening the fridge. steve’s shelf fully stocked with a shit ton of organic food while your shelf laid empty.

he follows, lingering a few steps behind, ‘she is! what? you don’t have friends like that?’

‘friends that i have extremely loud sex with? no, no i don’t,’ you didn’t really have friends full stop. not since moving to the city at least.

closing the depressing fridge and sighing, adding grocery shopping to your already miles long to-do list.

‘whaat? c’mon that’s like the best part of your twenties.. wait, you have.. haven’t you?’ he asks cautiously, leaning against the doorway.

you scoff, now slightly offended at what he was implying, ‘are you asking if i’m a virgin?’

‘no! well- kinda,’ he holds his hands up in innocence, ‘i just.. you don’t y’know, go out a lot.. i’m just digging myself a hole here,’ shaking his head as the words keep tumbling out.

‘no, i am not a virgin.. if you must know, i just don’t have any time to waste on finding moderately attractive guys to have disappointing sex with.. so i don’t,’ trying to formulate how you can escape from this awkward conversation so you can crawl into bed and die.

he ponders for a second, pushing himself off of the frame and blocking your exit plan, ‘don’t shoot me down straight away, okay?’

you roll your eyes, the clock on the wall indicating that you’d have to be awake in seven hours time and with whatever nonsense was about to come out of his mouth, who knew when you’d actually get to bed?

‘what?’

he nods to himself, a smile creeping onto his face, ‘i think you should meet my friend, he’s the perfect person to bring a bit of fun to your life..’ he can see the stern look on your face, ‘no, seriously.. i think you should meet him.’

you try to hide the annoyance on your face, ‘no,’ his face falls at your immediate dismissal, ‘i mean, i don’t have the time.. in fact, i need to go to bed now..’ taking a few steps towards him, hoping the low light would hide your flushed cheeks.

humiliating that he not only saw you as some pathetic virgin but that he needed to actively help you make some friends.

‘please,’ standing still in the doorway, ‘meet him, i’m sure he’d be very happy to meet you.. i know,’ face lighting up, you could almost see the lightbulb going off in his head, ‘i’ll have some friends over and it can be like.. completely natural and casual, yeah?’

no i don’t want to fucking meet your strange friend. i want you to stop pitying me like i’m some lonely child that desperately needs friends. how about that?

you don’t say it, obviously. instead shaking your head and attempting to slip past the small gap between his body and the door. his arm extends to fill the space, completely blocking you in.

you huff, frustrated with his stupid games, ‘i have work,’ the only rebuttal you knew he couldn’t argue against.

‘when?’

‘..all the time,’ you look up at him, his chestnut eyes already boring into yours, it knocks you sick just how beautiful they were.

‘that’s a lie,’ raising his eyebrows.

‘it’s not,’ it was. but hell, you’d pick up an extra shift if it meant you wouldn’t be forced to socialise with his friends and especially not whoever the hell this mystery man was.

‘c’mon.. you deserve to have fun, you work so much.. call in sick.’

see, steve had the privilege of not having to work for survival. he’d been handed a cushy job at his dad’s law firm the second he’d turned 21. never had to worry about bills or rent or getting fired. one day he’d be the one running the company and he could sit back and watch the money roll in while he did nothing.

lucky him.

‘steve, i really can’t.. maybe another week,’ it was like talking to a child, empty promises to get him to relent.

he frowns, arms crossed over his chest which gave you just enough room to get past him and speed walk to your room.

‘you’re boring,’ he calls after you, sighing when your door shuts.

breathing a sigh of relief knowing that you could now avoid that awful conversation for at least another week.

you hadn’t thought anything about the quiet music from the hallway, assuming maybe ms. georgia was over again and he’d finally learnt just how much other people could hear.

so when you open the door and god knows how many people are milling around in your living room you want to strangle steve fucking harrington and his conniving little face.

he grins when he notices you walk in, coming over to the door with a red cup full of something. you mouth a bunch of obscenities, hoping only he could see.

‘you left your schedule on the counter.. you’re a liar,’ smirking as his plan had worked perfectly.

there aren’t even any words to describe how pissed off you are, ‘you’re an asshole,’ you hush, slinging your jacket on the hook rather aggressively.

his friends all eye you, trying not to listen to your angry whispers. you wonder which one he was trying to set you up with. already dying thinking of the awkward conversation that was inevitably coming.

‘c’mon live a little..’ he nudges your arm, spinning you to face the group and you want to die. hoping that somehow the earth would open up and swallow you whole.

‘i’ll introduce you,’ he smiles, leading you over to the group with his hand firmly on your arm, making sure you couldn’t slip away.

if you hadn’t wanted to die before. you definitely did now.

his friends all seemed lovely, muttering about how much they’d heard about you and other fake pleasantries. you’d apologised for looking like the way you did.. gritting your teeth that this was all very much a surprise for you.

georgia’s here again, perched on the end of the couch, sipping on her drink. separated from the rest of the group. she’s nice enough, smiling as he introduces you properly. a little bashful as she’s well aware you were in the apartment the other night.

he gets round everyone and you can’t figure out who he was so desperate for you to meet. either they were in relationships with each other or just completely not the fun loving guy he’d been so incessant about.

you don’t bring it up, hoping maybe he couldn’t make it and you’d only have to sit there and politely chatter with these strangers and not have to try and graciously let some guy down. that you could deal with.

‘i’m gonna get changed,’ you nod, pulling away from steve who flashes you a look, a warning not to just disappear into your room which you’d highly considered.

you do prolong getting changed, sitting on the end of your bed with your blouse unbuttoned, contemplating whether barricading yourself in your room was viable. dealing with an annoyed steve would be ten times better than the night you would have.

a knock on your door throws you out do your self-pitying session, jumping up and rushing over to answer the door before steve could barge his way in.

‘i’m literally nearl-,’ you stop, interrupted by a face that did not belong to steve, a pair of kind brown eyes staring back at you, obviously not really sure what he was expecting on the other side of the door.

‘uhh.. the bathroom’s down the hall,’ pointing to closed wooden door, hoping he’d just been mistaken.

‘oh,’ the stranger smiles, ‘no.. steve told me to tell you to hurry up,’ he shrugs, ‘i don’t know, i just got here,’ relinquishing himself from any blame.

'right, tell him i'm nearly ready and that he's an asshole,' going to close the door on him before his boot catches it, keeping it open.

'i'm eddie.. by the way,' sticking his hand out through the gap for you to shake. which you do gingerly, catching sight of your white work shirt which you'd rather embarrassingly remembered was half unbuttoned.

your hand flies up to cover your exposed chest, 'oh my god, i'm so sorry,' cheeks flushing a deep scarlet. he'd done a great job of not staring down your shirt at least.

he laughs airily, watching as you shrivel up in pure embarrassment, 'i'll let you get dressed,' he announces, sauntering off to the living room with a shit eating grin on his face.

you manage to cool your face down and get changed. by process of elimination you could guess that eddie was most likely the guy steve was so enthusiastic about you meeting and now you'd have to sit there for hours trying to be polite after he had definitely just seen your tits.

coming into the living room, it's clear that steve's conspired with everyone and made them shuffle, leaving the only free seat the one next to eddie on the smaller couch. he was smart, you'd give him that. even if you did want to wring his neck as he smirked at your from the other couch.

you don't even want to look poor eddie in the eyes, still utterly ashamed about him seeing you half naked. fortunately, he breaks the awkward tension first, offering you a drink and a small, reassuring smile.

steve's friends are all lovely, making you feel slightly guilty for how cold you'd been when you'd walked in. they'd all been well aware that this was one of steve's tricks. even eddie which made everything so much worse. knowing that they'd all been brought here in an attempt to force you two together.

they get into a heated conversation about something you don't understand, leaving you to find solace in the lukewarm drink in your hand. steve and georgia take themselves off into the kitchen and there's a collective groan and a shared look.

'what?' you ask, watching as their faces speak a thousand confusing emotions.

one girl rolls her eyes, leaning in to speak in hushed tones, 'how long has she been back around?'

'uh.. i don't know, she was over thursday?' still confused at their sudden change in attitude.

'hmm,' she nods, giving the brown haired girl a look you can't pick up on, 'annoying as fuck, right?' she snickers, glancing over to make sure they were still in the kitchen.

well, yeah. but you weren't going to outright state that you were annoyed. it wasn't really any of your business. so you just shrug in response, a smile creeping onto your lips when she laughs loudly.

'you won't have to deal with it for long,' the girl, robin her name is, laughs, leaning back in the armchair to watch the pair in the kitchen, seemingly innocently bickering about something.

'oh?'

she turns to give you her full attention, 'they do this every few months or so.. she'll tell him to fuck off, so he does.. and then a few months later she'll crawl out of the woodwork and want to be friends again,' she rolls her eyes, 'we don't like her.'

that'd explain why you'd never seen her before. it was finally his turn in the rotation.

'right.. seems pretty complicated, why would you be friends with someone like that?'

'oh babe, no one knows.. just gotta let him do his thing, it never lasts long,' she laughs, nudging your knee with hers as they walk back over, jumping back into her seat with her eyebrows raised.

everyone had sorta gone off into their own little pockets of conversation, leaving you and eddie to chat between yourselves. it was slightly uncomfortable at first, through no fault of his. the thought of you flashing him still playing heavily in your mind.

'it's awkward, isn't it?' he leans in, looking at his circle of friends, none of them paying you any mind.

his straightforward nature strangely putting you at ease, 'a little.. at least you knew what you were walking into, i had no idea you'd all be here,' finding some hilarity in the half-assed blind date steve had tried to set up.

'he's a prick,' eddie laughs, swigging on his beer, 'it's funnier if you play into it, make him think he's winning,' tapping his finger on the side of his head.

'well, how d'we do that?' asking curiously, wanting nothing more than to antagonise steve.

'mm, follow me,' clearing his throat as he stands from the sofa, holding his hand out for you to take, narrowing your eyes at him but obliging. his fingers are calloused as they encase your hand, but it's almost comforting. he felt real.

he doesn't say a word as he walks through the living room, their eyes all following as he guides you over to your bedroom without so much of a look back. the silence is deafening as their conversations quieten, all trying to eavesdrop, figuring out what the hell just happened.

once the door is shut, he holds his finger over his mouth, listening out for the sound of voices again knowing they'd be doing the exact same thing on the other side. you can pick up on steve's voice faintly starting up again over the music and he nods, that same shit-eating smile on his face from earlier.

'now what?' staring at him in amusement, now unknowingly trapped in your bedroom for the foreseeable.

he shrugs, taking a seat on your bed, gazing around the room, 'now we wait.. you got anything to drink in here?'

you ponder for a moment, 'no.. d'you smoke weed?'

his eyes light up at the very question, grinning from ear to ear.

you're mid wheeze when someone bangs on the door, laid back on your bed, eddie sprawled out on the other side laughing maniacally at the shitty impression of steve you'd attempted.

'come in,' you call out, trying to catch your breath and stop laughing, though his face was only making you giggle more.

the door swings open to reveal robin stood on the other side, peeking through her fingers, 'oh,' she looks baffled, not expecting such innocence, 'what're you doing?'

eddie runs a hand over his face, trying his hardest not to start laughing again, 'smoking.. you want in?' offering what must have been the third spliff to her.

'i'm good.. we're going out, jon's got some underground club he desperately wants to go to.. you coming?' her face still very much not understanding what you two were giggling about.

you shake your head, 'nah.. i'm okay,' smiling up at her, hair fanned out around your head.

eddie looks over to you before answering, 'i'm gonna stay here,' slotting the joint into your lazily spread fingers.

your heart beats faster when his fingers brush against yours, though, that was a hard feat with how much the weed was slowing down every other part of you.

'alright well, goodnight losers,' robin calls out, closing the door behind her.

you only need to look at eddie and you're roaring with laughter again, clutching your stomach, holding the spliff in the air so to not get ash all over your bed.

you hadn't imagined your night ending like this but you were pretty glad it did.

a muffled argument pulls you from your sleep. pulling your face from the comfort of eddie's back, you must've rolled over in your sleep and decided to cling onto him. it doesn't feel as weird as it probably should have, in fact, it was pretty comforting. he groans and you can feel the vibration in your cheek.

'what the fuck?' you mumble sleepily, hazy with sleep and honestly probably still slightly high.

you don't even remember falling asleep, but you must've pulled your jeans off at some point in the night, your bare legs strikingly obvious as you sit up slightly, trying to listen to the bickering. you can't really make out any words, just a lot of angry, hushed tones.

'this happens everytime,' turning over to face you, curling one arm beneath the pillow.

'what does?'

'those two arguing, every single time,' rolling his eyes, 'watch this,' he bangs his fist against the wall a couple times, making the row to silence. he grins into the pillow, closing his eyes again as he'd won the who can be louder war.

you put your head back down onto the pillow, smiling at his smug, sleepy face, 'thank you,' you say quietly, watching as one eye peaks open, just staring at each other in your darkened room, small rays of sun beginning to peek through.

it's a few small minutes, gazing, sleepily at one another before the feud begins again.

'fuck me,' eddie moans, bursting into laughter as he extends his arm, pulling the blanket over your heads, stifling at least some of the irritating sounds from the other room, giggling as you both drop off back to sleep.

when you wake up again, at a more appropriate time of the morning, your bed is empty. you’re not sure why you’re disappointed but your heart drops slightly when you turn to the empty mattress.

until something crinkles beneath your body, fishing out the small piece of paper from under your arm.

had to go 2 work, didn’t want 2 wake u

text me (476) 781-7759

scrawled on the page messily, brushing the tiniest hint of a smile on your face as you roll out of bed, swearing to yourself to at least leave it a few hours before texting.

eddie’s not the best texter but he makes damn sure to respond to you. even though it is just mostly silly, irrelevant texts about what you were doing. being sent occasional pictures of cars or whatever it was he was working on. the conversation lasts all weekend, concealing your phone from steve’s curious eyes.

once monday hits, your texts become less frequent and you feel slightly guilty. especially when he’d double text, thinking maybe you hadn’t received the first one.

it was sweet really, which only made you feel worse for not getting back to him in a normal time frame. a rare moment of peace meant you could finally catch up on his tirade of texts and sling back a lazy reply before getting back to editing some of the worst articles you’d ever seen.

what r u doing on saturday?

another text pinged through, following the last one from about an hour ago.

I’ve got work :(

where do u work?

firing back almost immediately after your response. you scan the office before replying, making sure no one was watching.

In Simmon’s😖

ohh okay

you lock your phone, promising to respond properly on your break. slightly stumped by his short reply.

you’re on autopilot, dashing up and down the length of the bar, faking a smile at the slimy old men ogling you from the other side.

so much so that you don’t notice who exactly is stood at the register.

‘what can i get for you?’ tapping at the screen to send another order through before giving the customer your full attention.

he doesn’t respond, pulling your eyes from the screen, the familiar chestnut eyes staring back, slightly widened as your customer service voice was in full swing.

‘oh my god, what are you doing here?’ immediately switching off, repressing the growing grin.

‘i thought i’d see if you wanted a ride home? i was just passing,’ eddie chuckles, eyeing your beer stained uniform.

‘oh.. yeah,’ smiling fully now, ‘i don’t finish ‘til twelve though,’ you’re sure he had better things to do on a saturday night than sit in the rundown bar waiting for you to finish.

‘it’s okay, i’ll wait,’ he nods, sliding into the empty bar stool, ‘i’ll take a drink though.. if you’re offering,’ smirking over the bar.

you feel giddy, having to excuse yourself for a moment while you recollect in the kitchen. waiting for the butterflies to subdue but they never do.

the engine idles as you sit outside of your apartment building, neither of you wanting to be the one to say goodbye first.

‘d’ya wanna come in?’ you proposition, steve’s car wasn’t in his usual spot so you knew you’d at least be away from his prying questions.

‘do you want me to?’ you hadn’t sounded entirely confident in your question, it had been a while since you’d done this, okay? it’s valid.

‘i wouldn’t have asked if i didn’t,’ smiling as you try to hold your nerve.

‘okay,’ he laughs, turning the engine off.

he follows you into the building, holding the door and letting you enter first. desperately struggling to not swoon at the very basic level of chivalry. walking into your dark apartment with eddie at your heal, eternally grateful that steve wasn’t home.

slinging your bag onto the floor, keys rattling as they land in the shared fruit bowl turned key-bowl. sidling into the kitchen knowing that you still had not gone grocery shopping.

‘have you eaten? i’m starving.. i can cook.. uh,’ leering into the barren cupboard, ‘..noodles,’ wincing at severe lack of food.

‘sounds good to me,’ he slides onto one of the tall chairs, watching as you grab a saucepan. he couldn’t believe that you were offering to cook for him even after your long day.

the door slams shut, jolting your attention from the stove as steve walks in, grumpy and feeling sorry for himself, his navy bag slung over his shoulder. he comes trundling into the kitchen, questioning if he was actually seeing this.

‘whoa-ho-ho, what’s going on here?’ nudging eddie with his elbow, shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

‘i’m cooking, genius,’ stirring the pot of simmering noodles, choosing to ignore his implication.

‘wha- you don’t cook for me,’ jutting his bottom lip out, leaning across the kitchen counter.

‘you don’t pick me up from work.. so no.’

‘oh, so it’s like that now, is it?’ wiggling his eyebrows, elbowing eddie once again.

you roll your eyes, pretending that you didn’t hear the teasing tone in his voice.

‘where are you going?’ eddie asks, eyeing steve’s large duffel bag that now sat on the kitchen floor.

he lets out the biggest groan, slapping his hand on eddie’s shoulder, ‘i was going to george’s but.. well, that’s done,’ expelling all of the breath in his lungs in the most over dramatic sigh.

‘again?’

steve gives him a look, ‘yes again.. i’ll tell you all about it in the morning,’ he sounds deflated, like an old balloon, ‘i’m going to bed, enjoy your shitty noodles, don’t do anything i wouldn’t do.’

you glare at him as he backs out of the room, threatening to throw the wooden spoon at his head.

eventually flopping down onto the sofa with eddie, the pathetic bowl of noodles in your lap, ‘sorry.. it’s kinda shit,’ prodding your fork into the pitiful meal.

‘noodles are actually my favourite food,’ smiling as he digs in.

you appreciate it, even if it was total bullshit.

‘how was your day?’ he asks, eyebrows quirking up as you exhale rather dramatically, ‘not great then?’

you chuckle quietly, ‘not really..’ shrugging, ‘both of my bosses are assholes, i hate my job- jobs, and i have this.. fucking column to write if i want a permanent one.. there’s fifteen of us all going for the same position,’ covering your mouth as you’re well aware it’s probably highly unattractive to babble on with noodles in your mouth.

‘well shit.. i mean, if you wanna rant, i can listen and offer shitty advice,’ a short, breathy laugh leaving his mouth.

so you do. you tell him everything, rambling on about your dickhead boss and how you’d expect a much better wage for slaving over a bunch of established journalists, practically doing their jobs for them. going on about being forced to pick up another job or go back home. he listens intently, placing your empty bowls on the coffee table gently.

‘and then my mom..’ you stop yourself, having already dominated the entire conversation, ‘sorry, ive just made you listen to all that..’

‘no, carry on,’ nodding encouragingly, it felt so good to just have someone so interested in what you were saying, even if it was just ranting.

you look at him, genuine interest in his eyes, sighing before you continue, ‘it’s just, since i’ve moved out.. she seems to think i’m earning a shit load more than i am.. she needs the help so i just send it, but it’s just.. frustrating,’ frowning slightly, fiddling with the hole in your tights, ‘sorry.. too much,’ grimacing as you’d just laid bare your problems to an unsuspecting eddie.

he sits for a moment before beginning, ‘do you ever do anything for yourself?’

‘huh?’

‘what do you do that’s just for you?’ watching intently as you shuffle awkwardly.

you shrug, not really able to think of anything, ‘..i don’t know,’ it wasn’t a lie, but it felt awful to say.

‘i think, and this is just my opinion so ignore it if you want.. but i think you should stop living for other people, and start doing things for you,’ he shrugs, ‘like i said, that’s just my opinion.’

you ponder for a second, your idea of a fun time is getting to go to bed before midnight. sometimes you’d indulge in a little marijuana if it was a particularly bad day or had any spare money at the end of the week. that was about it. you didn’t really have time for all of the things he and steve would do for fun, pretentious clubs and the like. hell, you didn’t have the money for that shit.

‘i don’t think i know how.. i’ve helped my mom since my dad left.. and it’s not like i can just stop working or get a new job, like.. i have to or i’ll be homeless,’ chuckling slightly though the words just sounded depressing coming from your mouth.

‘it doesn’t mean you have to stop doing those things.. just.. do something for you too,’ lips curling into a small smile, it was genuine advice and you appreciated it but you weren’t sure your idea of enjoying yourself was the same as his.

‘okay.. how? tell me how to have fun,’ turning to face him properly, legs pulled under yourself, watching as he thinks for a second.

‘i could show you,’ his smile slowly turning into a soft smirk and you’re sure you know where this is going next.

‘okay,’ it comes out quieter than expected, swallowing as his eyes never leave yours, his hand slides across the back of the couch cushions.

his face now mere inches from yours, lips parted slightly as his eyes flit to your lips. you instinctively lean in, eyes fluttering closed, his breath tickling your cheek.

your nose brushes against his before your lips meet, hesitant to make initial contact. this would mean that you couldn’t just string him along on text, it would become something.

his lips press against yours before you can make the first move, pulling you closer by the neck, hand resting on the bare skin.

you sigh softly when they meet properly, it’d been a good while since you’d done this, now suddenly afraid that you were doing it all wrong. though there wasn’t chance to do much thinking, his lips leading the kiss, moving against yours in a fashion that felt completely natural.

fingertips pressing into your neck, trying desperately to pull you even closer than you were. the feel of his tongue swiping across your bottom lip makes your mouth fall open, allowing full access. you can feel the hint of his smile against your face, pushing his chest to yours.

steve’s door swings open and he stares down the hall at the sight of your faces smushed together, peaking just above the sofa.

‘oh,’ his voice echoes, pulling you apart, blood rushing into your cheeks, not sure how much of that he’d seen, ‘well damn, i didn’t mean to interrupt,’ laughing.

you don’t avert your eyes from your lap, embarrassed to look at your gormless roommate. you can feel the heat soaring in your cheeks, eddie’s fingers ever-so-slowly leaving your neck while he clears his throat.

‘did you want something?’

‘nope.. i’m just gonna-,’ disappearing back into his room with a quickness.

eddie turns to look at you, finding the humour in it all, ‘hey,’ placing his fingers underneath your chin, tilting it upwards to look at him, ‘it’s just steve,’ trying to ease some of your unnecessary embarrassment.

you let out a tiny giggle, nodding along with him, because at the end of the day it was just steve.

‘d’ya wanna stay?’ you ask timidly, blinking at the bambi-eyed man sat in front of you.

he nods quickly, stroking along your jawline with his thumb, soothing and gentle. his sweet, bambi eyes causing those darn butterflies to flap around your stomach again.

spending the night sharing soft kisses in bed, allowing yourself the undeniable feeling of falling for someone that you’d denied yourself for years. giddy as his hands explore the more hidden parts of your body. it wasn’t inherently sexual, but loving and intimate.

falling asleep on his chest, with a grin painted on your face.

you sit cross legged on the couch the next morning, eating the eggs eddie had foraged stolen from steve and very kindly cooked for you.

steve makes an appearance mid-way through the morning, looking disheveled and highly displeased when he realised those were his eggs you had enjoyed.

‘and you didn’t even leave me any? i can’t believe you, both of you.. assholes,’ he whines, coming into the living room with a pout on his face, flopping down into the spare love seat.

eddie offers the nearly demolished plate out to him, ‘here.. i’m finished anyway,’ shaking his head at the grumpy boy.

steve takes the measly piece of toast, ‘oh thanks..’ tucking in to the scraps, pleased with himself.

‘so, you and georgia? over for good or..?’ eddie asks, wanting the full story. getting in there first before steve could mention you two.

‘for good,’ he mumbles, mouth full of toast.

‘no shit,’ eddie exclaims, leaning forward to place the plate on the small coffee table, ‘you ended it or she did?’

mindlessly, you stretch your leg out over eddie’s, tuning into steve’s stupid story. you don’t even realise you’ve done it until he starts mindlessly playing with your leg, running his fingers up and down the smooth skin.

completely tuning out of whatever steve had begun to say, focussing on the way eddie’s eyes followed steve, frowning as he told this elaborate tale of the breakup-not breakup.

you’d found yourself doing that often, gazing at eddie, enamoured with the way his entire face seemed to tell you exactly what he was thinking and feeling.

it didn’t help the way his perfect, plump lips moved and you practically could feel them pressed against your-

‘are you even listening? or are you too busy making kissy faces at eddie?’ steve stops in the middle of his pacing to question you, hands stuck mid-air.

your head snaps to face him, shocked by his direct call out, ‘i- i was listening.. carry on,’ nodding to get him to continue, your cheeks once again flushing with colour.

he narrows his eyes at you before getting on with his spiel, ‘okay so, i told her.. no, no this is it and then she cried.. but i didn’t give in, nope- i left,’ he nods in satisfaction, a smug smile on his face.

from what you’d heard about their situation, he had never been the one to end things. it had always been her. so this must have been a monumental thing, and he was well worth his dues for finally growing some balls and getting rid.

eddie slaps his hand against your calf in celebration, smiling at steve, ‘good for you, y’know she’s bad news.. always has been,’ shrugging, still slightly in disbelief that he had been the one to end it.

‘robin’s gonna be so annoying.. i don’t even wanna hear it,’ shaking his head, ‘but thanks, we’re going out tomorrow, to celebrate,’ pointing at the two of you sat on the couch.

you’re actually ready early for once, sat glancing at the time on your phone. okay, twenty minutes til you needed to leave, a quick lie down on your bed couldn’t hurt, right? hell, you could leave in twenty five and not be late, why not?

you’d said you’d meet the guys at the bar at ten, assuming you’d be finished at nine. but then david had let you go early so you’d gone home to make yourself slightly more presentable. a little power nap couldn’t go wrong. right?

well actually, a lot could go wrong.

you’re only aware that you had dropped off to sleep when a banging at the door jolts you awake. whoever was on the other side sounded frantic, as if they were using their fist to pummel the wood.

you step quickly through the apartment, still disoriented from sleep, only just getting your bearings when you fumble for the lock, opening the door to reveal a worried looking eddie.

‘eddie? wha- what’s going on?’ eyes stinging from the bright hallway lights.

‘jesus chr- you didn’t show up.. i thought something happened,’ sounding relieved, you were confused about what all the fuss was about.

��i fell asleep,’ realisation setting in, ‘i fell asleep, oh my god.. i’m so sorry,’ your ten minute rest had turned into a two hour long nap, completely missing your meeting time.

your heart pangs with guilt, you’d fucking slept through your first real date and without so much as a text to let him know. he must’ve thought you’d ditched him. or died. he’d definitely thought you’d died.

‘hey.. it’s okay, i just thought something had happened to you,’ giving you a reassuring smile, relieved as you stood in front of him rather than a ditch somewhere, never to be seen again.

‘i am so so sorry.. i didn’t mean to fall asleep i was just resting my eyes i literally lead down for one minute i’m so sorry,’ babbling on, one long run on sentence.

‘it’s okay,’ taking your thrashing hand into his, ‘i promise it’s okay.. okay?’

you exhale, chilling out slightly as his hand clasps yours, ‘i’m basically ready.. we could still go out?’ looking down at your slept-in outfit.

‘do you still wanna go out? you obviously need the sleep.. i don’t mind if you don’t want to,’ fingers rubbing your hands, soothing any possible lingering worries.

‘i- uh, we could just stay in? steve’s not here so..’ shrugging, you weren’t entirely confident that your suggestion had come across the way you’d planned but he nods anyway, smiling as he walks into the apartment.

so you eat pizza in bed, cross-legged with your shitty laptop playing the cheesiest rom-com you could find, much to eddie’s protests, ‘my laptop, my rules.’

but it doesn’t take long and he’s enthralled, eyes glued to the screen while yours stare at him, taking in every detail. the way his eyes crease when he smiles or the soft shadow of stubble across his chin.

‘stop staring at me and watch this stupid movie,’ smirking, not once looking over at you.

your eyes snap to the laptop, cheeks flushing as you’d been caught and rightfully called out for it. finding it hard to even focus on whatever was going on when he was sat mere inches away with that smug look on his face.

‘i was actually looking at.. your hair,’ nodding to yourself, satisfied with your excuse.

‘my hair? what about my hair?’ turning his attention to you who was now pretending to be thoroughly interested in the movie.

‘watch the stupid movie,’ you smile, throwing his own line back at him.

‘no,’ he snaps back quickly, ‘tell me what’s wrong with my hair?’ nudging your arm with his elbow.

you slowly slide your gaze to him, ‘you really wanna know?’

‘i really wanna know.’

‘it’s..’ mouth opening and closing like a fish, finding something to say, ‘curly,’ pleased with your bullshit answer.

his face contorts into pure confusion, before bursting into laughter, ‘shut up,’ lunging over to you, pushing you backwards onto the mattress, moving on top of your body.

your heart pounding a million miles an hour as his face lingers above yours, ‘you can stare at me for as long as you like,’ gaze lowering to your lips, his muscular arms either side of your face, enveloping you in.

you cut the tension first, reaching up to connect your lips, legs instinctively opening to welcome him between them. hands snaking up his arms and coming to rest on his shoulders.

you shudder when his rough hand crawls underneath your shirt, sliding up your waist until it meets your bra. he pulls back just enough to keep your lips lazily connected, looking for permission to touch you properly.

‘i don’t- i haven’t.. in a while,’ nervously gripping onto his shirt, afraid he might laugh at you for being such a shy prude.

‘okay,’ nodding, pressing tender kisses to your lips and jaw, ‘can i?’ hand still lingering just underneath your bra, itching to move up just an inch.

‘mhmm,’ rolling your head back when his lips find their way to the sensitive skin of your neck, finally gripping onto your boob from over the bra.

nibbling and sucking at the nape of your neck, pulling the lacy bra down exposing your nipple to the cold air of your room. you exhale sharply, not quite expecting the sensation of his thumb messing around with your already hard nipple.

‘i want to..’ dotting kisses down to your chest, ‘..make you feel good,’ face lowering from yours, leaving a trail of kisses on your stomach, still palming your breast on the way down.

you can’t respond, words caught in your throat as your melt into his touch, putty in his hands as his lips stop just below your bellow button, looking up for some confirmation to carry on.

‘do you want me to?’ sliding his palm down to the waistband of your jeans.

you nod hurriedly, ‘yeah.. yes,’ peering down to watch him smirk, hooking his fingers into the elastic and pulling the denim down at an excruciatingly slow pace.

your eyes fly to the ceiling, not wanting to watch as he pulls your jeans off fully, missing the excitable look on his face when he sees the lacy panties you’d worn. already sodden from his pitiful touch, embarrassed by your excitement, you squeeze your eyes shut.

the panties are next to removed and you can hear him shuffle around, placing your thighs on his shoulders as arms wrap around them, holding you in place.

‘you just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?’ he mumbles, planting gentle, teasing kisses to the inside of your thigh.

‘mmm,’ you hum in response, aching for him to just touch you already.

his tongue travels between your folds, causing your thighs to clench together, essentially trapping him between your legs. this is all the encouragement he needs, repeating the action, fingers making indentations in your skin.

‘you’re.. huh,’ circling his tongue around your clit, finding the perfect spot to have you clinging onto the bedsheets, ‘soaked,’ middle and index finger leaving your thigh to tease your hole, edging their way in.

your whimpers are music to his ears, relishing in the high pitched wail he pulls from you the second his fingers enter. tongue still lapping at your clit, moving in the most unholy manner.

‘holy shit,’ you whine when his fingers curl up inside, pumping in and out painfully slow. balling the cotton sheet in your fist, desperately trying to ground yourself.

he’s relentless, swirling his tongue up and down your folds, paying particular attention to your clit and the way your thighs tightened around his head when he found the sweet, spongy spot inside.

your eyes rolling back into your head at your impending orgasm, pleasure coursing through your stomach, unable to find the words to warn him of what was coming.

he knows when your thighs begin to shake and you clench around his fingers, grinning into your pussy as the most unholy sound escapes your lips, echoing through the tall room.

eddie emerges from between your legs, satisfied with himself, finger tips still digging into the pliant skin of your thighs. watching dutifully as writhe, the evidence of you all over his lips as the glisten in the dim light.

‘you good?’ he asks, carefully pushing himself up to perch above you, leaning on one elbow.

you nod, still trying to get your bearings from the earth-shattering orgasm he’d just given you. blinking up at him when you eventually come back to this earth, his eyes full of lust and wanting.

‘i am happy to do that anytime.. by the way,’ a deep chuckle erupting from his throat, hand coming up to brush the sticky hair from your forehead.

you could feel him in between your bodies, sort of taken aback that he hadn’t even done that for his pleasure, but yours.

‘please,’ you whisper bashfully, suddenly coy before the man who was just between your legs.

‘gladly,’ smiling as your lips connect, the taste of you all over his mouth. it was probably the filthiest thing you’d ever done, but you enjoyed it, hell, you were proud of it.

you’re sweating bullets on the subway, clinging onto the bag on your shoulder. it’d be the first time you were staying at eddie’s house, solidifying that this wasn’t just a casual, situational thing.

it wasn’t like you’d never shared a bed or even been intimate for christ’s sake. staying at his place just sorta felt like the next step to being something else.

you’re almost trembling when you lift your hand to knock, checking that you’d got the right place for the fourth time.

when the door opens you’re relieved to see eddie on the other side, already grinning and rushing you inside, taking your bag from your clutch.

it was nothing like you’d imagined, slightly cluttered but with much more character than yours and steve’s apartment had. he’d made it his home, even with a roommate.

‘d’you find it alright? feels weird seeing you here,’ chuckling awkwardly, watching as you glance around the room, noticing the guitar leant up against the wall.

‘yeah.. sorry, you play?’ surprised that you didn’t know this about him, shocked that he had never bought it up.

‘ahh.. yeah, used to be in a band,’ his hand rubbing on the back of his neck, all bashful. you loved it, normally so confident and assured in himself that seeing him practically shrink in front of you was so alien.

‘and you didn’t tell me? i thought we were friends,’ it sounds weird to say but technically it was true, not entirely sure where you stood in terms of your relationship status.

‘we’re friends? did i just get friendzoned?’ his lips curling into a smile, the confident eddie rushing back.

‘well,’ you struggle with words, ‘as far as i’m aware.. we’re just friends,’ hoping that it didn’t seem like you were deliberately dropping hints. even though you totally were.

he saunters closer, ‘what’re you saying?’ smile growing, leering down at you with those sickening eyes.

you shake your head, unable to contain your own grin, ‘nothin’,’ craning your head up to look at him properly, the creases by his eyes only increasing.

‘hmm.. kinda seems like you were,’ teasing in the way he spoke, words dripping with sarcasm.

‘okay, so we’re not friends.. what are we then?’

‘well, you could be my girlfriend? does that sound better?’ his hand hovering over your waist, not wanting to preemptively celebrate in case he had got this completely wrong.

‘sounds perfect to me,’ fully grinning as one hand clamps down onto your waist, the other tenderly caressing your jaw, pulling your jaw up towards him.

you can feel the warmth of his breath on your forehead as he exhales, ‘thank god you said yes,’ the cold of the ring on his thumb tracing along your jawbone.

you chuckle quietly, ‘don’t be silly,’ pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss, arms coming up to snake around his neck, keeping him as close as can be.

your boyfriend.

eddie had gone to take a shower, leaving you in his bed, in his shirt, grinning away like a mad woman. it’s nauseating how happy you were, stomach bubbling with excitement and slight nervousness.

rolling over to grab your phone from the nightstand, your stomach dropping the second the screen lights up.

five missed calls from mom

two new voicemails

you sit up against the headboard, dialling the voicemail box, already imagining a hundred and one horrible things that may have happened.

hey baby, i uh, i tried to call you but i couldn’t get through.. ross is in the hospital, we’re not sure what it is yet.. please call me when you get this, okay love you

her worried tone sets alarm bells ringing immediately. your little brother had been sick the past couple of weeks, just the flu she’d said.

you don’t even listen to the next voicemail, hopping out of bed while you ring her number directly. the dial tone pissing you off as it rings and rings.

‘hello?’ you rush down the phone the second it connects, trying to shimmy into your jeans one handed.

‘oh my god,’ she breathes down the phone, ‘baby are you okay? i couldn’t get ahold of you.. we’re still waiting on results,’ your mom sighs shakily, you can hear the faint beeping of the hospital in the background.

‘i’m coming home, i-i’ll get the train or something.. wha-what’s wrong with him?’

eddie appears from the bathroom, towel draped around his waist, obviously alarmed by your distressed tone and holding his hand out for you to balance on as you wriggle into your jeans.

‘we’re not sure.. one of the nurses thinks it could be pneumonia, they’re doing some blood work.. how long will it take to get back?’

you weren’t even sure if there were trains at this time of night. maybe you could a bus? or a couple of buses? it was already the best part of an hour to drive, that’s without relying on public transport.

‘i don’t know.. there might be a train, uh- shit,’ rushing around eddie’s room searching for your shoes, ‘i’ll be there as soon as i can, okay? i’ll think of something,’ sliding your feet into your dirty old sneakers.

‘okay baby.. i love you, text me when you know, okay?’

‘okay.. okay, i love you too,’ you mutter into the phone, sliding it into your pocket and looking frantically around the room for your jacket.

‘what’s going on?’ eddie asks, still none the wiser and now dripping water onto the carpet.

‘my brother’s in the hospital.. i need to go home,’ voice shaking, becoming increasingly frustrated at your missing jacket.

‘i’ll drive you,’ he says without hesitation, springing into action.

‘it’s like an hour- i was, i can get the train,’ you rush, watching as he gets changed, a million times calmer than you were.

‘no, i’ll drive.. there’s no trains at this time,’ retrieving a new shirt from the drawer, patting his jeans for his keys.

it’s only then that you stop, everything hitting you all at once. completely overwhelmed by his selflessness and the calming nature he was exuding even in such an intense situation.

the tears spill over onto your cheeks and he’s immediately pulling you into his chest, arms encasing your shaking body as you sob into his clean shirt.

‘hey.. it’s okay, he’s okay.. you’re okay,’ large hand rubbing circles on your back, soothing you as you attempt to catch your breath.

you nod into his chest, collecting yourself just enough to pull away, anxious to get there and see your little brother.

‘i know,’ you babble, not believing the words coming out of your mouth, ‘are you sure? i’m sure there’s a bus..’

‘i’m sure,’ he nods, ‘you ready?’

‘mhm,’ you squeak, ‘my jacket..’ looking around aimlessly.

but he already knows where it is, obviously. grabbing the leather jacket and swinging it over your shoulders as he leads the way out of the door and to his van.

the journey is awful. your mind racing over every single possibility. guilt making your stomach churn, feeling as selfish as ever because you weren’t there when they needed you.

eddie’s hand creeps over to rest on your knee and it helps for a moment, knowing that he was there even in your self-loathing, pathetic state.

he most definitely broke a number of laws getting to the hospital but you couldn’t care less. screeching into the parking lot and into a space. you barely give him time to turn the engine off before jumping out and speeding into the hospital.

the lady at the desk is as helpful as possible, directing you to the intensive care unit with some vague directions.

you make it there eventually, eddie trailing behind as you ask another doctor where they were. he takes you to a room on the corner, opening the door to reveal your mom curled up on the chair and your frail looking brother asleep in the bed.

she looks up, relief washing over her face as you step into the room, bounding over to her and pulling her into a tight hug. squeezing your eyes shut so to not let the tears fall.

she smelt like home. like all the comforts you’d missed in the city. warmth and peace.

her hands clutch your shoulders, pulling you apart, ‘he’s okay.. he’s okay, it’s a bad bout of pneumonia but he’s okay,’ smiling ever-so-slightly, ‘we’re just waiting for him to wake up now.’

you can feel the air expel from your lungs, you weren’t even aware that you’d been holding your breath until it all came out.

‘oh my god,’ you sigh, pulling her back into your arms, ‘he’s not gonna die..’ really only saying it to confirm it yourself.

she chuckles tearfully, ‘no baby..’ her eyes move to eddie who was lingering by the door, pulling away once again, ‘sorry.. who’s this?’ completely bewildered by the long haired stranger stood before her.

‘oh uh, this is eddie, my.. boyfriend,’ watching as he offers his hand out for her to shake, ‘he drove me here,’ smiling at the sight of them even interacting.

‘hello.. eddie,’ shaking his hand before glancing back at your shirt, ‘..boyfriend,’ she utters to herself. you could decipher the exact look in her eye and will most definitely collar you later for not telling her about him.

he gives her a tiny, tight lipped smile, he’d never have imagined meeting your mom tonight but here we are.

you take her attention back before she can probe him, ‘have you eaten? why don’t you go and get some sleep and we can wait until he wakes up? i’ll call you as soon as he does.’

she pauses before nodding once, ‘yeah.. yeah,’ narrowing her eyes, ‘the minute he wakes up, okay?’ squeezing your arm, affirming that she was just so grateful for you being here.

she collects her things, reiterating that her phone will be on loudspeaker and you must call as soon as his eyes open. she’d be back at seven if you hadn’t called.

giving eddie another polite smile and a quick thank you before leaving. she’d looked exhausted and slightly dazed, probably thankful now that you were here to watch over ross.

‘sorry ‘bout my mom..’ you smile, ‘you don’t have to stay.. if you need to get back, i’ll be okay,’ he’d already done so much for you, asking him to stay would be too much. even if you were dreading being here all on your own.

‘i’m staying, as long as that’s alright with you?’ cocking his eyebrow, taking a seat on the uncomfortable, brown hospital chairs, settling in for what was going to be a long night.

you nod quickly, ‘of course,’ choosing to perch on the side of your brothers bed, trying your hardest to swallow the growing lump in your throat.

he looked sick. pale and sweaty with tubes coming out of every part of him. it didn’t matter though. he was going to be okay.

your head rests on eddie’s lap, his fingers playing with your hair as you doze in and out of sleep. too anxious to properly rest. the nose of the machines doing you no favours.

‘shit,’ you exclaim, your other responsibilities had just dawned on you. it was deadline day and your final column was stuck, wedged in a bag on eddie’s bedroom floor.

‘hmm?’ he hums, shuffling as you’d startled him from his daze.

‘my column..’ you shake your head, it didn’t matter, not really. not when your brother was still stuck in here, god knows how many tubes coming out of his body.

‘what about it?’

you exhale softly, temple brushing against the rough denim of his jeans, ‘it’s due today.. it doesn’t matter,’ shrugging, accepting the loss.

‘when?’ he asks, fingers still weaving through your hair.

‘at five,’ the columnist position disappearing from in front of your eyes, ‘it’s okay.. i’m sure there’ll be another job.. somewhere,’ trying to hide the disappointment in your voice.

frankly, you’d be lucky if you had a job at this point. simmon’s wouldn’t keep you on if you didn’t turn up tomorrow night and the internship had finished.

‘have you finished it?’ adjusting in the seat, tilting your head up towards him.

you nod, swallowing as you’re sure you can guess what he’s going to say next. there’s not a chance you’d let him drive back just to hand in your stupid column.

‘i’ll take it, you just gotta tell me what and where to go,’ lips twitching into a soft smile, massaging your cheek with his thumb.

‘no, i can’t ask you to do that,’ jutting your bottom lip out.

‘you didn’t, i offered.. it’s different.’

you pause, stomach fluttering and all you can do it nod. brain turning to mush as his eyes study your face, the slight curve of his pretty pink lips was entrancing. snapping back to reality when you remembered where you were.

‘i’ll go when your mom comes back, yeah?’

‘if you’re sure.. it’s in my bag in your room, i can text you the address.. you really don’t have to,’ blinking up at him, astounded by his kindness, the pure calmness he exudes.

‘shut up, i want to,’ reassuring you with a smile, brushing the hair off of your forehead.

he goes the second your mom turns up, looking slightly more like herself, giving him a small appreciative hug for staying with you all night.

the inevitable grilling is cut short when ross opens his eyes, coughing and spluttering as he comes to. both of you rushing to his bedside, being ever so gentle to not hurt his already fragile body.

he’s still sleepy, but so grateful to see you at his side. you swear to yourself, and to him to not ever be away from him for so long again. your heart wrenching at his weak smile, clinging to his cold fingers and reaffirming a million times that you were here.

you’re milling around the bright, sterile room. waiting for the nurse to administer the next round of drugs when your phone rings, startling you.

it’s eddie. stepping out of the room into the silent hallway and answering.

‘hello?’ smiling to yourself the second you hear his voice.

‘hey.. did you do it?’

‘yup, all handed in.. she said something about an email? i don’t really know.. but yeah, it’s in,’ you can hear the slam of his van door.

breathing a sigh of relief knowing that maybe all hadn’t been lost, ‘thank you.. thank you so much.’

‘i spoke to.. fuck, i think his name was david? he said to take the week off and he hopes your brother’s okay.’

‘you went to simmon’s? eddie i- you didn’t have to.. thank you,’ your heart bursting through your chest, you weren’t sure that anyone had ever cared about you this much.

‘now.. i’ve got you some clothes, d’you want me to bring them now or i can come later?’ his jury’s jangling in the background.

you want to tell him no, to stop being so kind, to stop making your heart swell with every word, every thoughtful action. but you can’t, instead nodding enthusiastically though he couldn’t see you.

‘you can come now.. thank you, i owe you my life,’ listening to the engine turn on, already on his way back to you.

‘you owe me nothin’.. i’ll be about an hour, okay?’

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #modern!eddie munson

590 notes · View notes

thatstonedwriter · 1 month

Text

˚₊‧🍄[ Hangin' with The Boys ]🍃˚₊‧

◉ Synopsis; how the Boys spend their time off (with you)

◉ CW; potential spoilers for seasons 1-3, substance use (and abuse), swearing

◉ A/n- aight my first piece for the Boys- went with something tame to ease myself into writing for this insane show- wtf am I doing

◉ feat; Butcher, Hughie, Frenchie, M.M, Kimiko

Moments of peace are few and far between when you're hunting and killing Supes. When you're not being thrown out windows and being threatened by the world's most powerful entities, free time with the Boys is definitely a special treat

The bastard he is, Butcher spends any free time he's got smoking, drinking, and antagonizing the others- just for a laugh. Butcher will always try to sneak off to a bar or some back room- but ever since you joined the crew, he's had a hard time shaking you off. Always following diligently- or maybe just to be an annoyance- Butcher is almost never free of you- or your attempts to get him to socialize. Forced proximity and a lot of patience were crucial to Butcher finally caving and allowing you to join him for a drink one day. At first, it’s quiet- not uncomfortably so, with the usual ruckus in the room over serving as odd but comforting background noise. Any conversation that does take place is likely started by Butcher insulting you. That goes for every other conversation that follows, too. You’re either a Butcher enabler or you help pull him back. Maybe it depends on the day- either way, your partnership comes at the expense of the others’ sanity. Pranks, insults, and drinks/cigs galore- the two of you go through the “recreational supplies” faster than Frenchie.

I really, really hope you like (or can at least tolerate) Billy Joel because that’s all Hughie wants to have playing in the background while the two of you talk. Of course, feel free to introduce new shit- he’s flexible (but lbr, this dude just wants Billy Joel). When you’re not being forced to listen to “We Didn’t Start the Fire” for the millionth time, the two of you are playing card games, sneaking off to arcades and movies, and even possibly going to visit Hughie’s dad or Annie. Whether you’re on the train, the couch, or (M.M forbid) laying on the disgusting floor, you and Hughie are damn-near always sharing earbuds to listen to music. Hughie would really enjoy just people watching with you. Seeing people live normal lives, happy and (relatively) safe- it makes him believe he could have that one day, ideally with his friends and family- that includes you. The playful/nerdy banter between you two is considered to be the most wholesome part of the crew.

Frenchie I wanna get high w you please- ahem- Yeah Frenchie likes to do a lot of drugs- but he won’t be offended if you decline. Usually, Kimiko and Frenchie come as a pair, so with you, they’re a happy trio! Together, you and Frenchie will request songs for Kimiko to play on the keyboard, the three of you will dance to whatever is playing on Kimiko’s iPod, you and Frenchie learn/practice Kimiko’s sign language, you and Kimiko entertain Frenchie’s high shenanigans (and pull him back when he goes too far)- basically any and everything you can do, you do together. Hope you have space in your brain for two more languages because alongside Kimiko’s SL, Serge would absolutely die if you learned any French- even you just learning the basics would melt his heart. Frenchie often encourages you and Kimiko to sneak out with him to go on “dates” (lowkey thruple coded) to small, hole-in-the-wall bars and restaurants. He’s for sure going to ask your opinions on chemistry or whatever the fuck while he’s making/studying bombs. He’s not miffed if you don’t know or can’t answer- often times he’s talking to himself anyways- but any feedback is always appreciated.

M.M would really appreciate a grounding presence in the crew- and that’s exactly what you helped provide. You helped balance the ratio of crazy to insane within the group, and for that, M.M is eternally grateful. Often times, while he’s cleaning/organizing equipment, you’ll keep him company. This often turns into M.M opening up about his family, OCD, concerns he has about the Boys, etc. He’s a firm believer in hard work, discipline and learning so you won’t just be standing around while you talk and listen- oh no, he’s showing you the way- the proper way- to clean the weapons, disinfect the counters, organize the shelves- hell, he’ll even ration out some supplies so he can teach you some first aid/sutures. It’ll probably be a while before you get through to M.M’s softer side, but it’s totally worth it to get there. M.M wants the best for his crew, and though it’s tough love, the rigorous lessons are all taught in hopes of you being able to protect yourself (and keep the hideout tidy).

Happy trio part 2! Nobody expected the quiet, intimidating Kimiko to enjoy music and art as much as she does. You and Frenchie are her biggest fans and supporters, and often show her new music to listen to- if you’re lucky, you can get some pirated versions of old cartoons to watch together. Kimiko loves dancing and listening to/playing music- and since you and Frenchie usually indulge her, that’s what you spend a lot of your time doing. The others call it goofing off- you three call it a healthy dose of fun. When Frenchie is out, Kimiko spends a lot of time teaching you her SL so that you can talk without Frenchie being the translator. Sure, typing on the phone is easier, but being able to have secret conversations with your friends is so much better, don’t you think? Talking shit about the others right in front of them is a treasured experience you, Kimiko and Frenchie share.

#the boys #the boys x reader #the boys x you #billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #the boys hughie #hughie campbell #hughie x reader #m.m the boys #frenchie the boys #the boys frenchie #frenchie x reader #kimiko the boys #kimiko x reader #platonic x reader #platonic relationships #gender neutral reader #writings.onthe.wall

60 notes · View notes

angel-of-the-moons · 10 months

Note

Smut Request for Marc…

Marc Spector doesn’t want you to leave the flat, and convinces you to stay by “special” means.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Convincing Argument

Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, Oral (Fem receiving), hair pulling, fingering Marc being clingy

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

He was being unusually clingy today. He would get like this sometimes, when Steven or Jake would leave him alone in control of the body.

Normally when he got like this, he'd lay across your lap, or if you were laying on your belly scrolling through your phone, he would lay across your back, his hands clasped over his belly as he napped. Sometimes he would simply wrap himself around you like you were a beloved teddy bear.

Other times... He would simply shadow you.

You could tell poor Marc didn't like to be alone, especially not when he was left to his own devices when Steven and Jake would melt away into their headspace.

But right now, you needed to go to the store to restock the groceries, and take a trip to the bank to pull out money to cover your share of the electric. And Marc... well.

He was hanging off of you, arms wrapped around your midsection from behind, locking you in a tight embrace you couldn't escape from.

"I need to go. If you want dinner tonight, Marc Spector, you will let me go." You huff, rolling your eyes at his theatrics.

"Please, baby." He groaned, exasperated as he kissed your neck.

"You're being a drama queen. If you don't want me to go, you can come with..." You offer.

"No."

Of course. Stubborn shit.

"Marc..."

"I don't want to be around other people right now, I want to be with you." He mumbled against your neck again.

"Why don't you spend time with Steven or Jake? Shoot some trivia or something?" You sigh.

"They won't answer. They said it was an "alone" day."

You pouted, brows furrowing. "So your solution is to be a human koala bear?"

"If it gets you to stay with me, yes." He says, 100% unashamed.

"Marc..."

"C'mon, babe. Hey, how about I try to convince you?"

Your turn around and crossed your arms as he lets you free, your eyebrow quirked high in skepticism.

"Plead your case..." You say, your tone dripping with irritation.

Marc grinned and crashed his lips into yours, pinning you to the front door of your flat as he delved his tongue past your lips, running along your teeth and your tongue before parting, almost too soon for your liking.

You frown at him, a cute little scrunch in your nose as you do. "Okay that might have worked, but I'm still mad."

Marc smirked and dropped to his knees in front of you, almost making you wince at how fast he went down, cringing at how his knees must be hurting thanks to the hardwood floors.

You gasped when his hands flicked your button open and unzipped the fly to your jeans, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops and curling his fingers through the waistband of your panties, yanking both articles of clothing down your thighs, placing a wet kiss to your mound, his nose tickling the short-trimmed hairs there.

You squeaked when he moved again, a man on a mission; slipping his head between your thighs, your knees now over his shoulders, still linked together by your pants and panties that couldn't have been pulled down past your boots.

You bit back a low whine when his tongue wasted no further time in curling around your clit, rolling it around as you sucked in a shaky breath, looking down at him as he used his thumb to pull back the hood of your clit just to greedily suck the little nub into his mouth.

Carefully balancing you on his shoulders, his fingers tease your hole as his tongue and thumb pushed and pulled, coaxing out some sweet nectar from the flower that is you.

Like a greedy little hummingbird so desperately trying to drink from a flower in a garden, Marc was on his knees, tongue lashing at your cunt with determined fervor as he used the pads of his fingers to spread your slick over your labia, making sure you were nice and wet.

"Oh fuck..." You whimpered, your thighs squeezing around his head as he continued to use his thumb to roll the hood of your clit back as he rutted his nose against it, his tongue joining his fingers in an attempt to spread some wetness over your core.

Marc, once he deemed your poor, puffy cunt slick enough, slipped his thick fingers inside, quickly rolling, scissoring and curling them in a way that was bringing your orgasm on fast, pressing up into your walls in tune with every stroke of his tongue on your sensitive little nub.

"Oh my gh--Marc!" You mewl loudly, your fingers shooting down to grip at his hair and tug, earning a deep and heavy groan from him, sending vibrations straight through to your clit.

He curled and thrust his fingers deeper, more feverishly as he felt your walls flutter and tighten around his fingers.

When he pushed up from inside, it added extra stimulation to your clit from within, and you simply couldn't take the sinfully fast coaxing Marc was doing to you. It was as if he knew your body better than even you did.

When you cum, you tug his hair again as you soak his mouth and chin, head thumping back against the door as you cry out his name in ecstasy.

He gave you a few teasing licks, each flick of his tongue sending bolts of lightning spreading through your body as he disentangled from you, carefully putting you back on your feet as he wiped his face clean, a nice, smug grin on his face as he looked up at you.

"Convincing enough?" He purred.

You tugged him to his feet by his hair, and hissed.

"You. Me. Bed. Now."

Ah, well, you could always order out for dinner and go to the bank tomorrow...

#🌙 answered #moon knight #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector smut #marc spector

173 notes · View notes

aphrodisiac-siren · 7 months

Text

Home~ Neteyam x Metkayina!reader

Summary: Leaving behind everything he knew was hard for Neteyam and then adapting to the ways of the new clan was even harder. He'd push himself, overwork and exhaust himself even, to live upto his family's expectations; never really giving his own wants a second thought. That's why Y/N was the prefect companion for him, someone who kept things in his life balanced, who made sure to let him know that what he wanted was just as important, perhaps even more so, than what everyone else wanted of him.

//slow burn, cute Neytiri and Y/N bonding moment plus Lo'ak being a menace and HEAVY ANGST//

masterlist, Part 3

Part 2

🫧

The previous couple of days seemed to be the most fun Y/N had had in a while. She and her siblings spent almost all their time with the Sully kids, teaching them all that they needed to know to survive out here with the reef people. It was refreshing to have a break from her own lessons of healing and hunting and granted that the forest Na'vi were taking their time with adapting to the new place, it was still enjoyable nevertheless to be around them.

Aonung was still hostile, refusing to give the kids a break for even a slight mistake, with the exception of Tuk. He seemed fond of her, on some occasions treating her just like how he treated his own sisters but he was too proud to admit that he'd grown a soft spot for the little one.

Out of the whole lot, Y/N had to concede that Kiri was the fastest learner. It was impressive really how much of a natural she was. Though Y/N also made a note that Neteyam was the more ardent learner. She'd catch him practicing their sign language by himself when the others played on the beach or he'd work on his diving whilst his sisters picked sea shells. She once even saw him trying to teach his Ikran sign language whilst everyone was enjoying dinner.

"Thank-you" he said aloud as he slowly signed, so that the animal could register the gesture "this means thank-you"

As promised, in between lessons, Neteyam would treat her to some random pieces of information he'd learned from his dad about the sky people. He taught her a few words and phrases, being as patient with her as she was with him. There were times when even Lo'ak butted in, trying to have his two seconds of fame as well.

"Not to brag or anything, but I used to visit the sky-people’s camp like all the time" he flexed, grinning like an idiot who'd just won a prize "Oh teach her how to say 'suck my dick' bro"

"S-suck my-"

"NO!" Neteyam practically jumped. The last thing he wanted was to get in trouble for teaching the chief's daughter vulgar profanities "Lo'ak you skxawng! Go away"

In conclusion, the Sullys were an absolute joy to have around.

"You spend too much time with them" Aonung spoke coldly, pulling his sister out of her train of thought. He merely tolerated those kids out of obligation and because of his status as the chief's son. Beyond that, he didn’t give two fucks about them "even Tsireya isn’t tailing after them outside of lessons"

"Tailing after?" Y/N raised a brow, not to happy with the tone her brother was using "I'm sorry, why is me hanging out with them a problem again?"

"They don’t belong here" he said slowly, as if by doing so she'd grasp what he was saying and agree "ever since their arrival, we've been forced to baby them and teach them things we did effortlessly at the age of ten. You and I both haven’t had a day to ourselves to do our training much less relax"

"Those kids are doing their best" Y/N sighed, unsure why it was always her who had to deal with her brother's whining "you can tell they’re trying their hardest' they really want to learn-"

"Well their best isn’t good enough" He snapped, Y/N rolling her eyes at his outburst "I want them to go back"

"Shut up Aonung, don’t be such an asshole" she huffed, using an english insult that Lo'ak taught her and Neteyam begged never to say.

"What?" Aonung looked at her like she said something in gibberish, which to him was what the entirety of the english language would probably sound like.

"Nothing"

"Whatever, look at this" the boy struck a pose to flex his biceps, looking at his arms proudly. Y/N rolled her eyes at his antics. It was a bit funny how the conversation was abruptly halted just because Aonung wanted to flex his muscles. Brothers.

Not wanting to stick around for him to go back to his previous argument once he'd finished admiring himself, she left him to fond over himself and went to go take a walk somewhere away from the beach at which they were.

"Where you going?" he called out to her, smile dropping

"Away from you" she said over her shoulder, brushing the sand off her thighs.

"Why? I wasn’t done talking"

"Exactly why I'm going"

Not having much to do until later in the day, when she'd teach some weaving with her father, she decided to go help feed the Ikran.

They usually stayed near the far end of the village, occasionally vanishing for a few hours just to fly around. The clan's people brought them baskets of fish and sometimes fruit to keep them well fed and less cranky.

Y/N hummed to herself whilst carrying the basket that held their food. It was kept in a little shack at a distance from the Ikran. She was curious as to why there wasn’t anyone there at the time, this was usually when someone went to go feed them anyway. Not really caring much, she happily skipped toward them, slightly content that she could admire the creatures alone.

Her enthusiasm died down however, when she rounded the corner and saw Neytiri already there with a similar basket of fish beside her.

Y/N’s chirpy humming had the woman turning around, silently eyeing the girl from up to down.

"Hi" she meekly greeted, awkwardly hugging the basked like it was the only source of comfort she had at the moment "I came to feed them"

"Seze doesn’t like being fed" Neytiri flatly said, quickly glancing at the Ikran to her right who was busy digging into the basket. The other bird-like creatures were curled up for a nap, probably already done with their meal.

"Is that yours?" Y/N put down the basket in defeat, a bit disappointed she couldn’t stick around with the foreign animals.

Neytiri paused to study her some more. Y/N was a sweet girl by nature, her daughter Tuk never failed to mention that to her. She was patient and very smart, very proficient too. Despite her timid voice, she presented herself quite well, shoulders rarely ever hunched and chin up. She was curious little thing, that much was very conspicuous about her; always eager to learn or delve into anything new.

"Come" she beckoned for the younger girl who approached without a word, still holding on to the basket "put that down, Seze will only eat if it’s not directly being fed, she hates being babied"

"Sounds like my brother" Y/N mumbled as she did what Neytiri told, earning a brief grin from the woman. She took a step back and watched as the Ikran dived hungrily into the second basket of fish, despite not finishing the first one "eats like him too... don’t tell anyone I said that"

Neytiri's phlegmatic exterior melted away, laughter replacing her somber expression. Y/N was just humorous as she was diligent, an adorable little thing the older woman found her.

"Did you catch the fish yourself?" she asked, tone much more gentle and motherly now, which visibly seemed to put the younger Na'vi at ease.

"N-no" Y/N responded but quickly opened her mouth to futher justify her answer, as if she felt the need to provide an explanation so as to not be underestimated by Neytiri "but I am good at spearfishing, I've caught plenty of fish you know"

"Ah. But I must confess, catching fish with my arrows is much more easier than these spears you use" She told her and watched the girl's face contour into a look of confusion which she quickly masked with a polite smile, just nodding in agreement "you haven’t trained with a bow and arrow?"

Y/N only nodded a 'no'

"Hm," Neytiri hummed "I will see you little while before eclipse near the southern side of the reef, I hope you don’t mind using Lo'ak's bow while you learn"

Y/N's face lit up to a point where Neytiri was expecting for her whole head to just start glowing like the sun any moment.

"You'll teach me?" she excitedly asked, voice a pitch higher than usual "really?"

Neytiri only chuckled adoringly at her ardor to learn and responded by just ruffling her hair.

___

Y/N felt like she had conquered all of Pandora by securing a lesson with Neytiri.

She happily skipped to the beach to find her sister Tsireya and tell her about her day so far. She knew her sister was usually whiling away her time picking shells around this time of day, to use them later to braid into her hair.

What she didn’t expect was to run into her idiot brother and his friends caught up in a rowdy fight with Lo'ak and Neteyam. The boys were like hooligans, kicking, punching and pulling tails. Kiri stood in the distance, heavily judging the fools.

“Guys! Hey!” She made a run for it, wanting to stop this fight before any of the skxawngs managed to seriously hurt someone “Aonung!”

Her brother was too caught up trying to free himself from Lo’ak who was pulling his ear all while being dragged across the sand by his tail.

“That’s enough-“

A loud grunt interrupted her and she looked to the side to see Neteyam gracefully knee one of the other boys right in the balls.

“Stop it NOW!” She bellowed, jumping right into the mess of angry teen boys. Not wanting to accidentally hurt the chief’s daughter, Aonung’s friend’s begrudgingly seized their punching and scooted a few steps back.

“Is this how you want the forest people to know us?” She scolded, ignoring the wincing from her brother “that the Metkayina people are hostile bullies? Really Aonung?”

“That bastard threw the first punch!” One of them hissed at Lo’ak, who reacted by hissing back “maybe you should consider vouching for your people and not favour their asses for a change”

“Watch your mouth” despite being in pain, Aonung limped to toward Y/N, putting himself between her and his friend with the snarky tone “do not speak to my sister that way”

The boy only scoffed in response.

“Aonung” Y/N coldly spoke, though there was an undertone of concern lacing her words. Her brother was really beat up, face bruised, lip bleeding and skin scraped here and there “get outta here, go get patched up”

“He’s right you know” he lowly told her, eyes menacingly glancing toward the Sullys “he did start-“

“Then you should’ve put a stop to it” was all she said, staring up at him until her brother caved in and turned away, muttering a string of profanities under his breath that his mother would indefinitely ground him for.

“And you” Y/N turned to the Sully kids as Aonung and his friends made their exit “I know their teasing can get a lot sometimes but did you really have to hit him?”

“You can’t be serious” Lo’ak looked almost offended, as if he wasn’t expecting her at all to scold him “if it wasn’t for that bitc-“

“Mind what you say Lo’ak, he is my brother. A lot to deal with sometimes but he is still my family- the son of Tonowari” she then turned her attention to Kiri “and you just stood there watching and giggling, I always thought you were the mature one”

“Hey don’t drag her into this” Neteyam stepped forward, shielding his siblings both physically and in spirit “they poked fun at her, maybe save the scolding for the person who actually needs it hm?”

“Do not tell me who I ought to scold at and at who I shouldn’t. You were all at fault here to some extent” she hissed, her sharp fangs briefly making an appearance “is resorting to physical violence something you’re used to over choosing to resolve it with civil conversation?”

“Do not speak to me that way” Neteyam hissed, slowly losing his calm composure. He was well known and well respected in his clan, always treated and spoke to like he was royalty. Not a single person had ever spoken rudely much less snapped at him in such a manner. He was a warrior in training to be a strong leader “I’m to be the next Olo'eyktan-“

“No you were going to be Olo'eyktan, before your father left the forest” Y/N was letting her anger get the best of her, not bothering to think even for a second about the words that were leaving her mouth “now you live here in our clan, as a normal person with no high station. So you make your peace-”

“My father is Toruk Makto, he’s fought and won a war against the sky people” Neteyam’s voice was hauntingly low, a growl escaping in between a few words. The way he spoke, the way his tail arose, he almost looked like an animal waiting to pounce on his prey. He was well aware that he was no longer in line to be the next chief but hearing it from someone else in such circumstances made his blood boil “Your father says the reef people haven’t been at war during his time. Take his title of chief away and what does make you then? A nobody; because while I may never be chief, I will always be the son of the great warrior Toruk Makto and you are a girl that was simply born to someone who was already heir to the Metkayina clan”

There was silence.

Deafening silence.

Lo’ak was the short-tempered one in the family, always quick to say things in the heat of the moment; notorious for showing fits of rage and making impulsive choices but even he had to agree: Neteyam had gone too far.

“Bro” he softly called out to Neteyam, sharing nervous glances with Kiri who was just as stunned by their older brother’s outburst. It was unlike him to lose him temper and just say things without thinking.

As if his little brother’s voice was a force that pulled him back to reality, Neteyam’s eyes went wide with realisation after he’d only just processed what he’d said, knowing well that it was too late already.

“No, Y/N” he poorly began, tail drooping down again in shame “I did not mean to-“

“I’m so glad the Omatikaya do not have to face the shame of having to call you their Olo'eyktan” Y/N’s voice was oddly calm but that’s what seemed to scare them even more. She spun on her heels, keeping her cool “there will be no lessons today. And none from me henceforth”

#avatar #avatarimagine #avatar way of water #neteyam x reader #writing #fanfiction #neteyam imagine #avatar imagine #avatar fanfiction #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak fanfiction #neteyam fanfiction #jamie flatters

85 notes · View notes

nekohime19 · 2 months

Text

Mini Mac # 29 : Bonding time

Pilgrims find their rhythm together

Wukong thought about his sworn-brothers once in a while. He knew, from what Macaque told him, that they were still alive somewhere but the lil frown etched on the black-furred monkey face also spoke volumes about their feelings for him. While Macaque was cute when angry, it still meant that his sworn-brothers (or perhaps ex sworn-brothers) resented him for what happened. Wukong had mixed feelings about this. He also resented his ex sworn-brothers (they never visited once while he was under the mountain and while he had Macaque to keep him company, and prevent him from turning insane, he would have liked to see their faces from times to times) but some part of him also deeply cared for them and it was difficult to think about their strained bond. So, in a very Wukong-way, he avoided the thought as much as possible and pushed it to the back of his mind.

And on the rare occasions where the thought plagues his mind, one lil push of Macaque's paws against his cheek always lifted his spirits. Mayhaps it's because they spend so much time together, but Macaque always managed to tell in what mood he was in despite him trying to hide it. Wukong knew he could hide nothing from the lil guy, not that he wanted to, Macaque was one of the only people he didn't mind being vulnerable with. Perhaps because Macaque already saw him at his worst and still chose to stay.

Wukong was sitting in front of the campfire, twirling the old bamboo tied to his necklace. He had to change the chain many times. It's been eons since Macaque gave him this necklace, but somehow the bamboo was still hanging on, perhaps because it was still protected by the wind. Wukong always wore the necklace, it was always under his clothes, close to his skin, and sometimes he liked to touch the bamboo, it soothed him, reminded him that he got out of all the torture he endured. Macaque was bickering with Bajie about tonight's meals, the lil guy has more knowledge on herbs than Bajie and he always got mad when the pig messed up the spices, especially since Bajie never admitted that he messed up and even sometimes stole form Macaque own stack of herbs.

“You cannot put that much ginger in the stew! You want us to have stomach aches?” Groaned Macaque, he stood on the pot edge, grabbing the wooden spoon to balance himself.

“It's just a spice. It's not gonna destroy our stomachs.” Huffed Bajie, as stubborn as ever when it came to those topics.

“It can! Moreover, you stole the ginger from my stack.”

“W-what, pff absolutely not.” Huffed Bajie, obviously lying about it.

“You know I can teach you to notice ginger in nature if you want but don't steal from my stack.” Huffed Macaque as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I don't want your help, you're just a little-” Wukong narrowed his eyes at the pig and mayhaps Bajie sensed it because he threw a quick glance at Wukong and decided to not end his sentence.

The golden-furred monkey returned his attention to his bamboo, he briefly caught sight of Sanzang and Wujing while turning his head. The young monk was getting a massage from the river demon. Out of all of them Wujing was the most helpful with this sort of matters, his large hands were perfect for massages, he was also the most delicate and thoughtful. Wukong tried to give Sanzang a massage once (only because the monk whined about it) and he almost broke the mortal back. Mortals were so weak. Wukong thought it was funny to see a youngster like Sanzang whining about how his back hurts as if he was over eighty. It annoyed him a lil, but it didn't annoy him as much as before, the monk was getting kidnapped every Tuesday by demons wanting to eat him, it was no surprise that he came back with some injuries from all this rough handling.

Wukong looked up when he heard someone sitting beside him. Ao Lie shuffled at his sides, his silly smile etched on his face. The dragon-horse wasn't very easy to understand. He was the weirdest out of all them and yet, sometimes, the wisest among them. Wukong noticed the dirt on one half of the dragon-horse robe and raised an eyebrow.

“Why are you so dirty?” Asked the golden-furred monkey.

“I fell down while transforming in my human form.” Giggled Ao Lie with a sheepish smile. Wukong rolled his eyes, not one bit surprised, but there was a hint of fondness in his expression.

“You know you gotta be more careful, you'll have nothing left in your head if you bump it so much.” Snorted Wukong, Ao Lie smiled at his quip and then his eyes fell on the bamboo.

“You seem to care about this. You touch it everytime we settle down.” Wukong wasn't surprised that Ao Lie picked up on this, the dragon-horse was awfully sharp at times.

“It's a gift from Macaque.” Explained Wukong, and he didn't have to add more, it was enough to explain the importance of the necklace.

“You really care about him.” Softly replied Ao Lie.

“...Yeah.” And then because he was becoming a bit embarrassed by Ao Lie knowing gaze he quickly changed the subject “You gotta clean your hooves more when you're in your horse form!”

“I clean them enough, no?” Replied Ao Lie with a tilted head.

“Absolutely not! I cringe every time I see your hooves. It's not healthy at all and it'll hurt you if you leave it like that. You have no knowledge on horses at all-” Wukong was quickly becoming fired up by the subject and would have kept going on horses if he hadn't heard a familiar yelp. He turned around and saw Bajie laughing like no tomorrow, Macaque fell in the pot.

Wukong snorted a bit at the sight of Macaque floating in the pot before catching the lil guy's annoyed glare. The sage chuckled sheepishly, he created a towel with his hair and went to help Macaque out of the pot.

While Wukong was cleaning Macaque and grooming his fur, he couldn't help but look around at the other pilgrims discarded around the firecamp and think : this wasn't that bad.

+ cut scenes

Wukong when he sees Macaque in the pot : Lil guy in stew, funny 🤣

Macaque : 😠

Wukong :... Sorry Bae 😅

Wukong looking at Ao Lie hooves : this is unacceptable 😠 *bimawen instincts trigerred*

+ some memes!!

Ch1 / Previous / Next

#shadowpeach #lmk #mini mac au #shadowpeach fanfic #Just peaceful times #Macaque is going full ratatouille on Pigsy #Wukong past instinct as a horse girl are triggered

37 notes · View notes

cerosin-bis · 29 days

Note

might I ask for a handful of just random cod trivia ..

and/or ! just your thoughts on the games and reboots, if you’re comfy w that?

I feel like you always have some random notes or tags about weird trivia in the game but obviously this isn’t specific At All so feel free to just ignore this if it’s weird sjdndjhd

Hi! no this isn't weird 🥺 I think what gives this impression is "just" that I played most of said games a lot and got interested in the lore that's not necessarily accessible to people who, big quotation marks, are superficially in the fandom. as in people who aren't interested in multiplayer or secondary gamemodes, let alone lore and are more focused on the main cast or one particular mp character (such as könig)

This got VERY long so, my rambles and opinions about the Modern Warfare games and their reboots below.

I played mw2 and mw3's campaigns in 2010-2013. I wasn't playing multiplayer at the time, I started it with BO4 in 2018. But I fell hard into MW's multiplayer with the first reboot, mw19, in early 2020.

Just so that my words have a bit of "the player's weight": I have around 900 hours on mw19, 400 on MWII and I believe 200-300 on MWIII.

Regarding campaigns: Call of duty is Call of duty. It's literally funded by the US army. it's blatant propaganda, and I expect no less when I run a campaign. With that being said, what I expect from a CoD campaign is either being over-the-top and extra (like the original trilogy and in some ways MWIII specifically), or rooted in reality and wanna be serious like mw19. This is minding the blatant history 'rewriting' it's doing (eg. chemical attacks in syria, highway of death mission). My honest opinion on it is that the reboots don't know what they want and it's especially visible in MWII. In my opinion, the original games nailed that "american action movie" feel that the reboots kinda lost by instead veering towards something overlapping with real-life maybe a bit too much while still wanting to include crazy shit. Like, I don't think it's a balance that can work. I do like that we had more character development with MWII and it felt fun to play (in that regard I have no complaints, and I even liked the semi-open missions that a lot of ppl disliked), but it feels a bit less like call of duty. I'll be curious to see what direction they take for the next MW game, but I sure hope IW get their shit together and have a clear direction.

Transitioning to multiplayer with that. This feeling that the MW games are now an amalgamation of things sewn together hastily started with the Warzone fusion and the BOCW implementation. It became especially visible in multiplayer with the addition of crossover bundles, providing less and less "mil-sim" skins, and it was obvious that by MWIII IW would step away and let other developers (treyarch, SHG, which are both turned more towards arcade gameplay) take over the multiplayer development. Which is kinda insane: MW was always Infinity Ward's flasgship initially.

In my opinion the MW multiplayer started feeling different (in my eyes, falling off) for 3 reasons:

Catering to a younger playerbase, notably the "tiktok crowd": younger gamers want games that are incredibly fast-paced (mirroring their use of social media and those yknow "adhd videos") and like extremely flashy skins. Therefore, they'll spend money to get them. I'm not saying this to say "it's bad!" it's just an observation

The absolute success of mobile games and fortnite-like collaborations. This is mostly due to the current way people "consume" social media and games, with everything being quick and instant and fleeting. The sheer impact that these two things have had on video games as a whole is absolutely insane: they started adding microtransactions in games because it started on mobile & they realised that if you let people buy skins with real money w the press of a button, spendings increase tenfold. Same goes with the battle pass model: it's incredibly lucrative.

Crunch, changes of leadership, writers and artists probably being allowed less communication and therefore focus; and, in MWIII's case, the arrival of AI giving us some tasteless slop in cosmetics. That they sell. For real money.

I've said it countless time but I really regret mw19 multiplayer's artistic and narrative direction. It had a story that's completely absent from MWII where characters are just empty shells with a few lines of marvel-like, mary-sue grade bios. Where's the cohesive story? Where are the outwardly morally grey or flawed characters, the sub-squads, the interaction lines, the bundles that made sense with the characters' backstories?...

Long story short, I don't know if the MW series will ever go back to what made it MW. I hope so, but seeing how between 2020 and 2024 the multiplayer entirely lost its soul & the campaigns don't know what they want to show, I'm afraid it might either never come back or take a dozen years so that a reboot of reboots gets out or a new series takes over.

'til capitalism and cashgrab leadership ruins it again and the cycle begins anew.

#könig being included by the fandom in the 141 could be funny to me if ppl didn't make him replace gaz #sigh.#call of duty #cod lore #ask #SORRY this is just rambles no trivia.......

25 notes · View notes

agendabymooner · 1 year

Text

colour me your colour || toto w. x ofc (4)

Summary: Tilly Marie nearly loses faith in her passion as she refuses to listen to everyone who told her to quit. Everyone but one. And it’s the man she met years ago at a racing event she didn’t want to attend. Who would have thought that her father’s partial ownership of three brands could take her to the zone of Mercedes and meet the love of her life?

Chapter summary: Can you actually fall in love fast? or is Tilly just fortunate enough to catch Toto's attention and gain his respect and determination in span of a day? As of this point, she might as well host a slumber party as Daniel and Lewis continue to pester her with the most important topics of her life right now: her family and the hypothetical ones she'd make with Toto.

Content warning: Age gap, brief use of explicit language, discusses the 2014 austrian gp, flirtatious banter, mutual pining kind of romance, platonic relationship with Lewis Hamilton and Daniel Ricciardo, fictional family and business involved (Hearth family and Hearth Automotives Group). NO PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS INVOLVED SORRY

Note: Thank you all so much for the 50 followers! I honestly have been writing these just because I didn't have anything occupy my time and it's a good idea that I posted them up here. knowing that you're enjoying my brain's ideas, it fuels me even more into writing. As of this point I'm currently writing a spin-off for Rush and this series so keep an eye out, I suppose. I hope you all enjoyed today's race because I certainly did (Albon was way too fucking good this weekend, I shit you not). And I hope Alonso's 2nd place makes up for the Father's Day that I'll never get to spend with him. Enjoy xx

masterlist

iv. fast lane but not the race weekend kind

“Regards,

Tilly Marie F. Hearth…”

That should be okay, I tell myself silently as I put away my laptop. It’s only 6 pm, and I already wish to retire to my bed early.

I can be doing a lot, but instead I’m moping inside my hotel room while I’m waiting for Lewis. Being on a paid vacation is nice; I don’t have to do anything and deal with people. But at the same time, I’m craving more tasks to occupy my time because truthfully, I do NOT want to be stuck in a hotel in Silverstone with nothing to do. I spent my early 20’s being away from people, but now I’m entering my early 30’s, I’m slowly thinking that I probably should’ve done more than attend festivals by myself or with my sisters.

None of the people I was around with earlier had looked my way until after they'd been told that I was working in communications and was a boss’ child. The staff from the other teams also did the same—but some of them knew who I was already and had already made themselves comfortable. Just how I wanted.

But then again, this is my first day. And Sunday would probably be my last considering that I’ll be back to my stuffy office the next week.

I can take up the role as a consultant for communications. My father did offer me that role for Ferrari, Red Bull and McLaren—telling me that I can do so much more in Formula One than my no-good employers.

Bunch of bullshit, I curse out. He wouldn’t let go of his legacy like that.

I already told him about writing for magazines or simply writing in general, but he still placed these executive positions in front of me as if he knew I’d give in. Sad fact is that he actually is right; I’m close to giving up on my job. If The Devil Wears Prada didn’t warn me the first time, Lauren Weisberger should have at least taken both of my shoulders and shaken them.

It didn’t hurt to think about balancing Formula One and journalism out. After all, it’s what I can do as a journalist—know enough about racing and engines and ensure that my knowledge is being shared through my writing and published works.

I try my best to relax in my bed, lying flat on the mattress with my hands resting on my stomach. The silence is deafening and I can hear my steady breathing. My eyes are growing tired as they continue to look up at the ceiling of my room.

For a moment, I debated whether or not I should come downstairs for dinner with Lewis. If there’s anything that I know about him, he takes his dear time to get ready—and I have an endless closet at home. That’s telling you a lot.

A knock on my door makes me stand fast and rush to open it. Daniel Ricciardo stands there with a grin.

“Oh you,” I blurt out.

Displeased with my response, Daniel cries out, “I’m not terrible all the time, Tils.”

“Sorry,” I shake my head as I correct myself, “I meant that I thought you were Lewis.”

“He phoned me and said we should head down instead of waiting for him,” he shrugs as he sticks his arm out and offers, “let’s go?”

I nod and head to where my flats are, slipping them on with ease as I grab my keycard and wallet.

Daniel only pulled his arm back when I wrapped my arm around it. We descend to the ground floor where the restaurant is located.

A host takes us to a four table seat at a corner. Seeing familiar faces from the venue, I nod at them as a greeting before I find myself sitting across Daniel.

Soon enough, Lewis arrives and we begin to talk about today’s events. Forty five minutes had passed, and we found ourselves conversing in front of our already empty plates.

Daniel asks about my family and all I can tell him has something to do with my mother’s side of the family. I guess out of the wealthy people in my family, I can understand my mother’s connections to the automobile industry. My toxic trait is that I despise my father but love my mother.

The difference is that my mother loves us more than anything and cares for our half-sister more than he does.

But it seems Daniel has focused on a different matter.

“Your mother is— you’re a Ford, Tils,” his eyes widen like an owl as his mouth gapes open. I can practically see a fly entering his mouth.

“My mum is,” I laugh, looking at Lewis as he, too, laughs at Daniel’s shocked expression.

“Mate, she’s a Ford,” Daniel reaches out to nudge at Lewis and gestures at me. “You carry that information around just like that?”

“She’s not really putting it out there for everyone to know,” Lewis chuckles, sipping on his water as he puts it down. “Besides, if you were really into racing you probably have heard about her dad or mum’s family one way or another.”

“I don’t really go digging for information about old money families,” Daniel rolls his eyes as he looks at me again, “you don’t look like you’re happy to be here. For someone who came from families who are into cars.”

“My father insisted on having me work for his teams,” I tell him, “I’m not exactly the brightest for motorsport. I prefer the media more than what my father wishes me to pursue.”

“Have you raced before?”

“I had a karting career at some point,” I shrug, “or at least I started at the age 4. Mum didn’t agree with it and I should’ve started at 7, but my father insisted. I was already competing by 7. My sisters were too, but some preferred equestrian over racing.”

“If my dad was a twat, I’d stop it just to spite him too,” Daniel says as I raise my brows at the statement. He then corrects himself, “What I mean is I’d pursue the karting career for me, not for him.”

“Gotcha.”

Lewis pipes up, “Blanche is a pretty decent woman. You should see her, mate.” He turns to look at me and asks, “Is she coming this weekend?”

“With Aimee and Sylvie,” I nod in confirmation, “I’m not quite sure about Stevie yet but she wouldn’t want to miss out on your home race.” Not elaborating any further, I return to the topic, “My father is absolutely baffled when I quit karting but he can’t do much because Poppy, my mum’s dad, was still alive. So between him and Poppy, he chose not to interfere.”

“But you’re still here on behalf of your father though,” Daniel points out.

“It’s to secure my position and family’s future,” I tell him with a sigh. I look at him then back at Lewis before I say, “Whether I like it or not, I still need to do my part regardless of how much I hate the surname. It’s an obligation that I can’t avoid but it’s alright. It’s not just for me— it’s for my sisters and my future children.” Wow, I’ve only been friends with Daniel for a month and I’m already airing out my dirty laundry to him. Is this what happens when your friends are your sisters and just Lewis?

“You’re taking your elder sister role way too seriously. You can’t even catch a break,” Daniel says incredulously.

I can only nod as I agree; my mother’s capable enough of worrying about them and I should just be doing whatever I want. She cares for my sisters as much as I do but being cut off from my father’s side of the family isn’t something that I’d allow.

It’s not as if my sisters don’t want to join me at the trackside; they want to keep an eye on one of each team in fact. They want to be able to know what kind of thing our father brags about. But much like me, they don’t want to be on the track itself—they’re better off being models because that's what they wanted to be. They’ll join me soon enough, they just need to make a career out of modelling and come to work for the driving teams whenever they’re ready.

“They’ll be in a lot of magazines soon enough,” I shrug nonchalantly. “I’d like them to do that first unless they feel like carrying a headache coming from either Brown or Horner.”

“There are three of them,” Lewis chuckles, “if anything, those three would outnumber your team principals. With you alone I got scared, could you imagine Sylvie? She’s feisty.”

“It’s not just to keep them sane,” I roll my eyes, my foot underneath the table kicking Lewis in the leg. The table shakes lightly. “I just started working in this kind of industry. What kind of a big sister would I be if I’m just as clueless? I need to know more, especially if I want to be able to teach my potential kids about it.”

Lewis, the piece of shit, decides that this is the right time to joke about it and say, “I didn’t know you’re already thinking about a future with my boss, Tilly.”

I snap my head to Lewis’ direction too much that I’m thinking I just got a whiplash. My glare hardens when Danny and Lewis’ faces turn red from laughing too much.

“You ought to quiet down, boys,” I hiss, not wanting to look at the people who are giving us the unnecessary attention being gathered by their laughter.

“You have to admit,” Lewis breathes deeply to refrain from laughing again, “you two got along well. Was it because of Dubai?”

“I told you that in confidence,” reaching down in his thigh, I pinch it as he whines quietly. He slaps my hand away as I say, “You’re a shit secret keeper.”

“Wai— what about Dubai?” Daniel, clearly not understanding what’s going on, asks as he looks at me while he expects a context.

I muttered to him, “Met Toto Wolff in 2006. Spoke to him and all that.”

Lewis nearly cries in laughter as he speaks, “She told me about it years ago. She never knew his name–or she refused to tell me who. She said he was attractive alright but—ow, stop it, Tils.”

I pull myself away from Lewis and sit back straight on my seat as I claim, “He doesn’t remember nor think of me like that, Lew. He’s just a silly crush.”

“Is he?”

“He was,” I correct him even if I’m wrong. It’s like Toto Wolff got an on-and-off button in my life. One moment he’s there making me blush the next thing he’s already gone.

“You’ve been single for as long as I know,” Lewis huffs out, “why don’t you try dating again anyways?”

“With your boss?” I raise a brow, “Are you that obtuse?”

“What? He isn’t bad,” Lewis shrugs, returning to his usual composure as he crosses his arms, “the opportunity’s right there. Why are you adamant on not taking it?”

“Because she doesn’t want to get on Christian’s bad side for fraternizing with the enemy,” Daniel jokes.

“I’m gonna kill you, Daniel,” I threaten him emptily, making him giggle again.

“I’m repeating what you said!” He cries out, still laughing as he laughs obnoxiously. Men! Seriously.

“He’s quite interested you know,” Lewis states, his arms now crossing as he leaned against his seat. “He’s playing 20 questions with me whenever you leave. I’m not sure if he’s interested in me winning or you.”

“He’s not interested like that,” I insist, “I’m sure he means well because I just popped up all of the sudden today. Nobody likes to step on the wrong foot of a newcomer. You’ll just make an enemy.”

“Yeah, sure,” Daniel scoffs haughtily, “the guy who’s been asking Christian questions about you left and right— the same person who doesn’t like Christian— isn’t interested.”

“I haven’t been in a relationship with anyone since 2004,” I scowl, trying to keep my voice quiet as I say, “What makes you think I’ll be able to have an interesting relationship with him?”

“He isn’t subtle about wanting to spend time with you,” Lewis answers, “what did he say again? You’re welcome to be in our paddock anytime? Does that ring a bell?”

Of course I do, I almost huff out, it’s one of the things that I intend to do. Be able to spend enough time admiring his team…

“I know men,” Daniel adds, “and with the way of how he’s looking down at you during the interview? With the heart eyes making contact with another pair of heart eyes? Yeah, that man is in loooove~”

“Like it’s a fast lane.”

Now I can’t deny it.

I like being around Toto Wolff, more than anything. Speaking to him is like a breath of fresh air after stepping out of a cigar lounge. He’s a gentleman; I’ve always wondered how he’s not married. Women deserve him. Yet he’s here, being the most eligible bachelor in the grid following Fernando Alonso. God, I will snatch him up if I can even meet his level. I doubt he likes his women like me… trashy trying to be classy.

But it turns out, my cynicism is unnecessary. I find myself thinking a lot about the things that could be. In an empty elevator, I wait as it slowly closes. But the call from outside forces me to keep the door open until the person catches up.

The man makes it inside as he stands tall, trying to catch his breath. There’s no way in hell—

“Tilly,” oh my god. I’m seeing too much of him today.

I turn to my left as I dumbly ask, “Bonjour, what floor?”

Toto looks at me with confusion in his face, probably wondering if I’m playing stupid or just stupid in general as he looks past me and says, “You’ve got it.”

Wow, not only am I seeing too much of him, I’m also on the same floor as him.

I nod and look back at the front, I can see him through the reflection from the doors. His polo remains unbuttoned and his hair unruly after running his fingers through it. I can see traces of sweat dripping down his forehead. I probably shouldn’t do a physical examination on him.

I look at him and ask politely, “Have you had dinner yet?” It’s a polite thing to ask, right? Like I’m not coming off as desperate to speak to him?

“Ah,” he keeps his mouth shut for a second and answers, “it is something to take up in my room, unfortunately.”

“Is it?” I ask out of curiosity, “You could have joined others for dinner?”

“Busy, as always,” he smiles sadly, “it’s an endless battle.”

“Quite a shame,” I tell him with a shake of my head. “Do people know time zones or just business hours or is it just something written on papers?” I ask no one in particular.

“My brain doesn’t shut off the moment 7 pm hits,” he tells me with a rueful smile. “It calls for work all the time. So, no. I don’t follow my own business hours policy.” God, I feel sorry for him.

“It’s like a wire, Toto,” I nibble on my bottom lip, not knowing how to express my empathy without looking like an arse, “you can’t plug it back in if you’ve something to prevent it from happening. Like a baby proof.”

“You’re right,” he laughs. “What do you suggest I should do? The baby proof, I mean.”

I watch him as the door slides open, thanking him as he gestures for me to walk out of the lift first. Then my mouth does not stop speaking, “Have a dinner away from your work, for instance. Never hurts to isolate your work once in a while,” he laughs at that, “read a book? I love reading novels— I am currently skimming through Das Parfum. You can even time your break before going back to work because I can assure you that habit isn't good.”

“Do you understand the German language?” He asks me. Mentioning Das Parfum clearly piqued his curiosity.

It was smart of me to bring it up. When he told me earlier that he came from Austria, I knew I could talk to him in so many languages. Like I knew what I should say next. Like a mastermind.

I'm such a fucking mastermind.

My mouth quirks up and I answer, “Wir haben schließlich viele deutsche fahrer.” We have a lot of German drivers, after all.

He nods at me like he listens to everything I tell him. As if he’s following an order or he’s rather impressed with my pronunciations. Nice.

Our conversation leads us in front of my hotel room.

I look at him and gestures to the door, “This is my bat lair.”

“Bat lair?” He chuckles.

“My little humble abode,” I joke. “I can unfortunately hear my bed calling for me. I have to go.”

“Right,” he nods as I open my door and step inside my room. Telling myself to get my shit together, I turn around to see him still waiting for me to head in. That was a surprise.

I suggest, “One way to turn your stressful work day around would be breakfast. If you’d like, you can have one with me tomorrow?”

“Are you asking me on a breakfast date?” He teases, watching me fall apart with my face flushing red. He stops eventually and answers, “I would be more than happy to accompany you before we head out.”

“Okay good,” I laugh nervously, “I’ve no one else with me anyways so there’s that… does seven sound okay?”

“You can ask me for anything I think I’ll say yes, liebling,” boom. There goes my heart once more. He grins gleefully as he says, “I know a place nearby. Would you like me to pick you up tomorrow?”

“As far as I know I’m the one who asked you first,” I roll my eyes in a joking manner, smile escaping my lips.

“I’d love to have you pick me up but I know the place,” he tells me with a shrug. “Besides, it’s by the tracks. We can head down there together before they start piling up for the day.”

Not wanting to fluster myself anymore, I nod almost eagerly and he exclaims, “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Have a good night, bello. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, schatz. Sweet dreams.”

Oh I really am going to have the sweetest dreams ever. Trust me.

#formula one fanfiction #formula one fic #formula one imagine #formula one x oc #formula one smau #f1 fic #f1 imagine #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff x oc #toto wolff fic #toto wolff x reader #mercedes amg imagine #formula one fluff #f1 fluff

157 notes · View notes