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hazelfoureyes · 6 months ago

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A Doe in Fall (part 7)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Part 7 Recognition

It was time to start again. Alastor couldn't forget what his mother had wanted, even if she didn't ask it of him directly. And while he finds his comfort again in killing, Detective Brady finds a lead.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, reader's thighs as ear muffs, referencing cruel racists in the early 20th century south, reference to marital violence, pussy eaten, p in v sex, no creampie BOO, bad dancing, Alastor's southern accent, Alastor's mother, gossip, murder, greed , two idiots pretending they aren't madly in love, poor family planning, lots of 1920's slang with notes for your ease」

I think I fixed the broken tag list!

....it's been over a month. Here's nearly 9000 words of our favorite idiots. I feel weird labeling this smut now as...we are...kinda past the smut point and just making sweet sweet love. lol ugh gross. thank you to everyone whose offered help, donated, and shared the word about my mom! It’s been an immense help and has made her a little emotional (in a good way) <Florida stole my moms teeth— explanation and donation link> unrelated, anyone want some RadioDust?

Minors…. Minors. My inbox counts as interacting when you’re literally in there requesting smut. I know your bio has no age but baby honey darling I can tell by your writing. 🔞 Do Not Interact 🏠🚗

A development he knew was coming even if no one else believed him. A drug addict with debts to the local crime syndicates disappearing was neither suspicious nor a mystery. Everyone was confident it was obvious Tommy was at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain or halfway to California.

But not to him, not for Detective Brady. He had been on the beat for the better part of a year, convinced there was a connection between some of the disappearances in town.

No one wanted to hear it though, most people didn’t even care the people were missing. Only the occasional wife, concerned how she would keep a roof over her head and food in her kid’s bellies with the man of the house gone. But other than that, no tears or chest beating for the missing men and women.

Which made him confident there were countless more unreported cases. Just because no one missed them, a crime is a crime.

But, no bodies, no blood, no crime scenes… he looked like he had lost the fucking plot to his colleagues.

The city didn’t want the bad press, not to mention the fact there was no actual crime to be reported. Someone up and left down? Okay, he was a wife beater? Probably left with his mistress. The cruel den mother of the home for unwanted kids? Her assistant takes the lead and she moves onto a new town to menace. Probably running from the people angry with her.

But he finally had something. Tommy was pimping out dancers, and even laid hands on one. Surely there was a man looking for revenge for that. Can’t knock around a man’s woman and have it go unanswered.

So he tried again to find the woman whose only name he knew was a moniker. Autumn Hind.

Every time Brady came to the theater, another excuse. You left early. You were on the roof smoking—- oh, you slipped out the back. Weekends were your off days, so that was useless.

“You’re obsessed.” Detective Freeman threw an eraser he’d picked off his pencil at Brady. He had seen the man devolve slowly over the past couple months.

“Thanks.” Brady was staring at his notes.

“Not a compliment, Kenny. Shit happens, people leave town. You’re acting like a handful of no shows are some conspiracy.” Freeman came to stand behind Brady, leaning over to read his notes, “How can you even read that chicken scratch?”

He clapped the notebook shut, “Every report was a person less than liked. What are the chances they all leave town in the middle of the night, last seen in the same general area?”

Freeman patted his shoulder, “Did you just ask me why a bunch of assholes,” he stood up and made a show of stretching out tired muscles, “who liked illegal hooch* and jazz with plenty of enemies disappeared?” (*booze)

Brady slapped his desk, “There! You said it! They had enemies. But what— what if they had one enemy in common. A bar manager or — or a,” he was still looking for that link.

“Kenny, the boogeyman isn’t roaming New Orleans killing people. If the higher ups don’t care, if the families don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Let it go.”

The sleep deprived detective sunk into his wooden chair, swiveling side to side anxiously, “Tommy’s mother cares.”

“Yeah well mom’s are famously bad judges of character.” Slipping on his jacket, he shot a worried look to his partner, “Ya gonna go home? Janet’s probably a mess. You’ve been keeping late hours.”

“Nah not yet. I gotta get to the theater before this dame goes ghost on me again.”

“Yikes, still? You’ve been chasing her for a while.” He was making a slow inching walk to the door.

“It’d be easier if I had some support. I gotta do this on my own time.” A deep sigh, well past the point of hiding his frustration with his colleagues and bosses. Freeman looked over the wrinkled shirt and wilted tie, evidence of a man losing his grip.

“Welp, good luck buddy. Hope you get to the bottom of whatever this is.” He gestured at the messy desk and disheveled man, “See ya tomorrow.”

Brady waved without looking up. His eyes were staring into the black leather of his notepad. Tommy was the only recent assumed victim with any real suspicion. The woman whose husband disappeared after going to see a show? Only enemy to him was her, and she wasn’t strong enough to take him down. Deadend.

Most recent, nice young man from up north. Went out for a good time, hoping to catch a little lady for some stress relief, according to his coworkers. Never showed up at work the next day. No one had a bad word to say about the man. Making him an outlier, but still. He was young, strong, soft spoken. Not an enemy in sight but no family to worry, either. Deadend.

But Tommy. Someone cared he was gone. He was in the jazz game, the drug dens, the illegal drink business, and had a heavy hand. He was the perfect bad man, right?

He looked across his desk. Bad men. The occasional unsavory woman. Maybe it was just their time. They pissed off the wrong people.

Or the wrong person.

Someone who worked downtown, someone into dance and drink, someone with nights free to do his work. Maybe a hired gun? No, some of these people didn’t have the money for that.

Plus, one person and so many missing? That would be unheard of, it’d be some kind of record for Louisiana.

A record Brady could claim.

When he entered the theater James, the manager who replaced Tommy, noticeably rolled his eyes, getting in front of the man. “It’s real bad for business to have a cop in here all the damn time. Come on, if you’re not here for a raid then could you be a little less obvious.”

Brady looked past him, “What do you mean?”

“You’re— what is it? What can I do for you?”

“Here again for Miss Autumn. Care to give her real name yet?”

“No can do. Ain’t my business to tell. She’s finished her set, asked to head home early.” Brady turned and kicked a chair over, a large man approaching behind the manager before seeing the hip badge and backing up. “Nah we’re not doing that. We’ve told her you’ve come by but she’s a busy lady. Several gigs here and there. Enough, you’re harassing the dancers now.”

With a snap, Brady had his finger in the manager’s face, “Whatcha gonna do? Call the cops?”

“She. Isn’t. Here. What the fuck do you want? For me to tie her up and bring her to your station?”

That’d be ideal.

A month, nearly. Coming once or twice a week to try and speak to you but every time he missed you. He was going to snap if he heard one more time you were gone. Maybe everyone was in on it. Maybe you werenin the back right now laughing at him.

Brady scanned the room, “Where’s she live?”

“How the fuck would I know— please, leave.” James gestured to the doors.

He lifted his badge up, waving it at the patrons seated closest to him, “Yall know it’s still illegal to partake-,”

“Jesus! Enough!” The manager pushed him back, flashing an apologetic smile to the guests, “She moonlights Sundays at The Dime near the park on 5th, singing for a friend. That’s all I got about her life off stage. Will you fucking go?”

The detective perked up, “See, was that so hard?”

Finally, he could feel his fingers grasp the shifting shadow that was his only lead.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I never said sorry.”

You turned your head, not expecting him to say something serious. Waiting, he didn’t add explanation. Sorry? What had he done… ran out of milk? Forgot to bring in the towels before it rained last week? A quick search of your memory yielded nothing.

“For what?”

He was staring off in front of him. “For putting you in danger before. In the park. I am sincerely sorry.”

You’d somehow almost forgotten. It’d been weeks. Every bad feeling that night had brought you had been carried away by good morning kisses and gentle words before sleep. Nearly every night was spent in his bed, Alastor dropping you off at your apartment when he went downtown for work. The incident in the park was a different lifetime already.

Had he really put you in danger? Or had you rushed into the danger of his hobby to feel closer to him?

“I put myself in that situation. You didn't throw me at that guy. I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to do. You should have learned that by now.”

Tough act for a woman who jumped up to pour some man’s coffee.

You shook your head, you had to stop equating doting on Alastor as a show of weakness. It wasn’t. Even if admitting that meant admitting you were wrong.

But he had put you in danger’s way, he knew it. “No, you wouldn’t have ever been in that situation if it wasn’t for me.”

Your laughter bounced off the car windows, “Alastor, you met me getting choked to death by a strange man. People will always make dangerous situations for women to be in. Don’t act like you’re special.” A sly smile to ease his anxious heart. “I’d rather be in danger for you than just because I’m a woman. If it’s gonna happen anyway, might as well be worth something.”

His hand slipped onto your thigh, expression softening before his own smile grew again, “Don’t lie to my face so easily. I am very special, we can all agree.”

You looked around, the two of you alone in his car on a side street, “All? You know the trunk is still empty, right?”

“Oh, is that so? You’re quite dangerous yourself, I nearly forgot why we were here.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. “When I give you a wave, back up to me, okay? Don’t leave the car. Just drive off if-,”

You kissed his cheek, “Shut it. Not a chance. Go give em hell, baby.”

Alastor crumpled against his steering wheel momentarily, your words cutting his heart open in a most wonderful way. He could never have predicted getting kisses before beginning his dark work. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps proof someone in hell was in full support of his actions. Straightening his back and checking his hair and glasses in the mirror, he flashed you a smile before slipping out of the car.

When Alastor said he was ready to begin killing again, you were a mix of excited and scared. Excited for normalcy to return but scared of the dangers presented there in. You’d been dodging the blue eyed detective for a while already, and moving forward meant possibly making mistakes he could grab a hold of. Not mentioning the risk of someone hurting Alastor again…but for your part in everything, you and Alastor found a compromise.

A deal had been made. You’d stay in the car and bring it to him when he was done. He had asked you flee if something went wrong but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Crawling into the driver’s seat, you tried to remember what he had taught you. How to get it started up, how to make it go backwards. How to make it go, in general. You’d never driven a car. Well, not until Alastor insisted on teaching you. Driving up and down the long stretch of road he lived on, Alastor white knuckling the door handle as you jerked the car forward with every failed shift. You had started on his land, but he feared for his home's safety with you behind the wheel.

Your hands slipped down the steeling wheel, big and round. Your mother would’ve had a hoot had she seen you in the driver’s seat. Clearing your throat, you leaned into the back of the car and double checked the canvas was properly secured.

Another man tonight. The few times you’d both gone out for leisure, having preferred to spend time alone at home, Alastor had gotten gossip that piqued his interest.

You remembered the way the woman’s hand touched his arm when she leaned in. “You didn’t hear it from me but it’s best to avoid French Study on Thursdays. Real piece of work slipping something in drinks and robbing people.” He reported what she had said back to you. It’d panicked you, realizing you were closer to being on Alastor’s list than you’d realized.

“No, the issue isn’t the stealin’. It’s what he does with the people with,” he had been delicate as he said it, taking another long sip of whiskey, “other things of value. And the fact this man has no need to steal. It’s ridiculous! His family has been land ownin’ and well off for generations.” Alastor was always impassioned when discussing the things he hated, even when slipping into drunkenness. His accent came through when he had too much to drink, his real accent. The accent his mother had. “You robbed men for power balance, for their assumptions you were easy to manipulate to begin with. He? Uh, Him? He’s just a piece of shit. He thinks he’s better than everyone else. And no one would report him ‘cause his family name.”

His drink spilled a little, when you had offered to clean it he just slipped the button up off. He lost his usual classy air as the bottle emptied. Which you actually liked.

The benefits of drinking on his back porch was no need to worry about decorum. Music was softly spilling from the open window behind you, Alastor’s prized record cabinet spinning the newest presses.

“It’s like there’s a little bug under my skin,” he wiggled his fingers over his sternum, “It’s gonna dig into my bones if I don’t cut it out.”

Despite your own drunkenness, you nodded and followed along, “So, ya gonna kill ‘em?”

Alastor pouted, making you snort, “I don’t want to think about that right now.” He enunciated every word clearly in his practiced and professional voice.

You’d ended the evening playfully arguing the merits of prohibition on the jazz scene and watching Alastor dance around the wrap around porch. But the conversation hadn’t ended for him.

Little hints he was still focused on it popped up over the following week. Alastor randomly asking you how it felt to be drugged, did you wake up in pain? Embarrassed? Scared? You caught him staring at the greenhouse from the window one morning, lost in thought. Before he had finally said he wanted to go out again, you understanding what that meant, you’d seen him turning a dinner knife over and over in his hand impatiently.

And now here you were. In the car beside a park late Thursday, Alastor having done some scouting while you’d finished up early at the theater.

It took hours. Which was good, it meant Alastor wasn’t rushing. He liked the stalking aspect of killing, of watching someone from across a room knowing exactly how their night would end. And as that man whose name would soon be buried with him alternated smiling and barking orders at staff, Alastor felt his stomach flutter. Like watching a slab of meat slowly turn over the fire. The crueler he was, the worse he acted, the more Alastor found his fingers tapping on the bar with anticipation. Perfect. Damn yourself more. No fake smiles or double faces, no, people like him didn’t even try to play the game others were forced into. Born with money and land already theirs, they didn’t even know the rules.

But Alastor did. Alastor mastered them at the tender age of 14. When he realized his father’s features were a shield. His mother’s lessons on manners and charm his weapons. The first time he was in mixed company, when someone leaned in and whispered a cruel “prank” he had planned for a young dark skinned woman on the other side of the room, he understood. They pulled back and smiled at him, and he managed to muster one of his own. Just smile, they’d take it to mean whatever they wanted it to mean because they thought he was of the same mindset. They assumed it. Like so many other things people would assume about him as he grew.

When he told his mother the story after getting home, she shook her head. When he had asked her what he should have done, she set down her book.

“Well, I’d love to say you should have stood up for her. But I’d also like to have my son above ground.”

He asked her why she couldn’t have both.

“Sweetheart, we don’t usually get the choice to do either, let alone both.”

He offered a solution, after a moment of thinking, “I shoulda buried him first then.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if that was how the world worked?” She returned to her book, “If God just struck em down dead as soon as they hurt people. Better yet, before.”

It would be nice. It was nice. Because Alastor couldn’t wait for God to make the world his mother mentioned. He grinned ear to ear, gloves a second skin, as the man crawled backwards in the grass like an animal cornered. His heart was pounding in his ears. Where to cut first? The gut, his family fat and soft from the money they made off the labor of others? The pale neck of a man who never spent a day outside, instead indoors drugging strangers for sport? The chest covered in a fine cotton shirt he didn’t appreciate?

He wished he had many arms, as many as he could imagine, to slash and tear in tandem.

“What do you want? Money?” the animal asked him.

Alastor shook his head no. No, he didn’t want money.

“Do you know who I am?”

Alastor nodded. “That is precisely why I am here.”

Would he beg? Cry? Bargain? Experience told him it’d be the latter.

“Alright well, if you know who I am you know you’re making a mistake. Here.” The man opened his wallet and pulled out a few greenbacks, holding them out for Alastor. Alastor’s smile softened slightly, remembering tossing you a wallet once before.

He reached down with his left hand to take the money, but instead grabbed the man’s wrist. Swiftly, quicker than the man could process, he took the knife tucked into his belt behind his vest and stabbed the man in the stomach.

Staring into his eyes, he could see his own image looking back at him. Smiling.

Alastor grabbed your face with both wrists, hands bloody and one still holding the knife, and kissed you when he’d flagged you down.

“Is this for bringing the car around without running you over?” Your eyes glanced at the knife beside your head. He apologized, tossing it into the trunk.

“No, just happy to see you.” A mischievous grin that made your knees weak, his body shimmied closer until he was pressed against you, stealing another kiss. His arms stretched out to keep from bloodying you. Your fingers slid up his cheeks to return the kiss. “Thank you, dear.”

When you returned home, to his home, that is, you took to task bringing in the laundry he’d left on the line and putting away the things still on the counters from breakfast. You couldn’t resist going to the second floor room and looking down into the greenhouse. You couldn’t see perfectly well, but you could see nonetheless. Alastor didn’t want you in the greenhouse yet when he was working. He said it was the ugliest parts, the kind that would sure give you nightmares or rob you of your appetite.

Considerate. But, it only made you more curious. Would you be sick if you saw? Would you never eat meat again?

What would you do if you didn’t have any reaction at all?

You watched Alastor leave the greenhouse and lock the door behind him, so you hopped down the stairs to meet him in the hall beside the kitchen.

He’d been sweating, shirt open to reveal a thin white undershirt, and under his arm was a canvas roll. He lifted it up, “Tools. Rinsed them off but I’d like to dry them under the electric lights.” You grabbed the aprons from the wall hooks, Alastor letting you slip it over his head and tie it for him. “Why so tight?”

“I like the way it makes your waist look.” You’d seen him wear it when making biscuits. It made his shape so clear. It reminded you of watching water drip down his sides and roll off his hips in the shower.

He beamed, “I’m listening. What exactly do you like about my waist?” Sharp brows raised as that friendly tongue peeked out at you.

“Hush.” You cooed.

You stood on the long side of the table, him at the short, and took turns wiping the tools dry and checking the other’s work.

As he grabbed each one he would tell you what he used it for. Holding up the garden shears and explaining the point along the blade that had the strongest force. The advantage of curved pruning blades when used on a human body. His eyes were gleaming as he spoke, looking so lovingly at each item like it was a loyal pet.

He finally noticed you were grinning and chuckling softly, so he dropped his smile for dramatic effect, “What? What’s so funny?”

Shaking your head, you set down the next item for him to inspect, “Nothing. You’re just so cute when you’re talking about your passions. Your face lights up from the inside out.”

His breath hitched, smile actually lost as he processed every syllable. Your turn now to notice him staring as you looked up from your work. You recognized that look though, the wide eyes and serious lips. The air of the kitchen felt like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm rolled in.

Alastor set the tools back onto the canvas one by one and carried them to the counter. Before returning he picked up a small knife and set it near the edge of the table.

“Come here.” He nodded his head to space in front of him. The way he said it, that tone, made your heart begin to skip beats.

You slid between him and the table, Alastor lifting you up with a startling ease and setting you onto cool wood. Kicking your legs a little, you set nervous hands onto your lap. You wanted to touch him. To pull him by the apron straps into you.

“How do you always say the right things?” He closed the distance between you, one hand on your neck while his mouth came to your ear. “The things I didn’t know I wanted to hear?”

Swimming. Your mind was swimming. “Why is your idea of right the same as my idea of the truth?” You could feel the grin. Sighing into your ear, down your neck, his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the table enough to press your core into his clothed erection. Even through his pants and the apron, you could feel him clearly. When did he get so hard? You always wondered in those moments if it was the topic of discussion. Or the knives. Or your need. Biting your lip wasn’t a thought out action, but Alastor loved to see it. Rolling his hips into you in response.

“Wanna go upstairs?” you asked.

He shook his head, slipping off his glasses.

“Oh no, don’t even wanna see me?” You teased, but firm hands held you tighter to him in response.

“I won’t be letting you get far enough away from me for that to be a problem.”

When he leaned down and his lips so very gently pressed into yours, you could feel it. That missing something from before. It was in the air, it was rolling off of his body and dampening your senses. A desire, a drive that you felt that first time you had sex with him in that apartment above the theater. A motivation that was lacking last time in his bed.

His eyes were staring down into yours, waiting for your response. Eagerly you replied by chasing his mouth with yours. A chain of kisses as you tried to ever remember enjoying kissing another person as much as him.

Not a single soul. Why did it feel like this was all you ever needed? Eyes closed and lips on lips, hands in his hair, it felt like you’d been holding your breath all of your life. His body on yours was a gasp of air.

For Alastor, he couldn’t even think of breathing when around you. Let alone when your mouth was on him. Every time you touched him all he could think about was the word ‘affection’.

So when your tongue swiped up his lips, he moaned as he opened for you. Not because he was new to kissing someone with so much lust. He’d grown accustomed to the things you did to him. No, because you were a fever that had taken hold of him and your kiss the medicine that soothed his delirium.

He wondered, was that why people called it ‘love sick’?

“You really like me, don’t you?” He asked, nose sliding up your jaw.

An opportunity presented to you. A chance to spill over the edges.

You pushed it away, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Something like that, yeah.”

His hands pressed flat against the table to balance the deep roll of his hips against you. One of your own fell behind you to keep from falling backwards, the other flung over his shoulder. When you moaned into his cheek he captured the sound with his mouth and slipped his tongue back into you.

You liked him. He’d known people to love and not like their partner an ounce, but the way you appreciated his quirks made his heart sing in its brittle cage. You never ceased to see him. The issue with always putting on a show is people tend to be disappointed when the actors become human again. But you never met his persona. He was knife wielding, bloodlusting Alastor from the first word. So when he was himself, you recognized him clearly. Because he was all you ever knew.

And you liked him

You appreciated him.

He dared to think maybe he could inspire more from you. A thought that made him twitch below the belt.

Closer. He needed you closer. He needed you so near to him that he’d never forget the feeling of being wanted. It’d be imprinted on his chest and his arms and his lips.

Impatient hands slipping up your sides, along your neck, down your chest. His greedy mouth suddenly understanding the same greed he once marveled at in your own kisses. Hot tongue sliding over yours, delving deeper into you with every return.

When his hands seemed to come to an agreement, they yanked you forward again. You’d fall off ass-first if he pulled you any further.

You watched with only slight horror has he grabbed the small knife and hiked up your dress in tandem. A gulp, worried the other shoe had finally dropped on a too-good situation.

“Are you particularly attached to these panties?” His eyes were looking up and over his glasses.

“No?” Did you really need panties, you wondered. Ever? Girdles we’re falling out of fashion perhaps you’d all be naked again soon enough. Maybe you two could start another Eden. A pomegranate’s juice the new red staining his skin.

Not even a tremble, his hands lifted each side and sliced them free.

“Oh?” You didn’t have a real question in mind when he tucked the panties into his back pocket. Just a need to express you saw it and didn’t understand it.

Alastor took your hand and pressed it against his hardened length, eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness to them. But when your hand took hold of him and squeezed, everything softened in his features. Funny how where one area grew stiff another melted.

He rolled his eyes closed as you finally undid his belt and pants. A struggle you didn’t see, Alastor trying to keep from pouncing on you like a horny virgin. He didn’t want to rut into you, he didn’t need the pleasure. He needed something he couldn’t see or explain. He just knew you held it behind your teeth.

When your skin pressed into his and you both moaned together he was sure you were the same. One person, split into insufficient parts. Finally lined up flush in place.

When you circled your hips against his aching cock, he wondered what you were chasing after. Was it the pleasure? He’d give it to you in spades.

He was on his knees with his face between your legs before you could close your thighs in surprise.

You needed both hands now to keep from falling back onto the table. “Alastor,” a whine.

He knew better than to talk with his mouth full, so he let two fingers work their way into you with shallow thrusts. Easing you open for him.

“Yes?” His eyes didn’t leave his fingers, glistening under the kitchen light. You hadn't thought much ahead past his name, once his fingers were in you and curling up to find your spongy and soft bundle of nerves your mind had gone empty.

“We can just fuck, if you’re horny.” You watched him watching himself.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His mouth returned to your mound, broad tongue forming a point and finding your clit.

A lazy moving tongue would be frustrating if not for his fingers punishing your g-spot. Consistency was key, and his hand was focused and skilled.

Suddenly you remembered the piano in the sitting room. That’s where you knew that movement from. That clearly practiced muscle memory.

Alastor felt confident everywhere but rarely did he feel comfortable. When your thighs came together and squeezed him at the ears, he felt positively cozy. Would you be so kind as to be his ear muffs come winter? He’d have to remember to ask when his mouth was free. How many cold nights he could now rest assured he would have warmth just a little dive of his head away.

Lowering his mouth, nose buried in your muff, he wriggled his tongue in with his fingers. Not enough, rarely was anything enough any more. He stilled his hand and prodded at your sensitive walls with that intrusive tongue, relishing the little movements you made in response. Taking his digits out entirely, he buried his wet muscle as deeply as he could reach.

The huffs of exhales you were making triggered a moan from him that you felt through your skin. His enjoyment was tripling your pleasure.

Goosebumps ran up your arms at the combine sensations of his moaning and prodding.

When his lips and tongue returned to their uneven teasing of your clit, three fingers now swiping past your inner spot with every thrust, your hands came to his head. Fingers slipping through his hair and gripping every time your body shook. Encouragement, the more you tugged the surer he was he was doing the right things.

And oh, he was. You said the right things but Alastor always seemed to act on them. Your senses lodged themselves between the even stroking of your g-spot and the unpredictable movements of his tongue. One kept the pressure rising as your orgasm climbed, the other pushed you along jolt by jolt.

Curious thing. That night in the park he didn’t have much reaction to your enjoyment, but he found himself not fully softening in his lap as he continued. Normally, unless still physically stimulated or the rare time you stirred something in him, he wasn’t very… battle ready.

But the feeling of you pulling him in by the head, fingers in his hair and thighs at his cheeks; this was different than the others. He was sure now it wasn’t just physical pleasure you wanted. His pride said it was more.

Dozens of times before— he truly was a rake in some aspects, though admittedly it was all in the pursuit of avoiding “sex”, as defined by most, not chasing it — he helped a date find release with his tongue. But it never did anything for him. They moaned and said his name and screamed. Which was lovely. Who doesn’t enjoy recognition?

When you said his name, it was heavier. It was material, it had mass and as its gravity began its pull he found his mind circling that sound. He was pleasing his darling, not placating. And it made him react in that unusually crass way.

He felt like an apex predator when killing, tearing open animals made for him to hunt. But you made him feel baser. Prey in your gentle bite.

As your orgasm mounted, you began tugging at his hair to pull him off. You didn’t need him to stop, but everything was suddenly too sensitive. It was alarming to feel your body rocking from overstimulation. A strident cry filled the kitchen as your back arched off the table. He didn’t let up, despite how much you thrashed under his mouth. Rolling pleasure, muscles electrified and shaking beyond your control.

You patted his head harshly, “Good, I’m good. Alas—tor! Fuck!”

Ah, he loved when you swore. It punctuated your otherwise preternatural aura with a touch of humanity.

He stood and leaned over your now reclining body. Your pussy still clenching and legs shaking as he admired his work. You admired his shape in his apron, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes. Caught between your legs like a lion in a mouse trap; he acted like he had no way free of you. His grin widened and he made a display out of licking each finger clean. Eyes never leaving yours.

You knew many men to squawk at going down on a woman. To balk at wearing an apron. To grimace at the suggestion of cooking a meal while their lady took a nice bath or enjoyed a coffee. Alastor seemed to not think twice about any of it. How nice it would be. To have a partner beside you, to not be the woman in the often referenced “behind every great man is a great woman.”

“Alastor, I want you.” You pulled him down by the neck and stole a kiss. When he began to stroke himself fully back to life you pressed that hand to his chest. “Not like that. Though I’m not declining the offer.”

His eyes saw something in yours. “Sweetheart, you have me. There is no part of me that isn’t possessed by you. I know we keep things relatively… tightlipped for safety but I’m your fella and you’re my gal.” His nose touched yours. “But if you want more, I’ll become more. I’ll break myself apart and make myself better.”

Your heart sank. Sitting up to command a little authority, a feat given you were sitting panty-less on a kitchen table, “Don’t you dare. I’ll always meet you where you are, got it? Don’t go… groping around in the darkness for me; trying to find what I need. I’ll always come to you. Because you’re more than enough as you are.”

A little cough to clear his tightening throat, “I’ve not had a day of darkness since you arrived.” A kiss to your forehead before a soft thumbpad wiped at the corner of your eye. “Did I make you sad?”

You wanted to say it. But not now, not like this. You didn’t want Alastor to connect love and sex. To think one was necessary for the other.

While you were coming to learn how lovely it was to pair the two together, it was a fact they were wholly independent things. And you couldn’t allow him to think they were a set.

“You’ve made me too happy. It’s absolutely terrifying.”

But Alastor had found your expressions of acceptance always tumbled the circle of Love to overlap with that of Sex. It was only in that mixed space did he find desire in pleasure.

A wicked smirk, “Let me pile on my affections and drown out your fears.” His hips rolled into you again, a surprising eagerness returned to his lap. “Can I continue?”

With a nod and a smile, “But not another word of change, buster.” You leaned back on your hand for support. Alastor was happy to return to your heat, lining up and sinking into you. An embrace like no other, one he found particularly earnest when with you.

Close. Finally. You began where he ended, a natural extension of who he was and who he could be. The things he could have. A relieved sigh he didn’t try to hide before he began moving, a moment when his tension could melt. You were both an unseasonably warm autumn day and the cool comforting shade of an unfamiliar tree. Both the heat and the relief.

He watched your body rock against the table, even fully dressed you managed to look more scandalous than any show he’d seen downtown. He was grateful he didn’t seek this comfort often in others, the way his mind melted made him feel vulnerable. He couldn’t think straight. And then you began to make those lovely little groans, high pitched and needy, and he was sure his soul was errant.

As his thrusts deepened, cock no longer kissing your cervix but ramming into you with good intentions, you dropped back as you lost the battle against his hips.

Alastor’s arms slid up our waist and pulled your arms towards him, “Too far, I can’t see your face.”

Your arms were slung over his shoulders as your back curved for him, “You don’t need to see my face.”

“Tsk, wrong.”

Your new favorite place was right in front of him, wherever his line of sight was you wanted to be in it. Nose to nose, heads tilting to recapture soft lips and softer moans.

Until the softness left, Alastor’s skin slapping against yours as he dragged those lovely sounds from you. He watched your eyes roll closed, mouth open as you moaned with the safety of the seclusion of a country home. A thought bubbled up, inspired by you.

“I want the neighbors to hear you.” That smile half cocked across his upsettingly handsome face. His hand slipped between you both to repeat the motions he learned before. Hard and fast, no choice but to raise your voice.

Your head fell back, clit still sensitive, “You don’t have neighbors!” A new moan hitting the walls.

“I do— just a few miles down the road, dear.” His mouth latched onto your neck but he didn’t suck like he wanted, he couldn’t bite. Your skin was your job, your body not his to mark. Suddenly he remembered, “Do you still have that make up? For your bruises?”

You couldn’t understand why he would bring that up while balls deep in you but you nodded.

“Would it work on your neck?” He nipped lightly.

It clicked, “Absolutely.”

You felt like a teenager again. When his tongue swiped over your soft flesh before he began to suck on the skin there you could feel the heat rising off your chest. You could feel him everywhere, and with the knowledge he wanted to hear you, you tossed your shame out of the kitchen window and relaxed into the pleasure.

As he moved up your neck he left little marks behind. There was no sense left you didn’t occupy. He could smell the soap and sweat of your skin, taste your cunt still on his tongue, your sights and sounds a decadence he couldn’t get used to. And the feeling of you… velvety walls, a feeling finer than silk as he slipped in and out of you. So incredibly hot on his most sensitive areas, pulling him back in with admirable strength.

He felt his orgasm ratcheting up but tried to hold back. He wanted more time to experience your ecstasy, to wallow in your openness. Even pressed skin to skin now wouldn’t satisfy that deep desire for this unique level of intimacy. So he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he had it.

But, he knew he should prepare. “I don’t want to dirty your dress.” A lust heavy voice penetrating the nap of your neck. He’d made a risky release before at your urging, something he often thought about when work got quiet. But he knew he needed to think clearer now.

“Then don’t.” A terrible reply but you wanted all of him, every drop of his hunger for you. “Keep the mess in me.”

“My dear,” he slowed his hips, autopilot keeping them moving at all, “I don’t think now is the time for,” you tightened around him to trip him up, which worked spectacularly. Alastor had take several seconds before continuing, “talks on family planning.”

A pang of nausea and fear, small and sharp in your abdomen. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of biology, just that Alastor brought out your baser animal instincts, too. And before, when he came buried as deeply as he could reach, it felt like you’d actually completed some ritual. Bears hibernated, birds migrated, Alastor came in you.

You’d never let a man do that before Alastor. “I just want to… accept everything you are willing to give me.”

He bit his bottom lip to redirect some attention away from his now throbbing member, “And when you’re sure on me, I’ll always provide.”

A pout that he kissed, you accepted the terms. An argument could be made you were already very sure, but you were well aware how naive that sounded when you’d known each other for so little time. Had a coworker told you she’d met a guy and within three months was ready for… the consequences, you’d have laughed and asked if she was drunk or just stupid.

Alastor wanted to provide. But he knew you’d be the one with the raw end of the deal, he couldn’t risk coercing a decision in the heat of the moment. If your mind was half was addled as his with pleasure then you were in no state for big decisions.

Life changing decisions.

Decisions that filled empty homes.

Fuck, why wasn’t he a less considerate man?

When his kiss deepened, so did his ministrations. He was fully sheathed and so unwilling to draw back more than a couple inches you wondered if he had changed his mind. It felt like a man not wanting to stray too far from home. One hand on the small of your back, his other other on the back of your neck. When he pulled out he pressed his tongue further, only stopping the kiss when he came onto the little space of table between your thighs. Soft and swollen lips parted as his breaths ran ragged. A smile spread across your face as you watched his eyes open, witnessing a pleasured blow out of his pupils.

When he grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned the table, you chuckled at his grimace. “See? My way is cleaner.”

He didn’t reply at first, taking the cloth and hovering over the sink before tossing it into his trash. “Only in the short term. We can finish up tomorrow with the tools?”

Your legs kicked again, not ready to slide off, “Mm, it’ll be easier in the daylight.”

“Instead,” he zipped his pants but removed the belt and set it on the counter, “Let’s get zozzled* and sway around the sitting room? Crash where we land.” (*drunk)

“I’ll pour if you get the music on.”

He turned to leave but paused, “No, I’ll handle the drinks. You always have too heavy of a hand.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last time…”

“I’m not sure I remembered I was at home and not at a drum* last time…,” He uncorked the label-less whiskey, grabbing two glasses with one hand. “Didn’t wanna insult the pretty waitress.” (*speakeasy)

Fair. You weren’t much for drinking and always underestimated the strength of illegal hooch. Some were weak and some could kill you. But fancy Alastor had connections with the kind of people no one dared to risk harm to, so he always had the most trustworthy goods.

Good music, great whiskey, and even better company. You thanked him for being safe while working, he praised your ability to learn new skills so quickly. After a few drinks he pushed the coffee table against the wall and you drunkenly swayed around the room to something playing smooth and low. As much as you enjoyed your conversations, having your head tucked under his chin as neither of you said a word somehow filled in the little cracks of your heart more so than any talk. For him too. No tension after sex, no stress of how long he’d get to breathe before the next instance of prodding to do it again. He could smile and close his eyes and feel the room swing and sway in total safety.

A safety neither of you knew was being threatened from afar.

When you woke, Alastor was gone. A note on the table letting you know he’d run out to grab some things for breakfast. Telling you to relax and recover.

You put the furniture back, bringing the glasses to the kitchen and his belt to the bedroom.

Coffee and a slow perusal of his home. Intimate details you tried to not stare at when he was there. The rare photo of his mother, a woman you didn’t speak about, a conversation you didn’t need to have, but someone you knew existed fondly still in his life. A silent thank you to her.

No photos of a man to give thanks to you so you turned to the little curios and mementos.

Little seashells and sand dollars, a small gator’s skull. Books, about anatomy and history. Novels about crime and love and mystery. Ticket stubs for films he’d seen. Little bits of his mother scattered in. A woman’s necklace. A chatelaine* with all of the accessories and tools. (*wikipedia page)

When you felt you’d spied enough, you crawled into his side of the bed and inhaled as deeply as you could. His pillow smelled like him. You let yourself sleep off the hangover surrounded by pieces of Alastor.

Pieces you couldn’t contain. Pieces left around town as a dick* hunted for his personal monster. (*a detective, but also, a dick, fuck this dude?)

Beth, or Betty as you called her, the friend you often sang for, was cleaning up from the previous night when Brady walked in. She tried to tell him they were closed, but he took a seat at the counter anyway.

“I’m looking for a singer named Autumn. She been around lately?”

She paused, knowing the name was tied to your work. This man didn’t know you. “Whose asking?”

“The city of New Orleans”, he set his badge on the counter top.

“Is she in some kinda trouble?”

“She the kinda dame to get into trouble?”

Beth laughed, “She doesn’t try to but men, liquor, and jazz tend to make it happen. She’s okay, right?”

He took a deep sigh, trying to blink away the exhaustion and remember he needed to be someone strangers trusted. Being honest hadn’t been working and being rough barely got him a lead. “Well I was hoping you’d know. Found out someone roughed her up a bit ago and just wanting to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t have her legal name, no address, nothing to track her down.”

Shaking her head, she leaned onto the counter, “What? Some egg* forget it’s just a show?” Brady shrugged. “I can’t say. She hasn’t been by in a couple weeks.” (*man)

He asked why. Feeling the deadend approaching.

“She was just doing me a favor. Once she got a guy she didn’t have much time.”

Fighting the urge to slam his fists against the wood and sling his notebook across the bar, Brady took slow breaths. Jaw clenched as he grabbed his pencil, “That is wonderful news. Hopefully a fit guy who can… keep her safe.”

Beth laughed a little, “I don’t know about that. He’s kind of a daisy*, but real kind.” (*a non-masculine man)

“Could I get a name? Or her address? Wanna follow up. See for myself that she’s doing well.”

She tapped the bar with two fingers and winked, “Ah no can do. Flatfoot* or not, I don’t tell men where to find sleeping ladies. But her fella is in radio though. I recognized his voice right away. Popular too, really ritzy air about him.” (*cop, detective)

As he left, he slapped the notebook against his palm over and over. When he stopped to take a second to congratulate himself something caught his eye. Across the street was a park he knew well. Following the block and turning, he could see the white and green awning of the cafe he’d seen you at before.

Had he been there? He hadn’t questioned why you were alone on such a nice day. But maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d been playing him from the start.

Enough games.

When you took the stage that evening, a Friday show with a promising crowd, you felt like solid gold. Alastor would be there to pick you up in a few hours, you had every need met. And now you had the adoration of strangers to pump up your chest.

Until you passed your come-hither eyes over the crowd and a striking ocean blue pair knocked the wind out of you.

James was standing behind Brady, mouthing an apology. You missed a beat in your routine but forced your smile back. It took a second, to slide back into the actress you were when away from Alastor. Every time it got harder and harder to fall back into that role but you managed. His eyes never left your face, and you thanked God your heaving chest could be seen as fatigue and not the sheer panic that had taken ahold of your body.

When you were on the other side of the curtain you considered rushing out the side door, into the alley and down the street. But you couldn’t. You’d successfully brushed him off for so long but now that he had seen you, had made it clear he was there for you, you couldn’t flee. Innocent people don’t hide from cops.

Feet dragging, you saw some of the dancers standing around the dressing room door. “He’s out of his gourd if he thinks I’m changing with him in there.” One said loud enough to ensure Brady heard. When you entered the room he was sitting at your make up table, legs spread and your shoes in his hands.

“There she is!” standing, he extended the shoes to you, “Don’t stare like a deer in the lights. I’m sure you knew I was coming. Slip these on, we’re going for a ride.” He gave them a shake, “You can call your mac* from the station and let him know you’ll be late.” (*man)

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @poinappel l , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

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sugrhigh · 7 months ago

Text

TOUCH IT - ( c.s )

REQUESTED**

summary- you and chris have never gotten along, despite your close relationship with his two brothers. you find out that’s he’s been messing with your love life behind your back, and all hell breaks loose. you both exchange many hurtful pranks, until you take it too far and chris shows up at your place

warnings- SMUT W/ A PLOT (enemies to lovers), virgin!reader x playboy!chris, cursing, you know the drill

a/n: it’s been forever, but i have returned!! thank you for waiting and i truly hope this makes up for my absence. to the nonnie who requested this im praying it meets expectations lol. my inbox is always open for reqs, comments, sweet nothings, etc <3

@fawnchives @l9vesick @55sturn @luverboychris @teapartyprincess4two @pinksturniolo @mattinside @stonermattsgf @impureals @chrisactualwife @fikefries @riasturns @lovesodakid @mattslolita @sturniolopepsi @boywonderblogs @cherrypostsposts @iprk90 @bxbynyah7 @mbbsgf @zivall @slut4chriss @sturniolossss @sturnslcver @k111rby @vsangel-starbies @ginswife @eyeliketoeatpoosay @sturngirly @faygo-frog @s8nshines @bellasashylegs @mattsbbg @sturnlova @huntiesworld @cthasia @mattybsbitch @justalittle47 @ponyosturniolo @goldengrapejuice @matthewsturniolosactualgf @lustfulslxt @kenzieiskoolaid @ryli3sworld @c6ina @mcdonaldscocacola @venusvonlaw

your sniffles fill the living room, a pathetic sound that continues as you wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. well, it’s actually nick’s sweatshirt, and even though you’re getting your makeup all over it, he feels so terrible that he doesn’t mind.

“i don’t understand, you guys. why would he blow me off after we already went on three really good dates?” you question, voice cracking in hurt.

nick shakes his head solemnly, rubbing your arm to try and console you. “because he’s a fucking loser. i know it sucks, but i promise you this is for the best. now you don’t have to waste any more time on that dick.”

you just sigh. he’s right, but that doesn’t make you feel any less embarrassed. being stood up is a hit to the self-esteem, especially when you get all dressed up to wait around outside the restaurant like an idiot and have your best friends pick you up an hour later.

and after years of being on the sidelines, of watching everyone around you date and fall in love, you have to admit that you really thought something was growing. you thought it was your turn.

meeting wes was like a breath of fresh air, and after a few very promising initial hangouts, you figured this might finally be it. a cute guy with similar interests who actually seemed to like you.

but you suppose you guessed wrong.

“he was so sweet though, and that’s why i’m confused. the guy i thought that i was going out with would have never done that.” you reason, more with yourself than with him.

matt huffs from the other side of you, pushing his hair back on his forehead. “don’t cut him any slack. if he was even halfway decent he would’ve been open and communicated with you.”

another truth bomb that only further ruptures your heart. you know they’re trying to help, even though nothing about this is making you feel any better.

the whole thing is a disaster, though you should have known better. your entire love life has always been a mess. but each time you meet someone new and start to fall, you’re hopeful that it’ll be different.

“i just want to know what i did.” you mutter, sniffling again to try and stop your runny nose.

before either of them can respond, a loud bang erupts out from the kitchen and infiltrates the moment. you flinch, snapping your head in the direction of the noise just to meet a pair of icy eyes.

it’s chris, because of course he has to see you like this, at your literal lowest point. he’s got a small pot in hand as he stares you down, somehow managing to look both annoyed and indifferent at the same time.

“what are you whining about this time?” he asks, turning his back to you so he can set the pot on the stove and switch on the burner.

“be nice, chris. she’s having a rough night.” nick tells his brother, who doesn’t heed the warning in the slightest.

instead he just spins around to face the three of you once more, a small (but still smug) smile lighting up his face.

“oh, you had a date with that idiot wesley didn’t you? how did it go?”

chris poses it as a question, but you see right through him. his sarcastic tone indicates that he already knows how it went, considering your mascara is streaked under your bloodshot eyes and you’re in nick’s clothes rather than your own outfit.

but still, you find yourself giving him an answer, though it’s followed up by an interrogation of your own. “he didn’t show. you happen to know anything about that?”

he shrugs, reaching to open the pantry and grab some pasta. “nope.”

“bullshit.”

it flies out of your mouth before you truly think about it, but you’re kind of happy you spoke up for once. you know he’s hiding something, and you deserve the whole truth.

“what is that supposed to mean?” he narrows his eyes, like he’s challenging you to say more.

“it means you’re lying right to my face. what did you do?” you question further, even though you’re not entirely sure you want the answer.

chris gnaws on his cheek, trying to decide how much to tell you. and then he remembers that his brothers are in the room, and that he’d never be caught dead admitting to any sort of vulnerability, so his mouth starts running without a second thought.

“oh, that? yeah, i ran into wes the other day at the gym.” he shrugs simply, like that explains it all.

you rise to your feet, legs far ahead of your brain as you charge in his direction. “what the fuck did you say, chris?”

he’s surprised by your temper considering you’re usually so mild-mannered, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stand down. instead, he straightens to puff his chest out, crossing his arms in a defensive stance.

“i told him the truth. that you’re a prude, and that you’ll never let him hit no matter how many amazing dates you go on.”

your mouth falls open and you stop in your tracks, just a few feet from him now. there’s no softness in his eyes; he’s completely shut down, focused on upholding the facade.

never in a million years did you expect him to throw your inexperience back at you as an insult, no matter how much you both disliked each other.

you’re pretty sure you hear both matt and nick gasp lightly from the living room, completely taken aback by their brothers brazenness. you can’t blame them. you’re almost not sure how to react, or what to say. almost.

“you’re gonna regret the day you ever fucked with me, christopher sturniolo. i can promise you that.”

and you kept that promise.

“are you fucking kidding me?” you hear him roar from somewhere upstairs.

you immediately smile, munching on your breakfast (even though it’s noon) in the kitchen. nick looks over from beside you with wide eyes, and then takes notice of your satisfied expression.

“what did you do?” he asks in a hushed voice as you hear chris come bounding down the stairs.

you shrug and turn to look over your shoulder at the man of the hour. he’s shirtless, hair tussled from sleep with his sweats hanging low on his waist, and he’s waving around a pair of his boxers. it’s one of the expensive ones that you know is now completely destroyed thanks to your doing.

“really? cutting out a hole in all of my underwear?” chris snaps at you, tossing them at your feet because he doesn’t know what else to do.

it’s a dick hole, to be specific. they’re completely in tact aside from the gaping space where it’s supposed to protect his manhood.

“figured it would help save time since you wanna fuck everything that moves.” you say, taking a satisfying bite of your bacon as you study him with a smirk.

nick lets out a laugh, because he knows that chris honestly deserves it after his asshole behavior towards you a few days ago.

you’d been strong, pretending it didn’t phase you as much as it really had whenever you were hanging out with them. but it was beyond messed up, and neither of the boys could understand why their brother would go to that extent just to sabotage your relationship.

“better than being a stuck-up virgin who thinks she’s smarter than she is.” he growls in return, and there’s a mean look in his eyes.

you know he’s trying to hurt you, but he’s once again tossing your innocence around like a dig, which is what offends you the most considering it’s a deep-rooted insecurity.

and you hate that he’s still being malicious while he looks so damn heavenly standing across from you, his bare chest heaving in anger. it makes your stomach flip uncomfortably.

you don’t know if you’re sick with rage or sick with desire.

definitely rage, right?

“i’d rather be selective than completely ran through.” you hurl another diss at him, which he just scoffs at.

“you think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you? how many other times have you snuck into my room while i’m sleeping?” chris questions, taking a singular step forward.

he’s towering over you as you sit at the table, but you don’t let it intimidate you like he wants. instead, you say the one thing that you know he won’t expect.

“how many times have you thought about taking me in there yourself, huh?” you accuse him harshly.

your words hang in the air, and the tension is palpable. his lips part in shock, and you watch the blush creep up his neck to his face because he can’t count on both hands how much he’s pictured you in his bed.

you’re also stunned by his reaction, but you try not to show it. you expected him to tell you how wrong you are, how he would never touch you in a million years.

but he doesn’t.

“jesus, what did i just walk in to?” matt grumbles as he trudges past his brother into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

chris answers before you can. “nothing, she’s just being insane.”

“i’m sure whatever she did was reasonable after that douchebag comment you made the other day.” he replies easily, and your heart swells at the fact that he came to your defense.

you know it puts your two best friends in a tough situation considering you’re constantly bickering with their brother, but it’s nice to know they have your back on this.

“fine. i don’t fucking need this from all three of you anyways.” chris’s frown deepens as he turns on his heel to head back upstairs.

part of you feels a bit bad as you watch him go, but the overwhelming sensation that takes over is pride. you finally fought back, and you may have actually ended it.

well, that’s what you thought anyways, but you find that you’re once again wrong.

on your way back from the triplets house two days later, you were honked at eight separate times. you started keeping track.

the first instance scared the absolute shit out of you, because you thought you were about to get into an accident or something. your hand had flown to your chest, a loud curse leaving your mouth as your other palm gripped the wheel.

and then it happened again, and again, and many more times after that. you were pretty sure there was something written into the grime on your back window, but you couldn’t read it no matter how hard you tried.

you’re enraged by the time you park at your place, tearing out of the driver's seat to go look. you pull out your phone and tap the flashlight on, illuminating the hidden message.

honk if u think im a SLUT

you press your shaky fingers to your mouth, completely embarrassed by the fact that you’d been driving around like this and by the fact that so many people had essentially called you a whore.

what a stupid prank, considering you had almost crashed your car over it. you grab a napkin from your center console and wipe it all away, grumbling under your breath about how much you hate chris the whole time.

you stalk into your little ground-level apartment, slamming the front door shut behind you. by the time you’ve kicked off your shoes and made it to your bedroom you’ve worked yourself into a fit.

you whip your phone back out and find yourself pulling up his contact despite how much you don’t want to hear his cocky remarks.

but it’s ringing regardless, and he picks up on the second one. he was expecting the call, anxiously awaiting your reaction because he knew it would piss you off enough to talk to him.

“hey.” chris says simply, smiling to himself as he leans back in the rolling chair in his room.

“you’re a fucking idiot, you know that? and also a raging hypocrite while we’re at it. am i a prude or a slut, chris?” you lash out immediately, pacing around your room because you can’t seem to sit down.

“you’re a slutty prude.” he replies, and you can literally hear the smirk in his voice.

“and you’re just a little bitch. you love to act like you’re so tough, but i think you’re the weakest person i know by far. always too scared to say what you really mean.” your words are sharp yet fluid, as if they’re coming from someone besides yourself.

there’s a pause, just for a brief second, and you wonder what’s going through his head. you don’t know what’s going through your own anymore.

the line crackles and he sucks in a breath, re-arming himself to continue this brawl.

“you want me to say what i mean? i think you love riding on your high horse, pretending that you’re better than everyone else. like you’re so pure. but really you’re just needy and desperate, hoping someone will come along and fuck you right.”

your mouth is suddenly completely dry, trying to process what he even means while also coming up with a quick response.

“you think about people fucking me a lot? or do you think about you fucking me a lot?” you ask a beat later, bringing back the conversation from the other day.

he feels the blood rush to his dick, which stiffens against his sweats from this kind of talk with you. he’s only ever imagined it in his dreams.

“you wish it was me, don’t you sweetheart? taking it slow, making you weak.” he mutters, and you feel yourself throb from his words alone.

you hate how much it turns you on, thinking about chris completely having his way with you. you can feel the butterflies erupt in your stomach, pattering through your gut and up to your chest.

“you gonna come do something about it or are you just gonna keep talking shit?” you call him out.

he sucks in a breath, completely hard now from your alluring voice and the context of your words.

there’s nothing he wants more than to sprint to your house and spread you out on your bed, to show you what real pleasure is all about. but there’s so many underlying problems, one of which is the fact that his brothers are best friends with you.

there’s a lot to ruin, even though he knows he already destroyed any chance of a real relationship between the two of you the second he met you. but still, being honest means things will change, and that scares him.

so he pulls the phone away from his ear and hangs up.

for a second you don’t even realize, and then the ending tone alerts you that he’s not waiting to respond, he’s just a fucking jerk. you can’t believe he ended the call so abruptly, like it didn’t phase him at all.

your legs are shaky as you throw yourself down into bed, ignoring the chill you still feel creeping across your body from the conversation.

he won’t get the last laugh. you won’t let him.

chris thinks about you the most at night. it’s hardest to get you out of his head when he’s alone in his room, just like he is now, watching tv to try and drown out his overactive mind. he hasn’t seen you in a few days, which is unusual, and he doesn’t like to admit it but he misses you.

you’re the reason he’s scrolling through instagram in the first place, aimlessly liking girls' photos just to try and convince himself that he’s interested in other people.

but he’s not. he hasn’t been in a long time, because he knew almost immediately that you’re everything he’s ever wanted, which was only confirmed as you continued to stick around. the thought alone was terrifying.

so he pushed you, and pushed you, and pushed you, ensuring that you’d steer clear of him. it just seemed easier, though it’s proving to be quite the opposite.

he’s just about to turn to video games for saving when his phone goes off in his hand. it’s a text from a girl he met over a week ago at a party, who had come back to spend the night with him.

and she’s asking if he has chlamydia.

the question is followed by a screenshot, which chris taps on immediately as his heart beats out of his chest. it’s a different message from some kind of bot number, alleging that he recently tested positive and she should see a doctor.

the sad part is that it looks pretty official, so much so that if he received the text himself he would probably believe it blindly. his face burns in embarrassment and irritation.

then another one comes through, from a girl he used to hook up with pretty frequently last month. by the time he responds to one person, he’s greeted by more messages from others.

five girls text him in the span of five minutes, which just adds insult to injury that they’re all questioning it too. but finally, they stop coming, and he’s pretty sure it’s over.

and now that he’s no longer focused on repeatedly putting the rumor to bed, he’s pissed.

of course chris knows it was you behind all of it, because who else would it be. he just can’t believe you thought of it, that you bested him at his own game.

there’s so much pent up energy in his body that he feels like he could run a mile. but he doesn’t. instead he jams his feet into his sneakers and orders a car, on a path of complete destruction.

you're midway through an episode of broad city when you hear a pounding on your front door, which you don’t expect. it surprises you so much that you actually have to take a second to calm your racing heart down from the panic.

you know who it is too, which scares you more. you weren’t expecting him to just show up like this, especially since it’s only been a little over fifteen minutes since your latest prank.

you were thinking maybe there would be an angry confrontation next time you went over to their house, but not right now.

the knocking comes again, louder and more impatient this time. you finally bring yourself to get off the couch, heading for the front door and squaring your shoulders as you go.

you swing it open a second later, and even though you expected him, you’re still troubled by chris’s expression. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so infuriated, so intense.

his eyes are dark as he stares you down, muscles straining and on display in his black wife beater. his entire face is flushed, and even though you know he took an uber here, it looks like he could’ve sprinted the whole way.

“do you think you’re fucking funny?” he seethes, taking a step toward you.

instinctively you move backwards, like two opposite ends of a magnet. chris raises an eyebrow, and you tilt your head.

“am i laughing?” you ask sharply.

“why are you messing with my life like this, huh? all because i made a comment to some dumbass kid?” he continues to rail you with questions.

you literally can’t help but just blink at him for a moment, completely at a loss over the fact that he sees nothing wrong with what he did.

“if you really believe that it wasn’t a big deal, you’re even worse than i thought.” you respond, voice quiet but lethal.

this time his anger actually falters, and his grimace turns to a slight frown. you’ve cursed him out plenty of times, but somehow this feels way more real. and it rips through him like a knife.

“yeah, i’m the awful one. you wanna know what wes was saying about you to his friends in the gym that day? he said that he was trying to fuck you for the roster, and that he was hoping to do it after your date so he wouldn’t have to see you again.”

he reveals this information rather bluntly. it just falls out of his mouth, and there’s no way to stop it, so he keeps going, “and then i told him all that stupid shit about you to scare him away, because i thought it was easier to keep hating me than to hear the truth about him.”

your jaw goes slack, lips parting even though you have no thoughts running through your head. or, more specifically, you’re having so many thoughts crowding you that you can’t pick one.

“i—okay, let me get this straight. instead of just being honest with me, you let me wait around outside a fancy restaurant by myself for an hour like a fucking fool?” you grill him, still somehow finding a way to be pissed off.

“i didn’t want to hurt you.” chris counters, taking another step toward you so he’s almost inside the doorway.

you stand your ground this time, staring him down defiantly. “don’t give me that bullshit, you’ve been tormenting me since the day we met and you know it.”

he shakes his head, a frustrated grunt leaving his lips. “why do you insist on misunderstanding me?”

“because you don’t make any sense! first you hate my guts, and now i’m supposed to just accept that you were supposedly looking out for me the whole time?” you throw your hands up in exasperation.

“i never hated you, y/n. not even for a second. and i know it’s not my place but he didn’t deserve to be anywhere near you, especially not after what he said.”

this absolutely infuriates you, and you place both of your hands in between your two bodies to shove him back onto the little patio. he’s stunned by your temper, but he only lets it show for a moment.

“what, and you do? you ever think about all of the shit you’ve said about me, chris?” you’re louder now, because you feel like you’re being made to look like an idiot.

he just approaches again, which sends you backing up into the apartment as he follows close behind. chris kicks the door shut and reaches out, one hand slipping behind your neck while the other moves to hold onto your hip, forcing you close to him.

“i didn’t mean any of it. i liked you from the moment i met you, and i hated that, so i took it out on you to try and keep you away. but i didn’t mean it,” he emphasizes, leaning in slightly so he’s practically breathing his words against your mouth, “let me show you.”

you can smell the musky cologne on his skin, trying so hard to ignore the shiver running down your spine from his proximity alone. your heart is beating out your of your chest and you briefly wonder if he can hear it.

“i don’t…i can’t trust you, chris.” you reply, turning your head so you can avoid his gaze, but he won’t let that happen.

he forces you to look back at him, tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck so he can guide your head straight. chris watches your eyes grow wide, lips parting ever so slightly as your resolve continues to fade.

“yes you can, i promise. let me show you what i really think about you, please.” he begs, tilting a bit more so that his lips ghost over yours, testing the waters.

you haven’t been properly kissed in quite some time, and the desire to give in is so strong that you can’t fight any longer. so you lean into it, throwing your arms up so you can wrap them around his neck and pull him flush against your chest.

his mouth melts against yours, tentatively at first to make sure you’re comfortable. when you start to pick up the pace, kissing him with a newfound fervor, chris begins to let his tongue wander against yours more passionately.

then his hands slide down to grip your ass tightly, kneading the supple flesh with his fingers. you gasp against his mouth, an airy and delicate sound that makes his stomach twist. he’s been dying to hear that for over a year now.

a second later you feel him bite down on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth and admiring the way the skin recoils as he lets go. you didn’t realize how much you would enjoy the mixture of slight pain and pleasure.

“tell me you want this too.” chris demands, lining his mouth up with your ear so that he can speak lowly.

normally you would protest, or insult him, or roll your eyes, but things have completely changed in the last few minutes. now all you can think about is how soft his kisses are, how you want to feel them all over.

so you nod with those doe eyes locked on him as he pulls away to study you, taking in your flustered state. “i want you to show me, chris.”

the sentence is music to his ears, and he can’t believe this is actually finally happening. you break your grasp on his neck, taking a step back so you can slip your hand into his.

you lead him down the hall toward your bedroom, heart thumping against your ribcage with each step you take. you’re nervous, but you also somehow feel more comfortable with him than the few guys who came before.

and sure, you’d never fully had sex with any of them. but now you’re kind of glad you didn’t, so chris can be your first.

your room is a bit messier than you’d like considering you weren’t expecting company, especially not in this part of the house, but you don’t have time to fix it now. it’s not like he gives a single shit; the only thing he’s focused on is you.

the tiny shorts you’re wearing have started to ride up as you tug him along, which only grabs his attention more. chris gives your butt a light smack with his free hand before twirling you back into his side with the other, pressing a steady kiss to your lips.

you laugh slightly, because you can’t help it, which makes him smile against your mouth. it really does feel corny, but he doesn’t care all that much. for you, he’s willing to drop the tough guy act.

“are you sure about this?” chris asks as he pulls away, his forehead pressed against yours as he awaits a response.

you lean in to peck him swiftly again before speaking. “i’m sure, really.”

he nods once, guiding you a few steps backwards so you fall down onto your own plush bed sheets. for a moment he admires the way your hair fans out around you, the slight ‘o’ of surprise that your lips make, trying to capture a mental picture of the moment.

your fingers find the bottom of his shirt in an attempt to speed things up, wrapping the material into your fist and bringing him down on top of you. he braces himself, arms on either side of you while he nudges your legs apart so his knee is between them.

you let your hands grasp his mostly bare shoulders as his head dips down, pressing kisses to your cheek, along your jaw, the hollow area underneath your earlobe. soft little noises fall from your lips as chris finally reaches your neck, careful not to be too rough as he sucks on the sensitive skin of your throat.

he adores it and he wants to hear more, to make them louder. so his mouth trails to your collarbone, which is luckily on display since you’re in a tube top. and then he lifts his thigh forward a bit more, ensuring that his knee brushes right against your clothed heat.

your hips grind down against his muscles almost involuntarily, eliciting a real moan as your cunt throbs desperately. you rock your hips against him at a quicker pace, loving the pressure that's beginning to build in your stomach from the stimulation.

“mmm, y’sound so pretty.” chris grumbles against your body, tongue sloppily running over the now irritated areas.

it’s the first time he’s ever really praised you, and considering it’s coming from the person you least expected, it makes it that much sweeter.

he pauses, pulling his head up so that he can hover over you. his hands begin to slide underneath your top suggestively and you help him, wiggling the stretchy material over your head.

you toss it to the floor, chest fully on display as the cold air rushes over your hardened nipples. a long breath passes by his lips as he takes you in, his dick straining against his sweats now as you gaze at him bashfully.

“quit staring.” you complain, though your voice holds no conviction.

“you make it hard not to.” chris shakes his head with a smile, leaning back down so that he can brush your worries away with another brief kiss.

this time you can feel his hard-on pressed against the inside of your thigh as his mouth searches yours, sloppier yet somehow sweeter this time around. his hand dances across your hip and up your side, moving higher and higher until his fingers are grazing over one of your exposed breasts, stopping to massage it roughly.

your back arches, rutting your chest into his grasp as you groan against his lips. chris pulls away, tiny smirk morphing his features.

“aw, you like that baby?” he goads, spreading his other palm out against the previously untouched mound of flesh, squeezing your nipples between his fingers lightly.

you can feel the wetness pooling at your core as he stays poised between your legs, continuing to tweak the sensitive buds in a way that’s deliciously enjoyable. you’re writhing under his hands, and he loves that you’re completely in his control.

but chris also knows that he can take you further, satisfy you more than you could’ve ever imagined. so he bows to your body, attaching his mouth to your throat and leaving several messy kisses.

his lips shift to brush against the area right above your chest, nipping at the skin lightly as he brings one hand back to grasp one of your tits. finally, he gets far down enough to flick his tongue across one of your nipples, his fingers pinching the other gently, swapping between them after a moment.

“fuck, chris.” you whimper, mind already becoming fuzzy from the carnal desire for more.

“god i love hearing you moan my name.” he admits before sucking the sensitive bud back into his mouth, toying with it a bit more just to drive you crazy.

he stays there for a moment as you both enjoy the dragged out foreplay. it’s a moment with you that he’s waited for for what seems like an eternity, and he wants it to last as long as possible.

and as much as he would like to linger in this spot forever, chris is craving even more of you. the tent in his pants is still growing from all of your beautiful noises and expressions, but he’s only worried about making this the best experience for you.

so he carries on, trailing down the valley of your breasts, wetting the area as he continues. he presses several slow kisses against your stomach, in a straight line leading directly to the waistband of your cotton pants.

you watch as he looks up at you through his long lashes, pupils blown out in lust. “can i take these off, pretty girl?”

“please.” the roles are reversed and now you’re the one begging him.

“so needy.” chris drags the ‘y’ out slightly as he simultaneously does the same thing to your shorts, careful to tug your thin and soaked panties with them.

the air rushes over the slickness that’s already developed, and you instinctively close your legs. you’ve never had anyone actually go down there, just a guy who stuck his hand in your pants to finger you—very poorly, if you’re honest—during seven minutes in heaven well over a year ago.

so it makes you a little self-conscious having him this close. he’s quick to pry you apart again, fully lowering himself to the floor of your room so he’s face to face with your pussy.

“can’t believe no one has ever seen you like this, you little tease.” his voice is low as he starts kissing your inner thigh, working his way in, “wanna taste you so bad.”

he’s growing closer to where you need him, and you throb when you feel his lips graze the innermost part of your leg. chris blows one singular breath right across your cunt, which shocks you slightly, before pressing a soft open-mouthed kiss to your clit.

you feel your legs tremble a little bit in his palms, your hands automatically going to tangle in his hair. a long whine escapes as his tongue works across you, and you can literally feel him smile in satisfaction.

the fact that it’s his mouth making you squirm like this, that he’s the only one that’s ever gotten to eat you out, is something he’s currently taking a lot of pride in.

he lightly teases your entrance, moving back and forth from that and sucking on your pulsing clit. it makes you grip onto his roots tighter, grinding down onto his face slightly as you moan his name again like a prayer. he swears he could cum in his pants right now, without you even touching him.

“you’re so fucking sexy.” he purrs against your cunt, the vibrations sending another tiny jolt through your body.

you can feel how hot your face is, how tense your stomach has become, and you can’t bring yourself to find any words. that is, until his fingers glide across your clit, rubbing over it lightly as you throw your head back against the mattress.

“holy shi—oh!” your voice catches in your throat midway through your sentence as he suddenly slips a finger inside.

a lewd noise escapes your throat once he does so, and he begins to pump it slowly. you’re finding it nearly impossible to keep your hips planted on the mattress, so he guides your leg over his shoulder and digs his nails into your skin to keep you still.

you rock your pelvis forward, connecting with his hand harder now as you chase the sensation, listening to the wet sounds of him gliding in and out of your cunt. chris adds another one of his slender fingers inside of you, and you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to contain some of the desperate noises you’re making.

his own cock is pulsing as he continues, admiring the way your tits jiggle as he picks up his pace, the way your hair is slightly matted while your mascara collects under your eyes. he knows you want more just based on the way you’re bucking to meet his fingers, but he wants to hear you say it.

“is there something you’d like, sweetheart?” he asks, pressing another open kiss to your overstimulated clit.

you look down at him, meeting those pretty blue eyes as he awaits an answer, and you feel yourself shiver in both anticipation and from the current excitement.

“more, chris. i—need you.” you finally manage to get it out, voice pinched as you speak.

“what do you need, huh? you gotta tell me, use those words.” he demands further, and even though his taunting makes you shy, you realize you’ll have to answer if you want him to continue.

“need you inside me, baby.” you plead breathlessly, and he lets out an involuntary groan at the use of the pet name.

he didn’t expect you to play into the dirty talk, and at this point his erection is begging to be set free, to have you wrapped around him. so chris slows his fingers to a stop, leaving you feeling empty as he removes them.

a pout takes over your features as he stands up, placing his fingers in his mouth so he can suck your wetness off of them. it’s ridiculously racy, and it leaves you clenching around nothing as you wait for his next move.

“wanna be buried in this pretty pussy so bad.” chris growls, reaching to yank his wife beater over his head.

his chain bounces against his collarbones as he throws it away half-hazardly, tugging his boxers and sweatpants down to his ankles a second later. your eyes widen slightly as his dick springs free, slapping against his stomach as he steps out of his clothes.

precum dribbles out of the tip, which is angry and red from desire. you’re completely in a trance, staring as he takes himself into his own hand, pumping a few times so he can spread the slick around.

he notices the way you’re studying him in amazement, one corner of his mouth turning upward. “d’you want to give it a try, princess?”

your heart leaps into your throat, and even though you’re scared, you really want to learn how to make him feel good too. so you nod silently, extending your hand toward his cock, hesitating once you’re close enough.

“spit in your palm, wrap your fingers around it and then stroke, just like i was.” he instructs, so you suck in a breath and do as you’re told.

your newly-wetted hand closes around the bottom of his shaft, and he hisses out a curse as you start working up and down, squeezing the sensitive skin timidly. your thumb runs over his slit and he lets out a low moan, fucking himself into your fist.

“a-ah shit, just like that.”

you adore the admiration, unable to contain your smile as you apply some more pressure. his head is tilted back to the ceiling, eyes screwed shut as he enjoys the brief handjob. but chris can already feel the orgasm building, so he stills your movements by placing his fingers over your own.

your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “was it bad?”

he shakes his head immediately before he settles back down on top of you, bracing himself on his forearms as he leans in for a kiss. the taste of your arousal still lingers on his lips, which you surprisingly enjoy way more than expected.

“no, if anything it was too good. i would’ve finished from that alone.” chris admits against your mouth, which makes you feel insanely content.

“can’t have that, can we? not when i need you to fill me up.” you reply in a sultry tone, and if you didn’t know any better you would think that the comment made him blush.

“jesus, you can’t say shit like that to me.” he grumbles, moving to run his tongue along your jaw as his hand wraps around your throat.

chris squeezes the sides of your windpipe lightly, rutting his hips upward so that his dick slides against your drenched folds. the warmth from your center immediately causes his breathing to become labored, and you whimper as you feel his tip nudge your swollen clit.

“are you ready?” he pants into your ear, and you mumble a few pathetic words of confirmation to spur him on.

with that, chris uses the hand that was previously on your throat to line himself up at your entrance, looking up to catch your eye again. he pauses for a moment, so you give him a nod of encouragement.

“tell me if it gets too uncomfortable.” he says, intertwining his free fingers with yours so you have something to hold on to.

then he slowly starts to push himself inside, beginning with just the tip as your eyes screw shut. the stretch is painful at first, like you’re being split wide open by the sheer size of him, so you focus on your breathing as your grip on his hand tightens.

inch by inch he fills you up, until finally his full length is being gripped by your plush walls. you wince at the agonizing pressure, your nails digging into his back as he waits for you to adjust. you’re already clenching around him involuntarily, and he lets out a long groan.

“you alright, baby?” chris questions a beat later, concern laced in his voice.

“yeah, i think so.” you reply quietly.

“keep breathing, i’ll take it slow.” he promises, trying to comfort you as best he can.

you just nod, still latched onto his shoulder while his thumb strokes the back of your hand. his other palm clutches your hip, steadying himself as he begins to move in and out. you choke on your breath, doing everything you can to ignore the overwhelming ache.

it’s a feeling unlike any other, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck to keep from crying out. slowly but surely he picks up his rhythm, rocking into you sensually as you finally begin to transition into the pleasurable part of the experience.

a moan falls from your lips, muffled slightly by his skin. it surprises the both of you, and it makes chris flush, completely aroused by the fact that he’s the first guy to ever make you feel this way.

“doing so well, taking it all for me.” he says in a whiny tone, shifting to give you a kiss as he marvels at how tight you’re squeezing him.

the pressure in your stomach from earlier comes back, building as chris begins to snap his hips a bit quicker. gasps escape your throat on loop every time he plunges back into your cunt, and he grunts from the feeling of you enveloping his dick.

“oh my god.” you whimper pathetically, positioning your hand on the back of his neck so you can pull yourself in to meet his strokes.

he loves that you’re taking more control, that you’re truly starting to enjoy yourself. he can feel himself growing closer to the edge, and it doesn’t help that you’re now clenching around him every time he bottoms out.

but he holds on, letting go of your hand so he can bring it between your bodies, brushing two fingers over your clit. you practically convulse in surprise, your pornographic moans filling the room as he rubs tiny circles against the sore bud.

“shit, chris!” you cry, and you can feel the band in your stomach getting ready to snap.

“let ‘em know, princess, tell ‘em who makes you feel this good.” he slides his fingers against you quicker, plunging so deep now that he’s tapping your cervix with every pump.

“i’m—” you don’t even have time to finish your sentence before your abs tense up, legs uncontrollably shaking now.

you lean into the wave, letting it wash over you as you find your release. chris is close behind, shuddering as his thrusts grow needy and sloppy. then you feel him twitch, his hot cum mixing with your own as it pours out from his slit. he eventually stills a few seconds later, both of your chests heaving as he slowly slides out of you for good.

he rolls to his back, slumping beside you so that both of your arms are pressed together as you each regain your breath.

you’re scared to speak first, terrified really, so when you hear chris clear his throat you’re thankful that he’s breaking the silence.

“that was…you’re so…fuck, you’re just perfect.” chris fumbles with his words, and you glance over at him with a small grin.

“i’m really glad it was you, chris. thank you.” you press a sweet kiss to his cheek, and this time you’re positive he’s blushing.

“i’m glad it was me too.” he confesses as his arm snakes around your waist, pulling your back to his chest.

it’s a comfortable feeling, being held by him, and it’s one that you want to enjoy forever.

“to think, we could’ve been doing that this whole time.” you rag on him a little, unable to remain completely serious.

he buries his chin in your neck, breath tickling your ear as he responds. “good thing we have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #Spotify #christopher sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #first time

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artists-ally · 1 year ago

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can i just say you write harvey specter so fucking well i had to take multiple pauses throughout my reading cos i was literally gasping 😭 please write more harvey!! with an exhibitionist and breeding kink maybe? 😮‍💨

{To My Knees} Reader x Harvey Specter

Okay first off thank you so much?? You’re literally so sweet thank you babes. I try to keep my writing as canon as I can so I’ll take this as a good sign!! I got myself a little hot and bothered writing this so... Enjoy!! And as long as you keep showing up in my inbox with more recs I will gladly keep writing for this man 🫶 (please I am so desperate for requests) title from this song <- Highly suggest listening to while reading!!

Word Count: 4,240

Warnings: angst, smut, exhibitionism, breaking kink, degrading, oral (m!receiving) cum eating, Harvey being an asshole.

Summary: you test Harvey’s patience when out to dinner with a prospective client.

Tagging: @rosedpetal

~~~~~~~

When Harvey got a call saying that he was going to have to cancel your planned dinner, to say you were pissed would be an understatement. This night has been planned for weeks because of this exact reason. He always had last minute shit pop up and you were sick of it. So you called him.

“Yn, now is not the time-“

“Harvey, I don’t care. You promised this was going to be our night. I know you’re dedicated to your work and clients, but what about your dedication to me?”

He took a long pause. “I know, I’m sorry. But babe this is- this client isn’t one I can just roll over. It’s for one of the biggest private airlines in the world. I can’t skip this.”

“But you can snub me off?” You were fuming. And maybe you were being a bit aggressive, but he was being a complete asshole.

“If I had another choice, I’d take it but I don’t. I will make it up to you I promise, Yn.”

An idea popped into your head. “What if there is another option?”

“What are you talking about?” He sounded so puzzled.

“Take me with you.”

“No.” He snapped instantly. “Absolutely not, Yn. That would be breaking attorney-client privilege.”

“No it wouldn’t, he isn’t your client yet.” You had him by the balls with that one. You may have not gone to law school but in the years you’ve been with Harvey, you’ve picked up on a few things here and there. This tidbit of information may have just saved your ass and put Harvey’s tail between his legs.

Harvey let out a groan. “Fine. You win. Meet me at Keens at seven?”

You did a silent dance in your kitchen. “I’ll see you there. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

You were absolutely not going to be on your best behavior. You wanted to shove it in Harveys face that you were not second place. In the beginning of your relationship, it was difficult to find a healthy work/personal life balance for him. It took time– and a calendar on your fridge– to get him all to yourself every once and a while. Things had been going great, and the scheduled time together made up for all the hard work in the beginning. But now? Oh, were you going to put on a show.

The plan was to get dressed up in something he couldn’t resist. To pin up your hair in a way that shows off your neck and shoulders. Those drives him crazy the most.

It takes a little bit of deciding before your eyes land on a velvet dress in the back of your closet. It was black and barely went to the middle of your thigh. Around the square neckline was cream colored lace, as well as around the edges of the sleeves. You paired it with some lace stockings and platform heels that made your legs look so long and irresistible.

After painting your lips dark with a cranberry lip-stain, you grabbed a jacket off the rack and headed out.

Much to your surprise, Ray was downstairs, ready to pick you up.

“Don’t you look stunning, my dear,” the older man smiled sweetly.

“Why thank you,” you did a little spin. “Don’t tell Harvey I said this, but I have a plan to ruin his night.”

“Can I ask why?”

“To teach him a lesson. He tried to blow off our date tonight because he got a last minute call with a client. Do you know what he would say to me if I had abandoned him to go cover someone's shift?”

“Nothing helpful,” Ray sighed, turning out of the parking lot and onto the main street.

“Exactly,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “It’s unfair.”

“I don’t disagree with you, but can I offer you some advice?” You nodded. “Don’t agitate him too much? I know you feel like getting some revenge, and by all means, go terrorize that hard-ass. But only a little. He can be very unforgiving when it comes to his clients. Especially when he’s about to close.”

You knew better than to do that. It would land you on his shit-list, and not the fun one that led to him bending you over the nearest surface and taking him at his own will. His business shit-list was one of pure wrath, and you didn’t want to be on that one.

With a sharp left to the valet section, Ray parked the car and opened the door for you.

“Thanks, Ray. I’ll try not to cause too much trouble,” you gave him a subtle wink.

“You and I both know that wont be possible, dear. Have fun,” he gave you an equally daunting look before driving off.

The top of the line steak house stood in front of you, two minutes to seven. Right on time. The host greeted you with a smile and a not-so-subtle once over of your outfit. He showed you to your table, somehow managing to beat Harvey and his prospective client. It couldn’t have been more than four-five seconds when Harvey was brought over, and you stood to greet him.

“Don’t you look lovely,” Harvey grinned. You knew that look on his face; the one that told you to behave or you were going to get it. Anyone else but you would’ve missed it entirely.

“Thank you,” you grinned back, an equally challenging glint in your eye.

“Yn, this is David Cranwall, owner of Mystique Airlines,” Harvey gestured to the man off his left. “David, this is Yn, my girlfriend.”

“A pleasure,” David shook your hand. “Harvey tells me great things. And thank you for your flexibility.”

Flexibility? What in the hell did Harvey tell this guy?

“It’s not an issue.” It is most certainly a big fucking issue.

With a heated glance at Harvey, you took your seats and the two boys began their discussion about company plans and blah blah blah. You prowled the menu and pretended not to pay attention. When the waiter dropped by to grab drink orders, you intentionally ordered a rather expensive bottle of wine for yourself, not bothering to ask if anyone would like to share.

Harvey didn’t mind spending his money on you one bit, encouraged it actually, but he did give you a funny look. All you offered was a shrug before turning back to the waiter.

“Would anyone like to place an appetizer or an entree?” He asked politely, eyes staying on you.

Judging by Harvey’s tone, he was beginning to pick up on my intentions. “No, we’ll order when we’re all ready. I’m still deciding between the prime rib and sirloin.”

Bullshit. Harvey always went with the filet mignon. Especially at Keens. He was buying time. The waiter scurried away and you took a sip of the water that was already there, eyeing Harvey. Two could play this game.

Over the course of the next several minutes, you plotted your next move.

“... And when we finally get the airspace you’re looking for, we can start booking flights to anywhere you can put a billboard. I’m talking about Canada, Indonesia, even Christmas Island if you want. What I’m trying to get at is if you let my firm represent you, we can send your customers anywhere in the world. And that’s a promise.”

As you unrolled the napkin from your utensils, the spoon tumbled off the table. Oops. Harvey shot you an annoyed glare, but you just batted your lashes prettily before bending to pick it up. You knew he watched, because you saw him shift in your seat.

When you came up, you dragged your hand up the side of his leg, pausing at his knee before you came back up.

“Apologies,” you smiled at David, flagging down the waiter for a new one. He was a little too excited to follow your request. While the boys talked, you carefully scooted your chair closer to Harvey, and he didn’t seem to notice.

You wanted his attention.

When the waiter– Max? Mickey? Something like that– came back, the wine and scotch came with it. The three of you placed your orders and a shared appetizer of brussel sprouts. Harvey almost turned green at just the thought of eating those.

Picking the glass up, you tipped the wine a little too quickly for all of it to make it in your mouth. A few drops trickled down your cheek, all the way to your neck. “Jeez, I am clumsy today.” It was all part of the plan.

“Excuse me, my daughter is calling me. Let me take this,” David’s brow furrowed, quickly getting up and turning away.

“Take your time,” Harvey gave a single nod before whipping around to you. “What are you doing?”

“Whatever do you mean, Harvey?” His eyes followed your fingers as they drew along the line of spilled wine that went between your tits. You took that finger all the way to your mouth and were not shy with the show.

“Don’t start with me,” he warned. “I am not in the mood for your… your shenanigans.”

“My shenanigans?” You were a little appalled. You plucked one of the small slices of bread from the basket, dipped it in butter, and popped it in your mouth. “This was supposed to be a You-and-I kind of night. I was not supposed to be the third wheel here. You should be thankful I didn’t walk in here a half hour late, smack you in the face and cause a scene.”

“You wouldn’t do something like that.”

Your eyebrows went up. “Wanna make a bet?”

“No,” he seethed. “Stop whatever you’re doing. Now. This isn’t some type of game, Yn.”

“No, it isn’t. And I don’t think I will. Last time I checked you didn’t own me.” That was going to seal your fate. Harvey sucked in a deep breath and his eyes narrowed. Now he was playing into your games. You had him exactly where you wanted him.

When David returned, he didn’t notice the silent battle between the two of you as he asked about your relationship. How you met, how long you’ve been together. All that boring shit.

“Well, Yn was a friend of a client of mine. She was at the celebratory party and I couldn’t keep away from her. And she liked my jokes, even if she denies it.” “You know they were bad,” you chuckled. “You kept calling me Mrs. Specter from the second you opened your mouth.” “You guys are engaged?” David asked.

“No,” you shook your head. “Not yet, anyway. I already iron all his shirts and fix his tie every morning. I think I have completed the ‘wife starter pack’ to earn a ring.”

That got a laugh out of David. Harvey reached for your hand, and you rested it in your lap. Big mistake. Harvey’s finger pulled back the hem of your skirt and slid down your clothed pussy. It was an effort to not jolt at the sudden pressure.

His finger hooked under the elastic and you covered up the movement of his wrist by adjusting yourself in the seat, uncrossing your legs to give him access. That got a brush of his fingers against where you needed him, a sign of his approval.

It amazed you that David was clueless. Clearly he was a smart guy, but he was oblivious to anything else other than his business. Oblivious to the way Harvey dragged up his finger, circling your clit. To dissipate the urge to lean into it, you crossed your ankles, trapping his hand between your thighs.

He dug his nails into your skin. You flinched, letting out a small noise and knocking into the table with his knees.

“You alright, Yn?” Harvey asked, expression filled with anything but real concern.

To cover up your squirm, you did it again and grit your teeth. “Yeah I’m alright, just a cramp.” As you bent over to soothe the nonexistent ache, you dropped low enough so Harvey had to remove his hand. The glare you gave him was nothing short of pure rage. You knew when you stood up that there would be several nail marks just below the safety of the skirt.

Revenge time.

On your way up you plopped your hand in his lap, maybe a little harder than you intended. Maybe not. He lurched forward a micro-inch, and you had to suppress the giggle that bubbled up.

Their conversation went on, and you listened, getting details here and there. Soon the entrees came out and you all busied yourself with the rich and flavorful course. That was surprisingly the smoothest part of the night. David was very passionate about telling us about his grandson who had just gotten really into horseback riding. All about the different types of jumps and competitions– and how fucking expensive it was. He beamed with pride though, and it was sweet to see.

The waiter stopped by again to collect finished plates and ask for dessert. Without a second thought, you took the menu from his hands and settled on a big piece of blueberry cheesecake.

“I know I was intruding on your original plans, so I will let you all enjoy each other's company. Mr. Specter, it has been a pleasure. I will be in touch to discuss the contract agreement and our plans going forward. Miss Yn, a pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well,” you offered a small wave to his departure, but Harvey walked with him all the way out. Time for step three: get Harvey alone.

He took longer than you would’ve thought, so out of curiosity you sent him a text to see if he was coming back. Of course he was coming back, who could resist spending time with you? Harvey most certainly couldn’t. There were things you could do to that man that no one else had been able to. He was a bit of a control freak. But with you? He wouldn’t want to give his control to anyone other than you. Not just in a day-to-day sense either.

There was nothing more sexually appealing than a man who was confident and could prove his word. At times Harvey was a bit arrogant, but at least he could back it up. He was quick witted and snarky to the core. Extremely petty and a little revenge crazed, but he was damn loyal. Which is what landed you in this situation in the first place.

Harvey-fucking-Reginald-fucking-Specter. Leave it to him to simultaneously break and keep his word at the same time.

Maybe it was because you weren’t entangled in the shit-show that was the corporate law world, but you just didn’t understand why he couldn’t ask to meet in the morning. Seriously, was money worth so much more than the time spent with the person you loved? Now you were just being jealous of David. That he took time away from your and Harvey’s night. But then again you have a right to be pissed. It was supposed to be your night. And without consulting you prior, Harvey went and changed your night.

“Excuse me miss,” a polite, quiet voice said from my side. “Mr. Specter has asked you to meet him. Follow me?”

Oh, well alright then. With a nod, you grabbed your purse and followed the staff member back, through the kitchen, and to this random little room filled with a few stacks of chairs and shelf of cleaning supplies.

“Here you are, Mr. Specter,” she said, like you were some gift or prize being handed to him.

“Thank you, Steph,” Harvey had a polite smile on his face that dropped the moment she closed the door. “I cannot believe you.”

“Oh please, save your breath.”

“Yn, I asked you to do one thing. One fucking thing, and you didn’t do it,” Harvey was furious, making all kinds of crazy gestures.

“This relationship isn’t a one way street, Harvey. And the last time I checked no relationship is, so why are you bossing me around like I’m a child, telling me what I can and can't do?” You came right up to him, inches from his face.

“Because you’re acting like an entitled brat.” He did not just say that. “All I asked was that you don’t cause any trouble and have some fucking manners.”

“And I think I did a pretty good job at that. I didn’t cause a scene, I didn’t blow your goddamn client. Why the hell are you so mad at me? All I did was have a little fun for once.”

“By making a show of yourself and embarrassing me in front of David?” Harvey scoffed. A cruel, wicked sound. “And did you really have to hit me in the balls?”

“Yes,” you smirked. “I did. And clearly you were enjoying my presence whether you want to admit it or not. I certainly wasn’t the one who put your hand between my legs. And by the looks of it, you were having fun playing along with it too.”

Harvey’s eyes narrowed and he crowded you against the wall, palms flat on the space beside your head. “So that’s what this is about?”

You blinked innocently. “I don’t know what you’re-”

“Don’t play stupid with me, Yn.” His hand was firm on your jaw, gripping it in a way that made your lips pucker out. “You know fucking well what you were doing.”

“So what if I did?” You shrugged.

Harvey gripped your throat, bringing you in closely to his lips. “You’re such a fucking brat, you know that? We can’t even enjoy a nice night out without you being desperate and needy for me. You want to be a brat and make a show of yourself? Fine, turn the fuck around and shut up.”

“Harvey-”

“Now.” Bingo. You got him. With a bite to your lip, you turned around and faced the wall, Harvey’s hard cock pressing into your ass. He was not gentle about pulling up your dress and tearing your underwear down your legs. “Yeah, look how fucking messy you are. All because you were mad about sharing?” He clicked his tongue together, fisting your hair between his fingers. “You’re lucky we’re not at home right now or I’d be far less forgiving.”

“What’s stopping you from taking me home then?” You asked, hissing when he pulled your head back.

“I thought I told you to be quiet.”

He let go of your hair and instead of the routine smack he usually gave to your ass, he opted for his nails. Which, objectively, was more painful. To keep quiet, you bit your lip and leaned into it.

The sound of Harvey undoing his pants sent energy pulsing through your body. Your core ached with the need to feel him. And he clearly didn’t feel like wasting any time either.

“If you so much as let out a pathetic whimper, I will put you on the ground and make you regret it. Do you understand?” His hand was back against your scalp, yanking roughly.

“Yes,” you answered.

He drug a couple fingers between your legs, coating his cock in the wetness before stepping flush with your body. As he pressed, he kicked the inside of your ankle to get you to spread your legs apart farther. Harvey’s hands were unforgiving on your hips, pulling you back into his thrusts.

Air was forced from your mouth with the power of it. It was so fucking hard not to beg and plead. But you kept quiet, unlike how Harvey normally likes it. He fucking loved it when you screamed.

“I know how hard it is to not get what you want,” his tone was condescendingly sweet. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you know who owns with fucking pussy. We both know you can’t make yourself feel the way I can.”

You quivered at his words, suppressing whimper after whimper when he put his hand back around your throat. He didn’t squeeze, but he pulled you flat against this chest, ass pressed all the way into the hollow of his hips as he pumped in and out. A brutal, unforgiving pace.

“Harvey-” “If you think for a second you’re going to be able to cum,” he let out a vicious laugh. “Oh, pretty girl, do you have another thing coming. You wanted to be a whore, so I’ll fuck you like one. Girls who disobey direct orders don’t have permission to get what they want, do they?”

It was impossible to answer. You couldn’t move with the way you were pinned against him and the wall. In a quick second he spinned you around and lifted up under your thighs, holding you up against the wall. It was cold on your back, despite the heat coursing through your veins with such a fury it made you dizzy.

“Answer me, Yn.”

“I don’t deserve it,” you croaked.

“That’s fucking right. Suck.” He forced his fingers into your mouth and down your throat. Tears bubbled into your eyes and they closed, becoming weak and boneless in his grip.

Harvey bit at your neck and ear, and a pathetic moan slipped from your lips. The fingers in your mouth slipped out and wrapped around your neck, pinning your slumped body up.

“Keep quiet,” he demanded. His other hand slipped from your waist and covered your mouth. Fuck his hips were brutal. His cock even more so at this angle. How he was keeping you up, you’ll never know. But he did, fucking into you like his life depended on it.

You were so close to cumming. You just needed a little bit more friction. So you ground your hips down into his, desperately trying to get off.

He tightened his grip, cutting off more air, and you stopped immediately. “What the fuck did I say, hmm? Try that shit again and I’ll drag you into the main dining area and bend you over my knee for everyone to see what a desperate, cockslut you are. But I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Clearly you like making a show of yourself. What do you say? Should we go out there and put on a show?”

The scream that tore from you couldn’t be controlled. The two of you have done some messing around in public before, but nothing like this. Or the promise he made that you’re sure he’d follow through in. It thrilled you, the thought of all those people watching him fuck you… you’re just not sure it’s worth the criminal charges.

“Aww, you’re crying. I’m sorry, pretty girl. Fuck do you look so fucking hot when you cry from my cock. Fuck-” Harvey’s hips stuttered and he almost dropped you. “Don’t be sad you didn’t get to cum, I can figure out a way for you to make it up to me. Fuck- I’m gonna cum.”

You clenched hard around him, tears falling over his fingers as he forced his hips harder harder harder-

“I fucking own this pussy. Yeah you know I do, don’t ever say that I don’t ever again. This is my pussy to fuck and breed.” Harvey bit his own lips purple as he forced you down on his cock when he released. Fuck there was too much- “Take it. Take all of my cum, pretty girl. Yeah that it, take it all out of me and into that pretty cunt of mine.”

You didn’t have a choice. Not that you wanted one anyway.

Harvey held you up and rocked his hips in and out. There was a splat on the floor and he looked down, smirking like the devil.

“Was there too much of my cum to keep all inside that tight pussy of mine? Why don’t you get on your fucking knees and clean me up since you want to waste it.”

You obeyed and sank to the floor. Harvey forced his cock between your lips, and the familiar taste of him warmed your mouth. His thick length touched the back of your throat, and you gagged, but Harvey only grabbed the back of your head and forced you all the way down. His pelvic bone was flush with your nose, and more tears were forced from your eyes.

“Next time you wanna try some shit like that, remember who you’re dealing with, Yn. When we get home I am going to be far from gentle when I get back between your legs.”

He pulled out of your mouth and hauled you up to your feet. The feeling of his fingers inside you filled you with sparks as he coated his fingers before making you clean those off too.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Now, fix yourself so we can get out of here and I can punish you properly.”

Harvey fixed his pants and tucked in his shirt, leaving you all by yourself to clean up his mess. It had gone exactly how you wanted it to. Whether Harvey saw that or not, you didn’t know, but you have always had him under your control. You could make him smile just as easily as you could make him pull stunts like this one.

Curiosity and excitement filled you as you slid your sticky panties back on and fluffed your hair to one side before following Harvey out the door.

#harvey specter #harvey specter suits #suits #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter smut #harvey specter fanfiction #suits smut #smut

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cheolsblackgf · 7 months ago

Text

office encounters [l.jh]

⇒ woozi x reader

⇒ word count: 3.8k (including the bonus)

⇒ warnings: just some insults but nothing too crazy

⇒ content: office romance; rivals to lovers; some kissing yadda yadda; little bit of girl bossing

⇒ note: hello pls don’t @ me about how long it’s been i already know.. didn’t think this would mark my return bc i wrote this almost a year ago but lowkey i kinda cooked with this one so i thought i’d share.. also side note PLEASE come to my inbox if you find an error bc i literally proofread like 14 times looking for this one error i saw before but it just disappeared or smth idk so if you find it i’ll give you a brownie!!! anyways 시작해볼까요

“You look pretty today.”

Jihoon from corporate communication usually has a sarcastic quip for you when you cross paths in the copy room. Where humor comes easy for him, annoyance comes easy for you the same. You both seem to get on each other’s nerves in all the right ways; never enough to report the other to HR, but enough that you’d steer clear of him the entire day if he said something that got under your skin. Something like, “Why’s marketing’s posters suck so bad?” He’ll ask, and subsequently answer himself with, “Oh, that’s right. ‘Cause you’re the one making them.” Either he doesn’t know you spend so much time figuring out which design looks best, or he knows and purposely wants to get you riled up. It works, because you’re an emotional person and if someone criticizes your work, it feels like a personal attack.

This time, though, you’re making flyers for the office yard sale slash fundraiser, and he’s making copies of coupons for the local stores. Since there are about forty floors in your building, you’ll easily be occupied for at least two hours, hanging multiple flyers on each floor. Jihoon has his hands full as well, he makes one hundred copies for each store, with there being four stores total in the area. Luckily, you go to the copier first, so when he walks in, you quickly rest with a smug smile on your face.

“Hey,” he says casually. You’re waiting for him to tell you to hurry your ass up on the copier but he doesn’t. Hey?

Instead, you respond, “Hi,” and turn back to the copier to see how many sheets are left. Still sixty five.

“You look pretty today.” He tries next. You almost hit cancel on the print job right then and there. How can he say something like that. You look pretty today? Try again, Lee! It’s not gonna work!

You don’t immediately thank him for his compliment. You just think that somehow, he’ll add in a “—pretty ugly!” and then laugh it off. That’s the Jihoon you know. Not this “hey” man. Usually when you walk into the copy room, he groans and rolls his eyes. He always has a dig ready, too. “Didn’t realise it was loser day at the copy machine.” He’d say. You always have something to come back at him with. “Must be why you’re here.” It doesn’t seem like he’ll bicker with you today at all.

The display on the machine says there’s still forty sheets left. That means you can either pretend you left something at your desk and quickly exit the room until it’s done, or you can brave it and see what this guy is up to.

The second one. “I look pretty today? What are you up to?” You narrow your eyes at him, assuming there’s either a catch or some sort of joke hidden in his praise.

“No gimmicks,” he shrugs. “I just call it like I see it.” Oh, okay.

He’s standing on one side of the machine with you at the other. The polite smile stained on his face drives you up a wall. You feel like if you reciprocate it, it’ll be overkill. Him complimenting you doesn’t change the fact that you are office enemies. His team and your team often clash, as they’re the ones that share your team’s ideas with the higher ups, only after an intense filtering which often strips your ideas down to nothing. It always sucks because he acts so smug about it when your ideas don’t get pitched how you envisioned them. “Get some better ideas then,” he’d say. Of course, you can’t go out like that, so you tell him “Tell your team to think of one idea to begin with. You get your rocks off by stealing ours, your department would be helpless without us.” It’s mostly true, but sometimes, Jihoon has good ideas. When you two are having a good day, you’ll show each other ideas and give helpful feedback. But that usually doesn’t happen if either one of you has a quip locked and loaded already.

“Didn’t realise your mouth was able to produce compliments when it comes to me.” Twenty two sheets left. He reaches over you for the mini scotch tape. “You know, usually when someone compliments you, you just say thank you and forget about it in five minutes.” While he focuses on his task with the tape, you stare at the display on the copier and watch the number of sheets remaining go down, just so you don’t have to look at him.

He’s never called you pretty before. You need everyone to understand this. The only times he compliments you are rare and they’re always work related. Nice job during that tug of war. Those prints look great. These tchotchke designs would surely sell well. The dessert you brought to the potluck was delicious.

New to the list: you look pretty today.

You’re not sure how to feel internally, but externally, your mind is already made up. You’re annoyed. How could he say something like that with such a serious face and not be joking? Why couldn’t he be joking?

“I would say thank you, but I don’t know what this is.” He raises his eyebrows at your comment. “This? I don’t know what it is either because I can’t figure out what you’re talking about.”

The copier chimes to tell you the print job is finished. You log out of the machine and move aside to collect your sheets. You’ll definitely have to make a second trip—and perhaps with a box of some sort to hold all of the sheets—but you just want to leave this room.

Jihoon starts to grab a stack of the sheets as well. “Where are these going?” He asks, sounding nothing but sincere.

“Don’t know yet. I have to put them on each floor, though. I’ll find something to put them in in a little bit.”

“D’you need help?”

You set the sheets down. “Okay, listen. I was fine playing that game three minutes ago, but I don’t get it. Every day you look at me like the bane of your existence. You tell me my designs suck, you only fill my tea mug halfway when I ask for some, and you hog the copy machine whenever I need to use it. What gives?”

It would be hard to refute the fact that Jihoon is very handsome, and you have imagined an alternate universe where he was nice to you and even flirted with you, but nothing past that. You’ve never thought of what it would be like to be his girlfriend, to wake up in the morning beside him, to have him fill your tea mug up until it’s full, to meet in the copy room to steal a few extra kisses—okay, maybe a couple times you’ve thought of this. But it almost always gets overshadowed by his behaviour towards you. He is rude to you. He doesn’t like you enough to give up the act, but he also doesn’t hate you enough to ignore you completely. He has some sort of balance that only works with you. He playfully fights with other coworkers, but only as a stand-alone. Your feud is cemented into the very foundations of the building you each show up to every morning at seven o’clock on the dot. It’s ritualistic. It’s familiar. It sucks.

Jihoon leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “What gives? I just think you look pretty today. Can’t a man compliment his pretty coworker once? It’s really not that unheard of, but if you think something else is going on, you’re right. I like you. I never said it before because I assumed you also liked me which is why we do what we do, but I’m getting the feeling you don’t feel the same way which is fine. We can just go back to how we were and forget this ever happened.”

You take the stack of copies you were holding before and quickly leave the room. Once they’re placed on your desk, you awkwardly make your way back to the copy room and get the next set of sheets. Jihoon hasn’t moved from his position against the wall even after you’ve signed off of the machine and relocated the copies out of the way.

Truthfully, you just didn’t know what to say. Him confessing this way was not only unexpected, but also a bit annoying. To think, he’s liked you all this time but consistently and routinely found enjoyment in belittling you. Granted, you also took part in it against him, but only as retaliation and defense for yourself. The whole reason this rivalry started was because he made a comment against you. Why would you be mean to someone you like?

The week goes by slowly without Jihoon’s teasing. He comes by your cubicle once to offer you a mini cupcake from the convenience store on the fifth floor. You decline. He doesn’t come back again.

You thought of pulling him aside to really unpack and discuss everything, but then you consider how much worse it could get if you do that. Things are already pretty bad if neither of you have spoken or even just said hi to each other.

By Friday of the next week, though, you’ve had it with the silence. Your cubicle conveniently is in view of the copy room so you slyly watch the door waiting for Jihoon to go in there. He always prints to-do sheets on Friday for everyone in his department for the following week. At eleven on the dot, you see him disappear in there and you make your move immediately, booking it for the room.

You casually walk in and shut the door, but not before making sure no one was coming. No one really likes it when the door to the copy room is shut because people have been caught doing … things in there, but this shouldn’t take you long. Definitely not enough time to do … things with anyone.

“Hey,” You try, in the same tone as he used with you last week. He looks up from the machine and gives you a confused yet tired look. “What are you doing?” He sighs.

“You look pretty today.” You smile, hopping up on the counter and swinging your legs. He finishes signing in on the printer and runs his print job. He turns around to face you fully. “If you’re here to make fun of me for being nice to you, I think it’s best you stop now because I don’t find it amusing.”

You grin at him. “The opposite actually. I think it’s cute that you like me, but I really wish you would’ve asked me on a date first. And maybe just been nicer to begin with?” Both your eyes dart to the door as a polite knock is heard from the outside. You jump down from the counter and place your hands on Jihoon’s shoulders from behind. Your head rounds the side of his face. “Walk me to my car later?” And he agrees.

You go to let the person in and see yourself out. It feels a bit elementary, that proposal. Walk me to my car? gives the same energy as walk me home from the bus stop? and if you weren’t already getting some twisted wave of déjà vu, you definitely are now.

You didn’t know Jihoon until last year when he started working for this company. The previous person in his position suffered an extreme illness that forced them to resign so he promptly had to fill their position. He wasn’t trained that well, but he’s done the best he could thus far. You don’t know what you would do if he wasn’t in the office. Of course, some of your coworkers are also people you get drinks with from time to time, but Jihoon feels the most… familiar. Despite having never met with him outside of the office, he feels like the most grounding person since he doesn’t put on any front or act with you. You wouldn’t let him either. That’s why his confession feels so out of left field on the one hand, but normal on the other. He doesn’t hide how he feels from you, but he must have if he’s liked you and hasn’t said it until now.

Later comes. It’s 3:42 PM when you finally wrap it up for the day. Jihoon usually leaves earlier than you, but it appears he waited to clock out so you two would leave at the same time.

Okay, you’ll admit that’s sweet. You don’t think you’d do the same for him, but only because you don’t like your job enough to stay any later.

He meets you at your cubicle. “All done?” He asks, moving into your space to help you with your things. “Yep. If you could just carry this bag for me, that would be great, thank you.” He takes the bag from you with no qualms and waits patiently as you gather the rest of your belongings.

You were sadly unable to finish all the work you meant to get done today, so you’re leaving with a bit of homework—namely designing some flyers for part two of the yard sale slash fundraiser. The first fundraiser didn’t go as planned, so the upper level management suggested a second instalment.

Jihoon probably has the same amount of work too, so you wonder how he’s leaving the office empty handed.

On the elevator ride down, neither of you say anything. All you do is stare at the bright red floor descent display and wait until it gets to 1. Upon this happening, Jihoon lets you off first and you lead the way to the parking garage.

“I take it you didn’t get a lot done today?” He wonders, surveying the various items you’re carrying. “Sadly. Honestly, if Claudette hadn’t announced the second fundraiser, I’d be as carefree and empty handed as you.” You meant to come off as nonchalant, but judging by the way Jihoon completely stopped in his tracks upon your completion of the sentence, it was everything but that. “Carefree and empty handed?” He parrots in disbelief.

“CC is scrambling to get Q3 numbers up before having to report to corporate and nothing is working. Honestly, if Claudette didn’t conjure up another fundraiser, you would’ve had to find another sad sap to carry your things to your car because I wouldn’t be here right now.” He explains, which makes you laugh a bit but otherwise frown. You didn’t realise the company’s numbers were so far down that the fundraiser is essentially a double edged sword, but you figured it couldn’t have been for no reason.

Jihoon has always been very efficient with his work, even if about two months ago (maybe even less) you would’ve scoffed and said otherwise. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” You say, meaning to be encouraging but not entirely sure if it came off that way. “Thanks. You too.”

With your hands full, you couldn’t grab your keys to unlock your car so you have Jihoon do it for you. “Where is this bag going?” He holds it up just in case you forgot which bag it is. “Uh, you can just throw it in the backseat. Well, don’t literally throw it but um—”

“I got it.” He chuckles at your disorganised thoughts.

Once all of your things are settled in the car, you close everything up and stand face to face with Jihoon. “Thank you for the help, I really appreciate it.” You say. “Anytime. I hope you get all your work done.” You reflect the wish back to him. Sadly, you guys just awkwardly stand there for a bit before realising this conversation is not going anywhere else.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, hm? You have my number, right?” He nods and bids you goodbye. You get into your car but don’t start it. Instead, you watch through your rearview mirror as Jihoon turns the corner to the staircase. Had you known his car was on a different level, you would’ve offered to drop him off since the parking garage’s elevator is out of commission. However, in hindsight, the conversation was already awkward enough.

Later that night, you two text back and forth for multiple hours. All the way until 2AM you guys were exchanging messages. He’s really a sweet guy even over text.

At 2:19, he texts you goodnight and says he’ll see you in the morning.

In the morning, like you expected, you see Jihoon milling about the office floor. He sends you a wave, but his hands are full so it’s nothing more than that. You try to catch him to offer your help, but he disappears in an instant.

The flyers you were supposed to make were only half done because most of your time last night was spent talking to Jihoon. You’re extremely guilty, and you feel horrible because you know all the work you have will carry into the weekend, but you made your bed.

Eventually, Jihoon visits you at your cubicle and apologises for keeping you up last night. “It’s not your fault. I wanted to talk to you.” He smiles at this and gives your shoulder a supportive pat. “You’ll get it done.”

For the rest of the day, he leaves you alone—other than bringing you a mug of tea—and honestly, that was for the best. You do manage to catch up on and finish all the work so you text Jihoon the good news. He suggests ice cream after work to celebrate and you agree.

Your manager stops by your cubicle to compliment your hard work. “And I saw you being extra smiley with Jihoon. Good luck.” Before you can refute her statement with any type of defense, she disappears.

Extra smiley. Hm.

At the end of the day, Jihoon meets you at your cubicle once again and this time, you don’t have anything for him to carry except your comically large tote bag that you bring into the office everyday. Before you two leave, you grab your heels from under your desk that you change out of everyday upon arrival to the office. You attempt to put them in your bag, but Jihoon shakes his head. “Put those on.”

“Why?”

“We’re going out to dinner. As a date.” He reveals. You drop the heels back on the floor. “You really are a sad sap.” You remark, sliding one of your sneakers off. “Not for everyone.”

“So you’re saying I’m special?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He speaks nonchalantly. Coming from him, though, these words mean a lot to you. Ever since his initial confession, you can tell not all of his confidence is there. But it’s your goal to show him that he doesn’t have to try as hard, he’s already got you.

As you struggle with getting your sock off, Jihoon groans. “Hurry up, the reservation is for six o’clock.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Reservation? Wow, you must really like me.” He watches as you slip the other heel on. “You know that already. Come on.” He grabs your hand and leads you to the elevator. You press the down button and wait for the elevator to come up. In that time, Jihoon takes your bag from you and fixes the wrinkles in your dress.

The two of you step into the elevator and after hitting 1, the doors close and it begins its descent. In the reflective doors, Jihoon stares at you. “You’re so pretty.” He says. “Am I?” You respond. He nods. “Thank you, my sad sap.” You add, pausing for dramatic effect.

“Okay, you were pretty until about five seconds ago.” He clarifies, but holds your hand tighter all the while. He thinks maybe you’re right, he is a sad sap. But only when it comes to you.

[the end]

SIKEEEEE

BONUS

You’re almost giggling on your way to the copy room. As soon as you saw Jihoon go in there, you knew it was your cue. It wasn’t any type of plan or anything, but lately, you guys have only been able to meet in the copy room because everyone has gotten extremely suspicious of you guys and you didn’t wanna say anything.

As soon as you make it to the room, you shut the door and see your boyfriend already working on the machine. You hop up and make your place on the counter while Jihoon does his thing. “Clear?” He asks with his back to you. “Clear. For now. Come here.” You hold your arms out just as he turns to you and he makes his way over. “Missed you last night.” You whisper. He leans in to your embrace and presses a kiss to your lips. “Me too. Let’s get dinner tonight.” All your plans with Jihoon have been spontaneous because the workload has been unpredictable lately. If you both end the day with no incomplete assignments, you’ll go out and do something together, but if not, you save it for another day.

His print job ends and he reluctantly breaks away from you to go grab his copies. There’s only maybe twenty in the stack, but he asks you if you have any to make. You hand him the sheet you’re copying and he starts it up for you while you wait patiently on the counter. You zone out to the sound of Jihoon clicking around on the printer settings, so much so that you don’t hear him when he asks you how many copies you need. He asks again, “How many copies, baby?”

“Oh! Sorry, thirty-six please.” He’s not annoyed you weren’t listening. In fact, he smiles a little bit and is amused.

He inputs the amount you need and waits for the machine to start printing before making his way back to you. “What do you feel like for dinner?” He asks, caging you in with his arms. “Not sure, but not seafood.”

He pouts. “But baby, I love seafood.”

“Then you can go get seafood and I’ll stay home and watch Queen of Tears.” He gasps at this idea. Even though you’re not serious, he fakes being upset for a second.

A moment later, the door opens and your manager Claudette walks in. She doesn’t see you two right away, but once she does, she says “Oh brother,” and walks right out. She leaves the door open and you can hear her call out to someone else and say, “You owe me twenty dollars!”

You and Jihoon exchange a look. “Who do you think she’s talking to?” You ask him. He pauses for a second and moves away from you. “Me.”

“What?” But he’s already on his way out of the room. “See you later!” He doesn’t realise that he’s forgotten his copies so you’ll definitely be seeing him again soon.

The office will definitely be on fire by tomorrow with this news, you’re already aware. On the bright side, though, you can finally celebrate your first public couple activity: getting bullied by the entire office.

[the end (real)]

masterlist

#HELLO CARATDEUL WHATS UP #certainly has been a while #little bit of unnecessary clarification for this work:#i like to be happy so #i purposely didn’t bring up or entertain the idea of the relationship not working out #esp because they’re coworkers #ppl always like don’t date your coworkers #but i wanna be happy #and it’s my return so we’re being happy BITCHES #woozi x reader #woozi fanfic #lee jihoon x reader #woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #lee jihoon imagines #lee jihoon fluff #woozi fluff

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buckys-little-belle · 3 months ago

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Henlo! If it's okay, could you make write a fic about Bucky comforting his little during a thunderstorm? A storm was near my house a few days ago and the thunder scared me so bad-- The power didn't go out, but storms usually happen a lot where I live-- thanks <3

Rainy Days

Bucky Barnes x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns used/No Pronouns used)

Warnings - Reader is scared of storms, reader eats snacks, talks of loud noises, talks of lightning/flashing lights, descriptions of a thunderstorm, ready is sad and scared, Bucky is sweet and thoughtful!

Notes - I made this headcannons, I hope that's okay! Honestly I've been going through my inbox and drafts and trying to clear them out, but writing full fics is something I have to be in the right mood for. But headcannons? I've been feeling headcannons lately, so do send some headcannon requests in if anyone has some! And please expect very old asks to suddenly resurface in the shape of fics/headcannons written literally years later <3

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW!

. ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ .

You've always been scared of thunderstorms. Rain is nice from time to time, but when the loud booms of thunder begin and lightning strikes, you suddenly begin to feel scared.

It's not rational, you know the thunder can't get you and that if you're inside you're safe from lightning. Yet when the storm begins to get louder and the rain begins to pelt harder, you find yourself curled up wherever you are, stuffie held safely to your chest.

Bucky could tell you'd get antsy whenever rain drops would begin racing on the windows, you'd stare outside seemingly waiting for something to happen.

After the first thunderstorm you two witnessed together Bucky knew he needed to be prepared for the next one. He hated seeing you cry, and how scared you got. He felt helpless and vowed to make sure that didn't happen again.

So now he has a small bin in his closet labeled "Rainy days". Inside are a pair of headphones he bought that block out any noises. It's made chatting between the two of you hard on those rainy days, you yelling because you can't tell just how loud you are, and him doing his best to charades his words. But because it rains so often, you two have had time to practice, and communication comes much easier.

He bought you little stickers to put on the headphones, so that instead of just plain boring black headphones, you have ones decorated by your favourite cartoon characters and fun little stickers of plants and dinosaurs.

He also has special activities for the two of you to do on those days. He wanted something different than the toys you have all the other days. This way you stop feeling dread thinking about thunderstorms, now that feeling is over taken with a subtle excitement for the special glitter crayons in the box, and the really cute stuffed animal named "Rainy" that you get to snuggle with.

Bucky always buys those PDF files on etsy that are colouring pages. For $2 he gets 6-10 fun pages, and he'll print them out for you on his fancy work printer. He finds it easier than buying colouring books because there's no risk of ripping your colouring when you evidently want to rip the page out and put it on the fridge. Plus he finds it over all cheaper, and there are no more tears when you don't like the way you coloured something, sad that you can't do that pretty picture anymore, he just prints out a second one.

Bucky is also a fan of physical media. He has both a DVD and a VCR player. So he has two movies stashed in the box that you really like for those rainy days, and those rainy days only. He doesn't know how, but you've been able to connect your headphones to the Tv, so you can't hear the thunder when you're watching them.

Also snuggles, rainy days mean as many snuggles as you want. Doesn't matter if he's on a work call, doing the laundry, or in the middle of making dinner. If you come up and ask for a hug you end up getting 20 minutes of snuggles and soothing back rubs.

You don't venture outside when it's a thunderstorm, but Bucky has been warming you up to "liking" rainy days by showing you how fun puddles can be.

He buys you a cute raincoat and matching boots, and as long as there's no thunder or lightning, he'll take you outside and splash in the puddles for an hour.

Instead of being terrified of thunderstorms, and hating the days they happen, you've slowly been able to accept that they'll happen sometimes, and you've grown to know your safe, very safe because Bucky is always at your side on those days. Ready to comfort you, ready to play whatever game you want, and ready to jump in puddles when possible.

#anon #buckys little belle #age regression #age regression fic #little!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x little!reader #bucky age regression #bucky barnes x little!reader #bucky barnes age regression #bucky barnes x reader #headcannons #bucky headcannons

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ahkylous · 4 months ago

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hey! odd ask, but i wrote the drifting stars fic Senior Season. obviously it's unfinished and will remain that way, but i wanted to thank you for the kind things you've said about it online. in the years since i wrote it, i found myself questioning my abilities as a storyteller and writer. the fact that you said such nice things about my silly story from high school means a lot to me :)

Sorry it's been so long since I took time to answer things from my inbox but oh my gosh, hi.

I absolutely adore your fic, I can easily say it's my favourite drifting stars fic (and possibly my favourite gravity falls fic but I dont read much outside the ford and mabel character tags so that title is still up for grabs). Everything about that fic is so good, the character development and just the way Ford and Mabels relationship is portrayed is literally amazing. I'm not entirely sure what else to say I'm somewhat in awe rn lmao.

I write oneshots and oc fics on and off so I get what it's like doubting yourself. I feel like every creator has those moments, not just writers. But being able to take a break and come back to things is probably the best way to find your footing again. That being said I'm honoured to know that you've found my appreciation posts for your fic, it's nice to know when you've made someone else happy yk.

I swear more people need to read Senior Season it's so amazing. I'm linking it here in case other ppl like this post. I have such a personal connection to this fic thank you so much for writing it.

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sadesluvr · 11 months ago

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hi! I was wondering if I could request something angst/fluff where the reader defends Mike to his aunt Jane and the custody case worker about how he gives his all to take care of Abby by himself? I wish someone could have advocated for him during the scene where they discuss the case and his aunt talks down on him a lot :’( thanks so much for sharing your writing!

A/N: Hi Anon, thank you for the ask and being patient! My inbox was a little crazy…It wasn’t specified what relationship they have, so it’s neutral, and can be read platonically or romantically. I hope you like it :)

When Mike had asked you to accompany him to a meeting with Abby’s safeguarding officer and their she-devil of a relative - Aunt Jane - you’d said dropped your things without hesitation. You knew it was going to be rough, as the woman had been on him practically since the day their mother had been buried, but you never expected to be blindsided. Still, from the moment you’d walked into the room and seen the catatonic man with a briefcase clutched to his chest, you knew it wasn’t going to be good.

“Just look at my nephew — It's not even 10:00 and he can barely keep his eyes open!”

That’s because he can’t sleep properly. He’s literally on prescription pills, but you wouldn’t know that, would you?

“And this degenerate is who they trust with the wellbeing of a mentally ill child?”

Degenerate was such a strong, vile word. You’d visibly flinched at it, both in disgust and agitation. Mike hadn’t seemed to react, but you knew that deep down he was internalising each and every word that was leaving the woman’s mouth.

Abby is not mentally ill, she’s just introverted. All kids are different.

“You’re the doctor, and you're making me feel like I'm the crazy one - and after what he did to that poor man…”

Oh, of course it was time to break out the tears. Luckily no one - bar herself - was buying it, instead producing a deep collective sigh shared between yourself, Mike and Valerie. Even though the display was all fabricated, you knew that there was a darker side to her behaviour. She’d probably grown up entitled; being able to cry her way out of things so she could mould her victim and bend those in her path to her will. You were livid, and you were sure Mike was too.

“I have tried to play nice - but I have to think about Abby now…Enough is enough - Doug —”

The click of the briefcase and a rustling of papers brought the final blow. She wanted custody, and there was a high chance that - should the case go to court - she would get it. From the corner of your eye, you cast a glance over at Mike, watching as he let out a sigh and straightened his back as he came to terms with what was in front of him. His hands trembled slightly, and he bit his lip, mind likely racing to find the appropriate words. With a cocked brow he looked up at you, and you ran your tongue over your lips before pursing them.

You didn’t want to hold back anymore.

“Pardon my language, but this is bullshit,” you spoke, and Jane seemed amused by your sudden aggression. Valerie looked at you with wide eyes, but subtly nodded her head for you to go on. “Mike is a good carer, and he has been for the past few years,”

“Have you not listened to anything at all?” the blonde woman scoffed. “Abby is sick. She’s not progressing like her peers,”

“Obviously, sickness runs in the family,” you said pointedly. “We’ll all be damned if Abby has a fraction of whatever you’ve got going on up there,”

“Are you implying that I’m some sort of sociopath? It’ll say a lot when a judge grants her to me instead of him,”

“Can you stop using Abby as some kind of bargaining chip?” you said, rolling your eyes. “She’s a human. A growing girl who’s lost her family at such a young age, and Mike is the only real person she has left! Yes, he’s made mistakes, but what parent hasn’t?”

Mike’s heart swelled slightly at the flippant use of such a strong word. He was always the ‘older brother’, forgetting that he was basically two things.

“Mike was barely an adult when your sister died, but he’s done a hell of a job becoming one. He’s never missed a doctor's appointment, spends half of whatever shit salary he earns on keeping clothes on her back, and he’s even sitting here silently, not acting out because Abby means just that much to him– ” you spat, feeling your heart race as it pumped blood furiously around your body. Pausing, you loosened your jaw and dropped your shoulders. Your voice had certainly escalated, and the last thing you needed was to be detained.

Mike’s brown eyes were wide, and there was a small smile that lay hidden under his flushed face. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know that he’d really fucking needed that.

“--- Take it from someone with experience…You don’t separate those two. They’re a package deal.” you said softly, glancing over at him again, reminiscing on the moment you’d met them. Being close to the pair, you’d seen it all; the good, the bad and the frequently ugly, but you’d never once doubted Abby’s love for her brother. It was evident that your speech, in the grand scheme of things, didn’t mean much, but you knew you were going to fight like hell beside Mike to make it a small part of a larger story.

They were going to get their happy ending.

#request fill #florence writes!!#mike schmidt x reader #fnaf x reader #mike and abby schmidt #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt fluff #mike schdmit x reader fluff #gn! reader #fnaf x gn! reader #mike schmidt x male reader #fnaf x male reader

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beebopurr · 11 months ago

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*waddles excitedly into your inbox and grabs your hands, bouncing with them with the biggest smile as I happily shake them up and down*

Well Howdy Hon! It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you! Been trying to build up the nerve to finally reach out to you and express my appreciation!

#1 Your art style? Chef kiss honey like leaves me breathless with wonder like HoW ArT lOoK sO gOoD? The colors? The motion? Emotion? Action and don’t even get me started on organic style and poses!

#2 The most darling of all ships. I was never a Leopril shipper myself, but your art is the only way I support it because it’s just THAT good

#3 Your lighthouse AU has taken me in a deathgrip and I’ve literally been laying in bed at night thinking about it. And as such I just gotta ask: Which of the turtle brothers first finds out that humans are warm? Life by the seashore is cold are friggen hell iced over. I would love to hear your take on which of the boys finds out that humans naturally produce their own warmth and who takes advantage of that?

Anyhoo, love you and your art bunches Hon, and wishing that all the good comes back to you this up coming year. You’re inspiring people Honey and don’t forget it 🧡✨😉

Thank youuuuuu and for the boys figuring out humans are warm.... I think they all "knew" but it wasn't at the front of any of their minds in all the years that they just had each other. They're reminded of it when they meet April and I think Leo's especially the type to stick his cold hands on her when she least expects it

#rottmnt leo #rottmnt april #lighthouse au #leopril #rottmnt leopril #asks #doodles

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joeyalohadream · 6 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/joeyalohadream/751467390395727872/taking-drabbleprompt-requests

hello! could i request something fluffy with bucky surprising buck for his birthday and buck doesn’t really know how to respond since he never got birthdays as a kid :( thank u!

I'm slowly but surely working my way through me inbox!

Thanks for this prompt anon! I had fun with this one and I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1,109

Bucky hears footsteps from the hall outside their door and looks up from where he was perched on the windowsill just in time to watch Gale swing open their door and shuffle into the room, shower shoes squeaking and his bag of toiletries snug under his arm.

Much to Bucky’s disappointment his towel was being rubbed all over his long hair instead of wrapped around his hips and he was already dressed in loose fitting PT clothes. He knew Gale was modest and it was rare that he left himself exposed outside their room, but he couldn’t help but dream.

“Leave any hot water for the rest of them?” He took in the red tinged skin along Gale’s neck and face. It’s one of Gale’s quirks that he finds charming, showering at the oddest hours to avoid the traffic and give himself the chance of being able to have the water as scalding hot as possible.

“Probably not,” Gale chuckled, looking a little sheepish as he sat on the edge of his bed and finished running the towel through his hair. The result was a total mess, hair skewed in all directions, falling over his forehead in damp waves. The opposite of his usual perfect style and Bucky’s new favorite version of him.

“Well most people are still hungover from last night’s day-after-Christmas celebration so I don’t expect many of them are up for standing long enough to clean up anyway.” Bucky assured him. Their instructors gave them the time between Christmas and New Year’s off from training and most of the young men were using it as an excuse to get and stay drunk.

“That include you?” Gale asked him, eyeing him a little critically but not with any judgement.

“Sure doesn’t,” Bucky said proudly. “I cut myself off at an appropriate time so I could fully enjoy today.”

“That right?” Gale eyed him, a curious glint in his eyes. “And what’s so special about today?”

Bucky leaned forward, hands on his knees and grinned at the younger man.

“It’s your birthday Buck!” he declared dramatically and reveled in the surprise on Gale’s face at his words.

“How could you possibly know that?”

Bucky rolled his eyes and stood up. “It’s literally engraved on your dog tags.”

Gale reached a hand up and pressed his palm to his chest where the metal no doubt rested. He squinted up at him, looking suspicious.

“My dog tags,” he repeated slowly. “That have been hanging around my neck since before I even met you and that I’ve never taken off?”

It’s a very nice neck, and they’re resting on a very nice chest, Bucky thinks.

“Those are the ones,” he grins. “Don’t think to hard on it Buck.” He throws in a wink that has the other man rolling his eyes.

“Well, I don’t really do birthdays, Bucky. So, feel free to let loose again and have an extra whiskey for me with the boys tonight.”

He looks down at Gale and notices that his posture is stiffer than before. He looks defensive and Bucky can’t figure out why. He had a friend back home that had a birthday the day after Christmas and he’d noticed it sometimes got lost between the holidays, always wondered if it made him sad. Wonders now if that’s what happened with Gale when he was a kid.

“Well that’s unfortunate, Buck,” he sighs. “Cause Toby, the guy that owns the bar I dragged you to that one night, his brother owns a ranch not far from town. And he told me that that’s where those Clydesdale horses from the Christmas parade we went to are being housed.”

He can’t help but smile at the way Gale’s head shoots up and his widen slightly.

“And Toby told me that his brother was okay with me bringing my buddy around to see those horses anytime today.”

The look on Gale’s face is one that makes Bucky’s heartbeat faster. He see’s excitement, maybe even hope shining in his eyes, but there’s disbelief there too, like he thinks there’s a chance Bucky is pulling his leg.

“Clydesdales are one of the heaviest breeds of horses,” Gale’s low voice tells him. “But they’re still somehow the most elegant too.”

Bucky grins at him, “I know that, Buck.” Because he’d listened to the other man spout on and on about them at the parade two days ago as they stood shoulder to shoulder in the cold.

“So what do you say?” Bucky prods. “Wanna make an exception to the no-birthday rule and go pet some horses with me?”

Gale gives him another look he can’t quite decipher before he stands up. “You think we’d get to pet them?”

“I already asked, it’s a done deal, Buck.”

The smile that breaks out onto Gale’s face is big and real and genuine and it makes Bucky want to start planning what to get Gale for his birthday next year. Makes him wish he’d gotten him something better than a tin can for his toothpicks for Christmas.

To his surprise and delight, Gale jolts forward and wraps his arms around him. Bucky barely has time to process what’s happening and return the hug before Gale is pulling away, cheeks redder than before and not able to be blamed on the hot water.

“Thanks John,” he says, voice soft. “I can’t remember the last time someone even remembered my birthday.” Bucky’s chest pangs in sympathy at the words. “You’re a good friend.” And Bucky’s chest warms again at those ones.

“Your best friend,” he emphasizes and smiles when Gale rolls his eyes.

“Can we go right now?” Gale asks him, not bothering to hide is excitement anymore. It’s incredibly endearing.

“Soon as you get some proper clothes on and fix that birds nest on your head.” Bucky tells him, reaching out to ruffle his hair and laughs when Gale shoves him gently in retaliation.

He watches as Gale moves to put his other uniform on, movements rushed in his eagerness. Bucky has the sudden thought that making Gale happy might be his new favorite thing and wonders if that should concern him. He quickly decides it doesn’t.

“I’ll meet you outside,” Bucky tells him, knowing Gale prefers privacy to get dressed. When he gets to the door and opens it, he pauses before walking through and turns back to the other man.

“Hey Gale,” he says, getting the other’s attention and smiling at the look of surprise at hearing his name. “Happy birthday.”

The smile he receives in return keeps him warm as he walks out into the winter chill to get them a ride.

#clegan #buck x bucky #mota fic #mota fanfic #clegan fluff #fic request #ask me anything #JoeyAlohaWrites

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danieyells · 6 months ago

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hi! any chance you'd be able to post some of kaito's voicelines? I would love to see them <33

Our wanna-be knight and pathetic little best friend! He's just such a good boy lol. . .once again, another one who just wants to go back to a normal life, poor thing. Kaito's very much your vanilla, sweet boyfriend character with no frills attached, aside from his cowardice and his gambling habit of course. And his terrible aim. . . .

Copying all of them over isn't hard now that I've done it twice. Let's do it again for Kaito!

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"{PC}! Over here! Hiya!"

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Hey, new message. Better check it out, yeah? Or are you the type who's got like a ton of of unread inbox messages?"

. . .shut up /absolutely that type (and a sincere apology to literally everyone i know for that my adhd doesn't let me read and respond to their messages--)

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"God, please don't make me go on any more missions... It's not like me being there is any help to anyone anyway..."

"Oh yeah, have you been on WickHive yet? Someone leaked next month's cafeteria menu! Oh wait... I-I already told you that, didn't I?!"

"Damn it... I could've taken {PC} to lunch with that money! God, why am I such a moron?!"

"Ask me anything you want to know! I'm pretty savvy when it comes to Darkwick!"

honestly the fact that he's a second year who doesn't wanna be here and doesn't wanna be doing all of this but he still knows like everything about the school is also kinda sus to me. . .surely he'd divest himself from as much of darkwick as possible if he didn't care

"Urgh... Limited time only, you are not my friend... Huh? Oh, I'm on TikTok. I really want this, but I'm pretty broke this month..."

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Ahem... Testing, testing... Morning! Heh, nailed it... Ack! How long've you been there, {PC}?!"

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Phew, should be safe here... EEEEEEEEEEK! Oh thank god, it's just a cat... I thought he found me..."

romeo oh romeo didn't you get into enough shit for this romeo? just make sure it's not Romeo cat. Because I'm sure it'll tell him somehow--

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Shit, it's Luca… Judging by the outfit he must be going to train. I better bail before he tries to rope me in too…"

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Eeeek?! Oh, it's just you... Geez, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

i know romeo is constantly on his ass, and I relate to the feeling of being scared the people you owe money will appear out of nowhere and get you, but. . .he's so jumpy lol

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Ugh, Romeo's texting me... Not gonna open that..."

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"So your father runs a company, huh? Who the hell leads with that?! This is why I hate talking to Frostheimers..."

so the wording here is wonky because he's quoting a Frostheimer, but there's no visual indication that he's quoting them. But lore drop! Kaito's father runs a company! But I thought he wasn't well off. . .? Maybe his parents are separated or his father doesn't spend any of their money on him. . .or the company isn't doing well. . .or gambling addiction runs in his family lol. . . .

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Argh, I want junk food! And I want to try all the new snack flavors!!"

my boy is so relateable--

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"All right, time to man up and bite the bullet... Nope, absolutely not, can't do it!"

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"How is Jin's skin so perfect? Fucking rich kids and their stupidly expensive fancy-ass toner!!!"

kaito really looking at jin like OH NO HE'S HOT

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"(yawn) Guess I'll go brush my teeth..."

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"Hey {PC}, you seem different somehow today. Did you change something? Or am I just imagining things?!"

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Noooo why does Tohma want to see me...? No way it's about something good! Could you come with me, {PC}?!"

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Crap, I fell asleep in class so I don't know what our homework is... Help me, {PC}!"

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"(yawn) Man, my bed's like a freaking marshmallow. I can never get any good sleep on that thing..."

lol the Frostheim beds are too comfortable lolol I NEED A FIRMER BED TOO KAITO I GET IT.

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Huh? Oh, my pendant! You're always wearing it? Does that mean you've actually been paying attention to me?!"

once again the wording here is wonk because it makes it sound like the pc is always wearing Kaito's pendant. I'm pretty sure he's quoting the pc, who's commented that "you're always wearing it". It would read better as something like "You noticed I'm always wearing it?"

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Hey {PC}, how 'bout we grab a bite?! I've got tons to splurge in winn... er, earnings, so it's all on me! Get whatever you want!"

your gambling addiction is really and truly going to get you in trouble. disregard that i play a gacha game.

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"...Huh?! Man, nearly fell sleep without putting my phone on the charger... 5%, that would've sucked tomorrow..."

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Ha ha ha! Have you seen this yet?! It's all over TikTok. Ah man, it's killing me..."

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Whoa, when did it get so late?! Sorry {PC}, I didn't mean to keep you up... What? You're still good?"

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Morning! Hey, guess what? Luca's busy after class, so how about we hit up the diner? It's been ages!"

do you. . .do you really wanna go there. . .i mean the drinks seem to be fine but according to sho they can't make good food at all. . . .

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Sorry, I gotta stay after class today... (sniffle) This sucks, I really wanted to walk home with you..."

aw buddy. . .they could wait for you or come pick you up after your remedial lesson. . .!

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Hey I'm really sorry but do you mind if we stop by the campus store after class? I'm almost out of granulated sugar."

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Hey, do you like stars? Oh, um, I was just wondering 'cause there's this place where you can see them really well, so I thought maybe you'd want to go some time..."

he's overcoming his fears and being honest with himself and how he speaks and just. . .asking honestly, no bravado, no act. do it scared, kaito. do it scared, do it awkward, do it sure you're going to fail. as long as you do it. proud of you!

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Sure is dark. Reminds me of the closet where we first met. Remember?"

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"I know I'm weak, and a coward. But I really do want to become your knight in shining armor, {PC}."

I love how comfortable and honest he starts to get as his affinity goes up. Still shy here and there, still scared, but he's not as jumpy and he starts treating you like a real friend. laughs with you about stuff, talks a little about hobbies and struggles. doesn't try and look cool for you. and then the honesty--i'm a weak coward, but i wanna be better for you. i wanna spend time with you. just!!! he grows!!! he realizes you like him for who he is and how he is, even if that's a weak coward--and that that's exactly what he wants! and it's okay for him to be that way because you won't be put off by it, even if it's something he'd like to grow from so he can be better for you--but he wants to be better for you as himself and--idk. i have feelings about characterization lol.

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"(yawn) Man, I wanna sleep, but I can't fail, so I gotta show up for class... Oh! I have Professor Nicolas next! Naptime."

does that mean you're good in anomalous medicine class or. . . .

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Grr! All those girls in the hall were looking at Luca! I'm so pissed off now I'm not even sleepy anymore!"

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"It's finally warm out again, so I really want to go do something fun... Wish I could get an R&R permit..."

well maybe if you stopped sleeping in class and did good in class or went on a mission or something. . . . . .

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Mheheh... {PC}... You've got a petal in your hair... Zzz..."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Ugh, it's too hot to go outside... But I can sense a coming-of-age event on the horizon... All right, here I come!"

obligatory beach event? 👀

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Can't believe Professor Hyde still wears that blindfold in summer. Pfft, I bet it's really sweaty under— Eeeek! S-Sir?!"

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Hey {PC}, are you free after this? I was thinking of inviting Luca to let off some fireworks! I want to show him how we do summer here in Japan."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I can't believe I get to spend the whole summer hanging out with you {PC}... (sniffle) Homework? Uh y-yeah, I finished it already..."

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Is it just me, or is it really cold today?! Guess I better get my coat out soon..."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Have you had the chestnut rice from the cafeteria yet? They made it way too fancy. It's supposed to be comfort food..."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Tohma's always reading something. Maybe I should too... All right, let's go with this! 10 Ways To Become Popular Overnight!"

well. . .it's something to read. . .never a bad idea to read.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Apparently the moon is the most beautiful in fall since the air gets clearer. Want to go take a look?"

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"It's freezing out there! It's freezing in here! Frostheim sucks!!"

this makes me wonder what the warmest dorm is on average. . .probably jabberwock as long as towa's in a good mood? (or maybe warm jabberwock winters mean towa's in a bad mood. . .?)

(between 11am and 4pm)

"The cold can go to hell, but I guess there's outfits you can only wear this time of year..."

you can wear whatever you want whenever you want if you're brave enough. but this is kaito and he's not very brave. and it's also not very smart to wear winterwear in the summer.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"I really want to go to Starbucks for the new winter drink! But I really really don't want to go on any missions!! Guess I'll never get to try it."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Gram... No... No more mandarins... ...Huh?! Oh, it was just a dream... I haven't had a mandarin for ages..."

'gram' in this case is 'grandma' in case you couldn't figure it out haha and the mandarin(mikan)'s used to represent health and longevity and a long prosperous bloodline or something like that for new years. So i assume his grandmother would feed him a lot of mandarins every winter lolol

His birthday: (December 11th)

"Why did Jin, Tohma, and Luca give me all this high-end stuff?! It's freaking me out!! Thank you!?!?"

EVEN JIN AND TOHMA GAVE HIM GIFTS. . .FROSTHEIM FAM IS REAL. . . .

Your birthday:

"Happy birthday, {PC}! We'll make this the best one— Hey, give those back! Those are the cue cards I made yesterday!!"

ksjfkhesbfjh he made himself cue cards to give you a birthday speech with as little stuttering as possible. . . .

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year! Let's make it a good one! S-So hey, if, er, if you'd like, c-could we, um... could we make our first shrine visit together?"

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"C'mon Kaito, deep breaths. Girls aren't into guys with no chill. So stay cool... Stay— Are those chocolates for me?! I'll take them to my grave!"

everyone loves an enthusiastic boy lol

White Day: (March 14th)

"Do you like the cookies I made? Come on, no way they're that good, heh heh... Heh heh heh... Here, take them all!!"

god i bet he makes really good sweets too. like i bet he puts so much love and good spirit into them lolol

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"I'd never lie to a girl. Ah! That's not a lie, I swear! {PC}? Are you listening?!"

BAD THING TO SAY ON APRIL FOOL'S ABORT MISSION

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Trick or treat! See those carved pumpkins? I was actually the one who made them. What do you think?"

given his DIY skills i bet he's actually really good at carving too. i bet they look really good!

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Hey, uh, {PC}, do you, uh... Do you have any plans for Christmas? I'm actually totally free!"

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Huh? {PC}? Am I being annoying?! I'm sorry! You're probably busy, right?!"

(13 affinity and above)

"{PC} seems kind of busy... I know! I'll find a video that'll help take her mind off things!"

this one replace the first one after you hit a certain affinity, so it's cute to see that he eventually decides 'i'm not being annoying, they're just busy. i wanna help them' after he gets closer to you. . . .

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"Ah...! Oh my god, you're back!! I'm so happy to see you!!!! (sob) Please don't leave me again..."

he's so clingy. . .poor guy really missed you, considering you're one of the kindest and most normal people in Darkwick that he associates with. . . . also man 'please don't leave me again' with the whole loop theory stuff. . . .

I THINK I'VE SAID MOST OF MY THOUGHTS THROUGHOUT THIS BUT. He really is a sweetie. He really could have ended up a very plain and 'safe' character, but he's managed to be very charming and entertaining with his struggles and exaggerated behavior, while still being a simple and safe type. Really looking forward to seeing how he plays into the rest of the story, since it seems like his pendant may be kind of important. . . .

#kaito fuji #tokyo debunker #danie yells at tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker spoilers #datamining cw #danie yells with anons #danie yells answers #I THINK I'M ALL CAUGHT UP ON THE REQUESTED VOICELINES YAY LOL #and!!! hotarubi in two hours!!!!

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meraki-yao · 8 months ago

Text

Ok I got four asks in my inbox about the new Nick interview and I'm actually mad. I'm actually livid and exasperated because I've been getting and answering similar asks over and over again, and yet people still come to me with the same statement and the same conviction EVEN AFTER I POINTED OUT EVERY FUCKING FACT THAT CONTRADICTS IT.

Do you really need a 19-year-old to teach you reading comprehension and media literacy?

Ok, fine.

Statement One: Nick doesn't appreciate RWRB, he's brushing it aside, which is why it wasn't mentioned in the New York Times

One: Editorials don't always portray the actual thoughts or agenda of the interviewee.

Unlike a video interview or a podcast interview where we can hear the whole conversation directly from Nick with his voice, and even if there are cuts and edits we can pick it up via visual or audio continuity, in a written editorial the only thing we can rely on is the writer's words, or in other words, the writer's paraphrase or quotation of what Nick said to him. This gives much bigger room for any changes or manipulation in content because we have nothing else to reference.

It is clear that in the past three editorials, the writer or the magazine itself has deliberately demeaning and devaluing RWRB. In NY Magazine, it was only mentioned in one line and degraded to "a queer take on a common straight trope" (see the choice of word "president's daughter"), with the implication being at its core, it's a straight story/ reliant on past straight stories to be interesting; Hunger Magazine calls it fujoshi-pleasing (fujoshi: Japanese slang, denoting how a straight woman who enjoys fictional gay content is "rotten", too ruined to be married, an insult to both the audience/fans and the movie itself ); and this time New York Magazine didn't even mention RWRB, when let's be honest, it's Nick's biggest breakout role.

"Once Is Chance, Twice is Coincidence, Third Time's A Pattern" this is deliberate. I can't say what the agenda is, my guess is some extent of latent homophobia, but it's clear that this is a fucking pattern. In fact, besides the hidden agenda of devaluing RWRB, these editorials show another hidden agenda, but that's something for a later day. PM me id you want to now, I won't discuss that one on my public platform yet.

Again, there is so much more room for twisting and hiding words in a written editorial. In all the video interviews Nick did, especially in the UK, when has he ever avoided a question about RWRB? When has he ever not shown gratitude towards the project?

Two: In all video evidence that can't be manipulated, that clearly shows Nick's own thoughts which not influenced by any other party, he has made it clear that he adores RWRB.

Why else would he sign books during the M&G London premiere, going as far as to stay behind after the event just to sign books? Same with the LA M&G premiere and TIOY premiere: those were promotions for other projects, he had a valid reason to refuse to sign the RWRB books and posters, but he didn't, always signing with a big smile on his face, even playfully signing on Taylor's face. He said it himself in his Instagram post, and I quote: "The love that Henry has received has been one of the most heartwarming things to watch. It's been difficult to not talk about him. So thank you for seeing him for all he is. He was a joy to bring to life." There's your proof, directly from the man himself.

Statement Two: Nick's not interested in doing a sequel, he said he's done playing princes and he's done playing romantic leads

One: "Done playing princes" doesn't mean literally done playing princes, it means he wants to try more roles and not be stuck with only being known as the "prince" guy. (even though he's literally a prince lol)

Plus, he said that after Robert, but then Henry came along and he was attracted to Henry as a character with his scared but loving heart. He doesn't just view Henry as a prince, he views Henry as a complex, delicate person who so happens to be a prince. Him saying he's done playing princes means in the future, he doesn't really want another royal on his filmography, but this doesn't mean he doesn't want to continue Henry's story. With the given context, namely asking him about future projects he wants to take up, "he's done playing princes" and "he doesn't want to play Henry anymore" are not mutually inclusive.

Two: "Done playing romantic leads" means he wants to try new things and take up new projects that aren't romance films.

This doesn't include the continuation of already established characters i.e. sequels, this just means if he were to take up brand new projects, he wants to try something else. Sequels are inherently different from new projects because again, sequels are based on already established characters.

Three: He said several times ON VIDEO that he'd be in for a sequel

In this one, when asked if he'd be up for a sequel, he said, and I quote "Look, I think with any opportunity of doing a sequel, I think, you know, the script has to be right. But obviously, it was so lovely to see how many people it touched and having that resonance is incredibly important to me, so, yeah. Of course."

In this one, when asked if they have had conservation on a potential sequel, he said, and again I quote: "Yeah, I mean definitely had conversations. I think we're all on the same page in the sense that, you know, the script needs to be right, and sort of all the different components need to be right because we made something that has such a positive effect and I think the last thing you'd wanna do is ruin that or take that in a way, so, you know, the conversations are definitely being had."

And there are more videos from red carpet interviews that I can't be bothered to find right now but he says more or less the same thing.

(look I even transcribed it)

Not only is he on board with a sequel, he's also being careful about it to make sure once they do get to making it, it's something good. He's on board, and he values it. And again, that's directly from him.

We have a phrase in Chinese: 斷章取義, meaning "breaking off a small part of an article and deriving the meaning from that single part" That's what so many of you, in particular, the people who come to my inbox with the sentiments of the above-mentioned statement are doing. Please, use critical thinking and look at the whole picture. Stop making judgments from the surface of one source.

Tagging my friends @alittlefrenchtree and @myteavsricochet because it looks like they've been getting the same things I got

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #nicholas galitzine #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry hanover stuart fox #rwrb thoughts #meraki essay #i'm not someone who gets mad easily but I've had enough of this #nick galitzine

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atinylittlepain · 2 years ago

Text

Apothecary Chapter Eight

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

Samhain is here, and for the first time in a while, she has people to share it with.

word count: 5.2K

warnings | 18+ smut, angst, discussions of grief, spooky-ooky action

a/n | it's here! hands down this has been my favorite chapter to write so far. i would love to hear what you think as always, my inbox is open <3

..............................

Summer has been laid to rest under the whispered chill of fall. The mountains are burned up all orange and yellow, leaves fit to fall in the soon-to-come snap of frost. But for now, as October comes to an end, the days are still tinged with warmth while the nights shiver in the suggestion of the oncoming winter, and Halloween is just around the corner.

Joel had thought it silly, if not downright stupid, when he and Ellie first came to Jackson, all the holidays upheld and celebrated in town. But this year, as the annual fall dance comes closer, he’s hard pressed to be bothered by it with his woman flitting around him, obvious in her excited anticipation.

“Oh, Joel, before you go I have something to give you.”

“This– this is a rusty nail.” She just smiles, curling her fingers under his palm to close his hand over the, quite literally, rusty nail she just gave him.

“Just, humor me, alright? It’s a tradition, for protection. I gave one to Ellie too. Just keep it in your pocket for the next few days.” By now, he’s realized that sometimes it’s easier to just go along with what she tells him, no questions asked, so he nods, pocketing the nail with a smile that he hopes looks grateful. He can also tell that she’s nervous, and he’d bet that it’s because he’s started picking up patrol shifts again, leaving early this morning to meet Tommy at the gate. So if him having an old nail in his pocket is going to make her feel even a little better, he’s happy to oblige her request.

“Thank you, darlin. I’ll see you tonight, ok?” One kiss, a second, and a third, before he finally tears himself away from her, slipping out the front door and into the cool morning air.

“Morning, trouble.”

Mrrp

Stevie is quick to fall into stride alongside him, something he’s still getting used to on the mornings he has patrol, her watchful eyes seeing him out of the gate.

“I see you’ve still got a second shadow following you.” Tommy grins at him as he approaches, eyes glancing down to Stevie who lets out another meow, sitting down rather primly and looking between the two brothers.

“She ain’t–”

“Coming, yeah, you say that everytime, Joel. I’m pretty sure I could figure out that a cat ain’t coming on patrol by myself though.”

Mrrrrp

Tommy gives the cat in question a disbelieving look, eyebrows raised as he looks back up at Joel who can’t help the smug grin tugging at his lips. Tommy lets out a huff, shaking his head.

“Y’all are so fucking weird. Let’s go before the cat starts talking, goddamn.”

…

For the first time in a while, things feel simple, maybe even good. She’s hesitant to let her mind settle on good for fear of jinxing it all, but at the very least, things are really, really not bad. And it certainly doesn’t hurt that Samhain is only a few days away.

It’s the busiest time of year for her, in more ways than one. With the impending chill, more and more people around town are coming down with head colds and whatever else they might pick up in close quarters, a neverending rotation of sniffles and coughs that she’s been tending to while also trying to get ready for the sabbat. While she’s always kept the traditions alive for herself, this year is different, this year she gets to share it with people for the first time in ages, and she might be going just a bit overboard because of it.

Truly, she’s been pulling out all the stops this week. Rosemary and wild rose wreaths for protection through the transition from light to dark, soul cakes for breakfast studded with dried fruit just like her mom would make, and a fresh batch of candles ready to light her altar through the three nights of the pagan new year.

While Joel seems content to let her whirl around him in preparation, Ellie has enthusiastically taken part, listening intently to her explanations of all the rituals and traditions and helping out in the kitchen and in the shop when she can. She can’t help but be reminded of herself as a kid, her mom sharing with her all these things she now gets to share with Ellie.

“So, no bonfire?”

“Sorry, kid, not in this world. It’s just not safe anymore. But we can get the fireplace going and that’ll work just as well.” Though there’s still a slight disappointed slump to her shoulders, Ellie nods, her fingers continuing deft work on another wreath, perched on a stool at the butcher block in the back of the shop.

“You’re getting better at that than me, Ellie. Could I take that one to Maura? I was gonna check in on her this afternoon and I’d like to bring her something.”

“Yeah, for sure. Is she, like, doing ok?” Her own hands still where she had been pruning back some errant leaves, turning to fully look at Ellie with a sigh.

“I think so, yeah. I know Matthew hasn’t given her any more trouble, probably too embarrassed to try. And I think she’s settling in well to her new place.”

“What about Mason?” She swallows the thick heat in her throat at Ellie’s question, schooling her face in something she hopes looks like indifference.

“What about him?”

“I don’t know. For a guy who seems to enjoy causing a lot of fucking problems it’s kinda weird how quiet he is all of a sudden.” She knows the truth that Ellie’s words hold all too well, and had been thinking about this herself for a while now. She hadn’t seen or heard from Mason since what happened at the town hall, and to her knowledge, no one else had either, keeping to himself and his shifts. And while she’d like to just forget about him, his bitter words and blatant violence toward her are hard to shake from her mind.

“Let’s just take a win where we can get one, huh, kid? I don’t– don’t even wanna think about that man so long as I don’t have to.” Ellie seems to accept her reply with a slightly distracted hum, holding up the wreath she just finished with a satisfied smirk.

“Fuck yeah. Am I good, or am I good? I mean, c’mon.” It might be silly, but she feels pride unfurling in her chest watching Ellie. No one else has ever been so interested in what she does, and it feels like a relief she didn’t know she was craving to get to share this all with her.

“Pretty damn good, kid. Thanks for helping me out.”

…

He gets back to town spooked, just a little. It isn’t like anything absolutely dire had happened, though it could have turned rotten real quick. He and Tommy had split off early in the day to circle the dam and meet back up somewhere in the middle. It had been a quiet morning, the woods wrapped in a faint mist, leaves falling like rain, when he heard a low, warbling groan from deeper in the trees. It was obvious to him that it wasn’t an infected, the sound had been so different from anything he’d heard before, and he couldn’t help but dismount and inch into the underbrush, trying to catch sight of what had made a noise like that.

A grizzly, that’s what had made the sound, brown fur matted over a hulking body that rose all of eight feet in the air when it stood up on its haunches and snarled at Joel. He was stunned still where he stood by the sight, gun uselessly cocked against an animal that could have killed him in one powerful swipe. And for a moment, it had seemed like that’s exactly what was about to happen, the bear letting out a rumbling roar, jowls warbling with the sound. But then, and it’s going to sound strange, the animal had paused, and had tilted its head at Joel like it was considering him, before slumping back down onto all fours, letting out a snuff that sounded like a conclusion, and trundling right past him further into the thickening forest.

The whole ride back to town, he can’t help but thumb the corroded nail sitting in his jacket pocket, a jilted energy running circuits in his veins. But the hitch in his chest is smoothed out when he does get home, opening the front door to warmth and the smell of food, something savory mingling with the scent of apples cooking. And the sight of her, comfortably moving around the kitchen, something in the oven and a large pot bubbling on the stove, has his heart kicking up in an entirely different way.

“I can feel you staring, Miller.” She glances at him over her shoulder, a crooked smile as she gives the pot a few stirs before turning and padding over to him where he’s leaning against the doorframe, her palm sliding from his chest to curl behind his neck as she leans in for a kiss. He reckons that this won’t ever get old for him, the apparent ease they move with together, how he can reach out and she’ll reach right back. She gives him a quirked look when she pulls away, brows furrowed.

“You alright?” She can clock him like no other. Sometimes it seems like she knows what he’s feeling before he even does, and if she hadn’t insisted that she most definitely can’t read minds, he would have guessed that she could.

“Mmhmm, just tired. Glad to be home.” Though her brows stay just slightly pinched, she seems to accept his excuse, a quick rub of her palm over her chest before she pulls away to check on whatever she has cooking.

“Is Ellie around?”

“At movie night with Dina. They’re playing Hocus Pocus from what I heard.”

“Got enough of that at home, don’t we?” She scoffs, elbowing him lightly where he’s sidled up behind her.

“Rude, and to think I was making you dinner.” She cranes her neck to look at him over her shoulder, hands finding his on her waist and tangling their fingers together as she scrunches her nose at him. He opens his mouth to say something smart back to her, but his eyes catch on the spoon stirring itself in the pot, drawing her attention back to the stove as well.

“Oops, got a little distracted.” Yeah, he still hasn’t gotten used to her getting distracted.

Dinner is warm and rich and near coma-inducing, both of them sitting back with contented sighs at the dining table, the sun long set, windows going purple and hazy in the glow of the kitchen lights.

“Was Ellie supposed to be home for dinner?” Her brow furrows at his question, head tilted in confusion.

“No, I told you she’s at movie night. Why do you ask?”

“You set an extra place, I just assumed–”

“Oh, no, that’s not– it’s another tradition. You set a place for the people you love who have passed on. Most folks just do it for the three days starting on Halloween. But we always started leaving a plate out a day early, don’t ask me why, it was just the way my mom did it.” It’s clear to him that she’s being careful about what she says, and how she says it. She’s been careful about explaining the holiday, and he can understand why. She had told him that this time of year is marked most by communion with and remembrance of the dead, a subject they’ve been skirting around ever since that night when she tried to talk to him about Sarah, and he bolted like a spooked horse.

“Is that who you set the place for now? Your mom?” Her smile tempers, eyes rounding with a familiar sadness as she nods.

“Yeah, other family too. And I have to admit, I know it’s not my place, but I’ve been thinking about– about Sarah as well.” It’s a leap for her to make, he knows it, and he’s willing to make it with her, reaching his hand across the table to rest over the top of hers, puzzle pieces fitting together in a shared silence.

“Thank you for thinking of her, darlin.” Another nod and a small smile.

“Could I– can I share something with you? And maybe you could help me with it?”

…

“So that’s what all this is for?”

“What’d you think it was for?”

“Honestly, I stopped asking questions about things like this a while ago. Just assumed whatever this was, you had some sort of plan for it.” She has to let out a huff of a laugh at his clearly truthful answer, shaking her head before focusing back on the items spread over the desktop of her bureau.

“Well, I do have a plan, and it’s called an altar. It’s a space made to honor the departed, and to keep them a little closer to us.” She’s already laid out candles, dried leaves, and small wreaths of herbs on the desk, now pulling open one of the bureau’s drawers to get out a worn, weathered photo, tenderly unfolding it. Holding it out so Joel can see, a small sound of recognition rumbles in his chest.

“Is that you?” His finger just hovers over the face of the girl in the photo.

“Mmhmm, and that’s my mom, and my grandmother. I must have been twelve, maybe thirteen, when this was taken.” When she glances at him, something like wonder is laced in his expression, lips parted in a slight smile as he continues to study the picture. Clearing her throat, and her mind, she tucks the photo in amongst the altar before looking at him again.

“It’s nice to include pieces of them, if you have any. I was wondering, um– I mean I don’t know if you’d even want to– but if you have anything of Sarah’s, I was wondering if you’d like to add a piece of her to it?” The words feel thick and clunky coming out, regret an almost instant aftertaste at the way his face falls. But then he surprises her, clearing his throat and nodding before silently unfastening his watch and placing it on the altar, a tap of his fingers to the face of it before he takes a step back.

“And it’s just for the next three days, right?” Worry is pinching his brow, eyes swimming, and she doesn’t resist the urge to reach for him, a hand on his cheek and one right over his heart.

“That’s right. It just lets them know that we’re thinking about them a little more than usual, that’s all. And then we go back to carrying them with us however we can.” He gives her a short nod, tears like silver in his eyes as he rests his hand over hers on his chest, his other palm coming to cup her cheek.

“She would’ve liked you, y’know.” It’s so unexpected, her breath catches in her throat at his words.

“You think so?”

“I think you two would’ve got on like a house on fire. Probably would’ve ganged up on me too, though you and Ellie already do that I suppose.” The warbly sound of her own laugh makes her realize that she’s started crying too, the soft sweep of his thumb brushing away a few stray tears.

“Well, I’m sorry to tell you, but my mom would’ve hated you.” The spluttering laugh he lets out sends her into a huffed spiral of her own, quiet grins between the two of them.

“Would’ve hated me, huh?”

“Mmhmm, nothing personal though. She just believed that women should never get tied down to a man for long.” He hums at that, both of them holding back another laugh through their tears.

“And what do you believe, darlin?”

“I believe that you are the one exception to that rule, Joel Miller.”

…

Seeing as the last town dance he went to ended with him busting his knuckles open on a man’s face, Joel isn’t exactly raring to go to this one. But hers and Ellie’s shared excitement is more than making up for his own disinterest.

“Look, old man, Stevie and I match.” Ellie jumps off the last two steps of the porch, Stevie letting out a distressed mewl from her place in her arms at the sudden movement.

“Yeah, the resemblance is uncanny.” Ellie’s got on black jeans, a black sweater, and a black headband with two triangular scraps of fabric attached to look like cat ears, cradling Stevie in her arms as the finishing touch to her makeshift costume.

“What’re you supposed to be? A lumberjack with anger issues?” He huffs at her rather sharp question, glancing down at his flannel, the same flannel he wears at least twice a week these days.

“Sure, let’s go with that, kid.”

“You two ready?” Her voice pulls his attention away from Ellie’s smug grin, and when he catches sight of her, his mind goes so hazy he can’t be bothered to pick his jaw up off the ground.

“That hat is fucking wicked.” He doesn’t even have half a mind to scold Ellie for her language, too busy taking in the sight of his woman. She’s wearing the same mismatched sneakers she’s always got on, her bare shins peeking out beneath the hem of her black dress. A very nicely-fitting black dress at that, long-sleeved, with a deep neckline he can’t seem to take his eyes away from. It’s too good, the hat sitting atop her head, the pointed top and the wide brim an almost cartoonish calling-card, and the grin on her face as she stands before him tells him that she knows it too.

“Well?” She holds out her arms, a little flare in her wrists as she looks at him, and all he can do is let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Where the hell did you get a hat like that?” She pinches the brim between her fingers, giving him a wink.

“Found it in the attic of my old house when I first moved in. Been saving it for a special occasion. You like?” He pulls her in for a kiss, all crooked from their mirrored grins.

“Ugh, c’mon, Stevie. Let’s go before they inflict any more damage to our eyeballs.” She pulls away with a laugh at Ellie’s very vocal dismay, taking Joel’s hand in hers with a light squeeze.

“Sorry, kid. No more eyeball damage, I promise. Let’s get a move on.”

Once again, the dining hall has been fitted out for the dance, tables pushed aside to clear the floor and a ragtag band putting out half-decent music. But this time is different too. This time, he’s got an easy arm wrapped around his woman’s waist, holding onto her in a crowd that no longer stares and whispers, but welcomes with easy smiles and talk. Everyone is in some sort of attempted costume, and he catches sight of Tommy making his way toward them through the crowd, an old cowboy hat on his head and a bandana tied around his neck.

“What’re you supposed to be, brother? A slightly less pissed off version of yourself?” While he grunts at his brother’s teasing, she laughs easily, happy to pick up the social slack where Joel refuses to engage.

“Happy Halloween, Tommy. I saw Maria and your boy out front. I can’t believe how big he’s gotten, gonna be quite the little heartbreaker in a few years.” The clear pride in Tommy’s smile sets warmth spreading in Joel’s chest. It’s been a surprising bright spot for him, watching his brother step into fatherhood. Not that he’d ever tell Tommy, but it’s a good look on him.

“He’s something else, ain’t he? Not gonna be able to keep up with him at the rate he’s growing. But anyways, just wanted to come say howdy. Y’all enjoy yourselves, alright?” With a brisk clap to Joel’s shoulder, Tommy is moving back through the crowd, lobbing easy greetings to folks left and right.

“Alright, my angry lumberjack, are you gonna ask me to dance or what?”

“You heard that, huh? Don’t even know how the kid knows what a lumberjack is.” Her smile is easy, humor crinkling her eyes as she looks at him.

“Mmhmm, but for the record, you make a very cute, angry lumberjack.” What he does next surprises even him, taking her hand and leading her into the throng of swaying couples on the dance floor with a confidence he hasn’t felt in decades. The band is playing a slower song, light threadings of a guitar and the old piano, a sweet suggestion to pull her close, one arm hooked around her waist, his other tucked between their chests where their hands are tangled together. Judging by the widening of her eyes, lips parted in a crooked smile, she hadn’t been expecting that at all.

“You’ve been holding out on me if you’ve been able to dance this nicely this whole time, Miller.” He can feel himself going a bit sheepish under her praise, eyes turned down as he leads them in a simple string of steps.

“Haven’t danced in a long time, darlin.” They fall into an easy silence, the music and din of the hall lulling them into the movement. Though everything comes crashing to a jilted stop, music fizzling out under the sudden scuffle in the crowd. It’s instinct, the way his arm tightens around her, keeping her close as he cranes his neck to see where the raised voices are coming from, his stomach dropping when he lays eyes on who it is.

He can’t hear what’s being said, but judging by the steely look on Tommy’s face and the hazy sneer on Mason’s, it’s nothing friendly. And through the crowd, Mason’s bloodshot eyes land on him first, before sliding over to her, a grin smearing across his face that Joel would like nothing more than to smack clean off him. But Tommy is quick to take Mason out of the hall with a harsh grip on his shoulder, gone as soon as he appeared, though the damage has already been done judging by the slack frown on her face.

“Joel, can we go, please?” His chest tightens at the way her voice has flattened, the quiet question slipped from her downturned mouth, eyes stuck where Mason had been standing.

“Yeah, darlin, we’ll go home. Lemme find Ellie and let her know, alright?”

He keeps her hand in his the whole walk home, not letting go until they’re in their bedroom and she’s sitting down on the edge of the bed, a deep furrow between her brows.

“God, I feel so stupid for letting that affect me like I did. I’m sorry, Joel. We were having a good time and I– I ruined it.” He sits down as close to her as he can, tucking her under his arm and dropping a kiss to the top of her head, her hat discarded on the floor.

“Didn’t ruin a thing, darlin. I’m just sorry that pathetic bastard came around at all.” He can tell that she’s working through it in her mind, somewhere between the past and the present, lips slightly pursed and eyes focused on her hands in her lap, but she doesn’t get stuck on it, a long exhale bringing her back to him, tilting her head to look at him with a suggestion of a smile. She doesn’t say anything, slipping out of his hold like liquid and padding quietly over to her bureau where the altar is set up. It’s grace embodied, the way she leans over one of the unlit candles, pursing her lips and exhaling like you would to extinguish a flame, though instead the wick smokes and crackles into a bright blaze.

“Well now you’re just showing off.” A shrug and a laugh from her as she lights the other candles with the one she just lit, the altar being cast in a warm and pulsing glow.

…

Maybe she had been showing off, just a little, drinking in the way his eyes widen and don’t pull away from her for even a second as she turns back to him and extends her hand.

“Would you mind finishing that dance with me?” The light in the bedroom is dim, just a lamp and the candles casting a haze of warmth across the room, but she can still see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he stands up and slides his hand into hers.

There’s no music, but they don’t need it, finding an easy sway in their close tangle. She rests her cheek at his shoulder, nose brushing along the juncture of his neck, breathing him in, feeling his hands splayed across her back, the insistent pump of his heart, stronger than anything she’s ever heard before.

“Think you mentioned something a while ago about dancing naked.” She can hear the smug crook of his smile in his words, making her laugh as she pulls back to look at him.

“Hmm, yeah, I just said that to seduce you.” He chuckles at the smarmy waggle of her eyebrows, pulling her tighter against him.

“Didn’t have to do that, darlin. Reckon I was gone for you from day one.” The kiss they slip into is more like a shared sigh, swallowing each other’s relief, muscles slackening under wandering hands. They move with patience, like time has stopped with the slow trails of fingers, the languid press of lips. A shiver runs through her when he tugs the zipper of her dress down, sliding the fabric down her arms, letting it pool around her still socked feet. She wants skin against skin, stepping closer to him as she slips her fingers through the buttons of his shirt, tugging it off his shoulders as soon as she can, leaving his torso warm and bare for her to press against, mouths open and receiving whatever the other is willing to give.

And all of a sudden that tender patience snaps into a snarling desperation, Joel’s hands a searing grip on her hips, keeping her close as he ducks his head down to mouth at the tops of her breasts, only giving her enough space to slip out of her bra before he’s dipping back down and taking one of her nipples into the heat of his mouth, teeth a dizzying graze. They’ve had slow and sweet, and this isn’t that, her back pressing up against one of the bedroom walls as he cages her in, warm and trembling breaths fanning over her skin as she tugs open his belt and rucks his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his flushed cock, resting heavy and heated against her thigh.

When they first came together, it had been all questions, all Can I? Like this? Is that good? Are you? But they no longer need words now, communicating in the hungry sweep of palms and the flicker of darkened eyes. He hitches her knee against his hip, opening her up to him, his cock an aching drag through her cunt before he presses into her, pleasure tinged with the throbbing stretch of him.

Her back slides up the wall with each thrust of his hips, his hand cradling the back of her head to keep her from thumping her skull. It’s all harsh breaths and broken grunts, her eyes scrunching shut only for Joel to coax her gaze back with a gentle let me see you, darlin– look at me, baby, eyes on me, that’s it. He presses his forehead to hers, holding her steady through every hard press of his hips, his cock grazing so deep it’s all she can do to let out a quiet whimper of his name.

“I know, darlin– fuck, I know– always so good, huh? Lemme have it, honey, just like this.” He knows her almost too well by now, when to pull back, to slow down, to draw it out, and when to give her more, to press her over the edge, to twist up her pleasure only to unravel it. His hips still against hers when she comes, a deep grind inside of her that draws out her high, spasming around him as she digs her nails into his shoulders. Slackening in his arms, her mind cuts through the haze, confusion settling in when she realizes he still hasn’t moved, his forehead pressed to her sternum.

“Are you– did you–”

“Fuck, darlin, I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking and I– Jesus christ.” He pulls out with a shuddering breath, and that’s when she notices it, the warm trickle of him making her knees go weak. Joel, meanwhile, seems to be in perfect remorse, muttering a string of apologies, his hands hovering at her waist like he’s afraid to touch her. Finally, she cuts off his rambling, her palm cupping his jaw to get him to focus on her.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. You seriously think I don’t know how to take care of something like this? Honestly, I’m a little offended.” His face goes completely slack at her words, a disbelieving laugh coming out on a long exhale.

“I– you– goddamn. God fucking damn, think I almost had a heart attack.” His words come out on another laugh, hands framing her face as he lands a hard kiss to her forehead, making her chuckle at his reaction.

“No heart attacks on my watch, Miller. I love you too much to let that happen.” This kiss lands a bit lower, a smacking press of his lips to hers before he pulls away with a sheepish smile.

“Love you, darlin. Let’s, uh, let’s get you cleaned up.”

…

It’s much later in the night when she untangles herself from his embrace, successfully slipping out of bed without waking him. Grabbing the blanket Joel had kicked off in his sleep and wrapping herself up in it, she quietly pads downstairs and out onto the back porch.

“Hey, little miss, did you and Ellie have fun?” Stevie is happy to jump into her lap where she has sat down on the porch steps, a content purr thrumming as she nuzzles against her palm. A moment, that’s all she wanted, to think about the people she’s lost in the cool closeness of the night. But she and Stevie aren’t alone, not anymore. Something like family, something a little magic.

...............................

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wolffwish · 2 years ago

Text

More Than Just A Short Time

Warnings: Distressed reader, miscarriage, mentions of anxiety, panic attack, soft!Toto x reader,

A/N: Personal experience used here, so please be understanding. 2022 was the worst year of my life, losing a baby and my fiancé within 3 months of eachother. I’ve been wanting to write something for months, to try and help me cope with my emotions. This hasn’t been spell checked, I literally have finished it and pressed post. So please bear with me if there’s any mistakes or it’s not that great, or sonically cohesive. It’s literally a coping mechanism. I’ve also tried to incorporate Taylor Swift’s “Bigger Than The Whole Sky” as that song has bought me a lot of comfort. Thank you so much for reading and I hope soft Toto brings you comfort if you need it ♥️ my inbox is open to anyone if you need to talk about anything.

It’s been a long 5 days without Toto, and your physical health was declining by the hour. Your period was the heaviest it had ever been, but you didn’t want to tell Toto, because everyone has periods and usually, they’re nothing to worry about.

Toto knew you were struggling physically, and had been the ever-supporting husband that you could’ve dreamed of. Virtually working instead of heading into the office, skipping races and rescheduling meetings or holding them online— to the point where he’d be sitting on the bed with his laptop perched on his lap on Zoom with people at Brackley, with you sleeping next to him and him not taking his hand off of your head once, constantly stroking it to ease your pain.

He was away in Bahrain for first race of the season and it was the longest amount of time he’d been for a few months. You hadn’t been feeling that great in the lead up to him leaving, a bit run down and not your usual self, extremely tired and incredibly nauseous. You just assumed it was your birth control playing up again.

It was Sunday. Race day. You were feeling rough, and after yesterday’s ordeal in the ER followed by a strict instruction for bed rest and preferably someone with you, all you wanted to do was curl up on the couch, watch the race and wait for your man to come home.

You hadn’t been contacting him much over the past 4 days, mainly just good morning and good night texts, as you knew he was going to be flat out busy with media, meetings and all the other stuff that goes with the job he’d worked so hard for.

11am. You heard your phone ping, with his specific text tone and notification lighting up your screen.

💬 1 New Message: Toto🐺♥️ — Liebling, I have a free half hour. Can you talk? We need to talk.

“We need to talk”? You read it three times, making sure you were reading it right. Need? Panic sets in. Usually, when anybody receives a message of “We need to talk.”, ending abruptly with a full stop, that’s never a good sign, right? Right.

Before you could even start typing, he was ringing. Accidentally, you pressed the green answer button, steadily putting the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” - your voice broke as you awaited his response.

🐺 “Schatzi? Is that you?”

“What do you mean, is it me? You rang my mobile?”

🐺 “Oh. Thank god. I had a missed call from the hospital, they left a message asking me how you were after yesterday. I didn’t— what happened yesterday, I didn’t know you wen—“

“Oh my god, are you kidding?! They rang you?”

Anger that started in your stomach was slowly making its way up your body, flushing your red cheeks and making your hands grip the phone tighter. You were checked into the ER yesterday after having what you thought was a 3 day long, heavy and extremely painful period. You had to call the ambulance because you were bleeding so heavily you couldn’t control anything, and started to feel dizzy and weak. With nobody around, and Toto working, you had nobody to call.

🐺 “Come on baby, talk to me. Why did you visit the ER?”

You paused. You didn’t know what to say to him, but neither did you want to lie. You knew as soon as the ER nurse asked if you’d had any morning sickness or previous experiences of dark red heavy periods that this wasn’t just a period. You were having a miscarriage, not even knowing you were pregnant.

🐺 “Liebling? Whatever it is, you can tell me. It doesn’t matter that I’m here, ok? You are my priority, just let me in.”

“I can’t tell you over the phone, Toto. I’m sorry. Just concentrate on the race, and I’ll see you later. I love y—“

🐺 “No Schatzi, baby please, I can’t concentrate unless you tell me what’s going on.”

You knew that he wasn’t going to give in. Tears started filling your eyes and the pit of your stomach started knotting. Emotions got the better of you, your breathing started to get shorter and faster, even though you were trying to disguise every bit of it, so you didn’t make him panic even more. But you just couldn’t do it. You fell apart. You needed him, now more than ever.

“I’m sorry, Toto. I didn’t know. You know I’m on birth control, it was just a heavy period, and then the nurses started asking all these questions about morning sickness and the colour of it and they rigged me up to the machine and started doing all these scans and I was really scared and I didn’t know what to do and then they kept apologising to me and I was in such a state I didn’t know what they were talking about until they— until they said it wasn’t a heavy period, and I’d lost—“

That was it. Uncontrollable tears streamed from your eyes as you relived the worst day of your life all over again, for the millionth time. Hysteria creeping in and your adrenaline winning, you began to shake. You’d been reliving every second of it since you got home, and it took a lot of persuasion for you to the nurses to let you home on your own. But they all knew your situation, they all knew Toto and who he was, so they made an exception. You didn’t think they’d call him.

🐺 “Oh my go—, baby, I’m so sorry. Shit. I should’ve been there, I knew you weren’t right when I left, but I had no idea it could be this—“

“Don’t apologise Toto please, it’s not your fault, I just, I can’t wait to see you later. Please try and just do the race and I’ll be here when you get home.”

🐺 “I don’t care about the race Schatz, baby. I’m coming home now. I’m walking to Rosa right now, she’ll get me on the next flight darling. Hold tight for me, ok?”

You didn’t want to ruin his day like this, especially the first race, but you were done fighting with yourself.

“Ok.” - through tears streaming and sniffles of your nose to try and control your breathing, a simple ‘ok’ was the last thing you said to Toto before dropping the phone on the bed. You’d almost been in denial about the whole thing, and saying it all out loud made it more real. You pulled your legs to your chest, your body still screaming in pain from miscarrying, back pains so intense you feel like your spine is on fire and a headache strong enough to make you squint at any view of light.

You could hear the television in the background, the race build up had started and you began watching it hoping it would distract you from everything that was happening in your head at that very moment.

The grid walk started, and Martin Brundle was desperately searching around for Toto to ask him where he thinks the two Mercs’ we’re going to finish today’s race. He eventually came across Shov, who was ready for an interview.

MB: “I was hoping to talk to your boss, any idea where I can find him?”

AS: “He’s had to rush off, personal matter, so won’t be able to watch the race today, but I can answer any questions you may have - just not with as much Austrian flare as he does!” he tried to laugh and distract from the situation- but you knew social media was about to blow up.

A few hours passed, and the sheer emotional state you were in made you fall asleep at some point during the race. You woke up as the podium ceremony started, that damn Dutch national anthem again. You flicked over the channels and started watching some random nature show about birds. Anything but that damn podium.

Anxiously waiting for Toto to arrive, you kept drifting off to sleep, losing track of the time, until you heard a key in the door and footsteps running up the stairs.

“Schatzi, where are you baby? I’m ho—“

The bedroom door swung open and there he was, still dressed in his white button down shirt and black trousers, so damn handsome. Your man was home.

“Toto, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Tears streaming, you sat up on the bed, trying to adjust your body to a position you weren’t in pain.

“Baby, it’s okay. Come here, little one.” Toto softly sat down in front of you, cupping your face in both hands and softly brushing the tears on your cheeks away with the pad of his thumbs. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” He brought his lips up to your forehead, pressing the most gentle kiss just above your left eyebrow, muffling the words “Let go baby, I’m here now. Just let it all out.”

The reassuring words from Toto meant every single emotion waved over you like a tsunami, and you fell apart in his arms. The tears came streaming down your face as you leant forward into him. You adjusted your body so you were sitting side aways on his lap, legs resting on the bed and head resting in his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you like he was protecting the world, his gentle touches making you feel safer than you’d ever felt.

“Let’s get you into bed properly, baby, get you more comfortable.” Without hesitation, Toto stood up with you in his arms as he gently walked around the bed, making sure not to walk into any furniture or make any sudden movements. He slowly leant down, to lay you on his side of the bed. He grabbed a blanket, took his shirt and trousers off, walked round to the other side of the bed and got in with you.

“Are you comfortable? Do you need to move?” He asked as you started rolling over as he got into the bed beside you.

“I can’t get comfy, it’s so frustrating, everything hurts and I can’t move without feeling like I’m making a mess everywhere, it’s horrible.”

“Hey hey baby, it’s okay, don’t cry. It doesn’t matter if there’s mess, we can clean it up, okay? Come here, lay here.” He perched himself up on the headboard, his bare chest gleaming in the night light that was the only light on in the room. The smell of him just felt like home. Lightly tapping his torso, he helped you lay your head on his chest, right on his heart. You moved your arm over his toned tummy, slightly tapping your fingers over the grooves of his muscles.

“There we go baby, you just lay there and relax now. It’s okay, I’ve got you my girl.”

A few minutes of silence passed as Toto gently run his fingers through your hair, up and down your back and over your shoulder.

“Toto?”

“Yes, baby? What is it?”

“We’re never gonna meet her.”

You didn’t know if it was a girl or a boy, but your initial thought was it was a girl. You don’t know why. It’d been playing on your mind all day whenever you caught yourself thinking about what would’ve been, what could’ve been and what should’ve been.

A deep breath came from the pits of his stomach as he saw your heart break in front of him.

“I know darling, I know. But look…” he pointed out towards the night sky, a sky full of stars. A sky so beautiful, that you would’ve thought you’d made it up.

“She’s up there. She knows you’re looking at her. Hey, she’s that really bright one, look” he points to a specific star, that is, quite literally, the brightest one in the sky. “She’s bigger than the whole sky, isn’t she?” he looks down at you, as you’d cocked your head to see the star he was talking about. Making eye contact, one side of his mouth turned into a slight smile, as he leant down to kiss you on the lips. “I love you, little one.”

You kissed him back, finally feeling like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders now he was home.

“I love you too, Papi.”

He smiled down at you again, bringing his hand up to the side of your face and gently guiding your head to lay on his chest. You heard him snuffle, and felt a teardrop on hairline where your hair meets your forehead.

“Toto?” You looked up at him, tears in his eyes as he looked out of the window.

He responded immediately. “It’s okay, baby. I’m okay, I’m just so sorry I wasn’t here.”

“Don’t be sorry, I’m sorry for not telling you when it happened. I just didn’t want to pull you away from work and—“

“Baby listen to me. You are my world, ok? Nothing is more important than you. I would sail the seven oceans to be with you in a heartbeat. Don’t ever think anything is more important than you, Schatz. I love you so much it hurts.”

He looked down at you again, kissing the top of your head and stroking your hair. “You can rest now, baby. Daddy’s got you.”

You closed your eyes and felt your entire body relax into the indentation of his body, and sunk into the bed with him. The soft strokes of his hands over your arms, hair and back brought you more comfort than you’d ever felt before, and the sound of his slow controlled breathing meant your breathing started syncing with his. You both drifted off to sleep, holding each other close. His arms wrapped around you, you laying on his chest.

This was home. He was home. He is your home.

——

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