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amoristt · 10 months

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anon: can you write a ghost x reader fic about y/n being wrongfully accused of being a spy and she makes a run for it and ghost finds her? YESSSS . LOVE ITTTT

-as always comments/reblogs are appreciated! - wanna tip me? heres my kofi!

The Accused | Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader

- Heavy footsteps, the air thick, the wall in front of you even thicker. Never did you think that beige wallpaper would be such an obstacle in your way as the echoing sound of footsteps gain on you. The door is shut tight, but the room is still under construction and lacks any furniture to help barricade you in. There isn't even a fucking closet for you to hide in. The only thing other than light brown plank flooring and a door with a half-painted white frame, was a window overlooking a yard.

It was roughly a five-story drop- too high to continue your run unscathed, but at this point, you've got some pretty heavy options to weigh. On one hand, potentially cut your life short, on the other, get caught and dragged out fighting.

Not that it would be much of a fight. You didn't even have time to grab your gun or knife before you made your escape.

Your heart aches. This wasn't right. While you weren't sure what dirt Shepherd had on you, what documents had been falsified as evidence of your alleged 'treason', but whatever they were they must have been pretty damn convincing to have Graves up in arms almost instantaneously. Tears bite at your eyes- had been since you first ran, but now they were heavier. Angrier. You wipe them harshly and red blotches bubble at your cheeks.

Shaking, you bring your radio to your lips. You can't hear them, but they can surely hear you, switched to a different station so you couldn't use their chatter to work around them.

"Please," you damn near sob. "Please, there's a mistake. There's been a fucking mistake, I haven't done anything. You really think I'd do this to you guys of all people?"

Grave answers your pleads like a poison, settling deep into your lungs, replacing all the air in its wake.

"Enough running. Come out and no one has to get hurt."

There was no use in arguing, you realized. They would never hear of it- not the people that truly mattered when it came to imprisonment, anyways. Even if you could convince your humble squad of your innocence, it would never hold up in the end. Besides that, by the way Graves spoke to you, the way he had looked at you, like you were a fucking bug that needed squashing, told you all you needed to know when it came to fighting against Shepherd's allegations.

You knew, ultimately, that running wasn't going to exactly help your case, but you didn't know what else to do. It felt like everyone had turned against you in a moment. You hadn't even had time to process anything. One moment you were joking with your crew, and Graves scampered off the take a rather important call.

Shepherd, was all he had said before disappearing.

And god, when he came back, red-faced and tense, the accusations poured.

Soap tried to defend you. Ghost fought to question, to figure out what the fuck was happening, but the supposed 'evidence' was apparently damning enough to convince Graves through and through that you were a spy.

A rat.

Ghost's voice, laced with desperation and confusion, when Graves began to 'explain' your betrayal haunted you. More so than the act of being accused of treason, even. You just stared at him, past that skull mask, into those familiar dark eyes. Even now, as you ran for what could possibly be your life, that half-hidden expression was all you could see.

The moment Graves brought up arresting you, and even moved to try and grab you, your brain damn near malfunctioned. Your body reacted on its own.

You fucking ran.

Though you weren't sure how someone had found you, this was the position you were in now. The curtains blew out with the breeze, soft and inviting, almost like it was beckoning your jump. They unfurl before you like great wings, and you stare down at the green grass below. You'd surely be crippled by this fall. If not that, it could very well kill you.

Your heart seizes, your lungs struggle to take in air as panic begins to sets in like vines creeping over your nerves. For a moment, you freeze. There was no other way out.

But then there's a slam on the door behind you, so great that the frame creaks and sharp chunks of wood launch off and scatter onto the floor around you. You flinch and your body once again takes priority over your mind, tossing your leg over the sill and swallowing hard. You're going to have to make the jump for it.

You heave yourself up and over, planting your feet flat on the sill, your entire body shaking with both fear of the leap and the deeper issue at present. One hand braces against the top of the window, the other covering your mouth.

Behind you, the door bursts open. Wood splints and tears as it slams into the wall.

"Enough!" A voice shouts, thick with accent and heavy breaths. "You're going to break every damn bone in your body."

You can practically feel Ghost's gun pointed straight at you. You cringe.

Would he pull the trigger?

"Might as well do it now before someone else does trying to beat a confession out of me that'll never fucking come." You didn't mean for your voice to carry so sharp, so laced with the pain and hurt of being hunted by your own friends.

By Ghost, of all people.

How could he be so fucking blind after everything you'd been through together? You wanted to reach out and smack him upside the head. You'd patched each other up more times than you could count, you trusted him with your life, he'd trusted you with his.

Or so, you had always thought.

But the way he's looking at you has to second guessing.

But, ultimately, you knew the game at play. He was a good soldier- the best. He was a former lone wolf, distrustful to his core. You'd worked so fucking hard to get close with him and now it was all crumbling down. Even if you stayed and explained yourself, there would be no point. You would be arrested, processed, thrown in jail labeled a traitor to your country and more people than not would be celebrating it. You'd never see the light of day- shackled and stuffed into a prison so far off the map that God himself would struggle to find you.

And you would be damned if you were going to just sit there and accept your fate. Even if it meant you appeared just as guilty as Shepherd had painted you. You just needed to get away for a bit, collect yourself, and have the time to figure out what the hell was going on. But it seemed that was never in the cards for you.

The ground below looks menacing, but more forgiving than the fate that awaits you.

You can hear Ghost taking heavy steps forward, and you wonder why he hasn't just come up and ripped you from that sill already.

"Get down," He barks, and you shake at the tone, refusing to look back at him. Defiance shines through as you refuse to climb down.

"I'm not going down for something I didn't do!" Exasperated, your knuckles whitening with your iron grip. It takes what feels like eons to prepare for gravity to play its course, but in reality, it's been mere seconds. You try to force down air through the boulder in your throat.

For a moment, everything stills. You knew the outcome that was bound to come to this. You knew, deep down in your heart, that your fate was not a good one at this point. Either you die on impact, or you'd be wheeled into the interrogation room on a stretcher. That alone makes your skin crawl- interrogation. Knowing you had not a single detail to offer despite the amount of 'tactics' that would be used on you... The torture would essentially be never-ending.

You were well and truly fucked.

"I have to do this." You try to keep your voice level, but it betrays you. You hear Ghost suck in a sharp breath, the sound of his gear shifting. At this point, you don't even care if he shot you. At least you'd die with the person you loved.

"You don't." Ghost's voice is quieter, closer. Now you can really hear it- the sadness. The desolation. It wracks you to your very core.

With a hasty glance over your shoulder, you take in the sight of him. Maybe the last sight of him you'll ever get the chance to see. His looming figure stands feet away, gun still fixated on you. He looks defeated. Or, perhaps, torn. Riding that fence and teetering on the edge between believing you or hauling your ass back to Shepherd kicking and screaming.

Tears well in your eyes when realize his finger isn't even on the trigger. You nod at him sadly.

"I do."

And then, you give yourself to gravity. For a split second, you're weightless. Without much family back home, you found yourself thinking about your squad. How would Soap react? Gaz, or Price? Would they try to find your innocence, or would they take your cowardly actions at face value? Would Graves struggle with the weight of your life if he discovered his manhunt had been unwarranted?

Would Ghost be okay after firsthand witnessing such an awful, selfish act?

Would he ever forgive you?

With a sickening crack, your body slams into the brick wall of the building and you're left dangling in place. Your shoulder screams as you hang, and when you snap your attention toward the searing pain, you see two large hands grasped tight at your wrist and elbow.

"Damn it!"

Ghost's voice reaches you like a bullet had been ripped through your chest. He'd caught you, holding fast and unrelenting. You tried to fight, struggling against him, trying to reach up and pry those fingers away but they didn't budge.

It was over. You'd been caught. You were going to fucking prison and forever labeled a traitor to your country and everyone you ever knew. Everyone you ever fought with, and for, would remember you as a rat. A stain on the fabric of the U.S. Army.

"Let go!" You cry, feeling yourself reeling back into that room with Ghost's unwavering grip. "Just let go!"

Ghost grunts a sharp no before you're hauled up, into the room, and held fast by his arms caging you against him. He crushes you to himself, fingers near digging bruises into your skin and he's shaking you realize. Tears well up and flush past your waterlines, disappearing into the cloth of his gear. You haphazardly beat on his chest with a loosely formed fist.

"They're gonna fucking kill me" You sob. "It's not me, I didn't do anything."

You feel Ghost's arms leave you, and you realize now is when you'll have to surrender. You'll have to hang your head low and saunter away and into the clutches of the armies worst. You're crying into your hands now, not caring what you look like. Not caring this was the first time Ghost had ever truly seen you cry. And god, did you cry.

"Simon, please, I didn't do anything. It wasn't me!"

He's silent as he watches you fall apart right in front of him. Though he uncurls his arms from your shaking frame, he doesn't back away, looking down at you, like he's unsure of what to do. Unsure of what to believe anymore. As you press your forehead to his shoulder, your legs threaten to give out from underneath you.

"Why is this happening." Your voice escapes you as a whimper, broken up with sharp, painful breaths. "What could I have done for someone to do this to me of all people? I know I'm not a saint, but,-" Finally you look up at him, babbling. "Fuck, what do I do?"

Ghost's eyes narrow as he watches you, taking in every word. He places his hands on your shoulders, the first familiar gesture you've felt yet.

"You think you've been framed?" He asks, tone cool despite the waves of emotions in his eyes. You nod.

"That's the only explanation I can think of, but why? I would never do this to my country, my home." You flicker your eyes up to his own. "I would never do this to you."

You can see him trying to work it all out in his brain. Weighing the evidence he'd been presented with versus the fact that he fucking knew you. Knew you like the back of his hand, knew you without even having to think about it. He knew you as he knew himself, and he just knew you wouldn't do this.

"So what is it then." He starts harshly, so terribly confused it brings about anger, like he needs the answer right now because he doesn't know what to do next and time is running thin.

Shaking your head, you shrug. "I don't know. I just-... I know that there's something going on here. Maybe by mistake, maybe intentionally, I don't know. But I didn't fucking do anything."

Ghost digests your words. You continue.

"I just need time to figure it out and I don't have it. I've got 141 and god fucking forbid, the Shadow's coming for this at this point." your face falls. "...Did anyone try to defend me after I left...?"

Ghost stiffens and swallows hard. You nod, laugh hoarsely. Of course.

"It was fast. There wasn't time to think." He offers. It made sense. You wondered what would have happened if anyone found you up here. If it had been Soap, or Gaz. Or Graves.

His eyes are softer now, his breathing leveling. Surely he's made a choice, but you aren't sure of which. You pray it's in your favor, that he realizes that this is you you're talking about. You pray he remembers all the time, the trust. As you watch him, like he's miles away from you, you can't help but notice him staring at you like you're just mere arms reach away.

Like you'd never left his arms at all, actually. Still flush against him a crying mess of pleads and hurt.

"Ghost, how copy?" Grave's voice pipes up from Ghost's radio.

You still. Ghost lingers a moment, like he doesn't want to answer, his eyes dart from his radio and then back to you, and you press your lips into a tight line.

Don't fucking answer it, your mind begs. Don't do this to me.

When Graves repeats himself, urgently this time, Ghost drags the radio begrudgingly up his clothed lips. Mouth running dry, hands shaking, you take a step back.

'Please,' You mouth. Ghost shakes his head and refuses to meet your gaze.

He was going to turn you in, after all.

He was a good soldier.

You, in that moment, recall the moments you spend side by side with this man. This scary, intimidating man, that you'd found comfort in. The person you plucked from the litter and thought to yourself, this one.

And he hadn't wanted you in. You bulldozed your way through until he found himself picking you out in crowds, remembering all those little things about you that no one else seemed to give a damn about. Waiting for you in the morning, sharing his thoughts and time.

You had always hoped, in another world, you two could enjoy life without all the pain together. A life outside of the army.

Surely, it would have been enough.

Face downcast, you hear him take a breath to speak.

"Clear." He says. "No sign."

There was no stopping the tears that spilled down your cheeks at that moment, mouth covered to muffle yourself, crouching down as your knees shook.

"Sonofa bitch! Regroup back at point A." Graves says with a sigh.

"Copy." Ghost says quickly, shoving his radio back into his belt. He takes a knee in front of you, and his hands cup the side of your wet face. You eye him, babbling thank you over and over again, sick with fear, gratitude, and confusion. A cocktail that left an unnaturally horrendous taste on your lips. He retrieves a hand just long enough to set his knife down o the floor in front of you.

"Now you've got time." He says matter-of-factly, but you can still sense that urgency in his words. He wants you to escape. To figure this out and come back to him his friend and partner.

He takes your discarded radio and switches it to the proper channel so you could keep tabs on their whereabouts and plans. The voices of your squad chatter on the line, Soap's voice above all wondering how the fuck this was even happening. Bless his heart, he even mentioned being worried for you, which was quickly shot down by Graves reminding him of your betrayal.

As Ghost crouches before you, massive, all-powerful it seemed, you watch his eyes. He pats your cheek. His gloved finger points to the window.

"Ever try a stunt like that again, I'll kill you myself." He bites. You nod, struggling to compose yourself. He stands and your mind begs for him to stay, to be with you during this, but you know he can't.

He lingers in the doorway like he's thinking the same thing.

"I will... Do what I can. Watch your back, soldier."

And then he's gone, and It's silent save for your harsh breaths. You shakily pull yourself up from the floor, grasping the knife he'd given you- his favorite blade entrusted to you. You'd wait for nightfall and make a run for it, find shelter day by day, and hopefully reconnect with him somewhere to go over what the hell was going on.

You prayed he'd find a way to convince them of your innocence, ask the right questions to the right people, and have more players in your court.

It would likely be your only way out of this awful nightmare.

#mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod mw2

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koostarcandy · 1 year

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whole damn world

summary: a night where jungkook and you just can't fall asleep. ensue the cutest night you've ever had, including karaoke, chicken, watching modern family and loving on your adorable son.

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, fluff and fluff.

wc: 923 words (issa baby 🤕)

a/n: guess who's gonna drop this and then pull a jungkook :]

"you're just fake snoring now, it doesn't even help!"

"i counted 837 sheep, sprayed our pillow mist and even played the dreamy lofi playlist we made and it got over. i have to resort to other measures, sweetheart."

you gasp, sitting up and throwing off the comforter, suddenly running to the living room. jungkook's tired brain short circuits, glancing around the room to see if you running wasn't something he dreamt of.

"baby?" he throws on a tshirt and quickly follows after you, "why are you running? did we miss an episode or something?"

"you said we tried everything but you forgot one thing, silly!" your eyes look akin to those of a detective who's pieced a puzzle they've been chasing to solve, fingers rapidly flying over your keyboard. he watches you in amusement and adoration, settling behind you and wrapping his arms around you. his eyes match yours now when he finds you ordering chicken from his new favourite restaurant.

"damn," jungkook lets out, "soy garlic chicken supremacy, okay?" he says aggressively and cutely, you note, his furrowed eyebrows letting you know that he was finishing the box, even if the moon laid to rest and the sun came up to start its daily duties. you're absentmindedly tracing the clock tattoo on his upper arm, midnight chicken and beer getting you quiet and sentimental.

your human pillow notices the comfortable silence from you, starry eyes following gloria delgado's rant about how the men in her family don't talk to her. "can see and feel you staring, koo." you turn your head to his side, lips lifted up at his adoring attention, eyes still focused on the tv. jungkook removes his gloves, downing the last of his beer. he nuzzles your neck, taking your homey and comforting scent. he pulls you impossibly closer, scattering kisses on your neck, tracing up to your cheeks. your eyes finally fall on his, peeking through his long bangs. its at level 3 now, you remind him proudly everyday, tying tiny braids and squishing his cheeks for your weekly change of wallpaper.

"you wanna play with my hair, don't you?" jungkook reads your mind, smiling when you nod sheepishly, already taking out the silk scrunchie which was holding his hair back in a sprout. he sits in between your legs, settling in comfortably. this is one of your favourite activities, carding your fingers through his soft and silky hair, watching the curls bounce when you brush through them.

you have nothing particular bothering you today, watching him grab the remote and shift to youtube, pulling up the karaoke version of dreamers, "lemme put on a show, baby, just for you," he says sincerely, getting up and letting bam sit on your lap now. he waits for the song to start, laughing when he looks at you looking unbelievably small behind bam.

you both never fail to cheer him on, giving him song requests and watching bam run around him, keeping up with his intense choreography. jungkook dramatically falls on you, giggling at your open mouth, mind still stuck on his sudden cover of unholy. "cat got your tongue, sweetheart?" you punch his arm weakly, "you've had too much to drink tonight, honey," you retort back, laughing at your equally weak attempt to get him back. he straddles your lap, letting himself fall on you like a weighted blanket. and he's your favourite type, made of love and cosy comfort.

you look down on him, the beer chugging finally catching up with him, his droopy eyes catching yours. "hi, my love," he giggles, turning his head to find bam nosing him, "and hello, my bamie!" he sits up slightly so he could shower the pup with kisses, booping his brown nose with his finger.

you watch the interaction with endeared eyes, finding your day incomplete without seeing the both of them, happy and content. you weren't planning on crying tonight, it wasn't in today's plot of your unusual night and you certainly didn't expect tears to fall down like waterfalls down your cheeks when you hear jungkook say, "you both are part of the most important people in my life, never forget that, okay?"

you immediately lift your arm to cover your eyes, sniffling and crying like your husband just returned from war. said husband from war is on you in an instant, holding your face tenderly. "i didn't mean to make you cry," he says, leaning his forehead on yours and willing himself to not cry. "happy tears, koo, we're fine," you reassure him, pulling back to place a kiss on his lips. you push his hair back from his forehead, tying his hair in a loose ponytail. his eyes trace your feature with starry fondness, pulling your neck so you're looking at him again.

jungkook sighs, making you tilt your head to the side in curiosity. he kisses you tenderly, leaving another one on your forehead.

"bamie, house, it's late and i just remembered we have to go to the doc's, so sleepy time, okay?" he says firmly yet gently, giving the doberman a forehead kiss. he doesn't go until he gets his customary forehead pat from you, which you lovingly give him promptly.

"he knocked out quickly," jungkook says quietly, getting up and settling on the couch. he pulls you up so you're on his lap now, nosing his way to your neck and sighing in content. "he got that from me," you say, giggling when you get a playful glare and apologizing half-heartedly, squishing his cheeks in retaliation when he starts tickling you.

jungkook holds your waist, making you go still, "god," he breathes, "how is it that when i look at you, i see the whole damn world?"

pt time: @armys-dna ; @junsai-tree ; @soobhyun ; @shatzkrinslinzki ; @jinsquishes ; @cherishoshi ; @fragmentof-indifference ; @indgio ; @jjkeverlast ; @parkdatjimin ; @yoogijk ; @starlight-1010

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff fanfic #jungkook scenarios #bts jungkook #bts jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts oneshot #bts imagine #lessgo i finally wrote smth #pat on my back for writing this #and finishing one semester how did i do that #okay bye <3 #mwah ily

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totothewolff · 4 months

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Season of Love (5/?)

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal, romance, comedy, and some good drama.

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you tell Toto: "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That's the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong? Author's note: This is a multichapter Toto Wolff x team principal reader fic set along a season of F1. It's a very immersive story full of drivers, team dynamics, races, mystery, and smut. You just bought the Williams team, but nobody really knows who you truly are.

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Dances with Wolff Arc Chapter 5: Cold tires, warm heart

The weather stays cold all day long at Silverstone; the crisp air bites your skin, causing shivers down your spine, and your breath forms small clouds before you as you walk briskly to the campsite area where the luxury motorhomes & RVs are parked, yours included, huddled in layers of warm clothing, feeling drained as the rest of the grid feels, seeking an opportunity to lay down and rest.

Everyone warned you the mid-season was tough on the body, and they were right! As you drag yourself inside your luxurious, trendy, and sophisticated RV. The sleek and clean design aesthetic greets you; it's a zen monochromatic color scheme space full of high-end finishes, innovative storage solutions, elegant sofas, and a large comfy bed with a kitchenette and bathroom, creating the perfect getaway place for you away of the chaos at the paddock.

You share your location and access code with Toto, but he doesn't reply to your text. You assume he must be busy, so you fall soundly asleep on the bed there until you feel a pair of muscular arms hug and softly spoon you, half-waking you up.

You feel Toto's firm body against yours, with no inch of space between you two, as he wraps you in a tender and affectionate display of intimacy; your bodies intertwine as he seeks your warmth.

—I missed you so much —you turn to tell him, kissing him softly. —It feels wrong not having you by my side —you find the courage to let Toto know how you felt these past days without him, breaking the room's quietness, then burying your face in his neck, feeling shy and vulnerable and softly smooching it.

He caresses your cheek with his index finger and slowly kisses your lips, leaving you breathless after a few minutes.

Toto seems exhausted as you peek at him while patiently waiting for him to comment on your confession, but he only looks pensively at your words as he rests his temple on yours. You sense his right hand caressing down your arm on its way to hold your hand. Then he pulls you closer to his chest, where you get cozy and fall asleep again.

One text, two texts, five texts.

—She is not answering —Michael says, a bit taken out.

One call, two calls, five calls.

—He is not answering —Niki says, quite concerned.

Once again, you wake up after a bit, feeling dozy and disoriented as you hear an iPhone ringing in the distance, still nestled in Toto's embrace, overwhelmed with tranquility and happiness but fucking annoyed at that damn ringtone.

The softness of the bed, the heat of Toto's closeness, and the gentle rise and fall of his breaths make it a cozy heaven you don't want to leave, but that goddamn annoying phone doesn't let you nap and is about to wake him up too, and you want him to rest.

So you bravely drag yourself to your feet, hating life, and walk straight to Toto's duffel travel bag to search for his iPhone buzzing inside. To your surprise, you find it next to a torn and used voucher for "Cocktails for 2" at The Savoy Hotel in London, along with his passport.

As you pick up his phone to turn it off, you wake it and notice that Toto still hasn't changed his wallpaper; he appears there posing in a pottery studio couple session, all smiley, with Susie wrapped in his arms, both of them looking in love and joyful as the professional camera lens captures their handsomeness, they look like they belong together.

You can't avoid the sting of pain and insecurity washing you over, but you take the thought off. It's probably nothing, you try to convince yourself. So you finish turning his phone off and leaving it where you found it.

Then you turn off yours, ignoring all the red bubbles in it, on your way back to Toto's arms. All you want right now is him and you, and fuck the rest of the world. This "relationship," if you can call it that, is meant to crash soon, so you want to hang on to it as much as possible.

Two hours have passed since then, and Toto's hands are now roaming across your back, guiding your movements as you are in a cowgirl position on him. At the same time, his tongue dances erotically with your tongue, adding a sweet and sinful layer to your passionate embrace.

Your moans echo throughout the RV, blending perfectly with the rhythmic creaking of the bed frame beneath you. Toto's breathing grows heavier as you ride him hungrily, showing how much you miss him.

As he explores your curves, Toto begs you: —Bounce on my cock —with a voice husky with desire and with trembling hands, and you give him what he craves, exploding with pleasure as each time more desperately you go up and down his shaft.

Your nipples stiffen, them peeking out from beneath the fabric of your dress; this time, you didn't even care to take all of your clothes off; they were begging for his attention. Toto can't resist it; he leans in, pulls down the upper part of your dress, and captures one in his mouth, sucking it gently as his tongue teases its sensitive tip.

—Oh, God! —you cry, arching your back with pleasure. —That feels heavenly.

Toto releases your breast, looking up at you with a sultry grin. —Wait till it's my turn to show you how much I missed you —he purrs, hands dancing all over your ass.

As you are about to reach an orgasm, you can't escape the guilty thought in the back of your mind. —We shouldn't even be here, less doing this —you say in between tiny breaths and moaning a bit. —It was irresponsible for me to text you to come over —you protest weakly. —This could be no good for our careers —releasing a big moan as you finish the sentence, not being able to stop rocking yourself on Toto, moving now your hips in circles. His dick is so hard, and it feels so delicious all the way inside you.

Toto shrugs nonchalantly, then growls, his eyes smoldering lustfully, enjoying the sight of you going all over him. —I was planning to look for you anyway. Do you want us to stop and leave? —he replies, out of breath.

—No.

Toto gives you an "I agree" in the form of thrust, hitting you with such force that causes you to scream out in pleasure and unstabilize you, making you quickly place both of your hands on his chest to not fall on his face.

Then, his strong arms wrap you around the waist, holding you steady as he moves in rhythmic strokes that push your boundaries. Each withdrawal leaves you craving more, and each entry pleases you; he starts speeding up, making you moan out his name many times as the sounds of your body colliding fill the air. It's a symphony of pure passion.

—You make me feel so... complete... and free... and loved —You gasp out, voice shaking as Toto's powerful thrusts drive you deeper into the realm of satisfaction.

For some reason, feelings are bursting out of you in the form of words lately, freeing your thoughts without thinking much about the repercussions, being weirdly open and sincere for once in your life. Maybe it's because your period is near, and you always feel more emotional around that time; you lie to yourself, not wanting to admit falling for him because you know it will hurt more when it's over, which is sadly approaching.

It's not only the sexual part that makes you feel so whole with him. It's also his small displays of affection, his caring texts every morning to know how you slept, to let you know you are one of his first thoughts of the day, or the long conversations about anything you two share, the pictures you send to each other of the most mundane things to share life.

That makes you always feel him present and being taken care of. Also, the many times you advise each other, from billionaire businessman to billionaire businesswoman, or the quiet moments when you two are silently wrapped in each other's arms, just enjoying your presence and bodies.

—Toto, I'm so close! —you moan loud as he manhandles you around; you feel yourself dripping and so warm, like your pussy is burning. Your pussy folds, rubbing around Toto's shaft, who positions himself to pound you against the mattresses.

Then you feel him shifting his entire weight on you, topping you, and placing his thumb finger inside your mouth for you to suck it. —Then cum for me —he whispers, hot against your ear. He starts to fuck you hard like that, making your ass wable, and the bed squeaks so loud as he pins you down against the sheets, but all get muffled by the sounds he is provoking you to release. You feel a bit of pain in your hips and lower back as he slaps hard against you.

With a big moan, you cum all over him, all red and sweaty.

Toto has never had this before, someone so willing to please him, in all senses, someone so light-spirited and carefree. He is trying so hard not to fall for you, too. You please him like no one else in bed but also outside of it. You are the whole fucking package.

If change didn't fright him, he would be willing to try.

He would venture for more if he weren't so scared of failure.

Toto feels a responsibility for Susie and her feelings and heart; she counts on him for this, and Toto has never missed his duties since he was a young man, even if his heart desires something else.

He ended up agreeing to try the "open relationship thing" after saying no to it at first and breaking things with Susie because she showed up very distressed one night at his hotel room door, crying and saying how much she still loves him and how hard this is, that he shouldn't punish her for not wanting children. Toto felt so guilty; that wasn't his intention, but what if she was right?

But you happened in the middle of this. By accident or destiny is a cruel joker. This fling started like that, and it was supposed to stay there, not this.

He pays attention to you more than you think; he has noticed the meaning and sentiment of your words lately and can't avoid feeling guilty for not being as open and honest as you deserve and how you are being. But Toto knows you will end it as soon as he lets you know you are his free pass on an open relationship agreement, so he is hanging on to you as much as possible. It's selfish and wrong, but he doesn't know how to quit you, how to say no to this, how to say goodbye.

Only if Toto knew.

Only if you knew.

—Is Torger still in London?! —Niki asks out loud, now absolutely annoyed, addressing Sam in the middle of the circus inside the Mercedes garage as he tries to manage everyone for the opening ceremony of the F1 anniversary race, set to start in about 20 minutes.

Toto is always on time and never misses something without previous notice; this is uncharacteristic. Niki hadn't seen him all day; they had different schedules.

Lewis and George are scheduled to make donuts driving along with the other grid drivers. They all will do the same simultaneously to create a fog while AC/DC performs on a high-stage platform.

—Toto is here. I saw him a couple of hours ago. His phone seems out of reach —Sam has sworn never to lie to Niki. She quickly picks up her phone to call you, knowing you are also missing after being asked for the fourth time by several Williams team members if she had seen you around. WHAT A COINCIDENCE! It is evident for her where you two are.

Since you don't answer the texts she bombards you with, she takes action and puts her feet in motion.

"You can't act this recklessly!" Sam thinks and looks visibly irritated. People are going to start wondering, especially when you two idiots arrive late with "we just fucked" hair and satisfied expressions at the paddock, and God forbids you two to show up together at the same time! Or worse, you two do not arrive at all.

Sam shows up at your RV's door, almost tearing it down, betting Toto and you were in there this whole time.

—Are you mental?! —Sam tells you, looking stressed, as the door's mechanism finishes opening.

—I'm sorry —you honestly apologize, knowing quite well what she refers to.

—Niki is furious! —she informs you, still at the bottom of the stairs and out of the RV's entrance, with no visible intention to come in. —Toto is still in there? —she asks in a low voice, pointing with her head.

You nod.

She comes closer to you, almost whispering to your ear. —Please don't get offended. I love you, but I know you are not here because of the sport, nor do you care which team wins or not; I know this is not your actual job. But please, could you...

You interrupt Sam, finishing for her in a sad tone. —Not interfere?

—I... —Sam sighs; she doesn't want to blame you or make you feel bad; she gets it, knows what you are going through, and wants more than anyone else for you to be happy. —Listen, our team is working its ass off; there are thousands of us relying on performing the best, and this is our livelihood; it worries me that this could...

—It won't happen again; I get it. I know we acted unprofessional. Sam, you understand how hard it has been for me... I'm just... I'm just trying to enjoy life for the first time, to feel happy and free for once; YES! I'm sorry it wasn't the place or the moment, but...

—I know, I know —she quickly adds. —Listen —Sam gets a little nervous and hesitates before adding. —I think you two, really, should talk openly and honestly about your "situation." I don't wish any of you hurt. Please talk —she sounds insistent, which worries you a bit.

—Yeah. Okay. I agree.

—Are you showing up for this Massi's wet dream? —Sam tries to lift the mood and return to the main topic.

—Toto is —you inform her. —He is finishing getting ready in the bathroom. I'm not. I will watch it at the hotel —now is your turn to come closer to Sam's ear and whisper. —I have to prepare for the call; Pascal set the meeting at 2 a.m., and we will rerun the scenario.

—It's good to know; I hope it all goes as planned and well —Sam says, looking relieved as she hugs you goodbye and leaves before bumping into Toto.

Toto claims "food poisoning" to excuse himself and that he spent hours feeling nauseous at his motorhome, as he makes it just in time at the garage. It's a white lie everyone buys. Actually, this happened once to him in Spain after going out for dinner.

Niki notices he has far too much color on his cheeks, for that matter, but chooses to let it go. Toto has been far more than responsible for many years, which has significantly cost him a lot in his personal life; Niki feels he deserves and needs some recklessness and happiness in his life. So, he plays along.

He softly pats Toto's shoulder and gives him a small smile as he sits beside him at the workstation and places his headphones and gear on.

The show is about to start.

The F1 anniversary's opening ceremony is the most glamorous affair! Bringing together a star-studded guest list of celebrities, like every big name, is there.

And there are way too many influencers wandering around the garages for Michael's likes; he lets you know as soon as you call him back, excusing yourself for leaving the circuit, calling it a personal emergency.

Minutes later, you turn on your hotel room's TV to watch the start of the ceremony. A spectacular video mapping and drone display showcases the sport's rich history on the circuit track. It displays iconic footage on the many kilometers of asphalt as broadcast to millions of viewers worldwide.

This is followed by a visually captivating driver's parade in which current drivers donned old-fashioned racing suits representing different eras of their teams, paying homage to the evolution of the sport as they get driven around interloped with cars with performers giving it all and working the crowds, till they make it to the main stage, where AC/DC comes out to close the show.

In the middle of their set, all the grid drivers exhibit their coordination skills, making donuts together as the cherry on the cake, leaving fans ecstatic. You must admit it looked so cool. Massi must be shitting his pants!

Your room service order comes just in time as the race starts; you asked for too many desserts and sweets along with your salmon; you are feeling low and are taking comfort in the delicious food you savor, an unhealthy habit of yours, eating your feelings.

Toto let you know before leaving, in between kisses, that he was attending a Mercedes team dinner after the race to celebrate with the team so that you would be sleeping alone tonight. You were so grateful for it, avoiding the trouble of making out an excuse to be able to attend the late-night meeting in private.

Sam is right; you aren't taking any of this seriously enough.

The entire Mercedes team gathers in one of the most glamorous and lavish restaurants in London, "Amazónico." It is the coolest place Sam has been in a while, full of foliage-festooned walls and decor inspired by the rainforest of Brazil. Gorgeous velvets, greenery environments, and deco touches give the place an exotic yet luxurious vibe.

The mechanics and engineers, usually in their sports attire, look sharp in elegant outfits, and the mood is ON! Drinks flow as Toto gives a motivational speech to start the night, congratulating the team for their performance so far and inspiring them to give their all to secure the championship, acknowledging the fierce competition from Williams and Ferrari.

Susie and Toto are by the bar; she is sitting on the stool with her arms resting on the shoulders of a standing Toto as they chat, almost mouth-on-mouth, looking joyful.

Niki looks bemused as he watches them from afar, already sitting at the main large table the venue arranged for them and where they are about to have dinner. He addresses Sam, sitting to his right, without moving his gaze from the couple. —Weren't they..?

—Apparently, they are not —Sam gives him a look as she looks for something in her purse.

Niki looks as disappointed and surprised as she is as he nods to her, lets out a small, barely audible sigh, and sips his bourbon.

As Sam gets hammered with Bono and Annalise, Toto reaches them at the booth near the back of the place. He stays on his feet, waiting for them to finish their round of shots on a spinner wheel, and then bends to talk to a very comfortable, sitting, and tipsy-looking Sam with pink-red cheeks.

—What are your plans for tomorrow? —he asks her a bit loud, over the set the DJ is playing.

—Nothing, just chilling and recovering from this night; why?

—To hang out and tourist around, like we always do or did, how about that?

—Aw, you miss me, asshole?

—You are a necessary evil, but yeah, I miss you.

—Why does everyone seem so emotional lately? I hope it's not contagious.

—We have lots to catch on to; I feel it's been ages and pure work between us.

—Please tell me if it's terminal.

—No, you moron, I'm totally fine —he swings his hand a bit too hard, spilling some of his drink.

"Then tell your eyes, liar! Yeah, all drunk at a work event? Sure, you are TOTALLY fine," Sam thinks. —I'm free, then. Will she join us?

—Who? —Toto looks taken off guard, thinking of you instead of Susie, whom Sam refers to.

—Sus, since she is around again.

—Sam, I...

—Oh, no, it's none of my business. I would rather it that way; I'm just asking.

—No, she isn't; it will be just us.

—Good —she ends the conversation.

"Is Sam mad at me? She sounded like it." Toto thinks. It's always hard to read her.

As the night is about to end and everyone seems drunk, Toto comes to cool down and relax after being forced to hit the dance floor against his will. He is not feeling it tonight, so he chooses to sit next to Niki and chat with him.

Toto is not on his usual dumb and lively drunk ass; he is weirdly somber. In the middle of their casual conversation, Niki asks him: —So, who changed their mind? —knowing what's up as he looks at Susie dance with George.

—About?

—Having children.

There is a long silence while Toto looks at Susie, laughing and throwing some moves around the dancefloor.

—I'm giving it a try.

Niki slowly nods and says nothing, and Toto stares at him. He recognizes Niki's disappointed face when he sees it, and Toto takes another big sip of his drink, swallowing hard.

You wake up late the following day after falling asleep around 5 a.m. once the call ends, feeling emotionally drained and not wanting to leave the bed. But when in Rome, you mean London. Nothing will lift your spirits more than going shopping; you are a shoes and purses maniac, and that new Miu Miu collection screams your name.

You are in the middle of buying half of Harrods when you receive a text from Toto.

"I won't be able to stay with you these days as I was hoping, I'm expected at Brackley. See you on the weekend. I miss you already."

Great, just what you needed.

Still in the UK

The British GP is here! And most of you already feel like you had enough Silverstone already.

Since Lewis swept the floor with everyone on the anniversary race, a similar result is expected for this weekend.

The FIA calls you all into one of the now traditional meetings, but this time around, Massi is expected to join in.

So when you arrive at that sad meeting room, he is standing right there next to the door; you are the last one to join, so he is facing you while waiting for you to finish stepping in to close the door after you, and you don't let go an opportunity like that.

As you step in, you hand him your coat and purse as if he were the receptionist and thank him, motioning to tip him as the entire room laughs.

Massi looks so confused and appalled at you, getting taken entirely off guard, but follows along, not knowing what else to do, or if you are serious or just messing around, still holding your things in his hands, and places your coat on the hanger and your purse on the empty chair next to yours.

—The nerve —Sebastian tells you in a low voice and takes a discrete bow at you with his hands as you sit on your chair next to his. Vettel is hiding behind Charles in the row in front of him, trying so hard not to burst out laughing. Both your eyes sparkle as your looks lock and smile at each other. Seb has the most gorgeous eyes on earth.

Then the meeting starts.

After being freed from that, you are walking down the pitlane on your way to free practice, chatting and fooling around with Carlos, Lando, and Mick, but suddenly, you stop just meters away from the Mercedes' slot.

Lewis and George join you as soon as they notice you guys and come out of their garage, staring amusedly at a very frozen you as they reach you.

—Is that..? —you say, peeking inside the Merc's garage. —Oh, my God! Is that ROGER FEDERER?! —you let out in a funny and pitchy little scream.

George starts to laugh behind his hand, covering his mouth. You sound hilarious, and he looks at you in delight as you act all star-struck. Who would tell?

Carlos takes a few steps nearer you and closes your mouth, softly pushing your chin up with his index finger. —You are drooling —he jokes.

You go all red, tomato red, as you return to your senses.

Lewis sees the perfect opportunity for mayhem. —Oh, I'm so introducing you two! —He returns to the garage as quickly as possible to look for Roger.

—WHAT!? NONO! —you say way too loud as you watch him go, causing a couple of mechanics to raise their heads and look your way.

Lewis abruptly interrupts the engaging conversation Federer is having with Toto.

You start hyperventilating as Lewis walks alongside Roger straight in your direction. Toto observes the scene from the distance, with his muscular arms crossed. You feel his dark eyes on you.

You can't even form a greeting sentence when the Swiss introduces himself to you. A funny sound comes from your lips that sounds like a "Hi!"

Millie looks at you, astonished, as she comes closer with Normani after the guys pointed at her with their hands and arms a "Come see this, please." She pivots her gaze from you to Normani and back with an "I think she broke" expression.

Meanwhile, your brain goes: "Roger is tall, hot, hot. Jesus, that smile! Is that chest real? Oh god, don't you dare peek down at his grey sweatpants!" as you stand there like an idiot without moving or saying something.

There are a couple more seconds of pure and awkward silence till Lando's stupid, mocking little laugh gets you out of your trance. Oh, the group is living for this!

—Delighted to meet you, Roger. I'm Y/N!

The group burst out laughing at your expense, enjoying the spectacle from afar, watching you try to act human around Federer until he turns his head their way. Now, they are all gathered together, sensing their stares, and the group quickly goes apart, acting like nothing has happened, returning to their activities.

—Is it me, or is Wolff not enjoying their interaction? —Normani asks Millie as they both intertwine arms and walk away together.

—Toto!? —Millie turns her head, looking back at a serious-looking Austrian inside the garage. —I don't think so. He always looks serious. I guess it's just his resting face, but he is such a cinnamon roll.

—A cinnamon roll? What language do you speak?

—English, Miss Posh Britain Got Talent.

Normani rolls her eyes at her. She is bonkers.

—In my defense... —you start to tell the table later, as all of you try to fit into a tiny table in the McLaren cafeteria; this time, Lando is sponsoring the lunch, and as you munch your veggies wrap.

—There's no defense —Carlos mocks you.

You toss your arms in the air, mouth still full of food, to protest as everyone laughs again at your interaction with Federer.

—We witnessed one of your canonic events —Mick jokes, making Millie almost fall from her half of the chair they are sharing.

—Oh, it was hilarious —Lewis adds.

—A masterpiece —Lando admits. —That coming from me —he points at himself with a thumb finger. —It means A LOT.

You finish passing the food and clear out your throat before continuing. —In my defense, Roger was wearing the slutiest thing a man could wear, and my brain was trying to process it.

All the boys look inquisitive at you with a please tell us more face.

—The grey sweatpants! —Millie and Normani answer for you simultaneously, agreeing with your statement.

—See! —you give them all a funny face.

—I still don't get it —Lando says.

—OH GOD! Go put on a pair of grey pantsuits and look down at your dick, and tell us —Sam teases him, done with him.

—Don't you remember that viral Lewis "I have an anaconda down here" mirror Instagram selfie with the grey sweatpants? —Millie says.

—That a friend told you about! —Seb jokes, addressing Millie.

—THAT A FRIEND OF HERS TOLD HER ABOUT! That that friend isn't me —Normani joins in the fun.

—With all due respect, Sir —Millie adds, looking at Lewis, who is laughing and trying to hide his red face in the gap his flexed arms are creating, lying on the table's surface.

—So... Do you like your men in grey sweatpants? Good thing I have four of those to wear —Lando tells you, moving his eyebrows suggestively up and down several times.

—OH GOD, PLEASE NOT! —the entire table screams.

Toto joins you that night in your hotel room; the two of you don't feel like doing anything fancy; just spend the evening together. After playing a competitive round of "Talk, Flirt, and Dare," as you stack up the board game cards for the next round, he asks you. —So, Tennis? Of all sports... Tennis?!

—Yeah, it's fun! —you slowly approach Toto; he is sitting on the rug next to the game placed on the coffee table between you in the living area, looking comfortable, relaxed, and shirtless after taking a dare card, currently only wearing his briefs.

You slide a hand on his neck and chest before sitting on his lap, facing him. He wraps your waist with his toned arms and pulls you closer. Whispering against your lips —How?

—Well

—If you say so... —he shrugs. —For me, it's boring; there's not much adrenaline in it.

—Well, not all sports have to be lethal, you know? I thought you would like it since it is fast-paced —you make a thinking gesture by rubbing your chin.

—You have seen him play?

—Who? —you reply, trying to act dumb.

—Federer —he says pretty sternly.

—Several times, yeah.

—Are you one of those girls who follow him around? He told me about his groupies —he teases, but there is a jealous undertone.

—What? No, no. I don't like him like that.

Toto gives you a look that you read as "Really, girl? Closed fist, big long acrylic nails." —Uhm! If I remember correctly, you went all over him today; I think I have never seen you smile that big before —he adds. —You must look delighted in those selfies you took with him before you gave him that private tour of the Williams garage. Did he really get into the car? He passed with us. Did he like the driver's helmet you gifted him?

How on earth did Toto know about all that? That man has eyes everywhere.

—Hey, listen, I met one of my heroes FOR THE FIRST TIME and, AND, I got a bit excited! —you comb your hair with your hand. Toto's eyes can't avoid peeking at your tits as they wiggle with your arm movement. You also ended up shirtless; that sheer bra leaves nothing to the imagination.

Then he arches an eyebrow at your answer. A "bit excited" is downplaying. —He made you lose words, at first, then got you all over him, but sure "a bit excited", so, he looks better up close, or..?

—AND I got carried away. I admit it was a little embarrassing —Yep, Toto is envious. —He is okay, yeah. Are you jealous?

—Yes, completely —he purrs dangerously against your mouth, and you feel his warm breath brushing your lips. —Lucky for me, that guy is off the market —he looks intensely at you.

You kiss Toto, melting for him inside. —I wouldn't pick him over you —you pause to reassure him and keep kissing him. —I wouldn't pick anyone else over you —more kissing. —You are all I want.

Toto reacts weirdly. He gives you a look you don't know how to read; it's full of devotion, but there's something else, like anger. Is he that possessive, or is there something else?

You feel like following Sam's advice, and this may be the perfect moment for it.

But he senses you are about to open a conversation he isn't ready to have. Toto hates himself for it, so he quickly and softly moves you to get on his feet and asks you if you want another glass of wine. He is already taking your glass and walking to the winery, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

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hanakoofthejungle · 2 months

Text

HuskerDust watercolor fanart based on the fanfiction, Casino of Love by @artwaterfall. The fanfiction, in turn, was inspired by the Overlord Husk AU created by @celestialalpacaron.

Drawing timelapse

This scene comes from Chapter 15 where Husk and Angel went on their first date at Fizzmodeus' restaurant. They had lobsters. Angel did not know how to eat a lobster so Husk came to the rescue. Basically, they just abused the hell out of that poor dead creature. (It occurred to me: Where does the lobster's soul go? Does it end up in hell, watching its body being consumed?)

---

Angel tried again to pry the shell off still looking over to the side. “Am I doing it?”

Husk barked a laugh so loud the pianist looked up frowning.

“Ya gotta look at what ya doing.”

“Ugh,” Angel deflated and let the lobster rest on the plate, “ maybe I shouldn't have lobster.”

“Here,” Husk got up and walked behind his chair. He laid his hand over Angel's and resumed trying to pry the poor crustacean body.

Angel blushed at the proximity, Husk was practically whispering into his ear about the damn lobster but Angel had trouble focusing with the overlord's hand on his own.

Still Angel butchered the first half of his lobster and screamed in joy a little too loud at having half of it done. People downstairs looked up at them again, frowning.

Husk was still helping him with the second half, juices and lobster bits flying everywhere at Angel clumsiness but every time they joined stares at each other, he would find the cat laughing along with him.

---

Now why did I choose this scene to draw? Because it is fun, simple, wholesome couple interaction and very relatable. It reminds me of the time when I had lobster for the first time in Brussels, spending more time to crack open the lobster than actually enjoying the dish. Turns out lobster did not taste that great, but at the least the group of elderly American at the next table got a good laugh out of watching me and my friend absolutely butcher that lobster :)))

Having never watched Helluva Boss, I had to look up what the inside of that place looks like, but mistakes ensure due to that very wrong heart shape and lack of patterns on the wallpaper. I was lazy but hey at least I got that lamp thingy on the table right :))) As usual, the clothes are the focal point of my fanarts, "a beautiful deep blue, floor length dress, there was only one shoulder strap and a lace veil came from it all the way to the floor behind his shoulder" and "freshly pressed black suit with a deep blue tie that matched Angel's dress". Husk's suit in this drawing is not actually black but a mix of ultramarine and sepia. I usually don't use colors straight out of the pan, but mixing them. I made an exception in this with the lake red color of Husk's wing. I forgot to draw the wings before I did the line art, so I need the color at its strongest to cover the line art which was not supposed to be there.

My tools still include pencil and Leningrad watercolor. I have been using that watercolor set for over 10 years and it is still the best watercolor set I have ever had. This time I use the Blue Uni-ball pen by Mitsubishi Pencil instead of black M&G gel pen. The line art looks much smoother and the waterproof blue ink added a nice touch to the drawing. I expect nothing less from one of the best pen manufacturers out there.

#hazbin hotel #huskerdust #husker x angel dust #overlord husk #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x husk #hazbin hotel husker #husk hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #angel dust hazbin hotel #vivziepop

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wambsgansshoelaces · 4 months

Note

Could you maybe do a headcanon on succession S/O who still sleep with a stuffed animal? 😭

remember the stuffed animal I won in vegas that I named jeremey? he’s in bed with me every night LOL

thank you for requesting anon, I love you very much <3 I hope you love it!! I think this is my favorite headcanon drabble I’ve written :) enjoy xx

stuffed animal (succession main cast)

Kendall

ᝰ when you first move in, your stuffie makes its presence known on the bed you and ken share

ᝰ ken obsessively makes the bed every morning

ᝰ so he comes back from work and sees the stuffie perched on top of the folded back duvet

ᝰ “who’s this?” he asks, climbing onto the couch next to you

ᝰ you notice your stuffie cradled in his arms

ᝰ he leans into you and holds it out in front of you both

ᝰ you tell him the plushie’s name

ᝰ and you talk about how you’ve just always had it

ᝰ and it helps you when it’s around

ᝰ he pats the thing on the head

ᝰ you both settle into living with each other

ᝰ it’s the happiest you’ve ever been

ᝰ and as the years go by, you get engaged, then married

ᝰ and your collection of stuffed animals grows and grows

ᝰ whenever he leaves you for more than a day at a time, he comes back home with a stuffed animal for you

ᝰ among other things, anyway

ᝰ and years and years later, when he has your kids cradled in his lap, he tells them the story of each and every plushie in the house

ᝰ because he remembers them all

ᝰ the first one that came with you, and then every single one he bought you after it

Roman

ᝰ at first he thinks it’s weird

ᝰ and he makes fun of you

ᝰ but he doesn’t actually think of you any differently

ᝰ “it’s an emotional support thing, ro.”

ᝰ and he gets that

ᝰ he doesn’t actually mean anything mean that he says

ᝰ honestly he isn’t even mean about it

ᝰ he loves you very much; he just takes every opportunity to tease you

ᝰ one night, though, you come home from work really, really late

ᝰ roman’s already snoring softly in bed

ᝰ usually you both stay up for each other so you can fall asleep together, cuddled up

ᝰ but it’s so late you’d texted him earlier and urged him to go to bed

ᝰ reluctantly, you had

ᝰ you change, wash your face, brush your teeth

ᝰ you get into bed with him, doing your best to press up against him

ᝰ but then you realize he already has something in his arms

ᝰ it’s your little stuffie

ᝰ and he’s clutching it, nose buried in its head

ᝰ your heart warms

ᝰ you feel all warm and fuzzy watching him like this

ᝰ so of course you get your phone and take a picture

ᝰ it’s your wallpaper for the foreseeable future

ᝰ the next morning, when you have to leave for work, you make your way to his home office to say goodbye

ᝰ he gives you a kiss

ᝰ and you notice his new best friend perched in his lap

ᝰ it’s no longer your stuffie, it’s his

Shiv

ᝰ she never really said anything about it

ᝰ she doesn’t really *think anything about it

ᝰ it’s not like it interferes with your relationship

ᝰ she knows it relaxes you

ᝰ so one day she comes home with a stuffed animal of her own

ᝰ “it’s cute,” you tell her as she sits in bed with you that evening

ᝰ “i thought yours could use a friend.”

ᝰ she kisses your cheek

ᝰ “i also just want to know what it’s like,” she admits, holding it to her stomach

ᝰ you laugh

ᝰ now it’s a cute thing between the two of you

ᝰ even on work trips, your two plushies sit waiting for you on the hotel bed

ᝰ side by side, attached at the hip at this point

ᝰ just like you and her are

ᝰ most of the time, neither of you are really using the stuffies

ᝰ you’re just cuddling each other

ᝰ sometimes with one caught between you two

ᝰ but most of the time they kind of just sit with you

ᝰ but you have no complaints

ᝰ even when you and her are old and wrinkly, and the plushies don’t sit in bed with you, they’re proudly displayed side by side on top of one of your dressers

ᝰ it’s a running gag in your relationship

ᝰ but it’s not even a gag

ᝰ because you both love the stuffies dearly

ᝰ because they remind you of your other half

Tom

ᝰ he thinks it’s cute

ᝰ he thinks you’re cute

ᝰ when he first sees it, despite whether it has a name or not, he tells you it looks like a “mr. cheezit”

ᝰ “how can anyone look like a ‘mr. cheezit’?” you ask him

ᝰ he shrugs

ᝰ “he just does. why do you have him, anyway?”

ᝰ “i dunno. he helps me sleep.”

ᝰ he nudges your hip with his

ᝰ “you need another man to sleep?” he asks teasingly

ᝰ now he has a personal vendetta against mr. cheezit

ᝰ not really

ᝰ but it’s really funny

ᝰ the two of you are laying in bed together one morning, having a lazy day in

ᝰ he has an arm around you, his hand stroking up and down your back

ᝰ in your sleep, mr. cheezit had ended up on tom’s side of the bed

ᝰ when he notices, he scoffs

ᝰ “this guy again,” he murmurs to you, “i can’t get rid of him.”

ᝰ you laugh

ᝰ tom kisses absentmindedly at your brow

ᝰ “i’m being serious! he’s trying to steal you from me, i know it,” he says faux-seriously

ᝰ “i wouldn’t leave you, tom.”

ᝰ “he’s going to try and kill me one day, just wait.”

ᝰ obviously, he doesn’t

ᝰ mr. cheezit is the first stuffed animal your firstborn gets

Greg

ᝰ doesn’t really care when your stuffie joins you both when you go to bed

ᝰ he literally has a closet of all his childhood stuffed animals

ᝰ and is emotionally attached to all of them

ᝰ “my mom keeps trying to convince me to get rid of them, but i just physically can’t,” he tells you

ᝰ so now all the stuffed animals are on rotation

ᝰ a different one is with you both each night

ᝰ sometimes before you fall asleep, greg’ll tell you about how he got the night’s stuffie

ᝰ most of the time it was from an arcade

ᝰ he tells you about how he’s always wanted those giant stuffed animals they only put as prizes for the rigged games

ᝰ so while you don’t think you’ll ever be able to actually win one from a game, you can get one off amazon

ᝰ the next day, you surprise him with a massive squishmallow

ᝰ “i think i’m going to die,” he says seriously

ᝰ he gives you a sweet kiss in thanks

ᝰ instead of your pillows, now you sleep on the squishmallow

ᝰ it honestly feels much better

ᝰ like your sleep is always heavenly

ᝰ farther down the line, after you both get married and you move, greg tells you he thinks it’s time to get rid of some of the stuffies

ᝰ obviously he doesn’t even THINK of getting rid of your favorites

ᝰ so instead he gives a bunch of the ones who’ve been collecting dust a good wash and asks you to help donate them

ᝰ you end up going to a children’s hospital together and giving them all away

ᝰ the two of you end up making it tradition

ᝰ every year, you organize a toy drive for the local hospitals

ᝰ you wouldn’t have it any other way

Stewy

ᝰ he thinks you’re adorable

ᝰ “sweet, someone new to sleep with.”

ᝰ you smack him lightly on the chest

ᝰ he chops you in the side

ᝰ you both dissolve into a fit of giggles, holding on to each other

ᝰ one morning, you and him are curled up together in bed

ᝰ he’s scratching at the nape of your neck, playing with your hair

ᝰ he has the stuffed animal held to his chest in a vice grip with his other arm

ᝰ you kiss his chest, falling in and out of consciousness

ᝰ you have to leave home and go on a business trip a few days later

ᝰ if he could, he’d quit his job and just come with you

ᝰ but you’d managed to convince him not to, thankfully

ᝰ the kiss goodbye is long, soft, loving

ᝰ he presses a million kisses to your crown before you’re gone

ᝰ you text nonstop

ᝰ he makes sure you eat, drink water, that you stay in safe places

ᝰ he also sends you a bazillion photos throughout his day

ᝰ there’s even a series of him taking your stuffie around new york

ᝰ your favorite is the selfie of stewy and your stuffed animal cuddled together in bed

ᝰ one night, you’re both on the phone

ᝰ “you know, i can’t sleep without it when you’re gone.”

ᝰ referring to the stuffed animal

ᝰ “really? why not, stew?”

ᝰ “it smells like you.”

#kendall roy #roman roy #siobhan roy #tom wambsgans #gregory hirsch #stewy hosseini #kendall roy x reader #roman roy x reader #siobhan roy x reader #tom wambsgans x reader #gregory hirsch x reader #stewy hosseini x reader #succession #succession hbo #wambsgansshoelaces #succession x reader #anon ask #succession headcanons

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slvt4lanadelrey · 11 months

Text

Prom Queen | part two | Lorraine Day |

Warnings: Nick.

Part one | Prom Queen

Kissing Lorraine was like kissing a sugar cube, it was sickly sweet. With the most innocent of touches, the purest of words you were hooked; and she was fleeting. The kiss was sweet, something that played like a broken record in your head each second of the day. You would be helping your mother, something to do with your soon to be sister in law's wedding and the strong aroma of vanilla would invade your scenes; deteriorating you from your work. You would be knocked back into the music room, Lorraine feverish lips locked on yours.

A smile wormed its way on your face, sweet like cinnamon; she was a dream, a vitamin that helped your body.

"What's got you all merry?" Your mother asked, smiling with a cigarette between her lips. You shrugged, face blazing a deep crimson. How could you explain how your heart pumped for a girl, someone who would sneak into your heart each night to whisper promises that they made sure to keep like a vow. Lorraine, Lorraine Day was the one who made you so merry; you were a fool, a dumb and inlove girl for someone they couldn't have, how cliche of you.

"I know that look, pumpkin, you're in love." Your heart sank, feeling a bead of sweat dripping down your neck. You gulped, shuffling to avoid eye contact with the siren that lured you in with her warm voice.

She was your mom, the woman who gave birth to you and even if she didn't always show it in the way you'd like; she loved you, and would do everything in her power to protect her own.

"Come on, Y/N, is it Nick?" Your teeth dug into the tender flesh, pressing down until the layer of skin pulsated around your canines.

"No." You shamefully mumbled, blood running through your body like a sizzling fire. Gasoline dribbling throughout your system, then you threw a match stick and watched as everything was set aflame.

Your eyes sparkled, immediately thinking about the brunette that held your heart in such a way you weren't sure whether God did exist, how could such a creature with so much power and love to give out; condemn you and Lorraine into a path full of half sided, secret, unsure love. A fight worthy of war, the ongoing argument between people that slowly crept into society; you loved a girl, and there wasn't a single slither of shame in your body when it came to admitting such a fondness towards Lorraine, but to other people? You were a nervous wreck, constantly on the edge of insanity at the thought of someone knowing your heart.

"No? Then who is it, I ain't heard nothin' about another boy." She plucked the cigarette from her lips, milky smoke gasping into the air; filtering around her head like the sunlight that shun upon her. Her eyes landed on yours, searching for something that ticked you.

"It's not a boy." Your face drained of colour, a cold flush washing through your body at a speed that sent you shivering. Your hand reached out, sliding into your pockets.

"It's about a girl?" Your mother tilted her head, leaning her face into the open window to let out the smoke. She thought for a moment, breathing into the fogged window.

"You don't like Nick?" She asked, not once accusing you of something so vial, so sinful. Realisation drew on her face, her features relaxing when she glanced back at you again.

"Hope she's worth it." Was all your mother said before flicking her cigarette out the open window, she took a moment to look you back in the eyes.

"Don't get yourself killed, Y/N. I won't bury my youngest daughter for something as foolish of loving who she wants." Your mouth dropped, hands reaching out to grab ahold of her. When your digits wrapped around her wrist, tugging her into your grasp she looked at you with wide eyes.

"You don't care? You don't care that I'm not…I'm not something you thought I was?" Fear crept, slowly dragging its finger across the torn wallpaper, whispering sickly through the thick atmosphere of fearful thoughts. You're not good enough, the voice of reason screamed at you, howling through your prison like mind.

"Why would I care? I married someone who never loved me, you love someone so much you are honestly willing to stand up to a town full of bigots. I'm proud if anything." She cupped your cheek, wiping away the single fallen trickle of tears.

"You've always been brave, pumpkin."

You didn't move, not when she left, not when other people filtered through your house, not when your brother called. You were stuck in time, permanently stuck in a state of shock.

Your head was tilted backwards, the grasp of an unknown presence pouring molten lava into your locked shut jaw. It sizzled, blistered and ultimately left you unable to ever open your mouth.

Then, you were being pushed over. Your head rested into the small wooden gap, big enough for someone's head. A man, much taller and stronger than you walked over and slammed their axe into your neck with a clean slide.

The result of loving someone, I guess.

"Are you okay?" Leon nudged you, flicking a piece of food from his plate at you. Your glossy eyes flooded with sorrow squinted before landing on the boy in question.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" And just like that you were pushed into a brain-numbing conversation about marriage. Your mother would shoot you glances, each time your father and older sister would mention Nick.

Relaxation wrapped around your body like a warm blanket. Lorraine was standing in front of you, smiling like you were the only painting ever worth watching. Her dimples hollowed on her cheek, talking to someone next to her with a song worthy voice; silky soft, plush for the damaged ears.

She was a melody, a symphony that only you were able to listen to. Just like how birds chirping in the morning lust would lull you awake, already smiling for the day; Lorraine had that same affect, the same way to hush your body into a sense of comfort that ultimately caused ruffles within your picture perfect family.

Like a broken record, Lorraine didn't fit into your Palace of perfection, she was a distraction; chaotic one at best. She made you yearn for more, she made you seek a better life; one only she could provide.

Whereas, Nick was willing to settle. He'd probably buy a sweet little ranch, one nice enough to raise a family but one slow enough that it wouldn't cause too much distraction.

Torn, like a tug of rope, you were stuck. Love never doubted your mind, never once had you questioned the undeniable love and the way you were positively smitten for Lorraine. Never once had Nick made your heart skip, not with his blue eyes, chiselled jawline, not even with his jock-like ways: which had the rest of the girls swooning, dropping their panties within moments.

No. Nick wasn't your thing, he wasn't your taste, certainly not your liking. All of that love, bitter sweet devotion was all dedicated to one person; Lorraine Day, herself.

"Are you ready?" She offered her smile at you, hands wrapping around her backpack straps. She rocked on her heels, like she was scared you'd deny her. You had planned to meet up with her before the long weekend, a weekend your family had dedicated to getting to know Nick on a more…family level.

Just like every affair, every plaguing secret that would turn even the purests of air toxic within a single breath. Lorraine had been captured, sucking the life out of you with each love sick words she'd praise into your ear. Whilst Lorraine enjoyed every moment of your time together, knowing it had an expiry date, she was at peace with pressing feather light kisses along your cheek. You on the other hand was seething, jaw turning inflexible at the thoughts that somehow tainted your mind even though Lorraine was all over you.

Lorraine pressed her lips down on yours, her hands gripping so tightly around your waist. She didn't care, she didn't mind that you'd never be able to call her yours in public, that the claim over who you deserved; who you belonged to will always be held with Nick's name. You were there, she was pressed into yours; everything was fine, especially when you let out a small whimper at her brutal force.

You didn't hold the same sentiment. You hated it, it left a permanent tang on your tongue each time you were forced to remember Nick. It ached to kiss Lorraine, it left a yearning feeling in your heart when you'd call out for her and she wasn't able to answer. You were friends in public, and devoted lovers in private; but that would never satisfy your needs, I'd never clench the thirst you'd have for Lorraine each time you would lay your eyes on her. A drug, a small trickle of nectar that trailed down your throat whenever she'd whisper your name.

Mine, it repeated in your head. You were selfish, famously so. You had a boyfriend, one that wasn't that bad in reality; he listened when you said no, bought you gifts, sent flowers if you were unwell. But Lorraine would travel through trenches in order to see you, she would buy every florist out if that meant any health would be regained in your body, she would forget about the baggage you carried on the daily; all in order to be able to love you, small love, quiet and devoted love. Pure and honest, love and enchantment.

"I love you" no amount of words would cover up the sin, the blinding fact that suffocates your thoughts. Nick was expecting you in less than half an hour, he would want to hold your hand and hear the words you had solely promised Lorraine you'd only tell her.

It made you sick, how could you possibly love someone when you knew you were causing them pain?

Lorraine wasn't like other people, she was patient, more than okay with waiting. You were the problem, like every other situation; you weren't happy, so you had to isolate yourself.

"What's wrong? You've gone stiff on me, again." Lorraine mumbled, her lips never parting away from your skin, so when she talked it vibrated against your flesh. You chuckled at the feeling, wiping away the salivate trail across your neck.

"I have to go." You mumbled into the kiss, parting it with a slight whine. She was just too comforting, a memory of a teddy you slept with throughout your earlier years in life. She smiled, nuzzling her head into your shoulder.

"I'll miss you, try and have fun." She was perfect, the actual oxygen you breathed in everyday.

Even though you were about to spend three tortuous days with Nick; someone she hated. Lorraine was still encouraging you to have fun, enjoy the weekend she knew you two weren't able to have together.

Part of her happy mood was that she got to see you before you left, that you promised that when you were going to be laying beside Nick you would be thinking about Lorraine; and secretly dreaming about how good she kissed.

"I can't let you go." You declared, clinging onto the girl with all your might. Your eyes wandering into hers, the silky liquid gold pouring down on you. She was heaven, so nicely wrapped up in a small frame with big brown eyes you're fortunate to look into most days.

"It's just three days." She tried to pry your arms off her, wiggling out of your grasp was harder than it appeared.

"It's 72 hours, how tortuous." She giggled, once again connecting your lips.

"Indeed."

"I'll miss you" like a parrot you repeated your words, fingers still locked with hers.

"I love you." She muffled her words, lips once again meeting yours with a quick haste.

She loved you and as God witnessed, you loved her just as much.

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jeonstellate · 11 months

Text

timestamp: photograph

it’s 12:51 pm when jeonghan finally sees the scrapbook you made for him.

๑彡 yoon jeonghan x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 slice of life!au — character death — angst

๑彡 paragraph format — 0.6K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 this was supposed to be a quick “wtv” nonsense and yet this still took me ages for some reason [*insert clown emoji*]. i hope y’all enjoy, anw <3

"Take a picture, it’ll last longer."

Yoon Jeonghan would always tell you that whenever he caught you staring for a second too long. You never meant to linger your eyes on him, but he somehow always caught you nevertheless.

Instead of constantly defending yourself, you opted to comply to his suggestion — by purchasing a polaroid camera and ensuring that you always had it with you whenever you spent time with him. Thus, as a result, you had collected a scrapbook full of his photographs — some with his knowledge, the rest candidly taken.

Jeonghan knew you had an album filled with polaroids of him, since you had nonchalantly told him so one day when he asked what you had done with all the photos you had taken. Unfortunately, he had not had the chance to see the photo album in question for himself — mostly because you had claimed that you were not done decorating it just yet.

He figured he would see the scrapbook eventually, since you were bound to finish sooner or later and ergo would boast about your artwork then.

He just never expected that particular day to arrive like this: Gloomy. Rainy. Incessant.

And, worst of all, without you.

"[First name] wanted you to have this," the man that introduced himself as your brother handed him a thick book with a blank cover.

Proceeding as though his choice of words did not have an impact on him, Jeonghan changed the orientation of his hold to be more comfortable — just for a neatly folded letter to slip out.

Yoon Jeonghan, it read.

If you’re reading this, it means one of two things: either I survived the surgery or I didn’t. While I sincerely hope the situation is the former, if my brother was the one that handed this to you . . . I’m sorry.

I’m sorry you had to find out this way.

He could not find the strength to read on after that.

You were not his best friend, although you were a close one. Nevertheless, even if you were both at the point of your lives where the people you grew up alongside with follow drastically diverge life paths, at drastically different speeds, he never thought yours would just . . . end.

Yes, you were not his best friend, but there was still pain with the shock brought by the news.

It was a miracle Jeonghan found the strength to move, much less have the courage to finally flip through the scrapbook you left of him.

His emotions were in disarray, as though he was in a rollercoaster that he did not want to ride. His emotions were building up to an unknown with each flip, until he eventually reached a certain page that made his heart drop.

Like some of the previous pages, there was only one polaroid. Unlike all of the previous pages, however, the caption that accompanied that particular picture of him read: the moment I realized I love you.

Jeonghan suddenly felt everything. The emotions that hid themselves within the depths of his being, then ignored to preserve what is— was. The emotions that built up after your brother delivered the news. The regret of being too late.

And then came the realization.

He should have listened to his own words and took pictures of you more, maybe then he would not have been left to solely rely on his homescreen wallpaper to remind him what you looked like in the years to come.

Had he done that, maybe then Jeonghan would not have a blurry candid photo of you as his only memorabilia of how you looked like.

#yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #yoon jeonghan imagines #jeonghan imagines #seventeen imagines #yoon jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen scenarios #yoon jeonghan oneshots #jeonghan oneshots #seventeen oneshots #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #seventeen

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siempre-bucky · 2 years

Note

Are you willing to write a blurb with Hangman and his girlfriend writing each other love letters? I love when writers explore his soft side☺️

Jake Seresin x Reader

wc: 917

a/n: ahhhh! This was so cute and so much fun to write!! I hope you like it!!!

“Claudia, my dear,” Jake spoke as his pen hurried across a white envelope.

The woman behind the desk grumbled at the appealing aviator and stood up, “What do you want, Hangman?” she intoned as she leaned over the metal desk, her thin eyebrows lowered to show her lack of enthusiasm.

“Got any mail for me?” he asked, a toothpick twirling in between his perfect teeth.

Claudia sighed and opened her filing cabinet. Jakes's heartbeat sped up as she pulled out a few letters. The white one had to be from his parents, but the bright pink one was from you. Back when he was in boot camp you had told him you would always send your letters in pink envelopes so they could easily be picked out in a sea of envelopes.

He smoothly took the letter and placed one back in her hand.

“You know we’re getting off this thing early right?” she scoffed, a small smirk coming to her lips.

“Romance, Claud. Romance,” He laughed, wagging his eyebrows before sauntering off. After he turned his back, he held up the envelope to his nose and inhaled the fading scent of your sweet perfume that was mixed in with the smells of the envelope’s glue and jet fuel.

—

The rooster clock on the floral wallpaper-covered wall clucked throughout the kitchen. It was four, right on the dot. With a light gasp, you peeled open the lace curtain to the back door and grinned as the mailman walked towards your mailbox.

“Afternoon, Miss Y/L/N,” the mailman chuckled, tipping his hat to you as you hurried down the cobblestone walkway.

“Hi, Will, got anything for us today?” you asked hopefully. You should have asked if he had anything for you. Bills and credit card offers came every day, but it was rare to get a letter from your boyfriend while deployed. It wasn’t Jake’s fault his letters didn’t come every day, you were lucky for Will to hand you a letter at least once a month.

“Let me check,” he hummed happily as he dug into his large satchel. “Ah-ha!” he yelped as he pulled out a couple of pieces of mail for your family. “When does he come home?” he asked as you giddily flipped through the mail, your thumb lovingly swiping over his name in the corner. The thick white envelope looked like hell with its bent corners and skid marks like it was run over a bunch of times.

“What a journey you must’ve been on,” you whispered to yourself before returning your attention to the mailman. “One more month,” you said, trying to remain composed and not like you have a small calendar in your bedside table drawer that you mark off each day.

“Hopefully we’ll see a wedding around these parts,” he chuckled, shooting you a playful wink, “Have a nice day now, Y/N. Tell your folks I said hello.”

You waved him off and pressed the envelope to your nose, you could faintly smell the cologne that he religiously sprayed the letters with. You held it there all the way to the little porch swing, recalling your first kiss years ago on the very same spot to get in the proper mindset.

Jake must’ve written a page a day, you marveled at the folded pages that landed in your lap. His handwriting was nothing to rave about, sometimes you were lucky if it was legible but you knew him well enough to make out the rough parts. He told you about his days on the carrier, how many whales he saw in the water, knowing you loved when he counted them. He didn’t fail to tell you all the bad parts, how homesick he was, or when something in training scared the hell out of him.

He was always at his most honest in his letters, he shared the best with you in texts or when you talked on the phone. It was his letters that showed the most vulnerable side of your boyfriend, you loved every moment—the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Turning to the last page, you broke out into a love-sick smile. He always ended his letters with how much he loved you and how he couldn’t wait to be back in your embrace. “Have you gotten to the end yet?” a voice asked.

Tears instantly sprang to your eyes, blinking them away and shaking your head. This wasn't real, he was in the middle of the ocean. “Stop,” you told yourself, eyes glued to the letter.

“Sweetheart.” The voice was gentle, sounding like it was right in front of you. You looked up hesitantly, your eyes peeking above the white paper. Jake stood there on the other side of the porch, his truck parked right outside the gate.

“Jake!” You cried as you jolted from your seat, sprinting from the deck and right into his arms. You clutched onto the fabric of his black t-shirt, nuzzling your face into his chest. “You’re not supposed to be home yet.”

“Training ended early, looks like my letters just beat me,” he chuckled. You pulled back and he was quick to cup your face and wiped the tears that managed to escape your eyes.

“Tell me how it ends,” you said, motioning your heads towards the letters.

“How about I show you?” he smirked, leaving forward and kissing you softly. You smiled through the kiss and wrapped your hands around his wrists before he could pull away.

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin blurb #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #hangman fanfic #top gun #top gun maverick #siempre-buckys top gun blurb night

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darlingillustrations · 4 months

Text

I'm Gay

When I was eight years old, I wrote my first poem. I remember the moment the words came to me. I was lying in bed at night, the lines rattling through my brain, startling sleep away. I turned on my pencil-shaped bedside lamp, grabbed my pink diary and huddled up underneath the little roses on my wallpaper to scribble the words down before they were lost to me forever. I re-read them over and over, letting them seep into my mind as I drifted off to sleep, so full of mystery and fascination at this new craft that had opened up to me.

The next day, I showed the poem to my mother. It was a love poem, and the only thing she said was, “Why is this written to a woman?”

I didn’t know.

In high school, I also didn’t know why I enjoyed turning around in psychology class to chat with the girl with the cool beaded purse who sat behind me. I didn’t get it why I was so tongue tied around the girl in college with the mousy brown hair and soft floral skirts. After graduation, I still didn’t understand why the scrawny girl with facial piercing who I worked with at the coffeeshop held such a deep place in my heart that I’d give anything to make her smile.

The day I nervously confessed to my parents that I no longer wanted to be in the Church of Christ, the religion they’d raised me in, and that I’d been going to an Episcopal church, they laughed in relief.

“We were worried you were going to tell us you were a lesbian,” they said, wiping tears of joy from their eyes.

It never occurred to me that I could be a lesbian because I was attracted to guys. I didn’t realize that bisexuality was a thing. It wasn’t until 2016 that I started to face the truth about myself. After the attack on the Pulse nightclub, I felt deeply and inexplicably unsafe, and after months of soul searching, I came to realize it was because the people who had been attacked, the LGBT men and women, I was part of their community. They were me. I was LGBT.

As part of my journey, I was asked to exhibit my art at the Pierce County AIDS Foundation. I wanted to share something that was representative of the LGBT community, and that’s how my Affectionate Animal series was born. I chose vintage photos as my source images because I loved the nostalgic feeling they evoked. I wanted to offer the feeling that being gay was a normal thing.

The funny thing is: when I painted these first nine couples, I didn’t yet realize my own truth.

Coming out to myself was about self acceptance. When I told Matt, he asked me what this meant for our marriage. I said it meant nothing: instead of choosing him over half the world population, it meant I chose him over all of the world population. But when Matt left me (for other reasons), some of my close friends whom I’d trusted with my secret blamed me for him leaving. “He’s been through a lot,” they said.

I was scared to tell anyone. For a long time I only told people who were gay, and I spent a lot of time online, on tumblr, living an invisible life, coming to terms with what my sexuality meant.

That’s where I met my first girlfriend. She flew cross country to visit me and I flew cross country to visit her. We fell in love with each other and each other’s kids, and I was going to fly out with the girls to spend Christmas with her, until she broke up with me suddenly and then blocked my phone number before ever explaining why everything was ending.

They say your first heartbreak after a divorce is the worst. When you get divorced, there’s too much other stuff in the way that inhibits the grieving process, so when your first heartbreak after divorce hits you, all that pent up grief rears its ugly head and devastates you. In short, that’s what happened to me. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I kept throwing up for weeks. I lashed out at people, then became disgusted with myself for acting like such a monster and fell into a pit of despair. My body felt like knives were stabbing me, raking my arms from the inside out. My chest felt cavernous. I felt beyond gutted. I felt like I was in tatters.

God bless my therapist, because she texted with me through the worst of it, assuring me that this is what grief felt like. I’d tell her I was scared of the depression. She said I was strong enough to weather a little depression. I took comfort in that. Deep down I knew she was right.

I started cleaning my house. It wasn’t much, but a little every day gave me a sense of normalcy. I signed up for the Motivated Moms checklist so that I wouldn’t have to think about what I was supposed to do. I could just do it.

On Friday, my checklist said to spend time on a craft or hobby. I spent more time scratching my head trying to figure out what I was interested in than I did playing my guitar once I finally remembered I liked to sing. On Sunday I was paralyzed by the suggestion to pamper myself. How does someone pamper themselves? I googled it and read dozens of suggestions before I felt inspired by the suggestion to give myself flowers.

I’d always thought that, when I was with my girlfriend for Valentine’s Day, we’d do some sappy romantic thing, and I’d post sappy pictures & let people draw whatever conclusions they wanted to about our relationship. Now that I’m single again, I guess I’m coming out of the closet anyways. I’m not doing it for another person. I’m doing it for myself. Because, at the end of the day, lovers come and go, but there is one person who will love me for my entire life, and that person is me. And it doesn’t take a parent or a husband or a girlfriend to validate my loveliness. I am loved. I am darling. And I am complete, just as I am.

I don’t know why God made me this way, but this is the way I am. I don’t fall in love with people because of what’s in their pants, but because of what’s in their heart. So, in closing, I’d like to share with you the poem I wrote when I was eight years old, long before I knew what the depths of my heartache might bring:

Beauty Your eyes sparkle in the moonlight, Your legs tremble fast, Your voice can sing the wonders, And your ears can hear me laugh, Your nose smells the flowers that I bring to you in prize, Your legs can run freely, And your hands can hold my thighs. But you’re the one in my mind, The wonders that I dream, For you are so beautiful, The wonders of my dreams.

I like to think that, maybe, the woman I’d written it for was, in fact, myself.

[ This essay first appeared on my blog on February 14, 2019, and it is how I came out publicly to my friends, family and the world. I want to repost it here to tumblr in the hopes that it might resonate with you. ]

#coming out story #queer stories #queer artist #queer art #im gay #well technically im pansexual and a few other lgbt terms but i like using gay as a signifier #most importantly #i am loved #thank you for reading along #queer poetry

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villainessprefect · 1 year

Text

~Tell It to My Heart~

title: ethereal

Prompt #4: Confessing at the same place where they first met.

Malleus x fem!reader

Read on AO3

Ramshackle really has changed since your first night here. What was once an old, decaying, run-down building had turned into a normal and habitable dorm. Not only had the interior changed with floors and doors being repaired, creaks disappearing, new wallpaper, and more. But, the exterior had to. Bit by bit, your new home was brightening up thanks to you and Grim.

It may not be as fantastical or stunning as the other dorms, but damn it looks far better than you could ever imagine. And it seems to shine even better at night. Perhaps it's thanks to the happy haunts that made you come to think Ramshackle was meant to be a dorm shrouded in darkness. The way the moon shines upon it and casts an eerie yet loving glow seems to amplify your argument. The graveyard aesthetic helps too. Who knew you could ever come to love something a little dreary yet homely?

Regardless, you love this place as if it were your own.

"You really liked Ramshackle when it was run down?" You ask the one beside you.

"It was nice," he answers with a hum. "It had charm to it. Although, I have to say it's quite quant now." Bright green flickers from the building towards you.

"I'll take that as a compliment." You puff out your chest. "All my hard work is paying off, huh?"

You let yourself be proud. You should be. You're not one to show off, but you know Malleus used this dorm as a getaway before you took residence here. A part of you felt guilty for stealing it from him despite the numerous times he reassured you that he found it better now.

"It has. I wonder if this is how it looked during its prime. There aren't many records of the dorm since its abandonment."

You hum as you let your thoughts wander. You still don't know much about this world, especially its history. Ramshackle is an abandoned dorm for ghosts. That's all you know and that's all you thought there is to know. You don't care for the past, all you want to do is make this dorm worth something.

"Well, we'll make new history now. It's livable and I can invite you inside without worrying about a piece of the ceiling caving in on you," you say with a light laugh.

You honestly doubt that would happen. Malleus would stop it before it even showed signs of crumbling.

Most of your meetings were kept outdoors. The ambiance of the night could be terrifying but never felt that way whenever Malleus accompanied you. Besides, walking with him and letting the cool air brush against you was refreshing. It was a relaxing way to simply escape your worries and do something mundane, even if the conversations weren't.

But now you could take a step forward and let him in. It's nothing like Diasmonia or his home, but, you think, maybe he'd like it too.

"Is that why you've never allowed entry before?" He asks, curious.

"Sort of? You like being out here too, right? But if the weather ever shifts then at least I can let you in and we can still spend time together."

You feel your cheeks heat up as you admit to that. Time spent with him is so precious. School keeps you apart and so do your activities. Only during the night can you find solace in each other's company.

"Thank you. For the invite. I will keep you to it the next time there is a storm."

"Of course! You're always welcome here, Tsunotaro. Rain or shine," you say with a soft smile.

You look up at him. He's absolutely magnificent, especially underneath the moonlight. He almost looks unreal, a figment of your imagination with how he glows. Sometimes you have to wonder how you managed to befriend someone like him. Amazing in looks, magic, and spirit. You wouldn't have believed someone like him existed if you never came to this world.

"You are staring," he points out calmly. "Is something on your mind?"

"I- no!" You squeak. "I'm good!" You clear your throat and tear your gaze off of him. Heat rises to your cheeks yet you can't blame him for being so mesmerizing. "Sorry if that made you uncomfortable..."

You don't realize how he does the same. Those lingering glances remain on you and you alone when you're together. How those green eyes soften the moment you appear in his field of vision. The longing could speak volumes whenever it was time for you to part. He could never be upset for you doing the same.

But that's not something you're aware of. That touch of magic in his eyes couldn't be more than fondness. You wouldn't acknowledge it as such, or so you told yourself.

Yet, you still find yourself thinking more of it. Your heart and mind are in a war about who should win. The former wanted to embrace your dear friend while the latter told you to keep your distance.

You're not of this world. It makes things...complicated. That was your number one excuse that you would come up with. If you returned home, would you leave him behind or vice versa? Honestly, you couldn't choose.

Then there's the fact that he's a powerful fae prince and you're just a magicless human girl. It was one thing to be a simple human, as far as you're aware fae and humans don't intermingle that much, but to be magicless on top of that? It would be like rubbing salt into a fae's wound or whatever the equivalent may be.

The wavering in your heart causes you to raise a hand to your chest. You cast your gaze downward while wishing that you could be brave.

Malleus grows concerned by your silence. Normally it's not a bother. Your nightly outings could be drowned out by the world around you, neither one speaking and simply enjoying the other's presence. But he knows that something is wrong. Your eyes don't match the shine of the stars like they usually do.

"What is bothering you?" He asks. A hand reaches for your free one. You let his fingers slip in between yours with ease. "Whatever is on your mind, you may speak it to me."

You bite down on your lip. Should you speak your heart? You can get everything off your chest here and now. It's a gamble, a risk, but you're no stranger to those. Besides, if you ever were to confess to him, you would like it to be at a time like this. A perfect moonlit night outside of Ramshackle.

"I was just...thinking about you," you take in a breath.

"Oh?" There's that cute, childish glint of curiosity in his eyes. He waits for you to continue like an expectant puppy about to receive a treat.

"I thought you were a little weird when we first met," you chuckle softly. "I wasn't used to life here and seeing someone appear and disappear was something to get used to. But, you know...I'm glad I met you that night."

You squeeze his hand and meet his eyes.

"I think...you were one of the few who didn't treat me like a weirdo."

Most still did. With your reputation, it was hard not to be outed so often. Even Ace was pretty harsh to you when you first met, although you've learned that's just how he is. Plenty of students here were quick to point something out, a flaw, your abnormal presence, your magicless gifts, anything.

Malleus hadn't. Okay, maybe he had just a little, but it was out of curiosity rather than him trying to push you down as some peasant. He would question odd things you do, normal things that came from your world and this one. Malice was never in his eyes when he spoke. To you, he's always been kind.

"So, thank you. For giving me a chance in a world I don't belong in."

Without warning, you lean towards him. Despite the sudden bravery, you can't meet his lips. All you can muster up is the courage to peck at his cheek. It's easier for you too.

The dragon fae is stunned, to say the least. Being thanked for something he could be thanking you for isn't something he expected to hear. You're the one who treats him as if he's any other student. You even gave him a silly nickname that he adores. And even after learning who he is, you never changed your tune once around him. You may be magicless, but you've gone and put him under a powerful spell.

"Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No need to apologize." He puts his other hand over the one holding yours, capturing it. Carefully, he brings it up to his own lips. You can feel his lips brush against your skin. "I only ask that you do it again, my dear."

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia x reader #female reader #twst x reader #malleus draconia x you #diasmonia #request #tell it to my heart event

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storiesbyjes2g · 6 months

Text

3.57 The resort

Winter arrived, and I couldn't even tell. The pleasantly warm temperature was the same as every other day that week, like autumn in San Sequoia, and I loved it. At least it didn't rain, though. I in no way had any regrets about moving in with Sophia, but I missed San Sequoia a lot—a whole lot. There was just something about that colorful town that resonated with me. With any luck, we could move back one day, but for now, Oasis Springs was my dusty new home.

Good thing I didn't have a traditional job, or otherwise Sophia and I would struggle to find time together. Not only did she work an early shift, but also she worked on weekends and had two random days off in the middle of the week. But that also meant I'd only have a few hours each day to get everything I needed to get done before she got home if we wanted to maximize our time together. I could have gone back to San Sequoia to host a class or two, but I used the time to shop for a few items for the house and put up my pictures. I was no design diva like Mama, but I hoped Sophia would be pleasantly surprised when she walked through the door.

After the decor adventure, I went for a jog, and would you believe it rained after I had just given Oasis Springs props for not raining on me? Rude. Maybe the latter part of the year was just rainier everywhere in general and I never noticed until now.

Next to our house was an empty lot, and even though I'd jogged past it a few times, it stood out that day and got me thinking. How much would it cost to build a very small, very basic studio? The question intrigued me so much I canceled my second lap and went back home to do some research. The price of the land was relatively cheap, which meant the lot taxes would probably be low as well. So far, I had no reason to not consider this path, but I tucked the idea away for another time because I became distracted by learning about a spa resort right here in Oasis Springs. The resort, named Desert Bloom Spa Hotel, was conveniently located near our neighborhood. I still had a few more hours before Sophia got back, so I went to check it out.

I had only entered the lobby and already fell in love with the place. It was so clean, modern, and peaceful. Maybe one day Sophia and I could do a weekend getaway—a staycation of sorts. Well, definitely not on the weekend, but you know what I meant. I found someone who worked there and asked if I could look around, and to my surprise, she volunteered to take me on a tour and began in the dining room, which was just across the breezeway from the front desk.

They served continental breakfast, snacks during the day, and tapas at night. At the heart of the facility, there was a sprawling fountain that spanned almost the entire length of the spa. The poolside bar was pretty big too. Tables and chairs were scattered all around the fountain, giving plenty of room for everyone to hang out and chill over a nice drink.

They even had a two-level gym with enough machines to accommodate nearly anyone wishing to workout during their stay. Not even my gym in Newcrest had that many machines. This place was really growing on me, and I wondered if I could frequent it without a reservation.

Up next were the residential suites. We couldn't go in them, of course, but they were duplex style, side-by-side suites that mirrored each other. They shared a common pool, and I got to peek inside a little from the patio door. They looked nice enough inside. I think we could be happy there for a few days--not that we'll be sitting around looking at the wallpaper, heh.

The yoga area was outside across from the suites and pool, and MAN I was so inspired. I rarely thought about opening my own yoga studio. Honestly, it was yet another one of Mama's ideas that eventually bored its way into my subconscious. But sometimes the idea was strong enough that it felt like it came from my own mind, and I really wanted to do it. Looking at their setup gave me so many ideas for how I could craft mine when the time came.

Hopefully, they also had an indoor facility because it started raining again. I would hate to be a paying customer who wasn't able to take any classes because of the weather. Watcher forbid they still carried on, regardless. I asked my tour guide if they ever did guided meditations and explained I was a yoga instructor myself and led guided meditations in San Sequoia. This intrigued her, and she promised to discuss it with the owner.

Turns out they didn't have an indoor yoga room, but the meditation room was upstairs. The spa rooms were also upstairs, but my tour guide didn't let me go in for obvious reasons. But she said there was a sauna, two tables inside, and multiple massage chairs on the upper deck. The lobby for the massage rooms was just as clean and peaceful as the front desk, so I knew the service rooms would be too.

I was so wrapped up in the tour I didn't realize the time. Sophia had already arrived home, and I missed the opportunity to show her the things I bought. True, she could see them as soon as she walked in, but I wanted to be the one to show her. But in Sophia-like fashion, she began raving about how much she loved the rug and blinds as soon as I walked in.

Luckily, she hadn't seen the other room yet, so I got to show her the couch for the office, and she loved that too.

"Thanks for moving the desk and fitting the couch in there. I know it's not easy getting things in and out of here."

It was no trouble. After all, I was a very strong man, heh.

I joined her on the couch and asked about her day. Thankfully, it was much better than yesterday but still kind of meh. I guess that's the answer a lot of sims gave since it was so common to work a job one didn't love. I wanted better for her and didn't enjoy seeing her live a mediocre life. Hopefully, one day my yoga business would be so good she wouldn't have to work if she didn't want to. I just wanted her to be happy.

The conversation reached a lull, and she took the opportunity to change the subject and ask me a very serious question.

"So how are you feeling about living here?"

To be continued...

The resort is a golden oldie by @jenba!

#ISBI challenge #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #adolting #adolting gen 3 #luca winston murillo #sophia aguilar

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ryuyejiho · 1 year

Text

"maybe I like looking at you" - Felix

Pairing: Felix x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

Summary: From a movie night to a date at a coffee shop and a confession of love.

Word Count: ~1K

________________________________

"babe, I'm bored" every now and then Felix moaned while lying on my thighs. We decided to have a movie night and to beat our record of watched movies in one night, we started at 6 o'clock in the evening. Currently it was 6:33 pm.

"we just started and you are already bored?" I asked to which the blond laughed and nodded.

"let's go somewhere!" he suddenly shouted which made me scared "recently they opened a cat cafe at our place. He wants to go there"

"I don't want to" I said which he began to throw himself sideways.

"come on, it will be fun"

"watch and be quiet" I put a handful of munchies in his mouth at which he wrinkled his forehead and began to chew slowly still looking at me wanting to bend me to agree "don't look at me like that"

"maybe I like looking at you" he shrugged his shoulders and stood up. For a long moment he continued to do nothing but look at me until suddenly he grabbed my leg and pulled me to the very end of the bed.

"Felix stop it!" I started screaming and laughing loudly at which he also laughed.

"only if you come with me. Then how"

"okay let's go. But we come back quickly and watch on" he nodded with a sign of agreement and helped me get up by pulling my hand.

****

I sat at one of the tables and admired the cats who every now and then passed by me, purring against my legs or just sitting and looking curiously from afar at people sitting at other tables.

I looked at Felix who was waiting for our order while scrolling through social media on his phone. I snorted a quiet laugh seeing that he was purposely holding it so that the girl across from him could see our polaroid which was hidden behind its transparent case.

We took it when it was his birthday and we went to the amusement park together with the whole team. There we got lost but still found that it was the perfect place to take a photo in a booth that we passed several times trying to find any member of the Stray kids in the crowd.

A few minutes late he received his order and headed to the table where I was sitting.

"your over-sweetened latte once. My best coffee under the sun two" he said placing the plastic cups with straws on the table and putting on his jacket.

"we can sit here for a while. All in all, it's nice here" he looked at me then rolled his eyes hanging his jacket back on the back of the chair.

"if you had said it earlier I wouldn't have taken the takeaway and we could have taken something sweet" he sat down and took his cup in his hand putting the straw in his mouth "and what, did you like it though?"

"these cats are lovely so we can look at them longer" then one of them came up to me. I started stroking it after which I heard the sound of the camera. I looked at Felix who was now sitting contentedly and looking at the phone.

"hihi I have a new wallpaper" he said in a funny voice at which I laughed.

"nah, please don't. I definitely came out wrong" the boy began to shake his head intensely.

"nice, nice" he said after which he added more quietly "you came out beautifully"

"what did you say?"

"no, nothing. Do you like your coffee" he asked, putting down the phone and taking a sip of his drink.

"of course. I always buy it so it must taste good to me"

I knew that Felix had started acting strangely for a long time. At first I thought I was imagining it, then I didn't pay attention to it, but now it started to get weirder and weirder. More than once I wanted to ask him what exactly was going on but never had the courage. I didn't want to spoil our friendship. This was the only way I could be close to him.

I liked him. And maybe I even loved him. To everyone he was kind and helpful but only towards me he was much more caring and always made me feel better. He did everything for me to make me smile.

"do you think I can tell you something in secret?" he asked after a long moment, I nodded my head yes.

"of course"

"I like you. I like you very much" he almost shouted in an oversweetened voice squeezing my cheek making me almost spit out my coffee.

He laughed charmingly and rested his head on his hand placed elbows on the table. We looked into each other's eyes at which his smile slowly diminished and became serious.

"is something wrong?" I asked, not knowing what to do.

"I really like you. More than anything I like you and I will never stop" he said straightening up in his chair continuing to look deeply into my eyes. After a few seconds he added in a whisper leaning in "or maybe even love..."

"ah sure" I laughed, recognizing it as an unfunny joke, but then he put his hand over mine and, still looking into my eyes, leaned in even more and pressed his lips to mine. He remained in this position for a few seconds then moved centimeters away from me.

"I love you y/n. I'm not kidding. If you still think so I can do it again" he smiled broadly and moved closer again but I stopped him with my hands.

"really?" he nodded moving his hand to my cheek.

"don't you believe it?" he moved closer again and laughed softly when I stopped him again.

"not here" I whispered at which he laughed again, this time louder.

"in that case, we have to go home quickly" he stood up and in a second put on his jacket and took our coffees in his hands. "and what are you waiting for, I have to show you quickly that I love you"

He began to jump slightly in place and hurried me along. I laughed at his childish behavior and got up from the chair. Felix immediately turned toward the door and walked out with a quick step. I stroked the kitten that was tickling my leg some more and followed him out.

When I opened the door I didn't see him anywhere.

"Felix?" I closed the door and then I was pulled a few meters away from the entrance. Although it was dark in that place I could see the intense gaze of the blond man. A few moments passed and then I felt his lips on mine again. When I moved my lips slightly, Felix moved away a bit for a split second then pressed his lips to mine placing his hands on my waist, while I placed mine on his neck.

We stood like that for a couple of minutes after which we ran out of air so he moved away a bit and put his forehead to mine. For a while we said nothing, plunging into each other's gazes, only when the blonde rubbed his nose charmingly against mine he laugh slightly and speak first.

"I really love you. I really do. I have loved for a long time, I love and will continue to love"

"I love you too, Felix"

I finally said it. I was overjoyed at that moment and, unable to stop smiling, I snuggled into his torso to hide my face and he wrapped his arms around me tightly.

I wanted this moment to last forever.

#kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #felix stray kids #stray kids reactions #stray kids #skz imagines #skz felix #skz x reader #changbin #bang chan #han jisung #hyunjin #i.n stray kids #lee know #seungmin #jyp stray kids

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sailtomarina · 1 year

Text

Hello, neighbor

Hermione adored the flat, small and “historical” as it was in one of the oldest buildings of Diagon Alley, because it not only looked out onto her beloved Flourish and Blotts, but also because it afforded her close access to both sides of her muggle and magical worlds. The building’s magic revealed its age in occasional fits of energy where the showers gushed soap bubbles instead of water and the shared hallways sported wallpaper from bygone eras. Regardless of the unpredictability, she wouldn’t give up her place for anything in the world.

Until someone moved in next door.

Courtesy notices informed surrounding flats of the new lease and move-in dates. This in itself wouldn’t have been a problem since magic ensured ironclad noise cancellation. What was an issue was the owner’s obvious lack of awareness for available square footage.

Anyone normal would have magicked furniture straight into the flat, preferably exactly into their predetermined spots. There wouldn’t be any need for moving vans, blanketed lifts, and workers hauling in box after box. But this occupant obviously didn’t reconcile the available space with their belongings. The hallway outside of Hermione’s door was crammed full of crates, oak side tables, and authentic Tiffany lampshades. Items flowed out her neighbor’s open door all the way down the hall to the lift, and more continued to appear with little ‘pops’ wherever they could fit.

Today happened to coincide with the release date of Walter Hammervite’s third novel in his ThestralRising series, and Hermione had plans to pick up her reserved copy and spend the entire day reading. Unfortunately, the hall was crammed so full, she could barely squeeze out her door much less make her way to the lift. The only available path was one that required sliding over tables and under what looked to be brand new quidditch brooms towards her neighbor’s door.

This isn’t actually how she planned to introduce herself, but they left her very little choice, didn’t they?

Rifling around her pantry and extracting a dusty bottle of red wine from Godric knows how long ago, she decided to present her gift and kindly ask they clear the shared space as was only appropriate. Wielding the bottle like a wand, she ventured forth through the obstacle course until she arrived sore and slightly out of breath at the doorway.

“Excuse me? In anybody home?” With a bookshelf blocking most of the entrance, she resorted to knocking lightly on the door frame.

“I’ll be there in a moment!”

Was that…but no, it couldn’t be, could it? There’s no way he would live here of all places.

Hermione could hear scuffling and light thumps underneath the music that blared out into the hall just as rudely as the furniture.

“Merlin’s left bollock! This piece of shite shelf…just, can you squeeze through and give a hand?”

The familiar voice encouraged Hermione forward despite her misgivings, and she placed the bottle inside the shelf before pushing through the cramped space into the flat. As she popped into the small opening, she finally came face to face with the voice on the opposite side of the bookcase.

“Malfoy?”

With a complete lack of surprise at her identity, he nodded acknowledgement and waved a hand helplessly at his situation. “As much as I’d love to say ‘Hello, neighbor,’ I think we can both agree there’s a bigger issue on hand.”

“Yes, that being your complete arseheaded miscalculation of how much shit you have—”

“I’ll have you know these are priceless heirlooms, Granger—”

“—and this shit is blocking me from a book whose release I’ve been waiting months for!”

“Well, what would you have me do? I haven’t lived on my own since Hogwarts.”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about using magic like the wizard that you are, and handling this mess?”

He gaped at her momentarily before shaking his head in frustration. “I’m still on probation, Granger. I have another six months before they return my wand.”

Oh, bollocks.

They stood awkwardly in silence for a minute before she reached back into the case and surrendered her wine. “I meant to give this to you as a housewarming gift to welcome you to the building, but now I have a better idea.” Closing her eyes, she brought to memory the spells she needed before waved her wand in a tight pattern, shrinking everything in the hallway down to fist-sized versions of themselves. She continued rotating her wrist, sending it all into neat piles.

“That’s a neat trick, Granger, but how does that help me?” Malfoy raised an impressed eyebrow at her spellwork while simultaneously crossing his nicely muscled arms across his chest. Not that she noticed.

“Now, you give me a tour of your flat and we determine what you actually want to keep and what needs to be returned.”

“I thought you had a book to retrieve?”

“I do, but I also refuse to live a single minute more with an impassable hallway and you obviously require assistance.”

He scoffed at her statement. “You’re not the only witch I know. I could always ask Pansy or Blaise.”

Tilting her head at him, she waited a moment before calling his bluff.

“Alright, then. I’ll leave you to it. There better not be any more heirlooms blocking my doorway when I get back.” She turned to leave and was halfway to the lift before she heard her name.

“Granger!” He leaned out the door, nervously chewing on his lip and blonde hair mussed.

“What?” She didn’t fully turn around to face him, keeping the pressure on.

“How about you come over after you get your book?”

“…”

“I mean, I would like it if you came over and helped…I’m asking you to help me.”

“Why me?”

He stepped out fully into the hallway and faced her, hands now tucked into the back pockets of his slacks. “I’m trying to start over,” he admitted, “and I’ve wanted to apologize to you for a while now.”

Hermione likewise faced him and really, thoroughly looked him over. She should have noticed earlier, but he was wearing completely muggle clothing—worn white sneakers, trousers and a button-up shirt not completely wrinkle-free. Most notable was his expression. She couldn’t recall seeing him so open before, not since early Hogwarts days when she’d see him laughing with his friends at the quidditch pitch before…well, before everything. Before Voldemort. Before “mudblood”. Before all the events that had robbed them of their childhood. He looked tired, but nearly free of all the weight of his upbringing. She might even dare say hopeful.

“Do you like to read?”

“Excuse me?”

“The book I’m getting is the third in the series. If you’re into fantasy, I can lend you the first book and we can talk about it later.”

His grey eyes widened slightly at her offer and he stood a little taller. “I do like reading, if you remember that bookshelf from earlier.”

She smirked at the reference. “I’ll be back in a bit, Malfoy. When I return you better have a detailed list of your belongings ordered by priority.”

“How am I supposed to remember everything I have when you shrank half of it?” He beckoned at the pile in the corner.

”If you can’t remember it, then it obviously isn’t important enough to keep, is it?” She spun back around without waiting for a reply and disappeared into the lift.

He laughed in agreement and looked back at his mess of an apartment. “Well, I guess that’s taken care of.” Waving his hand wandlessly, he summoned parchment and quill and at further gesturing an itemized list started writing itself. He turned to the bottle on the counter and corked it to let it breathe. “Next step, neighbors to friends.”

#dramione prompt #dramione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #harry potter fanfiction #flash fiction

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