#is the cruelest option

[syn0vial]

thinking this morning about how much astarion changes from act I even without the direct influence of the player. like, even if you play the most apathetic or evil tav, astarion still does seem to become less callous and cruel over time? for example, in act I, when you encounter the adventurer liam being tortured in the goblin camp, you gain quite a bit of approval from astarion for refusing to free him and instead continuing to torture him yourself. but even already by act II, when you find another stranger being tortured—the patient in malus thorm's operating room—astarion is disgusted and angry at his torturer, comparing him to cazador, and will approve of you intervening.

or, how in act I, astarion will approve of you letting arabella die and disapprove of helping her (lbr, in act I he disapproves of you helping pretty much anyone). but by act III, when you meet yenna, another child in distress, he approves of helping her the second you meet her and urges you to save her if she's kidnapped by orin. similarly in act III, he'll approve of taking action to save vanra after she's devoured by the hag and even of comforting her afterwards.

it makes me think of neil newbon's quote about astarion—how, while he's knowingly immoral and manipulative, he's also very willing to being moved by new people and experiences. like, i'm definitely not someone who buys that astarion is a naturally good person under all the trauma—everything we know about is past suggests he was a shit person before the trauma, too—but i also wonder if that susceptibility to being moved and changed by new people and experiences is what we're seeing with the changes in his approval.

like, in act I, he's just spent the past 200 years—the majority-to-vast-majority of his life, depending on if you accept the dates on his tombstone—surrounded by evil and cruelty of every kind, so naturally he approves of what he knows. but as the game goes on and he spends more time with people who aren't part of that environment (not just tav but the other companions as well!) and experiences things that aren't unrelenting abuse and pain, we start to see these shifts in his thinking where he's like, huh, maybe life doesn't have to be a never-ending parade of torture and callousness and exploitation. maybe other options are possible. maybe some of them are even worth it in the end.

i just kind of love that even irrespective of tav's decisions, if you pay attention, you can kind of notice astarion going through a miniature character arc in the background of the game. maybe you still play a major role in deciding the outcome of the most significant moment of that arc (the ritual), but even before that, astarion is already experiencing his own shifts and realizations.

#astarion #astarion meta #baldur's gate 3 #like dgmw act III astarion is still kind of an asshole a lot of the time #but he's an asshole who's Realizing Things and is maybe starting to reassess some of his bleaker assumptions about the way the world works #at least the assumption that the cruelest option is always the best

[cherry-leclerc]

million dollar man ☆ toto wolff

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

word count: 16.5k

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

nsfw warning under the cut! 

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

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You up for Vegas?”

-

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly why.”

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

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

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

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

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

Yayo.

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

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

Let me put on a show for you, daddy. 

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

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

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

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

Toto blinks. “She might be my favorite.”

-

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

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

“Where do you want me?”

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

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

“Oh, right. Um…”

You grin. “First time?”

He winces. “It was a friend's idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighs. “Maybe I was changing.”

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

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

“It fucking sucks.”

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

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

-

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

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

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

“Correct.”

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

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

-

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

Tap tap. 

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

"Warten! Warten!"

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, wow… I, umm… You’re welcome?”

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

-

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

He smiles. “It’s from Germany.”

“Authentic. How’d you get it?”

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

“Let’s just leave it at old.”

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

“I’m glad I was able to help.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I always am.”

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

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

“I wanted to see you.”

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh? Similar…that’s funny.”

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

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

“Oh, trust me, I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I take you home?”

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

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

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

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

“6’5.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not acting like a child—”

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

“But my things—”

“I’ll send for them.”

“My downpayment—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

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

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

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

-

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

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

Elizabeth gasps. “And you.”

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

“Of course. Take care, Toto.”

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

“You look tired.”

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

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

“See what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I do mind. I mind a lot.”

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

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

“Wanna feel something nice?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

“That’s a dumb question.”

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

“No.”

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

“Tempting, but still no.”

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

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

“He said yes.”

“The car talks now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

-

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

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

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

“I’m being serious.”

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

“I would take you—”

“But you’re busy— it’s fine.”

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

“Are you fucking with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Very.”

“Actually, I am too.”

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

“Is money the issue here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp. “Are you insane?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

“Is it that obvious?”

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

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

“Do you need something?”

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

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

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

“What did you do?”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

He sighs. “Please do.”

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

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

“He what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp. “I would murder him.”

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

“Nope.” 

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

-

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

You’re going to miss me, watch.

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

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

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

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

“Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh shit.”

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

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

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

“Don’t worry. Can you get me a room?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not lying—”

“Really?”

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

“I never saw anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” 

She clicks her tongue. “Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

“That doesn’t matter—what’s wrong?”

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

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

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

“What else did she say?”

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

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

“I swear that’s all.”

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

“I’m not telling you.”

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

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

“Who did this to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

“What, sweetheart?”

Gloomy eyes reflect against his own. “Leave?”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll walk you through it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lips curl. “No idea.”

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

“Are you on birth control?”

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

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

Confusion paints your face. “To have you?”

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

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

“There it is.” 

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

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

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

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

“Toto, Toto, Toto—”

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

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

“Looking good, Mr. Wolff.” 

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

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

“I love you, Toto Wolff.”

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

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

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

“Uh…” Your lips stretch out. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

You’d be a fool to deny. 

So, you accept. 

-

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

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

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

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

“I’m not quitting.”

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

More heavy silence. “Sure.”

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

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

“I’m taking the car. See you later.”

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

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

We should think about Jack.

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

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

I love you. 

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Great! Where is she?”

“Around.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this is strange.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he deserves it…you think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toto Wolff was just the same.

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

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

You’re screwed up and brilliant. 

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

Look like a million dollar man.

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

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

So why is my heart broke?

“I’ll regret you for the rest of my—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

#toto wolff #toto wolff smut #toto wolff angst #toto wolff blurb #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff x oc #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one x you #mercedes amg f1 #formula one x y/n #formula one x oc

[akutasoda]

Hey! Hope you're doing well, I was maybe thinking could you do something angsty with genshin chars of your choice, like them finding out your part of an organisation that they are against and they find out during a fight? Like their part of the fatui or smth?

(I love you're angst writings sm)

Also can I be 🦭 anon?

not you, not here

synopsis - you never told your lover what you do for a living, maybe you should of

includes - diluc, neuvillette, dottore, arlecchino

warnings - gn!reader, fluff to angst, no comfort, wc - 1.7k

a/n: ofc you can be 🦭 anon, and im doing well! hope your doing well aswell! sorry this took so long.

diluc ragnvindr ★↷

- reader is a fatui harbringer

you had met diluc by accident. your mission was to infiltrate mondstadt, a spy on the inside. and it just so happened that you ran into diluc. seeing this as an opportunity to maybe find something out, you took to befriending him.

however as luck would have it, you started forming a genuine bond with diluc. whenever you were with him you forgot about your mission, you two spent more time around each other than the other would admit. and not too long after your friendship started a longing for more started to bloom aswell.

eventually one of you built up the confidence to confess, and you knew it was wrong. you knew you shouldn't build a connection to anyone in mondstadt but here you were in a very loving relationship with diluc. so to try and preserve this you never informed him of your true occupation. if he ever asked you would make up something about how you used to be a traveller who wants to settle down in mondstadt.

but maybe it was best if you told him. or maybe you shouldn't of built a strong relationship, if your fellow fatui members found out you knew it would be used against you. but you couldn't help but keep up the lie in turn for somd of the happiest moments of your life.

however as your mission had closed in and came to an end. you and la signora had done what was meant to be done but upon your final exit you had originally planned just to leave unannounced to your lover. you wouldn't bare to see his face and you couldn't bare to tell him the truth. but like the archon's were laughing down at you, you saw him. and he saw you.

cladded in fatui uniform with subordinates behind you. the pain that went straight through his heart as he saw you. how could he be so oblivious. he had let himself finally trust someone just for it to be thrown back at him in the cruelest way possible. the fatui had destroyed his family once and now twice. as much as it pained him and you but there was only one option left.

neuvillette ★↷

- reader is a fatui harbringer

you had merely stopped in fontaine to rest before your long trip back to snezy. risking yes but it was the nearest nation to your last mission elsewhere. but just as luck would have it you had met neuvillette when you got lost.

you knew who he was but he seemed like he had no clue who you where. so you took your luck and asked him for directions to your accommodation for the night. and he told you but before you thanked him and left he offered to walk you there. you wanted to decline but you figured there wasn't much risk to it, so you accepted his proposal.

the walk over was mainly silent with brief conversations, but the one that caught you offguard was when he asked about where you came from. you understood why, your clothes didn't scream fontaine and he simply said he had never seen you ariund before. but you quickly responded that you were a simple traveller who wandered tevyat. he seemed content with that answer.

you had left the next morning. but not too long after you had to head back for some business back in fontaine, it would be a long trip possibly staying for a couple of months but you didn't mind as you were mearly keeping eye until arlecchino would arrive. but soon you had yet again ran into neuvillette. he seemed to recognise you from the previous encounter, and seeing as he was a pretty important figure and knew the hydro archon, you figured it would be beneficial to get even closer to him.

you often hung around him when he was off duty of you were bored. eventually you had let yourself believe that this was a genuine friendship and not your job, and little did you know he felt the same. and eventually with somd push from the melunises, neuvillette confessed. you knew you should've said no but before you thought rationally you said yes.

but with arlecchino's arrival you had to bid farewell. it was one thing to break up with him but it was another to let him find out your true occupation. but unfortunately luck was not with you. upon meeting with arlecchino and some of your subordinated you had informed them you would leave soon but had something to take care of and as arlecchino left you turned around to your lover rounding the corner.

he had never anticipated this. how could he of been so naïve. you, the person that had brought him head over heels in love was nothing but a fatui member. he should've stopped you from running from him, he should of for justice but he still harboured feelings and let you get away. rain poured easily for weeks in fontaine.

dottore ★↷

- reader is a knights of favonious

your first encounter with dottore was not when he was known as dottore. it was in his akadyemia days as zandik. you too were a student at the akadyemia, although you weren't really interested in it you gave had given it a go and were doing well.

you met zandik when you two had been put on a assignment as partners. he first had no interest in working with you and figured he would just do it himself but after your persistence to help he begrudgingly let you help. turns out you weren't as useless as he first thought. for the assignment there was a more physical aspect to it than he would've preferred and figured he could just load it onto you. ot was rather dangerous but he didn't care if you got hurt.

so he sent you off in hopes that he could finish the rest of it and be rid of working with you. but you returned quicker than expected and had been more successful than needed. okay so maybe you peaked his interest just a little bit and how capable you could actually be but he still didn't care that much. so why was he seeking you out for another assignment partner? he would say it's just because, again, a bit more physical than he would like.

and eventually you worked your way into zandik's heart. and as much as he tried to deny those feelings, his reasonable side of him wouldn't let him. and too much surprise you had asked him out the next day, the day he was planning to confess. he was lost for words that you actually liked him back. and to much much surprise you two became official.

but his more unlawful practices in the medical field had chased him out of the akadyemia. however you still supported him as his lover but this just meant you hadn't heard from him in a long while. that was until he had reached out in the form of a letter. and thats how you stayed in contact. until your days at the akadeymia had come to an end and you wanted to return to your hometown to do a job that interested you. but you had made a detour to meet with him for the first time in ages.

dottore, as your partner, supported your decision and you two stayed in contact through letters. and sometimes if your work allowed, you would spend your holiday's with dottore as the only bonding time you two truly had. he never knew or questioned your choice of work as as long as you were fine, that's all he cared about. and you had no clue about his apart from he was a doctor. but maybe he should've asked.

it was fittingly quite a rainy day when the fatui had managed to storm mondstadt yet again. it has been a while since the last attempt. but you had to be up front with your fellow knights of favonius, especially as you were a quite high ranking knight due to your skill. and that's when you saw him. your lover staring right back at you from across the battle. but you had a job to do and so did he.

arlecchino ★↷

- reader is a coworker of neuvillette

meeting arlecchino was by pure coincidence. you had merely heard of an orphanage named house of the hearth and decided to visit and possibly find a way to help it wether through donations or simply helping around. but upon your visit you had met her.

she initially thought nothing of you. but after seeing you a couple of times, you started striking up a conversation with her, you two did have some interests in common. and soon she found herself talking to you upon your visits. she never let you know of the darker secrets that lay beneath the orphanage as she figured that was none of your business.

she had a brief idea that you were someoneof high status in fontaine but never pried into even as your casual conversation turned into a friendship and eventually something more. the entire time you had no clue about her occupation as a fatui member as you figured she just ran the orphanage.

you two, upon your new found relationship, had started hanging out outside of if the orphanage often just quality time around each other. but eventually you told her that you had something big coming up and you would be in fontaine for a while, she didn't pry and knew she was also headed to fontaine soon so maybe she could surprise you with a visit.

but what she didn't know was that the important thing you had coming up was a series of serious trials among the court walls. you had a very important role with helping both neuvillette and furina in court. apparently one of the trials was with a man named 'childe'.

and unfortunately you had been informed of some less than welcome visitors near fontaine, so during down time during your trials you had ran to figure out what was happening. and as if the archons where laughing at you you found arlecchino. but not your arlecchino, the fatui harbringer arlecchino.

as you stared at her, you wanted to just curl up and never remember this day. but sadly she was here for a mission. her surprise visiting was more of a surprise than she had planned. and unfortunately you both had jobs to do.

#x gender neutral reader #x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin x reader angst #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #genshin dottore #dottore x reader #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #🦭 anon↩

[rex101111]

Elden Ring, Armored Core 6, and the terror of Agency.

(spoilers for AC6)

Armored Core 6 being the first game FromSoft released after Elden Ring is actually really freaking interesting, specifically because both games tackle the topic of "Agency" from two completely different perspectives.

In Elden Ring, Agency is (mostly) mechanical, the player can, from the word go, provided they don't die, choose any direction at all and do whatever they want for as long as they want. The game has the largest amount of ending of any Souls game if we take into account all the Lord ending variants, because the player can effect the world so deeply in so many ways. You can reach the end in any number of ways and the ending you get tends to be entirely up to you, and every ending is unique to itself.

In AC6, the agency is more felt in the story. That is to say, you don't have any agency at all. 621, Raven, your player character, doesn't have any sort of autonomy whatsoever. They don't get to choose which side they want to exclusively support on Rubicon, they can't choose to express any opinion about what's going on or what people say about them, they don't even have any bodily autonomy. You're a husk of a human being that can barely manage to breath in and out without external help, your mech is a glorified wheelchair iron lung combo with guns attached, and the most agency you have is with your AC. What weapons to bring, what build to make...but even that is fleeting.

Some people have complained that some bosses are damn near impossible without a certain and specific build. While I disagree, certain builds make those bosses significantly easier, but mechanical skill tends to make up for most shortcomings if you wanna stick to something specific...but there's some truth to it.

Sometimes the game will just hold your head down in the mud and say "do this or die". And unless you want to put in a lot of practice...that's what you'll do. You'll give up what little agency you have because it suddenly became the less important factor. Now you're focused on killing the bastard holding you back and moving on. The mission is what's important.

There are several times in your first playthrough where you get to "choose" which mission you wanna do, the other option vanishing until you do a new game+. One mission really deep into the playthrough, a few missions before the end, gives you the option of choosing which of the game long factions you wanna support. In any other game, this would be story shifting. It would be world altering. Deciding which faction gets the upper hand in a war...and it's an illusion.

In the briefing for eliminating the Redguns, Snail tells you plainly that if you won't do it, they'll just send Rusty in to take care of things. And if you do choose to fight the Vespers, that's exactly what happens. No matter what you did, the Redguns were doomed. The only agency you had was whether the bullet that killed them came out of your gun or someone elses.

Then, at the end of chapter 4, you get captured, and what little agency you had is utterly stripped away from you. You are in a hopeless situation, without access to the mech you put so much time and money into, or the guiding voice of your handler. You get given a hunk of junk barely held together with duct-tape and hope, and told you either use this thing to run...or die.

And then, a few missions later, the game does the cruelest thing it could have possibly done, it gives you a choice. An actual choice, a choice that will matter, a choice that you know will determine how this will all end.

Finally, finally a choice, finally some agency, all the agency in the world.

And when I got to this point? I fucking froze, I just stood there, controller in my clammy hands, and just could not for the life of me decide who to side with, who to betray, who's dreams to make true and who's to shatter. I did make my choice, eventually, because I couldn't just stop here...but I made peace with it. People died, and I expected them to, because the consequences of choice were clear to me right away.

And then...NG+. I do the opposite, I try the alternate missions. I do the other ending...and then the game plays it's most cruel trick. That big choice up there? It didn't matter either.

No matter what ending you picked first, the same people die (minus Ayre because she's special and good and we're all glad she's here), Carla, Chatty, Walter, Rusty. They all die in every ending, some by your hand, some by an enemy's, but still, still they die.

Every time you think you have agency, the game snatches it away. And the final ending just hammers it home as hard as it can. In this route, you become the slave of ALLMIND, you follow its every whim as loyally as you would have with Walter, except maybe you're doing because you saw both previous endings and you hope this time it'll be different. Maybe this time Carla and Chatty and Rusty and Walter won't die, maybe this time the ending won't leave a rotten taste in your mouth.

And then it happens again, they die anyway, again because of and in spite of your choices. And at the end...ALLMIND shows up, and demands you surrender the tiniest bit of agency you have left, your own self.

And, finally, you fight back. Finally, when there is no voice in your ear to tell you otherwise, not Walter or Ayre or Carla or ALLMIND, you make the one decision you still have the power to make.

You fight for your fucking life.

Finally, finally, some agency the game can't and won't take away. Even if all else fails, even if ideals burn and dreams die, you will always have the choice to claw your way out and FIGHT.

After a whole game three times over of not having a real choice in what happens, the taste of Agency is all the sweeter.

#armored core #armored core 6 #this is just me rambling for a bit #what a fucking game

[casual-socks]

HI IVE BEEN MASSIVELY HYPERFIXATED ON TMA FOR ABOUT A YEAR AND IVE SEEN MAYBE ONE (1) SINGULAR PERSON TALK ABOUT THIS and i am not even kidding when i say its been a passionate topic of conversation for that entire year. people know me for this. it comes up and my entire friend group SIGHS AUDIBLY because they know the 20 minute tangent i Will be taking

WHATTTTT IS GOING ON WITH GERARD KEAYS NAME. what. what???? okay i

youre telling me jonathan sims went to oxford college (relatively prestigious if my memory serves me correctly) for RESEARCH. for, to put it simply, READING. and he looks at the name gerard and goes Yeah looks like jared to me lets go with that!!! HELLO?? NO?? not even mentioning the fact that he is being what could easily be called possesed when reading these statements which leaves us with two options

1. the ENTIRETY OF ENGLAND CANNOT PRONOUNCE THE NAME GERARD.

2. jonathan sims is so monumentally stupid that he is somehow breaking this possesion for the 2 seconds it takes to say the name gerard (i love him i swear i will sound so so hateful for this entire post but its out of love)

and like??? its not even that EVERYONE is calling him jared? elias and gertrude have both called him gerard and thats just off the top of my head. i also think jon said it correctly ONEEEE SINGULAR TIME. Just the once.

now i feel it necessary to mention jared hopworth here as well. because why, why on gods green earth, would you name a character gerard. pronounce it jared. TURN AROUND AND GO. lets make another jared but this ones made out of meat and is sort of implied to not be too fond of gay people. Yeah he steals peoples bones. Yeah.

SO LIKE GERARD KEAY IS THE OBJECTIVELY SUPERIOR JARED EXCEPT HES NOT JARED HIS NAME IS LITERALLY GERARD?? FUCK YOU SO MUCH

so okay. sure whatever this podcast is sooo british that a bunch of people are just completely failing to pronounce gerard. sure. whatever you say.

GERRY?????? HIS FUCKING NICKNAME IS GERRY???????????? NO!!!!

NO. no. LOOK ME IN MY EYES. LOOK AT THE NAME GERARD. GER-ARD. AND YOURE TELLING ME YOURE GONNA CALL HIM JARED. SND THEN YOURE GONNA CALL HIM GERRY WITH A G???? gerry with a g. that is utterly ridiculous i cannot even believe this that is monumentally frustrating i cannot even begin to describe to you all the anger i have experienced over this particular bit because why on earth would you take that particular extra step??? gerard -> gerry. sure. thin ice, but sure. jared -> jerry. sure! yeah! makes sense! GERARD -> JARED -> GERRY? you must be playing some sick joke jonny sims. seriously. you are a cruel and usual man

now this is when i start to wind down, but far from where i finish. lets take a moment to really pause and soak in his actual name here.

gerard.

that is so unfortunate already i mean really, gerard is such a…. a name…. i mean his mom skins people and puts them in books and the cruelest thing i think she ever couldve done is honest to god name her son gerard.

keay.

now dont get me wrong. theres nothing seriously wrong with spelling it keay on principle. but god, really? youre gonna shove all this gerard gerry jared business in front of me and tell me his last name is just key but gone the extra mile. really feels like the cherry on top of a shit cake.

now if you consider gerards character i truly feel as though thats the deepest disservice here. gerard keay is an incredible character whos short appearance is so memorable and charming, and despite his VERY little screen time he still has an intriguing and well fleshed out character. really, gerard keay is so excellent character wise. But, every time i think about him for any more than 5 minutes, almost this exact rant is being told to whoever is unfortunate enough to be near me at the time.

another thing i think also really adds to this is just the nature of gerard keay. everything you can say about that guy could be ended with “and everone calls him jared for some reason”. hes emo and everyone calls him jared for some reason. his hair dye job is so miserable that EVERYONE mentions it and everyone calls him jared for some reason. he has mommy issues and everyone calls him jared for some reason.

okay i need to wrap this up before i start just repeating WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY for thousands of words but heres a graph i made for my friends in october 2022 when i was going on about this in the middle of my spanish class 👍👍

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #gerard keay #gerry keay #im so passionate about this #fun fact about the spanish class thing #my teacher honestly thought i was angrily ranting about gerard way for like 20 minutes #the people need to know about this. #jon sims #please excuse how messy this is i am so tired

[ponderingmoonlight]

Prompt #15 with Megumi? Rivals to lovers with happy ending please ♥️

There you go, I'm so so sorry this took so long <3 I hope you still enjoy it, I find it quite hard to write enemies to lovers under 5000 words :D

Opposites attract

Pairing: Megumi x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,3k

Synopsis: Megumi hated you the moment you stepped into Jujutsu High for the first time. As time flies, he always sees himself confronted with you on missions. However, one of these missions makes him rethink his feelings towards you

Warnings: Megumi is an ass from time to time, language

„Why am I here, blindworm?“

There you sit, sloughing on your chair at the classroom, feet stretched out in front of you. Damn, you were taking the best nap of your life when your stupid sensei came storming in and woke you up rudely. He surely wants to send you on another mission – hopefully alone. If you have to work with one of these losers again, you break off.

Especially him.

God, you truly hated Megumi Fushiguro. His quiet way, tall figure and calculating personality. He is quite the opposite of your outspoken, confident and risky self. Maybe that’s why you two don’t get along at all. And maybe that’s the reason why you always end up together. Hopefully not today…

“As charming as ever, I like that. I have a mission for you, (y/n)!”, Gojo cries out in joy.

“Again? I just returned from one. Remember?”

“I remember that you wiped the floor with Megumi’s ass, even though that wasn’t exactly the task”, he replies dryly.

“Yeah, that was fun.”

Both you and Megumi are grade 2 sorcerers while being in your first school year, which means that you can basically carry out missions alone but are happily sent together by Gojo for more complicated matters – much to your chagrin and probably his. So whenever you get the chance to give Megumi a hard time you gladly seize the opportunity.

“Don’t be so rough, I know you have a sweet spot for charming boys like him.”

Oh, you know all too well that your sensei just wants to get on your nerves. But as soon as he mentions positive feelings towards a coward like Megumi, you can’t help but explode.

“Shut up, ew! I have no sweet spot for anybody!”

“Yeah, everyone here knows that”, Megumi’s low voice mumbles behind you.

“You.”

Your voice is shaking in venom while the vein on your forehead threatens to pop out any minute.

“What the hell is that loser doing here?”, you groan, face completely twisted in annoyance.

You just knew it. Seems like it’s Satoru’s favorite job to annoy the shit out of you by always putting the two of you together.

“Come on, give me Panda. Or what about Maki? Some girl-power would be nice. But not that”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“God, you’re so full of yourself. Remember the last time when I saved your puny figure from getting eaten alive by that curse? You’re probably the worst and cruelest person I’ve ever met”, Megumi barks back in annoyance.

“I don’t mind being the villain in your story because you’re a clown in mine, Fushiguro.”

“That was the nicest conversation you two had in a long time, great! Now let’s get to work, I’m sure you’re doing just fine my children!”, Gojo interrupts while hugging you both.

Is there a way out of this madness? Maybe you can pretend you’re sick, too weak to go on a mission. But that’s not your standard and you know that. Giving Megumi the satisfaction of staying at home while he gets beaten up isn’t an option.

“Maybe I’m lucky and you die on me”, you mumble under your breath, storming out of the room faster than Megumi can follow past Yuji who just stares at you in awe.

God, Megumi hates you so much. How can a person be so full of herself? Yes, your abilities are quite outstanding, your curse technique is very good for being a first class student and to be honest you are actually pretty handsome, but the problem is that you are very aware of those facts. And you make no bones rubbing that into everyone’s face – especially his. His stolen glance is set on your back. You do have a really nice figure, feminine curves even though you train several hours a day. Yes, really attractive.

He shakes his head in disbelief. What the hell is he thinking? You are the crappiest person he knows, everything about you is disgusting, he hates you!

“Wow, they really hate each other”, Yuji comments, eyes following the two of you in disbelief.

“No, they don’t. Trust me, this is something completely different. And I love nothing more than teasing that out”, Gojo replies with a cheeky grin.

______________________________________________________________

“Stop breathing so loud, Fushiguro.”

Kiyotaka can’t help but glance at you in the rearview mirror, too stunned to speak by your nonsensical words. Why does Gojo keep sending the two of you on missions together? The air in the car is so thick that it could be sliced by a katana.

“Rot in hell, (y/n).”

He never heard such cruel words come out of Megumi’s mouth except when you are around.

“I’m already there, you’re here after all”, you bark back.

“Stop fighting you two, we’re almost there.”

Your gaze wanders around the rainy area. Somehow he’s right, you should focus on your mission. The fact that two of you were sent here can only mean that it’s going to get ugly. Once again it’s about a school, once again a lot of young people are dying. You need to stop this madness.

“There you are, I’ll create the curtain now. Good look you two.”

“Skilled people don’t need luck, but maybe it’ll help you Megumi.”

His blood boils in anger, just a glimpse into your stupid pretty faces challenges his self-control all over. Who do you think you are?

“What’s wrong with you? Can you just pull yourself together until we ended this mission? I hate you too, but now we have to work”, Megumi smacks into your direction.

“Always the good boy, such a role model! I want to puke in your face, it makes me fucking sick!”, you challenge him, watching as his facial expression darkens with every word.

“You.”

With a swift motion, you’re trapped against the wall by his body. Your sharp and fast breath hangs in the thick air between you two, the way he pins your wrists against the brick wall makes…sparks fly. You can’t help but notice his striking blue eyes when he glares down at you, the warmth that radiates from his body along with his delicious scent. Fuck, what is wrong with you? Why is your face heating up under his gaze, why does it feel so…good to feel his frame pressed against your own? His lips suddenly look so inviting, so warm and soft. But no, you hate him, you hate Megumi since you first met, he is everything you despise reincarnated in one person. God, he annoys you so badly, you need to get out of his grip, you need to-

“Stop it. I’m serious”, he gasps against your face, lips so close to your own that you can feel his breath brush against your now prickly skin.

Fuck, you see stars. His grip around your wrist tightens, his face is getting closer to yours. Will he…? No, that’s impossible, Megumi hates you with all his heart, he told you over and over again. And you hate him too since the moment you first laid your eyes on him. But why…why do you feel the urge to press your lips against his?

“Or what?”

Your voice is suddenly so soft and vulnerable. God, you look so adorable with that pink blush creeping up your cheeks, lips parted and doe eyes wide open. That desire, that urge to brush his lips against yours seems to become unbearable. Just once, just this one damn time. Just to prove to himself how disgusting you are.

Boom.

It happens faster than any of you can react. The wall behind you explodes and buries you under its rubble.

You are instantly greeted by scorching pain consuming your whole body. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Blood streams down your face like a waterfall, your right leg aches in the most disgusting way imaginable.

“Fuck, are you alright (y/n)?”, Megumi screams, eyes widen in horror.

So much blood. Your whole body seems to be covered in crimson. Even though you’re not screaming or even groaning, he can clearly see the shock creeping up your eyes when realization hits you. But he has to focus on that curse. Yes, he needs to take care of that before he can help you.

You desperately try to free yourself from the debris that threatens to crush your body while Megumi fights off the curse that seems to be responsible for all of this. As usual, his facial expression is dead serious while his little shikigami work for him.

“How bad is it?”, he questions, eyes focused on the monster in front of him.

Your leg feels like burning alive, a little glance at your body is enough for you to realize that you are not well. Maybe even so critical that time is running out for you.

“It’s bad”, you hiss back while pressing your trembling hand against the gash in your thigh.

A few broken ribs, a laceration on the head, here and there some open wounds and abrasions – nothing too serious, you’ll get over that. But the giant gash in your thigh is definitely something else. Your leg was almost completely pierced by an iron rod. Surely that wouldn’t be a problem either if the bar was still in you, but it isn’t. And that’s why you’re bleeding out at the moment.

Finally that curse is gone. Just a look at you is enough to make Megumi turn pale in an instant. You’re sitting in a pool of your own blood, lids hanging heavy in your eyes. His heart skips a beat when realization hits him like a wall. You could die right here if he doesn’t do anything.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here”, he mumbles, hands on their way to grab your body.

“I don’t need your help, Fushiguro”, you growl at him.

“Are you sure? Cause it sure does look like it”, Megumi replies dryly and begins to inspect your wounds.

“If even half of that blood is yours you need to get out of here right now. I’m calling Gojo-sensei.”

“Everything hurts”, you blur out.

The sight of your terrified eyes makes Megumi’s heart sink in his chest. He has never seen you like this. But what’s even worse is the fact that he is so damn worried about you, that the thought of losing you alone makes his breath hitch.

“Stay with me. Don’t close your eyes.”

His voice sounds so soft, echoes as sweet as honey in your ear.

“Megumi.”

His strong arms free you from the rest of the rubble above you and lift your numb body off the ground with ease. Your vision slowly but surely begins to get blurry, it gets so hard to keep your tired eyes open.

“What is it, (y/n)?”, he softly asks while maneuvering his shikigami around in order to find the other curses that have to be here.

“I don’t remember a moment where you were so kind to me”, you purr.

“Well, that’s because there wasn’t a single moment where you were so kind to me”, he remarks with a small smile.

“I h-have to say…That…That you’re not…t-that bad.”

Your words are a true mess, so quiet that he has to focus on your low voice in order to understand. But oh you look so lovely, wearing a soft smile on your lips and that tender gleam in your eyes makes his heart skip a beat. Over and over, he told himself that he truly hates you, that you are an evil person that doesn’t deserve his affection. Always keen to hide his stolen glances and the way your sight makes him hold his breath. Your body, your brain, your everything. But seeing you like this, vulnerable laying in his hands, he can’t help but admire you. Admire a woman this strong and independent, a woman who never fears anything.

“You’re pretty okay too I guess”, he replies, hands wrapped tighter around your sagging body.

“How about staying awake for a little longer? I bet you can’t make it until we’re back at Jujutsu High.”

“I bet I will, asshole.”

____________________________________________________________

“She kept bugging me about telling you that she stayed awake to the end. And that you’re a loser.”

“So she’s fine, that’s great!”, Gojo proclaims and pads Megumi’s shoulder.

It was a close call, he knows it. And that sweet seconds just before the wall behind your back shattered…What was that? Affection? No, no, no. That’s simply not possible. You are the worst person walking on this planet. The thought of you alone makes his gut twist in disgust and heats up his face. You drive him crazy like no other. And the fact that you almost died and were a decent person for one second won’t change that.

“Should have left her there. I’m leaving”, Megumi mumbles and turns away.

Why was he here anyway? Shoko already stitched him up a few hours ago, he has no business being in the hospital wing. “Didn’t you want to visit her, Megumi-chan?”

“I would rather train with you than seeing her. Why would I care about her well-being?”, he remarks quickly.

Gojo and Shoko watch him as he storms out.

“Do they really think they hate each other?”

“Yup”, Gojo confirms.

The fresh air of the evening hits his face with full force. Fuck, what the hell is wrong with him? Why is he feeling this way? He shouldn’t be worried about your well-being, he shouldn’t care at all about the fact that you are injured. After all, you put yourself in that situation. God, he just hates you so much. In his world, there’s no place for positive feelings towards you. But still… He stops in his tracks, eyes glued to the ground.

Why does he want to turn around, to let his feet carry him into the hospital room, to sit beside you? What is it that urges him to at least check on you? Pictures of you flood his mind. Your breathtaking smile, the stunning glimmer in your eyes, the confidence that’s dripping from your sweet voice. Why do you have to be so damn perfect and why the hell is his heart beating so fast by the thought of it alone?

As if in trance, he begins to walk back into the direction of the hospital wing, back where you are. He has to prove to himself how much he hates you just one more time. Just once…

He quietly sneaks past the room where he hears Shoko and Gojo still talking. If you have to stay for the night, you have to be down the corridor on the right. Over and over, he looks over his shoulder. If someone catches him sneaking up on you he might need to burry himself alive. All the jokes, the constant teasing from Gojo about you and him really get on his nerves. Why can’t they see that he fucking hates you?

There it is, the door to you. As noiseless as possible he opens it and gets immediately greeted by your gaze. You almost look surprised when he closes the door behind him again and awkwardly stands in the middle of the room, simply staring at you with his hands in his pockets.

“Didn’t expect you here”, you comment dryly.

“Yeah, I didn’t plan on coming either.”

“Did Shoko tell you that I stayed awake?”

“Sure.”

“And that you’re a loser?”

He gifts you with his most annoyed look.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Listen, there’s something I wanted to tell you in person…”, you begin while nervously fumbling with your fingers.

This catches Megumi off guard. You always know what to say or react. How is it possible that you are jumpy? And to top it off, because of him?

“Why did you save me, Megumi?”

What on earth is going on? He scratches the back of his head, too stunned to speak. Are you serious?

“Just because you think I’m the bad guy doesn’t mean I am a bad guy, y’know”, he mumbles.

You let his words sink in, gaze never leaving his face. The last hours really showed you that Megumi isn’t as bad as you always tried to make yourself believe. He saved you despite all the things you said to him without even blinking, risking his own life to save yours. Maybe…maybe it isn’t even hatred you feel towards him.

But something completely different.

“I will never say this again but…I think you’re my favorite enemy”, you confess quietly with a small smile.

Megumi’s heart stops beating for a second, your sweet words triggering feelings in him he tried so hard to avoid. God, how many nights did he tell himself that you are no good, that he just has to hate you with all his heart? But…Is he really hating you though?

“I can probably give that back”, he mumbles.

For once in his life, Megumi sees nothing but your striking beauty and brain when his gaze meets yours. Maybe, just maybe you aren’t as bad as he thought you are. But why does he feel so strongly towards you? What the hell is wrong with his heart?

“Let me kiss you. Just once. Just to prove myself that I hate you”, he blurts out.

You hold your breath, dopamine, adrenalin and who knows what other hormones pump through your veins and leave you dizzy for a second. You didn’t just hallucinate him saying that, right? The sincerity in his eyes tells you he’s dead serious.

“Sure”, you reply automatically.

With fast steps he crosses the room, now standing in front of you. And then he bends down to your bed, grabs your face and kisses you so passionately that you forget how to breathe for a moment. Your tongue intertwines with his, dancing in the most delicate way while you hold onto his strong shoulders for support. Is this really happening or are you dreaming again? Just a few hours ago, you spat venom at him like every other month before. But this…This feels so much better than constantly insulting him and to pretend that you hate him with all your heart. You realize with all clarity of your intense kiss that you probably never really hated him. No, this feeling his completely different from disgust.  

He breaks away from you, panting hard just like you. Your glossy eyes look up to him, hands still resting against his shoulders.

“Yes, I do. I absolutely hate you”, he breathes out.

“I hate you too”, you moan before pulling him close with all force for another passionate kiss.

Maybe, just maybe Megumi Fushiguro isn’t so bad after all.

But just maybe.

_____________________________________________________________

Bonus:

“Oh, (y/n)! Are you feeling any better?”, Yuji shouts at you while waving you over.

“OMG, are you seeing this. Am I dreaming?”, Nobara mutters next to him, completely mesmerized by the sight of you and Megumi.

Are those shikigami? Your hand is intertwined with Megumi’s, the both of you walking next to each other and…smile? Since when exactly are you smiling at Fushiguro?

“What do you mean?...Wait, when the hell did this happen?”

“Megumi, I thought you hate (y/n)!”

“Would you two mind to stop staring at us like that? (y/n) and I are kind of a thing now”, Megumi explains briefly while stopping in front of both of his friends.

“Did he force you into this, (y/n)?”, Nobara whispers in your ear.

You let out a heartfelt laughter, the confusion of your friends matching with your own.

“This might be the worst decision I ever made, but let’s see how it all works out.”

Megumi gives you a reproachful look and squeezes your hand firmer. Oh, even in a relationship, there will always be that small part of him that hates you.

Along with the much bigger part that loves you with all his heart.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu megumi #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jjk anime #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk fushiguro #fushiguro x reader #megumi #megumi fluff #megumi x you

[bhaalsdeepbat]

Some Astarion Endings Thoughts. This is mostly just analysis ramblings and going over the endings and how Ascended Astarion and Spawn Astarion differ.

You have the free the spawn ending, where the cycle of abuse is ended and the Player Character chose to give the other spawn a chance to either be the monster they were made to be OR try to be more than that. And it isn't a perfect solution because, yes, they're rabid, starving vampires. There is always a chance that choice goes wrong, especially if player choices led to the Gur being wiped out AND the other 6 spawn being killed during the ritual.

Mercy killing, not sacrificing the spawn, is seen as an equally good choice, though it's complicated for the reasons stated above. None of the Spawn are there by choice and mercy-killing them takes away the freedom and autonomy that Astarion was very lucky to have even experienced. It's a hard decision, but the characters recognize it was either this or risk unleashing a HOARD of ravenous Spawn. The Underdark is uniquely qualified to be home to 7000+ hungry Vampire Spawn, but not everyone is going to go down there. In fact, if you send the spawn there, you find out not all of them even make it to where they decide to settle.

Mercy killing the spawn ensures no one else can be hurt by any of the spawn, whether it be their bloodthirst or violence as a reaction to the cruelty they experienced. However, the spawn made by Cazador ARE all innocent people. If you play Oath of Devotion Paladin and mercy kill the spawn, you will break your Oath because every single victim of his is just that. A victim. Astarion has a few moments throughout the story where he tries to convince the player - and himself - that not all of Cazador's victims could be innocents, but they very much are.

Astarion desperately doesn't want to see himself in them. The spawn in the cells are a reflection of what he was like when Cazador had him locked in that tomb or when Cazador had him starving on bugs and rats, and he has NO idea what he looks like anymore. I'm not even sure he's fully convinced he doesn't look partially like that tbh

The third option for Astarion's spawn ending is to just leave the other spawn in their prisons, which is seen as a really fucking cruel fate. Killing them is better than just leaving them there to starve for the rest of their eternal lives. This is also Astarion's cruelest choice, the one he makes to spite the player AND the other spawn because of how helpless he feels if he's not properly convinced to give up the power that was just within his grasp. If he cannot be fully free of Cazador and the pain he caused, then none of the other spawn can, either.

Regardless of the player's decision on what to do with the spawn, if Astarion is kept a spawn, he's able to empathize with the other victims of Cazador and see himself in them. He is forced to contend with the fact that NONE of them deserved to be caught in Cazador's cruelty. In his Spawn ending, he sees the other spawn for what they are: victims of a cruel man trying to play power games by using people as pawns and currency.

Ascension is meant to represent locking into the cycle of abuse. For Astarion, this first step is achieved by sacrificing over seven thousand souls. This move alone changes the Spawn from representations of himself, and the depths of the horrors he experienced, into currency to trade for the power to ensure he will never be in that position ever again. Rather than victims of the same horrors, they become a necessary price to pay in service of elevating him to a station above their own.

And he does see himself as a being above everyone else once he Ascends. He sees mortals as cattle. Potential pets or food, but animals that need to be herded all the same.

This includes Tav/Durge.

The whole plan to seduce Tav/Durge was born from the person Astarion was while still reeling from two centuries of of Hell. It was habits and survival instincts from living under Cazador that start to unravel when the reality of it all starts to set in. You catch peeks of who he is behind his carefully constructed mask of charm and prepared scripts, poison delivered with sweet words and a perfectly composed smile.

When he confesses, he wants to give Tav/Durge something real, but it also a mirror to what will happen in his diverging pathways. If he remains Spawn, he can give them something real. They're equal, loving partners. Ascended Astarion sees their partner as a potential pet to be loved, lavished, but ultimately owned.

The ownership is for a couple of reasons. One is so that he can ensure he has someone who will never turn on him. It's clear he has an alignment shift to being straight up evil and wants to conquer...and he talks about it in front of Faerun's best monster hunters. He needs to make sure Tav/Durge isn't included in that. He also wants to make sure they never leave him. Since he never faces what Cazador did, nor does he face the fact that things ARE changing and it's generally a good thing for people to grow and relationships to change with that growth, he wants to make sure things remain in stasis. Spawn Astarion trusts Tav/Durge to not do anything to hurt him and trusts the future they have together, whatever that may be. Turning them into a Spawn when Astarion Ascends ensures that there IS no change. Ever. Tav/Durge and the relationship are quite literally frozen in time.

Once Astarion Ascends, he stops seeing any of his companions as anything but potential pawns. His Origin Ascended ending provides an excellent glimpse at how he views the companions. Their collective strength is just ripe for plucking and he isn't afraid to make them spawn by force. I think the coldness the player can comment on after he Ascends is because he no longer feels any kinship toward the companions. He can create a script and run through it, but there won't be warmth where his beating heart is still rotted to its core.

Ascending him also starts him on the path to becoming another Cazador. If you go into the room with Vellioth's skull AFTER the ritual, rather than before, you get specific interactions with the various items that are WILDLY different from Spawnstarion (who also reacts differently depending on if it's before or after the ritual).

Astarion shows hesitation if taken into the room BEFORE the ritual, because he's forced to see the names of the people he has to sacrifice to ascend AND he sees how pathetic Cazador is when it comes to Vellioth. If you interact with the list of names or Vellioth's skull after choosing NOT to ascend, Astarion shows more remorse and empathy.

and as a side note THAT is who he is beneath the burden of his pain, when he is able start freeing himself from it. cazador's symbol is the knot of rats. Astarion sees the knot and cannot see himself in it, even though he himself is just one of the rats who happened to escape.

Ascended Astarion, on the other hand, is flippant. There's a list of names of ALL the spawn he sacrificed to ascended, and he just. He doesn't take seriously AT ALL that he just sent all those souls to be tormented in the Hells. Ascended Astarion never sees himself as a rat to begin with. He sees himself as a victim, but the others caught in Cazador's trap were all unfortunates and other bad words he can use to make them seem less deserving of empathy (empathy that he no longer has, when he ascends imo)

Astarion spent the first two acts feeling like he needed to rely on them for protection because he never felt his own strength was enough, even though his kit is fucking BROKEN. Ascending him affirms that he wasn't strong enough to protect them in any meaningful way as is, and also that no part of him was enough as just a spawn. He doesn't want to continue to rely on the player for protection, but Ascended Astarion is more than happy to make the most powerful beings in Faerun his spawn so they can keep him protected. All that power from the ritual, and he wants an army of powerful Spawn to do the dirty work for him.

As an extension of this, turning romanced Tav/Durge into a spawn is to make sure he has complete control over the one person he views as stronger than himself. Slaying Cazador is something he always credits to the player. Ascended Astarion is constantly haunted by Cazador and what he did. Tav/Durge was the one being stronger than him, which makes them a threat if they ever turn on him. Now, he knows he has one person he can always trust.

He even starts laying out the building blocks to potentially set rules similar to the ones Cazador had for his spawn. The way he starts mentioning them is very manipulative, too. They're statements made to seem like he's just expressing the depth of his devotion (still creepy), but he's really setting up being able to reiterate the rules without it being weird once the tadpoles are dealt with. He's fully aware that the tadpole will prevent Spawn!Player from being completely under his control. It's why you can break up with him before the end, but then he refuses to let the player go at the very end.

Spawn ending, when not romanced, Astarion decides to just travel by himself and become a hero. He doesn't find another group to travel with. He goes by himself. Spawn Astarion recognizes his own strength, embraces his Vampirism, not as something that taints him, but as a power to be unleashed on the real monsters. HE does the dirty work.

I love love love exploring both endings and I love the way Astarion's character can grow depending on player choice, then completely branch into two different ways once you hit the Ascension vs Spawn choice.

ty for reading my ramblings. I know this wasn't a straightforward analysis or anything, and def doesn't have an actual conclusion or like. point beyond character exploration. a lot of these thoughts are just me thinking character through so i can write them better. i want to explore these aspects of him, but I do ramble things first to get general characterization thoughts out.

#bat plays bg3 #astarion #bg3 #spawn astarion #ascended astarion #long post

[jackoshadows]

No doubt Tyrion Lannister is a morally grey character, especially with regards to his treatment of women. Nevertheless, when I come across some posts, it hits me how so much of the hate/critique directed towards the character is because of ableism, just like in the books.

Brienne of Tarth maybe at the top of a morally good scale, but even she is susceptible to bigoted propaganda like every other character in the world of Westeros. It's up to us as impartial and enlightened readers to parse through her thoughts and opinions and agree or disagree with her instead of just accepting that she is right because she is good.

Lady Catelyn had said that Sansa was a gentle soul who loved lemon cakes, silken gowns, and songs of chivalry, yet the girl had seen her father's head lopped off and been forced to marry one of his killers afterward. If half the tales were true, the dwarf was the cruelest Lannister of all. If she did poison King Joffrey, the Imp surely forced her hand. She was alone and friendless at that court. In King's Landing, Brienne had hunted down a certain Brella, who had been one of Sansa's maids. The woman told her that there was little warmth between Sansa and the dwarf. Perhaps she had been fleeing him as well as Joffrey's murder. - Brienne, AFfC

IMO, Brienne is wrong because on a scale of Lannister cruelty (Tywin, Cersei, Jaime, Joffrey) Tyrion has in actuality been the least cruel Lannister of them all - especially towards the Stark kids, including bastard Jon and disabled Bran. And yet a consistent theme in the books is that Tyrion gets the most hate from the people because of his disability.

Even Brienne's last point of Sansa specifically fleeing from Tyrion stands out because we see from Sansa's own POV in the vale that she considers Tyrion an option to escape to if he had been alive.

The man Brienne loves and defends - Jaime Lannister - has tried to murder one Stark child, attempted to maim and cut off the hand of another Stark child and forced himself on Cersei. If Jaime had been in KL instead of being taken prisoner, he would have continued being Cersei's henchman and supported his sister and their son while they abused Sansa as opposed to Tyrion stepping in and putting an end to the beatings. Jaime has been verbally abusive and cruel to Brienne herself.

Hell, even when they are parting, Jaime tells Brienne to not save the poor child being send off to marry Ramsay Bolton.

"With a sword at my throat, but never mind. Lady Catelyn's dead. I could not give her back her daughters even if I had them. And the girl my father sent with Steelshanks was not Arya Stark." "Not Arya Stark?" "You heard me. My lord father found some skinny northern girl more or less the same age with more or less the same coloring. He dressed her up in white and grey, gave her a silver wolf to pin her cloak, and sent her off to wed Bolton's bastard." He lifted his stump to point at her. "I wanted to tell you that before you went galloping off to rescue her and got yourself killed for no good purpose. You're not half bad with a sword, but you're not good enough to take on two hundred men by yourself." - Jaime, ASoS

Despite all this, while Brienne thinks positively of Jaime because he's beautiful and saved her, Tyrion is the worst of all the Lannisters because everyone says so. Brienne feels pity for poor Sansa being forced to marry the imp but what of the poor girl the Lannisters - Jaime included - are sending off to marry Ramsay Bolton. We all know what poor Jeyne Poole has been through.

Not defending Tyrion's marriage to Sansa here because that was wrong. However, the fact that Brienne thinks Tyrion was even crueler than Cersei and Joffrey towards Sansa and that it was Tyrion who forced poor, gentle Sansa to murder Joffrey should tell us that even Brienne is not without her biases and unquestioningly accepts Westerosi bigotry.

Let's take the character of Jon Snow. One could argue that he is a character closer to Brienne on a morality scale, as one of the good guys. However, the fun aspect here is that if one puts Brienne of Tarth and Jon Snow together they would end up disagreeing on Catelyn Stark and Tyrion Lannister.

This is not a point to argue which character is good or bad except that characters form relationships based on their personal interactions and experiences rather than whether characters are good or bad and this is why GRRM argues all his characters are morally grey.

The Old Bear shrugged. "A boy king … I imagine he'll listen to his mother. A pity the dwarf isn't with them. He's the lad's uncle, and he saw our need when he visited us. It was a bad thing, your lady mother taking him captive—" "Lady Stark is not my mother," Jon reminded him sharply. Tyrion Lannister had been a friend to him. If Lord Eddard was killed, she would be as much to blame as the queen. " - Jon VII, AGoT

Here is Jon defending Tyrion and assigning equal blame to Catelyn and Cersei if any harm befell Ned Stark. Keep in mind that even after knowing Sansa and Tyrion are married, Jon does not show an iota of the concern Brienne shows for Sansa. Instead his thoughts are for Tyrion, finding it hard to imagine the man he shook hands with and called friend as a kinslayer.

"It is not my intent to choose any side," said Jon, "but I am not as certain of the outcome of this war as you seem to be, my lord. Not with Lord Tywin dead." If the tales coming up the kingsroad could be believed, the King's Hand had been murdered by his dwarf son whilst sitting on a privy. Jon had known Tyrion Lannister, briefly. He took my hand and named me friend. It was hard to believe the little man had it in him to murder his own sire, but the fact of Lord Tywin's demise seemed to be beyond doubt. "The lion in King's Landing is a cub, and the Iron Throne has been known to cut grown men to ribbons." - Jon, ADwD

Jon's personal experiences define his opinions just as Brienne's personal experiences define hers. Brienne's admiration for Lady Catelyn means that she agrees with all of Cat's opinions and has sympathy for Catelyn's daughter. In fact if Catelyn had talked of Jon Snow, Brienne would think of Jon as a treacherous bastard out to steal the Stark birthright like Catelyn warned Robb that Jon or Jon's children would do.

Remember when the Blackfish casts aspersions on Jon Snow's character because his sister has told him that the bastard was not to be trusted? We would see Brienne think the same way because she has never met Jon Snow and would trust in Catelyn's opinions of him.

Would we then unquestionably accept Brienne's opinions of Jon Snow because she's a good person? I doubt it. Brienne's opinions of Tyrion as the cruelest Lannister - when Cersei and Jaime are right there - should similarly not be taken at face value and instead attributed to the bigotry that has surrounded Tyrion for as long as he has lived.

#Tyrion Lannister #Brienne of Tarth #Jon Snow

[aerascreamer]

After seeing posts about who’s right between Jason and Bruce, I’d say there’s really no definitive answers to this dilemma.

-

Batman has the status of a « hero ». Heroes at their core are characters who inspires and embodies important values.

For him, it’s resilience. For him, It’s defiance. It’s putting his life on the line for innocents. It’s looking at crime, violence and darkness right in the eyes and say : no. It’s becoming a beacon in the deepest night.

And it’s sad for me that this aspect is seen as bad. That He’s criticized so much for not wanting to kill when he devoted his entire life against it. That killing is an acceptable answer. That’s he’s criticized for choosing life and investing in infrastructures to rehabilitate and help people in needs (victims AND criminals who wants to turn their life around). He’s the only hero that is frowned upon for incarcerating instead of murdering.

Batman comics have a darker tone than others, but that doesn’t he should become some kind of anti-hero like the Punisher. On the contrary: being in such a dark environment and not falling into it is a testament to his strength of mind.

He should be respected for going against the cycle of violence and bloodshed while offering second chances to those who need it.

-

Jason as Robin saw the magic in the mantle and the chance to make the world better.

But all his hopes and dreams were killed by the Joker. A man his mentor and father has been fighting for years already and who killed hundreds.

When he learned that the Joker was still alive, it’s a slap in the face of everthing. He lived to try and make the world better. He grew up in the most ruthless part of Gotham and still hoped for the best. He died at the hands of evil incarnate. He died while saving his mother you betrayed him. He died believe in Bruce’s mission.

And it didn’t matter. Gotham didn’t change. The Joker is still killing. So many victims and their close ones are crying. And there’s a new kid who believes in Batman like he did once.

For him, there needs to be more. Every system in Gotham is failing. The cops are corrupt, Arkham and BlackGate aren’t prison at all, rapist are still running free, people are forced to turn to crime or sell themselves because of poverty while scumbags profit of off their misery. Many people had second chances. Even third and fourth. But they are unredeemable and a threat to innocent people with only one option left: execution.

-

In the end both have points and both do fail:

Batman is choosing a non lethal approach to be a beacon, a symbol, a protector. People in Gotham can see there’s someone looking out for them. There’s still good people out there wanting to do the right thing and willing to help you turn your life around.

But some people aren’t good. Some benefits or take pleasure at others suffering and will never take the olive branch to redemption. And those people still walk free. The structures that are supposed to contain or stop those people are failing and letting crime breed.

-

Red Hood’s will to get his hands dirty to make Gotham safer by taking out the cruelest of the criminals. People who lived in fear of the bigger fish can sleep in peace. People who lived in pain can finally get retribution and move on. He makes sure the weak and vulnerable are being protected and put an end to their abuse.

But killing can’t be undone. If Red Hood made an error of judgment or mistook the wrong target, then he might have shot an innocent person. Unless he personally saved them or made their lives better, citizens will fear RedHood and not see him any better than Two-Face.

-

As much as I like Jason and Bruce reconciliating, it’s impossible. Batman can’t let Red Hood and let him kill. Red Hood will never believe again in Batman’s way. Batman letting someone kill freely and Red Hood not killing are in anti-thesis of their character.

Either canon make Jason break his principles or fanon break Bruce’s principles in order for them to be father and son again.

The best they’ll get is teaming up out of necessity and putting their differences aside temporarily to save people. But that truth will only end in a fight

Bruce will never be the father Jason needs. Jason will never be the son Bruce knew.

They long for each other.

They love each other.

But there’s no going back to being family.

And, as bittersweet as it is, that’s how the things are now.

#dc #batman #bruce wayne #dc comics #jason todd #batfam #dc red hood #red hood #character analysis #rambles

[rosie-kairi]

Hey want to hear my super sad Ven and Lauriam au? Good cause I wasn't actually asking >:)

So what if when everyone was deciding who goes into the lifeboats Lauriam decided that Ven was small enough that they could share a lifeboat and leave an extra so not as many would be left behind (how that changes things probably not much sadly. They all still get separated across time never to see each other again except Ven and Lauriam).

But then they both end up in the keyblade graveyard. Ven gets complete amnesia and while Lauriam is pretty woosy and doesn't remember everything of their trip to the future he does remember he needs to find Strelitzia, that he has more friends he needs to find and above all else protect Ven. Unfortunately Xehanort finds them (thanks magic mirror -_-) and recognizes them with as the friends from his dreams. Xehanort initially promises to help Lauriam in anyway he can and offers to train him to be stronger. Lauriam doesn't have a lot of options especially with a weakened amnesiac Ven so he initially agrees.

He comes to regret that when the training is essentially xehanort trying to force them into roles of light and dark to create the x-blade which of course fails. Ven doesn't remember much but he does remember Lauriam as one of his friends and the two boys refuse to fight each other. So they often get absolutely thrashed by xehanort. Since ven is still inexperienced he's not able to win on his own and Lauriam focuses more on protecting Ven so he gets beaten due to lack of focus. Days will go by where xehanort leaves them in a wounded injuries state on the ground before healing. And usually he just heals Ven since he's still not strong enough to be a threat.

Lauriam has tried to make some escape attempts to get them to away safety but xehanort is too strong to take on alone especially if lauriam is purposely left in a half healed state.

Eventually xehanort starts to focus more on Ven since he knows he has a powerful darkness trapped inside. Ways of trying to draw it out have included Lauriam being ganged up on by too many enemies and Ven failing to fend off enough to effectively protect him. Ven being forced to fight wave after wave of enemies to get to a tied up Lauriam and getting overwhelmed. Xehanort hopes by pushing him to the brink of death darkness will break free but doesn't.

Eventually his patience grows thin, he thinks an all out assault on Ven's life will finally do it. A critically injured laruaim is off to the side as neo shadow heartless circle around Ven. Lauriam is desperately trying to summon the strength to get to his little brother but can't. Ven is begging for mercy but is ignored and is then nearly torn apart by said heartless as lauriam watches on in horror.

We then get the actual scene of xehanort tearing Ven in two pulling Darkness and Ven's natural born darkness out creating Vanitas. Lauriam struggles to Ven and desperately pulls him away and panics when he sees the light both literally and figuratively leaving Ven's eyes and heart and realizes he's dying. Desperate Lauriam gets up to attack but is knocked down by Vanitas. However the blast creates a portal and Lauriam gets sucked away leaving a dying Ven alone with xehanort.

Lauriam ends up somewhere else (maybe dwarven woodlands) it takes a while for him to gain enough strength let alone energy to heal but he has to find Ven.

Years go by and he's been chasing rumors about a girl with orange pigtails and a boy with spiky blond hair and a key shaped sword. Hope that they're both alive and within in reach. He makes his way to Radiant Garden only to run into Braig/Xigbar/Luxu who recognizes him. Seeing potential in Lauriam Luxu challenges Lauriam and beats him then takes him to the research basement where the other future org members are disappearing. Luxu makes vague references to Ven catching Lauriams attention and demands to know where he is.

Only for Luxu to give him the suggest cruelest grin and be told Ven is dead. They captured him and tortured him for information on the keyblade war and foretellers but he didn't give them anything. No longer useful they decided to get rid of him but before they did he told then they'd all be sorry when Lauriam comes to save him and he'd make them pay. Luxu delivers the crushing blow that Ven died calling and begging for his brother to save him.

This does the job and Lauriam succumbs to darkness and willingly gives up his heart. The crushing weight of failure, grief, and regret too much to bear. He failed his siblings. He didn't protect them and now they're both gone he has nothing left so becoming a Nobody is a welcome respite from the agony he feels.

And as he walks the hallowed halls of Castle Oblivion Marluxia gets the strangest feeling of dejavu as if something important is here but he can't quite put his finger on it but if it really were that important well he would've remembered it right?

Meanwhile deep in the chamber of waking Ven sleeps safe but imprisoned and even though he's waiting for a different friend to come save him his dreams show that he longs for someone else to open his eyes and promise him everything will be alright.

TL;DR what if Lauriam and Ven escaped together become Xehanorts victims, Lauriam couldn't stop Ven from being ripped in two they get separated again, he refuses to believe Ven is gone and that's the only thing that keeps him going for years, only to be lied and told that the only person he had left is gone and he failed miserably to save them and their last moments were begging to be saved, so losing his heart was all Lauriam could do to escape his pain.

^ my honest reaction to this

oughghhhhhh.... anon how could you...... the goddamn heartbreak. turmoil. i'm gonna kill old man xehanort with my own two hands

#ask rosie a question! #anon ask #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts union x #khux #kh lauriam #kh ventus #lauriam #ventus #windflower family fun times!

[cherry-leclerc]

million dollar man ☆ toto wolff

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

word count: 16.5k

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

nsfw warning under the cut! 

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

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

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

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

BAHHAHAH APRIL FOOLS SHE'S OUT APRIL 7TH

come mentally prepared.

#toto wolff #formula 1

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Chokehold

Ascended Astarion x F! Tav

18+ angst, regret, longing, tenderness, comfort, complicated feelings, self doubt/hatred, dubcon, rawness, needy astarion, fingering (f!), dry humping, pants cumming (m!)

Escaping him again, Tav finds solace and safety in an old friend in Lower City. If only it was that easy to escape the Ascendant's desire...

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

-

"Oh Gods," She moaned.

Eyes opening, aching from the previous night.

She winced, the tight puncture marks on her neck pulling.

"Oh Gods..." She buried her face into the pillow and let out a frustrated scream.

It hadn't been a dream. She was back in it. The walls of the Elfsong a cruel reminder.

She gave herself a moment to indulge the tempest, beating her fist into the mattress.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Took a few shaky breaths.

But now she must think.

Too many lines of thought assaulted her.

Why did he drink from her with such need? He was free of the hunger. Why did it seem like he was starving?

Why did he leave her to stay here? He could have taken her away. Compelled her, even. Why had he agreed to go?

Why did he... transform like that? They had shared a bed many times since his Ascension and he had always remained the same. In control. What was that?

She shook her pounding head as the one question, the real question, rose to the top.

Why didn't he kill her?

She had betrayed him to the utmost degree. Depriving him of his consort. Of her.

Wondered if she had gone through with the change, would he have more control over her?

Surely.

Would he be less obsessive if she was his spawn? His vampiric bride?

Possibly.

Would he scoff at her escape and pull her back to him with ease?

Most definitely.

He always needed control now, and she had given him as little as she could get away with. She could see it gnaw away at him over time. At his cruelest, he would punish her for weeks on end, trying to break her. Submit. But she would never fold.

Her upbringing had warded her spirit to a great deal of pain. She could endure indefinitely, if needed.

She unconsciously traced the thin scars circling her wrist. On rainy days, she could still feel the bite of wire.

Pulling her lower lip in thought.

She could circle the drain of her endless dilemma later. She needed a plan.

Closing her eyes.

Okay.

She needed to get out of the Elfsong, preferably unseen. And she needed help.

Though she was loathe to pull another of her companions into this, her greatest strength would always be those bonds. His endless pursuit to isolate her had proven that tenfold.

Gods below, if everyone wasn't strewn across Faerun. She needed someone in Baldurs Gate.

If Wyll wasn't with Karlach in Avernus he would be the perfect option. The son of the Duke, in his own castle. His protection would be invaluable.

Think, Tav.

Her eyes opened.

Wait.

Rushing to the window. Yes, she could just make out the head of the statue.

Suddenly buzzing with adrenaline, she rang for the dumb waiter.

"Ugh, what?"

"It's Tav, tell Alan I'm calling in that favor he offered."

Gripping the cracks of brick in fingertips, threading between the vines holding, she cursed herself. Scaling up the side of the Elfsong in grunts of effort.

Stupid, stupid.

Her anger feeding her strength.

Thank the Gods she had been training herself with Shadowheart or she would be broken on the cobblestones.

She leapt up and got a hold on the lip of the roof. Legs dangling out then pulling in, arcing out and twisting up. Catching her heel on the gutter and rolling with gasping breaths on the morning warmed shingles.

Blinking away the endless sky.

What had Karlach said when she watched her scale an oak tree?

"Gods, soldier. If you were anymore of a daredevil I would've hunted you in Avernus."

Tav laughed quietly to herself, patting her bicep twice. Gotta make her girl proud.

She rose to knees, orienting herself. The high wind whipping her hair as she circled with her eyes.

Yes, she could just see the edge of the roof. It would have to do.

"Please let this work." She whispered to herself. Pulling the scroll of Dimension Door from her waistband.

Standing she felt a shingle wiggle under her foot then slip away. Catching herself she gave it a withering look.

Setting her sights, she took a deep breath.

Shouting the incantation, she felt a great pull from behind her spine, and the air broke around her with a crack.

Only doing this with Gale bracing her in the past, she buckled forward when her body crashed back into the world.

Landing with a loud scrambling thud on the roof of the Elerrathin Manor.

"Mom, there's someone on the house!"

Clean hair damp from her bath and swaddled in fresh clothes, Tav sat curled into a plush corner, taking in Jaheira's surprisingly cozy office. Her bloodstained nightgown being tended to, though she insisted there was no need.

The druid worked quietly at her desk. Tav had stepped in, and she had gestured to her kindly to make herself comfortable. "I'll be just a moment."

"No rush." Tav pulled her legs tucked under her. She felt safe here, no easy feat. Beyond the Selune outpost, she could think of very few places where that was possible.

"There. I'll send this with a raven to our Shadowheart." She folded the letter with sure fingers, handing it to a messenger rat that scampered away in determination.

Tav let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you. I've been worrying myself sick about leaving her in the dark."

Jaheira turned in her chair, giving Tav her full attention.

"Why are you back, cub?"

The underlying question hanging in the air.

Why did you willingly walk into the vipers den?

She bowed her head in shame. Picking at the edge of her leggings.

"Hubris? Hope?" Shook her head. "Definitely stupidity."

"A need for closure is not stupidity." Jaheira sighed knowingly. "The way you could go about it on the other hand..."

Tav laughed, tired and embarrassed, but safe.

"Gods, I don't know. I dont think people like us get closure. It was a terrible idea, Shadowheart said so herself. I just-" She leaned her head back, closing her eyes. "I don't want to live in fear. I have lived so much of my life under a knife, I want some breathing room for once."

Jaheira nodded. "You deserve peace. And I will do everything in my power to assist in that. I have already sent word to The Guild, The Harper's, and pulled some strings with the Duke. You will be protected from all sides. You can walk through our city freely."

She organized some papers on her desk and stood, offering out a hand. "And, if you'll allow me, I can give you the best protection I can offer. I will ward you from his harm." Winked, hitching her head over to an open letter on the desk, spinning with blue magic. "A little gift from our friend Gale. I sent for him as soon as Rion pulled you off of our roof."

Tav blinked, tears forming. "This is... so much more than I could ever hope for." A hitching sob caught in her throat. "Thank you."

She held her hand out and pressed her palm into hers.

Jaheira spoke, eyes alight, the air swirling with great pulsing light.

Tav could feel the magic infuse into her, unmistakably Gale's. A warm caress washing over, the smell of old books. A brief phantom hand stroking her cheek.

She smiled, the ends of her hair lifting. The last of the magic pulling in circles into her.

Hello, dear. Welcome back.

"Children, there will be more than enough time to bother her in the morning. Let our guest get some rest."

Little legs running circles around her, Tav smiled warmly. "Ah, I don't mind."

"Don't encourage them." Jaheira laughed, looking fondly but sternly at Fig. "Bed now, little guard."

"Aw, alright. But I'm sleeping outside the door!"

"You most certainly are not."

Tav laughed. "I don't know, I'd be a fool to turn down more protection."

Jaheira pressed her palm on Fig's head, leading her away. "And yet, little guardians are in need of their rest. Off with you now. You too, Jhessem."

The small girl that had been peeking behind the corner squeaked and retreated into her bedroom.

"You certainly have your hands full." Tav mused as the hallway emptied. "Are you sure I'm not going to be a burden?"

"Never." Jaheira reached out and squeezed her hand. Hers warm and calloused. "Now you get some rest too." Spoken in that same stern tone she had used with her children, a sparkle of playfulness in her eyes.

"Ah, okay. You've twisted my arm." Tav mock sighed. Giving her hand one grateful weighted squeeze before releasing.

"Enjoy some safety, you've earned it." Jaheira hushed as she turned away.

Tav closed the door to the spare bedroom behind her. Barely contained tears rolling to the surface.

She curled into a ball on the floor. Letting it wash over her. Hitching sobs wrenching her throat. The tidal wave finally having its way.

Gods, she was so filled with hope it stung her heart. The feelings of grief, exhaustion, wonder, protection, all threading together. A rope that had been tied to her throat now wound tight around her fist.

Even after all of this time, they rallied around her. Her heart bursting with their strength. She was indebted to them all.

-

He crouched on the lip of her new hideaway. There you are, my treasure.

The sweet heady call of her blood, still pulsing through him, leading him here.

One of his many new gifts, he could sense her as long as she coursed through him. Her blood had always bewitched him. Even if hadn't been searching for her, he mused that the river of her would have sung him back regardless.

Eyes scanning the outside of the ledge for traps he was shocked to find the window unlatched.

Tav was not stupid, if anything she was infuriatingly clever. Outfoxing him twice now the proof of that. He was loathe to admit that the only reason he had found her so quickly was the bloodcall.

He slipped inside, quiet as death. Moved on silence to her bedside.

She was curled on her side, breathing softly. Her sweet face relaxed, pouted lips slightly open. Those doe eyes moving back and forth under her lids. Dreaming.

A shot of possession cracked through him. He needed her back.

He reached forward and tried to scoop under her legs and back but felt a bite of magic, pain arcing across his skull. His hands compelled to release.

A familiar voice: You may not have her.

Fucking Gale.

He snarled in frustration. Why do they all insist on interfering in his affairs. This was his consort, his should-be bride. His.

She settled back down into the sheets but leaned into him as he pulled away. Sighing in her sleep.

"Astarion,"

He almost answered, kneeling down. His face inches from hers. Fingers caressing her cheek, her neck. Watching her face, rapturous.

Her eyebrows pulled together in pleasure, lips parting. A sweet little breath leaving her.

He hummed low in his throat, a fierce elation rocking through him.

It had been years since she had reacted to his touch like this. All soft pleading, calling him to her. He could not deny her.

He climbed carefully onto the bed, distributing his weight evenly. Straddled over her, hand still raking feather light desire across her skin.

"Astarion," She moaned quietly. Arching up to meet his touch.

"Yes, my darling," He cooed to her sleeping words. Pulling the blanket away slowly, leaning down and kissing her collarbone. Hand cupping her breast with a low moan. Slotting between her legs.

She sighed, words hushed and barely formed, but he could make it out. "I missed you."

A lightning strike of need and grief struck him.

She had too much power over him, that was the problem. He had every intention of making her happy in the beginning. Loathefully desperate for her to stay, he had offered her everything. Finery, food, any lavish thing she set her sights on. And his linchpin, immortality. To make her his vampiric bride.

But she only smiled at him. Her bewitched fingers running along his arm. "I don't know if I'm ready for that. I just got my life back, Starlight. Let me have a little living before I decide."

Oh, how he had pushed, prodded, enticed. Eventually demanded, berated, bled. He tried to break her, but she had never given in. The panicked screaming at the lack of control in his head aside, he respected her for it. He would have ruined her.

Well, ruined her more.

He softly circled his thumb over her wrist. The scars he had left there sneering at him.

Look what you did. You deserve this.

His old voice in his head again.

You aren't worthy of her.

He clenched down his jaw.

You're disgusting. Treating her like that.

He shook his head. He did what he felt he needed to do. Right?

Her hand reaching for his face broke his hateful trance.

He leaned down into her searching fingers. His eyes closing in quiet bliss when he met her touch.

Her soft fingers stroking his face was a spellbinding balm. He pushed his face further into her, sighing.

Going without tenderness from her for so long, he felt drunk. His whole body swirling with heady pleasure.

He leaned down, eyes lidded heavy with lust. Gently pulling her nightgown down along the collar. Leaving heated kisses along her clavicle.

She moaned, a high intoxicating call.

Oh Gods, he needed her.

He snaked his hand under the covers, her blanket warmed thighs a sacred domain. Still unbearably soft, lamb's ear made flesh.

His eyes hitched back as he met her center. Fingers trailing over her curls to slide back into his home. A velvet wetness meeting him, coating his fingertips.

He leaned his head down into her chest, already overcome. Rutting his hard cock into her hip in slow rapturous thrusts.

He slowly pushed his two fingers in, her body arching up. Her small whimper wrapping around his head in dizzy circles.

Her sleeping form capable of no scrutiny he felt no need to perform. His walls falling.

"Tav," He moaned, pumping his fingers into her endless warmth. Thumb pushing devotion in circles against her clit.

Gods she was too beautiful, it made his chest ache to look at her when she was like this.

Softly mewling, her labored breath a heady miasma pulling him down.

He leaned down to her neck, fangs grazing along her pulse point. Felt a warning crackle of magic.

Gods damn it.

If he didn't have her blood in him, he felt empty. He needed that connection to her.

He relented, leaving a needful kiss along the two pinprick scars he had pushed into her long ago. Feeling a snarl of pride for those, at least. Anyone can look upon her and see this mark of him imprinted in her body.

His fingers curled up in that way he remembered she liked, got the immediate reward of her hips squirming. A short gasp that moved into a pleading moan.

His eyes glazed over, mouth hanging open against her chest. Precum leaking into his trousers. His head nothing but circling waves of desire.

Gods he felt like an animal on all fours, controlled by its heat.

Only she could make him come undone like this.

Only she could pull this from him.

Please stay asleep a little longer. He thought to her, though he knew they no longer shared a tadpole.

I need you. I need you to want me again.

His desire too great for anymore subtle movements, he arced his hips down and ground his erection into the mattress. Whimpering in the back of his throat.

He pulsed his fingers in as controlled a ministration as he could manage, feeling his end approaching hot on his heels.

He leaned up into her ear, watching the rhythmic arches of her body in rapturous greed.

"Come for me, darling." He breathed into her, nipping at her lobe.

She shuddered under him, head falling back. Her neck opening up to him, a flower unfurling in the sun. Her cunt gripped his fingers in vicious pulses, pulling him further into her. That hauntingly beautiful face straining in release.

He gasped in quick choppy breaths, biting back a moan as his pelvis contracted, a deep shudder pulling through him, spurting long pulses inside his finery. Eyes rolling into the back of his skull, gripping into the sheets next to her head. His newly beating heart thumping against the back of his chest.

She murmured something softly and turned on her side, cradling his head into her chest. Hooking her legs around his in an intimate tangle.

Part of his head screamed at him to pull away, but he was helplessly pulled down. Eyes closing with shameful tears threatening.

How long had it been since she had held him?

He buried his face in her. Breathing her in like the last gulp of air before a tide pull.

He knew he couldn't stay, if she awoke the spell would be broken. She would turn him away, that spear of contempt in her eyes. Or worse, the flat deadness that overtook her when he pushed too far, an opaque distant glaze over her doe eyes.

You've really broken her, haven't you? Just like Cazador broke us.

"Shut up." He hissed under his breath.

He carefully maneuvered out of her embrace with an annoyed huff. He was being ridiculous. There was a way to break this spell and he would find it.

Then she would be his again. Finally. Take her back to the place where she belonged.

He allowed himself one last look at her, bristling at himself at the brief spike of longing he felt, before he pulled up into the night air. Twisting into the moonlight, back to the Crimson Castle.

He had research to do.

~

Part 6

#its my headconon that tav refusing being turned would make him ten times more crazy #astarion smut #astarion x tav #ascended astarion #lyrics from: euclid - sleep token

[mrspockify]

One of the cruelest things I think Bowser would do is give Mario an ultimatum, a very cruel one. So your Mute Mario, making him chose between Luigi and his daughter.

Ooooh I really love angsty scenarios where someone is forced to choose between loved ones!

For Mario, he would pretty much instantly delude himself into believing he could save them both. He has to save them both. There’s literally no other option in his mind, because he can’t bear the thought of losing one of them.

But for Luigi, there would be no choice. Mario has to save his daughter. He does everything he can to get that point across to Mario, and if he has the option he’s making eye contact with Mario from across the room to convey that to him. He wouldn't even have to say it or sign it. Mario would see the look in his eyes understand automatically that Luigi would never forgive him if he let his daughter die instead.

It would break his heart, but he'd still promise to save Luigi, signing it from across the room as he finally looks away and sprints towards his daughter. It's probably the last thing they ever communicate to each other.

#ask #mute mario #headcanons #luigi #dad mario #and anyone who has read my fic The Last Thing You’ll Ever Do knows how Mario is without his bro #I think having a daughter would potentially help him survive that though #but he would still suffer #and struggle with the feelings that come up when he looks at her

[jwirecs]

Recommended Seventeen Fics of April 2023💖

hello, hello! here are my recs for seventeen for april! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers 💝

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP AU

Coming Home || @here4btsfics​🔞💕✅

↳ Your boyfriend’s flight is delayed and he won’t be home for Valentine’s Day. Your boyfriend is also a notorious liar.

Good Vibrations || @joonminshua​​🔞✅

↳ You and Jeonghan have been together for a couple of years and share a lot of the same kinks, so when he first mentioned it, it sounded fun….Now it can best be described as the cruelest form of edging he’s ever inflicted on you.

Light A Flame || @euphor1a​​🔞💕🔄

↳ you weren’t exactly planning on getting freaky so early in a relationship, especially after everything you went through. well… let’s just say that plans don’t always work out (when your new boyfriend is way too good at getting you all hot and bothered).

Lose My Mind || @here4btsfics​🔞💔✅💯💯💯

↳ you can only deal with your fiancé’s antics for so long before you finally give up.

OTHER AU

Down Bad (So So Bad) || @lovelyhan​​​🔞💕✅💯

↳ it’s not like you’re curious about how the word would taste in your mouth whenever seungcheol calls himself daddy while talking to kkuma. nope. definitely not.

My Guardian Demon Sucks At His Job (Not Clickbait) || @shuaflix​​🔞✅

↳ just when you thought your luck couldn’t get any worse, you accidentally manage to summon an ancient demon prince named jeonghan out of a scrap of paper from your statistics textbook. now, you’re tasked with figuring out how to return your so-called “guardian demon” back to where he came from before he can stir up more trouble.

Pre-Workout || @kevinsluvr​​ ​🔞💕✅💯💯

↳ mingyu works out everyday because his fans love his muscles. but today, he's lacking enough energy to want to go. so he asks you for some.... pre-workout.

The Selfish Dilemma || @joonsytip​💕💔🔄

↳ It was love at first sight ever since you laid eyes on Jeonghan. To him, you are the annoying co-worker who keeps asking him out. No one is new to your courting agenda which only pisses off Jeonghan but what happens when you stop, all at once....

To X, With Love || @shuahoonie​​💕💔🔄💯

↳ music can elicit inspiration just as much as words. this mini-series contains a list of imagines that are inspired by a series of love songs. this is my love letter to you.

Underlying Pretense || @lovelyhan​​ 🔞✅💯💯💯

↳ being two of the most popular streamers across the board. your subscribers often speculate if your constant bickering with wonwoo has some underlying pretense. little did they know, the two of you have everything on display on a single, unsuspecting twitter account (sequel is Favorite Poison, do give that a read too!!)

Yours, But Not Yours || @gyukult​​🔞💕💔🔄💯

↳ when a nice guy gets too overbearing, you’re stuck with the option of having a fake boyfriend.

STRANGERS TO LOVERS AU

Naughty Cat Of The Week || @seungkwansphd​​​​​💕✅

↳ jun loves checking the naughty & nice cat of the week updates at your animal shelter. occasionally a rogue opossum makes the rounds and he can't help but ask you about it.

Do check out all of the other Group Fics that i have reblogged as well!!

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen smut #seventeen strangers to lovers au #seventeen established relationship au #seventeen friends to lovers au #seventeen demon au #seventeen fake dating au #seventeen fic recs #seventeen recs #svt scenarios #svt smut #svt angst #svt fluff #svt fic recs #svt recs

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — SAE x ROOKIE ACTRESS! FEM READER 

They call it tinseltown for a reason. Hollywood’s all gilded glamor hiding roots of deep rot, and you’re tired of acting your ass off just for your role to be given to the next pretty thing with a famous father. Itoshi Sae could be your ticket to stardom - if only he’ll agree. 

wc — 3k

tags — briefly Sae’s POV before it switches into yours, fake dating, brief mention of dieting 

Sae is sick of many things. He’s sick of the Japanese media attention. He’s sick of his little brother blowing up his phone with messages during the thirty minutes of screen time he’s allowed in Blue Lock; sick of the way he stopped by day thirty with no response. 

He’s sick of being reminded over and over that he isn’t good enough. Every interview is the same question over and over again, like if they rephrase it enough, they can catch him in his lie. He never slips. He tells them he likes being a midfielder. 

He’s sick of the way longing still surges up in his throat when he watches the Blue Lock boys play, sick of how much effort it takes to tamp it down. It took him years to come to terms with the bleeding mess of his shattered dreams, but it never stops hurting. It always aches, remembering that he’ll never be a striker again. It’s a dream he has to give up fresh each time, trying to cling to the memory of failing in Spain so he doesn’t go chasing after it again like some dumb hound. 

Football is the cruelest mistress. She always gives Sae just enough hope to want her more. He has to leash his desires so he doesn’t go running after it into traffic, eyes still only on the prize, ignoring all danger. 

Most of all, Sae’s sick of galas. 

Forget being the best midfielder, he’s probably the best player in all of Japan right now. With Japanese football at such a standstill, everyone is looking to him to lead them into a new future, as if one good midfielder can suddenly make up for a whole team. 

Sae thinks the lot of them are two faced assholes. They look down on him as someone who chose the second best option after failing at striking, but want him to become the star of their delusions. Japan’s football will never be good enough to stand at their world stage, and he was just unlucky enough to be born here, in this country that can’t offer him soil to sprout in. 

So he turns down invite after invite until finally, his manager does something that’s not allowed. He goes over his head to the one authority he’s not allowed to defy, and tells Sae’s mom. One explosive fight in his hotel room later, he finds himself standing in the world’s most uncomfortable suit, playing nice with nepo babies and elderly diplomats. 

“That’s him,” your publicist says, pointing out a man with green eyes and red hair standing alone in a corner of the room. His suit is tailored impeccably to his body. He has a glass of champagne in one hand that he hasn’t touched once, and mostly uses to wave people off when they try to approach him. 

“Don’t point,” you hiss, slapping her hand down in embarrassment. Technically everything about this meeting has already been orchestrated, but it’s still embarrassing. 

“Jeez, fine,” she grumbles, rubbing her smarting hand. “That’s the guy. Wine and dine him, do whatever you gotta do - at the very least, get a few pictures of you two acting cozy if you can’t get him interested for real. I can take it from there.” 

She makes it sound easy, but really it’s not. You’ve been circling the room for the last five minutes waiting for an opening, laughing obnoxiously at boring jokes with an overdone, “oh, you’re so funny,” and bitterly fielding questions like, “wait, who are you?”

Finally, you spot your chance. 

When Sae sees you coming over, he makes an expression that says fuck off so clearly it’s stopped multiple people before from interacting with him. It doesn’t stop you because you’re desperate. 

You're not a B-list actress. You’re not even on the tier, so below the radar in your unrecognized little roles as barista #1 or background character #12. You need him to make it big. No, you need his name. Being attached to Japan’s favorite boy genius will propel you to stardom better than your own talents will. 

At the end of the day, it’s not about how well you can act. You can cry so bitterly your director takes the day off to call his therapist. In your latest horror role, you screamed with such genuine horror they cut your scene because you, as an extra, couldn’t detract attention from the main actor. When you laugh, people giggle with you, regardless of whether or not the joke is funny. 

None of this matters when you don’t have the pull to get roles big enough to show your skill off. You could be the most talented actress in the world, but stuck in your side gigs, no one will ever know. 

You grab a glass of sparkling pink alcohol of some kind off a waiter’s try with a whispered thank you, down half of it for courage, and try to walk over to Sae in as dignified a manner as you can manage. He doesn’t seem very impressed. 

“Hey, handsome,” you give him your most winning smile. You’re dressed in your best tonight. Your agency even hired a makeup artist to bring out your best features.

He gives you a strained smile, purposefully so that you’ll know how put upon he is being here, being annoyed by people like you who all want something from him. He’s not wrong to be a little pissed. You still think it’s kind of a dick move. 

Regardless of his personality, it’s his fame you want. You sidle in closer, looking at him from beneath lowered lashes. The press is going to love this. 

“You’re looking pretty lonely,” you say, wincing at every word that comes out of your mouth. “Want some company?” 

“How lukewarm,” he says, acerbically. “You don’t seriously think that’s going to work on me, do you?” 

Your mouth almost drops at how straightforward he is. Still, you can’t give up. Your manager should’ve prepared you better - in your head, you curse her out. 

“No need to be rude,” you say. Oops. Too on the nose? You bulldoze forward. “I thought-“

“Just tell me what you want.” 

“Um.”

“If you waste my time, I’m not going to listen,” he says, already turning away. 

“Wait,” you say, grabbing his arm. “Please.” 

He raises an eyebrow and gestures you on. Clearly, his time is worth something. 

You want that. The ease of power, the casualness with which Sae wields it. You’ve wanted it your whole life, since you were singing in school musicals, craving the applause, wanting the adoration like a drug. You try to inject your voice with every drop of that desperation, hoping he understands. 

“I have a deal for you. If you’ll agree to pretend to be my boyfriend for six months, I’ll attend every single one of these galas with you and help keep people off your back. Trust me, I’m great at navigating these things. I was doing it before I came to talk to you.” 

“Oh, you’re drunk,” he laughs. 

You’re affronted by this careless reaction. It makes sense, after all. He doesn’t know anything about you. But for you, this is a career you’re willing to do anything for, and he’s insulted it with his blasé attitude. You grab him by the tie and pull him closer. 

“I’m not drunk,” you snarl. “I have wanted to be an actress my whole damn life, and I need this. Do you have any idea how it feels to know you have the skills, the talent, the dedication to do something, be something, and be denied all because you were born at the wrong place at the wrong time? I love my parents, but I will never get a role because of them. You see that actress over there? She’s talented, I can’t deny it, but her family has been in the industry for three generations. That one? Her dad paid for her debut album to sell out. The girl with the blonde pigtails? Her mom was a famous idol. You can’t become anything in the entertainment world if you don’t already have an edge. You can’t just be talented, there has to be something special about you.” 

Sae stares at you, stunned. All at once, you’re embarrassed by your little monologue, and you step away from him. 

“Sorry.” 

He licks his lips, hesitant to say something. There’s a strange vulnerability on his face, like he was just walking along, minding his own business, and here you are with the nerve to crack him open and find his deepest insecurities, all by accident. 

He doesn’t normally pay attention to sob stories, but yours sticks in his head. How many times has he wished he was born elsewhere, to some other set of parents, only to feel violently regretful at his ingratitude? He wants to say something, but he’s not sure what he would say. 

Sorry? 

Same? 

It turns out it doesn’t matter anyways, because at this point, you’ve tuned out him out in favor of the waiter you’ve just spotted carrying another tray of drinks. 

Before you can grab a fresh glass - this one’s a gradient of blue and purple, your brain registers excitedly - Sae pins your hand down. 

“We’re good,” he tells the waiter. “Wait. Leave a plate of the canapes please. Make that two. Yeah, thanks.” 

You wrench your hand out of his angrily. You can’t afford to piss him off, not when you’ve been trying to cozy up to him all night, but your brain is slightly too foggy to register the ramifications of your actions anymore. You feel delightfully warm and light and also furious he stole your drink from you. Quickly, the fury turns to disappointment. 

“Why did you do that?” You whine. 

“You’re too drunk. Eat something.” 

“I’m not-“

He shoves the canapé into your mouth. There’s a certain twist to his lips that could be amusement or disgust as he watches you chew, then swallow, then moan, which is only half exaggerated for him. 

The canapé has wagyu on it. 

You’re already reaching for the next one. Sae calls another waiter over and gets you plates of chocolate truffles, sushi, and fruit skewers. 

“Oh my god,” your eyes are practically closed in bliss as you take bite after bite. “Oh my god. Is this what you all eat at these events? Holy shit. My mouth is in heaven right now.” 

“I wouldn’t know,” he says. “I rarely come to these things. You’re not eating enough to soak up all that alcohol you drank. Get your stuff, we’re leaving.” 

You perk up. Is it that easy? Mission over? All you had to do was drink too much wine, make a fool of yourself, and devour a handful of wagyu crackers, and you’ve bagged Itoshi Sae? 

“Snap out of it. It’s not like that,” he sighs. “Can you imagine how it’ll look if I’ve been talking to you all night and you end it drunk out of your mind?” 

Your publicist gives you a double thumbs up when she sees you leave with Sae. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice. To his annoyance, he has to support you all the way to the parking garage. You’re dead weight in his arms. By the time you get to his car, he’s practically carrying you. 

Sae’s car is a thing of beauty. It’s clean lines and elegance and silver all over. He could not give less of a shit about your effusive reaction to it. 

“Give me directions for where you want to go,” he says. 

His car purrs underneath you when he accelerates on the highway. He keeps a careful eye on the speed limit, but it hardly matters when the ride is so smooth it barely feels like you’re on the road at all. He rolls down the windows at your insistence so the cool night breeze fills the vehicle, your hair ruffled by the wind. 

Sae’s face clearly says ‘This is not what I was thinking,’ when you arrive at your destination. Still, he doesn’t comment on it as he climbs out of his car, then helps you out of the passenger side as well. Glowing, neon yellow arches frame the sky as you throw your arms out and spin around in a circle, giggling. Your pretty dress, borrowed from a friend much more successful than you, flares out at the ankles as you twirl. Sae has to catch you when you nearly eat pavement, your balance completely disoriented. 

“Why are you surprised? McDonald’s is the hangover food,” you say. “Greasy burgers and fries are the best for nights like this.” 

His deadpan expression says he doesn’t get the hype before he chauffeurs you inside, still clinging to his arm. It’s part of the job, you insist to yourself as you hold onto him. It’s not because he’s strong and tall and broad and it feels nice pressed against his side. 

Sae orders electronically and brings the food to you on a red tray. He doesn’t get anything for himself, choosing instead to pin you under his stare as you unwrap your burger. It makes you uncomfortable. 

“Are you not going to eat?” 

“Are you kidding me?” He says. “My dietician would kill me.” 

“Boo,” you frown. You know exactly how it feels. “That’s not fair! You look great, a hamburger isn’t going to kill you.” 

You’re slurring your words at this point. “Oh! Here, you can have some of mine. I won’t tell.” You punctuate the last bit with a giggle. 

Sae takes a tiny, tiny bite of your burger, but you’re clearly not satisfied with it. You push it towards him again. He sighs. “I’ll get something.” 

That something is a salad, but small victories are victories, you guess. Besides, you’re too hungry to care anymore. You devour your burger and sigh in happiness, enjoying the delicious taste of artificially manufactured goodness. Then you groan. 

“You’re just never happy, are you?” Sae says. He’s picking at his salad, eating all the tomatoes first. 

“We missed the main course because we left,” you whine, burying your head in your arms. “It was going to be catered by Yukihira Souma! That was my one chance to try his cooking, even if I could afford it, he has a waitlist three months long.” 

“Mm-hm,” Sae says, completely distracted. He’s texting someone. 

Your excitement dims a little, and you remember why you’re here. 

“So. Did you think about my offer?”

“Your proposition, you mean?” He says, returning his attention to you. 

“You make it sound so salacious! It’s just a naturally beneficial deal: you pretend to be my boyfriend for a month, and I’ll attend all of your events.” 

“And why would I do that?” Sae drawls.

“Because I can be your buffer at these events. No one else is going to bother you if they think you already have a girlfriend, and I can do all the talking for us. I get tons of publicity, you get to ignore everyone else at these parties: win-win. You’d be a fool not to take this offer, really.” 

He makes a soft sound. 

“Is that laughter I hear?” You prod him in the chest with a finger. “No way. You can laugh? I didn’t think they programmed that into you.” 

“Don’t be a brat,” he says, shut off and remote once again. It doesn’t matter - you made him laugh once, you can do it again. It was a bad idea to reveal that to you, because now you’re determined to hear it at least once more. 

“Alright. Say I take your offer. What’s the deal with being your fake boyfriend?” 

“I haven’t figured out the details yet,” you say blithely, trying to hide the fact that you didn’t think you’d get this far. “Obviously I’m okay with touching, kissing-“ 

You stumble over the last word, having never been kissed before. There’s a twinge in your heart at the idea of your first one being fake, but acting means everything to you. There’s a lot more you’re willing to give up than just childhood dreams of romance. Everything’s fake in Hollywood, anyways. 

He’s laughing again, this time at you. You can’t even find it in your heart to be mad. “What are you getting all shy for?” 

“Hey! Fake or not, we’re in a relationship now,” you hiss. “You have to be nice to me.” 

“Nice, hm?” He gets up from his side of the booth and slides into yours. “I can do nice.” 

Suddenly, all your senses are on high alert. Every nerve ending is on fire, suddenly tuning into Sae. This close, you can smell his cologne, aquatic and clean. He leans closer, hand sliding up your neck to cup your cheek. He’s so close you can count each of his eyelashes. You’re frozen in place when he leans in, tilts his head at the perfect angle, and ever so delicately places the lightest kiss on your cheek. 

That’s when you notice the paparazzi behind him. You’ve been distracted by Sae, or you would have noticed earlier. They’re never as sneaky as they think they are. From this angle, it must look like Sae is genuinely kissing you. This is an opportunity you can’t waste - you raise your arms to drape them over his shoulders and press in closer until you’re practically in his lap. 

“Thank you,” you murmur. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says. “I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain. You still have to uphold yours.” 

It’s too late to go back to the gala at this point, but Sae now has your number for any other events he has to attend going forward. He drives you back to your building and insists on walking you all the way up to your apartment. He even helps take off your makeup and tucks you into bed before he dims the lights. 

“Good night,” he says. 

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite!” You chirp back. 

It’s too dark to see his reaction. 

The doorbell has been ringing nonstop for the past twenty minutes. You would just let whoever’s at your door keep at it, but your neighbors would complain, and your landlord is looking for any reason to raise the rent. You’re too drunk for this. 

You wrench open the door and snarl, “What.” 

“Open up,” Sae says impatiently. His words are contradicted by the fact that he doesn’t wait for you to open the door wider, he just breezes into your apartment. “I’ve been waiting for hours - god, how heavy do you sleep?” 

He’s holding a takeout container in one hand, though it’s unlike any container you’ve seen before. Even the material seems to be a grade above the restaurants you normally dine at. He notices you looking and lifts the box in one hand. 

“Oh, this? I just had an acquaintance pack a box of the main course last night.” 

“You didn’t-“ your eyes are huge in delight. 

“Nothing but the best for my fake girlfriend,” he says, smirking. “I’m looking forward to our partnership.”

#sera writes #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #blue lock x reader

[midnightsun-if]

Based off that last ask: how would the RO's react if it was the MC who got amnesia and couldn't remember them/being in a relationship with them?

It seems a few of you wanted the amnesia ask in reverse!

Koda: He’d be completely heartbroken. Wouldn’t be able to truly comprehend that you didn’t remember him, the love that you both shared and the journey that it took to get where you both are now. Would do everything in his power to help you, to ensure that you’re getting the best care possible, and would consistently show up with the various things he knows you love. He wouldn’t insist his presence onto you, not wanting to make you more stressed, but it’d be clear he’d want nothing more than to stay with you.

Scarlett: This would be complicated. Scarlett’s known you the longest out of any of the ROs (technically). As the first time she met you, you were still human. Depending on how you felt about her before you got into a relationship? It’d be difficult for her to simply step to the side and not help you, not when everything in her was screaming at her to help, to protect you. However, she’s well aware that there’s a very real possibility that you wanted nothing to do with her. That you’d never want anything to do with her. Something that’d rip her heart to shreds— she finally found her one, the love of her life, and it was taken from her in one of the cruelest ways imaginable. She’d be by your side, doing what she can, for however long you’d tolerate her, but, I think, she’d be one of the few ROs that’d let you go. After all, she did say she’d burn the world down for you. That doesn’t just mean the real world— her world, you, the future she wished to build with you, would go up in flames if it meant that you’d be okay, that you’d find happiness. Leaving the shattered remains of herself behind.

Cyrus/Cyra: They’d immediately start trying to figure out what they could do. Would be flitting from room to room, person to person, demanding answers or solutions to this. Would even think about using their tears, but they’re not sure if that’d help to begin with— or if it’d be like putting a bandaid over a gaping wound. Something that’d only help in the short term, if that, but wouldn’t in the long… And, if it did, they wouldn’t know the long lasting side effects that could arise. They’d be scared to touch you, with the varying emotions, as they wouldn’t want to accidentally light you on fire, but they wouldn’t be able to bring themself to go far from you either. The hospital staff would have quite the handful— an amnesiac vampire and a worried phoenix… Fun times all around.

Quinn: Their wolf wouldn’t want anyone to come near you even though they’re well aware that’s not a possibility. All they would be able to register is that their mate, their other half, is injured— that you didn’t remember them. It’d be difficult for them to rein in their wolf because it’d want nothing more than to protect you, even if the things it’s trying to protect you from aren’t of the physical sense. Quinn would stand by your beside, stone faced, as the doctors begin to speak about various treatment options, about the possibilities that you may not get your memories back, and the only reason Quinn wouldn’t lose their shit is because you wouldn’t understand, that you’d only see a shifter lose their temper and go on the defensive for no reason. You didn’t remember how much they care for you, how much they love you, and it’d tear them apart, but they wouldn’t leave your side. Not until you forced them to do so.

Caden: This is one of their worst fears becoming a reality. Seeing your eyes, that they’ve fallen so in love with, vacant of all recollection for them? It’d tear them apart… They wouldn’t want to be a burden to you, wouldn’t want to force their presence on you when you clearly didn’t recognize them, wouldn’t want to interfere in anyway with your potential recovery, which means that they’d take a step back. That, after a few conversations with you, wherein your empty gaze tore them apart, they’d simply watch from the shadows. Only stepping in when they felt it was necessary. It’d be so hard for them to be away from you, but they know that it’d be the best thing in the long run. No matter how much it destroyed them to do it. Your health, your happiness, would always come first to them. No matter what.

Sloane: They’d have to rein every instinct that they have in. Would have to stifle their need to snap at the doctors, to glare at the nurses, and everything in between, because they couldn’t let themself lose control. Couldn’t let the possibility of being kicked out of your room, out of being able to see you, turn into a reality. Sloane would do everything in their power to help you. Would be by your side every single step of the way, trying their best to get you to remember them. You may even see an appearance of their wolf, as it’d want to snuggle closer to you, needing to be near you, even if you didn’t remember them, and Sloane would stand guard throughout the night… Would they get a lot of sleep? Probably not, but they’d make sure that you were safe and sound. Which is so much important to them.

Blake: You’d probably see something in them break at the news that you didn’t recognize them in that way. That what you shared had been wiped from you mind— they’re still your best friend, but they’re so much more now. After everything, after all of their indecision and fear, to lose you in this manner? To revert back to what you both used to have? It’d never be enough. Would never be able to fill the gap in their heart… Not when they’ve had you in a way they never even imagined before. Blake would still be there, you’re their best friend, but they’d also have to take a small step back, get their mind around the fact that they lost you, their partner, because they wouldn’t want to insist upon something that you clearly didn’t remember. Wouldn’t wish to stress out your brain even more. Even when a big part of them would want nothing more than to do so. To just remind you of the love you both shared, of the happiness that came with it.

Reginald/Regina: They’d be at a loss of what to do. If your MC didn’t mind humans then they’d be by your side every step of the way. Showing you pictures, videos, and whatever else, to hopefully jog your memory of them. Recounting stories, some potentially a little exaggerated, to fill the dreadful silences that fall between the two of you. They’d just do their best to be there for you like you’ve always been there for them. If you did mind humans? Then they’d only be able to take so much of that coldness, of that ire that you directed towards them in the early days, before they’d start coming less and less. They wouldn’t be able to handle the heartbreak that the loss of you in that way represented… They may have lived being able to at least be your friend, but not even having that? Being met instead with cool contempt on the best days? It’d shatter whatever hope they have left.

Helena: She’d be a mess, but would be a put together mess. Wouldn’t hesitate to call in the best physicals and healers world wide— from the various realms even. No expense would be too great if it meant that her youngest would be able to get better, that you’d be able to have your memories, and your life in some regard, back. She wouldn’t insist on you being near her, wouldn’t force you to be in her company, but she’d always be nearby in case you needed her.

Saraya: Would be a mess too, but it’d be a lot more apparent than with Helena. She wouldn’t be able to look at you without wanting to cry, wouldn’t be able to speak with you for that long before her voice would tremble, eyes turning glassy as she tries to collect herself. She’d spend as much time in her garden, when she’s not with you, looking for potential cures in her the magical portion of her repertoire. Would forget to eat at times in her search, and Helena would have to step in when it got to be too much. She just wants her little light back— happy and healthy.

Cienna: Wouldn’t know what to do. All of her life, Cienna has had a plan, known what she’s wanted to work for. Known what she’s been doing all of said work for to begin with— her family, her siblings. Knowing that you’ve forgotten her, at least in some way, that memories and moments she holds so dear, are completely gone from your mind? It’d tear her apart, but she’d force herself to be the “unaffected” one. The one that forges ahead, being strong for her brother and sister, while Helena reins in Saraya. She’d be the lighthouse in the midst of the harrowing storm…. Even when the very base of her was beginning to erode due to her own pain, she wouldn’t shift— not until she knows her family will be okay.

Persephone: You’d be getting so many blankets, little plushies, and home baked goods, because she’d want to do something for you. Would want to show you that she’s thinking of you, even if she’s not with you as much as she’d like to be. She’d be a mess, of course, probably spending some of her free time in a Cienna’s arms, but she’d never let you see that. Her gentle smile, albeit slightly strained, would still be on her lips, hands outstretched, offering you the newest thing she had made for you. She just wants you to get better, to be well… In whatever capacity that means now.

Christian: He’d barely be able to be in the same room as you. He’d be angry at the world for doing this to you, doing this to his family. Would probably disappear for a few days before returning, clothes a bit torn and dirtier than they should be, but he’d try his best to comfort his mother’s, would try to help Persephone in the kitchen, or join Cienna in her reading whenever she just needed a quiet moment… He’d feel awful as he watched Cienna pull herself together, as she couldn’t break in the same manner that he and Persephone could, and stand strong for him. Would feel awful every time he saw his mother’s haunted gaze as he held his mama tightly in her arms. He’d try his best to be there for everyone, to be there for you, but it’d be hard. Everything would just be so hard…

#midnight sun #asks #ro: blake herrera #ro: koda kingston #ro: sloane addams #ro: c aurelia #ro: quinn grant #ro: r presley #ro: caden randall #ro: scarlett voltaire #sc: helena #sc: saraya #sc: cienna #sc: persephone #sc: christian #scenario asks