#wolffdaddy

[cthrnschumacher]

I'm Yours - Ch. 11 Need You Now

Y/N POV

Since our late-night conversation, it felt as though life and university had made some unspoken pact to collide and accelerate with relentless intensity. Ironically, it had to be the moment Toto left for Brackley.

At first, his absence had felt like a weight—something I carried in the quiet moments, in the spaces between obligations, in the breaths I took when the world around me stilled just long enough for the loneliness to creep in. It wasn’t always sharp or overwhelming; it was something dull and persistent, an ache rather than a wound. I would catch myself reaching for my phone, expecting a message, a voice note, anything to remind me that he was still just on the other side of the screen. But of course, reality always settled in—he was busy, I was busy, and life had a way of making sure we both felt it.

The initial haze of missing him had been softened by the inevitable pull of routine, but not in the comforting, predictable way routine usually felt. This wasn’t the ease of slipping into a rhythm; this was the sensation of being thrown into the deep end of an ocean with no time to tread water. Lectures and tutorials stretched into the evening, each professor seemingly competing to make their class the most demanding. Research projects were no longer just exercises in academic curiosity—they were intellectual marathons that required endless revisions, constant re-evaluation, and a level of perfectionism that could drive anyone to the brink.

And then there was work—my other divided obligation. Balancing an already precarious schedule with part-time shifts that, while necessary, drained whatever energy remained at the end of the day. Some days I barely had time to eat, let alone breathe, rushing from one commitment to the next with the kind of determination that wasn’t sustainable but had somehow become the norm. The hours blurred together, punctuated only by caffeine refuels of any form and the occasional five-minute mental breakdown in the nearest quiet corner of the library.

The unspoken pressure of expectations tightened around my shoulders with each passing week. Deadlines loomed like storm clouds, growing darker and more ominous as they approached. The demands weren’t just academic—there was the pressure to be on top of everything, to excel, to prove that I was meant to be here, that I could handle it. And I could, I reminded myself, because this was something I signed up for. I had known, from the moment I chose this path, that it would be a relentless pursuit, one that required sacrifices and sleepless nights.

But knowing and experiencing were two very different things.

Still, I loved it.

Even as exhaustion settled deep into my bones, even as the days stretched into nights with little reprieve, I loved the challenge. There was something exhilarating about being at the edge of your limits, about pushing yourself further than you thought possible, with the help of caffeine of course. There was a strange satisfaction in looking at an assignment—one that had taken hours of research, countless cups of coffee and energy drinks, and an unholy amount of stress—and knowing that it was good. That it was yours. That it was worth the effort.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t hell getting there.

And you’d think that professors, after years of teaching, would have learned to space out assignments. They were once in our shoes, weren’t they? Surely, they remembered what it felt like to juggle multiple courses, to balance academics with everything else life threw at you. Surely, they knew that having three major deadlines in one week was a death sentence.

But no.

It was as if they had all convened in a secret roundtable discussion, nodding in agreement as they plotted the ultimate test of mental and sometimes physical endurance. There had to be some sort of conspiracy among faculty—a carefully coordinated effort to make sure students never experienced a moment of peace. It wasn’t enough to have one overwhelming workload; they had designed their syllabi in infinite synchrony, all agreeing that now was the time to challenge their students’ mental, emotional, and physical limits.

Despite the long hours spent buried in textbooks, toggling between dense research papers and frantic notes scribbled in the margins, there were moments when focus eluded me. No matter how much I willed myself to drown in academia, my mind betrayed me—slipping away from the rigid confines of theory and analysis to something softer, something warmer.

Toto.

It was infuriating how easily my thoughts drifted to him—how, no matter how tightly I tried to grip my focus, he always found a way to slip through the cracks.

I could be neck-deep in research, sorting through endless journal articles, cross-referencing citations, building a foundation for a paper that required more mental energy than I had left to give, and suddenly, there he was—soft and steady in my mind. The memory of his voice, deep and warm, would filter through like a whisper between the words I was reading, making it impossible to concentrate.

It wasn’t just any memory of him that distracted me—it was always the intimate, unguarded moments. The way his voice softened when he was tired, dipping into something slower, something a little rougher around the edges, like he wasn’t just speaking, but feeling every word. Or how he called me Schatz like it was second nature, like the word belonged to me and me alone. It lingered in my mind long after he’d said it, taking up space in my head in a way I never invited but never really resisted either.

And despite everything—the pressure, the expectations, the chaos of my own world—he still made time for me. Even in the middle of a schedule that would overwhelm anyone else, he never let a day go by without something. A message. A voice note. Sometimes just a simple Thinking of you. Those three words, in his voice or on my screen, had the power to derail me completely.

And I hated that I missed him this much. Not because I regretted what we had. Not because I wished it was different. But because the missing was inconvenient. It was distracting. It was a twinge I couldn’t afford to dwell on when I had so much to do with so much at stake, especially soon to be a fellow. But the heart, especially the in me, is annoyingly stubborn, and emotions have a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect them.

Like in the middle of a lecture, when the professor’s voice faded into the background, blurred into nothing more than a low hum as my mind replayed the way Toto had laughed the last time we talked. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the way he leaned back in his chair with that knowing smirk, the way he looked at me—like distance didn’t matter, like time zones were irrelevant, like for those few stolen minutes, I was the only thing in his world.

Or during an impossibly long study session, when exhaustion settled deep into my bones and my brain refused to cooperate, and I found myself staring at my phone, wondering what he was doing at that exact moment. Whether he was in a meeting, whether he was having his third—or fourth—coffee of the day, whether he was thinking about me, too.

Or in the rare quiet moments, when there were no distractions left to drown in. When there were no papers to write, no chapters to read, no deadlines to chase. When I was alone in my room at home, and there was nothing but silence. When my bed felt too big, and my hands felt too empty, and my heart felt the space where he used to be. That was the worst part—when the missing had nowhere to hide. I told myself I didn’t have time for this. That there was no room in my life for longing. But time had stopped listening to me a long time ago.

So, I buried myself in work.

I filled my days with lectures and assignments, letting them consume every waking hour. I let the deadlines dictate my existence, let the pressure push me forward, convinced myself that if I just kept moving, the missing wouldn’t feel so heavy. That if I never stopped, if I never let myself sit in the quiet for too long, I wouldn’t have to feel it.

But it was always there.

Lurking beneath the surface.

Waiting for the quiet.

Waiting for the moment when my mind wasn’t occupied with something else, when my hands weren’t flipping through pages, when my body wasn’t running on borrowed energy. Because even in the chaos, even with an ocean between us, he was still the one thing I couldn’t shake.

But It wasn’t sadness, not exactly. More like an ache—a dull, persistent thing that settled in my chest, pressing down in the moments when I allowed myself to remember just how far away he really was.

It was strange, the way distance worked. How it could feel suffocating and hollow all at once. How it could make a person both incredibly present and impossibly far away at the same time. But despite the thousands of miles, despite the time zones and the packed schedules and the inevitable exhaustion, distance had done little to sever the connection between us.

If anything, it had forced us both to try.

It had made us intentional. Made us carve out time in impossibly busy schedules, made us reach across time zones and hold onto whatever moments we could steal. Somehow, without ever really deciding on it, texting had become an intrinsic part of my day. It was woven into the fabric of my routine, as natural as morning coffee or the inevitable rush between classes.

A brief check-in between lectures—How’s your day going?

A shared meme sent in the middle of a tedious meeting—This is you.

A voice note recorded in the dead of night, when the weight of the day felt too heavy to put into words—I wish you were here.

Sometimes, it was nothing more than a single emoji. A subtle reminder that we were thinking of each other, even when words failed.

And then there were the video calls.

Not every day. Not always planned.

But when they happened, they felt like stolen moments. Like pressing pause on reality, just for a little while. Like stepping out of our separate worlds and into something that was still ours.

They were late at night for me, during the rare hours when my schedule slowed enough for me to breathe. For him, they were stolen moments between obligations—minutes taken from work lunches, from late-night meetings, from whatever chaos his role demanded of him that day.

And yet, despite the exhaustion, despite the miles, despite everything else pulling us in different directions, we always found our way back here.

Back to each other.

Like this morning.

The sun was barely up, spilling golden light through my window, casting long shadows across my desk. My coffee sat half-finished beside my open laptop on your desk, notes sprawled in front of you, the remnants of last night’s study session still lingering in the margins. I should have been reviewing my research. Should have been preparing for another grueling day of lectures and deadlines.

Instead of focusing on my work, instead of crossing off the long list of tasks demanding my attention, my phone was in my hand. Thumb hovering over his name. Hesitation lingered, just for a second, that familiar internal debate surfacing—Is he too busy? Will I be distracting him? Should I just wait for him to text first?

But then, I remembered the way he always answered. The way, no matter how packed his schedule was, he somehow made time. With that thought, I pressed call. The screen flickered to life, and there he was.

Seated in what looked like a conference room, the sterile white walls behind him doing nothing to soften the exhaustion in his posture. He was wearing a crisp white shirt, sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows, collar undone just enough to make him look almost relaxed—if not for the slight crease between his brows. His dark hair was slightly tousled, evidence of too many times running his hands through it in frustration. A plate of half-eaten pasta sat in front of him, next to an almost-empty cup of coffee.

But none of that mattered.

Because the second he saw me, the tension in his face eased.

"Morning, Schatz." His voice was low, warm, tinged with quiet exhaustion.

I smiled, curling my hands around my coffee mug, soaking in the simple comfort of seeing him.

"Morning for me," I teased, lifting my mug as if to prove it. "Lunchtime for you."

Toto exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "And yet, here you are, calling me instead of working."

"And yet, here you are," I countered, arching a brow. "Picking up."

A slow smirk tugged at his lips, his head tilting slightly in surrender. That smirk—mischievous, knowing, effortlessly charming—made the miles between us feel smaller, just for a second.

It was moments like this that made the distance easier to bear.

I shifted, tucking my legs beneath me on my desk chair, the ceramic of my mug warming my fingers. "Exactly why I called," I admitted. "Figured we could have a meal together, even if we’re in different time zones."

His expression softened slightly, and I caught the way his lips curved—subtle, but undeniably affectionate. "And here I thought you just wanted to check if I was still alive."

I smirked, taking a slow sip of coffee. "That too."

Toto shook his head, but there was amusement in his eyes as he picked up his fork. "How’s uni?"

A sigh escaped me as I glanced at the open notebook beside me, pages filled with frantic scribbles and hastily highlighted lines. "Intense. I think my professors had a meeting and collectively decided to assign all major projects at once. Either that, or I’ve just lost my ability to manage deadlines."

His brows lifted slightly. "That doesn’t sound like you."

I huffed out a quiet laugh. "I’m managing. Barely. But yeah, it’s a lot."

Toto tilted his head slightly, studying me through the screen in that way that always made me feel like he saw more than I was saying. "Are you sleeping enough?"

I groaned, already regretting mentioning anything. "Don’t start."

"Schatz—"

"Yes, I’m sleeping," I cut in, narrowing my eyes at him. "Not… well, but I’m trying."

Toto gave me a look—the kind that said he absolutely did not believe me. His gaze was unwavering, like he was calculating how much he should push, how much I was willing to admit.

I knew he was about to start lecturing me on efficiency, time management, optimizing my schedule—because that was so much easier for someone who operated like a machine.

So, I changed the subject.

"And you?" I asked, tilting my head. "Work swallowing you whole yet?"

He let out a small sigh, running a hand through his hair, further disheveling the already unruly strands. "I’d say no, but that would be a lie."

A faint murmur came from behind him—someone speaking in German, their voice just out of frame. He turned his head slightly, responding with a quick, clipped reply before looking back at me.

I raised a brow. "Work?"

"Always," he muttered, reaching for his water. "Half the team thinks I’m permanently glued to this chair."

I hummed knowingly. "Not entirely untrue."

His lips twitched. "Cheeky this morning, are we?"

"You bring it out of me."

His phone buzzed on the table beside him. He glanced at it briefly but ignored it, his attention still on me.

I recognized that look.

It was the I should be going, but I don’t want to look.

"You need to go?" I asked, already bracing for the inevitable.

Toto hesitated, then shook his head. "Not yet. I’d rather stay here and talk to you."

My fingers curled a little tighter around my mug.

"Good," I murmured, staring at him through the screen. "Because I miss you."

Toto’s grip on his fork tightened slightly. His gaze flickered—something unreadable crossing his expression before his voice dipped lower, quieter. "Ich vermisse dich auch, Schatz."

I swallowed, my chest tightening at the weight of those words. The sincerity in his voice, the quiet admission of something neither of us could change, settled deep in my bones.

"I miss you too."

Toto let out a slow exhale, his gaze steady, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

"I shouldn’t be this distracted at this hour of the day," he murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small, self-deprecating smile.

A small laugh escaped me, breaking through the quiet. "Well, at least you’re eating. That’s progress."

"Not by choice," he muttered, nudging his mostly finished plate as if it had personally offended him. "Apparently, I’ve developed a reputation for skipping meals, so I now have people making sure I don’t starve."

I shook my head, unable to suppress my amusement. "You would absolutely survive off coffee and adrenaline if they let you."

"Also not untrue," he admitted, setting his fork down with an air of finality. His eyes softened slightly as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. "But I prefer when you’re the one reminding me to eat."

Something warm and unspoken bloomed in my chest at that.

It was simple, really—the way he said it, the way he meant it. He never needed to elaborate. It was in the way he looked at me, in the way he lingered on the line even when he should have hung up, in the way he always answered my calls, no matter how chaotic his day was.

"Of course, I care," I said, my voice quieter now. "Even from an ocean away, I care."

Toto let out a slow breath, nodding. "I know."

A comfortable silence settled between us, not the kind weighed down by distance or longing, but the kind that felt like an understanding—an acceptance of what we were, of where we were, of the space we occupied in each other’s lives, even with the miles stretching between us.

"I’ll call you later?" he asked eventually, though it wasn’t really a question.

"I’ll be waiting."

He lingered for a second longer, his eyes scanning my face like he was memorizing every detail, tucking it away for when the distance felt too vast, too unfair.

Then, with a quiet sigh, he murmured, "Talk soon, love," before the screen went dark.

I stared at my phone for a moment, my fingers still curled around the edges as if keeping the connection alive a little longer. The warmth of our conversation lingered, wrapping around me like a quiet comfort.

Even across time zones, even with the chaos of life pulling us in different directions, he still made time.

And for now, that had to be enough.

I let out a breath, setting my phone down beside my coffee mug. The silence in the room felt different now—less hollow, less lonely.

The open notebook in front of me beckoned, the half-finished notes and highlighted passages waiting for my attention. With a resigned sigh, I picked up my pen, rolling my shoulders as I refocused on where I had left off.

The words on the page blurred for a moment, my mind still half-stuck in the conversation, in the way his voice had sounded when he said my name, in the quiet way he admitted missing me.

But there was work to do.

And so, with a deep inhale, I forced myself back into the rhythm of academia, back into the world that didn’t pause for distance, for time zones, for longing.

The weight of missing him hadn’t disappeared, but for now, it could wait.

[cthrnschumacher]

I'm Yours - Ch. 3 Obessed With You

Toto POV

Travelling anywhere has always come as a blessing and curse. Don't get me wrong, I like travelling as much as the next person, but little inconveniences like sleep schedules and working in different time zones sometimes got the better of me. I have to be in the city for a few days and haven't shaken off the jet lag, which I usually can grapple with. I'm still waking up to the British time zone while I'm supposed to be in Eastern Standard Time, but what can I do. It's only a few days, and then I'll be back at Brackley. For now, I have decided the best thing I can do with my extra time is to get some work done. I glance over at the clock, and it's 2:30am. Certain work items require a keen eye for detail, occupying my time until roughly 5:30 or 6 am local time to head to the gym.

I haul myself up from the bed and head towards the hotel desk where my laptop and phone are situated. I allow my computer to boot up and decide to take these few minutes to head to the washroom, splash some water on my face and make some coffee to ease out of the groggy haze of sleep. Once I have everything I need to sit for a few hours in front of the laptop, I sit in the chair and reflexively enter my sign-in credentials for the computer. Since my mind is fresh, I decided that contracts and agreements coupled with a few emails are what I will take these few hours to work on. It is relatively 6:30am in England, so by the time I am done looking at these things, most of the team will be in the office, and some of my team members will have a response to their pressing issues. I open my email, see what needs responding, and get those out of the way since some problems are quick; I will leave the ones that require a bit more detail until after I've looked at some paperwork. I take this chance to open up the server with the company's shared documents and some of the files I'm working on. I opened up the first contract and started looking it over. The first glance of the document is to skim and get the gist of the contract. The second time around, I began making annotations where necessary and allowed for my input. Once I finish that, I repeat the same process with a few more documents and send separate emails to the individuals who require feedback on them. Feeling more awake and having the aptitude for thinking, I respond to emails requiring more attention and careful articulation. Once that is done, it's roughly 6 am local time. I give everything I am working on a final glance, and I save and close my laptop.

Taking off my glasses, rubbing my face, and running my hands through my hair, I get up from the desk to change into gym attire. I can feel that my body craves any physical activity. I am not trying to say I'm old, but I just want to move, if that makes sense. I head towards the bed and strip from my plaid pyjama bottoms and a black t-shirt to some compression shorts with baggy mesh shorts over the top and a grey athletic t-shirt. After that, I grab a water bottle and my Bose headphones since I really don't feel like being bothered at this hour, even though I am probably the only one awake. I head to the door, slip on my trainers, take the room key, and head out. I decided on taking the stairs since it would be some light cardio before I started my run on the treadmill. I attempt to think about which area of my body I want to kill today. I decided on hitting my upper body today. I go into the notes section of my phone, find my upper body routine, and reaffirm that those are the exercises I will do for roughly 2 hours. 

Exiting the stairs, I am now on the floor with the exercise and weight room of the hotel. Swiping my key card, I enter and see that I am alone; it makes me slightly happy that no one is in there. I have it myself and won't be bothered. I put a news channel on my phone to listen to while running for 30 minutes. It's a solid warm-up and pace that will help get my muscles loose. Once I feel flexible and have stretched, I move towards the free weights to start my first exercise. I decided it would be chest, back, biceps and triceps, then moving to shoulders and traps, ending the workout with sit-ups, crunches, and chair raises. It was a well-rounded workout; I won't obviously overkill my upper body, but it gives me a nice tapered look. With that, the reps and sets of each exercise fill up the 2 hours; I feel slightly tired but energized for the day; sometimes, working up a sweat can be the best remedy for lack of sleep. Before I head out of the gym, I take the chance to look around and see if anyone is in there, and see that there is no one, I decided to take a chance and take off my now dark greyish shirt since the pump is relatively fresh I can see the muscles at their fullest. It's a slight urge to flex in different poses, but I assess my physique. I know I am over 50, but I was in great shape. I wasn't overly lean, but I also don't push the number of weights I lift to be bulky with muscles; I enjoy any physical activity that helps me keep in shape. It helps give some balance to the hectic lifestyle I have. Now that I had enough admiration for myself in the gym mirror, I put my shirt back on and decided to take the elevator up.

Once back in my room, I take hold of the hotel phone and order breakfast to the room, consisting of scrambled eggs, toast, an espresso with lactose-free milk and some fruit. Detailing the order, I give them the room number, thank them for the order and hang up the line. I start walking towards the bathroom to strip off the sweaty clothing, hop into the shower, and wash off the grime of my workout. Once I'm done lathering my body and washing my hair, I turn off the water, step out and wrap the towel around my waist. Stepping out of the washroom, I turn on the hotel TV to a local news channel and keep it on as background noise as I get dressed. I walk towards some of the drawers I have my clothes in and take hold of a pair of grey boxer briefs, tossing it on the bed. I open the drawer below and glance over the shirt and pants selection, deciding on a black pair of fitting chinos and a white button-up shirt, tossing both on the bed. Feeling pleased with my outfit, I unwrap the towel and pat my body until it's no longer damp, starting from my lower body, working my way up, and then tossing the towel on a nearby chair. I dress myself, pulling on the boxers and then grabbing the pants and doing the same. Once the pants are over my waist, I don't slip on the shirt just yet, but I make my way back to the washroom to apply some deodorant and a few sprits of my cologne; it was of cedar with undertones of citrus, truly a scent I favoured. It wasn't an overbearing scent, and it reacts well with my skin, making it long-lasting, and I won't need to apply any more throughout the day. I return to my dress shirt, slipping the sleeves on and buttoning up the shirt while watching the news. Completing that, I tucked the shirt into my pants, adjusted everything to sit smoothly, zipped up the fly, and closed the pants' button.

With impeccable timing, there is a knock on the door; I walk towards the door and open it to allow the young man to set my breakfast on the table. Thanking the young man and closing the door behind him, I feel the hunger for food finally coming over me; I sit and listen to the news, not really caring about what's happening. It's nice, so the room's not dead silent. After finishing breakfast and leaving the cart outside for the service to take it back downstairs, take the chance to look at the time, and it's almost 10am.

I return to the desk and open up my laptop; I take this time to look at the day ahead of me, which consists of a meeting and the lecture I will be speaking at. With that, I start preparing for the meeting in an hour; I am not presenting anything, but it's more about discussing the car's development and what improvements can be made for the next race. I let the engineers, drivers and other vital members provide their input; I tend to hold off on these discussions since I know little about them and let the directors continue leading the conversation. Once that is done, I open the document containing all the points I will lecture on. It was on diversity within Brackley and Formula 1 as a whole; I was genuinely pleased to be asked to speak on this since it is something that Mercedes has been working towards and made it a mission to break barriers in the industry. I take this chance to review the literature which the professor instructed his students to read before attending the lecture; I know I am technically not their teacher, but if they have questions on how my assessment and practices in Brackley pertain to their preliminary reading, I want to be able to answer them technically as well. You can never be too prepared when talking to young minds, especially when they are the ones who will be leading the future. People in any industry can only be around for so long, which is why innovation is critical. I'm happy to be a part of that discussion. I am finalizing the content and ensuring I understand the material correctly. I see that it's 3:30pm. I hadn't noticed the time fly this quickly, so I saved the document with my content and transferred the file to my tablet, which I use during a lecture.

I get up from my desk and start placing my devices in my shoulder bag; I take the chance to put the charging cables for the devices in the bag along with a bottle of water and a pen with a notepad just in case I need something to write on as well to in case one of the students says something clever. It could be something that I can actually work with. I also put my glasses in there since it's relatively sunny. I put the key card in there, along with my wallet and car keys, and I feel set to exit the room. I take this chance to slip on my black loafers and head to the washroom to give myself a once-over in the mirror. I see that my hair is sticking up a tad from the countless times I run my hands through it, so I had the time to turn on the tap, get my hands a little wet, and run it through my hair to taper it down a bit and look presentable for the students and the professor. Pleased with how I look now, I put on my black blazer and sunglasses, grab my bag, and I'm out the door.

I took the elevator to the parking garage and headed to the grey Mercedes Amg E 53. It wasn't too flashy for my taste, but it was nice to drive, especially in the city. Unlocking the car and opening the driver's door, I slip in and place my bag in the passenger seat. Closing the door and turning on the car, I turn on the radio, seeking through the stations to find one that plays classical music; having done that, I clasp my seatbelt, place the car in drive and head out of the parking spot. I made it above ground and onto the city streets. The University campus was only 5 minutes away from the hotel, so I took the time to make a dinner reservation at an Italian restaurant I visited every time in the city, confirming it for 9pm. It gives me enough time to answer any lingering questions and talk to students who stay back and the professor. Done with that, the rest of the ride was filled with classical music; as I made the final turn towards the parking garage on campus, which is close to the lecture hall, I could walk and head to the coffee shop close by to grab a coffee and something small to eat before 6pm. I park in the spot furthest away, just looking to kill time. I shut off the engine, grab my shoulder bag and exit from the car, closing the door behind me and swiping the slight indent on the handle to lock the car; seeing that it is, I make my way towards the exit and start heading towards the coffee shop.

It's roughly 4pm, and the warm sun feels nice on my skin, more pleasant than the cold hotel room, but something, in particular, distracts me as I walk. I see a girl walking towards my general direction; I know she doesn't notice me staring at her, but something makes me want to know her. She has sunglasses and over-ear headphones on but looks up occasionally to ensure she is not bumping into anyone; she is focused on something on her phone that requires her little hands to type away. Fuck have I mentioned how tiny she is compared to me? Sure, I'm quite a bit away from here, but I can tell from here she is pretty petite. For someone who is quite tall, her head would probably hit my upper abs. I have to find a way to have an interaction with her. I move off to the side so she doesn't see me and take a minute to see where she is going. Luckily, she walked towards the building where I was giving the lecture. She is heading towards the main entrance.

I have access to the back entrance, and I walk quickly to see if she is going toward the lecture hall where I will be speaking. I don't know what odds were in my favour. Still, she is walking towards the lecture I will be in later today, so I walk quickly and distract myself with my phone; I will bump into her and see what happens. I need to hear her voice and know who she is. Alright, it's now or never, finally bumping into her; what I didn't expect was for her to fall backwards. I look up from my phone, shock all over my face, and I see her hit the ground and land on her bum; she left out an ouch. I am mortified that I hurt her on our first interaction, but what surprises me is that she is instantly apologizing. I couldn't help but admire her and kneel in front of her to see if she was okay; she kept apologizing and started to ramble on about how she should have been paying more attention. She turned bright red when she removed her headphones and sunglasses and looked up at me. She recognized me; she knew who I was, so she was here to see my lecture; what are the odds this pretty little girl was here to see me. I finally decide to speak and help her up off the floor.

I can't explain it, but she is adorable, and I feel bad that she keeps apologizing. I decided to introduce myself and take this chance to apologize since it's my fault; I want to know her name to properly apologize. And she gives it to me, Y/N ..... Y/N ...... Y/N, it's such a beautiful name; I repeat in my head that life depends on it because I don't want to forget it. I try to make humour from the situation, "Nonsense; you're a student and probably taking every chance you get to study and cramming for some sort of assessment." She smiled, fuck that was breathtaking; she made me act like a teenage boy finally talking to his crush.

I hear her stomach growl and insist on taking her to the coffee shop I was heading to make up for dropping her muffin. I see her blush deeply, mentioning that I'm confident she will be at the class I am lecturing, so she finally caves in. I'm excited but remain collected; I get to spend more time talking to her. The walk to the coffee shop was silent; I was trying to think of how to get to know her without being a creepy old man; who knew if she even liked me? She just recognized me. I see we are getting closer to the shop entrance, and I rush to open the door for her. This allows me to be close to her and see the height difference. My mind is spinning; it turns me on that her frame is small and that she doesn't even reach my chest, but even the way that she has to look up at me, fuck I can't help it; I really need to behave. She thanked me and walked right in; I noted her impeccable mannerisms. We stand in line, and she looks up at the menu curiously. I know what I want, but I want to give her a few minutes. I'm unsure if she has been here and, if so, not to rush her. Finally letting a bit of time pass, I asked what she would like, and her order surprised me for such a tiny person needing a double shot in her latte. I'm guessing she has been up all day and needs the extra boost to stay alert. I suggest she find a place for us to sit while I order; she nods and walks off. I glance up, trying not to pry, and she picks a seat in the back where it isn't too crowded; she is clever, making it secluded so she can focus on me as I am on her.

I get to the front and give the young lady my and Y/N's order, adding two scones and requesting they be warmed up. I feel bad for dropping her muffin, don't get me wrong, but it created a perfect opportunity to repay and get to know her. During that time, I also figured out what I would ask to get to know her about her education, future career, and accomplishments. I know it sounds more like an interview, but those questions also give insight into her type of person. I approach her, and she is on her phone again, glued to that thing. Clearly, it's not her own doing; I can see it's an email she is typing, so it must be University or work-related. I sit across from her, not wanting to bother her just yet, and let her finish. Once she was done and took a minute to turn off her phone, her blush washes over her face, and she noticed I'd been silently waiting. And yet again, she profusely apologizes for her actions.

When she is surprised, her cheeks turn a slight shade of red; it's adorable on her olive-toned skin. I started my few questions, and she spoke passionately about her accomplishments and career goals. She is clearly highly motivated with will and determination; I can see that in her eyes when she talks about her experience. I am even shocked; she is young with this much drive. I would be happy with her at Brackely; she would fit right in, no problem. Trying to get more comfortable and make myself less intimidating, I asked how she heard about my lecture. I know it was an evening lecture, but housing around campus always has some sort of party or friends going to clubs; why is she coming to something this late. Her slight blush on complimenting her about her looks makes my heart stop. I will never get sick of her blushing. Her answer, though, lines up with the average life of a graduate student, which consists of research, work and study. She said she was interested in the topic as she enjoys the sport and working in the industry. I can tell she is pretty intelligent by her chance of asking me a question about the purpose and intention of the content I'm guest lecturing in. She even has a sense of humour by throwing in the team's downfall, so she is updated on the current drama of the sport.

A mini saving grace which gives me time to think about how to respond is that our order is set on the table. The scones look delicious and are set in the middle. At the same time, the server places each glass of our beverages in front of us. Y/N takes a sip of her coffee, and I can see that the coffee almost relaxes her, taking the edge off the situation. I do the same, so I don't make things too awkward. I now almost give a similar answer to hers but add that this shift is required to welcome the innovation needed for the sport. At this point, I insist she takes a scone and, being witty, remark that I want her full attention on me lecturing instead of thinking of her hungry and on a queue that blush is on her face again. Fuck this is just going to kill me seeing her always like that. Wanting to shift things more personally, I asked what she does outside of University. She seemed well-rounded, watching TV, cooking, staying active, and even mentioning martial arts; who knew she was full of surprises? It makes me keep falling harder for her. It intrigues me that she likes to fight, so I ask her more about it; since she likes boxing and has trained for so long, I attempt to show that I know a thing or two and ask what her signature move is.

I can see that she is stunned by my question but proceeds to answer it. It horrifies me, and she explains it; it sounds like it can hurt, but it's a good tactic since she is small. Fooling your opponent is a tremendous psychological move, truly impressing me more. Still, it is a little unshakeable that this tiny person is aggressive, but I love that most about her. That just means she has a lot of passion and needs a physical way of escaping the frustration. I take this chance to grab a scone and eat some of it, nudging her at the same opportunity. I know that if I don't, she won't touch it, and I don't want her hungry in the lecture. She does pick at the scone and then picks some more until I see her break off a sizable piece to eat.

I'm glad just seeing her makes me a little happy. I don't know what it is, but I want to make her comfortable. I'm drawn to her and don't want to lose her. I want to ask her to dinner, just spend more time with them; finally building up the courage, I ask, "I know this is a little presumptuous to ask even though we just met, and I did enjoy talking to you, but would you like to have dinner with me tonight after the lecture?" She just looks me in the eyes; I can't read her; shit, I hope I didn't scare her. "Y/N?" She regains her attention and focuses back on me, and I see that wicked smile on her face again. She looks into my eyes, "Yes, I would love that!" A sigh of relief washes over me; if I could kiss her right now, I would, but it needs to be somewhere more private where I can cup her face with my big hands and kiss her passionately.

Finishing up with our drinks, we get ready to head back to the lecture hall, again in silence. I didn't mind the silence this time; it was pleasant, but I needed to see if she was more than interested in me. I wanted to know if I could make her flustered, so I did something unthinkable since this was public. I grab her upper arm to turn her around and face me in a secluded corner, and it gives me chills that my entire hand wraps around it. I pull her close to keeping my hands at her waist; I lean down so my lips hover over hers and tell her, "I really enjoyed talking to you over coffee. Come back here after the lecture is done, and we will head to dinner together." We stayed like this for a little longer. I could see that she wanted a kiss, and I wanted to give in to her. Still, I can't do that yet, so I suddenly move my lips to her ear and whisper, "Now go on. I'll see you in the lecture, and pay attention. I will be watching." And I walk off toward the lecture hall but past that to the professor's office. I smile because I know I have her flustered, and that beautiful, shocked face she makes puts me weak at the knees. She has me wrapped around her finger without realizing it, but I want her more every second I am around her. I meet up with the professor and make light chit-chat, heading into the hall. I see that she is situated in the back, for a good girl like her wouldn't peck her to be in the back; maybe she just wants to distance herself and not make it obvious, which I understand.

It wasn't long before the professor introduced me to start lecturing. In the queue, I went to the podium and began my lecture. I made eye contact with all the students, attempting to give them my full attention so I wouldn't keep looking at Y/N. Even when I got to look at her, she was so focused and wanted to absorb everything I was saying. Near the end of the content and assessment of the industry, I state that a question period can be on the lecture's content or about the industry. I also told the audience I could accept questions on the current racing season. I am standing back at the podium, pen in hand, ready to write in case something is inspiring; most of the questions were on the content and the linkages to the prior readings, and I answered them quickly. I see Y/N shoot up, but I don't call on her immediately; I let 2 more questions get answered before turning to her.

"Yes. Miss in the back, did you also have a question?" She had a daring look in her eyes; I knew this would be good. I allowed her silence and gave her the patience to speak since she was in front of other students. "Yes ..... first, thank you for the guest lecture. It was a pleasure to hear you speak. Now... My inquiry pertains to your equitability in your facilities and your initiative to power the young leaders of tomorrow. Would it be possible to arrange for a shadowing opportunity?" As I focused intently, I thought it was a shadowing opportunity; I had to hold back a grin; she has confidence, and I won't deny that. She is reaching for something unthinkable and hasn't been done, is bold to ask in front of her peers, and is willing to get rejected. I write it down since it is clever; it also buys me some time while I sip from my water. It is silent in the room and will only be broken by what I will say next, so why not surprise everyone. "Might I ask for your name to address you, Miss...." I want to do her work for it and ensure I don't know who she is, so she has to introduce herself. Plus, I like hearing her name and saying it. "My name is Y/N. It's Y/N Y/LN." I allow for a pause again before responding; she is now leaning forward in her seat, eager to hear what I have to say. "Miss Y/N, how about you give me your contact, and I will discuss this with your professor and contact my assistant and team to arrange a shadowing opportunity to make it a research fellowship for a full academic term; how do you say a studying aboard course at Brackley."

Her mouth fell slightly a gap, and I heard a few gasps. The astonishment fell suddenly on everyone. Her creativity and willingness to put herself on the line for an opportunity demonstrate innovation, and I will give it to her. I look around the room to answer more questions and see some other females look sour. I took an interest in her. Still, their attitude isn't like Y/N, so they only blame themselves for the success and sourness. Wrapping up everything, the professor joined me at the podium and started discussing this opportunity as a research fellowship. I see Y/N walk down from the seating area, finally meeting the both of us. The professor congratulated her since it was courageous, and he finally exited the room, bidding us both a good evening.

When the door finally shuts, all I want to do is just pick her up in a hug and spin her around. I'm excited for her, to spend more time with her, be around her, and fly her everywhere with me. She started rambling on, first thanking me, but unsure she was fit, I cut her off. "Do you mind if I get your contact then? I have to talk to my team and see how this could happen, as well as with your professor." I hand her the notepad and pen and brush my fingers against her, and she inhales sharply, but her response starts to bring out something darker in me. "Yes, of course, anything you need." I don't think she realized what she said, but she has a good girl's nature. She doing this unintentionally. I smirk because our interactions this entire day have been nothing but teasing. I forgot another piece of her needed contact information as she wrote it down. I hoped she would be open to the idea of calling and texting. "Can I also get your phone number? ... I would be for when I need to contact you directly, just in case we need to speak and that I can relay information to you," she agrees, knowing that is normal. Still, I don't want her to write it down, play even more into the teasing game, "Can you put it in my phone?" She nods, seeing that it's a yes; I pull out my phone, unlock it and hand it to her; her tiny hands tremble, entering the contact, and I step closer to her while she intently looking at the device. She finishes and looks up. Those doe eyes are a killer, and I love hearing her gulp, only inches away from her. Taking the device and being soft with her, "Thank you, I'll text you right now." Finishing that, I am gentle with her; she is in a haze, and I want to guide her to like me more. I tilt her chin so she is looking at me softly speaking. I say, "Why don't you head out first, and I'll meet you in the building so we can head to dinner, ya?" She nods again, but I want her to speak to affirm she is with me, "I need words, Y/N?" "Uhhhh yes ...... I'll see you outside." Her voice trembles again. I pull away and allow her to exit the room.

[ircnego---a]

🍆🍆🍆😏

{ sms ♦ puppy } ....... { sms ♦ puppy } well. { sms ♦ puppy } I got nothing. { sms ♦ puppy } why are you showing me this. trying to make me want you? 

                                                  (  intentional nude ) accepting @wolffdaddy

[vmprwtch]

Boof Boof~ Wolf hubby is here to give his wife some D~

                                     random woof  // always accepting *!

        like a cannonball, the boy shoots in the wolf’s direction with unstoppable force and incredible speed. by the time fen spots the streak of pale skin and dark hair wrapped up in tattered black jeans and an old leather jacket of his, the boy has launched himself at the other’s sturdier frame. strong thighs part as he’s caught by the waist, legs nimbly wrapping about the wolf’s hips while one hand rises to tangle in the short hair on the nape of fen’s neck, the other cradling his scruffy jaw. full pink lips press hungrily against fen’s, teeth nipping possessively every so often before his kisses begin to trail over the other male’s cheek, down over his jaw and neck. a soft wet tongue pokes out to lap at the tender skin of his neck and cheek intermittently, a playful little move that seems canine in nature, yet is something alec seems to have picked up since falling for the wolf. he even feels a low hum rumble in his throat, a predatory growl that is no match for the proper roar his lover can conjure, a sound he’s missed dearly this past week. his nails must be digging little crescent moon shaped marks into the wolf’s neck, for his grip is so tight and unrelenting. it takes fen’s strong hands separating them for a moment for alec to release, leaning back in his arms to gaze upon with a face that is equal parts devilish demon and eager puppy of a boy.

        ‘ stop going away so long - dont care what it’s for. I was scratching at the walls these last few days. i had to start wearing your clothes and i had nothing to do and none of my toys were good enough and i had to eat alone and sleep alone - ’  he’s breathless from the kiss and from the relief of being reunited, but the harsh look of trouble that’s always present in his features softens ever so slightly with affection. the fallen angel face is hidden, burrowed deep into the warmth of fen’s neck. a deep breath hungrily seeks his scent and exhales with a satisfied sigh.  ‘ love you. ’  the words are muffled, but sincere.  ‘ lets go to bed - please. ’