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joelmillersmunch · 18 days

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cruel summer (dbf!joel miller x chubby/curvy!f!reader)

Summary: After being away for five years, you've returned home for the summer. Joel doesn't expect to see you tonight. He doesn't mean to stare, really.

Ratings/Warnings: E. MDNI. NSFW. NO OUTBREAK. modern! au. dad's best friend! au. age gap (reader is 25, joel is in his 40s) curvy reader. reader's mother is awful. reader struggles with self image and insecurities. reader and joel flirt. reader gets touchy with joel. masturbation (m). joel can't stop staring at reader. I HOPE I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN ANYTHING.

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: Soooo, I'm dabbling with the idea of making this into some kind of short series. Let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy! Please ignore any grammar or typos. I didn't spend much timed editing. Ooooops.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. Joel knows he should be ashamed, gawking across the room at his best buddy’s kid. Except you weren’t a kid anymore. You weren’t the same 20 year old, sophomore-in-college girl he met when he moved across the street from your family five years ago. You were so much more now. A gorgeous grown version of the girl he had met only a handful of times before you left for the fall semester.

You hadn’t been back since, having gone on some fantastic trips abroad over the summers to expand your studies. You graduated about a year ago with your bachelor’s degree and have been enjoying post grad life with your friends. You decided to come home for the summer, having been so long since you’ve been back to Austin. It’s been two weeks since then, and he only got a brief glance from his window when you pulled in, jumping out to embrace your parents.

He had no idea you’d be here tonight. The crowded dive bar was Joel’s normal Friday night spot, usually accompanied by Tommy and some of their other crewmates. Joel had texted your dad an invite, completely forgetting about the fact you’d come back into town. Your dad walks in first, a huge grin on his face as he makes way to the table Joel is seated at.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought some company,” He says, stepping aside to reveal the fact you had joined him tonight. Joel’s breath catches when he sees you for the first time, covering it up with a fake cough.

“Mr. Miller, so nice to see you again! It’s been so long!” You say brightly, reaching for an embrace. You feel so soft in his arms. Joel quickly tries to compose himself, but your voice entrances him. It’s so grown, so sexy. He can’t help himself from breathing your perfume in a little harder than he probably should have. Oranges and lime, the beach, summer, sunshine. It made him dizzy in the best way, a refreshing hug of aroma encasing him.

“Hi, sweetie. Welcome home, nice to have you back.” He says, releasing you. You have a big, beautiful smile plastered on your lips and agree that it’s nice to be back.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Your dad cuts in, turning to face you. Saying your name, he asks if you want to join him. “I know they don’t have the wine stuff you usually get, but any daughter of mine can drink a beer!” He finishes, teasingly wrapping his arm around your shoulders and leading you to the bar. Joel can hear you complaining to your dad, furiously telling your dad you know they wouldn’t have wine here. He laughs and turns back to his beer.

So here he is, thirty minutes later, watching you from the bar. He’d offer to buy the next round after you very proudly proved to be your father’s daughter and downed your first beer like it was nothing. He watched you while he waited for the handful of beers as you hovered over the vintage looking jukebox. A wide grin spreads across your face when you find the song you were looking for, and a folky-banjo country song plays loudly from the speakers. Joel thanks the bartender after paying, and takes the tray of beers back to the table as you find your way back with him.

“I can’t believe they have this song!” You exclaim, happily taking one of the beers from Joel and taking a big swig. Joel and your dad laugh at you and you look at them confused.

“It’s 2024 here too, sweetie. Don’t know why you’re so surprised. That jukebox is brand new, it just looks that way to fit in better here.” You dad says, chuckling with a shake of his head. You roll your eyes at him and take a seat next to Joel, across from your dad.

“You know what? You can sit by yourself now, Dad. Joel here won’t be rude to me, now will ya, Joel?” You say, jokingly patting his arm as you lightly rest your head against his shoulder. Joel’s eyes go wide, and your dad breaks out in a bark of a laugh.

“Oh, yeah. Cause Joel’s such a big softie,” Your dad says, taking a swig of his beer. You laugh and release him, allowing Joel to finally breathe again. “When’s Tommy getting here, Joel?” Your dad asks.

“Oh, uh, didn’t plan on inviting ‘em tonight. Was gonna see if you wanted to go watch the game at my place after this, but..” He trails off, trying to politely hint to your dad that things are different now that you’re here. Not that Joel minds, but you probably don’t wanna go back to his place and hang out with two old dudes watching baseball all night. Joel accidentally catches your eye, and quickly looks away before you can catch on.

“What? Before you knew that I was coming?” You ask with a light laugh. “I can watch baseball! But if you two don’t want me hanging around, I can just walk home. It’s not like I live across town.” You joke.

“No, it’s not that!” Joel says, not wanting you to feel like a nuisance. “I just figured you didn’t want to hang out with these ol’ guys all night.” He finishes, giving your dad a friendly shove on his shoulder.

“No, I don’t mind! But please tell me you have something better than this beer at your place?” You ask, an exaggerated pleading look on your face. Joel can’t help but laugh and offer you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, darlin’. Welcome home, I guess.” He says and the three of you make your way out of the bar.

When the three of you arrive at Joel's place you’re already pretty tipsy. You’re laughing at a stupid joke your dad made as you stumble into the house. Joel rests a hand on your shoulder trying to steady you. You lean into his embrace and sigh out a thanks.

“You okay, kiddo? You sure you don’t wanna head home? I can walk you over there and come back,” Your dad says, a concerned look on his face once Joel has you seated on the couch.

“I’m fiiiiine,” You say, waving him off. “Joel, could I have some water?”

“Of course, darlin’,” He says, rising from his chair. “I’ll grab it for you. Do you want anything while I’m up?” He finishes, looking at your dad who declines. He walks into the kitchen, leaving you and your dad alone in Joel’s living room.

“Didn’t realize you were such a lightweight, honey,” Your dad says with a chuckle.

“I’m not usually, but I don’t know…” You start, immediately sobering up at his remark. “Lately, I’ve been struggling with my self image. I think all the drinking has something to do with it.” You pause, looking at your dad’s shocked expression which causes you to scowl at him. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. Mom made sure to let me know that she noticed my weight gain.” You finish with an eye roll.

“She said that?” Your dad asks, a certain tone in his voice you didn’t recognize.

“Yeah, when you brought my bags into the house for me when I first got back. I just figured she told you or you had noticed too,” You say, crossing your arms over your waist.

“Honey, you know I think that you’re beautiful. You are just growing into your adult body. I can’t believe your mother would say something like that to you! I don’t know what her problem is lately..” He says trailing off. He coughs to cover up the tension when Joel reenters the living room, handing your dad a beer.

“You know me so well,” Your dad says, chipper as ever.

Joel can’t help but overhear your conversation from the kitchen. It’s a small house, for christ's sake! But that doesn’t help make him feel any less guilty while he listens to your vulnerable conversation with your dad. He had to admit, he was a bit surprised at how drunk you got off just two beers, but he’s not one to judge. It all made sense now, and he can’t believe your own mother would say that to you. No one should speak that way to their own daughter, but especially to you. Joel always thought your mom was a bit insufferable, and now he knows he was right all along.

He loves your figure. The way your jeans curved over your hips and ass. The softness to your cheeks and arms. He will dream about roaming his hands over your waist and legs tonight. For now, he has to interrupt this very personal conversation between a father and his daughter. His friend and his daughter. His friend’s daughter. Joel sighs, grabbing a beer and hoping he doesn’t embarrass anyone.

After about an hour and a glass of water later, you’re fully sober and mindlessly scrolling on your phone as your dad and Joel watch the game. Well, as Joel watches the game and your dad snores softly in the recliner. Joel is sitting next to you, his eyes never leaving the TV. At least, that’s what you thought. In reality, Joel can’t stop checking you out from the corner of his eye. The way you’d laugh at something on your phone and then bite your lip to suppress a smile when you realized you laughed a bit louder than you meant to. God, he needed a beer.

“I’m gonna go grab another beer. Need anythin’?” He asks, standing up. The feeling of your warmth and smell of your perfume invading his head, intoxicating him. You look up at him and smile, shaking your head no. He nods and quickly leaves to the kitchen. He leans over the sink, hands on the counter and dropping his head. Breathing in and out, he tries to calm his fucking dick. The way you looked up at him, beautiful eyes burning with attention. He wanted to kiss you, leave your eyes wide in surprise. Fuck, this is a problem, AND his dick won’t get soft. He continues to calm his breathing when he feels a tap on his shoulder, his stomach dropping at the contact. He turns to face you, a worn out smile on his face.

“Oh, you startled me, darlin’,” He says. You give him a coy smile, shaking your empty glass.

“I realized I did need something.” You say, stepping closer so that your bodies are touching. Your fronts nearly rubbing as you lean over him, chest bumping against his arms as you turn the faucet on to get more water. He breathes in a sharp breath, your scent invading him again.

“Now, sweetheart…” He says as you move closer, standing so that one of your legs is in between his thighs, and the other on the opposite side of his leg. You were almost straddling him, sipping your water back. You cock an eyebrow at him, a trail of water sneaking past the cup and sliding down your chin. He closes his eyes and breathes out, feeling you move to rub against him. He opens his eyes to see you smirking back at him, finishing the rest of your water in a final drink. You lean back over him, chests bumping into each other. You place the glass in the sink, jumping when you feel him wrap his arms around you.

“Thank you, Mr. Miller. I feel so..refreshed now.” You say, lifting up to whisper in his ear. “But you want to know what else I need?”

He feels you grind into his leg, looking up to stare you in the eyes. You’re smirking at him, and he feels himself flush. He’s so hard it feels like he won’t ever get soft again. You pat a hand over his cock through his jeans, a satisfied look on your face when he grunts at your touch. A loud snore from the living room snaps you and Joel back into reality, and about 6 inches away from each other. You look at him and laugh.

“Maybe next time?” You ask, and leave him in the kitchen. He needs to come, now. He plans to make a phony excuse to you to go to the bathroom when he enters the living room, just to see you raising your dad from his slumber.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Joel. Long day, I guess.” Your dad says, patting Joel on the shoulder as the two of you make your way out of the house. You turn to look back at Joel, a smile on your face.

He watches as you enter your own house. He pretends to not notice for the first time that your room faces his own. He pretends that he can still feel your hips dip into his. He pretends that it’s your hands on his hardened cock, thumbing over the swollen tip. He pretends he can still smell your perfume on your neck as your chest rubbed against his forearm. He pretends he doesn’t like the way you called him “Mr. Miller.” He pretends you’re watching him from your window. He pretends he can feel your eyes scanning over him as he thrusts into his fist. He pretends it’s your mouth. He pretends to see your shocked expression, eyes wide as he comes. He pretends it’s all over your face. With a groan, he grabs a rag and cleans himself up. So much for pretending.

A/N: dividers by @saradika-graphics thanks so much!!

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wonuwonder · 5 months

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01:12 am - jeon wonwoo

sorry if there’s typos or it’s written weirdly, it’s my first public work and english isn’t my first language hehe

genre: fluff, slight angst (they’re fighting)

“baby please, just listen to me”

“no, wonwoo, i’m tired of arguing about the same thing everytime”

wonwoo had just gone back from “work”, you’d been waiting for hours, as you were supposed to go out tonight. this was -of course- not the first time this had happened and you’ve had enough

“it’s like what? the third time we have to reschedule because you can’t make time for our things?” wonwoo tried to answer but you stopped him before he could get the words out of his mouth- “i’m exhausted wonwoo, i don’t wanna deal with this right now” you made your way into the kitchen to get away from him, and wonwoo tried to grab your arm to stop you but you were quicker

“the funny thing is I would understand if it had been something important like practice or a meeting, but no, you went out to eat and drink with the boys, while i was here waiting for you with that stupid dress on”

he took a step closer to you and grabbed your wrists gently, but you stepped back, making your way towards the couch “please just go to bed wonwoo, my head hurts and i wanna go to sleep”

he snorted a laugh mockingly “like what you’re gonna sleep here in the couch?” you gave him an annoyed look and kept rearranging the cushions to make it comfortable, he got closer to you but you turned your head away “please baby let’s just talk i don’t wanna go to bed with a heavy heart”

“i don’t wanna be in our room right now so you can take it” you answered the first question completely ignoring what he had just said and he just kept looking at you with a sad face “just go”- you repeated, and he turned around and went inside your room with annoyance

—————

it had been two hours since you and wonwoo last “spoke” in the living room, he hadn’t been able to sleep at all just thinking about you and what he had done, he hated fighting and arguing with you.

the night was cold, and he knew the only thing you had to cover up with was a light couch blanket, so you were probably freezing in the living room, he got up, weighted blanket in hand and went to check on you.

he tried not to wake you as he opened the bedroom door, he got close to the couch and haunched to look at you better, you were sleeping in fetal position trying to warm yourself up with your own body, but he noticed you had goosebumps from the cold, so he quickly covered you with the blanket and you twisted softly in your sleep, he moved your hair out of your eyes to look at you better. he felt terrible for making you wait again.

you started to softly open your eyes as your body noticed his presence and when he noticed his eyes softened “hey baby, did i wake you?” he asked softly, and you shook your head humming a “no”, you shifted noticing the blanket and gave him a knowing look with a disguised grin on your face “i couldn’t stop thinking about you and thought you must’ve been freezing out here so i brought it to cover you”-you stopped to look at him- his hair was messy and he was wearing a pair of sweatpants and an old black tshirt to bed, he didn’t have his glasses with him so you could see his dark eyes shining better with the dim light that came from the streetlights. you stretched your hand out to cup his cheek and he closed his eyes instantly, melting into your touch.

“i really missed you today” you said softly, his eyes opened, and you noticed they were watery “i know baby”- he grabbed your hand and squeezed it- “i truly am sorry, i feel terrible, i hate making you feel like this, i just- they wanted to go and celebrate dino’s recent release and i thought i would be able to arrive in time for you and i-“ you cut him off “shh it’s okay baby, you don’t need to explain anything, let’s just forget about it” you gave him a quick peck “let’s just sleep” you opened the blanket and motioned for him to get in “squeeze in, i’m freezing, and i can’t sleep if i’m not hugging you” he laid next to you in the couch and hugged you tight resting his chin in your head.

“i’m sorry y/n, i love you”, he said and you looked up at him, “it’s okay, i love you too”.

author’s note: posted a new drabble!

kitchen talk (fluff, smut, wonwoo x reader)

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pupcuck · 5 months

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ROTTEN LUCK !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. smut, kidnapping, leon is like mentally gone icl, references to past assault and trauma, non-con, manipulation, suicidal thoughts/reference to an attempt, general leon self destructive behaviour, physical abuse, power dynamics, throatfucking, choking, breath play, somno, 1 instance of drugging, unmentioned age gap, anal, he puts duct tape on your pussy ok just once promise it’s not bad, religious references, 1 mention of vomit and piss not in a sexual way, slight misogyny, panic attack

tumblr has started to remove fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

anyway, please ignore typos :3 rbs and feedback is very appreciated :3 my medical knowledge sucks, so keep in mind that all of this is off LMFAO crossposted to ao3 (user clitkiss)

two

Lucky. Leon hates that word. He wasn’t lucky to get out of Raccoon City, he was just barely capable, you have to be unlucky to get into that situation in the first place. You’re a lucky guy, Redfield had told him once, Chris not Claire. Claire isn’t daft. And Leon wonders what is so lucky about him. He’s forty-six and all he’s got is his trusty Matilda, his mother’s old Bible, and a failing liver. His luck is preordained by God and it’s a total sham.

Leon Kennedy’s the one who showed up to drill sessions smelling like sweat and cock. Kennedy’s the one that rolls over onto his front and takes it like a good doggy. Kennedy’s green behind the ears, pretty in the face, and that don’t fare well in a boot camp full of men twice his size. Kennedy’s the one brushing shoulders with the President, got the USA’s most prized dick in his mouth and everyone knows that he wouldn’t dare bite down. Golden boy Leon fucking Scott Kennedy would just go ahead and use his tongue to clean up Graham’s ballsack. And you’re calling that lucky? Bullshit.

The DSO’s modus operandi is strikingly similar to that of the BSAA. He is but a cog in a well oiled machine. There’s one difference, not a dog tag to his name. If he dies, then he’ll die nameless, and he’ll be cremated by something nuclear, and it’ll all be for nothing. Ain’t that just the luckiest thing you’ve ever heard?

He has tried to kill himself once or twice or thrice. He lost count after the fifth. The gun jammed once, a bad joke. Left Matilda rendered useless. Was meant to be him, not her. And if Leon’s being honest, every day is an avid attempt, as in the drinking and praying his liver gives out. Once he managed to get halfway there. Doesn’t remember a lot. Just blood. Lots of blood. Why couldn’t you be quiet about your grief, Leon? Claire’s expression had asked, how I am, how Chris is, how Jill is.

‘Cause he couldn’t. He had to go ahead and splatter his grief all over the linoleum floor. Maybe then someone would find him, and they’d mourn him, and they’d feel sorry for him ‘cause he’d pitied himself enough. Leon told her a joke, yapping away like one of those butterscotch lapdogs. Claire said that in South Korea you’re allowed to snip a dog's vocal cords to stop them from barking. Lucky I’m not in South Korea then. She handed him an orange prescription bottle with his name scrawled on it, and that was that. They didn’t speak for a few months.

Once upon a time Sherry needed him, now he needs her more. Needs her to laugh at his jokes, she’s the only one that does. And he needs her to tell him, I love you, Leon. She’s the only one that says that. No one puts up with him like Sherry does. She puts up with him in the way most women do their fathers. Love their dads unconditionally and nothing can ever fix that. Terrible illness that is. So, yeah, Leon Scott Kennedy is far from lucky. Lonely? Oh, for sure. God. He’s so lonely he feels sorry for himself. That’s one thing Leon has always been good at though. Lending himself a shoulder ‘cause no one else will.

His fingers brush yours in the record store. The hairs on the back of his neck stand. Jesus. Is it getting that bad? Leon’s been without a fuck for a few months and he’s already itching. That’s a new low. When Leon looks up to catch sight of who made his dick swell with their fingertips, he catches your eye briefly. A mousy little thing. Easily spooked it seems by the nervous smile you give him.

You’re on the phone, I don’t know what he likes anymore, dad, yeah—I’m trying to find it—Yes, I know who sang Sex and Candy, dad, Kurt Cobain right? Is that the one he likes? Dumbass. No, I’m not wrong, could you put mom on the phone—Hi mom, yes, I know he’s my brother, mom—Ever since he turned fifteen he stopped talking to me properly—I don’t know what she thinks, mom—

A mommy, daddy, a brother, a sister too he assumes. You’re what they call lucky. Nasty undertone you’re using with your parents. If Leon’s mom was still around he’d talk to her so sweet. She’d tell him to pray and Leon wouldn’t resist. Alright, Ma, Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus Tecum— then his voice would trail off, and he’d pretend to mouth the rest of the hymn ‘cause he remembers fuck all.

He wants to knock you around. Shake you till your brains scramble. Wants you to flinch even when he’s being nice. Leon’s nostrils flare when you raise your voice in the slightest, even if it’s playful, it’s plain rude. How dare you? He can’t even begin to fathom how incredibly lucky you are. The thought crosses Leon’s mind once, twice, thrice. Just how suicide did that day back in September. If you can kidnap the President’s daughter from her bustling college campus, throw her over your shoulder like salt, why can’t you kidnap Miss Nobody from a street corner in D.C?

Your figure is distinguished by a single, flickering street lamp. He sees your shadow. Recognises the silhouette by the shapely legs and how your belted coat flares out to create a dramatic hourglass, Leon’s got a good eye for detail. Oh, it’s kinda sexy watching you in the spotlight, like a makeshift cabaret show, go on babe, bust out the flapper dress, he knows his stuff, he read Gatsby back in high school. He listens out for the tap of your heeled boots, click-clack, click-clack, there you are, you don’t even know what’s about to happen, do you? And it really is that easy. Just like throwin’ salt over your shoulder.

Temazepam, loprazolam, lormetazepam, diazepam, nitrazepam. Some melatonin too. Magnesium’s supposed to help with insomnia. How’s he supposed to know what your body reacts to best? Leon’s not your fuckin’ GP. Chloroform does the trick for everyone. Should’ve invited you out for drinks and roofied you instead.

Leon had gone for an old-fashioned method, listen, he was desperate. He doesn’t usually resort to such bruteish tactics unlike the older Redfield, not that Chris would use a morsel of his strength to harm a lady, but it had to be done. Yes, he choked you out. No, he’s not proud of it. He’s actually pretty disappointed in his lack of preparation. Oh, cut yourself some slack, Kennedy, it’s your first time kidnapping someone, and it was a heat of the moment type thing. To Leon’s dismay, that doesn’t last long, duh, he should know better.

While you regain sluggish consciousness on his couch, Leon’s tearing through his kitchen cabinets for anything to settle you down. Ah. That’s right. Ketamine. Ain’t it horse tranquilliser? What’s that doing here? Honestly, he’s got to stop raiding the infirmary for all they’ve got. A high enough dosage will knock you out for sure. If it kills you, then so be it. Beer for guys, wine for the ladies, and Ketamine for random sluts he picks up on street corners.

You’re blinking to clear your hazy vision, feeling around your crushed windpipe to assess the damage, he leans over you like a nurse from hell. The needle breaks your skin easily, so tender, before you have the chance to kick up a fuss, your eyelids turn to lead and close like a toy babydoll’s do when you lean them back.

Fifteen to twenty minutes, google says. Leon gets down to business, strips you of your clothing, takes you to his room, throws you on the king-sized bed that’s warmed only by him. He kept your panties on. They’re light blue and sensible briefs. A buzzer rings out in his head, bzzzt, boring. A million bitches in D.C. and he picked out the most vanilla one. Just his Kennedy luck ain’t it.

One minute. Leon presses his nose to the fabric of your panties, sniffs like a pig does in its trough, isn’t that just the sweetest smell? Fresh cunt. He licks up the print of your pussy, tongue landing on the hardness of your clit.

Five minutes. With your panties soaked with Leon’s spit, he decides to move ‘em to the side, and he groans in delight when he parts your cushioned lips to find that you’re stickier than toffee pudding, drooly cunt reactive to the pads of his fingers, to the tip of his tongue. He pushes back the hood of your bud, gives it a kiss, then another.

Ten minutes. He’s opened you up, gaped you around three thick fingers, Jesus, you’re so tight. It’s like your cunt’s vacuum sealed. Leon’s fingers prod at the squishy opening of your cervix, his thumb circles your clit, presses down like a button and he’s rewarded with another gush of slick. Beer on tap.

You rouse from your forced slumber at fourteen minutes. Huh. He’ll have to up the dosage next time. “Hi there, sleepin’ beauty.” Leon says in a rather cloying voice, amping up the sweetness when in reality he is less than fond of you. The lucky girl. He strokes your head soothingly, hovers over you to keep you in place. The panic sets in almost immediately, flailing limbs, asinine attempts at sentences that crawl up your throat and spill over. Who are you, get off me, get off me, please. What did I do? I’m sorry, please, let me go, let me go, please, I’ll do anything. Albeit your words are slurred, Leon chooses not to hear you.

“Aintcha just the sweetest thing?” He cups your cheeks, gaze so gentle it’s disarming. “I opened you up, didn’t wanna break ya, just wanted you to wake up before we got it on, I’m a real gentleman, you see.” Before he rapes you, he makes sure to ask: you got a rubber by any chance, sweetheart? Oh, and you don’t like that, you really don’t. ‘Cause your face falls fast like a drop tower ride.

The chance to scream is lost on you when he shoves his fingers in your mouth, pushes them down your burning throat till you choke and drool in an unflattering manner. Your jaw is too lax to clamp down on him. Leon takes this opportunity to smear his leaky, fat tip over your folds, pushes past the barriers of resistance and slides into your pre-gaped cunt. Lucky bitch. Lucky fucking bitch. Getting yourself a piece of Leon S. Kennedy’s dick. He reserves that for only the finest ladies, aka any girl that has a nice set of tits and dark hair, greying roots are a new preference.

He’s fully sheathed inside of you, head rubbing painfully against your cervix. Bruising it from the look of discomfort on your face as you make stupid-sounding noises around his fingers. “Fuck, yeah, that hits the spot.” When’s the last time Leon had his way with a girl, wanton fucking, pulling hair, slapping— they all want it soft and sappy these days. And so did he up until a certain point. Up until he tried to kill himself maybe. Something must’ve flipped in his brain, now he’s overcome with the need to mess your pretty face up.

Leon’s forehead presses to your clammy one, your sweat is salty on his tongue when he kisses your cheek. Slightly sour scent, ugh, what’s he saying? Acting like he’s a fear-smelling B.O.W or some shit. Fuck off, Kennedy. His hips aim upwards when your body shifts due to the thrashing you’re doing, with each thrust he bottoms out with a wet squelch, rolls his hips into you at a force that knocks any chance of breath out of you.

“If you were a good girl,” Leon smiles, all teeth. They glint in the muddy darkness of his room, black-out curtains drawn so not even the moon gets to see what he’s doing to you, “then I’d be fuckin’ you real slow, real nice, rub that little clit till you came.” Your wrists are both cuffed within his grip, pinned over your head as he drives into you, as if his intention is to tear straight through you.

The heat in his gut uncoils, but he’s timed himself well enough, pulls out ‘cause god forbid he knocked you up. Knowing Leon’s luck he’d manage it. Then he puts his cock in your mouth, “I got some pliers out back.” He says in warning as he jerks the shaft and your lips hesitantly close around the tip when he gives you a mean look. Total lie by the way, no matter how abnormal Leon is he does not own a pair of tooth-pulling pliers. Shoots his load down your throat, you splutter and push at his abdomen to get him off.

He pulls out in his own time, lays beside you. All of his chakras are aligned. Apparently there’s seven, but Leon’s only got two. And they’re entirely dependent on whether he’s sucked and fucked till he’s thoroughly satisfied. By god he is. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, Et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. That’s the rest of it right. He remembers now. You might just be his saving grace, Lucky Girl. His very own Sancta Maria, Mater dei. Damn, you hear that, ma? Leon’s got it down to a T. Maybe some more pussy will get him singing out the rest of the prayer. He can get rid of that statuette on the mantle, swap it out with you.

He doesn't get a word out by the time you’re vomiting a vile mixture of acidic yellow and his seed down the front of your chest. Retching as you choke on the gift he’d given you.

Leon takes you to the bathroom, forces you into the shower cubicle as he sprays you down, not even waiting for the water to go warm. “Dry yourself off,” he gestures mildly to where there’s a few towels stored.

You don’t come back out of the bathroom for five minutes, then ten, then twenty. Don’t even answer when he knocks. Goddammit, Leon. Leave your kidnap victim alone in the room with all the razors, why don’t you? Fucking idiot. When he opens the door, you’re huddled in the corner by the toilet, dry heaving into the bowl and sitting in a puddle of your own piss. Stupid fucking baby. Is this what kids are like these days? When he was your age he made it out of Raccoon City alive, and no one made it out of there. No one lived to tell that story. And you’re here pissing your pants ‘cause he’s given you a nice, hard fucking? He pimp slaps you so hard your teeth clatter.

It takes two weeks for his Lucky Girl to be broken in. Not as long as he expected, so he’s pleased. And when Leon’s pleased, he’s nice. So today you get some screen time. You’re curled into his side, the way a baby bird does under its mother’s wing, squinting at his sixty-five inch TV, egregious really, who needs a screen that big? He’s flipping periodically through the channels whenever an ad break comes on. The 7.45PM news is on. He settles on that and you watch mindlessly, no objections.

The speech blurs like white noise to him, Leon’s not focused until your picture pops up on screen, and he just turns to you with this shit-eating grin. Graduation cap and robe on, all dolled up as you make eyes at him through the screen.

“Baby,” he grins wolfishly, ruffles your hair in a teasing manner, “you look so damn cute there!” Leon watches bright-eyed, suddenly enthralled, they list your name, your height, your weight, all stuff he actually didn’t know ‘bout you. Never bothered to ask. You don’t need a name, you’re just his Lucky Girl. “Don’t like the red lip on you,” he comments flippantly, “A red lip is for whores, don’t you think, baby?”

He was right. You got a daddy, a mommy, a brother and a sister. You’ve got it all. Lucky fucking Girl. A broken sob is torn from your throat, jagged and scratchy as you fling yourself halfway across the room, on your knees as you put your grubby fingers all over his shiny screen. Leon lets you. He finds it hilarious actually. Who’d you think you are? Carol Anne from Poltergeist? Like you’re gonna get sucked into the screen, crawling out the other end like Sadako, back into your daddy’s arms.

Our daughter—My girl, she had her whole life ahead of her—My sister wouldn’t do this—She was so excited to move on after graduation—She’s not the type to run away—My daughter—My sister—Our sister—

Your mother is a mess, barely able to get words out with the way she’s blubbering. “She’s layin’ it on a bit thick, don’t you think, babe?” Leon picks up his beer from the side table, slightly heated under the burn of the lamp. “You look like your daddy, cry pretty like your mama though.”

You stare at him horrified. Jaw hanging open as if it’s unhinged, not in the way a snake does when ready to swallow its prey whole. More in the way of a screaming corpse. When the rigor mortis has worn off, secondary flaccidity sets in, and the mandible drops open. Jeez, tough crowd tonight it seems. Don’t make him sew your mouth up, Lucky Girl. Leon wouldn’t dare, that mouth, that throat is precious to him.

CCTV footage plays on the screen, another sob racks your brittle frame, you didn’t know it was him that day, Leon realises. “Oh, baby, that’s where we met, ain’t that funny?” A blurry image of you on the phone, prattling away to your family like the Lucky Girl you are, he’s just out of shot.

We miss her—Please, if you know anything, if you find anything—Please—

“God, let me get my phone, darling, they look so upset I can’t stand it. I might have to call them up and turn myself in. Give ‘em an early Christmas gift, don’t you think?” If Leon went missing, who would look for him? Hunnigan with all her sharp edges, or Claire with her unwilling loyalty to him? Lucky Bitch. It’s making his temper flare, that’s enough TV time for today.

The screen fades out, goes black when he switches it off. “No, no, no,” you chant, “no, no, no, no, please, please—“

“I’m disappointed in you, baby.” Leon says honestly, sips his beer and laughs mirthlessly. “I thought you’d started to like me.”

You’re not listening, too busy fitting on the rug, grasping at the screen as if you can pluck your family out of it and reunite with them on his living room floor. Leon did think you were getting used to him though. Family’s family, blood is thicker than water. Cum is also thicker than water. And that’s what he’s pumped down your throat nightly in hopes of it clogging up your brain, so you think of nothing but him. Those dogs in South Korea, the ones Claire told him about, he’s got his own special method to take care of your vocal cords. No snipping, no surgery needed. Just the throat training method.

“C’mere, lucky girl.” He clicks his tongue as if he’s calling out for a dog. You lay unmoving, rocking back and forth, whispering to yourself like a crazy person. Bit creepy. Leon stands, he grabs you by the hair and drags you to sit at his feet near the couch. Simple and effective. Backhands you for good luck. He needs it. “Stop your cryin’ I’m getting sick of it.” Leon says, brows wrinkled as he lowers his sweats, brings your head down to rest on his thigh. Your tear-stained cheeks turn him on, the doleful eyes, runny nose. It’s hot. His sad little girl.

“Suck it.” Leon taps the tip against your pouty lips, swollen from his earlier kisses, coats them in his pearly pre, “I won’t ask twice, sweetheart.” You open your mouth, take him like clockwork. He don’t like that attitude. So he pushes your head down on his cock, watches your throat bob, uncomfortably full. Leon pinches your nose, listens to how you panic so nice around a mouthful of dick, gagging in a way you never have before. Not a gag that indicates inexperience, but one that is full of sheer terror, nails leaving red marks on his thighs as you drag them down his skin. Ouch. He’s gotta trim those down.

“You get it now, babe?” Leon hums, he lets you off this time, “Do what I say and it’ll be fine, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Leon,” you nod furiously through gulps of air, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” Fuck. Another one of your panic attacks. He’s not got the patience to deal with this. “I won’t—“ A wheeze, “ I won’t do it—“ A croak, “I won’t do it again.” You’ve learned to handle yourself. Rub your chest with your right hand, stare at the ceiling till you calm down. Leon’s dick is still rock hard. Ready to crack open a walnut.

“Good girl,” he nods, “then get on with it.”

There is nothing you’ve done in particular to set Leon off. He’s just had a bad day. Hunnigan’s senses are much too acute, she thought something was off with him. That put him on edge. So he’s like a ticking time bomb. Just waiting for you to make one wrong move. And you do. You say no to him, pleadingly so, shaking your head as you look at him with your fairytale fawn eyes. Meekly admit that you’re sore and achy and it hurts.

“That’s not your decision to make, sweetheart.” Leon informs you, he grabs a roll of duct tape from the kitchen, nicks at the edge with his teeth and tears a strip off. You bristle, completely still, a thousand thoughts running through that pea-sized brain of yours. “But I’ll be nice today, been waitin’ to fuck your ass anyway.” He puts the strip on your cunt, over your chubby lips to hold them together, it feels strange and icky. The last thing Leon wants to see is blood. He sees enough of that daily. So he’s generous when it comes to prep, busts out the cherry-flavoured lube today, squirts a decent amount on his fingers, cock, and your tighter hole.

You squirm, he watches the unreadable expression on your face carefully, the rise and fall of your chest. You’re nervous, but you’re wet, and that makes his chest swell in pride. Lucky Girl finally gets it. One finger slips past the ring of tight muscle, Ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, there’s one last line he’s missing. It’ll come to him. Two fingers in, he scissors you open, spits on it just ‘cause it turns him on to see it run down your crack.

That’s enough, Leon thinks when he fits the third. He wants to make it hurt a little. Wants to feel like a big, strong man. He sits back on his knees, flips you over onto your front, he likes you this way. Just takes you in, how your tits hang low, brushing against the mattress when Leon presses a hand down on your back to keep you from arching. He takes his dick in hand and in he goes, easier than he thought. He wonders if you can cum just like this, with his dick pounding your ass.

He fucks like an animal, you gasp and yelp below him, unable to handle it as his hips smack against yours. The duct tape is starting to peel ‘cause your pussy is fucking soaked. That alone makes his balls tighten as he turns you back over to do damage control, and ‘cause he wants to see your face while he fucks. You look like you’re lovin’ it. Alright. So you’re an anal slut. Got it. He pushes back into your ass, groans when you clench around him, the duct tape peeling at the corners, he can’t handle it. Et in hora mortis nostrae. Leon’s mind blanks when he cums, fills your ass and his limp cock slips out. Shit. A-fucking-men. That’s right, he remembers. That’s how you end a prayer.

You don’t cum. He tears the duct tape off clean. You let out a loud ‘Ow, Leon!’ and frown at him. Beads of arousal stick to the piece of tape, your pussy is pulsing, walls fluttering around nothing. Leon kisses your swollen clit, rubs it steadily till you cream on his tongue, sweeter than molasses his Lucky Girl is.

“Leon?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.” You tell him shyly, gaze at him with this dumb fucking smile on your dollface that makes his heart squeeze. God, he’s gotta keep you around, his lucky charm.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil smut #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil x reader

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selfishdoll · 6 months

Text

❛ IM SORRY...❜

Oh, tell me what you're willing to do? | Kiss it, kiss it better, baby ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ♡ KISS IT BETTER

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 SUMMARY.

you’re sick of choso being late for dates.. unfortunately he knows the perfect way to make it all better.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 CONTENT WARNING.

mdni, reader is petty fr <3, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, groveling choso (lowkey), fingering, multiple orgasms, pet names, praise, etc.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 NOTE.

on my munch choso agenda & he seems like the type to eat pussy to make it up to you. unedited, please excuse typos & grammar mistakes.

He was late. Again. For the third time. Your blood boiled within you, ass planted on your couch when it should be in your boyfriend’s car; on the way to your favorite restaurant. But no, Kamo Choso decided to ignore his alarm, and your many texts plus phone calls; to only answer them about thirty minutes after the time you two were supposed to be there.

Despite how remorseful he was on the phone, you were still a bit pissed; something he sensed easily.

With a soft grumble to yourself you rose from the couch, padding over to your bedroom. Your good mood was gone, you wanted nothing more than to lay in bed and watch some tv. Nothing Choso did would fix his mistake this time.

Entering the bedroom you sat at your vanity, beginning to remove your jewerly. First your rings, bracelet, and whilst working on your necklace you heard your front door open; causing your eyes to roll.

“(Y/N)?” Choso called, fiddling with his keys for a moment, shoulders faltering when you didn’t reply. Yeah, he knew he screwed up bad. Taking a breath he kicked his shoes off, waltzing over to your bedroom and peeking in to see you wiping your mascara away with a wipe. “I’m sorry for being late, we can still go.”

You didn’t answer, not even bothering to look at him as you continued to wipe away the minor makeup. Choso leaned against your doorframe, lips pressed into a thin line as he attempted to search for the words to change your mind. You were always so stubborn when you got like this, something he found cute until it was directed at him.

His thoughts trailed away the moment he heard your chair push out, watching you stand and waltz over to your closet; refusing to acknowledge him. You searched through your clothes for a moment before settling on a simple nightgown, moving backwards to your bed and sitting down. You leaned over, attempting to unclasp the anklet you wore, grumbling when it proved difficult given your nails. Finally fed up you sat up, extending your leg to Choso.

“Finally acknowledging me?”

“Just take off my anklet.” You mumbled, glancing away from him. The man gave a soft sound of disbelief mixed with amusement, moving closer and grabbing your leg. He pressed it against his chest, fingers fiddling with the gold plated jewelry of his name for a moment before his fingers trailed across your skin.

“You know I didn’t mean to oversleep.”

“Mhm.”

“And I’m really sorry too.” Choso claimed, watching your cross your arms and slowly nod. The man smiled a bit, leaning down to press a kiss to your ankle, feeling you twitch. That was enough motivation, lowering the kisses until they hit your inner thigh, watching you finally glance at him. “Choso..” You spoke, attempting to pull your leg away, only for his grip to tighten on your ankle. Your breath hitched as his free hand began to push your dress up to your stomach, lowering until he rested on his knees. “Choso.” You called out again, hissing the moment you felt his lips press against your covered slit.

“Lemme make it up to you princess. Show you how sorry I really am.”

Choso’s fingers caught on the band of your panties, pulling them down and off your body, hands grabbing the inside of your thighs to spread you wider. The man wasted no time in driving his thick tongue up your slit, fingers digging into your flesh to assure you didn’t move an inch. Lapping at your sex, shifting between teasing your entrance and tracing your sensitive bud; continuing to grip you with each twitch of your thighs.

Your resolve was melting away, struggling to keep your moans at bay. You wanted to be mad at him, even if it was an honest mistake. You wanted to be petty and ignore him. But, he was just so damn good with his tongue. A messy eater that left you shaking and trembling with each careful swipe of his wicked muscle. You bit your palm, legs closing around his head as your eyes pinched close; widening the moment two fingers entered you, curling against your spongy walls. Your hand flew to his hair, his messy black tresses being pulled in a tight grip.

“Choso—!”

“There it is..” The man murmured, pulling back from your cunt; thumb quickly replacing his tongue on your clit. His digits thrusted and scissored inside you, furiously rubbing circles on the bud— all while his heavy lidded eyes stared up at you. “That’s it.. Not as mad as you were before, huh?”

You whimpered as his fingers went deeper, all the way down to the knuckle as wet squelches erupted from between your legs. You wanted to defend your case, maybe curse him out too— instead you could only moan and shake, losing yourself in the pleasurable apology.

Choso gave a knowing smile, enjoying the way your previously irritated expression melted into nothing but pure ecstasy. He would give a proper apology later but now, this would do.

“Can’t even speak.. that’s okay, she’s talking enough for you.” The man spoke, removing his thumb to go right back to sucking and lapping at your swollen button; unfazed as your thighs continued to close around his head. Your hips rose, grinding into his face as the band in your stomach tightened and tightened.

His name fell from your lips in a dazed mantra, eyes glazed over before you broke; a high pitched cry escaping you as you came— tainting his face in your mess. Your legs shook, greedily sucking up air as you attempted to come down from the high; all while he continued to suck and thrust his fingers inside you.

Soon enough the sensitivity became too much, hand sliding from his hair to push at his forehead— whining as the pleasure teetered on painful. Choso didn’t let up however, quickening his fingers all while sucking your poor bud raw. Tears of overstimulation trailed down your hot cheeks, head twisting back and forth as you tried to somehow run from the pleasure. You only got an inch away before he was releasing your thigh to instead lay his heavy arm across your lower stomach; holding you there.

“Cho—Choso.. please fuck—! I forgive you.. fuck I can’t—“ Whimpers escaped you, the pushes against his forehead becoming weak as your hips rose into his face. Your were making such a mess of yourself, him, and your blankets; something you couldn’t give a damn about at the moment.

Your stomach clenched harder than before, both hands gripping his hair as your back arched; his name exiting your throat incoherently, creaming all over his face and fingers.

You sniffled and breathed heavy, blurry eyes watching Choso slowly pull away from you after lapping all your juices up. He crawled over your tired body, fingers finding your cheeks to turn you, capturing your lips in a nasty, wet kiss. Your hand lazily grasped his arm, blinking heavily, hissing when his thigh brushed between your legs.

“Hurts, Choso..” You spoke softly, pulling back to breathe. The man chuckled at your words, leaning down to kiss your wet cheek.

“I know. I’ll be gentle next time.” A lie. One you both knew.

His strong arms reached under you, pulling you into him as he laid on his side. “I am really sorry for sleeping through my alarm, I know how much you wanted to go.”

You shook your head slowly, smiling at your lover tenderly. “No. You worked the night shift, I have to be a little more understanding.” You spoke, fingers trailing his arm to which Choso smiled back. The two of you shared another sweet kiss, hands brushing across the other’s form.

“How about we order in?”

“Sounds perfect.”

#mani writes ━━ ★#black!reader #jjk x black reader #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #choso kamo x female reader #choso kamo x black reader #choso kamo x y/n #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x reader #choso x female reader #choso x you #choso kamo smut

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lovelybrooke · 2 months

Note

IT IS I!! Now that I’ve written about Vox Val and Carmilla I will finally attempt my interpretation of ALASTOR. So just letting you know I was about to send this multiple times within the week but was never satisfied, and so this is an attempt :), I might send in more stuff if I feel this isn’t detailed enough/ incomplete.

Alastor see’s the reader as a fun little puzzle at first, putting them on the stop and trying to figure out what was going on in that little head of theirs, to him this was just entertainment, he really couldn’t care less about the reader, he just saw them as something to keep him entertained if he’s free or bored.

He only really starts to actually like the reader once their a little more comfortable, at least comfortable enough to engage in conversation with Alastor himself or the group, their views on the world, the hotel and whatever is insightful, he finds he actually likes conversing with them even if they don’t agree on most things, the fact that they’re so kind and helpful to everyone, even those who wronged them, intrigues and confuses him, but that isn’t a bad thing, it must just mean that they’re naive and ignorant, he reckons they haven’t actually seen the bad In people. Except he’s wrong, and he learns this during one of their small conversations (with or without the group), the reader spoke about it so casually, their neglect and abuse, it was completely fine to them, they still insist on being kind and helpful to the people who’ve wronged them. Suddenly it isn’t that they’re ignorant, or that they have just been surrounded by good, in a way they’re like him in a way, treated unjustly. (His backstory has yet to be explored but I’m going off of what Vivziepop shared relating to his mother’s death and his weird moral code).

Not to say reader is determined but in Alastor’s mind the reader’s perspective of life is a reflection on their own motivations, and he’s impressed, he might see parts of the reader in charlie but still thinks the reader is distinct in a way Charlie isn’t, they want to help but they aren’t out there, they help in ways that people don’t notice. (I have some examples but I’m shit at explaining so I’ll leave this somewhat up to interpretation) and now that he’s realized this he reflects back to old conversations and realizes how careful they are, not just because they’re anxious but they’re always paying attention, doing little actions that Alastor hadn’t realized is supposed to cater to him.

And now Alastor is really paying attention, is the reader naive? Yes, but they’re so thoughtful in everything they do that he just can’t help but keep watching them, he feels like he’s the only one who’s able to properly guide them, without taking advantage of them. He talks to Rosie about how insightful and clever the reader is, how lovely their company is and so on.

Then he finally notices the Vees watching, as it is he was obsessed but that amplified the second there was competition, suddenly he realizes that someone else could take someone he cares for away from him, and although he always knew there were people out to get him, he didn’t think those same people would want to snatch you.

And me personally I think, every time he feels his relationship with the reader is threatened he’ll become more and more obsessed, more possessive.

ANYWAY IM DONE! I decided to look at some stuff In the canon au master list which helped me a lot :) :), you are free to disagree with anything I wrote thank you for listening!!! (Please pardon any typos)

Omg more stuff I love it.

This was exactly how I viewed Alastor's obsession with reader. Like he views them as a puzzle and wants figure out how/why they're in hell, why they're so nice, what exactly is going on in their head.

And as time goes on this obsession grows and grows, so when he learns that no, reader isn't naive, they've gone through so shit and try their hardest to see the good in people, he's like, genuinely surprised, which is a first for him.

And you're right, Alastor has this idea that he's readers favorite person so when the Vee's and the other overlords start showing interest in reader he becomes way, way more obsessed.

I hope you're writing your own stuff because you're genuinely such an amazing writer, please keep sending stuff in I love it.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #platonic yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel

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cinnamonpolvera · 1 year

Text

Who’s in charge? Javier Peña x f!reader***

Summary: Javier Peña and you had been partners for eight months now, which has been nothing more than a competition over who should call the shots. One evening, Javier’s stubbornness fucks up a mission which unravels a steamy fight.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Content Warning: 18+ ONLY. Smut, sexism, physical violence, powerplay, dom!reader, sub!javi, oral sex m! & f! receiving, rimming. Maybe more please read at your own risk. Also typos (unedited).

Word count: 4.5k

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

You furiously walked into the office, steady steps you walked the minute your foot was out of the Jeep. The door behind you would’ve made a loud bang when shut closed were not for the person that stopped it, who followed your steps as you were both yelling at each other.

You turned around and faced him, looked into his eyes with one of your deadly stares. You were confrontational, you stood your ground, you had a strong personality. You always had, so it had not been that difficult for you to put people in their place in order to get what you deserved at your field of work. You were a woman, a woman working for the DEA, an environment filled with men who would always want to feel superior than you. So, you always made sure they understood, from the begging, how hard-working and serious you were and, luckily, most of the office quickly realized you actually were a good agent. All of them, to different extents, did, except for your partner, Javier Peña.

Eight months had passed since you were transferred from your native country and working place to Colombia, where you and Peña were assigned together. Since the moment you were first introduced you realized this was not going to be any easy for you. And you were correct.

Peña was stubborn. He always wanted to take the lead, to call the shots. Now you understood that at first, because you were the same, because you too were a leader. But when this leadership of his started to try to walk over you, to ignore your suggestions, even some of your orders when you were in charge of the whole group in certain situations, you understood no more.

This time, he had crossed the line. Not only did he ignore your suggestion, which was a suggestion even if it was spoken as an order, but with doing that he jeopardized the entire mission. And that, you could not forgive. This stupid power game you and him played had gone too far.

“What were you thinking?” you fumed, arms crossed on your chest and your entire body tensed due to the anger.

“It was a fucking stupid idea” he yelled, point his finger directly at you as he walked towards where you were standing.

“How the fuck would you know?” you were the one raising her voice now. The office was almost desolated, except for you two and some late workers, since Javier had jeopardized today’s job and made you both lose an incredible amount of time.

“Because it was! It made no sense! It would’ve gotten us killed!” he belted, stopping his steps once he was close enough, but not touching your body.

“What you did could’ve gotten us killed, Peña. You didn’t think, you didn’t observe, you didn’t calculate. We almost had to fucking run away out there” you lowered your voice now, left arm still under your chest while enumerating every point you made with your right index finger.

He stepped closer to you, he looked so furious you thought steam would start to come out of his ears. But oh boy were you furious too. And you were done, you will let him know how far he fucked up this time.

“Now who the fuck do you think you are to come here and explain to me how to do my fucking job?” he demanded on a lower voice.

“I’m your partner, Peña, whether you like it or not. And this time, I was the one you suggested we go out there, I was the one who studied Miguel, who “befriended” him at the bar last weekend, who fucking knew how we should act based on what I learned about him.” you furiously explained “So this time, I was the one calling the fucking shots. You should’ve stayed in your lane. God knows I stayed in mine when I had to.”

“I doubt you really gathered any information that night at the bar, cariño.” he scolded, sarcastically laughing.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you frowned, more furious than before, if that was even possible.

He brushed his thumb against his bottom lip and smiled “Well you just looked so needy I began to think you weren’t really acting just to get information out of him.”

Javier felt his left cheek burning, a small tickle as the ghost of your hand.

You had just slapped him.

He looked at you dead in the eyes, grabbed your wrist and bumped your back against the wall. “Fucking bitch” he hissed.

You quickly changed positions, freeing your wrist from his hold and now grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, his back on the wall now “No, you’re the fucking bitch here. Now you listen to me Javier Peña and you listen to me good.” your grip tightened on his shirt with your every word “I am done with this power game you like to play. I am your equal, and you’re gonna learn to respect me and my decisions as your co-worker. You are not my superior.”

Javier was furious. Furious at you, for the words you were spitting and the fact that you so easily broke from his hold, but also furious at him. At the fact that you, even for a moment, physically overpowered him like that. And that he liked it.

You were strong, that he knew. He also knew you were stubborn, that you stood your ground and made everyone respect you. You and him were too much alike in that sense and maybe that was why you couldn’t seem to work together without fighting.

But in this situation, this specific situation in which you showed your physical determination was just as strong as his, his mind started to wonder.

You were hot. You were a beautiful woman, and that he knew. He had imagined many times what you’d sound like under his touch, how you’d succumb to him. How your pretty mouth would feel against him.

But that was it.

All of those thoughts would evaporate the moment you looked at him and let him know how much you hated working with him, how his mere presence seemed to bother you so much.

But oh wouldn’t he daydream of fucking you. Wouldn’t he stroke his cock hard and fast at the mere thought of you whimpering under him, moaning his name.

Moaning. You moaned so pretty and loudly. He knew that. He knew that because he heard you. One night. In the apartment complex you, Javier and Steve lived in.

He was kissing goodbye one of his lady friends when he saw you through his squinted eyes entering your apartment holding a man’s hand. He grunted, pushing his lady friend and murmuring a goodbye, closing the door shut on her face.

But that was not it. Soon enough he started to hear you. Your moans resonating so loudly he began to wonder wether the whole building was listening or if it was only him, your next-door neighbor.

He stroked his cock so hard that night despite having fucked another woman. And he made sure all of the girls he fucked from then on moaned just as loud. He asked them to. He wasn’t sure if he wanted you to be jealous or curious enough to knock on his door. He just knew he wanted you to hear.

“I sure should be” he grabbed your hands from his shirt collar in order to get you to let go of him “I should be your fucking superior. I should be the only one making decisions here.” He walked past you, starting to make his was out of the office.

Opening the door, he heard your voice behind him “Lo que te hace falta a vos es que te pongan en tu lugar.”

What you need is for someone to put you in your place.

He exhaled. Quietly shut the door that was only ajar, and locked it. He turned around and your eyes met. His brown eyes looked somewhat darker now while he was painfully slowly walking towards you.

Your noses were almost touching when he, sharp and clear, whispered “¿Por qué no me pones tú en mi lugar entonces, cariño?”

Why don’t you put me in my place then, cariño?

You squinted your eyes, trying to find any hint of sarcasm in his. But you failed. He looked dead serious.

You eyes grazed toward his mouth now, slightly open, and it looked oh so tempting. That bottom lip you’d love to bite until it bled, that moustache you’d love to wet.

“I knew you were a fucking chicken” he hissed as he started to grow distance between the two of you.

But you did not let him. Instead, you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt for a second time, it being already wrinkled, and you pulled him in for a kiss. He grunted the second your lips met, probably because of the aggressive landing, and he happily followed your pace.

Not very steady, though, your pace: you were a little impatient. The fucking tension you and Javier had been building between you two chocked you, and today was the icing on the cake. Because today, it had gotten much more physical than before with all this wrist and collar grabbing.

Your kiss was sloppy, it was needy. His hand were on your lower back and yours still on his shirt collar. You bit his lower lip, just like you had imaged doing seconds ago, and he groaned.

Your left hand abandoned its place and moved to the back of his head. You grabbed some of his hair and you pulled, you pulled with enough strength to make him break the kiss. He whined.

“I’m gonna put you on your fucking place now, Peña.” you dictated and he nodded with his head, looking at you directly in the eyes while erratically breathing.

You locked eyes while your right hand, still on the collar, made his way through his chest and abdomen, until it got to the lower part of his stomach. You untucked his shirt from his pants and gently caressed his happy trail. You bit your lip, feeling all of that hair. You found that so hot.

You had found yourself catching a glimpse of it several times in the past, whenever he stretched or did whatever movement that allowed that part of his body get some seconds of air. It turned you on so fucking much.

Your hand kept going down, and you started to caress him on his now-tighter jeans. His breath heavier and heavier.

“I love this fucking pants you always wear. They make you look like such a little slut, wanting every woman’s attention on you.” you muttered as you started to unbelt his belt.

He bit his lower lip “Ever catch your attention, baby?” he whispered.

You smile as you get his belt off his jeans, letting go of his hair and walking behind him “You have no idea, agent.”

Javier wondered what you had in mind, and his question was quickly given an answer when you grabbed both his hands and made them meet each other on his back. He gasped, and messily but incredibly quickly you made of his belt a pair of handcuffs. It was so smooth you got him wondering how much practice you had.

That thought bothered him for a second.

But quick enough to make his mind go blank, you appeared in front of him again. You pulled him in for a second kiss, one much slower and steady, but equally wet. You started to unbutton his shirt, your hands caressing his chest as it got bearer every second.

He wanted to touch you. He wanted to undress you, to get your already hard nipples, that were showing through your shirt, on his mouth. He wanted to get his fingers wet with your juices and hear you moan his name under his touch. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t, and it seemed his cock knew he wasn’t getting any of that soon because it wouldn’t stop twitching under his tight jeans.

“Please—“ he whispered, pulling out of the kiss.

“I’m not listening to you today, Peña.” you stated as you finishing unbuttoning the shirt completely “I am here to teach you a lesson. On your knees.”

Your command took him by surprise, his eyes widening a little bit. He muttered something you couldn’t understand and, without breaking eye contact, obeyed. He got on his knees in front of you.

You did your best not to show him how surprised you were. Javier Peña kneeled in front of you almost as quickly as you commanded him to.

You smiled at him “Look at you, being so obedient. You’re finally being good, Peña.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed your clothed core. You gasped for air, took a step back and frowned.

“Now who told you to do that?” you sneered.

“I want you to ride my face. Now.” he ordered.

You nod your head left and right “You’re not the one in charge now” you made clear.

He quickly stood up and kissed you. It was so rapid you didn’t even have time to process it. He kissed you hard. It was a sloppy, needy kiss, in which the sound of your breaths and wet mouths were loud.

With his body, he gently pushed you towards the desk. When your ass felt the cold wooden structure, you pulled away.

You made your made behind him for the second time in the evening “Bend over” you ordered.

“What?” he mumbled.

“Bend over, agent.” you repeated, this time in an angrier tone.

He cleared his throat, and seconds later did as he was told.

You got behind him, your core touching his butt and your chest touching his back. Your hands made their way into the zipper of his pants, and you started unzipping them.

“Now Peña, why are you such a disobedient little agent?” you whispered on his ear as your hand started to caress him through his underwear.

“I wanna fuck you so bad” he grunted.

You chuckled “Oh, you will not. Believe me”

He grunted “We’ll see about that, agent.”

You quickly got him off of his pants and underwear as those words left his mouth, and you slapped his ass.

He groaned.

The room was filled with silence.

“Okay” he whispered after a while.

“What did you say?” you called for him to speak louder.

“I said–“ he cleared his throat “I said okay.”

You leaned towards him again and kissed the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Your hand found its way toward his front again, and you grabbed his now bare cock.

God. You found yourself second-thinking your later statement now that you felt his length on your hand. His hard, throbbing and already wet from precum felt so good in your hand.

You started softly stroking it, as he groaned.

“Mmm” you said on his ear “Javi, you feel so good I might as well think about it now” your tone had changed. It had soften drastically, and he noticed it too.

“Yes, baby. I would love to fuck you. If– if you let me.” The words left his mouth unsurely, but you quickly reassured him as you caressed his hair and made a throat approving sound.

“You’re becoming a good boy, mi amor.”

He nodded as he felt your hand go faster. You kept stroking his cock as you got on your knees behind him “Baby, spread your legs for me will you?” you asked this time.

You didn’t command anymore. You asked.

And he noticed that.

He quickly did what he was told, leaning forward toward the desk. He found his own breath stuck on his throat when he felt your mouth cupping one of his balls.

“Fuck–“ he groaned.

You giggled, sending vibrations throughout his whole body, and continued to stroke and suck. Your free hand gently caressed the palm of his well-tied hands, and he shivered under your touch.

It then made its way towards his buttcheek, and slapped it, loud and hard. He moaned, whispered your name.

You let go of his balls and he groaned. You licked your thumb and immediately went back to giving his balls attention.

Fuck, that drove him fucking crazy.

He found himself not breathing for the god-knows-what time in the evening when your thumb started to gently, very softly caress his perineum.

He couldn’t believe you were doing this. Surely, he had been curious enough in the past to go past what you were doing right now, but he never thought someone would actually do it to him.

And it drove him fucking crazy.

“Baby” you called from behind, stopping the strokes on his cock “I’m gonna untie you know, okay? I want you to stroke your pretty cock while I do my job behind you”

He nodded, even when unsure if you could see. You stood up to untie him and leaned forward once again, while softly grazing your thumb on his wrists to caress them after having been tied. You whispered into his ear “Javi, if you ever want me to stop, just ask. Don’t be afraid to do so.” You made clear.

“I won’t” he softly answered and you nodded.

It was the first time you ever called him Javi. He loved it. He loved the contrast you were giving him this evening, too. Slapping him, restraining him, ordering him around and now paying so much attention to his body, his response, his pleasure, his comforteness. It was driving him fucking crazy.

You drove him fucking crazy.

His train of thought quickly stopped when he felt your hands separating his butt cheeks, on your knees again “Touch yourself, baby” you commanded and he obeyed.

You spit on his asshole. The mere sound of it made him groan but what made him stop breathing was the feeling of your complete mouth on his fucking ass.

You were eating him out.

Your tongue was caressing his hole so eagerly, all he could do was stroke his cock. Hard. The combination of sensations was driving him mad. It was heavenly. You groaned behind him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine.

His name left your mouth several times “F–fuck. Yes. Yes, please.”

You giggled and, oh God wasn’t he close.

His body started to vibrate, to shiver, to tremble. He was about to cum.

He called your name. This time, waiting for an answer.

“Mhm?” you asked, mouth busy.

“Fuck. Can I– Can I cum?” he cried.

Goodness, the fact that he asked in that whiny voice made you get your right hand under your pants and start touching yourself.

You started circling your clit “Yes, baby, you’ve been so good for me. Cum. Please cum.” you responded and got your mouth to it again, moaning on his asshole while inserting two fingers on you.

The moment he heard you say the word please, a huge load made its way out of his redden tip. He groaned, moaned, almost screamed your name as his seed met the office floor.

He took some time to calm his breath. He got up from the desk and turned around, to look at you.

What he saw almost made his cock hard again. You were on the floor, riding your fingers as your left hand was squeezing your breast. Your eyes were shut, you were biting your lower lip.

“Stop” Javier dictated, his deep voice contrasting with the whimpering mess he was two minutes ago.

You opened your eyes and met his gaze “What did you just say?” you asked softly.

“Get up” he cooed your name.

You cleared your throat and did as he told you. What the fuck were you doing? Weren’t you the one who got him on his knees half an hour ago?

Oh but you didn’t mind, you knew that at the back of your head. You wanted to command Javier as much as you wanted him to command you. You could play both roles and much to your surprise, you had found out Javier could too.

“Look at you, so obedient now, cariño. Sit on the desk for me. Legs wide open.” He requested.

You did as you were told. You sat on the desk and you opened your legs. Javier’s gaze went down to your clothed core. You were wearing black pants, and he found that the fabric was even darker around your pussy.

Fuck, he was going to get hard again, no doubt about it.

He walked towards you and pulled you in for a kiss. A sloppy, hungry kiss as if it was your first. It finished almost as soon as it started though. He gripped your legs and closed them in order to get you off of your pants and panties.

He kneeled before the wooden structure and put one of your legs on his shoulder, the other one up the desk.

“Look at you, getting on your knees without being asked to” you teased from above.

“We’re not so different from one another, I see” he chimed, planting warm kisses in your inner thighs. One of your weak spots. “If I remember correctly, just some minutes ago you were on your knees, behind me, and fucking fingering yourself, agent.” He softly bit your flesh.

You gasped and giggled “Mhm. That’s right baby. I still have to kneel in front of you, though. Javi I want you on my mouth so bad.” you cried.

He looked at you with an eyebrow up, not revealing the fact that that statement got his blood rushing towards his cock once again “Now, do I hear begging?”

You shook your head “Te estoy dejando saber lo que pasará la próxima, Javi”

I’m letting you know what’s happening next time, Javi.

He chose to ignore the fact that you stated that there was going to be a next time. Not because he didn’t want there to, God knows he fucking did; but because your smell had been hitting his nostrils for quite some time now and he felt so fucking hungry.

The second his tongue came in contact with your soaking folds, you screamed. You didn’t mean to, but it took you by surprise and you were almost dripping in anticipation.

A sound came out of Javi’s throat and the pulled you to the edge of the desk to be able to have access to more of you. His tongue was on your entrance and his nose against your clit, touching it so persuasively. You effusively moved your hips back and forth to masturbate your own clit with it.

“J–Javi next time I’m riding that beautiful face and that– that beautiful nose of yours, understood?” you stated and he grunted, an approval noise coming out of his mouth and sending vibrations through your whole body.

The fact that you called him beautiful did not go past him.

“You bet your beautiful ass you are, cariño” he agreed and directed his mouth towards your clit now, sucking it hard.

“Oh, Javi!” you cried.

You moaned loudly, you cried, you whimpered. Your usually deep voice turned to a high-pitched tone that moment, and that made Javier crazy. The versatility your body held made him go out of his fucking mind.

“I love your fucking moans. You don’t know how many times I touched myself ever since I heard that blonde bastard fuck you” he confessed as two fingers slipped into you, feeling your tightness around them.

“You– you what?” You asked, astonished, but somehow hornier from that confession. You looked at him, bitting your lip in order to suppress your moans so that you could hear him.

He nodded “Mhm. You got me so hard that night” he started to finger fuck you slower, making you whimper even when your lip was almost bleeding from your biting.

“I was alone” you confessed.

His fingers stop for a second “What?” he asked, looking at you with his brown doe eyes.

You nodded “I remember. I was alone. I got home with Jack but when I saw you making out with your lady friend, I had to kick him out. It wasn’t him that I wanted”

His fingers started to move inside you slowly again, this time finding your spot, making you loudly moan and feeling a warm, creamy wetness coming down “You made yourself scream that loud?” he asked. His voice had dropped an octave and he was looking at you dead serious while you were dripping on his fingers.

“Estaba pensando en vos, Javi, por favor” you cried, your hand reaching to your clit.

I was thinking of you, Javi, please.

You didn’t need to ask twice. The thought of the both of you, touching yourselves thinking of each other, was enough for him to make his mouth meet your clit again and eat it out aggressively. Slurping you, sucking you raw. The sounds filling the room were so filthy it got you even closer.

He was so loud while eating you out. It turned you on so fucking much “J–Javi I love the sounds you make” you whimpered.

He groaned, he cried on your pussy. You were so fucking hot. He wanted to tell you he loved the sounds you were making but fuck, he couldn’t find himself growing any distance between his lips and your core. He was addicted. He fucking loved it.

He fucking loved you.

“Javi fuck” you moaned “I’m so close baby please, you’re so good” you cried.

Your fingers locked themselves into his hair, pulling him closer, if possible, and pulling from it. He learned that only made him harder.

“Cum for me cariño. Acaba en mi cara” he managed to mutter.

Cum on my face.

As if on command, you did. You came so hard, so loud, his name leaving your mouth, echoing through the whole office. A few tears rolled down your face from pleasure and you tried catching your breath, still occasionally whimpering. You were shaking. Javi was looking at you while sucking you clean. You met his gaze and pulled him up when you were already overstimulated.

He got up his knees and looked at you, wiping the tear he just saw rolling down your face.

“Did I just make you cry?” he whispered softly against your lips.

“You did” you confirmed, pulling him in for a deep, slow kiss. Your hands touching his skin gently this time, with the mere purpose of caressing his body. They made their way into his wrists, softly taking them into your hands, pulling them apart from your hips.

You broke the kiss and conducted his hands to your lips, to gently place warm and sweet kisses where his wrists had been marked by his belt.

He melted under your touch, carefully inspecting your every move. You looked up and smiled “What?”

“Go on a date with me” he said softly.

You smiled and peck kissed him “Bueno, mi amor”

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odyssean-flower · 14 days

Text

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 12 - Summer: Photos

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: The date has ended successfully, but it also brought about an unexpected turn of events

Warnings: None except for the fact that this story is 50% written based on vibes Note: This chapter isn't beta'd so sorry in advance for any typos or rough edges Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette enjoying some tea

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“My dear Iudex, are my eyes deceiving me, or is that a smile on your face?”

Neuvillette raised his gaze from the documents spread out before him. Furina was standing on the other side of his desk. Of course, he had heard her enter his office before she even spoke, but he was so used to her unannounced intrusions these days that he treated it as a part of his daily routine now. I only hope that she makes this quick. I have a rather heavy agenda today, and I would like to return home before dark.

Furina leaned over his desk, her heterochromatic eyes eagerly scanning the desk for some sort of incriminating evidence to grab onto. Of course, she found none. Neuvillette wasn’t so foolish that he would make such a careless mistake.

“Hmph, I didn’t know that paperwork could inspire such a joyous expression on one’s face. What a contrast you make with the Gestionnaires outside your door! You really must get out more.”

“My dear Iudex, are my eyes deceiving me, or is that a smile on your face?”

“Hmph, I didn’t know that paperwork could inspire such a joyous expression on one’s face. What a contrast you make with the Gestionnaires outside your door! You really must get out more.”

“Indeed, I have, thanks to your urging. I believe you’ve already read the note I left you.”

“Ah, yes, that sorry excuse for a note,” Furina sniffed. “‘Will be away for a day due to personal reasons.’ No mention of where you’re going or who you’ll be with.”

“I see no reason why I should have included either of those things. I followed all the necessary protocol for requesting leave, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Oh, I am. I’m overjoyed to hear that you’ve been picking up new hobbies lately. It must be the influence of your new wife. If only you’d allow me to meet this remarkable woman so I can thank her.”

“New hobbies? Whatever do you mean?” Neuvillette ignored that last part.

“Why, your new hobby of photography, of course!” Furina propped her head on her hands, affecting an air of nonchalance, but her eyes gleamed like a cat that had a tantalizing mouse set in its sights. It was a look that Neuvillette was all too familiar with. “I’ve heard whispers that you’ve sent off a large number of photos to be developed, and that you’ve gone on a recent shopping spree for photo albums. Your day-off seems to have been very fulfilling.”

“It was, indeed,” Neuvillette nodded. His face gave nothing away. This was also not a surprise and was in fact well within his expectations. He had felt the gaze of Furina’s spies more frequently as of late, but it was not a difficulty for him to evade them. The one who developed the photos for him was a trusted agent of the Marechausee Phantom, and the envelope which contained the finished products (which he had fortunately received well before Furina’s intrusion into his office) hadn’t been tampered with.

“Oh, I know it was. A boat ride on the sea, huh? How romantic! I didn’t know you had it in you, Neuvillette. All those romance novels I’ve supplied you with seem to have paid off. Oh, if only there had been someone there that day to take a commemorative photo of such an astonishing sight, the Iudex taking a human out on a date!”

Neuvillette went very still. “Get to the point,” he said, his voice cold.

Furina’s grin widened. The cat was getting ready to pounce. “It just so happens that a subordinate of mine was out at sea on the very same day that you were out and saw that astonishing sight for himself,” she took out a photo from her pocket and slapped it onto his desk. It was a clear picture of him helping his wife off the boat after they returned to the docks at the Court of Fontaine.

Neuvillette’s blood ran cold. How could this have happened?

“Not the most fashionable, is she?” Furina peered at the photo. “I don’t recognize her, so she must not come from a very important family, either. But putting that aside, what a charming couple the two of you make! Honestly, Neuvillette, I do wonder how--”

"Leave my office. Now.” Neuvillette’s palms slammed against his desk as he rose to his full height, causing Furina to back up a few steps despite herself. He felt an absurd urge to cover the photo with his hands, to protect the image of you from the scrutinizing gaze of an outsider. “You've seen her face now. Be satisfied with that and resign yourself to the fact that you will never meet her.”

A startled expression appeared on Furina’s face before it was quickly replaced with a smug smile.

“My, my, Neuvillette,” she purred before plopping herself down on the couch next to his desk and crossing her legs. “I would reconsider, if I were you.”

"Have I not told you to leave—”

“Now that I know what your wife looks like, it’ll take very little effort on my part to find out who she is soon enough. My network of informants is extensive, as I know you’re aware. But I’m a magnanimous god, so I shall give you a week to think it over. If you won’t allow me to meet your wife by that time, then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands and find her myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare. I had expected better of you.”

“Oh, don’t give me that!” Furina suddenly stood up and marched over to his desk. “You’re the one who won’t agree to a simple meeting! I’d expect you to be more grateful, considering how I’m the one who pushed you to get married! If it weren’t for me, you would never have even thought of approaching this woman, who you clearly care for a great deal, and you’d probably spend the next five hundred years continuing to mope about on your own, never knowing what you could have had!”

There was a long, tense silence after her rant. “Are you finished here?” Neuvillette said, struggling to suppress the violent tempest of emotions swirling inside his heart.

“I suppose I am,” Furina stood up. “By the way, Neuvillette, you should be thankful that it was a subordinate of mine who took this photo and gave it directly to me, and not someone from those third-rate tabloids you despise so much. I’d love to see you ignore that scandal away.”

Neuvillette said nothing, simply glaring at her. His hands were curled into fists at his sides.

“See you in a week, my dear Iudex. Do pass on my regards to your wife.”

After saying that, Furina spun around and strode towards the door. It was only after the door closed behind her firmly that Neuvillette leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.

Torrential rain beat against the large window behind him. He wanted to walk into it, to wade into the sea.

I was too negligent, he cursed himself in his head. I should have been more careful.

Throughout his long career, he had become adept at evading reporters and paparazzi. And yet, somehow, this happened.

Anger and fear gripped his heart. He didn’t care what the papers said about him. But the thought of you becoming fodder for them was intolerable.

The sight of your tear-filled eyes had been like daggers to his heart. He never wanted to see them again.

He took a sip of water (imported from the frozen rivers of Snezhnaya) to cool his head and gazed at the painting hanging near his desk. By a fortunate twist of fate, you hadn’t signed it. However, its usual calming efficacy was diminished today.

Neuvillette had wanted to look at the photos again during his break, but now he was too on edge to even think of opening his desk drawer and taking the envelope out. It felt like just the act of it would be exposing its contents to danger, even though he knew that was irrational.

He could sense the clouds covering the sun outside the window behind him. There would be a downpour on this fine evening, and he silently apologized to the people of Fontaine, and especially to a certain young lady who was doubtless in the garden right about now.

The sooner I finish my work, the sooner I can return home, he thought, in a vain attempt to calm himself. And give the photos to her. I know she has been waiting for them eagerly. I’m sure she’ll be overjoyed…

Unconsciously, his feet began tapping against the floor.

This can still be salvaged, he told himself. Nothing has happened yet. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her peace.

Switching back into work mode, Neuvillette sat up once more—and let out a pained grunt. His hair had gotten caught in the cracks of his chair.

“Where is this rain coming from? It was clear just a few minutes ago,” you grumbled as you stared up at the lead-colored sky. It had been a beautiful day like it had been for weeks, but for some reason, the clouds decided to unleash their water just as you had finished taking the daily sunflower measurements.

I bet Neuvillette is enjoying this, you thought as you went to stand under the eaves. It hasn’t rained in quite a while.

“Madame, it’s raining,” Marie opened the porch door. “You didn’t get wet, did you?”

“Just a little bit, but it’s nothing too bad. Marie, could you fetch me my umbrella?”

“You’re still planning to garden in this weather, Madame?”

“I just want to take one last look. I’ll be done soon.”

After Marie gave you your umbrella, you marched back out to the plot of sunflowers again.

The sunflowers were coming along nicely. They now reached the height of your hip and formed small, tightly closed buds. There were no yellow petals peeking through yet, but you were confident that they would appear in the coming weeks.

You brushed your fingers against the leaves. They were the size of your palm now. You could see little bug bites dotting them. Perhaps you should ask Marie if there were any pesticides on hand.

It was the evening hours now, though the sun had been in the sky until a few moments ago. Neuvillette should be back by now. Maybe he had a lot of work today? You couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment. You had been looking forward to showing him the buds.

It had been a week since the date. Neuvillette had sent the photos out to be developed, and you would be getting them today. You were a bit excited to see them. I don’t think I’ve ever taken so many pictures in my life.

After you finished taking the last measurements, you returned to the house and went up to your room. Your eyes automatically went to the plump azure flower tucked into a vase on your desk. It brought a vibrant splash of color to your elegant but sparse room, and you liked looking at it. It gave you a sense of pleasure. You wondered where Neuvillette put his flower.

I wonder if it would deflate like a balloon if I stuck a pin into the middle, you thought as you sniffed the flower’s cool fragrance. That would make it easier to press, wouldn’t it?

Perhaps it was because you talked about pressing flowers on the date, but it had been on your mind lately. Your fingers itched for your old flower press, sitting in your closet back home. The lily would look striking against a white page. If only you picked some of those wildflowers you had seen on Erinnyes and in Merusea Village... they could serve as accompaniment to the lily, which would obviously be the centerpiece, and a strand of blue leaves from the Weeping Willow could be the finishing touch, forming a wreath that framed everything neatly. It would be a beautiful memento of one of the most magical days in your life.

We picnicked together and took pictures of each other; he showed me all sorts of sights…he even held me in his arms…and I cried in front of him… Gah…

You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands. The memories of what you said and done still mortified you a week later. It had been even worse when you got home and was left alone in your bedroom. How you got to sleep that night, you didn’t know.

You would rather take a dive into the sea than cry in front of people, especially someone like Neuvillette. But on the other hand, if you had to cry, you would rather it be in front of him. Not your parents, not even your sister, but him. You weren’t sure why.

Neuvillette hadn’t said anything comforting or encouraging, and his hug was honestly a bit stiff and awkward, like he wasn’t used to doing such things. And yet, you felt as though the weight on your shoulders had been lightened just a bit. It wasn’t until then that you realized how you were barely holding yourself up by sheer force of will, like a sunflower with shallow roots and a too-heavy head, on the verge of falling over without a support.

Neuvillette never brought up that moment again, for which you were grateful. Although, even now you still couldn’t really look at him without a tingling sensation in your heart. He, on the other hand, seemed unchanged. Well, of course he would be. It would be problematic if he did start treating me differently, you told yourself.

You knew very well that you were not the type of person who people like Neuvillette would think of as a romantic partner, much less a wife. But still, after what you had observed of him and what you heard from the Melusines, you thought that it’d be nice if he did have someone like that. After the divorce, Furina would no doubt start pestering him even harder to find a spouse. It would be smart for him to start finding someone soon. He would probably have to wait a bit before remarrying, though.

Neuvillette should definitely find someone who’s more of a romantic than me, you laughed at yourself.

Unfortunately, you were out of your depth when it came to matters of matchmaking. But still, maybe you could keep an eye out for a potential partner. What was Neuvillette’s type, anyways? That would make for an interesting topic to investigate.

You decided to put this thought aside for now. Neuvillette told you that he wanted to take you to a restaurant next time. You had no idea where he would take you. His taste in food was so peculiar, after all. But you were sure that it would be a high-class, excellent restaurant, wherever it was. You would have to get some suitable clothes for the occasion. I want to make a better effort next time.

Neuvillette had given you a quite frankly exorbitant amount of spending money. Maybe it was finally time to use it.

Perhaps it’s a bit pointless…but I still want to do it.

You sat in your window seat, daydreaming about how your second “date” with Neuvillette would go as you gazed at the setting sun, now peeking out of the clouds after the sudden spell of rain had passed.

Neuvillette finally returned home by the time the sky was dark. You had already eaten dinner without him and was reading in the parlor when you heard the front door open.

“Neuvillette,” you called out to him as you went into the foyer. “You came home so late. Did something happen?”

As you approached him, you noticed how tired and tense he looked. But the fatigue in his face seemed to vanish as he fixed his eyes on you, replaced by something that was almost like relief.

“Madame,” he greeted you. “My apologies for worrying you. I had a rather busy day. I hope you’ve already eaten dinner?”

“I have. But have you eaten? If not, I can warm up the leftovers for you, or I can ask Marie to cook something fresh if that’s what you prefer.”

“I’ve already eaten, but thank you for the consideration. Have you gone out today?”

“No,” you shook your head, and Neuvillette visibly relaxed. You definitely didn’t imagine that.

But before any suspicions could form, he spoke again.

“Madame, I have a surprise for you,” he took a pause there. It took you a moment to realize that he was doing it for dramatic effect. So even he has that side to him...how cute, you thought, trying to hide your smile. “I received the developed photos today.”

He took out an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to you. “They turned out quite well, I must say,” he added.

The envelope was thick and heavy. You must have taken more than a hundred photos.

You decided to look through them in the parlor. Neuvillette followed you, and the two of you sat side by side on the couch as you spread the photos out on the coffee table. He was right, they did turn out well. You had been a bit worried that they might come out blurry or at odd angles, but overall, they all looked pretty good, considering the fact that you hadn’t used a Kamera in a long time.

“You have a very good eye for photography, Madame,” Neuvillette remarked as he picked up a photo of the Weeping Willow. “Have you considered pursuing a career in that field?”

“Oh, not at all. My old drawing teacher was much better at it than me, enough to make a living out of it, and she taught me a few tricks.”

“‘Was’? Do you mean...” Neuvillette trailed off.

“Yes. It was a few years ago.”

“Ah...I see. I'm sorry to hear that.”

There was a brief, awkward silence. Neuvillette looked as though he wanted to say something more. You would rather not deal with that, so your eyes roamed around the scattered photos on the table until they landed on something silver. “Oh, my pictures of you!” you said, leaning forward to grab them. “See, what did I tell you, Neuvillette. There’s nothing more picturesque than beautiful scenery and a handsome man.”

Neuvillette leaned closer towards you to examine the photos for himself. His hair brushed against your shoulder, and you could feel the heat of his body against your arm. A thought suddenly struck you. If you turned your head right now, your lips would brush against his cheek in the same spot where you had kissed it before.

Inexplicably, your face turned warm at the thought. The back of your hand tingled.

Perhaps things didn’t quite remain the same after the date.

It truly had been a spur of the moment move. Your roiling emotions, aided by the instigation of the Melusines, had pushed you to do it.

Later that night, as you laid in bed, your mind replaying that scene over and over to an infuriating degree, you had rifled through all the emotions you had felt at that time. Embarrassment, disbelief, a strange sort of elation…

But the one emotion that had been missing no matter how hard you searched for it, was regret.

Overt acts of affection had never been your forte, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Well, cheek kisses don’t inherently mean anything significant, you had told yourself. Friends do it with each other all the time. And Neuvillette is my friend. A very dear friend. So it’s perfectly fine. Case closed.

Indeed, Neuvillette didn’t seem to look at you or treat you any differently after the fact, so why should you? No doubt he was used to receiving such acts of intimacy—most likely even more intimate—from people who were far more glamorous than you. A brief brush of lips against his cheek probably meant nothing to him.

As for the hand kiss, well, that was something that gentlemen like him did. It also didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.

The thought that these kisses were all meaningless did sting a little bit, but considering the circumstances, you had no right to complain.

“I must confess that I do not see what makes these pictures any better than the ones you took of the scenery,” Neuvillette’s voice interrupted your thoughts. His eyes were fixed on the photo, so thankfully he didn’t notice your reddened cheeks. “Or of the Melusines, for that matter.”

“Well, even if you don’t appreciate them, I do. I’ll treat them like a family treasure.”

“A family treasure? That’s a bit excessive, is it not?”

“I don’t think so. These are pretty rare items, aren’t they?”

Since Neuvillette didn’t appear in public much, there were not many pictures of him outside of the rare interview and official events. Hmm, I wonder how much they’ll sell for? Not that I would ever do that, of course. …Well, maybe if I’m in dire financial straits. I’ll ask for Neuvillette’s permission beforehand if it ever comes to that.

You went through the remaining photos. Each one sparked a memory. The Weeping Willow, the sea, Merusea Village underwater—you really had been to all those places. With Neuvillette, no less. The entirety of that day was only known to the two of you.

The days after your date had been so mundane and normal that you were half-convinced that it had all been a strange dream. Thoughts and memories were such mutable things, after all. Someone like you on a date with the Chief Justice? Not even in your wildest delusions would something like that ever happen. But these pictures were proof that it did.

You knew that you would probably think back on that day for the rest of your life, holding it close to your chest like a treasured gemstone and taking it out whenever times got tough. A sparkling memory of your youth that you would smile back fondly upon in your autumn years, a lone glimmering star in the dark that would inspire you move forward…

Wait, why am I getting so sappy and sentimental? Just because of a date? Ugh, come on now.

You glanced at Neuvillette, who was currently enjoying a glass of water (imported from Inazuma). You doubted that he felt the same way as you about the date. It was probably just like a drop of water in a vast ocean to him.

That thought pricked at you, but you chose to ignore it.

You sifted through the pictures until you came across a certain snapshot. Just as you were about to flip it over, a gloved finger pressed down against the photo, stopping you.

“This one is my favorite,” Neuvillette said. Once again, his face was right next to yours, but you couldn’t read his expression.

“Because you were the one who took it?”

“No,” he said, then turned his head towards you. “Because it’s of you.”

“Neuvillette…” you said after a short silence. You fidgeted with your reddened fingertips. “I don’t understand how you can say things like that with such a straight face.”

“Is it truly so strange?” Neuvillette looked perplexed. “I was simply saying my true feelings. And it is not as though you have refrained from such comments either.”

“You do have a point,” you conceded, although that still didn’t mean it didn’t catch you off guard. You turned your attention back to the photo of you. To be honest, it didn’t turn out half bad. Sure, you looked incredibly stiff and awkward and your hair was a mess and you had no idea what you were thinking when you matched that sweater with that skirt, but…it could have turned out worse.

“May I keep this photo?” Neuvillette asked.

“Of course, but what will you do with it? Surely you aren’t going to put it on your office desk or anything, right?”

“No, of course not. I would put it in a drawer, so I may take it out and look at it whenever I like.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Is it so wrong for a husband to want to look at a picture of his wife every once in a while? Many of the Palais staff also keep pictures of their loved ones on their desks. Why shouldn’t I?” Neuvillette paused for a little bit before adding, “And it would be one way for me to see your face more often, considering how I don’t get many chances of that during the day.”

“Hmm…very well, then,” you didn’t quite get why he would want to see more of your face, but if it made him happy, then you supposed there was nothing to complain about. Neuvillette is actually quite good at this kind of thing, you thought to yourself. Just imagine what he would be like when he gets married to someone he loves.

Now you really felt bad about your (hypothetical) future plans about selling Neuvillette’s photos. I’m an insensitive boor compared to him.

You reached the last of the photos. It was the one of you and Neuvillette standing in front of the sunset.

“You made two copies for the both of us,” you said as you looked at them. “How thoughtful.”

As you gazed at the pictures, you couldn’t help but feel a complex mixture of emotions. There was a surrealness to this photo that the others lacked. If this were a novel, this would be the point where you would wake up and return to reality after discovering something out of place in your life. No matter how you looked at it, you and Neuvillette were mismatched. Two people who were only brought together because of a weird quirk of fate.

But on the other hand…it was a beautiful photo. You had been somewhat worried that the two of you wouldn’t be centered in the frame, but it turned out well. The sunset made for a lovely backdrop. Even though both of you were looking very stiff, and neither of you were smiling.

You remembered that moment clearly. In those few minutes, you felt as light as a feather, like there was nothing tying you to the ground.

Would you ever feel that way again?

“I’m also very fond of this one,” Neuvillette said next to you. When you turned your head, you saw that he was not looking at the photos, but at you. It was then that you realized you were smiling. For some reason, you turned your head away.

“I just realized something,” you said, to cover up the awkward moment. “I’ve taken so many pictures, but I’ve got nowhere to put them all.”

“Ah, about that,” there was an excitement, subdued but present, in his voice. He sounded the same as he did when he introduced you to some new exotic variety of water. “I have a surprise for you. Please, come with me to my study.”

A surprise from Neuvillette? You had an inkling as to what it could be, but that didn’t stop you from putting all the photos back in the envelope and following him upstairs to his study, a domain you had yet to step into. It was a smaller version of his office at the Palais Mermonia, with its large desk, soft rugs, and tall bookshelves that lined the walls. There was also a fireplace here and a cozy-looking couch.

As Neuvillette went to take something out of a cabinet, you covertly examined the shelves. They were mainly filled with books on law, human psychology, history (most of which you’ve already read, having borrowed them from the library), and other similarly serious topics. Oddly enough, you even spotted a few romance novels. They were the fluffy, self-indulgent kind that your mother and sister liked to read. Should I pretend I never saw them?

“Madame, here it is,” Neuvillette said, and you walked over to the desk, where there was a large, leather-bound album with metal corners.

“Oh, Neuvillette, you shouldn’t have!” you exclaimed, flipping through the album. There should be just enough space to put all the pictures from your date in it. You looked up to thank him, but was met with the sight of Neuvillette taking out yet another album from the cabinet. This one was wider, with a ribbon tied into a neat bow on the spine. Perhaps Neuvillette bought a second album, just in case the first one wouldn’t fit all your pictures?

But, as though to dash all reasonable explanations, Neuvillette took out another album from the cabinet, then another. It seemed never-ending, this deluge of albums. After a while, it became sort of funny, like a comedy sketch. You watched, open-mouthed, as the desk became covered with albums of all shapes and sizes.

Finally, after the tenth one, the deluge stopped. Neuvillette looked at you expectantly. “Well, Madame, which one do you prefer?”

“Wait a minute, let me get this right,” you said, backing up a step and surveying the desk. “You bought all these albums just for me to choose one?”

“Yes, I did,” Neuvillette said, nodding as though this was a perfectly normal thing to do. Was this how the minds of the wealthy worked? It was beyond your comprehension. “I was unsure which one would be most to your liking, so I decided to buy them all.”

“Oh, Neuvillette, you really shouldn’t have…” you said. “This is too excessive. Why didn’t you ask me to come with you when you went shopping? And you know I’d like anything you picked out for me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise…” Neuvillette said. He looked a bit deflated, and you felt bad.

“Can you return them?”

“It would be highly inconvenient for the shopkeeper if I did so,” Neuvillette said, then added in an abashed tone, “And I was told that all sales are final.”

“How unfortunate,” you looked down at the desk again. Was it possible for anyone to fill up all these albums in their lifetime? Maybe if they had a lifespan as long as Neuvillette’s. “Maybe they could make an exception for the Iudex?”

“I would rather not use my position in such a manner.”

“Well then, how about we give them away?”

“Give them away…” Neuvillette considered your words. “I-I suppose that could work… it is a reasonable idea. Yes, quite reasonable indeed.”

Neuvillette…if only you could see the look on your face right now. He looked like a kicked puppy. However, you decided to hold your tongue.

“Hmm, on second thought, it would be quite rude of me to give away presents from my generous husband,” you said. “I’ll keep them all. Thank you, Neuvillette.”

You patted his hand. He looked down at your hand on top of his, his eyes unreadable. He lightly brushed his fingers against your own.

“You need not force yourself to accept them if you do not want them,” he said quietly.

“But I do want them. They’re from you, after all. We’ll just have to take plenty more photos to get your money’s worth.”

“‘We?’”

“Yes, ‘we.’ Did you expect me to fill up these albums all on my own?”

“Certainly, it would be more efficient if we worked together,” Neuvillette nodded to himself. “Very well, then, Madame. I will assist you in this endeavour.”

With that settled, you decided to put the date photos in the first brown leather album. It had a vintage look to it that you liked.

“It’s getting late, Madame. You should be going to bed soon,” Neuvillette informed you.

“What about you?” Neuvillette didn’t seem to be making any moves to retire for the night just yet.

“There are a few more matters that I need to take care of, but do not worry, it won’t take very long.”

“Okay then,” you nodded, stepping towards the door. But just as you were about to leave the study, you thought of something. “By the way, Neuvillette, when will we be going on that restaurant date? I know you’re quite busy these days, so I can wait as long it takes. Do you have a restaurant in mind? I’m perfectly happy to go with any one you choose. Oh, and I know I promised to attend a trial, but I’m not fond of the very loud and chaotic ones, so which of the upcoming ones would you recommend?”

“I’m afraid, Madame, that we have to put a hold on both of those arrangements. A few…unexpected matters have come up, so we will not be able to go anywhere together for a while.”

“Oh. I see. Well, I suppose it can’t be helped,” a sharp sense of disappointment pierced your heart. It seemed that you had been looking forward to it more than you expected.

“Madame, are you enjoying your life as it is right now?” Neuvillette asked you out of the blue.

“Huh? What brought this on all of a sudden?”

“Please answer my question.” There was an undercurrent of urgency in his voice.

“I…” you had to think about it for a moment. “I do. Of course I do. I never want for anything, and everyone has treated me with nothing but kindness. I can’t even begin to repay them all, really.”

“I see. Then, is this the sort of life you’d prefer to live?”

“What do you mean?”

“A quiet, peaceful life, where you are never bothered by anyone.”

“I…suppose so? I think most people would want that.”

“I see…” Neuvillette stared at his desk, seemingly deep in thought. Then, he looked up at you. “You should go to bed now. It is getting too late.”

“What…” but he was already ushering you towards the door before you could say anything more.

You observed him as he stood in the doorway. He was an unreadable cipher, but you sensed a resolve emanating from him, like he had made up his mind about something.

“Good night, Madame,” he said quietly.

“Good night, Neuvillette.”

You felt like you had to say something, but you weren’t sure what.

He saved you the effort by gently closing the study door on you. The sense of giddiness had all but completely dissipated. You felt like a deflated balloon.

Your unease wasn’t dispelled the next morning.

At the breakfast table, Neuvillette was reading the newspapers. This wasn’t unusual in itself. It was part of his morning routine. What was unusual was how intensely he was looking through them.

You looked at the headlines of the paper he was reading. There was nothing there that would warrant that deep furrow in his brow. At least, not to your knowledge. Perhaps there was some sort of secret investigation going on?

“Madame, would you like to read the paper?” Neuvillette’s voice broke through your thoughts. It was then that you realized that you had been leaning forward and squinting your eyes to read the newspaper print. “I’m nearly done with it.”

“Oh, no, I was just wondering if something happened, since you seem to be engrossed in them.”

“No,” Neuvillette took a pause before replying. “I was simply looking for something.”

“I see,” you said, then cut a piece of pancake and popped it into your mouth. After swallowing, you continued, “Is it work related?”

“I…would not say so,” Neuvillette said. It was strange for him to be so evasive, but maybe it was one of those things he wasn’t at liberty to tell you.

“By the way, Neuvillette, I’m going to start on the albums today. You’ve given me a great burden to carry, but I’m willing to take it on.”

You were teasing him a bit, but in truth, you were a bit excited. Your teacher had a whole shelf of albums that were filled with photos from her travels throughout Teyvat, and you had pleasant memories of flipping through them and asking her the stories behind each photo. Of course, you wouldn’t be able to replicate her on that scale, but the Court of Fontaine was as good a start as any. You had even thought up a sort of system as to which area you would cover each day and what you would photograph, which you explained to Neuvillette.

“You plan on going out into the city today, Madame?” Neuvillette asked after you finished speaking. He put down the papers and stared at you.

“Er, yes?” you answered hesitantly. He seemed strangely preoccupied with your answer. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“…No, not at all,” Neuvillette said after another pause. His lips were pressed together in a thin line. “Where do you plan to go?”

“Just the plaza…” you said, raising your eyebrows at how grave he sounded. “And maybe the Palais.”

“Do not go to the Palais,” Neuvillette spoke abruptly. His face was all seriousness. “Please, promise me that. If you have any business there, ask me. I will assist you with it.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “What do you mean, I can’t go to the Palais? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” he said quickly.

“Then why can’t I go there?”

“I cannot tell you, but I assure you that I only have your safety and happiness in mind when I am asking you to not to go anywhere near the Palais. Please, Madame, promise me this.”

You stared into his violet eyes, trying to gauge what he was thinking. There was a note of desperate urgency in his voice you had only heard once before, not to mention the weightiness of his words. “I promise,” you found yourself saying.

“Thank you, Madame,” Neuvillette was visibly relieved. His shoulders relaxed and he closed his eyes for a second before opening them again.

“Neuvillette, what’s going on?” you demanded. “You’re acting strange. Did something happen?”

“Do not worry. I will take care of everything,” he said, not answering your questions at all. He stood up, and you did the same, intending on getting to the bottom of this.

The two of you headed to the door. “You’re hiding something,” you said, glaring up at him. He met your gaze, then looked away. “It has something to do with me, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll take care of it. Please don’t worry,” he repeated, then attempted a smile. “Focus on your photography project. I cannot to wait to see the finished product. And…Madame, if you see any suspicious persons lingering around you, you must tell one of the Melusines right away.”

“Huh?” you gape at him, but he simply bid you goodbye and left the house. You watched him get into the carriage and set off.

For such a stoic man, he’s actually quite terrible at hiding his feelings at times, you thought.

Your outing at the plaza went mostly as planned. You were able to take many pictures of the fountain, the hulking Meka walking around, and the street performers. The patrolling Melusines, once you told them what you were doing, became quite enthusiastic and asked for you to take their pictures as well. It would have been a great day, if it weren’t for the gray skies and the heaviness of your heart.

Neuvillette’s behavior at home did nothing to quell it. Though he did his best to hide it, but he was obviously stressed and worn out. He would eagerly ask you about your day but seemed distracted by his thoughts as you talked, and rebuffed your questions, whether they were innocuous or direct, when you tried to probe him for answers. He came home later than usual and worked into the late nights in his study.

Over the next few days, you continued your urban outings, criss-crossing the city to take more pictures. You ate lunch outside and people-watched as you sat at your table. Often, a Melusine would join you. Being able to spend time in such a carefree, leisurely way would have been an unattainable dream to the past you, but you couldn’t enjoy it fully, not when you were always worried about Neuvillette at the back of your mind. He definitely seems more haggard these days. Is he eating well? I hope he isn’t just drinking water and passing that off as having lunch.

“Are you not hungry, Madame?” a sleepy-sounding voice broke through your reverie. It belonged to Menthe, who was sitting across from you. “You’re not eating your fish and chips.”

You looked down. The savory dish, deep-fried to a golden brown, was one of your favorite treats, but not something you ate often, and yet you found yourself with zero appetite.

“I suppose I’m not,” you sighed. “You can have it if you like.”

“Oh, really, Madame? Thank you!”

You watched as Menthe happily dug in. She had accompanied you to this café after you decided to take a lunch break.

I wonder if the Melusines are in on this too, you thought. It wasn’t unusual for Melusines to come up to you when you were walking around town, but you couldn’t help but notice that there seemed to be an awful lot of them at the places you went to. The places where you told Neuvillette you would be.

They were as cheerful and talkative as ever, but you also noticed how intently their bright gazes flitted around, even when they chatted with you, almost as though they were on the lookout for something.

You considered several possibilities and narrowed it down to two: One, there was a serial killer on the loose, or some other crazed criminal, who was after you. Two, your relationship had somehow been exposed to the paparazzi.

It was doubtful that Neuvillette would let you leave the house if there was a killer after you. And why would someone want to kill you, anyway? For marrying Neuvillette? What a lame reason for murder. Then again, some of his more extreme fans were known for their passion…

The second option seemed more likely. However, you had scoured all the tabloids for any articles on the matter, and while you did find some claiming that Neuvillette was involved with some woman or another, none of them were you (although you didn’t feel as relieved as you ought to have, for some reason). If you knew anything about these kinds of publications, it was that if they caught wind of something juicy, like the Chief Justice being in a secret relationship, they would waste no time in making that their headline, no matter how flimsy the evidence was.

Thinking back on it now, you and Neuvillette definitely hadn’t been as discreet as you could have been. The two of you had been in public together enough times that someone could get suspicious.

It would be easy to deny it though, you mused. In most of those cases, we were just talking or walking together. Just because a man and woman are together, it doesn’t mean they’re a married couple.

Whatever the case was, you wished Neuvillette would talk to you about it.

If it has something to do with me, then just tell me, you thought. You were now back home and staring up at the ceiling of your room. Why all the secrecy? It’s clearly stressing him out.

Sure, there was probably very little you could do to help, but…but…

Why are you acting so presumptuous? A small voice whispered in your mind. Didn’t Neuvillette say he would take care of everything? When will anyone ever offer to do that for you again?

Yeah, but… you argued back. I shouldn’t just sit back and do nothing! It’s unfair to him.

What does fairness mean in a relationship like this? What can you, a baron’s daughter, do for the Chief Justice of Fontaine that he can’t do for himself? If he doesn’t want you to know about something, it’s for your own good, just like last time. He clearly doesn’t expect you to do anything. What you can do to put him at ease is living your own life carefreely and supporting him at home.

But… you struggled to come up with an argument. Or maybe, you were unwilling to.

Your bed was nice and comfy, and your room was cozy. The sunlight streamed through the lace curtains of the window. If you wanted to, you could run a bath and soak in it for an hour, or read at your window seat, or ask Marie to make a snack for you. You could do anything you wanted.

You continued to lie on your bed until dinner time.

Neuvillette didn’t come home until very late at night. By that time, you were already in bed.

The next day was grayer than usual. It rained all day. As you were in no mood to undertake the challenge of photographing in the rain, you decided to stay home and brush up on your science. You had neglected your studies for far too long.

As you rifled through a notebook, you suddenly came upon a nearly blank page. It was titled “List of Neuvillette’s associates.”

You remembered writing those words all those months ago. It seemed like an eternity had passed since then. You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands again at the memories of your embarrassing behavior. It was a wonder that Neuvillette hadn’t changed his mind and married someone more well-adjusted after all that.

You glanced at the Lakelight Lily on your desk. It looked a little less plumper than before, but its refreshing scent was still there. You recalled Neuvillette’s words as he put in your hair.

He was always so considerate and thoughtful. What’s more, you could tell he genuinely meant it. He never failed to ask after your comfort and health. He even inquired about your family on a regular basis when he didn’t need to. He even accepted your awkward offer of friendship when he could have just ignored you.

You still had no idea what possessed him to ask you to marry him. He probably would have had an easier time if he had picked anyone else. No, not just anyone. Whoever he married should be just as kind and caring as him. Someone accomplished and beautiful. Someone who he could proudly show off in public as his spouse. Someone who could teach him the “joys of matrimony.”

But until he finds that mythical someone, he’s stuck with me.

Resolve formed in your heart.

Neuvillette came home late again that night, but this time, you stayed up. You listened to his footsteps as he went down the hallway to his study. After you heard the door close, you sat up in bed.

Okay, let’s do this, you cheered yourself on, then put on your robe and slipped out of your room.

You padded down the carpeted floor towards the study. You found yourself walking on your tiptoes for some reason.

The mahogany door seemed to you like an imposing barrier. It wasn’t too late to turn around and crawl back into bed. You were sorely tempted to.

But I’m here on a mission and I’m going to see it through no matter what, you told yourself firmly.

You raised your hand and knocked on the door. “Neuvillette,” you called out. “May I come in? I would like to speak with you.”

A scraping sound came from inside. “Madame?” Neuvillette said as he opened the door. “What are you doing up so late?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but your jaw remained hanging open as you took in the sight before you.

Forearms. The words popped into your mind out of nowhere. Neck.

Neuvillette’s usual long blue robes were nowhere to be found. For that reason, he was only wearing a white dress shirt, and his hair was unbound. That wasn’t what made you speechless. You had seen him in that state plenty of times before. No, what stunned you was the fact that his sleeves were rolled up and that the first two buttons of his shirt were undone. Without his clothing obscuring them, you were able to feast your eyes on the sight of his sinewy arms and the smooth, unblemished skin at the juncture between his neck and collarbones.

He was usually so covered-up, even at home, that seeing so much of his skin exposed felt akin to seeing him naked. Oh no, don’t think about that, don’t think about that…

“Madame? Madame, is something the matter?” Neuvillette’s voice broke through your thoughts, which were heading in a rather dangerous direction. To your extreme embarrassment, you realized that your mouth was hanging open slightly. No wonder he looked so concerned. I feel like a giant pervert. No, I am one!

“Um, er…it’s nothing!” your voice came out in a higher octave. You took a step backwards. This is just wonderful.

“Are you sure? Your face looks a bit red,” Neuvillette stood up. “You shouldn’t be staying up so late, especially if you might be sick.”

“Oh, no, no, I assure you, I am definitely not sick, not at all,” you babbled, even as the words “forearms” and “neck” danced through your head. “I really just wanted to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

“If it’s urgent, then please come in,” Neuvillette gestured for you to enter his study. His shirt shifted slightly with the movement, exposing a sliver more of his chest. You wanted to cover your eyes.

You entered the study. Neuvillette sat back down in his chair and looked at you. You looked at him. Or rather, you looked at the air above him.

“Madame, what is this urgent matter you wish to discuss with me?” he asked. He looked terribly concerned, and you didn’t blame him. The way you were acting right now was definitely a cause for worry.

“I…um…want to…uh…you know…” you gestured with your hands. “I want to…brush your hair! Yes, brush your hair. I’ve noticed how…dishevelled it gets when you come home, so I would like to fix that. Yes, that’s it.”

“You…wish to brush my hair?” Neuvillette repeated, sounding confused.

You nodded vigorously. “And talk,” you added.

“I see,” he still looked confused, but he stood up and went to the door. “I shall go get my hairbrush, then.”

“Please do so,” you said, and watched him go to his room. Once he was gone, you buried your face in one of the pillows on the couch and screamed.

What was going on with you? Why were you getting so worked up over skin? It wasn’t as though you were some sheltered maiden who never saw shirtless men before. And Neuvillette wasn’t even shirtless! And just what would he look like without his shirt on, anyways?

“Stop it,” you told yourself. “Stop it right now. Think about something else.”

“Pardon me, Madame?” Neuvillette’s voice made you jolt upright. “Did you say something? And why are you lying on the couch?”

“It’s nothing,” you quickly got up and clasped your hands together, making yourself the picture of composure and self-possession, ignoring the voice in your head that told you it wasn’t too late to excuse yourself and run back to your room. “Please forget what you just saw. I am perfectly fine.”

You held out your hand for the hairbrush, and Neuvillette gave it to you after some hesitation. The hairbrush was silver, its back carved with a swirling design. It was heavy and cool in your hand. You tried to picture Neuvillette brushing his hair with it every morning, like a princess in a fairytale, and had to suppress a (most likely crazed-looking) smile.

He sat down in his chair, and you stood behind him. You slowly ran the brush through his silver locks, careful not to touch his horns. You did this in silence for a few moments. It had a strangely calming effect on you—you felt your heartbeat settling down, your mind becoming clearer. The fact that you couldn’t see his face was also helpful.

“Neuvillette,” you began. “I know that you’ve been hiding something from me. I would like you to reveal it to me.”

You heard him let out a sigh. He tried to turn his head, but you prevented him from doing so. “Madame, I have already explained to you that it is nothing for you to worry about. Please allow me to take care of it. It was caused by my own oversight in the first place.”

“I am allowing you to take care of it. But I would still like to know what it is.”

“It will only distress you, and I do not wish to do that.”

“I will be the judge of what distresses me. And besides, seeing you obviously so troubled by this matter already makes me feel wretched, so there is really nothing to lose here.”

“My apologies. I will work harder to mask my feelings as to not affect your mood.”

“Neuvillette, that’s not the point I’m making,” you groaned as you worked to loosen a particularly tough tangle in his hair. “Right now, not knowing what’s troubling you is causing me more distress than whatever this mysterious ‘something’ is.”

“I do not believe you would think the same way once you learned what it is.”

“How do you know that?” you asked. Realizing that you had raised your voice, you quickly softened it. “Let me put this another way. This is how I’m repaying you.”

“Repaying me?”

“Yes. For listening to me, for allowing me to cry into your arms on our date. Do you know, Neuvillette, that it’s been a long time since I was able to vent my feelings to someone like that? I’ve forgotten how nice it feels. It…really saved me. And I want to do the same thing for you. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do anything, but it’s easier to come up with a solution when you’re discussing things with someone else, isn’t it?”

Neuvillette didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. But you could tell that he was wavering. You picked up the ends of his long hair and brushed them. You needed to give him one last push.

“If you don’t inform me about matters that are related to me, then I see no reason why I should tell you anything more about myself.”

“Madame, what are you implying?” there was a note of what almost sounded like panic in Neuvillette’s voice.

“That’s right. If you do not tell me your secret, I shall not speak to you ever again for the remainder of our marriage. You will lose the privilege of conversing with me.”

You had expected him to let out a chuckle or something. You hadn’t meant it seriously. Well, maybe a little. You were feeling a bit frustrated.

What you didn’t expect was that he would wrench himself out of your grip and turn around to face you. His lips were pressed together tightly, but his eyes were wide. His gaze burned through you.

“I will tell you,” he said, voice almost too calm. “So please reconsider. It will pain me greatly if you go through with it.”

“I won’t,” you said, caught off guard.

He turned back around. After taking a pause, he told you about the photo Furina obtained, and the ultimatum she gave him. You listened to him intently as he talked, brushing the bottom half of his hair and occasionally untangling snarls.

After he finished speaking, you took a few minutes to digest what you’ve just heard.

“So, no one else except Lady Furina has that photo?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t believe that she would lie or go back on her promise?”

“In this matter, I do not believe she would.”

“I see,” you put down the brush, then moved yourself to meet Neuvillette’s eyes. “Then, I agree to the meeting. I think that’s the most reasonable thing to do here. In hindsight, we should have done it a long time ago. It would have saved us all this trouble.”

“You agree to it?” Neuvillette repeated, sounding stunned.

“Well, it was either this or let Lady Furina dig up my sordid past and do whatever she wants with that information, right? Besides, what’s so scary about a meeting? Plenty of people from all walks of life have made appointments with her, including my own great-grandparents. If they could do it, so can I. And I’ll have you there with me, so there’s really nothing to worry about.”

“But once she meets you face-to-face, you will become known to her. You will not be able to live the peaceful life that you desire.”

Oh, so that’s why he asked that question, you thought.

“Well, we don’t know that, do we? For all we know, once she meets with us, she would judge that we are a perfectly uninteresting couple and leave us alone for the rest of the year.”

“That is unlikely to happen,” Neuvillette murmured. “And what if she discovers our arrangement?”

“She won’t if we don’t do anything that would reveal it to her. You know the saying, ‘Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.’ As long as we don’t do anything that would make her want to go through the records in the license office, we should be fine.” A thought suddenly struck you. “She can’t…prevent us from divorcing, can she? Or force us to remarry?”

“There are no laws that grant her the powers to do those things. But, I expect that she could make life difficult for you, should she choose to do so.”

“Hmm…” you thought. “Well, I’ll just think about what to do when that time comes.”

“Madame,” Neuvillette rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t be so irresponsible about your own future. This is why I did not wish to tell you. I did not want you to push yourself needlessly for my sake.”

“Push myself needlessly? I see things differently. There’s no guarantee that things will go smoothly, but that’s just life, isn’t it? All I know is that if we don’t do anything, it will most likely turn out badly for us. So I would rather choose the other option.”

You sounded braver than you felt. In this cozy, quiet study with Neuvillette, where you were the only people who would ever know the words exchanged in this room, it was easy to feel self-assured and optimistic about the unknown. Perhaps this was also its own sort of danger.

But when you looked at Neuvillette’s worried face, you found it easier to feel brave.

“Neuvillette, do you remember the promise I made to you on that first night? I promised to make sure that your life is as inconvenienced as possible. This is how I’m trying to fulfill it. Will you allow me to do that?”

“You need not go that far. You have never inconvenienced me, not even now. In fact, you have been a reassurance. It was due to my folly that we got into this situation in the first place.”

“If it was your folly, then it was mine as well. I should have also been paying attention,” you let out a sigh. “Look, Neuvillette, we can go around in circles about this all night, but when you get down to it, it is for situations like these that you married me. You didn’t marry me because you liked me in that way. Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know it’s true. If I don’t do my part, then I’m just a freeloader living in your house, right?”

“I have never thought of you as a ‘freeloader’… I have always considered you as my wife,” Neuvillette said curtly, but then he smiled at you gently. “You’ve made some very good points. You are correct. It was irresponsible of me to hide it from you. I still have much to learn when it comes to how a husband ought to behave, it seems.”

A warm, tingling feeling spread through your body when you heard his words. He thought of you as his wife. Well, of course he did, since you were officially married and all. But hearing him call you “my wife” was an entirely different thing.

“That’s my job, as your wife. To discuss problems and come up with solutions with you. And from now on, please tell me whenever you’re feeling troubled over something. I’m inadequate in many things, but I’ve been told that I’m a good listener,” you said, fiddling with your fingers. You felt your mouth stretching into a wide smile for no reason and looked down to hide it.

“I will. My apologies for all the distress I’ve caused you. I will tell Furina tomorrow about our decision.”

You and Neuvillette held each other’s gazes for longer than was necessary. In the dim light of the study, his eyes looked darker, obscuring his slitted pupils. You felt weak-kneed all of a sudden. You realized that you had been running on adrenaline until now, but you didn’t feel sleepy. In fact, you were wide awake.

“Will you go to bed now?” he asked. His voice was lower, huskier than usual.

You shook your head. “Will you?”

“I still have some work to do.”

“Then I’ll stay up with you. Since I’m your wife and all.”

Neuvillette looked like he was about to argue, but you went over to one of the bookshelves and took out a history book, then went to curl up on the couch. “Feel free to disregard me,” you said, opening the book.

After a few seconds, you heard an exhale, then the resuming of a pen scratching against paper.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but when you woke up, you were in your bed with the comforter neatly pulled up to your chin. You were quite sure you had a dream, but didn’t recall its contents except for the instinctive knowledge that it was a good one.

You also had the vague memory of feeling something warm brushing against your forehead, but it was so brief and fleeting that it might have been part of the dream as well.

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Taglist:@just-simping-over-genshin, @xalphafox, @jqnehr, @favficdump, @thetwinkims, @cielclassy, @the-mxs-of-many, @mxyarylla, @lynettezz, @rosedpetal, @blue-sapphire-ink

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x female reader #genshin fluff #the winding path of fate #my works

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siribaes · 4 months

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MISSED YOU

JALEN HURTS x blackfem!reader

SUGGESTED TUNES 💿: Freefall by Kaytranada & Durand Bernarr, I Miss You by Beyoncé, Backseat by Ari Lennox

WARNINGS: 18+, SMUT, Jalen being a low-key soft boy, praise kink, use of AAVE/N-word, etc.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is my 1st fic, enjoy! (also this hasn’t been proof read so please ignore any typos lol) / GIF CREDIT: @fixedfour

“Arch it just like that…”

The sound of wet skin slapping against each other bounces off the bedroom walls. The comforter felt soft underneath Y/N’s grip, a perfect contrast to the rough one Jalen on had on her hips. The calloused pads of his fingertips swiped at the swell of her hips as he pistoned in and out of her….in and out…in and out…

“Fucckkk,” Jalen groaned, “A nigga missed you, you missed me huh?”’

Y/N felt her pussy flutter at the hoarseness in his voice. At had an edge to it, like he needed to hear her somehow, some way.

A smart slap on her ass interrupted Y/N’s drift in thought. She turned her head to look at Jalen, completely zeroed in on his torso. His skin glistened with sweat as his sculpted chest held a slight red hue. A gold chain glittery, shined brightly under the soft, candle light. The J initial swayed back and forth in tandem the rhythm of his strokes. Her eyes combed upwards. Y/N shuddered at the sight, his plump bottom lip was tucked tightly between his teeth. Yet, his eyes were round and saucer like. He gaze was so soft and held a such anticipation that he practically, begged for the words to come tumbling off her tongue. He needed to hear you say it, you missed him, you missed the he touched you, you missed the way he fucked you…

A small whimper escaped Y/N’s mouth as tears prickled in her eyes. The whole sight was so overwhelming but she loved every single minute of it.

“Babyyyy,” Y/N whined. She felt the familiar thrumming sensation as her orgasm quickly approached. Her walls contracted and squeezed around Jalen’s dick. “I missed you so much, baby, fuck! You fuckin’ me so good.”

Rewarding Y/N for her confession, Jalen fucked her harder, and deeper, while he rasped endless praises into her ear.

Fuck, you know I love you right.

You doin’ so good for me, takin’ me.

Pussy so tight, you squeezing me, Mama.

With his throwing hand, Jalen licked this thumb before he reached around Y/N’s stomach, towards her pussy. He rubbed lazy circles on her clit. Y/N felt something inside her snap, her orgasm hurdled towards the surface. Jalen continued to fuck her as she writhed and convulsed around him.

“Jalennnnnnnn,” Y/N moaned. She attempted to claw her up the bed towards the head board, only for Jalen’s quick reflexes to kick in as he snatched her back against him.

“Don’t run baby, you was doin’ so good,” Jalen rasped. He placed a sweet kiss on Y/N’s shoulder, that sent chills down her spine. “I’m almost there, mama. Fuck, just keep squeezing me like that.”

His normal composure was long gone as he pounded against Y/N’s g-spot. He relentlessly drove into her, completely lost in her warmth and wetness. A loud moan of his name, pushed him over the edge. Jalen’s hips snapped as he unloaded inside of the condom. His body convulsed as a slew of curses left his lips. Y/N’s moaned as she lazily grounded her hips against Jalen, secretly wishing there was no barrier between them. That she could feel all of him, his cum filling her up, warming up her insides. One day…

Despite Y/N’s whiny protests he slowly pulled out of her. Jalen sat on the side of the bed, he easily pulled the condom off, tied it in a knot, and threw it in the trash can. Y/N shivered from the after shocks of her orgasm as she turned and brought the comforter over her body. Jalen rejoined Y/N, he slid himself underneath the comforter, lying gently onto her stomach. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close to him. With soft fingers, Y/N drew loopy circles against Jalen’s curls. He hummed, the vibrations sent shivers through her body.

“You missed me that much, huh?” Y/N teased.

Eyes closed, a sly grin grew across his lips. His eyes fluttered open, soft and thick eyelashes batted against the tops of his cheeks.

“Hell yeah, I did,” Jalen’s hands slid upwards softly cupping on of Y/N’s breast. Still sensitive, Y/N moaned in response. “So much, I think I got another round in me.”

#jalen hurt fanfic #jalen hurts x black reader #jalen hurts x blackfem!reader #jalen hurts smut #siribaesfics #jalen hurts fanfic

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loveshotzz · 1 year

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Authors Note:This is my submission for @sparklingsin ‘s ‘Spookinktober’ my prompt word was pumpkin. Obviously I got carried away. Tumblr was being a bitch so ignore the editing and typos please. It literally has paragraphs disappear when I go to edit it, so it is what it is 🤷🏻‍♀️

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: SMUT (18plus) NO MINORS. Choking, spanking, slight dom!eddie and bratty reader.

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Laurie Strode’s scream filled your ears as you shoved the carving knife into your pumpkin.

“Jesus sweetheart, watch your fingers.” Eddie had been watching you through out this entire process with apprehensive eyes. Not known for your grace he wasn’t trying to take you to the emergency room on Halloween night. Again.

“Jesus Eddie, I’m fine.” Rolling your eyes hard you continue your assault on your pumpkin doing your best to make it look like the one on the VHS cover of Halloween the movie you were watching.

“Just.. be careful.” Warm hands on your shoulders Eddie places a chaste kiss on the crown of your head. “I’m gonna go get out of these jeans really quick, don’t cut your fingers off.”

Dropping your knife with a loud huff you knew he didn’t mean anything by it, in fact his fear was valid having taken you to get stitches on more then one occasion you just couldn’t help but be a brat.

“Look, I’ll stop while I’m unsupervised Dad.” Raising your hands in the air Eddie’s eyes narrow at your attitude from the hallway. Shaking his head he turns back around muttering under his breath.

The sound of Michael’s notorious music brings your attention back to the small TV in his living room. The soft glow of it making the everything look that much more cozy, one of the many reasons you always preferred hanging out here rather then your parents house. Eddie didn’t understand it but it was home to you.

Eyes flicking back to the movie your breath catches in your throat when you see Michael wrap his hands tightly around a woman’s throat. Pushing her against the wall with force, he lifts her up a few inches in the air. Biting your bottom lip the heat rises to your cheeks when your thighs press themselves together. The familiar tingling in your gut that usually only Eddie brought out in you makes your toes curl.

So distracted you didn’t hear Eddie sneak back in the room, his plan to scare a smile out of you with Red’s Michael mask was put on pause when he saw the way you were staring at the TV. The familiar glaze covering your eyes he takes in your body language eyes trailing back to the TV where he saw exactly what was happening.

He knew you liked being choked in the bedroom from time to time but this was a little more aggressive then what he was used to doing to you. Fingers fiddling in your lap he knew you had it bad. Smirking to himself under the mask he was glad you were being a little brat.

Eddie clears his throat snapping you out of your lust filled daze, mouth going dry at the sight in front of you. In nothing but black sweat pants that rested low on his hips and a Michael mask Eddie was the epitome of your own personal wet dream right now. Gulping loudly you’re left speechless as he starts to stalk over to you, the playfulness he came in with gone.

“What’s going on in here huh?” His voice is low behind the latex of the mask. “You only ever look at me that way. What’s got you so worked up pretty girl?”

Your own nerves getting the best of you despite knowing it was just your goofy loving boyfriend underneath, you couldn’t help but push yourself off your chair scrambling to get away from him.

“Eddie, come on.” Whining the heat rises to your cheeks excitement mixing with the embarrassment of being caught.

“Does my girl like it rough? Is that it?” You can hear the smile in his conceding tone as his long strides bring him closer. The muscles in his abdomen flexing slightly with each movement of his legs. He’s never looked sexier to you.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Changing the octave in your voice trying to sound more innocent, you lay it on thick noticing the tent that started to form in his sweats.

“No? Do I need to remind you?” Closing the distance with quick steps his ringed fingers wrap tightly around you throat shoving you hard enough against the wall it has Wayne’s coffee mugs clinking together on impact.

Unable to stop the loud moan that falls from your mouth, your eyes close tight as his rings bite into the sensitive skin underneath his hold. Pushing your legs apart with his knee, he slots himself between them the top of his thigh pressing tightly against your aching core. Wiggling your hips your body searches for friction on its own accord.

Squeezing tighter he tuts at you from under the mask.

“Behave yourself baby, I’m just reminding you of what you seemed to of forgotten.” Flexing the muscle of his thigh against your heat, your head lulls back into his hold. You were putty in his hands like this and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Is this why you were being such a brat earlier? You were hoping I’d get the picture huh? That you just wanted me to punish you.” The last two words coming out from between clenched teeth his hold getting tighter for a minute before he lets it go. Removing his leg from between yours without warning your feet hit the ground with a light thud.

Ripping the mask off there’s a light sheen of sweat coating his forehead making his bangs stick to his skin, chocolate pools blown into black Eddie was just as effected by this as you. The knowledge adding more slick to the coating that was already inside your panties.

He takes a minute to search your face for any trace of discomfort but all he sees is how your pupils have dilated so much there was no color left. You’ve always looked at him like you were attracted to him but you never looked at him like this. His erection becoming almost painful against the soft fabric of his sweats when he thinks about how wet you must be. Grabbing your face between his ringed hand he squeezes your cheeks together before slotting his lips roughly against yours. Sighing in his mouth your tongue meets his eagerly before he rips himself away trying to keep himself calm enough to remain in control.

“Turn around.” His voice is quiet but his tone is demanding and he watches the internal battle of wanting to behave or be a brat happen across your face before you finally give in turning around. “Hands on the wall.”

When your palms hit the smooth paint of the walls you weren’t expecting the first smack. Eddie’s open hand making harsh contact with your right butt cheek, the metal hitting hard enough you’re sure there will be a bruise there in the morning.

“That was for having to think about listening to me. I saw that.” Pushing himself flush against your back his voice sends shivers down your spine as his lips ghost over the shell of your ear with each word. With his hard cock pushing against your covered entrance part of you feels like this might actually be torture. Your hips seek friction but his firm grip on them holds you in place.

“Be good.” The condescending way he sings good makes you want to be anything but. The need to cum overpowering your pride you decide to stay still.

Nipping at your ear lobe you feel Eddie start to work his way down your body. Big hands slide down your curves squeezing and kneading at the flesh as he makes his way down to the tops of your jeans. Popping open the front buttons with quick fingers he starts tugging them down your legs leaving a small bite on each ass cheek when they pool at your ankles. Cupping under the curve of each cheek he pulls them apart so he can see if you’re as wet he he thinks you are.

“Fuck baby, all this for me?” Breaking his dominant character a strangled moan leaves his throat at how your panties are completely soaked through. Pushing his face in between your covered folds he inhales deeply the tip of his nose brushing against your swollen nub.

Shaking legs beg to give out on top of him as your finger nails scrape against the wall, the needy whine you give echos through the trailer and you swear you feel him chuckle against you.

Calloused fingers grip the sides of your panties yanking them down to join at your feet with the denim of your jeans. Another loud moan leaves his swollen lips when he sees your slick glisten against the newly exposed skin of your cunt.

“I’m gonna take care of it pretty girl don’t worry.” Mumbling to himself he pushes your legs further apart, you knew he was coming but you still gasped when his tongue licked a long stripe through your folds. “God you taste even better when you’re this worked up, you’ve been holding on out me.” Another unexpected smack to your ass sends your body forward slightly.

“Eddie, please, please.” Your pleading comes out breathless while your body feels like it might actually combust if he doesn’t fuck you.

Smack

“Please what?” Pushing himself off the ground you can feel him crowd behind you, the rough hair of his happy trail scraping against the small of your back while an arm loops around you. Fingers gripping tight around your neck again he pulls your head back so you can meet his eyes. “Use your words.”

Pushing your ass against his hard cock that sat nestled between your cheeks you don’t care anymore how pathetic you might sound.

“Please Eddie, fuck me, I need you to fuck me.” stomping your feet it comes out as if you’re throwing a fit. “I’ve needed it all day.”

“I could tell by the way you were behaving, don’t worry I’ll make sure to fuck that attitude right out of you.” His grip leaves your throat before both hands find a place on either side of your hips pulling them back before an open palm pushes your back down. Angling you perfectly for him to control the pace.

Positioning himself with legs on either side of you his hands only leave your body long enough to push his sweat pants down his thighs, hissing when the cool air hits the leaking head of his cock. Giving himself a few pumps he pulls you in closer by your hips, swiping himself between your folds coating his thick mushroom head with your slick before stretching out your walls with one quick thrust.

Your voice gets caught in your throat at the feeling of him splitting you in half. Slapping the wall in front of you tears prickle at the corners of your eyes at how good it feels after being worked up for so long.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” grunting his thrusts are slow at first wanting to savor the feeling of your silky walls sucking him. The way you shudder against him has his eyes roll in the back of his head with each push your own hips start to meet his.

Blaming lack of self control you can’t help but try and set a faster pace, the slow build up in your gut not moving at the speed you were so desperate for. Eddie struggles to meet the movement of your hips snapping him out of the pussy drunk state he had slipped into when he was met with the wetness of your walls.

His fingers dig deep into your hips bruising the the soft skin underneath stilling your motions, keeping you in place his right hands releases its grip on you to smack your ass even harder then the times before. Biting your lip the string makes you clench around him earning a strangled moan from behind you.

“Such a dirty girl, who knew you were hiding all of this from me.” Smoothing a hand down your back his hips finally start setting a pace that satisfies the dull throb in your gut.

The sound of skin slapping against skin is the only thing that can be heard in the trailer, the grunts and whimpers leaving both of you without abandon drown out the slasher movie on in the background.

The hand that laid on on the small of your back snakes it way to the front of you with gentle pressure on your stomach he pushes you flush against his chest. The new angle making him hit a spot so deep it had you seeing stars behind your closed lid. Jaw going slack your mouth open his a silent scream as his rough fingers start drawing relentless circles on your clit.

“Eddie, eddie, eddie.” Your voice is unrecognizable when his name comes tumbling out of your mouth like a chant.

“Cum for me pretty girl, be a good girl and cum for me.” Lips pressed against your ear his voice sends a shiver down your spine clenching yourself even harder around him. A cocky laugh leaving his mouth at the feeling of how his words were effecting you.

Applying more pressure with his fingers it’s enough to finally send you over the edge, vision going white as your orgasm vibrates through your body like an earthquake. Shaking around him in a way he’s never felt before mixed with the hard clamp of your walls as you come undone on top of him has his following closely after yours. Cock twitching against your constricting walls the tail end of our orgasm milks his even further. Burying his head in the crook of your neck he moans loudly against your skin. His open mouth leaves a trail of drool that starts to slide down the curve of your neck as he tries to catch his breath. Hot ropes of his cum paint your insides. Leaning forward one hand grips your hips to hold you in place while the other lays flat against the wall holding your weight up.

It takes you both a minute to collect yourself before either of your make the effort to move or speak to each other, your bodies completely spent.

“So clearly there was a kink of yours I didn’t know about.” Eddie chuckles placing a chaste kiss on your cheek before making sure both your feet were flat on the floor. Pulling himself out slowly you both whimper at the loss of contact. The grip on your hips only loosens when he feels your start to balance yourself, they hover until he thinks your safe to do it on your own.

Heat rising to your cheeks you can’t fight the shyness that breaks through when you feel the remains of him start to drip down your thighs. Noticing the way your eyes won’t meet his, he grips your chin with his thumb and his index finger gently brining your attention back up to him.

“I liked it. I liked it a lot. There’s no reason to be embarrassed.” Kissing the tip of your nose he grabs a handful of your ass jiggling it playfully before pushing you towards the bathroom.

“Get in the shower, let me clean this up and I’ll meet you in there in a minute.” A devilish smirk graces his lips before adding. “And then we’ll rewind the movie as long as you promise not to get worked up again.”

Groaning loudly you crumple up a piece of newspaper that you had been carving your pumpkins on throwing it at him before stomping away. Slamming the door for good measure there was a part of you that hoped he’d come in here and do it all over again.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #joseph quinn #strangertober

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angstysebfan · 11 months

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Only Us (One Shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You have an interesting relationship that Bucky keeps running away from. You finally confront him. Warnings: Some Angst, but lots of LOVE

A/N: Just changed a few small things with this one, but it’s another one of my favs. If you’ve never heard this song, look it up. It’s from Dear Evan Hansen, and when I heard it I immediately thought about Bucky. If you would like to be a part of my new taglist please request. My previous one is now gone. All my stories were not edited or beta’d, so I’m sorry if there is grammar or typo errors.

You knew exactly where he was. The same place he always went to when he needed to think, but this time you weren’t going to let him get away that easy. You and Bucky had an interesting relationship, if you wanted to call it that. You were friends and partners on the field, but you both also had feelings for each other. One moment he would have you up against a wall kissing the hell out of you, and then in the blink of an eye he would be cold and ignore you. But the worst was when you had an amazing night of love and passion together, and then he has completely avoided you since. You knew he was scared, but you were tired of this back and forth game. You were going to confront him once and for all and make him understand that you are both meant to be, and there was nothing to be scared of. You stood in the elevator thinking about what you were going to say. You knew he was going to try and make a haste exit, but you had to stop him and make him listen to you.

When the elevator stopped at the roof, you exited and saw him standing at the railing, overlooking the Avengers Compound property. You slowly walked up to him, waiting for him to turn around. You knew he heard you coming, with the super soldier serum it was difficult to sneak up on him. You saw his shoulders tense as you came closer, causing you to stop.

“Bucky, we need to talk about this,” you say calmly. He drops his head then turns toward you still saying nothing. “You can’t sleep with me and then ignore me,” you say in frustration. “You make me feel…” you stop talking shaking your head.

“We can’t do this Y/N,” he says quietly.

You meet his eyes and see sadness. “Why? You need to give me a pretty damn good reason, because I am tired of this back and forth with you,” you say crossing your arms.

He shakes his head and starts walking toward the building. “I can’t talk about this now,” he says.

You step in front of him to block his path. “No! You can’t keep doing this to me!” You start poking him in the chest. “First you flirt with me, then you get cold towards me, then you kiss me, then you hide from me, then we spend the best night of my life together, and then you run again. I am done playing this game! I know you like me, but you are trying to talk yourself out of it. Why?! What is so wrong with me that you can’t let yourself be with me?!”

Tears are now flowing down your cheeks. Bucky stares at you, shock and regret in his eyes. “I’m sorry I am hurting you, but this is to protect you. I'm not a good enough man for you. I'm seen as a monster, and will bring you down with me with all my baggage! I'll hurt you in the end, and I'll never forgive myself if...when I do,” he says, tears now building in his blue eyes.

“But, you're hurting me now,” you say with a shaky voice. You hear him suck in a breath. You look at him and cup his cheek. “You don’t have to convince me. You don’t have to be scared your not enough, cause what we’ve got going is good,” you say.

He shakes his head sadly and tries to step back, but you take a step closer grabbing his face to make him look at you. “We don’t need more reminders of all that’s been broken. I don’t need you to fix what you'd rather forget. Clear the slate and start over, Bucky. Try to quiet the noises in your head, cause we can’t compete with all that,” you say with a breathy laugh. "Just let it be us and only us."

He smiles at you. “I never thought there'd be someone like you who would want me,” he says, tears now coming down his face. "So I'll give you 10,000 reasons to not let me go."

He grabs your waist and pulls you closer. “But if you really see me, if you like me for me, and nothing else. Then that’s all that I’ve wanted for longer than you could possibly know,” he says as he wraps his arms around you.

He leans his forehead against yours, as you slide your hands around his neck, brushing through the small hairs on his neck. You look at him with a smile. “So can it be us and only us. And what came before won’t count any more or matter. Can we try that?” You ask, as you caress his hair.

He continues to look at you. “I’m scared. What if you change your mind?” he asks, and you see the fear in his eyes.

You peck his lips. “I won’t. It’s not so impossible, just imagine no body else but the two of us here,” you say.

He gives you a small smile. “You’re saying it’s possible?” he asks.

You nod, pulling him closer. “We can just watch the whole world disappear, till you’re the only one I still know how to see,” you whisper.

He smiles and kisses you passionately. When he pulls back he looks into your eyes. “It’s just you and me,” he says quietly.

You hug him and whisper in his ear, “That’s all that we need it to be. The rest of the world falls away, and it’s only us.”

Seriously go listen to that song and tell me it doesn’t scream Bucky Barnes! Feedback is appreciated.

Permanent Taglist: @rebekahdawkins @marajade1974 @missvelvetsstuff @phillygirl77 @pattiemac1 @winterslove1917 @vampire7595

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #Bucky angst #bucky and reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #angst #fluff #friends to lovers #only us

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musings-of-a-rose · 1 year

Text

The Detective and The Thief

Pairing: Detective Tim Rockford x The Thief x f! reader

Word Count: 4300+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: I don’t know. I saw the commercial and thought things. Thanks to @vanemando15 for help! I’m not beta’ing this so please excuse any typos.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Tim Rockford Masterlist

The Thief Masterlist

5 years ago…

I’m bored. Surrounded by the finest things money can buy, but I feel alone. My parents always bought me everything I ever desired, and a lot I didn’t. I think it was their way of compensating for the lack of time the spent with me.

That didn’t stop them from trying to marry me off as soon as possible.

The second I started to bleed, they started planning, trying to “connect” our family with some other ones just as rich. They couldn’t do it legally until I became of age, but that didn’t stop them from trying to force a connection.

But I hated all of them. Every. Single. One.

My parents are at their wits end with me. The time I do see them is spent with them lecturing me about how I’m now 24 and unmarried, how I need to marry this heir or that one for the “good of the family”.

But they’re all the same, boring and mind numbingly stupid. There’s no way I was going to waste my life being arm candy for some heir who couldn’t hold a basic conversation with me.

If they weren’t boring, they were mean, saying women were meant to be seen and not heard. Well, I made sure they heard me.

My parents were out at some weekend event, leaving me alone in this giant mansion. The staff had mostly gone home or retired to their quarters, aside from security, leaving the house feeling empty. I’m feeling bored, deciding to head to the library on the floor below to attempt to find a book I haven’t read already. I pull on my silk robe over my nightgown, sliding my feet into some soft slippers as I make my way out of my room.

It’s about halfway down the stairs when I realize I’m not alone in the house.

A shadow moves down the hall, pausing at the door to my parent’s art gallery. Straining, I just barely can make out the small clicks of the lock being picked before the door silently opens, the dark shadow moving inside. I should run, yell for security, but something compels me forward.

Quietly, I make my way to the gallery, pausing at the door to listen for any signs of the intruder inside. Hearing none, and being impressed with this fact, I push open the door, slinking inside through the gap and closing the door behind me. I tiptoe over 2 isles, where a faint glow was emanating, and pause to see a man, dressed all in black, studying a painting, one I know for a fact is the real deal and not a copy like a lot of these.

“I’m impressed. No one has ever been able to creep up on me before.”

He straightens up and turns to face me, the minimal light casting shadows across his form. But the parts I can see causes my breath to catch in my throat.

He’s beautiful. Big dark eyes stare through me, his head cocking to the side as he continues to study me and my continued silence.

“Ah. You are the mistress of the house, yes?”

“I-I am. Well, the non conforming daughter, anyway.” Why did I tell him that?

A smirk tugs on his face. “Non conforming, huh? What, did you tell your daddy you didn’t want a black pony but a brown one?”

“More like I don’t want to marry some man who is ignorant, mean, and frankly dull, just to connect our money to theirs.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “A rebel.”

I shrug. “I don’t want to waste my life playing bored arm candy to some heir who will only look at me when he wants to fuck me.”

He chuckles and it’s one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve heard. “That would be a terrible fate for such an interesting woman.”

I nod towards the painting he had been observing. “You’re right. That one’s real. The rest in this section are highly accurate fakes.”

The man glances back at the painting before looking at me. “I am going to take this, you know?”

I nod. “I figured that’s why you were studying it so intently. Don’t want to steal a fake. You should go down about another 2 doors. The stairs there will lead you to the jewel safe room.”

He smirks. “I have already been there.” He shifts and I see a bag, obviously full of items from our house. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He turns, gently lifting the small painting from the wall and starts to prepare it to be moved, his deft fingers gliding over it so as not to disturb it. Once finished, he gathers up his gear and turns to me, giving me a nod.

“Goodnight, miss. Don’t ever conform.”

He walks past me, barely making a sound. He’s almost to the door before I find my voice.

“Take me.”

He pauses, hand hovering over the doorhandle, his head turning to speak to me over his shoulder.

“What?”

“You say you’re the greatest thief. What better prize to steal than this billionaire’s daughter?”

He turns to me, smirking. “You would want to come with me? To live your life with a thief?”

I nod. “I cannot stand it here. I was already thinking of ways to get away from this life, and then you broke in, taking my entire attention. Or stealing my attention.”

He chuckles, closing the distance between us. He crooks his finger, gently tipping my chin up to look at him and I swallow hard.

“I will not force you to do anything you do not want. Think about what you’re saying before choosing this life.”

“I don’t need to think. I’m yours.”

—----

Present Day…

The first few years with Mateo, commonly known as The Thief, were amazing. I traveled the world with him, using my knowledge of the world of the wealthy to help him gain access to places he normally wouldn’t. I never directly stole anything, something we were both adamant about, but I would help him unlock societal doors.

The time he wasn’t spending on thieving or planning his next heist he spent between my legs, pulling sounds from me I never knew I could make. I was utterly in love with Mateo. As corny as it sounds, he had stolen my heart.

Which makes trying to get away from him the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

I was growing tired. My parents had looked for me for about a year before giving up. But once I was spotted by someone who knew me, laughing it up at a party for Mateo to get access to their vaults, my parents resumed their chase. I’m not sure they were at all concerned for my safety, moreso for me to fullfill my familial duty and marry an heir.

Mateo and I spent more time avoiding my parents reach, starting a rift between us. He was never violent with me, never screamed or yelled, but we definitely had arguments and I could tell he was tiring of the weight of my parents pulling him down.

I suppose that’s what made him sloppy one night, accidentally leaving behind one of his tools next to a jewel safe. Luckily, he always wears gloves, but that didn’t stop him from being livid, and although he’d never admit it, terrified at being caught.

I can’t back out, can’t leave him. He won’t let me, saying I know too much about him and his process, having never revealed it to anyone. It didn’t matter how much I promised him I would say nothing, that I would make up a story to my parents about searching for an heir on my own without their influence.

“I told you to think before you left with me that night.”

“I didn’t know it would be like this! You’ve changed, Mateo.”

Anger flashes in Mateo’s eyes. “I am a thief, querida. What did you think this life would be like?”

—----

Somehow, one day I managed to stray from my routine, saying I needed extra time to make the connection to open those societal doors. He had no reason to doubt me, but I still saw slight suspicion in his eyes, a look that had never been there before.

I stand in front of an office building, several stories tall and set back away from the main streets. I glance back down at the paper I’ve been clutching in my hand to double check the address. Walking up to the intercom, I scan the list of names, pushing the button of the one I needed. The intercom buzzes and a voice comes over the speaker, static nearly cutting out some words.

“Rockford.”

“Uh, hi. I found your name in the paper?”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Um, no. I wasn’t able to-”

“You’ll have to make an appointment-”

“Please, sir. I..I don’t think I’ll be able to come back.”

There’s a pause before the door buzzes and I slide inside, heading up a few flights of stairs after seeing the elevator was out of order. I find the door labeled TIM ROCKFORD, PI and knock.

“Come in.”

I enter, taking in the small office space. There’s a small bathroom at the back but otherwise there’s just enough space for a desk, some filing cabinets, a couple chairs, and a couch, which I could tell was doubling as a bed. I couldn’t blame him. I may have money but even I knew rent was ridiculously high, especially in these bigger cities.

“Tim Rockford.” I look up at the man and have to swallow back a lump in my throat. He looks so like Mateo that for a moment, I thought he was. I tell him my name and we shake hands, Tim motioning towards a chair.

“Please. Have a seat.”

I sit, nerves lighting up my body.

“What seems to be the issue, miss? Husband stepping out on you? Lost your favorite necklace to the maid?”

I can’t blame him for the snide tone. I look the part of a bored, rich housewife because that’s what I had been destined to become. I’d hate me too.

I take a deep sigh. “I’m in deep. 3 years ago, I ran off with a man who captured my heart. Everything was great until my parents started following us.”

He nods, taking a note. “And you want me to what, tell your rich parents to stop looking for probably their only child?”

Damn he’s good. “Not..not exactly-”

He sighs. “Listen, I don’t have time to placate you rich elitists while us lower people are having real problems. If you want your parents to stop bothering you, you’ll have to tell them your-”

“I know who The Thief is.”

Silence.

“You what?” His eyes bore into me, trying to detect a lie.

“That’s who I ran off with. The Thief.”

“The Thief. You mean The Thief? The one that’s been plaguing all the major houses across, well across the globe?”

I nod. “Yes. Him.”

“Tell me everything.”

So I do. I tell him how we met, how I’ve been helping him get in social circles, everything except where he is and what his name is. Rockford’s eyes grow wider the more I tell him, scribbling notes furiously.

“And you just do this for him? Voluntarily?”

“Yes.”

His eyes meet mine and he cocks his head to the side. “Why?”

I let out a breath, puffing out over my lips, a sadness in my eyes. “Because I love him.”

He studies me a few moments longer. “Does he love you back?”

“I…he did at one time. Now? I’m not so sure. It’s hard to reach him.”

“Does he leave you often?”

I nod. “We’re usually together, but often he will leave me.”

“Do you think he’s cheating on you?”

“I don’t…I don’t think so. Not really. But that’s not why I’m here.”

He nods, making more notes. “You’re here because, what? You want out but don’t want to face jail time?”

“I’ve never stolen anything.”

“You were an accomplice.”

“All I did was forge connections. Mateo figured out the rest.”

“He’s an intelligent man.”

I smile. “He’s the smartest man I’ve ever met. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with him.”

“So what do you want then, miss?”

I watch Tim’s face for several moments, the way he chews on the inside of his cheek, his shoulders shifting slightly, tugging at the seams of his shirt.

“I want him to realize who he is and to accept it. His fate.”

Tim nods. “Even if that means putting him behind bars?”

“Whatever it takes to help him realize who he is.”

Tim nods, taking a few more notes. “Ok, well first thing - is there another heist planned?”

I nod. “Tonight at the Wellmen estate. He’s got it all planned already.”

“Do you know what his plans are?”

“Some. He doesn’t always tell me everything. I know he’s going to try and steal the blue diamond necklace that Mr. Wellmen has locked in his 4 layer safe room.”

“How does he plan on getting in?”

“Well, I’ve made the connections with the Wellmen’s so it won’t be odd for me to make plans to have dinner with the family to remove them from the home. After that, I believe he plans on sneaking in through some security holes and doing his magic once inside.”

“So basically, I’m on my own to figure that out once the family is gone.”

I nod. “You’re going in after him?”

“That’s the plan.” He stands, reaching behind him to grab a shoulder holster and starts to loop his arms through it.

“What will you do if you find him?”

“As you said, miss. Help him realize who he is.”

—----

Tim shows up at the Wellmen estate, parking his car several blocks down and walking the rest of the way. He stays hidden, keeping an eye on the time. He sees the front gates open, a fancy car driving out, gates closing behind it. Another glance at his watch tells him that’s the Wellmen’s on their way to meet you for dinner at the restaurant.

Tim had pulled the city plans for the estate from his contact in City Hall, finding the hole that The Thief had no doubt found as well. He made his way to the crack in the perimeter, sneaking inside. There were a few guards, but nothing he couldn’t slip past. Once he was inside, he paused, taking in the room and thankful that he’d memorized the blueprints.

Suddenly, he sees a dark shape move at the end of the hall, going the same direction as the safe room. Tim crouches, following with enough distance so as not to disturb The Thief, but close enough to see him steal the jewel. They continue this cat and mouse game down the hall and down another flight of stairs before the room arrives. Tim has to admit, he’s impressed by The Thief, managing to keep to the shadows this entire time - no easy feat.

Several minutes pass since he’d seen the shadow slip inside the room, but nothing came out. He knew there was only one way in and out of the room. Maybe The Thief had run into some trouble? This would make his job of catching him even easier.

Tim quietly made his way to the safe room door, checking his gun was ready and loaded before gently pushing open the door a crack. Hearing nothing, he pushes open the door, pointing his gun around the room as he scans it for The Thief.

To his surprise, the room is empty. No people, and, glancing in the glass case in front of him, no jewel. But how? He had seen The Thief enter the room and not exit, no other way in or out. No secret doors would have been possible with this layout. So where was The Thief? Where was the jewel?

The door opened behind him and Tim spun around, aiming his gun at the doorway. His eyes grow wide and he lowers his weapon as he sees you standing there, hands up.

“Miss? What are you doing here?”

A sad smile is tugging at her lips. “I’m here to support you.”

Tim shakes his head. “You can’t be here. The Thief, he’s here and I don’t know where. I don’t want him to hurt you.”

She takes a step closer to Tim. “I know where he is.”

Tim is nervous now. Had they been playing him all along? Good thing he left notice with his contact should anything happen to him.

“Where is he then?”

Another step closer. “He’s here.”

Tim glances around quickly before looking back at her. “The only ones here are us. Unless there’s a secret door?” His eyebrows raise in question at her.

She shakes her head sadly. “No. No secret door.”

“Secret room? Is he waiting for me to leave?”

She’s only a step or 2 away from Tim now. “No. He’s here.”

Tim shakes his head. “But… I don’t-”

She reaches her hand out, gently cupping his cheek. “Mateo, it’s me. You’re here.”

His eyebrows knit together. “Mateo? Who’s Mateo? I-I don’t…” His head starts to hurt a little, like something tugging at the corner of his mind.

She smiles sadly again, her thumb gently stroking his cheek. “You. You are Mateo, the greatest thief in the world.”

Tim grabs her wrist, pulling her hand away from his face. “What are you on about?”

“It’s you. You are The Thief.”

His head hurts more, a throbbing starting to build behind his eyes. “You’re crazy.”

“Am I? Did you see anyone come in here?”

“I did! I saw…I saw…” Playing back the memory, Tim realized he’d only seen a shadowy figure, nothing ever clear or concrete. He’d assumed, based on her time schedule and the shadow’s movements, that it was The Thief.

“I don’t…I’m not…”

“Check your coat pocket.”

Tim looked at her, trying to hide the fear in his eyes as he starts to pad himself down. His fingers bump against a round lump and his eyes grow wide as he fishes out the blue diamond necklace. He holds it up and studies it, his head now pounding and his vision throbbing.

“I don’t understand…I…what…what is happening?”

She steps forward, gently taking his hand and placing the other on his cheek, turning his head to look at her.

“You had an accident, baby. When you took the crown from the Goldman’s?”

Tim shakes his head. “I don’t…I…an accident?”

She nods. “Yes, baby. You…you came back a different person. A detective named Tim Rockford, saying it was inevitable, that The Thief would be caught. That he’d finally left behind a clue and it would all come crashing down.”

Tim looks down at the necklace in his hand before looking into her eyes. “I left behind a tool. My favorite lockpick.”

She nods, smiling warmly now. “Yes! Yes, that’s it, baby!”

The more he stares into her eyes, the more he remembers, but it’s hard to think with the pounding in his head, his vision starting to black out.

“I…I am Mateo?”

“You are. You’re the greatest Thief the world has ever known.”

“And you…you love me?”

Tears fall from her eyes now and he reaches out to wipe them away. She leans into his touch, nodding. “I love you more than anything, Mateo.”

Her eyes are the last thing he remembers before he blacks out.

—----

After I pulled him from the Wellmen estate, I brought him back to our place, watching over him as he slept, worried that the realization that he’d broken would cause him to never wake, that I’d really, truly, lose him forever.

He was out for 3 days. On the third day, I heard him muttering in his sleep, his fingers twitching before his eyes blinked open, scanning the room. I rush to him, tossing aside the plate of food I’d been nibbling on.

“Mateo?” I sit next to him on the bed, placing my hand over his and squeezing gently.

He blinks, turning his head slowly and looking at me, a dawning realization washing over him.

“You are here?”

I feel tears on my cheeks and I furiously wipe at them. “I am. I would never leave you, Mateo.”

His hand reaches out for me and I lean closer, feeling his hand slide around the back of my head, pulling me close to him. His lips meet mine and the damn in me breaks, all of the tears I’ve held back over the last years bubbling to the surface. He pulls back and looks up at me, concern on his face.

“Querida, no crying. I am here. I think. My head still hurts a little.”

I nod, swallowing back more tears.

“What happened, querida?”

I explain that when he’d left behind his lockpick, he’d had a mental break in reality, so convinced he’d be caught that he made up an entirely different personality, a detective named Tim Rockford. He made up an entirely separate life, even going so far as to secure an office space, where he’d sleep on the couch. I had no clue how to help him, so for a while, I’d just follow him, making sure he was ok. Mateo didn’t know how to handle the fear of being caught, which made him more hostile and distrusting towards me. I knew I could’t bring in anyone official, as he’d have gotten arrested immediately and wouldn’t receive any sort of care. I couldn’t let that happen to the man who rescued me from mediocrity, the man who’s greatest achievement was stealing my heart.

So I came up with a plan to help Rockford catch the world famous Thief. He’d want the glory of catching the uncatchable, and hopefully I could have him face Mateo, realizing that they were the same person. I’d hoped that this would meld him mind back together.

I had no clue what I was doing, and I knew there was a strong chance I’d fuck him up for life, but I had read some books and I was desperate, having no other choice.

So I set up a heist with the Wellmen’s. It wasn’t difficult to work my way into their circle, as I apparently reminded them so much of their estranged daughter. It was easy to lure them away with the prospect of dinner at a fancy, hard to get into restaurant across town.

And then I went to Rockford, telling him everything but The Thief’s name, figuring that hearing his true name too early would’ve messed it up, made him not believe me. So I sent Rockford the blueprints of the house and the timeline, hoping he’d go for it. Which he did, even seeing a “shadow” of The Thief moving about the house, his mind completely convinced he was about to catch the greatest Thief of all time.

When he felt that stone in his pocket, the 2 minds melded back together and his brain needed time to process what was happening. I took him back to our temporary hideout and cared for him while he was out, terrified that he’d never wake up.

When I finished telling him what happened, he sat up, taking my hands in his and kissing the back of them.

“Marry me, querida.”

“I- what?”

“I should’ve asked you that night in your art gallery. I knew I was in trouble when I saw your eyes and instantly fell for you. Once you started talking and I saw you weren’t just another spoiled rich girl, I was done for. I was relieved when you begged to come with me because I was seconds away from begging you myself. And now? After putting you through hell for years, you come up with this plan to not only avoid putting me behind bars, but to save me from myself? I cannot see my life without you, querida.”

“Are you truly back with me?”

He nods, eyes wide like a puppy. “I am here.”

“Oh, Mateo. I’ve been yours since that night too. I never want to leave you.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Oh- yes!”

“Do me a favor and open that drawer and bring me the striped socks.”

“I- ok?” I cross to the dresser, pulling out the balled up socks he’d requested and handed it to him. He opened them up, pulling out a simple ring that I had made comment about loving only a couple months after I had left with him.

“I kept this in case you ever felt the same about me as I did for you.” He holds it up and takes my hand, sliding it on my ring finger.

I straddle him, kissing him deeply as he holds me to him, finally being able to tell him how I’ve felt after all these years and finding he feels the same for me.

We marry at the courthouse the next day, just missing the police by a few hours, smiling at each other as we made our way to the next heist.

—----

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#Tim rockford #tim rockford x f!reader #The Thief #The thief x f!reader #pedro pascal #the thief x you #tim rockford x reader #the thief fanfic #casillero del diablo #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character ff #pedro pascal characters #tim rockford x you #tim rockford fanfic

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an-unknown-writers-world · 1 year

Text

Are you mad? ~ A Jake “Hangman” Seresin Drabble

Summary: Loosely based on the Brett Young song Can’t Sleep Without You

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, implied smutty ending (not written), mostly unedited so please ignore the typos

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 690

A/N: Meh, this isn’t my best work. But I’ve been struggling on the writing front and wanted to get something out.

“Are you mad? You look mad.” You asked timidly, sitting in the passenger seat of Jake’s truck.

“I’m not mad.” He responded softly.

“Your jaw is clenched, and your face is screwed up like your mad.”

“I’m annoyed, not mad.” He tried to clarify.

A few moments of silence passed between the two of you. Each time you drove under a streetlight or a car passed in the opposite direction, you could see the lingering frustration on Jake’s face. You knew that he had had a long week at work and the last thing he wanted to do was bail you out of trouble.

You and Natasha had gone out to The Hard Deck, and Bradley and Jake had declined the offers to tag along, leaving it to a girl’s night. One thing led to another; both of you had drank more than you should have. When a pair of guys wouldn’t take no for an answer from you and Phoenix, you resulted in something other than words. A thrown drink and a punch to the face later, they were both thrown from the bar, and Penny called Bradley and Jake to come to pick up their wives.

“You still look mad.” You muttered.

“I’m NOT mad! But I will be if you keep asking!” Jake raked his hand over his face. “I’m sorry.” He spoke again, this time in a softer tone. “I’m annoyed with how disgusting men can be and that I allowed myself to put you in a situation where I couldn’t protect you. I know you’re a grown woman who can care for yourself. But as your husband, it kills me to know that something like this would have never happened if I had just been there with you.”

He reached across the center console of his truck and laid his hand on your thigh.

“I know you had a long week. I’m sorry Penny had to wake you to come get me.”

This made him chuckle, “Oh babe, I can’t sleep without you. Even if I tried, I would just toss and turn, waiting for you to come home.”

“Jake, you know I would have stayed home if you would have just asked.” You said, intertwining your fingers with his.

“I know,” He pulled your intertwined hands up to his lips and kissed the back of your hand. “That’s why I didn’t ask. I meant it when I told you to have a good time tonight. As long as I know I’m the one you’re coming home to, I’m happy. You work so hard and spend too much of your time doting on me. You deserve a night out, especially a girl’s night.”

He pulled into the driveway, letting go of your hand long enough to throw the truck in park and remove the keys from the ignition.

“Can you do me a favor?” Jake asked. “Next time, let Jimmy or Penny know what’s going on before it gets to the point of drink-throwing. Call me or text me. Hell, you could call Bradshaw if that would help.”

You giggled. “So the next time I need help, I should call Bradley?”

Jake shook his head, smiling; he knew what you were trying to do. He leaned forward and kissed you chastely. “I’m being serious,” He said, resting his forehead against your own. “I was worried when I saw Penny calling. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

“I promise,” You murmured, “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I worry about you every time you’re out of arms reach. It’s my job as your husband.” He chuckled, “You realize how accident-prone you are, right?”

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

Before he could speak again, you closed the distance between you and kissed him. You nipped at his bottom lip, begging to deepen the kiss. Your fingers threaded through the hair at the base of his neck. His hand cradled the side of your face. You didn’t intend for it to turn into anything, at least not at first.

“Take me to bed, lieutenant.” You whispered once the kiss broke.

A/N: If you’ve made it this far - thank you so so so much for reading! My Masterlist can be found here. All work is also available on AO3

#Jake Seresin x Reader #Jake Hangman Seresin X Reader #Hangman x Reader #Jake Seresin Reader Insert #Hangman Reader Insert #Jake Seresin Imagine #Hangman Imagine #Jake Seresin Fanfiction #Hangman Fanfiction #Top Gun Maverick x Reader #Top Gun x Reader #Top Gun maverick Reader insert #Top gun reader insert #top gun maverick imagine #top gun imagine #An Unknown Writers World writes

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mcheang · 6 months

Text

The stone among diamonds

Yeah, Lila has an overinflated ego if she thinks she’s going to be invited to an upper class party because she’s a model. Only those born in prominent families are invited and Mrs Rossi clearly wasn’t. She overestimated herself and got too pushy.

When Kagami told Lila about the diamond dance and the latter expressed surprise at not being invited, Kagami’s answer was blunt.

“Of course not. You may be a model for Gabriel, Lila, but this dance is for those with connections, not for every model. Adrien is coming because he’s Gabriel’s heir. My family is ancient Japanese nobility. Chloe’s father is the mayor. If you do want to come, you should ask your mother. She’s the ambassador right? She should be invited. I know a few political diplomats who were.”

Lila feigned a smile, knowing full well her mother’s job was nowhere near prestigious enough for an invitation. “She did receive it but she rejected it. She’s never been one for parties. And it was just one invite.”

Kagami: oh, then I’m not sure what you can do. You can ask Gabriel if you may attend in your mother’s place.

Lila: I’ll be sure to do that. Besides, as the face of the Gabriel brand, I’m sure I’ll merit my own invitation

Kagami: don’t hold your breath on that count. You also have to have a rich background.

Lila: are you saying I look poor?

Kagami: no, but my mother trained me to watch for those who have money

Lila is annoyed. She calls Gabriel to get her invitation but he ignores her. Ugh! One way or another she is getting to that party.

But wait, wasn’t Zoe going to the movies with Marinette? As the daughter of style queen, she is sure to have an invitation.

Sure enough, Zoe doesn’t mind giving her invitation to Lila, who says she lost her own and Gabriel is too busy to bother.

At the party, Lila is all for schmoozing with the guests. She would have preferred the adults but the party was clearly divided between adults and kids.

To Lila’s dismay, her own introduction as the face of Gabriel and the daughter of an ambassador wasn’t impressive enough for these people. It wasn’t until she spun her usual lies of knowing Jagged Stone and Prince Ali that she actually got anywhere. (And even then the snobs were not impressed with her charity work, just her connections)

Another guest overheard and walked over. “Excuse me, is it true you worked with Prince Ali? I’m a fan of his work. Might I know your name, please?”

Lila smirked. “Lila Rossi. I worked with Ali on multiple projects and parties.”

The stranger unmasked himself. “I am Prince Ali of Achu, and I have never met you before in my life.” He paged his chaperone.

Soraya walked over. “What is going on here?”

Ali gestured to Lila. “I believe we do have a party crasher.”

Another guest called for security in a loud voice, drawing attention from the rest of the room.

The security drones analysed Lila’s mask and announced it belonged to Zoe Lee.

Chloe pushed her way over and gaped. “Lilo, what are you doing here?” (This is not a typo. Chloe actually called Lila Lilo during Confrontation)

Lila gritted her teeth. “Your sister lent me her invitation when I lost mine. As for this lying accusation, I wasn’t referring to Prince Ali, but another one from Egypt.”

Except the guests she had been trying to impress called her out on her lies.

Guest: isn’t she the alliance Lila?

Lila exhaled in relief. Perhaps her fame could still save her.

Soraya scowled at Gabriel. “You have made a disappointing choice, Gabriel.”

Guest: what a wannabe. I am so changing my alliance avatar.

Seeing the crowd murmuring in front and the adults whispering behind, Gabriel addressed the situation at hand. “I am aware of Lila’s behavior, that was why I had planned to announce at my diamond dance that Kagami would be taking her place.” Tomoe subtly activated the screens showing the new changes, simultaneously having all alliance rings updated.

Lila’s jaw dropped. Her fame gone, just like that. She was tempted to expose Gabriel for hiring her to spy on his son but she doubt it would change much in the face of all these snobs.

Soraya glared at Lila. “Whatever other claims you have made about Prince Ali, we will find out. Prepare yourself for a lawsuit.”

Surrounded by hostile faces, Lila looked for friendly faces.

Chloe wasn’t going to stand up for her.

Kagami was shocked at Lila’s appearance and the revelation that she was a liar.

Felix already knew Lila was a spy and was fine with her current predicament.

Gabriel just fired her. “Escort the Miss wearing Zoe Lee’s mask out of my party.”

Lila was practically boxed in by 4 drones. Chloe snapped a photo because it was kind of funny

Meanwhile as Kagami protested having their avatars be in a romantic relationship, Felix revealed himself.

Cue Canon ending

Now, Rose received word from Ali asking what she knew about Lila. She was shocked that her friend was a liar and that Marinette was telling the truth. Did this mean that Marinette was indeed framed?

Rose calls Marinette to apologize and suggest that they tell Miss Bustier. However Marinette tells Rose that both teacher and principal know the truth. However Lila used the same reason Rose kept her illness a secret to keep them from telling the class.

Rose: this can’t be how it ends. Ali will expose Lila in public, it will be on the news, she can’t hide it then.

Indeed, Lila knew she couldn’t. So it was time to become Cerise once again and abandon Lila.

But Monarch has not seen the last of her. Neither has Prince Ali.

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #Lila gets exposed #Lila is exposed

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writefightandflightclub · 9 months

Note

I have to know if Santi and Frankie are awkward around each other after the events of Captain of the Team. Or if they’re friends with benefits now? Or only do the dirty when Will invites them over?

Please ignore if you don’t care to answer lol if you can’t tell I’m forever obsessed with this fic. 💙💙💙💙💙💙

Author’s note: Ozzie! Oh my goodness! I love this request! Thanks so much for sending this. I rly enjoyed exploring CotT more and I’d be so up for future blurbs stemming from that universe. For your request, I had a quick think about various ways it couldda feasibly gone down between these two in the aftermath of ALL THAT, and this was the first semi-plausible scenario that came to me. By no means definitive, as I can see it happening in a range of ways. I absolutely blitzed this in excitement also, so apologies if it’s incoherent / full of typos / OOC. The more I think about it the more convinced I am that Frankie is the perfect foil to all of Santi’s hang-ups and I love them together so much!

P.s. If you don’t know what the game Buckaroo is I’m so sorry and you’ll see why.

Summary: this blurb follows on after the events of my Triple Frontier poly! Fic, Captain of the Team (spoilers for that fic follow from here, stop reading if you’d rather read that first) which involves Will + Santiago + Frankie x reader, and Frankie x Santi.

Relationship: this fic focusses on Frankie x Santi, in the aftermath of Captain of the Team. Hints of Santi x reader also, in the present and also references to a past relationship. Refs to 4-way poly.

POV: Frankie’s POV

Warnings: sexual themes and smut references but no full smut. Everything else typical of my characterisation of these two. FEEL FREE TO CORRECT MY SPANISH. Sorry for any mistakes.

Solid ground: (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x Francisco “Catfish” Morales)

“Hey.”

It’s unusual, Frankie notes, that Santi didn’t stand to hug him upon arrival, but he chooses not to address it.

Instead, Santi takes an exaggerated slurp of his coffee, via the inadequate little mouthpiece of the disposable cup. He then folds his arms tightly around himself, hands tucked under his pits and nipples visible beneath the fabric of his thin cotton tee. Either the bastard’s self-soothing because of this imminent conversation, Frankie surmises, or he’s cold. It’s not even cold, but Santiago thrives on warmth. Frankie could swear he’d even complained of feeling chilly in the tropics one time, with the midday sun blasting down on him and everything.

“You cold, hermano?” Frankie teases, settling his lanky legs astride his side of the picnic table. Taking his jacket off without thinking and tossing it over to Santiago.

The bastard’s face twists beneath the brim of his cap, and yet he still takes it, eagerly shoving his arms into the sleeves and tugging it around him.

After recent events, the sight of Santiago wearing his coat certainly hits different, in a way he isn’t prepared for, and it kills any good-natured, teasing chuckle which otherwise may have erupted in his throat.

“So,” Frankie begins. “What’s up?”

Frankie is, evidently, itching to get straight to business.

Santiago had convened this hang. A pre-work coffee in the park. One-on-one. Perfectly normal, under other circumstances; but under these circumstances, it all felt a little… clandestine.

“Nothing much,” Santi bristles. “What would be up?”

Frankie closes his eyes. Steels himself against Santiago’s typical knee-jerk responses. He gets this kinda way when emotions are involved. For all his confidence, he’s deeply insecure. Afraid of anything too real. Afraid of not being enough. Frankie’s learned this the hard way, from years of watching him spin-out in every single relationship so far. Having watched him self-sabotage. Witnessing him ending things before they’d even begun so that his partner could never hope to leave him first, for that’s always what he believed - to the depths of him - was coming.

Fuck. He’d done that with you, and oh boy, he’d loved you.

Loves you, in fact.

“Oh. I dunno,” Frankie says casually, taking an altogether more casual swig of the coffee Santi proffers, sliding the second cup across to Frankie with the back of his hand. Frankie tastes it, and it’s not lost on him that Santiago remembered his order. “Thought you might want to talk about how we fucked last week.”

Santiago looks thoroughly scandalised for a moment, and Frankie can’t help it when his mouth lilts up with a smile.

Shit. Did he really think that wouldn’t come up?

“Why would I wanna talk about that, huh?” Santi’s brow is heavy, face drawn down.

Great. He’s getting defensive; which sure as hell means he’s feeling vulnerable. He’s shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He’s taking an aggressive sip of his coffee again. It would be a little funny - if it wasn’t so desperately sad.

So many people have had so much love to give Santiago over the years, Frankie reflects, and yet bestowing it upon him has almost had to be done by stealth, every time. It’s sorta like playing Buckaroo, Frankie figures. (That game where you place pieces of luggage on a plastic donkey until the weight eventually trips the mechanism and back hoofs everything off?) Yeah. Exactly. It’s like waiting for Santiago to drop-kick your gently applied love to shit, because inevitably, he suddenly decides he’s over-encumbered by it. Worried that he can’t possibly bear the burden.

Frankie frowns. Actually, he doesn’t like to think about donkeys so much, he decides. Not after the fucking Lorea job.

Anyway.

Instead: “Hey,” he says soothingly, and Santiago’s eyes snap up to his, warm but toughened. “Don’t be weird. It’s okay.”

Frankie knows what he needs, right? Prides himself on it. Knows how to take care of this bastard better than anyone does. Always has. Has done it by stealth, mostly - though sometimes overtly. Hasn’t been drop-kicked too many times for it either. He’d seemed, over the years, to be able to get away with things other couldn’t. He’s always felt kinda special because of that.

Given that fact then, Frankie decides that maybe he can be slightly bolder. Reaches his hand out towards Santiago’s own, and places it right on top.

A hard swallow dips down Santiago’s throat, but he doesn’t pull it away. He’s drawn towards warmth, after all. Always seeking out a little heat.

Frankie feels a warm jug of honey tip itself through his middle as his skin makes contact with Santiago’s. Decides that he can afford to get a little bolder again. Circles his thumb into Santiago’s wrist, in a way that definitely crosses beyond merely “friendly”.

“You look good in my jacket, pendejo,” Frankie purrs, and he deeply enjoys the crimson heat which blooms across Santiago’s cheeks - in the moment before he snatches his hand away.

Frankie’s not usually a flirt. Wouldn’t normally push it. Can’t ordinarily get his words out, instead opting for the pine and then die approach. But, there’s something about Santiago which makes all of this unfamiliar territory feel eminently comfortable. He wants to do the same for him - to help him break new ground without freaking out - but he also doesn’t want to push it.

Doesn’t want to push him.

The man doesn’t react well to being pushed. He’s already halfway out of everything he’s in, and that makes him far too easy to topple.

Frankie wants more out of this, he knows that much. But it occurs to him then, in a moment of panic, that Santiago might not. Or, even worse, and far more likely; that he does want more, but that he’ll do everything in his power to avoid admitting it.

Santiago has gone to great lengths to avoid his feelings before, after all - and so many of his “solutions” have included a goddamn one-way plane ticket.

“Pope,” Frankie begins, looking outward across the park so as to avoid Santiago feeling too boxed in. A tactic he’s deployed many times before when he’s needed to have tricky words with him. “Maybe we should talk about this.”

He glances at Santi briefly - risks it - and sees the fat vein throbbing relentlessly in his forehead. Can imagine his whole body similarly pulsing. Seeing his visible agitation, Frankie gives him time, taking another very deliberate and drawn-out swig of his coffee. Laboriously pondering - with a thinly feigned interest - the activities of the golden lab fetching sticks across the way.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” Santiago bites off after a while, and Frankie tries to obscure the way those words slice through him to his core. Now, he finds that he can’t look back at Santiago, albeit for completely different reasons than before.

Frankie takes a deep, calming breath. Avoids knee-jerk reactions. Tries to remember that this guy rarely says what he means. Starts to wonder, bitterly, if Santiago being so adept at knee-jerk reactions has cumulatively contributed to his joint problems; and then, he bites his lip to avoid saying that out-loud. Instead then, Frankie thinks. Pauses. Turns his body to face Santiago again and waits, until the man finally dares to peek up from under the brim of his cap. Only then does he speak what’s on his mind. Only then does he say what he needs to say, and, regardless of whether Santiago wants to hear it - he needs to. “I don’t regret anything,” Frankie says levelly. As clearly and calmly as possible. “Are you listening? I know what I felt in that room -with you- and I own it. I enjoyed what we did.” He lets the words bed down into Santiago. Knows that his cool, calm authority is just enough to command the space. Enough to avoid the little bastard interjecting before he is done. “I also value our friendship, and I don’t want to put that on the line. So… whatever you want from here goes, okay?”

Frankie genuinely thinks for a moment that he’s nailed it - but he should have known that his buddy wouldn’t be quite so easy to satisfy.

“Whatever I want from here?” Santiago openly scoffs.

“Yeah,” Frankie soothes, searching the other man’s turbulent brown eyes, expression soft and unblinking.

However, as he does so, Frankie suddenly has the awful, dawning feeling that -oh shit- he’s about to be drop-kicked.

“You know what I want from here? I think I want to leave this conversation,” Santi snipes. “This whole thing was clearly a fucking mistake.”

Frankie dares not ask whether Santiago means this conversation, or the whole damn thing. Frankie had been sincere, as per usual, when he’d said he regretted nothing, and pain flashes in his eyes and his gut at the notion Santiago might feel altogether differently.

Of course, though, he thinks. Of course Santiago can’t have a rational conversation about all of this. Has to fly off the handle before Frankie can possibly hope to establish what he truly feels.

So then, with a deep sigh, Frankie watches Santiago stand, the man apparently so in the habit of indulging his own bullshit that he can’t even stop for a fucking second.

“Cabrón,” Frankie says tiredly, standing too as he watches Santiago gather up his things, shoving the items angrily into his pockets.

Jesus.

Frankie suddenly has immense empathy for everything you’d had to deal with when you and Santiago had been together. He had a tendency towards the dramatic, that was for sure. He was also a stubborn bastard, determined to prove himself right. Even if that meant, ultimately, proving he wasn’t good enough for you after all by behaving that way.

Frankie grits his teeth, trying his best not to lose his temper - a rare thing for him as it was, but Santiago certainly testing his patience by being thoroughly infuriating. However, Frankie knows him well enough to know a reaction is exactly what he wants. A reaction so he can blame Frankie. A reaction so that he has an excuse to cut this short. So that he doesn’t actually have to deal with… whatever this is. With whatever he is feeling.

With a huff, then, Santiago next attempts to strip off Frankie’s kindly offered jacket and god; that’s the last straw to him. “Idiota. Eres un maldito burra,” Frankie growls - you’re a fucking donkey- and he strides right up to him, grabbing him squarely by the lapels and forcefully clasping the jacket shut before the bastard can wriggle himself - and his shapely boobs - out of it. “Would you just keep the damn jacket on,” Frankie spits. “There’s no need for you to be fucking cold.”

Frankie’s aggressively delivered kindness appears to shock Santi into submission and silence at least, his eyes going wide and his tongue quitting its wagging long enough to skim along his lower lip as slowly as spark along fuse. And, he does indeed halt his attempts to strip off. However, his nostrils do also flare in annoyance and he shrugs the taller man off of him, turning - dramatically - and marching directly towards his truck.

This dramatic exit leaves Frankie muttering under his breath, spitting expletives in all his tongues. His elbows cutting a sharp shape as he shoves one hand into the back pocket of his jeans, palm towards cheek, and the other palm slipping down his face in exasperation.

Jesus fucking christ.

Where did he go so wrong, huh? He knows this guy. Knows what he needs. Always has. Right? Unless the harsh truth of it is that, even after the impassioned melding of their bodies, Frankie actually doesn’t know Santiago half as well as he thinks.

Frankie thinks on that for a moment, his hand sliding over his scruff.

But.. it just doesn’t sit right with him. Doesn’t sit right because… no. That can’t be right.

There isn’t anybody else who comes close to having Santiago figured out - expect maybe you - and he’s damn sure he can get to the bottom of this. Therefore, suddenly feeling confident again - and determined not to put up with this utter nonsense - Frankie does indeed figure it out. Realises exactly where he’d gone wrong.

Frankie hastens, chasing the man down at a jog until he’s caught up on his little-legged strides. Rounds on his truck, and, as Santiago reaches towards the door handle, he flips around to face Frankie, a disdainful expression on his face.

Frankie doesn’t even wait for whatever bullshit is about to come out of Santiago’s mouth. Instead, he slowly but commandingly walks forward, shoving Santiago back. Pinning his back firmly to the vehicle, pressing him there firmly with the full length of his body. Frankie’s palms press to the glass either side of Santiago’s head. Boxing him in.

Frankie confirms it as he watches Santiago’s pupils blow-out with desire. As he catches the hard swallow dipping down his neck.

Frankie knows exactly where he’d gone wrong now, for sure.

He’d made the mistake you simply can’t make with Santiago. Frankie saying “whatever you want” was the worst thing he could have done, he realises. Because if you leave this insecure bastard to fill in the gaps? He’ll assume you don’t want him at all. You can’t leave him to say it first, or he never will.

Therein lies the impossible contradiction of Santiago Garcia. Tell him you want him, and he’ll run away from your feelings. Don’t tell him you want him and he’ll damn sure run from his own. Somehow, the man is simultaneously both the cockiest and most insecure bastard Frankie has ever known.

Frankie, meanwhile, had never had an issue with committing. With naming what he wanted, no holds barred, and standing by it.

And so, Frankie decides, he must go a little further for Santiago. Make things just a little clearer for him.

“I’m gonna say something, okay?” Frankie rumbles, his hips pinning Santiago’s body in place, the sturdy warmth of him bleeding through denim. Frankie searches his eyes, and Santiago nods meekly. “I want you,” Frankie breathes gruffly up against Santiago’s neck. “Wanted you for years.” He kicks Santiago’s legs apart with his boot, slotting one thigh in between his and letting him feel the urgent bulge at his crotch press firmly up against him. Then, Frankie lets his soft lips travel, grazing them up the column of Santiago’s throat, feeling his pulse point thrum wildly against them. “Want you again.” Ghosting his warm mouth along the stubble at his jaw until his lips hover, an inch away from a kiss and Santiago moans, low and resonant, into the air for him. “You got that, idiota?” Frankie pulls back with satisfaction, upon seeing the cock-drunk haze taking over Santiago’s heavy-lidded eyes. “That more along the lines of what you needed to hear, huh?”

“Uh. Uh huh,” Santiago stutters, and Frankie’s eyes soften with a sudden fondness.

“Good.” He crooks his forefinger under that shapely chin. “Now. We can go back to exactly how it was if you want. That’s okay. But if you do want this to happen again? I’m in. Alright?”

“Uh. Uh huh,” he repeats dumbly, frotting himself against Frankie’s bulging arousal with a hard promise all his own, and now it is Frankie’s turn to stutter as a zip of pleasure throbs all the way down to his balls.

“W-Will’s having people over on Sunday,” Santiago offers, his hands moving to Frankie’s waistband, clamping down on his leather belt and dragging him closer.

Fuck. Frankie’s length is throbbing with how fucking eager Santiago is. With the memory of being buried deep inside of him, years of unspoken tension finally finding an outlet. With how easily he could open him up all over again and find his release.

“No,” Frankie revs, desire churning in the pit of him.

“No?”

“How about sooner?” Frankie rumbles, losing himself a little in the sensations. Coming undone with the proximity. The delicious smell of Santiago’s obnoxious cologne.

And, as if by magic, suddenly, when Frankie’s eyes flutter closed and he releases a thick groan from his throat as Santiago cants his hips up against him, all the man’s smugness comes rushing back - just as forcefully as the blood rushing towards Frankie’s increasingly proud length.

“Wow. I really do look that good in your jacket, huh?” The cocky bastard arcs a thick, suggestive eyebrow, his eyes half-lidded and far too sinful for a man who perpetually carries around a hold-all full of lapsed-Catholic guilt.

“Be careful,” Frankie scolds, and a shit-eating grin splits Santiago’s face, his proud chin jutting out in challenge.

This fucking brat.

“Yeah? Why?”

“Last time, I was easy on you. Next time, I don’t have to be.”

And, despite his brazen, bold words, Frankie dips then to plant the softest, lightest kiss on Santiago’s mouth, stubble grazing against scruff.

He hadn’t realised just how much he had been needing to do that. How much he’d been aching for his soft lips since they’d first collided. And, gaze dancing around Santiago’s pretty face, he feels a rush of affection for the man. A deep need to take care of him. To make him feel safe.

He says so, in different words. “I’m not letting you run, alright?” Frankie breathes, the hypothetical possibility of Santiago ever skipping out on him constricting in his chest. “Not from me. Not after a lifetime.” It pains him that even still, Santiago looks somewhat conflicted. “Believe me,” he reaches to cup his face, the gesture halfway between a buddy’s chastising, harmless slap, and a tender signal of affection. “I already know alllll your bull shit, and you know mine. This doesn’t have to be anything it’s not already. Nothing it hasn’t already been. Nothing’s changed. Okay?”

Santiago seems to ponder this. His mouth pressed into a thin line.

Frankie’s gone out on a limb here, and his heart is in his mouth waiting to find out if the bough under him is about to snap. If he’s about to come crashing down.

Santiago doesn’t say anything for a moment, his dark eyes animated with thoughts. Slightly glassy with emotion. But then, with a sharp intake of breath he dips forward, slanting his supple kiss against Frankie’s mouth. Catching Frankie’s lower lip between his teeth, and ever so deliberately skimming his tongue along it.

Fuck. When he does that, an impossibly bright heat rolls down Frankie’s spine.

“And what is it?” Santiago asks cautiously. “What is this, exactly?”

A valid question. Four of you in an indecipherable tangle, feelings cutting across all corners. Frankie doesn’t know about all that, but he does know something.

And so, Frankie looks Santiago in the eyes. Looks right through the layers - each and every one. Filters through the cheek, the smugness. The lust and the loyalty. The vulnerability; and, eventually, he reaches all the way to that oh so familiar friendship beating right at the heart of this. The thing that feels unshakeable. Feels like solid ground.

He smiles, because the answer’s easy.

“It’s… us.”

“Us,” Santiago repeats levelly, and jeez; Frankie is eminently pleased that the suggestion doesn’t get his hackles up. Doesn’t seem to make him want to run, or to drop-kick Frankie’s affections clean off of him like a bucking luggage-loaded ass.

Simply “us”.

And what’s so scary about that?

It’s not an unknown.

It’s nothing new.

It’s something which has proven itself, time and again. A million times over.

In the next moment then, Frankie pushes himself away from Santiago’s body, creating some space, and taking some pains to slow his ragged breaths. Easing off, before they both get a little too excited - right here and now. Creates some distance, to make sure that Santiago has just a little spare blood to his brain when he receives the next question.

“Think you can handle that?”

Santiago rolls his eyes. Back to his old tricks. “You know you don’t have to be quite so condescending, cabrón?”

Frankie simply smiles with satisfaction, a throaty chuckle sounding out.

Santiago smiles right back.

It feels good, Frankie thinks. Feels good to know that he does knows what Santiago needs after all. Always has.

Nothing has really changed.

Oh, except for…

Santiago leans forward to whisper in Frankie’s ear, hands resting on his shoulders, winding up to the bare skin at the nape of his neck. “By the way.” This man’s sandy voice against the shell of his ear licks sugar down his spine. “When you said ‘sooner’…?”

“Yeah,” Frankie agrees immediately, fishing his car keys out of his jeans and beeping the doors unlocked from all the way across the lot. “See you at your place in 5?”

Santiago laughs. Laughs because of how worked up Frankie’s apparently gotten himself. Laughs, maybe, he hopes, because of how beautiful it is to have found this.

Frankie looks back at him as he nods the affirmative, before preparing to climb into the driver’s side of his own vehicle.

Santiago looks so fucking smug, and oh boy.

Frankie’s fantasised about wiping that smirk off his buddy’s face for decades, and he can’t believe he got so lucky.

#Oscar Isaac #Pedro Pascal #Frankie morales #santiago garcia #Santiago pope Garcia x Frankie Catfish Morales

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allandoflimbo · 10 months

Text

I C E P R I N C E S S 13

Pairings: Popular Girl!Reader x Outkast!Bucky

Explicit Content - Smut - NO MINORS

Summary:

Bucky Barnes is the quiet boy who gets picked on.

The Reader and her friends run with the popular crowd at Stark High.

As the Winter Ball approaches, she is partnered with Bucky Barnes for a class project. They grow close in an inadvertently secret friendship, which later turns into love.

Only catch is…she’s Steve Roger’s ex girlfriend, and before she was partnered up with Bucky, her friends had planned to use and turn Bucky into Stark High’s new it boy to try and get back at Steve; a disgusting bet.

Another catch: She’s a figure skater at the town’s arena every Tuesday and Thursday nights. Bucky works part time at the rink resurfacing the ice. The other doesn’t know.

Modern AU High School fic - later goes into adulthood.

M A S T E R P A G E - FULL SERIES

Warnings: This story will have a lot of angst, a lot of fluff, a lot of cursing, and a lot of sex. Oral, praise kink, body worship, overstimulation, etc. you know me. There will also be loss of virginity in this.

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P R E V I O U S C H A P T E R

Song this chapter is based on is Red by Taylor Swift, but the Tyler Ward Version. (Because it's Bucky's POV)

This chapter is more angst than usual BUT this isn't the angst part I was warning about yet lol. I apologize for any typos. I just got back from vacay and I wanted to push this out for you guys ASAP.

Enjoy!

___

EVERYTHING still felt so surreal; and in the best way possible. The rest of the trip at the Cabin had gone well. Bucky was becoming even more comfortable with your friends, even almost calling them his friends at this point. Everyone except Murdock. You and Bucky ignored him and his brooding energy the rest of the stay there. After confirming everyone’s suspicions that you were in fact now dating, you both stayed glued at the hip. You ended the last night cuddling on the couch watching some action movie.

The next morning, Bucky had picked you up in his car for school. You shared a quick kiss as you buckled yourself in. The ride there had gone great as you both shared sweet words and hand squeezes. Sometimes even a thigh squeeze from the other.

You should’ve known it was going too well to be true. You and Bucky had gone separate ways for just a minute to go into your own locker to grab your things. On your back way to meet him at his, since you finished first, you had walked in on the altercation.

You felt your blood run cold as you watched Matt towering over Bucky. Bucky’s back up to his locker as he stared back at Matt angrily. There was already a little audience. Not big, but two or three other girls that were getting their own things in the locker next to Bucky’s.

“You think because you’re so quiet, Barnes, and because you put up this act that you don’t think I know what you didn’t do. That’s what.” You could hear Matt say.

There was something about Matt’s tone and words that set you on edge. Bucky’s jaw clenched.

“You need to stay the hell away from me.” Bucky says back, confidently.

Matt’s lips twitch and his eyes squint.

“Finally grew the balls to use your mouth properly?” He moved up even closer to Bucky, their faces now only inches apart, “That disgusting rapist mouth of yours.” There was a collection of gasps from the small group of girls and Bucky’s nose flared. You felt your own blood boiling now as you ran up to them, “I saw her damn neck. Hell, I heard her crying that night. You don’t deserve to be anywhere. Only place you deserve is behind a damn jail cell.”

You were disgusted by what you heard him say, and as you pushed a hand to Matt’s chest pushing him away from Bucky, you couldn’t help your temper.

“Get the hell away from him! Now.” You say through clenched teeth.

“Don’t worry, I have this.” Bucky says quietly, grabbing your hand and holding it in his. Matt’s jaw clenched. Bucky took a step closer to Matt, “I’m going to ask you politely once, and only once, leave me and leave her the fuck alone.”

You looked briefly at the girls who were still looking and you shook your head.

“It’s not true,” you say. You then look at Matt, “He’s right. Leave me alone. Leave all of us alone. I was willing to put up with it, but what you just said to him has crossed the line, Matt. He’s my boyfriend. Bucky is my boyfriend. I care about him. And about my hickeys? You want to grow up and ask my about them to my face next time since you’re so curious about being in my business?”

“You know I’m just trying to protect you.” Matt says.

“You’re doing everything except protect me or be my friend right now. Bucky didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t want. I don’t know what your problem is but you need to stay away from us.” You say with finality.

Matt shakes his head to himself, that fiery anger still in his eyes. He then moves at a speed that takes you a second longer to comprehend what he’s doing. He has Bucky’s collar in his hands and he’s pushing him up against the locker.

“Really, dweeb. You? You?”

“Fucking, stop!” You shout, pulling Matt off of him. Matt drops his hand like it’s burned and he steps away from you and Bucky abruptly.

He’s breathing hard as he looks between you and Bucky and then he storms away. You and Bucky try to ignore the new stares from the hallway and you turn to face him. Bucky’s is still watching Matt walk away as you nuzzle your face into his chest, his right hand going to the back of your head.

“The hell is his problem?” Bucky asks quietly, completely confused.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Bucky was nervous. He was also so excited and anxious. As he rolled his black dress shirt up to his elbows, he looked at himself in the mirror. He also looked all those three things. His blue eyes were brighter than usual and for the first time in a long time he felt comfortable in his own skin.

It was all because of you.

His heart skips a beat as he feels the little note in his pocket move around along with his ticket.

“Well, don’t you look sharp.” The sweet feminine voice comes from behind him and he turns around to meet his mother’s eyes.

She was smiling at him knowingly, her arms crossed over her chest.

Bucky blushed. He walked up to his desk and grabbed his phone, sliding it into his back pocket.

“Thanks, mom.” He says. He walks up to his mother and gives her a kiss on the cheek, “You don’t think I’m overdressed for a play?”

His mother looked up at him and smiled.

“Not at all. You have the note?” She asks.

Bucky nods.

“Yeah. Just like how dad did it.” He says with a chuckle.

His mom reaches up and kisses his cheek this time.

“She’ll say yes,” Bucky knows. He was sure of it, too. Him and you just…clicked. This wasn’t high school sweethearts. This was something else. Something stronger, “Drive safe.”

Bucky nods and grabs his jacket. He double checks he has everything he needs.

“Tell Y/N we say hi!” Bucky’s father yells out, just before the front door closes behind him.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

When Bucky parks at the school, he doesn’t hesitate one second after the car’s off to run to your side and open the door for you.

“Thank you.” You thank him softly.

He closes the door behind you. His eyes meet yours as he pushes one of your hair strands behind your ear and you swallow hard.

“You look gorgeous,” his eyes drifts down your nose, “You always have.” He adds quietly.

“Bucky.” You say.

His gaze returns to your own. You’re the one to initiate this kiss. Your hand goes to his peck and up his shoulder as your lips meet. It’s a sweet kiss. Innocent and PG13. He returns your kisses and you pull away with little smiles.

“Yeah?”

You could feel a tightness in your throat as you imagined yourself with him, many years from now, happy.

“Promise me that you’ll take me with you when you visit New York City?” Your question stuns him for a moment, and because of that he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. He observes your face, dragging the backs of his fingers over the skin of your temple and cheek, “Please.”

He leans forward until his forehead is against yours. He brings his left hand to your waist and pulls you in closer to him. Both of your eyes close at the same time.

“I promise, Squirmy.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The play was adorable. You and Bucky loved every moment of it and you held hands the entire time. You didn’t let go of his hand once.

After the show, Carol meets you both at your seats and gives you both a hug, thanking you for coming to see her.

The night is a Christmas fairytale.

Bucky tickles your waist from behind as you reach his car and you laugh out loud.

“Bucky stop!” You shout, giggling.

He does once he has your back against the side of his car and he’s staring intently down at you.

He leans forward and kisses you on the tip of your nose.

You giggle again. He kisses your right cheek, your cupids bow, and then your bottom lip.

“I’ve never felt like this. With anyone.” You say, dragging your fingers over his neck. He can feel the cute little ring you’re wearing on your pinky dragging over his skin and he loves the way it feels.

“Me either,” he whispers back. When he looks into your eyes this time there’s an intense look in them, “I want to ask you something.”

You feel your hear skyrocket.

“Okay.” You whisper back.

He smiles so sweetly as he looks down at your lips that you absolutely melt into your short red heels.

“Will you go to the Winter Ball with me?” You melt even more if possible and you smile back at him just as wide.

“Of course I’ll go with you.” you say quietly. You rub your nose against him and chuckle, “Yes. I’ll go with you.

Bucky nods and licks his lips. You watch as he reaches down into his pocket and holds something in his hand. Curiosity eats away at you.

“One more question,” he says. You nod, “Go to prom with me?”

You get so happy and ecstatic. So much that your hand wraps around the back of his neck and you let out a little noise of excitement. Prom. With Bucky. You’re forming your lips to say yes, duh, when you remember your promise to Steve.

Bucky’s looking at you, waiting for your yes, when he watches you dramatically deflate and your face falls. He feels his own dark pit in his stomach grow bigger as he realizes you’re not saying yes and you’re actually looking like you’re about to say no.

He frowns, swallowing the hard lump in his throat.

“Y/N…”

“I—“ your voice cracks and tears bloom in your eyes. You wanted Bucky. But your promise, “I—” he catches on quickly and he lets out an exasperated sigh, through no fault of his own. Your hand drops his neck.

He didn’t expect thing. He doesn’t know what he didn’t prepare for you to say no. Maybe it’s because he was so sure it’d be a yes.

It’s prom for fucks sake. He’d remember that night for a very long time and he really wanted it to be with you, and now here you are, shutting that fantasy/dream down.

“I understand.” He says hoarsely. He didn’t expect his voice to sound so broken so he clears his throat.

“Bucky—”

“It’s fine,” no it’s not, “you don’t have to explain.”

“But I do. And maybe you can help me.” You say desperately, putting a hand up to his chest. He stares at you confused, and so emotional. He furrows his brows at you and shakes his head.

“Help you?” “Help me decide.” You clarify. He looks at you for a half a second longer before scoffing. It hurts, but you expected no less. So you continue, “Steve. I went out with him for years. He’s been my best friend for longer. We’ve always talked about going to prom together, we promised each other. A pact so to say. I can’t just break that, even though — fuck — even though I’d much rather go with you because what I feel for you—” your voice is the one that breaks this time and you sniff away tears that are starting to build up.

“Steve, the guy who cheated on you?”

“That’s not fair. You don’t know the story. You don’t know our story.”

Bucky nods, looking away from you.

“Right. The high school sweethearts.”

“Bucky—”

“Seriously, you don’t have to —” there’s a certain malice to his tone and you cut him off again.

“I feel stronger things for you than him. I want to go with you more than him. I want this with you. I want to say yes.” You say seriously, not looking away from his eyes once.

You and Bucky are both looking at each other heartbreakingly. He gnaws at his bottom lip.

“Then —” he starts and stops, “If you have to even think about it, I think my answer is already there.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I know it’s not,” he sighs and grabs your hand and holds it to his chest right above his heart, “but you said you made a promise, right?” His voice cracks again and you both hate this, “I feel the things you’re are feeling, too. About me, I mean. I also feel them for you,” he laughs humorlessly, “so much.”

You whimper.

“I can speak to him.” You say.

Bucky doesn’t know what to suggest or think about right now. Yes, he’d love for you to say yes and come with him as his date, but he’s surprised to a certain level that you’re even comparing what you feel with him to what you felt with Steve. Even if you did make a promise. He feels a frustration he can’t explain.

Which is why he pulls your hand off his heart and squeeze it once before letting go. It’s then that you feel the little paper in your hand.

Your tear filled eyes look at the little white folded paper in your hand. You start to unfold it.

“Don’t,” he stops you, “you don’t have to read it now. Later, please. I know you didn’t say yes, but you did say yes to the ball, right? I still want you to have the note, because I still mean everything in there. Your answer didn’t not change anything.” You nod your head, “Let’s take you home, Squirmy.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The car ride is mostly silent. Occasionally one of you will say a comment that makes the other chuckle, but it’s short lived.

You know you just need the night to just let it all sink in, but everything would be alright.

When you kiss him goodnight, he kisses you back just as deeply.

Bucky watches as you walk to your front door. His head rests on his left hand, left elbow on his car door, and his right hand stays tight around the steering wheel.

He feels a sadness, jealousy, and anger he had never felt before yet in this relationship. Hell, he knows it’s only been a few days, but he could not take the feelings boiling inside of him.

When he gets home and slams his own front door closed, his dad’s already yelling at him.

“Hey! No slamming doors, Buck.”

Bucky knows his father is right, he was raised better than that, but he was upset. He doesn’t even acknowledge him as he rips off his jacket and hangs it up on the mini coat rack.

Bucky walks into the kitchen for a cold water bottle out of the fridge.

“How’d it go?” He hears his mother ask from the living room. He knows what she’s asking. He’s also a bit disappointed because she should be in bed resting. She’s been out of her bed, which the doctor told her she should stay in, more often than she should be.

He uncaps the bottle and downs a few ounces.

It helps only a little.

“She said no.” Bucky mumbles, voice wavering as he makes his way up the stairs and to his room.

He lets his door close quietly behind him, but he’s still feeling the same way.

He places his water bottle on his desk and stretches his arms out onto it. He takes in a deep breath and tries to calm himself down.

He was being dramatic.

It’s just a stupid high school dance.

Feeling his nerves relax just slightly, he blindly reaches for his bottle, but the edge of it catches on his notebook, causing it to fall to the floor.

“Shit.”

Loose pages had fallen out at his feet. He bends down to pick it up and puts them properly inside.

It’s when he lifts the last paper than he sees the beautiful rose from all those weeks ago that he had found at the rink. The one he had stored safely in the notebook.

Its color has faded now and it was dry. But preserved.

With delicate hands, he picks up the rose and places it back inside the notebook.

It’s then that he sees one of the pedals had fallen off.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

You regret opening the note the second you fall back behind your front door, thankful your parents had the graveyard shift tonight.

I’ve always hoped to live wishes and dreams I’ve only ever heard about

To know I’m living that right now with you is the best gift i’ve ever received

I hope to keep living out my wishes with you and dreams if you let me

You’ll be my princess at the ball and prom, and I’ll be your prince.

I knew you’d say yes, because you and me, this is real.

I’m not living a dream, you’re my dream.

You break down into tears.

_____

N E X T C H A P T E R

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