#even if it came out a few years too late to be timely advice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherry-leclerc · 6 months

Text

forever be ☆ cl16

genre: porn with slight plot, humor, blind date trope, longing, age gap (6 years)

word count: 10.8k

Foolishly, you find yourself being dragged into an unwanted blind date. Again. Lucky for you, so is a special someone.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+... m!receiving, penetrative sex, appearance of tit foreplay and slight fingering, a bit of biting and crying (??)

inspired by this and this !

Blind dates were never something you ever thought you would consider. They never made much sense. Why would you put yourself in an uncomfortable position, and then what? You don’t like them and it doesn’t work out?

“Whole lot of bullshit if you ask me.” Kika swears as she tosses her brown locks over her shoulder. You’ve known each other for a few years, but quickly became as close as sisters during all the late night shoots you would have together.

“You can’t be single forever,” she says as you roll your eyes. Ever since you broke up with your last boyfriend, she’s been playing matchmaker. It hasn’t quite worked out.

He’s too vain.

Rude to waiters, no thank you.

He brought his mom to the date!

There was always something wrong and she knew it was only a matter of time before you completely blocked her advice. That is until her boyfriend, Pierre, told her he knew just the right person for you.

“Yikes, don’t put out any bad juju.” Theatrically, you make a cross with your two index fingers. She lets out a light giggle as she throws a pillow in your direction. You yelp as it hits your head.

“Just one more, okay? If it doesn’t work out then we can be done with all of this and have it your way.”

“Threatening me, now?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “One more.”

The following week Kika confirms your date over brunch. He’s nice. Very handsome.

Sipping on your iced tea you nod. “I mean as long as he doesn’t ask me if I can help him win an ex-girlfriend back…”

“It happened one time.”

Later that night for some reason you grow nervous as you get closer to your date. Palms get slightly sweaty and you hurriedly wipe away on your dress. “What the…” You’ve never been nervous before a blind date, why would you? Deep down you knew things like this never worked out, but why now?

“Here is fine!” Handing over some cash to the cab driver, you climb out as you make your way over to the dimly lit restaurant. Okay. A tad bit too romantic. Taking in a deep breath, you walk in.

You’re quickly reminded why you hate stuff like this. You have no clue as to how your date looks and you’re left glancing around like a lost puppy. Kika had mentioned that he would be wearing something that would make it obvious. Scanning the room you search and everything looks quite normal.

Except for the man who sits with black sunglasses.

“Charles?” He nods as he stands up to greet you with a kiss on the cheek. Startled, you pull back a bit.

“Shit, sorry. Habits.” A nervous laugh is released as you smile and he pulls out your chair to sit.

“It’s okay, I’m not too used to all this European mannerism…” The shy smile that is sprawled on your lips has him almost blushing. You were beautiful. When Pierre had first mentioned his and Kika’s plan, he almost wanted to boot the idea right away. Nothing good ever came out of all this.

She’s super sweet! I’ve met her a couple of times and she’s really down to earth.

But she’s a model? Tell me what model has ever been like that.

Kika slightly punches Charles’ shoulder as he winces. Sorry, he mutters.

Just trust us.

“Oh. You’re not from here?” You shake your head as your eyes scan the menu sitting right in front of you. You had barely met the guy, but his burning gaze was too much.

“No, but I moved here a year ago for work…Still catches me off guard at times.” He makes a mental note of the way you bit your cheek before you look up at him. He gulps.

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it soon enough.”

It surprises you how much he actually listens. It also surprises you even more that you actually enjoy hearing him talk.

“Sorry if Pierre and Kika dragged you into all of this. I just…” He clears his throat before playing with the napkin on his lap. “I had a tough break up a few months ago and he’s been trying to get me to meet new people.”

Not what a girl wants to hear on a first date, but you would be a complete hypocrite if you judged him for it. “Don’t worry, they didn’t. I also went through a break up a few months back.”

He almost wants to laugh. Nice try. Who in their right mind would break up with someone as pretty as you? Long lashes fan your face as you take a bite of your raspberry pastry. The way your plump lips pressed together as you enjoy its taste.

“I guess we’ll understand each other more than I anticipated.”

“How was it?” You pull the phone far away from your face as you put it on speaker. Walking towards the refrigerator you take out a plate of fruit. You hum.

“It was alright.” The Portuguese model gasps as she switches to FaceTime. Picking up, you lean against the counter.

“You like him!” Choking on a blueberry you take a step back as if her words stung. Do not! But there’s no use. “Yes, you do! After every other date you would already have a reason ready as to why you couldn’t see them anymore, but look! Oh my God. You do have a heart!”

Frowning, you munch on a strawberry. “I’ve always had a heart.”

Kika lets out a slight pout as she nods apologetically. “I was kidding, of course you do. It’s just that this is the first guy you might actually like after that jerk you luckily now call your ex-boyfriend.” You snort. Kika giggles at the sound before she lays her phone against a pillow. “I just want you to finally meet someone who would actually fit your standards. It’s what you deserve.”

“Well, let’s just not get too ahead of ourselves.”

“10 minute break, darling.”

Smiling sweetly, you make your way over to your trailer before you flop down onto the couch. You lay there silently for a few minutes before you actually grab your phone.

Hey. It’s Charles.

Your heart flips as you think of a response.

Hi!

Good enough. Three dots pop up before they disappear.

I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner later? 9pm if that fits with your schedule.

You smile as you tuck your hair behind your ear. See you then.

As soon as he sees you skipping down the stairs to him, he immediately feels better about feeling more excited to see you. The way you smile ear to ear when he hands you a colorful bouquet of flowers makes him thankful for listening to Kika’s advice. She likes carnations! Not roses.

“They’re so pretty! Thank you, Charles.” Even with heels you have to tippy toe to press a warm kiss against his stubble. Stepping back you look up with sparkling eyes. “Getting better with this whole ‘mwah’ thing, right?” He chuckles as he opens the passenger door for you.

“Totally.”

As he sits in front of you ordering for both of you, you take the time to notice everything about him. His lashes, his freckles, his pink lips, his dimples, his eyes. You pray that you don’t come off as a creep, but Charles was perfect.

The waiter leaves and he turns to you with a grin. “How was work?” You’re a bit taken back by his question. It’s the most decent one out there, but not even your ex-boyfriend cared enough to ask.

You clear your throat. “Very well. Thank you for asking.”

He nods before saying, “I never asked how old you were…I mean you moved here all alone, I would imagine you’re at least 22?” A slight panicked look crosses his features. You giggle.

“Something like that. I’m 20.” He lets out a breath of relief before taking a sip of red wine. “What about you?”

“I recently turned 26.”

Older. Wiser. You could work with it.

You’re both sharing a plate of tiramisu when he asks, “Would you like to go to one of my races?”

“Oh. Where?” You wish you could jump at the opportunity. I mean, if he’s asking if it's because he wanted you there, how could you say no? But you were flooded with upcoming photoshoots.

“Texas.”

Now you were very interested. Green eyes stare back at you as he waits for a response, but then he shakes his head in a shy manner. “You’re probably busy. It’s okay-”

“I could make it work.” Pearly whites shine back at him. “I’ll make it work. I promise.”

You and Charles spend the few days together before he flies off to Texas. You learn very quickly that he is terrified of snakes.

“Ow!”

You had both gone hiking and you were too busy admiring his glistening abs to notice the snake slithering right in front of you both. That is, until Charles shrieked and jumped onto your back. Unfortunately, you weren’t as strong as him.

He quickly rises up and he lifts you up from the floor and starts brushing the dirt off you. He immediately stops when he touches your ass.

“It’s just a little snake, Charles,” you groan as he nods to himself. Of course, he squeaks, but he still hides behind your delicate figure. You want to hurl over laughing but you would hate to make him feel as if you’re teasing his phobia. “It’s probably harmless…”

Just then you turn to the snake and see it making its way to you quickly. You squeal as you jump onto his back. “Go, go, go!” Gripping onto your legs, he starts running down the hill. Once you reach the bottom - which wasn’t that difficult since you had barely started your hike - he sets you down as he huffs. You giggle.

“Oh my God! That was so much fun!”

“No!” He slightly glares as you shut up. “Not fun at all.”

You bite your lip as you try your best to refrain from laughing. “Of course. Not fun at all.”

After Charles’ worst nightmare, you both decide to go back to his flat to cook some dinner after he bragged how he was a top chef.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, “Smells burned.”

Walking over to you he takes a look. “It’s fine! It’s a part of the process, amour.” A skeptical look stares back at him as he shoots a thumbs up and you listen regardless.

Taking a seat on his dining room table, you say a quick thank you when he hands you a plate. It looks pretty delicious, you’ll admit it, but you still had your suspicions. Taking a bite you quickly feel yourself wanting to spit it out, but you urge yourself to swallow. “Wow…Um…Really good.”

Taking a quick bite his jaw goes slack. He immediately spits it back out on a napkin. “Fuck! Oh God.” His face scrunched up as he looks to where you sit pretty, looking back at him with a little smirk. He wants nothing more than to kiss it away. “How could you even…”

“It wasn’t that bad!”

“I could handle your critics y’know-”

“It was awful.”

“What the fuck,” he wails as he shuts his eyes and throws his head back. The sight itself has you almost drooling. Part of you wishes to climb onto his lap and kiss his thick neck. This is probably the face he makes when he gets his cock sucked, you think to yourself, but quickly scold yourself. Instead you place a soft hand over his.

“Sorry. How about we order take out?”

Sitting on his cloud couch you both enjoy warm Chinese food as you watch TV. “I could go to your race,” you speak up, chop sticks twirling. He lights up.

“Are you serious?” He sets his food aside as you nod.

“It wasn’t easy, but yes. I’ll be able to go.”

He cups your face as he smiles. “You’re going to love it, oh, it’s one of the fun ones.”

Charles + Cowboys? Oh, you bet it will be.

As he walks you to your front door he brings up the idea over how you can travel with him through private jet. Have to treat you right since you fixed your schedule to come with me. Reluctantly, you agree.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow then?”

“I’ll be ready.”

He nods as he stares at your rosy lips. Would they feel as soft as they look? Would you taste as sweet as they seem?

“I’ll see-”

His large hands grab your waist as he leans down to kiss you. You're stunned for a single moment, but when you feel his warm tongue, you immediately let go. He kisses you so desperately, it has your knees buckling. Thank God he’s holding you up with his tight grip.

Pulling away, you place your hands over his chest, chest rising up and down. You press a soft kiss against his cheek as you step out of his magnetic field.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Charles.”

The game started out innocent, cheerful even, but now?

This was war.

“You’re such a cheater! A bad one, too.” He furrows his brows as he frowns at you. Rolling your eyes, you lean against the small table that separates you both. He can’t help but stare at your chest, lingerie poking through. He has to stop himself from groaning at the sight. “Where are they, Charles?” He shakes his head.

“Je jure! Je jure! I swear I don’t have anything!”

Clicking your tongue you lean back against your seat as you let out a menacing smile. “Okay.” An uneasy feeling bubbles inside as he eyes you, slightly dubious. Alright then, he responds. The game of Uno continues as he grows more and more excited to win. Just one more card-

“What-”

“Oh. Were you looking for these?” Flashing a stack of cards towards him, his eyes grow wide. “Charles, Charles, Charles…” You wink at him, teasingly. “I’m always watching.” The rest happens in a blur and next thing he knows, you're celebrating. Standing up on the table, you sway your hips as you shimmy. He can’t help but smile, even if he lost. “Eat it and burn.” Just then the private jet enters a small wave of turbulence that causes you to fly straight into his lap. You both groan.

“Jesus.”

Blushing, you rub his head before rubbing yours, but he isn’t worried about that. He’s just trying to get over the fact that your ass presses right against him. You had to get off of him now. But the way you move against him to face him has him fluttering eyes closed. “Fuck, are you okay?” Your voice is filled with concern. Broccoli. Asparagus. Cabbage. Broccoli. Asparagus. Cabba-

“Oh God! I broke you!” Your warm hands against his face have him opening his eyes.

“No! You didn’t. It’s just that…I’m trying to get my mind off of…” You’re nodding, urging him to continue as you comb your fingers through his hair. It feels so nice.

“Off of what?”

He lets out a shaky breath as his hands slide down to your waist. A warm sensation enters your lower belly with his touch. “You.”

“Me? Wha- oh.” You feel him now. How hard he is under you. The way his grip turns more firm as he tries his best to keep his eyes open. “Oh Go- I’m gonna get up now-”

“Wait.” His warm hands push you deeper against him. “Just a minute. Please.”

Nodding, you stay quiet, him having his eyes closed as he falls into a pattern of inhaling and exhaling as if it was the most difficult thing to do. For him, it sure did seem like it. And he just looked so handsome. Eyes closed, head thrown back, pink lips turning slightly red from the occasional times he would bite down. So, it made perfect sense the moment you leaned up to kiss his throat.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“What happened next?” Kika squeals as she claps her hands in delight. You had arrived a few hours ago and somehow already made your way to your best friend.

“This is a bit too much even for me, but what happened next?”

And Pierre.

There was a bit of hesitation in your voice when you say, “Nothing.” The couple share a small glance before humming suspiciously. All of a sudden, your skin grows warm. “I’m being serious, nothing did! The flight attendant interrupted, letting us know we were about to land. If anything, we got scolded.”

“Ha! He got - what do you call it again - blue balled!”

“Pierre!”

“Qu'est-ce que j'ai dis!”

Raising a single hand, you brush him off, as if his words didn’t matter. “It’s fine. But please…Can we just never mention this like, ever.” They both shake your hand before shooting a thumbs up. “Great.”

You continue catching up about other business. Pierre’s trouble with his car, Kika’s studies, your upcoming photoshoot with Dior. Everyone is so deep into the conversation that they don’t notice when Charles enters the rooms. He comes to a halt, a clear indication that he was surprised by their visit. “What are you guys doing here?”

Kika smiles. “Oh, you know. Catching up.” He nods, eyes shifting to his best friend. His brows furrowed with concern.

“Is he okay?”

But he really wasn’t. Pierre’s lips were tugging a teasing smile, face turning light red from how hard he was trying to suppress his words. If they were in a cartoon, fumes would be rushing out of his ears. The Portugues giggled nervously. “Of course he is!” She stands up in a hurry before grabbing his hand, already dragging him towards the exit. “We should get going though! See you guys later for dinner!”

As soon as they leave, he kisses your forehead. “Hey.”

“Hey. How was your meeting?”

He sighs as he takes a seat next to you. “Same old, same old. I don’t really want to talk about it, if that’s okay.” No problem, you respond with a sympathetic smile. “I think I’m going to shower before we leave.”

Sitting on the bed, you weigh your options. Risky, you hum as you bite down on your lip. Really risky. Without sparing a second thought, you jump up as you swing your dress off, leaving you just in your panties and bra. Walking to the bathroom, you can’t help but sneak a peek in the nearby mirror. Trying your best to raise up some confidence, you apply some lipstick, tussle your hair a bit, pinch your cheeks for that natural blush. Giddy with excitement, you find yourself falling into little twirls.

“Hey, what do you think about– fuck.”

“Ah!” Dropping to the ground, you crawl like a little crab, rushing to hide behind the bed. “Close your eyes! This is–close your eyes!”

“Okay! They’re closed, they’re closed, don’t worry.” His voice is strained, you could tell. Your confidence is long gone as you climb underneath the covers. Part if you wants to rush out the door and never look back. That seemed like a pretty good idea. “Are you–can I…”

“Yes.” Opening his eyes, he finds you wrapped up with the white duvet, only your eyes peeking out. While he’s trying his best to get your body off of his head, your eyes wander his wet frame, towel wrapped around his waist. “Umm…I-I am so sorry you saw any of that…I…”

Making his way closer, your heart thumps against your chest as a warning. Nope. Nope. Nope. “I should apologize, too. I’m sorry for barging in on you, I should’ve made sure.”

“Apology accepted! Long forgotten!” Twisting the bed sheets, you wince. “Would you mind handing me my dress?”

“Your um- your dress. Yes.” He picks up your piece of clothing that lies at the foot of the bed as he hands it to you, leaving enough space for you not to get too uncomfortable. Also, enough for him to remind himself to not do something he might regret. “Thank you,” you softly say. Heat rises up to your cheeks. “Could you please…” You spin a small finger as he chokes. Right, he yelps. He can hear the commotion you cause in an attempt to slip on your dress as fast as possibly. Tumbling, you stand up to grab your heels. “I’ll wait outside for you to change. I’m ready whenever you are.”

Skipping out, he doesn’t even have a chance to respond before the door slams shut.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me. How am I supposed to see him now and not bring this up?”

Grabbing Pierre’s collar, you tug him closer, eyes burning with a subtle threat. “Listen here, old man. You won’t say a word if you know what is good for you.” Blue eyes go wide as he peeps over to Kika who only shrugs.

“Not a word,” he confirms as you let go.

Dinner was…tense. But that was only between you and the Monegasque.

“Steak,” you both say as the waiter nods. “You know what…I think I’ll just do a salad.” Charles clicks his tongue.

“You want the steak, so you should get it. I’ll get the salad.”

“No, well, now I want the salad. Not the steak.”

“You were just drooling over the steak, just get it.”

You glare as you close your menu. “I want the salad.”

“Excuse them,” Kika apologizes as Pierre sits there in amusement, soaking in the show that sits right in front of them.

“No problem,” the waiter beams. “Couple’s bicker all the time.”

“They’re not-”

“You get the steak. I’ll get the salad.”

“No, you get the steak and I’ll get th-”

“You do know we’re a restaurant and we’re not limited to one piece of meat, right? How about I put you both down for the steak?” Opening your mouth, the waiter smiles before hurrying off. “Be back in a jiffy!”

“I have a feeling she might spit in your food.”

“Shut up, Pierre,” Kika hisses. “Though you should start agreeing on what dessert you guys might want if it takes you this long.”

After dinner you were ready to go back and knock out. Just forget about your humiliating day. And that would have been the case if it weren’t for a little someone who wanted to go-

“Golfing! We should go golfing!” The Frenchman grins. “It’ll be fun!”

“Honey, I don’t think they want to. How about we raincheck?” Kika pats his shoulder as she gives him a small peck. He groans.

“Another day, mate. I’m sure this pretty girl wants to get some sleep,” Charles laughs as he signals to where you yawn. This wakes you up though as you scowl.

“I don’t, actually. I wanna go.” Raising his brow he asks, Are you sure? If you’re tired that’s fine, we can go back. “You can go back to the hotel if you want, but I’m staying.” Grabbing Kika’s hand, you both strut away, already heading towards the black SUV.

“What’s wrong with her?” he mutters as he runs his hands through his hair.

“I don’t know, man, what is wrong?”

Confusion crosses the green eyed boy's eyes as he tilts his head a bit. “You know something I don’t?”

“I mean I wouldn’t say it like that, but-”

“Hello? Are you guys coming or what?” The Portuguese yodels as she pokes her head out the window. Her eyes are sending a warning to her boyfriend. Patting Charles' shoulder, he runs towards the car.

“Come one, C. It’ll be fun.”

It was not fun.

“Let me show you,” he offers when you swing the club for the 5th time, chipping grass and dirt along the way. You growl a low, It’s fine. I got it. He squeaks when you swing too far back and hit his shin.

“Are you okay?” you whisper as he whines. I’m okay. Can I just show you? “Yes, please.” Standing behind you, he grabs your arms as he gives you advice and demonstrates with you. For a moment you stop listening but the playful grins that your friends wear is enough for you to pull away from his touch, so suddenly, he jumps back a bit. “I think I got it now. Thank you.”

“Very well then.” Making his way over to Kika and Pierre, they all stand with observing eyes. Standing still. Just waiting. Any minute now-

“Would you mind going further into the golf course to see where my ball lands?” You’re not quite sure why or who you’re asking, but as soon as Pierre agrees and starts to make his way over you shout out a quick, “Not you! Uhhh…Charles, could you do it pretty please?” His heart squeezes with your puppy eyes. Y-y-yeah, he mumbles as he jogs deeper into the open area, shooting you a thumbs up as you let out a breath of relief.

“He won’t bite, you know that, right?” Kika giggles when you poke your tongue out. Turning your attention, you push your hips slightly back, knees slightly bent, too. Practicing a few swings, you narrow your eyes towards the flag that points out the cup. Licking your lips, you swing as you hear a quick click with the sudden contact. You can’t tell if it was good, but it looked good enough to you. “Did you guys see that?” Jumping up and down you run towards your best friend as you hug her as if you just won a Nobel Prize.

“That was so good!”

“I was just one with the ball–I felt it in my bones-”

The engine of the golf cart has you both spinning around to where you see Pierre driving to the middle of the field. You squint your eyes. “What is that?” Kika murmurs, grabbing your hands as she leans forwards as if that could help her see clearer.

“Not sure. Is it a hill? It wasn’t there befo…” The figure suddenly angles themselves to their elbows. “Holy shit! It’s Charles!” Squealing, you rush to the second golf cart, immediately pressing on the gas as if your life depended on it. You’re forgetting me! Sharply pressing the brakes, Kika rushes in as she taps your thighs, signaling you to go. As soon as you make it there, you could tell; it’s bad. Blood oozes out of his nose as he swats his friends hand away when he presses tissues against his face. “Oh my God.” Kneeling down beside him, you cradle his face, gingerly.

“I’m okay,” he groans as he brushes his fingers against your hip. “It’s no big deal.”

Your eyes look almost as if you’ve gone crazy, when you shriek, “No big deal? This is–” Blood drips onto your hand as you grow a bit faint. “...not okay.”

“Maybe not now, but I will be-”

“Woah there,” Kika shrieks as your body goes limp. “She’s gone.”

“What?”

“Cool! I’ve never heard of a dead body on a golf course before!”

“She’s not dead, dickhead, she only fainted.” Kika rolls her eyes as she brushes your hair out of your face. You’re sprawled out on the grass, as if it was your wake. “Charles, quick. Try and wake her up.”

The Monegasque winces, rubbing his nose as he crawls his way over to you. “I…Umm…” Give her a big ‘ol kiss, Pierre hollers as Kika smacks his chest. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” He taps your cheek before rubbing a small circle. “This is getting scary - and dark. Can you hear meeee?” Groaning, you begin to rub your head and eyes as he comes to vision.

“Charles?”

He smiles. “Hey, there.” Small smile starts to make its way to your face before you deflate with fear. Looking down at you is Charles, but with dark red blood dripping all over you. Letting out a loud scream as you aim a quick punch. “Fuck me, not again!”

“Okay, good, alright. Right there.” Kika and Pierre huff as they drop you and Charles against the cool bed. It had taken lots of explaining to the country club that they weren’t in fact not trying to get away with murder, but much rather, just trying to bed good friends and drop you back at your shared hotel room. It was much harder dealing with the two of you who were completely out of it.

“Kikaaaa,” you whine as you cling onto her arm. “This is sooo nice of youuu. I really appreciated it, I doooo.” You pat her cheek before dragging your hand all over her face as you giggle. She swats you away. Anytime honey, she responds. Charles groans.

“Piereeeee. This is sooo-”

“Yes! Nice of me? No problem, it’s been a long day and it is time for me and my beautiful lady to get some rest!” Tugging Kika away, they shout a quick goodbye before they exit. Tossing over to face you, he rubs your stomach.

“How are you feeling?”

You shut your eyes. “Like hell.” He laughs as he sighs when he feels your hands slide on top of his. “What about you?”

“Like hell.” And you might be a tad bit delirious but the laugh that bubbles out of you is enough for him to forget his ringing nose. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Your laugh dies down as you roll over to him. “Even after I almost killed you twice today?” Small fingers softly tap against the dry blood on his nose.

“Even after that, yes.”

The next few days leading up to the Austin GP you were able to manage pushing off any rigidness that you had placed between you and Charles. Kind of.

Psst. Where are you? Peeking your head behind a stack of soft tires, you shoot your hand out to haul Kika towards you. She yelps at the sudden surprise. What the fu- “I can’t do this anymore.” She quirks a brow.

“Now you’re just making this complicated on yourself because you want to.”

“What? No! He’s making it hard on me.”

Crossing her arms she asks, “And how is he making it hard on you, if you don’t mind me asking.” You want to stomp your feet in frustration but you stop yourself when a few engineers pass by, sharing a small greeting to you both.

“He’s…too much. Have you seen him, come on, with that obnoxious cowboy hat? Or his cute little mustache?” Kika giggles at the reminder and shakes her head no.

“I have a handsome boyfriend,” she defends. You chuckle.

“Right. But…” Your mind stays put at the image of Charles and all the possibilities that lie within. It was all becoming too much, really. You clap your hands. “It’s okay! I can get over it.”

“You looked so good,” you moan around his cock. It’s a bit muffled but clear enough to have him groaning and rutting his hips harder. Choking, you squeeze your eyes shut as you grip onto his knees.

He had thought about this- dreamt about this and every time he thought he would know how to handle it and act cool. But there was no way of acting put together when you’re kneeling in prayer. “Fuck.” With a dirty smile, you grin around his cock before pulling your lips back, twirling your tongue around his pink tip and sliding your warm mouth back down. Letting out a few shaky breaths he says, “Y-y-you need to p-pull away now if you don’t w-want me t-to-''

But you’re deepthroating him so good and swallowing, causing your throat to close around him and that has his voice hitching, cutting off as he lets out one last moan before finishing in your mouth. White cum leaks the corner of your lips before you pick it up with your finger and lick it once you pull away. You giggle.

Climbing onto his lap, you sweetly kiss his face as he smiles. Kissing his red nose, you ask, “Did you like it?” The way you sound, confident, but a bit unsure, is enough for him to kiss your plump lips as if this were the most important kiss of his life. Which to him, it was.

“You’re amazing.” Blushing, you dig your face into his neck as you both sit there for a while longer. The room is quiet and calm as he falls into his own thoughts. Drawing shapes against your thigh, he clears his throat. “Why were you distancing yourself before?” He bites back a smile when he feels you lick his neck.

“I wasn’t pulling away…” His eyes twinkle in response. You sigh. “I was…embarrassed.” His face grows soft as he asks, Why? Looking down to where his fingers trace your lap, you start. “The first day at the hotel - when we got here - I came up with a dumb idea.” The way he’s looking at you has you nervously chuckling. “I was going to surprise you in the shower. That’s why I had stripped down and then you walked out and… I wanted to die.”

He’s laughing now as you smack his chest defensively. “I missed out on that? Noooo!” He wails as he throws his head back. The view takes you back to the first time he cooked for you and did the exact same thing.

You can now confirm: he does close and throw his head back when he’s getting his cock sucked.

“You didn’t miss out on much,” you reassure him, biting down on your thumb, nervously, before letting go. He’s listening now, green eyes dedicated to you. “I’ve never…”

“Had sex?” His voice is pitched with shock as you shake your head.

“Dear God, no. That ship has sadly sailed, but…Never had sex with someone older than me.”

“I’m not that old,” he jokes. You narrow your eyes with humor.

“You’re not,” you agree, “But I’ve only been with guys my age. They never had much to offer, though.”

He hates the idea of you ever being with someone who wasn’t him, but he knows there is not much he can do.

But prove he’s much better.

He pecks your lips. “I’ve heard that can happen sometimes.” His voice is light, slightly stingy, and that makes you smile. “Been there too - if you can believe it. But we can take it slow. We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready.”

And you might be eager and desperate for him, but you know it would be better to hold off and get more comfortable with the idea.

“Thank you.”

“How does this make any sense?”

Your eyes flick back and forth - from Xavi to Charles, from Charles to Xavi. Part of you was almost afraid to intervene into the heated conversation.

“Yeah, we’ll bring that up to the FIA.” A heavy sigh is released as Xavi rubs his temples, eyes momentarily shut. “Let’s just stick to the bright side- we did our best.”

The Monegasque rolls his eyes, hands flinging up in response. “And yet it never seems like enough.”

“Look the issue is always something we can fix-“

“That’s the same story I’ve been told time and time again! If it were fixed then we wouldn’t be dropping from P3 straight into a DQ.” The engineer huffs, eyes empty and tired - and while you completely understand where Charles was coming from, you felt bad.

“Charles, I think…” His cold gaze catches you off guard for a moment but quickly softens up with the sound of your voice. “...I mean I understand why you’re frustrated, but I’m sure he is too. Maybe you both should just take some time to cool down and when you’re ready, then you can sit back down to come up with a proper solution.”

For a scary second he doesn’t say anything as you hear a low, grazie tesoro, from Xavi. You’re on edge but when he nods with a small smile, you let out a breath of relief that you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Do you want to stay?” Hmm, you chirp, eyes attentive. Turning on his car, he begins to back out of the parking lot. “Here in Texas. For a while longer before we fly to Mexico. Kika and Pierre are going to and I thought you might want to as well-”

“You’re not needed in Mexico already?” He shakes his head. “In that case; yes.”

Pierre had planned a whole year's trip for one single day. And every single activity was a near death experience.

“Horseback riding.”

Sharing an excited squeal, you and Kika hop up and down as Charles finishes up a quick call. The morning had started early, per Pierre’ request, but no one had really complained up until that point.

“Danny Ric recommended this farm just an hour away, but you’re with an F1 driver, we’ll make it there in 10 minutes max.”

“I’m driving,” the green eyed boy interrupts as he snatches the keys away from his best friend. “There’s no way we’ll be safe if you drive.” Sheepishly, Kika agrees. Pierre’ mouth hangs agape. Quickly, he takes the keys back.

“My agenda; I drive.”

“I can lose him! Just give me a minute!”

The drive had started out calm. Music was playing from your and Kika’ mixed playlist as you both chatted in the backseat. Charles was screeching every single second due to Pierre’s driving skills. It was great.

“Amore, they have a horse that looks like an Oreo,” Pierres announces as Kika claps with delight. “Rented that one out just for you.” It was a sweet gesture, something that even had you swooning, and all would have been fine if you weren’t running a bit late. “As long as we’re there at 2pm.”

Biting down on your lip, Charles turns back to look at you. Raising up your phone you show him.

1:20pm.

You were still 45 minutes away. There was no way. You’re about to bring it up until Charles silently hushes you. “What’s so important about a cookie looking horse?” he asks, slowly. Kika beams.

“I had one like that growing up. His name was Spot. Technically, it belonged to my grandparents but deep down we all knew it was mine. P, has been on a mission to find a clone of some sort. Kinda sweet.”

Pierre’s winks through the rear view mirror as he switches lanes. A tiny car honks as you flinch. Close one, he mutters. “And dare I say I found Spot’s twin. Reincarnation! Mon amour, you’re going to love him when we get there…”

1:25pm.

Eyes as wide as saucers, he steps on the gas so suddenly, it has you flying against the seat. You let out a scream - you think. “Pourquoi ne m'as-tu pas dit l'heure?” Charles winces.

“You should have been checking the time yourself! You’re the one driving!”

“But you’re supposed to be my GPS!”

“Non, je ne suis pas!”

The Frechman presses harder on the gas. You yelp. “Kiks, you’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had, don’t you dare forget it.”

“No, you are one of the best friends I’ve ever ha- Ah!” The Portuguese clings onto the window in an attempt to keep straight when her boyfriend switches lanes harshly. “Pierre, it’s fine! I don’t want to see my dead horse’ twin that bad.” Swiftly, he turns around as he shakes his head. Charles curses as he reaches out to keep the wheel straight.

“Listen to me Kika; you are meeting that horse.”

“Oh. I don’t feel so good.” Feeling queasy, with all the commotion and awful driving skills, you let out a whimper as you hold your head. A worried Charles turns around to caress your knee. It’s okay, baby. Do you need anything?

“Pierre, seriously, stop the bloody car.” His tone is threatening, but this doesn’t seem to stop Pierre.

“I’m sorry - I am - but we are making it there because we are making it there.” Kika is past asking and has skipped to praying in her native language, eyes squeezed shut.

“It’s fine. I’ll be fi-”

You’re cut off by police sirens, red and blue light dancing through the windows. Your eyes grow wide as you and Charles shared a panicked look. “Fuck,” Pierre murmurs. “Alright, everyone hold on. I’m gonna step on the gas.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Charles spits out before flinging back against his seat, forced to pull away from you. You’re a mess. Pierre, Pierre, it’s not worth it to die young, you wail.

“We’re making it to that stupid horse!”

Weaving through lanes, all of you slide side to side in your seats. Pull over, a stern voice blares outside of the police car. Your stomach strings into nervous loops.

“Pierre, pull over,” Kika finally tries as the situation grows more serious.

“I can lose him! Just give me a minute!”

Speeding is nothing new to the two Formula 1 drivers, but to you and your friend it was. “I’m too young!” Kika and you screech when Pierre does a sharp turn towards the exit. A breath of relief escapes Charles' lips when he notices the cop car had lost sight of them.

Smoothly, Pierre pulls into a dusty parking lot. He grins.

“Ta-da!”

“Sweetheart, did a horse already kick you?”

Icing his newly gifted black eye, Pierre mumbles a low; “Something like that.”

Icing his newly gifted fist, Charles sarcastically replies; “Something like that.”

The little old lady smiles warmly before leading the group towards the barn. “We have many beauties for you to choose from. All friendly!”

Almost instantly, Kika spots the horse the group almost lost their lives over. “He’s beautiful!” Running over, she pets him as he licks her hand. Pierre discreetly snaps a few pictures.

“That was really sweet,” you admire. Charles scoffs. Almost dying seems sweet to you? Giggling, you playfully smack his toned chest. “Well, no. But just how hard he tried to get her here…” Kika waves at you both as she climbs onto the tall horse.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. Leading you further into the cabin, you both pet the row of horses. Behind you, Pierre yells out, Buttercup is a fan favorite!

And so, you were introduced to Buttercup. Charles' heart did a double take when a bright smile formed itself onto your lips. You were an Angel on Earth.

After going over the basics, you’re able to take Buttercup on a quick gallop around the open field. Attentive, Charles follows by foot. “Are you sure you don’t want to get on a horsy?”

“Once, when I was a little kid, I fell off one. I was lucky that it was just a pony, but I’ve been traumatized since.”

“Oh.” You try keeping a straight face but can’t help but start laughing. He frowns. “Sorry! I’m just imagining that.” Wheezing harder, you clutch your heart dramatically. He wishes to remember the sound of your laugh.

“Sweetheart! Just letting you know that no candy should be near the horses! Wouldn’t want them acting up.”

Shooting a quick thumbs up, you nod. Peacefully, you continue laughing and learning more about Charles and you love it.

Strolling over, Pierre pats Charles shoulder as they whisper to each other for a while. Trotting away just a bit, you decide to give them a bit of privacy. A few seconds later, they share a bro hug.

“Just don’t do anything stupid again,” you hear Charles warn as Pierre bobs his head. Got it.

“They have a cute little shop here so I went to go buy a few snacks, you guys want some?”

Opening a chocolate bar, he extends his arm out as a truce, brown chocolate glistening under the sun. Your stomach drops.

“Pierre, you fucking di-” Buttercup rapidly spots the candy bar and begins to gallop towards the Monegasque and Frenchman with full speed. Get out of the way, you shriek out as they both make a run for the exit.

“This place is lovely!” Kika hollers as she inches closer to the commotion. Lost, her gaze flickers to where Pierre and Charles jump over the fence, landing on mud, and you and Buttercup chasing after them. “Oh God, Pierre.”

“That’s the thing! You don’t think!”

The fight between Charles and Pierre has been going on for what seems like hours and you were starting to get tired of it.

“Charles-”

He gently pushes your hands aside before glaring back at Pierre. “What would you have done if something had happened to her, huh? Oh, you would be a dead man-”

“I think he gets it now!” Tugging on his arm, you pull him towards you. “I’m fine. It was fun.” He looks at you skeptical as you let out a light laugh. “Okay, too soon. But seriously, let’s just forget about it! Nothing happened and we still have a full day ahead of us. Let’s not let it go to waste.”

“Dirt bike riding!”

“Are you sure?” Leaning against Charles, you massage your temples at the possibility. Given, it sounds like fun, but you really weren’t looking for a broken bone.

“Always.”

“Be careful,” you say as you tap against Charles' helmet. Only a tiny part of you wanted to join, but decided not to last minute. Kika agreed to stay with you, but deep down you knew she was just as scared.

Smacking your ass, you jump as he lets out a muffled laugh underneath the black helmet. “Wouldn’t want to die without fucking you.”

Blushing, you push him away. “Go already.” A loud laugh follows as he drifts away. The sight of him wearing all black has your head spinning. Sitting down on a small table, under the shade, you take a sip of Kika’s Coca-Cola. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome?”

Everything carries on smoothly. A few close calls, but safe nonetheless. “I didn’t know they were so good at this,” you ponder, gaze keeping up with the 26 year old.

“Me either. Honestly - definitely - surprised.” A pink tint fans itself on her cheeks as Pierre bikes by. “I love it.”

“Get a room.” But you aren’t complaining either. This is definitely a sweet sight. Wanna try? Charles calls out. “No, thank you.”

Biking closer, he opens up his visor, green eyes shining through. “I’ll keep you safe,” he tries. You shake your head. “As if you’re my most prized possession. Newsflash: you are.”

He’s subtle with it, but it’s enough for you to feel as if you’re floating. You just had to be. “Very sweet, but I’m okay.” Leaning close, you kiss his helmet before slamming it shut.

“Suit yourself, chérie.” You feel as if you’re stumbling over yourself as you watch him glide away. You have to remind yourself that people are around and that there is no room for shenanigans. Dirt crunches underneath your feet as you twirl to face the Portuguese.

“I think I’m in love.” Fanning your face, you let out a breath. She chokes.

“In lo- excuse me, what?” Shrugging your shoulders, you spin the yellow straw that dips inside your drink.

“I said I think. Quit acting as if I just said my first words.” Grabbing you by your shoulders, she starts to shake you back and forth. Might as well be! There’s no way ‘you think’! When it comes to you, you always know. Her point has you thinking about your confession. Because she’s right.

You are in love.

What’s there not to love? He’s kind, caring, intelligent, funny, clumsy in a cute manner, he looks out for you (especially when Pierre is near the premises). If anything, it would be impossible not you. Looking up, you see him on the side of the dusty hill, chatting with what looks like to be fans. And he’s just so sweet with them, it only makes you more sure of your sudden knowledge.

“He can’t know. Not yet.”

The bike's loud engine is what snaps you out of your thoughts. Pierre waves as he follows after Charles. “That was awesome! Amour, did you see me-” Amidst of his words, he didn’t pay much attention when he accidentally stepped on the pedal a tad bit too hard, causing him to glide closer to Charles’ motorbike. A loud clash follows as they skid on the dirt, dust causing them to be untraceable for a moment, only bickering coming through.

Hurriedly, you both run over as you wave your hand and cough. Slowly, the dirt settles down, allowing you to see Charles and Pierre on top of one another. They both groan in pain. Charles pushes the Frenchman off him.

“I should’ve known something had to happen.”

A few more ideas were thrown out by the blue eyed man but every single one got shut down. “Let’s just get something to eat,” Kika growls. Clicking your fingers, you point at her, agreeing.

And so you and your friends find yourselves in a small restaurant that looks straight out of a Western movie. “Pretty nice, I must admit,” you congratulate. Smirking, Pierre slaps the back of Charles’ head. See? A snarl is enough for him to make a run for it. Giggling, you tippy toe to kiss his cheek. “Does your boo boo still hurt, my poor baby?” Brushing your fingers against his thigh, he flinches.

“Yes, actually, it does. I hate bruises.” Snorting, you throw your head back. He drags you closer to his chest, making you trip over your cowboy boots that he just bought for you. “A kiss might make me forget about the pain though, little lady.” He pretends to tip an imaginary hat.

“Little lady?”

“Bonita? Linda?” Curiously, you quirk a brow. “Carlos…” he explains as you respond with an, Ohhh. Tapping his chest, you slide your fingers through his hair.

“A kiss you say?”

He smiles. “Or something else, really.” Heat pools in between your legs as you try your best to suppress your moans. But the way he’s looking down at you has you almost running away. You kiss his cheek, lips lingering for a single moment. The hand that presses against his chest is able to identify the way his heart speeds up.

“Better?”

“I was thinking more here,” he points to his lips, “But that was just as good.” Walking away, you start making your way to where Pierre and Kika sat.

“You never said where.” His eyes follow you, flickering down to your ass, Levi denim short pressed up against you. It should be illegal to look this good.

“Ahem.” Pulling his attention away, he looks into Kika’s eyes, who scowls back up at him. Shyly, he takes a seat.

Dinner flew by. Laughter and stories being heard by any bypasser, but it really didn’t matter to any of you.

“I think his visor broke!” Pierre wheezes as he clings onto the table. Charles shoots a cold glare.

“You broke it with your foot when you kicked me.” This only seems to make his friend laugh harder. The corner of Charles’ mouth slightly lifts up. You continue talking about your day when an older man makes his way to your booth.

“You guys interested in dancing?”

“Hey, man, that’s my girlfriend,” Pierre responds as he looks up at the man. Who does he think he is? he mouths to the rest of you.

“Oh, I don’t mean it like that. Line dancing. Anyone who wants to join is welcome to.” Extending his hands towards Pierre, he introduces himself. “Ben. I’m the owner of the restaurant.” Pierre lets out a nervous laugh.

“Oh. My bad.” Turning to Kika he says, “You want to?” She doesn’t even bother looking at him as she smiles at the older man.

“Yes, of course! She pinches your hips, you yelp in surprise. “You in?” Tight lipped, you smile and nod. You both look over to the F1 drivers. Charles shakes his head.

“Count me out.”

Pierre nods. “Yeah, me too.”

Sticking her tongue out, Kika grabs your hand. “Okay, losers.” Walking to the crowded dance floor, she jumps up and down. Her excitement eases you as you smile ear to ear. “You know how to line dance?” You nod.

“My grandpa taught me when I was 5.” Cackling, she high fives you as the music starts. You furrow your brows. “Country Girl?” Kika lets out a satisfied sigh..

“Ahhh. Luke Bryan at his finest.” Copying others steps, you both giggle as you stumble a bit at the beginning. Peeking over at the boys, she frowns. “They’re not even looking.” You wave her off.

“It doesn’t matter.” But you can tell she’s itching for a reaction from Pierre. “You flirt,” you tease as you slap her hip. She rolls her eyes, playfully. Pulling her closer, you swing your hands over her shoulders. She tilts her head in confusion. “God gave us hips and an ass for a reason.” Wickedly, she smiles as she lets loose.

Following the beat, you sway your hips before letting go of one another and spinning like the most seductive ballerinas that ever existed. Running a hand through your hair, you begin to drop to the floor, wide eyes staring up at your best friends who just laughs. Gliding back up, your hands dance across her legs.

“Alright, quit it before I cheat on my boyfriend!” You let out a laugh. “And before Charles kills me.”

“And why would he do that?”

She shrugs her shoulders, tossing her locks over her shoulder. “He looks like wants to kill me and fuck you.” Shocked at her words, you turn to the table and sure enough, Charles’ bruning gaze is directed only towards you. As if no one else existed. Meanwhile, Pierre's mouth is hung wide open. You clear your throat.

“Look at Pierre,” you mumble, trying to get the image of Charles out of your mind. She blushes, sending a kiss over to her boyfriend who smiles suggestively. You shudder. “Gross.” She smacks your cheek softly.

The song ends and you almost wish you could stay dancing forever so there would be no room to see Charles after that. Standing up, he pulls your chair out as you quietly thank him. “Shy now?” His voice is strained, as if he’s trying his best to simply just talk to you, but also filled with tease. You hum.

“Nope.” Your breath hitches when his hand slides onto your thighs. He clicks his tongue.

“I think you might be.” His hand slides swiftly in between your legs. “Just a tiny bit.”

“I-I’m not-”

“Hey,” a voice kills the moment. Charles' attention flickers to the man that stands in front of you. You smile. “Oh, I saw you dancing…”

“And?” Charles cuts him off, but the guy only ignores him.

“Jaden.” He extends his hand out for you to shake. Hesitantly, you do. “I was wondering if I could get your number?”

Stuttering you say, “U-um. I-I…” Looking over at Kika, you beg for help as she raises her brows. No thank you, she mouths. Pierre watched it all unfold as if this were a movie. Awkwardly, you clear your throat. “I’m seeing someone actually, sorry.”

The blond clicks his tongue, running his hand through his jaw. “That’s the thing. He doesn’t have to know. He won’t mind.” Charles can’t help but scoff and stand up to his full height.

“Oh, I think he’ll mind.” It’s almost as if Jaden knew this would tick Charles off as he casually smirked.

“It’s you,” he says, eyes full of judgment. “I had someone else in mind.”

“Yeah, I don’t care what that might be, but you should leave.” Jaden’s eyes meet yours as he takes a seat on the now open chair.

“Merde,” Pierre whispers.

“What do you say we get out of here? I know a hotel nearby.”

Frowning at his words you say, “What’s wrong with you?” You’re caught by surprise when Charles reaches down to drag him by the collar.

“Jaden, is it? I think it’s best if you leave. She’s not interested.”

“Dude, don’t take it personal. Just a quick taste and she’s all yo-” He doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence when the Monegasque sends a hard punch. He groans, crashing on top of the table.

“Don’t you dare talk about her at all,” he sourly threatens. Turning back to where you stand with Kika and Pierre, he’s about to check up on you, but that’s before he’s yanked back and hit straight in the ribs. Huffing, Jaden stands over him as he grins.

“Too hard on you?”

Standing up, Charles rolls up his sleeves. “Nope.” Which is how he landed himself in a fiery fight with some wannabe GoldenDoodle.

“Pierre! Do something!”

“Y-you’re right!” Jumping in, he tries to pry Charles off as they tumble around. Get off me, Charles mutters. The Frenchman immediately lets go. “H-he said to get off hi-”

“Yeah, I heard.” Desperately, you try yelling for the Monegasque, but it’s almost as if he can’t hear you. Ben, the owner, runs over.

“Darling, if they don’t stop I’m going to have to call the cops.”

“No!” But the moment you see dark blood flowing out of Charles’ lip, you panic. “Fine! Yes! Call them, but hurry, please!”

After what seems like an eternity, when really it was only 5 minutes, the cops show up. “Let go and put your hands where I can see them!” This seems to get their attention as they harshly let go of one another. You let out a breath of relief, Kika hugging your arm. Cuffing them up, they start pulling them towards the exit, boos filling up the small restaurant. Running after them, you tap on the cops shoulder.

“Let him go, please! He was only defending me!” You’re close to crying and this makes Charles feel guilty. It’s okay. I’ll be fine! Just meet me at the police station. Getting closer, Pierre tries to drag you away as you cry. The policeman stops for a moment.

“You…” Pierre looked around confused before pointing at himself. Me? Calling for backup, a new officer comes and cuffs the Frenchman.

“Woah, woah, hey there. What’s this for?” Kika asks, jogging in order to keep up. “Why is he being arrested?”

The grouchy man scowls. “Speeding on a freeway. Sound familiar?”

“It’s alright, Kika! Just meet us in the police station!”

“He was driving fast to fulfill my wish, he was only being sweet! And I know he was acting irresponsible, but I swear he won’t do it again.”

Nodding, you push her aside. “And Charles was just protecting me from that dick! Please, he won’t do i-it a-a-again…”

The little old lady behind the desk with a bored expression hums. It’s quiet for a few minutes before she stamps the two papers right in front of her. You both sigh. “Alright. I’ll let them go. But only because I like you both.”

Running up to the guys, you throw yourself on the Monegasque as he lets out a groan in pain. Cradling his face, you press kiss after kiss. “I'm” - kiss - “so” - kiss - “glad” - kiss - “you’re” - kiss - “out.” Smiling, he tucks a stand of hair behind your ear.

“This is the land of the free, right?” Your glare up at him, biting back a smile. Not funny at all, you pout. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Walking up to you both, holding hands, Pierre smiles. “Want me to drive us back to the hotel?”

Flinging onto the bed, you let out a few kick-spasms. “Remind me to never agree to anything Pierre says. Ever.”

Lying down next to you, he closes his eyes. “I know I give him so much crap for it, but he means no harm.” Rolling over to your side, you furrow your brows. “Never again,” he confirms. Sitting up right, you wait for him to do the same. Leaning against the headboard, he smiles softly.

“Thank you,” you begin, “For standing up for me.”

“I would do it over and over again with no hesitation.” Letting out a shaky breath, he scoots you to straddle his lap. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

And maybe it is the heat of the moment, but soon you find yourself leaning down to kiss up. His lips are warm, the way you remember them. Your lips are home, the way he remembers them. Sliding his shirt off, you halt when you see the bruises that cover him. You let out a slight wince. “You know what? Another day when you feel better-” He pushes your hips against his as your eyes roll back with anticipation.

“I feel better already.” And then he’s kissing you again, mind trying to keep up with the way your soft hands slide up and down his chest. Long fingers pinch your shirt, tugging it off. His eyes train themselves on your tits. “You’re a fucking dream.”

Unclasping your bra, his mouth immediately wraps around your left nipple. Whining, you brush your hands against his curls. The way his tongue swirls around your sensitive bud has you pushing his face deeper to your chest. He doesn’t seem to mind, free hand going in to squeeze your other boob.

Grabbing his face, you force him to face you, both your chests heaving up and down.

“Fuck me. Please.”

Groaning, he throws his head back. Not wasting anymore time, he switches positions, sprawling you against the white bed sheets. He takes his time taking your shorts and panties off before slipping off his jeans and boxers.

The sight of his dick has you nervous for a split second, but that's cut short when you feel his fingers sliding against your walls. You squirm. “That’s it, amour. Let loose.” His large frame towers over you as he spreads your legs out even more. Almost like an instinct, your legs wrap around his waist. He kisses your forehead. “You need to let me know if you’re uncomfortable.”

“Pinky promise, just…please.”

That's all it takes. Thrusting into you, you both let out dirty, sinful moans. It takes all of him to not snap his hips, just the thought alone being too much.

“You’re so fucking worth it. Worth it all.” Clinging onto his arm, your mind is hazy with the sudden stretch. He’s big and you feel him already brushing against your g-spot. You wonder if you’ll be able to take him.

“Ch-Charles, please move,” you beg, pupils dilated. He starts off slow and you’re almost embarrassed with the way it has you reaching out for him. Begging for more. “F-feel s-s-so good inside of me.”

The way you clench around his cock has him choking on his saliva. “Yeah? Well you feel so good wrapped around me. Warm and-” The sound of his voice has your walls closing around him, even tighter. “...unreal. You can’t be real.”

He lost with the way you squirm underneath him, twisting, almost pulling away, but he keeps a firm grip. “Ch- oh God.” His speed picks up as he fucks your harder. Past boyfriends only put their needs first, but you can tell he was trying to get you to finish first. The realization made your head spin. A tight feeling enters your bottom belly.

Boys? Waste of time.

Men? He was everything.

Rubbing your clit, he admires you. Close? You open your eyes, soft pants being released, the sound of the headboard rutting against the white wall. “I-I don’t know…” He pinches his brows. You let out a shaky breath. “How should an orgasm feel?”

His eyes widen, hips continue their abuse. “You’ve never had an orgasm?” Bashfully, you let go of his burning gaze, watery eyes focused on his pulsing muscles.

“Boys…” Letting out a cry, your bite down on his bicep with the sudden brush against your g-spot. He hisses. Your mouth is open with an O as you drool all over him. You whine when he places his hand over your lower belly. You should feel some pressure here.

His voice is deep, raw and so mature. He sounds as fucked out as you feel. “Do you feel something like that, chérie?” Furiously, you nod. “Words. Use your words.”

“I-I-I do.” Those two words have him almost seeing the future. They are slow and weak, but also sure and his. In this exact moment, he swore he would have you repeating those same words, only in a different location. Teary eyes look up at him. “I feel you everywhere.”

With that you let out a scratched moan as you cum around his cock. The way you arch and squeeze around him is what makes him finish right after. Catching your breath, you look up at him with a twinkle in your eyes. He kisses your bruised out lips.

“You’re fucking perfect.”

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc angst

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luxaofhesperides · 4 months

Note

For ghostlights: baby Ellie + tired Danny + Duke the baby whisperer?

He has no idea how his parents did it.

Babies are exhausting. Toddlers more so. Any infants in the strange stage in-between? Doubly so.

Ellie is wonderful and sweet and cute and such a terror that Danny genuinely has no idea how his parents managed to raise not one, but two kids. For all their eccentricities and absent-mindedness, he and Jazz turned out pretty well. Ignoring the whole halfa thing because that’s more his fault than theirs even if Jazz says they shouldn’t have created the dangerous environment in the first place.

That environment is exactly why Danny refuses to let Ellie go to his house in Amity Park. His parents say they’ve disabled all the weapons and ecto-sensors since he’s had to reveal himself as Phantom, but he knows that things slip their minds and if they can’t guarantee that the house is safe, then Ellie isn’t going in there. Simple as that.

This means that they live somewhere else now. Danny had thought about it, during the hours Ellie was asleep and he was awake, exhausted and worn down to his bones, and took Jazz’s advice to accept Vlad’s offer of buying a house for him. Except he argued Vlad down to an apartment in a city of his choosing where he wouldn’t stand out too much and he would be safe, or as safe as he can be, from anyone trying to hunt down ghosts.

So here they are. Standing in the empty living room of their new apartment in Gotham.

Gotham may not be very safe as a city, but it’s good for two ghosts trying to pass as normal.

Danny sighs yet again, and looks at the space he’ll need to fill. At least Vlad is footing the bill. It’s the least he can do for creating Ellie. Frostbite was the one who was able to stabilize her, though it was almost too late and resulted in her reforming as a baby, just one and a half years old. Jazz is the one who’s choosing most of the furniture, thankfully, so it’s something that Danny doesn’t need to worry about it.

It’s a new start to their lives and it feels so empty. So overwhelming. How did his parents do it? How do any parents do it?

Ellie smacks a small palm against his cheek and babbles lightly.

“I know, Ellie,” Danny says, giving her a tired smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll have this place looking good in no time.”

He adjusts her in his arms, then heads towards the bedroom. It’s the only room that has any furniture, and all that’s there is a bed, a crib, and a bookcase. There are a few boxes on the floor, labeled ‘bedroom’ and ‘clothing’ and ‘books’. Most of it came from his bedroom in Amity Park, but he’s pretty sure he caught Jazz sneaking a few things in before they closed the boxes and loaded them up into the car.

“Can you be good for five minutes?” he asks Ellie.

She babbles again and smacks his shoulder.

“I’m taking that as an agreement. Just let me open these boxes and start unpacking before you start causing trouble, okay?”

Ellie makes another sound, but it seems agreeable so Danny carefully lays her down in the crib and gets to peeling off the tape on the boxes. The opens the one labeled ‘bedroom’ first, finding blankets and sheets folded and stacked in vacuum sealed bags. One of them is his old childhood blanket, the one he carried around everywhere that was faded with age, barely blue, with white bunnies decorating it.

He was so small when he had this. It makes him oddly emotional to unpack it and pass it on to Ellie, draping it over her so her pudgy little hands can grab at it.

This is no time to cry, though! He forces himself to focus and makes his own bed, shaking out the sheets and fluffing up the pillows. He’ll worry about washing everything later; Vlad made sure to get an apartment with an in-unit washer and dryer, which means he was actually sensible while apartment hunting for Danny.

He doesn’t mean to flop onto the bed once it’s made, but he ends up there anyways. He’s barely gotten a full six hours of uninterrupted sleep since Frostbite deemed Ellie healthy enough to leave his care. The drive up to Gotham was long and wore him down to his bones.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but he does, drifting off as he wonders, distantly, when Jazz will be back from getting them dinner.

Ellie wakes him up at dawn with a loud cry. Danny jolts awake, heart pounding in his chest as he panics because Ellie isn’t here, she’s supposed to be in his arms, where is she? And then he sees the crib, where Ellie is staring at him through the bars, and he nearly collapses with relief.

“Morning, El,” he says, voice rough from sleep, as he picks her up. She just stares up at him, then leans forward and rests her head against his shoulder.

It’s quiet moments like these that make his heart melt. Ellie’s had a hard life already; he wants to give her a better one, this time around.

A quick check of the time on his nearly dead phone shows that it’s barely past six in the morning, and Jazz texted him a few times. All about furniture, saying that she didn’t want to wake them and that food is in the fridge.

It’s only the mention of food that makes him realize how ravenous he’s feeling. Danny makes a beeline for the kitchen, ignoring everything else, and pulls out the boxes of take-out Jazz left stacked in the fridge. He devours it like he’s been starving for weeks, then gives Ellie her Ecto-Jello, the only food she’s allowed to eat until Frostbite gives the okay for solid, human food.

Once he’s got her burped and cleaned up, Danny looks out of the kitchen and realizes that Jazz was very productive while he was asleep. The living room isn’t empty anymore; a dark green couch is against the wall, a low, rectangular coffee table made of dark wood in front of it. Two armchairs are on both sides of the couch, and a television has been installed, fixed into the wall.

Jazz is asleep on the couch. Her legs hang off an armrest and she’s drooling slightly.

Her phone is charging on the floor, so Danny takes it and snaps a picture of her for later teasing, then sends it to himself and writes a note to her that he’s going out with Ellie to explore the neighborhood.

He’s finally feeling more settled, energized from sleep and food.

In the warm dawn light spilling in through the windows, Danny looks down at Ellie and thinks that they’ll be just fine after all.

. . .

Four months ago, Danny had hope. He was optimistic.

Gotham was a fresh start, a new lease of life for Ellie. It is Danny’s attempt to be a single parent, sacrificing college for Ellie, and he’s planning to go out and beat the gangs black and blue if they start anymore shootouts in the next year.

He had just gotten Ellie to sleep. She was actually peacefully taking a nap.

And then a drive by shooter raced down the street, gunshots echoing down the road, and Ellie work up crying. She still hasn’t stopped, despite how Danny rocked her, soothing her as best he could.

They had been outside when Ellie fell asleep, her head on his shoulder. He had been catching up with Sam and Tucker when the car drove by, people ducking and crying out to avoid the bullets. Danny instinctively covered Ellie and made them both intangible, saving them from any stray bullets, but they ruined her nap and he needs to make them pay for that.

“Shh,” he soothes, “You’re okay. We’re both fine. It’s okay, El, it’s okay.”

Her little hands clutch at his back, twisting the fabric of his shirt, and she lets out a heartbreaking wail. He pats her back, hurrying down the street to get back to his apartment building, ignoring the looks people were giving them as they passed by.

“I know it was scary, but you’re alright. You’re always safe with me, El.”

Ellie’s cries down down a little, but they don’t stop. She whimpers, burying her face against his shoulder as he finally reaches their apartment building.

The door’s locked, which wouldn’t be a problem except Danny can’t get his keys from his pocket. He knows he has them! But his pocket refuses to relinquish them and he has to stop every few seconds to pat Ellie’s back, trying in vain to calm her down.

“We’ll be inside in a second,” he tells her, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice, “as soon as I can get these freaking keys!”

“Hey, you alright?”

Danny startles, whirling around so fast it makes Ellie go quiet, clinging to him so she doesn’t get flung into the air. There’s a guy standing before him in a gray hoodie, looking at him with clear concern. It speaks to Danny’s level of constant exhaustion that he hadn’t clocked someone sneaking up behind him.

The guy offers an awkward smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you or anything. Um, do you need me to open to door? I live here too.”

Danny wonders for a moment if this someone dangerous, someone hoping to hurt Ellie, but she starts to cry again and he steps to the side. “Please. I can’t get my keys.”

“I’m Duke, by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Danny,” he replies, watching as Duke pulls out a large key ring, jangling with the amount of keychains on it, and easily opens the door. “I’ve been here a few months, but I’m usually inside. Or walking around in the mornings with this little monster.”

“That would explain it,” Duke says as he holds the door open, letting Danny in first. “I’m usually in classes at GCU, but I decided to take a mental health day after my lab, so here I am.”

Danny walks in and waits for Duke to follow, making sure the door closes properly behind them. “Thanks. How is GCU? What do you study? I was thinking of going there myself once she gets a little older and can go to school.”

“Oh, I’m majoring in English and Human Services.” He goes to say more, but Ellie wails again and Danny winces.

“I’m so sorry. That drive by woke her up and it’s really rattled her.”

“Hey, no need to apologize. I get it, Gotham is rough to kids.”

Danny tries rocking her back and forth, but it doesn’t help. He resigns himself to another hour of her crying before she exhausts herself, and makes for the stairs, going up to the fourth floor. Duke holds open the door again, then follows after them. It makes Danny wonder if Duke is planning to do something to them, then decides he can beat Duke in a fight, so it’s fine.

Duke doesn’t try to hurt them or steal Ellie away. He opens the door to their floor and stops before they do. “I’m in here,” he says, “If you ever need me to open more doors.”

“Thanks. Um, actually, I might need help opening mine?”

Duke just smiles and makes his way back to them, following them farther into the hall until Danny stops in front of his apartment.

“If I could just get my keys,” he starts.

“Here, let me hold her for a second so you can get them,” Duke offers. Danny wants to insist that it’s fine, but Ellie cries directly into his ear and Danny, at the end of his rope, passes her over.

Like magic, Ellie settles as soon as she’s in Duke’s arms. She sniffles and hides her face away, clutching to Duke’s hoodie, but she stops crying. They both go still, surprised, and stare down at her.

“Seriously?” Danny says as he finally pulls out his keys, “Are you trying to say that I’m the problem?”

Ellie babbles lightly, and Duke turns his head to futilely hide his grin.

He grumbles as he unlocks the door and pushes it open. Ellie is acting as if she’s never been upset before a day in her life, making herself at home in Duke’s arms.

“I can’t believe this. Betrayed by my own blood.”

Duke laughs as he follows Danny into his apartment, lightly patting Ellie’s back. “It’s always the smallest, cutest ones that do this.”

“Yeah? Do you work with a lot of kids or something? Used to being betrayed by the little ones?”

“I don’t work with kids per se,” Duke says, “But my foster family is a hot mess and the youngest of them likes to keep us all on our toes.”

“Family,” Danny says in a tired, fond tone.

“Family,” Duke agrees.

With his door open and Ellie calm, Danny’s ready to just lay face down on the floor for the rest of the day and not deal with anything else. He moves to take Ellie back, holding his arms out, and Duke tries to pass her over.

The key word being tries.

Ellie tightens her grip and kicks at Danny. She refuses to be taken away from Duke, making him awkwardly try to pry her off his hoodie. Danny really hopes Duke doesn’t notice how she goes slightly intangible to make his hands fall through her arms and legs. It shouldn’t be noticeable, but it’s hard to focus on anything but a kid that clings to you, so Danny holds out for Duke’s goodwill and silence.

“As nice as it is to meet you, you need to go back to your… parent?” Danny nods when Duke looks at him in askance. “You need to go back to your parent. Okay? Come on, kid, he’s waiting for you.”

Ellie shakes her head, makes a frustrated noise, and then turns and reaches out a grabby hand towards Danny.

She still refuses to be taken from Duke when Danny tries to pick her up again, so he settles with just letting her hold two of his fingers.

“I’m so sorry about this,” he says to Duke, face burning. This is why he hasn’t been going out and being social since he moved in; Ellie is a handful even on the best days, and Danny doesn’t want someone to judge him as unfit to parent her and have her taken away.

Duke shakes his head, stepping closer. “It’s all good, man. I don’t mind. It’s not like I had any plans today. I’m already skipping my classes, might as well spend it with you two than sleep all day.”

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to invite you in, but I know Ellie can be a lot and not everyone wants to spend their day off with a baby.”

“I’m sure. Besides, I’d just be down the hall anyways. It’s no skin off my back, man.”

“Well,” Danny says, stepping to the side to give Duke full access to his open doorway, “Come on in, then.”

Ellie keeps them connected, one hand in Duke’s hoodie and the other holding Danny’s fingers, and though her cheeks are still red from how hard she had been crying, she’s calm now with her eyes shining with mischief.

As the door closes behind them, Danny realizes that this is the first time someone he’s not related to has been inside his apartment. Not even Vlad has come in, always choosing to invite Danny and Ellie out for lunch instead.

It should make him nervous, but Duke is calm and easy going and kind.

He’s making silly faces at Ellie to make her laugh, completely at ease with her in his arms, as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

Gotham is a second chance at life for Ellie. It’s a sacrifice for Danny, to be alone and without friends or family around. He’d been ready to give up everything for Ellie, to focus solely on raising her, but with Duke filling his apartment with laughter, he thinks that he can make a life here too.

All he needs to do is take that first step, reach his hand out, ask Duke to stick around.

He can do this.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #i really love writing about characters struggling to be parents v suddenly and thru unconventional means #so here's danny a year out of high school living on his own for the first time w baby ellie #and duke who needed some space and independence while he's in college. bruce pays for the apartment while duke works part time for grocerie #and ellie who had been fully developed but unstable is now a halfa baby who remembers stuff but is also. yknow. a baby.#she absolutely latched onto duke to force danny to have a life outside of her. but also she can sense that hes kind and calm #which danny needs bc he is Stressed (tm)#this leads to duke bringing over food for them and looking after ellie while danny goes shopping or naps #both of them ignoring how duke has to leave suddenly for Hero Related Reasons and how danny and ellie have Powers #it's a v delicate balance they keep for the sake of keeping ellie safe #yeah they're gonna co-parent and realize they're basically dating after MONTHS of pining #the bats have bets on who gives bruce a grandkid first and literally no one bet on duke but here he is lol :)#thanks for the prompt!!

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fraugwinska · 4 days

Note

What about the reader found and old radio, they thought the radio was broken but it's not, it's just antique.. when they play it at night time alastor broadcast was heard first they feel something is odd.. but they love to listen to his voice, heck they even like talking to each other, because of this encounter alastor talk about it to rosie, she was happy hearing alastor telling her stories but she feel odd when alastor mention that the person he talks to is a human, Rosie giving him advice to not fall for human because they're different species, and it will make him weak etc.

Alastor feel guilty and agree with rosie advice so he's stop contacting the reader from the radio, he thinks that the reader will be fine but no the reader take it personally.. they thought alastor don't want to talk to them anymore.. it drive them mad and lead to suicide..

So yeah angst :D

Oh Anon. What have you done.

I cried while I wrote that - it took two very good friends of mine to encourage me to post it (Thanks to @macabr3-barbi3 and @mysterypotatoink). But I think it's tragic and beautiful, and honestly - I'm kinda proud of it!

TW: Psychological Trauma, descend into madness, loss of self care and suicide - please take care of yourself and do not read if you aren't comfortable with any of the mentioned! MINORS DNI

Here we go.

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Leap of Faith

You carried in the last box from you banged-up minivan. The old thing barely made it to your new home. A little cabin in the outskirts of New Orleans, a little off the grid and surrounded by the peaceful and whirring bayous of Louisiana.

A fixer-upper, just like yourself.

The online auction had intrigued you the second you found it, the photos were a bit blurry and you knew it was a risk to buy a place you've never set foot in, but something in you called you to get it. The price you paid was laughable, barely making a dent in your savings. Moving states sounded scary and impossible, but you felt oddly calm about it.

You didn't have a lot of stuff to move anyway. After all, you only lived with your late grandmother, and she never really cared for material things. Your parents left you at her doorstep, never to be seen again.

Caring for her in her last, sickness-ridden years had been a no-brainer - it felt like nothing in comparison to all she had done for you - but it also had been a bit lonely.

You had your friends, if you could even call them that, but you rarely saw them - guiding your nan through the last months of her life had been demanding and time-consuming. It had left you exhausted and emotionally unavailable, and after a while, calls and texts ceased, until it was just you and her. You felt lost, as if the world was slowly pulling away from you.

When she finally died, peacefully in her sleep, you felt sad, relieved and drained.

Detached from the city you lived in.

Lost.

So you decided to sell what little you inherited, except for a few sentimental mementos, and move away from it all. To start a new life, a happier one, finally one that was truly your own.

You took the final box inside, setting it on the coffee table and wiped the sweat from your brow. You looked around the little cabin: The roof had some spots that needed a patch, and the wood floors were a bit warped, but it was all yours. No more having to share anything with anyone.

The cabin came furnished, a lot of the stuff was old, but still usable. You figured that would change once you settled in and had a vision of what you wanted and needed to buy. The thought of thinking about no one but yourself made you nervous.

But a little excited, too.

The old furniture would do for the moment, but there was a particular piece that caught your eye: an old, vintage cathedral radio, sitting nestled in between a cracked wooden box and a tarnished, bronze candle holder in a bookcase that was a bit out of place in the tiny space. With a tilted head, you stepped closer to inspect it, drawn to it by it's unique character and beauty.

It looked as well-loved as it looked well-used, the mahogany a bit scuffed, the knobs a little worn from years of being turned. But there were golden details etched into the front, and you traced them lightly with a finger, strangely touched and intrigued.

You were certain the old thing didn't work, but when you plugged it into the nearby socket, static erupted from the speakers, making you jump back. You had to smile, though.

Tonight, you wouldn't be alone. You'd have this little device and a little music for good company.

***

"I'm home!" you announced to no one in particular, as you closed the door behind you, your hands full with overfilled grocery bags full of necessities, waiting to fill your empty cabinets.

The day had been hot, but a welcome breeze of the impending night break cooled the inside of your little cabin a bit. With a quiet grunt you set the paper bags down at the small kitchenette. Your groceries were quickly dispersed, and you put on an apron you saved from your grandmother as you got started on dinner.

You hummed as you cut vegetables and boiled water. It had been a long time since you had cooked, really cooked, your nan wasn't much for eating and had no problem living off of simple soups and toast. When you opened your fridge to get some butter, your glance fell onto the radio.

A little music would be nice, you decided, and you walked over, cleaning your hands on the red, frilly cloth around your waist before you turned the dial. The soft sound of static made you hum in contempt - yup. Still works. A little turn to the left, and the room was filled with a soft jazzy tune, the melody a bit grainy, but you didn't mind that at all. You returned to the stove, swaying your hips to the beat as you worked. The music made you feel at ease, and for a moment, the world seemed to be just right.

Just as the onions began to brown in the pan, the song faded out to a voice. You turned your head to the radio, intrigued by the unusual, eccentric accent of the host. It reminded you of the old, vintage films and recordings your grandmother had been fond of - wasn't it called 'transatlantic'?. Whatever it was, it made you smile.

"Now wasn't that a kick in the head, dearest listener? I sure hope you enjoyed the little musical interlude, but it's time to return to the real show! As usual, my name is Alastor, and you are listening to the best jazz, blues and swing music that Hell has to offer!"

You blinked, a little puzzled and yet amused. "Sure is hot as hell today, strange man in the radio.", you mumbled, chuckling as you stirred the bell peppers under the caramelized onions.

"Today we have a very special guest joining my humble broadcast, it seems. Pleasure to meet you, darling, quite the pleasure!"

"Oh who? Me?" you asked, looking theatrically over your shoulder with batted lashes, shaking your head over your own silliness. You weren't used to talking out loud to yourself, or even really thinking out loud. You were always alone, after all, but the little pretend-play was fun. You laughed a bit, waiting for the host's guest to speak.

"Of course you, little dove. Who else would I mean?"

You gasped, and nearly dropped the spoon as you whipped around, eyes glued to the humming, orange glow of the radio in the dim darkness of your living room.

"What's that? You're surprised, my dear? Don't worry, you're not the only one! This is a first for me, too. Never had a human join my program. I must say, I'm quite intrigued! Tell me, what is your name?"

Your eyes grew wide, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. You took a hesitant step backwards and hit the hot stove, making you curse under your breath. Was the heat finally getting to you?

"Don't be shy now, darling. I'm not gonna hurt you, cross my lil' old, blackened heart."

"I-I'm..." you began, swallowing as your fingers tightened around the wooden spoon. "My name is..."

"Yes?"

"I'm... crazy.", you mumbled, rubbing a hand over your face and chuckling a bit. You were just going insane, that's all. Must be the stress, combined with the intense heat. And lack of a companion, a tiny voice reminded you. Yes. Must be.

"Hello crazy, this is Alastor." The host laughed, together with a canned audience.

"Alastor...", you repeated, realization settling in - this wasn't a joke, or a trick of your mind.

"At your service, my dear.", the voice cooed. "Now, I believe you still owe me your name..."

***

You weren't crazy.

Or if you were, you didn't mind. Not with Alastor by your side - or, to be exact, in the radio on your bookcase.

After two weeks of ignoring the cursed radio after unplugging it in a wave of panic on your first night, your morbid curiosity got the better of you. You plugged it back in, and turned on the dial. Just once, you told yourself, then never ever again.

And that's how the two of you got in contact with each other once more. Alastor was as chipper as the first time you heard him, and after a bit of back-and-forth, he promised once again not to harm you, and you shared your name with him. The rest was history. He was very pleasant company. For a demon from hell.

You wouldn't classify the conversations you had with him as a real friendship in the beginning, but you did talk. Occasionally. Mostly in the evenings, when you cooked dinner: He'd ask you about your day and would pry eagerly for a little bit of gossip or new information about the modern New Orleans. When he let it slip that he lived in this very cabin in the 1920's, you weren't stopping with questions about what it was like back in his days, which he, in return, answered generously and enthusiastically.

The first few times he would try to coerce you into making a deal for your soul, casually sprinkling the offer into his small talk, but with enough blunt refusals and a few more days of radio silence (pun intended), he dropped the topic and seemed content on just talking. You, in return, found yourself relaxing into his charming company, your brain happily engaged with trying to wrap your head around him, or better, you tried to come to terms with it.

Weeks passed, and turning the radio on in the evenings became less of an occasional lapse of judgment but more of a routine you were looking forward to. You could tell the Alastor felt the same, his banter became less tense and acted, and a little more genuine.

It made your heart swell in happiness, that someone out there seemed to appreciate your company – even if that someone wasn't human.

Apprehension became amusement, and fascination became friendship. Oddly enough, you found common grounds in a lot of things: A love for cooking and good music. Preferring books over films. Red wine over white. A shared aversion of vulgarity, and appreciation for good manners.

Your nights were cut shorter and shorter, you would spend hours chatting on and on, until the deep darkness of night disappeared into a shade of blue on the horizon. Neither of you minded, at least that was what you thought. Alastor never ended the conversations with you. Either you had to say your goodbyes, or you would just fall asleep after hours of talking on your couch, and awake with a pained back to a shut-off radio. Then, after you'd realize that you would have a whole day ahead of you without hearing his voice, the loss would make your chest ache.

Two months into the 'thing', which was still a strange concept you could barely comprehend, the truth of the matter dawned on you: You liked him. Not just because he was a surprisingly amicable voice coming out of your vintage radio, a lively constant in the uneventful life you had made for yourself in Louisiana - he had become important to you, irreplaceable, even. An essential element to your life. You couldn't imagine how you'd gone so long without him, and yet, here you were, lost without him, scrambling through the hours until you could talk to him once more.

"Something on your mind, darling? You're awfully quiet today."

You held your fork and knife still above the salmon you had just been about to eat. It was the first meal of the evening in a long time where you weren't spending the entirety of the preparation time speaking to him, lost in thought about your blossoming feelings. He had gotten excellent at reading you like an open book - you should've gotten used to it after a couple of weeks of him catching on to every little change in your demeanor and knowing just what to say, when you were feeling happy, upset or nervous.

"Oh, um... no. It's nothing Al. Work had me in a wringer today."

"Is it your co-worker Susan again?" You could basically hear his eyes rolling, making you chuckle. "That name must be cursed, every single soul with that name is a menacing pain."

"Maybe,", you muttered, nibbling on a piece of the roasted fish. "This one is mostly just an ornery old bitch."

"Taking the words right out of my mouth, dear." he laughed.

There's was a comfortable pause, with just a gentle background noise of his ever-playing static and an easy, melodic tune coming from his program.

"Is that really all that preoccupies that pretty little head of yours?"

You blushed, picking at the food with your fork. "Bold for a guy who's never seen me to assume my head is pretty."

The radio crackled with pops and feedback. "Bold to assume I can't see you whenever I want, little dove." he said, his voice strangely deeper, tinged with something you didn't catch at the shock of his words.

"You... what?"

"And I can most assure you,", he purred out of the speakers, "pretty is a well fitting word to describe you."

He hummed in approval when your cheeks gained color, as if he knew his comment threw you off guard and made you turn a lovely shade of pink, but it didn't make it any less enticing.

***

"Alastor, if I didn't know better, I would say you have become smitten with this mysterious gal you're blabbing on and about."

Rosie giggled, hitting his shoulder in a playful, friendly swipe. "When will I meet her? Come on now, you can't hide her forever. Or are you afraid she'll like me better?"

She laughed, and Alastor forced a toothy grin. His long time friend was the only one he talked about you with, and he knew she was intrigued whenever she could smell a blooming dalliance, especially with a notoriously abstinent bachelor like himself. Normally, he would laugh at that thought with a healthy dose of mockery, but he found himself to be less and less aversed at the thought - if it would be you. Impossible, of course.

"Nonsense, Rosie dear, nonsense,", he chuckled, taking a large sip from his coffee cup, a heavy hand bringing up a plate stacked with finger sandwiches. "And I'm afraid you won't meet her for a long time, maybe never. Humans seldom traverse to hell in their lifetime, and who knows if the little darling will take on the trip downstairs?"

Rosie coughed in her tea, her blackened eyes wide in shock. "Human? It's a human girl you've been courting here? Oh, Alastor, you old fool."

Alastor scrunched his nose, "Talking, Rosie, talking is all we do. And yes, she's a human. I don't see the quandary in that. It's just a little fun."

"Well,", she huffed with a small, thoughtful frown. "I would've hoped for a little more sense in you." The tall demonesse set down her teacup with nimble fingers.

"You may not call it courting, but if it quacks like a duck, it's a duck, love." Rosie ignored the indignant look Alastor gave her. "You know as well as I do that such a connection is dangerous to entertain. Humans are fragile and fragile things tend to break. And when they do, the owner mostly follows. You need to break this connection off."

Rosie gave him a sad look as his ears flattened against his head. She would've been more than happy for her oldest and dearest friend to have a partner on his side, someone good and honest who really cared about him, maybe loved him even, as unlovable as he was. But she had to protect him from the silly idea of possibly falling for a living, breathing and supposedly untarnished soul, and the heartbreak that would surely follow. "Don't make the mistake of breaking your heart, dear friend." she smiled, a tint of melancholy hidden in the red of her lips.

"I think it's far too late for that."

She offered a handkerchief, but Alastor waved her off, his smile more faint and close to a frown than she's ever seen.

***

The first day where nothing but static noise came out of the radio, you were irritated but just thought: 'Maybe Alastor has something to do'.

The second day of static you grew concerned. 'What if something happened to Alastor? Was he okay?'.

On the third day, you were panicked. 'Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you anymore! Maybe he met someone in hell, someone that he could talk to whenever he wanted and not through an old, dusty radio?'.

"Please talk to me.", you whispered into the empty room. Your knees were pulled to your chest, and you sat on your couch, eyes fixed on the radio in the bookcase. Your eyes stung with the tears threatening to spill. "Please, Al. I miss you." You shook your head, chuckling sadly. It had only been 3 days, but they'd felt like an eternity. The world had seemed silent without Alastor's constant chatter.

When night fell for the fourth day, you were half asleep, eyes red and burning and tears still staining your cheeks. You talked for hours into the void of your house, the radio now moved to sit in front of you on the coffee table, growing more and more desperate as hours passed. Talking faded into pleading, and pleading into begging.

"Please, I'm sorry, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry...", you mumbled into the wooden furnishing, resting your cheek against the top of the machine, eyes slipping shut with fatigue and defeat. A dry sob slipped past your trembling lips, as your hands desperately grabbed the sides of the antique device.

"Alastor please, don't leave me alone here...", you whispered with the last of your strength, before your body succumbed to your exhaustion, your unconscious mind welcomed the darkness.

If you had stayed awake for just a moment more, you would've, maybe, heard the faint shuddering breath beyond the static rumble. But you didn't. So you had no chance at knowing that, Alastor, listening to every word, saw and heard you at your weakest, and all it did to him was stir the embers and give the blaze an opening for the flames of his anger at fate to rage.

Work had called, again. Susan of all people. Threats were made - either come back to work, or don't come back at all. You smashed your phone. It was useless anyway. What was the point without...

Alastor wasn't here, hadn't answered for seven days now. And you had spent the whole time talking, begging him to show himself, just show himself and tell you what you did wrong, just talk to you one last time and then you'd stop, if that was what he wanted. You became obsessed with the orange light of the illuminated screen, imagining the flickers were maybe signs from him.

You stopped eating, stopped drinking, stopped almost anything, you just sat, in front of the radio, unmoving and unwilling to miss the smallest sign of his return.

Every single minute stretched into agony, and every breath that left your lips made a fresh tear roll down your paling cheeks, until your body couldn't produce them anymore. Then, you cried wordless whimpers and moans, even started praying to an unknown entity.

It wasn't as if Alastor owed you anything. It's not as though you thought the two of you were anything other than two kindred souls, one human, one demon, talking to each other. As a result, it wasn't like you had the right to anything from him.

It was strange to consider the connection the two of you shared: Something more than acquaintances, something closer than friends, and yet never fully crossing the line beyond it. The unpenetrable boundary dividing life and death in between.

Your eyes fell on a large, old crucifix on your wall, staring back at you with pity.

For the first time in days, you left the sofa, took it from the wall and burned it on your gas stove, watching the face of the nailed figurine slowly melt in the fire.

***

It had been eight days of excruciating, one-sided silence.

Eight days Alastor cursed his cowardice as he sat, red eyed with claws digging into his scalp, as he listened to you plead for him to talk - To answer. To do anything. Anything, but leave you alone, he heard, as if the words were spoken right in his ear.

Eight days of watching you slowly detriment from the eyes of the shadows he was able to manifest above, tugging on the very fabric of the world to move you, to keep your mind from going where it shouldn't go.

He kept telling himself it was for the better. His shadows murmured persistent reminders that he should find entertainment in your growing lunacy. He was the radio demon, after all. He shouldn't care if this wisp of a human were to perish, should laugh at your wails of agony and despair.

But Alastor never felt less like laughing. Your dried sobs and pained apologies for things you never did wrong in the first place filled his head, taunting and gnawing on him with feelings he thought he was unable to feel: Guilt and Regret.

It was as Rosie had predicted - he was becoming weak. But weakness was something that should be avoided. Had to be. He knew. Being weak, being feeble, would make him vulnerable, make him into the prey his cruel from already portrayed to the world he had to inherit. He couldn't allow it. Couldn't let his feelings for you bring him down to the levels of the sinners in hell he would tear apart and laugh while he did it.

That's why he stayed silent. Endured it, all of it, every word, cry and plea. Stayed invisible and silent, waiting for you to move on, forget him, shut off and leave the radio, never to turn the dial again. For your sake and his.

When the connection broke, on that eight day, Alastor could feel your resignation, your peace with which your pale hands gripped the electrical cord at it's base to pull. And he was suddenly filled with the awareness of something horrible, like a premonition. It set his already battered, aching heart in an ice cold grasp of dread.

His room exploded in green light as he expanded into his full demonic form, his limbs threatening to pull and burst at the stitches and his smile splitting his face almost entirely in half. He had to reach out, had to reform the connection to the radio one last time, even though nearly impossible.

You were about to do something he would never be able to forgive himself for.

***

Your car broke down just where it needed to. You took the radio out of the trunk, knocking the hood two times for a goodbye, the key safely in the ignition. Maybe some other poor soul would find and repair it, make happier memories with it.

You clutched the wooden device closer and started to walk. Indigo blue faded into black as you looked up to the sky that was sprinkled with glowing, shimmering silver dust, stars blinking in the unimaginable distance. There, but out of reach.

Just like him.

Your dry sob stung in your throat, but you didn't really feel the pain. Your eyes were fixed on the path to your final destination, right in front of you.

The Crescent City Connection Bridge was mostly abandoned by traffic at this time of night and provided just enough covered spaces to hide you from some foolish saviors eyes.

You didn't need to be saved.

You didn't want to be saved.

Because you were about to save yourself.

There was nothing waiting for you in the other direction than the one you were going. So, with slow but steady steps, you walked towards the middle of the bridge, settling on a place next to a metal pillar and looked over the railing onto the shimmering waters of the Mississippi River.

Alastor had told you about the river, how he loved to watch the steam boats floating on it from the radio station where he worked at when he was alive. The station was long gone, you didn't even find out where it had been in the first place, but you liked to imagine that you were looking at the same scenery now that he had been looking at when he peered out of his booth in his radio tower.

It made you smile through the tears... You were glad the end was somehow connected to him, even if it was most likely just your naive imagination.

It felt like the device in your arms was emitting static energy, prickling over your arms, hands and fingers as you caressed the mahogany wood gently, feeling as though the radio was shaking in your hands, trying to pull you back from the fenced ledge.

A quiet sob escaped your lips, turning into a giggle and into hysterical laughter. You sat down between the railing, and hugged the radio close, trying to breathe as you closed your eyes, resting your temple on the worn, warm wood.

"It'll be okay, Al.", you said quietly, your voice unnaturally hoarse and rough from lack of use and dehydration. "I'm coming. I'm coming to you.”

With one arm around the radio, holding it tight against your chest, you turned to stand on shaky legs, gripping the railing with one arm and, with one final glance at the stars above you you smiled. You heard sirens in the distance, and some people shouting from a sparkling streamliner passing under the bridge. Time was running short, so you didn't wait to put first one foot over the fence, then the other, taking a deep breath.

"I guess doves were always meant to fly."

And, with that, your body twisted, turned and leaped, falling as the light on the radio, firmly pressed against your heart, began to glow in deepest crimson and swirls of green.

Falling like an angel would descend from grace.

Part 2 for closure

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angst #trigger warnings #minors d #minors don't look #minors dont touch #yes I'm crying #you're crying too #we all cry here #no judgement #quickf #quickfic

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yandere-daydreams · 7 months

Text

Title: Profane.

Commissioned by the very lovely, very patient @elsecrytt.

Pairing: Yandere!Diavolo x Reader (Obey Me).

Word Count: 7.0k.

TW: AFAB!Reader, Dub/Con (Coercion + Inebriation), Brief Cannibalism, Wildly Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Torture (No Injury To Reader), No Like Literal Torture, Gore, Blood, Possessiveness, Theology, and Past Trauma (Reader's Got Issues). The Dove Was Dead, Got Resurrected, And Is Once Again Dead. Please Do Not Eat.

Barbatos showed you to the garden himself.

Usually, guests as unremarkable as yourself would be ushered in by some lesser demonic spirit, shown directly to Diavolo’s in-home office, and rushed out as quickly as the prince’s unwavering sense of hospitality would allow. You’d been through the process yourself a handful of times since you came to the underworld, gotten to visit the castle on an errand for RAD often enough for the shocked awe to dull into simple wonder, but you’d never been able to see the prince or Barbatos in their own home, and when you received the prince’s package, when you smelled the fresh scent of roses and felt silk against your hands, a part of you refused to believe this could be anything but another request to run a few files from one location to another, an invitation to discuss an upcoming festival or ceremony somewhere less imposing than the shadowy, stiflingly gothic student council room. Part of you still refused to believe it now, in all honesty, even as you walked arm-in-arm with the prince’s butler. Even as you wore the gown he'd sent to your off-campus apartment, a wine-red train trailing half a meter behind you and the fabric of the corset clinging to your skin like spider silk.

Even as you stepped into his rose garden, the rose garden. The rose garden you’d only ever heard about in gossip and rumors. The rose garden that was supposed to be saved for the prince and his select few.

The rose garden you were never supposed to see, and yet.

And yet.

A pavilion had been erected in the center of the innermost ring and decorated for the occasion, cords of red blossoms strung across the obsidian guardrails and a trail of flower petals left out to guide your way. Barbatos left you a few paces away from the pavilion’s steps, bowing his head as he detangled himself from your rigid hold. He spared you no words of comfort, offered you no advice, only letting out a breath of a chuckle as he slipped away and disappeared into the tangle of the garden. It fell onto you to soothe yourself, so you did – sucking a ragged inhale and balling your shirt in your hands before forcing yourself to relax, driving an ounce of tension out of your shoulders and willing your hands to stop shaking as you took an unsteady step towards the pavilion, then another, then another, until you were starting up the short staircase and it was too late to turn around and hide. There was a table let up on the center of the platform, a teapot and matching cups and saucers laid out among a sugar jar and an adorably quaint cream jug. It would’ve been charmingly simple, if the set hadn’t been crafted from pure obsidian and most likely would have cost more than a year of your salary.

Diavolo was at the head of the table, dressed in a suit that matched your gown. The sound of your footsteps drew his attention, his expression brightening as his eyes might yours and a wide, giddy smile you could only compare to that of a lovestruck schoolboy spread across his lips. He pushed himself to his feet hastily, your name falling from his lips with a slight stutter. There was a rose in his hand, but rather than thrust it into yours, he held onto it, opting to pull you into a brief, bone-crushing hug, instead. “I’m sorry to call you here on such short notice,” he said, his voice breathy and the words spoken quickly enough to blur together. “And I, well—” Now, the rose was presented to you, his smile taken on a shy tilt. “I thought it’d be romantic. Admittedly, it feels a little silly now.”

“No, no, it’s very sweet.” You rushed to reassure him, more afraid of making this more awkward than it had to be than genuinely hurting his feelings. You tried to take the rose by the stem, but your thumb caught on an unpruned thorn and you pulled back out of instinct. There was no pain, but when you glanced down, you found a small bead of scarlet, the injury practically nonexistent but an injury, nonetheless. Diavolo’s expression faltered, but you were quick to take up the rose again and tuck anything that might’ve sown any ill-will away. “You were going to tell me why you asked me to come…?”

Immediately, his smile returned in full force. “Please, have a seat.”

A chair was pulled out, a cup filled and sugar cubes dispensed generously. You took the cup in your hands, but didn’t raise it to your lips, only soaking in the gentle warmth as Prince Diavolo cleared his throat and went on, more nervous than a man of his status, a man with so much power over you had any right to be. “I’m sure you’ve already guessed why you’re here. I know subtly isn’t my strong suit.” A slight pause, a hopeful smile. Somehow, the implication of his anxiety alone was enough to make the knot resting in the pit of your stomach twist that much tighter. “We don’t know each other very well, but… I think I’d like to know you a little better, if you understand what I mean.”

Oh, you did.

You’d understood as soon as you saw the low cut of the dress, as soon as you were told you’d be meeting him in privacy.

Still, you played coy, shaking your head as you leaned back in your seat. “I’m afraid I don’t, your highness.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I don’t want you to feel like royalty, right now.” And yet, he’d asked you to meet him behind his castle, attended to by his butler, wearing the gown he’d had tailor made for you. You would to ask how he got a hold of your measurements later on. Actually, you shouldn’t ask him anything at all – it’d be a mercy if you never had to talk to him again. “I’d like to court you. Officially. With your permission, of course.”

It was a thoughtful gesture, but then again, your permission could only count for so much when a flick of his wrist and a half-baked royal decree would change the meaning of consent by its very definition.

You let your eyes fall to the table, then to the rose in your hand. “I don’t know how to say this,” A pair of pursed lips, a decisive beat of silence. “But, I’m not sure, your highness.”

This time, he didn’t bother to correct you. “You’re not sure?”

“As you said, we don’t know each other very well.” You gaze caught on the spot of blood still welling on the pad of your thumb. A minor inconvenience, but still an inconvenience. It’d make handling much of anything a nuisance for the rest of the day. It’d make you pause the next time you thought about taking a particularly beautiful rose by the stem. “And I’m afraid there might be some parts of me that you wouldn’t be so happy with, if you saw them for yourself.”

That seemed to catch his attention. Whereas you leaned back, he leaned forward, arms crossing over the tabletop. “I have to admit, it’s hard to believe that there’s any part of you I wouldn’t be happy with.”

“It’s just,” A thorn in the right place could ruin the entire rose. Hopefully, if you managed to break the skin, he’d give up on you entirely and move on to less pointed flowers. “I have some… appetites that people have deemed difficult to keep up with, in the past. It’s nothing out of place for those in my profession, but I’d hate for you to have to waste your time tending to my desires.”

You could practically see the excitement spark in his eyes, feel it rolling off of him in waves. “Please, go on.”

“It’s too morbid to discuss in polite company,” you said, sparing a glance towards the walls of the rose garden, as if you were wary that someone might be listening in. “But things tend to get gory rather quickly, and I have been known to get a little carried away when I get something sharp in my hand.”

The tea was put aside completely, forgotten in favor of more interesting topics. He didn’t stand, didn’t do anything to close the limited distance between you, but you could tell he wanted to, that he wasn’t taking your threats seriously enough for intrigue to dip into caution, and that was all you needed. “I think you’d look stunning with something sharp in your hand.”

“But I’d hate to waste your time,” you reiterated, bowing your head. “And your subjects might not care for me, once they see what I’ve done to their ruler.”

“We’ll have to keep this our little secret, then.” While you had your doubts about how secret one of his secrets could stay, he was clearly excited enough to buy into the idea that it would be possible. “And, as for your appetites…”

This time, he stood, rounding the table and falling to one knee at your side. For a second, your heart stopped beating in your chest, your mind forcing you to consider the possibility that your vision of rings and proposal might not have been based entirely in paranoid delusion, but he only gestured for your hand and reluctantly, you gave it to him. His lips ghosted over the curve of your knuckles, then turning your hand over in his own, the apex of your wrist, lingering against your pulse point. Finally, he pulled away, grinning up at you as he went on.

“I’m sure we’ll find a way to satisfy that hunger.”

You were starting to wonder if, even in your grandest of schemes, your eyes might’ve been bigger than your stomach.

It was old work. Diavolo – as he insisted you call him, despite your best attempts to keep a semblance of formality between you and him – was eager to please, quick to show you he was just as enthusiastic as you claimed to be and dedicate one of the more expendable rooms in his sprawling castle to your little engagements. The tools of your trade were discussed and crafted into familiar shapes: thorns braided into the lashes of the whips, runic symbols you’d long-since forgotten how to read burnt into the leather of the riding crop, a small vial of holy water waiting beside a gold-lined tub of water. Even the dagger you were holding was of celestial design, the blade symmetrical and gilded with pure silver, the hilt molded but not padded, allowing the chill to seep into your palm without reservation.

It was a relief, however small, that you wouldn’t have to use the demonic weapons you’d nearly gotten used to. In the Devildom, suffering was just another tool, something to be used when convenient and drowned out with needless hedonism when not. In the Celestial Realm, suffering was holy.

There was nothing holy about this, though. You’d had the foresight to restrain him, binding his wrists and ankles to each poster of his grand bed with enchanted chains, but he offered no resistance. Even brought low enough to fall into his demonic form, to show himself with leathery wings sprouting from his back and gold-adorned horns curling upward from his scalp, he retained as much of his composure as you could expect him to, keeping his claws curled into his palms and dulling his fangs with the occasional whimper or sudden gasp. When you dragged the point of the blade from the spine of his wing to the small of his back, he arched as if leaning into your brutal touch and clenched his eyes shut, but he didn’t scream. You almost wished he would. At least then, you’d be able to tell if you were making progress.

It was old work, but more importantly, it was work you’d been good at, once upon a time. Your mind might be out of practice, but your hands remembered how to move, how to cut, at just what angle to hold your dagger as you slid the flat of the blade into the incision. It was a delicate balance; applying enough force to cut through the connective tissue without tearing the epidermis. There was a slick sound from underneath your knife, a half-choked groan from Diavolo, and skin separated from muscle, leaving both intact and swimming in an agony of their own. It was beautifully precise, the kind of workmanship that should’ve gotten you a promotion. You could only regret that it was wasted on Diavolo.

Thick, dark blood washed over his tan skin, spilling out in every direction and distracting you from your task. With a disgruntled sigh, you turned to your supplies and took up the most limited of your precious tools: common table salt, imported from the human world and kept in a simple glass jar. You’d always known it had purifying properties that demons didn’t care for, but it’d surprised you just how difficult it was to get a hold of in the Devildom. Diavolo was strong enough to withstand it without being reduced to a pile of smoldering ash, but hopefully, the burn would be more than he cared to endure.

With great care not to get any on yourself, you took up the vial of holy water and undid the bottle’s seal, dampening the blade of your dagger with a generous portion. “Did you know that holy water can’t be diluted?” You asked, idly, taking one of the larger salt rocks between your thumb and forefinger and crushing it, savoring the slight sting before spreading the fine residue over one side of your blade. “My boss didn’t – used to lecture me for wasting it. You should really be more selective about your staff, down here.” You paused, bringing the point of your dagger back to Diavolo’s skin. You found your target quickly: the flesh over his shoulder blade, where the tissue was thin and the bone prominent. You drove it down with just enough force to break the skin, and in an instant, you were rewarded with the smell of burning flesh. “It was one of the first miracles the guys upstairs performed on Earth, after the humans realized they could it themselves without divine intervention. Remember to spare a drop for the next batch, and you’ve got an endless supply – as good as if it’d come from Micheal himself.”

You returned to the first incision, sliding your blade back into the slit you’d just carved. There was some resistance – Diavolo’s regenerative abilities were second to none, just as you’d expected from demonic royalty – but with grit teeth and a quirk of your wrist, you pushed through it, spreading your little concoction across raw, bleeding muscle. This time, Diavolo screamed, the sound animalistic and agonized and exactly what you were looking for. It reminded you of wind chimes, of church bells, of a timbre voice congratulating you on a job well-done as you stood over the maimed remains of a breathing corpse. Eager to chase that satisfaction, you pressed down harder, cutting into the muscle of his back before jerking your dagger back, ripping through tissue and flesh and leaving carnage in your path. You couldn’t just smell burnt flesh, this time – you could practically taste it, coating your tongue like ash and filling your lungs like smoke. Everything your blade touch seemed to melt, to scorch, leaving a filthy black char slashed across Diavolo’s back, infecting the wound you’d inflicted. If you were at work, if he were anyone else, you’ve taken it further, watched the blisters form down the curve of his back as you slowly and melodically removed each unnecessary vertebra of his spine, but he was a prince, and your goal wasn’t to kill him. You just had to make him wish he was dead when he was with you – that was all.

You dropped the dagger onto the stone floor, sucking in a harsh breath as you shook out your stiff fingers. You considered the whips, elegant in their design and brutal in the affection, then the golden tub, how good it would feel to string your fingers through his hair before you shoved his head below water, but the former would leave too many marks too quickly and the latter would’ve taken more preparation than you’d cared to make. Instead, you chose something you were less familiar with – a length of braided silver, leather handles molded onto either end. You slung it over your shoulder as you climbed onto the bed and straddled his waist. Out of instinct, his wings shuttered, moving to fold themselves against his back, but you grabbed the arch of his left wing’s spine and forced it flat against the velvet sheets, holding it still as the appendage squirmed and thrashed below you. “No fighting back,” you muttered, because it was what you’d agreed on as you stepped over the threshold to his little homemade torture chamber, because it seemed like the last thing you’d want to hear when you were at someone else’s mercy. “Remember why I’m doing this. If you don’t want to take, I don’t need to give.”

“That’s not—” Heavy panting between each word, all attempts at speaking soon forfeited in favor of an airy gasp. You waited for him to settle, driving a nail into the delicate membrane of his wing for each second he failed to spit something out. “I understand,” he said, eventually, marking the first full thought he’d managed to express since you finished restraining him. “Keep going.”

You didn’t move. “Is that how you’re going to talk to me?”

A dry swallow, a moment of hesitation. A demon’s pride was a difficult thing to put aside, even for a demon like Diavolo. “Please.”

If he’d been anyone else, you would’ve made him grovel.

But, you could only ask so much from such a spoiled prince.

“Raise your head.”

No pet names, no dark humor, no purring or cooing or anything spared to soften the words. He obeyed, tilting his head back and letting you wrap the cord once around his neck once, because anything more than that would only spread the agony, make it that much easier to differentiate from the feeling of your weight against his back, dampen the awareness that it was your hands holding the end of his noose. You wanted him to know it was you. As you pulled the cord taut, you pictured him lying in his own bed hours later, blood washed away and wounds bandaged. After the adrenaline was gone, the excitement replaced with hollow exhaustion and the cold absence of affection, would he cry? Would the pain get to him first, or the misery of it all, the aching realization that what you were doing to him wasn’t something people did to those they loved? Would he curse your name, any heartbreak stifled by pure loathing for the person who left him in such a state of desperation? Would he hate you?

“It’s not the tightness that leads to suffocation – another common misconception. Your guys already knew that one, though.” Crossing both ends of the cords over one another, you cranked them tighter, then tighter again. Admittedly, this kind of thing wasn’t your strong-suit – you’d never been the type to rely on raw strength alone – but the sturdiness of the cord did most of the work for you, winding into itself and biting into his skin without cutting into what laid beneath it. Or, without cutting into yet, at least.

“It’s the pressure,” you said as you leaned over him properly, planting your knees in the plush of the down-stuffed mattress. “That’s the real trick - being able to apply enough force to crush the windpipe and cut off the lungs. From there, all you have to do is—” You paused, letting out a soft, strained groan as you pulled the cord ever-tighter. If you let go of the handles, it would’ve held its shape, but it felt cruel to be so impersonal. “—sit back and watch.”

There was a whimper by way of response, more pleading than pained. His mouth fell open, something that could’ve been generously interpreted as the beginning of a word falling past his lips, but you took mercy on him, clicking your tongue as you braced yourself for what came next. “Relax, I’m not going anywhere.” And then, after a second of thought, “Have you ever thought about what it’d be like to hang to death, your highness?”

Even if he could answer, you wouldn’t have let him. You hauled him upward suddenly, letting the cord rise to the sensitive junction just underneath his chin and winding it farther, farther, until it made good on its threats and a thin cut formed across the curve of his throat, a twin laceration appearing on the other side a few seconds later. He struggled underneath you, attempting to maintain his composure and control his breathing until instinct took over and he was left gasping, sputtering, trying to force air back into the lungs you controlled, now. Despite yourself, the corners of your lips curled upward, a profound satisfaction flooding through your veins and momentarily blocking out what little rational thought remained. Diavolo was depraved, but this was your line of work, your field of expertise. You felt phantom hands on your shoulders, lips ghosting over the top of your head. You deserved to be happy, when you were doing so well at what you were meant to do. You deserved to take pride in a job well-done.

Struggling, struggling, then release. His shoulders dropped, his form going limp, and just as his eyes threatened to close and his mind gave out completely, you let go of the cord, letting it fall back to the base of his throat. It took a few more seconds to detangle, another to rub the lingering salt on your fingers into the new cuts on his neck. While he panted, drooled, made a mess of himself, you basked in your holy reverence, newly purified by the sacredness of your responsibilities. You remained there, in that state of simple contentedness, until Diavolo broke the silence.

“Is that—” A harsh breath, a fit of coughing. Your mind supplied the rest of his question automatically. Is that enough? Is it over, now?

You almost smiled, almost told him that it’d be over as soon as he decided that he couldn’t handle you, anymore, but he went on before you could, his tone playful despite the blood now seeping into his sheets. “Is that all?”

You felt something very heavy and very sharp fall into the pit of your stomach. “Of course not,” you said, because that’s what you were supposed to say. Because when they asked for more, you were supposed to give it to them.

Because, if he wanted more, you’d give it to him until he couldn’t stand the thought of ever letting you touch him again.

“We’re just getting started.”

You could get to the rose garden on your own, by now.

Lucifer and Barbatos were already seated in their usual places, both looking uncharacteristically relaxed. Barbatos’ smile got a little brighter as you approached, and after you’d slid into your designated seat, Lucifer greeted you with a clap of his hands, a lilt to his posture. “I assumed you and Diavolo would be arriving together.”

You pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth. You’d learned quickly, within the first month of Diavolo’s proposal, that you’d been right to assume you wouldn’t be able to keep it yourselves for very long. Still, it surprised you just how quickly he told Lucifer and Barbatos about your little trysts. “He’s still cleaning up.”

Barbatos’ constant smile took on a teasing quirk. “What a heartless lover you are, to leave him alone in a state like that.”

“He knew I wasn’t the doting type going into this.” It wasn’t a lie. You’d never claimed that any part of your attention would be the loving kind, that whatever polite affection you showed to him when he dragged you out to upper-crust restaurants and diamond-studded nightclubs and parties with only the Devildom’s most elite in attendance wouldn’t extend to the time you spent alone together. Love was a pretense, not a necessity. You could only hope Diavolo was tender hearted enough to be hurt by your callousness. “You’re the babysitter, here. Shouldn’t you be the one patching him up?”

He moved to respond, but Lucifer was quick to cut in, leaning forward as he spoke. “Have you two already—” A coy smile, a vague gesture with a gloved hand. You weren’t sure what’d gotten into him. You’d never seen Lucifer or Barbatos so giddy, even if the extent of their excitement seemed to be a few probing questions and a new willingness to bare their teeth without snapping at your throat. “—well, I’m sure you know.”

You swallowed, dryly. The idea of sex hung over your relationship like a funeral shroud, weighing the heaviest when you stepped over the threshold and into whatever makeshift dungeon he’d chosen for the two of you that night, when he spared you a smile that meant he could only be expecting one thing. You didn’t want to know what would happen if he continued not to get it, but you didn’t want to sleep with him, either. You didn’t want to sleep with him. You didn’t want to give up that much of yourself, to fall that deeply into the den of vipers you couldn’t seem to claw your way out of. You knew, rationally, that you were already as tainted as you could possibly be, that Diavolo couldn’t possibly touch you in way that was worse than how you touched him, but your heart refused to give up on the idea that you weren’t beyond redemption, just yet.

Surprisingly, Barbatos came to your defense, although you couldn’t say he sounded very empathetic. “Keep your mind out of the gutter,” he said, in a way that implied that this was a subject they’d already discussed in-depth. “You know how hard it can be for fallen angels to adjust.”

“Not every fallen angel. It only took me a decade to make a name for myself.” He’d also made the choice to fall, but you thought better than to say that aloud. “It’s just a matter of getting a taste for it. Let them take the plunge now, before our little prince loses patience.”

You opened your mouth, but anything you might’ve said died on your tongue as the weight of two hands settled on each of your shoulders, as you felt Diavolo press a kiss into your cheek. You bit back a grimace, but the contract was mercifully fleeting, gone as soon as Diavolo straightened his back and directed his attention to the rest of the table. “What am I supposed to be so impatience about, exactly?”

Lucifer was quick to change the topic. “I was starting to think that you’d forgotten about us.”

Rather than turn to Lucifer, his eyes fell back to you. You could feel his stare, awful and adoring, boring into you as he spoke.

“As if I could ever think of anything else.”

You found yourself undressed and barely conscious on a golden rug in front of a searing fireplace a few days later.

Your body felt lighter than it should’ve been. In hindsight, you’d had too much to drink to be around another person, let alone underneath one. You’d thought, foolishly, that another sip, another glass, another bottle of wine would help to settle your nerves, to make you seem like an easier conquest than Diavolo would’ve liked, but all it’d done was make you too easy to turn up – prey that’d already been left to bleed by some other conveniently absent predator. It might’ve been your own fault, for assuming Diavolo would show more courtesy to you than you’d ever shown to him. It might’ve been your own fault, for going out of your way to pretend you so genuinely couldn’t tell the difference between cruelty and love.

Ah, speak of the devil and he shall appear. You could hear footsteps somewhere in the muddled distance, make out a song of a hum just above the soft crackling of the fireplace, and then, he was back, settling onto the mess of sheets and pillows beneath you, an overfull goblet in one hand and the other suddenly cupping your cheek. He wore nothing, save for the chokingly tight collar of silver chain you’d wrapped around his neck hours ago. You could remember holding a tether, feel the strip of leather biting into your palm, but you must’ve let go of it at some point. Whatever happened, it was gone now.

Drifting lower, you could see where your nails had cut into his chest, his back, his throat. You might’ve bitten him, too – you could taste something heavy and metallic on your tongue, but it would’ve been impossible to tell if it was his blood or your own. He’d made no attempt to hide your marks, to wash the remaining blood and slick and saliva off his skin. They were filthy creatures, demons. Filthy, and sinful, and undeserving. If you had your way, they’d be left to dwell in their vile hedonism for the rest of time, left alone to their self-indulgent wickedness until they all began to rot. Or, better yet, brought to some great altar built to celebrate their demise, their beating hearts carved out and offered up in repentance. You’d do the butchering yourself, if you had to.

You wanted to dip yourself in a vat of acid. You wanted to bathe in light. You wanted to scream and thrash as Diavolo took your hand, then your wrist, dragging you into a sitting position until you could you had to rely on your own unsteady posture to keep yourself up-right, but you didn’t, didn’t speak, didn’t make a sound as he brought the goblet up to your lips. Sacrament, you thought, as you swallowed down as much of the sweet wine as you could before he took that away from you too, replacing the goblet’s mouth with his own. You didn’t kiss back, didn’t throw yourself against him and beg for his love, his attention, but he pulled away with a satisfied hum. “I think this might be when you’re the most beautiful,” he sighed, cupping your cheek. “In my home, painted with my marks, silhouetted by the firelight…” He let his shoulders drop, and his tone took on a wistful lull. “It’s a breath-taking sight, and you don’t know how much relief it brings me to know that I’ll be the only person to ever see it.”

Your eyes fell to the rug, nearly gaudy in its splendor. You swore to yourself that, if you ever managed to get away from Diavolo, you’d never willingly lay your eyes on a single piece of gold again. “Does…” You started, then trailed off, bowing your head before going on. “Does it ever bother you, knowing I don’t feel the same way?”

You wanted to be more transparent, to say that would never love him, to make it clear that all you’d ever try to do was hurt him, but even to your loathing-addled mind, the words sounded too harsh, too cutting with too little to gain from choking them out of your sore throat and past your bruised lips. Then again, what you actually managed to say didn’t seem to hurt him enough – his smile only taking on a softer note as he leaned forward, letting his lips ghost over your forehead. “Sometimes,” he admitted, with less strain than you’d expected. Less strain than you’d known you were looking for, before he responded so easily. “But not often. Not at all, when I have you with me.” He paused, brightened. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to love me?”

He was better than you. He was stronger than you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything at all.

You rarely said anything to Diavolo at all, anymore.

Not that he minded. It was the shape of you by his side that he liked, more than anything – the feeling of your eyes on him, the awareness that if you were on top of him, you couldn’t be anywhere else, with anyone else. He was kind enough to explain his obsession in more depth after you first summoned the courage to ask, to tell you about his possessive urges as you raked a barbed whip across his back, to recount the names of those he’d rather die than lose you to in gasped breaths while you forced his head into a vat of holy water. There was sex, sometimes, when you thought you could stomach it, when it seemed like your usual pastimes wouldn’t be enough to stop him from resorting to less mutual shows of affection. You were more distant on those days than most.

You were more distant today than you’d ever been before. It was almost like ascension, astral projection – you couldn’t recall ever feeling so totally disconnected, only vaguely aware of the gentle throbbing in your cunt, the heat dripping down the inside of your thighs, the feeling of Diavolo’s teeth burrowed into your shoulder. You’d been lax in your preparation, too strung-out to really care if he got away. His ankles were unrestrained, his wrists bound behind his back with little more than a length of bronze cord embedded with thorns, not unsimilar to those you’d find in his beloved garden. They were strong enough to cut into his skin, sturdy enough to tear when he thrashed, and if you were more yourself, you might’ve been able to admire the craftsmanship, the thought that must’ve gone into each and every pinprick of suffering. You weren’t, though, and you couldn’t really bring yourself to appreciate much of anything.

He was making those sounds, again. Even in the face of your vow of silence, he was so fucking noisy – always whimpering or whining or moaning unabashedly while you dragged the blade of your dagger up the length of his spine, dispassionately watching skin split open and hot, crimson blood trail down his arched back. There was a raspy groan, a pair of pointed canines lodged that much deeper into your flesh, then you felt his cock twitch inside of you, still hard despite your motionlessness. It’d been months since the last time he let you take someone else apart, make someone cry in agony without having to listen for something less wholesome playing underneath the surface. If it hadn’t been for the raised lash-marks across his chest and thighs, the feeling of his blood washing over your skin, you’d be tempted to think you were the one being tortured.

With a half-swallowed sigh, you rolled your hips against him, letting your eyes fall shut and total, absolute numbness wash over you in heavy waves. It would’ve been a valuable skill to have a few hundred years ago, when you were constantly being reprimanded by your higher-ups for not being able to remain as stoic as your fellow acolytes, for caring too much about the responsibilities they’d assigned to you minutes after you came into existence. It was hypocrisy, bold and shameless. No one batted an eye when Simeon exorcised a small army’s worth of demons, when Micheal took to the human world with plagues of locusts and rivers of blood, but you were punished for believing what you’d been told, for holding yourself too close to the holy light. For doing your job and doing it well.

Diavolo drifted, drawing back just far enough to bury his face in the side of your neck, to press himself so suffocatingly close to you. You felt the ghost of a hand on the small of your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as a softened voice whispered platitudes of family and forgiveness and virtue, as it offered hollow promises of prayer and purification and, worst of all, love. He said you’d be able to go home, one day, after your penance in the shadows, after you realized how lucky you were to serve in such a benevolent cause. He promised he would bring you home.

Diavolo tilted his head back, his dark eyes meeting yours for the first time since you’d gotten him underneath you, and something in the hollow, frigid depth of your chest cracked open. There was nothing graceful in the way you drew your knife back, nothing purposeful in the way you drove it into his chest. You pictured vital veins and arteries, listed off organs even a demon wouldn’t be able to live without, but all planning and precision was lost in favor of driving your blade into him with wild abandon, plunging your knife into anything you could reach and twisting – turning anything you touched to viscera. Tissue was torn to gory ribbons, muscle diced and shredded, his skin soon little more than a failing barrier between you and what you were trying so desperately to tear out of him. You bounced on his cock as you worked, ignoring the way it throbbed against the walls of your cunt as you dedicated yourself to your task. When your dagger had outlasted its usefulness, you dropped it and took to using your own wretched, unforgivable hands. You found the spines of his ribs easily, tore through them with only the slightest amount of strain. You only noticed Diavolo was moving when you started to push into his diaphragm, his arms straining against his restraints as he thrashed beneath you – trying to free himself, or knock you away, or do something that stopped you from getting what you wanted. From hurting him in a way he couldn’t get off on. From letting you ever return to the paradise you deserved, the paradise you were owed.

His teeth burrowed into your jugular. He wasn’t trying to mark you, anymore – he wanted to end you before you ended him, to survive longer than you planned to let him. It wasn’t enough, though. You swallowed down the pain, muttering prayers under your breath as you surged forward and taking hold of the pulsing muscle in his chest. You felt something hot and awful flood into your pussy – a bodily reflex, you figured, although you’d start to doubt that in the near-future – but ignored the filth flooding into your veins, forced yourself to focus on taking hold of his beating heart and tearing it free from its restraints, from its bondage. Cupped in your palms, you carried it out of your chest with all the love and all the care of a midwife bringing life into the world, and finally, finally, finally, Diavolo went limp underneath you, lips parted and form limp. You let out a sob of relief, dragging yourself away from his unmoving body and onto the cold, stone floor; your legs giving out seconds later and leaving you in a crumpled heap, as useless as you’d always been.

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you brought Diavolo’s heart to your lips and swallowed it whole, its warmth lingering on your tongue for seconds. Then, you pulled your legs against your chest, buried your face in your knees, and started to cry.

You were allowed to dwell in your misery for one blissful, liberating second before that was brought to an end, too. “My love?”

You didn’t move. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. It was just another ghost sent to haunt you, another punishment for letting yourself think of anything but your orders, your responsibilities. When you heard metal snap, when you felt a hand on your shoulder, you only curled deeper into yourself, digging your nails into your thighs as something bloody and blasphemous settled beside you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to cry.” You wished you still had your wings, something to curl around yourself. You wished you could feel the sunlight again. “Was I not convincing enough? We can try again, if you’d like.”

You wished you could be anywhere but here. “Get away from me.”

“Having one of your little episodes again?” He worked a hand under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back. His chest was still covered in blood, flecked with bits and pieces of himself, but you couldn’t make out a trace of the gaping wound you must have inflected onto him, couldn’t seem to put what you were looking at together with what you’d just done. It was a visible untruth your mind just couldn’t seem to make sense of, an unignorable mistake in the fabric of reality that no amount of staring could correct. Diavolo sighed wistfully, the noise heavy with tender affection, and his hands fell to your waist, hauling you onto his lap as he’d done so many times before.

You could still taste the bitter meat of his heart on your tongue, still feel the mass of muscle and sinew lodged in your throat, and yet, as your head settled against his chest, you were met with that tell-tale beating, as strong and as steady as it’d ever been. As if you hadn’t accomplished anything. As if you hadn’t done anything at all. “You’re a handful,” he said, pressing a shallow kiss into your temple. “But you’re mine.”

He dipped lower, moved to kiss you, but you weren’t willing to wait as long as it would’ve taken him to reach you. With jerky, erratic movements, you shifted onto your knees, strung your arms around his neck, forced your mouth against his before he could do the same to you. There was a startled sound, a tightened hold on your waist, but Diavolo melted into your sudden affection quickly enough. Your skin crawled, your thoughts spiraling, but you didn’t care. You weren’t sure you’d ever care about anything again.

You’d already been forced out of paradise, tainted beyond redemption and stripped of any hope of returning to the light.

The least you deserved was to enjoy your eternity in the darkness.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere obey me #obey me #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #yandere diavolo #diavolo x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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bakugoushotwife · 6 months

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kinktober day nineteen: hate sex

>>> i’m really taking some liberties with this prompt LMFAOOOOO listen. y’all should just be thanking me this wasn’t a gojo kinktober. leave me be. also this is the first piece since my laptop kicked the bucket so PLEASE ignore the UGLY formatting i will fix it as soon as i get a new laptop.

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: ghostie gojo jdjdfkgk, bestie nanami, uhh spankings, choking, doggy, prone bone, cream pie, pet names (sweetheart) and mean names (dickhead, asshole) >>> wc: 4.5k >>> event masterlist

everything was perfect. he was a great partner despite all the people that warned you that the special grade sorcerer was incapable of it. he was wonderful and sweet and considerate, even. he brought you lunch at work and took you on wonderfully lavish dates. he texted you constantly and showered you with gifts. you had only been together for a few months, though almost a year of history had led you here. you were happy, proving everyone who doubted your relationship wrong. until you realized that they were only trying to keep you from this reality.

“i love you, you know.” you told him, swinging your intertwined hands between you as he walked you home. this was a truth you’ve known since the relationship was too fresh to say such things, but a truth nonetheless. he hid it well in the moment, but that was the death sentence to a man like satoru gojo. he knew it was only a matter of time—yet his heart stopped in his chest, turning to steel before falling out of his ass. but he made sure his smile never faltered.

“oh yeah? i’ll add you to the list.” he chuckled, poking your side to make you laugh at the stupid taunt. it worked well enough, you didn’t seem to catch on to his avoidance. you didn’t chastise him for not saying it back, at least.

he walked you to your front door like normal. he gave you a goodbye and goodnight kiss like normal, he even smiled so genuinely and told you he’d call you in the morning—just like normal.

but when morning came, his call didn’t. no big deal, you thought, he’s a very busy man. once he gets some free time, he’ll call. but hours pass, and you don’t get so much as a text to apologize or let you know he was going to be late. you keep staring at his contact, debating whether or not you should bother or not for an hour or so. but a text couldn’t be too distracting, so you type something up.

‘good morning! or afternoon now, lol–i missed ur call, i hope ur having a good day!! call me when you can xx’

it doesn’t deliver. you furrow your brows and try it again, but it still doesn’t go through. you move to a different area of your house, thinking it was spotty reception in your bedroom. you try to send the text again—but it still doesn’t send. you try to call, your heart now pounding in your ears. something must have malfunctioned, right? after all your years as friends and these brief months exploring more—he wouldn’t just block you, right?

the phone call doesn’t ring, just an automated voice telling you that that the call couldn’t be completed as dialed. he blocked you. without so much as a hint to why. everything was perfect last night, he was all smiles and laughter, what could have changed? you want to call the only mutual connection you have—ieiri shoko—but decide it’s best not to involve her in the matter between two of her friends. it’s not tasteful and if there’s any chance of this being a misunderstanding, then taking it to your friends is the last thing you want to do. you could maybe ask nanami for advice at work in the morning—you wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends, but he’s how you met the strongest man alive. so he has to have some tips! yes, you’ll talk to nanami about it first thing tomorrow.

talk his ear off about it is more apt if you ask the grade one who merely dabbles in business work. he tried to be polite and listen to the tale—but your first mistake was in dealing with gojo in the first place. there was no advice in the world to fix that amount of stupid, especially if you were looking to get him back. but nanami catches the issue as soon as you recount the tale of your last conversation with the special grade.

“you told him that you love him?” he clarified with a raised brow. based on the judgment that flashes in his eyes, you know that was the wrong move. you huff in frustration.

“you introduced me to him—why would you set me up like this nanakun??” you pout, angrily folding your arms over one another. it’s a shitty attempt to take the heat off yourself, and nanami can appreciate it.

“hardly. he shoved his way in my office and you happened to be in there already.” he rolls his eyes. trust him, he did not want to see more of gojo—and dating his workplace’s secretary only meant that the annoying presence followed him even here. “i strongly advised against it. i knew we would end up here.”

you shoot him a glance, but his unamused face remains unchanging. you ignored everyone’s warnings, choosing the results he was giving you as reason enough for them to be wrong. did he enjoy leading you on and wasting his time? what was the game in all this?

“you shouldn’t have gone after him at all. but you definitely shouldn’t have told him you love him first.” nanami nearly seemed horrified. or what you imagined he would look like when horrified, eyes slightly widened and jaw dropped partially.

you bite the inside of your cheek. you didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. maybe it’s because you knew how you felt for so long. maybe it was just because satoru put you at ease—none of the reasons matter now.

“it’s hard for him to do serious. love is as serious as it gets.” nanami sighs wistfully. you were a nice girl who didn’t deserve to be another name on the list of hearts broken by satoru gojo. for your own good, you should forget all about him and sorcerers as a whole. you would be much better off. but something about that look on your face paired with the fact that he knows satoru has never been happier in his miserable existence makes nanami sigh. “he’s just afraid of committing. the only person he ever loved just up and left him one day. so just…try to let him go. let him come back if he wants—if you want. maybe then he’ll be ready.”

your heart warms at your friend’s words. it was clear he couldn’t care less if things worked out or not, but he wanted you to feel better. you smile softly at his words, “thank you nanakun, i’ll try to…let him go.”

you think you did a pretty good job of that. as time went on, you think you even managed to convince yourself you didn’t want him back at all. if he could just flake out on you—look you in the face and lie—you didn’t want him. no matter how sexy and sweet and strong he was, trust is the most important thing. you keep your head down and work hard, catching up with nanami and learning any updates on your sorcerer that way.

apparently he was casually dating around, but nothing nearly as serious as you. he made sure of that. he hadn’t heard an ‘i love you’ in years, and while he may have thought it at different times throughout the past couple of dates you’ve been on, he hadn’t said it. even thinking it was bad enough. that meant you held an unimaginable and concerning amount of power over him. that meant you could crush his soul into a million pieces. that meant you could ruin him—and he can’t go through that again. the possibility of handing himself over to deep and passionate love was beautiful in theory but terrifying in practice, and the thought of giving in just to lose a second time were odds he just wasn’t willing to gamble with.

so he did it first. if he broke your heart you couldn’t break his.

so why does he feel so bad? so empty? every pretty girl he carted around after that was a weak competitor. they were nice enough, but so shallow and boring—they treated him like everyone else. you were special. you treated him like a person. someone with feelings and dreams and regrets. you asked him questions. real questions that made him think about real answers, nothing surface level like his favorite color or movie. you wanted to know him. and he let you learn just some of his darkest days and you told him you love him anyway. and he ran away from you. goddamn. he’s his own worst enemy.

he shows up with flowers one day, six weeks after you’ve broken up—or he dumped you. it was a normal day until then, but it certainly wouldn’t be after. it was laughably large bouquet, it almost looked like he was struggling to hold it all. your eyes must look like two full moons based off of his amused yet apologetic smile. you have to make yourself stop your smile before it spreads.

“hi…” he said nervously, shifting his weight foot to foot. he messed up—how could he make up for it? “i was wondering—“

“leave.” your shaky voice manages to croak out, quickly looking down at your paperwork. you had to avoid his stare, surely he would figure you all out if he looked deep enough. nanami said to make him work for it.

“flowers aren’t your thing, huh?” he seems undeterred—in fact, he seems emboldened by your reaction. “that’s fine. i’ll leave them here…” he styles them on your desk, sweeping your stapler and pencil sharpener and organizers to the side to accommodate the large vase. you watch him carelessly move things about, forcing you to accept his gift.

“you’re annoying.” you groan, though the flowers are gorgeous. they’re the same kinds you pointed to when you went on a nature walk one time—something he swore he was going to hate but ended up being one of his favorite outings with you. you seemed to have that effect on him.

“i know! one of my better qualities, i think.” he hums happily, chlorinated pools of crystal blue stare at you over the lenses of his casual sunglasses. he traded in the blindfold in hopes of winning you back—he wasn’t above playing dirty, even if he was the reason he had to play at all.

“as opposed to? ghosting?” you raise your brow. he sighs. he doesn’t know what he expected. he knew you wouldn’t fall right back into his arms, but that biting look in your eye makes him wonder if he’s messed things up beyond repair. either way, he won’t go down without a fight.

“yes—that’s one of the bad ones.” he scrunches his nose in distaste. he bends at the waist to lean his elbows on your desk, propping his face up in his hands. “look sweetheart—“

you scoff, leaning back in your office chair with something akin to amusement. you fold your arms over your chest and arch your brow, and even though you are absolutely pissed, you still manage to make his heart skip a beat. “don’t call me that, you fucked me up. or does that it make you happier?”

“you think i’m bringing you flowers for my health or something? i’m trying to apologize!” he whines, tugging a lone flower out of the bouquet and extending it toward you. “i’m an asshole, i know, and i don’t deserve to call you sweetheart—“

“i don’t accept.” you tilt your nose in the air. he swears he can see the hint of a smirk on your lips, and he sighs. you hold the power yet again, but this time he’s going to allow it.

“what can i do to make it up to you? it was a mistake..i see that now.” he frowns, looking down at the pale pink petals brushing against his fingers.

“mm, yeah? i’m sure fucking a bunch of other women helped clear that up.” you look at the flower in his hand too, examining the brightness, the absolute perfection of the petals. it almost withers with the man holding it.

“wh-what?” he blinked rapidly. he hadn’t had sex with anyone—god no, he can’t do fleeting connections, and in his heart of hearts he knew that none of them would fill the void you left behind. but your jealousy…now that he could use. “aw, baby, just say you missed me. i could clear up some things for you too.”

you snarl at the insinuation, even more annoyed that he didn’t deny romping around with other women after dropping you like it was nothing.

“i’m sure you wish you could, baby, but i’m not sloppy seconds.” you take the flower and snap the stem, tossing it on your desk without second thought. he pouts at the gesture, deciding that words were no use on you, he hums. he knows how to handle this.

“no, but you are more delicious the second time.” he sings, and you get up from your desk in frustration. he was so irritating. did he think that he could just disappear on you like that and you’d just forgive him like nothing? you huff up at him, gathering all your stuff and shoving it into your office bag. nanami watches from the stairs—and he’s proud that you’re making gojo work for it, at least.

you stomp out of the office building with all the theatrics at your disposal, and it only makes satoru smirk as he walks after you. god you want him so bad, he thinks. he catches the office door before you can slam it closed behind you, sliding his palm across the wooden panels with a suave coolness. it’s like he has the situation completely under control, strolling leisurely after the little lady stomping and yelling at him over her shoulder. he knows he fucked up, and if you wanted to blast him through the city on your route home, then he’d smile and walk dumbly after you.

your heart was racing. he was still following you—and you knew if he cornered you alone, there would be no denying him. your brain was fighting hard enough to deny him back in the office already. your blood is boiling. why do you want him back so bad? he left you—is sleeping with other women, even, and you're letting him tail you to your house. you shut the door on him, but he just teleports into your living room anyways. you give him a look—not sure what else to say. ordering him out would be futile—as you didn’t want him to and he clearly wouldn’t obey.

he’s smug, sitting on your couch with one long leg crossed over the other one, his arm stretched across the back of the couch like he’s just waiting to put it around you. he stares at you knowingly, but that smirk is driving you insane.

“stop looking at me like that—and get out of my house.” you try meekly, at least you could say you could. your eyes narrow at his unmoving form and he can’t help but chuckle a little bit.

“you’re trying so hard to be mad at me, sweetheart.” he hums, arching a brow in amusement. he bats those long white eyelashes at you like he’s just ready for you to admit the truth and come crumble in his lap.

“i’m pissed, not trying that hard at all.” you scoff and shake your head, tossing your bag on the floor so that you may properly cross your arms at him. “you lied to my face, ghosted me, and now you’re acting like i’m being ridiculous for not accepting your flowers and taking you back?”

he shakes his head, a little nonchalant frown on his face. “you aren’t ridiculous for that—“ he stands and makes his way to you, not even bothering to hide the way he eyes you up and down. “you’re ridiculous for pretending you don’t want to. i could make this allll better if you’d just let me, sweetheart.”

his breath is as icy as his eyes when he leans down, brow arched like he’s asking a question. he is, you realize, he wants to know if you’ll let him.

“i never really slept with anyone, sweetheart. promise. was just trying to get you off my mind. didn’t work—made everything worse, actually. i got what i deserved.” he sighs softly, noting the hesitation on your face but the want in your eyes. he reaches a tentative hand to your face, giving you a soft smile when you let him touch you. “i’m sorry…you’re all i can think about. i just got nervous—i’m so stupid. beyond stupid—“

you smash your lips onto his to keep him from yapping. all he had to do was apologize. really apologize and mean it—but you would still punish him for walking away. you would make sure he could never do it again, lest he’ll never be able to get you out of his head even in death.

his hands grab at your dress, pulling you against his body in one fluid motion. the kiss changes moods entirely. the room feels like it’s buzzing now, his passion felt through the way he moves. he slides over your ass, kneading and fisting the fat with a groan into your mouth. you step into him, backing him to the couch. he grins against your lips like always—his kiss was warm and apologetic, lips hurriedly slotting over yours in an effort to make up for his transgressions.

he falls into a seat, pulling you into his lap with him. he sees your plan, and won’t go down without a fight. he promised to straighten you out after all. but letting you think you’re in charge was adorable, so he didn’t mind to indulge in it. you push his chest back with your own, grabbing his chin in your hand roughly. his back hits the couch and he can’t hold back his little giggle as his hands follow the paths of your body, though a satisfied hum follows at the feeling.

“you are sorry—a sorry piece of shit.” you huff, repeatedly kissing him over and over with all the anger you’ve been pinning up for the past few weeks without him. he grunts lowly, opening his mouth to invite you deeper. you take his willingness as a gift, plunging your tongue in his mouth and making sure yours stays in control. he tastes like honey and cinnamon, and it was a taste you missed more than you let yourself believe.

“pieces of shit must be your type though.” he sasses, standing up with you on his lap. he knows where your room is based on his extensive stays over, it’s nearly muscle memory for him to kick your door open with the point of his shoe, smiling up at you like no time had passed —like no bad blood had resulted from it. he throws you down like you weigh nothing, though he takes a seat on the side. upon hearing you gasp at his words, he scoffs and shakes his head. “don’t even think about it. i’ll fuck it out of you anyway.”

you can’t deny the way your body tingles and warms at his command. he’s usually soft and sweet, just rough enough to satisfy any cravings of yours—but he never struck obedience into your soul. your mouth closes, and he chuckles a little bit at your change. “that’s better. now if you wanna keep poppin’ off with attitude, i’ll get nasty instead of the sweet apology i planned for you.”

you roll your eyes, he was testing it. “don’t tempt me—“ you huff, a little annoyed at how easily your body gives up. you didn’t want to give him the ego boost of obedience, so you give him the attitude requested. “you messed up—i’ll talk to you however I want—“

he sighs and tugs at you, pulling your body at will. he splays you across his lap—long legs hanging over the edge of your bed. your dress is shoved up over your ass, and the tiny string of your thong is drawn back and snapped against the flesh. it makes you squeal a little in surprise, but you would be lying to say you didn’t want more.

“oh i’m a piece of shit, who are these for, nyeh?” he flicks your panties again, the sensation a small pleasurable sting.

“you dumped me—they’re for whoever i want.” you huff at him, even if his jealousy makes your heart warm. he slaps the fat of your ass lightly, humming at the way you jolt.

“yeah?” he smacks your other side, “i didn’t fuck anybody though. knew i needed you.” he spanks the same spot, the sting intensifies so wonderfully and makes your head spin. you can’t help the little moans that leave you with every slap.

“didn’t fuck anybody either, dickhead.” you pant, tossing him a glare over your shoulder. his free hand comes to grab your throat, sinewy warm and soft fingers wrap around your column with a tight grip—though not enough to restrict any airflow, of course. his cock stabs into your side at the sight. he grins brightly, almost sadistic in nature.

“you’re silly.” he hums, squeezing your throat until your eyes cross a little. he hums at you, the vision enough to make him painfully hard, but he always knows when to let up. he slaps your ass in conjunction with his little squeeze. he knows how to keep your eyes on him— repeatedly shaking his head, like he disapproves of you. “so pretty though. but mouthy.” he tsks, giving you a punishing spank to your tender skin. he hums pleasantly at the way your skin breaks a little, his red handprints making their way to the surface. “can’t even accept an apology. what do you want me to do, sweetheart?”

you can’t deny the wetness pooling in that skimpy thong. the stinging through your ass only makes your brain fog worsen, need was the only thing on your mind. he was so strong and sexy, and he was trying to make it up to you. you suppose you could…hear him out. that didn’t mean you were back together.

“fuck me—i’ll make my decision based on your performance.” you purr in his lap, wiggling your branded ass. he groans, you’re going to tease when you look like this? he woulda proposed if you asked him to if it meant you were all his again. commitment didn’t scare him so much anymore. you were as angry as ever and you still smiled when you saw him. you still let him follow you back home to plead his case. even if you didn’t have much a choice, you hardly even put up a fight. and he knew what that meant: you weren’t nearly as angry as you were trying to be.

“oh i’ll fuck you, sweetheart. let’s see if you can take it.” he hums so innocently, scooting you off his lap and onto all fours. he slides your thong to the side, laughing giddily at the sight of your soaking cunt. you definitely weren’t as mad as you were trying to be. “god look at this ocean—i almost feel bad for ya. trying to be such a meanie t’me when i’m the only one that can make it better.”

he wrestles with his pants, pushing them to his knees with haste. precious time was ticking, and stripping completely was a waste of it. he nearly sighs in relief when he frees himself, pumping his length fluidly. you whine at the time it’s taking him to fuck you, wiggling your cute rear and huffing.

“takin’ too long—“ you can’t finish your sentence before you cry out, his cock splitting you open just as you asked for. your walls felt like coming home, and every squeeze you give him was like a warm hug. he can’t believe he denied himself this for weeks just because you said something he’d been dying to hear from someone who meant it his entire life.

“better?” he asks, using your plush hips as his handlebars. this was why you would never be able to move on from him no matter the advice and warnings and every sign in the world telling you ‘no satoru gojo!’ he was just too good, he knew you all too well and your body craved and needed him like water. he fit in your cunt like he was built to, every pump of his cock left you gripping the sheets in an effort to hold yourself up, which you can only do for a few more seconds. “what, too hard? i thought you wanted to be fucked, little one?”

you’re stuck in a silent scream, unable to answer him. you feel like you can feel him in your lungs, his hips absolutely bullying yours. he admires your deep arch even though you’ve fallen forward, your ass rippling into his pubic hair so perfectly he had to reward you with some grunts and groans of his own. he lays over your back, cooing his praises in your ear.

“there she goes, now she’s taking good dick. can’t believe you almost wasted a thong like this— good thing i stay around, yeah?” he shoves your forward just a bit, off his cock and face first into your pillows. you whine at the loss, but he flattens your legs and sits on top of them—squeezing his cock between your thighs and ass, guiding his dick back in. you mewl at the new sensation. how could he possibly be deeper? “awww, that’s a good girl. letting me fuck ya like i hate ya when i’m just trying to prove that i love you too.”

you clench when he says it, moans intensifying as he uses you in this new position. he smirks, you’re adorable. laying there screaming for him with a gorgeously painted ass and a perfect body taking all the force behind his thrusts. “you still love me, sweetheart?”

you nod eagerly, your moans borderline animalistic. “yes—fuck, yes i do, i love you satoru!” you feel him so deeply in your stomach that you can’t keep holding back. it felt like a rubber band snapped as you squeeze around him and cover him with your essence. he keeps going, eyes trained on your recoil and the white ring you left at the base of his cock. your confirmation only drives him crazier, your limp body beneath him taking his increased pace like a champ—little overstimulated moans the only sound he can hear.

“gonna cum in this pretty pussy to show you how much i love you.” he groans, picking your body up in one strong arm to hold you down on his cock. you feel the rush of heat and shudder, the fact he was willing to deal with the consequences of cumming inside alone made you want more of him—until he couldn’t cum anymore. he holds you up, luckily enough— you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself—and places soft kisses to your neck. he hums, enjoying the taste of your skin slightly sweaty and warm from his love. he stays inside you, he can’t bring himself to move just yet, but he sighs in content.

“so…we back together?”

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #kyleewritesjjk #Kylee’s kinktober event #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut

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liveontelevision · 1 month

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Redemption Pt.2 | Lucifer x Reader

I'm kind of having a hard time getting motivation to write if anyone has any Luci prompts they wanna drop in my asks 👀

But for now, here's some more angsty fluffy slow burn Luci for y'all

(Check out Redemption Pt.1!)

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It's been an.. awkward... few weeks. You kissed Lucifer. You kissed the king of Hell, who you've known for almost 2 decades, your boss and best friend. If that information didn't overwhelm your brain enough, he's managed to make you doubt Redemption. Still undecided, you began to fear the outcome of just disappearing without getting to make a decision. Without saying goodbye.

Even with your mental disaray, Business went on as usual. You did your routine paperwork and helped out with anything Charlie needed. Lucifer wasn't asking much of you these days. You assumed the best of him. Maybe he was just too busy. Or maybe he was avoiding you. You shook the frightful thought out of your head only to suddenly be hit with the memory of Lucifer looking so lovely with your lipgloss all over his face and neck. Damned man has taken over your entire brain.

Charlie would often ask you to help with touring, partnering in exercises, or helping new residents set up. You didn't really consider how much free time you'd have without seeing Lucifer as much as you usually do. Some days, you did at least walk by him in passing. You would smile at him, maybe say good morning or hello, and he would do the same. Like strangers. His smile was always sweet in the past, but these had a sense of disparity behind them. You couldn't confide in your dearest friend, and your paranoia got the better of when considering going to others. But you needed another opinion.

"Well, shit! Good for you toots! That all tracks, Luci's clearly a bottom." Angel laid on his stomach, kicking his long legs in the air like some gossiping teen. You just needed some advice on redemption, but you ended up spilling out the entire interaction. You sat at his vanity, your arms crossed over your chest. "Angel, please. What do you think about redemption? You've been here longer than anyone, don't you.. worry..? About never seeing anyone here again?" Angel looked down for a moment before swinging his legs around and sitting at the edge of his bed. He pat the spot next to him, and you quickly took a seat by his side. He gripped the edge of his bed and hunched over his torso, propping himself up by his elbows with his upper set of limbs. "Actually? I'm terrified. I've been here for 70s years, kid. This is basically all I know now. I had a family, a buncha siblings, and a whole backstory n shit, but.." He spoke softly, his voice cracking at the mention of his biological family." I barely think of 'em. Even with Val up my ass, I think of this as my home now. Charlie and Vaggie, even Alastor - and.. Husk." He swooned, without even realizing, at his own words." I think you gotta want redemption, babes. Maybe that's why i'm still here. I dunno." He placed a hand on your shoulder and sent a sympathetic smile. The tender care you hadn't received in so long was too much. You sniffled a bit and let your head fall onto his shoulder. "I don't know what to do, Angel... " He rubbed your arm that had traveled around your shoulders as you attempted to slow your shakey brrath.

Lucifer did what he always did when he was stressed. He created. Frustration seemed to be a common inspiration for his.. hobby. He filled his office to the brim with ducks, each with a fun little feature that he came up with spur of the moment. Without acknowledging it, he did leave your desk clear. Like he was waiting for you to suddenly appear there, all neat and tidy. A glimmer of relief in the pool of chaos his life had become. This went on for days.

He was rarely a participant at the bar, alcohol was just another reminder of the wrecklessness that could occur with free will. But fuck, he needed a drink. Making sure it was far too late, to avoid any unexpected interactions, he went down to the lobby. Still looking dishoveled and exhuasted, he prayed that no one would be down there, to see the king of hell looking to get sloshed at 3 in the morning.

To his luck, it was empty. The lights were almost all off, but the lobby was still filled with the red glow of Pentagram city just down the hill. Letting out a sigh of relief, Lucifer steps behind the bar, struggling to read any labels without a set light. That didn't stop him one bit,, randomly taking a bottle and drinking whatever was inside. It didn't taste good, but his head finally seemed to forget your face for a moment. He'll realize how horrifying that felt in the morning.

Looking for another drink that didnt burn his throat, he continued to sort through the drinks without any clear light source. Letting out a frustrated scoff, he flung a handful of golden flames behind him, attempting to light a display of candles that sat at the bar counter for decor.

"Fuck - !"

The sudden voice that came from behind made him drop whatever drink he had in his hand. It shattered, the sound echoing through the cleanliness of the new lobby. He turned his body around way too fast, only managing to focus on your face after a few dizzying moments. You hold onto the top of your arm, a clean burn swiped right across your skin. His eyes were darting across the room, seeing only half of the candles lit, your sudden appearance and newly burned flesh, and a small flame forming on the top of the couch across the room.

Despite his dizzying mind, he snapped his fingers, planning to at least stop the couch from burning the whole place down. In this attempt, he managed to sinch all three flames, the room suddenly being plunged into a darkness that you both had to adjust to. Lucifer's overwhelmed senses made him stumble, clutching onto the edge of the counter and holding his spinning head in his hand. Everything he's felt for the past few weeks and the guilt of causing you any harm finally hit him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck - I'm sorry, i'm sorry..!" He wailed out, almost at the brink of tears. He gasped for air, his chest heavong. He could barely feel your hand brush across his back and start to rub it soothingly. He hitched his breath, doing his best to calm himself from this little attack. You had rounded the bar, your back leaning against the counter. standing at his side, you ran your fingers lightly across his back, starting to trace along his tense muscles. It was the smallest affection, yet he shuttered before feeling his unbalanced body relax, then began to sway in your direction.

"I'm okay, Lucifer..! I-I barely felt it! You're freaking yourself out, just try and - " his body finally hit yours after a stumble, his shoulder falling into your chest and knocking the air from your lungs. You shifted your postion to brace him from behind, his back now flush against your chest as you leaned both of your weight onto the counter.

You did your best to keep a clear mind, but seeing your beloved friend in this state did nothing but make you panic. Your friend.. that's what he'll always be at the end of this. Your friend who you've known since you died, who took you in without ever considering you'd grow this close. Your friend, who's created an incredibly difficult decision for you to make.

"Sweetheart, I'm s-sorry! I never meant to scare you off! I-I'm so scared to lose you - I can't imagine my days without you, love, I need you -" you shushed him, needing to cool your absolutely heated face at his words, but also to keep anyone else from seeing this display. You ushered him to the front of the building and out the front doors.

Despite it being Hell, there was a light breeze that hit the both of you with a relief. Lucifer stumbled onto the nearest wall, finally releasing his face to adjust his eyes to the sudden change of setting.

Blinking slowly, he took in your appearance much longer than anticipated. You wore a comfortable baby blue slip that loosley hung over your figure. He surely wouldve taken the time appreciate your figure if you didnt have a a blanket bunched around your entirety. He did his best to not look disapointed, but failed miserably. You couldnt help but smile at his poor display of affection.

You took a hold onto Lucifer's clammy hands, making him turn redder than he was before from embarrassment. He took a moment to meet your eyes, something he hadnt done in days at this point.

"Come with me?" You spoke so neutrally, a clear tone that seemed to calm his thoughts. He simply nodded, allowing you to lead his staggering body around to the side of the building. It was a bit of a hike, but the brisk air and the movement seemed to settle Lucifer's high. That being said, he still kept his arm around your shoulders for balance.

Upon arrival, the sight was enough to startle him, a small walkthrough garden sprouting from the side of the building. It was lush with Hell's native fiolage, flowers and vines with dangerous looking thorns and teeth growing from them. The purples and reds growing from the fenced off border and the small iron table and bench that sat in the center just underneath an arch with flowers intermingled, it all looked so innocent.

"Wh-hhow.. what is this?" He managed to ask, looking over at you as you continued to lead him through the garden. "I'm actually not sure. I don't remember seeing it in any blueprints when we redid the hotel, but i went for a walk and saw it here. Someone else must've put it together." You weren't sure if he was able to process that information, but you led him to sit on the bench with a thud. His body fell limp, hitting his head on the back of the frame with a ting.

You simply sat beside him for a moment in a bliss silence. It was comforting, despite all the previously chaos the two of you just went through.

"I should be scoldering you, sir. You haven't been drunk in years and last time you did - "

"Lillith. It was after she left, I know.." you only meant to call out how poorly he handled his liquor in the past, but it made your heart ache hearing him make that connection.

You let out an awkward agreement and continued to sit in silence for another moment longer. Lucifer finally let his head fall onto your shoulder and a sigh of relief escaped his lips, as you felt the heat coming off of his body.

"How'd you find this place? It's nice." He said softly, his voice raspy and wavering." I've been using it to escape.. to think." You said in an equally soft tone, unsure of his mental state at this point. You discovered this little hidden gem while desperately looking for air, struggling through one of your own panic attacks. Once you saw it the first time, it almost became a nightly routine. The walk to it was always clear from other demons, and passing Lucifer's giant pentagram in front of the hotel gave you a sense of comfort and protection. You felt him shift slightly, he pulled the blanket away from your arm and held it up lightly to inspect the burn that you had nearly forgotten about. His hands flinched for a moment, letting out a quiet hiss. He could've simply snapped his fingers or waited for your demonic body to heal itself, but instead he lightly ran his thumb across the entirety of the wound. As he pressed into your arm, you noticed the burn mark simply disapear behind his hands. You let out a satisified hum. It was always so interesting to see him use his powers, you rarely got to see him in action.

"I think - to be redeemed, you have to accept it. To be absolutely sure it's what you want. That's what angel thinks, at least." You wanted to ask why he was out of his room at three in the morning, getting drunk and why he was avoiding you for days. But you knew why.

"I still don't really know, Lucifer. I don't know what I want.. but I need you right now. I can't lose you because of t-this.." You admitted, your voice cracking slightly at your own words.

You fretted this conversation. You worried about how he would react to any answer that wasn't I'm staying with you forever! Forget redemption!

As your breath began to pick up, you watched lucifer stand, his back facing you for a moment. It made your heart drop, rushing to the conclusion that he'd leave you there alone. To your surpise, he makes a smooth motion of turning to sit in front of you on the ground, holding gently onto your calf that he pulled from the blanket. You jumped at the small touch. Turning beat red, your mind inappropriately jumped to conclusions.

"U-Uhm - Lucifer.." you called out his name as if you had any idea what to say in this moment, with him at your knees holding you so tenderly.

"You've done so much for me, love." He planted a small kiss right below your knee. "I promise I'll do anything in my power to keep you happy and safe while you're in Hell." He paused in between words, to move his small kisses up your leg." No matter how long that will be."

He's much bolder with drinks, you thought. That aside, you couldn't help but feel small tears well up in your eyes, a combination of relief and embarrasment washing over you. "Really..?" You asked so quietly, it was as if you were still worried about the answer.

He nodded with a sleepy smile, resting his head on your knee. In need of any type of comfort, you carefuly reached for his head, brushing your fingers through his dishoveled locks. He shut his eyes, letting out a sweet purr at every touch. What a strange effect he had on you. Your heart was racing, yet its mever felt lighter. Your mind, still full of dreaded thoughts, only occupied his relaxed expression in this moment. Your face was red with embarrassment of this treatment, but you were ready to beg him to keep touching you this way.

You placed your finger under Lucifer's chin and guided him upwards, making him stretch to his knees and place both his hands on either side of you. You hesitated in front of his lips for a moment. His breath was so steady, and feeling the pulse through his throat, his heart seemed to beat much slower than yours in this moment. You gulped, more nervous than before, before meeting his lips with yours. Your kiss was tender, yet it hinted at a longing for something more. He decided to take the lead, compared to last time, his hands moving up to cup your cheeks and wipe any of the wet streaks that had stained your skin previously.

Tilting his head to invite himself into your mouth, your breath hitched at the energy he seemed to eminate. He stands for a moment, then places a knee beside you, moving his hands to either side of you and caging you in by holding onto the back of the bench. This upper hand that he suddenly had made you squirm a bit, letting out a nervous yelp into his lips. You felt his smile at the sound of your voice, making you turn impossibly red. After pulling away for air that you didnt realize you needed until then, he pressed his forehead against yours and let out a sweet hum.

As he went back in for more, the breath that hit your lips reaked of alcohol. That was enough to snap you back into reality. As he reached down, you planted your hands firmly on his chest, a serious intent, even with your eyes being glazed over as much as they were. "Come to bed with me, Luci. Just to sleep, alright? It's been a long night." You said softly, running your hands up and down his curves despite your intentions of not taking advantage of him any more than you've already done. You felt his skin crawl, his breath finally speeding a bit, a more nervous side of him that you were used to coming out. Maybe it was the idea of sleeping beside you, or him overthinking the invitation. Or maybe the newfound nickname was just too much for his drunken mind to handle. He quickly nods, making you pull the blanket back up around your shoulders and lead Lucifer back inside.

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You take him into his bedroom, which you've rarily seen since you moved to the hotel. It wasnt as large and regal as the one in his previous residency, but it still was much grander compared to yours. His colour scheme matched the rest if the hotel, rich reds and purples. Most of the room was filled with the bed that sat on a slightly elevated platform and hit the cieling with a canopy that adorned silky drapes. A bed truly fit for a king, was unmade and unkept. Blankets were thrown about and the pillows were scattered in various places. The room was slightly cluttered, a few stray ducks that you recognized from his office making their way into his room like muddy footprints.

Lucifer stumbled his way into his room, immediately pulling his shirt off over his head, letting out a groan and letting his body cool down as he started to remove his boots. You couldn't help but stare, no matter how hard you tried to avoid it. You turned your body to the side, covering your eyes with the side of your hand. You manuevered your way around him and plopped onto the edge of the bed. You nearly sunk in with how plush the blanketing and mattress was. Still keeping your head lowered to avoid peeking, you curled up into your own blanket.

Feeling the mattress barely shift, you quicklly looked up to see Lucifer crawling his way towards the head of the bed. He barely changed, just managing to throw on a more casual pair of pants that you recognized seeing on the floor when you first walked in. His still bare chest left you abolutely flustered. His porcelain skin had shifted to a pink hue where he had gotten too cold. He immediately pulled his large blankets over his body and relaxed to the point where you assumed he had fallen asleep immediately. You listened to his steady breath for a moment, a comfortable silence in your mind, then rose to your feet, ready to shuffle out of the room.

"Noo, come back - " he groaned. It wasnt intimate or distressed, he sounded like a damned child. You rolled your eyes, unconciously smiling and crawling a comfortable distance from him on the other side of the bed, an easy task considering the size of it. You thought it best to keep your hands to yourself, so you curled up into the blankets with a comfortable wiggle to situate yourself.

Lucifer slightly opened his half lidded eyes, seeing you coccooned in his blankets, nuzzling your head into his pillows. He would pray for this to be the last and first thing he saw everyday. He closed the distance, pulling you into his chest and intertwining your legs in an attempt to be closer. His skin was incredibly soft, smooth and still warm to the touch under your cold hands that snaked around his waist. You felt him nuzzling your head, taking in a deep breath and resting his chin atop it. How was he so calm right now? This is a completely different side of Lucifer that you've yet to see. And certainly werent expecting to see any time soon.

This is fine. You'll wait until he's in a deeper sleep and leave before anyone else wakes up! Easy peasy. You just wanted him to get to bed after all.

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin #lucifer hazbin #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #lucifer fluff #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin fluff

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pennylanefics · 3 months

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The Letter - Laurie Laurence

a/n: this was requested by @riordanness thank you so much!!! i instantly loved this idea the second i read it. i also tried a slightly different format, writing in third person rather than second because i've felt as though i've been struggling with that lately, but i hope you enjoy!

summary: refer to this ask

word count: 7.5k (this is a long one...kind of got carried away)

warnings - mainly fluff, slight angst, probably out of time period here and there, reader uses she/her pronouns

Falling for your best friend is never an easy thing to go through. Especially when the said best friend is Theodore Laurence.

Laurie and (Y/N) have been friends ever since they were young, being neighbors with each other allowed them to play together every single day during the summer that they were available to, and even during the school year, they’d switch whose house they played at every few days.

They grew up together, experienced big life changes alongside one another, gained knowledge and different skills, and of course, grew into their own personalities. They did everything they could together any chance they could get.

So of course it was inevitable that either one or both would fall in love. And that’s what happened.

On the days where (Y/N) and Laurie would go ice skating on the lake behind her house, her hand tightly in his as he guides her along the outside of the frozen water, their skates clinking as they slice the bit of powder on top of the ice, all she could think of was their hands entwined, how soft his skin is.

On the nights after a full day of ice skating and playing around in the snow, they would go into (Y/N)’s house, where her mother was waiting with two cups of hot cocoa and a couple blankets, they’d curl up and sit in front of the fireplace, giggling, talking about all the fun that they had and making plans for the following day.

On the nights where she was scared to sleep alone, she’d signal across the way to where she knew his room was, he would sneak out of his grandfather’s house and over to hers, and sit on the floor beside her bed and talk to her, or even crawl into her bed with her and just cradle her, holding her as close as he could.

During the moments of doubt where Laurie would wonder if he’d ever be good enough to be what his grandfather expects from him and wants him to be, (Y/N) was there to comfort him and give him any sort of advice she could, holding him as he cried and wiping his tears away with her thumbs, telling jokes to cheer him up.

During the sleepless nights that (Y/N) dealt with, her writing keeping her up, along with the fleeting moments of self-criticism, Laurie was right there by her side, refilling her glass of water and making sure she was taking enough drinks, reassuring her, and even reading what she has written for her.

Both of them unknowingly began to slowly fall in love, those simple moments beginning to mean so much to each of them, special and close to their hearts. However, the yearning was starting to get too much for (Y/N).

Every time she saw Laurie, all she wanted to do was jump into his arms and kiss him sweetly, blabbering out how much she loves him in a deeper sense than just in a best friend way. It was painful, and she couldn’t do anything about it. Until she came to the conclusion on what to do.

It was a beautiful spring day, the flowers were beginning to bloom bright and beautiful colors, the green leaves were glowing bright after a couple rainy days. (Y/N) and her mother were sitting in the kitchen, enjoying lunch, when Laurie knocks on their door. Her mom answers before coming back with a smile on her face.

“Hey,” Laurie greets (Y/N), a simple white puffy shirt adorning his body, the sleeves buttoned up all the way to his wrists, an unusual sight. “Would you want to join me for a walk today?”

(Y/N)’s expression faltered and she sets her sandwich down. She quickly tries to wrack her brain for some semblance of an excuse.

“Um, I wanted to stay in and get a chapter of my story done,” she says, averting her eyes to her plate, a tell-tale sign she was lying. She had finished that chapter last night, but she couldn’t let him know that.

His expression falters slightly upon hearing her rejection, and he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Oh, okay…um…” He isn’t entirely sure what else to say. She never turns down a walk with him, something was up. “Is everything alright?”

(Y/N) looks up and sighs, hating the hurt and broken look on his face, but she couldn’t do this anymore.

“Yeah, everything is okay. I’m stressed over this one scene and need to lock myself away for now.”

Every time from then on, when Laurie asks her to go on a walk, invites her over for dinner, asks her to come over, anything, it’s met with an excuse.

“I’m feeling rather tired today, I spent all night writing.”

“I’m meeting a friend in town today, I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“I have to deliver something to a family friend.”

Laurie started to catch on to all these excuses, and as time went on, it had been over a month since the two of them had even spent time with one another. It came to a point where Laurie sat in his room, watching her house like a hawk most days, but one day, noticed her blinds were closed. For some reason, this stung his heart more than he expected it to.

Until one day, things change.

Up in her room, (Y/N) hears her mother and father call for her to come downstairs. Groaning, she throws her book down and trudges down the wooden stairs, creaking underneath her socked feet. That’s when she sees Laurie, and she pauses.

Laurie’s heart aches in his chest at the sight, but he puts on a smile on his face.

“Laurie was just telling us some big news and we thought you might want to hear as well,” her mother beams, reaching out for her to join them in the living room.

(Y/N) slowly walks over to them, taking a deep breath, and offers Laurie a soft grin. He nods a greeting to her and clasps his hands together.

“I wanted to inform you all that I will be heading off to Europe at the end of the week,” he states very strongly, like there was nothing that was going to change his mind. “My grandfather thinks it may serve me well. I will be in France for most of the time, but I will be traveling around, exploring, seeing the world.”

“I think that sounds like it would be a wonderful time, Laurie,” her mother tells him, excitedly hugging him. He hugs her back and his smile widens a little, moving on to shake (Y/N)’s father’s hand.

However, (Y/N) remained in her spot, unable to move, paralyzed with this new information that the man she loves is going away. But then her mind begins to race. Was this her fault? Even though Laurie was grinning at her, she could tell there was a deeper, more painful look he was hiding deep down.

“Do I get a hug goodbye?” He jokes, reaching out for her, trying to break the obvious tension between them. (Y/N) finally sighs and steps forward right into his arms, tightly wrapping hers around his torso. His hands embrace her back, his large, warm hands bringing her back to the nights where he’d hold her as she fell asleep, making sure she didn’t fall off the bed or couch.

Tears prickle (Y/N)’s eyes the longer their hug lingers, so much that she has to pull away to keep herself from choking up and completely sobbing in his arms.

“I hope you have the best time,” she whispers, stifling a cry that was close to being released. She avoids eye contact with him as she steps back to where she was standing before. The tension between the two of them returns as Laurie stares at her, but she doesn’t even glance at him.

Laurie nods his head and bids a goodbye to the three of them once more before walking out of the house and back to his grandfather’s.

“What was that about? You two used to be so close,” (Y/N)’s father chimes in as soon as the front door clicks shut. Both her parents stare at her, waiting for an answer, but she’s unable to say anything. Instead. she takes off running upstairs and back to her room, where she finally breaks down crying into her pillow.

It was finally happening. Laurie was going away for who knows how long, he was most likely going to meet a beautiful French woman and marry her as soon as he could. (Y/N) starts internally beating herself up over it.

I should’ve told him.

I should have made a move.

I shouldn’t have let him walk away from me so easily.

I should have ran after him as soon as he walked out of the door, begging for him to stay.

The remainder of the night, (Y/N) stayed in her room, spending her time staring at the wall and reading small excerpts from the book she was currently reading. Staring out her window after having finally opened the curtain, she notices Laurie’s bedroom was still filled with light, once it was dark enough out to really stand out.

Getting some ounce of courage, she stands up from her bed and grabs a blank sheet of paper and her quill, walking back over to her desk and taking a seat. She dips the quill into the ink and gets to writing, her tongue poking out with concentration, stealing glances at Laurie’s window here and there, getting out all of her thoughts that she was dying to say to him.

After a while of thinking and writing, scratching things out and even starting completely over a few times, she looks over the final version of the letter and smiles to herself. Exhaustion takes over her so she sets the letter out to dry, sets her quill back in it’s little container, and heads back over to her bed to crawl under the covers.

The following days, (Y/N) avoids pretty much everyone, either staying in her room or another part of the house whenever her parents were out. She didn’t want to see anyone but Laurie, in hopes that maybe, if he comes over to see her one last time, she can take her chance.

But no.

Laurie left quietly in the morning, far before anyone else was awake, so early that the only time she realized he was gone was later that night, after the sun had set and the night was calm, did she notice the absence of candlelight coming from his room.

As the months go by, (Y/N) realizes the grave mistake she made in withdrawing herself from Laurie. Life was miserable without him, she pined for their late night talks surrounded by her chaptered work and other stories, she wished he could hold her to sleep one more time, but that was all gone.

He was somewhere off in Europe, and she was stuck in Concord. This is her new life, having to live with the fact that she yearned and longed for his love, but she missed her chance and screwed up entirely.

Every night before she went to bed, she’d scan over the letter just to make sure she didn’t leave anything she wanted to say out, and every night, she would end up changing something. Whether that was a single word, or adding something. It got so much that she had to start with yet another piece of paper at some point.

And every time, she wrote Laurie’s name on the front with such care and love, and would smile when it was finished and dried. She would repeat the same process, folding it carefully, and sealing it with his favorite color wax and her personal stamp, as well as some dried flowers.

This time it was going to stay sealed, she promised herself that and was planning on keeping it.

“How are things for you, Miss (Y/N)?” Mr. Laurence asks her after stepping out of his house.

Since it was a beautiful spring day, she was reading underneath the tree right on the edge of her family’s property, and the older gentleman was leaving to take his daily walk.

“Things are going okay, Mr. Laurence. I got a job at the local library stocking books and that has taken up a lot of my time.” He smiles at her and comes to a stop in front of her.

“And you’re still working on that story of yours? Ready to publish it?” (Y/N) chuckles softly and looks down at her hands, her heart racing in her chest.

“Not exactly. I have put that on hold for the time being,” her shoulders fall a little, and Mr. Laurence sighs a little.

“In due time, you’ll pick it back up,” he smiles down at her before he walks off in the direction he usually walks, leaving (Y/N) alone once more. She tries to go back to reading, but it’s no use. Her mind is filled with thoughts now, remembering why she stopped writing and how she couldn’t exactly tell Mr. Laurence, because it had to do with his grandson.

She decides to head back to the house for some lunch, she enjoys a sandwich made by her mother on the back porch, taking a seat on the porch swing and looking out at the beautiful lake, surrounded by weeping willows blooming beautifully in the spring weather, as well as wildflowers that her and Laurie plant with her mom every year.

This year, it was just the two of them, and (Y/N) didn’t like it at all. Laurie brought a different sense of fun to it, he was constantly cracking jokes or telling stories, now the only noise was her mother humming some tune or telling her about a family member.

Life was different, and all (Y/N) wanted was Laurie back.

To her surprise, that day came two years later.

By now, (Y/N) was in her early twenties and preparing for life as a writer, attempting to establish her name, albeit not easily, the owner of the bookshop she works at was more than happy to lend her stories out, even if they aren’t binded properly or fully complete. She loved getting to connect with people who read her work and had opinions or even constructive criticisms.

Life was finally looking up for her, until everything turned upside down once more.

Fall had come around this time of the year, the leaves changing colors to beautiful oranges, reds, and yellows, the crisp, cool air settling over the northeast and bringing a sense of change. Perfect for the change that was coming.

It was very early in the morning, the sun just barely peaking over the horizon, casting the world in a stunning, orange glow, a sunset like any other. (Y/N) was still fast asleep in her bed, her face smushed against the rather thin pillow, her hair sprawled out all over.

Since she was asleep, she didn’t hear a knock on the door, or her mother answer it and let Laurie in, nor did she even hear his attempt at trying to be quiet walking up the stairs and right to her room. Nor did she realize that Laurie walks in, expecting her to be up and about, holed up as he imagined she would be.

Upon seeing that she was still asleep, he feels awkward for intruding. Admiring her for a moment, he can’t help the smile that stretches across his lips. As he goes to leave, he sees a piece of paper with his name neatly printed on it.

His eyebrows furrow and he takes one step and picks the letter up. His finger runs along the smooth paper that his name is written on before turning it over and tracing the royal purple wax seal, being mindful of the fragile flowers adorning it as well.

He wonders what’s written inside, if he were to crack the wax seal and read it, what would he find? Was it a birthday card? A letter detailing how much she hated him? Something she wanted to tell him, like how she found a lover and was to be married in the coming months?

Whatever was in the letter, he decided against breaking the seal and snooping. Carefully, he backs out of the room and makes his way back downstairs to where (Y/N)’s mother begins making breakfast.

As the food starts to come together and the smell wafts through the house, (Y/N) is awoken by the comforting smell of crackling bacon, scrambled eggs, and fluffy pancakes, her favorite. She bolts out of bed and throws on her morning overcoat, something she brings out for chillier fall and winter mornings like today, and sprints downstairs.

But to her surprise, she finds Laurie sitting there at the kitchen table, while her mother stood at the stove, continuing to cook the bacon and flip the pancakes.

“Laurie?!” She shrieks, her hands flying up to her mouth in shock. Laurie can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his face, hearing her voice again and seeing her face, noticing how much she’s grown since the last time he saw her.

Standing up, he opens his arms and within seconds, she leaps into them, wrapping hers around his neck. He tightly holds her close to him, nuzzling his face in her neck and inhaling her scent that he fell asleep to so many nights.

“I missed you,” he whispers into her shoulder, his eyes screwed shut as he tries to keep himself from crying.

The last few times they saw each other were very tense and not the way he wanted to really end things, so the fact that she was here, in his arms no less, it meant the world to him. And he didn’t want to let go just yet.

“I missed you, too,” she whispers right back, not a second thought to her words.

Just as she pulled away, her mother just finished cooking the food, and set the last bit of pancakes on the table next to them.

“Enjoy guys. I will be going around delivering the pies I made last night, so I’ll be back later in the afternoon.” The two bid (Y/N)’s mother goodbye and they take a seat nex to each other at the table, (Y/N) in her usual spot and Laurie at the head of the table, just to her right.

“So, how was Europe?” (Y/N) asks, grabbing a couple pancakes and pouring some syrup over them, also scooping up some eggs and plating them. Laurie does the same for his own plate, grabbing the fork and knife set off to the side.

“It was great, very beautiful. I had a little place in southern France that my grandfather owns, so that’s where I stayed overall. But I traveled all over, to Paris, Italy, Germany, Switzerland.” She raises her eyebrows and grins, taking a bite of her food.

“They must have been gorgeous sites. Did you learn Italian or German?” Laurie smiles to himself and gazes longingly into her eyes.

“Penso che tu sia la ragazza più bella che abbia mai conosciuto,” he gracefully speaks, chuckling softly at her confused expression.

I think you are the most beautiful girl I have ever met.

“I have no idea what you said, but it sounded so elegant,” she swoons a little, melting at the smile he returns, a blush beginning to cover his cheeks.

“Well, looks like you’ll have to learn Italian to figure it out,” he winks before taking another bite from his stack of pancakes. A comfortable silence hangs in the air for a moment as they enjoy the food in front of them, both feeling content and at peace with their reunion.

“Um, I was wondering if you’d…if you would like to take a walk with me? Like old times?” Laurie asks, a little scared to considering all the past few times she turned him down. But to his surprise, she smiles and eagerly nods her head.

“I would love that, Laurie. I want to show you this little deer family that sits tucked away in that little hideaway we cut out in the twigs and brush along the pathway a mile or so down.”

“Oh yeah! The hideout we made to escape our parents because we didn’t want to be away from each other. I remember the day we made that.”

“Me too. Every time I walk past it, it makes me smile.”

Laurie has the urge to reach out and take her hand, it’s so close to his resting on the table, so much that he can feel the warmth radiating from her skin, and it drives him mad. But he stays put, not wanting to overstep any boundaries or ruin things once again.

After they both finish breakfast and a bit more small talk, (Y/N) heads upstairs to change into a daytime dress, something simple but slightly thicker than her summer clothes, a nice cream color of the skirt and a natural brown top; it compliments her skin tone very well, and she has always felt beautiful in this specific piece.

Once she is dressed and her shoes are tied, her eyes drift to the letter she wrote and addressed to Laurie, who is just downstairs at this point in time. Picking it up, she admires her own handwriting and the wax seal, something she’s done for months at this point, and sighs, wondering if she’ll have the guts to give it to him sometime today. Quickly, she shoves it into the pocket of her dress and dashes back out of the room and down the stairs.

“Ready,” she smiles at Laurie, guiding him out of her house and onto the trail that they used to walk.

It was just like old times, like nothing has changed and like no time has passed. They laughed like they used to, they shared story after story that happened during the time they were gone, Laurie detailing his daytime adventures of riding a carriage through the French countryside, to (Y/N) describing her work at the library and giving him the gossip of well-known people within the city of Concord.

(Y/N) was smiling so much that her cheeks were starting to hurt; but it was a feeling she welcomed, and a feeling that she could never get tired of. Laurie is in the same boat, a light in his eyes that has been dimmed for years at this point, and she could tell.

As the time went by, the wind started to pick up, cooling off the atmosphere from the blinding sun, and (Y/N) just so happened to forget her overcoat, not thinking it was going to be chilly at all. But, since Laurie is so in tune with her, he immediately knows something is wrong.

“Here,” he pauses his steps to remove his coat. Raising his eyebrows, he reaches out towards (Y/N), silently asking if it was okay. When she goes to reach for the coat, he ends up throwing it over her shoulders carefully, making sure it was secured enough to not fall off.

He offers her a soft smile, one filled with love and adoration, specifically for her. He can’t help but think how adorable she looks in his jacket.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, looking down at the ground in front of her as they continue walking on, her hands grabbing hold of the coat around her and tightening it slightly.

They continue walking for a little while longer, goofing off together like they used to do on their walks, before they start to head back, just after they reached the little hideout spot she mentioned earlier.

“Would you like to go into town? I don’t want to, uh, to part with you just yet, I feel like we have lost time to catch up on,” he smiles as he says this, wanting nothing more than to just be with her for the remainder of the day.

And fortunately for him, she agrees right away.

“Great, just give me a moment for Gerard to get the carriage ready and then we can take off. You go inside for a moment to get warm.” (Y/N) chuckles and steps inside her house after watching Laurie walk further and further away straight to his home. Once he is out of sight, she disappears inside and plops down on the couch. After resting for a moment, she fishes into her dress pocket and grabs the letter, thinking everything over.

There wasn’t a moment during their walk that she could have given it to him, or brought that sort of conversation up just yet. But maybe in town would be safer? No. She would have to face the ride home with him in a carriage of close quarters, that wasn’t an option.

Her fingertip traces the seal and she sighs, shaking her head.

“What are you doing, (Y/N)?” She whispers to herself.

A swift knock on her door startles her and she jumps up, immediately shoving the letter into her coat pocket and stands to head back out with Laurie.

“The carriage is ready,” he grins, holding his hand out for her to take. She gladly places her hand in his and follows him to the front of his house, where the carriage was brought around for easy access.

The city wasn’t as busy as Laurie was expecting, maybe because it was an afternoon of a week-day, or maybe it was the clouds that had rolled in on their way into town that had everyone scurrying to seek shelter in case there was rain or any sort of bad weather.

The first stop was the bakery, Laurie getting a regular croissant and (Y/N) getting a chocolate croissant, her favorite. She then bring Laurie to the library, showing him what her usual job is of re-stocking books, taking the ones recently returned and putting them back on the shelves. It was simple work, but she enjoyed it.

As they continue walking along the street, catching up as they’ve been doing, a little jewelry shop catches (Y/N)’s eye, and they step inside for a little to shield themselves from the chilly breeze that picked up.

Laurie follows her close behind, examining every piece she admires.

“Oh, Laurie, look how gorgeous this is,” she gushes, walking over to a counter with a simple green amethyst necklace, a small emerald cut with a silver chain and silver details holding the stone in place. Her jaw was slacked in awe as her fingers cradle the precious stone.

“That is beautiful,” he replies, noticing the twinkle she has in her eyes as she admires it. But upon seeing the price on it, her shoulders deflate and she sighs.

“If only I could afford it. It’s quite a piece, though.” Laurie nods silently and grins at her. He quickly looks to the man behind the counter and nods his head towards the piece, silently telling him to take it.

Just as (Y/N) turns away, her dreams slightly crushed, she spots a friend walking right past the window of the shop.

“Priscilla?!” She shouts, running straight for the entrance to the shop, slipping out just as Laurie turns back around to talk to the man. Acting fast, Laurie hands the man the correct amount of money stated and takes the box that he packed the necklace in.

Laurie leaves after thanking him, making sure to hide the box in his pocket before finding (Y/N) still talking to her friend. He comes to stand next to her, not saying anything and allowing her to have time catching up with someone else.

“Oh, Priscilla, this is Laurie,” (Y/N) finally introduces him after a small lull in the conversation. “Laurie, this is a friend of mine at the library, Priscilla.”

“Ah, so this is the infamous Laurie that she always talks about.” (Y/N)’s eyes go wide with worry, not wanting her secret to be given away, but thankfully, she continues. “She’s told me many stories about how you grew up together, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well. We do have quite a lot of stories from when we were young,” he chuckles, glancing over at (Y/N) and smiling widely. She laughs along with him, her head tilting back with her laughter, a sight Laurie has always loved.

“Well, I have to get back home, but it was nice seeing you, and nice meeting you, Laurie,” Priscilla waves a goodbye to the both of them before dashing off. (Y/N) watches and as she does, she feels a single drop of water fall onto her nose.

“Do you feel that?” She asks, turning to Laurie, looking up at the sky. He joins her and flinches when a droplet of water hits his eye.

“Looks like we should get back,” he says, reaching for her hand and beginning to drag her away, back in the direction where their carriage was waiting for them to return. Laurie helps her step into the cab of the carriage, their laughter ringing out in the start of the thunderstorm.

The ride back for them was quite relaxing. (Y/N) stared out the small window, the rain hitting her face, Laurie watching her with admiration, knowing that if she turned around in a second and saw the look in his eyes, she’d be very aware of his feelings.

She ends up having dinner with him and his grandpa for the evening, enjoying being back in the house that she spent so many days and nights in, a place she hasn’t been to in so long because it felt wrong to be there without Laurie, especially with how their friendship kind of fizzled out towards the time of him leaving.

But Mr. Laurence welcomed her back with open arms, letting her know she was more than welcome to visit any time. He even invited her back over for dinner tomorrow night, also fitted with an evening of entertainment with her parents and a few others.

When the time came, Laurie walked (Y/N) back home, the rain still falling down from the sky, soaking into the ground to hydrate the dry grass and trees. She used his coat to shield her hair from the rain, Laurie opting to get drenched, as it doesn’t bother him.

They come up to her front porch, chuckling together as they are finally covered from the pouring rain. Standing there for a moment, (Y/N) looks at Laurie and smiles, not really wanting to say goodbye, but she was exhausted.

“It was so lovely to be with you again, Laurie,” she murmurs, worried about how he feels. But when a huge smile stretches across his face, she feels relief course through her body.

“I very much enjoyed it as well. I think coming back was the best decision I have made so far.” A smile slowly tugs at (Y/N)’s lips and she feels her cheeks heat up with a blush. Sure, it wasn’t her that he solely came back for, but she could dream, right?

“Oh! I forgot I’ve been wearing your coat all day,” she realizes just as she was getting ready to head inside her warm home. She removes it from her shoulders and hands it to him, a thankful grin on his face.

“It’s no worries. I think it suits you quite well,” he winks. Again, she gets all flustered and looks down at her soaked shoes.

“Well, um, I better get inside before I get sick, but I will see you again tomorrow night, for dinner.”

“Of course, get some rest and yes, I will be anxiously awaiting for dinnertime to come.”

With that, Laurie turns and trots down the steps before taking off in a sprint back to his home, his own jacket over his head now that he had it back. (Y/N) steps inside and sighs deeply, heading straight up to her room and untying her muddy shoes.

Once she gets dressed in her nightgown and gets all snuggled up under the covers on her bed, she grabs the book she has been reading recently from her nightstand, but something clicks in her head.

She doesn’t see the piece of paper that has been there for years. Her letter to Laurie.

Panic sets in and she starts to freak, checking her dress that was in a pile in the corner of the room to be washed at the end of the week, but nothing was in her pockets. She wracks her brain, trying to remember the last place she put it, until it clicks again.

Laurie’s coat pocket.

Her actions freeze as she thinks over the day, trying to recall when she put the letter there. Things finally fall into place and she falls to the ground, her knees hitting the wood with a loud THUD. Tears immediately spring to her eyes and she starts to shake, knowing that there was a possibility of him finding it now.

And unfortunately for her, this wasn’t to be dealt with tomorrow, as Laurie knocks on the front door softly but just loud enough for her to hear. Slowly, she walks down the stairs, trying to be quiet as to not disturb her parents.

Opening the door, she finds Laurie standing there, his hair drenched with rain, as well as his white shirt and black vest. She didn’t have to say anything, since Laurie was holding the letter up, the purple wax seal broken, a clear sign that he read through it. His breaths were heavy, filled with emotion.

The silence is thick between them, both too scared to start the conversation.

“Is it true?” Laurie asks, staring at her, waiting for her to explain. However, she says nothing and steps to the side to let him in, wanting him out of the chilly, rainy night. But that wasn’t what he wanted, as he heads right to the back porch, gazing back at her, silently asking for her to follow him out to the covered porch.

The two step back outside, and instantly realizing that she wasn’t dressed for it, he puts his coat back over her shoulders, bringing her over to sit on the porch swing together. Laurie opens the letter back up and reads over it again, although that’s all he did when he found it, was read it five times over just to make sure he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing.

A smile appears on his face and he folds the letter and brings it up to his face, chuckling to himself as he notices that she sprayed it with his favorite fragrance of hers.

“I’ve always thought of our friendship as different. Not in a bad way, but…a good different. I have always thought you were so very special, as in a beautiful person but also special to me, personally. And then five years ago, when we were seventeen, we were at an event together, with a few friends and family, around Christmastime. You ended up falling asleep on my shoulder, and that’s when I realized I’m in love with you.”

(Y/N) stares out at the backyard, getting lost in the rainfall, but listening to Laurie fully, taking in his words and everything.

“It felt so wonderful to have you beside me like that, even though we’ve been in that position before, and even closer, that moment felt different for some reason. I realized that you are all I wanted in my life. I didn’t want anyone else falling asleep on my shoulder, no one else in that room mattered by you. I wanted to fall asleep with you by my side every night.”

This admission makes (Y/N)’s heart race in her chest, and she finally looks over at Laurie, who also stares foreward, seemingly focused on choosing his words. She notices, even in the dark of the night, the slightly pink tint to his cheeks, though she wasn’t sure if that was from the cool temperature or the reveal of his feelings.

“But then things fell apart. You started acting strange and I figured I was reading signals wrong, that I was misjudging what our relationship was. That you were rejecting me in some way, even though I never voiced my feelings for you. That’s why I moved to Europe. To start new, to forget you, but I found that to be impossible. You were all I was able to think about. Everything I saw, I thought of you. Going to an art museum, I wanted to discuss a painting with you to hear your thoughts. Finding a little bakery and wanting to give you a bite of my pastry. Taking a trip through the French countryside and wanting nothing more than to run through the fields with you, your hand in mine, laughing, with no care in the world.”

Tears were filling (Y/N)’s eyes as he speaks, he was still staring forward and refusing to look at her until he’s said everything he needed to.

“Reading this letter just…brought so many emotions and confused feelings back.”

There’s a pause in the conversation as (Y/N) tries to collect her thoughts before speaking, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

“I love you, Laurie. I do. Everything in that letter is the truth. I didn’t mean to distant myself, but I was scared. I know that is not a good excuse, but I realized I was in love with you too. I took it far differently than I should have because I’ve never felt this way for someone. And I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.” She pauses to take a deep breath, turning her head back to look at the backyard, some parts of it beginning to flood a little due to the amount of rain that had fallen all afternoon.

“But in you pulling away, it made it worse. It ruined it anyway.”

“I know. Believe me, I am well aware of that at this point.” She looks down at her hands, disappointed in herself, and hurt. She was scared of this conversation going south, and things were going to end terribly. “But I would have rather kept you around and yearned for you in private than confess my feelings and lose you. And I got far too in my own thoughts and fear and thinking you wouldn’t feel the same. So I distanced myself. And I know I should not have, and I’m so sorry.”

Laurie takes her words in, nodding along as she apologizes. Opening the letter back up, he reads over it and lets the silence hang in the air for a few moments. His fingers run over the dried ink on the paper, remembering the feeling he got when he read it for the first time, only a little while ago.

FLASHBACK

Laurie enters his room and slips his coat off, hanging it up on the rack right next to his door. He reaches on the inside to grab the box with the necklace out, but also makes sure to check his other pockets just in case he left anything in there. To his surprise, he feels a piece of paper in one, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

When he realizes what it is as soon as he pulls it from his coat, he freezes, not sure what to do with it. But then he gets the idea that maybe (Y/N) put it in there for him to find. So, does that mean she wants him to read it? It must…right?

Going against his better judgement, he breaks the wax seal and opens it slowly, pausing to close his eyes and take a deep breath. His eyes scan over the writing, some words still scribbled through as she changed it last minute.

Dear Laurie,

You have just told me you are leaving for Europe at the end of the week. I hate feeling as though I have caused this, why would you go when you’ve always been by my side for years? So, I am writing this note as a way of getting out all of the feelings that I have, with no repercussions of any. Laurie, you are the most wonderful man I have ever come to know, you love with your entire heart and everyone you meet is like a friend to you. I have fallen so deeply in love with you, so much that it hurts. I yearn and I long to be yours, but fear that would ruin what we have right now, or had once. So I have stayed silent. And in my silence, I have distanced myself, to shield myself from the pain. But I have to say, this is far more painful, knowing you are leaving and will find a woman to love, a love that I dream of. A love with you. A life with you. It has always been what I’ve wanted. Not this. Not distance of thousands of miles and so many hours away. I will miss you, and everything that we shared. But I will never stop loving you. No matter what.

Love,

(Y/N)

PRESENT

Laurie gently traces the last few sentences of the letter, a small grin back on his face as everything finally settles in. He looks over at her, folding the letter back up and shoving it inside his coat.

“I have something for you as well,” he murmurs, his hand remaining in the pocket and producing the small, black velvet box, a slight shake to his grip as the nerves set in. She stares at him, wondering what he has, and when he finally clicks open the box and hands it to her.

She gasps in shock, her hand flying up to cover her mouth, in surprise.

“Laurie…” she whispers.

“I noticed how much you were eyeing it, and knew I had to get it for you. Can I…?” His voice trails off as he motions to her neck. He carefully removes the necklace from the box and turns her slightly so that he can set the necklace around her neck, clipping it to secure it.

She looks down at it and smiles widely, the gem perfectly resting above her racing heart.

“This is too much, it was so expensive,” she tries to reprimand him.

“It is no issue, I wanted you to have it, you deserve to have pretty things.” Her cheeks heat up at his words and she sighs, looking down at her hands.

“Listen, I really am sorry for the way things went.”

Laurie, being cautious of his actions, tilts her chin up just slightly so that she can look into his eyes.

“How about we put it behind us and start a little bit before where we left off,” he offers. “Forget everything that happened months before I left. Like old times, but…no more hiding our feelings.” She softly smiles at his offer and takes a hold of his hands, squeezing them gently.

“I like the sound of that. Can I ask of one thing as well?”

“Of course, of course.”

“Kiss me.”

Laurie takes no time to think about her request and presses his lips to hers, his hand cupping her cheek and holding her close. The two get lost in their own little world, every single feeling they’ve had for each other coming to a boiling point and spilling out, both being unable to control their actions any longer.

Which is why the kiss lasts for minutes, making up for all the lost time that was spent yearning after each other in silence, for the two years that he was gone, everything. Their hands explore each other’s bodies, (Y/N)’s hands going to Laurie’s hair, and his hands running up and down her back and resting on her sides, his thumbs tenderly rubbing her hips.

When the kiss finally ends, he rests his forehead against hers, their breath mixing together in the chilly, rainy night.

“That was everything I’ve dreamed of,” Laurie whispers, moving his lips over to kiss her cheek. “And so much more.”

“I feel the same way. Staring at your lips every time you spoke, wishing I could kiss them all night. Wanting them…all over me.” Laurie blushes and giggles at the suggestive comment from her.

“Well, we now have all the time in the world, mon amour,” he whispers, kissing her once more and cradling her face again. “The rest of our lives, even.”

#laurie laurence #timothee chamalet #timothée chalamet #laurie laurence imagines #laurie laurence x reader #laurie laurence imagine #timothee chalamet imagines #little women #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 4 months

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black friday - m. murdock

a/n: an old work i finished because i decided y'all are owed something cute and fluffy. shoutout to all my girlies who were in codependent relationships for so long that they needed to figure out who they were again after ! as always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! warnings: lots of fluff, lots of kissing, lots of talks about a bad ex, reader is rather shy at first, cursing probably but it's late and i'm probably forgetting so much im so sorry also a lot of suggestive behavior because they're in love word count: 4.5k summary: you have a list of things to do within a year of living in new york. matt helps you check everything off- oh, and you fall in love with him, too. it's not on the list, but you do it anyways. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: black friday - tom odell "i wanna go party/i wanna have fun/wanna be happy/could you show me how it's done?/ you look so pretty/pretty like the sun"

For a long time, you thought you’d never get over your ex.

For a long time, you believed that you were it for each other. You’d go the whole nine yards—Kids, a quaint house in your hometown, Sunday dinners.

And for a long time after he broke up with you, you thought you’d never let yourself love again. How could you? How would you allow yourself to be set up for failure, after letting someone know every part of you?

You had been dating him since high school and had been living with him in your first apartment when he broke it off.

Sometimes, it was amazing, and you were never happier. But most days, it had been full of anger and talking him off the ledge all the time. It was makeup sex after arguments you couldn’t remember now.

So, when he did break up with you, you decided to use it as an excuse to run far, far away from your small town. And you found yourself in Hell’s Kitchen.

You land a job at a small law firm, and at first, you just work as a meek little office assistant.

Nelson, Murdock & Page grew by the day, and for a while, you felt out of place. It wasn’t that you were abused or worked to the bone, you just struggled to make friends, and you weren’t very social while getting over your ex anyways.

So, for about two months, you did your job quietly, laughing quietly at the bickering of your bosses, thanking Karen Page for her advice, enjoying coffee with Foggy Nelson, and of course…

Never muttering a word to Matt Murdock. He was just too intimidating. Besides, you still felt like your ex’s eyes were watching your every move, even thousands of miles away, even now.

Then one night, Foggy couldn’t handle it anymore. So, he approached you quietly at the end of a long workday, with a simple phrase.

“This week’s been crazy, huh? Hey, a few of us are going to the bar tonight, did you want to come?”

What were you supposed to say? ‘No, my ex who I don’t talk to wouldn’t like that?’

Please.

“Oh, Uhm.. I don’t know, who else is going?”

“It’ll be me, my wife, Marci, Karen..” He said.

“Sure, I’ll come.” You smiled, before you could stop yourself.

“Awesome! I’ll send you the address! I’m so glad you’re tagging along!” He grins. You’re thrilled too.

“Me too, it’ll be fun.” He begins to walk away but then he turns back around with a snap of his fingers.

“Oh! And Matt is going!”

Why wouldn’t he tell you that in the first place? Why was your face burning? Why was your heart racing?

“Oh, Great.” You told him, now suddenly conscious of everything about that night.

• • •

At the bar, you wound up ordering a drink before you went over to your friends—Well, Coworkers, you wouldn’t call them friends yet, thanking the woman behind the bar.

Then, you made your way over to them where Foggy was playing his wife in Pool—and losing horribly. So, you sit with Karen and Matt, where there is conveniently one seat available, right between the two.

Karen excitedly said your name as you approach adding a, “I can’t believe you came!” Which, ouch, but, fair.

“Well, Foggy was right, this week’s been awful, so I wanted to relax.” You smiled, sitting with them.

“I’m glad,” she said, before asking, “So, why’d you move to New York?” She knew you weren’t from here, so you figured the question would come up eventually.

“Just needed a change of pace from a small town, you know?”

“I do,” she nodded, “Do you like it here?”

Did you like being alone all the time, feeling like you’re always doing something wrong? Like you should run back to your hometown and beg your ex to marry you?

“Yeah, I love it. It’s so different in a way I wasn’t really prepared for, but it’s great.” You lied.

Matt’s blind. Why did it feel like he has this burning gaze into your skin?

“Did you go to college in your hometown, too?”

“Yeah,” You smile. You loved College. You were an early education major and had even gotten your masters in your small community college. You loved teaching, and if you hadn’t moved, you’d have stayed at the school that hired you after student teaching there. But, when you got to the city, you were unable to find consistent work because the demand for teachers was so high.

So here you were, working as an office assistant for a small law firm.

Karen glanced down to her glass and frowned.

“I’m going to grab another drink, do either of you want anything?”

“I’m good, Karen.”

“No, thank you.”

Silence. Sickening silence.

Then, he spoke.

“Do you know how upset I am that you got your drink already?”

What?

You furrowed your brows, confused.

“I’m sorry?”

“I wanted to buy you a drink, but you beat me to it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You repeated, a light blush on your face.

“Well, I figured it might be nice to wipe the slate clean, considering you haven’t spoken more than ten words to me since you started working with us.”

That was true. There’s just something that feels so wrong about it, even though you worked with him,

“I’m sorry,” you said again, and he just laughed.

“You say that a lot.”

“I’m sor—” You caught yourself, clearing your throat. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, you speak to everyone, just not me. So, I listen and I’m pretty sure you apologize more than anything else.”

Your face was beet red.

“Okay, Okay, I get it. I don’t talk a lot, especially not to you. It’s something I’m working on, I have a whole list of things I’m working on.”

That’s true. You had an actual list of goals you have before your first year in New York is up.

“A list?”

“A list.”

“May I?” He asked, and you sighed, pulling out your phone, your list nestled deep into your notes app.

“Apologize less and talk to you is at the top.” You told him. “Then it’s get a job I love,”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry, Boss.” You took a sip of your drink, “Move into a nicer apartment, and uh..” You sighed softly. “Get over my ex.”

He tilts his head.

“Your ex?”

“The reason I moved here. He broke up with me about six months ago, but we were together for so long it feels like an impossible task.”

Matt knows the feeling.

“It’s an easy enough list. We can help you.” He says, “When did you move to New York?”

“May 1st.”

“Okay, then by May of next year, you should have everything accomplished.”

“We?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna help you.”

“Oh, so now it’s you and not all of you?”

Now it’s his turn to blush.

“You’re rather talkative now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like it.”

• • •

Talking to Matt is easy, you discover quickly.

It’s the apologizing that gets you.

You’re staying late at the office about a month later, while Hell’s Kitchen is amid a blistering heat wave.

You feel like you might die. You’re editing a closing argument Foggy wants to practice when Matt calls your name gently.

“Can I see you in my office for a second?” He asks. You follow him into his office, not really thinking much of it.

“What’s up?” You ask, sitting in the spare chair in his office as he closes the door behind him, going to the seat at his desk.

“Well, remember that list we talked about?”

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t heard much from you this week.”

That’s true, it’s just been sort of a hectic time with cases piling up. You can only do so much work AND talk to your favorite coworker. Yes, Matt had quickly become your favorite person at the office, even after just a month of really trying to open up to him.

He learned about your ex, your holiday traditions and that you hate peppermint.

You learned about his parents, his favorite dessert, and that he dresses up every night to go fight the criminals of New York.

Okay, you technically weren’t supposed to learn that, but you had stopped by his apartment early to drop off a file you were working on, and he had just crawled home and was still in his suit when he answered the door, forgetting completely that you didn’t know.

So now You knew how he was able to tell that you lied to Karen that night at the bar.

“I’m—” You start to apologize, but then you stop yourself. “I’m not sorry, I’ve been busy and so have you, but I do miss talking to you, though I am not sorry.” You say, and he grins.

“That’s my girl.”

Huh.

Your stomach swirls and you beam at the praise.

Wait, what?

You brush it off, before asking,

“Does Daredevil still come out to play even though it’s a hundred degrees out?”

“Will you have your window open with a few bottles of water open for me?”

“Always.”

“Then yes.”

Talking to Matt is rather easy. You have a feeling that soon the apologizing will follow.

• • •

October is the month of figuring out what you want to do with your life.

Sure, you love working in the office, but you are going crazy. You’re under stimulated and the hours are consistently long.

So, you try a lot of things.

You bake, you cook, you take exams, you work tirelessly to try and figure out where you want to work and where you’ll be happiest.

You try doing hair but find yourself uninspired.

You think you might like being a nursing assistant but turns out, you don’t like blood.

But part of you knows your heart isn’t in it, for two reasons.

For one, you want to teach. You want to be teaching young kids’ addition and their spelling and stars. You desperately want to be a great influence in their lives.

And the second thing is..

You don’t want to leave your coworkers.

You love spending time with Karen and Foggy. For a long time, you didn’t have friends outside of your relationship, and they are the best friends you’ve ever had.

Foggy spends long coffee breaks cracking jokes with you and asking for your sandwich order, telling you that you have to stop by his brother’s deli for one of his signature subs. Then he tells you this long-winded story about how his mother wanted him to be a butcher, not a lawyer.

Karen is your favorite girl. She’s not only drop dead gorgeous and ridiculously smart, but she is also kind like no one you have ever met. She texts you when you forget to let her know you’ve gotten home safe, there is always a coffee on your desk when you get there and for your birthday, flowers are on your desk, scribbled with a cute note in her handwriting.

And then, there’s Matt.

He’s your best friend and knows you better than anyone. He loves having you right in the office where he can hear your heartbeat and smell your vanilla coconut perfume. He tells you about his dad and you tell him about your folks.

He knows your Chinese and Thai food orders like the back of his hand, always ordering you some when he gets his. You describe the movies you’re watching in detail, and he hangs on to every word. There is no one who sees you more than him, and he’s quite literally blind. When you tell him about your dream to go back into teaching, he encourages it.

“When I was a kid, I’d have benefited so much from someone like you.”

He asks you to do his makeup for his Halloween costume, no matter how badly it irritates his skin. He likes the idea of your hands so close to his face.

But you’re both critically aware of how, not only is the market flooded, but you’re dreading the day you leave your little office job.

So many people have asked if the two of you are dating. And you both always laugh, because.. because you just love each other in a way that you can’t describe. But no, you’ve never thought about dating Matt Murdock.

Until this one day.

It’s like any other day, really. You have your friends cramped in your tiny apartment and you’re just waiting for Matt’s arrival before you eat dinner for the night.

Karen, Foggy and Marci sit at your little table as you finish cooking, and Marci just glances over to you.

“You need to move to a better apartment.”

“I know, I know,” you laugh, “But she’s so cozy! I love it here!” It was, and is, all you could afford, but you grew to love it.

“Yeah, and I love having leg room.” Foggy chimes.

“You know what, Nelson? You could just, pay me more so I could move somewhere nicer?”

“Touche.” There’s a knock on the door, so you grin and head over there, opening the door for Matt.

And you need to take a second.

He’s holding your favorite bottle of wine, and he’s in these nice dark jeans and a gray sweater under his peacoat.

This thought strikes you.

This thing you thought you’d never feel again after your ex.

Matt Murdock is hot, and you have got to have him.

This is it. The thing you can’t deny any longer. You have a massive crush on the devil that disguises himself as your favorite person. To you, he is an angel.

“Hey,” you say breathily, as if you have it out for yourself. Surely he’ll know. “You didn’t have to bring wine.” You told him, a soft smile on your face.

He steps inside as you take the wine, leaning in to kiss your cheek gently, something he has found himself doing every time he enters your apartment. It’s your routine. He loves this aspect of your dynamic because he has known that he’s wanted you for months. You’ve just been so caught up in everything that you didn’t see it.

“It’s no trouble, thank you for having us,” he says gently.

So this is it.

You just can’t deny it.

You have a massive crush on Matt Murdock, and there isn’t a thing you could do about it. Except maybe kiss him. But for that night, you just kind of relax and pretend you’re already dating him. That’s something you haven’t done in a long time.

You’re beginning to feel like yourself again.

• • •

Nelson Family Christmas celebrations are something of legend for you. For months you’ve heard about it, and you’re on your way to the deli with a handful of presents and two trays of cookies.

You’ve decided that just once, you want a holiday away from your family. Truth be told, you really don’t want to spend your holiday without your best friends.

You have on this stunning outfit—A red sweater, a black skirt and these warm black stockings. Boots to die for.

You know Matt can’t see your outfit, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to dress up for him. It’s weird. This crush thing has been getting out of control.

You’re greeted at the door of the Deli with a crowd full of blonde-haired New York Irish-Italians, and they’re all lovely. You put your presents down and place your cookies on the dessert table. And you love Foggy’s family. They ask you questions constantly, and Foggy’s sister-in-law talks to you for a while about her career in the local high school system.

It’s a joy to meet so many people so full of love.

So, you go over to Foggy as he’s yapping and say gently, “Hey, where’s Matt?”

He grins.

“Why do you want to go kiss him under the mistletoe?” He teases. Your face goes red.

“Shut up! Where is he, Franklin?” You glare and he laughs, patting your arm.

“Upstairs in the hallway.” He says, and as you walk away he calls, “Go get ‘em, Tiger!” You glare and grab a cookie on your way up.

And you find him, standing in a quiet corner of the hallway. You go to open your mouth and he turns to you.

“Merry Christmas,” he leans forward and kisses your cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Matty.” You hum. “Guess what type of cookie I have.”

He sniffs the air and shakes his head. “Give me a taste and I’ll guess.” You hand him the cookie and he put it in his mouth halfway, raising his eyebrows to you.

“What?”

He gestures to the cookie in his mouth, and you laugh, realizing that he wants you to bite the other end, ala Lady and the Tramp. So you lean forward and take a bite, and he eats the rest, inches separating your face as you enjoy your treat.

People chatter down the hallway and Christmas music plays from somewhere. There are so many different foods and people, and all Matt can focus on is the vanilla coconut scent of your perfume. When you’re both finished eating your cookie, his hands find your waist.

“Matt, what are you—”

You don’t get the chance to finish because suddenly he is kissing you in the dark hallway of your friend’s family Christmas party. The kiss is wonderful. He tastes of the cookie you two shared. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

You need more kissing practice because it’s been so long. But you get the feeling that Matt won’t mind helping you out if this is another thing you want to add to your list.

When he pulls away, he’s a bit breathless but he says one thing to you.

“Chocolate chip peanut butter.”

“What?”

“That’s my guess for the cookie type.”

“Wanna kiss me again to confirm?” He grins and his hands travel down, just slightly to feel the materials of your skirt.

“That’s my girl.”

• • •

The next two months fly by in a whirl of kissing Matt, trying to find a teaching job and enjoying your first real winter in New York.

By the time March rolls around, the clock is ticking for you to be able to find a job in this school year. And then, Foggy and Matt get you the best gift ever.

“Mrs. Future Murdock,” You send Foggy a glare.

“Watch it.”

“Okay, listen—You remember that rich guy that was wrongfully accused of tax evasion?”

“Yeah, why?” You’re cleaning up your office space for the weekend, excited to go to Josie’s, have a few drinks and unwind with your very handsome boyfriend.

“Well, he’s a super intendent for a large school district in Hell’s Kitchen.” Your head snaps up to the two.

“What does that mean for me?” You raise an eyebrow.

“There’s an older teacher there who needed to have surgery and we thought, hey, we know a teacher who could sub in.”

“…Who?”

“You.” Matt says, and you grin. “Your interview is Monday.”

You gasp and hug Foggy quickly, before making your way over to Matt.

“You are the absolute best.” You kiss him quickly and his hands, as they often do, find themselves on your hips. “Thank you.”

What a lovely lovely man.

“Don’t thank us yet, you still need to get the job.” Right.

Your night at Josie’s is lovely but you spend the rest of your weekend prepping for the interview on Monday. It goes well, but something in you is telling you to stay anxious. Why? You have no idea.

It takes two weeks for them to get back to you. But you walk into the office of Nelson, Murdock & Page with a big grin. You walk right into Matt’s office, who glances up to you when you walk in, your heart racing.

“Hey, Sweetheart, I—” He cuts himself off when you walk right up to his desk and pull his chair out before finding yourself on Matt’s lap. Your arms wrap around his neck and his arms find your waist. Before he can say much else, you kiss him quickly, and he grins into the kiss. Eventually, when you do pull away, Matt asks, “Everything okay?”

“Matty, consider this to be my two weeks’ notice.”

He gasps happily.

“Oh my god! How awful it is that you’re leaving us!” He grins, kissing you quickly. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you for getting me the interview.” You tell him, “You know if I do well, the teacher might let me coteach with her next year.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Our list is almost done, baby.”

“Your list, not ours.”

“Yeah but you’ve been helping so much.”

“You’re easy to help.”

“You’re easy to love.”

He blushes and decides to kiss his girl again.

• • •

So, in April, a month before your year is up, you find yourself needing a new apartment. The rent is getting crazy, and it’s nowhere near the school you’re working in. Especially considering that the teacher you’re subbing for decided she wanted to retire so you’d be taking over for her full time come Fall.

Plus, your apartment is small and cramped, especially with Matt’s stuff slowly invading your place. You discuss this with him one night. It’s late and he’s covered in cuts from his Daredeviling.

“I hate apartment hunting.” You whine, and he hums, kissing your head gently. “Nowhere is good enough. Too far from the school, too far from you, too expensive.” You complain.

“Why don’t you move in here?”

Huh. Why hadn’t you thought of that? Was it too quick to be moving in with him at this point? Maybe, but something told you Matt wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Really?”

He grins.

“Really. It’s close to the school, a good price, and rather close to me.” You grin and kiss him softly. It’s your favorite habit.

So, two weeks later, you’re hauling boxes into your boyfriend’s apartment. You take a few drawers of his dresser and some of your nicer outfits find their way into his armoire. Your mugs sit comfortably next to his in his cabinets. Your cabinets.

Your throw blanket is draped comfortably across his couch, and your shoes lay next to his.

Your lotion sits next to his first aid kit. You love dating Matt Murdock.

You love that next month will be one year since you moved to New York, and your life is sort of coming together. Glorious Matthew Murdock is your boyfriend. Your job is amazing. Your apartment is wonderful. Matt Murdock is your boyfriend, and he is amazing at kissing you.

• • •

So, Matt knows May is your year since moving to New York. He knows you guys could go to Josie’s and have a normal old time at the bar…

But he wants to do something special for you. So, he asks Foggy, Marci and Karen to get dressed up and go to a bar on the nicer side of town. Not that you don’t love Josie’s but your one year in New York calls for a special occasion.

You decide to wear a nice satin dress and he loves running his hands over the soft fabric. To Mat, you are perfect in every way, and every day he falls deeper and deeper in love with you.

So on a warm May night in Hell’s Kitchen, you sit in a bougie bar with your best friends, boyfriend and enjoy a year since you moved to this wonderful place you now call home. And a year and four months since your ex broke up with you. Truly, for a long time, you thought you’d never get over him.

Now, Matt is all you see.

At some point, a little tipsy, you kiss Matt’s cheek gently and tell him you’re going to grab another drink.

“Do you want anything?” You ask softly.

“Just for you to come back soon. I’ll miss you.” Oh, Tipsy Matt was your favorite.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” You kiss him quick and head off to the bar. You order another drink and wait patiently, taking in just how happy you are in this moment.

Then, a familiar voice calls your name, and you glance over and you can’t believe it.

Your ex-boyfriend is right in front of you, and for a moment, you convince yourself you must be drunker than you realized.

“Wow, you look fantastic!” He says a grin on his face. Was… Was your ex ever… attractive? You can’t remember if he ever was. Especially not since dating Matt.

“Oh, Thanks..” You smile softly, trying to be polite but to get out of here quickly and get back to the arms of your loving boyfriend.

“Are you here with anyone?”

“Yeah.” You told him. “Some of my good friends, and—”

“So, you’re not seeing anyone?” You furrow your eyebrows. When did you say that?

Then, there’s an arm around your waist, and you know whose it is in an instant.

“Hey, Sweetheart.. Is everything okay?” Matt asks, smiling to you. Oh, he knows. He knows big time.

“Everything is great.” You turn to your ex and grin. “This is Matt, He’s my—”

“Fiancé.” Matt ends.

Fiancé?

“Fiancé?” Your ex asks, bewildered.

“Mhm. Got engaged a few days ago, that’s what we’re here celebrating.” You said gently, leaning your head against Matt’s arm.

“Engaged, but you’ve only been here for a year!”

“Well, I wasn��t about to wait around for you to ask me to date you again.” You glance over to Matt. “Besides, when you know you know.” You say softly.

Matt leans in and kisses you gently, “When you know, you know.” He echoes.

Your ex is wildly uncomfortable.

“I thought you said you’d always love me.” He says, and he has that intimidating tone to his voice that you hate.

“Yeah… Me too.. Guess I was wrong. You have a nice night, Okay?” You smile and take your drink, turning to head back to your friends. Your ex is bummed out but leaves you alone, and Matt grins to you further.

“When you know you know.” He hums.

“Fiancé..” You echo. He shrugs gently.

“I like the sound of it.”

“Me too.” You say gently. “I love you.”

“I love you, Sweetheart.” He kisses your cheek. “So… A year in New York.”

“Yup. My list is all done.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I talk to you all the time, and I don’t apologize unless it’s necessary. I love teaching and my job. My apartment is stellar, and… I think it’s safe to say I am over my ex. I upgraded. In fact, my upgrade is so much hotter than anyone else I know.”

Matt leans in to kiss you, a grin on his face, but he mutters a soft, “That’s my girl,” Before he does.

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 1 year

Text

Dress Code | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi! this is a repost because some bitch ass reported my original posting of this fic 🙄

warnings: asshole exes, anxiety, some alcohol

You didn’t hear Bucky call out for you. He tried once, twice, to get your attention, but failed. Only when appeared behind you in the bathroom mirror did you notice his presence. You jumped, silently cursing the winter soldier training that made him so stealthy. And while you always loved to spend time with him, you hadn’t intended to show him your outfit. You didn’t even know why you tried it on. It sat at the back of your closet for almost a year and a half, ignored.

But Bucky’s unannounced presence put you in a difficult position. It was too late- he’d seen the outfit never meant for his view.

“Oh, wow…” his voice pulled you back to reality. A long moment passed as he raked his gaze slowly over your form in the mirror. “You look incredible.” His mouth nearly watered at the sight of you in such an out of character ensemble. Black, tight, revealing. It gave away just enough without revealing everything, teasing Bucky with what remained concealed.

You gave him a sheepish smile in the mirror, not ready to face him for real. “Oh, um, thanks, babe… you like it?”

He gave a nod so vehement that you feared he’d get whiplash. “We might not even make it to the party…” He shot you a devilish wink that made your chest tighten. “I’ll tell Nat you looked too delicious for me to share you- I’m sure she’ll understand.”

A shy laugh made its way out of your mouth as you picked at your cuticles. You’d done your nails just for tonight, but suddenly had the urge to peel the polish right off. “Um, I actually might change, though- I’m not sure. But I swear I’ll be ready soon.”

Bucky placed his hands on your hips and gently turned you toward him, placing a light kiss to your glossed lips. “No rush, doll. I just came in here to ask- what kind of wine does Nat drink? Sam wants to get her a bottle, but he wasn’t sure what she likes.” His fingers trailed up and down your sides as a mischievous smile pricked at the corners of his mouth. “I just got distracted by the absolute goddess standing in front of me…”

A rush of warmth flooded your cheeks. “She um, she likes reds. Cab is her favorite, but she’ll drink merlot.”

He granted you another chaste kiss. Bucky had experienced a lot of hardship in his life, endured more torment than anyone could imagine. But keeping his hunger for you under control proved to be the hardest thing he’d ever done. And when he pulled away from your lips, he only managed to drag his eyes away from you long enough to reply to Sam’s text.

As Bucky typed, you faced the mirror once again. You had to admit- you did look amazing. But you still feared leaving the apartment in such an outfit. Maybe you’d keep it relegated to the bedroom, allowing Bucky- and only Bucky - to see it.

“Are you sure…” you said, your voice timid. “Is it okay if I wear this?”

Bucky gave you a laugh and rested his hands on your hips. “Well, I’m not the best person to ask for fashion advice, cause I mostly wear black on black. On black,” he gestured to his monochromatic outfit. “But you look amazing. So, I say go for it, doll.”

Bucky’s praise warmed your cheeks once again, but you remained conflicted. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely! You know how causal Nat is- the last place you’d find a dress code is at one of her parties.” He pressed his chest to your back and dropped a few kisses along your neck. “In fact, she might even try to steal you away from me.”

You gave Bucky a roll of your eyes and contemplated your options. Sure, you could slip into a pair of jeans and a cute top like always, but something in you wanted to pull out a new look. Something fun. And this dress was the perfect choice. Bucky clearly though you looked like a knockout, and you loved the way the fabric hugged your body. No event was more perfect for this dress than one of Nat’s parties- it was meant to be.

“Well, in that case, I’m ready to go.” You took Bucky by the hand and led him out of the bathroom, more confident than ever. But the seed of doubt you’d planted earlier began blossoming into full on worry. And before you even made it out the bedroom door, you found yourself doubling back.

“Oh, actually- I’m gonna grab a jacket real quick.”

Bucky cocked his head to the side, “are you sure? It’s pretty warm tonight, sweets, and this is an outdoor shindig.”

You gave an overly casual shrug, “yeah. Just in case- never know when you’ll need it.”

The night went off without a hitch. You spent hours sipping on elderflower & pear seltzers and laughing with your closest friends. Compliment after compliment flew your way- everyone loved your look. Red wine flowed and music pounded. And like a group of schoolchildren, the party quickly separated into a group of guys and a group of women. You spent your evening with Nat, Maria, Wanda, and the rest of the girls while Sam, Clint, Scott and a few other guys stood near the bar.

But Bucky blurred the line. He couldn’t keep his hands off you, couldn’t resist you in the slightest. Every twenty minutes or so, he felt compelled to pay you a visit. He was drawn to you with no hope of resisting- not that he ever wanted to.

Observing you from afar just wasn’t good enough. He needed to be up close and personal; close enough to smell your perfume, to taste the wine on your lips. He never wanted to impede on your time with Nat and the other girls, but you were just too mesmerizing. It almost seemed as though he were a sailor, and you, his siren. And if you led him to his death with your tantalizing, magnetic song, he wouldn’t mind.

And though you appeared to have a great time, Bucky clocked a slight tension. A stiffness in your shoulders. A rigidity in your jaw. It wasn’t constant. But it was there. And Bucky wondered what had you so uncomfortable. He kept an eye out for outsiders and made sure your drinks were safe- nothing felt out of the ordinary.

And as he escorted you to his car after the night’s festivities came to an end, you didn’t bring it up. You didn’t mention a creepy stranger or an off-color comment from Sharon. Only positives spilled from your wine-stained lips.

When you finally arrived home, Bucky opened the door to the apartment and guided you inside. The alcohol was on top of you, and he didn’t fully trust your teetering steps. The last thing he wanted was for you to twist your ankle.

“I’m ready to not be walking on knives…” you said- or, slurred. You rocked side to side, the effects of the alcohol pushing you off balance as you tried to escape your heels.

“Here, let me, baby …” Bucky steadied your body against a wall before kneeling in front of you.

He carefully unbuckled one heel at a time, and slipped your foot out of the tight shoe. “This is like a reverse-Cinderella situation, isn’t it?” He laughed, staring up at your slack-jawed smile, “only I wouldn’t have to try your shoe on every woman in town.” He stood and swiped a bit of smeared lipstick from your skin- before smearing a bit more with his own lips. “I mean, who could forget a face like this?”

A contented sigh left your chest as you melted against him, “I’m really glad we went tonight. I like celebrating Nat.”

Bucky trailed kisses around your hairline and across your cheek. “Yeah? Good. I was afraid…” he almost stopped himself. You were drunk. Sleepy. Maybe this wasn’t the right time. But if he waited till tomorrow, he knew there was a chance you’d come up with an excuse by then. “I thought maybe you weren’t having a good time.”

You cocked your head to the side, your glassy eyes narrowing just a touch. “Huh? Why?”

Bucky shrugged. “Well, you seemed a little tense, doll. All night. I kind of thought maybe you were upset or something. It seemed like…” He let out a sigh. Maybe he was projecting. He always assumed he’d done something wrong. Or that he hadn’t done something you wanted him to. But he needed to know. All he ever wanted was to be better- the best- for you. He wanted constructive criticism and performance reviews. He needed to be as perfect for you as you were for him. And so, he pressed on, “Every time I walked over, you kinda stiffened up.”

A frown pulled your features downward. Your hands shot up to Bucky’s cheeks and pulled his face toward yours. “Oh, Buck, oh no- I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything…”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he laughed. “I just wanted to double check.”

“I only thought you might do something- or, actually…” You paused for a moment, formulating your drunk, murky thoughts. “It really has nothing to do with you.”

Bucky wasn’t following. He was certain that this was a mistake, that he should’ve waited till morning to bring it up. But it was too late now.

“I just kinda got used to it and so I expected it to happen. But you didn’t do it!” You gave his cheeks a gentle squish. “So it’s all good.” With that, your lips swept against his in a soft kiss, smearing his skin with your lipstick.

Bucky almost didn’t want to ask. But he needed to know. “I didn’t do what, baby?”

“You know,” you shrugged, “call me slut.”

Bucky’s ears started ringing. There was no way her heard you right- was there? Maybe he was drunk- no, he couldn’t get drunk. Maybe he imagined it? “Wait, what? Why would I call you a…” he didn’t want to say it. “Why would I do that?”

“Because of my outfit!” You said it so casually, so matter of fact. Almost as though it were normal. “It’s pretty tight. And revealing. And my titties are almost, like, all the way out.” You gave your chest a shake. “So I thought you’d get mad at me. But you didn’t!” You pressed another long kiss to his lips, “thanks for not yelling.” A soft, tired smile punctuated your sentence. But Bucky knew this was a red flag.

He knew instantly this was a holdover from your ex. The one who belittled you, criticized you, acted as though you belonged to him. He made you feel like you were his property, like he was in control of your entire life. What you wore, what you ate, what you watched- he decided.

He was insecure. He knew how beautiful you were, how out of his league. And so, he opted to tear you down. To blame you for his own self-doubt. To chastise and berate you for showing what he deemed ‘too much’ skin or wearing ‘too much’ make up. He always asked who you were dressing up for, who you were trying to impress. If not him, who else was there? What other reason did you have to get dolled up?

He even went through your closet once while you were away, ridding your wardrobe of anything he deemed ‘inappropriate’. He threw it all out and called you a slut, a whore- simply for owning such clothing.

He required you get his permission to wear anything short or low cut. He assumed you wanted to sleep with- or already slept with- any man you talked to. Coworkers, friends, the barista at your coffee place. He saw everything you did in public as flirtatious and risqué. He said he couldn’t trust you. That your friends were a bad influence. He did everything he could to pull your life apart until only he remained.

“Okay, we’re gonna talk about this more when you’re sober,” Bucky said, “But I’m never going to yell at you- especially not for something as inconsequential as an outftit.”

“You can yell at me,” you sighed. It was the sound of someone dejected, resigned- someone forced into submission. “Sometimes I don’t learn my lesson, and so I need to be yelled at. Ya know?” Your sad smile made another appearance.

Bucky shook his head. He was disgusted with your ex. With men in general, really. “No, that’s just something he told you, doll. You don’t need to be yelled at. I’m your boyfriend- not your parent, not your boss. I’m not going to yell at you- ever.”

You perked up suddenly. “Really? I like that, I like not being yelled at.”

Bucky nodded and left a kiss against your forehead. “You’re a fully grown adult; you’re allowed to wear whatever you want- you know that, right? You’re-” He took a pause and the quickly rephrased, “This is not me giving you permission. You don’t need my permission. I’m just saying, it’s your body. They’re your clothes. You should wear what makes you happy, not what you think I’ll ‘allow’”.

You stared up at him, struggling to make sense of such a foreign concept. “Are you sure? Cause… what if, what if I wanna wear something like, really slutty?”

Bucky’s head fell back in a laugh, “That’s not something I’ll ever I be opposed to.”

“But what if-”

“Baby, no ‘what ifs’. No ‘buts’. You should wear whatever you want, whether it’s a parka and snow pants or fishnets and those... those-” he made groping motions at his chest and came up empty, “what are they called? The sticky boob things?”

“Chicken cutlets!” you laughed.

“Yeah! Chicken cutlets!” He couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous name. “You don’t belong to anyone but yourself. Your body is yours. And if you want to wear nothing but chicken cutlets or those little pasty things, that’s your choice.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, weighing the truth of his words. The way you’d been treated was dehumanizing. Demoralizing. Asking permission for something as simple as clothing always made you feel stupid. Small. Ashamed. And though hearing Bucky say these things eased the tension in your shoulders, the apprehension in your chest remained.

“I just don’t wanna…” It felt stupid saying what you feared. You felt like a child. “I just don’t wanna get in trouble.” The admission came with a heavy sigh and few unexpected tears. You lived on a leash for so long it made freedom sound scary.

Bucky pulled you close and showed you the love you needed. He let you breathe. Unlearning the things your ex ingrained in you would take time, this Bucky knew. But he was more than happy to help you on the journey.

“You’re not gonna get in trouble. You can’t get in trouble- not with me.” He pulled your face from his chest and rested his palms against your cheeks, “I’m not in charge of you.”

Meeting his eyeline was hard; shame still had its hooks in you. “But what if I wear something really revealing and other guys hit on me?”

Bucky tucked a finger under your chin and lifted your head ever so slightly. When your eyes finally met his, you found an almost amused smile on his face. “Doll, I know how to fight,” he said with a wink. “It’s my job. Wear whatever you want. And if someone tries to make you uncomfortable, they’ll have me to answer to. Okay?”

This time, your smile was genuine. “Okay,” you laughed, “thanks, Buck. You the best.” You melted against his body with a sigh and barely noticed that he’d swept you up into his arms. No one ever cared for you the way he did. When you’d first met, part of you thought it was a front. Maybe he was trying to right the wrongs of his past by overcorrecting.

But it was real- all of it. His adoration for you, his devotion to you; everything he said was genuine. And as he carried you to bed and helped you get into some pajamas, you knew you’d never have to walk on eggshells with him. He’d never make you ask for permission or beg for forgiveness. He only wanted you to be happy. And if you wanted to wear a different, outrageous, barely-there outfit every day of the week, he’d happily fight off any man who dared comment.

——————————

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ihopeinevergetsoberr · 11 months

Text

Marry me again

Summary: You and Leon were forced to get a divorce two years ago due to his work constantly interfering with your marriage. However, despite the separation, the love between you both still runs deep. When you accidentally meet at a bar one late night, things quickly take an interesting turn.

CW: NSFW, Leon x Original Female Character, but technically still counts as Leon x Female Reader imo. Consensual Sex, Fingering, Vaginal sex.

WC: 11200~

i came up with the idea for this fic while roleplaying with a character ai bot. i would also like to warn you, that english is not my first language, so the fic might be written a little poorly to say the least lol. if you spot any mistakes (grammatical especially), any typos/misspelled words or if you have any advices for me in general: please let me know in the comments, i’ll be very happy with any criticism since this is my first fic in english. enjoy!

p.s. wrote this imagining leon from infinite darkness, i think he’s the best fit for this story.

She raised an eyebrow at the familiar low voice that echoed from behind her, the cigarette held firmly between her fingers. "Don't turn around, don't turn around, don't turn around," a mantra played on repeat in her mind, urging her to resist. Yet, she had already made up her mind. She knew, without a doubt, who it was. Despite everything that whispered against it, she defied the doubts. She pictured this happening too many times to just walk away.

Leon noticed the red polish on her nails and smirked. Apparently, such small details of her appearance, like this one, will forever remain unchanged. Even through the years. She turned around, her attentive eyes pierced right through him immediately, forcing his heart to skip a bit. She always had this "right into the soul" stare, he had to give her that.

It was their first encounter in two years outside the court. Their first encounter since the divorce.

"Hey," she whispered, a smile cracking across her face as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

His smile widened and a look of joy came over his face as he saw her, not quite able to hide the fact that he’d missed her. He then let out a breath and nodded at her. His eyes took in every detail, from her hair, to her nails, even to this small strand of hair out of its place.

“You look… fantastic, as always,” he told her, taking a few steps closer but still keeping a respectable distance.

She chuckled awkwardly at the statement, rolling her eyes at him. The wind caused that stupid strand of hair to stick to her cherry lip gloss, the same shade she used to wear when they were married. The same shade that used to stain white cups in their shared apartment, the collars of his shirts, and his lips and neck. A pleasant bittersweet memory made him bite his lip nervously. She was so goddamn pretty. And not his anymore. What a fucking shame.

"Well thank you, handsome," she returned the little compliment, getting the hair out of her mouth.

“I’m just telling the truth,” he assured her with a smile.

Leon wasn’t used to being called handsome, mostly because he didn’t really see himself that way. But it was nice to hear it, and it filled him with warmth. When she held the cigarette close to her lips — he finally realized that she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring anymore, and he felt a pang of sadness deep down inside along with the guilt, because he knew that it was partially his fault that they were divorced.

"So.." her eyes roamed over him once again with curiosity, a sigh escaping her lips. She took a drag on her cigarette, keeping eye contact, making Leon blush even deeper. "How have you been?..."

Leon gave her an awkward half-smile, reluctant to lie to her. He didn’t want to just spill his heart out to her right then and there either though.

“I’m… fine,” he said, clearing his throat. “Just busy… dealing with the usual stuff.”

Leon seemed like he was about to ask her something but then he hesitated, seeming unsure whether or not he should try it.

“And… you?” he managed to mumble illegibly.

"Relatively fine," she mumbled back, exhaling the smoke, her eyes sparkling in the city lights of the night. "What are you doing here?" She nodded at the bar behind their backs, curious to hear his answer.

He noticed the sparkle in her eyes, and he smiled a bit, thinking that she still looked exactly as he remembered. Leon noticed her nod at the bar and he followed her gaze. He raised his eyebrows, looking like he was thinking about just how much he should tell her. Then, he decided to keep it vague.

“Just… trying to unwind,” he said simply. She doesn’t need to know that every night he unwinds with several drinks, he definitely wouldn’t want her to think he’s a drunk.

"I see. finally on vacation, huh?" she giggled, feeling the awkward tension between them growing profusely in the air.

“You know me. Gotta get one sometimes,” he admitted with an amused expression, trying to lighten up the awkwardness between them. He was quiet for a moment, and she could see on his face that he truly missed her, despite everything they’d been through. Still, he wasn’t sure how to ask her what he wanted to ask her, so he let another moment of silence pass between them before speaking up again.

“And… how about you? What brings you here?”

"I had a date," she replied, taking another drag on her cig, not taking her eyes off him for a second, and he could’ve sworn to God that never in his life had he wanted her to look away so badly. But she never did. She was sinking his appearance in carefully, trying to figure out whether she touched something still sensitive inside of him or not.

Leon was hurt and a little devastated by her answer, and yet... he wasn't surprised. It was only natural that she had moved on with her life, even though the realization still hurt him like he'd been stabbed in the heart. His face fell and he looked away from her, unable to meet her eyes. He tried to hide his pain and put on a fake smile, not wanting to show her any weakness. He cleared his throat and looked at her again, trying to keep his tone casual.

"How did it go?" He asked her, trying to seem normal.

"Pretty bad, to be honest," she answered with a chuckle, clearly satisfied with the way his face dropped. She was there for the drama, he could tell she was just still as much of a tease as she used to be when they were still a couple.

Leon didn’t like being teased by her, especially when he was feeling so emotional. It was one of the reasons that he didn’t want to show her any weakness. He tried to keep from choking up and maintain a calm expression as he nodded at her.

“At least you made it out alive,” he remarked dryly, trying to keep his voice light. His face still showed pain and sadness, though.

She laughed at his joke, taking a step closer to him, the scent of her perfume, mingled with the lingering smell of cigarettes made him feel dizzy right on the spot.

"Yeah, I’m… still alive, I suppose. Sorry, Leon, your prayers have not been heard yet."

He was shocked when she stepped closer to him, and he had to take a moment to process it. Finally, he cleared his throat and took a small step away, keeping his hands to himself for fear of doing something that he might regret or making her feel uncomfortable. He glanced down at them, noticing how they were shaking a bit, then looked back up at her. His expression was soft now.

"Why the step back?" She raised one eyebrow at him, genuinely curious.

"I was about to say "I don’t bite”, but.. we both know that’s not true," she added with a smirk, her eyes lingering on his leather jacket for a couple seconds. Oh lord, was she.. tipsy?

Leon didn’t want to get too close to her on his own accord, because his instincts were telling him that doing so would make him want to tell her how much he had missed her, what a mistake getting the divorce was, and how much he still loved her. So he put some distance between them, still feeling an urge to reach out and touch her.

“Just…” he began, not really sure what to say, “Just giving you some… some personal space,” he finished with a shrug.

"I see," she nodded, then finally took her eyes off him to turn on her heels and throw the cigarette end away. She was so tempted to see what happens next.

Leon was also very tempted to do something, but then his mind reminded him of his current job and what could be at stake. Not only would it be immoral of him to make any attempt now, but it would also make him look unprofessional. It would just repeat the story. His busyness was probably the main reason of their divorce. Not to mention, what if she was already serious about another guy?

“If you… if you want, we could… hang out sometime…” he suggested. He swallowed hard and felt a lump in his throat, trying to act casual.

“Hang out sometime?" she looked him over her shoulder, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "What are we, in highschool?"

He felt the heat rising in his cheeks, realizing that he probably worded it wrong. And as he felt his cheeks getting red, he felt a sudden urge to just kiss her. No questions asked. No more words. Just… a kiss.

Leon’s breathing began to get a little faster, and he wasn’t sure what to say next.

His heart was racing and his mouth felt dry like he’d downed a whole bottle of whiskey.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean…” Leon began, still trying to recover from his blunder.

"Relax, i’m just fucking with you," she laughed it off, licking her lower lip.

"Wanna grab a drink before I head home?" she asked, nodding at the bar entrance again.

Leon breathed a small sigh of relief, happy that she was only messing with him and that he didn’t just make a big fool of himself. His eyes widened when she asked him to grab a drink and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Uhm. Yeah, sure,” he said after a moment of thought, nodding, and then he followed behind her inside the bar. He knew very well what she meant by a drink and it made him feel both tense and happy at the same time.

The sounds of her heels clacking were interrupted with the loud music as soon as they stepped in. She led the way to the counter: it looked like she was familiar with the establishment already. Leon felt something he hadn’t felt in a while, it filled him with warmth, and he wanted to tell her that she looked beautiful, and that he missed her. But when he realized that she was familiar with the place, his face dropped. She probably had that fucking date here.

“What can I get you?” He asked her, once they reached the counter, looking around at the different options.

"Ah, just my usual," she hops on the stool, throwing her purse on the counter. She then glued her eyes back to him, a cocky grin playing in the corners of her mouth. She was curious if he still remembered how she likes her scotch.

Leon’s heart skipped a beat when she sat down in front of him, and he found himself admiring her figure. He also caught her grin, a pleasant feeling tingling in his chest. He remembered how this used to turn him on when she did that.

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat, returning the smirk. “How was I to remember that?” He asked her with a teasing tone as his eyes went from her lips, to her eyes, to her neck, and all the way down to her legs.

"I know for a fact you remember that. We used to be the greatest alcoholic couple to ever exist, after all," she stated, leaning on the counter. He couldn’t help but laugh at her response, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah…” he chuckled, leaning his weight on the counter as well, looking at her with his eyebrow raised.

“So… how’s the… uhm, date life been treating you?” He asked her, almost afraid of her response.

"Rough, just like I prefer it," she laughed it off, her eyes searching for the bartender. Leon felt a wave of jealousy hit him, and it made him feel a bit down. He had to remind himself to not let those feelings rule him again.

“And uh… you… seeing someone regularly?” He asked her, hoping that she wasn’t serious, but the way she was acting indicated otherwise. He ordered two scotches, and he turned back to her. He tried to hide the pain behind a smile, but it wasn’t easy.

"No, not exactly," she dodges the question skillfully. Well, what else did he expect? She’s not the one to reveal all the juicy details right away, especially now that he’s her ex-husband. Every thing about their interaction reminded him of that, and it made his heart ache in ways he never knew were possible before.

Leon’s soul tightened and he felt pain in it, anger brewing inside of him. He had to force himself to stay calm. It was hard with her sitting right in front of him. A million thoughts raced in his mind and he kept coming to the same conclusion. She’s probably sleeping with someone else. Leon’s jealousy was growing with each moment. And he thought that was a reason for her to dodge the question. And he still loved her and wanted her back but she probably didn’t feel the same.

Leon stayed silent for a while, and then suddenly felt like he can’t take it any longer.

“What’s with the dodging questions?” he snapped at her, “Did I do something, or are you just playing with me?”

At that exact moment, the bartender came back with the scotches, but Leon ignored them, just letting the silence sink in.

He really wanted to talk to her. The last few years had been hard and he knew that she would be someone he could lean on. And he wanted her. Desperately. He couldn’t hide it any longer.

"I’m not dodging the question," she arched her back, hand wrapping around the glass of scotch the second she touched it.

"I’m not dating anyone at the moment, if that’s what you’re asking about. But how is this any of your business anyway?"

She was so fucking cool about it and it was driving Leon nuts. How could she do this to him? What’s the matter with this banter? Has she become completely heartless after their split? She took a slow sip on her scotch, her eyes wandering all over the place, lingering on anything but him. And she was fucking right. Admitting it made Leon want to clench the poor glass in his hand so tight it could shatter any second. It wasn't any of his business anymore, indeed.

Leon sighed heavily, trying to contain his emotions, and he let out a breath.

“Don’t.. don’t do this,” he said in a pleading tone, his eyes looking at her, begging for her with hurt in his gaze.

“How could it not be my business? We were together, and… it feels… ” He fell silent for a few moments, trying to find the right words to say. He was trying to stay level-headed but it was very difficult.

"How’s work?" she interrupted him abruptly, tilting her head to gaze into his blushing face, prompting him to quickly put on a fake relaxed expression.

Leon’s heart was crushed. Her sudden shift in tone felt cruel and it made him feel like she didn’t care about him.

“Nothing much. Just the usual,” he replied after a moment of thought, trying to hide the fact that she did actually hurt him.

“Keeping the streets safe from terrorists, protecting cities all over the world…” he raised his eyebrows and then chuckled, “It can get pretty hectic at times.” He took a sip from his scotch in order to give himself a chance to compose himself. The thought sent a wave of aggravation through his chest. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Same old Leon,” he added with a fake smile

"Really? Same old guy?" she smiled, looking at him with... some strange kind of affection. The kind of affection you give to people who aren’t in your life as much anymore. Who knows, maybe she actually missed him too.

“Yeah…” he replied, “Same old guy.” He took a deep breath to keep himself together, trying to be mature. But this was eating him up from the inside and he didn’t know what to do. The way she looked at him filled him with hope and a little bit of pain, and he felt a sense of relief for a moment before the realization that she didn’t mean it hit him.

He was stuck between wanting her back and wanting to hate her. He didn’t know which one to go for.

"I wouldn’t be so sure. Since you are the one seeing someone new, apparently," she nodded at the ring on his finger, a smirk appearing on her face yet again. She knew damn well it was their wedding ring, she would recognize it from the thousands of rings, even though it was a very plain piece of jewellery. But she wanted him to admit it to her face. She wanted to hear directrly from him that he still wears it.

"And it looks pretty serious. Are you married again? Does your new spouse know that you’re getting drunk with your ex-wife right now?" she chuckled and bit her lip, her eyes glowing with curiosity.

Leon felt his heart drop and his face turn red as she pointed out the ring. Of course she would notice that he hadn’t taken it off. He didn’t want to talk about it just yet, and he cleared his throat.

“This… um…” He looked away, unable to look her in the eyes. “This is…” he began, feeling ashamed and embarrassed. “It… it isn’t what you think… it’s…”

Finally, he gave up and looked back at her, his expression filled with sadness. “I… I got remarried.”

"Really?" she raised one eyebrows, giving him a tongue-in-cheek expression.

Yeah right. Remarried. Fucking bullshit.

"Congratulations! What is she like?" she continued with a vicious smirk. God, what a cruel woman she is. Her face was screaming "I've got you. Just admit that you're lying, don't humiliate yourself more".

Leon could see the relief in her face and his heart ached again. How can she act so nonchalant? Doesn’t she love him anymore?

“Um…” he felt himself tense up. He felt his stomach twisting and he didn’t want to tell her all of it. But he knew he didn’t want to lie to her either. She was his ex-wife, but he did still care and he did still feel some level of loyalty to her.

“She… we don’t…” he said, before sighing. “It’s complicated,” he left it at that.

"Complicated, really? Oh I’m so sorry to hear that," she squinted after taking another sip on her scotch, there was barely anything left in her glass now. Leon was terrible at lying. At this point it would be less embarrassing if he just admitted he still wears their ring right away.

Leon felt a wave of humiliation spread over him. Finally, he cleared his throat, and he let out another sigh. He couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes, so he spoke to the ground.

“Yeah…” he said softly, shaking his head, “…I still wear the ring…”

"Huh? So… there’s no new wife?" she tried her best to fake a confused frown, but the proud smirk and the obvious sarcasm in her tone destroyed her plan completely, leaving Leon flustered. She won. It was impossible to deceive her.

Leon’s face went pale. His lips trembled a little bit and his throat became dry.

He felt the anger building in him and he wanted so desperately to tell her how he felt. Or, even worse, go back and pretend that the truth was something else, and to lie again. He was stuck between those two options, and he felt so lost. He had never expected things to go this badly.

"You don’t need to answer that. I'm done torturing you, don’t worry," she gasped, looking away, tapping on the glass with her nail.

Leon closed his eyes and felt a wave of shame wash over him.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment of thought, looking back at her with a hint of a smile, and he meant it. “Not many people have the mercy to stop when it’s time,” he added, grateful for her.

"I learned not to get too carried away, I guess," she stated with a sigh, throwing her head back, her tired, weary eyes swirling the ceiling now.

"Why are you still wearing it though? For the sake of avoiding attention from younger girls?" she chuckled lazily and closed her eyes, making Leon notice the mascara fallouts under them.

Leon chuckled as well.

“Funny you should ask,” he began, with a small smile. “I’m still wearing it because it reminds me of the only time in my life when I was truly happy.”

He paused for a moment, and he felt himself get emotional. He swallowed hard as he tried to keep the tears from falling.

"You’re sweet," she whispered, turning her head back to meet his eyes with hers, her index finger playing with now empty scotch glass.

Leon stared at her and his heart skipped a beat when their gazes met.

“You’re still just as beautiful as you were back then,” he whispered.

“You were my everything,” Leon added, and the words felt strange to say. But it was the truth.

"...And you were mine," she admitted, a hint of pain crawling into her tone.

The hurt in her voice made his heart ache and he nodded as tears fell from his eyes.

“I’m sorry for what I did, … I know that it’s not worth much now, but I truly am,” he said with a slight whimper. “I’ve thought about calling you so many times…” he sighed and looked down, his shoulders slumping. “I should’ve fought for us…” Leon’s face contorted into a frown and he held his breath, “I didn’t realize just how much I missed you…”

She interrupts him with a kiss, a loud sound of their teeth hitting together messing a moment up a little, but she quickly recovers, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck and burrowing another into his hair, pulling him closer, suffocating him with her mouth hungrily, making him feel the taste of that same fucking lipstick, cigarettes and whiskey.

A million thoughts raced in Leon’s head as he felt the kiss. Every time she kissed him he felt a rush of affection and love, and he adored it. His mind went blank and he lost himself in the moment. He pulled her closer and put his hands on her waist, kissing her back. His passion for her, his love for her, had never gone away. It was still there, all the way to his core, and holding her tight like this felt so natural.

It was just like the old times.

She pulled away reluctantly, frantically gasping for air, letting out a chuckle when she notices him licking her saliva off his lips and wiping her lipgloss off his mouth and chin.

Fuck. What a damn turn on.

Leon’s heart skipped a beat once she stopped the kiss and he chuckled along with her.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but we were in the middle of a conversation,” he laughed as he wiped his mouth.

“But you have a way of shutting me up…” He added, his face lighting up as they shared that moment. Leon smiled and pulled her close again.

“Damn…” he sighed as he caressed her face, brushing his fingers along her cheek and jaw, and his eyes glanced back and forth between her eyes and her lips. “You haven’t changed at all, and I’m definitely not complaining,” he added playfully, enjoying their physical closeness. “I really missed kissing you like that…”

"Do you want another reminder?..." she giggled, her hand finding its way to his hair again. He felt a wave of tingles go through his spine and his hairs stood up as her fingers ran through them. He liked it when she did that. Just like the good old days.

“Yes please,” he said with a grin. His heart was beating so fast as he looked into her eyes. “You know I can’t resist you,” he said playfully, before kissing her again.

She gently pushed her tongue into his mouth this time, carefully biting on his bottom lip as she smirked into the kiss, knowing damn well just how much that turns Leon on. She grabbed him by the collar eagerly, as the tips of their tongues met and wet noises of making out would definitely fill the bar if the music wasn’t as loud.

Leon felt his heart start racing in his chest, and he couldn’t help it. She could do anything she wanted to him and he would just allow it. He didn’t mind. He was powerless in her hands. His heart was beating faster with pure pleasure as the tips of their tongues met, and he moaned quietly into the kiss. He pulled away after what felt like an eternity and said,

“Wow… I… Damn…”

He was out of breath, but he didn’t care at all.

"Do you want to get out of here?.." She whispered immediately after breaking the kiss, wiping the lipstick off his face with her thumb again. He was such a mess right now.

Leon’s mind went blank.

How can she just say those words so casually? What is she thinking? Is she feeling the same thing as him? The same attachment he still feels for her? Is she just taking him for a ride and playing with him? The questions raced through his head. Before he could speak, or even think straight, he looked down at the ring on his hand. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke.

“Yes.”

She was genuinely surprised, not expecting him to agree right away just like that. She cleared her throat, as she recalled some very pleasant memories about their sex life, hot and painful arousal forming somewhere down her abdomen and she glanced at his hands again, coughing loudly when she pictured them touching her in all the most private places again. Leon’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the look in her eyes.

Was she thinking what he thought she was thinking?

He cleared his throat and chuckled nervously, a light turning red tinting his cheeks.

“Oh god, are you… Are you…?” He couldn’t believe he was asking her this. He felt like a teenage guy at this moment. But he had to know.

"Am I what? Turned on right now?" She chuckled, her pupils widening in anticipation, “You can’t even imagine how."

Leon started to sweat as he felt a wave of pleasure wash over him.

“Well… I can’t wait to see how then,” he answered, his cheeks flushing more. “Uh… Where would we go?” He asked, unsure of what to do next at this point.

"How drunk are you?" She asked, as the playful twinkle appeared in her eyes, her now darkened and swollen from kissing lips tempting him even harder.

“Not as drunk as I’d like to be,” he joked, his face still a little red from the last kiss. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers once more. After a long moment, he pulled away again.

“But I’m definitely not sober either,” he admitted, “It’s kind of hard to be whenever you’re around.” He looked at her again, feeling overwhelmed by her beauty, the burning desire growing in his crotch. “I could just spend the rest of my life kissing you,” he sighed in pleasure.

"Woah, did someone turn into a romantic after we got divorced?" She placed a couple of wet kisses on his neck and jaw, clearly giving zero fucks about it being inappropriate both for public and for their age.

Leon laughed and gently pulled away. “Damn… You love playing with a man, don’t you?” He said teasingly, with a playful wink. He looked around at the bar and all of the people around them.

“I think we should probably go somewhere more private. As long as it doesn’t sound too boring to you, of course.”

"Well I remember that one time when you couldn’t wait to get somewhere private..." Her fingers grabbed his knee gently, it was obvious from her tone that she was hinting on that one time when they fucked in public a couple years ago, too impatient and too drunk to get home. The hint made Leon even harder and he pictured grabbing her pretty thighs, placing her right on that counter and fucking all the living shit out of her right then and there, for being so damn pretty, for seducing him so effortlessly, for not being his anymore.

Leon felt a wave of lust wash over him as she continued to speak.

She hasn’t forgotten, and she still wants him.

He cleared his throat and gulped hard, trying to hide the excitement in his voice but failing.

“Maybe we should… go to my hotel room,” he suggested enthusiastically. “If you’re okay with that,” he added.

"Oh, that would be nice.." she whispered, looking at him with her eyes wide open, the lustful thoughts in her head so loud and so obvious Leon could almost hear them. He felt himself getting a little bit more nervous when he noticed her expression.

He nodded. “Okay, let’s go,” he said, his heart racing in his chest. They both stood up, and Leon gave the bartender a few bills to cover their drinks and the tip.

God bless this fucking bar.

“Now let’s get out of here before we get too hot and bothered,” he chuckled.

She stood up too, grabbing her purse while hopping off the stool. She quickly closed the distance between them, grasping his hand tight, their fingers intertwining, causing Leon's heart to beat like crazy. Leon felt himself tingle throughout his entire body as their fingers touched, his heart speeding up dramatically.

Oh, god…

The second they walked out of the bar Leon pressed her body against the wall, pinning her, locking her hands above her head by grabbing her thin wrists, pushing his knee between her legs. He began to kiss her lips, neck — even her collarbone, as she kept chuckling and arching her back, soft sweet whimpers leaving her lips one after another.

"Woah, honey, have you missed me that much?" She teased, her eyes rolling back when his tongue trailed down the curve on her neck, leaving a path of saliva on it.

Leon felt a wave of pleasure wash over him as he pinned her to the wall. “Yeah... I have…” He said softly, “I’ve missed it all…”

"I’ve missed you too, Leon…" She wanted to bury her hands into his hair again, but he held them high above her head, preventing her from moving them. She then tilted her head, so that her lips were now really close to his neck. Without hesitation, she sank her teeth in, smiling as he gasped and loosened his grip on her wrists. She always bites hard and this time was no exception — she was practically chewing on his neck, leaving a deep almost bloody mark. She missed him so much it made her want to tear him apart, to bite a chunk out of him, to mark him everywhere. Leon hissed as she bit his neck and he leaned back, his heart racing.

“Damn… What did you do that for?” He asked softly, his words being caught by his teeth. He cleared his throat and chuckled nervously as he touched his neck. “You really like biting me, don’t you?” The mark she left made it clear.

"Just claiming you again.." She grinned, licking his taste off her lips, admiring the deep lovebite she left on him. Leon smirked. He’d missed those little inside jokes.

“I’m all yours…” He whispered as he leaned in again, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I always have been. I never forgot the first time you marked me like that,” he added and he brought his hands to her waist.

She leans against the wall with her hand on his shoulder, her eyes gazing into his face with sadness. She blinks wearily and pulls him closer towards her, his hands gripping on her waist tighter.

"You were such a right person for me, Leon. You still are. I guess it’s just... the time wasn’t exactly right..." She admits, the sorrow in her tone so overwhelming and so gut-wrenching that Leon just wants to fall down to his knees and wrap his arms around her right on the street for everyone to see: anything to make her stay with him forever, to win her back.

Leon held her closer as she said those words. He sighed, looking into her eyes, and he felt a wave of intense feelings wash over him... A mixture of fear. Excitement. Joy. Sadness…

“But you still feel like home for me…”

"Maybe I am your home."

That sounds more like a statement than a question. A sad smile plays at the corners of her lips. She's right. She's fucking right again and it's killing him mercilessly. Her words left him feeling lost, confused and vulnerable. In a moment of weakness, he leaned in again, pressing his lips against hers and kissing her longer and deeper.

“I still want you just as bad,” he whispered.

"Fuck.." She managed to mumble something senseless with her eyes closed. Her arms — unpinned from the wall now, were resting around his neck, inviting him for another embrace. All of the feelings and emotions he hadn’t felt in years — he felt all of that again. Like a rush. And the most dangerous part was… that he enjoyed every second of it. He felt alive again. He pulled away and looked into her eyes with a sad smile. “I’d give anything to run away with you now.”

"There’s no need for that, honey. You’re not too drunk to ride your bike, are you?" She teased, brushing her nose against his neck, the smell of his cologne causing the hairs on her body to stay on end.

Leon laughed. “No, I can probably manage it still,” he looked down at the ground.

“It’s dangerous though… riding my bike out there, at night. Anything can happen.” He added.

Like getting stopped by the cops, getting attacked on the road… The thought of her safety still gave him a chill, even after all these years.

“But I want to do it. I’ll be careful. I promise,” he said, pulling her close to hold onto her one more time. He grabbed her hand and they walked out to his motorcycle together. Leon jumped on, waiting for her to get on too. Once he was sure she was seated comfortably behind him, he started the engine, revving it a few times. “Hold on tight!” He laughed, and then he took off with a loud sound. Her hands crawled under his arms to hold on his chest, head resting on his shoulder from behind. Leon smiled as he felt her body against his. He looked up at the stars and the city lights passing by. And for once, his troubles seemed to fade away. She was the only thing he felt. The only thing that felt real. He was truly happy for the first time in those two long years. A feeling he had missed terribly.

***

Leon places a kiss on her jaw, his hands gripping on her hips so hard she feels like she's going to faint. He grips like he's afraid to lose her again, like she's about to slip out of his arms the second the elevator stops. But she’s still there, pinned to the cold wall with the weight of his body (at this point he clearly has a thing for pressing her against something), moaning into his lips, pulling his hair — her every movement encouraging him to never stop.

“I won’t let you go this time, darling,” he whispers, his hands travelling from her hips to her upper body, stroking her ribs under the tight dress. He still felt a little unsure, a little nervous, but he wanted her. So badly.

“I’m not letting you go, ever again.”

“You’re stuck with me, for better… or for worse.” Another kiss on the neck, a purple hickey appearing quickly on her tender skin after he pulls his lips away, completely out of breath - so vulnerable and so needy, only for her.

"Oh, am I now?..." She looks up at him, getting on her tiptoes to reach his ear. Her voice wheezy and low when she whispers another inappropriate sweet nothing into it, nibbling on his earlobe, her hand slipping down his torso, causing goosebumps to appear all over his skin. She grabs on his crotch, letting out a genuinely surprised moan when she feels how hard he already is.

“You are,” he answered. He had never said those words to her before, not in this way at least. But he meant them with every fiber of his being. He kissed her again. Hard. Harder. With a level of desperation in his touch.

“I never stopped loving you… not once in the whole two damned years… I couldn’t stop… I wouldn’t stop…” he muttered, his voice breaking.

"Fuck, I seriously might pass out if you keep saying it like that..." she digs her fingers into his shoulder, gripping him tightly, trying to keep her balance. The elevator is finally on their floor, its doors opening automatically, playing a short silly melody. Leon smiles slyly, his hands diving down to her hips again. He easily lifts her up into his arms — so casually, that a small cry of surprise escapes her lips. She giggles, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck to prevent herself from falling, and he carries her out of the elevator, catching the attention of an older couple in the hallway, causing them to momentarily pause their conversation and cast a judgmental glance in the direction of the lovers. Leon kept her close, as he carried her inside the room. Her little giggle had only made him want her more. He was already feeling lightheaded due to her kisses, his heart racing a thousand miles per minute as he put the key in the door and turned it, pushing it open.

“Damn…” he whispered, a little breathless. “I’m going to need a cold shower after all that…” he chuckled. He closes the door with one hand, supporting her with the other, definitely not planning on letting her go even for a second. As he tries to close the door, he curses out loud, which makes her laugh again.

"Not a chance, hun. I’m not letting you go anywhere until we’re done," she whispered, chuckling when Leon slipped over something while trying so desperately to lock the room.

"Careful, I don’t want you falling and breaking my neck."

"Don't worry. I've got you." Leon's finally done with the damn door, so he throws the key on the first surface that caught his eye. He grabs her with both hands again, leaning in for another kiss. A couple of steady steps — and he's placing her on the hotel bed as gently as he possibly can, making sure she's comfortable. His jacket slips off and falls onto the bed when he crawls on top of her, their tongues swirling each other in their mouthes. He could feel his blood rushing to his cock. God. This felt so damn overwhelming. He reached for the hem of his shirt, ready to take it off after the jacket.

"Someone’s eager," she stated with a teasing grin after pulling away from the kiss, a trail of saliva stretching between the tips of their tongues. With her hands stroking his stomach under the shirt, she moves closer to him, feeling his muscles become tense under her gentle fingertips immediately. He straightens up, then pulls his shirt off with trembling hands. It allows her better access to the belt and she gets the hint, agile fingers reaching for the buckle as she kisses his stomach, pleased with the way his body reacts to the touch. He moans her name, gasping for air, pushing her towards him with a huff, fingers rubbing the soft hair on the back of her head. He needs her so bad it makes him look absolutely stupid and desperate.

"Fuck, darling, the things you do to me-" he lets out a breathless chuckle and bites his lip, the thumb of his free hand reaching for her chin to stroke it. He grabs it authoritatively, yet still gently, just enough effort to show her who’s in charge here (or so he thought). Another brief moment passes by and his finger finally reaches its destination — her lower lip, on which he puts pressure gently, causing her pretty mouth to open wide for him.

"Look at you. So hot for me."

"You have no room to talk. You’re hard as fuck, and I’m not even naked yet," she laughs, sticking her tongue out to swirl it around his thumb, piercing eyes watching his every movement carefully. She then accepts the finger deeper into her mouth, sucking on it, enjoying the sight of Leon throwing his head back with an audible moan, numerous sweat drops forming on his forehead.

“You’re irresistable. Maybe that’s why I always come crawling back to you…” Leon said quietly, finally taking the thumb out of her mouth, shivering at the pleasant feeling of wet slick tongue brushing it one last time.

“Flaterrer.”

Another sharp inhale, heavy eyelids covering her eyes when Leon bends his knees and climbs back onto the bed, his body above her, temples wet with sweat, his always neat hair sticking to them now. He grabs her wrist, politely putting her hand away from the belt, and kisses the crook of her neck, his tongue teasingly trailing down to her collarbone, luscious scent of her hair making him salivate.

“Stop being such a fucking tease!”

Her hips are grinding against his, her every move filled with excitement.

She really hasn’t changed at all… Leon thought to himself with a smile.

“Shh, just let me feel you like this for a moment… You’re not very patient, are you?” Leon asked, grinding back against her. His fingers trace a path down her back, moving in circular motions along her spine. The sensation causes her to arch her back and grip his shoulders tighter, his low, raspy voice intoxicating her.

“Respectfully, honey, we kinda haven’t had sex in two years,” she returns the teasing, planting a sloppy kiss on his jaw. Leon rolles his eyes with a short laugh, his fingers quickly finding the zipper of her dress. He gives her lower back a gentle tickle, trailing his short nails along its surface. When the dress is finally unzipped, a wave of indescribable arousal washes over Leon. He fights the urge to take his pants off, the pain from his cock getting too hard unable to fit in them anymore. But it can’t be done yet. He wants to tease her, to do everything right, to just remember her squirming impatiently under his touch like this forever. His hands trace the curves of her shoulders and he rushes to undress her eagerly, way too excited to see her naked chest. He knows it’s unlikely to see a bra there.

And he guesses it right.

The dress slips down her shoulders, revealing her breasts. Leon gulpes, sinking her appearance in, fighting the urge to bite into the soft flesh. He hesitates for a couple seconds, but eventually does just that, leaning in, putting her hair out of the way, gently brushing his still wet after her mouth thumb over the hard nipple.

“Still don’t know what a bra is, I suppose?” He sucks on the nipple gently, his teeth sinking into it with an extra level of carefulness, tasting her again and again, squeezing the tender breast passionately in his hand.

Oh how he wanted this. Oh just how many times had he touched himself, picturing her moaning under him like this again, all worked up and messy, begging him to fuck her brains out.

“Ah, so that’s what you’ve missed the most?” she teased, laughing at the ticklish feeling of his thumb playing with the sensitive nipple, watching his tongue swirl around it.

“What can I say... you have quite the tits,” Leon pulls away for a second, his lips parting with an audible sound.

“Please, shut up and save yourself the embarrassment,” she blushes instantly at his poor comment, pulling his hair with more strength now, “Don’t ruin the damn mood.”

“Still just as shy about it…” Leon whispered with a tiny smirk. “But I love the reaction,” he added, kissing her shoulder, finally releasing the wet sucked for a good minute breast. He continued stripping off her dress, starting to feel nervous again.

“I’m gonna slap you if you don’t stop being a smartmouth,” she threatened, her tone laced with half-hearted jest as she tapped his shoulder.

“Huh? I thought we’re saving the kinky stuff for later…” He finally pulls the dress off her with a wink, his knees beginning to tremble again at the sight of her sitting in front of him naked like this.

“Leon, I swear to god, if you don’t shut up-”

“Fine.”

He shoved his hands between her thighs with a laugh, fingers moving confidently to put her underwear to the side. He decides to gently wrap his hand around her throat, pushing his tongue into her open mouth, listening to every moan that escapes her lips. When his hand trailes down her neck to her collarbone, something metallic gets in the way. Leon pulls away with a confused expression, raising one eyebrow.

He notices a strange piece of jewelry under his fingers. He ignores it at first, but when he sees her face turning red, his gaze returns to the strange metal thing hanging around her neck.

And his heart sinks.

Dangling delicately from a silver chain, her wedding ring shimmered in the dull light of the hotel room.

"You... You kept it too?" he asked, holding the ring with a surprised face. "The whole time..?"

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not the only one heartbroken ex-spouse in this marriage, Leon, sorry I took your spotlight,” she chuckled, looking away, her embarrassment palpable in the air. “I just didn’t want to wear it on my finger after the divorce. You know me, I wouldn’t like people thinking I’m not over you, even if that’s obvious. And I kept it next to my heart like this anyway,” she adds with a sad chuckle, twisting the ring between her fingers.

Leon laughed softly.

"That's the saddest and the sweetest thing I've ever heard..." He replied, filled with empathy and emotion. He kisses her temple, thumb stroking her inner thigh gently, ready to strip the underwear off her. He wants to say something else, to break the silence with some reassuring speech, but the look in her eyes tells him to just keep going and save the conversation for later.

He gently pressed on her clothed clit with his thumb, gasping when he feels the soaked with her slick underwear under his touch.

“Please don’t torture me. Take ‘em off,” she murmurs, stroking his shoulder, her breath twitching at the sensation of her clit being stimulated.

He gets to work no questions asked, taking that piece of lingerie off her, his hands starting to shake with excitement againt. He notices the slick dripping down her thigh from her glistering entrance. Fuck. So wet for him already. What a pleasant view.

Once he was done with her underwear, his needy hands returned to her swollen clit, thumb circling around it with passion. It certainly was the best part of sleeping with Leon — no matter how desperate and turned on he is, no matter how much he wants to just sink his aching cock into her, he always has to make her cum first, using either his skilled hands or his tongue. And it seems like tonight he has chosen the first option.

He continued rubbing her clit with the thumb of his right hand, dragging the middle finger of his left hand through her aroused folds, warming her up, but not entering yet.

“May I?” he asked, inhaling, waiting for her permission. And when she nods, looking down at his hands with her lip bitten, the finger finally slips inside her, causing his whole body to melt and twitch, enjoying the sweet feeling of her tight, warm walls consuming it easily. She groans, then moans a breathy “Oh god” as her nails dig into his arm raggedly, responding to his touch. Leon can’t help a smirk. The way she was still so needy around him definitely did good things to his ego. Was she masturbating to the memories of their previous intercourses all these years too? She most definitely did. Judging by her reaction she was still just as desperate for him as he was for her.

He pushed the finger deeper, a weird sound escaping her lips when he bent it inside of her, trying to find the right angle. She squinted. Unlike Leon, she had a couple of hook-ups in those two years, but they weren’t serious nor were they frequent, so she wasn’t exactly used to being fingered by somebody else anymore. She tried to relax, arching her back with her eyes closed. She knew Leon will find the right spot eventually. He was good with his hands.

Leon nodded at the squint and changed the position of his finger slightly, trying to make her feel good again.

“Don’t worry, hun, I’ve got it, just give me a moment-” he pleaded, rubbing her clit with more pressure now, trying to distract her from the weird feeling, placing a soft comforting kiss on her shoulder.

“I-It’s okay,” she stuttered, opening her legs wider for him. “Just move your finger to the side a little- Oh fuck, yeah, just like that, yeah, right there-“ she moaned, a mixture of curse words escaping her lips again. Leon sighed with relief. He still hasn’t forgotten how to push her buttons. It felt good to know he still remembers how to please his lady in bed.

He begins to finger her carefully, trying to concentrate on her pleasure without losing his own composure. His movements were vigilant, yet still confident and the wet sounds of him pulling the finger in and out mixed with her breathy moans filled the hotel room, driving him completely crazy again.

“This okay?” he asks, speeding his movements up a little bit and watching her writhe in bed. Always so damn caring, stretching her with his finger like that, preparing her for his cock. She nods, whispering sweet innapropriate nothings into his ear, her nails digging into his arm deeper with every second, legs spread open, inviting him to add another finger in. And so he does just that, pushing his ring finger into her cunt, thumb of his other hand still circling her clit, his eyes glowing with intense lust he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

“Fuck, you can’t even imagine how much I needed that...” he purrs into her lips when she cups his cheek to pull him into another hot, steamy kiss, her tongue meeting his again.

“Damn, darling, you’re really trying to eat me alive today,” he adds with a devious chuckle, his fingers only picking up speed with no intention to stop until she cums on them.

“Leon, one more smart comment and I-“

But her brain is not working anymore, it’s too overwhelmed with his touch, with the way he dips his tongue into her collarbone, as her warm silk walls are wrapped tightly around his fingers.

“There, there...” he cooed softly, nuzzling his nose against her left breast. She throws her head back, trying to keep the hair out of her face, sweaty hands starting to wander all over his tense back now.

“Are you going to cum for me, darling?” Leon asks with a grin, a hopeful look in his eyes pushing her even closer to the climax. No one could ever compare with him. He proved it again skillfully, even after two years of so-called celibate (except for jerking off to fake scenarious where he fucks her at least once a day).

“L-Leon, I’m gonna-“ she tries to string a sentence together before dissolving into pleasure completely, but him sucking on her nipple again doesn’t help to concentrate on the words at all.

“I can feel you twitching, honey. C’mon. Do it for me. Cum on my fingers,” he pulls his mouth away from her breast, rubbing her clit with more intensity now, just like she always preffered it. He could feel her muscles spasm around his fingers and it made him want to please her only more, kissing every inch of her neck as she gets closer to her orgasm. “Do it for me, honey. I want to make you feel good. Don’t be shy, you can be as loud as you want...” he praised in between kisses, fingers moving as fast as they possibly can inside of her.

“Fuck, I..”

She falls down on the bed, writhing around, teeth clenched as her legs start to squirm, tangling the sheets into a complete mess. Her vision faded to black when she finally came with his name on her lips, her chest raising up and down as she collapsed on the bed with her back arched. Leon enjoys the view with a smug smirk at the corners of his mouth, completely enamored. Who would’ve thought that tonight’s visit to the bar could possilbly flow into fucking his ex-wife. But here she was — completely out of breath in the afterglow of her intense climax, legs tucked in and trembling, messy hair all over the pillow. He pulls his shaky covered in her slick fingers out and tilts his head to place a tender kiss on her knee.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” she mumbles, covering her sweaty face with her palm, a chuckle escaping her swollen lips.

“What? You mean I’m not too rusty?” he caressed her leg, leaving a trail of slick from the same two fingers on her thigh.

“Oh shut up, Leon. You’re not that old…” she laughs, the ringing’s still in her ears.

Leon blushed at the sight of her. “I guess my body still can manage…” he added and kissed her thigh again, feeling uneasy with each passing second. He should’ve really taken the damn pants off. With a sigh, he felt his heart beating in his ears as he looked up at her.

“You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re handsome.”

They locked eyes, the intensity between them growing with each passing second. With a surge of anticipation, he closed the distance between them, edging closer on the bed. Their lips met again, the world fading away as he surrendered to the passionate embrace. Her hands reached his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the lustfull kiss.

“Fuck...” he groaned, trying to support his body on his trembling arms. “I… I don’t have any protection on me.”

“I’m still on the pill,” she whispers with a reassuring smile, putting her hair out of his mouth.

“Oh, um... S-Sure. Let me just take these off real quick...”

“I’ve got you,” she made him straighten up again by pushing his chest slightly, lips wandering all over his neck now, sucking on it again, ignoring his light-hearted grumbling about the hickeys. She manages to undo his belt after messing with it for a few seconds. Leon chuckled again. So damn adorable. She sighs when the leather strap finally slips through the loops, relinquishing its hold.

“Jesus, is it that hard?” he whispers with a giggle, gently squeezing her side, as she strips his pants and boxers off.

“Say that to your dick,” she scoffed, wrapping her hand around his width, thumb teasing the tip by sensually pressing on the leaking with precum slit. Leon panted, pushing her back on the bed, hands squeezing her waist as she lets out a breathless whimper. She moves her hand back and forth, feeling his cock getting warmed up again.

Fuck, he could literally cum just to seeing her like this — naked, spread open for him, pressed into the bed with his weight. Leon positioned himself between her thighs, pressing their foreheads together, the head of his cock dragged against her clit in a teasing manner.

“Easy on the stroking, sweetheart,” he purred, brushing his nose against her flushed cheek. “Don’t want this to end before it even starts, you know?”

A gasp of relief escapes his lips when her hand is finally removed from his cock. Okay, now he just needs to try his best fighting the intense urge to finish while entering her: a rather hard, almost impossible task to complete in his situation, but he somehow manages, lurching forward, his head slipping inside of her almost effortlessly as he supports the cock with his hand, hissing at the feeling of her tight, gentle walls wrapping around him.

“Fuck, you’re so-” He trembles, pushing himself deeper inside of her — nice and slow, partially to tease her, partially not to cum in two seconds. “You feel so goddamn good...”

She throws her head back into the pillow, nails gripping his shoulders ready to dig into their flesh at any second. She shivers when he finally pushes his whole length in, removing the hand supporting his cock somewhere above her head. It felt indescribably good and she just straddled him tighter, squeezing his arms in anticipation.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” he whispered with a chuckle, the first thrust catching her off guard completely, despite being steady and gentle. “I’m gonna need to ask you to remove those, okay?” he places his fingers over hers, gently coaxing her to loosen the grip around his arm. And once her hands fall back on the bed — he grabs her wrists with a smug smirk and pins them above her head. “We can’t have those pretty nails ruining my back tonight, can we?”

“Oh fuck you, Leon.”

“No, fuck you, actually. Oh, right. Guess what I’m doing just now?” he laughs again, placing a kiss over her smiling mouth. He thrusts again, his grip on her wrists firm, yet gentle, only to prevent her from scratching the shit out of his back. She moans back, clearly delighted. She actually enjoyed him taking control... occasionaly. They both knew she’s the one who holds power over him after all. He pulled his hips down harder, picking up speed after a couple of slow thrusts.

“Kiss me,” she demanded, arching her back for him, her ribs pressing against his now.

Leon couldn’t help but smile. He loved this side of her. The passionate side. The intimate side. Her demand made him feel so attractive, so handsome. So wanted.

He followed the request, kissing her deeply, his eyes rolling back behind his closed lids at the feeling of her cunt squeezing his cock so well, wet slapping sounds driving him crazy, making him whimper into her always ready for him mouth, which he was practically tongue-fucking now.

“I never want to stop kissing you,” he mumbled, pressing his lips against her hot temple, licking the sweat off it delicately. “Fuck, you’re driving me crazy, oh god…” he kept whispering, pounding into her body now, his thrusts so deep and so messy she could almost feel the tip of his cock touching her cervix, so she squints at the new sensation again, arching her hips to slightly change the angle of penetration. He completely forgets about the damage done to his shoulders by her nails and releases her wrists, grabbing the pillow instead, his moans now resonating just as loudly as hers.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you...” he muttered, as she pressed her lips against his, her fingernails destroying their favourite part of his body again now that her hands are free. She moaned louder with every intense thrust, making him forget about all the pain he had in his heart. So good. What a goddamn bliss. To feel her again, to touch her where no one else is allowed to. A thousand thoughts were rushing through his head now. His pace got extremely fast, the poor hotel bed creacking so hard like it was going to break under their bodies at any minute. He was about to say something, but then a tear spilled from his eye and fell onto her shoulder as the words caught in his throat. As the realization set in, he felt his heart drop to his knees but he was already too far gone.

“I love you,” he finally said in a small voice, feeling his heart shatter a little as he did so, but continuing to thrust, ignoring the pain from her nails sinking into his skin again.

“I love you too...” She mumbled with her eyes shut, closing the remaining distance between them for another kiss, her heart pounding within her chest as Leon kept pounding into her cunt, turning her into an absolutely desperate for his cock mess.

He couldn’t wait any longer. The way she arched into his touch, the way she was taking him whole so easily, the way she moaned his name, even the way she was scratching his abused back with those damn nails — every single one of these things pushed him to the edge, made him twitch and groan while he bites on her gentle shoulder. He wanted to claim her as his again, to never let go of her and bring back what belongs to him and him only. Everything about her made him want to propose to her again, right then and there while he fucks her into the matress.

Leon clenched the pillow in his fist, his eyes widening as he felt the painful sting of his sweat seeping into fresh scratch marks on his back. He called her by name, making direct eye contact, his heart jumping out of his chest.

That’s it. He has to say it. It’s now or never.

“Marry me again…”

He whispered, continuing his thrusts as tears ran down his cheeks. “Say yes…” he said with desperation in his voice. “Please, I don’t want to lose you again. I won’t survive it.”

The shock coursed through her veins, leaving her momentarily breathless and her eyes widened in disbelief.

“W-what?” she finally managed to respond, another thrust making her moan and melt completely under his touch again. Leon looked her in the eyes and the fear in her expression made him feel terrible.

“Please….” he begged, “Please, I can’t lose you again…” he whispered, feeling his heart shatter further. He didn’t know what to think, or how to react, but the desperate look in his eyes was a genuine one.

Her teary eyes were roaming all over him now, she was utterly astonished, the sudden proposal distracting her from the pleasant feeling of his pulsing cock inside of her. She tried her best to recover, cupping his cheeks with a nod, one genuine, full of excitement nod that made Leon tear up again.

“Fuck, I-… Yes! Yes! Of course I’ll fucking marry you again...” she assured him with a chuckle, leaning in for another long kiss and running her tongue over his lips. Leon breathed a sigh of relief, the fuzzy feeling only growing stronger when she kissed him again, his tears shifting from sadness to tears of joy.

“I won’t leave your side this time. I won’t ever leave you again. I promise.”

“That’s right. Don’t you fucking dare anymore.”

“Never again,” he promised with an emotional frown as he hugged her again, feeling her tight walls clench around his cock, his body pressing as close as it possibly can against hers. The moment ended up even better than he imagined and she was so beautiful it almost hurt. Or maybe it was just his completely fucked up back.

“I’m getting close...” he moaned at the sensation of her hot breath on his ear, hand kneeding her soft breast again. “Fuck, let me just...” he sobbed into the pillow, loosing himself completely while pounding into her pretty cunt. He pulled out with a groan, just the second before cumming all over her pretty thighs in warm spurts, also managing to somehow stain the sheets. He tries his best not to collapse on top of her, too afraid to crush her with his weight. His trembling arm couldn’t provide any support anymore and he puts all his effort into rolling over in bed next to her, weary head spinning after the intense orgasm.

“You okay?...” her voice turns him back to reality and he opens his eyes again, chuckling at the sight of her thighs covered in his thick, sticky cum.

“Yeah, I... Hold on, I just... It felt way too good and...” he sighed as she put a wet strand of hair out of his face with her shaky hand, admiring the way he looks in that exact second. “I’ll grab you a napkin. Just let me rest for a couple seconds, okay?”

Leon tried to sit up in bed. Still feeling a bit dizzy, he managed to prop himself up on his elbows and reached for the paper towel on the nightstand. She smiled when he started to wipe his cum off her legs, finally relaxing her muscles, still burning with desire for him as he cleans her up lovingly, giving her knee a pat when he’s done.

“Leon.”

“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows, stroking her inner thigh genty.

“What on Earth what that proposal? Did you actually mean it?...”

He gulped loudly, releasing her leg, and blinked profusely at the sudden question. Well, what was he thinking? He had asked her to marry him while literally fucking her into the bed. Of course, she was going to have questions.

Without hesitation or second thoughts, Leon replied, "I meant every word. Of course I did," he said softly, moving closer to her again. He nuzzled into her chest, hooking a leg around her body, and she accepted the embrace, putting her arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer into the hug.

"Do you doubt me?" He whispered.

"No, not at all," she shook her head, still trying to catch her breath, her eyes wandering around the hotel room. Thoughts about people definitely hearing this loud ass bed and their moans making her smile again. She sighed and kissed his forehead, her hand slipping down his shoulder to caress his tense back, while the other reached for his hair to play with it. Leon sighed with relief and returned the kiss, placing it somewhere above her collarbone. The warmth of her body comforted him in every possible way.

“And yet, you still look so tense. Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks with a chuckle, a hint of fear crawling into his tone. What if she thinks it was a mistake? What if she was the one who didn’t mean it? What if she just agreed impulsively because of the arousal?

“Yes,” she reassures him with a sigh, pressing her lips against his forehead one more time.

“Just wondering how much paperwork we need to do to change my last name back to Kennedy…”

522 notes · View notes

lieutenantfloyd · 1 year

Text

MW2 men + General headcanons

Includes: Ghost, Soap, Alejandro, Price, Gaz, and Rodolfo

Ghost

Keeps a hello Kitty keychain in his pocket at all times (and can’t sleep without it)

Insists on getting stuffed crust every time he/someone orders pizza

Spends a lot of time daydreaming

Is always listening to music (It keeps him alert and helps keep his anxiety away)

Has bad sensory issues + ticks and intrusive thoughts

Hates cilantro (but doesn’t think it tastes like soap)

Isn’t allowed to use sharp objects in the kitchen

Sometimes eats toothpaste *as a treat*

Has a library card and only uses it to check out joke books intended for 3rd grader’s

Never returns the books and now has thousands of dollars in late fees

Soap

His favorite food is cherry pie

Eats multiple bowls of cereal a day (Price is becoming concerned)

Isn’t a huge fan of his Mohawk, but he thinks it makes him look tougher

Reads romance books in his free time

Meticulously shapes his eyebrows every few weeks

Drinks orange juice after brushing his teeth every morning

Spends way too much money on Marzipan De La Rosa + cries every time it breaks

Alejandro

Smells like vanilla, leather, and sage with a hint of roses

Keeps hard candy in his pockets at all times

Rudy is the only person he trusts to cut his hair

Lives on his family’s ranch outside of Las Almas

Frequently invites Los Vaqueros to his ranch and always makes sure they have a warm meal and a safe place to sleep

Comes from a long line of Vaqueros, and named Los Vaqueros in their honor

Gives great, albeit unsolicited, advice

His favorite song is California Love by 2Pac

Makes sure both TF 141 and Los Vaqueros know they can come to him for anything, even the most small of problems

Price

Has three older sisters

Is a natural ginger

Spent most of his childhood in Australia

Watches early 2000’s romcoms in his bunk when he’s deployed (and always ends up sobbing into his pillow)

Has a wide knowledge of Middle age and Saxon history

Loves a good mocktail

Reads a lot of Historical fiction

Has accidentally eaten dog treats (thinking they were cookies) on more than one occasion

His hat was a gag Christmas gift from Laswell but he thought it was serious + is his favorite gift he’s ever received

Dresses up as Santa every year and forces everyone to sit on his lap and tell him what they want for Christmas

Gaz

Didn't join the army when he was 18, and instead worked on yachts and charter ships for a few seasons

Struggles with self confidence + often feels like he doesn't belong with 141

Has very strong opinions on the PlayStation vs Xbox debate

Really admired Ghost, but is too nervous to tell him

His favorite video game is DBH

Is in a secret Book/Movie club with Price and Soap

Develops a crush on almost everyone he meets

Rudy

Has family in South Texas and spent a lot of time there as a kid

Has always dreamed of being a singer/songwriter

Was a very shy/socially anxious kid (and still struggles with social anxiety)

Is a a massive soccer fan + was captain of the neighborhood soccer team

Growing up he spoke Spanglish at home. Which is why he doesn’t really have an accent despite understanding a lot more English than he speaks

When speaking English he often trips over his words + has to ask Alejandro for the right word/translation

Is a follower, not a leader

is 4-6 years younger than Alejandro

Has several older sisters who helped raise him

First met Alejandro when he was 10-12 years old because he briefly dated one of Rudy’s sisters

After they broke up, Alejandro still came around to visit Rudy, and the two quickly became like brothers

Wasn’t interested in joining the Army at first, but Alejandro convinced him

2K notes · View notes

potchi-fics · 6 months

Text

Torpe

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

/tor.pe/

have you ever read something where person A likes person B but they just can't seem to confess? as it turns out, person B likes them back? their story either turns good or bad.. NOTE: torpe means when someone can't make a move on their crush. try to listening to the pinoy song "Romcom" by Rob Deniel

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

you hear bada grunt, the chair letting out a small squeak, "my date went horrible."

"again?" you snort. "how? i mean, that's been you're fifth date and you were only with her for like 45 minutes."

"i don't know, alright? we don't seem to click. like, at all." she complains.

a smile overtakes your face, finding her childish behaviour cute. you've always had a crush on her, ever since you two were in high school-- you don't know what happened, you've never had the courage to confess. now here you are, pining on your best friend of years.

her voice snaps you out of bubble, "it's so calming to see you make your own coffee."

"and why is that?" you throw her a quick look.

she just gives you a shrug, refusing to give you an answer.

"you're so annoying, you know that? i give you a question and you can't even give me a proper reply." you give her your middle finger, "what if i punch you right here, right now?"

her boisterous laugh pisses you off even more because you know you can't be mad at her for long. you two finishes your breakfast and head to your university.

"see you later at lunch, loser." she ruffles your hair.

you two part ways. aiki and noze comes up in your sight, and you know what they're gonna say to you.

"why don't you just confess?" aiki tries to ruffle your hair but you avoid her. "wow, are we not best friends?"

you've known them for years, too, just not as long as bada.

noze stops the two of you from fighting like children, "she has favouritism, aiks. and you two stop that, we're gonna be late."

hours pass by and it's finally lunch time. the moment you step out of the room, you see bada standing there-- your sundo. her eyes light up like the stars when her gaze fell on you.

"hey," you look up at her, "been waiting long?"

she grabs your stuff, "nah, just got here like three minutes ago. let's go, i found a new coffee shop."

"if only i drink coffee, i would have palpitations because of the crazy amounts we go to a cafe." you jest.

bada's dance club, team bebe, watches the two of you walk away.

lusher starts, "why doesn't she just..."

"date y/n." the rest of the team finished.

aiki and noze, who were walking by, heard them and exclaimed in defeat.

"right?! good lord, they're both torpes." noze kidds out.

the red haired woman can only sigh, "they're a living romcom."

back to the two of you, you are currently hitting bada as you laugh at something she said.

"no shit?" bada gives you a cocky grin. "okay, ms. womanizer."

you see her open her mouth but a random woman suddenly came to your table.

"bada? fancy seeing you again."

you're guessing this is the woman whom she took out on a date earlier. you excuse yourself to go the washroom, bada was hoping to stop you but the woman was basically hogging her to herself.

you go to the washroom, fixing yourself and gathering your thoughts. but the woman from earlier suddenly came in.

"hi, y/n."

"hello..? you know my name?" confusion etched on your face.

she giggles, "who wouldn't? bada talks about you all the time-- yes, even on her blind dates. no wonder they don't go too well. piece of advice, make a move on her." ending the sentence with a wink.

you stand there dumbfounded for a few seconds before exiting and saying thank you on your way out. you're stuck in a dazed, that information confusing the shit out of you.

"what's wrong? you look like you've seen a ghost." bada feels your forehead.

you stare up at her, "'m not sick."

she returns your gaze.

at this moment-- this very moment, bada feels a gush of air enters her lungs. being like this, so close to you; she realises one thing: you are everything to her.

"do you.." her thumb rubs your cheekbone, making you lean to her touch. "wanna go on a date with me?"

✮⋆˙♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧🦭✧˖°

let's take a quick break from steamy scenes hehe

૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

#bada lee #imagines #oneshots #swf 2 #bada x reader #fanfic #female reader #fiction #swf2 x reader #writing #bada lee x female reader #street woman fighter 2 #street woman fighter x reader #team bebe

162 notes · View notes

charmedreincarnation · 8 months

Note

I’m kind of in a similar situation to your college indecisiveness post bc I want to shift but never have the time cuz all this studying. I’m really hating life rn. I’ve tried shifting a few times and managed to detach my awareness from this reality for a few minutes at a time, so i know what works for me, but I never have time to do it. I feel kind of drained that I could be achieving so much but I’m stuck not even having the time cuz I’m not smart enough to get done with all this HW fast enough

TLDR how do I be cool like you and too smart for school to be a big concern? Do I just say f**k it and do a shifting attempt when I’m supposed to be studying?

This was such a sweet ask 😭😭💖 I'm overwhelmed by the sweetness of your words, and I assure you, I'm far from being as cool as you think. In fact, I found myself facing the very same dilemma in the past! Now, I'm not sure if you're looking for some wisdom from Loa or valuable studying tips, so ill share a little bit of both? Also college-related questions/asks have been pouring in lately, so I've decided to address them all right here. I should probably just make it a post but I’ll use this ask as a reference.

Pre law perspective:

So my senior year, was when I really started my journey. It was during this time that I learned about shifting and manifesting (kind of law of attraction) so I naturally attempted everyday and had my focus to that. However, I basically spiraled into burnout and indifference towards school. Tbh It's still a mystery to me how I managed to do fine in school when I basically stopped attending classes mentally and barely did my work.

I've always had ADHD, anxiety, and procrastination issues throughout my high school years, But senior year took it to a whole new level. The boredom and disconnection from my studies were unbearable. I went through the motions, completing my homework, but for classes I didn't enjoy, I mindlessly attended without caring or understanding the material. It was a year filled with academic mediocrity, and certain subjects like AP Calculus and AP Biology, which I didn't even need for my future plans, were absolute torture.

And at the time I didn’t even fully understand what shifting was, But I clung to the notion that school no longer mattered in the grand scheme of things. Looking back, I realize it was a detrimental mentality to have for my well being. If there's one piece of advice I can offer, it's this - find a balance. Avoid burning yourself out completely, but don't neglect your mental well-being either. You are still here, whether you're shifting or not, whether you’re god or not, and whether you're actively manifesting or not. Diving deeper into a negative mental well will not benefit you in any way. Trust me, I learned this the hard way.

As my burnout intensified, I reached a point where I no longer wanted to be alive in this boring ass reality. It became so severe that I almost didn't apply to college. My entire focus was consumed by shifting, and I simply didn't care about anything else. It was my friends who came to my rescue, pushing me to apply and offering unwavering support. Without their guidance and nurturing, I honestly don't know where I would be today.

Eventually, I grew tired of being tired. I began diving into my subliminal journey, creating playlists that combined affirmations for school,success, and luck. I learned the importance of dividing my time wisely. During the second semester, I continued this approach, focusing on school-related practices during the day and dedicating my evenings to shifting attempts.

Affirmations and scripting became the root of my routine too. Miraculously, my grades improved, even when I skipped classes for an entire month or neglected to read the lectures.

I was able to graduate high school with honors, which in itself proves that success or whatever isn’t even just about being naturally "good at school." I worked smarter, not harder and knowing about manifesting really helped with that!

So I really advice you to find a balance in your journey. Don't pour all your energy into just school or just manifesting. Embrace the plethora of easy methods available - scripting, subliminals, binaural beats - and integrate them into your study routine. Make it work in your favor. Treat shifting like a cherished hobby, something that complements your academic pursuits rather than overshadowing them.

Also, set realistic standards for yourself. In high school, I used to obsess over achieving straight A's, disregarding any grade below perfection. Looking back, I realize how misplaced my priorities were. As long as you maintain a mix of A's, B's, and even a few C's, you'll be absolutely fine. Set a goal of achieving a GPA of 3.0 or whatever scale your institution uses, and celebrate every success along the way.

Loa perspective

Ok, now let's talk about the power of the Law of Assumption!

Now that I'm in a place where I give only about 20% of my time and effort to school and still do very well, I can help and reflect on my journey properly. Back in high school, like said I struggled with anxiety and ADHD, and I thought these challenges would hold me back.

Test-taking, deadlines, remembering information it all seemed overwhelming. But you know what helped me? Subliminals.

Listening to subliminals for intelligence and confidence made a significant difference in my life. They boosted my abilities and gave me the belief that I could excel academically. And that belief was everything.

As you probably know the Law of Assumption states that whatever we expect and assume to be true will become our reality. So, I decided to apply this principle to my studies. I assumed that I was capable of achieving great grades with ease. I assumed that school life would be manageable, and I would continuously improve my skills throughout the semester. I always visualized seeing As, revised my past grades, teacher giving me the grade I know I deserve no matter what.

And guess what? It worked! My mindset shifted towards greater productivity, and I started using my time more efficiently. As a result, my grades improved, and I had more time to focus on the things I genuinely enjoyed. It was a game-changer, and it accounted for about 70% of my success. Just imagine that - simply switching my mindset and accepting the positive results from my previous subliminal experiences.

I understand that college can be more stressful and demanding than high school. But it's still the same principle at play. You don't have to drastically change your study habits if you don't want to. Instead, use general resources during the day to aid your studying. And while you're at it, listen to subliminals that align with your goals. Instead of imagining and affirming to yourself that you're a failure and worrying about all the things that could go wrong, shift your focus. Imagine the grade you want, affirm and visualize that no matter what happens on your test, you'll still pass the class with flying colors. Remember, it's just one test, one assignment, and there are so many more opportunities ahead.

General school tips

* Stop checking your grades every day. Seriously, it's only stressing you out. Grades can fluctuate randomly, especially in college (and honestly, even in high school). Instead of obsessing over the numbers, focus on staying on top of your assignments. Keep up with your work, put in your best effort, and trust that alone will reflect in your grades.

* Say no to all-nighters. Trust me, reading the same material for 12 hours straight won't magically make you understand it. If something isn't clicking, it's probably an internal issue. There's no need to spend an entire night alone trying to grasp a single concept. Look for alternative resources like recap lessons on YouTube or seek help from a tutor or classmate. Remember, it's okay to acknowledge what doesn't come naturally to you and instead focus on your strengths.

* Realistically, doing your homework and attending class means you're probably not failing. Even if you're not getting the grade you want, it doesn't mean you're headed for failure. Those big tests that carry a significant weight in your grade may impact your GPA, but they don't define the trajectory of your life. Take a moment to reflect on all the times you thought a single grade would ruin everything, yet here you are, still alive and thriving. You've been through challenges before, and you're stronger than you think. Breathe, remind yourself that you're not alone in these thoughts and stresses, and keep pushing forward.

* Make friends and join class group chats. Trust me, these connections are gold. Joining group chats on platforms like GroupMe or Snapchat allows you to ask questions, collaborate on study guides, and realize that you're not alone in this journey. Even if they're not your closest friends, having a support system within your classes can make all the difference.

* Use EFT tapping for anxiety, especially before tests. Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT) tapping is not only useful for Law purposes, but it can also work wonders for managing anxiety. Check out my pinned guide on how to use EFT tapping. It has personally helped me immensely, and I hope it does the same for you.

* Work smarter, not harder. The truth is, those who seem to breeze through school while partying every night still manage to graduate and pass just like everyone else. The key is finding shortcuts, utilizing the vast resources available on the internet, and working smarter, not harder. Embrace technology, explore online study tools, and leverage the power of the internet as your greatest friend in this journey.

Here are some free recourses:

Math and Science

1. MathMagic Lite: This app lets you write any mathematical expressions and various scientific symbols easily

2. Equatio: A powerful equation editor that makes it easy to create digital, accessible maths

3. Microsoft Mathematics: Can be used to write mathematical expressions, solve equations, and plot graphs

4. Desmos Scientific Calculator & Graphing Calculator: Utility apps for students and teachers for calculations and graph plotting

5. WolframAlpha: A computational search engine that can solve a wide variety of problems, especially useful for math and science

Article/Video Summarization

6. Smmry: A website that summarizes articles for you

7. TLDR This: A browser extension for quick article summarization

8. Inshorts: An app providing news in 60 words or less

9. Listenable: Converts articles into short audio files

Note-Taking

10. Evernote: A note-taking app where you can jot down thoughts, save things you find online, and even scan physical documents with your phone's camera

11. Microsoft OneNote: Allows for free-form information gathering and multi-user collaboration

12. Notion: An all-in-one workspace where you can write, plan, collaborate, and get organized

Concept Explanation

13. Khan Academy: Offers practice exercises, instructional videos, and a personalized learning dashboard that empower learners to study at their own pace in and outside of the classroom

14. Coursera: Provides universal access to the world’s best education, partnering with top universities and organizations to offer courses online

15. Complexly: A YouTube channel that produces a variety of educational content, including the series Crash Course which covers many different subjects in depth

16. citation machine: you never have to make source citations by yourself. This gives your both in test and citations for your essays and research.

Lastly I’m gonna put all the free resources most colleges offer for free!

Academic Resources

* Online Study Platforms: Websites such as Khan Academy, Coursera, and edX offer free or low-cost courses on a variety of subjects that can supplement your coursework.

* Academic Advising Centers: Most colleges have an academic advising center where students can get guidance on course selection, degree requirements, and academic planning.

* Writing Centers: Writing centers provide assistance with writing assignments, including proofreading, editing, and helping with citations.

* Library Research Databases: Your college library likely subscribes to a number of research databases (like JSTOR, EBSCO, and ProQuest) that can provide access to academic journals, books, and other resources.

2. Career Resources

* Career Centers: These centers offer career counseling, resume reviews, interview preparation, and job search assistance.

* Internship and Co-op Programs: Many colleges have programs that help students find internships or co-op positions in their field of interest.

* LinkedIn Learning: This platform offers courses on a variety of career-related topics, including networking, resume writing, and job interviewing.

3. Mental Health and Wellness Resources

* Counseling Centers: Most colleges offer free or low-cost mental health services to students, including individual therapy, group sessions, and workshops.

* Fitness Centers: Regular exercise is important for both physical and mental health. Most colleges have fitness centers that offer a variety of workout options.

* Mindfulness and Meditation Apps: Apps like Headspace and Calm offer guided meditations that can help reduce stress and improve mental health.

4. Financial Aid Resources

* Financial Aid Office: Your college's financial aid office can provide information on scholarships, grants, work-study opportunities, and student loans.

* FAFSA: The Free Application for Federal Student Aid (FAFSA) is the key to accessing federal financial aid, including grants, work-https://www.tumblr.com/charmedreincarnation/712878654521262080/everything-eft-tapping?source=share funds, and loans.

* Scholarship Search Engines: Websites like Fastweb and Scholarships.com can help you find scholarships that you may be eligible for.