#THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING BEFORE THE BIG SPOILERS HAPPEN

[veinspookiebear]

absolutely smitten (2,756 words)

Rating: G

Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationship: Cheng Xiaoshi/Lu Guang

Additional Tags: Post-Season 2, references aren't major but they are spoilers so be warned, Lu Guang Is Whipped, The Daily Life in Lighttime references, Cheng Xiaoshi Has Abandonment Issues, Feelings Realization, Love Confessions, Fluff

Summary: After a photoshoot for social media pictures, Cheng Xiaoshi intends to dive back and improve Lu Guang's awkward demeanor, like he's done before; only this time, he ends up completely derailed when he experiences what Lu Guang feels daily.

-------

“Come on, Lu Guang, smile for the camera!” 

His partner sighs and gives him an unimpressed look. For someone who works with photography on a daily basis, he looks strangely out of his element. Maybe it's less the camera and more the outfit—a little preppier than his usual style, a nice button-up and overshirt, stood in a sea of grass and wildflowers with a crown of blue flowers slipping down his brow. He gently pushes it back into place, careful not to break any delicate stems. 

“Are we really sure about this?” he asks, a little exasperated.

“Yeah! You look great!” Cheng Xiaoshi insists, tweaking the camera zoom slightly. 

“I meant trying social media again in general. After what it led to.” 

Cheng Xiaoshi pauses, leaning back from the camera. “Well, we gotta market somehow if we want to stay in business! And it's pretty unlikely anything will happen to us this time. I mean, what are the chances there's another set of twins with superpowers that rely on photos that are out to get us specifically?” 

Lu Guang still frowns. Qiao Ling steps over to him to adjust his shirt and position the flower crown better on his head. 

“It makes me a little nervous too,” she admits. “But Cheng Xiaoshi does have a point, unfortunately. The odds are low. And you two have rent to pay.” 

“See! Even she admits it's a good idea!” Cheng Xiaoshi grins triumphantly. “Now come on, Guang Guang, give me a smile! I know you have it in you!” 

Rolling her eyes, Qiao Ling parts with a pat on his shoulder and steps out of the frame. Cheng Xiaoshi centers the view on Lu Guang, even more handsome than usual despite his disgruntled look. “We'll be done soon, it's just yours left. Pleaaase?” he encourages. 

With a long-suffering sigh, Lu Guang adjusts his posture and attempts a smile. Though strained, it's charming enough to the average viewer, he hopes. He snaps a few pictures, Lu Guang tries some other angles and poses, and he snaps some more. 

Finally, they wrap up. Lu Guang hurries to help pack up the equipment, and Cheng Xiaoshi teases him on the way home about the sudden increase in energy. Turns out, he only wanted to curl up on the couch and read. 

“You aren't gonna help me with the photos?” Cheng Xiaoshi asks, standing over him. He doesn't look up. 

“This is usually your part, anyway, and it was all your idea. I've done enough by modeling for you.” 

“Qiao Ling and I took pictures too! We put in the same amount of effort!” 

Lu Guang slowly turns a page. Cheng Xiaoshi throws up his hands and stomps off. 

“Fine, fine, I'll do it myself!” 

In truth, there isn't much that Lu Guang would normally do. Sorting through pictures isn't that big of a deal. And even before, he wasn't much of a social media guy, so that part is left to Cheng Xiaoshi too…

Ah, well, he's not giving up on this idea now! When it works, then Lu Guang will see the sense in it. 

At the time, he thought Lu Guang’s attempts would be enough, but as he flips through the photos now, he's less certain. It doesn't make any sense to him. In college, Lu Guang had been a great model, especially in cosplay—dare he say he enjoyed being the camera’s focus then. What changed so much? 

Cheng Xiaoshi studies his face in the picture, gray eyes slightly narrowed, smile unnatural, face tense. He looks a little flushed, too, probably from the heat. Combined with everything else, he looks uncomfortable and embarrassed. He could use these, but… 

An idea pops into his mind. Something similar to what he'd done the last time they attempted to make promotional photos, before all the chaos went down and they deleted everything. Lu Guang didn't take selfies this time, but he had taken Cheng Xiaoshi’s photos immediately before they swapped for his. If he dives into the last picture Lu Guang took of him and plays through Lu Guang’s photoshoot after, he could make him look a lot more natural. 

He casts a glance back at Lu Guang, stretched out on the sunroom couch with his book. He'd be immersed in it for the next while. Cheng Xiaoshi could disappear and not be noticed.

He steps into the darkroom and sets the camera on the counter, displaying the photo he plans to dive into. Lu Guang has avoided this room even more than usual lately; he doesn't understand, but at least he knows he won't be disturbed. Fixing his gaze on the photo, he claps quietly.

Sunlight blinds him. He blinks rapidly, adjusting to his new body—Lu Guang's body. In front of him, through the camera lens, he sees himself posing with a bright smile. He grins wider when he sets his eyes on Lu Guang.

"How was that?" he asks, strutting over to see for himself.

Something warm surges in his chest as he presses close, almost brushing shoulders with Lu Guang. The day sweltered, sure, but had Lu Guang been this hot the whole time? And why so suddenly?

Temperature isn't the only factor. It reminds him of the emotions he feels when a host sees their crush during dives in the past, only… stronger. Deeper. His past self turns to look at him with a goofy smile, and the force of the feelings washing over him threatens to knock him off his feet.

"I think that's pretty good! Don't you?"

"Uh—" He knows what he should be saying, remembers what Lu Guang said to him only a few hours ago, but the words stick in his throat. "Yeah. You look great," he manages, a little delayed. Past Cheng Xiaoshi doesn't seem to notice.

"Aw, thanks! You're not so bad yourself, y'know—" His heart flutters. Did Lu Guang really feel like this? "—And now it's your turn to show off!"

"What?" Right. He meant to fix Lu Guang's photos.

How is he supposed to do that when Lu Guang feels this strongly? He can barely move, heart thumping so loudly he doesn’t know how he didn’t hear it. If he didn't already know Lu Guang was perfectly comfortable on their couch right now, he'd think he had heatstroke.

His past self giving him a little nudge away from the camera doesn't help. "Your photos! You're not getting out of doing this too, Guang Guang, we all gotta represent the business!"

"Right." His voice comes out strained. He can't tell if he's overthinking or if he sounds different than Lu Guang had. How does he hide all of this so well?

Qiao Ling distracts him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him a few steps away. "Let me just double-check you're still good to go…" She straightens his clothes and messes with his hair, leaning close. She'd worn a floral scent today; he remembered her mentioning it, but he'd hardly noticed then. Now, it messes with his head, sharper than he'd expect even with her proximity, like his senses were enhanced.

"You're so hot…" she frowns, pressing a hand to his head. It isn't cold, but it's much cooler than he feels. "Do we need to take a break?"

"No, I'm okay," he answers, relieved when his voice comes out steady. "Let's just get this over with…"

"At least drink something," she insists, pulling a water bottle from her bag.

"Uh, okay. Thanks."

He takes a few sips. The cool liquid soothes his throat and alleviates some of the heat in his body. He screws the cap back on and hands it back to her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

With a deep breath of spring air, he heads to where they'd been taking pictures. All he needs to do is pose like he did for his own photos, and they'd come out great. His head feels clearer already; maybe Qiao Ling was right about the water, and Lu Guang had just overheated earlier.

Then he settles his gaze on himself, and those feelings flare up again. Attraction—flattering, he had tried to look good—but it's also more than that. Affection, softer, but so overflowing that his chest threatens to burst. He notices a few strands of hair out of place, and his hands itch with the urge to push them back; then to hold him, safe, and card his hands through soft black locks. Care and tenderness like Cheng Xiaoshi has never known for himself, reminiscent of the love of a parent to their child, or a husband and wife, and yet not quite the same. It's difficult to describe when he's feeling everything so fully, even just second-hand.

Then, he realizes it's directed at him.

Lu Guang feels so much for him.

His own emotions surge, complicating things even further as tears prick his eyes. Someone feels this way about him, and it's none other than the man he lives his life with.

The man who promised to stay when no one else did.

Cheng Xiaoshi knew he meant it in the moment, and it comforted him to hear. Used to getting left behind, though, he couldn't really believe him, couldn't let himself hope it would be true. Not until just now.

"Lu Guang? Is something wrong?"

The concern in his voice breaks his heart. This part isn't meant to happen. Silently cursing, he tries to pull himself together and shakes his head.

"No, sorry… just got distracted. Let's get this done."

"Maybe Qiao Ling was right, you look overheated…" he frowns.

"Just take the picture," Lu Guang sighs.

"Alright, alright… If you're sure you're good."

As soon as he glances away briefly, Cheng Xiaoshi claps out.

He stumbles forward, plunged into darkness as he returns to the present. Breathing a little labored, he braces himself against the counter, processing what just happened. He completely failed his original intention—quickly, he checks the camera, making sure nothing changed. To his relief, the photos look the same. He sighs, setting it back down and rubbing his eyes.

Did Lu Guang always feel that way? How did he function?

Cheng Xiaoshi sinks to the cold floor. Lu Guang rarely shows much emotion, so it's hard to tell how he feels a lot of the time. He's not physically or verbally affectionate unless Cheng Xiaoshi asks or he picks up on when he needs some attention. But he's always there. He kept his promise.

He thinks back to when he dived into Lu Guang in the past. The first time was to change his selfies, but he'd set that up specifically to allow a quick in-and-out dive, so he didn't pick up any emotions. The other time was when he saved himself from Li Tianchen. He remembers a rush of feelings, but his adrenaline had been high, and especially months later, it's impossible to untangle his emotions from Lu Guang's.

He groans quietly, curling up and resting his head on his knees. His heart thumps wildly, and he's pretty sure it isn't leftover from the dive. How is he supposed to function around Lu Guang, knowing what he now knows? Asking him directly would mean admitting to diving for something Lu Guang had forbidden him from doing again, and he'd rather not tangle with that.

He can't stay here either. Lu Guang would notice he's not around at some point. With a sigh, he pulls himself to his feet.

He'll have to keep an eye on Lu Guang over the next few days. Hopefully, he'll catch him doing something that will give him a reason to question him.

— — —

As it turns out, Lu Guang is even more of a master at hiding his feelings than Cheng Xiaoshi already thought. He acts completely ordinary. Even when Cheng Xiaoshi tries to push, poking him with vague flirts, he dismisses them. It reaches a point where Cheng Xiaoshi begins to wonder if he misinterpreted it all; maybe Lu Guang was ill from the heat. But he can't ignore the strength and sincerity of those feelings, more than anything he had felt on a dive before.

And for him.

Maybe that's why he's holding on. Foolish hoping. A desperate wish that someone would love him so deeply that he'd never have to worry about them leaving—

"Cheng Xiaoshi?"

He startles, looking up from his phone. It plays the same video as when he drifted off—some goofy pets compilation.

Lu Guang sits with his book closed in his lap and watches him with a scrutinizing eye. Cheng Xiaoshi squirms. "Uh, yeah?"

"Do you just really like those dogs, or is something wrong? That same video has been looping for five minutes."

"Um," Cheng Xiaoshi flails for any reasonable response and draws blank. "Nothing's wrong. Just, uh, spaced out."

"Something on your mind?" Lu Guang asks. When Cheng Xiaoshi doesn't answer, he adds, "You've been acting strange the past few days. I've been meaning to ask what's up."

"Ever-observant Lu Guang," Cheng Xiaoshi sighs. "Guess it comes with your powers, huh?"

Lu Guang says nothing. Cheng Xiaoshi wouldn't be surprised if his eyes turned blue. He sure feels like a photo being observed.

Deflating, he shuts his phone off and sets it on the coffee table. "Remember last time we tried to do promotional photos and I dived back and changed them so they looked better?"

"I do. I also distinctly remember telling you never to do that again."

"Uh-huh…" Cheng Xiaoshi chuckled sheepishly. "Well, um, I didn't! Technically. That was the intention, but…"

He trails off, uncertain. His mind wanders back, trying to name the things he'd felt. Butterflies stir in his stomach. "I've never… I mean, I've seen myself through your eyes before. But I guess not in a setting like that."

"You know."

He looks up, surprised. Lu Guang averts his eyes. When he doesn't elaborate, Cheng Xiaoshi risks that they're on the same page and murmurs, "You… you really feel all of that? All the time?"

"I do." Simple and direct, but earnest. Cheng Xiaoshi's chest swells.

"I never knew you… I never knew anyone could feel that strongly. About me." He huffs a humorless laugh, tears welling in his eyes again. "You feel so much."

Lu Guang looks over at him finally, his neutral expression cracking into something soft and concerned. "Xiaoshi…"

It's Cheng Xiaoshi's turn to not be able to look at him, face warming. No chance of blaming the dive on this one. These are his own feelings, powerful and new, but nice, in a way. To be loved so much, and to return it in full.

"Why'd you never say anything about it?" he whispers. "How do you go around hiding this?"

Lu Guang reaches for him, but stops, looking strangely conflicted. "It's too much to lose," he breathes, barely audible. Cheng Xiaoshi stares at him, confused. He drops his hand, gaze following it down, as he elaborates, "I mean… If you… weren't okay with it. If it was too much, or scared you off, or something. I don't want to lose this."

Cheng Xiaoshi's breath catches. He reaches for Lu Guang's hand and threads their fingers together. Lu Guang stiffens, then relaxes with a shaky exhale.

"You aren't gonna lose me." Cheng Xiaoshi shifts closer to him, stopping when their knees touch. "Partners for life, remember? Whether that's basketball, or business, or…"

He reaches up and lets his fingers brush Lu Guang's cheek. His lips part, but no words come out. He closes them again and leans into the touch, and Cheng Xiaoshi takes that as a good sign, cupping his cheek and pressing their foreheads together.

"I like you," he whispers, voicing it as he truly acknowledges it, breathless and awed. "And you…?"

"I like you too," Lu Guang replies instantly, tentatively reaching around to thread his fingers through Cheng Xiaoshi's hair. The ponytail comes loose easily, and Cheng Xiaoshi feels his hair fall, followed by Lu Guang's hand against the back of his neck, running it between his fingers. "I love you so much."

A breathless laugh bubbles from his chest as Cheng Xiaoshi tugs him closer, arms around his back as he buries his face in his shoulder.

He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.

"I love you too."

Lu Guang sighs, all the tension bleeding from his body as he hugs him back tightly. "I'll always stay," he whispers. "No matter what."

Cheng Xiaoshi believes him.

[a2zillustration]

Gale and I had the exact same reaction when we opened that door.

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[yuons]

THE NIGHT IS STILL YOUNG ﹑ enhypen

──── at the club with enhypen

( 新书 ) ── fem!r . . . 19OO ! con ♡︎ warns. skinship kissing est. rs non-proofread PAGES

juni ˊᗜˋ this took so so long oh my gosh .. wouldn’t have posted this if O7z didn’t threaten me to

𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝘰𝗀𝗌♥︎𝑓𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 ─── 𝖼𝗅𝑖𝖼𝗄

LEE HEESEUNG

heeseung has always been protective of you, no doubt. but everytime you two go to the club it seems like his instinct doubles. even when he looks loose and happy, his hands still perch on your thigh, rubbing it up and down unconsciously while he talks to his friends.

when you want to buy a drink, heeseung makes sure to always pay even though he knows you feel bad whenever he does. promising you, that you can pay the next time (spoiler : you won’t).

you wondered how quick your boyfriend could be, even when you’re making a spontaneous night out, heeseung would somehow have a table ready for you, just in case you were tired from standing. in reality, he pays for the tables without you realizing, sliding his card to the waiter the moment you two step in.

something he loves most is when you both are back in the comfort of your home and he’s tucked you in fresh clothes, the warmth of the alcohol still in your system. you’d ramble dumbly on how much you loved him or recount how you fell for him, which never stopped his heart from clenching at how adorable you were. only when heeseung presses a firm kiss on your lips did you finally pause and slowly dozed off with a sweet smile plastered on your face.

“i really love my boyfriend,” you mumble, sleepily.

he grins, “i really love you too.”

PARK JONGSEONG

jay loves holding you whenever, his hands are always on you. more so in bars or clubs because he knew there were creeps who liked staring at you. he never stopped you from wearing whatever you wanted, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t get pissed whenever someone’s looking at you too much. when it happens, jay would circle his hands on your waist, kissing your neck lightly, right on the person’s line of sight just to leave them the right message.

he lets you get loose because he knows he’ll always be there to protect you. even though you’re on the other side of the frat house, jay somehow manages to catch you whenever you almost slip from being too intoxicated.

jay has everything you love listed down, so it was no surprise when he hands you your favorite cocktail in the first 5 minutes of stepping into the club. he’s attentive, pouring you a cup of water to water down the alcohol when you get a bit too tipsy on a weekday. he knows you don’t like getting drunk on a night before big presentations.

it wasn’t a shock that jay knew how to deal with your drunken self— holding you by your waist as he bids everybody goodbye, trying to balance you who had no intention to leave yet. once you end up back at his apartment he’d lay you on his bed and wiped off your makeup as you smile dumbly at him.

“i don’t know what i’d do without you” his heart must’ve burst at how adorable you looked. that sleepy smile you sported — he would never trade you for anyone else.

SIM JAEYUN

it was clear that jake never liked going to parties. even before dating you, he was the last person to be found in a frat party. that only ever really changed because he met you. you whose usually holed up in your bedroom studying, also likes going to parties to his surprise.

he found out later on it was to let yourself loose amidst stressful schedules. that’s when jake, who despises parties. jake, who would walk away from a crowd. jake, who’d rather be in the comfort of his home, now offers his girlfriend to go to parties every month or two. going so far as to paying for your ticket the moment you show any signs of wanting to go.

when you’re around, any place seems to be bearable for him. jake found himself enjoying the music or maybe that was your laugh? he didn’t know. but he’d do anything to see you smile so loosely like that everyday.

jake also found out you were quite endearing when you’re drunk. talking his ear off about whatever found your interest by the next second. it was already annoying how he’d still listen intently when he knew there was no end to the conversation. it was more annoying to your sober self when you remembered he did all that while helping you get ready for bed.

“i hate you” you suddenly blurt after a long moment of silence, watching him.

“why?” jake’s mouth was slightly agape, his hands hovering over your arms, holding a wet cloth.

“you’re so nice to me it’s hard to not fall for you” you didn’t even get to remember what he replied with. but you had a feeling about it from how giddy he looked the next morning.

PARK SUNGHOON

usually it’s rare to see sunghoon passing off a drink when he’s already an hour into a party, more so when it’s only a light drink— 5% alcohol. it was a wonder to his friends until they noticed he started trailing off behind you, it wasn’t hard, then, to make out that you two are dating.

not when sunghoon’s hands were always on you, glaring off anyone who were bumping into you too harshly. all while you were oblivious to it, rather pulling him every which way to meet people. your giving him a field day with how many people almost stumbled into you while you were walking, scared you’d get hurt.

ultimately, jay got you to drink 2 shots and not long after got told off by none other than sunghoon himself — even though he knew it was technically your choice. he just didn’t want his friends to influence you too much, he knew how crazy they can go.

sunghoon who pulls you out of the party once it starts to get boring and you were starting to look tipsy or tired, carrying you onto his motorcycle. strapping his helmet on you, his hands holding yours tight to rest on him while he speeds through the night, even when you tell him not to. just so he can feel your arms tighten around him. his big smile hidden entirely from you.

“hoon slow down!” you shout after another quick turn, hitting his stomach lightly, your chin resting on his shoulder and your eyes closed tight.

“i’m not going that fast, baby” he chuckles, knowing he exactly is.

KIM SUNOO

sunoo is the bubbly one in your relationship, he’s so upbeat and it doesn’t fall short in loud settings. it was the first time he dragged you along, he’s fast to introduce to you his closest friends who were already holding their own bottles, half empty.

you weren’t a fan of drinking, but when you offered a free one you had no mind to pass up. sunoo made sure to ask you enough if you were sure you wanted to, and you, each time told him you do.

he’s never seen you drunk, he’s never even seen you tipsy, it was a shock to sunoo when you looked so bright and loose after drinking half a bottle. instead of him, you were the one dragging your boyfriend to the dance floor, laughing along with him as you both sing lightly along to the dj.

sunoo ended up having to hold you tightly while you were stumbling, you walking infront of him, his body pressed to yours from behind, his hands on your hips as he walks you both back to your table.

“we should go more often” you hum to him, you head laying on his chest while you two observed the people around.

“of course, babe, anything you want” he murmurs, his hands raking through your hair.

YANG JUNGWON

you were at the club with your friend, deciding to fill up your night instead of doing nothing. you didn’t expect to bump into jungwon on the way to the restrooms. when he recognized you, his eyes lit up pulling you close for a hug. a hug that felt too warm for you to let go.

jungwon pulled you and your friend to the bar, that was when you realized he was already slightly intoxicated. he seems a little off rythmn than he usually is when you meet him in your classes. it didn’t stop him, however, from ordering more. when he handed you one shot you just looked up at him, he thought you don’t drink so he just smiled and placed the shot cup down. it wasn’t that, it was because you knew how expensive the drinks were here so you opt to go sober throughout the whole night, you were confused on why jungwon would spend so much on just a single shot for you.

when you caught up, you down the shot and he turned to you. when he saw your content expression he turned to the bartender to order a few more shots for the three of you, your friend offering him an appreciative smile. you three cheered and downed the shots quickly, jungwon then invited you guys to go out and meet his friends.

as it creeps closer to 2 am, jungwon offers to give you a ride home. he promised the alcohol has seeped out of him and he’s already sober, but you were still concerned.

“i’m fine, pretty” jungwon hums, towering over you as you lean on a pole.

“are you sure? how would i know you’re not going to make us crash?” you frowned. jungwon leaned down and his lips hovered over yours.

“i can tell you how you taste, will that make you trust me?”

NISHIMURA RIKI

if anything, you were the one who had to hold riki back from getting too wasted. once he stepped into the place, you were lucky enough to find him 20 minutes later at the bar. it was a struggle trying to catch up with him, you couldn’t look away for anything longer than a few seconds or he’d slip out of your grip.

it wasn’t a surprise than you found riki again later already tipsy, dabbing up random people as he mingled. you, who spent half the time trying to find him, sport a frown and a disgruntled expression when you walk up to him.

the moment riki saw you, he grins and pulls you close to him, hugging you tight. you felt his hands rubbing your waist, he leaned down and mumbled something in your ear that you couldn’t make out, you were about to ask until his friend pulled him away from you.

you didn’t have time to see him again until the party dropped and everyone were either blackout drunk or too tired to move. you found riki passed out on a couch, his friends calling you over to help him get home. it was a wonder how you managed to get him into the taxi.

riki mumbled something suddenly, you hummed and brough your face closer to his, hoping to hear what he’s saying.

“you look s’ stunning tonight, wish you were mine” he groans out, repositioning his head that was laying on your lap.

“thanks, ki” you clear your throat deciding to ignore the last bit, “you don’t look too bad yourself”

you catch his grin.

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[taylorman2274]

We Care About You

For the past couple of days, you've been sacrificing sleep to spend more time playing Genshin. The people of Teyvat take notice and do not approve.

Content Warning(s): Liyue Archon Quest Spoilers

Notes: SAGAU; GN!Reader; First Story; Inexperienced Writer

Word Count: 1.5k

Previous || Next

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You honestly should've seen it coming.

There were too many hints that told you what was about to happen, but you either didn't notice them or ignored them entirely.

Now you're about to fall into unconsciousness against your will, all because someone within Teyvat cared about your well-being.

"How is this even possible?" you pondered before you finally fell into sweet unconsciousness.

---------------------------------------------------------

The first hint happened so quick you almost missed it.

You were a couple of minutes removed from logging into the game and had just started working on your second of four daily commissions.

As you were teleporting to Dadaupa Gorge to help Wyatt look for his key, you noticed an unusual message on the loading screen.

Sleep

When night falls, make sure that you get plenty of rest!

You were lucky that you were a fast reader or else you wouldn't have been able to read that message in time.

At first, you didn't know what to think of it. Sure, Hoyoverse could've easily added it into the game, but you didn't see them ever doing such a thing. Additionally, you've never seen anyone else experience this message before.

"Probably something new," you guessed before gliding on down to speak with Wyatt.

---------------------------------------------------------

The second hint was a bit more noticeable than the first.

After completing Wyatt's commission, you were on your way to Falcon Coast to defeat some hilichurls. It was approaching nighttime in Teyvat when Paimon suddenly said:

"It's getting pretty late. Paimon thinks that we should go to bed soon."

You stopped gliding forward for a brief moment in slight surprise. It only took a few seconds for you to snap back to reality before pausing the game to save what airtime you had left.

"I can see a new line of text being possible, but a new voice line?" you contemplated. Like the last hint, you really didn't know what to think of it. If it was only one new voice line that got added into the game, you guess you shouldn't see that as a big surprise.

"Today has certainly been weird," you added before unpausing the game.

---------------------------------------------------------

It wasn't until the third hint that you started to think that something was wrong.

After defeating the two waves of hilichurls, your last commission had you beat up some cryo slimes near the Dawn Winery. You teleported to the Anemo Archon statue, grabbed a couple of Windwheel Asters, and began to glide down to the water.

However, just as you were about to pass the Dawn Winery, you began to hear a sweet melody coming from the building. This wasn't the theme you were used to hearing when you were near the Dawn Winery, so being the curious person you were, you took a quick detour to the building.

As you approached the building, the melody began increasing in volume. Furthermore, as you moved your camera you noticed the sound gradually shifting volume in-between your right and left ears.

"Wait, this isn't just a soundtrack? Someone's actually playing this?" you questioned, speaking aloud for the first time. You rarely speak your thoughts aloud, finding such an action to be awkward, but you felt that the situation warranted such a reaction out of you.

After a bit of wandering and camera movement, you pinpointed the source of the sound coming from the roof. Starting from the front of the building, you climbed up the wall and onto the balcony. You moved the camera around, trying to see if you could get a better view of the roof, and after a while, you found the source of the melody.

Venti the bard was currently straddling the roof beam with his back against the spire right near where the Anemoculus used to be. He had his eyes closed as he was playing the soothing melody on his lyre. If he noticed you, he took no note of it as he continued to play.

"Okay, now things are getting weird," you began to monologue to yourself. "I can somewhat explain a new loading screen message and a new voice line, but a new audio played by a character who is never supposed to be seen outside of archon quests and events? A change as big as this would've surely been advertised by Hoyoverse on social media, right? So why does it feel like I'm the first person to have discovered this? Do I consider this to be a bug or a glitch?"

However, as you continued to think to yourself, Venti continued to play his melody. As the melody dragged on and on, you began to yawn and feel your eyes growing heavy.

"Hold on. Is this melody...making me sleepy?”

Music notes began to fade in and out as they floated from Venti's lyre to your player character.

"I can't fall asleep just yet! I still need to finish my commissions!" you proclaimed before leaping off the balcony and continuing your way down to the beach. "Ooh! I also may need to travel to some domains and farm for materials."

You missed the fourth hint while you jogged away from the winery. Had you looked back at Venti, you would have noticed that he stopped playing the melody before sighing with a slight frown on his face.

---------------------------------------------------------

After completing all of your dailies, you decided to take a change of scenery and meet up with Liyue Katherine.

"I still need to go to Wanmin Restaurant and trigger that Beetle event. Plus, the crafting table is just around the corner for me to craft some Condensed Resin!"

You were too distracted by the crafting table to notice the fifth hint of the day. Had you kept your eye at Third-Round Knockout, you would've noticed the former Geo Archon getting up from his table and walking over to you.

Having finished crafting your Condensed Resin, you began to head over to Wanmin Restaurant. But before you could...

"Traveler! A quick moment of your time, please."

Startled by the sudden attention, you flicked your camera behind you to find Zhongli approaching your player character.

"It has been a while since we last had a chat. I was hoping you would accompany me while I head to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor to retire for the night. We can catch up with each other while we walk."

Too many thoughts were running through your head for you to give a proper response, not that any prompt showed up anyway. Zhongli took your inactivity as a sign of acceptance.

"Good. Let us be on our way then."

Zhongli started to walk past you, which didn't help your thoughts at all.

When his feet hit the ground, there was no visible space between the sole of his shoes and the ground. You never saw any of his clothes clip through any part of his body. In fact, you swear you saw a few wrinkles.

"Everything about him is too detailed. The walking animation, the clothes, the collision, the hitboxes; there is no way in hell everything should be so... fluid."

You started to think whether or not you should go through with his request. However, before you could make a decision, the game decided to make one for you.

The Traveler moved... but your hands were off the keyboard.

"WOAH Woah Woah woah..." You repeated as you backed your chair away from the computer. Now you were starting to think that your game was broken. You quickly scooched your chair back closer to your computer and were about to Alt+F4 outta there before...

"I would refrain from doing that."

You stopped what you were doing and looked up at the screen. Did you miss something that the Traveler did?

"As much as we all love to have you around, we know better than to have you overstay your welcome when you are clearly tired."

...That didn't sound like he was talking to the Traveler.

"I admire your persistence, but you leave me no choice, [Y/N]."

"Oh sh-."

Before you could finish your sentence, a loud buzzing sound suddenly played from your computer speaker. Almost immediately, you could feel yourself about to fade to unconsciousness. You quickly stood up and covered your ears as you tried to fight it, wondering how in the hell this sound was affecting you despite having heard it before in Sumeru. Unfortunately, the noise continued to grow louder and louder until you could no longer stand on your own two feet. You slowly slumped to the floor as the sound began to lower in volume, sensing that its job was done.

You honestly should've seen it coming.

There were too many hints that told you what was about to happen, but you either didn't notice them or ignored them entirely.

Now you're about to fall into unconsciousness against your will, all because someone within Teyvat cared about your well-being.

"How is this even possible?" you pondered before you finally fell into sweet unconsciousness.

---------------------------------------------------------

Author Side Notes: I know that I'm not the best writer in the world, but this idea for a SAGAU story I had continued to grow and grow until I felt like I could connect all of the plot points by myself.

I also have more ideas for SAGAU stories if anyone wants to hear them.

[kurokawaia]

Hi, I read your story, where the kids are rude to mom (the kids of Bakugou, Dabi and Hawks) how do the kids react if their mom decides to ignore them as punishment?

AFTERMATH OF YELLING AT YOUR MAMA!

⋆·˚ ༘ * FEATURING :: Bakugou Katsuki, Hawks, Dabi - (separately)

⋆·˚ ༘ * WARNINGS :: none really, bakugou x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader, dabi x fem!reader, x fem!reader, second pov, reader is a mother, kids have a little bit of attitude, kids are around 5-8 years of age, slight spoilers for dabi! I don't condone ignoring your children, please don't, + more? MINI DRABBLES.

DABI

Well, you and Dabi's son is a carbon copy of his father, so he acts the same when being given the silent treatment only less touchy (obviously da faq) The first stage is acting like he doesn't care, he will cross his arms letting out a grumpy huff while rolling his eyes, "Whatever, I don't need to talk to you anyways," is what your son will say, but, after a few hours he starts to feel a little weird. His mum isn't nagging, isn't scolding, isn't even looking at him and it feels so wrong because you always give him attention whether he wants it or not.

The second stage will be when he starts to get annoyed at not receiving any attention, he will trail behind you, definitely gets extra moody (shocker where he got that from) he will go around kicking random toys, furniture and overexaggerated sighs. This happens all until he hugs the back of your legs and mumbles, "I'm sorry I was mean, Mum. Can you talk to me again?" looking as far as you can behind you all you could do was regret ignoring him because of how dilated his cyan eyes were, having his lips in a sad pout and a sheen of tears glazed over his eyes.

HAWKS

Hawks’ kid can’t handle the silent treatment, because she is as needy as her father when it comes to attention. The moment she realizes you’re ignoring them, their brain starts spiraling because you usually just forgive her but Hawks suggested a different strategy. There is no phase one with her, she immediately tries to fix it with begs of your name and tugging at your shirt and a big pout on her face (something she learnt from Keigo). Due to you being used to Keigo's antics, you don't fold, then she goes running to her daddy, her head meeting at his lap as she sulks.

"Mummy is going to hate me forever," she mumbles in an overdramatic tone. The only thinks Keigo could do was laugh because he finds his daughter truly fascinating sometimes. "Sure she will, sweetheart."

BAKUGOU

At first, Bakugou’s kid scoffs, you gonna ignore him? Yeah, he's ignoring you too. He will let out the most dramatic huff and cross his arms and poke his tongue out at you and in the most unconvincing voice he will say, "Like I care!" Ti which, you have to force down a laugh that was about to slip out before Katsuki nudged your arm, making sure you don't break character. Although, just like his father, he will make every attempt to make you jealous and it's honestly the pettiest and funniest thing you will ever experience. Your son will say how much he needs his daddy's help right in front of you and Katsuki has to force down his laugh as well because you both know what he's doing.

Then a few hours pass and then he starts to finally let it sink in and then he becomes frustrated and here comes when he stomps up to you while your doing your skincare with Katsuki. "Yell at me, Mum!" he would pout and you were confused at what he was getting at before you let out a soft laugh, bending down to wrap your arms around your sweet boy and he does the same without any embarrassment.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

honey's a/note: hope you enjoyed, this hasn't been proof read so there might be a few grammar and spelling mistakes ^^

let me know if you (inbox or comments) want to be apart of the mha taglist! specify the character and ill tag you in any works they are present in!

[byexbyez]

love me more | leon kennedy x f!reader

pairing: re4r!leon kennedy x f!reader

summary:

“C’mon, it’ll be convenient.”

You hate that word. You hate that word with your whole being. Back then, it meant something entirely different when he said it. We can get to know each other, then we can get married. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’ll be convenient. Convenient is why you married him. Convenient is why you are here now.

word count: 19k

warnings: 18+ towards the end, angst, yearning, marriage of convenience but there isn't a tangible convenience, strangers to spouses dynamic, grief/mourning, depictions of depression and low self-esteem, also trauma and anxiety, family issues, kinda touch-starved leon if you squint, domestic fluff if you try hard enough, non-linear and vague timeline, mentions of canon typical violence, alcohol and cigarette consumption, p in v smut, brief alternation of POVs, ada wong mention, suicidal thoughts, minor original character, minor character death, spoilers to the hunchback of notre dame, no use of y/n

notes: meant to post this on tumblr after i was done with it but that never happened so here, have it. took me 16 months to post it here lmao. english is not my first language. you have been warned. also beware of a whole lot of mitski and hozier references. enjoy!

➵ read on ao3.

PART I | PART II | PART III (finale)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

And I am the idiot with the painted face In the corner, taking up space But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved

Me and my husband We're doing better

—Me and My Husband, Mitski

It’s quiet. It has always been that way from the start. Your husband is late, which is not unusual. You sit in the somber light coming from your living room TV. You don’t like the overhead lights, which explains the abundance of lamps around the living room and bedroom in your home. Your husband found it strange that you never turned on the actual lights but it didn’t take him long to realize that you were right. Any kind of overhead light was annoying to him now. He blamed you for his headaches at work.

No matter how many times you told him that he could turn on the overhead lights he insisted that he did not like them anymore. “I like it like this,” he had said. “You’re right, it’s cozier this way.” His head was on your knee, his eyes were closed. He looked so peaceful. You wanted to brush his hair away from his face and maybe scratch a bit as if he was a cat. But you didn’t, you had no idea what he would react like to such an intimate gesture. You turned your gaze away from his peaceful sleeping face to the TV you had been watching on low volume before he stepped through your home’s front door.

It was a fucking joke, really. Thinking twice, three times about touching the man that you call your husband.

You hear his keys jumble from the door. He didn’t tell you what time he would be home, so you didn’t prepare anything for dinner. It’s late anyways. You consider closing your eyes and resting your head on the back of the couch but it hasn’t been long since he told you he could tell when you were not sleeping. You thought about the number of times you pretended and he could tell. Embarrassing. Now that your secret was out, you had to greet him awkwardly.

He calls your name. “Are you asleep?” His voice very faint.

“No,” you answer while untucking your legs from under your butt. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He places the keys on the keyholder. “No lights?”

You reach to your side and turn on one lamp. “I didn’t realize the sun had set.”

“It’s past eleven.” Now that the lamp was on you could see his worried eyes. His five o’clock shadow prominent. “Did you eat anything?” he asks. You can’t tell if he hopes you did or not.

The moment you see the plastic bag in his hand, you shake your head no. Honestly, you were hungry because it had been hours since you ate a bowl of cereal as dinner.

He steps over your legs instead of pushing the coffee table away to make room for himself and plops next to you on the couch. “Brought Chinese,” he says and places the food bag on your lap instead of the coffee table. “You like their fried dumplings.”

You aren’t surprised that he remembers it. He was nice like that, maybe he thinks this is the least he can do. Soon after the wedding, he realized you did not enjoy cooking. It has never been a problem, he knew his way around the kitchen and knew of really good takeout places.  

“Thank you,” you say softly while leaning on the table to place the noodles and the dumplings. “Leon, did you drink?” you ask when you catch a whiff of him.

“Yeah, I’m a little tipsy.”

That explains his lax attitude. He has his arm around you across the back of the couch, he’s sitting close to you. It’s because he wants to eat, you say to yourself. And he’s a little tipsy.

“Did you have fun?” you ask when you separate your chopsticks.

“I wasn’t with anyone,” he says, watching you separate his chopsticks for him. “I had a drink by myself.”

“Only one?” you chuckle.

“One or two,” He cocks his head to your direction and grabs the chopsticks from your fingers. His fingertips are warm.

Unlike you, his body always runs hot. You remember the comment he made when he held your hand and cupped one cheek, kissing you after you two had said “I do”. His breath was hot on the lower part of your face. You somehow felt him everywhere and nowhere at once. “It’s really hot, why are your hands cold?” he had whispered. It was unusually hot on the day you eloped. Leon had to dab his sweat away so often.

“I’m just nervous,” you had whispered back. The hand that he was not holding was trembling, surely, he could tell.

“No need to be.” That was what he said right before your first kiss. It was more of a short peck because he was a gentleman who didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

It was easier for him to say, he didn’t have anything to be nervous about. He looked really beautiful that day and it didn’t help your nerves one bit. You felt like you were committing a crime while signing your documents that sealed the fact that you were now married to Leon Kennedy. You wonder if he felt the same, knowing this marriage was not a real one.

You didn’t lie to anyone really, so why did it feel like you did? You never told anyone you were in love. You never told anyone this was legit. You just told your sister you were married and that Leon was a good man. She had shrieked over the phone, demanded that you quit joking. The moment she was convinced that you were not, she expected pictures of him. The only picture you had of him was from the day you eloped. He had taken your cold hand and placed it on his arm. His other hand on his stomach so he didn’t look awkward. You had raised your small bouquet of baby’s breath to your torso as well. You did not look as nervous as you thought when the photo came in the mail but Leon looked more handsome than you remembered. You emailed it to your sister.

It didn’t take long for her to respond. How the hell did you bag that man??? Do you have blackmail material against him?

We met at work, you replied shortly.

I thought you worked with dudes that are old as fuck.

We don’t work together. Met through a coworker.

Maybe I should change careers. I mean how hard can it be to train as a government agent???

You looked at the multiple question marks she sent after that. I’m telling your husband.

I showed him the picture and he agrees that he’s hot lol. He also would like to have you guys over.

So you both can ask him what he sees in me?

Hey, I’m only joking. We would really like you guys to come over. I want to meet my brother-in-law.

I’ll tell him but he’s very busy.

Sooo what does he do?

Like I said, he’s an agent. Mostly confidential work.

So you can’t tell me?

I really can’t.

You know what? It’s annoying that you can’t tell me what he does but I can understand. What I can’t understand is you getting married. Out of the blue. Without telling me.

That email left a bitter taste in your mouth. She could tell that it was not real. She knew that you were not easy to love. She knew it was impossible for you to get married. That’s why you stalled her invitation for nearly two years. You hadn’t even asked Leon because you did not know how he would react. He knew you had a sister across the country and that she was older than you but never asked about her for a while. You weren’t offended at his uninterest in your life. He didn’t have any reason to be interested in you.

He did say he was an orphan, that one time.

It all made sense after that, he didn’t like to talk about families. Maybe because he wasn’t used to belong. To belong to a family. Belong to someone. Think about them because he belongs to them and they belong to him.

All things considered, you thought Leon turned out more than okay. Closed off but very kind, gentle, understanding.

He leans forward and helps you split one dumpling into two with his chopsticks. His shoulder bumps yours and stays there because he refuses to let go of the back of the couch behind you. When you pull your sleeve over your fingers, he quickly eats one whole dumpling, leaving you with the smaller one that he helped you split and covers your hand with his.

“You cold?” He looks silly when he stuffs his face full of food.

“No.”

“Your hands are cold.” He doesn’t’ say like always but it’s there in his voice.

He doesn’t mind touching you when he’s in a good mood, mostly when he’s a little intoxicated like this. Usually, he’s not a touchy person. You’re glad he’s not, it reminds you that you definitely like him more than he likes you. He needs the little nudge of alcohol to let go of his inhibitions. He didn’t touch you until you gave him the green light on your birthday. He didn’t know what to get you as a gift so he got you yellow roses and the blandest birthday card known to man.

Happy Birthday, from Leon.

“It isn’t anything special, I know.” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m not good at this stuff.”

But it was special, it was from him; with his emotionally constipated, probably unintended curt message. You knew deep down he had a big heart. He cared enough to stop on his way to get you these. You didn’t think much, because there were times when you didn’t need to think about this, you just reached and hugged him around his waist. “Thank you,” you whispered. “They smell really nice. We need to get a vase for them.”

He finally put his arms around you and you felt the stiffness of his shoulders on top of yours. It was six months into your married life.

Yellow roses. He saw you as a friend. You were okay with it, as long as it meant he was not pushing you away. You were not terrible by any means. Boring and awkward, definitely. But you made it clear to him that he could talk to you about what he wanted when he wanted. He was adamant that it went both ways. However, you genuinely don’t think anything going in your life is worth talking about. Hence, he’s the one who ends up talking most of the time.

He rubs your fingers to bring them warmth. The air of the living room feels awfully similar to that one time he surprised you and laid his head on your lap. That one time you wanted to play with his hair but didn’t. It was just like this. Quiet despite the TV’s low volume, comfortable as the light coming from the lamps was soft on the eyes, smelling of alcohol as he was a little drunk. Unsure as your hands were cold and was this what being friends meant?

Sometimes he craved the quiet. He worked and worked and worked. Voices everywhere. Danger constant. His only quiet was home, you suppose.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

“I ate cereal,” you answer him.

“Has no nutritional value whatsoever,” he mutters.

“Yeah, it’s just me being lazy.”

“I don’t think we have anything in the fridge, I don’t blame you.”

You both finish your food in silence, you pretend to watch the screen in front of you the whole time. You hug your knees to your chest when you’re done and he looks like he can fall asleep any minute.

“How was your day?” you ask to keep him awake. You don’t want him to sleep here and have his back and neck all sore tomorrow.

He rests his chin on his shoulder and gives you a funny look through his long lashes. “Same as always.”

You admit to yourself that you love him like this. He seems free, happy even.

You decide to be bold and tap your shoulder for him to lay his head on.  

He doesn’t seem to be thinking twice as he takes your offer and nuzzles his head on your shoulder. He’s taller and bigger than you, you suppose the position he’s in right now is not comfortable for him. He reaches back around the couch and the other hand crosses his abdomen, gripping your ankle that he is closest to. His thumb draws circles there and your brain short circuits. “How was yours?”

“My day? Nothing exciting. All paperwork.”

He hums as he squeezes your ankle, his hair tickling your nose and lips.

“You really need a shower, Leon.” You make up the courage to smooth down his blonde hair that is sticking up in every direction.

He hums again. “Are you telling me I stink?”

“Yes, mister.”

“I’m tired,” he groans but doesn’t seem tired enough as he pushes his head and messes up your balance on the couch. You have to hold on to the arm rest as he keeps nudging you with his head.

“You’ll feel gross in the morning if you don’t have a shower.”

“You have a point,” he says but does nothing to get up. Maybe it was a bad idea to offer him your shoulder and unknowingly, your ankle. He’s never acted like a kid like this before.

You get up and turn off the TV before you offer him both of your hands. “You’re not tipsy, you’re drunk. Now get up and wash yourself please.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Yes, you are. You headbutted me.”

He takes your hands and finally gets up. “I think I ran out of shampoo.”

“You can use mine. Brush your teeth while I go get it.” You pat his back.

There’s two bedrooms in the house, one is for guests but you’ve never had guests over since you’ve both moved into this apartment. Leon uses the “guest” room downstairs. He insisted that you take the bigger room. He’s more like a roommate than a spouse.

He’s shirtless in front of the sink, brushing his teeth like you told him to when you knock on his bathroom door and hand him your shampoo. He reads the fragrance and opens its cap to smell it.

“Well, you smell nice so I can’t complain,” he says, toothbrush still in his mouth, dribbling toothpaste everywhere.

You love him in moments like these. This is the moment the wife reaches and kisses the husband. Well, maybe after he’s done dribbling everywhere but you know how this moment should go about. He won’t be like this in the morning. You know very well that he is going to be sober and back to normal Leon. He won’t say anything about his drunk self because he knows you won’t as well.

“Don’t fall in the shower!” you shout as you go upstairs to your room.

“I’m not that drunk!”

The next morning, he sees you making coffee in the kitchen. It hasn’t been long since your schedule got aligned with his. He wonders how the hell you managed to adjust your sleeping hours to the point now you could wake up before him. He used to wake up before you because you often had late shifts.

“Morning,” he says as he smells the delicious coffee that you’re pouring into two mugs. He yawns, scratching an itch on his arm. He did not use to have a coffee machine back when he was living alone. You had brought it with you to this house and saved him from Starbucks’ morning rush hour.

You slide one of the mugs in front of him and give him a warm smile. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

He blows on the coffee before he takes a sip. “Much better now.” He clears his throat, his morning voice gruff. “I was thinking… We should commute together.”

“To work?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Where else?” he snorts. “What’s surprising? Why pay more for gas when we start work at the same time?”

“Wouldn’t that be…”

“It wouldn’t interfere with anything if you think about it. It’s stupid to take both cars to the same place.”

“I might work overtime,” you say and hug yourself.

He nods into his mug and seems like he wants to say more. “Then you can take your car. You’ve just started normal hours. Why are you eager to tire yourself out so quickly?”

So that we don’t have to be awkward around each other.

“C’mon, it’ll be convenient.”

You hate that word. You hate that word with your whole being. Back then, it meant something entirely different when he said it. We can get to know each other, then we can get married. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’ll be convenient. Convenient is why you married him. Convenient is why you are here now.

It is what you repeat to yourself over and over again. It was convenient to have slept with him. It didn’t have to be a big deal. You were lonely. You reckon he had to be, too. Because why else would he want to have sex with you? He did not love you or anything. You could only think of one thing when his face was buried in your neck. You still had his yellow roses. You had preserved them between your book pages.

As he was panting above you, hands grasping your hips with vigor, your thighs caging him in and burning, you felt like a rose stuck between thousands of words never read aloud. Yellow all over, sticking out like a sore thumb between words printed in the smallest font size possible, suffocating. Once belonged with other flowers but now settled down in a place where people thought you’d look pretty.

You hate the color yellow as much as you hate the word convenient. If not, more.

He sees you wince. He cannot guess the reason behind it is his choice of words. “What do you say?”

He is offering, you think. He still likes you enough to ask.

“Okay.”

“Good, we need to get groceries on the way back.”   

People don’t whisper much now that it’s been nearly two years since you two announced to your close work circle that you were married. There were a lot of surprised faces at first, thinking maybe Leon was joking or something. People didn’t know you very well. You were only close with Cathy.

“Perhaps we should wear rings,” said Leon once over dinner. “People don’t believe we’re married.”

“Is that a problem? What others think, I mean?”

He stared at your face while chewing, you couldn’t make out what he was thinking thanks to the dim light emanating from one of the lamps. “They think it’s a joke. Is it so bad that I want to be taken seriously for once? You wanted a wedding dress, I want a ring.”

“When do you want to get them?”

That led to you choosing matching rings with Leon. Simple gold bands. You make sure to wear them to work every day because if you don’t, you worry people will start to whisper again.

First it was, Leon’s not the type to get married, he’s taking the piss out of us, is it April fools today?

Then it turned into: Oh God, he’s serious, he says he got married last weekend.

Eloped? To whom?

He said her name but I don’t remember it, said she’s in archives now.

He’s married to an archivist? How on earth did they meet?

Probably in Donovan’s funeral, saw Hunnigan introducing them.

That wasn’t long ago!

I know, right?

You know some of them thought you had a one-night stand and got pregnant from him. The rumors subsided when that didn’t turn out to be true.

However, people were curious about why Ingrid Hunnigan would introduce an archivist to an agent. It didn’t take long for your name to become known because you had recently switched departments. You had been a systems analyst like Hunnigan, working with late Cathy Donovan. You’d switched to archives after her funeral.

People greeted you when they saw you. Leon’s wife, right?

Yes, but not really.

The first time Leon ever saw you was during agent Donovan’s funeral. He’d gotten back from Spain just a week ago. He did not know agent Donovan well but her name echoed in every corner. She was good at her job. Most of the time, nobody had an idea what she was up to.

“Leon, I want you to meet Cathy’s partner,” said Hunnigan, holding the shoulder of the woman standing next to her.

You stuck your hand out for him to shake and told him your name. It sounded disconsolate coming from your mouth, your own name. Your eyes were dazed, you kept your mouth in a thin line. You didn’t even look at him properly as if this was the hundredth occurrence today, Hunnigan introducing you to someone.

“I’ve heard a lot of great things about agent Donovan.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“Right, she was great,” you said, your eyes straying elsewhere. It looked like Hunnigan’s hand on your shoulder was the only thing keeping you from crumbling down. You looked so small with your shoulders hunched forward. He cringed when he saw you rip out the flesh of the side of your thumb.

Hunnigan went on about Cathy Donovan’s accomplishments to him. You continued to pick at your thumb, him watching your side profile as you kept averting your gaze from people around you. You seemed to be dissociating hard.

“These two were inseparable. I tried asking Cathy to work with me on a small mission once and she praised her so much in turn, I had to suck it up and meet this woman myself as soon as possible,” said Hunnigan heatedly. “I’m such a big fan of Cathy’s, you see, I couldn’t be upset. I love seeing her work with the best.”

“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you,” you managed to say, a beat too late. “I need to use the restroom, be right back.”

Leon knew too well that losing someone was difficult, yet he couldn’t imagine what you were going through. He furrowed his brows the moment his hand made contact with your upper arm. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that, he didn’t want to seem like he took pity on you.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

You made the effort to look him in the eye when it was obvious as day that you were having a hard time keeping your head up.

Your voice barely came out, “Thank you.”

Of course, you did not recognize him the second time he saw you. It was his late celebratory dinner for his mission in Spain. His coworkers had planned a small one, saying he deserved it. Once he was done with his food, he excused himself saying he wanted to get fresh air.

Not too far from the restaurant, you were sitting on a bench alone.

“Those things will kill you, y’know,” he said, eyes pointing to the cigarette you were smoking.

His unexpected voice caused you to jump in your seat. You quickly put the cigarette out by stomping it with your shoe. “I don’t usually… smoke.”

He dragged his feet while walking to sit down on the opposite end of the bench. “You didn’t have to put it out.” Though he thought you were very considerate by doing so.

“Congratulations, for the mission.”

“Thank you— name’s Leon, by the way.”

You stuck your chin out to the direction of the restaurant, “Or so I heard in there.”

“We actually met before. At the funeral.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t remember half the people I met there.”  

“No need to be sorry. You seemed out of it.”

“Yeah, we worked together for a long time, Cathy and I.”

“Look, I know it’s hard and anything I say probably won’t make any difference—”

“You don’t need to—” Your voice quite literally got stuck on your throat, you composed yourself by bringing the side of your fist to your mouth and coughed into it. “I’m trying to get better. I’m here today, which is a miracle in of itself. I know people think it’s probably good to talk about her but I’m just not in the mood, okay? Thank you for your understanding but I don’t need to be reminded, it happened not so long ago.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“No, I know you mean well.” You started to sway your feet on the gravel. It was completely understandable for you to lash out but you seemed uneasy as soon as it was out of you. “Sorry, this is your happy day. I shouldn’t—”

“You realize how many times we said sorry to each other in this past minute?” he laughed. “Also, I lost a partner in Spain. I’m not that happy today.”

Your voice turning faint, seemingly regretting your flash of anger a moment ago, “You probably feel like you shouldn’t be happy.”

He nodded. “He helped me a lot but didn’t make it.” He saw your mouth open and stopped you there. “Don’t say you’re sorry. It loses its meaning when you say it too much.”

“Even if I mean it with my whole heart every time?”

“That means you’re sorry for a lot of things. It’s not healthy to carry that much weight on your shoulders.”

“Right, I’ll be like Quasimodo.” You hunched your shoulders even more forward. “Like the hunchback.”

“From the Disney movie?”

You giggled at his childishness. “Yeah, I heard there’s also a book about it.”

He looked at your squinted eyes and thought you deserved to be happy more.

As you two carried on your now meaningless conversation, he did not know that you were certain on resigning from your job and never turning back to it. You’d started to work on the archives that week, partly because your boss had foreseen you contemplating quitting all together and did not want to lose a highly valuable member such as yourself and partly because you had requested it.

At that point, you were absolutely aware of the fact that they feared you’d never turn back to your former position. And because Cathy didn’t have any plans of ever becoming alive, you also didn’t have any plans on returning. But you knew the reason behind them doing anything you asked was them giving you time to grieve. After that, the pressure would build even more and hopefully make you take your old place.

“It was Hunnigan’s idea,” you said to Leon after he asked you very kindly why you were here tonight. “Basically dragged me here. She thinks I should be around people more.”

“She’s right. I’m glad you came.”

Leon was cute, alright. That didn’t do him justice, actually. It was evident under the street light where the bench was that he worked out regularly. Biceps giving a hard time to his sleeves every time he moved, veins protruding on his forearms, his thighs looking like they’d help him carry ten people on his large back. And oh, his broader-than-the-horizon shoulders. An absolute unit of a man with cheekbones and jawline honed like a Greek statue. With his dark blonde hair falling on his face in that charming way and his oh so kind blue eyes, you knew he was out of your league.

His gentle aura making him seem like a Prince Charming or a white knight or whatever the fuck those Disney movies had.

You planned on never seeing anyone from work again, you had nothing to lose. And Cathy so would say to shoot your shot.

“I’m thinkin’ of getting a few drinks in me, want to tag along?”

“What do you have in mind?” He seemed interested, a good sign.

“You got any suggestions? And don’t say beer because I plan on getting wasted beyond recognition in like an hour.”

“Yeah, be careful. And don’t drink and drive.” The way he took a U-turn on his interest irritated you. You really thought he wouldn’t say no, you were getting along well, flirting even. “Did you come here with your car?”

“Yeah.” You tried to not sound upset. “I’m not a teenager. I’ll take a cab. Drinks will be on me.”

“Ah, thanks but I’ll have to refuse. They’ll probably wonder where I went. It’s my dinner, after all.” The polite smile he gave you was so infuriating.

You got up from the bench. He had the audacity to look you up and down after that. “Then please tell Hunnigan I’m sorry I left early, will you?”

“I will.” He fidgeted and crossed his arms. Oh God, you’d made him uncomfortable. It was just minutes ago he was sort of flirting with you. “Don’t drink too much.”

God, why did he have to be so annoying?

The next time you two met was at the closest pharmacist to work, few weeks after his dinner and your failed attempt to get him in your bed.  

“One box of aspirin, please.” Your head snapped up at that voice. Unmistakably, Leon. With his broad back facing you, he hadn’t seen you yet.

“What can I get you, miss?”

Leon stepped over to the side when they called to you, still not looking at you.

“Eyedrops, please.”

“Miss, are you alright?”

To that, he did a double-take. You’d looked disheveled to the point of worry. Eyes and nose a few shades redder than the rest of your face, eyebags puffy and makeup smudged. With your now extremely frizzy baby hairs doing anything but their job of framing your face, it was apparent that you’d been crying.

“Yes, it’s just an allergy.”

“Can I get you anything for that?”

“No, thank you. I already have meds for it.”

Leon thanked when they gave him his aspirin and turned to you. “Wait here, don’t go anywhere.” He quickly left the pharmacist.

Surprisingly, you did wait for him outside. Why? You had no idea. Frankly, you were hoping to cry more in your car.

Approximately five minutes later, he came to you jogging lightly. He thrusted a water bottle in your hand. “Where’s your medication?”

“What?”

“For your allergy?”

“Oh, um—” You couldn’t find a lie fast enough, usually you were not bad at lying but the way he appeared to be worrying about your well-being was baffling to say the least. “I don’t have it, I mean—” You pressed the water bottle to your stomach and held on to it for comfort. “I don’t have an allergy.”

It was his turn to be baffled. “Are you alright?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“You don’t look like it.” He looked at you and around you as though checking to see any injury. “You should drink up.” He motioned to the bottle and watched you take a gulp.

“Thank you. Oh, you should, too,” You tried to give him the rest of the water while his stare questioned you. “For your aspirin.”

“I already took it. I’m supposed to take it with water?”

“Yes, Leon. Have you been taking them without water this whole time? Then why did you bring me water?”

“I didn’t know that! You looked dehydrated.”

“That’s not good for you. Now I’m worried about your stomach.”

His blue eyes shined like he came to a revelation. “That’s why my stomach burns when I take them?”

How are you this stupid, you suppressed saying, if you had known him well enough at that time, you definitely would. You forgot for a second that you were annoyed at him for rejecting you few weeks ago and find yourself flabbergasted at thinking that he is endearing, in a way.

You made small talk with him about his lunch break and he insisted on walking you to your car.

“Can I help you with anything?” he said sympathetically once you stood in front of your open car door. “You still look…”

Like a truck hit me, you wanted to complete his sentence.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. It just happens time to time.” You tried to make yourself presentable by adjusting your blouse and hair.

“It?”

“Sometimes I cry for no reason. It happens randomly, too, I don’t know when and where I’ll be crying most of the time. Like, I’ll be reading something, it doesn’t have to be sad, I mean— I was reading reports before I came here. Sometimes it gets too much, like now.”

“Will you be okay driving?”

“Yeah! Talking with you definitely helped.” His apprehensive gaze pierced through you. You actually felt like crying again, your chest feeling tight, eyes burning. You stood upright with the support of your car door. “I’ll be fine, Leon.”

“I’m choosing to believe you. Drive safe.” He shifted his weight on one of his legs and seemed ready to take off.

“Thank you. See you around?”

“You probably won’t for a while,” he said to the ground, soothing the itch on his calf with his other leg’s shin. He looked up and squinted his eyes against the sun. “I got assigned a mission. I don’t know for how long.”

“Oh, I’ll be at your celebratory dinner then, if I get an invitation.”

“Well, I don’t know how it will go. I’ll only invite you if you won’t talk for the whole dinner but flirt with me outside again.”

“You didn’t need to embarrass me like that,” you chuckled nervously. “I wouldn’t say I’m a push and pull kind of woman.”

“You can show me what kind of woman you are when I get back?”

“Very smooth, Leon.”

He seemed taken aback. “I’ll see you then.” Suddenly, he was distant again. This time you didn’t know what made him uneasy.

“Yeah… Be safe on your mission.”

He just nodded. You got in your car and gripped the steering wheel tightly until the sight of his leather jacket clad back disappeared. You hunched forward, shoved your forehead to the wheel and tried to take a deep breath. The crying spell didn’t go away as the tears burst down first and then the sobs jerked your entire body.

I will not ask you where you came from I will not ask you, neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do

—Like Real People Do, Hozier

The inside of Leon’s car smells nice, he takes good care of it.

“I’m going to see my sister this weekend,” you say, averting your gaze from the way he steers the wheel with one hand. His other hand is on his knee, tapping away. The effect his toned arms have on you is humiliating.

“I think I can make it.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t have anything that day. I can go with you. It’s your mother’s death anniversary, right? I think it’s time I pay my respects.”

It’s these things he says that leave you puzzled. He’s incredibly thoughtful, no matter who he’s talking to. He very well could have his day off-work for himself, but he asks anyway.

“Do you actually want to meet my sister?”

“I do. I hope to make a good first impression.”

You think about it for a second and end up telling him. “I sent a picture of you to her back when we got married.”

“How’d you get a picture of me?” he asks, appalled. The only picture he has of himself besides the wedding one is on his badge.

“Our wedding picture, dummy. We have one, remember?”

“Oh, right, I forgot.” You can’t complain because you keep it in a dresser drawer in the envelope it came in. He was on duty again when it came and you’d showed it to him once he was home. The left corner of his lips had curled up and for a second, you thought you saw affection in his eyes. “It came out okay? I was sweating buckets, but you—" he’d said and pointed a finger to your face in the photo. “Your hands were ice cold, I nearly asked you to paste your hands to my forehead just so I could cool down.”

“We still have the picture, right?” he asks.

“Yes, it’s in my room. Why?”

“Can I have it?”

“Yeah, they sent two. Can I ask what you’re going to do with it?”

“Give it to the mafia or hire a hitman to go after you, what else?” He lets out a hollow laugh. You want to record the sound and have it forever play in your ears. “I want to frame it and put it on my desk. People usually have pictures of their spouses and children or even their dogs on their desks, no?”

Yes, you know. You have pictures with your best friend and sister on your own desk at work.

It’s his way of saying you mean something to him.

You call your sister’s name as soon as you see it. “Why do you have this picture here?”

She’s carrying the empty plates to the sink as you hold on to her fridge’s door handle.

She looks up to see you pointing at your wedding picture. It’s on her fridge. You don’t even display it in your own house.

“You printed it?”

“I did,” she says. “It’s a good picture.” Her house is littered with pictures of her and her husband on different vacations, of you and your mother and her together in some.

“You just met Leon today.”

“And I think he’s great. You’re happy with him. That’s all I could ask for.”

You were happy since he was in a good mood the entire ride coming here. It was long but you two had a smooth ride and he amused you with his corny jokes and stories. You tore small pieces of bagel and fed him when he said he was getting hungry. He was tired from driving the whole time, but of course he didn’t have it any other way and jestingly banned you from getting behind the wheel. He did make a good first impression like he promised, although he kept bobbing his cramped leg. He’s now in the backyard with your brother-in-law, chatting about football, probably.

Your sister gets your attention by giving you a side hug and rubbing your back. “You’re my only sister, of course I’m going to have a picture of your happiest day.”

You hug her back around her waist. She even had photos of your birth in the living room. Your mom in a hospital bed, one day-old baby you cradled in her arms, your father hugging your mother and looking down at you with adoration in his eyes. Did he know then, that he would never be there for you to look at you like that again?

“You remember dad, right?” you ask quietly. She was older and was able to tell stories about him to you. “How was he like? Before he left, I mean.”

“Like I told you, he loved us so much. I don’t know if it was the same case for my mom. She later told me she saw it coming, that he likely had another woman.”

“How did mom know?”

Your sister sighs and rest her head on top of yours. “She said she could just feel it. Said he felt distant. He used to come home late leading up to it, sometimes drunk. One day I woke up and he wasn’t home. Didn’t say anything, just abandoned us like that.”

There’s that sadness again, creeping up to your chest and placing a big rock there. You feel like you’re being crushed by it. Your mom had always been ambitious, had dreams for herself and her family, deserved so much more than what she got.

Leon’s laughing loudly in the backyard, your head whips to see the sight.

“Come on, go mingle with your husband. I got it from here,” says your sister and starts to place the dishes in the dishwasher.

“I’ll go get us some beer,” says your brother-in-law and gets up from his chair. The weather is amazing today, your sister had set up a nice meal outside. Leon was getting along with them well. What more could you ask for?

You find yourself alone with Leon when your brother-in-law goes inside the house. You sit next to him and he promptly puts his arm on the back of your chair.

“How’s your leg?” you ask him.

“My thighs are sore,” he groans. “Good thing we’re not driving back tonight.”

“Well, I wouldn’t let you anyways.” You put a hand on his knee and start to massage, hoping it will help his aching legs. You’re even bolder than a few days ago. He doesn’t seem to mind it.

“It hurts here,” he says and grabs your hand, placing it higher on his thigh. “You can put more pressure, I can hardly feel it.” His thigh is firm and thank God, your hands manage to stay stable. You ball your hands into fists and start to punch lightly where he wants. The meat of his thighs doesn’t even jiggle, reminding you that he’s mostly made of muscle.

You focus up on his knees. “I’ll drive us to the cemetery tomorrow.”

“I can—”

“No. You’re tired, Leon. I want to drive, don’t make me upset.”  

“Would you actually be upset if I—”

“Yes, very.” You pinch his thigh and that makes him press his lips together.

“They’re really nice, you know,” he means your sister and her husband. “I feel like an ass for not meeting them sooner.”

“You like them?” You raise an eyebrow.  

“I do.”

“So, any propositions?”

“Huh?”

“Got asked for a threesome yet?” you smirk.

“I’m sorry?” He’s horrified and you find it funny.

“After I sent the wedding picture to them, they both said you were hot. I just remembered it.”

“I’d rather not know that!”

“Relax, Kennedy. I’m just joking. They’re not gonna ask you that.”

He visibly relaxes and puts you in a headlock in a play-fight manner with the arm that was behind you. His nose and mouth pressed up against your hair, he says, “I’ll just tell them I’m a one-lady type of man if they ever do.” You consider biting his arm.

“Can the lovebirds look up here for a second?” chirps your sister. She has come with her camera outside. “It’s the golden hour.”

Leon adjusts his head to look towards the camera and relaxes his hold on you, arm dangling from your shoulder, other hand engulfs yours on his knee, rings clashing.  

“Aww,” your sister coos as she takes the photo. “I’ll send this to you.”

She doesn’t suspect a thing, probably because you’re not pretending anymore.

You splash your face with cold water after you’re done brushing your teeth in your sister’s guest room bathroom. Leon’s inside the room, splayed out on the bed, exhausted after today. It won’t be awkward, you say to yourself, hope to God your hands don’t start to tremble from anxiety.

Leon has taken off his t-shirt, bent one of his knees and put his hands behind his head. Not helping your case by looking irresistible. Even the tufts of hair under his arms are endearing to you.

“How are you holding up?” he asks once you sit on the bed next to him, back facing him. He knows you will visit Cathy too when you get back.

“I’m good, Leon.” You take off your ring and place it next to his on the bedside drawer. “Never been better, actually. I missed them.” You twist your upper body to face him. “Here,” you say as you place your newly washed cold damp hands on both sides of his face in attempts to cool him down.

He shivers, his shoulders going up slightly for a quick second. “That’s nice,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. You’re silent, in part because you’re speechless before his beauty, but you also would like to try to give him a little piece of serenity he needs.

“This used to be my mom’s room when she was living here.”

He hums softly and opens his eyes, his hands coming up to hold on to your bare arms, the skin between his eyebrows pinched.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, hands finding place on his broad shoulders.

He starts to rub your arms up and down, his hands stopping after a while to trace a strap of your tank top with his fingers. All of your worries about intimate gestures going out the window the moment you let his hands wander.

This is the tender domesticity that you’ve been longing for so badly, you want to thank him.

He scrunches his nose. “I wanted to kiss you, now I think it’ll be inappropriate.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your grip on his shoulders is now stronger, begging not to tremble. He feels lonely, he shouldn’t have come here. You have to swallow hard. “It won’t.”

His hand goes up to cup the back of your neck, he’s staring at your lips like he doesn’t wish for anything else. “C’mere.” He tugs at your hip to get the lower half of your body up on the bed. He drapes you halfway on his torso.

Once you’re situated to his liking and casting a shadow on his face, he brings you down ever so gently to his mouth, massaging your nape. He’s hot all over, his mouth, his breath on your face, his chest, the hand that’s splaying his fingers on the small of your back. With his soft lips moving lazily against yours, you’re quite literally bursting at the seams. The muffled sigh he drags across your mouth tempts you to press your entire body to his harder and sling your leg across his hips.

His kisses turn into open-mouthed ones and he tastes like minty toothpaste and sunlight on golden hour.

A small noise comes out of your throat, hands straying down to his bare chest and he has to cradle your face to stop. “We should sleep.” His Adam’s apple bobs enticingly. “I seriously don’t want to disrespect your mother’s ghost.”

A laugh escapes your lips as he hugs your head and buries it to his chest, his chin resting on top. “You’ll apologize to her tomorrow.”

It’s okay, you think when you feel the low timbre of his chuckle on his chest. We’re okay. We’re doing better.

There's no plan, there's no race to be run The harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun There's no plan, there's no kingdom to come I'll be your man if you got love to get done Sit in and watch the sunlight fade Honey, enjoy, it's gettin' late There's no plan, there's no hand on the rein

—No Plan, Hozier

The fourth time you saw Leon Kennedy was at a bar. You thought his coworkers were going to be there to see him after his mission but it was just you two.

He had emailed you a day before, saying he asked for your email address from Hunnigan, inviting you for drinks the next day and apologizing for letting you know this late.

“Where’s everyone? Am I early?” you asked, despite noticing the table he was sitting at was for two people.

He looked up and you were taken aback by the sight of him. He looked tired. He had a bit of a stubble and his hair was tousled. “No, you’re right on time,” he said, getting up to pull your chair for you. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise,” you said, ridding yourself from your jacket. You actually put in the effort to look good that day. A nice outfit, a little bit more makeup, hair done.

As you sat down in front of him, a corner of his lips went up, “You look good.”

“The last time we spoke wasn’t my best moment.”

“How have you been?”

You placed your hands on the table and started to play with your fingers, anxious. “Since then? Better, I suppose. How about you? Your mission went well?”

“Depends on how you define well.”

“You’re still in one piece.”

“If only that was enough.” You didn’t get to see his disappointed expression for long when a server came up to your table and Leon quickly ordered a drink, asked what you wanted and waited with his hands together on the table.

Once the server was away, you slightly leaned towards him. “They should be grateful that they got their best agent back alright.” Although you couldn’t ask him any details about his mission, you knew he was a special agent that was good at this job.

“Hunnigan told me you’re in the archives.”

“Yeah, that happened months ago, before your dinner.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“I—uh…” Your throat felt dry under his piercing stare. “I wasn’t needed there anymore. So I transferred.”

“Really? I heard it’s quite the opposite.”

“Oh, they’re talking about me?”

“Yes, seems like they really want you to work with agents again.”

“I know that,” you said and dug your fingernails to the corner of the table, his eyes following the motion.

“What do you mean?” he said, scratching his jaw. “You said you weren’t needed.”

“I felt like I wasn’t being useful. I tried to quit. They tried really hard to keep me there. Now, they’re constantly asking me to come back after everything.”

“They do know how to squeeze the last bit out of everyone,” he nodded. “Are you happy with where you are right now?”

“As in life?” You rolled your eyes thinking about it. “What does it look like?”

“I was worried the last time I saw you.” He sounded sincere.

“I know, I looked miserable.” Probably looked like the physical embodiment of a cry for help, too. “Can we not dwell on it, please? I’m better now. But now you—” You reach and tap on the middle of the table. “You look like you need to sleep for days.”

“That would be great,” he sighed.

You kept looking at the door but no one from work was coming in. “Why is no one coming, Leon?”

“They won’t, to be honest with you. I only invited you.”

Your back was then one with the chair. “Oh.”

“I should’ve let you know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind the quiet,” you smiled. And then you realized, he was doing the same thing you were doing, pushing anyone and anything away.

Him reaching out to you, this was his cry for help. Why you specifically, you didn’t know.

“You told me you lost a partner in Spain, were you close?”

To that, he dropped his chin and stared at his lap. “No, I wouldn’t say that. I didn’t know him. We met under strange circumstances and ended up helping each other. I got the impression that he regretted a lot of things but wanted to believe people could change.”

“I believe people can change, for the better or worse,” you mumbled.

Your server came with your drinks. Leon didn’t waste a second and downed nearly half of his drink. “You tried to quit?” he asked.

“I did. I thought it was time for a little stability in my life. This is as far as I can get to it,” you said and took a sip of your drink which was the same one as Leon. It was strong.

“Stability. That’s unlikely in this job,” he scoffed, fingers tapping at his glass.

“Do you see it as impossible, Leon?” You desperately hoped he would say no, you needed to hear from someone that it wasn’t just a pipe dream.  

He seemed to be thinking for a slow moment. “I guess, for some people, it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“For you it would?” you inquired.

“I once thought I would marry my first girlfriend. I was like what? Twenty, twenty-one? I was really stupid and in love. If twenty-one-year-old Leon saw this, he would be devastated,” he said and raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I can find someone who would understand what I do. It’s not like I can tell them. They’d be in danger because of me. I can’t ask them to trust me blindly. I wouldn’t want them to.”

“If someone was willing to accept you as you are, do you think..?”

“Who in their right mind would?” he groaned in exasperation.

“I would. But my situation is different, I have an understanding of what you do. I also can’t be in any more danger than I already am.” There was a beat of silence after you said that. The drink was definitely too much for you, you were sure. Your ears were burning hot, one hand coming up to cool one down with your nervous cold fingers, your eyes roamed the whole place. You chugged the remaining of your drink and wiped your mouth.

“Whoa, slow down there,” he bolted and looked at your abashed face as if he was in a contemporary art museum, trying to understand what the artist meant with their absurd piece.

Feeling self-conscious, you fixed your hair and babbled out, “Why did you get into this line of work in the first place?”

His back straightened, shoulders rolling back. “I was… recruited.” You didn’t quite understand how but remained from prodding any further. “I was the best candidate for what they wanted. An orphan who didn’t have anything to lose.”

It really wasn’t going well for you. You wanted to bang your head against the table and avoid looking at him completely but after what he had revealed to you, you couldn’t be any ruder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

If Cathy were to hear about this, you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Good job honey, that’s one way to woo a man. She would’ve said it in that sarcastic tone which she infamously was a master of.

“No, it’s fine,” said Leon. “You could do so much better than me, though.”

Have you seen yourself, you wanted to exclaim.

Your nostrils were wide, trying to sober you up by hogging as much oxygen as possible, you tried to remain calm, you were feral however. “Why do you keep putting yourself down, Leon? You know, you could’ve called your friends today and they would’ve come running to you. You’re a great person, they don’t give a damn about how successful your mission was. They’re happy that you’re back, that’s all. They are your friends, not the alcohol.”  

He was dead silent, staring at his glass with an expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I’m sorry for overstepping but I saw how they were trying to look out for you at the dinner. There wasn’t even a glass of wine there, celebration my ass. Everybody can tell you’re not fine. I don’t know you that well but even I can tell. What you’re doing to yourself isn’t healthy. It’s self-destructive.”

He wiped his forehead. “You’re the one to talk.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hunnigan’s always talking about how you’re running away every time you see her. She has to drag you everywhere. She’s being nice to you, you could try appreciating that, you know? And you’re clearly stuck up on something, are you trying to repent for your sins or what?” He quite literally disarmed you with his icy stare.

“I’m not Catholic,” you retorted.

“Well, would you look at that. We’re more similar than I thought.” The smirk he had on was sardonic, the furthest from being friendly. You felt an urge to get up and never look back.

“Wrong,” you said as you crossed your arms. “I don’t expect alcohol to solve my problems.”

“Yeah, you’d rather run away from them. And that isn’t going well for you, is it?” He finished his drink and motioned for the server for another. “Also, stop being a hypocrite.”

“Excuse you?” you said with seething anger.

“Are you not trying to ‘get wasted beyond recognition’ right now, as you put it?” he sneered and pointed out your empty glass.

“That was one time, I usually don’t drink. And I’m not planning on drinking more.”

“Oh, did I ruin your fun?”

“Stop that,” you said through your gritted teeth. “Stop being mean. I’m not your friend. You don’t have to push me away. I don’t know why you invited me here. I can just get up and go, leave you with whatever you have up your ass that’s making you act like this. I’m only asking you to stop putting yourself down so much and you’re being all defensive. You know what, I don’t deserve this.” You got up from your chair, grabbing your jacket and purse.

He stood up quickly and tried to follow you. “Sit down, Leon. Your drink is coming.” You didn’t give him any chance to reply and threw the amount of cash that covered your single glass of alcohol on the table.

The walk from the noiseless bar to the nearest bus stop was not pleasant, to say the least. The air was biting cold, hitting your warm cheeks and making you shiver.

Leon only lost sight of you because he stopped to tip the server generously. He fucked up big time, he knew that. It was going to be a pain in the ass if you already jumped in a cab but he had hope that no vacant cab was passing the area on a Friday night.

He was stupid to think this would go smoothly. The last time he saw you, he was concerned about you. The way you’d casually admitted you were not fine was echoing in his mind. He wanted to see if you’d be there by the time he was back from duty. He admitted he was scared for you, for that woman who seemed so small during the funeral, for that woman who had a meltdown in her car in the middle of the day, barely hanging on.

He wanted to tell you today that maybe you should quit. But you had already crossed that bridge.

Maybe you wanted to help people, too. At least at the beginning. Now you wanted peace and quiet, because your life has been anything but. Unlike you, he gave up on that a while ago. He wanted to regard your daring words— I would— as being drunk, he really did.

Ada would never admit she’d want something like that to him, to anyone. Ada didn’t want a stable life, she would never live at a place longer than a month, work with someone more than twice. Even after all of their encounters, Leon still didn’t know what her actual motives were. Raccoon City, Spain, his last mission.

It was pitiful, the way his breath would hitch every time he saw a dark-haired woman wearing red out of the corner of his eye. His heart would pound in his ears for a quick second before he’d realize he was mistaken. He would allow himself, for a brief moment, that maybe it was Ada, here to see him. However, she was never the one to be sentimental. Her every action had a tangible intention that Leon could never guess.

But Leon knew she cared. Enough to save him every goddamn time he needed saving. Enough to ask him to come with her. If he was twenty-one, he would’ve chosen to tail behind her, ready to follow her wherever. Except he had changed, he was not naive anymore. He’d like to think he made the right choice by separating their ways back in Spain. He didn’t know if he was going to be used again.

He also didn’t know what would become of them. Needless to say, he wasn’t going to abandon the mission and ride off into the sunset with Ada yet a part of him wondered about their alternate universe in which he chose to follow her. What would have happened if he just hopped onto that helicopter with her? Where would she have taken him? Was she planning on greeting him properly after all those years? Was he ready to forgive her after Raccoon City?

Perhaps she would have dropped him off somewhere, with a phone number or an address, leaving him confused yet again. Maybe he would’ve reached out, met her in a different circumstance where they didn’t have to constantly run away from trouble. Maybe she’d be living in a small flat and then she’d ask him to come over. Maybe he’d continue to visit her, make himself familiar with her small space.

Except that was not feasible at all, since she was a fleeting kind of woman, just like all the moments they shared. Not there to stay. And none of these would happen, it would always be a different hotel room, different city, barring him from being constant in her life.

A puppy love, he used to think. Young, naive, credulous love. No, he realized, it got older and bigger, sicker. It was time to put it down, put it out of its misery.

He sprinted to the bus station, his hunch was right, you were sitting there, arms folded on your chest, alone. You looked up the moment you heard his footsteps. He left a few steps between you two and braced himself by putting his palms on his knees.

“Why did you come here?” he asked, his eyes were focused on your red nose. Probably from the cold, he convinced himself.

“What do you mean? You asked me to,” you grimaced.

“You said we’re not friends, so why did you come here?”

Your head turned opposite of Leon, resting your chin on your shoulder and hugging yourself tighter. “I wanted some company,” you grumbled, the collar of your jacket muffling your voice. “I think Hunnigan’s right and I might need it.”

“Sorry I’m not a decent one.” He took slow steps to sit next to you on the narrow bench of the bus stop, his shoulder grazing yours. That made you perk up at him.

“I’m sorry for the things I said earlier,” you said, holding his gaze.

“You said a lot of things.”

“Well, I’m sorry for all of them, I crossed a line.”

“Don’t be, I needed the scolding.”

“I didn’t mean to scold you.”

He knocked his knee to yours. “Do you always regret the things you say immediately after? I was an asshole, you got angry, rightfully so.”

“But I was the one who started it,” you pursed your lips.

“Doesn’t matter, we’re not kids.”

“I, uh, called a taxi, should be here in a few minutes,” you said after a minute of silence.

“Okay, tell me something in the meantime.”

“What do you want to hear?”

His thumb caressed his brow, he was contemplating. “Would you consider marrying me?”

“What?”

“Would you marry me? If I asked?”

“No, I heard you the first time.” Your eyes took in every inch of his face, searching for a sign, anything that might explain this. “Leon, are you drunk?” 

“No, I’m nowhere near drunk. It takes more than one drink for me to get buzzed.” He crossed his arms, imitating you. “Think about it, we can both try to live calm and stable.”

Your face was contorted in confusion, still for a slight pause. “People don’t marry out of spite, Leon. They marry out of love.”

“Who said anything about spite?”

“You’re clearly angry at something or someone.”

“I am not.”

“This life you are living right now… isn’t quite what you planned, is it? Some things didn’t go according to plan and now you’re here, trying to steer the reins again. And you’re angry.”

“What are you, my therapist?” This time his comeback didn’t sound as if it was meant to hurt you, but to make the air between you lighter. “I guess I do resent some things, doctor.”  

You went along with his enactment. “Admitting is a huge step Leon, I appreciate the honesty.”

“Now you be honest,” he said, bouncing his leg in impatience. “Are you in a relationship? Am I being creepy by cornering you like this?”

“I’m not and I don’t feel cornered. If I did, I’d just get up and go. You just saw.”

He nodded, his lips in a thin line. “Experienced firsthand how you run away from your problems and I don’t mean it figuratively.”

You chuckled. “You are not a problem in my life.”

“Not a friend either.”

Your smile dropped. “I don’t think we know each other that well.”

He hummed, looking far away. “That’s probably your cab.” He got up, shaking off dust from his jeans. “Take my number before you get in and let me know when you make it home safe.”

You gave him your number but didn’t get to write your name in his contacts as the cab drew near. “Thanks for keeping me company, you didn’t need to run after me,” you said as you handed him his phone.

“We won’t dwell on it,” he winked as he opened the back door of the cab for you. “And think it over, okay?”

“What?”

“My proposal. We can get to know each other, then we can get married. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’ll be convenient.”

“Tell me one good thing that will be convenient.”

“Uh, okay. Here’s two for you,” he said and held up two fingers. “A better healthcare plan and tax benefits.”

You laughed and the driver seemed annoyed that you were still standing in front of the open door. “I should get going.”

“Text me when you get home,” he said when you finally got in the car.

You texted him again two weeks after his ridiculous proposal.

Hi, Leon. Do you remember what you asked me after the bar two weeks ago?

Hi. Yes I remember.

Were you being serious or should I pass it as tipsy nonsense?

There was no response from him for a few minutes and you had started biting your nails nervously.

I was being serious. I wasn’t tipsy.

You stared at his short text longer than it took him to reply. You had already made up your mind but it felt cheap telling him over a text. This was not the proper way of doing this. You also didn’t know how to convey this to him, so you resorted to a playful text.

Ask me properly and I’ll consider it.

I’ll ask you again properly over dinner next Friday? I know a good Italian place.

The next Friday, he kept his promise and said those four words in a fancy quiet Italian restaurant. You said yes.

“I have a request,” you said, swirling your wine before taking a sip. “I want a wedding dress, not like a gown or anything. Just a simple white dress.”

“Sure, I already have a suit that I can wear.”

Your heart tugged in your chest. The fact that you had to buy your wedding dress by yourself, no matter how simple you envisioned it to be, without Cathy by your side was making your ears ring, drowning out all the knife and fork clatter around you.

Here's my hand There's the itch But I'm not supposed to scratch

—Love Me More, Mitski

It’s four a.m. and you want to say you’ve actually seen it coming. Every time something good happens, its catastrophe follows eventually. Just like how Cathy’s mission was going so well until it wasn’t.

It’s four a.m. and the meal you’ve prepared for Leon has gone cold on the dining table. You thought he’d be hungry when he came back from mission, so you went out and bought ingredients, followed a recipe word for word, even made soup additionally just in case he didn’t feel like eating solid food after what his body’s been through. He said he’d be back at one a.m. and he hasn’t contacted you since. You’ve called and texted him numerous times but it was radio silence from him.

He had promised you, before you got married, that he would always let you know when he got back from a mission and he always did. He never once forgot because you were very serious about this, wanted to know as soon as possible that he was back safe.

It’s four a.m. and you feel like you’re going crazy, soaring into a heaving fit as each minute passes by.

The sound of his keys makes you clutch at your chest and before you even realize, your legs are walking you to the front door. He’s being quiet and you wait for him few steps behind the door. His steps are feather light, head bowed down to take off his shoes, he exhales a long breath as he places his backpack down.

He flinches when he sees your silhouette in the dark. “God, you scared me. I thought you’d be sleeping.”

“You didn’t text me,” your voice breaks, your hands are clutching at the sides of your pajama shirt like it’s a lifeline.

“I forgot.”

Your tears threaten to fall down and you’re grateful that it’s dark and he can’t see. You bite down your lip strong enough to make it bleed. “I was worried.”

“I’m fine, you didn’t need to stay up.”

It’s not like you chose to, you physically couldn’t lie down or eat anything when your mind went all haywire, creating the worst possible scenarios it could think of.

“I, um, made dinner.” You point to the table. “But it’s gone cold, I can heat it up. Don’t know if it will taste any good, though. Did you have any chance to eat something? I mean, if you ate dinner, it’s been hours and you’re probably hungry—”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I also made soup, so it’s easier on the stomach. You’re tired, right? Just eat some soup and then go to sleep. I’ll heat that up and there’s also tea in the pantry, supposed to help you sleep. Oh, I filled up the bathtub, I’ll go drain it, the water’s gone cold and you probably want to have a hot shower—”

He cuts you off again by blurting out your name. “Hey, hey, slow down.” His calloused hands come up to hold your shoulders and you let out a small whimper of surprise, your chin dropping to your chest. “I don’t want anything, I’ll just sleep.”

You shrug and escape from his hold, so he doesn’t ask you why you’re trembling like a leaf. “But shower…” you manage to make out and point to the direction of his room.

“Yes, I’ll drain the tub and shower, you go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” you say softly. He’s home, you repeat deliriously. He’s here, very much alive. The thought calms your nerves instantly.

He doesn’t turn on any of the lights while navigating his home in the dark. You crane your neck to watch his silhouette move to his room. He opts to turn on the bathroom light first. You listen to the water droplets as you put away the food you made for him in containers. He says something you can’t quite hear when he gets out of the shower.

“Did you say something, Leon?” you raise your voice slightly.

“Yeah, did you clean my room?”

“It was messy. Thought it’d be nice to see it tidy when you came back.”

He doesn’t reply right away and your head turns to his direction as if he can see you through the door.

“Thank you. You didn’t need to.”

You actually cleaned the whole house when he was away, not that he had the chance to see it.

You were aware from the very beginning that this was what you got yourself into. You and Leon never promised each other love. But why are you feeling like this now? Stupid question, really. Because things have changed, you’ve grown to love him and you’re afraid. You’re afraid that one day you’ll have to face the world without him by your side because he has become your anchor, holding you in place where you now call home. It’s nice having his warm hands on you, it’s nice coming home to him.

However, in moments like now it feels like you’re playing house, actors going their separate ways after the lights go out. It awfully feels like you’re standing in the middle of a dark stage, curtains closed so nobody can see what goes down behind the scenes.

You’re in front of his door, first aid kit in one hand, knocking. “Leon?” You know he’s not sleeping. He can’t sleep well after he comes back from his missions, his insomnia making it impossible for him.

The door cracks open and you slide past him before he can say anything, perching cross-legged on the side of his bed, placing the kit on your lap before propping his pillow against the bedpost so he can sit comfortably in front of you. “Let me have a look.” You pat on the bed. “And turn on the lamp, please.”

You can finally see him when he does. The first thing you see is the big purple bruise on his side because he’s only wearing his sweatpants. His hair is wet from the shower, hanging to his eyes, eyebags dark and prominent, one of his forearms is freshly bandaged. Despite all, he’s standing tall in front of you.

“They already patched me up,” he says, showing his bandage.

You take his hand and draw him near, making him sit on the bed with one leg dangling from the side. Half of his face is illuminated like this and you can see the cut on his jaw in its full glory. Your fingers begin to work quickly, cleaning the wound all the while he winces by closing his eyes. “Seems like they didn’t take a good look at you. What happened to your ribs?” you ask to distract him.

“Got kicked. They’re not broken.”

You put the band-aid on his jaw and search his eyes as they open. He blinks slowly at you, understanding that you want to hear more. “Hurts when I breathe but it should be gone in a few days, it’s not that bad.”

You take his unwrapped hand in yours, the skin of his knuckles is very red, it probably hurts when he flexes it. You grab the ice pack you remembered to bring with you and place it on top on his knuckles.

“Not there,” he mumbles. “Put in on my shoulder, it’s really sore.”

You place the pack on the shoulder he points. He tries to turn his head that way but his face contorts in pain and he gives up, exhaling a long sigh.

“Did you have them wrap it up?”

“No, can’t be bothered to rewrap it later.”

“That’s why you have me to do it for you,” you hum, adjusting the ice pack. You’re closer to him like this, able to smell his soap and shampoo from his body. You can make out the shape of his chapped lips and yours ache to kiss his pain away, except you are overheated with grievance.

His eyes bore into you, taking you in. There’s an unassuming hand on your bent knee, squeezing lightly. “Did I scare you?” he asks.

“You promised me,” you gripe to him, fumbling with your fingers on your lap after you place the first aid kit next to you. “You promised me that you’d let me know when you were back. Of course I was scared.”

His forehead falls onto your shoulder, damp strands of hair pressed to the side of your neck as the ice pack tumbles down his back onto the bed. “I’m sorry, honey,” he says breathily.

He’s only called you by your name all this time, so this is new. And stomach lurching. Your cheek knocks the side of his head with your startled reaction.

“I have no excuse,” he murmurs. His palm on your knee slides up, leaving a burning sensation as it goes along your thigh, bypassing your hips and finding place on the curve of your waist.

“It’s okay,” you squeak when you feel his thumb caressing your ribs through your t-shirt.

You don’t remember ever sitting down with him, drawing lines about the nature of your relationship, lines that both of you never meant to cross, because you didn’t. You didn’t discuss anything about boundaries because at the time you were getting married, you didn’t know him much. Both of you assumed that it would naturally develop, silent agreements to come.

It was manageable before, now it confuses you to the point of ripping hair from your own head. There were times where you didn’t think twice about giving him a friendly hug, a pat on the back, a reassuring squeeze to his knee but after getting into bed with him, every action was testing the waters.

It wasn’t even a bed; it was the couch in the living room where you had countless dinners and conversations, the heart of the home, if you will. It felt shameful afterwards as if it happened in an open space, because it was quick and devoid of any intimacy, but it was in the confines of your own quiet home still.

You want to go back to the time when you were friends, and not what this was supposed to be. You want to go back to the time when you didn’t know how it felt to have him like that, when you didn’t know his touch would be so tantalizing, his lips unbearably addicting, his warmth conquering.

Initially, you thought you’d cross any bridge regarding him when you came across it, but there weren’t any bridges around to reach him to begin with. You quickly realized that he had burned them before you, for everyone. So, you painstakingly built each and every one of them with your bare hands, desperate to get to him. And him shaking them felt immensely unfair, all your hard work threatened to fall.

Your hand on his chest pushes him away ever so slightly before his hand drops from your waist. He hisses softly yet the action hurts you more than it hurts him. He yields to your touch, back leaning on his propped-up pillow, waiting for you to gather the scatter of your thoughts patiently.

“Stop confusing me, Leon.”

“What do you mean?”

“What am I to you exactly?”

“You’re my wife,” he says. Obviously.

“So why doesn’t it feel like it?”

“We never guaranteed that it would.”

“Yeah, I know that. All this time I thought maybe we were doing better, now I don’t know Leon, you’re confusing me. Either stop giving me hope or just say it outright.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That I’m just a fuck buddy to you.”

His jaw ticks, lips curl in disdain. “How shallow do you think I am?”

“I know we never established any boundaries between each other but it’s gotten to a point where I don’t know how I should act around you.”

His face stays stagnant. “You can’t be serious. Your boundaries were set from the beginning. You never had a place for me in your heart.”

Time seems to stop for you in that dire moment, Leon’s blue eyes serving you a new wrench of dismay. “When did I give off that impression?”

“Our first anniversary,” he clarifies hoarsely. “We ate pizza on the couch, remember?”

You do, you even remember the Disney movie he had rented as a cheeky nod to time you two first flirted. The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

“I always wonder why you said yes to my proposal in the first place,” he said after taking a bite from his pizza slice. It had been a year since getting married, Hunnigan was the one to point out to him. Apparently, she was proud of herself due to the fact that she was the one to introduce you two.

“I thought of Cathy and what she would’ve said to me,” you said, watching the animated Quasimodo sing his heart out to the town below him.

“What would she have said?”

“That it is ridiculous and maybe I should say yes.”

“So, you thought of what Cathy would’ve said to you getting married but not your family?”

You turned your head to him, ready to get vulnerable. “Cathy was family to me.”

“I didn’t know you two were that close.”

“Yeah, we met when we were roommates back in college. She urged me to change majors and follow her path.”

“To become an agent?”

“No, she was the one who always wanted to be a special agent. I didn’t know what to do at first but somehow ended up working alongside her.”

“What were you studying before?”

“I was studying to become a nurse. Kind of in my sister’s path, she’s a doctor.”

He scratched his nape, looking ashamed. “I believe I never asked that before, sorry about that.”

You elbowed his side after taking a sip of your drink. “Yeah, you better be sorry for not knowing what your sister-in-law does for work.”

He rolled his eyes upon your teasing. “Were they supportive of you changing majors? Your family, I mean.”

“My family’s always been small. It’s just me and my mom and sister. Dad’s never been in the picture. He left when I was a few months old. My mom raised us herself. And yes, she would support anything I did. She loved Cathy because she would make me do things I’d never do myself.”

“Your mom sounds like a great person.”

“She was. She died four days before Cathy did.”

“I’m… sorry to hear that,” he said, much more ashamed than before. You didn’t blame him, the first year of your marriage flew by really fast, with him on duty most of it. Forget sitting down like this to talk, you rarely got any chance to see him.

“Yeah, their deaths being so close fucked me up really bad. We were on mission. My mom was living with my sister then because she was sick. My sister didn’t tell me her condition was even worse than before.”

“Why?”

“Mom knew we were working on something big and begged my sister not to tell me. She thought she’d see me after I was done with the mission. I had a whole fight with my sister about it. I felt betrayed.”

“I think I would, too, in that situation.”

“I was so fucking unprofessional after that. I couldn’t keep on helping Cathy properly. And she—”

“It isn’t your fault.” He shook his head, meeting your gaze in the space between you two on the couch.

“I’m tired of hearing that,” you huffed.

“None of that is on you. It’s the truth.”

“It’s not. I knew the situation was going bad. Cathy tried to make me believe it was not. Somebody else had to be transferred to take my place instead. I insisted but I had to be taken out. That’s when we lost connection to her.”

“How did you know it was going bad?”

“I could tell from her voice. I know her better than I know myself. I failed to get her help. I should have never listened to her.”

“But you couldn’t do that, could you? She clearly gave you wrong intel. You can’t send back-up until—”

“I could’ve made it seem like she requested back-up. That would’ve saved her, exterminated the mission, but saved her. I’d have faced the consequences of my actions sooner or later. If I did that and saved her, she’d be mad at me for years but who cares as long as she’s safe and sound?”

“I get it. I’d also have someone mad at me if it meant they’d be safe.”

“In the end, she died for nothing. The cult she was infiltrating dispersed after they killed her, all fled to different countries. It’s harder to track them down now. They’re everywhere.”

“You follow through with it? It would be impossible to track down each mission.”

“Why do you think I’m in the archives? I have access to mission reports. They don’t think it is bioweapon related, so sometimes they let me see them.”

Esmeralda was dancing along people’s whistles, captivating every man in the square.

“You said Cathy died for nothing but you actually don’t want that to be true.”

Fiddling with your fingers, you said, “Obviously.”

“You’re loyal,” he remarked. “I’m sure she would’ve loved to see her mission completed. Do you ever think of working as an analyst again?”

“Nope.”

From his expression you could tell he wanted an explanation, so you gave him one, “I don’t want to see people get hurt anymore. It’s a dangerous job, you know it. Why are you asking me?”

“No offense, but then why did you agree to marry me knowing I do the same job? If you’re scared of losing someone this much—it just doesn’t make sense to me.”

You sighed, having a hard time thinking where to even start. “You’re going to call me crazy.”

“I would never,” he said, half-jokingly.

“Okay, I really did think what Cathy would tell me to do. I always listened to her, the whole time we got to spend together. She told me what she wanted to do with her life, told me I looked depressed with what I was studying and maybe we should join an academy together. She was larger than life, lit up an entire room with her presence, never spoke ill of someone, liked to help people in any way she could. I’ve always been shy, so she went above and beyond to find me decent blind dates.”

“She sounds wonderful. She was also your matchmaker?”

“In a way, yes. Dragged me to parties with her so I could have some fun.” You gave Leon a smile, recalling Cathy and her antics in your mind, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Nothing sounds crazy so far,” he reassured you.

Finished with your pizza, you dusted off the crumbs into the box and lifted up your knees to sit cross-legged facing him. “I couldn’t keep someone interested in me for more than two dates.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he replied, his eyes traveling up and down.

“No, seriously. This one time, a guy left mid-date, told me he had a phone call, paid for the coffees and just left. I waited there for half an hour. It dawned on me when I couldn’t see his car outside. Didn’t call me after.”

Leon shrugged one shoulder. “His loss.”

You smacked his bicep playfully as a way of thanking him for his compliment. “I only went on these dates because Cathy thought it would be good for me. I had a few fights with my sister about Cathy and her influence on me. She thought I was like her puppet but I genuinely don’t think like that. I told you I knew Cathy like the back of my hand. It was the same for her. Never pushed me to do something I’d be uncomfortable with. Well, I’d feel awkward at times but it would be momentary, I’d learn so much in the long run.”

“That’s a very healthy way of looking at things. I’m still waiting for the part where you think I’d call you crazy.”

“I trusted her judgment because I knew she only wanted the best for me. She’d definitely try to set me up with you if we weren’t so busy all the time,” you said, lips curling into a roguish smile.

His eyebrows shot up, being brazen about it. “Oh, you’re saying I’d have her approval?”

Especially when you keep raking your hands through your hair like that, you wished to say. “Yes, you would.”

“Thank you, that means so much.”

“You didn’t even know her.”

“Well, she means so much to you, I feel honored that you think that way.”

A haze of grief washing over your heart, lungs expanding, you started, “I also… never mind.”

A comforting hand fell on you shoulder, shaking you slightly. “Now you have to say it, don’t leave me hangin'.”

“Here’s the crazy part,” you swallowed dryly. “Whenever I thought of my future, it was always with Cathy. I didn’t even think of getting married. I thought we’d retire together when the time came, she and Allison—her girlfriend—would live next to me. And if they ever had the chance, they’d marry and maybe have kids. I’d look after them like they were my own, be the best aunt. Isn’t it crazy, dreaming of looking after someone else’s kids and not yours? Sometimes I’d lay my head down and imagine myself in a little community, living next door to Cathy and her family, growing my own vegetable garden—though I don’t know the first thing about gardening but I’d learn! I would also grow pretty flowers and give them out to anyone who decided to come over. Go to the bakery in the morning, greet everyone on the way and grab my breakfast fresh out the oven. I’d get so fat! Eating baked goods every day, sounds like heaven to me.”

“Indeed.” With a fond smile on his face, he took of his hand from your shoulder and fully turned to you, bending one leg up on the cushions. “I don’t think I met an Allison at the funeral, was she there?”

“She was,” you said, remembering the painful conversation you had with her. “She arrived really early and left before anyone from work came.”

“What happened?” he asked, noticing you ripping skin off your fingers just like you had been doing during that day.

“I tried to talk to her. She told me I was a liar and walked out—” Leon interrupted your chain of thoughts by taking your hand, preventing you from damaging your fingers further. “I couldn’t keep my promise to her. It’s awful. I told her before the mission that it was going to be okay, we’d done this with Cathy many times and I’d make sure to keep her in one piece.”

Your other hand had a death grip on your knee, nails digging and leaving indents to keep yourself grounded. “They tortured Cathy while she was captive. She died because she refused to give them any information.”

Leon seemed like he didn’t want you to continue, placed your hand in his as though he was reading your palm and started to fidget with your gold wedding band on your ring finger. “Tell me more about that dream of yours. I bet you wouldn’t even install normal ceiling lights in your house. It’d just be little lamps everywhere.”

Giggling, you said, “Yeah! I’d be that auntie that collects little trinkets and displays them all around her house. I’d learn how to knit and make so many ugly sweaters for God knows anyone.”

“So, no partner living with you? Just you with your trinkets?”

“There’s so many types of love and I just didn’t see myself in a romantic one. It just happened that I never pictured myself alone. That’s it.”

His hands slipped away after your raw confession, broad back straightening, appearing tensed up. Yet again, you couldn’t make out what his expression meant.

Esmeralda was now singing a hymn, Quasimodo staring at her in admiration from the shadows.

“I talked so much today, now’s your turn. I feel embarrassed that you know my abysmal attempts at finding love. How about you, Leon? You got any embarrassing stories that you can tell?”

His answer was quick and mischievous, “Yeah, this one time this lady just got up and left me at the bar. In the middle of an argument.”

You pursed your lips and bumped on his knee on the cushions, restraining a laugh you know he’d get satisfaction out of. “Don’t piss me off, that wasn’t even a date.”

“I had a girlfriend when I was twenty-one, she broke up with me before I started working as a cop.”

“That’s so long ago and not that embarrassing if I’m being honest,” you sniffed at him.

“I already told you about how I thought I’d marry her. I really believed my first ever relationship would live to see its future.”

Offering him a new perspective, you explained, “Well, technically it did, it just wasn’t a bright one.”

“Pshh,” he scoffed, turning to the TV, stretching before bending his arms behind his head. “Wait—you’re telling me I’m the only long-term guy you had?”

His late light-bulb moment pulled a chuckle out of you. “Turning it back to me again, okay. No, I did date a guy for nearly one year. And before you ask, he said I worked too much and wasn’t fun.”

Leon’s face scrunching as if he just ate something sour, he blurted out, “Where do you find these types of guys? Did Cathy set you up with this asshole?”

“No, actually, I found him myself.”

“Is he the one who made you think you’re not fun to be around?”

You were left stumped, unable to think of any answer.

“What? If he is, I disagree with him.”

“You only say that because I go along with your corny jokes.”

“Yeah, that’s the only reason,” he chimed sarcastically.

Quasimodo was saving Esmeralda from the burning stake, the sign that the movie was about to end.

“Your dream,” he cleared his throat. “I could just picture it like a happy ending to a Disney movie. You know, they all have happy endings. Besides, I don’t think you’re insane for wanting a happy, peaceful life.”

“What’s insane about it is that I even imagined myself dying before Cathy. Getting buried before I got to bury her. I’ve never thought I’d live the day she wouldn’t, yet here I am… I wrote an entire script for the rest of my life in my mind, that’s why I spiraled down and down and down when it was not possible to play it out anymore. So, I stopped. It wasn’t healthy for me to continue obsessing over my ruined happy ending. I decided to live in the present. Write as I live on. Be more like Cathy, hopefully.”

There was little beer left in his can but he raised it anyway. “In the loving memory of Cathy Donovan, then.”

“I don’t have any drink left,” you gasped, lifting your can. “Cathy, I’m so sorry, you deserve the fruitiest of Martinis.” If Cathy was there, she would’ve laughed like a hyena, found it hysterical that you managed to call her fruity given the context.

After the honorary toast, Leon leaned back and intertwined his hands on his stomach, eyes fixed on the TV screen where Phoebus and Esmeralda were passionately kissing.

“The novel’s ending was not family friendly, I guess,” you mocked.

“I haven’t read it.”

 “If you’re planning on reading it, my lips are sealed.”

“Don’t know if I have the time. I don’t mind, tell me.”

“It’s painfully sad. Esmeralda gets hanged, Quasimodo pushes Frollo from the cathedral tower in grief and rage. That’s the moment he realizes he’s lost everyone he’s ever loved. He also refuses to let go of Esmeralda, starves himself holding on to her dead body in her grave. Years later, an excavation group finds their intertwined skeletons and when they try to separate them, Quasimodo’s bones crumble to dust.”

“Now that’s vile.”

Toss your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart Baby, bang it up inside I'm not wearing my usual lipstick I thought maybe we would kiss tonight

Baby, though I've closed my eyes I know who you pretend I am I know who you pretend I am

—Washing Machine Heart, Mitski

“How would I know I’d end up here?” you ask him, voice shaking. “We didn’t promise each other anything, so I didn’t have any hope.”

You want nothing more than to ask him about the teddy bear keychain he has in desk drawer, why he holds onto it, ask whether you should be relieved that it no longer has a key attached to it.

There is that gut feeling, clawing at your churning stomach, that tells you he has someone. Someone else who knows him better than you, who is a better match to him, who makes him happier.

Someone he loves.

“But we had sex, it made me question everything and I’ve come to the conclusion that we were both lonely and weren’t thinking straight. You acted like it didn’t change anything, it almost made me go crazy. Please say something so I can finally understand, Leon,” you cry out.

“I don’t regret it,” he declares. “I don’t regret what we did. And I know how we started this marriage, I assumed it would always be the same after you told me your feelings.”  

“I admit I’m hard to be with.” Your head hangs to the side, brows furrowed. “It’s hard for me to trust someone as much as I trusted Cathy. I’m sorry it took two years for us to be candid with each other. I used to be laidback about who I slept around with before. Now, I don’t know, I think twice about how I should touch you, talk to you. I used to think romantic love was not for me, so I wasn’t worried when you proposed because you didn’t expect it. I thought it wasn’t for people like us.”

“But you are capable of love,” he emphasized. “I know you are. You’re so good to me all the time. You stay up all night worrying when I’m not home, cook food for me despite your hatred for it, remember the smallest things and help me out, talk to me when I can’t sleep. I can’t even repay you for any of it and you still continue to be good to me. See, you’re speaking in a way that’s making me think there’s a chance that you love me and I still can’t say it back.”

Your silent tears unsettle him, this is the first time you let him see you cry. He has heard it before, the soft sobs and small chokes at night when you didn’t know he was awake.

You sniffle, “I know you’re capable of it, too, Leon. If the reason you can’t say it back to me is what I think it is, you definitely are.”

You quickly wipe your tears with the back of your hand when he asks, “What do you mean?”

“There is someone, right? You love them.”

His silence speaks volumes and it becomes your acceptance.

“Don’t let this thing between us hamper it, okay? I’m fine with it. To be honest, I didn’t expect you to keep up the faithful husband act.”

“Jesus,” he howls. “Just how terrible do you think I am? This thing between us is our fucking marriage. Not some situationship. Although I can’t make you think otherwise because you refuse to. I’m only gonna say this once, okay? I respect you enough to not sleep around behind your back.”

“Thank you, Leon, but I’m saying it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.” You take both of his hands, wanting to remember the feel of him. “You love someone else and it’s okay. You’re better off with them. Hopefully they’re better at love than I am.”

You take off your ring and place it in your palm, caressing it. “I know I probably shouldn’t be asking for this but I got so used to the weight of it on my finger. Can I have it as a keepsake?”

He grips your wrist tightly, grimacing. “What are you doing?”

“This is me letting you go.”

“No.” He shakes his head, voice thick. The way he places the ring on your finger again is a wretched overcompensation for not doing it before. You two didn’t have rings at the wedding and you were the one to place it on your own finger after purchasing them. “You’re running away,” he speaks in a hoarse croak. “Where will you go this time, hm?”

“I’ll resign and move close to my sister.”

His palms are cupping your jaw, fingertips in your hair. Him closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours is a way of saying I can love you if you give me time, I know I can.

“Stay,” he whispers, narrowing your whole world down to his warmth and you shudder from it. “Just tell me what you need.”

I need you to love me more, love enough to fill me up till there’s no crack left for me to write happy ever afters that will never come true. I need you to fill me full up, love enough to drown it out. Drown me out.

“Kiss me.”

“That I can do, honey.”

You know perfectly well that you’re selfish for wanting him like this. However, you yearn for the still of his hands on you, the irresistible feel of his skin on yours.

A kiss is placed on your temple, another one on your damp cheekbone, another on your jaw. Your eyes are closed the whole time he moves slow with his kisses. He grazes his nose beneath your ear, bringing you close to the brink of tears again. His hot breath is licking the other side of your face after, pecking the corner of your mouth.

“Scoot,” he says before gripping your waist and tipping you towards his torso. “My back is killing me like this.”

You’re afraid of hurting him with your weight but he insists, pulling you and placing you on his lap, getting you to straddle him, your thighs encasing his on either side. Your face a few inches above his, he tips his head back and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You can see a gash on his shoulder that disappears down his back which you didn’t notice before and you become aware once again that this isn’t the right moment to ask him for this.

“Leon—”

He can tell you’re about to get off him and he shuts you up by pulling you in a crushing kiss, pressing your chest to his with arms around your back so you won’t get away. “Stay here, don’t run away from me,” he says between labored breaths. His fingertips dance on your sides, making the hair on the back of your neck stand. He can probably feel your heart thumping crazy against his chest.

You caress the indent on his chin with your pointer finger, leaning down to kiss it. Leon lets out a delicious sigh, hands feeling up the sides of your thighs.

“Why did you kiss me at the wedding? There was no one to see,” you finally ask.

He lifts an eyebrow, eyes flicking to the side trying to remember it. “The officiant was there. And the photographer.”

You nod and his lips are on yours again, tender this time. He opts to place quick kisses over and over again when he’s done being gentle. A chuckle escapes you when his nose bumps yours.

Fingers drifting under your shirt, he scratches your back up and down with his blunt nails. Any inch of skin he comes across, he kisses. Earlobe, jaw, neck, shoulder peeking through shirt. One hand splaying his fingers on your back, middle finger in line with your spine, right between your shoulder blades, the other one comes up front, lifting the front hem of your shirt. “Take this off.”

He doesn’t move the hand on your back when you’re taking it off, eyes dropping down to meet the new exposed skin. But you feel too naked, even though he’s wearing the same amount of clothes as you. You hug him around his neck, careful not to hurt him, bare chests pressed together.

He clasps the tops of your arms, biting the inside of one bicep.

“Ouch.” You retreat. “Why did you do that?”

“Let me see you.” He tips you backwards after his hand comes up to your nape, your butt slides on his lap, making you sit right on his crotch. He lets out a content hum, not embarrassed of his half hard erection. You cling to his biceps although his hand on the back of your neck is securing you in place.

A kiss is planted to the base of your throat and then to each collarbone. The hand on the front cups the underside of your breast, goosebumps rising on your skin. A wet kiss on the valley of your breasts, his breath cooling it. A low moan from you when he takes a stiff nipple in his hot mouth, finally giving it some attention. He twirls his tongue around it, teasing, before licking it right.

Your hips move involuntarily, rubbing against him through clothes all the while he sucks, kisses, grazes teeth. A jolt of electricity travels down to your core when he switches sides, underwear clinging to your sticky folds. You keen into him, pushing your chest out when he begins to suck a bruise under your breast. Your fingers dig into his scalp, tugging on his damp strands.

You discern his knitted brows and inclined back before tapping his shoulder. “Leon, stop.”

He halts the moment he hears you. The sight of a string of spit connecting his lips to your chest is obscene. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re hurting. You should lay down,” you say while standing up.

His eyes never leaving you, he gets off the bed as well. He seizes you under your arms, picking you up with ease. “See, honey? I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.” He doesn’t let you protest and nips at your bottom lip before sloppily kissing you, tongue claiming every crevice of your mouth.

“No, put me down!” you wail, kicking your feet in the air.

“Okay, okay,” he grins, setting you down on the floor. Your heated cheeks amusing him, he takes your hand and places it on the waistband of his sweatpants. “This is the only thing you need to worry about.”

You decide to be daring and slide your hand down, palming him through layers of clothing. “Fuck,” he huffs, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against yours, big hands pawing at your backside, fondling your ass. Your hand slips past his briefs, touching him without any barriers.

“Oh, just like that,” he encourages you when you pick up a pace. His abs tightening, it doesn’t take long for him to fully get hard. “Ah, wait—”

“Hm?” You look up at him, just holding him in your palm.

“Need to get a condom, be right back.” He squeezes your ass one last time. “You better take everything off,” he teases before stepping away to get to the bathroom.

Second thoughts come rushing to your mind the time he’s undressing and grabbing a condom in the bathroom. Maybe, you shouldn’t do this. It’s only going to make it harder for the both of you. You admitted loving him and he wasn’t able to say it back. But he told you to stay, he needs you, wants what you’re able to give him. And you desperately need to give him all you have, mind and body, even if it means for a short time.

Because you know you will never be able to love like this again.

Your thoughts are interrupted when a packet of condom is thrown on the bed in front of you, hands gathering your hair on one shoulder to return messy kisses to your neck from the back.

Your back meets his pecs, his erection snug between your bare ass cheeks, you sigh softly when his fingers find their way to your clit, making your spine tingle. You hold on to his forearm, clawing at his veins as he gathers your wetness from your entrance, back to circling your bundle of nerves with now soaked fingers. His bandaged hand urges you to spread your legs more before finding place on your throat. He ruts his hips against your ass, breathing loudly while you whine out incoherent sounds.

He groans your name, drawing your attention up to his scrunched face. “You’re so good to me.”

“Leon,” you whimper as he drags two fingers all the way along your slit, pumping them inside. The way you stretch around his fingers distracts him from the rhythm of his hips, making him still. But you crave the friction, arch back your own hips to get him to move again. Your hand winds around and finds his aching hard dick, thumb stroking the precum all over his angry red tip. Your head rolls back over his shoulder and you want nothing more than to properly see.

“Leon, I’m close,” you moan and push his hand away. “I want to see you.”

“Anything you want, honey,” he pants in your ear, tip of his tongue tracing the shell of it.

You crawl to the middle of the bed, endowing him the sight of your glistening slit before laying down on your back, waiting for him to get on top of you. He parts your legs, taking a good look before smearing his tip on your folds, a mix of your wetness and his precum making it extra slippery.

“Please,” you manage to make out, one arm across your chest, another resting on his shoulder.

He rips your arm from your chest and pulls both your wrists above your head. “I said let me see you.”  

He doesn’t let you fuss, fucking up his cock against your clit, allowing himself the bare feel of you for a little while.

He kisses your pout away before retreating to roll the condom on. You hiss as his tip breaches your entrance, legs trying to close on instinct, but he’s laying between them. He gets you used to the feel of him inside before you nod for him to move, slowly at first. Once your back arches and your hips shift, he gets the message to piston his hips faster.

He searches for the right pace just by examining you, what your face does when he tries something new, how your back arches, by the sounds you make. Not too fast, not too slow, he eventually finds an angle you particularly like.

“Too good for me,” he chants whilst thrusting, intertwining his fingers with yours above your head. You notice the absence of his ring but you don’t worry about it because you know he leaves it on his desk when he’s away for a mission, not wanting to lose it.

Your legs hug him around his waist, heels pressing him into you deeper. “Yes, yes, yes…” You keep singing his name when you feel it building up inside.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last long,” he grunts, listening to the slaps of skin and your frantic cries of pleasure.

“Good ‘cause I’m so close.”

He takes that as a challenge, making sure you reach your high before him. He watches as you do, walls clenching down on his length, lips chasing his.

He’s cooing in your ear between your gasps, coaxing your bliss out of you. “I know, honey, I gotcha. You can let go.”

Your mouth opening in a silent moan as your orgasm ripples through you, hands trembling in his hold, legs trying to shut, your entire body quivering as you ride it out.

Irregular thrusts of his hips bouncing your breasts in front of him, he nestles his face between them, breathing in your scent. He noses the blossoming mark he left under there and moves slow, dragging it out as much as possible.

He sinks boneless on you, his weight feeling comforting rather than crushing. You embrace him as he softens out of you, leaving you feeling empty. He peels the condom off and lays on you for a while, head between your ribs, trying to catch his breath. You wipe away sweat from his temple, frowning.

“You’ll have to hop in the shower again.”

“Give me a few minutes,” he says, voice muffled and nasal. “And you’re coming with me, too.”

“Leon!” you shriek, playfully slapping his twitching bicep. “You shouldn’t tire yourself more.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I was gonna ask you to wash my back.”

After a few minutes, you drag him in the shower, helping him soap his back. He stands under the hot rain when you’re cleaning yourself with his body wash, eyes and hands wandering, groping here and there. You smack his naughty hands each time, can’t help but giggle. However, he’s tired and sleepy, so he’s only playing.

You offer to change his sheets but he insists on doing it in the morning and tugs your arm to your room, preferring to sleep in your clean sheets. He nearly falls asleep as you blow-dry your hair, waiting for you in the bed.

As soon as you’re snuggled up to him, he tucks you to his chest, chin on your forehead. Soft sighs tickle the crown of your hair.

“Can I ask you a question?” he murmurs, barely audible.

Your pointer finger stops drawing circles on his pectoral muscle. “Mhm?”

“After your mom and Cathy passed away, how did you survive? There has to be a reason.”

“I actually planned to end it all after both funerals. I told myself to just get past that week. It’ll all be over in a week. But there’s my sister. She came with me to help with Cathy’s funeral. Forced me to eat anything she could cook while I lived on autopilot. She was washing my hair in the sink when I realized I can’t leave her behind. It’s just not fair. She has a wonderful husband but a husband doesn’t mean forever— I mean, look at what my mother got. A deadbeat husband who left her with two little kids. My sister doesn’t have any kids. Worst case scenario, her husband leaves her and—”

He retracts abruptly to search your face, hand on your cheek to steer you to him. “So, you wrote a script again. With a sad ending.”

“My sister is my only family left. I don’t want her to live unhappily.”

“Hey, I’m your family, too. Why are you talking like I’m not here?” He presses a long, soothing kiss to your lips. His fingers tip your chin up. “Look at me. What do you have in that mind of yours? What kind of script do you have for us?”

You lie. “I don’t have one.”

He smiles. “Good. Because we’ll write one as we go on.”

(a/n: a very short part 2 will be posted here in a few days, keep an eye out for that. ty for reading!)

PART I | PART II | PART III (finale)

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ Second chances ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : Lucifer didn't think he would ever have the chance at love again, but then he met you and got to know you after the destruction of the Hotel.

Pairing : Lucifer x Reader

Word count : 2239 Words

Genre : Fluff, Romance

Warnings ➵ Spoilers for EP 8!!

a/n : I love him sm, he deserves the world, a big hug and a smooch to the cheek

Also legit the first part of this barely has any interactions but eh- idk where I was going with this-

Might make this into a series, idk yet.. Also definitely one of my more boring and bad works sadly..

┌───────────────────────── · · · · ♡

Coming back to the hotel from an outing in the city, you were met with chaos. Everyone was running around, Razzle and Dazzle were hanging up a banner reading > Welcome Daddy < what was happening? Ducking your head as Sir Pentious darts past you, before making your way over to Charlie.

"Sweetheart, what's happening?" Laying your hand softly on Charlie's shoulder, her hair flies around as she comes to face you. You were one of the first people to join the hotel back then, having grown close to Charlie over that time, she viewed you as a parent figure, while you viewed her like a daughter. "My dad is coming and everything has to be perfect! He has to be assured he can trust me and help me!" That explained a lot, especially why Charlie was so stressed. Pulling her into a hug now, your hand softly gliding over her head, as you mutter how she should not stress too much and that she is doing amazing. Noticing how her body was relaxing against your own, you were glad to have calmed her down at least a little bit.

After helping the others a bit more, it was finally time. Charlie swept her hands on her jacket, before opening the door. A bright choice sounding, as Lucifer pulls his daughter into a tight hug. Before saying hello to Keekee, Razzle and Dazzle. He was.. different than everyone probably though.

Watching Alastor talk to Lucifer now, they for sure could not stand the other one, this would be fun. Charlie now introduced Vaggie to him, which made you smile a little bit when Lucifer took her into his arms. The rest was quickly introduced before Charlie pulled you beside her. "And this is Y/N, Dad! They really helped me a lot already, of course like anyone else here too!" Fumbling around with her words a bit, you softly lay your hand on Charlie's shoulder. "We know what you mean dear, Charlie is an amazing girl, we are really proud of her." Your eyes were on Charlie, before greeting Lucifer correctly.

It was quiet for a second before a crash could be heard. Oh shit.. For a few minutes, the banter between Alastor and Lucifer continued on, making you sigh as you sat down beside Angel. This way going great huh? Vaggie was also at the end of her nerves right now. As they were seemingly coming to an end finally, the doors slammed open and some short blonde lady walked in as if she owned this place. Being introduced to her soon, you decide to tag along with Charlie and the others to show her dad around.

You were simply following the others, listening to Charlie nervously ramble on, only glancing over your shoulder for a second as Husker stopped Alastor, but you decided to not give it another thought.

Arriving at the balcony, you and Vaggie stand back, as Charlie and her dad talk. But too soon they were interrupted as some debris was thrown into the hotel and shook the whole building. Rushing through the portal, you guys are back in the foyer of the hotel, looking around for an answer. Mimzy the woman from before finally explained what was happening, you rolled your eyes, how amazing. Too busy with making sure you saw everyone safe, you weren't seeing the debris falling your way. Before you knew it you were swept off your feet, as Lucifer saved you from being smashed by the debris, setting you down on your feet again softly, as his wings disappear again.

"You see now Charlie what I mean? Those sinners destroy everything! They fall into your home and destroy it, they aren't grateful for anything!" Talking to Charlie now, as Alastor finally decided to step in and fight off those damned loan sharks, before telling the woman to disappear. Watching Charlie and her dad now, as you were standing beside Alastor, a frown visible on your face. She worked so hard for this, why couldn't he believe in her? Though quickly everything explained itself and both of them seemed to finally makeup, a tear slipping from your eye from how beautiful this moment was.

"All right.. I'll get you that meeting but.. once in heaven you're alone I.. can't come with you." Lucifer told Charlie, before disappearing in a red cloud.

That was now a month ago. Right now everyone was getting ready for that damned extermination. Sadly Charlie's conversation with Heaven didn't do anything, on top of that the tension in the whole group grew, with Vaggie being an old exterminator. But that was all over now, as the whole group decided to have one last drink the night before the big battle. You were talking with Husker, as Angel was with Cherri, Alastor and Niffty looking upon everyone and Charlie with Vaggie nowhere to be seen. And of course, Sir Pentious trying to strike up a conversation with Cherri. You hoped everything would go well tomorrow and that no one would die.

The morning arrived, and everyone was gathered outside to protect the hotel, to protect Charlie's dream. Everyone was ready for this.

Almost everything seemed to go down in a wink, the hotel was in shambles, Alastor was missing - assumingly dead, Sir Pentious gave his life for the group and Adam was killed. Now the rebuild of the hotel was in full swing, everyone was helping, even Cherri who wasn't even a resident of the hotel yet. Lucifer also stayed to help his daughter and somehow convinced her to let him have a room too and stay with the group.

"Have you seen Charlie? Some new shipments came." The blonde was approaching you now, his coat and hat off, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Raising to your feet from where you were kneeling to work on some nails, you swept some sweat from your forehead before turning to Lucifer. "She and Vaggie went to town real quick for some errands, but she told me where to put them, let me show you." Laying the hammer down on one of the many workbenches, you go accept the shipments, before showing Lucifer the way.

You and him had quite a few conversations over the last few days, with you being a parent figure for Charlie and him being her father, you two talked a lot about how well she is doing. What you didn't notice were the fleeting glances the king of hell threw your way every now and then.

"She told me to just put it here." Opening the door to a little cabinet now on the first floor of the hotel in the foyer. This was the first thing finished, right now the works were on the upper rooms. Putting down the box you were carrying on the shelf, Lucifer followed where you put the other box, before thanking you for helping him out. "Soo.. The hotel is coming together rather nicely huh?" Looking over to you with his red eyes now, as you close the door, a bit confused he was striking up a conversation right now. "Yeah, everyone is doing so amazingly, I'm glad we got so much help.. If we don't look at Niffty punching holes in the new floor trying to catch roaches.." At least some things were apparently not changing and stayed the same.

"Say.. when the hotel is finished would you perhaps.. you know.. maybe.. be interested in a date?" Stopping in your tracks now, you blink a few times. Did you just hear correctly? The Lucifer Morningstar, the king of hell just asked you for a date? Turning your head around now, your cheeks slowly become a crimson-red color. Looking at him, he didn't really look different, his cheeks red, as he was sheepishly playing with his sleeves. "You want to go on a date with me?" Raising his eyes to meet yours, he simply nods. "To be honest with you, you caught my eye the day I first came here but.. then all this happened and we never really got to talk and I was worried you would think I'm weird for asking, so I thought I should maybe wait a bit-" He was rambling on, probably from how nervous he was to ask you out. After his ex-wife left him, he didn't really date anyone after that, so it's been a while since he has ever asked someone for a date. "I would love to. Thank you for asking me." Laying your hand softly over his, giving it a soft reassuring squeeze to tell him not to worry too much. Sadly the moment was cut short, when Angel called for you, having someone questions about about paint.

Lucifer's eyes followed you now, the smile on his face not being able to be hidden now, fist-pumping the air happily over how he finally asked you. Charlie came back that moment and looked a little bit more than worried at her father, but overall no new behavior from him.

The hotel was soon finished, Alastor also came back, making at least Charlie relieved that he was still alive, Husker and Lucifer didn't seem so pleased with that fact, but they would get over it.

So now, it was time for your date with Lucifer. Charlie was thrilled when she heard you would be going on a date with her dad, at first you were rather worried about how she would react, but she was happy that her dad was trying to find love again. Making sure your hair was sitting right and your clothes were wrinkle-free, when a knock sounded at your door. Taking one last breath, you open it and are met with Lucifer. His hat was gone and he was wearing a white suit, similar to what he normally wore but more suitable for a fancy dinner - as fancy as a dinner in hell can be.

"You look amazing! Oh my! Look at you!" Lucifer was throwing compliments at you left and right, before he caught himself again, straightened his jacket, and then extended his arm for you to take. "Thank you, you also look amazing tonight Lucifer." Taking his arm now, he guides you two to the elevators which take you down to the foyer. Charlie was trying subtly to look at you two, but failing miserably. "Charlie is staring at us and almost crying.." Whispering to Lucifer now, he just nods, making sure to throw Vaggie a begging look to take care of Charlie, as you two leave the hotel. He decided to take you to the more finer side of Pentagram City, where rather expensive shops and restaurants were and which were less bloody.

"Here we are! It's the finest one I know around here!" Leading you inside, it was a big place. The restaurant had a fountain in the middle and had many plants all around the wide place. Marble floors, stone walls were adorned with gold elements and gold was seen all throughout the place. This was definitely an expensive place by the looks of it. A waiter leading you to a table no, you were sure was the best one in the whole restaurant. It was by a wide window, having a good look down the city, in the distance you could even see the hotel slightly, especially the big sign reading Hazbin Hotel.

"This place is beautiful but.. it looks rather expensive, are you sure this is okay?" Of course you knew who Lucifer was and he could basically afford anything in this whole city and do anything he wanted, you just wanted to make sure. Assuring you now that you shall not worry about something like that. Ordering food and enjoying the meal together, it was a nice evening. Everything goes by smoothly and you and Lucifer finally get around to know each other better. Sadly the dinner was over too quickly, Lucifer leading you back to the hotel now, while telling you a story from Charlie's childhood, which made you giggle. He truly was a gentleman and had a pure heart, he cared so much about Charlie.

"So.. would you.. repeat this another time? I mean only if you also enjoyed it! I of course did enjoy it! I mean you're amazing and-" Standing in front of your room now, you silence him with a soft kiss to the cheek, before looking at him softly fixing his suit. "I would love to Luci, I enjoyed this evening with you alot." Raising your eyes again to meet his, you can't help but let out a giggle at his expression. Eyes blown wide, mouth open and cheeks blazing red. "Great! Yeah! Woah! Me too! Especially the food, poah that was amazing! And the place was really worth it! Was it to your liking? I really hope so because-" Pulling him down by his suit now, your lips softly meeting his, eyes closed, before seperating again as you look at him. "Sorry.. You were rambling so nervously.. Please don't worry, I mean it when I say loved tonight.. Now sleep well Luci." Planting another kiss to his cheek, you enter your room, closing the door behind yourself.

You can help but smile at his little giggles as he skips down the hallway to his own room now. He was something, but you were looking forward to more dates that would follow this one.

[millerscoffee]

Hello!! 🤍 I was wondering if you could write something where Joel is the reader’s college professor, and then Prof. Miller INSISTS that reader comes over to his home for tutoring assistance, (because of failed tests or bad essays), and then finally coaxes her into letting him have his way with her.

hi nonnie! here it is! i hope you enjoy 💖

extra credit

6.2k | joel miller x afab!reader (professor!joel au)

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: professor!joel au, age gap (joel is 46, reader is 21), soft!dom joel, pining, consensual sex, pet names (darlin', doll, baby), oral (f receiving), face riding, fingering, piv (unprotected, wrap it folks), squirting, joel spitting over the reader's ass for 0.5 seconds (OOPS IDK???), a pretty dress with easy access, hints of after care, spoiler: honestly prof. miller could've told reader to just do the paper in a different format but – that's the point 🤭

When you picked your major, English was a necessary credit needed to achieve your goals.  It wasn’t your strong suit, but you weren’t one to quit just because you were bad at it.  So far you were coasting through, getting a mix of good and bad grades in your English Lit class when the last essay before finals was presented.

Among the crowd in Professor Miller’s lecture hall, you typically sat in the front.  He hands out papers, hovering by your desk.  Giving you a look of disapproval, he places the grade face down.  You peel the pages in anticipation, a sense of dread falling over you when you scan the big, red mark of failings.  “Shit,” you say to yourself.  That was it.  That was the grade that was the defining factor of whether or not you had to retake this course.  You use the side of your hand to wipe sneaky tears in falling.  You failed.  Doing your best to keep it together, you’re not sure you even heard the rest of the lecture from the possibilities running through your mind.  What were you to do?  How would you recover?

Class was over before you knew it.  The sounds of bags zipping and feet stepping, you stayed seated until you were able to look over to Professor Miller.  Dressed in black slacks, a brown button-up with leather shoes.  His hair was slick, the slightest bit of salt and pepper patched at his sideburns.  He looked like he had it all figured out, and that struck a nerve.  A feeling of jealousy that he knew what he was doing, and you obviously did not.

Professor Miller calls your name when the class is emptied, and you sniffle, standing up to straighten your skirt.  Your manicured nails pick up your essay as you walk over in an attempt to hand it to him.  “I guess you want this back,” you hold your full bottom lip between your teeth.

“Did you read the material?”  Professor Miller inquires, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  His voice is so dark and honied in comparison to his scowl.  Proving not to judge a book by its cover.  The irony.

“Well, I did, but… I struggle with this stuff.  Predicates and imagery?  I’d rather be learning about biology.  But I need this course, you know.  And I…,” you swallow hard.  God, the last thing you want is to embarrass yourself in front of your teacher.  He doesn’t know you, out of the hundreds of people he teaches – how could he possibly even remember your name?

“Hey,”  Professor Miller takes his glasses off, putting them on the table.  He looks as concerned as you are over it and crosses his arms.  Keeps his distance.  “It happens, you know.  There are things we can do to accommodate.  You’re very bright, I’d hate to see you fail.  You have options.  I can’t let you rewrite the paper, but I could tutor you for your final.  Another option is getting a student tutor, but it’s rare.  You know the workload of this university.  Not a lot of people are willing to sacrifice their precious time.”

“And you are?”  You look up at him with grateful, bright eyes and he loves it.  The praise just from your stare alone is cause for him to clear his throat.

“Listen, for someone like you, I believe it is important to help.  You just need a little more time understanding what you’re doing, is all.  I’m not in my office for the rest of the weekend, though.  You’d have to come by my house…,”  he watches those pretty eyes widen again, and that makes a smirk fall over his greying features, “if that’s okay, of course.  If it’s not, we could work something else out.”

You think about it.  You’ve never had a teacher invite you over, much less someone who looked the way he did.  Though, that was neither here nor there.  His lips formed words you couldn’t even pay attention half the time in hearing.  Maybe that was part of the reason why you were failing in the first place.  But you needed to pass, and if he could help you – and was so kind enough to do it in the first place, you should jump at the first opportunity.

“Okay.  Is there a particular time you’d like me to be there?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

What the fuck. That makes your heart race.  Tonight?  Tonight?!  Ton–

“Tonight… tonight is good.”  How did you even form the words?

“Perfect,” he started, bending down to write his address on a sticky note – his cologne wafts in your direction, and you clamp your legs shut reflexively.  “Here’s my address.  7 o’clock.”

“Seven.  Okay… thank you, Professor Miller.”

“Please, call me Joel.”  His teeth gleamed in a smile, and his personality shined through it.

A personality you didn’t get to see too often from your position behind a desk.

Shit.

---

According to your phone, he didn’t live very far from campus, and you were able to walk to his house without breaking too much of a sweat.  You decided on a black dress, although it was a casual one, that paired nicely with your sneakers.  It had buttons down the front with a relaxed collar.  Your bag slung over your shoulder when you knocked on his door, a nervousness fluttering in your stomach.  It was such a weird thing, meeting your professor in his home.  Much less having him request you call him by his first name.

Your knees all but buckled when you saw him on the other side of the door.

He looks… young in his jeans.  His t-shirt stretched over the broadness of his shoulders, but it’s still loose enough that it doesn’t look ill-fitted.  His stomach, soft at the bottom.  You flash him a smile, but internally you’re reeling over how casual he looks.  You’d never seen him like this, not even during those school meetings that were informal.

“Hey, you,” he’s bright, too.  Charismatic as he invites you into his home.  Takes your bag, lets you take your shoes off until you’re in your socks.  His words hit your stomach, how easy it is for him to talk to you like you’re the brightest sunflower.  What’d you even do to deserve it?

“Hi, Prof– uh, Joel,” you titter, taking in the curated decor of his home.  It was sophisticated, yet a little cheesy at the same time.  His alumni cover his walls and a mix of pictures.  Some with a couple of young girls you assumed were his children.  He has children, you swallow.

“Wasn’t too hard to find this place, right?  When I moved here, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t too far – not much of a mornin’ person,” Joel laughs and you do, too.  Fuck, this feels so easy.  But it’s nothing – it’s nothing.

What you don’t pick up on right away is his open body language.  He places your bag on his couch and you follow him like a puppy – he likes that.  You look so soft under the sienna hue of his lights, your hair falling into place naturally.  Plump and ripe for the taking.  Of course, he meant it when he said he’d tutor you, but the air got thick the moment the door was shut behind the two of you.  What were you doing to him?

Joel’s large frame walks over to his bar cart, turning on his heel to face you, “Interested?”

“Huh?” You blink and he laughs again at your deer caught in the headlights expression.  You’re cute.

“Do you drink?”

“Oh, uh… water would be nice.”

“Water it is,” Joel’s pleasant, gesturing his hand for you to follow him.  And you do – that puppy he was coming to know, right to his kitchen.  You study the marble countertops, the farmhouse style kitchen sink.

“So, tutoring,” he starts, taking a glass from the cupboard, he fills it with filtered water before handing it to you – you thank him with a nod, “I was thinking we could look at your paper, and then go over how to fix things in the future?”  When you take the water from him, your fingers graze.  The first sign of contact, your head continues to nod unthinkingly, but all that scorches your mind is how his skin feels.

“That sounds good,” you overcompensate, shoving the ideas from your mind.  He was your teacher, and it was easy to get back into the mode of why you were here.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change much, still the same grin with hooded eyes and wrinkles at his forehead.  The two lines between his brow.  “Alright, well I have it on the coffee table.  Let’s get settled on the couch, and we’ll get started, okay?”

So you agree.  You take your glass of water and follow him back to the couch where everything was set up – your paper, his laptop.  All of the correction marks in your face as you sit down.  You take another sip of water before placing it down on the coaster.  You dread it, you really do.  Going over your failures?  You scrunch your nose up to yourself, but Joel notices when you’re both settled on the cushions.

“You know, Voltaire said, ‘perfect is the enemy of good’,”  Joel bends his knee on the couch, thigh pressing into the cushion to turn to you and it causes the couch to shift.  The quote makes you giggle a little to yourself, and you shake your head.  “What?” His eyebrow quirks in curiosity.

“Voltaire also popularised the story of Newton’s apple, doesn’t make it true.”

“Huh…,” Joel trailed off, keeping his eye on you – his tongue skating over his bottom lip in thought.  You were so quick all he could really do was laugh, and that made your shoulders relax.  Makes you feel more in control and comfortable to laugh at yourself.  “You got an answer for everything?”

“Not everything.  See this,” you pick up your paper, thumbing over the ink of corrections the man on the couch made and you shrug, “I don’t really understand why this got marked wrong.”  Joel’s gaze flashes over your mouth when your teeth press into the plushness of your bottom lip – he should be given some damn award for having so much self control around you.

“Wrong format.  This citation works for your research papers, right?”  He nods with you before leaning in closer, that damn cologne coming back in full force just like earlier in the day.  You all but freeze when his warm touch graces you again – this time, fingers tracing over where you’re holding the paper.  “Oh,” your voice is soft, a bit of disappointment pangs at your ribs.  You were so busy you didn’t even realise that was the majority of the issues you had.

“So… it’s not really what I wrote, it’s how I wrote it?  You asked if I read the material?”

“Exactly.  If you read the syllabus, you’d see the required format.  Listen, there are some ways for extra credit, I do think this is salvageable.”

You suddenly feel silly.

You did all that work, Professor Miller was kind enough to let you into his home, and it was all for some redundant formatting.  An open palm curls over your chin as you look at the paper in deep contemplation.

“I really fucked up,” you say, hushed in the space.

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” you manage an exhale of amusement at the sound of your teacher curse.  You shift your gaze to look at him.  The curls at the nape of his neck, the way his t-shirt dropped enough so you could see his neck, his chest.  The freckles that splayed over his aged skin.  “You just needed someone to tell you what to do.”

That was the loaded statement.  And a pointed one, it seems.  Someone to tell you what to do.  And Joel wanted to be that person?  Your eyebrows raise for a flash, thumbing over the paper.

“That would be too easy,” you scratch at your neck idly before going for the glass of water, sipping in contemplation. “...I mean, I should’ve known better.”

Joel takes the glass from you, offering himself a sip of your water and it stuns you speechless, doing your best not to convey it.  Maybe he did that just because this was his house.  That must’ve been it.  He was comfortable, but goddamn – the eye contact he gave you when he swallowed the liquid.

It felt intentional.

He watches your features, vague as they were, in what to do next.  He honestly wasn’t so sure what he was doing either.  What?  I know how to give you extra credit, sweetheart.  Too forward, too boastful, too… cheap.  You deserved better than that.  He saw you in class, how hard you were on yourself.  He talked to your other teachers, how well you were doing in your other classes.  He felt for you.  And he was a bit lost in your eyes.  You were all too pretty, too brilliant to be dimmed down to a fuck for extra credit.  Joel could see that.  He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking, you had him distracted.  You threw him off without even trying.  The plight within him grew stronger as he handed back the glass.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Joel straightens up, his hand cups over your forearm in a way that’s understanding, but also makes goosebumps rise.  You look down to see where you connect and he pulls away slightly.  “Sorry, I–,” “No, it’s okay,” you agree, “It’s okay.  You’re right.”

“It’s just, I see hundreds of bright, beautiful young people every year, but none of them have stood out to me like you.”  He can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth.  The candor, the nerve.  A filthy old man, that’s all he was in the eyes of someone as sweet and innocent as you were.  Even if you happened to be experienced – god, what was he thinking?!

Joel clears his throat, shifting a bit in his seat, but he sees the way your lips part, but your eyes don’t show an ounce of shock or distain.  They look soft, and… willing.  You know that is because the pull at your core feels too strong to think of anything else.  You look down at his left hand, making sure you’re not dreaming.  He’s not married?  You’d casually look at his hands from time to time during class and ignored the ache it gave you, but this?  So close?  Backed by the glow of his house?  It was so different from the boys you were used to.  In their dorms or disgusting apartments.  It smelled as nice as it looked.  You realise you’re not speaking, but the way you lean into him says more than you really ever could.

“I don’t know what to say,” shyly, you touch your knuckles to your cheek, “you should teach the guys that go here how to chat with someone.”

It’s a mutter, but not to yourself.  You drink one more mouthful of what you were offered before putting it back on the coaster.  Honestly, any distraction was welcome to defer from the ever-present density in the room.

“Those guys don’t know what they’re talkin’ about anyway.  I know I didn’t at that age.”

There.  The topic right in front of both of your faces.

“How old at you, anyway?”  You inquire, thumb mindlessly circling over your knee.  Joel tracks it, licking over his lips as he answers.  “Forty-six.  You?”

“Twenty-one.”

Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck.

There’s this standstill, as if you’re both in the air together looking at each other in slow motion.  How will this land?  What are you both even doing here like this?

“I’m sure your boyfriend takes good care of you,” Joel’s eyes, round and bright brown, get lost in yours – the way your breath hitches, the shift of your thighs on his sofa.  He wondered what you tasted like, what sounds you make when these boys who don’t know what they’re doing with their tongue attempt to eat you out.  Do you fake it?  Do you give it to them straight?  Neither of you had a drink from that bar cart in the corner of the room, but somehow you’ve become closer – and more intoxicated.

“Don’t have one,” you respond softly, orbs flickering to the set of plush lips that grow more red the longer you let the tension build, “what about you?  N-no partner?”

Your attempt in confidence wavering the longer he stares at you.  It’s like staring back into the sun and you have your brows knit together until the tug of muscle makes your forehead hurt – smoothing them apart with the twitch of muscle fibers.

“No partner,” Joel’s hand settles on your thigh and you can’t hold it back; you gasp.  But you do something he doesn’t anticipate, or well, you don’t do something: you don’t pull away.

How did you two get to the topic, anyhow?

How did you end up straddling his lap, for that matter?

It’s within six eager seconds that his hand, hot and rough, touches your soft skin, and you – green, you – fervent, throw all inhibitions aside and lunge.  It’s more fluid than you realise, and his hands (both now) grip the backs of your bare thighs and you whimper at the sensation of him squeezing you.  Your wetness against your cotton panties grows from the kneading alone.  No, absolutely not, the boys back in the dorms didn’t know how to do this.

It takes an even shorter time for your mouths to meet.  He’s first to kiss, and he tastes like coffee and his dinner, and the faintness of a cigarette – maybe early in the day?  You couldn’t tell, your head was swimming too deep in now to come back from.

And although his calloused fingers roll patterns into your soft skin, he’s just as willing.  Just as desireful and you can feel it beg to be set free at the seam of his jeans.  His tongue skirts against yours, hips rolling up the second yours tempt to roll down; causing you both to moan in each other’s mouths.

It gets feverish after that.  All teeth, tongue, bite.

You don’t want to stop, you don’t want to take a moment to breathe because fuck, that could stop things.  That could make him realise what is happening.

But that only is another item to your list of naivety.

Because Joel, he’s ready.  His masculine arms wrap around your frame to lift you up just enough so he can get out of his fucking jeans that he now regrets wearing.  Shoulda been wearin’ sweats, but it’s effortless… eventually.  He hurriedly pushes the thick fabric down until they hit at his thighs and you’re pushed down onto his boxers that – holy fucking shit – leave nothing to the imagination.  “Joel, J-,” you pant between kisses, fingernails digging into the base of his neck, he pauses.  Pulls away, gets a good look at your face.

“Y’want this?” And goddamn, you can’t see yourself, but you imagine you look just as fucked out as he does.  On the cusp of every little fantasy he’s had about you from the moment you sat down behind that desk.

“I want this,” you repeat.  You weren’t sure exactly when the nerves subsided, maybe because all of the blood is now rushed at the apex of your thighs, but you mean it.

You want this.  You want Professor Miller.

“You got me,” his breath dances over your lips before guiding you back a bit, “here… I’m going to lie back, I want you to– I’ll show you.”  Your lips quirk up at the fact he’s so flushed he can’t even finish his sentence.

But that soon turns to you flushing when you realise his request.  “I – what?”

“No?”  Joel sits up on his elbows, looking over to you and you’re worried you’ve killed the mood.  It’s just, straddling his face?  Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“I’ve never done that… What if it’s bad?”  His eyes, reassuring, but a deep shade of black now beckons you.

“Darlin’, I think you’ll be a natural.  But I can teach you, if that’s what you want.”

You swallow, straddling his knees somewhere at the bottom of the couch and you think about it.

Joel, on the other hand, was living in a fantasy of teaching you things in and out of school.  Showing you how to make yourself feel good on his mouth – make you forget all about the essay that caused you grief today.  He leans over, pushing it under the couch out of view for good measure.

“Okay,” you agree, though nerves still flood you.  “Okay, you wanna take your panties off?”  You lick your lips at that, biting back another whimper that brought you to this predicament in the first place.  And you did – you wanted nothing more than to slip your underwear off and give into your pleasures.  His voice was deep, graveled with the prospect of him fucking you senseless on his couch and who were you to deny him that?

Who were you to deny yourself that, more importantly.

“Yeah,” doing as you say, you slip off your lace-trimmed undies and abandon them somewhere on your Professor’s floor.  “Fuck,” you mutter.  This was naughty.

“Already so good for me,” you weren’t even sure that Joel’s voice could get deeper, or more inviting, but it does.  You bite your lip and oblige when he pats his chest.  Going over to him, you straddle just above his broad shoulders, and he’s almost out of view with him like this – somehow making it easier to just feel what he could do to you.

Joel on the other hand?  All he can do is see the outline of your glistening core from the shadowed tent you’ve made of your dress and his groans are muffled slightly from the fabric, “Fuckin’ Christ,” he wants to devour you, but he takes his time instead.

Peppers kisses along your thighs that make you claw the armrest, causes you shiver at the contact and you can’t believe this is happening.  “J-Joel,” you hesitate, but his hands are wrapped around your hips now, fingers digging into the breadth of your ass.

“Sit.”  Joel commands.

Oh, fuck.

You’re almost certain you’ll break skin at your lips from biting down so hard, but you do as you’re told.  Anchoring down, it’s subtle at first – the brushing of his facial hair against your folds, his chin prying you apart.  Then, it’s incredibly palpable.  His lips are the first thing you feel as they press and kiss over your middle and as you shudder it only makes your muscles sink deeper on him.  You’re the first to moan, and then Joel, and his mouth is open when he invites you inside it.

“Oh, my god,” thighs shaking, Joel flattens his tongue under the hood of your clit, a body part you were certain hadn’t been touched by anyone else but yourself.  There was no time to compare, the white hot pleasure coursed through your veins and he took his time with it, too.  Made sure he was teasing you, his tongue dipping inside your entrance, as sloppy as it felt.  “Hmmn,” you can’t speak, forearms resting on the armrest now as your head hangs between your shoulders and his fingers make pliable work of your asscheeks.  Pushing you down, using your hips to move back and forth against his mouth – like he’s using you while you use him.

The air is thick under your dress, sticky and humid, as Joel swirls this tip of his devilish tongue in the most astonishing circles you’ve ever experienced, and you know it’s because he has more experience than you do.  Has so much to teach you, if you let him.  Your mouth hangs open as you try to inhale, but it’s just too much.  Especially with the way he thumbs into your stomach, then your pubic bone – lifting it just slightly to expose your clit to him.  An angle, not even you have found yourself.

It almost feels like too much.  It’s intentional, the way his tongue flicks over that bundle of nerves right at the top of your cunt.  Delicious, deliberate.  Two fingers greet your entrance and it startles you, the way he’s rubbing your hole with his two fingers in slow circles before pressing them where you want them most.

“Tell me you want it,” you hear, muffled and fucked, and you shiver at the slightest bit of lack of contact.

“I want it, I want your fingers – please!”

And that seems to send him over the edge of how much he’s willing to hold back because he’s exactly where he was.  Mouth on your clit, but fingers skillfully pressing inside of you and you don’t know how long you’ll last.  Not with the pads of his fingers tapping in the perfect tempo against the ridged spot inside you.

That’s when a weird sensation comes over you.  A pressure, you felt like you had to pee and your insides pulled in more trying to keep it all contained.  “I–,” you start, but it happens so suddenly.  Your orgasm rushes through you, convulsing and almost falling over the edge of the couch, you dig your fingernails into the upholstery.  Your eyes roll back, and fuck, so are your hips.  Unable to stop yourself using Joel’s mouth to keep you exactly right there.  Pleasure pricks your skin, it feels like every cell is ignited – but you jump when you feel a rush of fluid come out of you.  The pressure rebounding out, then rippling pleasure back inside you.  Joel fucks you with his tongue and fingers until he feels you calm down.

“W-what, what… did I do?” You pant, and Joel is groaning, too.  He lifts your hips to get lungfuls of oxygen, so dizzy on you and you notice how soaked his pair of fingers feel on your skin.  Sits you down on his chest and you can see his face finally.  Can see his mouth parting, gasping as his eyes are hooded and so gone.  Curls stick to his forehead, his shirt a dampened colour at the collar.  You blush heavily, embarrassed because you aren’t even sure what that was.  Did he hate that, was that weird?

“C’mere,” he growls with gritted teeth and sits up, the tables turning instantly.  Joel’s stripping his shirt off, kicking every last bit of the bottom half he had on to be abandoned on the floor.  His fingers remove the buttons, but he can’t really get them – those fingers too big for the buttons.  “Here,” you whisper, an intense feeling of lust falling over any self-conscious self talk you had.  You undo the top of your dress one button at a time until your breasts are released from your bra – you moan when he has no problem spilling your tits from the satin, nipples in stiff peaks from your orgasm.  And everything else.

“You know what you did?”  Joel asks, taking both of your nipples between his fingers from each hand.  You moan, lifting your hips and he bites his lip when he sees your cunt front under your dress.  “What was it?”  You ask, curiously.  Innocently.

“You squirted f’me, baby,” he slurs, thumbing over your clit now as he gets a good look at you and he’s drunk on you.  His cock throbbing against your thigh, he taps it against your skin before realising what he needed.

 “Fuck,” Joel mutters and you can tell by the tone it’s not just at your appearance.  “What is it?”  You inquire, eyebrows knit.

“Gotta get a condom,” you hear him mutter, getting onto one foot and you stop him.  “No.  No.  I want to feel you.  It’s okay, I don’t get pregnant–” well that sentence isn’t exactly how you mean for it to come out, but your mind is mush, your body feels boneless underneath him, and he chuckles at that.  At how gone your brain is.  Here he was, thinking he was the only one.  “Okay, okay, darlin’.  I believe ya.”

And really, maybe he should be using more discretion.  But he can’t get the feeling of you out of his head.  You were everywhere.  His mouth, his glistening chest and beard.  He takes you by the hips then, sitting back to flip you on your hands and knees with your help and you moan at the sensation.  Joel looks down at you, groaning of your ass in the air, pushing back for his cock.  “Such a needy little thing, now,”  it’s as if someone else is talking.  This isn’t the Professor Miller you know.  This man has layers and you’re first in line to know exactly what that entails.

Joel takes the base of his cock, bobbing it as it throbs alive in his hand and runs through your slick with the head of it.  “So fucking wet.  Beginning to think you’ve been wanting this for as long as I have.”

You bite a whine and he can see the back of your head nodding as you crane your neck back enough to make eye contact, but his eyes fall down to your ass pressing eagerly on his cock.  Doing your best to press him inside yourself.

“Go ahead,” he slaps his cock on your folds and you mewl at the wet sounds coming from it.  “Take my cock.”

And take, you do.  Joel holds it out for you, keeps it steady and you push back slow on his cock.  Clenching around the head and he growls at that.  “You dirty thing.  This how you fuck all your teachers?”  It burns your skin, pushing your face into your arm and you shake your head.

“Words.” He warns.

“Just you!  Just you, Joel!”

“Just me,” he parrots, hissing when you shift back and you both twitch and groan when you take him to the hilt of you.  It was so thick, stretching you out until you felt split apart from him.  “Just me, show me then.  Show me how you fuck me.”

You bite into your arm then, choking on a sob as you push your ass back over and over.  Your cunt taking him deep like this, it almost feels like too much and not enough at once.  Torturously slow against the spongy spot again

 It felt so amazing taking him yourself, but it was like an itch you couldn’t scratch on your own.  The tapping of his balls against your clit was too far apart in tempo, his cock speared inside you at a pace that didn’t have quite the same leverage as Joel did behind you.

His hands busied themselves on your ass, peeling the muscle apart – pressing his digits to leave bruises and just when you think it’s too much to take, he gives you something else.  His spit falling from his lips right to the velvet of your asshole.  You shudder and flutter around him when it falls to where you’re connected.  Your fingertips grip the other armrest now, cheek resting atop of your hand and you can’t do it yourself anymore.  “Fuck me, Joel!  Professor Miller, please!”

“Shit – you know where to push, don’t you?”  Joel’s wide hands slide up your sides, keeping them locked in place as he pulls your hips to him at first.  Using your whole lower body, your head hands doing your best to keep yourself up but you’re so close when he uses you like this.  When he picks up the pace and you let your head fall on his throw pillow – your screams of desire are targeted into the plush cushion.

Joel is bound up in amazement behind you.  How you feel around him, your gorgeous figure in front of him as he gives you every bit of power he can now.  His hips hammering into you, but with the right amount of speed – not too fast, not too slow.  The sound of his balls slapping against your clit is faster now, and the difference is what you focus on.  The way it sounds.  Joel feels you tighten, pulse around his own pulse and he has to say something to you.  Has to talk you through it, even if he’s not sure you’ll like it.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he drapes his body over your back, huffing into your ear as the controlled weight of him pushes your ass down just enough to make your thighs shake.  You are soaked, sticky against his abdomen, between your thighs.  Over your own stomach.  You move your face so you can feel his skin closer against your.  His lips staying on your cheekbone, he grunts and nods.

“That’s it, fuckin’ take it.  I know you can take it.  Those shaky fuckin’ thighs better hold on.”

You feel yourself coil and he is quick to sooth over your hips with his palms.

“Relax, baby.  That’s it, that’s good, darlin’.  Shh, easy.  Do you feel that heat?”

You nod hopelessly, the buildup was so strong you couldn’t do anything but curl your fingers into fists and whimper repeatedly.

“Give into that heat.  Come for me, I know you can be so good for me.  Good for – fuck – fuck.  Good for my cock,” Joel groaning in your ear makes you flutter uncontrollably, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arm around your front, rolling quick circles at the split of your cunt, right at your clit.  “Milkin’ my fuckin’ cock like that, don’t stop.  Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he grits, and you’re gasping.

Clawing at the pillow, head craning up and back as you come.  Mouth gaped, Joel takes advantage – pouring his tongue into it, swirling and drinking you while his cock bottoms into you repeatedly until he can’t take it anymore.  You feel too good.  Perfect, even.

“Joel!” Your whine is high, as your wet folds take his merciless shoves.  “You feel so good, youfeelsogood!”  Your lip quivers, jerking in aftershocks that feel a lot like multiple orgasms.  You aren’t even sure how you feel, but he knows he has to pull out.  So he tells you, rough and pained against your ear.  He doesn’t want to any more than you do.  But as soon as he does, that reward feels just as sweet.

He exhales roughly through his nose, a popping sound filling the room when he pulls out.  Not even needing to touch himself to spill himself over the small of your back.

“Fuck,” he’s out of breath, grunting, and doing his best not to collide into you.  You’re still, the nape of your neck dews with sweat and you can feel it stick to your dress instantly.

“Stay there,” Joel pulls away, and you sit up on your elbows now that you’re fully flat and study his frame walk into the kitchen.

The back of him is just as irresistible as the front.

You hum hungrily at the landscape of his back.  But you do as you say, you don’t move a muscle.  When he comes back, you take note of the splotches of his chest, his neck red and sheened with sweat, too.  He’s just as disheveled.  The paper towel he comes back with is rough against your lower back, but tickles more than anything else.

Makes you wriggle and laugh.

“What did I say?”  He threatens, but his voice is much more smoother and tender.  More playful.  More like what you’re used to.

“Tickles!”

“You must endure it if you know what’s good for you.”  he’s finished enough for you to roll over.  You pull your tits back into your bra with another low laugh, but to yourself at how exposed and a mess you’re sure you look on your professor’s couch.

“I think I like that threat.”

“No more,” and that makes your heart drop.  He must be able to see the disappointed look on your face, so he rephrases his sentence in an instant.  “No more tonight.”

“Maybe I should be teaching you the importance of ambiguity.”

“Next lesson.”

Your heart soars just as fast as it dropped.

---

While you slip on your sneakers, you turn your heel to him – bag in tow.  “Listen, I don’t want this to be why I passed.”

“It’s not – it won’t be,”  Joel chews up the space between you – his hand pressing against the doorframe that your delicate hand adorns at the knob, fully dressed himself, now.  “You will pass by your own volition.  I meant it – you are bright.  You won’t let anybody take that from you, will you?” You knew that wasn’t a question as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but you still swayed your head ‘no’.

“Not even me.”  He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead before dropping his arm – allowing you to leave.  And that’s exactly what he’ll let you believe.

“Especially not you.”  You smile, leaning up to kiss his lips – your flavour lingers over his facial hair and tongue.  Your panties in his pocket.

“Goodnight, Professor Miller.”

“Goodnight, doll.”

taglist: @cool-iguana – comment to be added!

[limethefirst]

Void Runners Pt. 1

pairings: Deadpool x Wolverine x teen!reader

warnings: contains heavy spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine, swearing, blood, the normal deadpooly stuff

summary: Reader has been trapped in the void for a few months now, after getting into trouble with the TVA, when they suddenly stumble upon a Deadpool and a Wolverine.

Part 2 / Part 3

a/n: if this gets popular enough I might write a part two, I'm having Deadpool and Wolverine brainrot, also this is unedited so pls tell me if you see mistakes

It had been 4 months since you had been sent to the Void; the apocalyptic like plain, becoming what you had accepted as your new home.

You were a time traveler, that had accidently messed up some big event and that caused the TVA to come and take care of you. You weren't sure what the big event was, something about some saving some rich guys parents. You thought you were doing a good thing by it but apparently not.

Whatever it was, it didn't matter anymore, you were now stuck here. You'd been alone most of the time, sometimes seeing other people but you had learned quickly into your stay that these others were part of this group formed by Cassandra Nova, an insanely powerful woman who you never dared cross paths with.

Until unfortunately today.

Sadly you stumbled upon the wrong people at the wrong time. As you were walking through the dusty plains, you saw two men falling from the sky, thinking back on your heroic days you felt obligated to help out. That was not the best idea, you tried to go up to the men but instead they started arguing when a fight suddenly broke out between them. By the time the fight had ended you had blood all over your (as clean as they can be in the void) shoes.

"Augh, I just cleaned these too." Is what seemed to snap the men out of whatever had just happened.

"Oh my gosh! How long has the movie been out? Five days, and we are already getting reader inserts? Wow!" The man in the red mask said to no one in particular, "And what might your name be sunshine?"

"Uh Y/N, are you guys okay, you seem to be stabbed in a lot of places?" You answered a bit concerned after seeing two men almost tear each other apart.

"Oh this? Sorry, my partner here has weird kinks-" The strange man is cut off by the other seemingly older man punching him in the jaw. "See what I mean kiddo?"

"Enough Wade." The older man gruffed, his arms crossing as he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"Whatever you say sugar cube!" The man known as Wade looked back at you, "Oh you must be wondering who we are huh! Well this hairy beast of a man is the one and only Wolverine, and I am your friendly neighbor Deadpool!" Wolverine looked at you and sighed at the at his 'partners' antics.

From there things only went downhill, and that is how you were stuck with them being hauled off to Cassandra Nova's lair.

"Awee are we having a flashback already?!" Deadpool's annoying voice rang from in front of you. Currently you were stuck in a ball like cage with, Johnny Storm, Wolverine and Deadpool.

Johnny began to explain to the men where we were all headed, going over the basics of who were about to meet and the type of woman Cassandra was. You looked a bit ahead as you noticed you were already here.

As you guys had come to a stop you saw the others being throw out of the cage, you held up your chained hands to the man before they could throw you as well, "I got it, thanks" jumping out before you got tossed as well.

At the same time you got down you heard Deadpool's odd comment, "Huh, Paul Rudd finally aged." You turned down at the man slightly and gave him a quick look of confusion unsure what he was talking about; his partner seemingly unphased by the comment, most likely used to it.

Looking ahead ignoring the bickering next happening to your right, you saw what seemed to be a bald woman in the mouth of the giant skull. As the dust cleared you could see her get up from the wheelchair she was sitting on, "What was the point of the wheelchair.." You dully commented.

Deadpool adding on, "Oh ableism great, that's not gonna go over well with the Woke mob!"

You looked at your surroundings, no longer caring about the scene unfolding before you, Deadpool began to talk with Cassandra, somehow coming up on the topic of a coke, loving roommate.

After a bit more talking between the two you hear Deadpool slandering Cassandra, and then telling her it was all Johnny who said it. This brought back your attention just in time to see Johnny's skin ripped from his skeleton.

"Not my favorite Chris." Deadpool says, not having much remorse for the scene in front of him.

"You piece of shit you just got him fucking killed." Wolverine adds, pointing at the remains of Johnny.

"Awe I kinda liked him," You mumbled to yourself, as Wolverine looked at you with a look of discouragement on his face, almost as if saying not to get Deadpool started with this.

"Hey we are all grieving," Deadpool yells, "He doesn't know what he was doing to the budget." He mumbled the last part.

Cassandra ignored his words and walked past the group, "Shush, Alioth's hungry."

"There must be some kind of mistake," Deadpool started again, "Big yellow is an anchor being and I'm Marvel Jesus, MJ if you're nasty." Cassandra turned her head a little as you stood next to them listening to their story, not getting the chance to hear it earlier. "This may be hard to hear but there's another British villain, he's gonna destroy my universe and I'm gonna stop him."

"Oh honey you don't really strike me as the world saving type." Cassandra answered him, this seemed to upset the laidback man. You watched as he seemed to straighten himself up hearing that. "Did I hit a nerve?" She turns back, almost sarcastically.

"I didn't want it to come to this," Deadpool says, "Either you help us or my friend here is gonna sing the entire second act of Music Man with no warm up"

You look at him confused, "What the hell is that?"

"Where'd you get the chair?" Wolverine asks Cassandra as she walks back towards the skull.

She quickly answers, "Every once in a while we get a Charles here, never mind though, he didn't care to find me."

Deadpool leans back seemingly annoyed, "Ughh Gen Z and their trauma bragging!" He shoots you a quick glance, "Can't you just stuff it down and turn it into a cancer like the rest of us?"

"But I'm not like the rest of you, except maybe the Wolverine, now we could be truly terrifying together." A light smile graced Cassandra's face as she watches you guys.

You watch their exchange a little more before you notice the purple mist coming up behind you guys slowly getting closer. As you turn back around you see Wolverine getting dragged through the ground and Deadpool backing up.

"I am so not with them." You tell Cassandra hoping that doesn't happen to you.

"Oh yes they are." Deadpool fires back, making sure he isn't next. Unfortunately for him he was, you watched as Cassandra got behind him and put her fingers in his head.

She began to whisper something and within the next minute she let go. Deadpool shook his head and started rambling yet again, "You are so mean! I could taste your fingers! They taste like hate, and where in God's name is the intimacy coordinator?!"

"You're so lost Mr Wilson, long before you came here." Cassandra told him.

He took out his knife and held it up, "This is baby knife, she's gonna fuck you in the face now."

Cassandra looked at the knife at back at him, "If you're going to kill me it's going to take more then a little blade."

"How about six?" Before she could say anything else, Wolverine came up behind her and stabbed her with his claws.

"Holy shit" You said covering your mouth.

Before you could celebrate, Cassandra began laughing and fell from the claws, "This has been fun but the big guy needs to eat and the rent is due." She turned around walking away as a looming shadow of darkness rose above the skeleton you were in.

Before anyone had a chance to say anything people had scattered and Deadpool grabbed you and hoisted you up over his shoulder taking you towards the machine Wolverine was trying to fix for an escape.

You hadn't a second to say anything because the next thing you knew, you were being taken with them hopefully away from the giant monster.

[whimsicalazriel]

fae in a china shop → Azriel x female!reader

summary: in which Azriel’s mate is clumsy

warnings: it gets a little spicy towards the end, just kissing lol. just pure tooth rotting fluff otherwise! a few spoilers

word count: 2k yay

a/n: thank you so much for the support on the first one-shot, it means the world to me 🤍

masterlist

Azriel was sure he’d have a heart attack the first time he met you. The market in Velaris was as usual filled to the brim with fae shopping last minute for winter solstice, and there you were, appearing to argue with a market stall owner, fruits of all kinds on the ground by your feet, some continuing to roll down the icy street.

The bond snapped into place, almost bringin the spymaster to his knees. You were the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. You wore a thick long coat, a few sizes too big, the sleeves falling over your gloved hands. On your head was a hat, homemade or old as loose pieces of yarn stood straight out. He found it endearing.

“Ah,” You groaned, not feeling the heavy gaze of the Illyrian a few meters away, his shadows dancing around him as if they’re containing themselves from reaching out to you. “I’m sorry,” you sounded flustered as you kneeled down to pick them up, a few rolling off your arms and into the crowd.

Azriel was frozen on the spot, his mind reeling. After 500 years he finally found you. He felt his shoulders slump in pure relief.

His shadows hissed at him to go and help his mate, but as much as he tried to move; he couldn’t. He felt foolish.

“My mother almost forbade me from going to the market today–gods knows I’m clumsy.” You joked awkwardly as you stood with an armful of fruits. “Do-how-do I just,” you gestured towards the box of fruits. “Drop them in there?”

The stall owner nodded, dumbfounded as he stared at you. You awkwardly bent over and opened your arms, letting them fall into the box. Azriel wasn’t sure if he was worried or amused as he watched you fumble.

A sigh of relief left your lips as you backed away. “Best get going before I accidentally start a fire.” You joked, choosing to ignore the horrified expression of the stall owner.

Azriel’s feet finally decided to work as he took careful steps towards you, his shadows hissing out warnings as you backed away into the crowd, not being mindful of the stray fruits and patches of ice.

Azriel quickly found himself behind you, grabbing ahold of your shoulder when your feet left the ground with a small shriek. “Careful.” He breathed out, his chest aflamed as his hands held you against him.

You turned around, a small sheepish smile on your lips. Azriel wanted to die. You were absolutely perfect.

“Gods, thank you! It would be quite embarrassing if I fell and cracked my head open.” You snorted.

Azriel winced at the image conjured in his head, “You’re welcome.” He smiled, his wings tucked in tight as he simply looked at you. He never knew how strongly felt the bond would be. He felt like an asshole for keeping Elain away from Lucien. And suddenly he found himself admiring the emissary, who kept a straight head on his shoulder despite it all.

He watched as your eyes widened, your lips pursing. “Oh.” Dread began to build up in his chest, the voices of his dead brothers coming back to haunt and taunt him.

“I-“ you began before clearing your throat. “This has never happened before,” you said softly before snorting, a big smile growing on your lips. “Obviously.”

Azriel found himself breathing out with a smile. “Would you like some company?” He softly asked, his shadows slithering towards you, not yet touching you.

You nodded quickly, holding back your excitement. He was definitely the most beautiful male you’ve ever seen, and he was your mate.

He held out his scarred hand, a small twinge of insecurity in his stomach which quickly was stomped down as you grabbed his hand without a second thought.

.･:*:･ﾟ’✫,’✫’ﾟ･:*:･˙ .･:*:･ﾟ’✫,’✫’ﾟ･:*:･˙

Azriel had proudly introduced you to the inner circle, ignoring Cassian’s grin and wriggling eyebrows. You were nervous, hands shaking as you all dined in the river house. You had already spilled the glass of expensive tasting wine, much to everyone’s amusement. Azriel held your hand under the table for the rest of the night, his thumb caressing your skin.

You were a nervous wreck when you stepped into the home of the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court. But Rhysand and Feyre welcomed you with open arms.

“So, finally we get to meet the spymaster's mate.” Cassian spoke, Nesta sitting quietly beside him, observing you, a small smile on her lips every time you dropped something. She found you endearing to watch.

Whilst Azriel was quiet, walking in shadows to stay hidden, you tumbled around like a fawn, loud yet shy. She couldn’t get enough. She decided that night that you would leave the house being her friend.

And she was right.

Nesta, to everyone's surprise, had seemingly taken you under her wing, introducing you to her books, books you were ashamed to read but couldn’t put down. She found herself adoring your quiet yet clumsy presence, weird sense of clothing style and quickly introduced you to Gwyn and Emerie.

You had yet to formally accept the bond, both agreeing to getting to know each other the traditional way; dates and picnics by the Sidra.

Azriel knew he had fallen for you when he came to your apartment for the first time. He waited as he heard you running towards the door. “Coming!” Your voice was faint but his heart reacted the same way it always does. A thud shook the door before you opened it with a flustered smile.

“Hi!” You greeted him. Azriel could feel himself staring to laugh. “Are you okay?” He asked, gesturing to the red old door. “Oh-yeah, I tripped on the carpet.” You laughed and quickly invited him into your cluttered home.

He couldn’t imagine a place that would represent you better than your home. Mismatched furniture and carpets layered on top of each other. It was the most cozy apartment he’d seen. It smelled faintly of vanilla and there were candles on every surface.

A roll of tangled yarn laid on the floor. You saw him looking at it, and felt yourself getting more flustered. “I picked it up as a hobby a few months ago, and then it got tangled so I gave up. I did make a hat though.” You smiled proudly. If he wasn’t in love with you before, he definitely was now.

He found himself thinking back to when he first saw you. The hat that caught his attention.

You grabbed his hand and dragged him to the kitchen. “Come sit, my parents are on the way.”

Azriel’s eyes widened. “What?” He sat down on the rickety chair, adjusting his wings to get comfortable.

“Yeah.” You nodded, rushing around the kitchen to prepare something easy to eat. “It’s only fair since I met your family.” Azriel’s eyes widened further as he watched you prepare the food. ‘Is she accepting the bond?’ He thought to himself.

“Um, darling…” He began softly, standing up to walk up behind you. His hands found themselves on your hips, squeezing softly as he rested his chin on your shoulder, breathing you in.

You hummed in acknowledgment, trying to regulate your breathing. “You’re preparing me food.” He murmured. You nodded in agreement, slightly confused.

Azriel’s sigh blew hot air over your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “It’s what one does when accepting the bond.” He explained, his lips touching your skin with each word spoken.

You froze before asking tentatively, “Is it okay if I am?” Your hands shook. “I just-I really want my parents to meet you before accepting the bond.”

A groan left Azriel’s lips and he tugged you towards him. “Fuck, I love you.” He admitted with a soft laugh. You turned around in his arms to face him, your hands grabbing ahold of his neck to meet his lips with yours, but a knock halted the both of you.

Azriel’s forehead rested on yours, his hair tickling your skin. “It’s them,” you breathed out, before detaching yourself from the Shadowsinger to open the door.

Azriel couldn’t believe his eyes when your parents stepped in. He now knew where your sense of style came from. Your mother wore a green overall with a mustard yellow sweater tied around her waist. Your father also wore an overall, though it was definitely more sun bleached. On his head was an old ratty hat, hiding his unruly hair.

Azriel would never dream of ever saying someone’s parents looked interesting, but yours did.

He took notice that you and your father shared the same smile, but your eyes were definitely your mothers. Warm and loving.

A shriek left your mother as she sprung towards Azriel, her arms wide open to embrace him. He stood awkwardly, not knowing if he should hug her back. He wasn’t used to any platonic affection that came from outside the inner circle. He wasn’t sure how to feel.

“Mother,“ you groaned, “we talked about this. Personal space-“

“Personal space,” your mother finished the sentence with a huff and a glint in her eyes. “Yes, of course, but he’s so handsome!”

Your father laughed, a deep from the belly one as he looked at Azriel. “If he wasn’t so big I would've fought him for that.” He joked, before walking up to slap Azriel’s shoulder with wince. “He’s very strong.” He said approvingly.

.･:*:･ﾟ’✫,’✫’ﾟ･:*:･˙ .･:*:･ﾟ’✫,’✫’ﾟ･:*:･˙

Your parents ended up staying for three hours, though neither of you minded. Azriel quickly warmed up to them, though a bitter taste of jealousy coated his tongue when he found himself comparing his childhood to yours.

Your father was a local fisherman whilst your mother was a bartender on certain weekends. It was all fascinating for the spymaster, who’s lived anything but an ordinary life. It was nice to imagine himself with you that way. No war, no cauldron or High Lords, just you and him.

He noticed that you and your father shared the same clumsiness as the older man knocked the kettle over after tripping over the yarn.

Your mother laughed softly with the look of raw love in her eyes. “It’s never an ordinary day with those two around.” She gestured towards you and your father as you fussed over your broken kettle.

Azriel found himself laughing along.

The moment the door closed you quickly forced Azriel to take a seat at the table once more. You sat beside him with a nervous look in your eyes.

His eyes never left yours as you fed him piece after piece of the homemade bread. You felt whole after he finished the last piece.

“I love you, Azriel, so much that it hurts.” He could only stand up and lift you on the table, ignoring the clatter of porcelain. He grabbed your neck and pressed his lips to yours. The bond stretching between the two of you, lighting up like a beacon.

His shadows caressed your skin, their cool touch leaving you gasping for air. He laughed into the kiss and tugged you closer so that he was snug between your legs. The kiss felt never ending as though time was simply a suggestion. “The bed,” you gasped between kisses.

Azriel nodded before he paused, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Where is your bed?”

You stole a few more kisses, “left door by the kitchen,”

Azriel hummed into your lips, his tongue dancing with yours as he picked you up, your thighs around his waist as he navigated through your apartment whilst kissing you like his life depended on it; which to him, it did.

He laid you softly down on the plush bed, and he took note of the three different duvets with a chuckle.

He sighed in pleasure as your lips found themselves on his neck, kissing, sucking and biting on his warm tan skin. The taste of him was like nothing you’ve ever experienced and you were willing to never stop kissing him.

Azriel grabbed ahold of your chin, his lips meeting yours in desperation.

“I will never let you go.” He murmured against your lips, his hazel eyes shining silver.

“I will never let you go either.”

Nesta could beat me up and I would thank her for it.

[imaginesbymonika]

Not a violent dog | Part 3

Pairing: Logan x fem!Reader

Plot: Back in Wade's world Logan meets someone he thought he would never ever see again.

Warnings: slight spoilers for Deadpool 3!!!! mentions of death, angst, cursing, fluff at the end if you squeeze your eyes at the screen, I haven't written in A WHILE so bear with me

A/N: accidentally posted the final part before this 😔 guys im sorry

Previous Part | Masterlist

„Y/N…“, Logan whispers and his hand moves up, almost as if he wanted to reach you. However, the door quickly shuts, leaving Wade and him alone in the small apartment. Logan lowers his hand before he moves over to the couch. You looked the same as the day he had lost you. The only distinction was in the way you looked at him.

„Well, that could’ve ended worse.“, Wade lets out and stares at the closed door for a few seconds before joining the taller man on the sofa. Who only growls at him in response. „She could’ve jumped you. And not in the hot way.“, Wade crossed his legs as he leaned back, he eyed how the muscles in Logan’s back became more tight. „Anything would have been better than seeing her walk away, Wade.“, Logan unexpectedly says, voice sad.

Outside while you wander down the streets you run into Vanessa, who quickly stops you by taking hold of your arm: „What-?“ But you don’t have to say a single word for her to know precisely what happened. Apparently, you were the last one to find out about the other Logan. “ Oh, sweetheart.“

Wade watches how Logan stands up to grab his jacket:“ Where are you going, big boy?“ „On a walk.“, he responds shortly through gritted teeth:“ And will you stop calling me that.“ With one swift motion he unlocks the front door but stops dead in his tracks when he catches sight of Vanessa, Logan takes a step to the side to let her into the apartment before walking out without looking back.

„Vanessa, sweetheart-.“, however before Wade can pull his girl into his arms her flat hand collides with his cheek. „How could you do that?!“, the brunette woman wanted to sound angry, because she truly was. But her voice came out shaky and pitiful:“ Why would you do that to her? You know what she’s been through with Logan. Don’t you think that maybe…just maybe you could’ve talked to her in private instead of confronting her with him like that?!“ Wade stares at her while his hand strokes the stinging spot on his cheek before he lets out a sigh.

„I just wanted to help.“, he suddenly whispers and his shoulders drop. Vanessa only shakes her head in disappointment:“ You should’ve thought about it first- hell, you could’ve asked me for advice. But this-?“ She scoffs and strolls into the kitchen area to turn on the coffee machine. Wade watches her for a few seconds before he tilts his head in surprise: “How do you know about that anyway?“

„Ran into her.“, she takes a mug out of the cupboard and scrunches her nose when she notices the dirty spots on the inside:“ She‘s a mess.“

She wasn’t wrong about it. After years of keeping this act up, playing someone you weren’t: someone who didn’t care- you had surpassed your breaking point. You never spoke about Logan, yes. But not because you didn’t want to you just…couldn’t physically bring yourself to it. The memories of what happened were way too unbearable that swallowing your feelings appeared easier and less messy. You didn’t want people to think you were vulnerable.

You take a deep breath while sitting down on a bench in Central Park, and you lean back. It’s a peaceful evening and only the faint sound of laughter from a group of teenagers sitting on a blanket cut through the night. God, how you missed Xavier’s school. But you knew that you had to go. Everything reminded you of him.

„Can I sit?“, someone asks from behind and you clench your jaw. „Please, don’t run.“, his voice was everything you didn’t envision him to be, and while you are once again standing on your feet you ultimately sit back down on the bench.

„Yeah, okay.“

[sundrop-writes]

Precious Time Alone

Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader

aka the fic where Gar has a knot

Summary:

Even with the ability to see the future, you never would have guessed that your life would lead you to falling in love with the perfect man - someone sweet, caring, funny, cute. Someone with the passion and fire to protect the ones that he loves no matter what. A precious guy with green hair who had the ability to transform into a tiger at will. And when you finally made love to him for the first time, you never could have guessed how that unique ability affected his sex life.

You weren't exactly complaining, but you wished you had seen this coming. At the end of the day, it was just another thing about him to love.

Or - Neither you nor Gar knew that he has the ability to knot, and you both find out for the first time when you have sex together.

Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut/PWP. Set during Season 2, Episode 9.

Word Count: 11,800

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, to make my masterlist for this fandom more complete, and to help new people discover my old fics.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Important Note: for reference, this is not an A/B/O fic - I have nothing against A/B/O fics and I love them very much (it's one of my favourite genres, and I really need to write more A/B/O fics and post them) - the reader character is 100% human and does not have any traits that fall into the A/B/O category. This fic is based off the concept that Gar has a knot due to his animal traits/animal DNA, and it is something that happens to his body because of his ability to transform into an animal. This could be considered a hybrid fic, but Gar's knot is the only animal trait he possesses during sex. If this is your thing, I hope you enjoy. If not, come back later, and I might have something more your style. Or you can check out my masterlist in the meantime.

Warnings: the reader character has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; this is an established relationship - Gar and the reader have been dating for a while now; mentions of canon events from S1 and S2 (so there is some spoilers from the show - if you haven't seen the show yet and you want to watch it unspoiled, be warned); mentions of canon level violence, including Gar being tortured at the asylum; this is set during 2x09 when Gar is 'home alone' (and the reader is there with him); the reader character suffers from insomnia; the reader character does have powers but they don't really have major involvement in the plot of this fic (idk if I should have even labelled this as 'powered!reader') - the reader character has psychic visions; mentions of clothes sharing - the reader is implied to be bigger/plus sized because Gar wears her clothing and it's 'oversized'; the reader is attracted to Gar's more 'animal' side - she admits to being attracted to him because he protected her with his powers; this fic does use Y/N (I am a proud Y/N truther); Gar and the reader have engaged in sexual acts before (handjobs, fingering, oral) but this fic features their first time having penis in vagina sex; Gar's knot is a surprise to both of them due to it being their first time having penetrative sex (his dick only swells up once it gets inside of her body); though this is both of their 'first times' with each other, I didn't put any big emphasis on virginity in this fic, especially because they have done other sexual acts before; this could be considered Crack Treated Seriously - but like I said, my brain just took the concept and ran with it; there is something in this fic that could be considered consensual somnophilia - the reader character starts performing oral sex on Gar in order to wake him up, but she's not specifically turned on by the fact that he's sleeping, and there is an unspoken consent due to them being in a relationship; this whole thing fluctuates from making love/passionate sex to rough, animalistic sex; slight praise kink - Gar verbally praises the reader and compliments her a lot; there isn't really defined roles here, but Gar is more dominant and the reader is more submissive; as mentioned before - penis in vagina sex; unprotected sex - they don't use a condom (the lore of knots and condoms bothers me anyway, like how would a condom not break under those circumstances??); possessive!Gar; biting kink/marking kink (Gar bites the reader - a lot); Gar cums inside the reader - a lot, because of his supernatural dick (though this doesn't quite make it to cum inflation levels); Gar knots the reader (if you don't know what that is, just stay away); creampie kink - NOT breeding kink; there is mentions of pregnancy in a discussion after the sex is over, but not in the breeding kink sense (Gar and the reader both want kids and there is no mentions of alternate forms of birth control, so if that gives you the ick then don't read this one); slight warning for VERY BRIEF painful sex/pain after sex - Gar tries to pull out not knowing what the knot is and accidentally hurts the reader's vagina because of it (the pain only lasts for a few seconds, and he stops trying to pull out once he is unsuccessful); scent kink - Gar loves the way you smell after being fucked by him; (I was not planning on adding a bonus scene when editing this fic, but it's Gar and I got carried away) more consensual somnophilia toward the end - Gar fingers the reader a bit while she is sleeping, and then he masturbates on top of her and cums over her thighs before cleaning her up (again, this is operating off the pre-existing consent in a relationship, or you can imagine that they had a consent conversation about this before the fic, idc); the ending of this fic is just pure fluff.

A/N: This is one that I wrote in 2022 and I had kind of forgotten about it? But I was going through my older fics on AO3 and I was like 'omg I love that fic, I forgot how much I love that fic'. And because I am trying to post some easy stuff before my move (which will be exhausting and it will mean that I will post pretty much nothing for a few months) - I realized that this fic was an easy re-post because it didn't need a lot of work before being re-posted. So - here ya go! If you haven't read this fic before and you don't know what a knot is (in terms of fanfiction/smut): run away. Run away now. I don't need to be the one to corrupt you lmao. But yeah - this fic was inspired by someone on Tumblr (I wish I could remember who it was and link the post) posing the theory that if Gar is 'part animal', then he might have a knot. And my brain felt the need to exorcise that idea once it entered my mind and literally possessed me, and thus, this fic was created. I think it is one of my better Gar fics - with a very straightforward concept. And if this is your thing, I hope you enjoy it!

...

It was entirely strange to wake up to the Tower actually being quiet. 

Well, quiet aside from the sound of Gar’s snores rumbling beside your head. But there was a lot less noise than usual. 

There was no distant beeping of the coffee machine where Dick had it pre-set to go off at an ungodly hour. No grunting of Jason training because he couldn’t sleep. No rumbling bass tones of Rachel’s music where she played it aloud, thinking no one else could hear. 

No arguing voices. 

Strangely, that was something you missed most of all. You had come to love the chaos of so many people living in your new home. And you had secretly hoped that Dawn, Hank, and Donna would stick around for a while, even if they insisted that they were just going to take care of the Dr. Light problem and leave once again. With them cooking meals and hogging the TV, it had started to feel like a real family. 

You had definitely not expected all of the Titans to barrel out faster than cockroaches fled from light when Dick told them of his past transgressions. But boy - they fucking ran. And naturally, when Gar volunteered to stay at the Tower with Conner in order to hold down the fort, you stayed with him. 

What else would a good girlfriend do? 

You had stuck by him through everything else, so of course you would stick by him through this. 

And even though you missed everyone dearly, and you worried about the long-term impact that Dick’s confession would have, you did see the appeal of The Tower now being completely empty. You would be lying if you said that it didn’t bring some salacious thoughts to your mind. 

Maybe it was that morning silence, truly reminding you of the lack of occupants in the house - or the burning hum between your thighs that had you awake at this hour in the first place. But you couldn’t sleep, and now your mind was brimming with better, hornier things that you could be doing with your time. (Things that you likely already would have started if Gar had been awake along with you.) 

You were sometimes jealous of his ability to sleep so well. Typically, sleep was an area that you did very poorly in. 

Usually, having Gar’s intense warmth curled up next to you did help. And you thanked that perfect human furnace for what little sleep you had gotten the night before. Especially after all the anxiety and the fighting, and the unexpected charge of everyone leaving so suddenly. 

You lifted your head from Gar’s rumbling chest as he snored and snorted away and you looked at the clock on his nightstand - 4:15am. You sighed deeply to yourself and decided to get out of bed. You knew from your experience with insomnia that it was no use trying to fall back asleep again. 

You untangled yourself from Gar’s grasp, careful not to wake him - and then you grabbed a piece of clothing off the floor to shield yourself from the morning chill. 

It was an oversized hoodie that you and Gar often shared. It had originally started off as yours, but now your things had migrated into Gar’s room and it seemed like your lives were easily blending into one. He found himself wearing one of your socks mix-matched with his own, and he often slept under a fuzzy throw blanket you had brought when you moved into The Tower. You used his body wash in the shower, and had some of his nerdy pins on your backpack. 

It always just felt right. 

The hoodie smelled delightfully like your boyfriend - and you couldn’t help but to press the fabric to your nose with a small contented sigh while you walked down the hallway to check on Conner. 

The young man was still deeply unconscious - not making a single movement or a flicker of acknowledgment toward you when you walked into the room. His vitals were stable, with his puppy asleep on his knees. The dog looked at you with curious eyes as you checked on the machines and even used a stethoscope to listen to Conner’s heart just to make sure that he was doing alright. Krypto made no moves to get off the bed, entirely protective of his half-human companion. You shut off the light and partially closed the door as you left (leaving enough room for Krypto to get out if he wanted to). 

Then, without much else to do, and feeling a slight grumble in your stomach, you went to the kitchen. You ate a bowl of cereal as you scrolled your phone, listened to music, and checked for messages from any of the other Titans. There were none. 

After you had eaten, you were still bored and the sun wasn’t even up yet - so you decided to take a shower. 

As the hot water poured over your body, you couldn’t help but think of Gar. 

The two of you had been together since your psychic powers led you to Scooter’s Roller Palace. 

Before that, you had lived a somewhat normal life, even with your visions. You had the very typical ‘loving family, suburban home, thriving at school’ type of life. 

You had been trying to achieve your goals while completely ignoring your visions. 

Visions that you had previously denied had even been able to predict the future - until a horrifying dream of your parents’ double murder came true. You were unaware at the time that the same doomsday cult that was attempting to track down Rachel was also looking for you. A group that had been watching your abilities carefully and wanted to use you to track Rachel and to perceive better outcomes for ‘their work’. 

So with the realization that you could see the future, you knew that you had to act. Especially with visions of the dark, crumbling end of the world plaguing you. You let your powers guide you to that roller rink in search of a purple haired girl who could save everyone and a green haired boy who could transform into a tiger. And since then, you hadn’t let him go. 

It was only when you had been captured at the asylum that you and Gar became truly close. The day that he had first come to your rescue. 

The ‘scientists’ there hadn’t been unable to taunt or shock him into his transformation like they had been planning to. But the moment he had heard your screams of torture and torment from down the hall, he had transformed into the tiger and ripped the cage’s door off its steel welded hinges with his teeth just to get to you. 

When he witnessed them torturing you in an attempt to demand predictions of the future out of you - Gar had snapped. And then, a bizarre vision that you’d had years ago came to life before your very eyes. A vision of a giant green tiger ripping apart a group of men in white lab coats, making them bloody in order to save you. 

He later told you, as you were traveling on the train, that he had never harmed another person before that. He had never used his powers to harm someone before that. But he also told you that he absolutely didn’t regret it. He had told you that if it meant that he got to save you, then he would do it a thousand times over. And that was something that warmed your heart and drew you to him like a moth to flame. 

If you had a schoolgirl crush on him before that, then in those moments, it grew into a heated, womanly lust. You started falling in love with him on that day. 

That animalistic strength, that passion, that courage was what had drawn you to Gar immediately. He claimed it was ‘hero syndrome’ - the thing that made you pull him close and kiss him on the train. The thing that made you call him your boyfriend. He claimed it was only because he was the one that saved you, and if it had been someone else, then you wouldn’t have ended up with him at all. 

But no - nobody else had the primal drive that he did. Nobody else had the same protective instincts that he had. Nobody else looked as good with blood dripping from their teeth. 

It was a dangerous thought to have. But it was one that got your clit throbbing every single time. 

Of course, you loved Gar for all of his soft parts. You loved him for his dorky smile, his smooth laugh, his shy gaze. He was a soft place to land when you were hurt, upset - when you needed comfort the most. But you also loved him for his sharpened edges - his undeniable passion, the way he wouldn’t hesitate to harm an enemy when it came to protecting the ones he loved. The way he bit down on your lip whenever you gripped his cock just the right way. 

You sighed hard through your nose as the water went cold around you. Had you really been in the shower for that long?

Disappointingly, you and Gar had never actually had sex before. 

You had done plenty of sexual things - but it always felt rushed, and it never quite scratched that itch in the way you needed it to. 

The fact that the two of you were pretty much never alone together meant you never had the time to indulge in each other, to properly touch each other the way that you really wanted to. Everything you did together was always quick and haste. Grabbing and groping each other through clothes, shoving your hands into each other’s pants, panting breaths down each other’s throats, desperate to cum as quickly and quietly as possible. 

You wanted nothing more than to feel every single inch of his naked skin against yours. You wanted to be able to spend hours worshiping his body, getting your tongue onto every perfect muscle you had seen when he trained shirtless. You spent far too long fantasizing about him laying you down in the middle of his bed and pounding into you, roughly and savagely - showing off that animal side you loved so much. 

As you wrapped a towel around yourself and wiped the steam off the mirror, you realized something absolutely wicked. The house was empty. This was the perfect opportunity to get exactly what you wanted - what you needed from Gar. 

You dried off your body, abandoning the fresh clothes you had brought into the bathroom with you and simply walking down the hallway naked. It was a strange feeling, to say the least. You were aware of the fact that there were cameras in literally every common area of the Tower (as Gar had pointed out to Rose a few days prior) but you took for granted that nobody would have to review this footage for any reason. 

You slipped into Gar’s room, where he was still fast asleep - splayed out on his back, his jaw wide open as he puffed out air and snorted loud snores. 

He was adorable, almost innocently so. He was so peaceful when he slept. He was wearing a tee shirt with a cartoon of Link from The Legend of Zelda on it - something you only knew about because he had explained it to you in great detail. His green hair was messy in a beautiful way that suited him, his limbs sticking out from the covers at odd angles. Even though you did have some idea of the not-so-innocent things he thought about you on a regular basis, you did feel slightly guilty for disrupting his sleep with your lustful corrupting force. 

(Just not guilty enough to stop what you were about to do.) 

With the morning sun rising at your back, just slightly orange through the curtains, you pulled up the covers and crawled in on top of Gar. Instantly, you were warmed by the natural heat radiating off his body. Apparently something about his ‘condition’ - that thing that made him half-animal, also made him incredibly warm. At any given time, his skin was near-burning, almost like a fever to the touch. It made him so pleasant to sleep beside, so nice to hug and cuddle up against. It was just one of the many, many things that made him the perfect boyfriend. 

With that heat gathered under his blanket like a sauna, it almost made you want to lay down on top of him and fall asleep again. But the prominent hum between your thighs was a bit more persistent - and you knew that there would be plenty of time to fall asleep with Gar later. His clothes did slightly irritate your sensitive, bare skin - you knew that you wouldn’t have to tolerate the feeling for long. 

Gar liked being naked more than you did. So he certainly wouldn’t mind you undressing him. You knew the only reason he even bothered to sleep with clothes on was because of the general pretense of others being around. 

You pressed yourself on top of Gar, not worried about your weight disturbing him - not after the many times he had told you how much he enjoyed the feeling of being cuddled with you laying fully on top of him. You pulled the covers up over your body as the chill of the room bit at your still somewhat damp skin, and you leaned in to kiss across Gar’s neck. He moaned quietly in his sleep and began to stir. 

You smiled to yourself, loving the feeling of his muscles so relaxed underneath you. It was something that had been too rare as of late - with all the intense training sessions, and the stress of Rose being brought into your home, Jason being kidnapped, and then Conner being shot. For the past few weeks, whenever you had hugged Gar or cuddled against him in bed, he had been nothing but a tense ball of stress. 

You certainly understood that stress. He was worried for his friends and wondering what would happen next. Even though you had the ability to see the future, you couldn’t simply predict what would happen on a dime. You had helped to secure Jason’s safety, but you had been nervous that the others wouldn’t be able to get to him in time. Even though everything had worked out in the end (debatable, seeing the emotional scars Jason had come away with), the stress had taken a toll on you and Gar. 

Life as a Titan was stressful. And you knew that you and Gar were both well deserving of a break. Even though Gar marked this as a tense fracturing of the group, something else to stress about, you knew that everyone simply needed a break. 

And you knew exactly what kind of relaxation Gar deserved now that you had the time on your hands. It was something you hadn’t been able to give him since a late night in the bathroom many weeks ago, when he had to muffle his moans into a hand towel for fear of being caught. You laid a few more gentle kisses against the skin of his neck, and then began to descend downward. 

You wiggled yourself completely under the blanket, loving the warm cave that it created around you - a pleasant fog of Gar’s body heat that easily made your cheeks scorch. It raised your body temperature more already, and made your cunt clench in anticipation. 

Of course, you were going to focus on him first. You pushed his shirt up his stomach, gathering the fabric lazily around his midsection, not really making an effort to take it off. You appreciated the skin that was revealed to you, especially seeing as every single part of him was beautiful. 

You had seen him naked before.

Gar was a smart person - but he wasn’t always clever. So he had unintentionally shown off his ‘goodies’ on more than one occasion when transforming into that mighty tiger that you loved so much. He didn’t always rush to cover himself if he thought that nobody was looking. It was a strange juxtaposition - the fact that you had made him cum before, but you had only seen him completely naked when he used his powers publicly. 

During the times when you had been intimate, you had both been forced to keep most of your clothes on - your trysts entirely secretive, shoving your hands down each other’s pants or dropping to your knees and taking his cock out, keeping everything haste and ready to easily redress in case someone came upon you. 

Now, you were more than ready to make love to him. You were fed him with never having enough time - never having enough of him. You so badly wanted to have your naked body pressed against him completely; to have him naked in bed for hours where there would be absolutely no disruptions. Your pussy throbbed with excitement at the very thought. 

(Perhaps Dick coming clean of his transgressions and pissing off all the Titans had been the best thing that had ever happened to you. Not that you would ever admit that out loud.) 

You kissed along the now exposed skin of Gar’s stomach, loving the little moans he let out as you did so. Clearly, he was still floating somewhere in sleep, his sounds still dull and adorably sleepy. Perhaps on his way to waking up as your wet mouth worked a trail down to the edge of his sweatpants. 

His stomach muscles flexed under your touch as your tongue darted out and traced the light trail of hair leading down from his belly button and dipping into his pants - definitely one of your favorite things about him. You laid a few more light kisses near his hip, causing more cute little jolts, before you lovingly eyed the outline you saw forming inside his pants. Even though the fabric, his cock looked perfect. 

You knew that Gar pretty much never wore underwear. 

It was something he had given up on because it was just another article of clothing to rip off, previously impeding his transformations. And then he simply never wore them in his off-time because once he had stopped, he found them too uncomfortable to wear casually. It was a dirty little secret of yours - but you absolutely loved his commando lifestyle. 

It always made the outline of his dick so obvious through his clothes (even when it was soft). You had never admitted that you ogled him on a regular basis. Especially when he trained - his movements when sparing causing his cock to bob around and move in a devilishly delicious way. 

Maybe you were a bit of a pervert. At least, that’s what some people might call the way your mind worked. But you couldn’t really help it. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that you had found the most gorgeous man ever and he had a sex drive that seemed just as potent as yours. (Though - as previously mentioned - you had been horrendously impeded by a barrage of housemates and multiple crises interrupting your alone time. Until now.) 

You were quick to undo the tie on his sweats, and from there, all it took was a firm tug to get his pants down. The fabric became slightly trapped between the plushness of his ass and the bed - thankfully he was still limp and pliant with sleep, and you didn’t have to put too much effort into getting the clothing down. You took the edge of his pants down to just past his hips, letting his cock free. 

This gave you a perfect view of his long, thick cock - freshly awakened from its slumber and easily half-way to hardness. It was as remarkable as always - pretty pink cockhead (just like the sweet pink of his lips), pale and seven inches long - about nine inches long when he was fully hard. Tugging the fabric of his pants down a bit more, you gently pet your fingers over his round, full balls - one of your favorite parts of him, even if you felt shy admitting it aloud. 

You also loved his so beautifully Gar, bright green pubes. The first time you had seen that his green hair was so entirely all natural (well, natural since the injection of Dr. Caulder’s serum) - you had been shocked and absolutely amused. 

You loved every inch of him, and you definitely loved how this was a solid reminder of exactly who your boyfriend was, even when you were making steady eye contact with his dick. 

You placed your hands on the tops of his thighs and leaned in, taking the head of his semi-hard cock into your mouth. You couldn’t help but to be pleased with yourself, knowing that this was how he was going to wake up. His skin was delightfully smooth under your tongue and he tasted slightly of a musk that was so uniquely Gar. 

You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, thumbing down over his balls as you bobbed your head down - with your tongue loose and your mouth wide open, you gave a few good, greedy slurps on his cock, simply enjoying the feeling of him hot and thickening up in your mouth as he became harder. You couldn’t help but to moan around him, and he let out a startled snort, and then a deep groan. 

You felt movement above you as his tired arms grappled with the covers - he was definitely awake now. 

His dick throbbed under your tongue as he swelled to full hardness - and you held back laughter as he momentarily pushed on your head through the covers. Clearly, still not quite awake enough to know what was going on - just enjoying the feeling of a warm mouth on his cock. You squeezed your grip tighter around the base and prodded your tongue into the slit, gentle and exploring, lapping up the first bit of precum that he leaked out. 

He let out a perfect shuddering gasp. 

“Wha-? Hmm? Y/N?” He mumbled out, confused in that tired, dumbly adorable way. 

A moment later, the covers were ripped off your head, ruining that lovely cave of warmth you had going, causing a rush of cool air to prick at your skin. With your lips wrapped around his cock, bobbing down over the first few inches of the mighty, thick beast while gently pumping at the rest with a casual grip, you looked up at Gar through your eyelashes. You attempted to look sweet, knowing how sinful you looked with your lips stretched around the girth of his cock. 

You suppressed a moan of your own when you taste more salty precum and his jaw dropped open with a broken moan. 

“G-good morn-ning.” He said, voice tight and raspy, partially from the haze of sleepiness and partially from the lust coating his throat. 

He propped himself up on one elbow and stared down the length of his body at you. He moved to wipe the sleep from his eyes, clearly stunned and awed to be woken up this way. His gaze was hazy with that half-awake look and his chest moved in thick beats as he began to struggle for breath, partially holding back his moans in a practiced way due to your living situation. 

You simply continued your actions, widening your lips to suck more of him down. You bobbed your head slowly as you took the first half of his impressive length like a popsicle, swirling your tongue around it and using your hand on the base. Gar’s chest became tight with trapped sounds, and his hip muscles seized tight as the urge to fuck your mouth overtook his body - but he held back with intense self-discipline. 

“You - oh - you-you’re naked.” He quickly observed, struggling to speak through the pleasure of your tongue on his cock. 

His eyes scanned over your naked body with intense hunger, and he rushed to move the blanket back more, wanting to reveal your bare ass and thighs. When he managed to do this, you quickly felt the coolness of the room against your bare pussy and realized just how wet you were. 

Gar’s eyes went wide in an almost cartoonish way as he drank you in. 

He had only been able to get glances at your naked body before - when you were coming out of the shower and flashed him in an attempt to rile him up, or during your trysts when he had been able to pull off pieces of your clothing, but not everything all at once. Now, seeing you entirely bared to him, in the warm light of the early morning, something that made your skin glow - it caused his heart to speed up inside his chest, and made his dick throb. It was something you felt under your tongue that brought you another thrill. 

You popped off his perfect cock with a wet sound, much to Gar’s disappointment, so that your mouth would be free to speak. 

“I had a shower.” You told him, giving him a little smirk. “I didn’t feel like bothering with clothes afterwards.” 

You leaned back in and licked a broad stripe across Gar’s dick as you waited for his reply, causing a sharp breath to shake his chest before he could speak. 

“But what if someone-?” He glanced toward his bedroom door, thinking of the other Titans. Thinking about the possibility of being disrupted yet again. 

Perhaps he had forgotten of the debacle that happened the day previous. You were quick to remind him. 

“No one else is home. Remember?” You said, your breath fanning out over his cock before you gave a few kitten licks to the leaking, pretty pink cockhead. 

Gar shuddered with delight, gripping the sheets with tight fists. He hadn’t really forgotten, but he had been hoping that someone else would have come home by now. That they all would have gotten over the argument and just wanted to be Titans again. But he couldn’t find himself too upset about those hopes being dashed with your hand pumping his cock and your tongue swirling around him like that. 

“Fuck.” Gar breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, desperate to compose himself. “What about - what about Conner?” 

“He’s still asleep.” You told Gar. “That lady - his Mom, guess? She said that he would be out for at least a few days.” 

You paused for a moment, and then, you gently confirmed:

“It’s just the two of us. We’re all alone.”  

You stopped your actions, simply holding his dick in your hand and looking up at him with a small grin, giving the words a moment to sink in. Gar stared down at you, letting it truly work through his brain.

The two of you were alone. You were naked. You were naked in his bed. You were holding his hard cock and you both wanted it to happen - very badly. 

There was nothing stopping the two of you. 

“This is so awesome!” Gar’s voice was pure enthusiasm as he grinned widely at you, his hands quickly moving to rip off his shirt. 

You sat back on your heels, giving Gar room to fully shed his clothing, knowing that he was likely just as excited to be fully naked and uninterrupted as you were. He was slightly clumsy in kicking off his pants - something that made you giggle as he got caught up in the fabric. After a moment of struggle, you reached out and helped him untangle the pant legs from around his ankles and toss the unwanted item to the floor. You were now both fully free and absolutely ready for each other. 

“C’mere,” You let out a joyous laugh, quick to pounce on Gar. 

The second that you were close enough, you got your mouth on his, engaging in hot, open-mouthed kisses while he wrapped his arms around you. He was quick to roll you onto your back, leaving you lying slightly awkwardly, diagonally on the bed with your ankles tangled in the sheets. Not that you cared about any of that for a moment - not with his whole body shadowing over yours, bringing more of that amazing warmth to cover you. 

Then, for the first time, you felt that ultimately satisfying press of pure skin on skin. The feeling made you both moan loudly into the other’s mouth as he leaned all of his weight onto you and pressed your bodies almost completely together, from knees to chests. You felt every single inch of him: his warm, muscled thighs pressing against your own, his hard cock up against your pelvis, creating a deep hunger that caused your pussy to throb hard between your legs, his smooth stomach and chiseled chest pressing against you - the beating of his heart racing in tandem with your own. It was topped off by the breath-taking sight of his big, brown eyes staring into yours as he looked down at you with utter adoration. 

It was so utterly perfect.

He leaned in for another long, hot kiss, and you moaned heavily into his mouth.  After a moment, he pulled away from the kiss with a nip on your bottom lip - something that made you whimper from the back of your throat. A hard, hot pain throbbed between your thighs as your pussy cried out for him, desperately needing him inside of you. 

You had waited far too long for this. His fingers had always felt good, but you knew that his cock would feel so much better. 

“So fucking perfect.” Gar told you, his voice taking on a deep, lustful rumble that had you clenching around nothing, yearning for the fullness of his cock inside of you. “You are a goddess, I swear.” 

As he said this, his eyes raked over your naked body with an intense heat that had you squirming. 

His voice caused even more heat across your skin - an intense tingling raking over you like goosebumps. You felt his words with the genuine intense passion that he intended them with, all the affection that boiled inside of him breaching out and spilling over you. It was something that made you feel more beautiful than any expensive dress or makeup ever could have. 

“You’re perfect too, Gar.” You echoed back, feeling lame and uncreative with the compliment, but absolutely believing it to be true. Every inch of him was something to love. Inside and out. 

Gar drowned any further words - perhaps afraid he would get too emotional - by shoving his tongue past your lips. He ran his hands up and down the sides of your body while yours settled on his gorgeous, plump ass. Your legs naturally fell open for him, your knees coming up to sit on either side of his thighs. 

You let out a moan as his tongue mingled with yours, his hips grinding into you, moving his cock against your mound and partially bumping against your swollen clit. It was a beautiful sharp shock that made you gasp and pull him closer into you. You wrapped your ankles around the backs of his knees, setting yourself in the perfect position to take his cock. 

You were dripping and needy, and you weren’t prepared to wait much longer. 

“Gar, please,” You moaned, pulling away from the kiss to puff the words out against his now wet lips. 

You angled your hips up in a way that directly dragged the wet folds of your pussy along his hardness, beginning to hump yourself against him, showing him the true depth of your desperation. This caused him to groan and buck into you. He echoed the movements right back, humping his cock along your pussy, rubbing across your clit again and sending sharp jolts through your whole body. 

This made you even needier. 

“Gar!” You gasped out in response. “Please!” 

Your voice was a lilting whine that you barely even recognized. Of course, only he could do that to you. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled back. 

His brow furrowed as he stared down between your bodies, clearly captivated by the sight of your pussy drooling wetness all over his cock. He was now very purposefully jutting his hips to slick that glossy wetness across his dick, to feel the essence of you covering him for the first time. 

“You want me to just-? You-? Are you ready?” He choked on his own words, his mind hazy with lust. 

“Yes.” You were becoming absolutely short on patience, your tone demanding. “Just get inside me. Please.” 

Gar simply grunted in affirmation, reaching down to use a hand on his dick to guide himself inside of you. You hitched a leg up over his hip, opening yourself up more to give him better access. It was only a single moment of staring at his concentrated face - something that was entirely arousing in the situation - before you felt it. 

The thick head of his cock breaching your slicked, needy hole. Your body was so prepared to take him, having taken his fingers (and your own thinking about this very moment) so many times before - you practically sucked him in. He let out a breathy, desperate sound as he let go of his cock and gently rolled his hips into yours, sinking home for the first time. 

It was something that made you dizzy. You were so fucking full. 

You knew how large his cock was - you had seen it, felt it in your hand - but having him fully inside of you for the first time - it knocked the air out of your lungs in the best possible way. The press of his pelvis fully against you, the slight coarseness of his pubic hairs up against your most sensitive skin, his heavy balls brushing your ass - all of it sent jolts across your skin and had your mind so beautifully blank. 

All you could do was grip onto him tightly, and let out a breathy moan of his name. 

“Gar.” 

“Y/N.” He moaned back, his voice absolutely thick with pleasure, lost in a deep haze as the feeling of your pussy clenching him for the first time. You were so perfect - so tight and hot around him, leaking wetness around the base of his dick. The feeling easily sent hot waves rolling over his body. “Fuck, so perfect.” 

He was absolutely smothered - the feeling of you gripping his cock like a vice driving him insane in the best way. His thighs quivered and he struggled for breath as he resisted the urge to pound into you - resisted the urge to selfishly chase his own pleasure inside the irresistible, velvety feeling of you. 

He didn’t want to hurt you. 

The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt you. 

There were the tiniest echoes of logic still chanting in his brain, screaming at him that he absolutely couldn’t risk hurting you. That he had to use self control. 

Even as he looked down at your gorgeous naked body, your tits heaving with your breaths, the slight gleam of sweat across your skin, your kiss-bitten lips, the gloss of lust that had come over your eyes. You were a sexy goddess; you were so perfect, and you made his cock ache, and he wanted to pound into you until you were screaming, and filled with his cum and dripping white around his cock. 

But he could never hurt you. 

“Move, please.” You begged. “Need you, Gar. Please make me cum.” 

With that perfect plea, how could he resist you? 

Any semblance of Gar’s scared self control flew out the window. 

And you became all too thankful for that. 

In seconds, it went from a feeling of perfect fullness to a blur of flesh, his hips pulling back and slamming into yours. His animalistic instincts kicked in, and absolutely took over. That thing in the back of his head chanting at him, telling him to fuck his cock into the perfect hot body beneath him without stopping. 

Don’t ever stop. 

That thing told him that he needed your pussy to live now - and he couldn’t find a lie anywhere in that feeling. 

He let out a growl that shook your chest - a sound that turned you on far more than you expected it to - causing you to let out a whimper in response. He gripped at your inner thigh, holding you open as he dug his knees into the mattress and pounded into you with impressive might. The thickness of his mighty cock splitting you opened caused sharp pleasure-pain shocks from your pussy that quickly stole your breath. You didn’t think that you would enjoy the slightly venomous bite of the pain so much, but mixing with the pleasure, it made you even more beautifully delirious. 

You knew that you would likely have difficulty walking after this, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

The pure force of Gar’s hips easily shook the whole bed. 

You were mildly aware of the headboard hitting the wall behind you - a sound that seemed so distant in your sex-hazy mind. It was easily drowned out by the wet, sloppy sounds of your pussy drowning his cock; the wicked slaps of flesh to flesh, and the whiny whimpers you let out. Followed by his near feral groans and deep growls that were absolutely programming a response into you that would likely get you untimely turned on the next time he transformed into the tiger. 

(But that was something you would have to mentally unpack later.) 

It was all so perfect. 

The hot, shocking tingles flowing from your pussy in waves, the perfect pain of his pelvis bruising you every time he slammed into you, splitting you open with his cock. But you needed one more thing. You reached a hand down, needing some form of touch on your throbbing clit. 

When your hand found its destination, Gar was quick to smack it away - something that surprised you. He had never been so rough with you during a sexual encounter before. You absolutely didn’t hate it, though. This new side of Gar sent dizzying waves through you. You fucking loved it. 

“No.” He said, his voice edging on a growl. 

He went so far as to grab your wrist and pin your hand down to the bed - and you let out another loud moan at the feeling. 

Before you could question him, he went on to answer the silent query - why didn’t he want you touching yourself? 

“Mine.” He grunted, his voice almost unrecognizable, coated hazy with lust. 

He moved his touch away from pinning your wrist down, and in a second, he had a thick thumb on your needy, swollen clit in place of your own touch. 

He was possessive - claiming your pussy entirely as his own. The action sent your spine into a sharp curve against the bed as you felt even more waves of white-hot pleasure shooting through you from the touch. He made quick, demanding circles against your clit in time with his hard thrusts, leaning down to dig his teeth into your neck as you desperately gripped at his upper arms for something to hold onto. 

“Mine.” He grunted again, the word solid and demanding against your neck. 

“Mine.” The second time, it became lost, a slur against his teeth as he bit down into your skin again. 

“Gar!” You gasped out. 

You already felt your orgasm coming to fruition, tight and hot in your belly. His touch was so perfect against you - he was so perfect. 

“All yours.” You murmured back, your throat tight and almost too weak to form words. You hoped he even heard and understood what you were saying. “Yours.” 

He sunk his teeth harder into your neck, a sharpness that stung in a delightful way, and then pulled back to lav his tongue over the blooming bite mark. 

“Mine.” He growled into your neck once more - a powerful, possessive statement that made you quiver. 

He pressed his thumb harder into your clit as he felt your pussy fluttering around his cock, as he felt your thighs jumping from pleasure, heard your needy whines. He knew you were tumbling over the edge. He gave a few good, hard slams of his hips - almost as if he was attempting to break your pelvic bone - but it was a roughness that had you gasping with delight, chugging air past your moans. It was a wonderful, harsh fullness that sent a perfect ache through your pussy. Gar played your body as well as played his favorite video games. 

He had you cumming around his cock with a strangled sound, digging your nails into his biceps so hard that you likely drew blood. 

“Fuck, Gar! Oh, oh!” 

It was a dizzying orgasm. Blood pumped through your ears, your whole body tingled - your pussy clenched down on his cock hard, as if determined to keep him inside of you. You felt like you were floating - the only feeling you had left being the hard throbbing where you were connected to him and the dryness of your mouth. Your tongue turned to sandpaper from being exposed to the open air by your slack-jawed moaning.  

You were beyond words. You couldn’t even get out the single syllable of his name, left gargling your own spit and gasping for breath as he fucked you through it and groaned into your neck at the wonderfully wet feeling of you cumming around him. 

He slowed his hips after a moment, still hard and throbbing inside of you, and moved his head up to lay gentle kisses across your hot cheeks and jaw as he finally moved his touch away from your almost numb clit.

“So perfect,” He murmured into your skin, clearly delirious with pleasure himself, his eyes closed as he leaned into your skin. “So beautiful. So good, Y/N. So good. I love you so much, baby. So much.” 

“I love you.” You breathed back. 

You were barely capable of speech, but you knew that you had to return it. Especially after something that spectacular. As you came down from your orgasm, you found yourself still hungry for him at the feeling of his thickness perfectly motionless and full inside of you. 

“Wanna make you cum,” You told him, your voice raspy and rough. 

He laid a gentle kiss on your mouth before he took a breath, gathering his words to make a request. He pressed his forehead gently into yours as he spoke. 

“Can you -?” He paused, attempting to think of the right words or gathering his breath to say it. “Can you turn around?” 

You were slightly confused by this. Fuck-drunk from your orgasm, feeling numb and positively unsure how to move - you had no clue what he meant. 

Gar saw this on your face and drew more words from his mind. 

“I wanna - I wanna see your pretty ass.” He spoke out, hot breath fanning across your cheeks. “Wanna grab it. Wanna fuck you from behind.” 

Those words sent a hazy wave of pleasure through you, and caused you to unconsciously squeeze around his cock - which drew a whiny groan from him. 

“Yeah.” You told him. “Yeah, okay.” 

Gar hesitantly pulled out of you, drawing a small gasp of disappointment at the empty feeling. This left you absolutely gaping from the absence of his large cock. But it was only for a moment as you situated yourself and got comfortable with a pillow under your chest and one under your hips at Gar’s insistence. 

Though that pillow did little to support you, seeing as a moment later, he was using his animal strength to man-handle your hips into the air. He positioned you with your knees bent and your ass high up, your chest and face pressed into his orange tiger striped pillow case. 

He didn’t hesitate this time before plunging his cock back inside of you - something that had you absolutely alight with pleasure, showing the animal inside of him shining through. Especially as he let out another sharp growl and didn’t waste any time before he began drilling himself into your tight, wet warmth. 

“Fuckin’ love you.” Gar grunted out, his words quiet compared to the loud slapping of his hips against your ass as he fucked his cock deep inside your wanting pussy. “Love how you feel on my cock.”

His filthy words had you clenching around him, moaning out so whiny that you barely recognized your own voice. You were so pliant to Gar, so needy for him. But you loved it, because you loved him. You couldn’t help but to love everything about him. You felt like you belonged with his cock inside of you. 

“Love you too.” You gasped back, barely able to summon words at all with the powerful fury of his hips fucking into you. 

Gar groaned out, his head tilting up to the ceiling in a moan as he grabbed a handful of your ass. Just as he had promised, he took a possessive hold on the flesh, tight enough that it would likely leave marks behind. He pistoned his hips into you with a mighty fury, fluctuating between staring at the space where his cock disappeared into your dripping, wanting pussy, soaking his cock with your wetness, and closing his eyes for fear of cumming too soon at the delicious sight. 

You gripped the pillow underneath you, desperate to hold onto something. Your face was half-shoved into the fabric with some drool leaking from your open mouth onto the pillow case as you struggled for breath and involuntarily let out an increasingly loud string of moans and whorish cries for Gar. His cock was so perfect inside of you - a perfect, hot length filling you up. 

Your pussy was dancing somewhere between pain and pleasure, well used by him and tingling with shocks every time he fucked back into you with the sharp movements of his hips. So you almost thought you were mistaken when you felt that thing. That extra bit of thickness prodding to fight its way inside of you. 

“Gonna cum.” He grunted, his voice garbled down to a broken mess of consonances by now. At this point, one word syllables was all he was working with. 

He was already so big, it seemed impossible that there was more of him. But you definitely felt it. That extra bit of something at the base, that extra girth of his already impossibly long cock that he was shoving inside of you with each pass. More and more of him with each time he fucked his hips forward. 

It felt so fucking impossible. 

“Gar!” 

Your voice was a whiny, high-pitched howl that you couldn’t even recognize, a plea for him to slow down, or give it to you - you weren’t entirely sure. Your pussy ached with a hot fire that you had never felt before and you wanted more. You really couldn’t imagine him stopping at this point. If this was going to break you - then so be it. 

“Take it.” 

He growled, shoving his hips so close to yours, spreading your pussy open with the impossible thickness of his cock, and that even thicker thing blooming at the base. It felt like it was going to split you in half, but it felt too fucking good to stop. 

“Take it, fucking take it-” 

His words dissolved off into a shuddering moan as he gripped your ass even tighter, pulling you back into his pelvis, shoving his cock impossibly deep inside of you as your pussy somehow accepted his gigantic size. 

His words had you faint and hazy, the sound of his voice like that making you more drunk than any booze ever could have. You knew that those words - his voice in that ravenous tone, it would echo inside of your mind forever. It would be something that you thought about every single time that you touched yourself from now on. 

He leaned down to drape his body over yours - creating a wonderful slick of sweat and damp skin on skin that warmed you in the coolness of the room as he pressed right up against you. 

He mouthed at the back of your neck and across your shoulders, leaving more sharp lines with his teeth, determined to mark you. Your pussy was almost numb with the pleasure, absolutely throbbing around him, but the feeling of him swelling even more inside of you was unmistakable. Somehow, his already large and impressive cock was growing larger. 

In your babbling haze of pleasure, you couldn’t find your voice to relay this strange feeling to Gar. So you were only able to lay there and clutch at the pillow as he dug his fingers into your hips - hard and possessive, as he shoved his cock even deeper inside of you and began spilling his cum inside of you in hot, thick waves. 

“Y/N, fuck - love you,” 

Somehow, his cock continued to expand inside of you. It was an entirely strange feeling, but not an unpleasant one. It was something your body began to take pleasure in. Something that had you letting out a strangled moan as he bit at the back of your neck and groaned into your skin, gently humping his hips into you as he rode out his orgasm. 

He was so swollen and thick inside of you that it felt as though your pussy might burst, the outer ring of your muscles almost stinging with pain, stretched to the limit where the base of his cock was lodged inside of you. He was slick with your wetness, but not a single drop of his cum had leaked out from where you were locked together - you could definitely feel that. 

Gar moved to pull back, seemingly unaware of the strangeness going on down below. When he did so, a sharp pain rocked you as he pulled at your most sensitive, stretched-out muscles. 

You loudly winced in pain and he immediately stopped his movements. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, breath puffing out over your neck, his voice returning to its usual brightness as he was shaken from his pleasure haze by his worry for you. 

“Just stay still.” You instructed. 

Your legs were shaky, your muscles weak from the intensity of the sex. You were still high up on your knees where Gar had put you, tiredly trying to support your own body weight. Struggling with that task as your thighs quivered, so fucked out from his excellent job fucking you. You unconsciously squeezed yourself around him and he let out a groan - clearly still sensitive. 

He tried again to pull himself out, not yet understanding the situation, and you let out a sharp hiss of pain as the thickness of his cock tried to breach through you without success. He was stuck inside you. 

The realization flashed through your mind. Oddly enough, you knew exactly what was happening. One too many late nights plagued by nightmares (that had turned out to be glimpses of the future) had caused you to end up reading some… interesting fiction to fill your late night hours. So you knew what this was. At least, a fictional approximation of it. That’s what you get for dating a guy with animal DNA in his system, you guessed. 

“Gar.” You said, a warning in your voice. “Just. Stay. Still.” You gritted your teeth, praying he would listen this time. 

“What? What’s wrong?” He said, his voice quickly escalating with panic and worry. 

He raised his head up from your neck, moving to look down toward the space where you were joined, looking to inspect the problem. This was a movement that jostled things, and caused another a small jolt of pain. 

“Gar!” You gasped, voice warning him to stop once again. “Just - just lower us down so I can lay on the pillows, okay? Be gentle. Please.” 

“Why? I can just pull out, right? Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to, I swear, Y/N-” Gar began a rambling panic, and you knew the news you had to tell him wouldn’t calm him down at all. 

“You’re stuck inside me.” You told him. 

“Stuck?!” Gar shrieked with shock, his voice sharp right next to your ear in a way that made you flinch. “Wh-what do you mean? Did I do it wrong? Fuck - I must be the only guy who messes up having sex, I am such a fa-!” 

“It’s not your fault, Gar.” You said, quickly cutting him off. Your legs shook more, and you yearned to rest against the bed. “Just lower me down to the bed, please.” 

He began to do so, easing your joint bodies down toward the bed, letting your legs untangle and stretch out - the soreness from how roughly he had fucked you was already setting in. 

“What the hell is happening, then? How did I get stuck? I’ve literally never heard of this happening to anyone ever.” Gar said, clearly exasperated. 

He settled in, laying against you. As he put his weight against your back, his cock sank somehow even deeper inside of you. This sent latent shocks through your overly sensitive, worn-out pussy, causing you to let out a quiet whimper. 

“Sorry.” Gar mumbled as he heard the quiet sound. 

You really didn’t need him to apologize. It had been the best sex of your life. 

“Just - just pass me my phone.” You said. 

The only way you could think to properly explain it to him would be to look up some diagrams and perhaps show him your AO3 history. It was strange to see, and feel some of those wild fictional concepts coming to life right between your legs, but hey - at least you weren’t as unknowing and freaked out as him. 

Gar glanced at both night stands flanking the bed and then sighed. 

“I don’t see it.” He told you. 

Right. You had left it in the kitchen before you went to shower. 

“Then… pass me your phone.” You said. 

He would end up with some very weird shit in his search history, but this was quite literally, his problem. Technically - it was both of your problem, considering it was currently between your legs. And he was your boyfriend, and you definitely weren’t going to break up with him over this. Especially with your reading history, you found it to be more of a turn-on than you were willing to admit. 

Gar reached out to the night table on the other end of the bed, something that caused more jostling and another sharp gasp of pain from you. He mumbled a chorus of ‘sorry, sorry, sorry’ as he grabbed the phone and then returned. He blanketed his body over yours once more, relaxing into his position on top of you as he passed the phone to you. 

It took you about an hour to fully explain the concept to Gar. There were a few diagrams available - ones that had been drawn by writers in the genre. But most of the explaining was done by your hand movements, showing him how it was possible to get ‘stuck’ because he had moved smoothly and pleasurably and first, and then essentially - based on biological instincts, and no purposeful intent of his own: he had knotted you. 

“So you know this from a story?” Gar asked, trying to confirm the source of the information. 

“A few stories.” You told him. 

You didn’t want to divulge just how many stories of the genre you had read and fantasized about before. You were glad that your face was half-buried in the pillow, and Gar couldn’t see the expression of partial guilt on your face as you tried in vain to hide your kinkier side from him. 

“So how do you know it’s true?” He asked. 

“Because you’re literally stuck inside me right now.” You said, voice dancing with a laugh. “And in fiction, it’s usually something that happens with characters who are half-human, half-animal. I think we know which part of you is doing this.” 

Gar sighed, leaning down to rest his head between your shoulders. Clearly he was frustrated at the lack of predictability. He was frustrated that this was just another aspect of his life that couldn’t be normal. 

“Fiction is the only good reference we have to go off.” You said. “Rachel can bring people back from the dead, Kory can literally shoot fire out of her hands, and you can turn into a giant tiger. I think we passed reality a long time ago.” 

“So… when does it stop?” Gar asked. “As much as I enjoy being this close to you, I don’t wanna hurt you.” He rubbed his hand lovingly along your bare side, a genuineness in his voice that made you absolutely thick with love. 

“In the stories I’ve read…” You were also hesitant to share this answer. “Anywhere from a few minutes to… several hours.” 

“Hours?!” Gar let out another indignant shriek, and your muscles tensed. “We’re gonna be stuck like this for hours? Wh-what if it doesn’t go down at all? What if we have to call 9-1-1 and get my dick surgically removed?” 

“It’s gonna be fine, Gar.” You told him, trying to be the soothing calm to his unnecessary panic. “It’s your body’s natural instinct. Your body knows what to do. Just relax. It’ll probably help.” 

“My body’s natural instinct?” Gar echoed back the words. “So what… the animal inside me wants to get you pregnant?” 

Your face burned at the words, and you wondered if Gar felt your pussy flutter around him. 

That did appear to be the truth. A large part of you had wondered why this had never happened to him before. His cock had reacted differently when it had just been your mouth or your hand, or when you had made him cum in his pants dry humping against each other. It was like some animal instinct inside him took over when his body felt your pussy around him - like that thing inside of him really was determined to get you pregnant. 

It was a thought that made your stomach roll with heat. The part of you that loved being Gar’s, the part of you that loved him and everything about him so dearly. Of course you wanted a family with him. Of course you wondered what your little green haired babies would look like. 

“That seems to be the case.” You said, slightly breathless in your reply. 

Gar wrapped his arms around you, tucking his strong grip between your stomach and the mattress to hold you tightly. 

“Would you wanna keep it?” He asked, voice quiet. It was something he did when he was afraid to know the answer. “If you did… end up pregnant?” 

He was leaving the choice entirely in your hands. As though he had no say in the two of you starting a family. But he was good like that - he knew that it was your body you would be sacrificing for those months, he knew it would be asking a lot from you. 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” You told him. “I’d wanna have your baby.” 

Gar moaned quietly at this realization. 

… 

You chatted about other things for a while - what you were gonna make for dinner, hopes of the other Titans to make-up and come home, wondering when Conner was going to wake up, wondering what Krypto would eat because you didn’t have any dog food in the house (wondering if you should go out and buy some dog food). Eventually, you dozed into sleep and Gar fell asleep on top of you. 

… 

Gar woke up before you did. 

His cock had slipped out of you while he had slept, and he felt an insane sense of relief to look down and see his usual soft member hanging out between his thighs, no longer stuck inside of you. 

Then - he became very distracted by something else. 

The sight of your pussy - fucked raw, slightly gaping, with white cum flowing out of you. So much cum. 

Gar bit his lip, suppressing a groan - he wanted to be quiet. It would be rude to wake you. 

His eyes flickered over to your sleeping face, wanting to check - and yes, you were in the middle of a deep, peaceful sleep. You had been worn out from the intense, rough fucking. You deserved to get all the sleep that your body needed now. 

Gar’s eyes went back to your pussy, and entirely against his will, his cock stirred to life between his thighs. He was still covered in the mixture of your wetness and his own cum, and god - the smell. He knew that his sense of smell was infinitely more sensitive due to that animal part of him, and fuck - this had to be his new favourite smell. 

The tang of your natural wetness mixed with his own cum. The undeniable scent of him just pouring out of you. The fact that he could smell how well he had claimed you. 

Gar itched to touch you more, and gripped a fist tightly, resisting the urge. 

It would be rude to wake you. 

But maybe - he didn’t have to. 

While sitting back on his heels, he inched his touch forward, and oh-so-gently eased two fingers into your pussy. He just needed to feel you - he needed to feel what he had done. Your pussy easily gave way to his touch, and more of his cum came gushing out around his fingers - he was met with another pungent burst of that perfect smell, and his cock ached between his thighs. 

He couldn’t help himself. 

He gently scooped through the mess, careful not to be too rough with your sensitive, fucked-out pussy as he gathered the mixture of your cum and his on his fingers - and then he brought this hand toward his hard cock, spreading the mess across himself. He choked down a loud moan, wanting to stay quiet for you. 

He wrapped a tight fist around himself, and began jerking off earnestly - he needed to cum. He needed to capture this moment in his mind forever. 

His eyes couldn’t race fast enough to take all of you in - your beautiful, peaceful sleeping face, the soft muscles of your back, the way your breasts were pressed against his pillows, showing off the gentlest peak of the side, round fat. The thickness of your spread thighs, slightly marked by his dull nails scratching you earlier, the perfect plumpness of your ass, and your perfect pussy leaking his cum - the ultimate mark of his claim on you. 

All of it had Gar fucking his own hips into his fist fast, biting down on his lip hard to conceal growls deep within his chest. 

Within a minute, he was overwhelmed - by your beauty, by the perfect smell, but the idea that he had you, perfect you, and he would get to have you forever - and all too soon, he was cumming again. Not nearly as much this time - a meager few stripes that leaked across his fist and sprayed out across your thighs and his own. 

Perfect. 

He felt much better now. 

He knew that it would be polite to clean you up, so that you wouldn’t have to wake up to the mess. The first thing he spotted was his own shirt that he had shed off in a haste earlier, and he wiped you down with that (and let out a growl when even more cum came spilling out of you the more he wiped) - before he went to the bathroom in order to get a warm cloth. 

Once you were as cleaned up as he could get you (he was partially impressed and partially embarrassed by just how much cum he had fucked into you) - he found a pair of your panties and slipped them onto you, leaving a small kiss on your ass through the fabric before he covered you up with a blanket. He could have spent all day in bed with you, but you had requested pasta for dinner. And he was nothing if not a servant of your every need. 

… 

You had dreams of a green haired little boy with your skin tone, and you wondered if it was purely fantasy, or your powers trying to tell you something. 

… 

You woke up feeling unpleasantly empty. 

You knew in a moment that Gar’s knot had gone down and he had successfully pulled out of you. It left your pussy sore, but not unpleasantly so. He had also managed to dress you while you were sleeping. Well, he had put a pair of panties on you. 

Your body must have really been exhausted from the sex for you to sleep so deeply, but it was something you were grateful for, considering how many nights you had laid awake sleepless due to your nightmare-like visions and the worry they caused you. 

With your upper half bare, you still felt a slight chill - you got up and grabbed an oversized, cotton band tee shirt that Gar often liked to steal from you and shoved it on. As you moved, you noticed that the modest cotton underwear he had put on you were slightly damp against your pussy. You didn’t think much about it. 

You continued on, shoving your feet into a pair of slippers you had left in Gar’s room to shield you against the coldness of the floors. You heard music coming from the kitchen and followed the sound, smiling widely when you saw Gar stirring a pot and swaying his hips, dancing to a Cardi B song. He was dressed in an oversized green hoodie that made him look delightfully cozy and a pair of sweatpants. The moment he saw you, he put down the spoon he was using and turned to pause the music. 

“You’re awake.” He gave you a small, lop-sided grin. “I tried to clean you up as best I could, but there was a lot… a lot of… cum.” 

His hesitance to say the words was entirely adorable - especially considering how filthy his mouth had been just hours before. His persona outside of sexual encounters shifted entirely, and it was one of those things you loved so much about him.

That would explain why your panties were damp. 

He cleared his throat, quickly shifting the tone of the conversation when you didn’t respond. 

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier, I kn-” He began to apologize, and you were quick to cut him off. 

“Don’t be sorry.” You said. 

Gar’s brows curled with confusion and you stepped closer to him, leaning your body against him, reaching up to smooth your hands over his arms and across his shoulders. You pressed your forehead into his and his hands took a natural place on your waist. His expression softened as he realized that you weren’t mad at him or upset with him in any way. 

“Don’t even think about apologizing, Gar.” You told him firmly. “You don’t have to apologize for what happened earlier, because I loved it. It was fucking amazing. That was the most amazing sex ever.” 

Of course, you had to start by assuring him of this fact. His skills were well pronounced and he had to know that he had made you feel a multitude of pleasure that you had never felt before. Something that you knew you wouldn’t be able to get with anyone else but him. 

“The ending… I know it was… weird. Neither of us really saw it coming. Which is strange, considering my powers.” You said, chuckling lightly as the joke flowed naturally from your lips. 

Gar let out a laugh at this. 

“But I love that side of you.” You declared, absolutely certain. “I love the animal part of you as much as I love that sweet, soft side of you.” 

You leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss, skimming your teeth along his bottom lip in a tentative bite as you pulled away, showing him a little roughness of your own. 

“I’ve never been afraid of the tiger, you know.” You added on, your thoughts on the matter absolutely final. 

Hearing you say that made Gar’s heart flutter. It was something you had told him before - after he had taken down your attackers at the asylum. But back then, he had been convinced that you were just trying to placate him. He had thought you were just trying to soothe his anxieties about hurting someone for the first time. Now he heard it for the genuine sentiment that it was: you saw his animal side, and rather than being afraid of it, you embraced it. 

“I love you so much.” He said, a heartfelt whisper that warmed you from the inside out. 

“I love you so, so very much.” You told him, and he kissed you again. 

“I made dinner.” He announced. “The pasta you wanted.” 

It was something you had discussed earlier, when you had still been locked together in that slightly uncomfortable position, a lovely food smell now filling your nose. He was a talented cook. Just another thing about him to love. 

Krypto wandered in, the padding of little doggy feet catching your attention. When you leaned down and began petting him, cooing at the dog with a sweet little baby-talk voice - Gar couldn’t help but imagine the two of you in your own family home, with your own pets, making dinner for your kids some day. Maybe it was a pipe dream to think a couple of super-powered freaks like the two of you could have the white picket fence dream, but Gar wanted it so badly, because he wanted it with you. 

“I also made cookies, but they turned out weirdly… flat.” Gar said, moving to the counter, and picking up a large plate that was covered in plastic wrap. 

He presented them to you, and you couldn’t help but giggle as you saw something that you easily recognized as an amateur baking mistake. He had either set the oven to too low of a temperature or neglected to refrigerate the cookie dough before baking them, causing the butter to melt before it actually started cooking. 

“I’m sure they’ll still taste good.” You assured him. And to make sure of this, he handed you one to sample. You tasted it - the mixture of sugar and butter and chocolate chips could never go wrong. “Delicious. Everything you do always turns out right.” 

It was a clear hint at what had happened earlier, and Gar grinned at you. 

“Everything I do for you always turns out right.” He corrected. “And I’m thankful for that.”

...

A/N: Please keep in mind - this fic is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'part 2', so please do not ask for one. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written. Reblogs and comments are appreciated, and if you want to check out more of my Gar Logan fanfics, definitely check out my DC Titans masterlist!

[quaintii]

To be with you is all I want.

Warnings: breeding kink, slight choking, p with plot, fem!reader. Very passionate smut below! A slight spoiler of Atsv. torture, bodily harm, and blood!!! trigger warning !!!

enjoy 💖💖!!

You and Miguel have always been each other's partner in capturing anomaly's. Yet Miguel always suggested that you stay back, away from harm. But you continuously refused his request, you couldn't be inside your apartments, walking around in circles, wondering if he's fine or not. Worry runs through your bloodstream, every second, same goes for Miguel but worse. He worries every second that you'll die because of him.

In the middle of the night, you kept rustling back and forth in your bed, trying to grasp onto something. Someone. You immediately wake up and realize Miguel has gone off to a mission without even warning you about it. You are furious and quickly put on your suit and ask Lyla to find out where he is. You swing your way into a weird, black-noir universe. It looked bleak and darkly cynical. You figured that Miguel was using Spider-Man noir's backup. The atmosphere was so thick, you almost choked as you weren't adjusted to some multiverses. You caught a whiff of smoke and fire.

Your Spidey senses then took the lead and you finally found where Miguel was. You were incredibly furious with him but you couldn't think of that right now. Miguel was fighting Morlum. You've constantly heard slight whispers about him, especially from Miguel. What you can take from what you already know, Morlum has tried hijacking the multiverses and he is seeking to find the spider totems and take control of HQ. You swing your way in but your Spidey senses react too slow to a crashing wall heading your way.

Luckily, you crotch down to avoid it as best as you could. It leaves quite a big injury on you though. Your forearm now has a big open slit trailing down in blood, due to the concrete building. It was a deep cut. When Miguel felt someone else at the scene, he happened to lay eyes on you, he was worried you would severely bleed out. The blood wouldn't stop. His eyebrows furiously furrowed together and he clenched his jaw and tried his best to focus on Morlum. Spider-noir was throwing many walls towards Morlum, trying to crush him to pieces. Mush.

Miguel used his red lasso and webs to tie down Morlum's legs together, causing him to fall down. But Morlum uses his super strength to make the floor below him fall. Ensuring his legs to finally let go. The floor completely crumbles and produces a ton of dust. You wipe your dust off your suit and can seem to see anything. Your hearing is very sensitive so they start ringing as metal scratches at each other due to the collapse. You sense someone near you and before you have time to turn around and web them, they hold your back against their chest.

"Wow, you sure seem like a good piece of bait for me to use!" Morlum says enthusiastically. "You look pretty cute too..too bad I have to kill you." "NO! No, get your fucking hands off her, you fucking shitbag. She's not a part of this, let her go." Miguel yells.

Morlum holds a knife at your throat so suddenly, you shiver with terror, running through your blood. Your flight or fight turns on, and you don't look like you have an option. This man has such a strong hold onto your body, you can't even let alone, move a muscle. "You seem to be quite concerned about this woman, well that puts you to more use!" Morlum chuckles. Miguel's eyes filled with absolute trepidation. His breathing becomes rougher, he begins to hyperventilate. He can't imagine ever losing you, he can't lose another dear loved one again. He can't imagine the pain of two, let alone one. Morlum pushes the knife closer into your skin, carving a light line. Miguel's jaw clenched harder than a rock. He didn't know what to do and he didn't know where spider-noir went.

You were trembling with fear, tears swelled your eyes. You felt like this was all your fault, because you're always so stubborn and never bother to ever listen to Miguel. Your lips quiver as you bite down on your lips, hard enough to draw out blood. You felt like all of this was a dream, you hoped for it to be one. Miguel moved a few inches, trying to grab you out of his grasp. Morlum then threatened to stab you in the liver if Miguel moved any closer. Miguel's body felt like he was being stabbed with thousands of knives. Morlum would make small cuts around your body, some deep, some shallow. Miguel yells "Mierda!" with a hurtful tone, he secretly advises Lyla to send backup immediately. He was too scared to breathe, fearing he could easily lose you in a second. You both stared at each other, a wholeheartedly look within fear hiding behind it. Miguel was trying to reassure you that everything was going to be ok. "Esta bien, mi vida. Te voy a sacar de esto, te lo juro, amor. Amas quedate quieta." Miguel's expression was drowning in helplessness.

"She seems like quite a trophy, Miguel! I can see you do have quite a taste." Morlum licks your cheek and nibbles a bit at your neck. Your huge discomfort grows more and you can't stop crying. Miguel was revolted by this, clenching his knuckles till his blood went cold, white. He felt like his jaw was about to lock and break. "Don't touch her! You keep your repugnant self away from her." Miguel yelled with an immense amount of hatred. Both of your guys' Spidey senses tingle as you feel other Spidermen approaching the situation. They all work collectively to pick up a razor sharp platform, sending it straight towards Morlum's head. Before Morlum could sense what was coming towards him, you immediately tuck your head and his grip on you releases. His head was sliced off clean. Blood guzzling out of his body. Before you could fall weakly on your knees, Miguel runs towards you, carrying you in his arms bridal style. He hugs you so tightly and you both tear up together.

"I thought I almost lost you, amor. I can't ever imagine losing you, ever. You're my everything." Miguel says as he places you grabs ahold of your cheeks, wiping away the blood and tears off of your cheeks. Giving you long, passionate kisses to you. Pecks on your forehead too. The amount of reassurance made you feel more at ease and comfortable.

Miguel continues to carry you in bridal style on the way home. He opens the window to your guys' bedroom and heads to the bathroom. He keeps showering you with a lot of love and reassurance. "Mi amor, te amo, por favor nunca vuelvas a hacer eso. Mi corazón ya mero se murió. Te amo demasiado, princesa. I couldn't bear seeing you being hurt, ever. I love you so, so much." He said while holding your body from behind. You were between his thighs, you laid your head back onto his chest, hearing his heart thump loudly. The bathtub was so warm, you could stay like this with him for hours. You loved Miguel. And he loved you too.

Both of your bodies emit more heat and the warmth calmly engulfs you both. You were both now clean, Miguel got out first and dried himself off. Despite seeing him nude multiple times before, you loved seeing him like that. He then wrapped a bath towel around his lower waist. Then grabs your hand and lets the water drain. He wrapped a towel over your body. Letting you stay warm. Then he dried yours and his hair with the hairdryer. You loved how much he put focus and care into you. You would return the same back too by giving him massages, going out on walks, seeing movies, etc.

Miguel then caught your eyes wandering around his body, he slightly smirked. "Take a picture to look at me for longer, mi vida." Miguel said while sneering. "Porque? Cuando te tengo enfrente de mi, cariño. I can't ever take my eyes off of you, you're so handsome." You say while heading towards him, grabbing the back of his neck and rustling his hair. He then pushed his lips against yours. Unfolding a deep, passionate, needy kiss. Your tongue wrapped with his. The smell of skin filled your nose, your fluttering heart thumped more and more. The soft taste of his plump lips on yours, his warm embrace against your chest as both towels fall on the floor. His gentle hands reaching your body, aching to be touched. His hands roams to your neck and hair, proceeding down to your hips. You then jump onto his chest and he grabs a hold of your hips. You both try not bumping into the door and open it while still kissing.

Your mind was starting to turn dizzy and foggy. He gently placed your chest on top of the bed. Giving you pecks and small bites along your spine, making you shiver. He softly turned you around. Both of your guys' lips magnetized. Not letting go, not even for a gasp of air. Miguel positions his back against the bed frame, pulling you on his hip, holding you in a lotus position. Your chest touching him enlightens fire down your core. Your nipples perked from the amount of arousal growing down your core. "You're the most beautiful, sosphicasted, intelligent, erotic, loving woman I've ever known and loved my whole life." Miguel said with a soft tone. Whispering it in your ear. Nibbling it softly, pulling out small moans out of your mouth. "Susurro estas palabras solo para que el mundo las escuche. Tu eres mi mundo entero, mi amor." Miguel said while groaning against your neck. Your head slightly goes back, you bite your lower lips. "Miguel, please more.. I want you to touch me more." You say with a hint of desperation and begging. "No muñeca.. we have the whole night to ourselves right now. Let me cherish and worship your body.

Miguel slides his fingers across your cunt, pulling it to your face. You moan to the touch of his rough fingers on your slick wetness."Look how soaking wet you're for me, cariño. Let me put that pussy to use, si? ¿Quieres eso, amor?" Miguel said softly with admirable eyes boring into yours. You nod slowly, groaning as he picks you by the hips. He then placed the head of his cock against your entrance. Your cunt twitched at the heat emitting from his breath against your neck. He then slammed you onto his cock, reaching your cervix.

You feel your body's nerves crashing down, the pleasure makes you feel so full. You moan erotically against Miguel's chest, cursing under your breath. "F-fuck Miguel, I feel you in my stomach.. you're so big. It's t-too much f'me.." you say between pants. "I love having you like this muñeca. I can't ever lose you, understand?" Miguel said softly. "God your body does unimaginable things to me, cariño." He cups his rough, big hands around your ass, slapping it as he begins bringing your hips and down his cock. Miguel stared at your beautiful face, saying incoherent words and the seductive expressions you would make. Your mouth being agape, gasping for air as Miguel would push every oxygen in you out of your body with a simple thrust of his cock. Your cunt spasms as Miguel grabs your throat softly. "Look at me, amor. I wanna see your pretty face getting fucked." Miguel said with a lustful tone. His eyes never let go of yours. You tried your best to not roll your eyes to the back of your head and kept eye contact with him.

More fire enlightened deep inside your core when Miguel's cock twitched when you reached for his neck, nibbling on it, leaving hickies. Miguel returning the same for you. Both of you are groaning and moaning, loudly. Not having a care of who could hear the both of you. The pleasure was towering over your body and your cunt uncontrollably spasms when Miguel said, "Cum around my cock for me, amorcito. Do it. Make me cum. I want my babies inside of your gorgeous body. M-mierda.." As you ride your orgasm out, Miguel's pace fastens, leaving you with tremendous overstimulation that leaves your throat choking out screams and wails for him to stop. A few more thrusts and he finally pumps his seed inside of you. Small droplets of tears leave your eyes, Miguel wipes them away by kissing them. "You did good f'me, baby. I love you so much." "I love you so much more than you could even imagine, Miguel. Te amo cariño."

Miguel finally pulls out of you, leaving your cunt clenching around nothing. Miguel then grabs a couple of small towels to clean you up. He then gave you your loungewear as he clothed himself with his boxers and shorts. You tie up your hair into a messy bun, then turn to lay beside Miguel. His arm hugging around your body, pulling you close. His chest against your face, both of you easily fall asleep.

:33 hai guys this took me Abt 1 hr n a half to do! This was really fun to do, please send more requests! Love u all ! <3

[awearywritersworld]

i have for the first time found what i can truly love—i have found you

sukuna x reader summary: you and sukuna go out for a late night meal. gojo finds out about your... relationship. sukuna is forced to take care of you when you come home drunk. w/c: 2.85k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. fluff. lots of banter. cursing. jealous/protective!sukuna. gojo being a flirt. aged up!yuuji. features a teeny bit of yuuji x reader. drinking and drunk!reader. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: i think i like how this turned out! also, the first two sections could def be read as a fluffy lil stand alone. idc whats happening in the canonverse, sukunas just a tsundere who adores us very much<3 series masterlist // masterlist

"maybe if you stare long enough, food will magically appear," sukuna calls to you from the kitchen table.

"this is no joking matter," you scold from your place in front of the fridge. "i'm starving."

"well, here's an absurd idea— let's go eat."

you turn toward him, finally closing the fridge, and tilt your head to the side. "you eat?"

"of course." he leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "i typically prefer babies, but hell, i'd even go for an old man right now. i'm famished."

your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. he lets the panic simmer on your face for a few more cruel moments. "i'm kidding, idiot. i eat food, same as you."

"i knew that," you assert. the way your shoulders sag in relief tells him otherwise.

"right," he smirks. after standing up, he grabs your purse and tosses it in your direction. "where to? you're buying."

with only so many places open at midnight, you begin your journey to a 24 hour ramen shop.

you've hardly interacted with sukuna outside of your apartment, so this is certainly an experience you didn't anticipate. and in fact, you're shocked at how normal it feels— almost as if it's a date.

as you walk down the street, people eye him suspiciously because of the dark lines they assume are tattoos. it doesn't bother you though, nor does the lateness of the hour. you know that you're safe because you're with him.

your hands keep brushing against one another's, and you're hoping that he'll eventually take a hint and reach for yours. he doesn't (i mean come on, do you even know who you're dealing with?).

he does at least pick up on your pouty expression with impressive ease. "what now?"

"nothing," you huff.

"don't be a brat."

you sigh dramatically. "you're supposed to hold my hand."

"sure princess," he says condescendingly, lacing his fingers through yours. "maybe use your words next time like a big girl."

he doesn't fail to notice the ensuing skip in your step, and he kicks himself for regarding it as cute.

when you arrive at the ramen shop, sukuna orders no less than three bowls, which earns him a glare once the waitress walks away.

"when i agreed to pay, i didn't know what a glutton you are."

"oh yeah? cause i'm just the picture of temperance any other time?"

you scoff. "well you've got me there."

a sly smirk settles onto his face before he speaks again. "maybe one day you'll learn how greedy i am when it comes to the things i've deemed pleasurable."

you choke on the water you'd just brought to your lips, your face heating up as if it'd been bathed by fire.

wiping at your mouth, you try your best to recover quickly. "whatever, you hellion. as long as that doesn't involve a fourth bowl of ramen."

you're no more than 10 steps away from the shop when you hold out your hand to him. "ahem."

he grabs it roughly and not without rolling his eyes.

"what?" you ask innocently. "that was a word."

"hardly," he jeers. "for as much as you read, i'd expect you to be more fluent than a child."

"and at 1000 years old, i'd expect you to be more charming than a teenage boy, but i guess we're both making concessions."

"see, this is the part that puzzles me. you never seem to have trouble with your words when you're being insolent."

"maybe it's a sign," you begin whimsically. "the universe decided you need to be taken down a peg."

"ah, yes. you as the executor of the universe's will. i don't know why i couldn't see it before."

you giggle, rather delighted that he's elected to play along with your quips. there's something that feels so warm and pleasant about it.

as you wonder if he feels it too, your hand tightens around his.

you're not quite ready to head back to your apartment just yet, because you're scared you'll lose the atmosphere surrounding the two of you. in truth, it's a bit intoxicating.

the perfect opportunity arises when you spot a small park up ahead. lights are strung around the trees, all of which are situated around a small fountain.

"we should stop at that park!" you hardly finish speaking before you take off in that direction, tugging him along behind you.

after you plop down on the fountain's ledge, sukuna takes his place beside you.

"let's sit here for a little while."

he doesn't respond and you take his silence as agreement. he's not really one to stifle his grievances.

as the minutes pass, the rush of the fountain is the only noise that fills the air, while you gaze at the trees with a serene expression.

sukuna, however, is looking at you. the only care he has for the trees is the way their lights reflect in your eyes. otherwise, he's fully occupied by the curve of your nose and the fullness of your lips.

"isn't this pretty?" you finally ask.

"it's pretty," he agrees, even when such a soft word feels foreign on his tongue.

his eyes still haven't left you, and you seem to be oblivious to this fact until he reaches up to stroke your cheek with the back of fingers.

when your gaze lands on him, the fondness written all over his face catches you off guard and you realize how close the both of you are. without really thinking about it, you lean into his touch.

"very pretty," he repeats lowly, as if he's talking to himself.

your heart lurches once in your chest, then hammers away at your ribcage without respite. he leans toward you a fraction of an inch, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a brief second.

truthfully, sukuna has never felt the way he does in this moment. it's a sincere sort of desire. he doesn't want the mindless devotion he once thirsted for from his followers. and he doesn't want the sex he used to crave from his concubines.

no. he just wants you— in whatever capacity you're willing to have him.

the way he's looking at you is just too much. there's a dull thudding in your ears and you swear your thoughts are moving at a million miles a minute.

so naturally, you blurt out the first thing you can manage. "we should take a selfie!"

his face shifts from whatever that expression was to one of confusion. "take a selfie?"

some twisted mix of relief and disappointment crashes through you.

"yeah, a selfie. a picture together. ya know, since the park is so pretty," you ramble.

he pulls away from you. not all the way, but enough that it gives you space to finally breath. he chuckles and it doesn't sound lofty like it so often does. in fact, he seems genuinely amused by you.

"a selfie," he deliberates. "that sounds great, but to the best of my knowledge, hell hasn't frozen over."

and just like that, your dynamic feels like it did during your walk from the ramen shop to the park— comfortable and fun.

"well i guess you would be one of the first to know."

ignoring his protests, you take out your phone and hold it far enough away that the camera captures both of your faces. you can see on the screen that he's put on an expression of complete boredom.

"c'mon," you nudge him with your elbow. "you look like you hate me."

the corner of his mouth curves upward. "that's because i do."

you think back on the way he was gazing at you just moments ago and laugh. "you're so full of shit."

then, without warning, you press a kiss to his cheek and click the button.

you decide that his vague look of contented surprise will just have to do.

when you and yuuji walk into the bar, you immediately spot one of the people you're there to meet. he's sitting at a hightop by himself, his snow white hair pretty hard to miss.

you tap his shoulder and his face breaks out into a grin. he slides out of the barstool. "if it isn't my favorite civilian!"

as he pulls you into a hug, you wonder if he's ever going to get tired of that joke. "if it isn't my favorite old man."

"35 is not old," he argues, moving to greet yuuji. "i'm still in the summer of my life, thank you very much!"

"gojo you're 36," the pink haired man remarks.

"gah! such betrayal, yuuji!" he presses his hand to his forehead and takes a deep breath. "now i'm going to need another round."

"i'll go and get drinks for all of us," you offer. "you two stay here so no one takes the table."

before either of them can respond, you turn and begin making your way through the crowd. you don't hear gojo when he calls out, "but darling! i should go with you!"

he takes a step in your direction, but stops when sukuna's mouth appears on yuuji's cheek. "you certainly should not, you insufferable half wit."

"relax, dude. he flirts with literally everyone," yuuji informs him.

gojo scoffs. "i am right here—"

"as if that makes it better?" sukuna barks. "she isn't some toy to be played with."

"of course she isn't! you can't honestly think i'd believe otherwise."

gojo is left forgotten for a moment as the other two bicker, so he interjects once there's a lull in the conversation. "do either of you care to explain what the hell is going on?"

yuuji turns toward him, trying and failing to hide the embarrassment on his face once he realizes that gojo is, in fact, still standing there.

his eyebrows are raised above his sunglasses and it's clear he is inappropriately amused by the situation (what else is new?). he moves to sit across from the younger man, looking at him expectantly.

having no way to talk himself out of this, yuuji relays the recent events regarding you and sukuna, sparing some of the finer details. gojo's face doesn't really betray much emotion throughout the story, though he does look thoughtful by the end of it.

leaning forward, he crosses his arms on top of the table. "maybe your feelings for her are influencing his own, forcing a sort of bond between them?"

"i don't think so," yuuji contends honestly. "other than her, you're the person i admire and respect the most, but he thinks—"

"that you are perhaps the most imbecilic rampallion i've ever had the displeasure of coming across."

gojo jerks back, as if the insult had hit him squarely in the jaw. the look of giddiness from yuuji's compliment, followed by the shift to indignation at sukuna's insult is almost comical.

he stretches his neck forward, cupping his hand around one side of his mouth as if it'd keep sukuna from hearing. "what'd he just call me?"

yuuji shrugs. "beats me, but i don't think he was singing your praises."

"i see your point." gojo pauses, glancing over his shoulder. you're approaching the table, so he turns back to yuuji and quickly adds, "we'll talk more about this another time, but for now, keep this between us."

a few moments later, you appear in front of them and exclaim, "look who i found!"

megumi and inumaki situate themselves around the table too, offering their greetings. you slide yuuji and gojo their drinks, both of which are filled to the brim of the glass. "now then gentlemen, shall we?"

when gojo teleports you and yuuji back to your apartment that night, it takes everything in you to keep from yakking all over your carpet.

"ta ta, hooligans!"

you turn to request that he never do that again, but he's already gone. taking one step forward, you promptly fall on your ass in the entryway with an unforgiving thud. yuuji staggers toward the couch, making it there just in time to face plant into the cushions.

looking down toward your shoes, you're dismayed to find that each one appears to have two sets of laces. you're fumbling with them determinedly when someone crouches down in front of you, their elbows resting on their thighs.

he doesn't say a word. brushing your hands away, he unties your shoes and carefully pulls them off your feet. you're lifted from the floor before you can register the arm that's looped under your knees or the other that's securely around your back.

"careful," you hiccup, your head falling into the crook of his neck. "'m gunna p-puke."

"i'd rather you didn't."

you groan. "s'not like i 'ave a choice in the matter."

he hums. "how much did you drink?"

"dunno. sss'much. nobara—" you hiccup again. "nobara n' maki made me."

he chuckles, placing you down on what you figure is your bed. "right, i'm sure you had no choice in the matter."

"tha's correct, yes."

unbuttoning your jeans, he tugs upward on your belt loops. "lift."

you do as he says, lifting your hips from the bed so he can slide your jeans off your legs. he knows you won't remember this— hell, your eyes are already closed— but he looks away as he does it anyway.

pulling your phone from your pocket and putting it on the charger, your pants are discarded off to the side. he only turns his head back in your direction once he's pulled the blankets up over your body.

"tuck me in?" you request.

sitting down on the bed beside you, he does so without protest.

he stares at you for a little while, worried about how poorly you're probably going to feel in the morning. he presses a kiss to your forehead, intending to get up and grab a water bottle for your nightstand.

instead, his body freezes when he hears you mumble, "i love you s'much."

his heart clenches so painfully, he honestly considers ripping it from his chest— it would probably be less agonizing.

but a thought that makes him feel like a fool occurs to him. of course it's not him that you love. "i'm not yuuji."

"well, duuuhhh. you're s'kuna." you're peering up at him through tired, hazy eyes. it's the first time you've ever seen him look bewildered, so a small giggle erupts from your throat. "s'okay. you don't 'ave t'say it back."

your eyes flutter shut and your breathing evens out before he even thinks to respond. all at once, it's as if his head is empty and as if it's about to explode.

love?

what does he know about love? it's a sentiment he's cursed for so long, but sitting here beside you, he can't quite seem to remember why. one thing he is sure of, however, is that there's never been a thing in the world he's loved.

suddenly, he's struck with remembrance of a quote from jane eyre you had emphasized with messy underlines:

"after a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in dreary solitude, i have for the first time found what i can truly love—i have found you. you are my sympathy—my better self—my good angel. i am bound to you with a strong attachment. i think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one."

rochester says it as he begs jane to stay at thornfield with him, an act sukuna had previously regarded as ridiculous, but is that still the case?

were you to ever scorn him, would he fall to his knees and plead with you to change your mind? or if you were in danger of dying, would he drag himself to a shrine and pray to the gods he doesn't believe in?

is that what love is?

could he stand to be apart from you? are you special to him? does anything else in the world compare to you? does he seek out your company? is he consumed by you? can he know himself without knowing you?

does the definition of love lie in those questions?

sukuna hopes not, because he's terrified of the answers. being in love is not his way, nor is it in his nature.

he buries his face in his hands as realization settles into his bones. it feels as if they're splintering beneath the pressure, trying resentfully to stave it off.

he transcends any imaginable scale of power. he's bled entire villages dry, he's commandeered death, he's the king of curses.

so why now? and why you? is it divine retribution? a sick sort of joke that even he couldn't have dreamed up?

gods, you were right. the universe has sent you to carry out its will and he's completely powerless to stop it.

the worst part of it all? he doesn't want to.

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @thepup356 @risuola *users in bold could not be tagged

[slimyalienfreak]

Heya! I was wondering if you could make a lil fanfic of shadow the hedgehog and mobian!reader

where the reader has a fascination with death and everything morbid due to seeing and being in lots of tragedies and shadow is mostly unaware of this but finally starts noticing the reader’s obsessive like fascination with death and wants to confront them about it

Shadow With A Mobian!Reader Who Has A Fascination With Death

Hey there! Thanks for the ask!

Sorry it took kinda long to do this. Honestly kind of lost motivation to write stuff lately but I think it’s coming back. I don’t know. Regardless, I hope you like it.

Pronouns: Not Mentioned

Warning: ⚠️Mentions Of Death + Suicide (Not Actually Committing But Talks About Wanting To) + Spoilers For Shadow’s Backstory⚠️

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Shadow + Mention Of Maria

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Art by CoffeeBearSama on Twitter/X + Banner by salintvll (Edited by me) on Pinterest

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- Honestly at first Shadow never noticed or asked about your obsession when it comes to death. He’s quite the loner so he doesn’t really indulge in anyone or their personal interests. That’s just what he’s like. Not that he’s completely dismissive of any of your interests, it's just his response to you telling him or him hearing about it is just ‘okay’. Maybe you could persuade him to join in but it may take a while but he does partake in it.

- Though eventually he does notice your interest in death. He might have heard it from someone else, maybe from you or he just so happened to discover it himself. At first admittedly he was a bit put off by it not outright it’s just he’s never really seen someone even remotely interested in death unless they’re willingly want to experience it. And to be honest even before he discovers how obsessed you were with it he’s still a little concerned that you want to end yourself so he decides to keep a close eye on you in case you actually do want to end yourself.

- However, his worry does become way worse when he slowly discovers how obsessed you actually were with it. He started to notice how you talked about it. The fact you were talking about it so casually, talking in depth about it makes him more concerned than when he discovered it. In his own way he’s genuinely worried about you. I feel like this kind of evolved from what happened to Maria that he feels compelled to make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else especially if he’s somewhat close with you.

- When he does confront you about it you may have to spend most of your time convincing him that you're okay. Honestly with the way you're talking about it he’s thinking you genuinely want to end yourself and he doesn’t want that. To him you’ve still got a lot to live for and you shouldn’t cut it short. It probably took a while for him to be convinced that you were alright. You’d probably have to explain how you gained interest in it, more specifically the shit you had to go through which made you like this.

- When you do tell him about the horrible tragedies that’s when it hits him about your obsessive fascination with death. Now he understands why you're like this. He does feel bad for you for experiencing the things you did and thinks that it must be a coping mechanism for you in a way. Even with you convincing him that it's genuinely an interest nothing more he’d still be concerned for you and tell you that if you ever need to talk he’d be there for you and listen to what you need to say.

- I do kind of feel like Shadow would be kind of interested in a way. Not like how you are, I have a feeling it’s mostly for confirmation or reassurance. It’s not that big of a surprise that he’s greatly affected by the death of Maria, someone who he’s undoubtedly the closest with. Even if a lot of time has gone by since it deep down even if he doesn’t want to admit it he still wishes that she was still alive and misses her greatly. With your interest in death he may go up to you and ask about it. He really would like your opinion about it though at first not going in that great detail about it. Even though he claims he is not interested in it he kind of wants confirmation that she’d be alright and is proud of him.

- Oddly enough, having these talks with you is very comforting for him. He finds himself being more calm about his feelings when it comes to death himself. I think the fact that he doesn’t have to bottle them up like he usually does and is free to just let it out. As soon as he’s done ranting he can feel himself just relax as he thanks you for letting him talk about it. He likes having these moments with you and he really appreciates you listening to him and the other way round.

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[runnning-outof-time]

Up Until You | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: In which Tommy Shelby realizes that he might just have someone he wants to live for.

Warnings: smoking, slight season 2 spoilers

Word Count: 3698

A/N: boy does it feel good to post a story again! I hope there won’t be as big a gap between this and my next one … I promise I’m getting these requests written! Anon, I hope this is as angsty as you were hoping….the prompt you sent is bolded. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: I almost forgot! I wanted to give a shoutout to the lovely Mars @toms-cherry-trees for helping me so much in the planning process of this fic…I don’t think it would have gotten finished if it weren’t for you!

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! — COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged!

(Y/N) sent Ada Shelby a look that asked 'where is he?' the second the latter opened the door. Ada answered with a head nod to the left, which conveyed the answer of 'he's in there'. A glance over the Shelby woman's shoulder confirmed it - Tommy was sitting at the table in the front room. His back was to the door, so he hadn't noticed that she arrived...yet.

She sent Ada an appreciative smile before she quietly walked into the room, hoping that Tommy wouldn't hear her footsteps. He seemed to be too engrossed in his writing for that to happen though. She stood there for a few moments, carefully peering over his shoulder as he finished the sentence he was writing.

He paused then, and it gave (Y/N) the ability to read the sentence he'd just written:

In the event of my own death, I want the following facts to be known...

Reading those words made her mind go blank. "You're actually going through with it?" she asked without thinking.

The sudden sound of someone's voice made Tommy quickly turn in his chair. He was already on edge with the day's events taking up his mind, so this unexpected visitor had caught him completely off guard. It took a few moments for it to register that (Y/N) was standing in front of him. When it did, he cursed under his breath before letting out a huff.

"When'd you get here, eh?" he asked, his eyebrows raised as he placed his hands on his thighs.

"Just now. I couldn't find you at home. The guys hadn't left for the derby though, so I figured you'd be here," she explained her reasoning. "You don't have to go through with this, Tommy," she then circled back, not letting him switch topics.

"I have to," his response cut right to the point. He didn't have time to get into a discussion about it.

"What about the other options you've shared with me? The options that don't include you having to come face to face with this man in order to get the job done," she reminded him of the talks they've had in the past, hoping that doing so would get him to change his mind.

"There's no time for those other options, (Y/N). The derby's today. The plan's been laid out," he wasn't biting.

Silence hung in the air as they stared at each other. (Y/N) was hoping that he'd change his mind. She waited on bated breath, waiting for him to announce that to her. But he stayed silent.

She couldn't wait any longer. "So that's it then?" she asked, incredulousness present in her voice. The fact that he wasn't even trying to entertain a conversation about this was breaking her heart. "You're just going to write your note and practically seal your death with it? And what'll that mean for me?" she was unable to stop herself from getting choked up as she uttered her final question. She didn't want to think about her life without him, but it was staring her dead in the face at the moment.

"The note's just precautionary, love," he attempted to assure her. Her expression didn't change, her brow was now furrowed and it was noticeable that she was biting on her bottom lip; most likely to stop her tears. Tommy finally stood then, coming face to face with her in hopes that his proximity would wash some of her worry away. "I'll be fine," he added in a low voice, blindly searching for her hands so that he could hold them.

"You can't promise that," she responded, her voice coming out as a shaky whisper. It was taking everything she had not to burst out into tears in this moment. She'd always associated his closeness with safety...whenever Tommy was close, (Y/N) knew she could never get hurt. But now his closeness was making her hurt even more.

"It'll be fine," he repeated, squeezing her hands.

"It's really been decided?" she still couldn't accept it.

"It has," he nodded.

(Y/N) sighed at his confirmation. Her gaze dropped to the floor as she pulled her hands from his grasp. She then wrapped her arms tightly around her frame as she turned and took a few steps towards the windows.

"(Y/N)." Her name left Tommy's lips as a breath. He knew he was fighting a losing battle here. "Come on, love. Look at me," he gently coaxed her. She stood still. "It'll be fine," he tried once more to assure her.

That set her off. She whipped around within a second of hearing his statement. There was now a fire burning in her watery eyes. "Do not say those three words again," she snapped at him, "do not continue to try and reassure me with things that you cannot guarantee will happen. You know how dangerous this plan is, Thomas. Please don't try and act like It isn't. You wouldn't be sat here writing a note for someone to find in the event of your death if you didn't think that there was a possibility of it happening," she spoke her mind, letting her emotions go free as all of the pent up worry flowed out.

"(Y/N)," he spoke her name again, in a different tone this time. He didn't need this lecture. Not right now. "This is what needs to be done," he continued in a low voice, staying stoic in hopes that it would alleviate the situation quicker.

But (Y/N) no longer cared about what he did or didn't need at that moment, and if anything, his statement just made her even more upset.

"It doesn't need to be done like this," she insisted, "you don't need to sign your life away for a contract...for a man who doesn't give a single care about the stakes that have been raised here so long as he isn't the one carrying out the deed. Any other person would be trying to find a way to take themselves out of the equation but you've decided to put yourself in the driver's seat."

(Y/N) felt like she was talking in circles. Hell, she probably was, but she was doing so in hopes that something would be set off inside of him. She wanted him to realize that there was still time to think up another plan; one that didn't include him being placed in harm's way.

"What is it that you want from all of this?" he asked her, his brows furrowed together.

"You, Tommy!" she exclaimed, her frustration shining clear through her words. "I want you to fight! I want you to realize that things don't need to play out this way; that you can still put another plan into play!" she paused, taking a deep breath as she swiped at the tears that had escaped her eyes. "I want you to come home when all of this is finished," her voice was level again as she spoke the final sentence. Her eyes were locked onto his, hoping that he'd realize how much this was affecting her.

Their eyes stayed locked and a few moments passed before Tommy looked down at the ground. He exhaled a sigh as he brought his hand up to the back of his neck. "It's already done," he said, his voice void of any tone.

"Then I guess I'm done," the words left (Y/N)'s mouth before she could stop them. She didn't take them back though. She was tired of fighting in a one-sided fight. It was so obvious that Tommy had his mind made up. Nothing was going to change it at this point. But yet she still held onto that sliver of hope. She hoped that her showing up today and speaking her piece would get him to change his mind.

"(Y/N)..." Tommy looked up again as her name fell from his lips, shock now present in his expression.

"I can't be here a moment longer. I can't stand in front of a man who is acting as if he's already dead. I need to leave."

Her words were spoken softly, but Tommy heard them loud and clear. He said nothing as she moved to the archway, expecting her to leave without another word. To his surprise, she turned around just before she was about to exit the room.

"I didn't believe that love existed until you came along, Tommy. But you showed me how wrong I was for thinking that way; for thinking that I'd never experience something like that. And now you've just decided not only your future, but mine as well. I can't stay here and watch it play out. I'm not sure if I'll be home when you return. I just..." (Y/N) stopped speaking as the words got caught in her throat. She let out a shaky breath, tears welling up in her eyes once more.

All words escaped her at that moment, and she shook her head instead, deciding that finishing her declaration would be a lost cause anyway. She couldn't even bear to look at him again, too afraid that she'd actually break down. So instead she turned and made her way to the door of the home, opening it and leaving without looking back.

The sun was now shining down on her. It was an absolutely lovely day in London, but yet she was having one of the worst in her life. She decided to go for a walk, revisiting the streets that still felt like home even though she'd made the move to Birmingham several months ago.

(Y/N) knew Ada Shelby before she knew Tommy. She'd met her when Ada had moved into the next door apartment with her adorable son, Karl. The two women quickly became friends, spending a lot of time together right up until the day Ada had been found and hurt for being a Shelby.

Contact stopped briefly as Ada had moved out of the apartment, but things continued like nothing had even happened when Ada sent (Y/N) a letter that contained her new address. The two frequently spent time together in the front room of the lovely new home, sipping tea and talking about the day's events in front of the fire.

Ada's house was where (Y/N) first met Tommy. Surprise riddled their first encounter. Ada had stepped away to tend to Karl when Tommy came knocking on the door. (Y/N), being the friend that she was, didn't hesitate in opening it. The sight she was greeted with took her breath away. Thankfully Ada had returned from Karl's room, or who knows how long the two would have been standing in the doorway, staring at each other. She even joked about the fact that they couldn't seem to keep their eyes off of each other. Of course it didn't help that Tommy had forgotten what it was he was even there for for the first few minutes of his visit.

That wasn't the last time (Y/N) saw Tommy. The two became very close very quickly. It was like they had known each other forever; like there was this pull present between them that neither could ignore. Things also got serious pretty quickly. So serious that (Y/N) was packing up her things and leaving her London apartment for Small Heath after only six months of knowing Tommy.

Some might think it was crazy; that things were moving much too fast. But (Y/N) had never felt so sure of doing something in her life.

Which made what was happening now hurt so much more. But she needed to keep walking. She'd done the right thing.

Tommy placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a match before taking a deep drag from it and exhaling slowly. The sealed letter sat on the table in front of him. He stared at it for a few moments before pressing the thumb and index fingers of his free hand against his eyelids, hoping it would alleviate some of the pressure he'd been feeling.

"I made you up some tea," Ada's voice broke through the silence, and the sound of glass being set on the table he was working at made Tommy lift his head again.

He nodded as a thank you before bringing the cigarette back up to his lips again. He then stamped it out in the ashtray while exhaling the smoke slowly.

"I heard everything that was said, you know," she said then, moving over to one of the chairs so that she could sit. "What were you thinking, Tommy?" she asked with raised eyebrows, her eyes zeroed in on her brother.

Tommy sighed, rolling his eyes as he looked off to the far wall. He didn't need anymore of this right now.

"She was my friend first. She was the only person who cared about me when I moved here. She helped me through a lot. I'm not going to let you ruin her for your stupid ambitions," Ada had no problem speaking her mind and letting him know how wrong he was for responding to (Y/N) the way he did.

Tommy pulled the timepiece from his pocket and checked it before letting out a sigh and returning it back to its place. "I need to leave," he told Ada before lifting the cup and downing the beverage in one go. In hindsight he was thankful that it wasn’t scorching hot. "Thanks for the tea," he said to her as he set the empty cup back down.

Nothing more was said as Tommy stood from the chair he was sitting on. He looked to Ada as he pulled the jacket he'd been wearing back on over his shoulders. She was glaring at him, hoping that he'd have something - anything - more to add to the conversation.

It became apparent that he didn't when he started for the archway. So Ada left him with one last statement: "please don't let her go, Tommy. We all need her." There was a quiet desperation now present in her eyes, one Tommy wasn't sure what to say in response to.

So he nodded and turned to exit the home, heading right to the car he parked a few streets down.

Truthfully what he wanted to do right now was head back to Birmingham and stop (Y/N) from leaving, to tell her that she was more important than any plan he could ever put into place. He knew she was justified in saying everything that she had.

But it was too late to do that now. Tommy knew that there'd be men searching for him by the end of the day if he stepped away from the plan this late into it. At least now he had some sort of control over the outcome of his life. And he was going to try like hell to stay alive...because now he had someone to stay alive for.

The house on Watery Lane was quiet when Tommy stepped into it later that evening. The fire in the main room was still lit, but he couldn't quite remember if they'd put enough wood on to keep it going prior to leaving that morning. So judging (Y/N)'s presence based on that could have surely given false hope.

He took his overcoat off and hung it on one of the hooks by the door. The suit jacket followed after, and he draped that over one of the chairs in the sitting room as he walked through it.

No one was downstairs, but he hadn't expected anyone to be at this time of night.

He quietly walked up the steps and down the hall to the bedroom that he and (Y/N) shared. He paused at the closed door, taking a moment both to steady himself; to regroup from the day's events, and to prepare himself for the possibility that he may be opening the door to an empty room.

After inhaling and exhaling deeply, he turned the knob and opened the door. The first thing he noticed was the lit candle on the bedside table. Seeing it made all of his worries dissipate. (Y/N) had a habit of lighting them and then falling asleep.

Looking slightly to the right, he found the woman that hadn't left his mind since she left him in Ada's sitting room. She was laying on her side, facing the wall, telling him that she was sleeping.

Slowly, quietly he began ridding himself of his outer layers. It wasn't until he moved over to the dresser that he noticed the bags sitting on the floor. They were packed. It was easy to see that, even in the candlelight. He looked back to (Y/N) then, putting the pieces together in his mind. She was going to leave...but something made her stay.

Now only wearing his undergarments, he made his way over to the bed. Hesitation overcame him again. Should he lay with her? Should he go back downstairs? She was in her spot, tucked up against the wall so that enough room was present for him on the small bed they shared.

A few moments passed before he made his decision, lifting the covers and slowly slipping underneath them. He laid on his back for a short time before turning onto his side so that he was facing her sleeping frame. Another bout of hesitation filled him, but he didn't let it stick for too long as he gently draped his arm over her midsection.

That was when (Y/N) let out the shaky breath she'd been holding in from the moment she heard the door open. She was awake the entire time.

"Are you still awake, love?" Tommy asked in a whisper.

"Yes," she breathed out, her voice wavering.

"You've been crying," he pointed out, able to read her like an open book.

"I didn't know if I'd see you again," she answered him, choking up as she spoke.

"I'm here," he assured her, his arm wrapping tighter around her body.

(Y/N) didn't say anything in response. Instead tears fell from her eyes as she held her breath, trying not to make it noticeable that she was crying. But Tommy was able to feel how her body was shaking.

"Turn and look at me," he said quietly, a soft demand that took her a few moments to comply with. Her tear-stained face became visible in the candlelight when she did, and seeing it broke Tommy's heart. "C'mere," he breathed, allowing her to move even closer to him so that he could engulf her in his embrace.

"No one knew where you were, Tommy," she whispered once she was finally able to get words out again. "I thought..." she paused, not even wanting to say what she was thinking, "I thought the worst."

"I'm sorry you had to think that way, darlin'," he murmured, stroking the back of her head slowly. He held her close until her body stopped shaking, giving her the time she needed. He didn't speak until she lifted her head from the crook of his neck. "Better?" he asked in a whisper, peering down to see that her eyes were still closed.

"Slightly," she breathed out a response. "I'm relieved that you're home. Is..." she paused, seeming like she was looking for the words to say next, "is it finished?"

"It's finished," he answered in a definitive tone, nodding his head as best he could.

(Y/N) let out a shaky breath upon hearing his response, feeling as if the rest of the weight had lifted from her chest. She slowly opened her eyes and looked right into his. "I was going to leave," she started, watching Tommy's brows furrow together in the candlelight, "but I realized that this is part of the life I chose with you. That this is the type of work you carry out, and that I can either fight you on it or support you the best that I could. I also realized that my desire to be with you is so much greater than the worry that your work creates." Her eyes didn't stray from his as she spoke. Watching his hardened blue irises soften as he took in her words was enough to fill her heart to the brim with love.

Tommy took a moment to soak in her words. He moved his hand from behind her head so that he could gently trace the line of her jaw with his thumb. Taking in a deep breath, he knew what he had to do. Searching her eyes for a few seconds longer, he thought of the words he wanted to say.

"I thought I could lose everything and be totally fine with it," he began, clearing his throat in hopes that she wouldn't notice the fact that his voice was breaking. She noticed. "But then you came along...and now I see how wrong I was."

"Tommy," she breathed, taken back by his admission.

"I had nothing to live for up until you, (Y/N)," he admitted, not holding anything back now, "and I promise you now that things will change... that there’ll be no more of these plans. I don't want to have the possibility of an outcome that doesn't include you in it."

(Y/N)'s mind was swirling. It had been a rollercoaster of a day, she still couldn't quite believe the change of events that had happened. But she was so very thankful that things had ended up with Tommy by her side again.

"I love you, Tommy," she whispered, a smile tugging the corners of her lips upwards.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he repeated the phrase, his expression mirroring hers as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.

Now that he had her again, he knew that he could never let her go. What he'd told Michael earlier in the evening would soon be true: he was going to ask (Y/N) to marry him.

MASTERLIST

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