#i didn't realize just *how long* no name was | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

you-know-honey · 1 day ago

Note

omggg i see you are taking viktor x reader requests and i am in desperate need of something relatively cute and fluffy after act 3 🥲

i’ve had this idea for ages where once viktor and the reader starts dating, viktor just generally starts being healthier and a little better? even though his leg is still the same he is stronger and in less pain (he really deserves this come onnn).because he is totally smitten by the reader he is spending loads of time with them which ends up to him getting more rest, eating better, etc. the reader maybe does subtle things to encourage that but in some ways it happens naturally. (although i’ve seen some scenarios where the reader helps viktor with massages/physio and that is so wholesome too)

maybe he is talking to the reader after some months of dating, sharing how he feels better in his body and how he wants to actively try to be better? like, before his work was his whole life and he had kinda given up on his health - he just wanted to make the most progress in whatever time he had. but now he wants to spend the rest of his life with the reader and is willing to fight for it (and come on that will also help him work more anyway)

thought it was a cute idea and i love your work so i’d love to see your take on this!!! ❤️

Hanging in Your Hands

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5K

2/2→→→

Viktor finds in you a love that subtly transforms him: without realizing it, he begins to take better care of himself, rest better and relieve his pain, all thanks to the peace you bring him. Finding a way to show you what he could never do with words.

N/A: English is not my native language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I will update it. Remember to share and comment if you liked it. Endnotes.

The cold of the early morning began to creep in through the window, giving your body chills from head to toe. You didn't want to wake up, you felt like you had barely slept a second after so much work.

You couldn't get anything more than a superficial sleep that ended even with the walking of an ant on your neighbor's floor. The bed felt too big for some reason and there was no pillow to hug that didn't make you feel terribly alone. You sighed, knowing it would be another long night, you went down to the kitchen to get some tea to sleep, if getting high was the only way to fall asleep so be it. While you watched the steam come out of your cup you leaned against the wall of the hallway, looking at your empty room. You couldn't help but let your imagination fly to a corner where you didn't want it to be, the darkness emulated with the shadows a sleeping figure on one side of the bed and your mind quickly gave it shape and name...Viktor.

NO.

You shook your head to get that image out of your mind, being in love with your boss was already a silly thing, you shouldn't even think about something like that. But... you couldn't help it, you liked to imagine him around the apartment, like your own homely fantasy.

The violent knocking from the other side of the front door brought you out of your little daydream. You pulled the blankets tighter around you, it wasn't time for visitors.

“Y/N!” Sky’s voice called from the other side of the door, she seemed agitated and in total panic.

You quickly rushed to open the door, finding your friend and coworker in tears and as pale as a sheet of paper.

“Sky? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You rushed to take her inside and sit her on the couch as she tried to catch her breath.

“It’s Viktor, he’s in the hospital, he fainted and… and he started bleeding! He won’t wake up!”

Sky said something else, but your mind refused to continue listening. You could feel your entire body turning into glass and shattering, your heart had stopped suddenly before beating desperately again.

That night was the worst night of your life. You don’t remember what happened exactly, you just remember dressing up in one of your long work jackets to hide your pajamas, not even bothering to put on shoes, arriving at the hospital and searching every room in desperation only to find him intubated and still unconscious on a stretcher, he looked so pale, so feverish, his hands were cold and stiff as a stone, his hair was wet with sweat and the nurses hadn’t cleaned the stain of dried blood that spread across his cheek and lips like a crimson river. You don’t know how long you cried that night. You only remember clinging to his body until the nurses basically ripped you from his side. It was the first time you truly thought you would lose him, the first time you saw what his illness could do to him.

Time passed, a lot of time indeed. Viktor had a long recovery process after such a hard relapse and was prescribed, in his opinion, the worst of medications. Rest. Instructions that he clearly hadn't intended to follow, but you didn't think the same. He didn't know when or how but you simply kicked the chained door of his heart and like a spoiled child you refused to leave. But he liked it that way. During his long stay in the hospital he hadn't stopped working and the doctors were really considering tying him to the bed, like a guardian angel there you were, reading his books for him and writing in his notebook by the side of his stretcher, making sure he took his medications and vitamins until he was ready to get back in the ring. So, gods! It would have been impossible not to fall in love with you.

You made him feel alive, seeing you filled his face with color, he couldn't help but smile and ignore everything that wasn't you, he loved being able to hold your hand, he delighted in the dropped jaws that left when they walked together through the academy. His mind was an unstoppable machine of chaos that only found peace when you were near.

How did he get to that point? He never imagined that someone like him, with his proud attitude and busy mind could attract the attention of someone like you. You... you simply shined. Everything about you seems so simple, so natural. Your laugh, your words, even the way you look at him as he always wanted to be seen, as something more than a man with a cane and too many ideas in his head.

He couldn't help but wonder what you saw in him. Is it his mind that interests you? Or did you just see something he couldn't see in the mirror? Maybe, just maybe, you've seen beyond the walls he built around himself. Beyond the weight of his ambitions.

And yet, for the first time, he feared something more than failure. He doesn't want to lose you.

When he's with you, when his hands touch yours, when you smile after one of his sarcastic comments, everything seems to fit together. For the first time in a long time, he feels like he's not a stranger in his own skin. He feels like, maybe, there's something more to him than just work.

You give him something he can't explain, something that isn't in any formula or prototype. Maybe, for once in his life, it's enough to just feel.

…Wow, he was a genius in love.

Months Later...

The sound of the lab door slamming open loudly caught Jayce's attention as he stretched out in his chair. They had been working all morning.

You walked in with a tray of breakfast and books under your arm.

“You need to grease that door,” you said, as you walked over to his desk. Jayce held the books you asked for and took one of the steaming cups on the tray.

“I'll write it down,” Jayce said, burying his face in the cup, inhaling the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. He looked really exhausted. They would have a conference soon and they had to be prepared, even you and Sky had a lot of work to do.

“Have he eaten anything today?” you asked, nodding at the one you can now proudly call your partner, sitting across the lab without even noticing your presence.

“What do you think?” You sighed, it's common for your boyfriend to forget to eat, if breathing wasn't essential you're sure he would forget too.

“Viktor…” you exclaim as you walk up to his desk, his posture in front of it is terrible, a shrimp would be proud of his posture.

He doesn’t seem to hear you, he mutters things as usual while he quickly writes down in his notebook and fiddles around a bit with a design that releases sparks and steam. You can see the inner mechanism, it’s so complex that it makes your head hurt just thinking about having to fix it like he does. There’s something about that stoic concentration he has that really attracts you, you could watch him work all day. You place the tray in one of your hands, balancing it so as not to spill anything and you use the fingers of your free hand to lightly tickle Viktor’s neck, he quickly adjusts his posture, you’re sure you could hear a joint or two creak, letting out a half-gasp. Which you take advantage of by uncovering the delicious breakfast on the tray.

You know he smiles and his gaze softens when the smell of food reaches him, he stops his work and looks at you.

“Good morning” you murmur only for his ears.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said, turning his chair to face you, letting go of his design so easily that even Jayce couldn’t believe it.

“Can’t I take care of my favorite genius?” You shrug, leaving the tray with breakfast on the small mound of leaves on his desk. Changing his empty cup of coffee for a cup of hot tea.

Viktor smiles barely, but there’s something warm in his gaze as he takes the first sip of tea. You’re surprised when he stands up without even making a move to look for his cane, only using his good leg for help. He rests his forehead on your shoulder, you can feel his breath so close that it makes the hairs on your neck stand up. He’s been working since before the sun came up, it’s something you can’t change about him, but seeing you is a huge relief that he doesn’t know he needs until he has you in front of him and can’t help but put everything aside for you. His hands slide under your arms until they grip your back, wrinkling your perfectly ironed shirt and you can feel him finally sigh and let his shoulders slump as if he were carrying lead on them.

That gesture is all he needs to tell you, he is not a man of words and even less so when Jayce is present because he knows that Jayce will use everything he says against him as soon as you walk out the door. He can feel you, the heat emanating from your body makes him feel warm, breathing your perfume is the breeze of fresh air he needs to keep going. If they were alone he would probably kiss you, it is the only motivation he has to make it to the end of the day.

“What? He is your favorite genius? Y/N how do you break my heart like that” Jayce dramatizes from the other side of the room with a huge smile on his face. He loves watching how Viktor basically melts for you but he can’t help but feel like a bad third between the two of you.

You can't help but giggle at the comment. “There's enough room in my heart for both of us.”

Viktor gives a small shake of his head and snorts at your shoulder, it's obvious that he doesn't like the idea.

“Will you have breakfast with me?” he asks as he pulls away from you and drops his weight back into the chair.

You've both had this habit since the hospital, when he barely had the strength to blink and refused to be fed with a g-tube. It was a hard blow to his pride that you had to feed him, but you handled the situation with a lot of respect, and at the end of the day you both always ended up eating all your meals together, it was a moment that you both could enjoy and secretly for you it was a way to make sure he gets something more than caffeine.

You sighed and shook your head. “Not this time.” The look he gave you was as painful as that of a newly abandoned puppy.

“Why not?” he asked, making a colorful gesture with his hands, quite offended.

“Sky and I are still clearing their schedules and getting everything ready for this afternoon’s conference.” You felt guilty and even more so when he gave you that look but if you lied to him it would only make his mind wander to very dark places. “I promise we’ll have dinner together. Will you forgive me this time?” you said, caressing his cheek subtly.

Schedules were something Viktor had very established, something out of that routine irritated him in ways he didn’t understand. Normally and if you were anyone else he would have pushed your hand away and ignored you for the rest of the day but… you weren’t just anyone, he couldn’t get mad at you, he couldn’t even think of a reason that was strong enough to not even look at you with annoyance.

“Just don’t miss it” He replied, enjoying your touch. Forcing you to stay on his cheek a little more for taking your wrist, when it was time for you to leave it was very difficult to let you go.

“Don't forget to take a break, Sabre, if you didn't have lunch.” You walked through the door, giving him one last look before leaving him back in the lab.

“Love is so beautiful,” Jayce mentioned, sighing like a teenager while humming the sound of the newlywed bells.

Viktor rolled his eyes and went back to his table to find his breakfast. The idea of putting it aside and continuing to work crossed his mind, it was what he used to do in the past. Before letting that idea take hold, he stuck his fork in the bacon next to the small bowl of fruit and quickly brought it to his mouth. His taste buds wept with excitement at finally receiving some food after so many hours drowned in coffee, even the breath itself with a certain guilty pleasure. “Shut up, Jayce,” was the only thing he could say before devouring the plate.

“Are you ready? We’re going to be late,” Viktor mentioned, leaning against the outside wall of the lab’s bathroom, with a hanger holding his suit in his hand.

He had been waiting for more than 45 minutes for his lab partner to finish showering and getting dressed. He used to skip all the conferences, especially if they were with the council. It irritated him how certain people with more than limited intellect could have power over his work and what he could and couldn’t do with it. The only reason he started attending was because you were there, both of them could whisper to each other continuously and have a good time being gossips about the other councilors, although of course, there were also times when Jayce called him to the front, when a more raw opinion was needed, without all the flourishes that surrounded Jayce’s speeches.

“Just a second,” Jayce said as he opened the door, in his white and gold suit he finished fixing his hair in the middle of a cloud of masculine perfume.

Viktor just rolled his eyes and made his way into the bathroom, leaving his suit on the rack behind the door, sitting on the closed toilet to wait for Jayce to leave.

“Hurry up,” he said when he saw Jayce smiling at himself in the mirror.

“Someone looks pretty excited to go…” He hummed, “I thought you said conferences were a waste of your precious time…”

“Jayce…” Viktor said in a tone that Jayce understood as a warning accompanied by a stern frown, but the shy blush that crossed his cheeks and the bridge of his nose told him he was right.

“Come on, there’s nothing wrong with saying you like going because your girlfriend is there. If Councilwoman Medarda wasn’t there I wouldn’t want to go either.” Jayce leaned back against the sink. Although it wasn’t exactly the most opportune moment to have a talk.

Girlfriend… Viktor still felt chills when that word was mentioned, he himself wasn’t able to say it yet, it always got stuck in his throat and he blushed like never before, he felt shy just knowing that the one who carried that title was you. When they started dating he was nothing more than a rigid bundle of nerves, holding your hand, hugging you, kissing you or just walking by your side were things he got used to with difficulty, as if he were walking on thin ice, looking for a single rejection reaction from you that would confirm to his anxiety that he had made a false step and should return within his fortified comfort zone. It doesn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy doing those things with you, he did, he loved them, but a part of himself always whispered to him that he didn’t deserve it, that he hadn’t been born for love and that he looked ridiculous pretending he wasn’t like that. It was hard to fight against it, but you never gave up, you knew how to read him like the back of your hand and you knew when he needed time alone and when he needed to melt into you in affection. Now it was clearer than ever that if there was someone who could love him and who he could love back, it was you. Only you.

“Y/N and I know how to separate work from our relationship, our… dating” he savored the words with pride “it doesn’t influence my work.” He couldn’t help but smile silly “Although I admit that her company is always welcome”

Jayce excitedly crossed his arms at his friend and colleague's terrible way of hiding how totally in love he was with you. "Really?" he said raising an eyebrow in disbelief. "So I guess what you've been building for her is part of the 'job'..."

Although Jayce was a little naive he wasn't stupid, of course he had noticed how revitalized Viktor was since he started dating you, he could hardly remember the irritated Viktor who lived all the time in the lab. The night of his relapse he had gone to his mother's house for his birthday, if it weren't for Sky and you he would never have found out what happened and he would never be able to finish thanking you for taking care of him with such love. Jayce knew with total certainty that Viktor was more in love with you than he could ever admit to others or to himself.

“…It’s a gift for her.” There was something of amazement in his words, as if he had never imagined himself saying it. “I read that couples usually give each other gifts sporadically, without reason… I want to do something that does justice to everything she does for me.” He answered as if it were the most logical thing in the world, trying to regain his composure.

“Tell me what it is?” Jayce asked interested, his eyes big like a little boy’s excited to receive a lollipop after the dentist.

“No.” Viktor refused flatly. “I know you, it will come out of your mouth in a some moment.” Jayce felt offended, even more so because it was not a lie.

“But! Come on Victor!” He tried to convince him but the answer was still a constant negative. “Boring.” He sighed giving up. “I’ll wait for you outside, Mr. Romantic.” Jayce managed to escape from the bathroom before Viktor’s sharpness reached him and he walked away laughing.

Viktor sighed when he finally managed to be alone in the bathroom, he put his cane aside, using the sink to support himself and stand up, his leg gave him a small cramp that was reflected on his face and it took him a second to recover and start preparing.

The conference was nothing out of the ordinary, brutally exhausting as always, you felt your feet unbearably tired, avoiding Salo's venomous comments were not for everyone. You should be given a prize for enduring such a thing, you knew that it didn't really matter much to present each project in a thorough manner before the council but according to Councilwoman Medarda, that would make Hextech more trustworthy, being transparent with the creations left no room for doubts or misunderstandings. But that only meant more work for you and Sky, emptying Jayce and Viktor's agendas, planning their speeches and even elaborating the thread of the entire conference, it was definitely the only part you hated about being an attendee.

Jayce had stayed to 'discuss' some matters with Councilwoman Medarda and Sky had taken the first opportunity that presented itself to leave as quickly as he could. That left you and Viktor alone in the hallway heading to the lab for your coats, autumn was already upon the city and the cold was more usual and stronger.

“Is something wrong?” you asked as you saw Viktor’s jaw muttering things to himself, his gaze looking a little lost as you approached the lab.

“Oh, no… I have some things to tidy up in the lab that’s all” He answered trying to lighten the mood. Clearly forgetting that you knew there was nothing to tidy up because… come on… that was your job.

“Can I help you with that?” You said with some disbelief as you reached the door, it was clear from your tone that you didn’t quite believe him.

“No, it’s not necessary. Could you wait for me outside?” Viktor asked, looking a bit nervous, even serious.

“From the door?” you asked, crossing your arms as Viktor left his hand on the door handle. You had never seen him so nervous trying to hide something, especially from you.

“From the academy…” I knew the answer, obviously you would say no.

You sighed heavily, it was late at night and your brain was tired “Viktor if this is a ruse to keep working...”

“No, it’s not that” he interrupted you quickly, his hand moved away from the door handle as if it were a hot iron just to take yours “It will be quick I promise” and there it was, that lazy smile and that sweet look that could convince you to do anything without hesitation, he using his thumb to draw soft circles on the back of your hand. He slowly leaned down to your ear to whisper “I can’t wait to go home with you, this will just be a… slight setback. I won’t take long, I promise.”

The words got stuck in your throat and in your belly millions of butterflies were released and fluttered everywhere, the blush was quick to rise to your cheeks “Fine… But... Don’t take long, okay?”

That act had taken you by complete surprise, but he seemed quite pleased with the way he had completely altered the chemistry inside your brain and he knew it, of course he knew it, behind that look you were sure he was proud of his little misdeed.

Viktor left a small kiss on your forehead before disappearing into the lab. A shiver ran down your spine to help you come back to yourself. The last thing Viktor heard from you was the clicking of your heels at the end of the hallway.

“She didn’t believe it at all,” he said to himself as he leaned back against the door, taking a minute to compose himself, running one of his hands through his hair as if that would work. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face and his brain was still fluttering with your blushing image. What he had done had been a risky act but it felt so good to do it… Viktor shook his head, getting those thoughts out of his mind.

The lab was empty, it felt cold and that didn’t help his leg at all. Holding on to his cane he walked towards his desk, in one of the drawers, the one most full of failed prototypes, the only one you never dared to clean, in the back, wrapped in a somewhat singed piece of curtain, he found what he was looking for. A velvety box, upon opening it he was greeted by the intense glow of a Hextech gem much smaller than the rest, he had worked on it for quite some time, it wasn't the gift itself, but it was the eternal battery that would keep it running, it had already been quite a challenge to get the crystals to stabilize at their original size, he had lost count of how many times he could have died while making it. He quickly closed the box and carefully put it away in his bag, losing it would be a huge disaster. He had kept the rest of your gift in a safe place at home.

Viktor took a moment to look at his desk, years ago doing what he was doing now would have seemed ridiculous and a waste of time. Now there was nothing else he wanted to spend his time on. His hand slid across his desk, feeling papers and the leather of his notebooks under his fingers. His hands wandered until they entered between the swollen pages of one of his old notebooks, opening it he felt a little embarrassed by the content.

The pages were filled with notes and sketches of designs, as the pages turned one had established itself among the others. All around it was filled with details about you, your favorite color, your favorite scent, your favorite sound. Such sweet descriptions of your laugh, your hair… of your essence, there were even small drawings of your face and your unmistakable look, motivating him to continue. There were dates and small appointments that his mind read with your voice while he smiled.

“I really hope you like it…” He sigh longingly.

You hugged your bare arms as you hopped from foot to foot to keep warm, the dress you were wearing worked inside the heated academy but now that you were outside you were freezing, every hair on your body standing on end.

“What are you doing Viktor?” You said into the air.

Since the conference had been a huge success you both had planned to go to his house to hang out. Although well, it wasn’t long before it was your house too, after all half of your closet was in his and you even had matching coffee mugs in his kitchen. Still you didn’t want to push Viktor at all. It had already been a bit difficult for you to get him to dare kiss your cheek in public without making it look like you had a gun on his back.

You panted into your hands, your breath bringing some heat to your fingers that were starting to get cold as an iceberg.

Something brushed against your back, a sudden touch that made you turn around instinctively, almost unnaturally, only to find yourself facing Viktor, who was blinking in surprise at your reaction. His hands were outstretched, holding your coat.

“What were you trying to do?” you ask, your tone more accusatory than you’d like, as you try to calm your racing heart.

“Put your coat on, maybe?” he replies, his tone matching yours, but a sly smile playing on his lips. It’s obvious that your startlement amuses him. “Here, let me put it on you. You’re going to freeze.”

You sigh to release the tension in your body and turn your back to him. You feel his cold hands touch your neck, drawing a gasp from you that you instantly suppress, determined not to give him any more reasons to mock you. There's something about his gesture, the way he gently places the coat over your shoulders and guides your wrists into the sleeves, that disarms you.

When he's done, he gently turns you around to close the buttons, fastening them one by one, while his fingers brush your hair away from the coat. It's a simple gesture, but he does it with such care that you melt a little. Crowning the moment, he puts your bag over your head and lets it rest on your shoulder with elegance.

Your eyes watch him with a tenderness that seems to stop time. Viktor notices it; his hand slides from the strap of your bag to your cheek, caressing it with cautious delicacy before removing it, leaving a cold sensation behind.

A laugh escapes your lips, soft and sweet, filling the frozen air with a warmth that seeps into his bones. He smiles with you.

You take a step closer to him, not expecting it, you see him seek support from his cane, the only thing that stands between him and you really.

His scent envelops you instantly: coffee and honey. It’s such a unique combination that you could identify it among millions.

“Your nose is red,” you comment, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You can see how his eyes widen at the proximity and your close touch to his face makes the tip of his ears red, his gaze avoids yours nervously.

You barely finish and without waiting for an answer, he began to walk down the stairs of the academy. Leaving you upstairs with a satisfied smile, he seems quite in a hurry to get home.

The icy wind of Piltover forces you to get a little closer to Viktor when you manage to catch up with him while crossing the street. His steps are long and determined, he has barely taken a break since you started walking.

“Why are you so nervous?” you ask, breaking the silence. Normally he takes one or two breaks along the way, excusing himself by looking at the shop windows that you know he has little interest in.

“Nervous? Me?” Viktor arches an eyebrow and looks at you out of the corner of his eye, his tone has a doubtful tone.

“Yeah, even when you’re making fun of me,” you retort, remembering the coat incident earlier. “You seem to have your mind somewhere else.”

He lets out a short, almost dry laugh. “It’s not like that, just, you know… Someone has to keep the calm.”

“Someone? You mean you?”

“Of course. If you’re too busy freaking out over coats.” Viktor looks at you with a glint of amusement in his eyes, “someone has to take charge of looking professional.”

You frown, though you can’t hide the smile that threatens to appear. “If you put it that way it’s okay, I like you like that.” Is it dirty play? Yes, but it’s worth it when you see Viktor’s face.

Heat rises to his cheeks before he can stop it, but he hides it by burying his face deeper into his scarf. You’ve beaten him this time, but like any sore loser, he won’t let things go.

He stops walking abruptly, his body hunched over his knee.

Your triumphant expression leaves your face completely and you don't hesitate to approach him, worried. The weather was cold and that used to increase the pain in his leg, but you didn't expect it to be so strong as to double him over in pain.

“Does it hurt?” you asked somewhat worried, your hand on his back ready to help him stand up if necessary. “Not at all.” He turned his face only to be met with a proud and victorious smile.

The streets are empty, and the shops are beginning to close, Viktor resumes his straight posture while looking from side to side as if he wanted no one to see his next move, you follow his gaze, not quite knowing what to look at or what to look for. You feel the cold handle of his cane touch your chin gently and guide it to make you look up, towards him. He approaches cautiously and you know his pulse is shaking a little from the way the handle of his cane shakes, finally he presses his lips against yours, with an overwhelming softness that at another time would have made you draw him closer, but like all good things, it didn’t last long. The sound of a metal shutter being loudly lowered pushes him away from you like a scared cat before you can properly reciprocate. He tries to compose himself but the blush on his cheeks and the nervous movement of his eyes give him away; even someone as controlled as Viktor isn’t immune to nervousness.

You laugh, like a little child, savoring his kiss at the same time. Giving affection in public is a huge leap of faith for him and you know it, you melt every time he does it.

“Don’t look at me with that eyes.” he says avoiding your gaze, a shy smile forming on his mouth and refusing to disappear no matter how hard he tries.

“What eyes?” You ask, feigning innocence at the subject, searching for his free hand with yours to take it and not let it go.

His eyes meet yours, his pupils dilate quickly like drops of paint in water. That's one of the things you like about him, no matter when he tries to hide his feelings, you know exactly that his gaze will always give you the answer.

“Forgotten” he snorts trying to lighten the subject. This time offering you his arm to walk together.

Both of you walk in silence, just enjoying each other's company for the rest of the way, you look at the shops, some are closing, others still have warm lights on inside and a few people looking through the windows. People from Piltover don't usually go out at night, maybe because for them there isn't much interesting to see when the sun goes down. But you and Viktor are from Zaun, you reject the sun like hermit vampires and the night is the perfect time to go out and to let out certain romantic gestures as you already taste before.

Continue...

157 notes · View notes

galaxy-fleur · 1 day ago

Text

⋆Midnight Rendezvous⋆

Pairing: Post-RE4R!Leon/gn!reader.

Summary: It's only natural to miss and long for the one you love, regardless of how accustomed you are to being apart from them. One lucky phone call can mean so much more when it's an unexpected surprise. For you and Leon alike. Or: Quick smutty drabble for @thatpyramidthing that turned into a one-shot, which then turned into a full-blown fic. Oops!

Word Count: 4k words.

Notes: Established relationship, phone sex, mutual masturbation, smut with feelings. Suspension of disbelief because people were not using their phones like this in 2000's lmao.

Credit: Divider by @/saradika-graphics

For you and Leon, spending extended periods of time apart was not an exception but rather a tried-and-true routine. That was just the nature of his job, and it couldn't be fought or challenged, only accepted and adapted to accordingly. The only thing you could do was cherish what time you did get to spend together.

This particular assignment of his was the same as any other. While you had no expectations for him to call, you can't help but beam once you see his name appear on your phone screen. Waisting no time at all, you quickly fall back into bed and answer the phone, feeling a little bit too excited for what is likely going to be a brief check-in given how busy he is normally when he's gone. Still, him calling at all is enough for your heart to race, and although it was late at night, you didn't mind at all.

For him, you'd jump up at 4 am if you had to.

"-Hey."

It's painfully obvious he has no idea what to say, probably just wanting to hear you speak more than anything else. The sound of his voice ringing in your ear makes you smile a little, even if his greeting was almost comically abrupt. Then again, you did not expect him to make a lovey-dovey speech for you or anything. That's just not the type of man Leon was, and you had no qualms with that. Moreover, he was probably very tired, anyway. You weren't about to complain over him not sounding joyful enough when he already made the effort to call you in the first place.

"Hi," you reply, shifting to lay flat on your back, your gaze staring up at the ceiling. Without his warm body here to cuddle up to, your bed felt a bit too large for your liking. However, expressing such a thought outloud was way too sappy-sounding, even for you. So, you kept the sentiment to yourself. "Did not expect you to call. Did you get a free moment?"

An ocean away, Leon slouches into his own hotel bed, cluttered with belongings haphazardly thrown abound with not much care for hospitality, his phone in his hand. What he does know, however is that he wanted, no, needed you to be over here, with him, right now. But, alas, that's a wish too ambitious to be granted. So he settles for the next best thing. And hearing your voice is definitely no reason to complain about.

He takes a deep breath, almost feeling as if his physical distance from you is the main cause of the exhaustion seeping into his bones. He missed your voice, touch, even your scent. It wasn't until he spoke to you again that he realized how much he had missed you.

"Yeah, I was surprised, too. The job's done, but they can't take me back to base yet because of the weather. So I'm just stuck here until further notice." He hesitates for a moment before adding, his voice taking on a more softer tone: "…Are you in the mood to keep me company?"

"-Is that even a question?" You laugh slightly, shaking your head, although he obviously couldn't see it from a phone call. Your reaction causes him to smile and chuckle to himself as well. God, he missed hearing you laugh. "How your mission went, by the way? Everything okay?"

Really, mission talk? His expectations were slightly higher than that.

"It was fine. Same bullshit. A bunch of bastards getting what they deserve." A part of him almost wants to act as though he's not truly alone in this dimly lit room, so he lets out another breath and turns over to lie on his stomach. It was hard to feel cozy when nothing about this place felt like home. Your voice helped with that, though. "I'm more interested in talking to you."

He hears you laugh under your breath again at his unenthusiastic answer. It wasn't necessary for him to say it outloud for you to understand that he was not interested in discussing work. Not that you blame him.

"The feeling's mutual, trust me," you murmur, a small smile audible in your voice. "Not to rush things before they happen, but I've been planning on making that braised steak for you when you get back. You know, the one you liked on Thanksgiving."

The notion of some homemade food instantly makes him feel a little more excited. The mere thought causes his tired eyes to light up a bit and his mouth to water. Guess men really don't need much to be happy, huh? What can he say, few things bring as much joy as a homemade meal from the one you love. Especially when he compares it to quick tasteless meals he got by with on the job.

"Oh really now?" His voice now has a somewhat lighter lilt to it, his words gradually regaining some of their emotion. "-Because that sounds like you're trying to butter me up for something."

He teases, but the excitement in his voice is very much genuine. You laugh, this time a muffled giggle, and the sound promts a small, warm smile to make its way onto his lips as he closes his eyes and concentrates solely on your voice through the speaker. This was nice.

"Is it so odd that I want to treat you to something?"

"-No, it's not odd. It's sweet. I appreciate it. I really do," he corrects softly, quietly expressing his appreciation. For a man who has endured far too much hardship for his age, it was refreshing to have someone care for him in such a simple yet meaningful way. After a brief peaceful pause, he speaks again in a somewhat quieter voice, nervously drumming his fingers on the bedsheets: "...Hey, can I ask... can I be a bit selfish with you for a second?"

The way he fidgets and murmurs out his request is almost bashful; it's a part of him that, all things considered, feels a little strange even to him. But he can't help it. You make him anxious, but not in the stuffy, claustrophobic way he's accustomed to. This type of anxiousness feels good. Exciting. A welcome contrast to the blood-curdling anxiety that was his unspoken partner on the job.

"How so?" You inquire, curiosity evident in your voice. You were oceans away - literally - so it's not like there was much for you two to do except talk. A part of him was honestly just going to ask you to stay on the phone with him until he falls asleep. It's a kind of a dumb request, which makes him embarrassed, but he doesn't really want to back down from it anyhow.

Leon bites his lip, slightly perplexed on how to go about it without just asking you upfront. He wasn't good at this whole 'subtlety' thing.

"I, uh… I just wanted to ask you to talk to me a little more. For a while, I mean." He pauses, lets out another sigh, and then shifts in his bed into a more comfortable position. To hell with this, he might as well just spill the beans to you now. "My mind's just filled with… crap. I’m tired. The 'I could sleep for a week straight' type of tired. But I know I’ll just end up tossing and turning for hours instead. I just... your voice would help."

You chuckle at that, the sound uplifting, as at least you're not bewildered by his request. He knows you'd gladly do a lot more than just talk for him if you were actually here. Which makes the whole separation even more difficult to deal with. He shifts onto his back, his gaze now fixed on the ceiling as he lays his head back against the pillow with a soft sigh.

"Well... I wish I could have you laying on top of me so I could play with your hair, but... I guess us just talking on the phone will have to do for now."

He feels a small, enjoyable shiver from the mental picture you conjured up for him. The sense of contentment he's always felt when you did that is something he knows by heart now. His brain always seemed to just shut itself down, nothing for him to focus on except for the sensation of your soothing touch in his hair. God knows he'd kill to have that right now.

"Yeah. You really know what to do to make me feel all better… I hate being apart like this." He shifts again, feeling a little restless due to your words and his own thoughts making him long for you ever more. He hesitates for a moment, his heart racing as he imagines your touch. If he tries hard enough, he swears he can nearly feel the ghost of your fingertips combing through his hair. "Keep going. Tell me something else."

His voice comes out a bit muffled, and he is inadvertently tightening his grip on the phone a little, almost as if it'll bring him closer to you, somehow.

"Like what?" You ask without hesitation. Well, it's better than you playing a guessing game with him, at least. You were notoriously horrible at those, anyways.

Leon takes a deep breath while he clumsily mimics your touch by idly running his fingers through his hair. His hands are not comparable to yours at all. They're rougher and completely different in size. He drops his hand back onto the sheets with a small, frustrated huff.

"Anything. Just... keep talking. Your voice, it’s…" He clears his throat and considers the precise words he should use here. He's sure on where he is going with this, either. He simply knew that he needed to hear you, and that this need was gradually developing into a full-on craving that was desperate to be satisfied. "I want to hear more of it. And... what you’d do to me if you were here."

That's subtle enough, he thinks. He's fine with you being the one to decide on the way to interpret him. He just wanted to listen to you.

But, admittedly, his brain had other ideas.

As Leon closes his eyes, his mind is racing with countless ideas, none of which are as innocent as a simple cuddle or a hand stroking through his hair. He imagines your weight settled on top of him, steadying him, your legs wrapped around his waist, your hands holding onto his shoulders as your bodies mold and move together, skin to skin, with nothing but your presence there to fill his head with. Your sweet voice whispering all the things he wants to hear, your warm breath waffling over his ear.

All the ways in which you hold him, touch him, want him.

Your voice, which sounds nearly muffled through the pleasant fog buzzing in his head, jolts him out of his fantasy.

"Oh. ...Ohhh," you draw out, the realization clear in your voice. He almost snorts in endearment. Well, at least you caught on. His heart flutters in his chest with wordless excitement as the thought causes heat to rush to his face. Nearly subconsciously, he reaches for the other side of the bed with his free hand, almost as if you would be there. Which, of course, you're not. Much to his disappointment. "We're not... talking about cuddles here, are we?"

The tone of your voice changes, and Leon's breath catches a little. He can imagine how flushed your cheeks probably look, how your heart is beating a little faster at the realization. At this point, he was too worked up to restrain himself. Besides, the cat's out of the bag now. Not much point in walking back on his own words. Biting his lip, he lets his fingers slowly slide down his abdomen as he contemplates your words. Would you be up to what he has in mind? He hopes you would.

"No. No we’re not." He reaches for his belt and slowly starts to unfasten it. The button on his jeans is next. Then the zipper. The release of some tension causes him to inhale sharply, feeling the cool air against his skin, a small shiver running up his spine. He closes his eyes. "Keep. Talking."

His tone is direct, curt, rough. It's the same one often uses on the job, perfect for giving out clear orders in the heat of the moment, but using it under these circumstances definitely hits a little different. Especially for you. He can hear your breath quicken just a tiny bit, wordlessly reassuring him that you are, indeed, just as into this as he is. He smiles a little at the thought, feeling both relieved and little amused. He can imagine you lying there, your mind running hundred miles an hour to come up with a response while holding the phone up to your ear. He wonders if your other hand is wandering south now, too.

"Well I'd, uhm..." He lets you take your time and get your bearings, not hurrying you further. Hell, he's perfectly fine with you pulling out of this if it just wasn't clicking for you. He made his intentions clear. Now it was up to you to make the call, whatever it was. On any other day, he'd be the one getting all awkward over talking of these things outloud, but today, his mind is focused solely on your voice coming through the speaker. He hears you sigh, a sound steadying, and he feels himself smile. There you go. "I'd... want to kiss you. Long. Until we're both out of breath. And you get that dazed look in your eyes. You look so beautiful when you get like that. And just from me kissing you, too."

Leon listens to every word with keen interest, his eyebrows raising as you create a vivid picture in his mind for him to mull over. It was relatively tame, but it was a good starting point. Not to mention genuine. He can almost sense the warm touch of your lips against his, the taste of you on his tongue. You calling him beautiful was a nice cherry on top, making his breathing quicken in turn.

With his movements jerkier and clumsier than usual due to the excitement that was now steadily flowing through his veins, he quickly pulls his shirt over his head. He doesn't really look where it lands, just throwing it somewhere to the side with zero regard for decency. Not like it matters.

With his eyes still closed, he moves his hand slowly down his bare chest, grazing each ridge of his abs with his fingertips before lowering it further. He tries to mimic the manner in which you would touch him from memory. It's not a flawless attempt, bit it's good enough in his books. He can't help but groan softly, finding himself wanting to press into his own touch, if only to feel even the fraction of how your affection would feel like upon his battered body.

"And then?" He prompts, his voice lower now, charged with underlying tension hanging in the air. He knows full well that you can probably sense the hunger and anticipation he's not trying very hard to conceal. He wishes he could actually see you right now. But, alas, this will have to do.

"-What are you doing right now?" Your voice breaks him out of his momentary fantasy, his heart picking up speed in his chest as he focuses on you: every little change in your breathing, the dip in your tone, the words you choose to say to him. He hears you swallow before continuing: "What would you have me do if I was there? I could... y'know, go from there."

His heart swells with affection as he laughs a little. You weren't very slick. Then again, you never were. He liked you for that. It was painstakingly clear that you were just eager to hear exactly what he was up to. He was happy you were enjoying yourself.

He moves again, lying on his side, and switching the phone to loudspeaker while resting it on the cushion next to him before sitting back up to get comfortable. His own breath comes out shakily now, charged with rising arousal. Slowly, his other, free hand moves up his stomach, stopping at his chest. He huffs softly as he imagines your touch.

"I’d… I’d have you sit here." He moves his hand up to one of his pectorals and squeezes slightly as he pictures your fingers squeezing at his flesh instead. The action, along with his imagination, makes him bite his lip again, sucking in a breath through his nose. "Right in my lap."

He can’t help letting out a quiet 'fuck...' as he imagines you on top of him, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him, long and deep. Oh, what he wouldn't give just to have you close and to feel your lips against his again. He misses you so much that it's a little humiliating, but his mind is too hazy to care. No, all he cares about is you touching his bare skin with your hands, stroking the rising flames of his desire with every cares. Lost in the fantasy of your hand taking the place of his own, his hand slides higher up and touches his chin, causing sparks to bloom on his skin as he tilts his head back. He'd be just as pliant with you here, if not even more so. Just to feel wanted by you.

His mind is buzzing from the faint sounds of your own breathing coming through the speaker, which he can hear stuttering and quickening through the delightful fog filling his head. He doesn't push you into talking if you dont want to. However, he is well aware that you are not merely listening to him while innocently laying in your bed. He knows you well enough now to catch onto your state of arousal through the change in your breathing alone. He likes the thought of you doing the same as him right now. He hears some muffled shuffling on the other end of the line, something akin to bed covers being tousled around before you reply to him.

"On your lap," you repeat, almost as if testing out the idea in your head. Your tone is tight, and he can hear you take a single steadying breath before continuing: "I'd like that."

"Good," he finds himself responding, a faint smile on his lips. It's a small encouragement, just to let you know he's very much enjoying himself. To his surprise, you continue without any further promting from him.

"-I'd love to treat you after you get back. Just have you lay back and feel good while I take care of everything. Relax. You deserve it."

Your comments cause Leon's breath to catch abruptly, and he lets out a small, trembling gasp. He was not ready to hear something like that front you right now. In the best way possible. He is able to practically sense your presence and the grounding weight of your body upon him. As he runs his hand back down his chest and over his abs, they begin to tremble slightly.

"Fuck…" He groans lowly again, his brows drawing together in concentration as he pictures you in his lap. Your warmth against his hardening length, the way your hips would push against his.

His other hand mindlessly slides down as he palms himself through his jeans, his breath stuttering at much-needed stimulation. His hips jolt to press up firmly into his touch, imagining it's your hand instead of his own. He visualizes your fingers moving slowly down his chest. You kissing him all over as you usually do, leaving a trail of warm kisses down his hips and abdomen. He shivers and curses under his breath as the heat coiling in his gut only gets stronger.

"Leon?" It takes all of his inner strength not to whimper in response to your voice, which sounds both uncertain and needy. God, you just had to say his name of all things, huh?

"Keep going. Tell me more," he pants out softly, his voice rough with need. "Would you touch me?"

You laugh at that, and the sound makes him chuckle in response, his heart strangely light in his chest despite the intimate mood. You both sound so breathless. He likes that.

"Is that even a question?" You repeat the same thing you told him just minutes prior, and he can't help but snort. You got him there, he'll give you that. Though, your lighthearted playfulness soon shifts back into hushed arousal. "...Everywhere. Would love to touch you all over."

He swallows.

"Oh yeah? Seems like we both have the same idea."

You pause for a long time, and just as he's about to encourage you to speak your mind or reassure you, you beat him to it. And, boy, do you catch him off-guard.

"Just... Imagining riding you slowly. Make us both really feel all of it, every touch. I want to kiss at your neck, too... taste your skin, feel you shiver. And have my hands roaming all over you, too. Want to treat you right. Feel you."

...Oh, damn.

Leon moans at your words as he squeezes his length through his jeans a little. You just set his mind into overdrive. It's everything he wants and more. Your hands on his skin, your lips trailing warm, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, making him forget anything and everything but you and your touch. The way your hips would move against his, slowly and sensually, drawing out the pleasure until it becomes unbearable. At this point, his dick is practically aching to be touched, throbbing in the confines of his jeans.

"Jesus," he breathes out, a small, breathless chuckle following suit. Needless to say, you have him wrapped around your finger, even miles upon miles apart. He wouldn't have it any other way. "Keep talking like that and I'll lose it."

"Maybe I want to hear you lose it," you suggest to him softly, almost like you were testing the waters with what you could say to him. The idea makes him want to laugh. You didn't need to worry about a single thing with impressing him.

He quickly reaches for the waistband of his jeans and tugs them down just enough to free himself from the stiffling fabric. He exhales a shuddering breath as cool air hits his heated skin, a sense of relief accompanying the movement. He wastes no time wrapping his fingers over his cock, slowly stroking himself, still imagining your hand in its place instead of his own. Meanwhile, his other hand slides back up his chest, following the trajectory your touch would follow according to his memory. As he imagines you playfully nibbling at the side of his neck and whispering more sickeningly sweet dirty things into his ear, he shivers and gently rolls his thumb over his nipple.

"...Wish you were here," he exhales. He's losing himself in a fantasy that you two have created thus far, and it's getting easier and easier for him to just speak without hesitation or embarrassment. "Want your hands on me. Hips, stomach, chest, cock… everywhere."

In response, he hears you whine, and his mind generously conjures up a variety of possibilities for what you may be doing at the moment, each one more provocative than the last. What he wouldn't give to touch you right now, God. To be the reason behind those lovely sounds you are making.

"-So touch yourself," you instruct, your words barely above a whisper, your breaths coming out in small, shaky puffs of air, each one shooting straight to his groin. "Touch yourself like I would touch you right now. God, I would love to feel you under my hands..."

Leon shudders at your words, his cock throbbing in his hand as he instinctively bucks up, his breath faltering. A low groan leaves his lips, in equal measure in response to you as well as his touch. This time, he imagines you watching him, your own hand on yourself as well. Your lips parted and your cheeks flushed with arousal as you look at him dutifully.

"Fuck… I am,” he pants out, his hand moving a tad faster over his length. He senses himself leaking, the tip of his cock slick with precum. He spreads it around with his thumb, squeezes at the base, and then draws his hand back up. He bites his lip to stop another moan from slipping out, though, at this point it seems to be a futile effort. He's surprised he hasn't tasted blood yet. "Your hands would feel so good right now… so much better than mine…"

"Leon..." He hears you moaning out his name, and he swears that he almost came right then and there from the sound of it alone.

His free hand slides back up to his chest, gently squeezing at one of his nipples with the tips of his fingers. He pulls at it lightly, his brain picturing your teeth instead of his fingers. His back arches up towards the touch, a low groan leaving his lips.

"Tell me… where would you touch me?" He asks, his voice strained. "Be direct."

Your breath catches, as though you're taken aback by his question. But he was greedy, and he wanted more. He could feel his insides twisting and turning in the pit of his stomach, and not in a bad way. His spiraling brain almost couldn't handle the mental image of you touching yourself while on the phone with him, even though he was doing that exact same thing.

"Your chest," you murmur breathlessly, almost like the words were stealing your breath away as you shared them with him. And yet, you went on: "I want to touch your chest. Caress you all over... Squeeze at you, play with your nipples while I kiss the side of your neck and listen to you gasp and whine. Just like you like it."

Leon instantly visualizes your touch on him and lets out a deep wanton moan.

"Yes," he exhales. "Like that. Miss you..."

"-Miss you, too... so much." His head reels as you echo those words back to him in that breathy, almost whiny tone, and his hips automatically buck up into his hand in an attempt to feel what he perceives to be your touch.

He groans softly, running his hand over his chest, more to tease than to touch. Just as you said, he circles his nipple again and rolls the hardened bud under his thumb. Squeezing it just the way you would for him if you were here. Even if it's a poor substitute for the real thing. "Your mouth, too. Want it all."

Using his precum as lube, he begins to stroke himself quicker, rougher. He moves his hand up and down his shaft, squeezing a bit at the tip before returning back to the base in a familiar technique. Seeking the increasing pleasure coiling in his gut, he thrusts his hips up into his hand.

And as he hears every tiny sound of pleasure coming from your end, his desire for more only intensifies. You seem to be enjoying yourself just as much, stuttered breaths and muffled whines flowing through the receiver. He is saddened by the fact that he cannot see you in person at this moment in all your glory. But, this will have to do.

You exhale.

"Yeah," you encourage softly, your own voice breathy and hushed with arousal. "I'm right there with you."

"-Wish you were," he gasps out, his eyes shut tight as he wills himself to somehow bring this fleeting fantasy to life, however briefly. "Would feel so much better with you here."

"I am. Just close your eyes and focus on my voice. My hands stroking you, my mouth on your skin... Whatever you want. I'll give it to you. You deserve it."

Leon's already thin breaths come out in unsteady gasps as a result of your sweet encouragements. Your breathy and needy voice is somehow making him even more aroused than he already is, if that was even possible. His free hand descends to roam over his abdomen, primarily to visualize your hands mindlessly stroking his flesh. It's maddening.

"Fuck, you are too good at this…" He pants out, his hips thrusting up into his hand. Instead of continuing to trace over his lower abdomen, his hand reaches up to comb through his hair, just like you would, the delightful sensation sending jolts of pleasure directly to his cock. "Too good to me. Want to touch you, too. Whatever you want."

In order to give himself greater room to move around without experiencing any discomfort, he spreads his legs somewhat wider. He inadvertently starts to imagine you in a position between them, your head bobbing up and down as you take him in. His cock throbs at the mere thought, another droplet of precum dripping from its tip. Oh, he's lost it completely.

He listens to you groan quietly, and the realization that his words have the same impact on you as yours do on him makes him feel proud. The sound of your pleasure creates a fuzzy sensation in his head, blocking out all thoughts but you, you, you. His mind creates a fairly realistic image of what you are doing at the moment, even while he is itching to actually see you. And, God, was that picture irresistible.

"I want that too... Want to make you feel good."

Leon slightly squeezes the base of his cock at your whispered wants, another shudder rippling through him. He is acutely aware that he is getting close now, his balls drawing up tight and a growing coil of tension simmering deep in his gut.

"-Shit, I'm so fucking close," he pants heavily, his hips thrusting up into his hand steadily. He imagines you straddling him, riding him with all you have until you are both a gasping, trembling mess. Your hands wrapped snuggly over his neck and your lovely eyes on him the whole way through. The moan that comes out of him at the thought is borderline obscene as his head falls back, hot pleasure coiling in his gut until it's borderline unbearable. He does have enough sense in him left to warn you, though, however clumsy. Or maybe ask for permission. He isn't sure, and he is far too dazed to figure it out. "Jesus, fuck, going to cum-"

"That's alright, let go, I want to hear you," you coo at him softly through shaky puffs of air, a hint of urgency laced in your words. You were obviously getting impatient yourself while listening to him enjoying himself, whether that meant you were getting close or not. Either way, it was hot. "Cum for me, Leon. Please."

He didn't need to be told twice.

It only takes him a couple more rough strokes before he comes to a halt and shudders, his cock spurting ropes of his release into his hand and stomach, a broken gasp of your name leaving his lips in a desperate mantra before the pleasure slowly subsides. He's left panting, catching his breath from the pleasurable high of his orgasm as he plops back down on the bed, letting his body relax and gather its bearings.

"Jesus Christ, that was... wow..." He exhales, his voice ragged. As his mind gradually clears from the haze of pleasure that clouded his senses moments prior, he laughs softly, his voice full of tiredness and a hint of sheepishness. He turns his head to the phone, almost like he'd see you there. "You okay? Did you...?"

...He didn't even check if you came or not. Now he kind of feels like an ass.

"Y-Yeah. Just now." Because of your stuttering breaths, your words are a little unsteady. Whether you came with him or moments after, he doesn't really care. He's just glad you were left satisfied, too. Somewhat. Really, this was still more about him than you. He should fix that next time you do this.

He lets out a soft and warm chuckle at the thought. Next time. He was already thinking of next time, huh? Either way, that familiar subtle tremor in your voice makes him smile to himself, wishing he could reach out and stroke your cheek with the back of his hand right now.

"Good. I'm... I'm glad. Got worried there for a sec." He reaches over and grabs a tissue off his nightstand to quickly clean himself up. After tossing the tissue away, he leans back against the bed, feeling completely relaxed. "That was... something. Definitely needed that. Thank you."

A pleasant sense of calm washes over him as he sighs, closing his eyes. The subtle ache in his muscles and post-organasmic bliss is a welcome contrast to the constant tension he was dealing with lately.

"Happy to hear that." While he's unable to see you, he can still hear the smile in your voice, which makes him smile in turn. You take a deep, steadying breath, some rustling following suit as you probably clean yourself up and get comfortable. He didn't prod you. It didn't feel awkward at all when you were on the line with him. Despite his wish for you to actually be here.

"...I can't wait to see you again. To actually hold you, kiss you, make up for lost time," he promises, his voice unusually soft and intimate. "Tell you what, once I get back, we'll spend a whole weekend in bed, just the two of us. No phones, no work, no distractions. Just us."

His wistful smile is accompanied by the image of you in his bed, warm and cozy as you nuzzle up to him. God knows he didn't need anything more to be happy.

"That sounds lovely. I might just hold you to that," you giggle, those same familiar playful notes making their appearance again as you both come down from your highs.

"Hey... Do you mind staying with me on the line tonight? I don't... really want to hang up," he confesses, a bit embarrassed, but unwilling to just part with you so quickly. He can't help but feel a bit clingy.

"Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing."

He laughs at that, shaking his head.

"God, I love you."

"I love you more."

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #feedback is appreciated mostly because smut is actually not a strong suit of mine #but hey can't get good without practice!#i hope dialogue is believable - now that was the trickiest part alright!#leon's bad at dirty talk in my head but hey #if you love someone dome exceptions can be made #tumblr you better not fucking banish me into tag prison again

96 notes · View notes

angelsfat3 · 3 days ago

Text

ⓘㅤ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄. ⠀⠀( 她。)

𝓢ummary “ ✉. 𝖡𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗀𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌. 𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌. She forms your perfect eclipse.

⠀،،⠀Genre. ’ Angst, fluff, au, drama, wlw.

( 𝒄/𝒘. )───Death wishes (brief), mention of cheating, crying, comparison with someone.

“You know... I think this time it’s different,” Karina said suddenly, breaking the silence that had settled as you both worked on the project.

You were sitting on the school bleachers, surrounded by scattered papers and open books.

The soft orange glow of the late afternoon sun painted the sky, but nothing in that serene moment could prepare you for what you’d just heard. Karina spoke with that spark in her eyes that made everything about her seem more radiant, and all you could do was look at her, trying to keep your expression from betraying what you felt.

“Different? With who?” you asked, striving to keep your tone casual as your fingers fidgeted nervously with a pen.

You knew the answer, but you didn't want her to confirm it. You weren't ready.

“With Anthony,” she replied, almost as if she couldn’t contain her excitement. “I don’t know.. there’s.. there’s something about him… He’s not like the others. He makes me feel special.”

That name hit you like a punch to the chest. Anthony.

The guy everyone knew, the one who never seemed to take anything seriously, especially not relationships.

You felt your lips moving before you could stop them.

“Anthony? The same Anthony who…?” you began, but Karina interrupted with a wide smile, as if the question didn’t matter.

“Yes, I know what everyone thinks of him, but I think it’s different with me. He listens to me, makes me laugh, and… I don’t know, I feel like this could be something real.”

Her voice was a melody of happiness, and for a moment, you looked at her, wishing that smile was because of you.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned her attention back to the project, as if she hadn’t just sent your world spiraling into confusion and heartache.

“Well if that thi..-he, if he makes you happy... Then so am I.” you finally said, forcing your voice to sound steady, even as something inside you shattered with each word.

Karina gave you a warm smile before continuing to talk about Anthony—the things he did for her, the promises he’d made. You nodded, feigning interest, while the weight of unrequited love settled more heavily in your chest.

As much as you tried to focus on the project, all you could hear were her words, each one carving deeper into the part of your heart that had always belonged to her.

Since you were fifteen, Karina had been your everything. Friend, confidant, the safe haven you always turned to when the world became too loud.

Being by her side was effortless, as if she'd been born to fit perfectly with you. The shared laughter in school hallways, the movie nights that turned into hours-long conversations until dawn, and those moments when silence spoke louder than words...

Everything with Karina felt natural, like breathing.

But time has a cruel way of bringing clarity, even when you'd rather stay blind. Somewhere along the way, without realizing it, you began to see her differently.

It wasn't just her laughter that felt like home anymore; it was the way her lips curved when she smiled, how her hair fell over her shoulders, and that spark in her eyes that made the rest of the world disappear.

You fell in love. And it hurt.

It hurt because every hug from her felt too brief, because every time she held your hand, it was a reminder that you'd never hold it the way you wanted to.

It hurt because she shared her secrets and dreams with you, and you sat there, smiling and listening, while a longing so deep swelled in your chest that it became unbearable.

There were nights when you closed your eyes and let yourself imagine a world where she looked at you the way you looked at her. A world where your laughter intertwined with kisses, where her hands sought yours not out of habit but out of need.

But then you'd wake up, and reality would strike with a devastating coldness.

And then came the cruelest blow of all. The day you found out before she made it obvious.

It wasn't Karina who told you actually, but a mutual friend, mentioning his name so casually it left you frozen: Anthony.

You didn't need an explanation; everyone knew who he was. The guy with the easy smile, the sweet words, and a reputation that made any relationship with him feel like a countdown to disaster.

That afternoon, when Karina spoke about him with a smile so wide it seemed to light up the entire room, you felt something inside you break.

You tried to smile, to pretend you were happy for her, but the ache in your chest was unbearable. Every word she said about him was like a small wound, a confirmation that what you felt for her would never have a place in her life.

The nights that followed were a whirlwind of emotions. Sadness, jealousy, anger.

Why him?

Why someone who couldn't possibly see Karina the way you did? You knew how to care for her, how to love her, how to make her happy.

But she had chosen someone who, in your eyes, didn't deserve her.

And yet, you couldn't hate her.

Every time you saw her, the love remained, tangled with the pain. That bitter mixture consumed you, but you didn't walk away. Because the only thing worse than watching her be with someone else was imagining a world where you couldn't see her at all.

So, you stayed, her friend, enduring her confessions about that guy, the little details of their relationship that quietly tore you apart.

You stayed, trapped between love and sorrow, between hope and resignation, while Karina remained the center of your universe, blissfully unaware that you had made her that way.

Little by little, that feeling of emptiness took hold of you.

Seeing Karina with Anthony every day made you feel like a shadow, like you were nothing more than a spectator in the life of someone you once thought would be yours alone.

Every time you saw her smile with him, every laugh they shared, it was like a piece of your heart slowly breaking.

You told yourself it was normal, that it was just a phase, that your love for her was something you had to let go of, but as the days passed, the words you repeated no longer held the same weight.

Karina was more radiant than ever, her face glowing with the shine of something new, something that wasn't you. There was something in the way Anthony looked at her, something that overflowed inside you, and all you could do was stay there, watching from a distance, feeling the pain you never managed to express.

One day, while they were walking down the hall, you stayed behind, feeling the anguish choke you as you watched Karina laugh while Anthony held her hand.

That hand you once wished was yours. That connection they shared made you wonder if what you had felt had ever been more than just an illusion.

"I love you so much, beautiful," Anthony told her with a smile that made it clear how much he adored her.

Karina, with that smile of hers, the same smile she had shared with you countless times, responded with the same warmth. "I love you too, Anthony. You're amazing."

Her words cut deep. Very deep.

You felt so small, so invisible, as if everything you had been for Karina was never enough. Sometimes you wondered if maybe, in some corner of her heart, Karina saw you the same way, as the person who had always been there, waiting, but never to be anything more than a friend.

The truth was, at that moment, doubt settled in you.

Did you really think there was something more between you? Had you deceived yourself for so long? Because seeing Karina so happy, so in love with him, told you that there was nothing you could do, nothing you could be, that would make her look at you the way she looked at him.

The days grew longer, each conversation you had with her felt heavier.

Karina talked about Anthony, about their plans, about the little things they shared, and you smiled, but inside it just hurt more and more. Every time you saw her so happy with him, you felt like you were losing something you never had.

You sat there staring at the clock, waiting for Karina's call, but it never came. Instead, there was a message from her saying, "I'm going out with Anthony today, can't talk, but I'll see you later!!! ♡"

That was it.

The words that had always made you feel special had faded, and in their place, there was something you couldn't ignore.

You couldn't be the one by her side. You'd never be that person. And though you tried to smile and pretend everything was fine, inside, something broke every time you thought about how happy she was with him.

A deep emptiness took over you, as if all the love you had given her was a breath that vanished into the air, leaving behind only the echo of something that never came to be.

Maybe you would never understand why she couldn't see you the way you saw her, but with every

moment that passed, you were certain that there was something in you that would never be enough for Karina to love you the way you loved her.

And even though you tried to convince yourself it didn't matter, that she deserved to be happy, deep down you knew that, even if only for a moment, you wished you could be the person she looked at with that smile, the one she now gave to Anthony.

But damn, the tears on your pillow weren't lying, this was killing you, she was killing you, your love, her smile. The way you knew you'd never be him, that you could never give her everything.

The days seemed to pass in slow motion. Every time you crossed paths with Karina and Anthony, it felt like the air grew thicker, heavier.

Communication was becoming more and more empty, you stopped seeing each other daily, even the places in the classroom changed, now you were behind her.

And Anthony? Next to her.

The way they looked at each other, how their hands intertwined with such ease that it tore you apart, made you wonder if you'd ever had a chance. Because, if you really thought about it, maybe there never was one. Not even when it was just you and her.

And yet, deep down, you clung to the tiny spark of hope that remained inside you, the one that still made you dream that maybe, one day, she would see in you what you saw in her.

But that hope was starting to crumble, slowly, like a sandcastle being washed away by the waves.

One afternoon, as you left class, you found Karina sitting on her usual bench in the park, her head resting in her hands, her eyes sparkling with an emotion you couldn't quite read.

For a moment, you thought maybe today would be different, that you could break the silence that had settled between you, talk about what you felt, take the risk at last.

But then, before you could approach, you heard her laugh. That laugh you used to share, the one that always made you feel like the world paused just for the two of you. But this time, it wasn't you making her laugh. It was Anthony.

He approached her with that arrogant smile he always wore, and kissed her on the cheek, such a simple, natural gesture, but one that made your heart break a little more. Karina looked at him, her gaze so full of affection, of something you had never been able to reach in her life.

And then you just stood there, frozen, watching from afar. You couldn't move, couldn't stop yourself from feeling everything you had kept quiet, everything you had hidden deep inside, spilling out uncontrollably.

Karina, upon seeing you, looked up as if she had been waiting for you all along.

"Hey! Have you been standing there the whole time?" she asked, with that innocent smile.

You smiled back, but couldn't help that your voice sounded a little lower than usual. "Yeah, just... thinking."

"Thinking about what?" Her tone was curious, without malice, as if nothing were different. But to you, everything happening around her was changing at a speed you couldn't stop.

You stayed silent for a moment, fighting against the words that piled up in your throat, the words you could never say.

Because if you did, everything would break even more. And even though you knew that, the sadness burned inside your chest.

"Nothing," you finally answered, trying to maintain your composure, though you felt something inside you crack every time you thought about what could never be. "Just a few things about my project."

She nodded, completely unaware of what you truly felt, and continued talking about her plans with Anthony.

You, on the other hand, stayed there, trapped in that moment, feeling how the love you had saved for her faded in the face of the reality of her happiness with someone else.

Every time you saw her smile, that smile she shared with him, you felt smaller. More insignificant. Like everything you had been, everything you had wanted to give her, wasn't enough.

And then you realized something that had been eluding you all this time. Karina would never look at you the way you looked at her.

The love you felt wasn't anything more than an unattainable dream, an illusion of what could have been if things had been different. But they weren't. And while she carried on with her life with Anthony, you stayed in the shadows, just another friend.

That day, when you said goodbye to Karina, your smile was as fake as ever, but inside, you felt broken.

You knew you would never be the one by her side in those moments of happiness anymore. And though you tried to convince yourself that it was best to let her go, the pain lingered. Because, in the end, all you wanted was to be the one she looked at that way, with that love that seemed reserved for Anthony.

And you knew that, no matter how much you wished for it, it would never be you.

And by the time you realized...

You had lost all hope.

You had reached a point where you accepted that you would never be more than just her friend, that you would never be the chosen one, that your feelings for Karina would only be a silent burden you would carry forever.

That day, the pain embraced you so tightly that the fake smiles you had held for so long completely crumbled. There was nothing left but an empty sensation deep in your chest.

You were in your room, lying on the bed, trying to calm the mind that screamed that everything was lost.

But then, suddenly, you heard a knock on the door.

You were so immersed in your thoughts that you didn't expect it. When you opened the door, the sight of Karina froze your body.

She was there, standing in front of you, her face wet with tears, her expression of anguish so deep it almost hurt more than anything you had ever felt before.

Before you could say anything, she wrapped her arms around you, holding you with a desperation that broke your soul.

You instinctively embraced her, though the pain in your heart was so overwhelming that it was hard to breathe.

But what really consumed you was seeing Karina broken, so far from the perfect image you had always seen in her. She sobbed, her trembling body against yours, and you, though you held her tightly, felt a mix of rage and despair you couldn't explain.

"He... he told me he loved me, that nothing would change," she continued, sobbing. "And now... he did this to me."

"What... what happened?" you asked, your voice trembling as you held on to her tightly, as if the weight of her pain was something you could ease, something you could fix.

Karina sobbed, trying to speak, but the words came out halting, almost drowned by her tears.

"Anthony... was... with another girl." The way she said it, how broken she sounded, made something twist in your stomach. "He was kissing her. We were supposed to go to the mall to see a movie, and when I arrived, I saw him... with her. He saw me, and... he didn’t care. He just looked at me and left with her. I... I don’t know what to do. I... I feel so stupid."

Karina’s face in your arms made you want to break something, destroy everything around her, but at the same time, her suffering was a direct stab to your chest.

Because yeah, you felt anger, you felt that Anthony deserved the worst for doing this to her, but there was also a part of you that wanted to see Karina suffer for giving herself to someone like him, for leaving you behind like that. The contradiction ate at you from the inside.

The world faded for a moment. All you could hear was the rapid beating of your heart and the muffled sound of her tears.

"I’m so sorry," you said, your words heavy with pain and frustration. "I’m so sorry, Karina... you don’t deserve this."

The hatred for Anthony was a flame that spread quickly inside you.

For a moment, you imagined yourself doing something you never thought you were capable of.

You wanted to see him suffer, you wanted him to pay for every tear Karina had shed. You wanted to tear him apart with words, gestures, anything you could. But at the same time, something inside of you was holding you back because you knew what really mattered was Karina, her pain.

She clung to you tighter, as if it was the only way to stay afloat in that sea of confusion. "I don’t know what to do," she whispered, her voice broken. "I thought... I thought Anthony was different, he promised... That he wouldn’t do this to me. And now... I don’t know if I..."

You sat with her on the bed, still holding her tightly, listening as her sobs became softer but didn’t disappear.

Her face, so messy and tear-streaked, made you wish time would stop. Because while all of this was happening, you felt closer to her than ever before. But the pain remained, the uncertainty remained. In that moment, even though Karina was broken and vulnerable, you felt broken too.

"I’m so sorry, dear.." you whispered, holding her even tighter, as if you could stop her suffering. "I’m so fucking sorry for not being there for you.."

She, with her face against your shoulder, nodded, her breathing ragged. "I don’t know what to do... I don’t know how to go on." she sighed. “It's like... in such a short time he made me feel so many things..”

It was hard to know what to do, how to comfort her, how to make her stop feeling that devastation.

You knew what you wanted to do, what you desired with every fiber of your being, but you didn’t know if you should.

You didn’t know if you should release all the anger, all the frustration inside you, or if you should keep being the friend who had always been there for her.

As the minutes passed, only a sense of stillness remained in the room.

The tension in the air was palpable, as if both of your emotions were on the verge of exploding, but for a moment, everything calmed down.

Karina, exhausted, lifted her head, looking you in the eyes with a mix of pain and vulnerability. And there, in that gaze, you could see something else, something that, though painful, spoke more than any word.

She trusted you.

But despite all the pain, despite the betrayal, you knew that the feeling of being next to her, of having her close again, even in her worst moment, was the only thing that truly made you feel whole.

Karina continued crying, her eyes red as if they had been flooded with tears that could no longer fall.

Her cheeks were wet, but most of the tears had already evaporated, leaving behind an expression of exhaustion, someone who didn’t know how much more she could endure.

Her breathing was still irregular, broken, and she couldn’t stop inhaling her own sniffles, as if the pain was so great she couldn’t even hold it back.

With her head fallen to your chest, she slowly pulled away just enough to look at your face, her eyes resembling two broken mirrors, reflecting the torment she carried inside.

In a movement so soft, so subtle, that you almost didn’t notice, Karina took your hand with hers, as if she needed to be closer, as if she feared that if you pulled away, she’d lose the last connection she had left.

She stayed like that for a few seconds, her gaze fixed on your eyes, but then, with a low, trembling voice, she asked, as if unsure that what she felt was real.

"You... won't leave me, right?"

The question hit your chest like a blast of icy wind.

The fear in her voice tore at you from the inside. It was a fear you had never heard before, a fear that, if it weren’t for the situation she was in, would have seemed inhuman. But there she was, the girl who had always been strong, always so sure of herself, now vulnerable, completely lost.

A knot formed in your throat, but you shook your head immediately. You couldn't bear the thought of seeing her even more broken.

It couldn’t be any other way. No matter what happened, you would never abandon her. Without thinking, your other hand went to her cheek, and when you touched it, you felt the softness of her skin, still wet with tears. It felt so real, so close… like the whole universe had paused in that moment.

"No, never," you said, your voice firm, almost as if it were a promise sealed in your soul. "Over my burnt corpse, Karina. I won't leave you, never."

It was a promise so strong, so heart-wrenching, that not even you could believe it as you said it, but it was what you felt. It was what you thought with every fiber of your being. You would never leave her. Never.

The air between you two thickened with something so intense it almost hurt. Everything was too close.

Every breath you took, every movement Karina made, felt like an electric shock running through you. You were completely trapped in her pain, her vulnerability, and the moment her eyes looked at you as if searching for something that only you could offer.

Karina didn’t look away, not for a second. She kept facing you, her body slightly leaning toward you, as if the gravity of the situation forced her to get closer.

She couldn’t pull away. She didn’t want to. She was broken, yes, but somehow, it seemed like only you could fix the broken pieces of her.

Slowly, Karina began to speak, her voice cracked but needing to come out.

"It's... it's just... I never thought this would happen to me. I... I thought he really loved me, that... that this would be different," her words choked in her throat, and her breathing remained labored, as if each phrase were too much for her heart to bear.

"He told me so many times that he wasn't like the others, that I was special... But... why did he do this? Why did he make me feel like I was the most important thing to him, if I really wasn't?"

The sadness on her face deepened even further, her expression crumpling in such a way that seeing the pain in her face made you feel like a dagger was piercing your own heart.

Your hand continued to caress her cheek, trying to calm her, while your own thoughts grew darker. The image of Anthony kissing that girl overwhelmed you, but for some reason, hearing Karina's pain through her words made you feel more powerless, as if everything you wanted to do—kill Anthony for what he had done—was insignificant in the face of her suffering.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” she continued, not stopping to look at you, almost as if she were waiting for you to have the answer. “I... I just wanted someone to love me. I thought that... that he would...” she repeated, her head slightly tilting to the side as her tears started to fall again, still unable to stop.

Each word Karina spoke seemed to pull you closer to her, and though the temptation to caress her face, to hold her in your arms and take away that pain, consumed you, you stayed there, facing her, as if the world had frozen in that moment.

The desire to comfort her was uncontrollable, but the tension between you was so palpable that you didn’t even know what to do with your own emotions.

Her sobs continued, but this time, it felt different.

This time, Karina’s pain was cutting through you even deeper. It wasn’t just her suffering that affected you; it was the way she was surrendering to you, without reservation. Every tear that fell from her eyes felt like a sigh of pain, a sigh you felt as your own.

The room fell silent again, a heavy silence, but not an uncomfortable one. Karina, between sobs, she tried to speak again, to let off steam with the air, perhaps.

She kept talking, her hands resting on her knees as she tried to explain everything running through her mind, as though pouring it all out could somehow rip away the pain Anthony had left behind.

"It’s just… it hurts so much, you know? Because I thought this was different… I thought, at least this time, someone would choose me, that someone would actually love me for who I am and not for my status, my body or my money."

She paused, letting out a small, tear-filled laugh as she wiped her cheeks. "But here I am, crying like an idiot over a jerk who isn’t even worth it." she said, letting out a small, uneven laugh as she wiped her tears with the sleeve of her sweater.

"You know? Out of all this, I think the only good thing is… that you’re here. That I can talk to you. If you weren’t… I don’t know how I’d be handling this."

She laughed again, but this time tears glistened in her eyes. It was a desperate sound, as if she were trying to find relief in a moment where none existed.

"At least you’re not an idiot like Anthony," she added with a faint smile, one that barely concealed the sadness beneath.

You looked at her, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it could echo throughout the room. In that moment, everything blurred. Her voice, her words, even her laughter.

It was as if the universe had narrowed to just her—to her face so close to yours, to the way her eyes still shone despite the tears. It was too much. Everything was too much.

And then it happened.

"Hey, everything okay?" Karina asked, tilting her head in curiosity.

That simple question was the breaking point. Before you could stop yourself, before your brain could process what you were doing, you leaned in and kissed her.

It was a brief kiss, almost desperate, yet filled with everything you had been holding back for so long. Your lips met hers—soft, warm—and for one fleeting moment, the world ceased to exist entirely.

When you opened your eyes, she was still. Her eyes were wide, staring at you in shock. She didn’t push you away, didn’t say anything, but she didn’t kiss you back either. She just sat there, frozen.

Your heart stopped, and you pulled away instantly. You stood up so quickly you nearly tripped over your own feet.

"I’m s-sorry… I-I’m so so-sorry," you began, your voice trembling as you avoided her gaze. "I don’t know what came over me, I… I-I didn’t mean to… I w-wasn’t trying to take advantage of you, Karina, please b-believe me…"

You brought your hands to your face, the heat rising so fast it felt unbearable. Fear clawed at you—fear that she would think the worst of you.

You were so consumed by your apologies, so lost in your own panic, that you didn’t notice when Karina stood and moved closer to you.

“I-I'm sorry, I-I don't know what I was thinking, I-I let myself... I-I was an idiot... I-I really didn't want to..”

You were so consumed by your apologies, so lost in your own panic, that you didn’t notice when Karina stood and moved closer to you.

"Can you stop apologizing already?"

Her voice cut through the chaos in your mind, grounding you.

You looked up at her, still trembling, and saw her smile. It wasn’t mocking, nor was it angry. It was soft—almost… affectionate.

"Okay," Karina said, placing one hand on her hip while taking your hand with the other. "Thanks for confirming I’m irresistible, but you could at least give me a heads-up next time, you know?"

Her tone was half playful, half serious, and it only made your head spin more. But before you could respond, she gently guided you back to the bed.

"Come on, sit down," she said, pulling you by the hand until you were both seated again.

"Now, tell me… was that because you couldn’t stand to see me cry, or because you really wanted to kiss me? Because, honestly, both options are pretty flattering."

Her light tone contrasted with the weight of what had just happened, yet the tension remained—thick, almost tangible.

It lingered between you, like something waiting to unravel. You were trapped between shame, confusion, and something else—something closer to hope. Again.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ݁⠀⠀،،⠀⠀메모 ! ㅤ⸻ㅤ Karina is for pretty girls.︐⠀📍

⠀𝒊. ⠀─⠀ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara⠀𝄒

. . . ₍⠀아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>⠀₎⠀ ִֶָ

˖⠀⠀ ݁⠀©⠀،،⠀If you liked it you can like, follow me or reblog!!

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

70 notes · View notes

gejo333 · 1 day ago

Text

Under the Mistletoe with You

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: Enjoying the holiday market with Miguel.

Enjoy!🎄

Wc: 1.2k

————————————————————————

You breathe warm air into your hands, trying to keep them warm as your worn-out gloves are not helping. You happily listen to the holiday tunes playing, people watching in Columbus Circle at the holiday market, and feeling jittery from the cold and the butterflies in your stomach waiting for Miguel to arrive. It has been over two months since your first date, and everything has been perfect. Even though neither you have declared to make it official, you have high hopes of it leading in that direction soon.

A sense of comfort and warmth washed over you as strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into a broad chest. You felt a pair of lips against your cheek as he gave you a hello kiss.

You turn around in his embrace as you get on your toes and return the sweet gesture on his lips. "Hi, mi amor. I'm sorry I was running a few minutes late. I hope you weren't waiting for me too long in the cold."

Your cheeks redden from what he called you. He had never called you anything except your name before now. You notice the grin on his face as he notices your reaction to his words.

"No worries. I only got here a few minutes ago. But I didn't realize how cold today would be, so I'm a little underdressed."

You notice his concern as he takes your hands in his large hands and blows hot air into them to help keep you warm. He frowns when he notices your worn-down gloves.

"How about we go to one of those igloo tables at the bar to warm up? I reserved one for us. And then we can walk around and look at the shops?"

"Sounds perfect!"

He smiled as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders to keep you warm as you headed to the bar.

As soon as you entered the igloo, you were relieved to be wrapped up in the heater's warmth.

"Feeling a bit warmer?" He smiled as he sat down next to you and brought his chair closer to you.

"Much warmer. It feels nice. Thank you, Miguel." You lean forward and kiss his cheek in thanks, but immediately, his fingers gently move your chin as his lips meet yours. Once you pulled away, you couldn't help but feel your heart pound out of your chest as you saw his loving and slightly lustful gaze with a wide, happy grin.

After stealing a few more kisses from each other, you choose your drinks as Miguel goes back outside to get them.

It took him a bit longer to get your drinks, which worried you, but your relief rushed through you once you saw him come back with them. When he entered, you noticed a small bag hanging from his wrist. Sitting down, he passed the bag to you with a happy expression.

You return his smile with an added confused expression. "What's this?"

"I saw something at a stand while waiting for our drinks and wanted to buy it for you." You smile as you open the box to reveal beautiful black leather gloves. Your heart glowed from his sweet gesture. You put them on and were instantly comforted by the soft cashmere against your skin.

"I love them, Miguel. They're beautiful. Thank you." You give him a kiss, which he happily returns.

After sharing sweet sayings and catching up about each other's day, you decided to leave the warmth of the igloo tent and enter the slight chaos of the Christmas market.

One of the first stalls you visited was handcrafted ceramic china from Spain. A row of colored bowls caught your eye as you stared at them in awe. After checking the price of one bowl, your excitement lowered when you realized how expensive one bowl was. You still had to buy gifts for your family and friends. And Miguel. With how tight money has been lately, you knew getting it wouldn't be wise. You sighed sadly as you set the bowl gently back in its place before thanking the store owner and leaving.

"Everything ok?" Miguel looked at you with concern as you saw your slight frown. You smiled up at him in reassurance. "Yeah, I am. I was just a little bummed that those bowls were so expensive. They were so cute. Maybe I can get them next year if the shop is here again."

As soon as you finished your sentence, you were whisked back to the booth by him as he was holding your hand. You stood there dumbfounded as Miguel told the shopkeeper that he wanted to buy one of the bowls in every color you liked: four different bowls. When you came to your senses, you walked right up to Miguel's side.

"Oh, Miguel, you don't need to buy these for me. I'll be ok. You don't need to spend any more on me."

"Nonsense. You liked these bowls. And I want to buy them for you. Especially if I get to see that amazing smile that captures my heart." Miguel handed the shop owner his credit card before smiling lovingly at you.

"How did I get so lucky finding such an amazing man like you?" You wrap your arm around his bicep and hug him. You get on your toes and kiss his cheek.

Miguel leaned down to whisper in your ear."I'm the one who got lucky in finding someone as perfect as you."

As you walked around more of the market, a random man in an elf costume shouted happily at the two of you. "Pucker up, love birds. You're under our surprise mistletoe!"

You and Miguel stop before looking up and seeing the over-the-top mistletoe hanging above your heads. You look back at each other as your cheeks redden from Miguel's smirk.

"I guess we should appease the elf." He chuckled.

"I guess we should." You giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck. Miguel wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against his warm chest before capturing your lips into a sweet, loving kiss.

When your lips separated only centimeters apart, he said, "I love you, y/n."

Your eyes widen in surprise at his words, and your smile widens before you capture his lips again and say, " I love you, too."

3 years later

You chuckled at the framed photo of the two of you from that day at the Christmas market on the bookshelf. Then, you glanced at the adjacent picture from your wedding day, captured just two months ago.

You felt strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against a warm body as you felt lips on your neck.

"Dinner is almost ready. Can you help me with bringing the dishes to the table?" He mumbled against your neck as he kissed you.

"Of course." You giggle at him, tickling your neck with his stubble. As you walk toward the kitchen, Miguel grabs you by the waist and stops you right under the doorway as he points up. You look up to see a mistletoe in the middle of the doorway's frame. You smile at him with an arched brow as he sends you a mischievous smirk before dipping you and giving you a passionate kiss.

"Merry Christmas, mi amor."

————————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed it!🎄

#miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel x reader #oneshot #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x y/n #oneshot requests #atsv miguel #miguel x you #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel spiderverse #holidays

71 notes · View notes

rosedere · 1 day ago

Text

Aquamarine (Floyd Leech x Fem reader)

CW:Forced Transformation (human), Drugging(magic), Attempted non con, Forced mating, Mer marking.

“So if I jump, your for sure going to catch me” You crossed your arms, looking once more down the rocky embankment that was littered around the small island the school resided on.

You were already on edge because of the whole rule about not being allowed to roam off campus; let alone being caught in your skimpy swimsuit. It would be social suicide if anyone caught you with this much skin out.

Or if you were caught with Floyd.

Since you were a girl...

He was the only one who knew you were a female anyway; everyone assumed you were like Epel, a feminine boy from another world. It wasn't like anything bad would happen if anyone knew in theory…

Everyone already would let their eyes linger a little too long on your school uniform ranging from a few of the housewardens and some of your closest friends enough to where it would make you feel uneasy; news spreading about you being a girl would only exacerbate their stares or worst.

it’s why you trusted Floyd as a Confidant and friend here in the otherworldly school.

”Come on (name) the potions about to kick in,” Floyd's nasally voice called from below in the deep, dark blue water below the cliffs edge.

”You didn't answer my question at all!” You huffed, crossing your arms around your chest. “Plus, I hate this bathing suit you brought me—why couldn't you have found an old shirt or something?” you shouted from the edge of the cliff.

Your head was spinning as you saw the distance from the cliff to the water and the rocky, jagged landforms poking out below. Squatting, you sat down with your legs dangling over the vertical ledge, still covering your chest from the merman, only mischievously looking up at your trembling legs.

”I won't answer them until you jump in~”

The sound of his nasally laugh was all you could positively hear from the ledge.

You only looked down at him with unamusement, he knew you hated swimming this was just torture.

”Fine, wait there—“ He sunk into the water, only leaving his face fins treading the waves passing over him.

It was true the potion he gave you was still on you; you didn’t swallow any of it.

But you could take the glowing green liquid in the noculious shell bottle.

Or jump in and not fall for his prank he was going to play on you.

Whatever it may be...

”Fine! I will—“ you chortled to yourself as you let your dangling feet hang on the other side of the cliff.

His eyes only stayed in their usual frumpy, lopsided position as he looked over the water rushing to collide with the tall cliff. You smugly looked down at him, pretending you were going to jump, only backing away, watching the mer get annoyed.

“You didn't drink it, did you (Name)”

“No, I took a whiff, and it smelled like you,” you teased.

You were expecting him to come back with a playful insult.

But he was dead serious as he looked up at you from under the waves.

“Well… I guess I'll just have to tell everyone about your secret”

You only laughed this off, his webbed face growing shriveled with annoyance at your playful attitude.

“I mean it (name)”

His voice sounded a bit more aggressive, feral even.

“Get in”

Finally realizing he was actually angry, you looked down at the vial.

“Why do you want me to drink this Floyd?” You furrowed your brow, feeling the bottle's curves once more.

“It's so you can help me with something,” he vaugly added.

“Why can't you get Jade to help you?” You frowned. “You know I don't know how to swim.”

“Because you're a human, it'll be easier for you to do it,” he bobbed in the water.

You looked down at the vial. You already knew you weren't going to like how it smelled and looked radioactive: The fishy seaweed smell was overwhelming coming out of the small plugged glass. You glanced back down towards Floyd, seemingly waiting.

“Fine, but if this thing kills me, Im going to haunt your slimy ass forever,” you huffed.

"Nah, go ahead (name)”

“Drink it”

This time you bring the vial closer to your face, opening the small cork taking a whiff of the potion.

You retched a bit as you kept it away from your face.

“How much do I need to drink?”

“All of it~” Floyd happily replied below.

Grabbing the vial with your right hand, you breathed in.

Just get this over with so he leaves you alone for the day.

You pinched the tip of your nose before throwing the vial's contents in your mouth. Feeling the warm liquid slide down your throat, leaving the vial empty, you tossed it to the side of the rocky surface you were sitting on.

“Jump in shrimpy,” Floyd swam back and forth.

“Hurry before the potion mixes.”

Silently looking down at the waves, you swallowed your nerves. Getting up on your shaky legs, you decided to get a running start before jumping.

Lunging, you let yourself jump over the edge.

In only seconds, you felt yourself be enveloped by the cold water. Only once you hit the bottom of the sandy shoals with your feet did a large, long shadow appear over you in the murky water.

Pushing up from the silty sand as you'd been taught, you felt your feet glide through the water.

Until you felt a harsh grip grab the back of your neck with sharp talons.

Claws, the points reminding you of a raccoon as it digged into your flesh. You wanted to scream, but you only had a little air left. Fighting against the creature that was pulling at you, trying to keep you from surfacing, kicking into the meaty tail of the creature, frantically grabbing it's finned muscular arm's reaching around wrestling with you.

Suddenly, when you kicked one of the times trying to connect with the teal tail in front of you, however...

Your leg wasn't moving like normally, feeling as if your leg fell asleep. You worried you were about to lose circulation in then from how hard the creature was wrapping itself around you.

Looking down, your eyes almost bulged from your sockets as you saw what was in front of your body.

Long golden and red scales enfused with your skin, your feet now replaced with a long flared tail, golden shimmers and sparkles were all that was left on the bottom.

You temporarily forgot the fight, only looking down at your new legs.

“Aww shrimpy, your tail is beautiful,” you heard Floyd's voice coming from your aggressor.

Finally twirling around, you saw who it was behind you. Floyd was in his true mer form, the bioluminescent spots glowing under the dark waves his face fins trilling in the water.

“What did you make me drink?” you gritted your teeth, “Change me back, now”

“Yeah, I'll change you back (Name)” Floyd swam around you, letting his long tail entertwine with your finer tip one.

“Once you help me with this small task,” he smiled, Suddenly the water felt warm; initially, you assumed it was because you were both next to each other as the current swept around your skin.

Floyd suddenly unhinged his mouth at you.

It looked to be a yawning motion, but as he did this, he would hit you with his tail before doing the motion.

Confused to all hell you only copied him, wacking him in the tail with your smaller one before you opened your mouth in a yawn.

The smile that crept onto his face was an eerie one, seeing the sharp, blunt-shaped teeth mouth.

“I'm glad to see it's mutual, Shrimpy.”

You were about to question him, the words on the tip of your tongue.

Until he violently lunged at you once more.

You could only gasp as you felt his teeth sink onto the side of your neck; the crunch of the new scales adorning your collarbone was all you heard. You thrashed, but it was pointless since his tail was still entertwined into your shimmery one.

Sinking down towards the sandy bottom as he kept biting harder, you thought he was trying to kill you. Only as he kept biting you started to feel woozy, almost like a drunk state. You felt like up was down and down was somewhere.

Your mind feeling like it was in a washing machine. Floating helplessly as Floyd began to intertwine himself further around you, squeezing the top of your hips.

The pain from his biting was subdued, though you couldn't even notice he was clawing violently around your mer form, only feeling sensitive around your tail area.

After a while of rubbing your tails together, you felt his clawed paws rub up and down your sides.

His face was annoyed as he kept repeating the motion.

“Aww, what a bummer, Shrimpy doesn't lay eggs yet,” he growled, “A shame, I thought our species would be compatible; I've seen different types of carp mate I thought it would work.” His tail was still wrapped around you, feeling it slither around the bottom of your sensitive tail. You were too dazed to reply, only blinking.

“At least I was able to mark you, Better to do it before we mate anyway so you can't run from me,” he tickled your navel with his lone claw.

“Besides where I'm taking you, there's too many mers that would love a mate with a desirable tail like yours.”

He was rambling to himself—something about a sea witch he found that could make the transformation permanent.

Floyd wrapped up in his fantasy; your eyes glassy with sorrow as you were carried on his black as he rode the current, your tail fanning behind him, taking you into the depths of the deep ocean.

Note: This was requested by: Boo_Its_Poochie_Roo on AO3🩷

(also shh don’t mind me just finally catching the blog up with my AO3 bc I’ve been LAZY)

#yandere floyd leech #yandere floyd x reader #floyd leech x reader #yandere twst #yandere x you #reader insert #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere content #yandere x reader #fem reader

62 notes · View notes

mcflymemes · 2 days ago

Text

PROMPTS FROM WHEN HARRY MET SALLY * assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

i've been doing a lot of thinking, and the thing is, i love you.

i love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out.

i love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich.

i love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like i'm nuts.

i love that after i spend the day with you, i can still smell your perfume on my clothes.

i love that you are the last person i want to talk to before i go to sleep at night.

i came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

i'll have what she's having.

would you like to have dinner?

i thought you didn't believe men and women could be friends.

when did i say that?

i mean, come on, who the hell are we kidding?

most women at one time or another have faked it.

they haven't faked it with me.

that's right. i forgot. you're a man.

what was that supposed to mean?

it is so nice when you can sit with someone and not have to talk.

marriages don't break up on account of infidelity. it's just a symptom that something else is wrong.

you realize of course that we could never be friends.

men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.

that's not true.

i have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.

you only think you do.

they all want to have sex with you.

no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive.

i guess we're not going to be friends then.

you were the only person i knew in new york.

there are two kinds of women: high maintenance and low maintenance.

which one am i?

you're the worst kind.

you're high maintenance but you think you're low maintenance.

i just want it the way i want it.

you look like a normal person, but actually you are the angel of death.

don't you have a dark side?

when i buy a new book, i read the last page first.

if you could take him back now, would you?

why didn't he want to marry me?

what's the matter with me?

you're challenging.

i'm too structured. i'm completely closed off.

i drove him away.

how do you expect me to respond to this?

i'm leaving.

i don't have to take this crap from you.

what the hell does that have to do with anything?

are you finished now?

can i say something?

i'm sorry.

everybody thinks they have good taste and a sense of humor but they couldn't possibly all have good taste.

that is just like you.

you say things like that, and you make it impossible for me to hate you.

at least i got the apartment.

the first time we met, we hated each other.

we were friends for a long time.

it only took three months.

you will never have to be out there again.

i'm not going to tell you that.

i miss her.

you know what i miss? i miss the idea of him.

when did this happen?

you don't bounce back from that right away.

doesn't what i said mean anything for you?

i hate you, [name]. i really hate you.

what can i get you?

no one has ever quoted me back to me before.

you know, i'm so glad i never got involved with you.

i am not your consolation prize.

i wrote that.

you're going to have to try and find a way of not expressing every feeling that you have, every moment that you have them.

#rp meme #when harry met sally #rp prompt #rp memes #roleplay memes #mcflymemes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask memes #ask meme #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter #sentence starters #sentence starter prompt

57 notes · View notes

episodes-ff · 1 day ago

Text

Righteous or Wrong?

Anaya

Waking up from the comfort of the guest bed, I rubbed my tired eyes with a long awaited yawn before stretching. Feeling over and coming up empty, I frowned and rolled my eyes at the realization of where I was and why. Shaking my head, I leaned up with irritation before going to see if my baby girl was awake. Being that Maya is a daddy's girl at heart, I agreed to let her stay in our bedroom while I took the guest bed for some peace of mind. Walking up to the door, I knocked quietly before looking inside in confusion as I saw the empty room. Hearing her cute murmurs, I slowly descended the stairs before peering around to see her smiling and clapping as he fed her.

Feeling the tug at my heart, I wiped the dreadful tears as I watched what was left of my now broken family. Shaking the memories off, I walked back up to the room to complete my morning routine. Putting on something simple but cute for the cold, I walked back down to the kitchen to grab a water and greet Maya. "Good morning, my pretty girl!" I cheesed kissing her cheeks as he stared me down while sipping his coffee. Taking in that she was already dressed, I slowly smiled before facing him. "Y-You did her hair?" "Ugh, yea um, I was gonna take her to the square for pictures with Santa today if that's ok with you?" He asked slowly sipping from his cup. Those beautiful fucking eyes of his! "U-Um yes it's fine. I'd better hurry then so I can make it to the courthouse. Have you seen car keys?" I snapped out of my thoughts looking around. Watching the sadness wash over his eyes as he clenched his jaw, he pulled them out of his pocket before placing them in my hand and walking out the kitchen. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I headed out the house.

Pulling up to the local courthouse, I retrieved my purse before walking in. "Hi, miss, how may I help you today?" "Yes, um, I'd like to file for an order of separation?" "I'm sorry to hear that sweetheart." "Thank you, ma'am." "And you're sure you want to go through with this?" "Positive, preferably now before I change my mind." "Um, no problem, do you have a copy of the marriage certificate? I'll also need your license and a piece of mail to verify your address. Do you also know your spouse's social?" "Yes, ma'am." "Okay. I'm going to have you fill out this paperwork and bring it back to me with those pieces of identification." "Thank you so much." "Any time." Taking a seat, I filled out the multiple sheets of paper before reaching in to retrieve my license. Looking at the wallet photo of our wedding day, I sighed remembering the day we walked into this exact courthouse to file our certificate. We were so in love, so happy, and so ready to explore our new lives, together. Terry had just finished his second tour, and he and I were stuck to each other like glue. Oh how the tables turned.

Rolling my eyes, I shook off my nerves getting up to return the paperwork. "Here you go." "Thank you so much. Let me just glance here to make sure nothing's missing." Watching her scan everything, her eyes shot wide as she looked at me. "Is there something wrong?" "I'm sorry, it says Richmond. Y-You're Terry's wife?" "Um, yes. Oh god, don't tell me he's slept with you too!" "No! N-Not at all. I'm Summer. I met Terry in Shelby Springs dealing with..." "Mike." I nodded understanding. "I moved out here after everything, but I didn't keep in touch. Has he been ok since the settlement?" "Oh he's doing just peachy, I'd say." I spat sarcastically. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't pry." "No, you're fine. I'm just going through a lot right now, hence why I'm here." "Well for what it's worth, I pray you both see happier days." "Thank you, Summer." "No problem, um?" "Anaya." "That's a pretty name." "Thank you." I nodded as she smiled sympathetically.

Placing my files back in my purse, I made my way out to the car. Taking a deep breath, the weight of the world melting off of my shoulders as I cried and cried and cried. You're doing the right thing here, Anaya... I think?

Terry

Placing Maya down for her nap, I closed the door to let her get her rest before stepping into Anaya's room to place her copy of baby girl's Christmas pictures on the side table. Stepping back into the hallway, I shuddered in shame as I made my way downstairs. My marriage is really over and I take all the blame for it. I have no excuses, no recourse, nothing left but my actions and consequences. I don't even fault Anaya in the way she's moving because I'm less than the man she deserves and I know it. I just want her to be happy. That's all I've ever fucking wanted. I owed it to her to do better and I failed miserably.

Hearing my ringing phone, I saw the familiar number calling as my heart rate quickened. "Hello? Summer, you good?" "Terry?" "Yea, it's me, are you in trouble?" "I'm fine. Forgive my language, but just what in the fuck do you have going on, Terry?!" "What do you mean?" "I just met your wife at the courthouse filing for separation? Say it's not true." She asked as my jaw clenched and my fist tightened at my side. "I'm not really up for talking about it, Summer." "Well, what are you gonna do to win her back?" "Nothing. I've hurt her too much with my choices, so I think the best thing for everybody would be for me to disappear." "Disappear? Disappear?! This isn't the Terry I know that came to Shelby and changed my life. What happened to him? Where's the fighter I know you are?!" "I'm done fighting, Summer. It's done, and I can't be selfish towards Anaya's feelings. I've done enough of that. I'll hit you up again." I conceded before ending the call.

Turning down the hall, I bumped into Anaya almost knocking her down before quickly catching her in my grasp. Dropping my hands from her side, I straightened up as we engaged in an intense stare down while she adjusted her clothes and I cleared my throat. Breaking the staring match, I moved out of her path and went into the kitchen grabbing the rental keys before leaving the house. Walking into the threshold of the bar, I scanned the room before finding Eric and smirking. "Ayeeeee, my man!" He boasted as I dapped him up. "Long time no see, E." "You as well! How's life been treating you, man?" He asked causing a deep sigh to leave my lips. "How much time you got?" I asked forcing a deep chuckle to leave his gut.

Finishing the recap of my current life's drama, he shook his head. "Mannnn, it should have been me she got with." He joked as I shook my head and downed the shot of whiskey. "Nah but seriously, how did you let this happen, man? You and Anaya were crazy about each other. Hell, you guys still are despite everything, I know it! How did you slip so low?" He asked as I rubbed my face in deep thought. "I don't know. Shit was going crazy at the time with Mike and the whole Shelby Springs situation. That's no excuse not even in the slightest." I defended holding my hand up. "I think I just- I held onto that shit. I put on a brave face for Anaya because that's what I felt was right. Her mom's cancer had come back and she was already going through so much. I didn't wanna overwhelm her with my shit, so I did what I do best; I ran away from it. I should have sought some professional help, but my pride wouldn't allow it. Not Terrence Richmond. I'm paying that price now and I gotta accept it, Eric." Nodding in understanding, he patted my shoulder as I blew a breath. "Hey, man, it's gonna be ok." "It won't but I'll live." I admitted as he sighed.

Diamonté

Waking up this morning, I stretched and rubbed my growing bump before smiling. My little boopie is growing so beautifully and I couldn't be any more happy. Making my way to the bathroom, I relieved my morning liquids before walking over to the sink. Washing my hands, I looked up and stared at my appearance in the mirror taking a glance at all my flaws. I was pretty of course, but something needed to change. I think I need a change. Figuring it's high time for a Mommy makeover, I got in touch with one of my girlfriends and had her spice up my look a little bit before I went to run some errands.

Coming home from a long day of pampering and spoiling myself, I waltzed in with my shopping bags and grabbed something quick to eat. Munching on my mangos and fruit, I savored the tastes as they danced on my tongue. "I'm home!" Armando announced as I heard his hard boots at the entrance of the house. "In the kitchen, babe!" "Ok, did you get the mail?" "No I forgot. Can you grab it?" "Of course, bebita." He conversed still in the front as he disarmed and put up his weapons. "Baby? What's this letter?" "What letter?" "You spent $450 dollars at the mall?" He said finally meeting me in the kitchen as he read through the bank statement. "Well, you see what had happened was I was getting some stuff for the baby and well you see, I-I."

Finally looking up to meet my gaze, his expression shifted. "What? What's wrong, baby?" I asked turning to glance around as he sat the letters down and stalked closer to me. "What's this?" "What's what? Oh, I got some stuff for the kitchen and the nursery. You wanna see?" "Nahhhh, not that. What's this?" He glinted putting to my hair as I fearfully backed into the counter. "I-I-I got a haircut. D-Do you like it?" "Ohhhh, I more than like it, baby." He grinned evilly as he pulled me closer. "Baby, wait!" I giggled as he cast his lips to my neck. "Nahhhh, bring that sexy ass here." He growled lifting me up and storming up to our bedroom.

"Daddy, oh shit!" I panted as he licked and sucked on my neck continuing to pound with my center. "You look so fucking good, mamita. So pretty with your hair like this. You like how I'm pleasing you, baby?" He husked grinding deeper into my wetness as he held me in place to stare at myself in the mirror. "Yesssss, bae!" "Mmmmm, that's my pretty fucking girl. Your pussy feels so good around my dick, exactly where it belongs. Biting my lip, I held onto him as I shook in his arms trying to fight the pressing feeling of relief. "Look at yourself, mami. Taking this dick like a fucking champion." "Daddyyyyyy!!! Fuck, I'm gonna cum!" "Not yet, baby, hold it!" "I can't, baby!" "Mmmm, fuck, just hold it for me, baby." He grunted slowing his pace as I tried holding on. "Baby, please! Please let me- I can't hold it!" "Yes you can." "No, I c- ohhhhh my god!" I cried out as my release squirted out over him and the floor. Feeling the hot and sticky mess running down my thighs, I gasped as he kissed and whispered soothing words down my body. "That felt good, baby?" "Yes!" "I'm glad it did... Cause now we gotta start over." "W-Wait!" I moaned tiredly as he carried me to the shower. All of this over a haircut?

Tags: @theereina @violetmuses @kumkaniudaku @kaylaahisthebestest- @kimuzostar @simpledopeme @mymindisneverhere @believeinthefireflies95 @tbmotw @brisunique @madxlov3 @playgurlxoxo @mauvecherie-writes @casualsludgeshoetoad @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @geneziesm @ghettogirly @goldenjasssy @megamindsecretlair @vivaalenaa @ranikyani @luuvprincess @perfectlyimperfectme @comfortzonequeen @melanin-honeyy @qdancer22 @strawberrymoon45 @luckygirlszn @kindofaintrovert @secretlifeoofmarpessa @cmbmjbfan @summwerella @ihateyallniggas @rebelrel0987 @cheracherachera @bhristpher @cocooned-butterfly @theblessedcap @deijalee @catha2003 @magik22 @pinkbuzzlightyrrr @sweettea-and-honeybutter @j0joworld @liv10002 @justicefordeanthomas @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @brattyfics

#episodes-ff #fanfiction #anaya ivy #aaron pierre #terry richmond #saweetie #hasta el fuego #SoundCloud

61 notes · View notes

seokminfilm · 23 hours ago

Text

forever | lee seokmin

🪄 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🪄 warnings, non-idol au, lowercase intended, newly-established relationship, boyfriend!seokmin, hurt/comfort, sprinkles of angst, mentions of unspecified trauma, crying, kissing, hugging, seokmin calls reader love, reader uses nicknames for seokmin, seokmin soft hours

🪄 summary, seokmin finds out something new about you, and still loves you just the same for it.

🪄 author's note, hello hello everyone! i'm back from my hiatus, so please enjoy this quick hurt/comfort fic i wrote (seokmin soft hours are a go)! i love you all so much and have a merry christmas (christmas-themed seokmin fic??)

"love, can i ask you something?" the pet name is still new and brings a flutter to your stomach and a blush to your cheeks, and you nod, smiling at seokmin as he closes his book.

"you do this thing with your hands when you get nervous. why?" seokmin's voice is innocent, and your heart stops in your chest as you turn around, speechless and without an answer to seokmin's surprising question.

"oh, um...do i?" you laugh nervously, and seokmin nods, watching how your eyes darken a little and your smile fades as he nods. "yeah, you do. you're doing it right now."

you look down at your hands, and sure enough, they're moving; they do what they've always done when you're nervous, fiddling with each other and pulling the other hands' fingers. you never realized what you were doing until he called you out for it, and even then, it was just second nature to you. you didn't know how to stop.

"if you don't have an answer to it, you don't have to answer. i just wanted to know. it seems like a nervous tic you have, and you do it a lot around me. i don't know if it's because i make you uncomfortable or anything, and i hope that's not the case but—" seokmin pauses, staring at your eyes as he heaves a sigh.

"if it is, i want to know. i don't want to make you feel uncomfortable." seokmin's voice is soft, sincere, and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, already falling before you get to the bed where seokmin is sitting.

you fall into his lap, arms slung over his legs as your tears wet the white duvet. he doesn't say anything, quiet as his arms comfortably encase you. seokmin's smell is sweet and light, and it allows you to dry the tears quicker than you thought you would, sighing as you sit up.

you explain everything to him, from what happened to give you the subconscious habit you have, to why you do it around him. seokmin was attentive to every word you said, eyes on you and hands around yours as he listened quietly.

"i only do it around you because i'm still really nervous around you, seok. i—i know we've only dated for a month now, but i don't want to scare you away," you pause, eyes welling up with tears again as you breathe a sigh. "it's happened with everyone i've ever loved. like—in a romantic way, i mean."

seokmin's dark brown eyes dance over your skin, free of judgment and hurt. he's understanding of you, and strokes the tear-covered hair from your eyes, slender fingers tracing and cupping your cheeks as he kisses your tears away, soft lips drying your wet face.

"i would never judge you, love, i hope you know that. i'm happy that i've met you, and no matter what happened to you in the past, i'll continue to love you. there's nothing you can do to stop making me adore you." seokmin's smile is warm as he takes your hands in his, thumbs running over your knuckles as you nod, biting your wet lip.

"thank you for sharing that with me. it takes a lot of bravery to share personal things like that, and i'm honored that you consider me worthy of knowing." seokmin blushes, giving you a smile as you stare down at his hands, noting the veins in his forearms and slender fingers that grasp your thigh softly.

"of course, seokmin. i feel like you and i will be a thing for a long time. maybe even forever," you mumble the last part, cheeks heating up as seokmin stares at you, matching your expression. his eyes soften at your words, and you smile at him as he presses a soft, chaste kiss to your lips.

"i know it's going to be forever. trust me, love."

40 notes · View notes

makeyoumine69 · 1 day ago

Text

Farewell Serenade (Memory Reboot Epilogue)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You and Patrick are finally reunited, but there are still so many secrets the two of you have to unravel, and some of them could be dangerous, especially when the echoes of the past are still haunting you like ghosts.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Tainted love vibes, blood kink, oral sex, penetrative sex, body worship, hand jobs, anal fingering, cum shot, spanking, marking, teasing and humiliating, dirty talk and slurs, pet names, praise kink, dark themes, angst, hurt/comfort, obsession, self harm, mental issues, Patrick and reader are switches. I might have forgotten something because this chapter is long, so forgive me if I really did.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 14k

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: VØJ, Asketa — Farewell Serenade; Vowl.,Sace — 2000; FM-84,Ollie Wride — Running in the Night.

𝐀/𝐍: Hello everyone! I don't even know what to say except that I will miss this story so much, but it will always be in my heart. I want to thank everyone who supported me on this journey, I love you all!💕

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST], [CHAPTER 5].

When was the last time you traveled outside of America? You didn't really remember because you never really felt the need to, but after all the stressful things that had happened in your life lately, your subconscious told you that you definitely needed a break—a reboot that would give your life a fresh start. So after the drug case was over, with the help of Vincent and your lawyer, who came to New York almost immediately when you needed them, you and Patrick didn't think much about going abroad—somewhere far away where no one could find you. And so it was that Vincent's random story about his last vacation in Germany, to Stuttgart to be exact, became the deciding factor in your choice of where to go.

The flight to Stuttgart went as smoothly as possible, since Bateman couldn't stand anything but a private jet or the most expensive seats in first class, and although it wasn't your first time flying first class, this time it felt so different, so special and memorable. The thing that surprised you the most was that you didn't really talk much about all the shit that happened between you two. Although Patrick tried to bring it up several times, but after you asked him not to dwell on it and just enjoy the fact that the two of you were finally... Finally what? Together?

At first this new reality was very strange and confusing.

All the negativity, anger, and despair began to disappear as you realized that happiness and the freedom to follow your own desires was the memory reboot machine you both were looking for. That only by accepting your true selves could you finally break the chains of depression that had been biting at your skin for so long.

A soft, barely perceptible breeze fanned your face and the sun shone brightly over Stuttgart, the scenery unfolding before your eyes more like a picturesque frame from a romance movie than reality. Even after spending several days in Germany, you couldn't believe that all these things around you were not a dream, but your new life. The villa you stayed in was absolutely amazing, as it had two floors and a huge outdoor terrace with a large pool—Patrick enjoyed swimming in it so much that one day he told you he was going to buy this villa. At first, you didn't believe him until he took you to the bank to close the deal. Was that necessary? Was it an act to show off his wealth? You never really asked, because you were taught that sometimes asking too many questions could only complicate your life, and you didn't want to spiral and start the cycle that you managed to break.

Sitting on the edge of the pool, you splashed the water with your legs. The sun reflected off the water, making it shimmer as if someone had poured a bucket of little diamonds into it, and little ripples appeared here and there as Bateman swam around, ass naked, and you couldn't really remember how you'd imagined seeing something like that, nor did you imagine that one day things that happened in real life would outshine your fantasies.

"What are you thinking about?" Patrick's velvety voice stopped your train of thoughts, and before you could even react you felt him grab your ankle—he was half in the water, hot and pumped up after his heavy workout. "You seem...worried?"

You frowned, but then chuckled as he tickled your inner thigh. "Nothing special," you replied, looking at him and leaning down to stroke his wet hair. "It's just... don't you think it was a bit imprudent to buy this house?"

The man chuckled. "Why not?"

"Patrick," you cupped his face with both hands, forcing him to concentrate on what you were about to say. "You don't have to pretend...you don't have to throw your money around like you're trying to buy everything and everyone...you don't have to do any of that...not with me."

Bateman didn't say anything, his prominent eyebrows knitted together, and you already knew what that meant—he was already overthinking, overreacting, overstepping his own emotional boundaries.

"Hey," you tried to pull him out of his stupor. "I didn't mean..."

"It's my money," Patrick suddenly blurted out, still frowning. "And I can do whatever I want with it."

God, this man always made trouble out of nothing.

But he was right. After all, his money was his to spend, and you could only give him advice or opinions he would never really care about—such an attitude only irritated him—having the last word was something he couldn't live without. He was addicted to being in control of the situation, of the person he was interacting with. It felt as if he had the chance to control the whole world, he would, but who were you to judge him when you had already promised yourself never to try to change or fix him. Just because Bateman never really needed someone to fix him, he needed someone to accept him for who he was while he tried to fix himself.

"You're not listening? Again?"

Patrick let go of your leg and swam away from where you were sitting. Sometimes his childish behavior really got on your nerves, although you imagined you were in his place, acting like a fucking teacher trying to explain such basic things as being more human to a bratty kid who never really wanted to know—what it was like? Being more in touch with humanity.

"Oh, God," you almost cussed, splashing water with your foot. "Don't be like that! I didn't say anything..." a palpable irritation erupted from your chest. "Well, maybe I did, but you know I didn't mean to insult you."

Watching him swim as smoothly as a fish in water, you gasped without even realizing it, your eyes catching every glimpse of his toned muscles, his firm ass sinking under the water, but you could still see the outline of it—you wanted to fucking get a bite of it—but the moment was probably ruined by your rather offensive remarks.

"We're not in a school," Patrick answered suddenly from a distance. "And I'm not a schoolboy to be offended," his grumbling caused a soft, barely audible chuckle to fall from your parted lips, and at some point you caught yourself thinking that you were ready to admit that you were wrong, just to end this caricature conflict. "Will you swim for once? Since the first day, you just sit on the lounge chair or something, but you never go in the water," he added, and you crossed your arms in defense. "Are you afraid of water or what?"

Don’t even start it.

"I... I don't really want to talk about it," you stammered nervously, brushing your hair, hoping he would catch your eloquent gesture and change the subject. "The scars are still fresh..."

"Scars?" He repeated your words and swam closer to you, placing himself between your open legs. "This is getting interesting."

"No-"

"Oh, yes," the man snickered amusedly, stroking the inner side of your legs with his wet hands, causing you to shiver. "You can tell me...I promise not to...uh...I promise to take it seriously."

This liar.

With a heavy sigh, you took a moment to think about whether you should have opened up to him completely or if it was not the right time. Were you really ready for this?

"When I was a kid, I almost drowned," you confessed openly, but curtly. "And, you won't believe it, but I can't even remember the last time I talked about it with anyone...because...it's not the kind of thing you want to talk about."

Patrick didn't interrupt you. He listened carefully and rested his chin on your knee. You didn't even notice how you cradled his face and stroked his cheek, then the top of his head, how his brown soft hair was soaked in water, making it look even longer than it usually did.

"Was it..." he began to speak, cautiously, as if afraid to say the wrong thing—it amazed you. "Someone's fault or..."

You shook your head. "No! It was nobody's fault... I was just a reckless kid, but after that I have a terrible phobia of anything that has to do with water."

"You don't take baths?"

Rolling your eyes, you wanted to push him under, but his cocky, boyish smile made you stop, and instead of doing what you thought would teach him a lesson, you wrapped your legs around his shoulders, pulling his closer, the man purring in return, nuzzling against your skin.

"Of course I meant open water," you almost whispered, your voice getting deeper, softer, laced with not just arousal but pure affection. "That unfortunate day I was in LA with my family and there was a storm or something...but it didn't stop me from wanting to find some starfish...I literally ran away from my parents and got into the water...before I was washed away by a huge wave."

"I never thought you were such a bratty child," Bateman murmured, grazing the sensitive flesh of your thigh, his lips sucking the little marks his teeth left. "But now I'd remember that you can be even more foolhardy than you already are."

Bastard...my bastard.

Still amazed at his unnatural concern, you bent down to peck him on the forehead, but the moment you did, you almost slipped into the water, and Patrick, instead of preventing it, only helped you to literally fall into his arms, and once you were in the water, you squealed.

"Oh, GOD!" You panicked and began to wriggle nervously in the water. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?"

To your irritation, Bateman just laughed and held you closer. "Shh, I've got you," he grinned and wrapped his hands around your waist, lifting you up a bit. "You don't have to worry when I'm around, you know?"

Reluctantly, you wrapped your arms around his strong neck and let him press you against his chest. "Really?"

"Any doubts?"

The water was so warm, but his body was much warmer, you could practically feel the tightness of his muscles as he swam to the side, still holding you close; his question was hanging heavy in the air as you didn't know what to say. Did you really feel safe in his arms?

"Do you really care what I think?" You asked him back, your eyes wandering down to his parted lips.

"Answering a question with another question..." he whispered above your ear, his nose brushing gently, almost sensually, along your cheek. "...is a thing I hate so fucking much..." With that, Patrick grabbed your ass, his mouth so close to yours. "Have the guts to tell me you don't trust me..."

"That's not....what I wanted to say," you gasped into his lips as the two of you became more and more aroused, twirling in the water like a couple of swans. "I trust you, I really do!"

"'But something's wrong anyway?"

"No..."

"Do you think I'll hurt you again?" Bateman asked, looking intently into your eyes, his arms wrapped around your shaking body, although you were no longer panicking. "Leave you? Fool you?"

With a loud exhale, you tried to push him away, but he wouldn't let you. "Stop it," you replied curtly. "Stop putting words in my mouth, okay?"

For a brief moment, the two of you just stared at each other, at your intertwined limbs, your naked flesh, the way your breath mingled in a rapid flow—you were more connected than either of you could truly imagine. But if you were about to admit it, you couldn't be so sure that Bateman felt the same way about you.

"Look, we never really talked about it," you continued after a pause. "We never talked about us."

Now it was his turn to turn away and distance himself from you, but as soon as he let you go, an icy fear paralyzed you and made you cling to his shoulders, no matter how pathetic you looked.

"For God's sake...you're not going to drown...it's a fucking pool!" Patrick's words hit you like a high-speed train, but you didn't let him go.

After a short sigh the man leaned his broad back against the wall of the pool, your hands were still on his shoulders and he didn't take them off—a good sign, you thought as you slowly and carefully squeezed his muscles. Patrick let out a shaky gasp, you smiled at his reaction, but you were still not ready to let go of the current conversation.

"Patrick," you began in the sweetest voice you could muster before gently kissing his temple. "I just want to know-"

"Know what? Do you really want me to... confess or something?" His face broke into a wry, nervous grin. "In that case, I've got some bad news for you."

Why can't he shut up for a few seconds?

Annoyed, you suddenly put your hand over his mouth, shutting him up completely, causing his eyebrows to arch in shock at your audacity. "I don't need any confessions, believe me," you muttered, pushing him harder against the marble wall behind him, completely forgetting that you were both still in the water. "I just want you to stop talking for me... and giving my words the wrong meaning. Is that too much to ask?"

When you removed your hand, you didn't really expect him to say no; you just crushed your lips against his, not even giving him a chance to react and take control back into his hands. But to be honest, Bateman didn't really struggle, on the contrary, he made a muffled sound as you sucked on his tongue, your mouth so eagerly dominating his hot one.

"Fuck," he cursed between kisses. "You're driving me crazy."

"I know," you replied, wrapping your legs around his waist under the water, his strong hands resting on the edge of the pool, watching you tilt your head back and almost immediately taking it as a call to action, leaning forward to kiss your neck. "Mhmm-we're not going to count that as a confession, are we?"

You could hear him moan softly in response, his soft lips pecking at your skin, sending tingles up your nerve endings, setting them on fire, but you did your best to keep yourself together, not wanting to give up first—not when you had another fight... or maybe this wasn't a fight at all?

Patrick didn't leave you much time to think, to breathe, to resist when his hands found their way to your body again, but this time he acted much more possessive, groping your curves with such a strong excitement as if he was doing it for the first time. Panting softly, you hugged him and pulled him closer to you so that you were literally hanging on to him with your hands and legs. The water supported both of you from underneath, giving you a strange feeling of weightlessness. It felt surreal and incredible. For a second, you stopped doing everything to just look at him, to make sure he was real.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asked as soon as he noticed your confusion.

Damn all the nicknames he used, as well as his ability to use them. "Nothing...just making sure everything is real," you chuckled a bit shyly. "That I'm not sleeping."

"You're not," Bateman sneered, pushing his hips against yours to grind along your pubic bone - you almost lost it. "Because I'm going to make you feel much better than you can imagine in your dreams."

"That's very arrogant of you," you teased him back, but in the next second you moaned as the man subtly slid his hand between your bodies to rub your most sensitive spot between your legs. "But I... I like it..."

A low, soft chuckle escaped his chest. He was playing with you again, but only because you let him. At least you wanted to think so—it made you less embarrassed, but after all, there was nothing wrong with being obedient to a man you thought you were in love with. Especially if he didn't mind being a little submissive for you as well.

A bit later, when your lips were puffy from the kisses and you were both so drenched in water that you were starting to cool down even though your bodies were radiating an immense amount of heat, Bateman lifted you out of the water without saying anything and placed you on the edge of the pool while he still remained in the water.

"Huh?" You huffed and looked down at him, confused.

"Relax," he winked and spread your legs, stroking them as if preparing you for something bigger. "Told you, I got you. Always."

Always.

That one word stuck in your mind like an engraving you never asked for, but now you couldn't even imagine your life without him: his walnut eyes, his deep baritone and all those little moles that covered his perfect body... Everything about him was too much, it was overwhelming. If you could fucking drink him up like some kind of medicine that would flow through your system, if you could become one with him in the most direct sense of the word, to know his thoughts, to understand his mind...

It was never enough—you always wanted more, but now, when he was right between your spread thighs, his mouth exploring your tender flesh, inch by inch, his lips sucking and kissing you here and there, forcing you to shiver and grab his hair to bring him closer, and he didn't protest or scold you for pulling his hair—maybe you had a mental connection, an invisible thread connecting your brains, because Patrick could literally know exactly what you wanted. He knew where to pull and where to push, everything he did felt amazing, like he was inside your head.

"Patrick...fuck...it f-feels so fucking right," you whimpered before bringing a finger to your mouth and then having to bite down on it to stifle the moans as Bateman increased the pace of his caresses, his mouth relentless and his hands holding you in place—spread out and open for him. "Oh shit, keep going...please..."

Smirking, the man let out a wet pop as he pulled away from your core to look at you. "You don't have to ask," he licked his glistening lips, savoring the taste of you on them. "Though I do like it when you beg for me."

Of course you do, slut.

You didn't say it out loud, your finger was still in your mouth as you balanced on the edge of falling apart as Patrick went down on you again, helping himself with his hands as you trembled more and more—he wanted to see you unravel under his touch, collapse right into his mouth and you were more than happy to give it to him.

"A-ahhh...Pat-Patrick...mmm-yes...keep using your mouth like that," you encouraged him, quivering and barely breathing, your teeth almost sinking into your skin from how hard you were biting your finger. "Fuck...I'm so fucking close..." you pinched your hard nipple, your legs shaking in his grip. "Mmm...I love it...a-arhhh-fucking love it so much..."

An overwhelming pulse coursed through your veins, you thought you were going to faint, but Patrick's raspy voice became your anchor to reality amidst this madness, your heartbeat pounding against your eardrums like a hammer. One second—his mouth so hot against your flesh; two seconds—you couldn't control yourself anymore as his growl sent little vibrations that pushed you over the edge and then you finally imploded, letting a shock wave crush you. Bateman didn't stop even when you grabbed his hands from being too overstimulated, as he literally drank you dry.

"Damn it, Bateman!" You yelled, staring down at him. "Slow down... do you want to kill me or what?"

Just as you said it, the man stopped and blinked several times—there was something off about his reaction, but when you tried to pull away, he shook his head as if trying to fight the sudden delusion.

"Are you okay?" Your voice was so shaky when you asked him that, but you were really worried.

Panting, Patrick wiped his lips with the back of his hand and finally got out of the pool to hover over you, lifting your legs with a practiced motion and bending them to press against your chest. "If I wanted to kill you," he said suddenly, aligning himself with your tight opening. "I'd kill you already...I've had so many chances."

"What? W-what are you talking about..." You wanted to ask him what the hell it was, but he never let you; the man was as selfish as ever when it came to fucking you.

Bateman pressed you harder to the floor, leaning on his hands, his biceps flexing as he began to move inside you, slowly at first, but with each passing second his thrusting became harder and faster, as if he was trying to lose himself in you. There was nothing gentle about it—you were facing the whole other side of him—you could tell by the way he was grinding his hips against yours. The level of penetration was so deep that you could feel the curve of his dick brushing mercilessly against the walls of your inner channel, causing you to literally writhe under him, not really knowing if you wanted to push him back or pull him closer.

At one point, his thrusts were so painful that you had to claw at his skin, but that didn't stop him, it just made him go faster. You could hear his balls slapping against your ass with such a loud noise that it made you close your eyes in embarrassment, and you weren't usually a shy person, but... dear God, this man was like a barrel of power and you never knew when it would explode and if you would survive.

"Patrick...mhmm...so deep...fuck!" You couldn't help but moan, your legs lifted so high that they almost floated over your shoulders. "Wait..."

You tried to call out to him, but he seemed not to be listening, his brain clouded with a crimson fog of rage, violence, brutality, and God only knew what else. But here, with you, he didn't dare to hurt you the way he always loved to hurt people and it made him sick that you became his personal kryptonite and if someone dared to touch you even with a finger—he would fucking destroy that person.

"FUCK," the man cursed loudly, as if he had finally come back to reality. "Why are you like this?" Patrick snuggled against you even tighter, pinning your wrists above your head and jackhammering into you with reckless abandon. "Why do you let me... do this to you... fuck... you're so fucking... mine... that it hurts..."

"Pat!" You squealed as you felt him push too deep into you, his dick definitely hitting your belly. "I want you to... listen to me," you blurted out in a breathless voice, the words coming out like a broken record. "...and calm down. Please!"

Bateman let out a guttural growl and wrapped his hands around your neck, not squeezing it, at least not yet. Whimpering, you wanted to claw at his flesh, even though you knew he hated any marks on his perfect skin, but now, when he was about to lose his mind for sure, you thought it was the right choice. Without hesitation, you grabbed his hands that were still around your neck, almost scratching him, and he hissed, but never really stopped pounding into you.

"I love you," you blurted out abruptly, losing your own breath as you realized what you had just said, but you didn't hesitate to repeat it again, more confidently. "I love you so much that I can't even find the right words to express my feelings!"

And now you finally managed to reach out to him through the red veil of lust that clouded his consciousness—the man stopped, his eyes searching desperately for yours only to look somewhere behind you—he was shocked, frightened and speechless.

Maybe this was not the right time, but you couldn't rewind time.

After a short pause, Bateman shook his head as if trying to wake up. "These... sentiments..." he murmured barely perceptibly, still deep inside you but not moving. "I never thought you were capable of them."

"Why? Am I inhuman?"

"No-"

"So are you," you cupped his face, his skin literally scorching your hands with its heat - he was burning from the inside out, but you didn't care. "You're more human than you think...believe me."

For a gliding second, the two of you just stared at each other as he suddenly removed your hands and pulled away from you—it all happened so fast you didn't even have time to think. One moment you were one, and the next you were lying alone, naked and soaked with water, watching the love of your life walk into the house without saying a word.

Why does he always have to be like this?

Barely holding back your tears, you slowly stood up and, unlike Patrick, took the towel and wrapped it around your aching body. How could he leave you like that? You decided to open up and he just left? Without saying a word?

Crybaby.

Your first thought was to follow him and confront him for acting like a fucking schoolboy, but you stopped yourself and decided it wasn't worth it—you would let him have it his way, because you didn't want to stoop to his level, you weren't pathetic. But if he wanted to be pathetic, you wouldn't interfere— being a babysitter wasn't appealing to you.

Later that day, as the sun began to set and it became a little cooler, you were still sitting outside, not really wanting to go inside, even though you were about to freeze to death, you preferred to be alone. Sitting on the soft lounge chair, you wrapped yourself in a white fluffy robe, even though you dried yourself, you still felt uncomfortable, as if Patrick's last words stuck to your skin like something slippery. Something you couldn't scrub off even if you wanted to.

Trapped in your thoughts, you found yourself thinking about just going back to America. Yes, you could just leave this place without even talking to him and pay him back with his methods. The question was, would that make you feel better? You doubted it.

A short, refreshing breeze blew around you, making you curl up on the chair like a cat. Too overwhelmed with various ideas, thoughts, excuses you could find to somehow escape this whole situation, you didn't notice an approaching figure. Gracefully as ever, Bateman appeared right next to where you were resting. He was wearing nothing but white sweatpants, his hair still wet and slicked back. When you spotted him, you were not surprised—on the contrary, you expected him to come back, because this man was impatient and always craving attention, but this time there was something strange about him—you examined his posture only to see two glasses in his hands.

"Here," the man offered you a glass with a golden liquid in it—probably whiskey. "This will help you warm up."

Devoid of any emotion, you turned away from him, demonstrating that you didn't want to talk to him, didn't want to see him, and didn't feel like having a drink.

"Listen, I want to tell you something," Bateman continued his attempts, even though his agenda was still unknown to you. "You're going to need this." With that, the man placed a glass on the lounge chair next to your feet, before nestling into the chair on the other side of you. "One day I decided to go to the Tunnel, where I met a girl," he paused and took a sip of his drink, not really looking your way, as if afraid to meet your gaze. "She was pretty... not really beautiful, but pretty. And she was young, I could say she was very young...but already so wrecked."

The way he chuckled—the dark edge in his voice—made something heavy fall into your stomach and you took the glass of whiskey, your hands suddenly shaking, cold shivers running down your spine. The pause was getting too long, but you had no intention of rushing him.

"So I took her back to my place, and she was drunk as hell by then," you could see his fingers tighten around the glass until his knuckles turned white. "The bitch couldn't keep her mouth shut for a second. And then we fucked, but I didn't feel anything until I finally got my hands around her neck."

Eventually, you were glad that he had given you a moment to digest everything he had said. A sudden numbness washed over you, making it difficult to bring the glass to your lips, but when you managed to take a sip, the sharp alcohol burned your throat. But it didn't help. Not even a little.

With a shaky gasp, Bateman dared to look at you. "The thrill of the kill... was the only thing that could make me feel anything, but when I thought I was going to end her here and now... I realized she wasn't fighting," he paused again to finish his glass in one quick gulp. "She was fucking begging me to kill her... can you imagine that?"

You didn't know what to say, you were literally at a loss for words as itching tears began to well up in your eyes, and it had nothing to do with fear, it was all about the pain—you could feel it in every word he had just said. The unbridled, raw pain of a desperate man you happened to fall in love with.

"Why... why did you tell me all this?" You asked in a raspy voice.

"Because," he turned suddenly in your direction, almost getting up from the lounge chair, his breathing labored and uneasy. "I want you to know who you're dealing with... since you said you loved me..." Every word he said sent a shiver down your spine, adding to the already cold air surrounding you. "It's not too late to take back your words..."

"No. Not gonna happen," you cut him off, sipping more whiskey. What the hell was he talking about, how could you take back your words when you were absolutely sincere when you said them? "Even if I had the chance to erase your memory or use a time machine and go back in time... I wouldn't do it. Because I meant it when I said it, I really did, and you know it! That's why you're trying to push me away now, right? With all these spooky stories?"

Bateman didn't flinch even when you literally snapped at him, towering over his seated form and nearly splashing the contents of your glass right into his blank face. And now he decided to act as if nothing had happened? Now? After he literally dumped all that emotional mess on you like a bucket of cold water?

"I know it was stupid of me to even mention love... feelings... but instead of all this nonsense, you could just tell me that you despise me," you croaked through the tears that were stuck in your throat like a lump. "Because what you said...it's not funny to speculate about it!"

"It's never supposed to be funny!" Patrick retaliated and stood up as well, now standing very close to you, your lips just inches away. "Nobody takes me seriously! I'm so fucking sick of it!" His furious temper seemed to finally take over, revealing the true side of his personality, and you risked being drawn into its darkness. "Believe it or not... but that day when you called me from Paul Allen's place... I was ready to kill that bastard if I found out he touched you with his finger!"

Bateman's cruel words triggered the memories you never really wanted to remember—that fucking party you went to at Paul's apartment, those fucking hookers or models...or whatever they called themselves. Those fuckers who drugged your drink and tried to get their hands on you. That one moment when you rushed into the dimly lit living room to pick up the phone and dial the only number you could think of to hear the voice of a person who hated you the most, but at that moment felt like the only lifeline you could dream of. And when Patrick didn't pick up, each beep was agonizing and heavy—you thought you would die without hearing his voice.

Astonished, you nervously fixed your hair and let out a heavy breath. "You would...you would do what?" Your question wasn't supposed to sound like mockery, but it probably did, because the next thing you heard was a muffled crunch. "What..."

You didn't finish your sentence because you simply couldn't comprehend what had just happened—that crunching sound was the glass that Patrick simply crushed in his hand while you tried to call out to him through the depraved prism of his twisted mind—crimson drops of blood painted the floor in intricate ornaments, forcing your stomach to churn.

Why... Why are you doing this? Why do you want to hurt yourself so badly?

"Holy Christ!" You finally managed to blurt out, taking his injured hand in yours to open it and see the wound. "Why did you do that?!"

"And why do you care?" Was all he replied, staring at you through his half-lidded eyes. "You think everything I say is bullshit. Maybe this is not real either?"

And then, all of a sudden, he grabbed your hand with his bloody one, you could feel the shards of glass almost sink into your flesh, and even though they never did, you could feel the pain—his pain.

Pain. Everything is about pain.

"Please, Patrick," you almost begged, but didn't take your hand away as you watched the scarlet liquid cover more of your own skin. "Let me help you."

Bateman's cheeks flushed, a thin sheen of sweat covered his beautiful face, but he didn't even hiss, as if he didn't really feel any physical pain—that was terrifying, but you didn't falter. Carefully, without any hasty movements, you forced him to follow you into the house, avoiding the broken glass on the floor.

The man didn't say a word, he was in some kind of trance, you couldn't even remember seeing something like this before, but now was not the time to ponder about it, not when he was bleeding like this. You had to use the sleeve of your robe to keep him from gushing out and staining the house.

As you dragged him into the bathroom, you opened the mirror cabinet to retrieve the first aid kit and found some bandages, antiseptic and tweezers. Humming something to yourself in desperation, you glanced into the mirror to see him suddenly slide to the floor with his eyes closed.

"Patrick!" You yelled and ran to him. What if he had damaged the veins? What if you could not stop the bleeding? "Look at me, don't close your eyes!"

As soon as you touched his face, the man brushed your hand away as if swatting an annoying fly. "I'm fine," he said, gritting his teeth, but no matter how hard he tried to hide the tremor in his voice, you could hear that nerve—he was crying. "Just... give me the damn bandages. I'll take care of myself."

"Are you...crying?"

Gently, as if he were made of porcelain, you tilted his chin up and brushed his wet strands away, his usually sparkling eyes so dull and empty it made your heart shrink in pain, but you didn't give up. Ignoring the overwhelming fear, you unpacked the bandages and soaked one of them in the antiseptic before pressing it against the wound, but then you just poured the liquid all over his bleeding hand when you realized there were too many small shards embedded in his flesh.

Embarrassed, Bateman could only sob softly, and he didn't even try to pretend that his defenses weren't down with the first tear that slid down his cheek. "I'm sorry," he murmured abruptly, sniffling and shaking his head from side to side. "I didn't want it to end like this."

"Shh," you stroked his hair with your free hand. "Let's talk about this later." As you blew on his wound to soothe the itchiness of the antiseptic, you didn't even notice the way Patrick was looking at you under his messy bangs—he was looking at you like you were some kind of miracle—if only he could go back in time and not say all those things about him being a fucking psycho. But then again, would it be fair to keep that from you, knowing how dangerous it could be for you? "Uh, I'm not sure I can pull out all the pieces...maybe it's better to go to the hospital?

"Fuck that," Bateman snapped, swallowing his salty tears. "Not an option."

With a weary sigh, you took the tweezers and began to pick the pieces of broken glass out of his hand—if someone told you one day that you'd be sitting on the cold bathroom floor covered in Patrick's blood because that idiot forgot how to use the glasses, you wouldn't believe it.

"You're the most stubborn man I've ever met," you said with a wry smile. "The most arrogant and self-centered and selfish..."

"Okay, okay!" Bateman held up his hand as a white flag. "I get it. No need to keep repeating it-uh!"

As soon as you heard him squeal in pain after pulling out the large shard of glass, you stopped in your tracks, barely holding the tweezers in your hand. "Oh, sorry!" You quickly apologized. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll be more careful!"

As you leaned down to better concentrate on your task, the man suddenly pulled you closer with his uninjured arm to press his heated mouth against yours. The kiss was nothing like the ones you had shared before—you could taste his tears, the saltiness of them, the agony and despair. At first you wanted to break away and scold him for being reckless and foolish, but he was the first to break the kiss, only to bring his bloody finger to your parted lips. On the verge of losing your grip on reality, you closed your eyes and allowed him to push his finger inside.

What is this madness with a copper-like taste?

Maybe this man was really a demon sent straight from hell to torment people and find out their most depraved desires, their true nature, which turned out to be something sinful and deranged? Who else could he be if he could make you do such twisted things? If he could make you lose control and forget what the word "normalcy" even meant?

While you were busy processing the questions that would never be answered, the two of you were still pressed tightly together, the bloody kisses on your lips and then your neck only increasing the risk of losing your sanity here and now. However, the tweezers you held in your hand became your anchor to reality as the cold metal almost bit into your skin with its sharpness.

"Patrick," you purred against his red lips, catching your breath. "Are we crazy? I know it's a stupid question, considering everything that's happened between us..."

"I guess you could say I've plagued you with my craziness...but I'm not sorry for it," he crooned in a mischievous voice, his lips curled into a slight smirk. "And I don't want you to take it as a joke or romanticize it."

How could he say that after he literally made you suck his bloody fingers? But wasn't it you who allowed him to do it? Who craved that in the first place? That thrilling aura of danger, mystery and darkness that always surrounded Bateman like a second skin.

"I'm not gonna leave you," you said briefly, continuing to clean his hand of the shards. "I've lost too many people I care about."

Patrick listened intently without arguing, ignoring the urge to hug you again, to comfort you, to reassure you that you would never lose him, because this was not about him, this was about your safety. Your words about him being selfish stuck in his head like an obsessive melody.

Selfish, egocentric, unsympathetic—a perfect bundle of traits for a psychopath like him.

The day you were about to leave and go back to New York, you couldn't sleep. When you woke up early in the morning, you rolled onto your back. The birds were chirping peacefully in the distance, and you were somehow jealous that you couldn't be as serene as those cute little creatures. Unlike you, Bateman slept like a baby on his side, holding a pillow and sometimes jerking slightly—probably having a vivid dream or something—his right hand was still healing, but thankfully the wound wasn't bleeding anymore. Although you were not well rested, you thought it would be more productive to get up and finish packing your things since you had a flight in the afternoon. Quietly, you pulled down the blanket and sat down on the side of the bed, but then you heard Patrick's muffled whimper, which startled you a bit.

Oh, no, not him having another nightmare.

Concerned, you crawled back onto the bed and hugged the shivering man from behind. "Shh, it's okay," you whispered into his ear, pecking the back of his head before nuzzling his neck—the mixture of his cologne and aftershave hitting your nostrils like an intoxicating haze. "This is just a bad dream."

Noticing that he was relaxing a bit, you slowly began to roll back onto your side of the bed, but suddenly his strong hands cupped yours, causing you to hug him tighter in a silent plea. This was not something he usually did—it stirred a deep feeling of affection in you—even in his sleep, Patrick seemed to have control over everything, including you, but now it was different.

For a moment you weren't sure if it was right to wake him up like that, but then you thought it was better than just shaking him and telling him he was having a nightmare. Also, how many times did Bateman not care if you were sleeping or not when he just got on top of you and started fucking you mercilessly? Well, you never protested or complained about it, but after all, you were not him.

When the man made the same sound again, you had to push all thoughts away—you would have plenty of time to think about things—now all you could think about was the softness of his skin, the shallowness of his breathing, the strong grip of his hands on yours. Patrick needed you, and that was the most tempting thing of all.

With a quick movement, you slid your hand under the blanket to caress his perfect tiddies one by one, the tip of your finger teasing his nipple with feathery touches. God, the things you wanted to do to this man frightened you in ways you never thought you could even imagine.

Now was the time when you could finally agree with his statement about plaguing you with his insanity, for how else could you describe it?

"Mmm," Bateman's low gasp that fell from his parted lips echoed through the bedroom as you lowered your hand and stroked his hard bulge in his Calvin Klein briefs. "I didn't kill her...I didn't," his mumbling was growing more and more erratic. "I just...wanted that bitch to shut her mouth..."

You couldn't hear it anymore. "Patrick, Patrick!" You called his name and shook him slightly. "It's just a nightmare! Please come back to me!"

Just as you said these words, his body went limp in your embrace, some cold buds of sweat sliding down his forehead as he opened his startled eyes and looked up at you. Bateman remained silent, his hands unclasping yours only to grasp the sheets in a violent grip.

"What time is it now?" He asked as if nothing had happened.

"'Too early for you to worry about that," you tried to hug him again, but he pulled away. "You had a bad dream. Maybe it was not the best idea to watch horror movies before bed last night?"

Patrick sneered into the pillow, and although you couldn't see his face, you knew he was smiling. "I... I didn't mean to wake you."

"But you didn't-"

"I hate it, I fucking hate seeing any dreams," the man suddenly replied through clenched teeth, then Patrick looked at his bandaged hand—he was trembling. "Do you... do you see them too?"

"Most people do," you replied, planting a light kiss on his temple, his soft hair tickling your nose. "I think you just miss New York and your familiar surroundings. When we get back, you'll feel better, I'm sure. But for now, is there anything I can do to help you relax?"

Damn, that probably sounds so cheesy.

Finally, Bateman turned to look at you. "You can finish what you started," he replied with that classic boy-next-door smile that was his favorite and most useful weapon in seducing people, and you were no exception. Sometimes you hated being so weak to it, though. "I think I missed the moment when you became so bold, darling."

The air in the room was thick with tension, the little electric impulses cursed through your system by his raspy voice, which was nothing but a testament to his arousal and it only fueled your desire to make him moan, writhe like a caged bird, to make him cum on the sheets and still ask for more.

"Oh, I forgot the last time you called me like that," you droned, wrapping your hands around his waist and pressing against his tight ass. "Was it when I fucked you with that dildo I found in your little secret box?"

Meanwhile, you used the moment of his confusion to dip your palm into his underwear—his tender flesh was burning like fire—you had to use all your willpower to stop yourself from biting his neck. Patrick's panting became more uneven with each passing moment, but when you began to rub his swollen tip, smearing his thick pre-cum around it, he literally arched his back like a bowstring.

"You like it when I take care of you?" You licked his earlobe, then grazed it a bit, causing a low moan to erupt from his chest, but you needed more—you craved it like oxygen—the power he allowed you to bear was too addictive. "Talk to me... I want to hear my sweet boy."

Patrick groaned louder as you gave his dick a long, hard pump. "Damn," he closed his eyes and blushed uncontrollably. "Feels good... so f-fucking good."

Impulsively, you drowned out his moans with a lingering kiss, your tongue slipping along his in a relentless battle for dominance until he let you have your way and you sucked on his tongue with all your might, your hand massaging his tight sack, then switching back to rubbing his shaft and then his red-hot tip again. Eventually Bateman began to thrash around on the bed, thrusting into your hand, and you picked up the pace, jerking him off more vigorously, the wet, sloppy sound driving you both crazy. Each time the two of you had sex, the outside world ceased to exist; there was just the two of you, your inflamed bodies, your most sinful desires...

"Fuck," Patrick cursed, gripping the edge of the bed with one hand and pulling you closer with the other as you kissed again and again until your lips began to hurt. "How did you get inside my head... so fucking easy?"

It was not easy at all.

If only he could understand that.

With a mischievous grin, you nipped at his Adam's apple, then moved lower to his chest, flicking your tongue around his taut nipple and sucking on it with undisguised greed, but then you had to shush him with your mouth when he became too noisy.

"You've got a lot of secrets to unravel about me, baby," you sneered condescendingly and pinched his engorged peak, making him whimper so pathetically that you began to regret not taking that dildo with you. "Uh, you're shaking so bad already. Do you want to stain these expensive sheets again?" You teased him, your grip like a tight ring around his balls, squeezing them so perfectly that you could feel his dick pulsing in desperation for release. "Not that I care, but... I remember you telling me that you love to keep every drop of your cum inside me..."

With that, you gave his thick cock several quick strokes before letting go and moving your hand from his groin to his toned butt for a squeeze and then, before you knew it, you were outlining the rim of his puckered hole.

"Oh shit," Bateman bit his wet lower lip, his face flushed like fucking tomato juice. "You're not going to get away with this...you know that?"

You just giggled in reply. "Don't you think that's kinda irrelevant to say when you're lying here all splayed out for me like a bitch in heat?” You slapped his ass without a second thought. "I know what you're made of..." Another slap that made him moan. "I know what you want..."

"Oh yeah? And what is that... what do I want?"

By this time you were almost on top of him, grinding against his muscular body, but not afraid of him snapping at you, it took you several seconds to lubricate your fingers with your saliva before you plunged them into his tight inner channel, sending shivers right through his core, and it was fucking delirious to see him trembling like that and to know that you were the reason for it.

"This... this is what you want," you explained, pushing your fingers deeper before pulling them out and repeating the motion, stimulating his prostate with precise accuracy. "You're tired of being in charge all the time...and you wanted someone to take care of you without finding it your weakness."

And you were not even going to ask him to accept it—you just knew it was true—it was written in his every moan, every jerk of his hips as you were fingerfucking his ass. Everything was perfect the way it was—you were perfect for each other, no matter what flaws you both had, because ultimately these flaws were what made you you.

When there were no more words to be said and the sun began to rise, the two of you were still following the electrifying momentum of raw, unbridled lust. Moaning into each other's mouths, you continued to thrust your fingers as deep as you could, finding the best rhythm, while Bateman couldn't hold back any longer as he desperately jerked off in sync with your fingers until his whole body was strained to the point of exploding like a bomb. A loud moan of pure satisfaction pierced the room as he finally erupted in thick ropes that covered his flat stomach, but he never stopped pumping himself, not even when he began to suffocate.

"Good boy," you watched him convulse like a leaf shaking in the wind. "You're such a good boy to me. I love you."

For a brief moment, your heavy breathing was the only sound in the bedroom, as if everything outside it was nonexistent. There were no barriers, just you and him—his hand in your hand—his soul intertwined with yours.

Huffing, Patrick gasped greedily for air, but then, when your eyes met, he seemed to stop breathing again—the inner conflict could be seen behind those two dark pools that were his eyes. "I love y-you too...but if you ever dare to leave me again...I promise I will find you...and kill you."

Later that day, you took a cab to the airport. And even though you personally didn't care which class, business or first, you flew, Bateman grumbled the whole way, arguing that he hated being crowded.

"Next time we'll take a private jet," he grumbled, his hands crossed over his chest, the Rolex shimmering in the sunlight. "Why did I ever follow your advice?"

Rolling your eyes, you wanted to reply with something cocky, but then you noticed the way he fiddled with his fingers, nervously trying to hide his wounded hand. "Just because you have a lot of money doesn't mean you have to spend it like crazy," you explained, gently taking his injured hand in yours. "But next time, I won't give you any advice. Deal?"

From the confusion you could read in his face, it seemed to you that Bateman hadn't expected anything like that from you, and you were so damned pleased with yourself, because you were finally on the right track to understanding how to treat him properly, so that he would reciprocate with the same attitude. But even the most perfect mechanisms could break down sometimes.

"Oh, well," he sighed, looking down at your clasped hands, but not removing his own. "I didn't mean that I don't like your advice..."

"Forget it," you cut him off, smiling as you frowned at your words. "Really, it's nothing. I'm not your Mommy or Daddy to lecture you about your money.”

"I think I've heard that before."

"Maybe."

"Mommy and Daddy," Patrick suddenly laughed like a maniac. "You know... I can be your Daddy if you want..."

"Jesus Christ, Bateman! Don't even start!" You nudged his shoulder slightly, but it only emboldened him to scoop you into his arms and seal your lips with his soft, loving ones. "How do you manage to say the cringiest things at the most inappropriate times?"

"Cringiest things?"

Dear Lord, have mercy.

Just as you were about to answer, the taxi driver suddenly turned around and gave you both a cheerful, genuine smile. "Wir sind fast da." (We're almost there)

Confused, Bateman narrowed his eyes before averting them from the cabbie, pretending to look in the window. As much as you wanted to laugh and tease him for his childish behavior, you returned a friendly smile to the driver and murmured: "Vielen Dank! Was kostet die Reise?" (Thank you! How much for the ride?)

The driver pointed to the meter, you nodded, and pulled out your wallet. "Bitte sehr. Behalten Sie den Rest." (Here you go. Keep the rest)

The longer Patrick remained silent, the more he looked like a small child who was offended that no one was paying attention to him. When the car pulled up at Stuttgart Airport, you thanked the driver and got out of the car before Bateman could say anything.

After taking your luggage, the two of you entered the busy area of the airport, people were rushing here and there, which of course made Patrick even more annoyed.

"I didn't know you could speak German," he managed to get the words out, but he still looked insulted. "Was it necessary to act like that?"

Hello, my name is Patrick Bateman and I'm a 27-year-old kid who can't stand being ignored for five fucking minutes.

Irritated, you stopped abruptly and he almost bumped into you. "First of all, I studied German in college, and since the company I worked for in Chicago did business with a lot of German partners, I needed to revive my knowledge," you blurted out, extending a finger in a stay-the-fuck-up gesture. "Second, I've been speaking German a lot since we got here, and you never bothered to notice! Really, Patrick? And what do you mean, was that necessary? Paying the taxi driver and thanking him for the ride? Are you serious?"

"I was talking to Bryce." Bateman's sudden words hit you like an avalanche of rocks.

For a fleeting second, you didn't even know what to say. What were they talking about? Had Bryce told him about the night you had spent together? Or rather, the nights. Shit, oh shit. That was bad. You knew it was going to be so bad for you because you kept it a secret and hid it from Patrick, but on the other hand, it wasn't cheating because, fuck it, Bateman married Evelyn just to make you what? Jealous?

"When did you ever find the time to do that?" You asked, trying to shake the anxiety off your shoulders.

"When you were in the shower before we left," Patrick's eyes scanned your face with a mysterious interest that made you swallow hard. "He invited us to Shinnecock Hills Golf Club, the one on the eastern tip of Long Island. A fucking golf club, can you imagine? That blonde bitch has already changed him so much."

"Blonde bitch?"

"Evelyn Williams."

"Uh, oh, yeah, Evelyn," you made a thoughtful face as if you could hardly remember who it was, when in fact you knew everything all too well, starting with the fact that Tim and Evelyn had been fucking behind Bateman's back before they got divorced, since Bryce had told you about it when you met several times after Patrick and Evelyn's wedding. You and Timothy used to fuck until you witnessed Bryce's meltdown over his fucked up relationship with Evelyn Williams. "It's just... you talk about it as casually as if you weren't married to her once."

"Was I?" Bateman arched his eyebrows theatrically and rubbed his chin. "I don't remember."

"We're going to miss our flight if we keep rumbling like this," you complained, pointing to the large information board. "And...I didn't know you guys loved golf?"

The two of you exchanged a few sly glances before heading for the gate where your plane was waiting for you. A plane that would take you back to the crazy city life of New York, the city you swore you would never visit again, but as the saying goes—never say never.

My life was like a comedy that turned out to be a drama and I was the director who screwed up the script.

Imagine yourself praying that today would be bad weather, rain, thunderstorm or fucking snow (even though it made absolutely no sense) and you wouldn't have to go to the golf club to see Tim and Evelyn and pretend that nothing happened. If Patrick could pretend that nothing happened between the four of you, why was it so hard for you, almost impossible? You also had to take into account the fact that Patrick still didn't know about you and Bryce, and you had serious doubts that he would be as indifferent about it as he was about Timothy and Evelyn's affair behind his back, or maybe it wasn't even behind his back and he knew everything from the beginning? This did not make it easy for you to understand how you all got into this situation. Why did he marry Evelyn in the first place?

"Hey, are you okay?" a familiar female voice pulled you out of the swamp of thoughts and when you raised your eyes you saw her—Evelyn Williams in the flesh. Even though the last time you had seen her was at her wedding with Patrick, which seemed to be so long ago (but wasn't), the woman didn't seem to have changed at all. "The boys asked me to bring them some drinks... Do you know how to call the staff here?"

Stunned, you looked around—the two of you were standing under the big tent that was located not far from the big golf course where Patrick and Timothy were practicing their shots, because there was a rumor that Paul Allen was about to join your little 'golf party', and of course nobody was really happy about it—especially you, but not because you didn't like Paul, you just didn't want to dig into the dirt, preferring to keep it all in the past.

"Uh, I think Patrick has a phone," you replied a little awkwardly. "I can go ask him."

As soon as you started to move, the woman stopped you with a polite hand on your shoulder. "Actually, they asked us not to bother them for a while."

"Oh," you stammered, chewing nervously on the inside of your cheek. "'Something wrong?"

"No, not at all," Evelyn grinned brightly and poured herself a glass of orange juice from the large decanter that stood on the narrow table. "Want some juice? Patrick told me about your little trip to Germany! I tried to convince him to travel when we were... well... never mind, he always refused!"

The blonde let out a nervous chuckle and took a sip of juice, your eyes never leaving her slightly embarrassed face. There was something wrong with this whole situation, but you couldn't reveal your fear.

"I wonder what exactly he told you, but... I don't mind talking about it," you crossed your arms and leaned against the table with the non-alcoholic drinks. "Ask away."

Meanwhile, two rich men, dressed in the most expensive polo shirts and shorts of some famous brand from the latest fashion week, were discussing the latest news of the financial world.

"Those bastards we had a meeting with last week are a fucking bunch of freaks and believe me when I say they're so deep in the shit they're going to fucking drown in it one day. Now watch and learn," Bryce finished his expressive monologue with a practice swing of his club. As the ball fell into the hole, the man lifted his sunglasses to wink at his friend. "See that, Bateman?"

"Nice shot," Patrick mimicked Tim's actions, adjusting his sunglasses as well. "Although I still don't understand why you chose a fucking golf club out of all the places we have?"

Leaning on his club, Bryce turned to look at the tent, and the moment he did, Evelyn began waving at him as if she were the most ardent fan and Tim the worldwide golf star.

"It was her idea," the man replied, stepping back to place the next ball for Bateman. "She was bored with regular dinners and going to some nightclub was out of the question after that... story that happened at Le Bain."

Patrick frowned and quickly picked up his club. "Le Bain? Really? What were you doing there anyway?"

Bryce didn't answer directly, instead he rubbed his head, marking time, and that didn't really look like the Timothy Bryce Patrick had gotten used to knowing. "What kind of shitty story did you get into this time, Bryce?"

"Nothing serious," Tim replied, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "You got a lighter?" With a soft click, Bateman opened a white-gold Zippo lighter, and after Bryce took several drags, he looked back in Evelyn's direction before finally starting to talk. "Almost crushed some asshole's skull," he said so casually that Patrick could only smile like an idiot for a moment. "The guy asked for it, I swear."

"You did what?" Bateman questioned after a boyish giggle that escaped his throat faster than he could even suppress it. "And I thought after rehab people should be calmer and more stable."

"Oh, fuck you! That scumbag tried to rent Evelyn out like one of those hookers, well, you know, hookers, whores, you know better than me-"

"I KNOW!"

Bateman's reaction really amused Bryce, who couldn't help but grin as he watched Patrick get more and more flustered by the second. "So after this incident, Evelyn doesn't want to go to clubs...unless it's a fucking golf club!"

Now it was Patrick's time to sneer. "I didn't expect you to become a henpecked husband so quickly," Patrick joked, finally hitting a shot—two men watched as the ball flew until it landed next to the hole, but never fell in. "Golf sucks. I fucking hate it!"

"Don't cry, Bateman, shit happens," Timothy tapped Patrick's shoulder in a mockingly comforting way, but then the man suddenly became very serious. " So, have you had any success with your love adventures?"

"More than you can imagine," Bateman took off his sunglasses and fastened them to his polo shirt. "Why?"

"Sometimes I want to fucking sink into the ground when Evelyn starts whining that we're sitting in one place...that New York has become too stuffy and all that shit."

"Sounds like a casual day from my family life with Evelyn," Patrick started to say something else, but then he looked at his Rolex to check the time. "Is Allen really coming?"

"Oh shit, I forgot!" Tim cursed and quickly began to remove his leather gloves. "Honestly, I don't even know why he decided to come."

"I have an idea why," Bateman frowned as he heard approaching footsteps and as soon as the man turned to the side, you and Evelyn appeared on the horizon—your face was grim and tense, which spoke volumes about the complexity of the current situation and Patrick's need to solve it somehow. "And where are our drinks?"

"Sorry guys, we only have non-alcoholic drinks here," Evelyn blushed a little as the two men looked at her. "Patrick, can I use your phone? I am going to call the staff since Tim left his phone in the limo!"

Bryce finished his cigarette but didn't throw it away because he knew that Evelyn would bitch about him making a mess, blah blah blah, end of story. "'Screw this," Tim exclaimed spontaneously. "We can take a golf cart and get our drinks in the main building...and meet Allen there."

At the mention of Paul, you literally trembled, but Patrick almost immediately placed his hand on the small of your back. Slightly surprised by his affection, you didn't even say a word as Timothy and Evelyn exchanged goodbyes and walked toward the golf cart.

"Did you get sunstroke?" Bateman crooned as he stroked your cheek to get you to look up at him. "I told you to stay under the tent, not with us."

"I'm fine," you tried to reassure him. "It's just that I don't really want to see Paul right now," your voice trembled treacherously. "Not in the best mood for... social activities."

Without saying anything, Patrick grabbed your hand and led you back to the tent, where the two of you had some healthy smoothies that you never really liked, but since Bateman told you that they were pretty good for your health, you pretended to enjoy them. Afterwards, the two of you sat on the small but comfortable couch with the amazing view. The man rested his hand on your shoulders and occasionally massaged the back of your neck, causing you to close your eyes in pleasure.

"You and Allen," Patrick muttered abruptly. "What kind of relationship do you have?"

This is it—no way to run.

"Just business," you explained without a hint of doubt. "Listen...I don't want to see him, not because we had some drama...it wasn't Allen's fault that the party was messed up. Someone brought up the prostitutes...or maybe they were models. I don't know!" You paused to catch your breath. "All the memories are so cloudy...but the one thing I remember clearly is that I started to feel weird after I drank some wine...then everything came in torn frames. Some guy tried to get his hands on me and I didn't know where Allen was and some other guys from P&P but not Tim or Craig or David...I'm sorry I called you...my poisoned mind decided it was the best idea to call you."

The whole time you were talking, Bateman was stroking your back, but when you mentioned the call, he froze in place, and it looked so creepy. "You mean...you called me...that night?"

Tensing up, you gave Patrick a confused look, but instead of saying anything, you just nodded. The lingering silence between the two of you felt so heavy and suffocating that at one point you thought it was a bad idea to tell him what had happened that night at Paul Allen's apartment, but now it was too late.

"What happened next? Do you remember the person who tried to touch you?"

"Not really," you replied in a dull voice. "I think after I called you... Paul told me we had to leave and we left and... fuck!" You cursed and grabbed your head as if it could help you remember more details. "It all happened so fast...I'm sorry I bothered you with that call, that was really stupid of me."

"You really did call me," he repeated over and over, repeating the phrase like a broken record. "You really..."

Confused, you turned to face him, only to see his pupils dilated and his face covered in a thin layer of sweat. "I did," you said curtly. "But...what's so special about that?"

But your question seemed to fall on deaf ears, Bateman blinked several times, his hands trembling a bit as he removed them from your back, and then you finally realized why he was asking you these particular questions, but the way he smiled in relief, delusionally thinking he had found all the answers he was looking for, who knew for how long, it hurt so much. But what could you do now? You both had already come to the conclusion that Patrick needed help, that he would soon start seeing a psychiatrist recommended by Timothy, and that he would also resume taking pills to help control his impulsive temper. So the choice was yours.

After taking a deep breath, you glanced at him again—the man was looking back so expectantly, there was a spark of happiness in his eyes—a long forgotten spark, but there it was, and you didn't want to ruin it, even though you knew that the bitter truth was always better than the sweetest lie.

I hope one day you will forgive me for this, my love.

"Everything will be fine," your reassuring words were not for him, but for you. "You will be fine," you took his large palm in yours and gave it a gentle squeeze. "But... there is one more thing I have to tell you."

"What is it?" Patrick asked almost immediately.

"I..." you stammered as his grin widened, making him look so boyish and... cute? Fucking hell, why do you always choose the worst timing? "I fucked Bryce...several times...after you married Evelyn...but that was just sex...I mean..."

Even though he was still smiling, something changed in the way he looked at you now. The man took a moment to process the information you had just given him.

"That didn't mean anything! I swear," you were the first to speak again. "We... we both just found ourselves in one of the most fucked up moments of our lives..."

"Listen-"

"Wait! Let me finish!"

With one smooth move, Patrick brought you closer, so that you were sitting on his lap, and the suddenness of it left you speechless, which Bateman used to his advantage.

"See," he began, hugging you tightly. "You didn't say anything I didn't already know."

What? WHAT?

He was bluffing, no way Bryce told him everything, he would never do that to you, but on the other hand—why were you so confident that Bryce wouldn't tell his best friend to save their friendship? Even though you and Tim were close, Patrick and Timothy had a much closer bond.

"Tim told you everything?" You asked, feeling defeated and devastated.

"Not directly, but enough for me to understand the hidden meaning of the references he used whenever we talked about you."

You talked about me?

"I'm sorry," you laid your head on his shoulder before hiding your face in the crook of his neck and wrapping both of your hands around it. "I should have told you sooner."

"You told me when you were ready," he murmured softly, rubbing invisible circles on your back to soothe you. "I suppose you and I are finally even now."

"I guess you're right."

You cupped his face, pecking his temple, then the bridge of his perfectly framed nose, bathing his jawline with small kisses until you reached his lips to kiss him as lovingly as you could, wanting to convey all the emotions you felt for him through that kiss.

This moment seemed too perfect, so when you heard a loud laugh that belonged to someone you knew quite well, you weren't surprised at all, because things couldn't be that good—not in real life.

"Oh, there they are, look at these lovebirds," Craig chuckled and then added. "Long time no see."

And of course McDermott was not alone, soon you noticed Van Patten and Bryce. "Where's Evelyn?" You asked, dismounting from Patrick and taking the seat next to him instead. "And Paul?"

Bryce smiled mischievously and pulled two bottles of alcohol out from behind his back. "I told Allen there was no alcohol in here, so he changed his mind," Tim said, placing the bottles on the small table next to the couch. "And Evelyn...she told me that she actually hates golf and that she'd rather go to the spa with Courtney—I didn't interfere. So are you just going to sit here or will you give me glasses?"

"You know, I was starting to like this new version of Bryce," David joked, rolling a cigar between his fingers. "Still a bitchy asshole, but with new functionality in his arsenal."

Everyone except Timothy began to laugh, Patrick being the volunteer who had decided to bring the glasses from the table on the other side of the tent terrace.

"Have you lost the last of your brains or something?" Tim growled, smoothing back his hair, which was blacker than charcoal. "That chick you're with now will be the death of you, remember my words."

Bateman returned with glasses in the middle of the most intense part of the conversation about David's new girlfriend, who turned out to be the daughter of a very influential politician, and who had just returned from Cuba with a limited collection of cigars that Van Patten was so arrogantly bragging about. And somehow, you could finally admit to yourself that you missed the old days when you were a part of Wall Street life, even though sometimes you really hated it. But now, sitting among your ex-colleagues and your lover, you felt like you were in the right place, and that feeling was the most tranquilizing thing you had ever experienced.

Almost six months later, you and Patrick went back to Germany to attend Vincent and Andrea's wedding. This time, you didn't stop Bateman from taking a private jet for the trip, and it was your first flight on such a luxury aircraft—its interior looked even more lavish than in glamour magazines about the rich and famous.

Sitting in the comfortable beige leather seat, you looked out the porthole where the clouds looked like a creamy dessert—the sight was mesmerizing and breathtaking, even though you weren't a fan of flying, but at the same time you couldn't say that you were aerophobic—you were definitely somewhere in between. While Patrick was away talking to the crew about something you didn't know, you had already finished counting the number of diamonds or other jewels that were used like a fancy decoration—there were about a hundred small gems all over the interior and it was insane because why would you need all of them in a damn plane? It wouldn't get off the ground without them, or what?

"What are you thinking about, sweetheart?" Bateman's soft baritone echoed off the walls of the plane's interior. "You sure you don't want something to drink?"

"Yes," you replied and quickly adjusted the sleeves of your shirt. "I'm just wondering if Vincent and Andrea will like our gift."

"Who wouldn't? Everybody loves money," the man chuckled and sat down across from you. "I still don't understand how they decided to get married so quickly after dating for a few months?"

Frowning, you grunted. "They've been dating for more than six months now and they knew each other since childhood....Did you forget?"

The man just rolled his eyes and yawned tiredly. "Honey, I don't even remember Sean's birthday and he's my brother. What did you expect?"

Yeah, right, what did I expect?

"Uh, just don't say anything that will embarrass me at the wedding, okay?"

"I can keep quiet the whole wedding, it's no problem for me," Bateman winked at you and swirled his glass of scotch. " As long as someone decides to ask me some stupid questions."

"Like what?"

"Mmm...something Wall Street related," he purred in a sweet tone that was such a stark contrast to what he was actually saying. "’Oh, sir, are you really from New York City? I've heard a lot of stories about the bankers from Wall Street.’"

The way he tried to imitate a German accent made you slap his hand and shake your head in disapproval. "All the guests are educated people, stop acting like Europeans are less educated than Americans."

"I'm not gonna start this polemic," he chirped, suddenly standing up. "Sit here, I'll be right back."

And then he disappeared behind the elegant door, made of red wood, its surface shimmering from how polished it was, you could even see your own reflection, but you didn't see any reasons why Bateman was leaving somewhere again. Was there something wrong with the plane? Were we going to crash? A cold shiver ran down your spine at the mere thought of it.

Shake it off…just shake it off.

While you desperately tried to calm down, the door opened again, but you couldn't see anyone behind it. "Close your eyes."

Patrick's sudden order made you blink nervously in shock.

"Why?"

You heard him sigh in irritation. "Just do what I say. Is it so difficult?"

"Fine, fine! Just don't do anything crazy!"

"You'll like it, trust me," the man replied, closing the door behind him before coming closer. "Put your hands out in front of you."

Shit, shit, shit, why am I so nervous? What else can he do? He could just kick me off the plane... Jesus, what am I thinking?

Closing your eyes tightly, you obeyed and reached out to feel something soft, fluffy and warm. "Oh my God...WHAT IS THAT?" And then you heard a distinctive sound that you would never mistake for anything else—a meow. "Can I open my eyes? PLEASE?"

"Now you can."

As soon as you opened your eyes, you saw a little fluffy pile of black fur looking back at you with a pair of tiny blue eyes—you could barely keep yourself from bursting into tears. The black kitten meows louder as you bring it closer to peck its head and hold it gently.

"Patrick, I..." you could barely speak. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything—your reaction is enough," the man commented, sitting back in his seat. "I know we talked about you wanting a kitten...about you wanting to adopt a child," he paused, taking a moment to just admire your happiness at having one of your dreams come true. "I thought we should start with something."

This kitten was the most adorable creature you'd ever seen, so small, so vulnerable, that you would do anything to protect and care for it. "That's...you can't even imagine how much it means to me," you pecked the kitten again when you noticed something on its collar—something round and shiny—a ring...with a large diamond. "What an interesting collar decoration."

"Told you you'd like it."

"Wait," you stopped him. "Wait...is this...for me?"

"What exactly?" Patrick sneered teasingly and opened his arms. "This jet is for you...everything around you...is for you," he slowly got up and walked to your seat. "Including the ring. Will you marry me?"

Another meow pierced the room around you, and while you were still in a state of shock, Bateman didn't miss the chance to pet the kitten, whose little paws curled up to catch his finger.

Will you marry me?

This question suddenly reminded you of the countless times you had imagined him asking you this, and even though in your dreams you knew exactly how to act to make everything look perfect, when it finally happened in real life you were caught off guard, shocked, paralyzed. With every second of your hesitation, Bateman grew more and more nervous.

"Honey?" He called to you, tilting your head with his gentle touch to make you look at him. "Is something wrong? Don't you like the ring?"

"No..." you nuzzled against his palm, holding the kitten carefully in your hands. "It's perfect...everything is so perfect," and then you collapsed, letting the sparkling tears run down your cheeks. "Are you...really...sure you want this?"

To be fair, he was ready for anything, even rejection, but this—such a reaction was something beyond his understanding of human emotion—scared him to the point where he thought he might be doing something bad, something that would turn you away from him.

Still holding your chin, the man knelt down beside your seat. "How can you question my decisions after everything we've been through?"

"Patrick," you ran your hand through his slightly disheveled hair. "I just want to know that you're not doing this for me, but because you really want to."

The man paused and sighed. "Of all the decisions I have made, this is the most conscious," he murmured in a raspy voice. "Allow me to prove it."

Speechless, you could barely breathe, and when you nodded, Patrick carefully removed the ring from the kitten's collar and gently took your hand in his to place a ring on your index finger, then the man pressed a soft kiss on the top of your palm as if to seal the vow.

"I love you, Patrick Bateman," you said as he stood and towered over you to press his forehead against yours, your noses rubbing against each other. "You are my greatest tragedy and blessing."

With a soft chuckle, Patrick pressed you against his chest, hugging your shoulders with one hand and stroking the kitten with the other. "I'll take that as a compliment," he smiled, burying his nose in your carefully combed hair. "What are you going to name your new little friend?"

You hummed and looked down. "It's a boy, right?"

"Yeah."

"Mhmm...what if we name him Memento?" You asked, looking up at your fiancé. "Memento means memory-"

"Memento mori—remember you must die, I've heard it many times."

"Uh, yes, that remark about the inevitability of death. But before we die, we will make a lot of different memories...memories you will never want to forget....memories you and I will remember when we grow old."

You sobbed at your own words and Patrick had to shush you, pulling you closer into his warm embrace. "Shhh," he kissed the top of your head. "You're so full of sentiment, darling. That would be enough for both of us."

"We're going to live together for a long time, aren't we?"

"Of course," Bateman reassured you, stroking your hair. "And we will die on the same day. But before that, as you said, we would have a life to remember."

"And... if there is an afterlife?"

"Then I'll find you there," Patrick's voice was as calming as a mantra, enveloping you like a soothing mist. "But you don't have to think about it today. Or tomorrow, or fifty years from now. Right now, you better think about our speech at the wedding, because I hate the very idea of it."

Human memory is a very complicated thing—sometimes you want nothing more than to reboot your memory and erase all the bad memories from your head, but then you have amnesia, and people who suffer from it will do anything to get their memories back. Because memory is what makes us who we are, every little thing that happened to you in your life forms your personality, and sometimes a missing memory can feel like a black void inside your soul when you have a feeling that you forgot something, but you couldn't remember what exactly. After all, life is a kaleidoscope of ups and downs, a complex mixture of dark and bright colors, where every little detail matters. When you feel depressed, when you think there's nothing left for you to keep going—never give up fighting for your love and following your dreams, because we have only one life, and death is inevitable, but while you're alive, you're capable of doing anything.

Memento mori, but never stop believing and living your best life.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader

43 notes · View notes