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shy2-29 · 7 days ago

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── just the two of us, moonstruck ☾ (l.hs)

๑ After Heeseung finally breaks off his manipulative relationship, he storms out of the house late at night without an umbrella as it’s pouring rain, then running into you. He’s never been happier after he experiences what real love is with you.

a/n: this is actually so sad but I hope you enjoy it! Heeseung’s ex goes by the name Karina | wc: 2.6k | warning: not proofread! toxic relationship, angst, manipulation, minor flirting | song: moonstruck - enhypen 🎵

—

"Break up with me?!"

Karina sneered, her voice trembling with emotion. Her gaze bore into Heeseung, her words laced with anger.

The raw intensity of her expression conveyed the depth of her pain, begging him to reconsider.

“Why are you even acting surprised? You knew this was coming.” Heeseung’s response was cold and void of any sympathy. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t expect it.”

Karina's eyes widened, frustration etched on her face as she spoke, “All I did was treat you well like the loving girlfriend I am!”

Her voice wavered with hurt, her arms crossing defensively in front of her chest.

The accusation stung, her resentment evident as she tried to convey the effort she had put into their relationship.

“Loving girlfriend? You call manipulating me, constantly gaslighting me, and never giving me space ‘loving?’” his voice rising with each word.

“You were trying too hard to be ‘loving.’ I felt suffocated and trapped.” Heeseung’s voice grew more forceful. “It was like you were constantly hovering over me, trying to control every aspect of my life. I couldn’t breathe!”

Karina's lower lip trembled, her face flushed with anger.

"Is that all I did?!" Her voice escalated in volume. "I just wanted to be close to you! Is that a crime!?"

Heeseung furrowed his brow, his frustration evident.

"It was more than that," he retorted. "You smothered me. You didn't trust me. You made me question every interaction, every decision. You controlled everything. It was like I lost myself in the relationship."

As Karina was about to speak, Heeseung interrupted, his voice firm, "We're over, Karina."

The finality in his tone left no room for negotiation, the harsh reality hitting Karina like a wave as Heeseung stormed out of her apartment.

It was pouring rain as Heeseung stepped outside without an umbrella. His shoes splashed in the puddles, his face drenched as he walked away, feeling a mix of relief and sadness. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, the rain a fittingly melancholic companion to his heartbreak.

Heeseung found himself drawn to the nearby river, the moon shining brightly overhead.

Lost in thought, he reached the riverbank and gazed at the water's surface, reflecting the celestial light.

The gentle lapping of the waves was soothing, but the pang of heartache was still ever-present.

It was well past midnight. The once bustling streets lay silent, the moon casting its silvery glow on the empty cobblestones.

Most of the city was asleep, except for the occasional insomniac or late-night worker.

The rain continued to shower down, creating a melancholic atmosphere as Heeseung stood there, soaking wet, his gaze fixed on the shimmering river.

The silence was broken only by the soft sounds of raindrops hitting the water's surface and the occasional distant sound of a passing car.

It was as if the world had come to a pause for Heeseung, his emotions swirling like the eddies in the river.

Heeseung took a deep, shaky breath as a rush of emotions washed over him. It was like the rain was washing away the remnants of his relationship, leaving behind only the memory of the moon's ethereal beauty and the cold, comforting presence of the night.

Heeseung couldn't help but dwell on the moments leading up to the breakup, replaying the harsh words exchanged. The words he'd said to Karina haunted him, but deep down, he knew they were true. He needed space, freedom, a chance to rediscover himself without the stifling grip of a controlling partner.

As the rain continued to fall, Heeseung ran a hand through his wet hair, his gaze still fixed on the shimmering water. It was then that he noticed you standing silently behind him, quietly holding an umbrella over his head.

"You’re going to get sick if you keep standing in the rain, sir," you remarked, offering a friendly reminder to the man drenched in the pouring rain. Concern etched on your face, you chuckled lightly at the scene before you.

Heeseung startled, quickly turning around to see you standing there. A mixture of surprise and relief crossed his features as he recognized your kind gesture.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess I got lost in thought..." he admitted sheepishly.

He took in your appearance for a moment, taking notice of your kind expression. There was something comforting about having someone show genuine concern.

Your concern grew as you stepped closer, shielding both of you from the rain with your umbrella. "Are you lost?" you inquired softly, your gaze filled with genuine concern.

Heeseung shook his head in response, his eyes meeting yours.

"No, not lost...just trying to clear my head," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

His drenched hair clung to his forehead as he ran a hand through it again, trying to regain his composure.

With you standing close, Heeseung felt a strange sense of comfort, despite the circumstances. The umbrella provided a welcome shelter and the act of sharing it with a stranger was oddly comforting.

His mind was still swirling with the events leading up to this moment, but the presence of someone caring enough to stand in the rain with him made his heart feel a little less heavy.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked as the words slipped from your lips. The tilt of your head indicated your genuine interest, an invitation to share what burdened him.

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering with contemplation. The weight of everything he'd been through felt raw and vulnerable.

"It's just...my relationship. It ended tonight," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with the lingering pain of the breakup.

You nodded understandingly, your heart going out to him.

"Breakups are tough," you responded, your voice soft and compassionate. "But sometimes, they lead us to better things."

You could see the heaviness in his expression, the way his shoulders slumped slightly under the weight of his heartache.

"Do you have anywhere to go?" you asked with a hint of concern.

Heeseung shook his head, his gaze remaining fixed on the water.

"No, not really. I don't really feel like going back to my apartment right now."

There was a trace of sadness in his voice, as if he knew he should go back, but the thought of being alone in his empty, silence-filled home didn't appeal to him at all.

You studied his face for a moment, his wet hair clinging to his forehead, and the rain running down his face. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that tugged at your heartstrings.

"Would you like to come to mine? Just for the night," you suddenly offered, surprising yourself as much as him.

Heeseung's eyes widened in surprise, clearly taken aback by your unexpected invitation. He looked at you, disbelief and a hint of gratitude etched across his face.

"Really?" he asked, his voice soft. The rain continued to fall, the sound of droplets hitting the umbrella growing louder.

You nodded, a reassuring smile on your lips.

"Yeah, really. I have a spare room at my place. You can stay there tonight. Beats being out here in the rain."

Heeseung seemed both grateful and hesitant, the weight of his emotions still heavy in his eyes.

"I...I don't want to be a bother," he muttered, clearly torn between accepting your offer and not wanting to impose on you.

You shook your head, your smile gentle and understanding.

"You won't be a bother. I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it." You moved closer, the umbrella sheltering both of you from the relentless rain. "Come on, it's pouring. You're already soaked."

Heeseung looked at you for a moment, seemingly weighing the proposition. When he finally nodded, it was with a mixture of relief and appreciation.

"Okay. I'll come with you," he said, his voice still tinged with the raw remnants of the night's heartbreak.

With that, you both braved the rain, walking to your apartment. The rhythmic tapping of the rain on the umbrella accompanied your steps, the darkness surrounding you only occasionally broken by streetlights along the way.

Heeseung followed silently next to you, the weight of his emotions still heavy on his shoulders. He found comfort in your presence, though, a stranger who had shown such kindness to him in a moment of vulnerability.

"What's your name, sir?" You asked, breaking the silence with a gentle question. The rhythmic sound of your footsteps hitting the rain-soaked puddles echoed in the air.

Heeseung turned to look at you, realizing he hadn't introduced himself. He gave you a small, slightly embarrassed smile.

"Oh, right. I'm Heeseung. And just call me by my name, please. The 'sir' thing makes me feel old."

A soft laugh escaped your lips, his remark putting you at ease.

"Alright, Heeseung it is," you responded, the sound of his name rolling off your tongue comfortably.

Heeseung looked at you, curiousity in his eyes.

"And what's your name?" he asked, genuinely wanting to know the name of the person who saved him from standing in the rain.

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your heart that he cared to ask.

"I'm Yn," you introduced, the simplicity of your name contrasting with the depth of your actions.

"Yn," Heeseung repeated, the unfamiliar name rolling off his tongue with a gentle lilt.

He found comfort in the way it sounded, like a soft melody that made his heart feel a little less heavy.

The rain continued to fall around you both as you reached your apartment building. Heeseung followed you into the lobby, feeling a mix of gratitude and relief at the thought of being out of the rain and surrounded by warmth.

You pulled out your keys, unlocking the door to your apartment and ushering Heeseung inside. The warmth of the apartment immediately enveloped them, offering a stark contrast to the cold, damp exterior.

Heeseung walked in, feeling the transition from the rainy atmosphere outside to the comforting shelter inside. He looked around the apartment, noticing the cozy, homey vibe, and he found himself relaxing a bit.

You gestured towards a door down the hallway. "You can hang your jacket in there." You pointed to the door next to it. "The bathroom's there. I'll get you a dry change of clean clothes that my older brother left behind. Make yourself at home, alright?"

Heeseung nodded, grateful for your hospitality.

"Thank you so much, Yn. I really appreciate this," he said heartfelt, his voice sincere.

He followed your directions, hanging up his damp jacket and taking off his shoes before heading into the bathroom.

As you headed to the bedroom to find something dry for Heeseung to wear, Heeseung entered the bathroom, the sound of the rain outside providing a calming white noise.

The warm glow from the bathroom light created a soothing atmosphere as he stepped inside. He turned on the shower and began washing the cold rain off, feeling a sense of relaxation wash over him.

He let the warm water run down his body, the sound of the shower mixing with his own thoughts.

He found himself reflecting on the events of the evening, the breakup, the rain, and your sudden presence in his life.

Heeseung stayed in the shower for a bit longer than usual, finding comfort in the warmth and solitude.

When he finally stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist, he felt refreshed and a little more calm.

Heeseung walked out of the bathroom, finding a fresh set of clothes laid out for him. He quickly changed into them, appreciating the simple gesture more than you could possibly know.

The clothes felt soft against his skin, the scent of fabric softener a comforting whiff of familiarity. Heeseung ran a hand through his damp hair and stepped out of the room, feeling a bit more at ease now.

As he re-entered the main living area, he saw you making hot tea. You glanced over your shoulder and smiled, seeing that he looked much more comfortable in the dry clothes.

"I hope those clothes fit okay," you stated, a hint of concern in your voice.

"And I made some tea. Chamomile, to help you relax," you said as you offered a teacup to him.

You urged gently, your words tinged with concern, "After you drink this, you should go to sleep. It's almost 2 AM."

The late hour and the worry in your words conveyed your genuine concern for his well-being.

Heeseung looked at you, a mix of exhaustion and gratitude in his eyes.

"You're right," he admitted, taking the teacup from you. The warmth of the cup felt pleasant against his cold hands.

"I don't think I could stay awake for much longer anyway," he said, a tired sigh escaping his lips.

Heeseung, feeling the weight of exhaustion, takes a sip of the chamomile tea you had made for him.

The warmth of the cup and the soothing fragrance of the tea comforted him, and he set it down on the table.

"Thank you," he said with gratitude, his voice sincere and heartfelt. "For everything. Letting me stay over, providing me with dry clothes... You've been incredibly kind, Yn."

You chuckled lightly, revealing the soft spot in your heart. "I guess I just have a soft spot for cute lonely souls who happen to be soaked by the rain past midnight," you teased, observing him delicately as he sipped his tea.

A hint of color rose to Heeseung's cheeks as he realized your teasing remark. He let out a small, embarrassed laugh, not used to such unexpected compliments.

"I guess that means I'm the luckiest, then," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of playfulness.

The warmth of the apartment, the comfort of the clothes you had provided, and the soothing tea in his hand made him feel at ease.

Despite the emotional turmoil of the night, there was a sense of peace settling in his heart, thanks to your compassionate presence.

His voice grew solemn, gratitude evident as he spoke, "But really—thank you, y/n. I felt something I haven’t felt from a long time, and I think you’re a really good person…" The weight of his words hung in the air, his genuine appreciation for you becoming apparent.

You felt your heart warm, a mix of emotions welling up within you.

"You don't have to thank me," you responded softly, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "I'm just glad I was there to help you when you needed it."

There was a moment of silent understanding between you both, the weight of his words settling in.

The late hour, the weary exhaustion, and the vulnerability of the situation created a fragile connection, an invisible bond that seemed to grow stronger the longer you shared this quiet moment.

As the silence between you two stretched on, Heeseung broke it with a question that hinted at his growing curiosity about you.

"To be honest, I don't really want our night to end here," he confessed, his voice quiet but sincere.

"I know we just met, but I'd really like to get to know you better."

The vulnerability in his voice echoed in the room. Heeseung had been through an emotional rollercoaster of a night, and in this moment of vulnerability and weary exhaustion, he was opening up to you, a stranger who had shown him nothing but kindness.

The desire for connection, for something beyond the shared moment of late-night solace, was evident in his words.

Heeseung hoped that you wouldn't dismiss his invitation, that you would give him a chance to learn more about you.

You met his gaze, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"I'd like that, Heeseung," you responded, your voice carrying a note of warm honesty.

"I don't mind getting to know you better either."

thx for reading

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ohproserpine · 11 months ago

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vi. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, death, hunting, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder, heated scene (making out)

˚୨୧₊♱

You never really liked cars.

The first time you had ridden in one was in the 1930s.

It was after one of your shifts, the wet streets illuminated only by the flickering glow of the rusting lampposts. There you stood, still in your glad rags and wrapped in a coat, the misty drizzle kissing your face. Alastor arrived a few minutes later with a honk of his horn, surprising you with a ride home in his latest purchase—a stunning red car with a sleek roof that gleamed in the dim light, its long, sweeping fenders and rounded body cutting a striking figure against the darkness of the night.

As you got into the car, excitement tingled in your veins, eager to experience the wonders of modern transportation. However, the thrill quickly turned to fear as the speeds increased, and your husband, the ass he was, seemed to enjoy nothing more than pushing the accelerator and hearing your horrified screams. Each time the car accelerated, you found yourself clinging onto him for dear life, the rush of wind slamming against your flushed face, your heart racing in your chest.

Since then, you swore never to get into a car again, preferring the safety of solid ground beneath your feet, the memory of that terrifying ride haunting your thoughts whenever you heard the roar of an engine.

Now, standing outside and shivering in the cold, you watched as a long royal blue limo pulled up before you. The sleek vehicle gleamed under the streetlights, its polished surface reflecting the dim glow of the surrounding city. The doors, adorned with gold accents, were automated and opened up for you, revealing a plush interior illuminated by soft, warm lighting. Small steps extended gracefully from below, inviting you to step inside.

Velvette wasted no time and went in first, her stiletto heels clicking against the polished floor as she settled into one of the luxurious seats. Already engrossed in a phone call, her voice echoed faintly through the open doorway, mingling with the low hum of the engine.

Meanwhile, Vox stood by your side, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the pavement. You knew he was making sure you wouldn't attempt to escape, although the thought barely crossed your mind.

After all, where could you possibly run to now? Any endeavor in that direction would likely prove futile and possibly even fatal. The evidence of your soul being sold was clear, evident in the now black color of your sclera.

"Well," Vox drawled, his voice carrying a subtle edge of impatience as he gestured towards the open limousine door. "Aren't you going to go in?"

You hesitated, biting your lip as you reluctantly took a step back. Vox eyed your actions warily.

"Is it safe?" you found yourself blurting out, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Is it safe?" Vox repeated with a scoff, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Of course it's safe! I made it!"

He pointed to the VoxTek logo on the car—as though he were a seasoned salesman promoting a product. The metal emblem gleamed under the faint streetlights. Yet, rather than assuring you, the sight of the branding only heightened your unease.

Vox noticed the lack of change in your expression and sighed, deciding to take a different approach. With a faint glimmer of empathy, he motioned toward a nearby building which had a large billboard featuring his face and image.

"See there?" he gestured, his tone adopting a persuasive edge. "See what that billboard says? VoxTek is a symbol of power and security. You're in the safest hands possible. This limousine is equipped with state-of-the-art safety features."

His attempt to reassure you only rang hollow in your ears, and despite his words, a sense of unease continued to gnaw at you. Yet, Vox still persisted, his voice softening as he stepped closer to you. You had to crane your head up to look at him while he stared down at you, his figure casting a shadow over your form.

"I assure you," he pressed, his tone gentler now. "You have nothing to fear."

With no other choice but to comply, you reluctantly stepped forward, your movements stiff and hesitant. Vox held your hand as he guided you towards the waiting limousine. As you entered the luxurious interior, the door closed behind you with a soft click, sealing your fate as the vehicle pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the night.

Outside, the city lights blurred into streaks of color as the limousine sped through the streets. With each passing moment, the distance between you and Mimzy's torn-down lounge grew.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed when the limousine finally came to a stop, the sudden silence jolting you back to reality. As the door opened with a soft hiss, you gazed out to behold the imposing V Tower looming before you.

Its grandeur was undeniable, with its towering floors and striking red windows gleaming in the night. At the very top, a massive antenna sat, reaching towards the sky like a beacon, while a studio sign was plastered along the building's front, featuring red lips nestled within the arches of the middle V, an iconic symbol of the entertainment empire housed within.

Vox and Velvette emerged from the limousine, their presence causing a few loiterers on the street to scurry away in fear.

Oh, how you wished you could do the same.

Inside the car, you hesitated, nerves coiling in your stomach as you fidgeted with your hands. Then, unexpectedly, Vox turned to you, his expression unreadable as he extended his hand.

Surprised, you paused for a moment before accepting his hand, allowing him to guide you down the steps. The chilly night air enveloped you as your feet touched the pavement, the distant sound of the limo's engine fading away as it drove off.

Seconds passed, and Vox still maintained his grip on your hand, his hold firm. Confusion flickered in your mind as you turned to him, noticing the irritation in his gaze as he eyed your wedding ring.

"Is there a problem, mister?" you asked as you followed his gaze to your ring.

Vox's expression remained inscrutable for a moment before he finally responded, his tone cool and detached.

"I suggest you ditch that," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It's a liability now. Doesn't do any favors for your image, doll."

"But I'm awfully attached. It's…" you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find a good enough excuse.

You knew all too well the consequences of revealing your connection, especially in your current vulnerable state. The mere mention of Alastor's name could unravel everything, plunging you deeper into this mess. With two powerful overlords and a soul contract hanging over your head like a guillotine, caution was not just a choice but a necessity.

"It's a symbol of your past life," Vox interjected, his voice cutting through your hesitation.

"And we're leaving that behind now." He extended his hand, the glint of his metal claws catching the dim light, mirroring the uncertainty in your expression. "Hand it over."

With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly slipped the ring off your finger, a pang of loss gripping your heart as you handed it to the overlord. Vox accepted it with a dismissive nod before tucking it into his pocket, his attention already turning back to the looming entrance of the V Tower.

As you entered the building flanked by both Vox and Velvette, you were immediately struck by the brash, modern atmosphere that engulfed you. The walls were painted in bold hues of pink and red, illuminated by the glare of oversized LED screens that flashed with images and advertisements for upcoming events. The floor beneath your feet was polished to a sterile sheen, reflecting the harsh neon lights that bathed the space.

Velvette, with her usual air of haughty superiority, led the way to your room, her steps brisk and impatient. She barely spared you a glance as she gestured towards the metal door that stood before you, its surface cold and unwelcoming.

With a swish of her fingers, she conjured an obtrusively bright star decoration on the wall, reminiscent of celebrity door decorations found in Hollywood, with your name scrawled in cursive on its surface.

"Right, if there's anything you need, you just go down to the lobby and find someone named Shalom," Velvette barked, her tone sharp and impatient, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route.

"Say, is there a chance I could lay my mitts on a radio?" you asked, hoping to grasp onto some semblance of familiarity in this alien environment, your eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them.

But instead of a response, Vox began to buffer, his screen flashing with bright neon glitches, while Velvette's lips curled into a sneer, her expression one of thinly veiled contempt and amusement at your request.

"Guess I'll take that as a no then?" you smiled tensely, your attempt falling flat.

To your surprise, Vox shook his head, and his screen flashed back to his face, the glitches disappearing as quickly as they had come.

The TV demon reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek smartphone. Without a word, he plopped it into your hand, and you turned it over, confusion evident on your face.

"A phone?" you said, flabbergasted, your eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. You blinked in astonishment, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you. You were more surprised by the fact that it came from his pocket. Does he keep random smartphones on him at all times?

"Yes, a phone," Vox confirmed with a smirk, a hint of pride dancing in his eyes. "Consider it a courtesy from VoxTek. No need for a radio when we have such sleek products. This is the future! You don't need old shit from the past. Those radios barely pick up anything worth listening to, just crappy, barely audible broadcasts."

"Oh," you said, the air deflating from your lungs as a pang of disappointment settled in your chest. The phone was a thoughtful gesture, but it wasn't going to fix your longing to speak to Alastor. "Well. I suppose I should thank you."

"Don't mention it," Vox replied casually, his demeanor shifting back to its usual aloofness, his tone devoid of any genuine warmth or concern.

With a resigned sigh, you turned and stepped into your new room. You looked around the décor curiously, taking in the sleek modern furniture and it's peculiar design.

Velvette followed closely behind you, her eyes, framed with smoky eyeshadow, narrowing as she regarded you with disgust. The glint of her perfectly manicured nails caught the harsh overhead lights as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Really? A hooverette dress?" Velvette sneered, each syllable dripping with disdain. "You're like a relic from the '40s. Outdated."

You felt a surge of anger at the comment. Sure, you died near the 1940s, but that didn't mean you were outdated. Before you could even muster a response, Velvette raised a hand, and with a flick of her fingers, she effortlessly transformed the fabric of your dress. It rippled and shifted, morphing before your eyes into a pink silk pajama robe, trimmed with a cream-colored fur. She stepped back, a self-satisfied smirk curling her lips as she admired her handiwork.

"Much better," she declared with a clap. "Listen, you're representing VoxTek now. Even when sleeping, we can't have you looking like a washed-up has-been, can we?"

Swallowing your pride, you forced a tight-lipped nod, suppressing the urge to lash out in defiance.

"Yes, ma'am," you managed to grit out, your voice strained. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," she retorted, her tone sharp and dismissive. "I've got a lot of work to do, and you've got a long way to go before I can get you stage ready."

With that, Velvette stormed out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor with each brisk step. As she disappeared from view, Vox leaned in, his shadow casting a long silhouette against the wall. He reached for the doorknob, his fingers gliding over the cool metal.

"Goodnight," he murmured softly, his voice barely audible above the hum of the air conditioning. With a gentle pull, he closed the door with a thud, sealing you in with your thoughts and fears. The latch clicked shut, and you were left alone, enveloped in the eerie silence of the unfamiliar space.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to survey your room even closer.

Your eyes swept over the tall walls adorned with abstract artwork, bursts of vibrant colors contrasting sharply with the subdued hues of the furniture. The wide windows offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, with skyscrapers twinkling in the distance like distant constellations.

Approaching the plush king-sized bed, you sank into its cloud-like mattress, feeling its comforting embrace envelop you. It was definitely an improvement from Mimzy's lounge. And yet, despite the luxurious trappings, a sense of confinement lingered. After all, a gilded cage remains a cage.

As you assessed your situation, it became clear that you were going to be the star attraction in Velvette's upcoming fashion extravaganza. Her shows were always a hit, and this year's circus-themed spectacle had her buzzing with excitement. The lead model was a singer-actress you'd heard of; you'd seen her the day Mimzy dragged her into the lounge. Pity the poor girl died.

Given the circus motif, it was apparent why Velvette had chosen you. Your background as a singer, coupled with your doll-like appearance, made you the perfect fit for the role.

The best course of action now was to play it safe. Going along with her plan was sure to draw attention, from the lowest imps to Lucifer Morningstar himself. Your face was bound to be plastered on every screen in the infernal realm, broadcasted to demons and damned souls alike. Even with his hatred for the picture shows, Alastor would have to be both blind and deaf to miss this.

He would come for you, you knew it deep in your bones, and yet a pessimistic voice in the back of your head whispered doubts.

Did you even deserve to be taken back after all of this?

With these thoughts weighing heavily on your mind like an anchor dragging you into the depths, you closed your eyes, seeking solace in the darkness behind your lids. But sleep remained elusive, evading your grasp.

As the night wore on, exhaustion crept over you like a heavy fog, its tendrils enveloping you in a suffocating embrace. Despite the turmoil raging within, your body succumbed to weariness, and gradually, you slipped into your dreams.

˚୨୧₊♱

Both you and Alastor embarked on a slow journey through the darkened streets of Louisiana, the car's headlights cutting through the enveloping gloom like beacons. Carefully navigating the labyrinthine city, you avoided the occasional patrol car with its blinding flashlights, skirting through shadowed alleys and side streets to evade detection.

Finally reaching the outskirts of town, where the forest awaited, Alastor brought the car to a halt, the engine's low hum fading into silence. Turning to you, he noticed the fear etched on your face, your wide eyes reflecting the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

With a tender touch, Alastor took your face in his hands, calling for you. "Cher?"

You turned to him, your lips parting slightly as tears welled in your eyes. Alastor's touch was feather-light as his fingertips traced a delicate path along the curve of your cheek. With a gentle brush of his thumb, he coaxed your eyelids closed. Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving a trail in their wake. As you blinked your eyes open again, you were met with the tender press of his lips against yours.

"We did what we had to do," Alastor murmured against your lips, his voice a low rasp that sent goosebumps dancing across your skin.

With his eyes closed, he leaned in closer, his kiss growing more urgent, almost desperate. You responded in kind, the roughness of the kiss igniting a fire within you.

Feeling his fingers threading through the back of your hair, you whimpered and melted into his embrace, your hands clutching onto his broad shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his button-up shirt. Alastor groaned in response as he lifted you effortlessly from the passenger seat and settled you onto his lap. Your chest pressed flat against his, the rhythm of your heartbeat syncing with his own.

As the sky grew darker, the moon mingling with the fading hues of sunset, the wind whispered through the open windows of the car, carrying with it the promise of a new beginning.

Alastor eventually pulled away, his gaze lingering on your tousled hair and puffy lips as he leaned back in his seat, taking in every detail of your appearance. Seeing you in such a ruined state stirred something within him.

"Are you ready?" he asked. You nodded meekly in response, your heart racing.

Truth be told, you didn't think you could ever truly be ready for what you were about to do.

Your husband hummed in acknowledgment, allowing you to slip off his lap as he straightened his brown coat, the fabric rustling softly with each movement.

Guiding you out of the car, he then reached into the backseat, retrieving his hunting gun. The metallic click of the firearm being loaded echoed in the quiet night. And you damn near fainted when he handed it to you, the weight of it feeling heavier than you could bear. The metal surface was icy against your palm, and you fought the urge to recoil, but Alastor pressed it firmly into your hand, his touch reassuring yet commanding.

"You'll need this," Alastor spoke lowly, bending down to your height, his glasses slipping further down the bridge of his nose. "Use it for safety. There might be wild animals out."

You hesitated, the weight of the weapon heavy in your hand, but the urgency in his tone spurred you to nod in agreement.

"Do you remember when I taught you how to hunt?" he questioned, slipping on a pair of dark leather gloves he had pulled out of his pocket. His voice was low and smooth, laced with a hint of nostalgia. "You remember how to shoot, no?"

You nodded, eyes still glued to the gun, unable to tear your gaze away.

"Words, cher. Use your words."

"Yes, love," you whispered, finding your voice. Alastor smiled, the rough texture of his glove grazing gently against your cheek as he pressed his hand to your face one last time before stepping away.

Your husband made his way to the trunk of the car, the soft glow of the taillights casting long shadows across the forest floor. With strong pull, he opened it, revealing its contents. Your breath caught in your throat as he retrieved a shovel and a black body bag, the sight sending a sickening feeling through your stomach.

Alastor slung the bag over his shoulder and began walking, his steps confident, as if he knew exactly where he was going. The weight of the bag seemed inconsequential to him, swinging lightly with each stride. There was an odd, almost unsettling look in his eyes as he whistled a tune, the sound echoing eerily through the silent woods. A glint of something primal and untamed flickered within their depths.

Nonetheless, you followed him, drawn to his presence like a moth to a flame.

Trudging deeper, the shadows seemed to grow darker, more menacing. The silence pressed in on you from all sides, broken only by Alastor's whistling and the sound of your footsteps crunching on the forest floor. Each step felt like a descent into madness, the unknown lurking just beyond the reach of your flashlight's beam.

Suddenly, Alastor halted in a secluded corner, where the trees were decaying, their long branches resembling gnarled fingers reaching out for you in the darkness. He turned to you, the dim light of your flashlight reflecting off his glasses, giving his brown eyes an otherworldly glint.

In that moment, illuminated by the pale beam, he looked almost demonic, his features twisted by the play of light and shadow.

"I'll be back shortly, cher," he hummed with a smile, adjusting the bag over his shoulder. You couldn't help but notice a darkened spot on his brown coat, the collar of his white button-up now stained with crimson. "Stay here."

With that, he disappeared into the darkness, his figure swallowed by the shadows of the forest, leaving you alone amidst the looming trees.

Time stretched on endlessly, each minute feeling like an eternity as you stood alone. Faintly, you could hear the distant sound of Alastor's shovel breaking through the earth's surface, its metallic scrape and the muffled thud as it struck the soil sending another wave of nausea curling in your gut, each noise a grim reminder of the task at hand.

All you wanted was to escape, to return to the safety of your quaint house in the city.

More than anything, you longed to open a bottle of whiskey, to drown your fears and sorrows in its comforting embrace. Maybe have a second, or a third, and just forget.

Forget about all of this. Forget it all ever happened. But deep down, you knew that no amount of alcohol could erase the memories of tonight, each image now etched into your mind like scars on your soul.

All of a sudden, a rustling sound behind you sent a jolt of adrenaline through your veins, followed by the distant but unmistakable bark of dogs. The sound seemed to come from all directions, surrounding you in a menacing chorus.

With a sharp gasp, you spun round and round in a whirl, your vision tunneling with fear as you scanned the darkness, eyes wide and frantic. Every rustle of the leaves, every snap of a twig, seemed to magnify the sense of dread that gripped you. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the cool night air burning in your lungs as you struggled to keep your composure.

And then, without warning, something lunged from the darkness, a blur of movement that sent your heart racing even faster. Instinct took over, and without thinking, you raised the gun and fired, the deafening sound reverberating through the silent forest.

You gasped for air, the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you found yourself sitting on the damp, muddy ground. The recoil of the gun had sent you sprawling backward, leaving you disoriented and breathless.

With trembling hands, you clutched the gun closer to your chest, the cold metal providing a shaky sense of security in the darkness. Despite the fear coursing through your veins, a surge of determination propelled you forward, your muscles tensed and ready for whatever danger lay ahead. Scrambling to your feet, you pushed yourself onward.

Each step was punctuated by the crunch of underbrush beneath your boots, the sound amplifying in the stillness of the forest. Amidst the shadows and foliage, you caught a blur of brown, relief flooding through you like a wave crashing against the shore.

Oh, heavens, it was just a deer.

As you trudged towards the poor animal, your foot caught on a branch, and you stumbled, the unforgiving forest floor meeting your body with a painful thud. In the fall, your gun slipped from your grasp, skidding off into the shadows.

Wincing, you pushed yourself up to your knees, the earthy scent of decay mingling with the metallic tang of blood. You looked toward the fallen creature, its form now visible in the dim moonlight filtering through the trees. But as you crawled over, dread crept into your heart.

There, lying face down on the dirt, was Alastor, his once-immaculate brown coat now dirtied, blending seamlessly with mud. His glasses lay shattered and discarded in front of him, glinting faintly in the dim moonlight that danced across the forest floor. A pool of crimson blood seeped from his head, staining the earth beneath him.

Your eyes widened with renewed horror as the truth dawned upon you, and you fell onto your back, scrambling away from the corpse of your husband, the damp earth sticking to your palms as you clawed at the ground in your panic.

The bark of the dogs were louder now, closer. Ignoring the dizzy vertigo in your head, you pushed yourself to your feet, your senses on high alert.

You choked out a broken apology but found that you could not hear it, that you could not make any sound at all.

You breathed, it was all you could do, all you could manage at the moment, and with the terrible weight on your chest, even that was made difficult.

What have you done?

˚୨୧₊♱

"Salutations! It's Tom back on the airwaves! Hold onto your hats because we've got some news that'll knock your socks off! Alastor Caron, the big shot radio host and husband of underground singer Dolly, also known as Y/N Caron, has been found pushing up daisies out in the sticks of Louisiana!

That's right, folks, he's dead!

Word on the street is, ol' Alastor met our maker with a bullet to the head in what can only be described as a real tragic whodunit. Sources close to the case are whispering in the wind, suggesting that Dolly herself might be mixed up in this spicy little affair. The coppers found her fingerprints on the gun! Can you believe it?! Stay tuned as we peel back the curtain and spill the tea on this sto—"

You shut the radio off with a frustrated slam of your fist, the sound echoing through the desolate living room.

Eviction papers and newspapers, crumpled and worn from countless readings, are strewn haphazardly across the table.

"Gone Girl," "Husband-killer," "Missing Marionette," "A Doll's Vanishing Act," "Manhunt underway for Suspected Murderer," "Louisiana Radio Host dead; Wife blamed."

The headlines scream, each word a painful reminder of the nightmare engulfing your life.

Empty bottles litter around you, their contents spilled and forgotten, the sharp scent of alcohol mingling with the drowning feeling of grief that permeates the room. Sirens wail in the distance while red and blue lights dance along the walls, cast by the dim light filtering through tightly shut curtains.

As you reach for another bottle, the drinks blur into one another, their labels indistinguishable in the dark room. The burning sensation as the liquid courses down your throat offers temporary relief from the turmoil raging inside your mind, numbing the pain and grief threatening to consume you. Each sip takes you further into a haze.

The room spins around you, items warping and dancing in a twisted mockery of your predicament. There are whispers now, soft and insidious, slithering into your ears like serpents. You try to push away the accusing voices echoing in your mind, drowning them out with your bottle's numbing embrace. But with each passing moment, the weight of the accusations grows heavier, dragging you deeper into despair.

Nausea churns in the pit of your stomach, and you finally stop moving, the dizziness overwhelming you. A deathly coldness settles over you, seeping into your bones like icy tendrils, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Your fingers lose their grip on the bottle, and it crashes to the ground with a shattering sound that echoes in the stillness of the room, shards of glass scattering across the floor like stars falling from the sky. You follow suit, collapsing onto the floor, limbs heavy and muscles twitching.

You stare vacantly ahead, unable to move, your eyes glazed over with a hollow emptiness as a sense of dread washes over you, suffusing the air with an oppressive weight. Each breath feels like a battle, your chest tightening with every inhalation, as if your lungs were filled with water.

Your breaths grow more labored, each one shallower than the last, until they eventually cease altogether, leaving you gasping for air that refuses to come.

The world around you fades into darkness, the edges of your vision blurring as consciousness slips away, leaving you engulfed in a silence broken only by the faint echo of your last heartbeat.

˚୨୧₊♱

There was screaming.

Footsteps thudded along a path nearby, accompanied by the fluttering of wings as creatures soared overhead.

You awaken with a startle, disoriented and groggy.

Slowly sitting up, you find yourself surrounded by a crimson landscape, a pentagram shimmering ominously in the air above you. As you move, your hand sinks into something cold and wet, a sickening squelch accompanying the sensation.

Horror grips you as you realize your hand is touching a corpse, its monstrous form adorned with twisted horns, jagged tails, and rows of sharp teeth. The pair of lifeless eyes shift and stare into you, devoid of any trace of humanity.

Frozen with terror and panic, you scramble away from the grotesque sight, the ground slick with crimson ichor, each step leaving bloody handprints and footprints in your wake.

The evening light of this place reveals a grim environment surrounding you – a lumpy, uneven field of corpses and bones, a mass grave unlike any you've ever seen. But these corpses are not human; they are demonic, twisted and contorted in death.

Before you can even make sense of this grotesque scene, a spear slices through the air, its sharp tip gleaming in the dim light. With a thud, it embeds itself into the ground beside you. A sharp, stinging sensation follows as your cheeks burn, crimson liquid trailing down your skin.

Gasping for breath, you look up and catch sight of a figure soaring overhead, its massive wings spread wide against the crimson sky. Each beat sends a gust of wind rushing past you, whipping your hair around your face. The figure's single eye fixates on you, its gaze piercing through the darkness, the other obscured by a large 'X' mark.

Adrenaline surges through your veins as you run away, the cold sweat of fear prickling your skin.

Your surroundings blur into a chaotic whirlwind as you race through the labyrinthine alleys of Hell. With every stride, your heart pounds in your chest like a drum. Each footfall echoes in the narrow passageways, the walls closing in around you like a vice, but the chase of the angel behind you drives you forward, your muscles burning with exertion as you push yourself to your limits.

Suddenly, you're yanked to a stop, your body colliding with a stone floor as you're pulled into a hidden doorway. Pain shoots through your arm, and you wince, clutching it tightly against your chest. It throbs with a dull ache, bruised from the fall.

As you cautiously lift your gaze, you find yourself in a familiar setting—a speakeasy, though more rugged and rundown than you were used to. The air is thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and stale alcohol. Mismatched furniture and a barely held-together bar give the place a sense of makeshift charm.

"Well, look who it is."

The voice freezes you in place, and your eyes nervously move upward to see a familiar blonde woman before you, her sharp teeth glinting in the dim light, her eyes dark and intense.

"Mimzy?" you whisper, disbelief coloring your voice.

"It's me!" she cheers, swinging her legs and jazzing her arms up in the air. With a jump, she plops onto the ground, circling your hunched-over form with a mischievous grin. "How you doin', Dolly?"

"How?" your mind scrambles. "You-You…"

"I know! You thought I was dead?" she snickers before knocking you upside the head playfully. "Welcome to the afterlife, you ditz!"

"What?" you rasp, eyes frantically darting from her to your surroundings. "What are you talking about? Why do you look like that?!"

"Look what? Adorable~?" Mimzy hums and waltzes over to a gramophone, inserting a disk and starting a scratching melody that fills the speakeasy.

Hello, Dolly! Well, hello, Dolly! It's so nice to have you back where you belong~

"Come on, Dolly," Mimzy says, her voice low and melodic as she sways to the music. The bedazzled fringes of her dress sparkle in the dim light as she twirls, her heels dragging along the floorboards. "You haven't been living under a rock, have you? Or did'ja just arrive?"

You're lookin' swell, Dolly I can tell, Dolly You're still glowin', you're still crowin' You're still goin' strong

"I don't understand," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to comprehend what's happening. Everything feels like a dream—a nightmare, more accurately. "Where am I? What's going on?"

"We're both dead," Mimzy chuckles, tapping her heels along to the beat.

We feel the room swayin' While the band's playin' One of your old favourite songs from way back when

"What do you mean?" you manage to croak out, the words barely audible over the music.

Mimzy pauses mid-twirl. "Oh, Dolly," she sighs, shaking her head. "Hell, darling. We're in Hell."

Your blood runs cold at her words, the reality of your situation sinking in like a heavy weight on your chest. The memories of that fateful night flood your mind, filling you with a sense of guilt and despair.

Before you can voice your thoughts, Mimzy grabs your hand and pulls you into a dance, the gramophone's melody swirling around you like a sinister lullaby.

"So, take her wrap, fellas," Mimzy sings along, her laughter echoing off the walls. Her eyes gleam with a mischievous light as she leads you through the steps of the choreography you once knew so well. She twirls you around and drops you into a dip. "Find her an empty lap, fellas!"

"Dolly'll never go away again~"

You feel a surge of frustration building within you, the absurdity of overwhelming your senses. With a shout of anger, you push Mimzy away, a scowl etched deep on your face. She stumbles back, nearly losing her balance in her heels, her smile fading into a look of annoyance.

"Will you cut it out!" you snap, your voice echoing in the empty speakeasy. "Tell me what's going on!"

"Killjoy." Mimzy rolls her eyes and lets out a scoff, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. She moves over to the gramophone and turns it off, the melody abruptly silenced.

"I just told you what was going on, you doof!" Mimzy retorts, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The speakeasy falls into an uneasy silence, the air thick with tension, broken only by the faint sound of distant screams echoing outside the building. You gesture toward the source of the noise with a look of shock.

"Alright, I know well enough why I'm here, but what is that?" you inquire, your voice tinged with apprehension.

"An extermination. Angels come here to rid of sinners and such," Mimzy shrugs, her expression nonchalant despite the gravity of her words.

"Well, what about Alastor?" you press, the worry evident in your voice.

Mimzy's expression darkens, a flicker of anger crossing her features before she quickly masks it with a smirk. "Oh, you mean your darling husband? He's probably causing chaos somewhere, as usual. He'll be fine."

"I don't think he even knows you're here," she adds on with a yawn. "He probably thinks you're up in the shiny gates of heaven with his momma or something."

"Al knows I'm already dead?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Yup!" Mimzy chirps, her grin widening. "Your death came out in the news months ago. But only Lord knows why it took 'em so long to get you through purgatory."

The barrage of new information leaves you dizzy, your head spinning with the implications. "Wait—my death? The news?"

Mimzy moves over to the bar, kneeling down the worn floorboards as she digs through the bottom drawers.

"Didja know there's this little killin' business in Hell? I.M.P.—the Immediate Murder Professionals. And there's this cute little fella named Blitzo who does deliveries for me. I was his first costumer and poor guy needs the extra money so—"

"Mimzy, why are you telling me this?" you interject, confusion evident in your tone.

Mimzy's grin widens as she peeks at you from over the counter, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Well, sweetcheeks," she purrs, continuing to leaf through piles of paper, "if you paid attention to their name, they do murder. Murder in the human world, to be exact. And I hired them to go snuff you out!"

"But lo and behold, to my surprise," Mimzy continues, her tone laced with amusement, "you did their job for 'em! And this is what they brought back as proof."

With a flourish, Mimzy procures a newspaper from the depths of the cabident, her hands waving it around in excitement. She throws it to you, and you catch it, fumbling to see the headline. Your stomach churns as you take in the bold letters.

'LAST SWING: Speakeasy Star Suspected of Husband's Murder Dies in Alcohol Overdose.'

"Hi-larious!" Mimzy snorts as she presses a finger against the title, her expression gleeful. You hold the paper up, your hands trembling as you read through the article detailing your own death.

With a cackle, Mimzy jumps onto a nearby table, her movements lithe and energetic as she snatches the paper away from you.

"So, did'ja do it?" she taunts, leaning in close to your face with a devilish grin. "Didn't take you as the type. What was it? Poison? Housewife classic, I tell ya. Maybe a knife? Good ole push him down the stairs? Or was it a gun?"

You tense up at her last words, a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead. Mimzy smirks, her snicker ringing out like a sinister melody. Curls bounce around her face as she leans in closer, her lips practically ghosting against your cut.

"You shot him?"

"I—" you stutter, your breath catching in your throat as you run a hand through your frazzled hair, the disheveled strands tangling under your trembling fingers. "I didn't mean to! Heavens. I thought he was a deer!"

At that, Mimzy bursts out in loud laughter, tears streaming down her face as she clutches her stomach, doubling over with mirth. The sound echoes off the grimy walls of the speakeasy.

"Is that right?" she wheezes between fits of laughter, slapping her knee while still shaking with amusement. "No wonder he looks like a deer! Oh! The irony!"

"Deer?" you whisper out in confusion, your mind struggling to grasp the implications of her words amidst the chaos of her laughter. She laughs even harder at your response, kicking her feet in the air with unrestrained glee.

After a few minutes, she finally calms down. With a skip in her step and a glint in her eyes, she saunters over to you. Humming a tune, Mimzy twirls around you again, her movements fluid and graceful despite her earlier outburst.

"I know something you don't know~" she sings.

"What do you mean?" you frown, your voice trembling as you gaze at her, searching for any hint of what she's hiding.

"All in good time. I've told you a lot already, didn't I?" Mimzy replies cryptically, her tone snappy. "Let's see—I graciously saved you from that angel that was ready to spill your guts out, I've given you a wonderful welcome, helped you learn about your death, and, well, you were involved in my murder. I'd say the scales aren't balanced! You owe me. A lot."

Guilt churns in your gut as you nervously wring your hands. "Mimzy, no words can express how much guilt I feel about your—"

"Oh, cut the weeping dame bullshit. I don't care about that," Mimzy interrupts with a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand. Her eyes gleam with a predatory intensity as she leans in closer.

"I'm feeling generous today," she purrs, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "So, I'll make you a deal."

You eye her warily, the guilt in your gut twisting into a knot of apprehension. Despite your unease, you nod, silently urging her to continue, bracing yourself for whatever devil's bargain she has in store.

"In exchange for absolving your involvement in my murder and providing information on your husband," she whispers, her voice dripping with malice, "you'll owe me a favor. A big one. I want you to work for me again."

You tense, your mind racing as you process her proposition, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. "What?"

Mimzy's smirk widens at your reaction, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she relishes in your discomfort. "That's right, sugar. I want you back on the job, working for me just like old times."

"Well I… I don't have much of a choice, do I?" you reply, clenching your fists in frustration.

Mimzy's laughter reverberates through the speakeasy, each chuckle sending shivers down your spine.

"Of course not! Would you prefer to go running to Alastor instead? Oh, dear hubby, please shield me from the consequences of my sins! My apologies for putting a bullet in your skull!" she mocks your voice, drawling the syllables out as she clasps her hands together and bats her eyes at you.

A surge of humiliation and guilt washes over you, weighing heavy on your shoulders as you struggle to come to terms with the choices before you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. Despite the overwhelming guilt and shame swirling within you, you know that you're cornered. Mimzy has you right where she wants you, and the only way out is to play her game.

"Fine," you say through gritted teeth, your voice tinged with resignation. "I'll work for you again."

Mimzy's grin widens, her sharp teeth flashed at you. "Excellent choice, darling. You won't regret it."

With a snap of her fingers, a contract materializes in her hand. She hands it over to you, and you read through it. Funnily enough, it looks almost identical to your previous employment contract in the living with her, but one detail catches your eye.

"To settle the debt incurred due to the aforementioned act, Y/N Caron, acknowledging the gravity of her transgressions, agrees to become a singer for Mimzy's Lounge for a duration of ten decades," you read the line in shock. Turning to Mimzy, you clutch the contract tightly, your nails threatening to break the paper. "Ten decades?!"

"What?" Mimzy scoffs, her voice dripping with derision. "You stuck here for all of eternity anyways, and so is your husband. Might as well do something."

With a theatrical flourish, Mimzy reaches into her chest and pulls out a pen, waggling it teasingly in your face. "So? What will it be? Are ya gonna sign the contract? Or am I gonna have to throw you out where those angels can tear you to pieces?"

You read through the contract again, your eyes frantically scanning the paper for any loophole or escape route, but you come up empty-handed. With a sinking feeling in your chest, you realize that you're in this for the long haul.

"But what about Alastor?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your voice.

Mimzy's laughter filled the speakeasy, bouncing off the walls like mocking echoes. "Oh, sweetheart," she cooed with faux sympathy, "haven't you read the fine print? Your dear Alastor is strictly off-limits. Can't have him interfering with our little arrangement, now can we?"

"But… I need to see him," you pleaded, desperation lacing your words.

Mimzy's smirk widened into a wicked grin as she leaned in closer, mischief gleaming in her eyes. "And I need to make sure my end of the deal is fulfilled," she countered firmly.

Glancing down at the contract, you saw her pointing to a specific section. "Y/N Caron's husband, Alastor Caron, is strictly forbidden from being physically present around her in any way, shape, or form for the safety and integrity of this agreement."

"But… can't we find some middle ground?" you asked, a sliver of hope lingering in your voice.

"Ah, I've got an idea," Mimzy grinned , reaching into her drawer and pulling out an old radio. She extended it towards you. "You can talk with him as much as you like. This little radio will be your hotline to him. But there's a catch: he stays far, far away from you and this joint. How's that sound?"

Twisting the radio in your trembling hands, you felt the weight of the decision settle heavily on your shoulders. The device seemed ancient, its surface worn and its knobs slightly rusted, yet it held the power to bridge the seemingly insurmountable gap between you and Alastor. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly brought the pen to the paper, the ink blotting the sheet as you signed your name away, sealing your fate.

"It's a deal."

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ijustmissyouraccenths · 6 days ago

Text

Love Bites

A bookstore barista catches the attention of a vampire drawn to her scent, and everything changes when she invites him in.

Word Count: 6,956

Content Warning: mentions of blood and biting.

The rain poured steadily, creating rivers along the curbs and a persistent rhythm against the asphalt. Y/n pulled her coat tighter around her, the cold seeping through the damp fabric. The dim glow of streetlights reflected off the wet pavement, casting distorted halos that barely lit the way. Her shoes squished with every step, water seeping through the soles as she navigated the uneven sidewalk.

She glanced around, the city that never sleeps unusually subdued in the downpour. The occasional car splashed by, headlights cutting through the darkness, but the streets felt eerily empty. Her apartment was still several blocks away, and the thought of the warmth inside kept her moving despite the chill that gripped her.

The rain masked the usual cacophony of the city, leaving only the sound of water and her own breathing. As she rounded a corner, a faint light from a bodega sign flickered, offering a brief sense of orientation in the endless maze of shadows and slick surfaces.

“Almost there,” she muttered to herself, her voice barely audible over the rain. But with every step forward, the night seemed to grow darker, the path more uncertain.

Y/n barely noticed the bodega’s door swinging open until a figure stepped out into the rain. She flinched slightly, startled by the sudden movement. A man stood there, pulling up the hood of his coat, his face half-lit by the flickering neon sign above.

“Bit of a miserable night, isn’t it?” he said, his accent soft and distinctly British, cutting through the rain like a warm thread.

Y/n blinked, momentarily caught off guard. The man’s green eyes seemed to hold an unusual brightness despite the gloom, his hair damp and curling slightly at the edges where it peeked out from under his hood.

“Yeah, you could say that,” she replied, clutching her coat a little tighter, the chill biting at her fingertips.

He gave a small, almost sheepish smile, the kind that didn’t quite belong on someone standing in the middle of a downpour. “You alright? Look like you’ve had a bit of a rough one.”

Y/n hesitated, unsure why she felt compelled to answer. There was something disarming about him, his tone unassuming, as if they’d crossed paths a thousand times before. “Just trying to get home,” she finally said, her voice soft but steady.

He nodded, glancing down the street as if considering her path. “Not too far, I hope?”

“A few more blocks,” she said, motioning vaguely in the direction she’d been heading.

He tilted his head, a small crease forming between his brows. “This time of night, in this weather… mind some company? At least until you’re closer to home?”

Y/n studied him for a moment, weighing her options. He didn’t seem threatening—just someone caught in the same rainstorm, maybe trying to make it a little less lonely. After a pause, she gave a slight nod.

“Alright,” she said, her voice quieter now. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, I’m Harry by the way,” he replied, falling into step beside her. The rain continued its steady rhythm, but somehow, the darkness didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

The rain softened to a mist as Y/n and Harry walked side by side, their footsteps splashing lightly against the wet pavement. The quiet lull of the city made their conversation feel intimate, as though the rest of the world had faded away.

“So,” Y/n began, sneaking a glance at him from the corner of her eye. His hood had slipped back slightly, revealing more of his damp curls. “What were you doing out so late in this weather?”

Harry smiled faintly, his hands buried in his coat pockets. “Needed a walk. Clears my head, y’know? And the rain… well, it’s peaceful in its own way.”

Y/n hummed in agreement, noting the melodic lilt of his voice. She found herself glancing at him more often than she meant to. There was something otherworldly about him—his pale complexion almost luminous under the faint glow of the streetlights, his features sharp but softened by a kindness in his eyes.

“And you? What’s got you out here braving the elements?” he asked, turning his gaze toward her.

“Long day at work,” she admitted, sighing. “I usually take the subway, but it was packed, and I just… needed some air.”

Harry nodded, as if he understood completely. “Fair enough. Sometimes the chaos down there feels worse than the storm up here.”

As they walked, Y/n noticed how his presence seemed to ease her nerves. She didn’t normally trust strangers—especially not in a city like this, and especially not on dark, rainy nights. But with Harry, it felt different. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt safe, as though he was someone she’d known for years rather than minutes.

They reached the corner of her street, and she glanced at him again. His coat clung to his frame, and she realized he wasn’t shivering despite the cold. In fact, he seemed entirely unaffected by the weather, like he belonged to the rain and the darkness surrounding them.

“You live nearby?” she asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

He nodded, gesturing vaguely down the street. “A few buildings that way. Looks like we’re practically neighbors.”

She smiled, a small warmth blossoming in her chest. “Small world.”

Harry’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, a softness there that made her cheeks heat despite the cold. “It is,” he said quietly, his tone almost wistful.

As they stopped in front of her apartment building, Y/n hesitated, unsure of what to say. She didn’t want the moment to end, even though they were still practically strangers.

“This is me,” she said finally, gesturing toward the door.

Harry nodded, his smile faint but genuine. “Glad I could walk you home, Y/n.”

She blinked, her heart skipping. “How did you know my name?”

For a split second, his expression flickered—something unreadable passing across his face—but then his smile returned. “You told me earlier, didn’t you?”

Y/n frowned, certain she hadn’t. But before she could question it further, Harry gave a slight nod.

“Get inside before you catch a cold,” he said gently. “Goodnight.”

And just like that, he turned and disappeared into the misty rain, leaving Y/n standing there, heart racing, wondering why she felt so drawn to him.

The next day

The bell above the bookshop door jingled as Y/n worked behind the counter, the steady hum of espresso machines and soft chatter creating a comforting background noise. She loved her job, it was the perfect blend of cozy and bustling, surrounded by books and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

She glanced up as a familiar figure caught her eye. Harry was sitting at a corner table in the café, a book open in front of him. His damp curls from the night before were now dry, but he still had that same ethereal look about him—pale and strikingly beautiful, like he’d stepped out of a painting.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, then decided to approach him. She grabbed a clean cloth and pretended to wipe down the nearby table before stopping beside his.

“Well, well,” she said, crossing her arms with a teasing smile. “Are you following me now, or is this just a coincidence?”

Harry looked up from his book, his lips curving into a small smile. “Caught me,” he replied, his tone playful. “Couldn’t resist the coffee.”

Y/n chuckled, leaning slightly against the back of a chair. “You know, most people come here for the books and the coffee. It’s kind of our thing.”

He raised a brow, amusement dancing in his green eyes. “Is that so? What if I’m just here for the company?”

She rolled her eyes, suppressing the grin tugging at her lips. “Smooth.” Gesturing to the menu board, she asked, “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Pastry? We’ve got these killer croissants today.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “I don’t really eat…”

Y/n blinked, her smile faltering. “Oh. Uh… okay. Just coffee, then?”

He shook his head, his gaze steady but kind. “I’m good with this.” He tapped the book in front of him, avoiding her curious stare.

A strange vibe settled between them, and Y/n felt a small prickle of unease. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something about the way he’d said it—so casual, yet so odd—stuck with her.

“Well, if you change your mind, I’m just over there,” she said, forcing a smile as she nodded toward the counter.

“Thanks, Y/n,” Harry said softly, his voice carrying that same calm warmth that had put her at ease the night before.

She walked away, glancing back once to find him already immersed in his book again. The unease lingered, though, as if there was more to Harry than he was letting on.

Y/n lingered behind the counter, her hands busy with a towel as she wiped down the espresso machine. But her thoughts kept drifting to Harry, sitting so calmly at his table like he belonged there, as if their encounter last night hadn’t been strange at all. The question that had nagged her since then resurfaced, and before she could overthink it, she walked back over to his table.

“Alright,” she said, stopping in front of him, her arms crossed over her apron. “I need to ask you something.”

Harry looked up from his book, his brow lifting slightly. “Go on.”

She hesitated, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under his calm, steady gaze. “Last night, when you walked me home, you said my name. But I never told you what it was. How did you know?”

For a moment, Harry didn’t say anything. His lips parted as if he were about to speak, but he seemed to think better of it. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“You sure you didn’t tell me?” he asked lightly, though there was something unreadable in his tone.

“I’m sure,” Y/n said firmly, narrowing her eyes. “It’s not exactly something I forget.”

Harry tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe I overheard someone else say it.”

“There was no one else around,” she countered, crossing her arms tighter.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and melodic. “You’re very observant, aren’t you?”

“It’s a fair question,” she pressed, feeling a mix of curiosity and frustration. “It’s not every day a stranger magically knows your name.”

Harry’s smile faded slightly, his gaze softening. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “It’s not.”

Y/n felt her breath hitch at his tone, the way it seemed to hold more weight than his casual demeanor suggested.

“So?” she prompted, leaning closer. “How?”

Harry glanced down at his book for a moment, his fingers brushing the edges of the pages. Then he looked back up at her, his green eyes almost glowing under the café’s warm lights.

“Let’s just say,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “I’m very good with names. Especially when they belong to people I’d like to remember.”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in his words. There was something cryptic in his answer, something that left her feeling like she was only scratching the surface of a much larger mystery.

She straightened, unsure of how to respond. “That’s… vague.”

Harry smiled again, softer this time. “Maybe some things are better left that way.”

Y/n studied him for a moment longer, her unease mixed with an undeniable curiosity. Finally, she nodded, stepping back. “Alright, mystery man. But don’t think I’m letting this go.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” he said, his smile returning, though his eyes seemed to hold a secret he wasn’t quite ready to share.

The days slipped by, and the bookshop settled back into its usual rhythm—customers browsing shelves, the hiss of steam from the espresso machine, the steady hum of conversations drifting through the café. But Y/n’s thoughts kept wandering to Harry.

She hadn’t seen him since that day. No quiet figure tucked into the corner with a book, no knowing smiles or cryptic comments. She found herself glancing toward the door whenever the bell jingled, half-expecting him to walk in with that calm, unreadable expression. But he didn’t.

“Everything okay?” her coworker, Ellie, asked as she restocked a display of mugs.

Y/n blinked, realizing she’d been staring at the café’s empty corner table for too long. “Yeah,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just zoning out.”

Ellie gave her a knowing look. “You’ve been weird lately. Is this about the guy who was here the other day? The tall one with the curls?”

“What? No,” Y/n said, maybe a little too defensively.

Ellie smirked. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Y/n sighed, brushing a stray hair from her face. “It’s not like that. He’s just… interesting. And I haven’t seen him around. I might’ve scared him off.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “What’d you do? Grill him on his life story?”

“Maybe,” Y/n muttered, heat rising to her cheeks.

Her coworker laughed. “Relax. If he’s worth it, he’ll come back. Guys like that always do.”

But as the hours ticked by and the café emptied out for the night, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Harry wasn’t just any guy. There was something different about him—something that made her want to figure him out, even if she couldn’t explain why.

Later, as she locked up the shop and stepped out into the crisp evening air, she found herself looking down the street toward the direction of his building. The thought crossed her mind: What if I went to see if he’s around?

She shook her head, pushing the idea away. It was silly. He was a stranger, practically. But even as she walked home, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d see him again or if she’d scared him away for good.

The rain had stopped earlier in the evening, leaving the streets slick and shining under the glow of the streetlights. Y/n pulled her jacket tighter around herself as she walked, the familiar route past the bodega feeling strangely empty tonight.

She hadn’t planned to take this way home, but her feet had carried her here anyway, as if some part of her was hoping to see him again. The corner bodega’s neon sign buzzed faintly, casting a pale light on the pavement. The door was open, a faint clink of glass bottles and low conversation spilling out, but Harry wasn’t there.

Y/n lingered for a moment, pretending to check her phone as she glanced around. The street was quiet except for the occasional car passing by, its headlights cutting through the dimness.

What are you even doing? she thought, feeling a little ridiculous. It wasn’t like Harry had promised to meet her here or even hinted at being nearby. For all she knew, he was off doing something completely unrelated to her.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something—or someone.

With a sigh, she adjusted her bag on her shoulder and started walking again, her shoes clicking softly against the wet pavement. The night felt heavier than usual, as if the city itself was holding its breath.

When she finally reached her apartment building, she paused on the steps, casting one last glance down the street. Nothing. No sign of him, no flash of dark curls or the quiet intensity of his gaze.

Maybe he really is gone, she thought, a pang of disappointment settling in her chest.

As she unlocked the door and stepped inside, she resolved to let it go. Harry was just a stranger who had crossed her path briefly—nothing more.

The weeks passed in a blur of routine. Y/n poured herself into her work at the café, stacking books, crafting perfect cappuccinos, and chatting with regulars. But her mind often drifted to Harry—his mysterious air, his cryptic comments, and his sudden absence. Every night she took the same route past the bodega, hoping for even a glimpse of him, but the streets remained empty of him.

Until one night.

The air was biting as she walked, her breath visible in the faint glow of the streetlights. The bodega’s sign buzzed faintly in the distance, and she was about to pass it when a shadow shifted in her peripheral vision.

“Y/n.”

The voice was unmistakable—low, soft, and tinged with something that made her heart skip. She turned quickly, and there he was.

But he wasn’t the same Harry she remembered. His usually radiant complexion looked pale and dull, his dark curls messier than before. There were faint shadows under his eyes, and his shoulders seemed to sag as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

“Harry,” she breathed, a mix of relief and concern flooding her. “Where have you been?”

He offered a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Around.” His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken much in days.

Y/n took a hesitant step closer, her worry growing. “You don’t look so good. Are you okay?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering down the street as if he were debating whether to stay or leave. “I’ll be fine,” he said finally, though the words felt hollow.

She frowned, crossing her arms. “That’s not convincing.” Without thinking, she added, “Come back to my place. You look like you need… something. Rest, food, whatever.”

Harry’s eyes snapped to hers, wide with surprise. For a moment, he seemed frozen, as if the idea of being taken care of was foreign to him. “Y/n, I—”

“No arguments,” she interrupted, her voice firmer than she expected. “It’s cold, and you look like you’re about to keel over. My apartment’s just a few blocks away.”

He stared at her, his jaw tightening as if he were about to refuse. But then something in his expression softened, and he gave a small nod.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Lead the way.”

The walk to her apartment was quiet, the sound of their footsteps the only noise between them. Y/n kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, trying to piece together what had happened in the weeks since she’d last seen him. He looked strung out.

When they reached her building, she opened the door and gestured for him to follow her inside. “It’s not much,” she said as they climbed the stairs, “but it’s warm.”

Once inside, she flipped on the lights, casting the small living room in a cozy glow. Harry stepped in hesitantly, his gaze sweeping over the space.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said, shrugging off her coat. “I’ll grab you something to drink.”

He nodded, sinking onto the edge of her couch as if he didn’t quite belong there. As Y/n moved to the kitchen, she couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to him and why, despite his mysterious nature, she felt so compelled to help him.

Y/n filled a glass with water in the kitchen, the sound of the tap running filling the quiet apartment. She glanced toward the living room, where Harry sat on the edge of the couch, his posture stiff, his hands loosely clasped between his knees.

“Here,” she said, walking over and holding the glass out to him. “You look like you could use this.”

Harry glanced at it but didn’t move to take it. “I’m not thirsty,” he said softly, his tone calm but firm.

Y/n frowned, lowering the glass slightly. “You sure? You look—”

“I’m sure,” he interrupted gently, offering a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She hesitated, the glass still in her hand. The refusal wasn’t rude, but there was something about it that felt… off. Her instincts prickled again, the same way they had back at the café when he’d made that odd comment about not eating food.

To ease the tension building in her chest, she forced a nervous laugh and said, “What, are you a vampire or something?”

The room fell silent.

Harry’s faint smile vanished, and his gaze locked on hers, unblinking and intense. The air seemed to shift, the cozy warmth of the apartment suddenly feeling stifling.

Y/n’s heart thudded in her chest as the seconds stretched on, her own laugh fading into the stillness. “I was just kidding,” she said quickly, her voice quieter now.

Harry’s expression softened slightly, but there was something guarded in his eyes. “That’s an interesting guess,” he said finally, his tone measured.

The way he said it sent a chill down her spine. She tried to laugh again, but it came out shaky. “Well, you’re pale, you don’t eat, you’re… mysterious. You kind of fit the stereotype.”

Harry leaned back slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. “And would it scare you if I were?”

Y/n froze, her pulse pounding in her ears. She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not—and that uncertainty was the most unsettling part of all.

“Harry,” she said carefully, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re kidding, right?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting hers again. “Maybe,” he said quietly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The room felt heavier now, the unspoken tension crackling in the air. Y/n clutched the glass tighter, her mind racing. She couldn’t decide if he was messing with her or if there was something she was better off not knowing.

Y/n blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. “What?” she asked, her voice a little unsteady.

Harry tilted his head slightly, his green eyes steady and unreadable. “If I were a vampire,” he said softly, his tone as calm as if they were discussing the weather, “would you let me… drink your blood?”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she continued to tighten her grip on the glass of water, unsure whether to laugh, run, or… stay. The question was absurd, yet the way he asked it—so direct, so quiet—made her pulse quicken in a way she couldn’t quite define.

“I—uh…” Y/n stammered, shifting on her feet. She tried to gauge his expression, but it was impossible to tell if he was serious or just teasing her.

“You’re nervous,” Harry said, leaning forward slightly. His voice was low, but it wasn’t threatening. If anything, it sounded… curious. “But you’re not afraid.”

Y/n swallowed hard, her breath catching as she realized he was right. Her nervousness wasn’t from fear—it was from something else entirely. A strange mix of curiosity and anticipation coursed through her, leaving her unsure of how to respond.

“Well,” she said finally, trying to keep her voice light, “I think most people would be nervous if someone asked to suck their blood, Harry. Hypothetically or not.”

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, though his gaze remained fixed on her. “Fair point,” he murmured, his tone almost playful. “But you haven’t answered the question.”

Y/n stared at him, her mind racing. Was he joking? Was he testing her? Was this just another layer of his cryptic nature, or was there something more?

“I don’t know,” she said at last, her voice quiet. “Would it hurt?”

The question escaped her before she could stop it, and her cheeks burned as she realized what she’d just said.

Harry’s smile grew slightly, the intensity in his eyes softening just a fraction. “Not as much as you’d think,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

For a moment, the room felt impossibly still, the air thick with an unspoken tension. Y/n’s mind screamed at her to break the silence, to laugh it off, to do something—but all she could do was stand there, caught in the strange pull of his gaze.

Harry’s gaze darkened, his lips curving into a faint, almost predatory smile. “So,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Would you let me do it?”

Y/n’s breath hitched, her pulse pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She didn’t speak, couldn’t find the words, but after a moment, she nodded—slowly, hesitantly.

His eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite place, and before she could second-guess herself, Harry closed the distance between them. His hands cupped her face with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the tension in the air, and then his lips were on hers.

The kiss was soft at first, exploratory, but it quickly deepened, his fingers threading through her hair as he pulled her closer. Y/n felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them, every thought and worry drowned out by the electric connection sparking between them.

Before she realized it, Harry’s lips left hers, trailing a line of featherlight kisses along her jaw, down to the curve of her neck.

“Trust me,” he murmured against her skin, his breath warm and sending shivers down her spine.

Y/n barely had time to process his words before she felt the sharp, sudden sting of his teeth breaking the surface of her skin. The pain was fleeting, replaced almost instantly by a strange, heady warmth that spread through her like liquid fire. Her knees wobbled, and she clutched at his shoulders to steady herself, her mind spinning.

Harry held her firmly, his grip strong but careful, as if he were afraid of breaking her. She could feel the pull of his mouth on her neck, the sensation both terrifying and intoxicating.

When he finally drew back, his lips red and his breathing heavy, Y/n swayed slightly, her vision hazy.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

Y/n blinked up at him, her hand instinctively going to her neck. She nodded, though her words came out shaky. “Yeah… I think so.”

Harry’s expression softened, his hand brushing her cheek. “Good,” he murmured. But there was something in his eyes—an intensity, a hunger—that made her heart race all over again.

Y/n leaned back against the armrest of the couch, her hand still pressed lightly to her neck. The room felt brighter, sharper—her senses alive in a way they had never been before. She wasn’t scared; if anything, she felt a strange, almost blissful calm.

“Is this…” she began, her voice dreamy, “going to turn me into a vampire or something?”

Harry let out a low laugh, wiping at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “No,” he said, his tone amused but gentle. “It doesn’t work like that. It’s a bit more… complicated than in the stories.”

Y/n tilted her head, her curiosity piqued despite the haze of euphoria swirling through her. “So, how does it work?”

Harry’s eyes softened as he looked at her, though the faint hunger lingering in them hadn’t entirely disappeared. “You’d have to drink from me, for one,” he said, his voice low, intimate. “But it’s not something I’d let happen. Not to you.”

She frowned slightly, her fingers absently tracing her neck where she could feel the faint warmth from the bite. “Why not?”

He smiled faintly, leaning closer, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Because I like you the way you are,” he said simply, his voice carrying an honesty that made her heart skip.

The faint flush in her cheeks deepened, and she looked away, suddenly self-conscious. “You’re… different,” she murmured, unsure if it was a compliment or an observation.

“So are you,” Harry countered, his voice soft but serious. “More than you know.”

Before she could respond, he added, almost to himself, “You taste… sweet. Like nothing I’ve ever had before.” His gaze met hers, his lips curving into a sly smile. “I could find myself addicted to you, Y/n.”

Her heart thudded at his words, a mix of excitement and trepidation flooding her. “Is that… a bad thing?”

Harry’s smile faltered for a moment, and his expression grew darker, more thoughtful. “It could be,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “For both of us.”

The weight of his words hung between them, but Y/n found herself unable to look away from him. Despite everything—his mysterious nature, his cryptic answers, and now, the undeniable truth of what he was—she didn’t feel afraid.

Instead, she felt drawn to him even more.

Harry’s gaze held hers, an intensity in his expression that made Y/n’s breath catch. He leaned back slightly, running a hand through his tousled curls as if weighing whether or not to speak.

Finally, he sighed, his voice low and deliberate. “The first night I saw you… outside the bodega,” he began, his green eyes locking onto hers, “it wasn’t by chance.”

Y/n tilted her head, confusion flickering across her face. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, a faint flicker of guilt flashing in his expression. “I… I caught your scent,” he admitted, his tone softer now. “As I walked out, it hit me like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Sweet, warm, impossible to ignore.”

She blinked, stunned by his words. “You smelled me?”

Harry gave a small, almost apologetic smile. “It’s a… heightened sense. Part of what I am. Your scent—it was unlike anything I’d ever encountered. I couldn’t help myself. I followed it.”

Y/n’s pulse quickened, her thoughts racing. “You followed me?”

“To your apartment,” he admitted, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. “And then… to your job the next day. I couldn’t stay away. I needed to understand why I felt so drawn to you.”

Y/n stared at him, her mind swirling with questions. “So… when you showed up at the café, that wasn’t a coincidence either?”

He shook his head, leaning forward slightly. “No. It was intentional. But when I met you, when we talked… it wasn’t just your scent anymore. You were…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “You were magnetic. I was… enamored.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she felt her stomach flip at his confession. “Then why did you stop coming around?”

Harry looked away, his jaw tightening briefly. “Because I was afraid you’d catch on. That you’d figure out what I am, or worse… that I’d lose control.” He met her gaze again, his voice softer now. “But when I saw you taking that same route every night, I knew you were looking for me. And I couldn’t stay away anymore.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. “You came back… for me?”

“Yes,” he said simply, his tone unwavering. “I tried to stay away, but you… you make that impossible.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, the weight of his words settling over her. She should’ve been frightened—by the revelation, by the intensity of his feelings but instead, she felt a strange sense of relief, like a puzzle piece clicking into place.

“I don’t know what it is about you, Y/n,” Harry continued, his voice low, almost reverent. “But you’ve pulled me in, and I’m not sure I could let go even if I wanted to.”

Y/n took a shaky breath, her hand still resting on her neck where his teeth had pierced her skin. Her heart was racing, but not from fear. She looked at him, meeting his gaze, and finally admitted, “I feel it too. Like… there’s some kind of connection between us. I can’t explain it, but it’s there.”

Harry’s eyes softened, a flicker of relief crossing his face. “I’ve felt it from the moment I saw you,” he murmured.

She hesitated, her fingers curling into her lap as she worked up the courage to ask the question lingering in her mind. “Do you… do you drink from other people?”

Harry shook his head, his expression turning serious. “No,” he said firmly. “We have other ways to get blood. Hospitals, banks, sources that… don’t involve hurting anyone. Feeding directly from someone—it’s rare for my kind, and we don’t take it lightly.”

She studied him for a moment, her chest tightening as a strange mix of emotions swirled within her. “But you drank from me,” she said quietly.

He nodded, his gaze steady. “I did. I shouldn’t have, but… I couldn’t resist. You’re—” He stopped himself, his jaw clenching slightly before he continued. “You’re different, Y/n. I’ve never wanted someone’s blood like I wanted yours. But it’s not just that. It’s you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced away, unsure how to process his words. After a moment, she looked back at him, meeting his gaze directly. “So… you’re a vampire.”

Harry blinked, and then a low laugh rumbled from his chest. He leaned back slightly, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “That’s such a dramatic word,” he said, amusement flickering in his eyes. “But yes, I suppose that’s what you’d call it.”

Y/n arched an eyebrow, her nervousness fading slightly as his humor eased the tension in the room. “I mean, it is what you are, isn’t it?”

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “It just sounds… cheesy, doesn’t it? Like I’m straight out of some old gothic novel.”

“Well,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips, “you did just bite me and drink my blood, so… maybe the label fits.”

Harry grinned, his fangs briefly flashing in the light, and Y/n couldn’t help but laugh softly.

Y/n shifted on the couch, her curiosity burning brighter than ever. She tucked her legs beneath her, leaning forward slightly. “I have so many questions,” she admitted, her voice trembling just a little, but more with excitement than fear.

Harry smirked, resting his arm on the back of the couch as he watched her. “Then ask,” he said smoothly. “I’ll answer—within reason.”

She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “Within reason? That sounds suspicious.”

His smirk grew, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “There are some things you might not be ready to hear yet, love. But I’ll do my best.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “Fine. First question: how old are you? Like, really?”

Harry laughed, the sound deep and rich. “Straight to the point, I see. I’m… older than I look. A little over a century.”

Her eyes widened, and she couldn’t help but lean back in disbelief. “A century? You’re over a hundred years old?”

“Give or take a decade,” he said, his tone light. “Though I stopped counting after the first fifty or so.”

Y/n shook her head, trying to process that. “Okay, next question: can you go out in the sun, or is that a no-go?”

Harry chuckled. “I can, but I don’t recommend it. It’s uncomfortable—think of it like a really bad sunburn that happens almost instantly. That’s why you usually won’t find me out during the day unless I absolutely have to be.”

She nodded, her mind buzzing with possibilities. “Do you sleep in a coffin?”

That earned her a full laugh, Harry throwing his head back slightly. “No, I don’t. I have a perfectly comfortable bed, thank you very much.”

Y/n grinned. “Alright, what about garlic? Crosses? Holy water?”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Garlic’s just food. Crosses don’t bother me unless someone shoves one in my face, which is just rude. And holy water? Let’s just say it’s not my favorite thing, but it’s not going to make me burst into flames either.”

She laughed, relaxing a little more as she listened to him. “Okay, serious question now,” she said, her tone softening. “Is it… lonely? Living so long?”

Harry’s expression grew thoughtful, the teasing edge fading from his features. “It can be,” he admitted quietly. “You watch people come and go. You lose people. It’s part of the deal, but it doesn’t make it easier.”

Y/n felt a pang of sympathy in her chest. “That sounds… hard.”

“It is,” he said simply. “But then, sometimes you meet someone who makes it worth it.”

Her breath caught at the way he looked at her as he said it, his gaze steady and warm. She quickly diverted her attention to her next question, her cheeks flushing. “Alright, last one—for now. Why me?”

Harry smiled softly, leaning closer. “I wish I knew,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “But whatever it is, Y/n, I’m not sure I want to question it.”

Y/n hesitated before asking her next question, her voice barely above a whisper. “Would you ever… turn someone? So you could stay with them?”

Harry’s expression softened, his gaze dropping to his hands as he thought about her words. The air in the room grew heavy with the weight of the question, and Y/n could see the conflict flickering in his eyes.

He finally spoke, his voice low and deliberate. “It’s not a decision I’d take lightly,” he admitted. “Turning someone… it’s not as simple as just giving them eternal life. It changes everything—your body, your mind, your world. There’s no going back.”

Y/n watched him carefully, her heart thudding as she tried to read his expression. “But if it meant being with someone you loved… forever?”

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he met her gaze. “I’ve thought about it,” he said honestly, his tone raw. “And I won’t lie—it’s tempting. But it’s also selfish.”

“How is it selfish?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

He sighed, running a hand through his curls. “Because it’s not my life I’d be changing. It’s theirs. I’d be asking them to give up so much—the sun, the ability to grow old, to live a normal life. It’s a lot to ask of someone, and it’s not something I could do lightly. Especially to someone I care about.”

Y/n felt a lump form in her throat at the sincerity in his voice. “So… you wouldn’t do it?”

Harry looked at her for a long moment, his green eyes piercing. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I’d want to say no. To let the person I love live their life the way they were meant to. But if I knew I was going to lose them…” He trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not sure I’d be strong enough to let go.”

Her heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, and she reached out, placing a hand over his. “Harry,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside her, “I think you’re stronger than you realize.”

He gave her a faint, almost bittersweet smile. “Maybe,” he said quietly. “But with you… I think I’d have to be.”

Y/n’s hand lingered on his, her touch grounding him. She looked at him, her eyes soft but filled with determination. “I want to see you again, Harry.”

His jaw tensed, and he glanced away, as though wrestling with his thoughts. “Y/n,” he started, his voice low and measured, “this… this might not be a good idea. For you.”

She frowned, tilting her head. “Why not?”

He exhaled slowly, leaning back against the couch and running a hand through his hair. “Because the more time you spend with me, the harder it’ll be for both of us to walk away. And you might have to one day. For your own good.”

Y/n’s chest tightened, but she shook her head, her voice unwavering. “I don’t want to walk away. I don’t care how complicated this is—I want to see you. I feel… connected to you, Harry. I can’t just ignore that.”

His green eyes met hers, a flicker of something raw and unguarded passing through them. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said softly, almost sadly. “Being close to me… it’s not safe. It’s not normal.”

“I don’t want safe or normal,” she replied firmly. “I want you. Whatever that looks like.”

Harry closed his eyes briefly, as though trying to steady himself, before opening them again. “You’re making this harder than it already is,” he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the tension in his voice.

Y/n leaned closer, her hand still on his. “Then stop fighting it. You want to see me again too, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but the way his gaze softened told her everything she needed to know. Finally, he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes. I do.”

Her lips curved into a small, hopeful smile. “Then let’s not overthink it. Just… let’s see where this goes.”

Harry’s expression remained conflicted, but he couldn’t deny the pull he felt toward her. “Alright,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet but firm. “But we take it one step at a time. No promises, no expectations.”

Y/n nodded, her smile widening slightly. “One step at a time,” she echoed.

Y/n’s heart was racing, but she didn’t hesitate. Slowly, she leaned forward, her eyes locked on his. Harry’s breath hitched, his conflicted expression softening as she closed the distance between them.

Her lips met his, soft and tentative at first, but the electricity between them was undeniable. Harry responded almost immediately, his hand coming up to cup her cheek as he deepened the kiss. There was a gentleness in the way he touched her, as though he was afraid she might break, but there was also an intensity—an unspoken longing that neither of them could deny.

The kiss was slow but full of meaning, every moment stretching as though time itself had paused for them. When they finally pulled back, Y/n’s cheeks were flushed, her breathing unsteady.

Harry’s green eyes searched hers, a mix of wonder and restraint in his gaze. “You’re going to ruin me,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

She smiled softly, her fingers brushing against his. “Maybe,” she whispered, “but you’re worth it.”

For a moment, Harry looked like he might protest, but instead, he leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re making it impossible for me to stay away,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

“Good,” she said with a small smile, her confidence growing. “Because I don’t want you to.”

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pitchsidestories · 20 days ago

Text

have yourself a merry little Christmas II Kim Little x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1115

summary: Kim, the Arsenal team and reader are strolling through a Christmas market together. requested

author's note: dear readers, we hope you enjoy our oneshot, your feedback is always appreciated.❤️❤️

Visiting the London Christmas market with the Arsenal team became an annual festive tradition for your teammates and you. The delicious scent of cinnamon and chocolate was in the air as you made your way through the buzzing streets, the slightly wet cobblestones reflected the warm fairy lights surrounding you.

“Girls, where’s Kim and y/n?”, Leah stopped moving alarmed by her realization that you two were suddenly missing from the group.

“They were right behind us.”, Beth shrugged innocently. The striker’s remark only intensified the blonde defenders frowning lines on her forehead.

“Kyra, no!”, Alessia laughed, trying to prevent the young Australian to get anymore chocolate from one of the many stands, so she wouldn’t suffer from a sugar shock.

“What?”, the midfielder responded sounding completely guileless.

“You can’t have chocolate right now, we’ve lost our captain and her wife which means we need to find them.”, Leah shook her head impatiently.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine.”, Kyra waved it off unbothered by the dramatics of the vice-captain. With a huge smile on her lips, she added eyes gleaming joyfully: “But there’s hot chocolate over there.”

“It can’t be as good as Swiss chocolate.”, Lia grumbled.

“Amor.”, Mariona chuckled amused.

“Maybe try it before you slam it.”, Beth suggested winking.

“See, listen to her.”, the Spanish midfielder smirked at the older Swiss woman who still looked unconvinced at the chocolate laying in front of her.

“Oi, I think I saw them.”, Katie interrupted them excitedly, before the team could reach them though, Kim and you disappeared in the crowd again.

In front of a booth where one could win prices your wife came to a halt. Immediately, the Scottish woman’s light eyes spotted something she wanted to get for you. The unfolding scene felt like one of those cheesy Hollywood rom coms you loved while your lover hated them with a passion.

“Kim, you don’t have to do that.”, you crossed your arms in front of your chest

“Do what?”, Kim frowned.

“To win that stuffed animal for me.”, you finished your sentence with a smile on your face.

“Who said I wanted to win it for you.”, the midfielder countered teasingly.

“So, it’s for your niece and nephew?”, you asked her.

“I didn’t say that either.”, she reminded you grinning. After a few rounds of playing, Kim triumphantly handed the stuff animal to you, announcing proudly: “Here this is yours.”

“Thank you.”, you muttered too stunned to say something else.

“You’re welcome.”, your wife replied.

Nervously you put a loose string of hair behind your ear: “Kimmy, you don’t think we’re too old for plushies?”

“What? No.”

“It’s really cute.”, you admitted touched by her soft gesture. Most people in your life were getting married, buying houses and having babies, the latter one you failed at it, you two were trying again in the new year. But for now, you were grateful for what you did had an amazing wife and a wonderful team which were also your found family.

“Let’s go, maybe we’ll find the others again.” Kim cleared her throat.

You nodded slowly: “Good idea. It’s a team bonding event after all.“

“Exactly. But do you want to get some mulled wine first? I know you like that.”, Kim suggested, pointing into the direction of a stand close by. The smell of spices and warm alcohol wafted over to you.

You smiled, admiring that she remembered: “I do.“

“I’ll get us some.“, Kim said and queued up before you could protest.

A few minutes later, she pressed a hot mug into your hand. You leaned forward until the steam touched your cheeks, inhaling the smell. “Thanks, you’re the best.“

“Because I bought you a drink?”, Kim chuckled before taking a sip from her mulled wine.

“No, for… everything.”

A crease formed between her eyebrows as she studied you sternly: “I’m not doing anything.“

“Not through my eyes.“, you said, carefully drinking from the hot beverage in front of you.

Your wifes face softened: “That’s sweet of you.“

You hid your face behind your mug while taking another sip: “It’s the truth.“

“That’s just the mulled wine.“

You giggled about how bad Kim was at accepting compliments: “I’ve not had that much of it yet! But you know it’s Christmas soon and you know what they say about Christmas. That you tell the truth.“

“I never heard of that before.“, the midfielder grinned.

“Sadly it’s not from me. It’s a quote from Love, actually.“

“Never seen that.“

You blinked at her in disbelief: “You didn’t? We need to change that as soon as we get home.“

“I don’t even like Christmas movies.“, she complained. That fact definitely wasn’t new to you. It was almost impossible to get her to watch anything Christmas related.

But before you could protest and explain to her that not all Christmas movies are predictable and cheesy, you found yourself right under a plastic mistletoe. Admittedly, that was even too cheesy for you.

“Oh.“, you said as you looked upwards.

Kims eyes followed your gaze to the mistletoe: “And that’s exactly why. They’re all so stupid and clichéd. Like the tradition that you have to kiss under a mistletoe…“

You silenced her with one raised eyebrow: “You didn’t hate tradition when you went down on one knee for me years ago.“

Kim simply rolled her eyes in response: “Oh please.“

“Yeah, right, forget it. Oh, look who’s over there.“

A group of blonde girls stood out from the crowd. You immediately recognised your teammates.

“Oh.“

“Let’s go back over to them.“, you suggested but when you were about to take a step forward, Kims hand snaked around your wrist, holding you back.

“It’s bad luck.“

She nodded upwards to the plant above your heads.

You bit back a smile: “I thought you detested Christmas traditions.“

“I do. But we can’t risk it, can we?”, the Arsenal captain grinned sheepishly.

“No, we can’t.”, you agreed mirroring her smile before her lips met for a short, but sweet kiss.

Both of you were quickly interrupted by Leah’s statement, her arms were crossed in front of the chest: “Underneath the mistletoe.”

“Ew.”, Kyra grimaced who got playfully elbowed into her side through Steph.

The older defender warned her smiling: “Shut it.”

Expectantly Alessia looked at Kim and you: “ Are you coming now? We want to go on the Ferris wheel?”

“Yes, we’re coming.”, you told her beaming.

“Don’t worry.”, your wife added in a light-tone.

Somewhere in the background, have yourself a merry little Christmas was playing, and little Christmas was about to be soon indeed. The air was already full of laughter, joy and the promises of a New Year.

Christmas/Winter Oneshots

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newtsniffles · 2 months ago

Text

BETWEEN YOUR EYES

the jackal x oc

chapter one

WARNING: this fanfiction will contain mature scenes, violence, and coarse language.

word count: 1.6k, a short set-up chapter. enjoy!

if you enjoy this fanfiction, please don't forget to interact.

CHAPTER ONE: ONE SHOT, ONE KILL.

Grace McCarron loved the smell of coffee. Especially in the early mornings when the sun hadn’t risen and the streets were still wet with last night’s rain. It irked her though, how people could be so loud at such an early hour. Couldn’t people just be quiet? Talk at a normal volume, it was only the hour of six.

The blonde’s fingers rap against the counter in a steady rhythm. Her expression reads neutral as she watches the customers enjoying their breakfasts, discussing work projects and gossip. It was all so mundane, every word they said was capable of drawing a yawn from her lips. Nobody is interesting this morning.

With a sigh, Grace reaches under the counter for the remote, flicking on the television in the corner. Her head tilts, blue eyes sparkling with intense focus at the headline written across the lower third of the screen.

Manfred Fest assassinated.

Grace’s eyes narrow, something interesting. Her attention is only being drawn away by the sound of a customer waiting to order. A young woman, brunette, she’d be mid-twenties.

‘It’s horrible isn’t it?’ The woman says.

‘I’m on the fence,’ Grace admits. ‘What can I get for you?’

‘A latte, please… You don’t think it’s bad?’

‘That a fascist offended somebody and got himself killed? Not really.’ Grace presses the coffee, clicking it into the machine before foaming the milk. With practised expertise, she fills a takeaway cup with the espresso and milk, creating lines of art on the top.

‘I don’t know much about foreign politics,’ the woman taps her card.

‘Take it from me, be glad he won’t be the new German Chancellor.’

Grace’s attention is brought back to the screen as the customer walks away with her latte. A single sniper shot from a distance of over three kilometres. Impressive. More than. The corners of her lips tilt into a small grin, leaning back onto the counter with crossed arms, she watches the news report.

It had started raining again, like it usually did in London. The sound of tires driving over the slick roads was comforting to Grace. Red brake lights reflected in the puddles by the footpath, headlights and street lamps casting a warm hue despite the darkening sky. She loved the rain, the sound of it pattering against whatever surface. However, it did make it hard to get a decent line of sight. Her lips quirked slightly, a lover of challenge. One blue eye closed, a glint of thrill in the other as it stared through the scope of a personalised sniper rifle.

Sleeping with the blinds open, Grace could never understand it, but it certainly helped her in this case. The target laid across his bed, his thumb scrolling across the screen of his phone. The lights in his apartment were on, everything visible. He was so stupidly vulnerable. She could’ve shot six times over by now, but would there be any fun in that? Her finger taps against the trigger as she recalls the deviance of the sleazy man. The world would be better off without him.

BANG. One shot, one kill.

Grace pulls her head back from the sniper, standing up, she starts to pack down the rifle. Her eyes don’t leave the window of the now-deceased target as she unscrews the barrel, packing it all into a case. She hurries downstairs, unlocking her car and driving off swiftly. Chances are nobody would find him until morning, but it is still safer to get away as quickly as possible.

The internet cafe was practically dead at this hour, a lone stranger or two. It had started to rain outside again, Grace could hear it on the roof, see it on the windows. It was also a Wednesday, unlikely that it would be busy. She plugs a USB into one of the many PCs, accessing Dark Core.

Access Chatroom:

Username: xxxfOxTROT22971x$

Password: ************

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___ job complete.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___he will not bother you anymore.

FPOxENT779X___thank you.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___yes.

CRTVDSTRYR*1908 one new message.

CRTVDSTRYR*1908___Big admirers of your work. Have project we think will interest you. Superlative remuneration.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i don’t work for money.

CRTVDSTRYR*1908___What do you work for?

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___enforcement of consequence.

CRTVDSTRYR*1908___There is a man who needs to face consequences.

CRTVDSTRYR*1908___Can’t talk here.

CRTVDSTRYR*1908___Will you meet in person?

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___where?

Grace sits back in her seat, her finger traces her bottom lip as she waits for a response. This was an odd one, but they seem insistent. For them to know of her work, they had to have communication with sources she had helped in the past.

CRTVDSTRYR*1908___Will make a transfer of good will. Location attached.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___tomorrow morning.

Logout.

A sum of $10,000 has been transferred to your account.

A transfer message has been left.

Grace shuts down the computer, taking out the USB, she packs it into her handbag. Her lips quirk as she exits the internet cafe. Something new, something interesting, a potential challenge. This calls for a stop at that delicious dessert bar down the road from her apartment, a nice meringue or maybe some ice cream would do.

For once the sun was out in London, albeit only slightly, but it did still make Grace look less ridiculous for wearing a cap and sunglasses. She notices a woman sitting on the park bench, must be her. Her black coat flutters behind her in the wind as she sits beside the other woman.

‘Who are you?’ Grace asks.

‘Irish?’ The woman responds with a question.

‘And you’re American.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why am I here?’ Grace leans back against the park bench, crossing her legs. ‘What did he do? Was it assault, did he hurt the kids…?’

‘Ulle Dag Charles.’

‘UDC… the River man?’

‘Yes,’ She answers.

‘I don’t see how exposing the rich is a crime,’ Grace grins. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve wasted my time.’

‘If he releases River, it’s not just the rich who fall. All secret networks will be exposed, you’ll be discovered.’ The woman turns to face Grace, trying to get a look at her expression. She quickly realises it’s impossible with the cap and the darkly tinted glasses. ‘You’ll go to prison for a long time.’

‘If that’s the case, hidden networks of paedophiles, rapists… it will all be exposed. You think they’ll go after little old me?’

‘I think even after exposing the rich, they’ll still have the power, and they’ll still be protected.’

‘You’re very insistent,’ Grace observes. ‘Why me?’

‘Because you always get the job done.’

Sighing, Grace looks up at the cloudy sky, the sun peaking out slightly. She sucks in a breath of the fresh park air before responding. ‘This job is a bit harder than the others…’

‘Which is why we’ve hired a second… professional, such as yourself.’

‘First, you ask me to eliminate a man for wanting to expose the rich, and now you tell me I’d have to work with another person?’

There is a silence that passes momentarily between the two women as they stare each other down.

‘River is good for nobody. You will go to prison.’

‘No, I won’t.’ Grace smirks knowingly. ‘Who is the other person?’

‘He is one of the best, alongside yourself.’

‘Who is he?’

‘I don’t know his identity…’ She answers. ‘He took out Fest.’

‘Ah.’ Grace’s lips immediately quick upwards, a grin taking over her expression. She stands up, hands in pockets, she stares down at the woman still sitting. ‘And what do they call you?’

‘Zina.’

‘Zina… I don’t kill innocent men. Give me one good reason to take this job, and not because of River.’

‘...’ The American woman sits there contemplating for a moment, her mind working a million miles an hour. ‘You don’t have to take the shot. We need you to… babysit.’

Grace lets out a loud chuckle, ‘babysit?’

‘It seems our other hire is caught up in a few… troubles after the fest situation. We need you to ensure he gets the job done, and if he fails to, you step in and finish it.’

‘Well… let’s hope he doesn’t fail.’

‘Is that a yes to the job?’ Zina sits up straight.

‘He is aware, I assume?’

‘He will be made aware.’

‘Get me in contact,’ Grace turns around and walks away, her coat once again billowing behind her.

It was another early morning, three days after Grace’s meeting with Zina. She sat behind the counter at the cafe, it was a very quiet morning. A Sunday morning, not many were up and about. She opened her laptop, plugging in her USB.

Access Chatroom:

Username: xxxfOxTROT22971x$

Password: ************

**&525marTinGuerrE^$___who are you?

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___should i not be asking you?

**&525marTinGuerrE^$___i do not need babysitting.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___ah.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___the other ‘professional’

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___nice shot.

**&525marTinGuerrE^$___refuse the job.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i don’t think i will.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i get bored sometimes.

**&525marTinGuerrE^$___then stay out of the way.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i do the job i’m hired for.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___don’t get into trouble, and i won’t have to step in and clean it up.

**&525marTinGuerrE^$___i don’t need anybody to clean up.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___a little birdy told me otherwise.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i am not the enemy.

**&525marTinGuerrE^$___i don’t work in teams.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___there is a first time for everything.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i’m not here to steal your job.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___i’m here to cover your ass so you can get it done.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___you said you don’t work in teams, that means you have no connections.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___you will fuck up, you will go to jail.

**&525marTinGuerrE^$___Munich.

**&525marTinGuerrE^$___i will send the hotel details.

xxxfOxTROT22971x$___see you there.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

enjoy? consider a tip. https://ko-fi.com/newtsniffles

taglist: @ysabay @blue-and-yellow-jjk-pjm @fawkes5050 @our-future-is-up-to-us-2 @itszara-theurbanwitch @wintercrows @rosie-read-that @kpopgirlbtssvt

#eddie redmayne #eddie redmayne x reader #eddie redmayne x oc #fanfiction #jackal x reader #jackal x oc #the day of the jackal #the day of the jackal x reader #the day of the jackal x oc

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aventurineswife · 9 days ago

Text

A Safe Space

Summary: Isha has found solace in the quiet sanctuary of your workshop. As a parental figure, you’ve given her the care and attention she’s longed for, providing a sense of safety and love in a world that often feels unforgiving. One evening, after a long day, she returns soaked from the rain. The two of you share a quiet moment of comfort, communicating through simple gestures and signs, as the bond between you deepens with unspoken understanding.

Tags: Isha x Reader, Fluff, Parental Figure!Reader, Platonic, Found Family, Comfort, Silent Communication, Emotional Healing.

Warnings: Mentions of Zaun's rough environment, Implied past trauma (for Isha), No violence, just emotional depth.

The city of Zaun was alive tonight. Green and golden lights reflected off the wet cobblestones, the hum of shimmer factories droning faintly in the background. The air was thick with the usual smog, but to Isha, it was home. She had long since learned to navigate this chaos, her sharp eyes and nimble feet letting her slip through the cracks and shadows.

And then there was you.

You had appeared in her life a year ago, emerging like an unexpected warmth in Zaun’s otherwise cold and ruthless streets. You didn’t ask where she came from or how she got by; you simply offered her something no one else had before—a safe space.

It wasn’t a house, exactly, but your workshop was cozy enough. The walls were lined with old blueprints, intricate clockwork models, and the occasional crude drawing Isha had snuck in when she thought you weren’t looking.

You always noticed.

Isha entered silently through the side door tonight, her wiry frame shivering as she shook off the dampness of the rain. She glanced at your workbench. You were hunched over a half-built device, goggles perched on your nose. The faint sound of metal clicking together filled the air.

You didn’t look up but spoke, your voice warm and soft, “Welcome back, kiddo.”

Isha didn’t respond. She couldn’t, not verbally, but the way her shoulders relaxed and her lips quirked into a small smile said everything. She pulled off her patched-up coat and hung it on the peg near the door.

Crossing the room, she tapped your shoulder gently to get your attention. When you turned, her hands were already moving, signing in quick, fluid motions.

‘It’s raining hard tonight.’

You nodded, pulling off your goggles. “I noticed. Thought you might be drenched, so I made soup.”

Isha’s eyes lit up. Food in Zaun was never guaranteed, and hot meals were even rarer. You chuckled at her enthusiasm and waved her toward the small pot simmering on the stove. She grabbed a bowl and filled it, sitting cross-legged on the worn rug near the hearth.

You joined her after a moment, setting aside your work for the night. The two of you sat in comfortable silence, save for the occasional clink of spoons against bowls.

After finishing, Isha leaned back and let out a contented sigh, her hands moving lazily to sign. ‘You’re good at this. Making things feel better.’

You smiled, a soft warmth blooming in your chest. “I try. It helps when I’ve got someone worth trying for.”

Isha blinked, her eyes widening slightly. She wasn’t used to words like that, words that made her feel seen, valued. Her hands hesitated before signing slowly, as if unsure. ‘No one ever says that... Not to me.’

Your heart clenched. Setting your bowl aside, you leaned forward slightly, meeting her gaze. “Then they don’t see you the way I do. You’re clever, resourceful, and stronger than most people twice your age. You deserve to hear it.”

For a long moment, Isha just stared at you, her lips pressing into a tight line. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, she wrapped her arms around you in an awkward but heartfelt hug. She wasn’t used to this kind of closeness, but she wanted to try.

You froze for half a second, surprised, before relaxing and wrapping your arms around her in return. She was small but fierce, and you held her like the fragile yet determined soul she was.

Pulling back, she wiped at her eyes quickly, trying to mask the emotion bubbling to the surface. Her hands moved again, a little clumsier this time. ‘Thanks. For… everything.’

You reached out, ruffling her hair. “Always, kiddo.”

The two of you sat there for a while longer, the storm outside a distant hum against the warmth of the workshop. For all its chaos and pain, Zaun didn’t seem so harsh tonight.

And for Isha, that meant more than words could ever say.

#x reader #isha arcane #arcane isha #arcane x reader #arcane #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane x gender neutral reader #platonic relationships #platonic #fluff #parental figure reader #found family #comfort #silent communication #emotional healing

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ronearoundblindly · 5 months ago

Note

Some Steve for you to enjoy 🥰🫶🏻

Gurl, this f***ed me up! I wanted to try to make it a snippet of Item 107 or The Cinder King, but the muses were just like "you know what you need? emotional damage." So now here we have my first semi-legit period piece (which has zero useful era detail eh) and truly is just the carrier for skinny!Steve love. Hint: It's thirsty, smutty love with hardly any plot ANGST.

Hello and welcome to Lexi's most self-indulgent fic ever. It's got everything: crippling insecurities about my real-life stuff, horniness unmatched even if there were sex pollen shot directly into their faces, and everyone is touch-starved. \o/ Enjoy! WC probably close to 3k but idk because I'm too afraid to look back at it. *slams post button*

Turned away again, Steve "4F" Rogers steps out of the recruitment center to see you standing there, staring up at the posters promising glory.

People hustle around you, several even knocking into you, but you remain transfixed, invisible. You're clutching your purse like a lifeline.

Down one step, worn-through shoes barely hiding every seam in the cobblestone, Steve has to get closer because that's the direction of home and a lonely, empty apartment he can hardly afford. He has to pass by. He has to, but then he sees the amber light reflect on trails of tears down your cheeks.

He has to stop.

"Miss?" Steve clears his throat, his own arm smacked by a rowdy man who then swats at your ass just as Steve tries to get your attention again.

You jolt and turn to him in surprise, hand flying up to cover a sob, sweeping to wipe the evidence of emotion from your face.

Fast--faster than Steve really processes--he's shouting for the guy to apologize before the guy makes to advance, Steve presses himself between you and the asshole still laughing at disrespecting you, and then he--Steve--is getting shoved into the alley with you still at his back.

It's dusk. The alley is nearly black. Steve can hear you crying but he's slipped on the stones wet from an afternoon rain. He scrambles to right himself.

Amidst the cries, he hears grunts of anger and resistance, terror creeping into his chest as Steve thinks you're being assaulted.

"Piece of shit," you bite out. The silhouette of you hurling your bag at the man's face repeatedly is clear from where Steve crouches, backlit as you are by the movie theater marquee.

Then the guy is down on the ground, too, being stomped on by your two-inch heel. "Piece of fucking shit."

"Woah," Steve jumps forward to hold you back. "Woah, language, ma'am. Let's go. Just leave him."

He has a weak arm around your waist, but you kick at the man one more time for good measure, hissing "liar" before turning to follow.

Your hand in his, Steve hurries through the streets, picking the ones he knows are busier but maneuverable to make sure you're not being pursued. Each time he looks back, he sees your sinking face, more tears, more exhaustion, and he makes a flash decision.

He doesn't stop until he locks the door of his apartment behind you both, and you break down on the bare wood floor.

"You hurt? Did he hurt you?" Steve's boney knees land a few inches from yours and he leans over, his long fingers brushing over your pinned hair and stiff curls that dislodged in the commotion. "You're alright. You're safe here."

Where your legs crumple underneath you, your slip lays over your thigh, uncovered by the skirt pooling on the other side of your hip. He can see the outline of a garter strap and the top of your stocking beneath the silky material. Steve's always loved pretty, delicate things. He also loves the faint bulge of flesh around the restraints.

There's meat on your bones, something to hold onto, and he shakes his head, chastising himself for noticing all the wrong things about the crying woman in his home. His lonely, empty home.

Steve attempts to think of anything other than your body.

"Do you know him? What'd you call him a liar for?"

You sigh in defeat, hands flopping into your lap, and confess that it wasn't about him so much as a man not here anymore. Gone. To war. You tell Steve a rambling tale of excuses and snide comments, of a parting that left you wondering why that man--any man--bothered to be with you in the first place, of a surety that you weren't ever wanted.

"I thought he loved me but he lied."

Steve sits cross-legged in front of you now, enthralled and utterly confused. Why would anyone...?

"That's the worst part," you exclaim, voice cracking. "I don't know. I'll never know." Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your skirt. "I heard today that he died. Don't know where. Don't know when. And I hate that I still care."

"But he wasn't good to you," Steve soothes and wraps his hand around yours, "and he wasn't good for you."

All you do is shrug and hide your face. Tears falls to the fabric below your eyes and seep through in dark patches.

He scoots forward and lifts your chin with a gentle nudge. When your puffy red eyes meet his, he's struck by how lucky he feels to see you like this. It's odd to think someone who knew you more and for so much longer couldn't feel infinitely more attached and protective. You're so vulnerable, so open, so...

"You're beautiful." Steve's tongue swipes over his dry lips. "You're so beautiful."

The words are loaded heavier than tanks and pack the punch of a bomb. He can tell you don't truly hear him by the way you shrink and shake your head out of his hold.

"Don't do that," he pleads. "Please don't hide from me."

"You don't know me."

"No, but I--"

"You don't even know my name!"

He sits back and offers his hand.

"Hi, I'm Steve. It's nice to meet you, and I think you're beautiful."

"That's stupid," you lash out, bitterly spitting the half-hearted, heart-breaking words. "You must be an idiot, Steve."

It's not the first time he's heard it, but it is the first time he's not mad at hearing it. He believed those things, too, long ago, before his mom convinced him to see the possibilities in one's struggles. If you perceive it as an obstacle, it is an obstacle. Perceive it as an opportunity instead and use it. Those aren't her exact words, but Sarah Rogers has so many different ways of teaching the same fundamental lessons that Steve can't remember the phrases anymore.

He can remember the feeling. He remembers seeing both obstacles and opportunities.

"Is it stupid to want to touch you?" he whispers. "Because I would love to touch you."

The question is purposefully leading since he knows from your story that's exactly what you long for. It'll be more impactful if he shows you he longs for that too.

Slowly--so slowly--his hand comes up to your cheek again, his fingers tucking behind your neck.

"I don't want your pity." There's still bitterness but no power behind it. You gently shift closer and meet him halfway.

He's kissed girls before, he's fooled around, and he has, in fact, slept with one girl. They went all the way--twice--which means Steve knows what it is to be pitied intimately. He knows what it's like to want something so badly you don't care what the motivation is.

You deserve to know his motives.

"I don't pity you." His focus falls to your quivering lip. "I want to make you happy." He's close. He's so close his breath rolls warm over your face. "I want to make you smile."

A soft whimper leaves you just as his mouth arrives.

"I want you," he says into the kiss.

Instead of fighting, you grab at his jacket, pulling him until you're both falling into the stand lamp. You taste of salt and something sweet he can't put his finger on. Steve resolves to put that on the list of things to find out about you.

He keeps kissing you as you both fall, the lamp now wedged at an angle by the side table. Despite the tangle of tongues, Steve keeps his hands to himself. He doesn't quite have enough answers.

"What do you want, beautiful?"

Hesitant as he pulls away, gripping worn leather like your purse in the street, your eyes dart between his. You're a dream beneath him, but that sounds too selfish to voice.

"May I..." Steve is already panting "...get you off the floor? More comfortable?"

Maybe you haven't been able to say the words, but Steve doesn't need more convincing to know you want him.

He could tell from the way you pawed at him. He could tell from the multiple times you crashed him into the walls along the hall to makeout more. He could tell from the way you melted like hot butter at his every returned touch, but finally, you two made it to his bed.

He'd be embarrassed by the lumpy old thing if there weren't a curvy, luscious dame standing with wide legs at the foot of it, letting his tie slip through your hands as he sits stunned.

Steve swallows thickly.

"Let me see you." It comes out as more of an order than the hopeful question he intended, but when he sees the command shiver through you, he feels six-foot-six and powerful as all hell.

You two share the burden of unbuttoning all of your layers, spinning you a few times to release front and back and side to side. His hands spread and roam to relish each garment, each moment, until you're top half is naked.

He stares, fierce blue irises muted by the dim light on his bedside table, 'beautiful' on his lips every second you spend with your finger yanking the knot of his tie and sliding off the bond. When you lean to pop his shirt buttons, your breasts hang in his face.

Steve stops you by your wrists, peaking up at you through his long lashes as he takes a nipple in his mouth. He keeps thinking it--beautiful--while his tongue sweeps flat across pebbling flesh. Each subsequent swirl has you melting again, pressing more of you to his face, dragging nails up his chest, sighing long and deep. When he switches to the other side, your fingers bury in his hair. He takes his time to worship you, tracing his own fingertips around the hem of your slip and garters.

He doesn't get impatient, if anything Steve feels greedy for wanting more, for praying this lasts forever, for needing all you're willing to give.

His teeth graze your skin in wanton lust, and you flinch in surprise, knocking you off-balance.

You fall to your knees on the mattress, straddling Steve's slender body beneath your hot core.

"Sorry," you mutter, wriggling to stand, forcing Steve to wrap his arms around you and halt your retreat. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you."

"You can sit on me morning, noon, and night," he rasps. "I won't complain. I'll thank you, beautiful."

He groans pathetically when you relax, the grind of your ass making his slacks pinch tighter and tighter. Steve lets his head fall back on the sheets, eyes fluttering shut. The army might not want him, the world outside may forget he ever existed, but you see. He could get addicted to this feeling. He might get lonely without it.

Steve isn't strong enough to keep hold of you, but your weight never leaves, his erection still slotted between your cheeks. His mouth drops wide when your hips roll. Steve whines when you rise up enough to resume unbuttoning him. His lungs and heart go into overdrive, but even so, Steve doesn't want you doing all the work.

He flips you--using the sum total of his strength--and shuffles backward to stand, ripping the tails of his shirt from beneath his belt and shucking off his trousers. That part he could have been more patient for, but Steve smirks and brushes away the hair falling in his eyes, chest heaving from exertion.

He's pleased to see you watching him, ogling his body without judgment. You look like you want to eat him alive, and he is perfectly fine with that.

His palm lands on your knee to sneak higher beneath your slip, nimble fingers popping the clasps along your stockings and hooking through the band of your underwear. You lifting for him is all the permission he needs. Steve leaves your slip, garter belt, and stockings in place, and in a cheeky twist, he lets your underwear hang off one of your ankles, kissing your inner thigh, pushing your knees wider for him to fit.

He throbs in his boxers at the sight of your sex.

Nerves roil in his belly at the idea he is solely responsible for your pleasure. As he glances up to you, propped up on your elbows with a fearful and expectant gaze, he sees a poster promising honor and glory, a service to be proud of, and for the first time, he has doubts.

You see it in his eyes.

"Steve?"

He wants to participate and show that he's worthy of you.

This isn't about him though, and Steve Rogers is nothing if not dedicated anyone other than himself.

"Right here." He snaps back to reality, laying his hand to your thatch of hair and gently teasing his thumb along your folds. "I'm right here, beautiful."

It's an honor to touch you. He's proud of the moan elicited because he strokes over your clit rhythmically. The glory of watching you writhe is all his.

Steve's breath stays rapid as yours picks up. You're fisting the sheets, slick pooling beneath the pad of his thumb, helping him pick up speed. He dips into you, tests the breach while pushing his boxers down, and crawls over the edge of the bed. Like magnets, you guide each other higher till the pillows cradle you.

You're a broken record, repeating a desperate loop.

"Steve," you whimper.

"Won't ever lie to you." He captures your lips again. "Want you so badly. I'll want you all the time."

Steve doesn't understand why you won't talk to him, so he slows, eyes questioning and brow furrowed. You have to see. The light is right there.

Bottom lip trapped, you still say nothing, but your arms raise to his smooth face and plead in the silence.

He wants the same thing. He wants to feel. Not just the sting of rejection. Not just the slippery, rough stones through his shoes. Not just the empty ache inside. He wants to feel like someone cares whether he lives or dies.

You care even when you don't want to, but Steve can earn you, your care, your smile and your tears. He'll get up and come home to you every time. He needs you to come home to.

Otherwise, this is a lonely, empty apartment. Otherwise, he is a lonely, empty man.

Your hands bring him close, lips pausing just before contact while Steve sinks two fingers into you.

You gasp. His fingers curl. His thumb goes back to work. You kiss him with what little breath you can hold between muted cries until Steve notices your roving hands tug at his waist.

He wants the same thing.

Sitting back on his heels, Steve drapes your thighs over his, his slick fingers spreading you. He's mesmerized watching his cock disappear inch by inch, and the caress of your walls shuts down all other brain function. All he can do is slide against you, bent into your soft body, your breasts padding his jerky thrusts, the base of him perfectly laving the hood of your clit in the growing mess.

You're wet, and he's driven wild by the need to make you come. He tries to sit up again, to play with you properly, but he's stopped by the weight of your legs crossed behind his ass, the strength of your thighs anchoring him in place.

Steve takes huge, deep breaths through his nose because he won't last concentrating on how your body bounces and ripples, plush beneath his boney form.

You get wetter, looser in a welcoming way that spurs him to drive himself home faster. He sucks in air, though it's futile once his heavy balls start to seize.

Suddenly, you shout, stretching to push yourself completely flush with his pelvis, and he has to pull out, keeping aligned with the cut of you as aftershocks make you mindlessly hump him. Steve's cum shoots all over his belly and your chest, some drops dampening what clothes he didn't discard, stains of joy replacing stains of sadness.

His chest might explode. He's gasping, taxed beyond his naughtiest dreams, head lolling toward the ceiling with his throat high.

He feels your legs fall away, and Steve hopes for an instant that you embrace him even though he might suffocate in the process.

The envelopment never comes. The world is fuzzy and too warm beyond him.

He hears the sink in his bathroom turn on just as he lands palms-down on sweaty sheets. He tries every trick he knows to calm down. The water still runs after all the time it takes for him to recover and stand. The closer he gets to the doorway, the clearer the sound really is.

Sobbing.

"Beautiful? What's wrong? Did I--"

The faucet squeaks off, and you barrel out, nearly running him over, your arms covering your chest and your disheveled hair hiding your face.

"What are you doing? Are you cold?" Steve tries.

"I'm disgusting," you hiss in a mad dash for the pile of clothes on the floor.

He trips over his feet to stop you, corralling you as best he can, but you're quick. You certainly have fight in you. Steve only want to show you you do not have to fight him.

"Come back to bed," he commands hopefully, grabbing your wrist as you scoop up your wrinkled dress. "I should clean up, but please, please, come back to bed."

There is something broken and fearful in the way you finally meet his eye. He's torn apart, shredded down to nothing in a single look. That's not how a feral animal sees the world; that's how an animal, abused and betrayed, locks the world out.

Your protection is what you really took off for him. Your thick armor is what Steve got past.

"I didn't lie." He lets go of you and steps back as calm as his rasping breaths can manage. "I want you. I want you to stay." He wonders whether he ought to cover himself, too, because perhaps total vulnerability makes you more nervous.

So he presents himself as an opportunity, not an obstacle.

Steve finds his boxers a foot away and says one more time, "I hope you stay."

Unmoving, your eyes follow his walk to the bathroom, and in the split second he's looking down to turn the tap, you're gone.

Disappointment floods his system, but like all the other stamped failures in his record, Steve goes through the motions of caring for a body that thwarts his desire to live at every turn. In fact, it tries to die so often, he's always surprised to find himself here, staring at this mirror again, wondering why he gets back up.

He's also surprised to find you here, in the bed with the sheet pulled up to your chin, nodding to the side table where you've placed a cup of water.

The tiniest of genuine smiles curves your lips.

Steve's home is neither lonely nor empty anymore. He could cry.

A/N: this got so incredibly out of hand... I'm so sorry. But also, thank you for reading!

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads

#ro answers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #skinny!Steve #1940s!Steve #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers angst #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader smut #pre serum steve

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vanteguccir · 5 months ago

Note

can you make a blurb of chris with his gf that's been feeling very down and has an anxiety attack? (if ur comfy w that)

── ୨୧ !　 a blurb where you wake up feeling bad and on the verge of an anxiety attack, but chris is there for you - as he always is

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

The morning light filtered softly through the gap under the door, casting a gentle glow across the floor room. Y/N lay in bed, her eyes wide open as she stared at the ceiling. The soft hum of someone - provably Matt - moving gently upstairs did nothing to calm the unease that had settled deep in her chest.

There was no reason for it, no particular trigger she could pinpoint, yet the anxiety was there, creeping into her thoughts and wrapping around her heart like a vice. Her breathing was shallow, her heart racing with a sense of dread she couldn’t quite shake. Her eyes were tired and slightly red from the little to nothing hours of sleep.

Today was supposed to be a good day. She and Chris had planned it out earlier in the week; breakfast at their favorite little café, a stroll through the city streets, maybe a bit of shopping. It was a day they both looked forward to, a chance to unwind and enjoy each other’s company. But as she lay there, tangled in the cotton sheets, the excitement that usually accompanied such plans was overshadowed by a heavy, unexplainable weight.

Chris stirred beside her, his arm draped over her waist, pulling her closer. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, anything to ground herself. But it wasn’t enough. The anxiety continued to gnaw at her, relentless and unforgiving.

"I should get up." She whispered to herself, carefully slipping out from under Chris’s arm. She moved quietly, not wanting to wake him just yet. He deserved to sleep in a little longer; he had been working so hard lately, filming a lot of different videos with his brothers and creating the new collection of Fresh Love. Maybe if she just kept moving, kept herself busy, she could push the anxiety away.

In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would wake her up, snap her out of this spiral. But as she looked at herself in the mirror, all she saw was the fear and tension reflected back at her. Her hands trembled as she reached for the towel to dry her face, her breath coming in short, rapid gasps. It seemed like her lungs never got full enough.

She forced herself to take a deep breath, to calm the storm brewing inside her, but it was no use. The more she tried to suppress it, the more overwhelming it became. Still, she had a day planned with Chris. She couldn’t let this ruin it. She just needed to keep it together, at least until they were out and about, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of the city. Maybe then, the anxiety would fade into the background.

She took her time in the shower, letting the warm water cascade over her in the hopes that it would soothe her. But when she stepped out, wrapping a towel around her body, her nerves were just as frayed as before.

She could hear Chris moving around in the bedroom now, probably getting dressed, and she knew she had to put on a brave face.

Y/N took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door. As she stepped into the room, the cool air hit her wet skin, causing a shiver to run down her spine. Her hair dripped onto the white towel, and she kept her gaze low, not trusting herself to look at Chris just yet. She could feel the frown etched on her face, the way her chest kept moving too fast, and she prayed that he wouldn’t notice.

But Chris knew her too well. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on a pair of socks when he looked up and saw her, ready to say his first good morning in that day, but suddenly stopping. His brow furrowed immediately, concern flashing in his eyes. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched her as she moved slowly to the closet, her movements stiff and uncoordinated.

"Baby?" He called softly, but she didn’t respond, too focused on trying to steady her breathing, to keep the tears that were threatening to spill at bay.

Y/N felt the weight of Chris’s gaze as he gently turned her to face him, his hands firm yet comforting on her shoulders. Her breath hitched, and she tried to muster a reassuring smile, but Chris wasn’t having any of it.

"What’s going on, babe?" His voice was soft, filled with worry. "Hey, you’re shaking."

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. The trembling in her hands worsened as if her body was betraying her attempt to appear calm. Her breath began to quicken, each inhale growing more shallow than the last. She clenched the towel tighter around her, feeling the edges of panic creeping in.

"It’s nothing, Chris. I’m fine, really. Let’s just get ready and go." She forced out, her voice strained, refusing to look into his eyes.

But Chris’s eyes searched hers, seeing the truth behind her words. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped without her realizing.

"You’re not fine." He said gently, concern deepening in his gaze. "Talk to me."

Y/N tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it only grew larger.

"I woke up feeling so anxious." She finally admitted, her voice trembling. "I don’t know why, but it’s like… it’s like there’s this weight on my chest, and I can’t breathe properly. My heart’s racing, and I can’t… I can’t make it stop."

As she spoke, the feelings she had been trying to suppress began to overwhelm her. Her chest tightened painfully, each breath now coming in rapid, uneven gasps. The room started to spin, her vision narrowing as her hands shook uncontrollably. Her legs felt like they might give out any second, the numbness creeping up from her feet, making her feel disconnected from her own body.

Chris’s eyes widened in alarm as he watched the familiar signs of an impending anxiety attack take hold of her. Without hesitation, he stepped closer, his hands moving to cradle her face, anchoring her in the present.

"Y/N, look at me." He said firmly, his voice steady but soothing. "Focus on my voice, yeah? Just focus on me."

Her eyes darted around, panic rising as the room seemed to close in on her.

"I-I can’t… I can’t breathe." She gasped, her chest burning with the effort, her hands closing into tight fists against her chest, the towel fabric brushing against her skin making her feel suffocating. It was all too much.

"Yes, you can." Chris insisted, his voice calm and reassuring. "You’re safe. I’m right here with you. Just try to match your breathing with mine, okay? In… and out. You know how to do it, yeah?"

He exaggerated his own breaths, taking slow, deep inhales and long exhales, hoping she would follow his lead. Y/N tried to mimic his breathing, but her body resisted, her lungs refusing to cooperate as her mind spiraled further into panic, shaking her head as if telling him that it wasn't working.

"It’s okay, petal." Chris continued, his thumbs brushing gently over her cheeks. "I’ve got you. You’re not alone. Just keep trying, focus on the sound of my voice. You're my smart girl, I know you can do it."

His words were a lifeline in the chaos, something tangible to cling to as her world seemed to tilt on its axis. She fixed her eyes on his ocean blue ones, trying desperately to ground herself in his presence. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she began to force her breaths to deepen, following the rhythm he set.

In... out.

"That’s it." Chris murmured, his hands never leaving her face. "You’re doing great. Just keep going."

The numbness in her legs started to recede as her breathing began to slow, the tightness in her chest easing slightly. She focused on the warmth of Chris’s hands, the steadiness of his gaze, and the calm that radiated from him like a soothing balm.

After what felt like an eternity, her breathing finally evened out, the sharp edges of panic dulling into a manageable hum. The tears that had been threatening finally spilled over, but this time, they were tears of relief, not fear.

Chris pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against him as if to shield her from any lingering remnants of the attack.

"You’re okay." He whispered into her hair, his hand rubbing slow, comforting circles on her back. "You’re safe, Y/N. I’m here."

She clung to him, her face buried in his chest, drawing strength from his presence. The remnants of the anxiety attack left her feeling drained and shaky, but Chris’s embrace was a refuge, a place where she could let go of the fear and simply be.

"I’m sorry." She mumbled into his shirt, her voice thick with exhaustion and emotion.

Chris shook his head, pulling back just enough to look at her, his expression tender.

"Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for." He said softly, brushing a few strands of hair away from her damp forehead. "I’m just glad you’re okay."

Y/N nodded, wiping at her tear-streaked cheeks with the back of her hand.

"Thank you." She whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You don’t have to worry about that." Chris replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

They stood there in silence for a few moments longer, the intensity of the situation gradually fading into the background as the warmth of their connection took its place. Chris kept his arms around her, his presence a solid and comforting weight that grounded her in the here and now.

When she finally felt steady enough to stand on her own, Chris gave her a reassuring smile.

"Why don’t we take it easy today?" He suggested. "We don’t have to go out if you’re not feeling up to it. We can stay in, watch movies, whatever you want."

Y/N considered his offer, the thought of staying in and cocooning herself in the safety of their home tempting. But she knew that sometimes it helped to get out, to distract herself with the world outside.

"No, I think I still want to go." She said, her voice stronger now, though still soft. "I think… I think it might help."

Chris nodded, his expression understanding.

"Okay. But if at any point you need to come back, just say the word. We’ll take it slow."

"I will." She promised, feeling a bit more like herself as she managed a small smile, grateful for his understanding. He always knew exactly what she needed, even when she didn’t know it herself. "Thank you." She whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"Always." He replied, giving her a soft kiss on her forehead before stepping back to give her space. "I’ll be right here if you need me."

As Y/N watched him move back to the bed, resuming his task of getting dressed, she felt a sense of calm beginning to replace the anxiety. It wasn’t gone completely, but with Chris there, she knew she could handle it. She took another deep breath, this one more steady, and turned back to the closet to finish getting ready.

I know, I write too much and too long, sorry yall 🙏🏻🤞🏻

I would post as a usual fic, but I feel like yall like it more when it's blurbs 😭

#⋆౨ৎ˚ 𝒍𝒆𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒔 #chris sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x reader fluff #chris sturniolo x reader angst #chris sturniolo angst #angst #fluff #anxiety #anxious reader #chris sturniolo x yn

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whereforarthur · 4 months ago

Text

The Two Arthur’s

Requested by @xrubi-hillx: soft smut with ArthurTv and Arthur Hill with a virgin!reader where she’s upset after an argument with her boyfriend bc he called her a prude or smth and they try to help her and make her feel better??

Pairing: ArthurTv x Virgin!Reader x Arthur Hill

Category: Fluff and Smut

Word Count: 5.7k

A/n: ArthurTv and Arthur Hill will be labeled as such to avoid confusing the two Arthur’s

*****

The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others. -Mahatma Gandhi

"You're just a prude," he spat, the venom in his words slicing through the quiet London evening.

Her cheeks burned with a mix of anger and embarrassment as she clutched her jacket closer to her body. The cobblestone streets of the bustling city felt cold and unforgiving under her trembling feet. The neon lights from the nearby pubs and shops painted the wet pavement in a sickly glow, a stark contrast to the warmth she had once felt in his arms. The argument had been a surprise, but the accusation had stung. It wasn't the first time he'd called her that, but she had hoped it would be the last.

Y/n hurried home, the chilly November air biting at her eyes as she tried to hold back the tears. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. The door to her flat swung open, revealing the welcoming embrace of ArthurTv and Arthur Hill, her two best friends, sitting on the couch with mournful expressions. They had heard the news from her frantic text message and had dropped everything to be there for her. The smell of freshly brewed tea filled the room, a beacon of comfort in the storm of her emotions.

"Hey," ArthurTv said gently, patting the couch cushion next to him. "What happened?"

Her eyes watered as she recounted the harsh words, her voice shaking with each painful syllable. Arthur Hill listened intently, his brows furrowed in concern. The silence in the room was thick with unspoken support, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the city outside.

"It's not right," Arthur Hill murmured, reaching for her hand. "You don't deserve to be talked to like that."

ArthurTv nodded in agreement, his eyes reflecting the hurt he felt for her. "Exactly. You're amazing just the way you are. He's the one with the problem."

They sat there for a while, the warmth of the tea seeping into her bones and the kindness of their words soothing her soul. She took a deep breath, feeling a weight lifting from her chest. "Thanks, guys. I just don't know what to do."

ArthurTv leaned in closer, his eyes filled with understanding. "Look, you know we're here for you, right?"

"Of course," she whispered, sniffling.

"Good," Arthur Hill said firmly. "Because if he can't wait for you to be ready, then he doesn't deserve to be with you. Sex is about love and trust, not about pushing boundaries you're not comfortable with."

Her eyes searched their faces, finding the validation she desperately needed. She nodded, taking another sip of tea, the warm liquid soothing her raw throat. "You're right," she murmured. "I don't know why I let it get to me so much."

"It's because you care," ArthurTv said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "But you deserve someone who worships you, not someone who belittles you."

A small smile graced her lips, the first one since the argument. She felt a spark of defiance ignite within her. "You know what? You're both right. I'm worth more than that."

Arthur Hill gave her hand a squeeze. "We're going to help you through this. You're not alone."

The boys looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. "How about we do something to take your mind off things?" ArthurTv suggested, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Like what?" she asked, hopeful for a distraction from the pain.

ArthurTv's grin grew wider. "Leave it to us. We'll show you a night you'll never forget."

*****

The two Arthur's set to work, transforming the flat into a sanctuary of pampering. They lit candles, filling the air with the sweet scent of vanilla and lavender. Soft music played in the background, a soothing melody that seemed to wrap around her like a warm blanket. They led her to the couch, where a mountain of fluffy pillows and blankets awaited. The care in their eyes was like a balm to her bruised heart.

Arthur Hill took charge, guiding her to lay down. He began to gently massage her shoulders, his strong hands working out the tension that had built up. "Just relax," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate through her. The warmth of his touch was like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm. She closed her eyes, letting out a contented sigh.

ArthurTv emerged from the kitchen and sat cross-legged on the floor beside the couch, setting to work on her feet. His gentle touch sent waves of comfort through her body. "We're going to make you feel like a queen," he said, smiling up at her.

The warmth of Arthur Hill's hands continued to spread down her back, kneading the knots that had formed from weeks of stress and doubt. She could feel the tension in her body begin to melt away, her muscles loosening like a tightly wound spring.

"Mm, that feels so good," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

Arthur Hill's hands stilled for a moment before he resumed the massage, his touch lingering slightly longer on the nape of her neck. She shivered, feeling a tingle of something unfamiliar, yet oddly comforting. ArthurTv's eyes met hers, and she saw the same understanding reflected there. The atmosphere in the room had shifted, the air thickening with a new tension, one that was no longer just about her heartache.

Her breath hitched as Arthur Hill's thumbs traced slow circles along her collarbone, his fingertips brushing against the sensitive skin just above her shirt. She looked down to see ArthurTv's hands moving up her legs, his gaze never leaving hers. The candlelight danced across their faces, casting shadows that seemed to deepen the intensity of the moment.

Without a word, ArthurTv leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her ankle, his eyes never leaving hers. A jolt of heat shot through her, and she felt a flush spread from her toes to her cheeks. Arthur Hill's massage grew more intimate, his hands gliding over the fabric of her shirt, his thumbs tracing the line of her spine, sending shivers down her back.

Her heart raced as she realized the shift in their intentions. She took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. This was new territory, but with her two best friends, she felt safe. They had always been there for her, and she knew they would never push her further than she was willing to go.

"Are you okay with this?" ArthurTv asked, his voice a gentle rumble in the quiet room. His hand paused on her calf, giving her the space to process the sudden turn of events.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she searched their faces, the candlelight flickering in their eyes. "I... I think so," she replied, her voice tentative. "But I've never..."

Arthur Hill's hands stilled on her shoulders, his eyes filled with understanding. "We know, and we'll take it slow. We just want to make you feel good, show you that you're desired and cherished."

ArthurTv nodded in agreement. "We're not here to replace him, or to take advantage. We just want to help you heal, and if that means showing you a different kind of love tonight, then we're all for it."

*****

Their words wrapped around her like a warm embrace, and she found herself nodding, the nervousness giving way to a growing sense of excitement. They had been her confidants, her protectors, and now they offered her something she hadn't even considered. The thought of exploring intimacy with them was both thrilling and terrifying, but she knew she could trust them implicitly.

Arthur Hill's hands began to move again, more deliberately this time, unbuttoning her shirt with a tender touch. She sat up, allowing him to slip the material off her shoulders, exposing her lacy bra. ArthurTv's eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of her, but the look was tinged with the same care and respect that had always been there. She watched as they both leaned in, their breaths mingling with hers, and she felt a warmth pool in her belly that had nothing to do with the tea.

"So beautiful," ArthurTv murmured, his voice a soft caress that sent goosebumps across her skin.

Her eyes searched his, finding a tenderness that made her breath catch in her throat. Arthur Hill's hands paused on her shoulders, his gaze following the same path as ArthurTv's, both sets of eyes lingering on the delicate lace of her bra. The room grew hotter, the candlelight playing across their faces, casting shadows that danced with the desire that had begun to unfurl within her.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice a shaky mess of nerves and hope. She felt their love, their friendship, in every touch, and it was that which gave her the courage to take this uncharted step.

ArthurTv's fingers traced the edges of her bra, his eyes never leaving hers. He leaned in, placing a soft kiss on her collarbone, the touch sending a rush of sensation through her. She gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as Arthur Hill's mouth found hers, his kiss gentle but insistent. The softness of his lips was a stark contrast to the firmness of ArthurTv's hands as he unclasped her bra, letting it fall away to reveal her bare skin.

Their kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as Arthur Hill's hands slid up her body to cup her breasts. His thumbs brushed against her sensitive nipples, teasing them into hard peaks. ArthurTv's kisses traveled down her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he took one of her breasts into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh. She arched her back, a moan escaping her lips, the sensation overwhelming and new.

"That's it, love," Arthur Hill murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her body. His hands slid down to her hips, his thumbs tracing the waistband of her jeans. She nodded, giving him the silent permission to proceed, her body singing with anticipation. He unbuttoned her jeans, and ArthurTv helped her to shimmy out of them, leaving her in just her panties. She felt exposed but safe, surrounded by the warmth of their love.

Their eyes traveled over her body, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of power in their hungry gazes. "You handsome boys are wearing too much clothes," she said with a shy smile, the words slipping out before she could second-guess herself.

They both chuckled, the sound a sweet relief in the heavy silence. ArthurTv stood and began to strip, revealing a lean, muscular torso that made her heart race. Arthur Hill followed suit, his movements slower but no less captivating. As they both settled back on the couch, their bare chests rising and falling with anticipation, she felt a thrill of excitement. This was really happening, and she was ready.

They took their time, exploring her body with gentle kisses and tender touches, making sure she was comfortable with every step. ArthurTv kissed her deeply, his hands cupping her face as Arthur Hill's lips traveled down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She felt her body respond, her breaths growing shorter, her skin flushing with heat.

*****

Their touch grew bolder as they worked in tandem, each movement calculated to drive her closer to the edge. Arthur Hill's fingers slid under the elastic of her panties, teasing the sensitive skin just above her mound. She gasped into ArthurTv's mouth, her hips involuntarily bucking upward, seeking more. He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "Patience," he whispered against her lips.

ArthurTv broke their kiss, his eyes smoldering with passion. He leaned down, his breath hot against her neck. "Did your boyfriend ever eat you out, darling?"

Her eyes widened, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "N-no," she stuttered, the mere thought of it making her tremble.

"Well, he's a selfish prick," ArthurTv murmured, his voice filled with a possessive growl. "We're going to show you what it's like to be truly worshiped."

Her heart raced as Arthur Hill's thumbs hooked into the sides of her panties, slowly pulling them down her legs. She watched, breathless, as ArthurTv leaned back, his eyes never leaving hers, and took off his own trousers, revealing his hard length. The sight of him made her mouth go dry, and she felt a thrill of excitement mingled with nerves.

With a trembling hand, she reached out to touch him, her fingertips brushing lightly against his chest. "Can I?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

ArthurTv's eyes flashed with approval, and he nodded, his hand guiding hers down to wrap around his erection. He groaned softly as she tentatively began to stroke him, her movements clumsy but earnest. Arthur Hill's mouth was back on her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, making her gasp. His hands were on her thighs, urging them apart, and she complied, feeling a rush of excitement and vulnerability.

ArthurTv took over, his hands guiding her, showing her the right amount of pressure and speed to elicit the deepest moans from him. She watched, mesmerized, as he threw his head back, his eyes rolling back in his head. The power she had over him was exhilarating, a stark contrast to the powerlessness she had felt earlier in the night.

Arthur Hill's mouth found hers again, his tongue dancing with hers in a rhythm that mirrored the movements of ArthurTv's hips. His hand traveled down her body, his fingers sliding through the slickness of her arousal. He teased her entrance, and she tensed, her breath hitching in her throat. He pulled away, his eyes searching hers for permission. She nodded, and he slid a single digit inside her, his touch so gentle it brought tears to her eyes.

The sensation was foreign yet oddly comforting, a stark contrast to the pain she had always associated with the word "virginity." They took it slow, each touch and kiss a promise of pleasure to come. ArthurTv's hand on hers, guiding her strokes, his breaths growing more ragged with every passing second. The tension grew, a tight coil in her belly, until she felt like she might burst.

"Ready for more?" Arthur Hill murmured against her mouth, his hand still moving between her legs, his fingers teasing her entrance. She nodded, the anticipation too much to bear. He kissed her deeply, his tongue mimicking the movements of his hand, and she felt herself being drawn into a vortex of desire.

Slowly, so slowly, Arthur Hill's mouth trailed down her body, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle nips in its wake. She could feel his warm breath against her skin, her heart pounding in her chest as he reached the apex of her thighs. He paused, looking up at her, and she nodded again, her breath shallow. He positioned himself between her legs, his eyes never leaving hers as he leaned in, his mouth hovering just above her.

With the softest of touches, his tongue met her folds, and she gasped, her eyes fluttering shut. The sensation was indescribable, a gentle yet insistent pressure that had her hips lifting off the couch. He took his time, tasting her, exploring her with a reverence that she had never felt before. Her hands found his hair, tangling in the soft strands as she tried to guide him, to show him what felt good, but he already seemed to know. His tongue circled her clit, the pressure building with every pass, and she felt the coil in her belly tighten.

"You taste so sweet," Arthur Hill murmured, his voice muffled against her. "So perfect."

The words were like a balm to her soul, erasing the harshness of the evening's earlier events. Her body was alive with sensation, her nerves singing under Arthur Hill's skilled ministrations. ArthurTv's hand never left hers, their fingers entwined in a silent promise of support. She felt cherished, desired in a way she never had before.

"You're so beautiful," ArthurTv whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Your body is a work of art." His words were a sweet symphony, each note resonating deep within her, filling her with a sense of worth she hadn't felt in so long.

*****

Their hands moved in concert, caressing and exploring, each touch sending waves of pleasure through her. Arthur Hill's tongue swirled around her clit, his teeth gently grazing the sensitive flesh. The sensations grew more intense, and she felt herself spiraling closer to the edge. The room was filled with the sounds of their labored breathing and the soft whispers of encouragement.

"Come undone for us, darling," ArthurTv murmured in her ear, his voice a seductive command that sent a shiver down her spine. Her eyes snapped open, meeting his, and she could see the fierce love and passion in his gaze. It was all the encouragement she needed. She let go of her inhibitions, her body arching off the couch as the first spasm of orgasm took her. Arthur Hill's mouth never left her, his tongue lapping at her sweetness as she trembled beneath him.

The wave of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her gasping for air. She felt a warm hand slide up her stomach to cup her breast, ArthurTv's thumb flicking her nipple in time with Arthur Hill's strokes. It was too much, and yet she wanted more. "Please," she managed to say, the word a desperate plea.

Arthur Hill's eyes lit up with understanding, and he added another finger, pumping into her slowly, letting her adjust to the feeling. She watched ArthurTv's hand work his own length, his eyes on her face, the love and desire in his gaze making her feel like she was the only woman in the world.

Her breath grew ragged as Arthur Hill's tongue and fingers worked in perfect harmony, her body responding in ways she never knew possible. The sensations grew more intense, the pleasure building to a crescendo. "I'm going to... I'm going to..." she stuttered, unable to find the words.

"Let go, baby," ArthurTv whispered, his voice a gentle encouragement. "We've got you."

Her eyes rolled back in her head as she gave in to the pleasure, her body shaking with the force of her release. Arthur Hill's mouth and hands never stopped moving, drawing out every last tremor until she was boneless and panting. She collapsed back onto the couch, her chest heaving, feeling as if she had been reborn.

ArthurTv leaned over her, his face flushed with desire. He kissed her softly, tasting the sweetness of Arthur Hill's kisses on her lips. "You're incredible," he murmured, his eyes filled with love and admiration.

Her eyes searched Arthur Hill's, finding the same love reflected back at her. She nodded, her voice a whisper. "Thank you," she said, the words filled with emotion. "Thank you both."

They shared a moment of quiet understanding, the air thick with the scent of candles and the aftermath of passion. Arthur Hill kissed her inner thigh, his eyes never leaving hers, and she felt a warmth spread through her. "You're welcome, love," he said, his voice filled with a gentle intensity that made her heart flutter.

ArthurTv leaned in, his eyes searching hers. "Ready for the next step?" His hand slid down her body, his fingers playing with the trimmed hair above her mound.

Her heart raced, but she nodded, feeling a newfound confidence. "Yes," she breathed, her voice trembling with excitement. "I trust you."

*****

ArthurTv reached over to the coffee table, where a box of condoms lay, a silent reminder of their intentions. He ripped one open with his teeth, the sound making her pulse quicken. He rolled it on with a practiced ease, his eyes never leaving hers, and she couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. She had never been with anyone else, and the thought of losing her virginity to someone who knew her so well, who cared for her so deeply, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"You ready, love?" ArthurTv asked, his voice thick with desire. She took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of Arthur Hill's body against her side, his hand resting comfortingly on her hip.

"Yes," she whispered, her heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement. ArthurTv's hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "This is going to hurt at first," he said gently, his eyes filled with understanding. "But we're here with you, and we'll make it as good as we can."

Her nod was all the encouragement he needed. He positioned himself between her legs, the tip of his cock pressing against her entrance. She took a deep breath, feeling the anticipation coil tightly in her stomach. With a gentle push, he entered her, and she gasped at the sudden pressure. "Breathe," Arthur Hill murmured, his hand stroking her hair. "You're doing so well."

The pain was sharp, but she focused on their eyes, the love and care in their expressions giving her the strength to push through it. They both watched her intently, waiting for any sign of distress. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, but it was quickly kissed away by ArthurTv. "You're so brave," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm.

"You are doing so good, love," Arthur Hill said, his voice a gentle rumble in her ear. His hand slid down her body, finding her clit and beginning to stroke it with a familiarity that sent another wave of heat through her. The pain began to recede, replaced by the growing pressure of ArthurTv inside her. She took deep, shuddering breaths, her eyes never leaving ArthurTv's as he inched deeper.

"Almost there," he murmured, his eyes filled with concern and love. "Just a bit more." With one final push, he was fully seated within her, and she felt a pop as her barrier gave way. She gasped, the pain a sudden, sharp sting, but it was quickly overshadowed by the warmth that filled her.

ArthurTv held still, giving her time to adjust to the new sensation. "You okay?" he asked, his voice tight with restrained passion. She nodded, feeling a sense of accomplishment mingled with the lingering discomfort.

"Ready for me to move?" he whispered, his eyes searching hers for any hint of doubt. She nodded again, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he began to pull out, only to push back in. She gasped, the pain now a distant memory as pleasure began to replace it.

Their rhythm grew steadier, ArthurTv's movements slow and gentle, his eyes never leaving hers. Arthur Hill's hand continued to tease her clit, the sensation heightening with every stroke of ArthurTv's cock. "Oh, God," she moaned, her voice a sweet symphony of passion. They watched her face, reading her reactions, adjusting their movements to bring her the most pleasure.

"How does that feel?" Arthur Hill asked, his voice a low rumble of concern and desire.

Y/n bit her bottom lip, the sensation of ArthurTv inside her both strange and exhilarating. "It's... different," she managed to say, her eyes fluttering shut as she tried to process the feeling.

"Different good?" Arthur Hill's voice was gentle, his eyes searching hers for any sign of pain.

"So good," she murmured, the words slipping out of her mouth like a sweet secret. The pleasure grew with every movement, ArthurTv's cock filling her up in a way she had never experienced before. The two of them together, the perfect symphony of care and desire, had her body singing with sensation.

Arthur Hill leaned in, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as he continued to work her clit with skilled fingers. "Music to our ears, love," he said with a smile, his voice a soothing melody that had her hips moving in time with ArthurTv's rhythm. "We want to hear you scream our names."

Their movements grew more urgent, their bodies moving in a dance of passion that had been years in the making. ArthurTv's cock slid in and out of her with a gentle ease, the pain long forgotten, replaced by a building pressure that threatened to consume her. She felt Arthur Hill's thumb press down on her clit, the sensation so intense she thought she might shatter.

"Open your eyes, love," Arthur Hill murmured. "I want to see you when you come."

Her eyes fluttered open to meet Arthur Hill's, his gaze intense and hungry. She felt a twinge of guilt for focusing so much on ArthurTv, but she knew that Arthur Hill understood, that he was as much a part of this as the two of them. She nodded, her eyes locking onto his as ArthurTv's thrusts grew deeper, more insistent.

"I want to taste you too," she whispered, her voice raw with need. Arthur Hill's eyes lit up, and he leaned in, kissing her with a passion that made her toes curl. She felt ArthurTv's hand on the back of Arthur Hill's head, urging him closer, the three of them now connected in a way that was more than just friendship.

Gently, Arthur Hill pulled away from her, his eyes never leaving hers. He took her hand and guided it to his erection, her grip tightening around him. He groaned softly, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. "Take your time," he murmured, his voice a sweet, seductive melody.

Her hand grew bolder, her strokes more sure as ArthurTv's hips began to move faster, his breaths growing more ragged. She watched as Arthur Hill's hand moved to join hers, their fingers interlocking as they worked in tandem. The sight of them together, the intimacy of their shared touch, was almost too much to bear. Her orgasm was building again, the sensation so intense she could feel it in every nerve ending.

"Fuck, you feel so tight," ArthurTv groaned, his eyes never leaving hers. The words sent a shiver down her spine, the raw desire in his voice making her wetter. "You're going to make me come, love."

Her eyes grew wide, the realization that she had the power to bring him pleasure sending a thrill through her. She tightened her grip on Arthur Hill's cock, matching the rhythm of ArthurTv's thrusts. The two men watched her, their eyes dark with passion, and she felt a newfound sense of confidence.

ArthurTv leaned down, capturing her mouth in a fiery kiss, his tongue dancing with hers as he pushed into her deeper, faster. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt before, a heady mix of pain and pleasure that had her body tightening around him. Arthur Hill's hand slid from her hair to her hip, his grip firm as he encouraged her to move with them, to lose herself in the moment.

Her orgasm grew closer with every stroke, the pressure building until she couldn't hold back any longer. With a cry, she shattered, her body convulsing around ArthurTv's cock. He groaned into her mouth, his hips stuttering as he followed her over the edge, filling her with warmth. They held each other tightly, their breaths mingling as they rode out the aftershocks of their shared release.

As the world slowly came back into focus, she felt Arthur Hill's hand on her cheek, guiding her face towards his erection. She took him in her mouth, the salty taste of his arousal mingling with the sweetness of their kisses. His gasp of pleasure was all the encouragement she needed, and she took him deeper, her tongue swirling around the head. The power of making both men feel this way was intoxicating, and she reveled in it.

"That's it, love," Arthur Hill murmured, his voice tight with need. "Just like that." His hand gently cradled the back of her head, his hips moving in time with her mouth. ArthurTv's strokes grew slower, his body taut with the effort to hold back, not wanting to overwhelm her.

The praise washed over her like a warm wave, filling her with a sense of pride and power. She had never felt so desired, so cherished. She took Arthur Hill deeper, her tongue swirling around his length, eager to taste his release. "You're doing so good, baby," ArthurTv whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "So fucking good."

ArthurTv slowly pulled out of her, his cock glistening with her arousal. The feeling of emptiness was almost too much, but she knew this was only the beginning. He leaned back, watching her with a mix of awe and love. "Keep going," he urged, his voice low and needy. "Make him come for you."

Her eyes never left Arthur Hill's as she took him deeper into her mouth, her tongue swirling around his shaft. His hand tightened in her hair, his breathing becoming more erratic. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, and she knew he was close. She increased her pace, her hand moving in time with her mouth.

"Fuck, yes," Arthur Hill groaned, his eyes fluttering shut. "You're going to make me come." The words sent a fresh wave of excitement through her, and she sucked harder, her cheeks hollowing with the effort. He watched her, his eyes dark with desire, and she felt a surge of pride at the effect she had on him.

"You look so pretty like that," ArthurTv murmured, his voice a low rumble of appreciation. She could feel his eyes on her, drinking in the sight of her mouth wrapped around Arthur Hill's cock, her cheeks flushed with arousal. She looked up, meeting ArthurTv's gaze, and the love and admiration in his eyes had her pussy clenching around the emptiness left by his withdrawal.

Arthur Hill's hips began to buck, his movements growing more erratic as she brought him closer to climax. She felt a thrill of excitement at the power she wielded, her inexperience forgotten in the heat of the moment. His eyes snapped open, locking onto hers, and she knew he was close. "Swallow it," he whispered, his voice a desperate plea, and she nodded, eager to please.

With a strangled cry, Arthur Hill came, his warmth flooding her mouth. She took it all, swallowing with a greedy moan that had ArthurTv's eyes darkening with desire. She sat up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling a sense of accomplishment that was almost as overwhelming as the pleasure that had just washed over her.

*****

"How was that for a first time?" ArthurTv asked, his voice hoarse with passion. She looked at him, her eyes glazed with desire, and smiled. "It was... amazing," she whispered, her voice trembling with the intensity of her emotions.

The three of them lay tangled together on the couch, their limbs entwined as they caught their breaths. The room was filled with the lingering scent of their love-making, a sweet and musky perfume that seemed to cling to the air. Arthur Hill leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "We're so proud of you," he murmured.

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her, a sense of belonging that she hadn't felt in a long time. She had never imagined that losing her virginity could be like this, with two men who loved her so fiercely. She looked from Arthur Hill to ArthurTv, their faces a blur of sweat and passion, and felt a tear slip down her cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

They shared a knowing smile, the intimacy of the moment palpable. "You're welcome, love," ArthurTv murmured, his hand caressing her cheek. "We're always here for you."

The thought of her boyfriend's harsh words seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by the warmth and tenderness of her friends' touches. She knew that what they had just shared was more than friendship, and she couldn't help but feel that her relationship with him was a mere shadow of what she had just experienced.

"It might be time soon to break up with your boyfriend, though," Arthur Hill said softly, as if reading her thoughts. "You deserve to be with someone who appreciates you, who doesn't make you feel like that."

Y/n nodded, her throat tight with unshed tears. "I know," she whispered. The weight of her decision was heavy, but in that moment, with ArthurTv and Arthur Hill surrounding her, she felt lighter than she had in a long time.

"We'll be with you every step of the way," ArthurTv assured her, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. "And who knows," he added with a wicked grin, "maybe you'll find someone who really knows how to make you feel good."

Y/n couldn't help but smile at the thought. The idea of moving on from her ex-boyfriend was both exhilarating and terrifying. But with ArthurTv and Arthur Hill by her side, she felt like she could conquer the world. They had shown her a side of herself she never knew existed, a sexual being capable of intense pleasure and passion. "I think I already had," she murmured, her voice filled with a newfound confidence.

The two men exchanged a knowing glance, their smiles widening. "We're just getting started," Arthur Hill said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "There's so much more to explore, love."

Y/n felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect, her body already craving more of their touch. ArthurTv leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. "We'll take it slow," he assured her. "We're in no rush."

Arthur Hill chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "But we do have plans for you," he said, his hand sliding down her body to cup her ass. "So many plans."

Y/n felt a thrill of excitement at the promise in his voice, the idea of more nights like this one stretching out before her. "Whatever you want," she murmured, her voice a seductive whisper. "I'm all yours."

The three of them lay there, their hearts beating in sync, their bodies still humming with the aftermath of passion. The silence was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that their friendship had evolved into something more. It was the start of a new chapter, one filled with experiences and emotions she had only ever dreamed of.

*****

Taglist~

@gvf23 @xxkatxgracexx

#british youtubers #imagines #smut #arthur hill #arthur hill x reader #arthurtv x reader #arthur frederick #arthurtv #threes0me

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ohmytyong · 1 year ago

Text

[00:21]

PAIRING: boyfriend!jaehyun x female!reader

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: pet names, kissing

WC: 0,5k

A/N: this is proof that i'm the biggest hopeless romantic to ever exist

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

with the city night life spread ahead of you and under the clear starry night, you rested your elbows on the window frame of your apartment, looking down at the people waiting for the midnight bus that would take them home.

the crispy november breeze flew through your entire body, causing the little hairs on your arms to raise up and your jaw was now clenched. winter was slowly but steadily making its appearance and this made you hug yourself as a protective reaction to its presence.

the cold sensation did not last long, however, as you felt a piece of fabric wrapping around your shoulders and the heat of another body radiating behind you.

you turned your head to meet eyes with your boyfriend jaehyun, his arms on either side of you, hands resting on the window pane. you smiled at him and he leaned his head downwards, reaching for the side of your neck to leave a set of soft wet kisses on the cold surface of you skin.

"you looked cold, so I brought you my jacket" his voice smooth and warm sounded like a mumble between each kiss. you touched the top of his both hands and squeezed them dearly. "thank you, handsome" you said, placing a kiss on his cheek.

jaehyun detached his lips from your neck, only to rest his chin in the crook between your neck and shoulder, moving his hands around your waist so as to hold you tighter and closer to his body.

you tried to turn your head to the side, so much so that you could study his expression. his chiseled features, moon-kissed and casted with a veil of calmness, faced the outside world in front of him, the lights of the city street reflecting on the irises of his bright eyes.

jaehyun felt your stare on him and fixed his gaze towards you, smiling with a smirk. "what are you looking at, love?" he asked with a low voice that hinted a teasing tone.

"nothing" you muttered with a bright smile spread across your face.

jaehyun chuckled and brushed his lips against your cool cheek in an attempt to plant a kiss, then turned his head to the front and averted his gaze to the busy nightlife.

the two of you sat there looking at the city lights and trying to listen to people's conversations, but the distance was too long and you could only recognize a few words here and there by the people who spoke more loudly.

the sound of the bus wheels creaking on the road was heard and everyone stepped inside the old vehicle to go home. and as you stood there and looked at them, you smiled at yourself because you already knew that, at that exact moment, right between the arms of the man you most loved, you were, in fact, home.

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

TAGS: @peachjaem00 @hyuckieslove @bbyyhyuck @vdollys @positionslab @matchahyuck @renjun-fairy @back2jisung @doieslefttoe @uwuheeseungie @thoughtfulqueenlady @markleefuckme

join the taglist here !!

#kflixnet #k-labels #nct jaehyun #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fanfic #nct timestamps #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #nct drabbles #nct fic #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct 127 #nct dream #jaehyun drabbles #nct fanfic

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bambikisss · 1 year ago

Text

Dream Ride : C. Seung Cheol

🎶:: HOT - Seventeen, Bark like you want it- SirMixAlot

🖤 :: Strangers to lovers, blonde SeungCheol, motorcycle! SeungCheol, nonidol! SeungCheol

📙:: You haven't been able to sleep much lately, so you've been driving around at night to help ease your mind. However, you keep passing by the same jet black colored motorcycle every night, which then keeps showing up in your dreams. So when you stop one night to get gas and see the same motorcycle stopped nearby, you decide to meet the man under the helmet.

❤️ :: Unprotected Sex (always wrap it up), slight biting, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving),slight size kink (I mean SeungCheol is big soo-) nicknames used (baby, babygirl, princess, angel), slight mix of soft dom/ hard dom, fucking till "dumb", SeungCheol's big di-

Bambi's note: Hello everyone! I recently took a bit of a break as I had some things that I just had to take care of. But, while I was gone, I kept thinking about SeungCheol so here is what was in my mind all this time while I was gone. It is a bit longer than usual, but trust me, it's worth it.

REBLOGS / COMMENTS ARE ENCOURAGED | NOT PROOFREAD

You used to love the night. Now, you hated it more than anything.

You worked hard all day at an office job that had you thinking often if it was worth quitting it or not before always deciding that in today's economy, you needed this job.

So getting home after work should be what you look forward to, right?

You wished.

You would often return home from work in a daze, kicking off your shoes before you fell face first into your sofa, screaming your heart out into the cushions before you would finally go about your night routine: take a shower, cook dinner, clean up, mentally prepare yourself for work tomorrow, and finally sleep. But, as of recently, that last part didn't seem to come to you so easily. You would seemingly toss and turn for hours on end, your body not wanting to give in and let you rest like you ever so desperately wanted.

You would eventually sit up, put on a hoodie and shorts, grab your car keys, and go for a drive. You don't know why you often went for a drive to clear your head before you slept, the idea coming to your head after watching a random late night show and a celebrity talked about doing it. You then became instantly influenced and now it became a habit.

You felt at ease as you passed the street lights at a leisurely pace, some random R&B playing through your car's speakers as you admired the night scenery. You had to hand it to that celebrity; you did feel much calmer than before. You felt like you were in a movie. You often wondered why life couldn't be like this often, why your mind couldn't just let you rest without having to drive around the empty streets. It was as if your mind was searching for something that the empty night roads could only answer.

As you pulled up to a red light, preparing to go home before your thoughts became even deeper, you heard the sound of a familiar rumble of a motorcycle. You turned your head to the side to see a beautiful black motorcycle pull up beside you, the city lights reflecting off of it's surface as a man sat perched on it. You always saw that same motorcycle out during your nightly drives, offering the man a friendly wave before going your separate ways when the light turns green. It somehow comforted you knowing that someone else was up so late, needing a night drive too.

Once you arrived home, you tossed away your keys before dragging your finally tired body back to your bed, getting comfortable back in your sheets before closing your eyes with a small smile on your face as you finally fall asleep.

~.~

"Fuck"

Your voice was just above a whisper as you felt his hands move up your legs, pressing your hips back down against the mattress as his long tongue moves along your wet slit before dipping into you, curling the tip of his tongue as you arch your back. It felt so good, your eyes closing as you feel the man moaning against you, his deep voice praising you as he confidently eats you out. You can't help but grab his hair, your eyes still closed as your legs tighten around his head, your hips rutting against his face as you felt your orgsam approaching quickly.

"Yes, Yes"

Right before your orgsam can fully wash over you, though, your eyes snap open to the sound of your alarm clock letting you know that it's time to get ready for work. You sigh before tossing your head back in frustration against your pillow, your body slowly calming down from the heat of your dream before you sit up again. As you ran your hands through your hair, your mind flashes back to the dream you were ripped from. It all felt so real, yet not.

"I can't keep having this dream"

You've been having the same dream with the same mystery man for a while now. All you could remember seeing was his muscular arms and his muscular chest and legs, but never his face. You could even remember his blonde hair, but that's it. You often wondered why you never saw his face, but knew that whoever your mind had conjured up was good with his tongue and hands, always driving you so close to an orgsam right before you woke up.

You sighed as you finished getting ready for work, your mind (and body) thinking about that man and the night dream you were going to have again.

~.~

"Maybe he was someone I had seen in a movie before?"

You sat in your car once more as you tried to figure out who that man was. You didn't even try to sleep tonight, deciding to go straight for the night drive so that you could get more sleep. You bit your lip as the sunset slowly turned into night as you drove, your mind busy as you tried to piece together the man in your mind from the parts of him you did see; his muscular arm and biceps, his veiny hands, his blonde hair, his strong body...

"Shit, really?" You cursed softly as you noticed your fuel light come on, letting you know that you need to stop and get fuel soon. You sigh, turning into a nearby gas station. Maybe you were just over thinking it, maybe he was just some wet fantasy your mind thought of out of thin air. You move out of your car, going inside to pay before returning outside.

As you walk outside, you suddenly notice the same jet black motorcycle you always see out on the road at night parked in front of your own car at a different pump. This was your first time seeing it so up close and in an actual light other than the faint street lights and moonlight. You couldn't help but admire it as you walked closer, noticing how clean yet sleek it looked. You didn't understand why you were so suddenly interested in the motorcycle, but you couldn't look away. You slowly reached out to touch it, the tip of your finger moving along the seat as you felt a shiver move through you.

"Do you like it?" You jump at the sound of a deep male voice, turning to face the man, an apology already half way out of your lips when your eyes meet the face of the nightrider.

You couldn't help but pause when you met his face, softly cursing under your breath as your mind pieced together where you mind was getting the random man in your dreams from. You admired his tight white tshirt, his muscular arms and biceps on display along with his tight jeans. Your eyes moved around him, noticing his gloved hands, one hand holding his black leather wallet while the other held his matching black helmet. When your eyes soon moved back up to meet his eyes again, you noticed his blonde hair blowing in the wind, one of his eyebrows raised at your silence and lack of response.

He was the man your mind had kept putting into your dreams.

You jumped again when he cleared his throat, another apology leaving your lips as you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the memories of your wet night dreams, your mind now placing his face on the figure that was often in between your legs.

You needed help.

While you apologized, the man chuckled, shaking his head before he walked closer to you, placing his helmet down onto his bike handle before placing both of his hands onto your shoulder, waiting till you opened your eyes before he spoke, his voice deep as he says "It's alright. You can admire it all you'd like, princess."

You felt your knees almost buckle at not only his voice, but the way he called you princess. Your mind then flashed back to a dream where you faintly heard his voice as he kissed up your thighs, whispering "you look so pretty for me, Princess. It's time to feel good." You originally thought your mind was just choosing a voice it knew you found sexy, but after hearing it from his mouth, it made you wonder not only when you heard his voice, but how your mind knew to add it to the dream.

"So, you're the woman I keep passing by late at night when I go on my nightly rides, huh?" You snapped out of your thoughts as you nodded, noticing how he was now admiring you car. It wasn't anything too special, but was a pretty white, shinning compared to his dark motorcycle. "Yeah, you must be the guy who always stops at the same stoplight as me right before I go home." You chose to hold back mentioning how he was also the man in your dreams getting your near your orgsam right before you woke up. You didn't want to deal with that embarrassment.

He nodded, his mind flashing back to the many nights he's pulled up by your car, looking over to see you give him a tired yet friendly wave before the light turned green. He always appreciated your kindness, even though you were always so tired. He often felt worried about you, though, sometimes thinking about getting off his bike to check on you, but never doing so. But, now that you were right in front of him, he couldn't help but admire you. You looked so different in the brighter lights than in your dim car and street lights, no, you looked much happier.

You suddenly held out your hand, not wanting this moment to be wasted as you introduced yourself to him. He smiled at you before his larger hand gently cupped yours, shaking it as he said "Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I'm SeungCheol." You smiled at his own smile, both of your hands still holding each others for a bit longer before you slowly removed it from his, laughing softly as SeungCheol let out a small "ah" in embarrassment before chuckling. He seemed so sweet despite what you may have thought due to his choice of vehicle. You needed to learn to not judge a book by it's cover, you guessed.

As you both began to pump gas, you both made small talk, getting to know one another and enjoying each other's company. It felt nice, almost natural as you both spoke. Soon SeungCheol finished pumping gas into his motorcycle, moving to lean against the pump as you both continued talking. He felt no need to speed off as no one else was there and he wanted to get to know you more. He smiled as you laughed at something he said before he decided it was time to ask the question that was on his mind since he first saw you out driving at night.

"So, Y/N, if you don't mind me asking, why do you drive around so late at night?" You hummed at his question before you shrugged, turning to face him as you put your gas pump back. "As of lately, I haven't really been able to sleep well, so I just started driving. It helped me clear my head, so I guess I just kept doing it I guess."

"Is it because of your dreams?" At SeungCheol's question, you instantly shake your head, making him laugh. If only he knew, you thought.

"So you're just trying to get tired? Ah, well you must have some great dreams then" SeungCheol watched your face at his words, noticing how your cheeks seem to heat up at his comment. He couldn't help but feel more interested, a playful smile moving onto his lips as he asks "what are you dreaming about anyways, Y/N?" You at first don't respond, not wanting to give away that you had been dreaming about him for the past couple of weeks.

"What about you? Why do you ride so late at night?" You shake off his question with one of your own, making him chuckle. He obliges, though, saying "Well, I like how empty the roads are at that time. I sometimes get a bit anxious about riding around so many people or high traffic areas, so I just ride then." You nod, meeting his eyes again with a smile before he walks closer to you, a small smirk on his face as he notices your eyes moving to once again look over his body. There was something about you that he couldn't shake, it made him feel excited, hot, wanted.

"So, are you going to tell me what you've been dreaming about or do I have to guess, Y/N?" You couldn't help but bite you lip as SeungCheol continued to walk closer to you, making you back up against your car. You suddenly felt your back become pressed against your car as his strong chest pressed against yours, his gloved hands moving to press against your hips, pressing you fully against the car as his eyes met yours, slowly darkening as he repeated his question, this time slower. You felt your body heat up due to the contact and the way his eyes met yours, your mind constantly thinking back to your dreams. With how forward he was being and with how good his hands felt on your hips, your mind felt all too cloudy to even think about what you said next.

"How about I show you?"

~.~

The front door swung open as your lips once again locked with SeungCheol's, his helmet and riding jacket becoming discarded somewhere on the floor as your hands grip his face, pulling him into you as he kicks the door to your house closed. You felt like you were in one of your nightly wet dreams, your mind feeling light headed as his hands roughly gripped your thighs before picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as his tongue meets yours, the kiss becoming loud and wet as he gruffly asks against your lips "bedroom. Where, angel?"

You pointed in the direction of your bedroom, not even bothering to remove your lips from his as he chuckles, carrying you in the direction of the bedroom, kicking the door open before placing you against the wall. SeungCheol felt like he had to feel more of you, not even bothering to carry you to the bed, beginning to strip you against the wall as his lips moved down your neck. You gasp as his teeth meets your neck before his dreamy tongue moved to soothe the bite, his hands moving to toss away your top and sweats, leaving your pressed against him wearing nothing but your underwear.

"Damn, baby, you should've just told me you were just dreaming about me like this. I would've pleased you right there in your car" You moaned at his words, his kisses moving across your neck before he pulled back, pulling you up higher against the wall with a deep grunt before diving back in to press kisses against the tops of your breasts. "I wouldn't have made you wait till you fell asleep to feel so good, baby"

"Fuck, SeungCheol" you gasp as he carried you finally over to your bed, placing your back in the middle of the bed before his lips met yours again, his hands busy with removing your underwear. He took his time kissing down your body, moving to lay his stomach against the bed as his hands moved up your bare legs, spreading out your legs for him before he pressed a small kiss against your clit, making you hum. "Tell me, princess, did I make you feel good in your dream?" His voice sounded so deep as he hooked his arms underneath your legs, keeping you open for him as he blew onto your wet pussy. You squirmed at the feeling making him chuckle deeply before he began to press kisses and bites to the inside of your thighs, slowly moving up your thigh before switching to the other. He wanted to make you wait and enjoy every moment of this. He wanted to make all your dreams come true and make new ones too.

"Did I lick and bite your thighs just like this baby?" he asked against your legs, waiting for you to give him a nod before he whispers "good girl" against your thighs before he moved closer to your pussy once more, taking in a moment to admire how you look before he says "I'm about to make you feel so much better than in that dream, baby"

You have no chance at reacting as his tongue moves up your pussy slowly before he moans at your taste, his tongue soon moving in-between your lips as he takes his time tasting you, getting to know your wet pussy to make sure he made you feel so good. He moaned as he felt your hands moving into his hair, gripping his blonde locks as your hips try to move, trying to feel more of his tongue in you as you moaned loudly. He was right, this did feel so much better than in your dreams. You gasped as his tongue slowly pushed into you, curling the tip of his tongue as his thumb moved to play with your clit, your louder moan of his name echoing in the bedroom loudly as he fucked you with tongue.

"That's it, princess, feel good on my tongue. Use my fucking tongue and face" Your back arched a bit as his tongue moved faster before allowing you to ride his tongue until he felt your moans become slightly higher pitched, showing him that you were close. He chose to speed up, his thumb that was on his clit moving faster as you came. SeungCheol watched as your back arched, his tongue leaving you for a moment before his tongue moved to clean you up, not wanting to leave anything behind. Your hand grip his hair tighter as your eyes closed, your legs still shaking due to the force of the orgsam before your felt one of his hands moving slowly up your stomach, pressing down against your body. Your eyes opened as you felt his hand keeping your body firmly against the bed while his now messy hair and face resting against your shaking thighs, a small smirk on his wet lips.

"I need you to stay still for me, babygirl. I gotta prep you for me, okay?" He smirked, pressing another kiss to your clit, chuckling as he heard you whimper his name. "Angel, if you can't handle that, what makes you think that you can handle more than that, even my cock?" He smirked more, his free hand moving slowly along the outside of your thighs, enjoying how your legs seem to shake more at his touch. "So shaky, baby"

He chuckled before pushing his middle finger slowly into you, watching as your back arched at the feeling. He gently cooed you before he leaned down to press another kiss to your lips, giving you the opportunity to taste yourself on your lips. "I gotta stretch you out for me. If you can't handle my fingers, what makes you think you can handle my cock?"

"I can handle it, SeungCheol. I know I can" Your voice came out so desperate, so whinny, so hot

How could SeungCheol not think you could take it after you did all of that.

"Oh my fucking god, SeungCheol" You gasped, your hips raising slightly under his arm as he adds another finger into you, both of his fingers curling immediately in you as he begins to fuck you with his fingers, his mouth wrapping around your clit. "You're doing so good, angel, just take some more, ok?" He doesn't wait for you to respond, though, adding one more finger before he picks up his pace, his mouth busy with licking and sucking on your clit. He knew you could take it all. You had been dreaming about him all this time, so surely your body was willing to adjust to him, especially when he's hitting your spot so good.

As your hands gripped the sheets, his eyes moved up to watch your chest rise and fall at a fast pace, your next orgsam about to wash over you as he continues to hit your spot, giving your clit a harsher suck before he sits up, diving his fingers into you repeatedly as you cum. As you grip his broad shoulders, he watches you face as you slowly come down from your high, his fingers slowly leaving your wet pussy as some of your juices leak from inside you, pooling underneath you on the sheets.

You felt like you were on a cloud that was past cloud 9, your mind completely fuzzy as SeungCheol placed a kiss onto your cheek before standing up from the bed. Before you could whine at his body leaving yours, you notice him slowly removing his top, showing off his large peck and toned body before he removes his bottoms, tossing them away somewhere in the room before he removed his boxers, finally letting you see the object of all of your dreams.

"Is it just as good as you dreamed about, baby?" He asks with a charming smile, climbing on the bed in between your legs before he flips you over. You nod, feeling drunk as your cheek rests against a nearby pillow. You couldn't even form words at this point, feeling as if you could drift away, which SeungCheol chuckles at. His hand moves up your back slowly, feeling every curve of your back before he reaches your head, cupping your jaw from behind as you feel him press his hard cock against your ass. "No falling asleep baby. I still need to make your dreams come true." You nodded, SeungCheol chuckling at your distant look in your eyes.

"Did I already fuck you dumb, angel? Maybe I need to fuck you to you have no choice but to sleep, huh?" He presses as few kisses to your back before he grabs your hips, helping you move onto your knees before his hand move back to your back, pushing your upper body back against the bed as he says "Gotta fuck this pussy just right baby. Gotta show you that this is all not a dream, baby no" You can tell he's no longer even talking to you, slowly pushing into you. As he does, you moan loudly into the pillow, SeungCheol's next words coming out in a mixture of a moan and growl.

"Gotta fuck you better than dream me did. Dream me doesn't got shit on me, baby"

Your mind barely had time to put together SeungCheol's words as he began to move his hips, starting off slow so that you could feel every single inch of him before he sped up, his hand moving to press against your back. Your moans were muffled into the pillow as you tried to for words and thoughts, but with how he was fucking you, there was no way you could. Heck, you didn't even want to know what you would even say to him.

SeungCheol was more concerned with fucking you just right, his grunts and moans mixing with yours as he wrapped his hand around your hair, tugging your head to the side so more of your moans could be heard and not hidden in the pillow. At the sight of your dreamy look in your eyes and your mouth open as your pleasured moans slip from your mouth, he chuckles before cooing "That's it, baby. Am I fucking you dumb? You seem to like how I got you right now. Am I better in real life than in your dream?"

At your louder moans and how your cunt fluttered around his cock, he can't help but let out a strained chuckle before a louder moan, smashing his lips into yours as he begins to speed up. He could tell you were getting close, but he wanted to make you feel so good.

He pulled out for a moment, flipping you over to your stomach so he could see your face before pushing back into you before he kept moving faster, his hand moving to grip your jaw before he met your eyes with a dark eye before he says "that's it, Y/N, come on. Cum for me, cum all over this cock" As you came, your back arched as his lips moved to kiss your cheek and stomach before his own pleasure washes over him, stuffing his face into your neck as he cums. As SeungCheol presses himself against you, he kisses your neck before he whispers "that felt so good."

He soon pulls back to see your face, chuckling when he sees your dazed look and how satisfied you look. He smiles before kissing you again, rubbing your arms before he slowly pulled out, going to grab a rag before cleaning you up. You felt your body react to every movement or touch, your body super sensitive yet buzzing with the afterglow. You never felt so good.

SeungCheol soon returned to your side, laying down next to you as you immediately move to cuddle against him. After a few moments of silence, he soon clears his throat before saying "I, uh, don't know if you're asleep or not, but I'd love to take you out sometime."

"I'd love to" you hummed, pressing a kiss to his chest peck before falling back against his body, feeling sleep slowly move over you as you feel SeungCheol's lips press against your forehead before whispering "Goodnight, Y/N. Dream about me."

#~bambi #choi seungcheol #seungcheol smut #seungcheol fanfic #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt smut #svt fanfic #svt x reader #s.coups #s coups x reader #svt s coups #s coups fluff

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pernesophe · 4 months ago

Text

Caught in the Rain by the Shishitoren Captain

(Minors, Ageless and Blank Blogs DNI)

TW: MATURE CONTENT: fluff, a little angst, smut - dirty talk, cunnilingus, vaginal penetration (pnv), fingering, semi-public sex, all characters written as 18+ in mind. MDNI

Synopsis: You are caught by Choji one day on the rain, and become fast friends from there. After the two of you start dating, he takes it slow with you and you feel you have to take matters into your own hands. (Reader has been in a sexually active relationship before, but the partner wasn't good / attentive).

I love Choji sm as a character, so I enjoyed writing this piece, though I think I might edit / add more to it later on. If you’re reading this, then thank you and if you want more wind breaker characters then check out my ML!

It was raining on the day you met the sunshiny captain of Shishitoren. Not like pitter patter rainfall, but a torrential downpour as you sprinted through the streets. Running blindly towards the first bit of cover you saw, which so happened to be a rundown looking theater absolutely plastered in graffiti. As you waited for the rain to stop, huddled under the good parts of the awning, you were shocked to find out that there were people inside.

Jumping at the sound of the busted looking door behind you swinging open and clanging against the support pole, but you don’t have any time to prepare for what’s about to happen as you are suddenly swept off your feet. Well, more accurately, knocked off your feet as something incredibly fast, hard and aerodynamic (?) slams into you from behind.

“Choji! Someone’s at the front of the door, don’t-” A loud baritone voice comes shouting from inside the theater. It’s far too late for warnings though, as you brace yourself to go skidding across the wet pavement. Tightening your face just as you bring your arms up to avoid the brunt of the fall hitting your jaw, but you never feel the pavement, or even the rain that had been invading through the tears in the awning.

Suddenly, you’re hovering with the ground inches away from your nose, and the rest of your body held at an angle up off the ground. Releasing a trembling breath, and slowly placing your hands on the pavement as the bull in a china shop gracefully lowers you until your knees are also resting on the ground. Finally peering upwards reveals a kind, round face housing a pair of warm, coffee colored eyes that had a honeyed hue reflected in the outdoor lighting, soft mocha locks framed his face as well.

“Sorry, sorry!” Chirping excitedly at you while exuding sunlight from his very core. “I didn’t realize you were out here, are you alright? I didn’t hurt you did I?” Rapid firing his questions as his eyes soften with concern as he tilts his head curiously at your widened eyes and slightly parted lips. Behind him, a tall guy with raven locks and striking green eyes is peering out the door at you and your attacker-turned-savior, concern lining his face too.

“N-no, I’m not hurt! I thought the building was empty so I just didn’t expect you to come out.” Stammering as you finally release the breath you’ve been holding and relax your shoulders. It takes a moment for your body to catch up to your brain and accept that there was no danger present. Shooting an apologetic smile to the adorable guy next you, quickly adding. “I’m sorry for trespassing - I was just trying to get out of the rain.” Explaining your presence at their hangout place with a sheepish grin. He looks thoroughly relieved that you’re unhurt, then beams at you brightly, and you almost feel the need to shield your eyes.

“Why don’t you come inside to get out of the rain?” Offering welcomingly as he straightens and reaches out his hand to help you up. Grasping it lightly and rising to your feet, that’s when you notice that you’re a few inches taller than he is. Something indiscernible flashes in his eyes as he sees your realization, but then your face lights up with an awestruck expression. The fact that he was able to catch, lift, and maneuver you so gracefully despite the size difference thoroughly impressed you.

“That would be great, thank you.” Answering gratefully as you shoot him a kind smile, trying to not give away how much he’s piqued your interest already. Beaming right back, and then he leads you towards the door.

“This is Togame Jo,” motioning to the tall, dark haired guy still in the doorway as he introduces him with a cheery grin. The two of you exchange a polite smile and nod. “And I’m Choji Tomiyama. Are you new around here? I’ve never seen you before.” Tilting his head as his curious tone reflects the gleam in his eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you both, I’m Y/N L/N, and yes I am. I just moved here a week ago, so I got a little lost in the rain.” Informing them as they both nod and offer you a general ‘welcome to town’. “Oh, also, thank you for catching me before!” Adding quickly as you turn to Choji. “I was definitely about to fall flat on my face… You’re really strong. Do you compete in any sports?” As you compliment Choji, it’s like seeing a peacock spread its plumage as he beams brightly at you and throws his shoulders back a bit more. Togame puffs out a laugh and shakes his head at his captain’s ego.

“No sports! We just fight a lot!” Responding cheerily as he completely misses the way your eyes go wide - never having heard that before.

“Oh, so like martial arts?” Inquiring as your curiosity begins to steep.

“Yeah, some, but a lot of people just punch and kick without using a technique like that.” Explaining with a shrug of his shoulders, like you’re already aware of what he’s talking about. Nodding slowly as if you understand, but then you shoot a questioning look at Togame who is avoiding your gaze completely. The three of you arrive at a set of doors that look like they lead into a fancy theater. It sounds loud inside - a lot of whooping, hollering and maybe banging?

“Y’know Choji, maybe-” Togame starts to voice his reservations, but in true Choji style - the shorter male doesn’t listen and pulls the doors open wide. The scene revealed to you is one you’ve only witnessed in movies. An auditorium with every seat filled with men about Choji and Togame’s age who were all wearing the same orange jackets that they were sporting. They were whooping and cheering as two men fought on stage. It was weird if it were a sport, because you don’t see a referee as the two men punch and kick at each other - spraying blood across the stage.

Choji peers expectantly your way, but you’re just stuck blinking at the scene. Only then does the sunshiny male feel self conscious that maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to show you what seems to be a teenage fight ring. Just as Togame’s mind starts racing to find a response for your questioning look that would put you and Choji at ease - you take a step into the auditorium.

They both exchange bewildered looks as you slowly make your way towards a standing area with a banister. Choji watches apprehensively as you lean forward on your forearms on the banister and watch the fight with rising interest. Cautiously, he approaches and stands next to you, and Togame takes the spot on your other side. In a hushed tone, you speak to both of them.

“Is there a point system? Or is it like whoever is left standing wins?” Turning to ask the question over your shoulder, purely curious. Again, Choji and Togame exchange bewildered looks - thoroughly confused as to why you haven’t run away yet.

“Whoever is left standing wins…” Mumbling just loud enough for you to hear as he peers at you out of the corner of his eye, and finally taking in your features. Soft, flowing locks that draped down your back and framed a face filled with delicate features. Most striking, he thought, were your eyes which were now filled with awe and wonder.

“What do they win? Or is it for, like… glory?” The questions continue rolling off your tongue, again out of pure curiosity, but as you turn to meet Choji’s gaze it is confirmed by the complete lack of judgment in your eyes. You’re practically buzzing with excitement as you wait for his answer.

“Glory, kind of…” Choji murmurs hesitantly again, and when you tilt your head towards him with an expectant look - hoping he would elaborate - he goes on to explain Shishitoren, their ideals and devotion to power. Togame and Choji thought by then, maybe, you’d run away. Instead you listen, enthralled by their little world, as you ask clarifying questions with a curious gleam in your gaze. By the end, you basically knew the history of Shishitoren, how Choji became leader, and all the top ranking fighters there. Just as you were enthralled by them regaling about themselves, Choji was just as enthralled watching you listen intently. A precious notch would form in your brow every time you had a clarifying question, and he adored the way it would smooth out and be replaced by a look of pleasant surprise when he answered it.

It wasn’t long before other members of Shishitoren noticed Choji’s focus for the day, and some of them wondered if this would be a one time thing. It, in fact, was not a one time thing. As it turns out you live around the corner from Ori, and would not only run into Choji and Togame, but the other members of Shishitoren often. Other than the Captain and his Second, who always greeted you and struck up a conversation, the other members were awkward around you - but still kind. They just didn’t know how to receive you yet, or how you fit in at Ori.

It became abundantly clear with every street fight you witnessed that they were frequently sporting nasty cuts and bruises. Often you would stop injured Shishitoren members on their way to Ori to ask if they had bandages and stuff for their injuries. At first they noncommittally would say yes, even though they were constantly running low, and try to scurry away. It wasn’t long before they learned to just let you help them, because every time they walked by with their injuries still untreated you would ask them about it, or offer them some supplies, or just offer to patch them up yourself. Eventually it became commonplace for the Shishitoren team to visit the little Konbini you worked in to get patched up and be sent on their way with a snack and drink.

In return, you were allowed free reign of Ori after living in the area for only a few months. No one gave you strange looks anymore when you would show up to watch a fight, or to just simply hang out. Choji, Togame and you became very close during that time, but you grew closest to Choji. It was difficult to not want to constantly bask in his warm smile and kind gaze.

The first time he kissed you was right after a big brawl that occurred right behind the Konbini - he had popped his head in to tell you to stay inside for the time being with his signature grin. The fight must’ve been long and arduous because when Choji returned, several hours later after the sun had set, he was covered in blood and was sporting a rather nasty cut above his left brow. Wasting no time patching him up - even going as far as making him take off his shirt so you could thoroughly check him for severe cuts or broken ribs.

It was then, when you were running the pad of your finger over his ribs for any sign of breaks - with your hair tickling his nose from your face being so close - that he reached down to cup your cheek and kissed you meaningfully. It was in secret as other Shishitoren members were gathering outside - it was exhilarating, and just plain old hot. Choji, ever the passionate man, wasted no time pulling you closer in between his thighs - him sitting on the counter and you standing in front of him - so you could feel his growing bulge on your abdomen. He carded his fingers through your hair to grip the back of your head so he could kiss you ravenously - licking and nipping desperately at your lips until you granted him access. As his tongue roamed your welcoming mouth, his hands mapped your yearning body - running his hand down your side and around your hip so he could grip your ass and lift you even closer to him.

He would’ve gone farther, had you not let out a panicked whine and parted from him with surprised eyes while panting hard. Quickly, you had explained to him that while you like him - this was moving a little too fast for you - and that you wanted to take it slower. Heart beating out of your chest, you fully expected him to reject you and ban you from Ori.

“Okay, I can take it slow, but I don’t wanna risk someone else stealing you away… Will you be my girlfriend?” Dipping his head towards you to punctuate his question, his eyes showed how gravely serious he was as they searched yours for an answer.

“Yeah - I’d really like that.” Breathing out as overwhelming relief drenched your nerves while you beamed up at your now boyfriend. Choji presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, and that was the start of him restraining his desire for you - to not scare you away. At the time, you didn’t realize how much his restraint would come to frustrate you.

Once you and Choji became official, everyone at Shishitoren was overly accepting of the new status. It didn’t change much - you still had free reign of Ori and you still patched up all of their wounds. The only real change is how openly protective Shishitoren members have become towards you in general - you weren’t really expecting it. Apparently it had been ongoing since Choji met you, but none of them had ever let on that their Captain basically told them if they can protect you and they don’t, then he’ll hold them accountable.

Other than that, your and Choji’s relationship stays basically the same… except for the fact that you can’t get the way he kissed you out of your head. Reminding yourself - every day - that you wanted to take it slow, but then you’d be flooded with memories of the way his tongue felt against yours or how breathless he made you and you just want to jump his bones right there. Eventually, you start taking a different approach by wearing outfits that you knew would get him flustered. It never worked though - Choji kept that unwavering smile on his face through any attempt on your part to ruffle his feathers in hopes that would lead to him pinning you somewhere and taking you right there - regardless of who saw. But as you continue your attempts, and your boyfriend remains oblivious, you start to feel self conscious that, despite the kiss, maybe he doesn’t see you like that? Maybe you're too tall? Or too weak? The thoughts swirl in your mind, until one day you take matters into your own hands.

Choji and you are in the recreation room - Choji relaxing on the couch, and you are doing inventory on bandages and supplies. The room was empty other than the two of you, which afforded you a rare chance alone to ogle your boyfriend in peace. As your task comes to an end, slowing your movements so you can watch Choji mindlessly scroll on his phone. Mocha locks hung in front of his eyes from looking over his phone, but the rest of his lithe body is leaning back into the couch with one arm resting along the back. His legs are spread wide which makes his shorter form seem so much more imposing, and for a moment you are struck with the idea to straddle him out of the blue, since his lap looks like such an inviting seat at the moment.

Pushing all self conscious thoughts aside, you take a deep breath before crossing the room to stand in front of Choji. Barely hearing the soft padding of your feet as you approached, but he sees your toes in front of his shoes over the top of his phone. Raising his gaze to your determined one, he flashes you a smile as he tosses his phone to the other end of the couch, and then cocks his head as if he was about to ask what’s wrong.

Before he can speak, you press one of your knees into the cushion next to his thigh - Choji’s eyebrows shoot up as he eyes the hem of your skirt swaying around your thighs - but you continue to sink your other knee into the cushion next to his other thigh and lower yourself completely until you’re straddling his lap. Slowly you reach up to rest your wrists on the hardened muscle of his shoulders as you let one hand dangle over the back of the couch while the other cards your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck. The whole time you got into position, you watched Choji’s face closely for any sign of discomfort or disgust, but he just watched you in pure awe. Finally, he looks at your face clearly with a dark glint in his eye, but he finds that you’re already blushing badly with a worried look on your face. It was obvious that you didn’t know how to proceed.

“Nervous?” Teasing you softly in a lighthearted tone, and you nod in response which causes his brow to raise questioningly. Then, adjusting slightly so you're sitting completely on his lap, and then he grabs your hips gently and pulls you closer before peering up at you with a concerned notch in his brow.

“Choji… do you think I’m…” beginning slowly, and he gently rubs your lower back with one hand as the other drifts to rest comfortingly on your thigh. It’s an attempt to encourage you to continue, but an inferno ignites under your skin from his touch. Swallowing hard before you meet his gaze with more determination this time, causing a small amused smile to play on his lips. “Do you think I’m attractive?” Murmuring softly, in a tone that says you’re expecting a ‘no’.

“What makes you ask that? I call you beautiful more than I say your name Y/N.” Remarking incredulously, but his smile is still brighter than the sun.

“I-I know… but you don’t touch me, really…” mumbling defensively, avoiding his warming gaze.

“I’m touching you right now,” he teases - not letting you beat around the bush just like how you do with him.

“We hold hands, hug, and share a kiss in private sometimes… but you don’t touch me like…” your words cut off in your throat as tears prick your eyes. Choji stops teasing you then as he brings a hand to cup your cheek and force you to look at him.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me. Whatever you need to say is important, so please tell me.” Assuring you with an unfaltering smile as he thumbs away your tears.

“I feel like you don’t touch me like you want me…” when Choji’s brow creases slightly, you huff and force yourself to be clearer. “You don’t try to touch me like a boyfriend would… You haven’t tried to kiss me like on that night, when you asked me to be your girlfriend… Why don’t you? Am I not desirable…?” Whispering in a voice is so small that sounds completely defeated as your shoulders slump slightly. His thumb stills on your cheek as he realizes how you've been feeling lately.

“Of course you are.” Affirming in such a deadpan tone, leaving no room for argument, and you just stare at him. “I don’t push it with you because you’re shy about this stuff, and the last thing I want is to scare you away. But if you feel ready, and you want me to touch you like that, then just tell me.” He sounds so nonchalant - like you hadn’t just bared your heart to him - but it actually did make you feel better. Your shoulders felt lighter as you realized he’s just been holding back… you wanted to see how Choji is when he lets himself act on his desires.

“Choji.” Saying meaningfully as you meet his heated gaze with yours. ‘Mhm’ he chirps back. “I want you to touch me… like that… please.” You whisper, that fragile feeling returning tenfold as you wait for his response.

“Finally.” Breath fanning your lips as his lids become half lidded. Cupping your face in one hand, he presses his lips to yours and takes his time feeling you before he nips at your bottom lip for more. Once your lips are parted and you grant him entrance, he is detailed and thorough about claiming your mouth. Caressing and flicking your tongue, and wetting your lips with his saliva. His other hand grips your hip tightly and presses you down so your core grinds against his growing length. At the same time he grinds up against you, completely overwhelming your senses as you whine out his name. Your panties are soaked and dampening his jeans in a matter of moments.

Suddenly, the door flies open and Arima and Kunuma are standing in the doorway bearing witness to their captain groping and tasting you, and more importantly, not stopping.

Whipping your head towards them, you immediately remove your hands from Choji’s hair at the nape of his neck to lay them flat on his chest as you try to lean back and eek out a ‘sorry!’ in their direction. Choji doesn’t let you lean back though, instead he keeps you flush to him, and doesn’t turn to look at the other two guys. Instead he continues peppering kisses along your throat up to your jaw where he pauses and presses his nose to the skin along your jawline, causing your eyes to widen as you peer down at him through the corner of your eye. Choji still doesn’t turn his head to the door, only his dark eyes flick to the two intruders and pin them in place.

“Arima, Kunuma - I’ll come down when she’s finished, okay?” He whispers against your jaw in a light and cheery voice, but there was an undertone that wordlessly conveyed ‘get the fuck out before I remove you’. It didn’t go unnoticed that Choji was deliberate in saying when you finish, and though you don’t know what he means the way his voice rumbled low when he said it made you clench around nothing eagerly. Turning to look at him in surprise, as you prepare to chastise him for not prioritizing his team, but his dark eyes are already trained on you once more as he starts moving you on his lap again - cutting off your protests with a breathy whine of his name that causes him to groan deep in his throat and shoot you a hungry look.

“Can you keep saying my name like that angel?” He says in a low, teasing tone that makes you grab the hair at the nape of his neck this time as he speeds up his pace. You were embarrassed, but the headiness didn’t let you dwell on it as Arima and Kunuma got the hint and quickly shut the door behind them. They made sure to relay that Choji was busy and to not bother them - a Freudian slip on their part. You weren’t worried about being teased though, since Choji may actually kill anyone who makes you feel embarrassed about this.

“What if there’s a turf scuffle, or-“ Preparing to protest his choice, but he spanks your thigh lightly as he flashes an unbothered grin your way.

“I’ve waited this whole time for you to feel ready and have the confidence to tell me what you want - even when you were being so obvious - I’ve waited for you to say it. I’m not going to pass up the chance to reward you for that.” As Choji speaks, he braces an arm around your back and flips you so he’s positioned above you and slotting his hips between yours. “As for a turf scuffle… I’ll deal with it after you’ve finished, and God help them for choosing today to do it.” Growling low and gravelly against your throat as he licks and nips down the opening of your button up blouse to your plush breasts. A breathy moan bubbles out of your chest, despite the underlying threat in Choji’s tone. He meant what he said - he was actually pissed about a potential fight, and did hope God helped them, because once he fucks you to sleep - he’s gonna make them regret not giving him the chance to cuddle you until he passed out.

Refocusing on you, Choji peppers kisses along your collarbone to the point where they meet, and then let his lips drift into the valley of your breasts where he presses sloppy, open mouth kisses to the sensitive flesh there. At the same time, he’s expertly undoing the buttons of your blouse to reveal more of your soft torso to him as you grip into his hair and mewl pathetically under his ministrations. It’s not long that Choji has you in just your bra and panties under him on the couch, his mouth and tongue following his fingers everywhere he touches your priming body. Just as his fingers dance around to your back to unhook your bra, you stop him, and a subtle look of dismay that flashes over his face.

“Choji…” Whining up at him softly with lidded eyes and messy hair splayed around you quells his worries and makes his cock twitch - you already look fucked out of your mind.

“I wanna touch you too… Let me see you…” Pleading to him with pouty lips as you tug at the hem of his shirt. Choji curses under his breath and looks away from you to try and get some of his control back, then after releasing a trembling breath he grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head and tosses it across the room in one motion. Bangs fall over his eyes as he peers down at you again, his lithe chest and torso on display, and even though his arms weren’t that large you could still see the ripple of muscle under the skin as he flexes under your greedy stare. Tilting his head slightly so he can look at you clearly, and suddenly he’s beaming down at you with that typical sunshiney grin that’s doing things to you that you never knew it could. Funnily enough, Choji was having a similar thought about those innocent eyes trained on nothing else but him, and your pouty lips that he’s just dying to see wrapped around his-

Not this time, Choji. This time is all about her. Reminding himself as you reach up and hook your fingers into the band of his jeans and boxers - not meaning to skim the sensitive skin there or the plumage of hair that’s now tickling your fingertips. You almost apologize, but then Choji drops forward, planting his hands on the couch so you’re caged in his arms as his nose brushes yours. For a moment you both stare wide eyed at one another.

“I’m a little more sensitive than I thought,” he chuckles with that look that’s brighter than the sun - breaking the awkward tension. “These too then, I assume?” Asking casually, as if he’s not offering to just strip for you. Your eyes widen under his unflappable smile as you sheepishly nod.

“Yes, please.” Whispering hoarsely as Choji climbs off of you and you prop up on your elbows to watch the show. Unsurprisingly, Choji had no qualms about being naked in front of you - removing his jeans and boxers in .5 seconds before turning to face you without even trying to cover his throbbing cock between his thighs. Immediately your gaze zeroes in on the hardened member. Choji’s cock was average length, but girthier than you would expect with thick veins running along it up to a thick mushroom head that is pretty pink and leaking a drop of precum. As your gaze lingers a little too long - your lips parted in an astonished ‘o’ - Choji twitches his cock so your attention is drawn upwards to his overly amused face.

“If you keep looking at me like that, then my head will get too big for my body.” He teases and then chuckles lowly at the longing look in your eyes - pupils blown wide completely as you no longer care how desperate you look for him. Ignoring his words as you reach your arms out for him - requesting that he return to his position on top of you. Choji follows suit immediately, laying his body fully on top of yours so you can feel the head of his throbbing cock press against your bundle of nerves through your damp panties. Wasting no time bringing his attention back to your breasts where he captures your nipple in his mouth and swirls his tongue around it as he uses one hand to grab your other breast and pinch your nipple. All the while, his free hand is gripping your hip and pinning you to the couch while Choji grinds down on you. Loud mewls and cries tumbled from your lips, accompanied with the most wanton moans around Choji’s name - all of Ori had to hear you by this point, but neither you nor your energetic lover cared, and no one came to interrupt the two of you either. Choji feels his control wearing thin, as he leans back on his heels and hooks his fingers in the band of your panties and rips them down your legs before you can protest. Leaning forward so his mouth is lined up with your puffy folds, and then he slides his hands under your thighs and pushes them up until your knees are to your chest.

“Choji! What are you doing?” Crying out, having no idea what’s to come since no guy you've been with before him has done this to you.

“Shhh…” Cooing softly up at you as he places feather light kisses to your thighs leading to your throbbing core. “I just wanna taste, can I?” Asking eagerly with an excited gleam in his coffee colored eyes. Slowly, you nod at him - still unsure of what he meant. Then, Choji sticks out his tongue and flattens it to your glistening folds before licking a stripe up to your clit where he circles it with the tip of his tongue. Back arching from the moment he started as he then brings his wet muscle down to start slowly tongue fucking you. Even though the pace was so slow - true to his word, he wants to taste you thoroughly - you can feel yourself falling apart on his tongue as that fuzzy feeling starts in your abdomen and grows into a taut string.

Just when you think you can’t take anymore, Choji slides one finger experimentally into your fluttering hole and begins pumping in and out at a languid pace. At the same time, he writes his name on your clit with the tip of his tongue. After you’ve adjusted to one finger, he adds a second and searches for the spongy spot that he knows will make you lose it. As his fingertips prod your gummy walls, and you let out a strangled moan, he begins making a ‘come hither’ motion against it. Changing his approach to your clit as well, choosing to instead wrap his lips around it and suck gently until the string snaps completely and you’re flooded with a buzzing feeling in your veins as your throbbing cunt clenches down on his fingers and your thighs shake. Choji continues pumping his fingers and kissing your clit - working you through your orgasm. “You’re so sweet Y/N... and you took my fingers so well…” Musing, voice low in his chest, as he leans back on his heels and brings his fingers to his mouth - wrapping his glistening lips around them to lick off every last droplet of you. Choji stares down at you with the most awestruck eyes the whole while, which just makes you squirm under his open adoration. Then, you realize your boyfriend hasn’t gotten to feel good at all yet.

“Choji?” Asking in a timid tone as you prop yourself up on your elbows. He cocks one heather colored brow as he removes his fingers with a ‘pop’ from his mouth.

“Hm?” Humming back as he slowly leans forward and places his hands on the couch on either side of your hips, so he is nose to nose with you again. That iconic “Choji” grin plastered on his face as he regards you with curiously pleased eyes.

“Can I make you feel good too?” Pleading in such a small voice that you’re afraid he didn’t hear you, but as you see his eyes widen and blush creep over his cheeks - you know that he did. A pregnant pause passes, and you start to worry that he’s gonna reject you, but then he tilts his head slightly with such a caring look in his eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to - I really, really do… But I don’t want you to feel like we’re moving too fast, or that I’m pushing you…” Explaining himself slowly, trying his best not to reject your feelings. Disappointment flashes across your face and Choji almost apologizes, but then determination quickly replaces it.

“You aren’t pushing me though, I’m asking you for it. Earlier you said that you would touch me like that if I asked… Does that still apply now?” Posing the question, as your tone falters slightly despite your determination as you present your points. Your sunshiney lover releases a sigh of defeat.

“I always forget that you used to debate. I may be good at physical fights, but I’m never winning with words when it comes to you.” Sighing softly as he shakes his head at you with a small smile gracing his lips, and you perk up a bit as you scoot closer to him. “How do you want to…” Peering at you through thick lashes as he gestures to the couch and your naked bodies to silently finish his question.

“Can I be on top?” Proposing quickly as you peer down at his girthy, throbbing cock settled on the tops of his thighs. Bringing your gaze back to his, you see his eyes are wide, but a pleasantly surprised smile plays on his lips. He just nods slowly, trusting that you have an idea of what you want to do, as the two of you get into your positions.

Choji is laid on his back, legs slightly spread and head on the arm of the couch. You are sitting on your knees, straddling his hips with one hand gripping the back of the couch, and the thick head of his cock parting your folds and nudging your entrance. Lithe, strong hands hold onto your hips for stability, but he is letting you take the lead. Enraptured, he watches a notch form in your brows as you oh so slowly sink down onto his cock. The notch deepens as your breathing grows uneven with every inch you take, and as your hips finally meet as he bottoms out - you whine breathily. Your walls try to clench around his impossibly thick member causing him to hiss out a breath to stop himself from bucking his hips.

“Fuck, Choji!” Crying out as you lean forward and splay your hands on his chest. He holds your hips securely in place so you can continue adjusting to his size as he watches with bated breath as you try not to cum just from him entering you. Rubbing soothing circles into the fat of your hips with the pads of his thumbs as your fluttering walls calm around him. Finally, you open your eyes to see your boyfriend has the look of a person who’s just seen God for the first time. The way his blown pupils travel the planes of your face, and down your slightly trembling body to where the two of you connect and then so slowly back up to meet your gaze again - you’d half expect him to start building an altar after this. Involuntarily, your gummy walls clench around him from the blatant want in his stare, and he groans low as he closes his eyes.

“You’re so fucking tight, Y/N… I can’t wait to mold your little hole to my cock.” Murmuring up at you as he slowly opens his eyes, and at the same time he begins lifting you up his cock at a leisurely pace. Shutting your eyes while your lips fall into an ‘o’ as the tip of his cock is poking your entrance again, and then you throw your head back with a strangled cry as he grips you with bruising strength and brings your hips down as he cants his up to meet yours. Starting out with an easy pace - not too hard, or deep since he didn’t want to hurt you - but as that fuzzy feeling starts to return without any of the tautness you begin to whine out in frustration.

“Faster! Harder! Please, Choji!” Your cries echo around the room as you look down at your boyfriend beggingly. Not needing to be told twice as his thrusts turn powerful enough to cause the feet of the couch to thump against the hard floor. Letting his grip lessen on your hips a bit so that he can just thrust upwards causing you to bounce and fall back down his length. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as the tautness in your belly finally starts to form and you dig your fingernails into the back of the couch to try to ground yourself.

Suddenly, Choji plants his feet flat against the couch which changes his position and causes him to thrust harder and deeper into your sopping cunt as he resumes using a bruising grip on your hips. His hardened, thick tip bumps deliciously against that spongy spot now that’s making stars burst behind your eyes as your whole body tenses. Your gummy walls clench forcefully around Choji, making him hiss, groan and try not to cum on the spot, as your orgasm rips through your body with full force. The pulse from your core to your clit travels through your pelvis, spreading into a tingling buzz that prickles your skin all over. The feeling is crashing through your body so violently that you barely register when Choji growls, “Fuck, Y/N! I’m gonna cum I can-” which is quickly caught off by a low groan followed by an apprehensive hiss. Everything is so intense that you don’t even feel Choji’s white ropes coat and cling to your still pulsing walls as you collapse against his sweat sheened chest. Wrapping his arms around you as he strokes your unruly hair and peppers kisses along your hairline as you shake like a leaf on top of him.

It takes some time for your breathing to steady, but once it does you peer lovingly up at your sunshiney lover, who is already staring down at you with the worshiping look he wore earlier. Quickly you hide your face into his chest as he chuckles and pokes your cheek.

“Why are you hiding?” Tittering softly, but his cheery tone didn’t completely hide his worry.

“If you keep looking at me like that, then my head will get bigger than my body too…” Mumbling softly, parroting his words from earlier, as you bashfully peer up at him. Any worry that may have been brewing disappears in that moment, as his teasing side comes back in full force.

“And, how am I looking at you?” Inquiring with a tilt of his head and a lopsided grin.

“Like I’m so kind of… Deity or something. It seriously looks like you’re thinking of constructing an altar, or a temple after this!” Laughing out while you swat his chest playfully, an embarrassed blush creeping over your cheeks. Choji’s teasing smile is replaced with one of reverence mixed with a sultry heat.

“Maybe I’ll do both.” Claiming with an earnest undertone as he pressed a kiss to your forehead and buried his nose in your hair, inhaling your sweet scent. Your walls clench around Choji’s half hard cock that's started to grow inside of you again, and breath hitches in your throat as your eyes become half lidded.

Just as the two of you lean in for a kiss, the door flies open again. This time Choji is quick enough to grab his Shishitoren jacket and drape it over you before Togame is looming in the doorway, blushing madly. Pinching his nose and sighing deeply before staring Choji right in the eye, who is grinning back at him as if he isn’t currently inside of you. Burying your head in his chest to avoid whatever embarrassment is to come as Togame breaks the silence.

“Choji. There’s a new team moving in our territory - they’re gathering for a fight now - can you…?” Trailing off with a ‘come on’ gesture of his hand to indicate that they need their captain to get to work. Choji laughs lightly and nods.

“I’ll be right down. Wanna give us a minute?” Choji asks with an arch of his brow, and you feel his whole body turn to bedrock as he tenses under you. His fully hardened cock twitches inside of you causing you to whine softly into his chest, and your cheeks to burn. Togame audibly gulps, before walking back out.

“I’m gonna be in the hall. 5 minutes, please Choji.” Is all he says before shutting the door. Once you hear the door click, you peer up at your boyfriend - ready to apologize for whining - but his heated stare is already trained on you. The words die on your tongue as he begins to sit up, with you still securely around him. Your eyes widened at him as his usually cheerful grin turned predatory and he made no attempt to move you off of him. Instead, he quickly maneuvers you around so your back is flush to his back and your knees are parted on either side of his thighs. Grinning wide into your neck, his low voice vibrates against your skin.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he teases, voice like honey. “But I can’t just leave you unsatisfied,” he whispers, voice turning smoky now as one hand snakes around to brace your torso against him and his other hand travels down to play with your clit. As the pad of his finger begins gently circling the bundle of nerves, Choji leans back into the couch and you with him as he plants his feet flat to the floor and begins thrusting upwards with sharp jolts that have the backs of your thighs clapping against the tops of his.

“Cho-Chojiii-” his name is broken off with a sharp gasp escaping your throat as the head of his cock stimulates that spot that makes you feel breathless and teary eyed. “To-Togame is ri-right out-outside!” Throwing your head back with stilted cries as his thrusts cut off your words and the ensuing descent punches the air out of your lungs so deliciously.

“Mhm, think he’d want to watch?” Choji whispers against the shell of your ear before licking a stripe up the nape of your neck, causing you to whine pathetically and clench around him. “Oh? I can call him in if you want… Hey To-” His whisper becomes a little louder as he turns his head towards the door.

“No!” Sobbing out, too overwhelmed to say anything else as your pussy clenches around him again.

“You’re right, this time is for us, but I think she likes the idea…” Using a teasing tone as he nuzzles into your neck and continues his jolting thrusts. “I wonder what she thinks of me and Togame sharing you?” Murmuring against your pulse point before nipping and licking your sensitive skin. Even before his ministrations began, as soon as you heard the mention of your boyfriend and Togame, your walls begin spasming around his thick cock as you throw your head back and moan so loud. Choji grins into your throat as he picks up the speed of his fingers rubbing mercilessly on your pulsing clit.

Suddenly, the dam breaks, and your over sensitive core clamps down on him as you cry out his name desperately. His fingers continue stimulating your clit, working you through your orgasm, as your drooling cunt leaks over his thighs, in between them and down onto the couch. Your gummy walls keep milking him for all he’s worth until he stills his hips flash to your plush behind and drops his head onto your shoulder as he releases a second load into you.

Once the two of you come down, he shifts you off his lap and lays you on the couch, and then he goes to retrieve a damp cloth to clean you and him up. Dressing quickly before he finds you a clean extra large shirt laying around to put you in and a blanket to lay over you. Sleep has already claimed you as you snore softly against the clean part of the couch. Choji can’t help but lovingly stroke your hair and kiss the top of your head before heading out.

Togame is standing in the hall with a hand over his face and a bright blush shining through his fingers. The second Choji shuts the door, his raven haired friend turns on his heel and starts stalking down the hallway to avoid embarrassment. His Captain doesn’t push him, just wears a satisfied grin as he accurately clocks the sexual tension he’s just manifested between his girlfriend and best friend. As they are exiting the building, Choji sees Sako carrying a hurt Shishitoren member back towards Ori.

“Sako! Leave him in the theater, and grab the First Aid kit from behind the stage. Y/N is resting in the rec room, so don’t let anyone go in there or wake her up, okay?” Instructing the silent male with a cheery grin as Sako continues carrying the other member, grumbling an ‘ok’ back. The only change in his demeanor is that he is now sporting a dark blush over his cheeks - probably from all the noise the two of you made before the team fled Ori. With that the Shishitoren Captain and his Second head towards the sounds of a fight. Choji being a wellspring of boundless energy, rushes forward without hearing any details from a still blushing Kame-chan.

#choji x reader #choji tomiyama x reader #SP’s Headspace #pernesophe #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x reader

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charlesslut16 · 11 days ago

Text

-loving you in december-

summary : you and arthur walk home in december...

PAIRINGS : arthur leclerc x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : I love you all so much and thank you so much for the support!

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The night was crisp, the air sharp with the kind of chill only December could bring. You wrapped your scarf a little tighter around your neck, your breath coming out in small clouds that disappeared almost immediately into the darkness.

The streets were quiet, almost empty, save for the occasional car that drove by, its headlights slicing through the dark. The soft yellow glow of streetlights reflected off the wet pavement, creating a peaceful kind of stillness.

You and Arthur had just left his mother’s house after a warm dinner. His mom had cooked one of her famous meals, the kind that left you feeling full and content in more ways than one.

The conversation had been light, full of laughter and the easy flow of family stories that made you feel, every time, a little more at home. You hadn’t seen her in a while, and it was nice to catch up.

Arthur, as always, was easy to talk to, his smile infectious, and the way he’d interact with his mom made your heart feel a little fuller. You felt lucky—lucky to be with someone so genuine, someone who treated everyone around him with so much care.

But now, as you walked together in the chilly night air, it was just the two of you. The night felt different, quieter, as though the world around you had slowed down to give space to the bond between the two of you.

Arthur broke the silence first, his voice soft but full of that warmth you loved. “I’m glad you came with me tonight,” he said, glancing over at you with that easy smile of his. “You know she loves having you around.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling that familiar flutter in your chest. “I like spending time with both of you. Your mom’s great. She makes the best dinners.”

Arthur chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, she’s got a knack for that. I swear she could make anything taste like magic.” He nudged your shoulder lightly with his. “And she loves having you there. You’re easy to talk to, like you fit right in.”

It was sweet of him to say, and it made you feel a little warmer inside. You looked over at him, taking in his familiar features—his messy brown hair, the way his jawline was softened by the hint of stubble, the light in his eyes that never seemed to dim, even in the late hours of the night.

“I like being around your family,” you said, your voice quieter now, matching the peacefulness of the night. “It feels… natural.”

Arthur smiled, that gentle smile that always made you feel like the center of his world. “I’m glad.”

You both continued walking in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of your footsteps blending with the soft rustling of the bare trees lining the streets.

The warmth of the evening still clung to you, even as the chill of the night air began to seep in. The short walk from his mother’s house to the car was familiar, but tonight, the world seemed to feel a little more peaceful, a little more intimate.

As you walked, you felt a tug at your arm. Looking over at Arthur, you saw him unzip his jacket and pull it off. Without saying a word, he draped it over your shoulders, the soft warmth of it enveloping you immediately.

“You look like you’re freezing,” he said, his tone light but concerned.

You shrugged, feeling the warmth of his jacket settle against you. “I’m okay,” you said, but the truth was, his jacket felt like a hug, the kind of embrace that made you feel safe and cared for. It smelled like him—fresh, with just a hint of something warm and familiar.

“I don’t mind,” he said, the corner of his lips curving up in that familiar, easy smile. “Better than you freezing.”

You shook your head playfully, pulling the jacket tighter around your body as you both continued walking. “You’re too good to me,” you muttered, and though it was a light-hearted remark, there was something in the way you said it that made the words feel heavier than usual.

It wasn’t just about the jacket, after all. It was about everything. The way he always looked out for you, the way he made sure you felt cared for, no matter the situation.

Arthur didn’t respond at first, but then he took a breath, his expression softening just slightly. “I just want you to be comfortable. I’m always going to make sure of that.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you stopped walking for a moment, looking at him. His eyes were warm, steady, and filled with that deep affection he never seemed to hide.

There was something about the way he looked at you—like you mattered, like your happiness was just as important as his own.

You felt your heart flutter, the quiet intimacy of the moment pulling you in. Without thinking, you reached out to take his hand, your fingers brushing against his lightly before you intertwined them. It felt natural, the way your hands fit together, like they were made to hold each other.

Arthur squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in that way he always did when he wanted to reassure you. He didn’t need to say anything else. The look in his eyes said everything you needed to know.

“I love you,” you said softly, the words escaping your lips before you even had time to think about them.

Arthur stopped walking, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. But the look that followed wasn’t one of confusion or hesitation—it was warmth, complete and total warmth. He stepped closer to you, his hand still holding yours, and his smile stretched wider.

“I love you too,” he replied, his voice low, his tone steady. It was simple, but it was everything. His words felt like a promise, like something unspoken but understood between the two of you.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your breathing and the distant hum of the city. The world felt quieter somehow, as though it had paused just for you two.

You both continued walking, the warmth of his jacket still wrapping around you, his hand never letting go of yours. The path to the car was just a few more blocks away, but it felt like the longest walk of your life, in the best way.

There was something about that moment—the quiet confession of love, the closeness, the shared warmth—that made the world seem just a little more perfect.

When you reached the car, Arthur unlocked it and opened the door for you, holding it until you slid into the seat. He didn’t let go of your hand until you were settled, and then he leaned in, giving you a kiss on your forehead. It was soft, brief, but the meaning behind it was clear. He cared. He loved. He was there.

After he got into the car and started the engine, you both drove in silence, the radio playing softly in the background. The streets were still, the lights reflecting off the wet pavement, and everything outside the car seemed far away. The world was quiet, but inside the car, inside the warmth of Arthur’s presence, everything felt just right.

As you pulled into the driveway of the house you both shared, the house that had become a home over time, you looked over at him. His eyes met yours, that same warmth still there, but now accompanied by a quiet smile.

“You’re still wearing my jacket,” he said, his voice soft, teasing.

You glanced down at the jacket around your shoulders and grinned. “I wasn’t planning on giving it back anytime soon.”

Arthur laughed, the sound full of affection, and you both got out of the car. As you walked into the house, you felt a sense of peace settle over you.

It wasn’t just the warmth from the jacket or the safety of being home—it was the love between you two. The kind of love that made everything feel like it was in its right place. You didn’t need anything else.

He was there. You were there. And that was enough for now.

“Good night, love,” Arthur said as you both headed inside, his hand resting gently on your back.

“Good night,” you murmured, leaning into him as you crossed the threshold together.

And as the door clicked shut behind you, you both entered the warmth of your shared space, the quiet night outside seeming miles away, replaced by the soft, comforting presence of each other.

Loving him in December was easy, but it was just as easy in every month that followed.

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #christmas #masterlist #f1 imagine #arthur leclerc fluff #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc fic #arthur leclerc x y/n #arthur leclerc x female reader #love #Spotify

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scudevils · 22 days ago

Text

last christmas — CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, charles is a dick at some points, breakups, getting back with ex’s, weather inaccuracy (does is snow in monaco?? idk), not proofread!!

inspired by: “last christmas” by wham! [1.7k]

a/n: i’m not sure why i am incapable of writing happy charles fics..

you've tuned out whatever cheesy christmas song is playing on the radio, half covered by a blanket as your slumped against one of your oversized festive cushions, gazing out at the soft blanket of snow settling over monaco's streets, the world outside muffled in the early evening hush. the faint glow of streetlights reflect off the wet ground, and you trace the pattern of frost on the glass absentmindedly.

there's no reflection in the window from your christmas tree, the spot it had once occupied empty, a reminder of the christmas' of your past.

you and charles had grown up on the streets of monaco together, your fathers were friends up until the day his had passed, and even then, your family still made dinner pals with pascale at least once a month. from nursery to secondary school, you had been best friends, and it was only a matter of time before you realised the connection you shared, one that your mothers had known since the day they have first introduced you to each other.

last year, it had started out like any other winter, but there was something about charles that made your heart race even when everything around you seemed calm. you'd shared a quiet evening at his place, planning to move in with each other after the new year after a few years of dating, exchanging gifts, and sneaking in kisses that lingered under the soft glow of christmas lights, still the same school kids hiding their relationship.

he had given you something special - something that meant more than just a material gift. a bracelet, silver and delicate, with a charm of a small racing car, if you looked close enough a small "16" had been engraved on the livery, he told you it was to remind you of him whenever you felt far apart.

you had smiled, practically thrown your arms around him the second he'd explained what it was, your heart swelling with affection. you hadn't known that this christmas would be so different. that this year, it would be the last time you'd ever feel this way - secure, loved, like you were his world. because that was how he made you feel, like you hung the moon and the stars.

you'd learned the hard way that love, especially the kind that feels like a fairytale, doesn't always last. not how you were told when you were a child, that when you find the one, they won't ever leave you.

a phone call, late one evening. your stomach had twisted when you saw his name flash on the screen, but it wasn't the same warmth in his voice, he'd been distant in the last few weeks, something you couldn't quite explain if someone asked but you knew it in your heart to be true. those few words had broke your heart into a million pieces: "i can't do this anymore," he had said, the words slowly sinking into your chest. "the team...they need me to focus i can't have any distractions."

your world had shattered in that instant, everything you knew, the feelings you had felt over the past years had became null, non existent in his mind. the bracelet, the moments you'd shared, all felt like fragments of someone else's life, like you'd been living in a lie the entire time. he explained it all, as if you could in anyway understand the decision he'd made- the constant pressure from

the team, the travel he had to endure week in week out, and the distance he felt even when he had been home.

but it didn't matter, you couldn't hear his voice, his excuses; all you could hear was that he wasn't coming back, not to you.

it felt like the very thing that had brought you together - his passion, his career, the racing - was the same thing that had pulled him away.

and you were left here, alone, in the cold.

the words were still fresh in your mind, clear as day as the moment he spoke them into existence.

you had told yourself you were fine, made yourself believe it if you had any doubt, that it was better this way, but the truth was harder to swallow. this christmas, the empty space next to you seemed louder than ever, echoing the promises of last year, the promises that he failed to keep. you couldn't bring yourself to get rid of the bracelet, taking it off had been hard enough but after some time your friends had gotten it off, though it burned a little every time you looked at it, a reminder of how it had all gone wrong.

you'd spent so much time in your own thoughts the frost on the window had began to melt, the cup of tea on your hand no longer had steam coming from it and the mug was cold in your hand. the doorbell rang, snapping you out of your thoughts, almost spilling the chilled liquid before you placed it on the table beside you.

you weren't expecting anyone, and your friends were the type to always text before they came over. slowly, you walked toward the door, opening it to find him standing there.

he was a sight for sore eyes to say the least, his hair was damp from the snow, his eyes tired, as if he hadn't slept in days and his face gaunt like, cheekbone more angular than you remember and a stubbly beard was growing where he was usually on top of his shaving. his hand hovered by his side, an offering, a gift wrapped in simple paper.

you blinked, unsure of what to say, not quite believing the sight in front of you, wether it was the audacity of him to show up at your door or the desperation he felt to come here. "charles," your voice remained as strong as you could make it, you couldn't betray the walls you'd tried to build. you stepped back, not knowing if you wanted to let him in or shut him out.

"i..." he paused, as if searching for the right words to let you know that he hadn't pre-planned this, looking down at the ground, before meeting your eyes. "i never wanted to hurt you. i made a mistake."

you didn't know how to respond, anger and hurt bubbling up in you, you felt betrayed. you were betrayed. you'd put years of your life into supporting his career and he leaves you at the first sign of adversity, that was not the type of relationship you deserved. you looked towards the bracelet which adorned your mantlepiece, something he would never get to know again. "a mistake? after everything? last christmas, you promised-"

"i know," he cut you off, stepping forward, a pleading look in his eyes. "i was selfish. i thought i could manage, but i was wrong. i love you, and i never should have walked away."

a knot formed in your chest as you tried to hold back the tears. the hurt was still there, raw and sharp, but part of you was torn, you wanted to believe him, but the fear of history repeating itself held you back, you knew you deserved better than how he had treated you. "but what happens now, charles?" your voice trembled. "you can't just come back and pretend nothing happened."

"i don't expect you to forgive me right away. but i want to try. i'll do whatever it takes. please, just give me a chance."

you both fell into a heavy silence, the weight of unspoken feelings hanging in the air between you. you could see the regret in his eyes, the guilt of not being able to make it work. but there was something else too — hope.

"we can't just pick up where we left off charles, you know that right?" you held his gaze.

"i know," he said, taking a small step forward, his hand instinctively reaching out, but then hesitating. "but I want you to know...i can't do it without you. and i don't want you to think that i've moved on without thinking of everything we shared."

you felt a soft pang in your chest, a mixture of hurt and something you couldn't quite identify. the holidays had always been about nostalgia, but now it seemed like you were trying to make new memories, ones that didn't involve charles, you had to move on, you had to experience the world without each other before making a decision that could decide your future.

as you looked up at him, you realized that while the past was important to both of you, you needed to move on to become independent of each other. "maybe next christmas," you said with a small, smile, trying to make the situation as easy for both of you as you could. "we'll both find the right time. meet new people, we might come back to each other. but not today."

charles seemed to accept that, having no further argument to give as his own lips curved into a gentle smile. "yeah, maybe."

for a moment, everything felt as it should, the past was behind you, the present was a bit uncertain, but you didn't need to know everything all at once. he gave you a small but certain nod, leaving the wrapped gift he had brought with him on the couch closest to the door, one last look back to you and he was gone.

you turned your attention back to the soft glow of the christmas tree lights, feeling the warmth of the holiday spirit in the air, charles was in the kitchen making hot chocolate, complaining about the lack of marshmallows im the house, how he would get some tomorrow, a reminder that the people you loved will always be closest to you.

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #scudevils #ficmas 2024

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