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maxivstappen · 5 months ago

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DID YOU LIKE HER IN THE MORNING ?

[ masterlist / requests closed ]

☽｡⋆ distance can lead to stupid, reckless decisions. but lando knows better than that, right? — lando norris x reader based on “did you like her in the morning” by nikki

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 angst! pure angst 𝄞 1.7k words

You loved a loud life just the same as he did. You enjoyed the traveling, the partying, the sleepless nights, hell, even the stressful nights you wouldn’t trade for a peaceful, quiet, boring, normal life. You were eternally grateful for having a job surrounding the same tracks Lando is driving on, even if that was rather a lucky coincidence instead of a thought-through plan.

You loved it not only because it meant you’d get to be close to your boyfriend most of the time, more so because you got to experience the loudness with him. The parties, the race weekends, just everything. You’d have it without him too, and no doubt, you would have tons of fun doing so, but of course it’s better with a “super cool hot famous boyfriend” by your side, as he liked to call himself.

You loved it, until you couldn’t anymore.

Not as dramatic as it sounds. You were invited to a wedding of an old friend back at home, and Lando, for obvious reasons, couldn’t attend with you, so you flew out the country by yourself, giving Lando one last good luck kiss a few days before the Las Vegas Grand Prix. You missed him dearly, but you also missed your friends at home whom you haven’t seen in what felt like forever, and really, what’s a better reason for a reunion than a wedding?

But that’s where the trouble began.

You liked to call yourself independent. Very independent, even. You didn’t have a problem with being far from Lando for a few weeks, and while you of course loved him more than anyone else in this world, you’ve stated before that in case of you losing the job for whatever reason or if you just couldn’t travel with him anymore, you’d think a long distance relationship would work just well. At least for you.

Of course, the constant missing your partner would complicate things, but that’s still no reason to break up a relationship that has lasted for longer than three years already. At least that’s what you thought.

Lando liked to call himself independent too. Very independent, even. Too bad it’s all a lie.

Lando has always hated the idea of being away from you, or rather the idea of you being far from him. It’s not like he didn’t have any trust in you, it’s just become normal for him to always have you at least somewhat in his reach. That’s how your relationship has always been, you were coworkers before you were lovers.

He didn’t mind you taking a few days off. He also didn’t mind you wanting to spend some time with your family and friends who were still located far, far away from wherever you two would usually have to travel to for the many races. However, he did mind you not being near him.

It bothered him more than he’d like to admit.

You’ve talked about it before, talked about him being too needy and too possessive from time to time, but never once have you two fought about it. You thought you never would, and you were right. Your departure was slightly painful for the both of you, but it was only 2 weeks that you‘d be gone, and it’s not at all like you couldn’t stay in contact. So there was nothing to worry about, right?

Or so you thought.

The moment you arrived at you local airport you saw your mom run up to you, caging you in her arms as if to never let you go again. Your father wasn’t far behind, and then came your brother. It was a sweet little moment of a family reuniting as a whole again. And even though you wanted to set your whole focus on the few next days to come, the lovely wedding and the friends you once lost on the way who you’d now finally see again, Lando never really left your mind. You just didn’t understand why, you weren’t usually like this.

Maybe it was just that after five years of knowing each other and three of those spent dating, you did grow somewhat dependent. you knew it wasn’t the truth, but blaming it on a simple thing like that seemed terribly easier than giving in to the thoughts of what could actually be the cause of it. You didn’t have any time for that. You weren’t here to think about work or about Lando, but about the things that were right in front of your eyes, which at this moment was the beautiful white wedding decorated with all sorts of flowers of sunset hues.

The wedding was held on a beach, surrounded by the dreamy sound of waves crashing and seagulls singing their own nupital melodies. You arrived with one of your old friends Nina, both of you wearing long and flowy pastel dresses, just as the dress code ordered you to. The day went on with you two crying at seeing one of your childhood friends getting married, listening to the heartfelt vows of bride and groom.

Your mind immediately went to Lando and you standing at the altar like they did. You knew it was too soon, and you knew he didn’t have time for marriage, even less for planning a wedding, but you still couldn’t help it. You really did miss him more this time, and throughout the whole ceremony, the feeling of something being incredibly off only intensed.

But the night came, and the feeling faded. Or at least the drinks made it do that.

You were sitting with Nina and two guys you used to be very close with at the dim bar near the dance floor when you suddenly noticed something light up inside your purse. You didn’t mind it at first, not wanting to be rude towards Tom who was trying to talk to you without stumbling over his word completely, but the shots you downed beforehand made it undoubtedly harder.

Your phone lit up again. Slowly getting on your nerves, you decided to wait until Tom’s attention was fixated on Nina again to then check your messages and - missed calls?

—

Lando hated how his mood changed whenever you were gone. It felt as if there was something missing when you weren’t there waiting for him at home after debriefing or after PR events and whatnot. He missed your hugs and kisses, your smile and most importantly, just your touch.

Truth be told - but never to you - when you first started dating, for Lando, the thriving point was attraction. One month in, that’s when he realized that he wasn’t getting rid of you any time soon. Not that he minded. Two months in and the two of you made it official, of course not without any drama because how was a McLaren driver allowed to date a McLaren employee? Two weeks and the conversations and the hate online slowly died down, but your relationship kept on blooming. There was just one thing that somehow had Lando incredibly confused - why did your relationship suddenly feel more like you couldn’t get rid of him? Why did it feel like he was the one attached to you instead of the other way around?

Not that it felt bad or anything, he was just very used to have the girl being that dependent on him, to always want his attention, to always ask for his opinion on everything. Now he was the one all over you, and you didn’t mind it at all. You had the man you love wrapped tightly around your finger, just like he had you. For three years now.

But that didn’t help him right now, not with jealousy nagging at his side like a demon. You were out, enjoying your time with people you loved, and while he should be happy for you, he spent his time rather annoyed at you not being where he was. It’s only been a week, and work has already failed to keep his mind off of you. And he hated it. He knew it was the day of the wedding, and he was done wasting his time only thinking about you, so what else was there for a man to do instead of going clubbing with the guys? He hadn’t spent time with them in a long time, neither had he gone clubbing these past fem months, too caught up with Formula 1. So this would be okay, right? Just some drinks to keep his mind off of you.

Right?

—

15 missed calls from carlos sainz.

that was weird, you thought, and your stomach dropped and you felt the dread creeping up your consciousness. It had you feeling weaker than ever.

You quietly excused yourself to go to the bathroom, though every step towards it made it harder and harder to breathe.

What if something had happened to him? A work incident? Then how did Carlos know? Were they hanging out and he hurt himself? Were they out and someone there hurt Lando?

Did something happen to your Lando?

Your finger hovered shaking over the green button until you finally decided to press it and call the Ferrari driver back. Not even a single beep was heard before he huffed out your name as if he had been yearning for you to finally phone him back.

“Carlos? Is everything okay?” The Spaniard could practically feel your distress through the screen and he swore he’s never felt an urge so strong to punch someone right across their face, let alone his best friend Lando Norris.

It took some time for realization to set in. Your breathing had slowed down but the chills all over your body told that it was a sign far from good. Very far from good.

You could still make out the faint sound of Carlos’ voice as you locked the door of the bathroom stall furthest in the back, however, every word that came after “Lando cheated on you” somehow wasn’t comprehensive to you.

You just hope he’ll still like her in the morning, cause you, for sure, weren’t coming back.

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underthetree845 · 8 months ago

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chuuya taking his hat off to hide when he kisses his partner 🤭

Hello saturn lovely! Sorry this took me so long to finish TwT I love the prompt, but as you know writer's block hit me kinda hard the second semester of school so over the summer I've been trying to get back into the swing of posting once in a while!

Hope you enjoy <3 thank you for the request! _

Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

Nakahara Chuuya/Reader (oneshot request)

cws: fem! reader, established relationship, bungou stray dogs s5 spoilers, meursault arc spoilers, fluff, hurt/comfort kinda? there was a little hurt, reuniting, airport reunion, ada dazai, reader cries about 2.5k words summary: Chuuya disappeared on a business trip for three whole days with no explanation- and no one would tell you why. Now he's returned to japan and back in your arms. a/n: This is my last fic for the summer before school starts aaa qwq I'm glad I was able to finish it before the semester starts though! *sigh* am I really incapable of writing something like this without accidentally creating so much plot? Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3 divider credit: (x) (x) ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ Chuuya had never considered himself to be a very possessive man; or a possessive boyfriend, for that matter. Protective, sure, but how could anyone expect him not to be? He understood, probably better than most, the risks that came with even so much as associating with a person in his position. It made Chuuya’s stomach churn unpleasantly to even imagine putting you in any sort of danger, so he used his position (along with the power and assets that came with it) to take certain preventative measures. The penthouse you shared was equipped with state of the art security, a technological system truly fit for an executive of the Port Mafia. Additionally, in case you ever needed to travel long distances without him, Chuuya often kept a trusted chauffeur on call. This individual also happened to be a professionally trained underground bodyguard of his personal selection. Even so, Chuuya knew you had a good head on your shoulders. He trusted that you would try to keep yourself out of trouble, or call for him at the first sign of it. It didn’t matter if he was on the road, halfway through a private meeting, or in the middle of pummeling down an enemy organization. Chuuya had always been a man with his priorities set straight. Not even Mori’s notifications were set to come through on silent mode. Coming home to you at the end of the day, allowing you to soothe away the crease between his brows, your voice uttering sweet nothings against the shell of his ear. You had become his lifeline, irreversibly carved your name into every cell of his body. He’d do anything to erase your pain, and it was making his heart break more than anything to know that he was the cause of the salty tears now streaming over your lash line. Chuuya did his best to hold back an ‘oof’ when you threw your frame into his own, burying your sobs in the crook of his neck. He was immediately overwhelmed with the scent of your perfume, the familiar feeling of your body against his own, the softness of the sweater you wore, and the glimmer that never seemed to escape your eyes. The red colored contacts from earlier had given Chuuya one hell of a headache, which only added to the pressure from taking off and being stuck in one of the mafia’s smallest private jets with the most insufferable jackass he’d ever met and some hair dye obsessed casino manager passed out on one of the couches. Chuuya’s gloved fingers almost trembled as they gripped the fabric of your shirt. He lifted a hand to cradle the back of your head while the other remained planted firmly on your lower back.

Sakaguchi Ango, if Chuuya remembered correctly, stood a few yards away. He simply observed the situation from afar, as if he dared not insert himself into the scene. A government agent whom Dazai used to maintain his connection with the outside world. Ango stood with one hand folded neatly over the other behind his back, the faint ghost of a smile residing behind his glasses as he watched Dazai reunite with his fellow agency members. The brunette walked on a crutch, but the uncharacteristically tired look in his eyes brightened ever so slightly when he was swarmed by his coworkers. Chuuya continued to hold you close, patiently waiting for your sobs to die down enough for you to be able to speak coherently. He loosened his grip slightly, removing one of his leather gloves behind your back and bringing that same hand up to cup your face. A whisper of your name left his lips, and your teary eyes finally refocused to meet the warmth of his own. “Chuuya… how could you just leave?” your voice cracked; he could see the hurt in your eyes. Guilt crept into his chest, eyebrows knitting together as you subconsciously leaned into his palm. This was exactly the sort of thing Chuuya promised himself he’d never do. You were the absolute number one priority in his life. There was no doubt in his mind; he didn’t want there to be any doubt in yours either. “I know, Doll, ‘m sorry, it was never my intention…” he muttered, allowing you to rest your hands on his chest. “I know that’s a shit excuse, but I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” A beat of silence passed, the indistinct chatter of the agency fell on deaf ears as you zoned in on the man in front of you. His breath, the way his eyes searched your expression, how you could once again feel the warmth of his skin against your own. “You’re not hurt, are you?” your voice was pricked with concern, hands gentle as you cupped his jaw and turned his head from side to side. Chuuya let out a breath, fondness flickering in his irises at your concern. “Barely a scratch,” he murmured, and you seemed to accept his answer. “Chuuya,” you started, and his gaze locked onto yours. He voiced your name in response. “I need you to promise me something, please?” “Anything.”

You bit your lip. Your mind told you it was a selfish request. You understood, probably better than most, how unpredictable your boyfriend’s line of work could be. But you had accepted it as an adequate price to pay for his love when the two of you started seeing each other, even more so when you moved in together. He was yours, you believed it with every fiber of your being. Chuuya had told enough stories of his old work partner for you to gather that the two had never exactly been the chummiest of pals. So the fact that they cooperated for this mission must’ve meant that it couldn’t have been a minor dilemma. You understood why Chuuya made the decision he did, and that it was probably just as difficult on him. Albeit, that didn’t make your feelings any less real. Your heart reminded you of the unconditional love and comfort that Chuuya always offered you. You knew he’d never intentionally hurt your feelings, especially not without talking it out and making up for it in some way afterward. “Doll…?” he barely breathed, giving you all the space you needed to voice what was on your mind. You took a deep breath. “Don’t… please don’t scare me like that again,” your voice wavered as you spoke, “Everything on the news is scary. And every time I watch it all I can think about is the fact that you’re out there.” You took a moment to glance at the group of Armed Detective Agency members on the airport runway to your left. One of the so-called terrorists you heard about on the news stood amongst the group about ten feet away from where you watched. The world was confusing, and scary, but there was a certain security in your heart that told you as long as you had Chuuya by your side, everything would be okay. “First you’re leaving before sunrise and staying out late on special missions, and I get it, I really do…” you felt a lump beginning to form in your throat, threatening to make you choke over your words, “but then you just leave on a business trip to Europe without so much as a ‘goodbye, I’ll be home soon’? And I have to find out from a call from your boss? I didn’t- I still don’t understand what’s happening. Do you know how scared I was? That I might not ever see you again?” Chuuya’s thumb swiped away the teardrop that ran down your cheek, his eyes trailing over your expression. “You’re right, it’s not fair… I don’t think I could ever apologize enough,” he began, his hold on you tightening slightly, “All that I can ask is for you to understand. I can explain everything to you when we get home. And I promise, I’ll do my best to not leave you in the dark so suddenly. It was an urgent mission, but it must have been scary. You’ll never have to feel like that again, not if I can help it.” Chuuya’s face softened, the corners of your lips curving up slightly at his sincerity as he cupped your cheek. “Shit… you deserve so much better.” You stood there for a moment, just breathing. Soaking in each other’s presence as your heartbeat gradually fell back to its usual pace.

“My my, Slug, is this the lovely lady you were so eager to get back to?” a voice chimed from your left, and you turned your head to face the man at the same time Chuuya snapped his head in that direction. Your boyfriend clicked his teeth, pressing your body closer to his own. “What’s it to you, huh, Dazai?” Chuuya was clearly trying to suppress his irritation. He was doing especially well, considering the fact that he had been holed up next to Dazai on an airplane for the past fourteen hours. “I’m just trying to acquaint myself,” the man went on, a grin playing on his lips despite Chuuya’s glare, “As a responsible owner, I should at least make sure my dog is in good hands.” You tilted your head slightly, and Chuuya sucked in a breath. “You’re treading on some pretty thin ice, Mackerel,” he growled through gritted teeth, “Watch what you say around my girl.” The taller man only took a step forward, his eyes glittering in amusement, a sharp contrast to the hollowed out, almost dead look he carried earlier. “Oh? Holding back your more vulgar language around the lady?” Dazai hummed with mild intrigue, “Perhaps my dog is being well taken care of.” You simply stood and watched with intrigue, the interaction clearly more complex than distinguishable at first glance. Despite their constant verbal jabs and ostentatious insults toward each other, there was a sense of familiarity between the two that was almost palpable to you. They bounced off each other, knowing exactly which buttons to press and which ones to avoid. It was probably a welcome change of tone in contrast to what they had just been through. Your gaze flickered between the two once more, and you couldn’t help but notice how the tension in Chuuya’s shoulders had been released. “Dazai-san?” your voice was level, and both of the men fell silent to give you their attention. You looked at your beloved, then to his ex-partner, then Chuuya, then Dazai again. Mirth swam in your eyes. “I want to thank you for making sure Chuuya was able to return home safely today. Truly, I cannot thank you enough.” You gave a slight bow of your head, and Chuuya looked like he wanted to protest. For once, Dazai didn’t immediately produce a response; he fell silent at your sentiment. This time, a gentler smile curved onto his lips. “Please spare me, Miss,” Dazai began, “Truth be told, I don’t believe I could have made it out without Chuuya’s help either.” The redhead raised his eyebrows. "I'm passing him into your capable hands now. I trust you’ll take good care of him?” Dazai seemed satisfied with the chuckle that slipped from your throat. “You have nothing to worry about,” you replied, “And I trust that your detective agency will treat you well?” “They always have.” Chuuya let out a breath, sharing a look with his partner before turning to face a black passenger vehicle that had pulled up a short distance away. Tinted windows that prevented anyone outside from peeking in; glass, body, and tires that were all bulletproof. It was one of the mafia’s.

“C’mon Dollface, we should get going. Don’t wanna be here when the press shows up, and the boss is probably dying for me to give him a call,” Chuuya nodded his head in the direction of the car; you brought your hand up to give a small wave to Dazai and the handful of agency members further away who glanced in your direction. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in, allowing your head to rest on Chuuya’s shoulder as you made your way to the car. You felt like you could finally breathe properly again. The door unlocked with a quiet click. Chuuya swung open the door of the vehicle with his non gloved hand and stepped aside to allow you to enter first. “...Chuu?” you started quietly, taking a step closer to where he stood. “Hm?” he raised an eyebrow. You placed your hands loosely on the back of his neck, fingers intertwined; Chuuya responded by resting his hands on your hips, listening intently. You could have held more of a grudge. He disappeared overnight without a word, and no one would tell you why. You’d been on edge for three days straight. Hardly even sleeping through the night as you kept up with the news almost obsessively, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. To be able to hold Chuuya close again so easily felt almost surreal. A soft smile creeped into your expression, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you tilted your head to the side. Chuuya’s breath stilled. “I’m just…” you paused for a moment, your voice pouring with sincerity, “I’m really glad you’re back, and that you’re safe.” Chuuya paused for another moment, studying you carefully as an equally tender look came to his face. He glanced to the side for a moment, and let out a disgruntled huff upon discovering that Dazai’s head was still tilted in your direction; he kept a curious eye on the situation from several meters away. Your boyfriend pursed his lips for a moment before snaking one of his hands further around your waist. He plucked his pork pie hat off the crown of his head, and before you had the chance to realize what was going on, you were already being gracefully tilted backwards, forcing your hands to grip onto the lapel of Chuuya’s jacket for support. Everything seemed to still the moment he slotted his lips into yours, holding his hat up to act as a shield from certain prying eyes. You didn’t hesitate to pull him in closer, your lashes fluttering shut as you savored what you felt like you had been missing for an eternity. Chuuya’s eyes were shut in concentration, his heart thrumming with delight at the familiar sensation of your lips molded against his own. Chuuya didn’t pull away until you were both light-headed from the lack of air. Cheeks flooded with warmth, looking at each other as if you were the only two people in the entire world. “I missed you so fucking much, you know that?” Chuuya’s voice was low as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. The two of you stood straight, lingering in each other’s embrace for a moment longer. Chuuya lightly tossed his hat inside the car and once more gestured with his arm out for you to enter first. The satisfied smile on his lips morphed into one of slight perplexion when you didn’t show a reaction, raising your fingertips to brush over your lips. “Chuuya?” you questioned, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He replied with your name, all the more puzzled when you let out an incredulous chuckle. “Since when are your teeth so sharp?”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ a/n: Thank you so much for reading! Have a day/night/morning/evening as lovely as yourself. tagging: @judasgot-it (I noticed that I wrote down that I agreed to tag you for chuuya fics but I can't seem to remember why?? TwT please tell me if this is incorrect! Thank you <3)

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theswordwrites · 9 days ago

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fresh out the slammer (azriel x reader)

Summary: Fresh off of a breakup, you seek out Azriel, searching for the spark you've been missing so much

Warnings: 18+, smut, light d/s dynamics, exes reuniting, cheating, no use of y/n

Word Count: 5,887

Author's Note: I've literally never written smut before. However, I have read a hell of a lot of it and I gave it my best shot! Thanks for reading <3

Another summer taking cover, rolling thunder He don't understand me Splintered back in winter, silent dinners, bitter He was with her in dreams

Being in a boring relationship was one thing. You told yourself that you’d been together for too long to walk away—that leaving would mean unraveling everything you’d built. For what? A lack of excitement? A dwindling spark? People would kill for this kind of stability, for the comfort of a partner who always came home at the end of the day. He didn’t understand you—not really—but he pretended to well enough. And you were tired. Tired enough to pretend, too.

But being cheated on? That was something else entirely.

There was no more pretending after that. No justifying, no rationalizing. And it wasn’t even the betrayal that gutted you—it was the relief. As if he'd finally said out loud what neither of you had the courage to admit. You’d both been miserable. He just had the gall to do something about it first.

So you packed the boxes. Called in the moving winnows. Signed a lease on the other side of Velaris. It all happened quickly, almost too easily, like the city was glad to see you start over.

The sting faded as you hung new curtains. Unpacked old books. Rearranged your kitchen three times just because you could. You played music louder, cooked dinner later, took long walks in the dark with no one to check in with. You were free.

And yet…

Some nights, when the silence stretched too long and the wine bottle tipped past half, your mind wandered—to shadows, to secrets, to the one who had known you even when you didn’t want to be known.

To Azriel.

You hadn’t seen him in years. Not really. There were moments, of course, across the Sidra, passing glimpses during court events, or half-hearted waves exchanged in crowded rooms. But you’d kept your distance. He had too. There was history there. Not all of it good.

So you definitely weren’t thinking about him when you pulled on a tight black dress and called your friends to meet you at Rita’s. You told yourself you just wanted noise. Music. A room where nobody knew your name or your heartbreak. Somewhere you could pretend, just for a few hours, that you weren’t newly single, freshly humiliated, and painfully alone.

The bass was loud. The wine was stronger. And the heat of bodies pressed together on the dance floor made it easy to forget everything that had driven you here. You let yourself sway, sip, smile when someone’s hand lingered too long on your hip. You were fine. You were free.

You were halfway through another glass of wine, half laughing, half pretending to listen to whatever your friend was saying, when your body stilled.

You felt him before you saw him. Like a chill across your skin, a shift in the room’s gravity. The shadows curled, familiar and electric, the air pulling tighter around your lungs. And then, across the bar—there he was.

Azriel.

Leaning against the edge of the counter, dressed in black and shadowed like always. His scarred hands wrapped around a drink he didn’t seem to care about. His eyes, those godsdamned eyes, already on you.

You froze. So did he.

Something flickered between you at that moment. Unspoken, unfinished.

Your breath caught. Your wine glass tipped a little too far.

He didn’t move. Neither did you.

And suddenly, the noise of the club, the ache of the last few months, the entire city of Velaris—it all narrowed to him.

He was still just as handsome. All shadows and sharp edges, wings tucked behind him like they were made of something dangerous and divine. His hazel eyes landing on you like they always did—like they knew you. The years hadn’t softened him. If anything, they’d only carved him deeper: the hard line of his jaw, the broad set of his shoulders, the cool composure that barely masked the tension underneath. And those shadows, they still clung to him like smoke, like secrets, like they were alive and watching.

Gods, he looked good. Unfairly good. And worse, he looked exactly the way he used to, like no time had passed at all.

You hated how easily it all came back. The way his gaze could hold you still. The way your body still reacted like it belonged to him, your spine straightening and a familiar heat growing in your belly. You took another sip of wine to hide it, to calm the flush creeping up your neck, but gods, it didn’t help. Because he was still Azriel. He was still him. And apparently, you were still hopelessly, stupidly, tragically not over it.

You should’ve looked away. Should’ve turned back to your friends, finished your drink, left him standing there like a ghost from another life.

But the wine was warm in your veins, and you were tired of pretending you didn’t care. Tired of feeling trapped.

So you moved.

Now pretty baby, I'm running back home to you Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to (Fresh out the slammer, oh)

One step. Then another. The crowd seemed to part for you, the music a dull hum compared to the drumbeat in your chest. And he didn’t look away. He just watched. Steady. Still. Like he’d known you were coming the whole time.

By the time you reached him, you could smell the scent of him—leather, cedar, rain. Familiar enough to make your throat ache. You stopped in front of him, heart pounding in your throat.

“Azriel,” you said, his name already tasting like regret on your tongue.

He said yours in return, low and steady, and gods, he still made it sound like you belonged to him.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here.” The words were awkward on your tongue, rushed and quieter than you meant them to be.

Azriel’s eyes scanned your face. “You came looking.”

He had always been able to see right through you, understand you with a single glance.

You huffed a quiet, bitter laugh. “Maybe I did.”

There was a beat of silence. A flicker of something old and aching in his gaze.

“You look good,” he said finally. “Different.”

“Different like ‘miserable and freshly dumped,’ or different like ‘you moved on without me’?”

He didn’t smile, just kept those pretty eyes set on your face. “Both.”

You looked down at your wine glass, swirling what was left. “He was stable. Predictable. The kind of male who got home for dinner and never forgot to buy milk.”

“Sounds… thrilling.”

You met his eyes. “It wasn’t. Not really. But it felt safe. After you, I needed safe.”

His throat bobbed, brow arching with the question. “So that’s what I was? Unsafe?”

The words weren’t angry, just edged with curiosity.

You hesitated for a moment. “You were everything. And that was the problem. You were late nights and secrets and war meetings and silence when I needed you most. You were the dream I couldn’t wake up from.”

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he said, quietly.

“Don’t.” You stepped back, just a little. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

The wine burned in your blood. Your heart pounded, too loud in your chest.

“I do,” he said, voice low—almost a growl. “I meant it then. I mean it now.”

You let out a breath, shaky and uneven. “Why now, Azriel? Why tonight?”

“Because you’re here. Because the second I saw you, it felt like no time had passed. Because I never wanted to let you go, I just didn’t know how to hold on.”

The confession swept over you like a wave, sudden and relentless, leaving your cheeks flushed and your lips slightly parted, breathless from the force of it.

“Come home with me.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, before you could unravel what they might mean in the morning, when the wine had left your system and your sense of self preservation returned.

The moment they left your lips, regret crashed over you like a wave. You almost pulled back, almost tried to take it back—but the look in Azriel’s eyes stopped you, holding you in place like he’d always done.

He stepped closer, his voice low, but there was an edge to it now.

“Lead the way.”

And so you did.

His hand found yours in the crowd, and you nearly choked on the way it felt—so right, his scarred skin slotting against yours like it had never been apart.

How had you ever let him go? Let go of that feeling—the one that consumed you, the one that whispered there was no one else who could ever compare?

The two of you had never been ones for small talk, so the short walk was quiet but not uncomfortable. His hand gave yours a gentle squeeze before you pulled apart to unlock your front door, deliberately ignoring the slight tremor of anticipation that ran through you.

He had you pinned against the lilac wallpaper of the hallway before you could blink. His kiss was slow, but there was an underlying desperation in it—one you knew all too well.

"Missed this. Missed you," he murmured against your lips, his hands firm on your waist. You could only nod in response, feeling the scrape of his stubble against your cheek as your other hand tightened around his jacket.

"I bet you missed me too," he said, his voice low and gravelly as his lips trailed from yours to your jaw. "Missed having me this close."

You had.

You had thought of him in those quiet, aching moments—after being left unsatisfied, wanting. Had touched yourself to the memory of him, no matter how much the shame of it burned. You had locked those thoughts away in a vault, only daring to open it in the dead of night.

"Say it," he growled against your neck, his teeth grazing your jugular for emphasis, then soothing it with the flick of his tongue.

You couldn’t deny it. Couldn’t deny him. Not anymore.

"I missed you, Azriel," you whispered, your back arching as he pressed into you, his hardness unmistakable against you. The warmth of him made you squirm, your breath catching.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his breath ragged, chest rising and falling with the effort to steady himself. His gaze searched yours, dark and conflicted.

"Are you sure?" he questioned, voice raw, barely above a whisper.

There was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something you recognized as the same uncertainty that had haunted both of you when you parted. "I won’t be able to stop if we—"

You didn’t let him finish. You couldn’t.

His hesitation only made the heat inside you burn brighter. You didn’t care about the past. You didn’t care about the reasons you’d walked away before. All that mattered was the feeling of his lips on your skin, the way he made your heart race with nothing but a look. You gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him back to you with a need that was desperate, primal almost.

"I don’t want to stop," you whispered against his lips, breathless. "I need this. I need you."

His eyes darkened, lips curling into something feral. Without another word, he kissed you again, hard, fierce, like he’d been starving for this, too. His hands were everywhere at once, sliding under your dress, running up your thighs with a haste that matched the pounding of your heart. His fingers were rough, but every touch made you feel more alive, more aware of every inch of him.

You moaned into the kiss as he slowly lifted you against the wall, pressing his body against yours in a way that made everything else fade away. There was no past, no doubt, just the sensation of him—his warmth, his strength, the way he fit against you like he was meant to be there.

"Azriel," you gasped, hands tangled in his hair, your body already trembling with desire.

His voice was low, almost growling, as he trailed kisses down your neck. "You don't know how long I've wanted this… wanted you." His words were laced with frustration, with longing, as if he was finally getting a taste of what he’d been denied for too long. "I won’t hold back this time."

“Don’t hold back,” you answered, shaking your head like a mad woman.

"Bedroom?" he asked, his voice low, pulling away just enough to look down at you with that hungry gaze of his, but not letting your feet touch the floor.

"Down the hall, to the left."

Without a word, he carried you, the movement effortless. He set you down gently—far gentler than you expected—his eyes never leaving yours. The two of you were still breathing heavily, faces flushed with desire as you found yourself perched on the edge of the bed, your legs bracketing his, the space between you charged with anticipation.

He ran a finger down your temple, his gaze lingering on every inch of you as if committing you to memory.

“What’s our word, doll?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with a knowing edge. You didn’t need to ask which word he meant.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, the weight of the question hanging thick between you. You hesitated for a breath, drunk on the intensity in his eyes, the way he made you feel both exposed and wanted.

“Mountain,” you breathed, your voice unsteady as you blinked up at him.

He was a vision above you, the soft light casting shadows across his disheveled hair and the fire in his hazel eyes that burned straight through you.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the words slipping out like a promise—and a command.

With a gentle push to your shoulders, he lowered you back onto the bed, the quilt soft beneath you, contrasting with the heat rising between you both. The space between you seemed to shrink with each passing second, the air thick with the unspoken. He hovered above you, his presence overwhelming.

He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, then lowering himself to his knees. He ran a gentle hand up your calf, over your knee, and to your thigh. Each inch of skin only served to drive you crazier, the desire for him to touch you only growing.

You fought the urge to squirm, to move closer— to do anything to get closer to him.

“This dress is pretty,” he observed, “I think we’ll keep it on for now, yeah?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, his scarred hands pushed the fabric up to your hips, exposing the black lace of your underwear. You felt his lips press against your inner thigh, leaving soft, reverent kisses.

You let out a broken mumble of his name, your hands in tight fists at your sides. He didn’t move any closer to where you needed him, only clicking his tongue once, then twice, before saying, “None of that, doll. Be patient.”

A frustrated whimper left your lips, but you knew it was of no use.

Azriel would take his time taking you apart— each touch, each word meant to drive you mad with desire.

His thumbs hooked into the sides of your underwear, caressing the skin underneath, but not removing them. Your hips hitched, searching for any sort of contact. He was going to be the death of you, you were sure of it. And Gods would this be the way to go.

“So impatient,” he mumbled against your thigh, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to sting, “You need this, don’t you?”

He removed his hands from your hip, opting to run a single knuckle over your covered core.

A whiny, mhm, was your only answer.

“Poor baby,” he cooed, “How long has it been? Since someone’s had you properly satisfied?”

“I— I don’t know,” you answered, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. How long had it been? Months? Years? Since the last time Azriel had you?

Azriel shook his head, removing his hands entirely, “Try again, doll.”

“Not since..” you took in a deep breath, trying to exhale the sting of embarrassment, “Not since you.”

You wish you could prop yourself up on your elbows and catch the surely satisfied look on his face, but you stayed still, knowing he’d only prolong your pleasure further if you moved without permission.

Azriel hummed, a low, satisfied sound, and leaned forward, pressing his lips firmly against your core. Despite the barrier of the black lace, it felt divine— like he was made to be right there, in between your legs.

He pressed a kiss against your clothed clit, then he leisurely ran his nose against the length of your slit, inhaling you. The pressure was just enough to send heat up your spine, your toes curling with anticipation.

“Gods, you smell fucking heavenly.” He growled, hooking the fabric in one finger and pulling it to the side, exposing you to his hungry gaze,

“And this is still the most beautiful cunt I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

His tongue darted out, pressing against your entrance, running up to your clit, sucking harshly before running his tongue over it soothingly. You felt him pull away for a moment, a mewl leaving your lips at the loss of contact, but relief flooded you as he pulled your panties down your legs.

Then he was on you again, his mouth on your cunt, hands gripping roughly at your hips.

This is what you had been longing for— the way he knew you like the back of his hand. How he knew you preferred languid, slow strokes over your slit, a bruising grip on your hips, your legs over his shoulders, ankles hooked behind his neck, heels just barely grazing the spot where his wings met his back.

The relief of it all had your hand drifting to his head—not to tug, but to comb your fingers gently through his disheveled curls. They were just as soft as you remembered, like dark silk slipping through your fingers, a feeling you'd memorized long ago in the quiet moments between love and loss. He leaned into the touch, wordless as he devoured you but knowing, as if he remembered too—how comfort had always lived in the space between your hands and his skin.

A string of breathy moans floated from your lips as his tongue traced over you again, light and barely there— he was pushing you, you realized. Seeing how long he could get away with teasing you, pushing you to the edge of delirium, just to bring you back to him.

You weren’t above begging. Not when it came to him.

“P-please, Az. Please.”

He hummed against you, the vibration only serving to drive you closer to madness.

“I need you,” you murmured, your grip on his hair tightening in warning, “I’ve always needed you.”

That seemed to satiate him as he cracked a small smile against you, humming again. You gasped as he returned to your cunt with vigor, licking and sucking— playing your body like an instrument and he was a world class artist.

You were soaked, your hole clenching around nothing, leaking onto the blanket beneath you.

It was debauched. It was reverence. It was everything.

His name left your lips once, then twice, then again as you felt a finger nudge at your entrance.

Azriel pushed his middle finger in slowly, lips still attached to your clit. You could do nothing but stretch around him, keening under him. You knew the pressure was nothing compared to the way his cock would split you open, but it was delicious and mind numbing all the same.

Once his finger was fully seated in you, prodding at that sweet, spongy spot inside of you, he added another. You were slick enough that you gave no resistance to the intrusion.

“That’s what you needed, baby?” He asked, picking up his pace, bullying his digits into you.

“Yes, yes.” You whined, your hips involuntarily bucking against him.

“And you still need more, hm?” He tutted, his voice taking on a sardonic quality, teasing you. He beckoned his fingers in a way that made stars explode across your vision— your face fuzzy and numb, legs twitching around his shoulders.

And Gods, was he right.

His free hand moved to your lower belly, pressing there. The pressure only added to the pleasure his fingers brought, coaxing you so close bliss. With a few mere strokes and passes over your clit, he had you on the edge of release.

But he still held back, knowing exactly where your limits were.

Your name fell from his lips, somewhere between a prayer and a command, “When you finish, it will be with my cock inside of you, understand?”

“I understand,” you whispered, not trusting your voice, your face twisted in pleasure and eyes shut tight. He gave you one last thrust of his fingers, holding them there for just a breath. The sound you made was nothing short of guttural, coming from somewhere deep inside you— somewhere primal and wanting.

A whine escaped you at the loss of his fingers. You wondered how you survived all these years without him, without the ache of his closeness, the gravity of his touch pulling you back to where you were always meant to be.

Azriel moved over you with quiet purpose, his body a shadowed silhouette in the dim light. He settled at your waist, wings flaring slightly behind him. His face was all sharp lines and focus, a quiet fire burning in his hazel eyes as his fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt—slow, deliberate, like he wanted you to memorize every second of it.

His face, covered in you, might have been the most beautiful thing you’d seen in your immortal life.

You could hardly breathe beneath the weight of him, not from pressure, but from the unbearable anticipation that built with each slow flick of his fingers. Every inch of newly exposed skin felt like a promise, like the echo of something you’d been starving for in silence. His shadows curled along his skin as the shirt slipped from his shoulders, revealing the familiar sprawl of tattoos inked across his chest—markings you'd traced once with your fingers, your lips, like a map you could never forget how to read.

You were panting just watching him, your body betraying you, chest rising and falling in time with the wild, reckless rhythm of your heartbeat.

“Tell me what you want.” Azriel commanded, voice rough and low, his gaze locked onto yours with molten intent.

“You,” you whispered, the word trembling from your lips.

He tilted his head, the movement slow and deliberate, as his arms caged you in.

“Be more specific, doll.” Azriel whispered, his voice a tender hush against your skin, all patient hunger and reverent touch, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you gently.

“You inside of me.” You answered.

He nodded once, sliding off of you and dragging his pants and underwear down. His cock sprang free, hard and heady against his stomach.

“What inside of you? Hm?” He prodded in that same teasing tone, stroking himself once, then twice.

You swallowed hard as you watched him, propped up on your elbows now, your mouth watering at the sight.

“Your cock.”

The yearning in your voice was so evident, so raw, it even surprised you.

He stepped forward, eyes never leaving yours as his fingers found the edge of your dress. With a practiced slowness, he hooked the fabric and drew it upward, the hem whispering over your skin before slipping it over your head and casting it aside.

You were left bare before him, need roiling in your gut like a storm, slightly trembling with anticipation. He took his cock in hand and pressed it against your folds, rubbing the blunt head of it against you.

“This is what you wanted?” he asked, voice like smoke and sin, low enough to curl heat through your core. He pressed forward just a bit, his tip catching against your entrance.

Even the small pressure earned a whine from your lips, which he tutted at in return.

“Look at you,” he growls, “So wet for me. Is this all for me?”

You answered with a tilt of your hips, and “It’s all for you.”

“Is that so?”

He emphasized his words with another short thrust, teasing you.

“Az.” You huffed indignantly.

With his feet still planted on the floor, he leaned forward, one hand guiding his cock and the other planted next to your head. With a nip at your jaw, he pushed in again, just enough to make your hands clench against the mattress

“Don’t be a brat,” he murmured against your ear, each short word a spark against your skin, setting every nerve alight.

You thought, for just a moment, that he would tease you like this forever. Keep you right there at the precipice of experiencing that divine pleasure you knew he could give so well. Perhaps as punishment, or for his own satisfaction of seeing you squirm and stutter beneath him

He finally pushed into you fully, your heat welcoming him effortlessly and without resistance, despite the size of him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his lips parted in ecstasy.

You were foolish to think he would ever deny himself of this, of you. He stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust, like the gentleman he is. His hand, now free with his cock seated inside of you, came to your clit, his thumb rubbing deft circles.

“M-move, please,” you pleaded, voice breathless and aching, like wanting him was the only thing you’d ever known.

Azriel obliged you, setting a slow and languid pace with each press of his hips, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. It was all teeth and tongue, the force of his hips meeting yours growing with each passing second.

“I bet you fucking missed this,” he growled against you, his voice barely restrained, “Missed having me inside of you— filling you up just how you like.”

His cock hit a sensitive, sweet spot inside of you, drawing out a pathetic whimper. “F-fuck, Az,” you yelp.

His scent was everywhere, invading your senses like smoke through a keyhole—heady and dark, all cedar and wind and something so purely him. It clung to your skin, settled in your lungs, and curled low in your belly.

The warmth of his skin against you is a whole other sensation, covering you, comforting you through the brutal pace he’s set as he pounded into you without ceremony.

Tears gathered in your eyes, spilling onto your flushed cheeks. He kissed one, then the other, the softness in deep contrast to the way he fucked into you roughly.

“Crying for me already, baby?”

You don’t answer.

You can’t answer.

So overrun by the feeling of him inside of you, on top of you. With a sharp pinch to your nipple, he ordered, “Answer me, doll.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, “For you. All for you.”

The words are broken, pathetic ones, but he accepts them nonetheless and soothes the sting with his tongue.

“You can take it,” he reassured you, his voice muffled by the skin of your breast, “I know you can. You’re doing so good for me, doll. So fucking good.”

Your loneliness became a distant memory with each thrust of his hips, his groans and heavy breaths against your clavicle coaxing you closer and closer.

“You gonna finish on my cock, huh?” He breathed, his voice losing its edge, sweeter and coaxing now, “Gonna let me fill you up?”

His hand came to the nape of your neck, pulling to lift your head just enough to set your eyes on the sight of him fucking into you.

“I want you to watch. Watch me fuck you.”

You couldn’t respond, nearly hypnotized by the display of his cock pushing in and out of you in quick, hard thrusts.

“Watch. And know that I’m the only one who can make you feel like this— so fucking cock drunk you can’t even speak.”

Your toes curled instinctively, your legs tightening with the force of your oncoming orgasm. You knew he could tell you were close. He had memorized every tell, every twitch, years ago.

“That’s it,” he cooed, “You can come for me, baby. I know you want to.”

Between his words, his hand in your hair and the relentless drag of his cock inside of you, you were already hurdling over the edge with a cry.

“Just like that. Fuck, baby. That’s it.”

A high, keening sound filled your ears—like the rush of wind through a mountain pass. The world narrowed to white heat and the thundering rhythm of him inside of you, everything else drowned out in the crescendo of your climax.

His breath stuttered, body going rigid above yours as a growl tore from his throat. Deep, raw, unrestrained. Shadows coiled tight around you both like a snare, and then he was unraveling, coming apart with your name on his lips like a prayer and a curse all at once. His wings flared, trembling, as though even they couldn’t contain the force of it. And when he finally collapsed, it was with reverence, his forehead pressed to yours like he was anchoring himself back to the world through you. You reveled in the way you could feel his seed against your walls, warm and filling.

He dropped beside you with a low, wrecked sound, his arms coming around you like instinct, like worship. You were pulled into the cradle of his chest, his heartbeat thunderous beneath your cheek, as if his body couldn’t bear to be separate from yours a second longer. Like the tether between you had snapped taut—and drawn him home.

He held you for what felt like hours, tenderly. The silence between you was thick, but not uncomfortable. Just full. The kind of silence that said everything neither of you had dared to say out loud.

Azriel shifted beside you, propping himself up on one elbow. “So…” he murmured, voice rough with exhaustion and something deeper, “was this a mistake?”

You turned your head, meeting his eyes in the dim light.

Gods, he looked tired. Beautiful. Real.

“No,” you said softly. “It was a beginning. Or maybe a return.”

His brow furrowed, just slightly. “What does that mean?”

You smiled faintly, reaching out to trace the scars on his hand with your fingertip. “It means I’m not running this time.”

He watched you for a long moment, like he was memorizing the shape of those words. Then he leaned in, brushing a kiss to your shoulder.

“I waited,” he whispered. “Even when I told myself not to.”

You took a deep breath, your fingers curling nervously around the edge of the blanket. The weight of everything that had passed hung between you—old wounds, choices made, silence that had stretched too long.

Azriel’s gaze softened, as though he’d already sensed what you were about to say.

“I… I owe you an apology,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. “For everything. For walking away when it was hard, for not telling you what I needed. For running into something… easy.” You swallowed, the lump in your throat tight. “I thought it would be easier to forget. But I never did.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened as he looked at you, a mixture of pain and understanding swirling in them. He stayed silent, but his expression was an answer, one that said so much more than words could.

“I wasn’t strong enough to face what I really wanted,” you continued, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the sheet. “And I let myself get comfortable with something safe, even though I knew deep down… it wasn’t you. It wasn’t us.”

He reached out then, his fingers brushing your cheek, not with anger, but something gentler, something understanding. His voice was low, a touch strained. “You don’t have to apologize. Not to me.”

“I do,” you said, your voice cracking. “I hurt you, Azriel. I shut you out when you—when you always saw me. And I was too afraid to even admit I still felt it.”

Azriel’s expression softened even further, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “We’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah. I just hope I haven’t ruined everything.”

“Some things… are too strong to ruin.” He kissed your forehead gently, and when he pulled back, his voice was soft, but resolute. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You brushed your fingers over the back of his hand, grounding yourself in the truth you’d denied for far too long.

You had left the man who never really saw you. Packed your things, crossed the city, stepped back into a shadowed memory that hadn’t dulled with time. And now, lying here with Azriel—his scent on your skin, his heartbeat echoing in your ears—you felt it deep in your bones:

You were free. You were home.

And no matter what I've done, it wouldn't matter anyway Ain't no way I'm gonna screw up now that I know what's at stake Here, at the park where we used to sit on children's swings Wearing imaginary rings But it's gonna be alright, I did my time

#gnawing at the bars of my enclosure #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acotar smut #acotar fanfiction #azriel fic #azriel smut

376 notes · View notes

fastandcarlos · 5 months ago

Text

My Home : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

summary: the journey of how your long distance relationship is reunited once again 🛬

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, ynusername and 892,742 others

carlossainz55: day 50 of missing my best friend and all the little ordinary things that she somehow made feel extraordinary ✨⛅️

42,068 comments

username1: it’s so impressive how these two make long distance work so well 🥹

ynusername: can’t wait to come home and be back with you again 💞

carlossainz55: @/ynusername just a few more days to go amor 🥺

username2: is it bad that I’m also counting down the days until they’re reunited again??

danielricciardo: you two are incredible managing to keep things going even though you’re so far apart 👏🏻

username3: carlos always knows how to break our hearts with a soft caption 💔

charles_leclerc: you’ve managed to do a really subtle job of letting us all know how much you miss her 😂

username4: the fact that he trusts her enough to cook with her too…

alexandrasaintmleux: if it makes you feel any better I also can’t wait for yn to be home 🥳

username5: can’t wait for these two to be back together again and blessing us with content!

landonorris: I keep telling you that we can go for coffee together but you don’t listen!

carlossainz55: @/landonorris there are certain things that just aren’t the same with you 🫢

username6: 50 whole damn days since we last saw the dream team side by side 😭

georgerussell63: and here I am thinking a week is a long time to be without my girl…

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liked by carlossainz55, lilyzneimer and 113,048 others

ynusername: day 64 of being away from your handsome face. can’t wait for beach days like these once again soon 🩵

15,897 comments

username7: sorry yn but do you expect me to be okay after posting that middle photo!?

charles_leclerc: btw he’s had a countdown going down on his phone everyday since you left 😂

ynusername: @/charles_leclerc embarrassed to say I’ve got one too, on my home screen as well 😊

username8: please someone just end their suffering already and reunite them 💕

maxverstappen1: pls come and get your man soon, fed up of dealing with his lovesick whining 😝

username9: how anyone could survive being away from that handsome face is beyond me 😂

landonorris: just to clarify, you’re talking about carlos’ handsome face…you never know, it could be mine 😇

ynusername: @/landonorris as happy as I am to see you soon, it’s definitely carlos’ 😂

username10: he really is the definition of a soft boyfriend isn’t he…

alexandrasaintmleux: cannot wait to see your beautiful face opposite me at a coffee table soon ☕️

username11: over two months they’ve been apart and now in a matter of days they’ll be together again, like a fairytale ✨

carlossainz55: home is ready and waiting for you, as are my open arms 🫂🥰

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 I can’t wait to be back in your hold again 😍

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 128,069 others

ynusername: race day -1, settling down for my last race away from home, you got this darling ❤️🏎️

17,492 comments

carlossainz55: sorry that I couldn’t bring home the win love, maybe next time when you’re back there with me 💞

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 ik you were secretly holding on so I got to be there in person 😂❤️

username12: I can’t begin to tell you how happy this post makes me knowing you’ll be home soon 🥺

username13: now this is the kinda setup I need for race day!!

carmenmmundt: wish I was there to snuggle under that blanket with you

lilymhe: @/carmenmmundt I’ve already bagsied the blanket for movie night when yn’s home 😘

username14: notice how it’s carlos in the lead with yn watching too ☺️

charles_leclerc: thank god I don’t have to deal with his moping around without you for anymore races 🙌🏻

georgerussell63: petition for you to make hot chocolate for all of us when you’re back in the paddock too 😏

ynusername: @/georgerussell63 not a chance with how needy you guys are 😂

username15: it’s adorable how yn has always made sure to be watching the races even though she’s away with work

landonorris: I’ve lost count of how many times he’s told me that you’ll be at the next race, he’s so excited yn!!

username16: their interactions somehow melt my heart every single time they update 🫠

danielricciardo: on behalf of every driver, please save us from carlos telling us how much he misses you constantly asap

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liked by alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and 1,583,293 others

charles_leclerc: my last few days of filling the large yn shaped hole that has been in my sweetie’s life ❤️🥹

104,587 comments

username17: I’m not ready to say goodbye to this pairing soon 😭

ynusername: thank you for taking such great care of my best friend leclerc ❤️

username18: charles has somehow become carlos’ emotional support system over the past couple of months lmao

danielricciardo: I also don’t think I’m stable enough for this bromance to end just yet…

username19: I’m sure yn is beyond grateful for the fact that carlos has had you by his side charles

carlossainz55: what would I do without my honey right by my side!?

username20: I’ve got high expectations for alex next time yn has to go on a work trip 😂

landonorris: guessing that carlando means nothing to you anymore then @/carlossainz55

carlossainz55: @/landonorris every time I came to you you just laughed in my face remember?? 🙄

username21: why do I get the feeling yn is coming home just to be a third wheel…

alexandrasaintmleux: can you boys just get a room and have done with it please 🤦🏻‍♀️

charles_leclerc: @/alexandrasaintmleux just tell us you’re jealous without telling us you’re jealous

username22: the way he just calls him sweetie as if that’s the norm 🥹

alex_albon: please come and meet me to pass on all your tips and advice for next year 😂

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liked by charles_leclerc, fernandoalo_oficial and 129,573 others

ynusername: day 1 of being back in my favourite place on earth…home 🏡❤️

21,958 comments

carlossainz55: the house finally feels like a home again with you back inside 💕

username23: I can’t believe they’re finally back together again, this is so exciting!!

charles_leclerc: welcome home yn!! can’t wait to catch up with you this weekend!!

username24: apparently carlos was front of the line at arrivals making sure he got to her as quick as he could 😭

scuderiaferrari: we’re looking forward to welcoming you back into the garage this weekend ❤️

ynusername: @/scuderiaferrari can’t wait to catch up with the whole team and watch a race again!!

landonorris: I’m happy you’re reunited but I’m more happy that he’s finally gonna have a smile on his face again

username25: the way he carries her suitcase so effortlessly has me all kinds of giddy

georgerussell63: welcome back to monaco, we’ve all missed you so much!

username26: I’ve never been more excited for two people that I don’t even know…

maxverstappen1: he cancelled our game of padel today for this…I’ll let him off just this once 😂

ynusername: @/maxversrappen1 if you ask carlos he’ll say it’s definitely worth it 😂

username27: this means we finally get to see yn back at race weekend again 🎉

alexandrasaintmleux: I need to see you asap, missed you so much 💞

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55 and 124,068 others

ynusername: reunited with my second home, I forgot how good red looked on me. good luck to the best team on the grid this weekend, so happy to be back and cheer you on in person 🫶🏻☺️

22,604 comments

username28: damn we really did miss seeing you at a race weekend yn 🏎️

carlossainz55: you have no idea how happy I am to have you back with me again 💞

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 I bet it’s just as happy as I am to be back with you and the team again ✨

username29: hoping for a great result this weekend now that carlos has you back again

landonorris: patiently waiting for you to come and visit me, or do you plan on betraying me like carlos did??

ynusername: @/landonorris I promise I will come and see you at some point this week 🫂

username30: what are we supposed to do when red no longer is your colour next year??

danielricciardo: you must be pretty close to trying on every colour of the grid now 😂

carmenmmundt: um excuse me there better be a carmen plan somewhere in your schedule for this weekend 👀

username31: the camera somehow focused on you more than the cars in quali today 😂

oscarpiastri: it was lovely to finally meet you after hearing SO SO many stories about you!

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri I can only apologise for how much he talks about me ☺️

username32: the moment we’ve all been waiting for for so long 🤩

username33: please never leave us for a race weekend without you ever again!!

charles_leclerc: this has by far already been my most peaceful race weekend in a very long time all thanks to you!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, ynusername and 1,048,271 others

carlossainz55: turns out my lucky charm really was the missing piece all along. thank you my love for coming back home and bringing me the luck I needed to be top of the podium again 🏆😍

89,473 comments

username34: does this mean that yn is never allowed to leave for a race ever again???

charles_leclerc: couldn’t be prouder of the race you put together this weekend, good job sweetie!!

username35: we’re all so proud of you carlos and your lucky charm 🫶🏻

scuderiaferrari: congratulations on such an amazing result carlos, the whole team is so proud of you ❤️🏎️

username36: he really was waiting for the moment for when yn could be there to celebrate too 😭

georgerussell63: that was incredible, saving your best for your girlfriend I see 😉

alex_albon: smashed it my friend, there was no catching you today 🚀

username37: this weekend has just reminded me just how much I adore these two humans!!

landonorris: buzzing to see you back where you belong on that top step mi amigo

username38: yn has to stick around forever now if she’s a lucky charm!

danielricciardo: it’s funny the effect a loved one can have isn’t it!? we all knew you were racing just to impress yn anyway 😂

username39: this weekend really couldn’t have gone more perfectly 😭

ynusername: I didn’t think you were being serious when you said you were waiting for me 😂

carlossainz55: @/ynusername a race win isn’t a win without you by my side 💕

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

976 notes · View notes

moviestarmartini · 5 months ago

Text

trátame suavemente. — franco colapinto x gf!reader

no quiero soñar mil veces las mismas cosas / ni contemplarlas sabiamente / quiero que me trates suavemente.

summary: reuniting after spending months apart and having recently recovered from a fight feels bittersweet. however, you have to push all your feelings aside at the end of the weekend to treat your boyfriend softly.

wc: 2.3k

warnings: established relationship, hispanic!reader, sentences in spanish, bit of angst, long distance relationship mention, takes place after the são paulo gp, nsfw (18+ mdni), p in v, bathroom sex, oral (m!receiving), lowk edging, whiny!franco, sub!franco if you squint, unprotected sex (get on your pills or shots or SOMETHING don’t raw it), creampie, soft sex and ambiance overall.

A/N: based on this request ! and yess, franco with soda stereo again hehe. please listen to the el último concierto (remastered) version of this song when reading, it's a whole different vibe than the og !! mil besitos as always and feedback is appreciated

now playing... trátame suavemente by soda stereo

“Vení.”

Come here. Franco’s voice echoed the minute he noticed your hesitant footsteps filling up the once empty silence.

You leaned against the bathroom door frame, head leaned to the side. The lights were dimmed— proper of a fancy hotel, where else would you be able to adjust the lighting anyway?— He soaked in the steamy water clouded with the relaxing bath salts, trying to find some relief in what had been his worst weekend yet. Both on and off the track.

“Hi.” You greeted softly with a tiny wave of your hand before it retreated back to its post across your chest.

“Sabés que no muerdo a menos que me lo pidas.” He sat up, back straightening. Humor was a natural addition to his words, even when he was at his lowest. It never seemed to impress you, and it was something you could sometimes hate.

The scene was still vivid and bright behind your eyelids. Counting down the days for him to come home, getting the call he was in fact going to take longer— because he’d made it. He’d made it to Formula One. Your heart sped up when reliving the memory, unaware of how difficult it was going to be from then on.

Your relationship wasn’t exactly public, something you’d chosen yourself in case occasions like these arose. Then you’ve come to realize it gave him a certain freedom, the one that allowed him to flirt openly with interviewers and not face repercussions to his public image.

Behind closed doors, it was another story.

You tried. With your whole chest, you tried to not complain to him directly. It was his personality, the way he’d pulled you in from day one. One day, you just couldn’t. His absence was palpable, and after a week or so without any communication he’d texted to sulk about his mediocre results during the Mexican Grand Prix, having the fast lap taken away from him.

You couldn’t hold it in. From the fact he was inconsistent in the relationship that had you suffering through a rollercoaster of emotions, to his absence digitally and the lack of interest in your doings. He’d barely have the time to check in with you, not about you.

The calls were frantic, tears were shed, and he promised to be more present. The fight was left in a stalemate, and you cursed yourself when the flight reminder popped on your notifications. You couldn’t help but wait another week to see him?

The same word with four letters that broke the silence moments ago was texted by him that same day, and you couldn’t hold a grudge even if you wanted to. You were never truly mad at him, you just missed him. So much so it ached in your bones, both set your heart ablaze and cooled it at the same time.

Painful could only begin to describe it.

Your worries were pushed away once you clarified everything, after the Saturday session was canceled and all you had on your shared agenda was cuddle up in the hotel room, quiet promises being made. After all the grief he had to withstand in the midst of this storm— literally— the last thing in your priorities was to stay on your own petty agenda.

At his request to be closer, you sat at the closed lid of the toilet, unable to take your eyes off of him.

“You’re too far away.” His insistence only furthered, eliciting a quiet laugh out of your lips. Without further ado, you stood up, stripping off the simple lounging set and folding it aside before sinking opposite to him on the warm water, growing cold with each passing moment now that the faucet was off.

“What is it?” You blinked, head leaned to the side. Franco looked at you profoundly, and you wondered if he had something he was trying to figure out about you.

“I missed you so much.”

The words hung in the steamy air while you processed them, your bottom lip puckering out while a mixture of emotions washed over you. A part of you didn’t believe him, while the other ached for those words, even if it wasn’t the first time he said them during the weekend.

“Really?” You wondered out loud, not caring that the water could spill out of the tub while you carefully moved to rest by his side, an arm wrapped around you.

“Yeah.” He insisted, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m exhausted now. This was supposed to be such a good weekend… by the red flag all I wanted to do was lay my head on your tits for hours.”

“Baboso,” You splashed him with water, both of your laughs echoing in the room, the acoustics amplifying the sound.

“I missed you too, by the way.” You spoke up after a while of silence, the shapeless shapes he drew on your skin with his index finger lulling your heart to a lower rate.

“Por si no era obvio.” You added soon after, your laugh making your heart skip a beat. You didn’t feel like your claims from just a week and a few days ago were irrational, and you stood by them. He also did, acknowledging his lack of care.

But you were there, by his side. When he most needed it. And you wouldn’t change that for anything in the entire world.

Instead of getting an answer with words, you felt his fingers tenderly cupping your chin, guiding your gaze to his in order to receive his lips in yours warmly.

Careful and complex. His lips moved with calculation, and a sigh inevitably left yours. This is what your body ached, what made the desperately cold layer dissolve off your heart and set it fully ablaze under his careful affections.

You moved to straddle his hips, arms wrapped around his neck. You could’ve sworn you heard a whine while he straightened up, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life.

Desperate and desirable. The kiss transitioned to match the steam in the room, his hands unable to find a place to stay put in, instead just roaming the soaked inches of skin he could get a hold off.

“Me hizo muchísima falta tenerte así,” Franco let out in a pant, eager fingertips delving into the plush skin of your ass. Now it was your turn to answer with an action, leaning in to kiss down his neck, carefully placing affections on the prominent scar knowing it made him squirm.

“Ay amor…” He let out a groan, unable to resist when your chest pressed against his torso.

“¿Qué pasa?” You questioned quietly, fluttering your lashes up at him. You took his physical queues and understood them almost immediately. He couldn’t help but lean into his touch, shaky breath leaving his lips with each grazing of your fingers.

You noticed how he swallowed hard, just shaking his head to signify nothing was going on— nothing was inherently wrong.

“Sit up here.” You instructed quietly, patting the tiled edge before the tub began, seemingly used for people to sit and dry themselves. This once, you two were definitely not going to use it for that.

He followed the command obediently, watchful eyes following your movements while you positioned yourself between his legs.

“You’ve had such a rough week…” Your voice was hypnotizing, in the same way your hand stroking his length was. “Let me take care of you, mkay?”

The words he planned on letting out found themselves choked back when you deposited a kiss on the skin edging between his inner and outer thigh. He melted into his spot almost literally, manspreading to give you more access to leave the warm affections that brought goosebumps to his skin.

You batted your eyelashes innocently up at him while your flat tongue licked the underside of his hard cock, green eyes hyper-focused on your lips wrapping on the flushed tip.

“Fuck…” He managed to groan out, his right hand reaching to clutch your hair while the other held onto the ceramic, preparing himself for what he’d been desiring for what felt to be years, when in fact it had only been a short couple months.

You knew how to treat him, how to push his buttons just right without exceeding into a rougher context. All you wanted was for him to relax, at least for now. That didn’t mean you didn’t put in the effort, your hand encompassed what your mouth couldn’t take even when it almost hit the back of your throat.

“Que linda te ves con la boquita llena,” He caressed your cheek tenderly while you took a breather, his hips jerking upwards ever so slightly to thrust into your hand.

“Hm just for you,” You winked in agreement to the compliment before wrapping your lips around the now leaking tip, humming at the taste of the precum on your tongue and inevitably down your throat.

“Así, así,” Franco whined the minute you started bobbing your head up and down his length with precision and speed. He threw his head back, allowing the moans to leave his mouth freely, mixing in a dangerous cocktail with his heavy breaths.

The moment was perfect. You knew Franco was getting lost in it, nearing the edge with each desperate jerk of his hips matching up to your nose grazing his lower abdomen. He could still feel the warm water, but nothing could compare with the sensation of your throat.

Unless…

“Pará, pará,” He breathed out, his tone high pitched, containing himself into not bursting out the seams right then and there.

“¿Qué pasó mi rey? Did I do something wrong?” You pulled away visibly concerned, straightening up still on your knees.

His response was a weak shake of his head, chest rising up and down. He still rested his back against the tiled wall, regaining his composure. Your eyes traced every inch of his skin, every mole and freckle, subconsciously licking your lips. His laugh snapped you out of your shamelessly perverted ravaging, and you looked up at him with a smile.

“Te amo tanto.” He muttered, leaning in to close the gap between your mouths halfway. Even if seconds ago you were wondering why on earth he would edge himself, the kiss told you everything you needed, adding to the support his hands gave you to get on your feet and sit on his lap.

His lips parted from yours only to give soft kisses to your cheek and jaw, traveling the marvelous road down your neck. Your moans were soft, beginning to ease into it when a curious hand parted your legs open.

“Fran…” You breathed you, your hand reaching to caress the hair falling near his nape; it was longer than usual, he needed a trim— you noted mentally, reminding to comment on it later.

“Let me feel you,” He whispered against your skin, the action forming goosebumps on the area. “Estás tan mojadita; porfa.”

He didn’t need to beg twice, your back already pulled away from his chest, shifting around in his lap and raising your hips a little in order to sink down his length, your sighs of relief harmonizing.

“I missed this so much,” You noticed you had rendered him almost incoherent from the way he could barely formulate the words between heavy breaths and moans, a battle to keep his eyes open to watch your figure as you bounced on his hard cock.

“Ay ese culito…” He groaned, the sound of a smack bouncing on the walls before it remixed with your yelp, but it only encouraged to move faster, wanting to give him the show he deserved.

Franco didn’t allow himself to get lost in the mesmerizing movement of your body, instead pulling you back to be as close to him as humanly possible, his hand cupping your chin to almost drag your face near his.

The kiss was sloppy from his part, the grinding of your hips was sharp in comparison, and he couldn’t focus. Your wet skin against his, the noises you started making the moment he started toying with that sweet spot.

“Amor,” He couldn’t help but call your attention, ripping his lips off of yours in order to speak. You noticed the way his brows furrowed— and how could you not? he was always so expressive— his bottom lip puckering out while he tried to make out the following words.

But he didn’t need to.

“Yes,” You nodded, feeling your own orgasm approach quickly. From the moment you stripped and dipped in the water you knew you weren’t going to last long in whatever activity you might engage, and you were okay with that.

“¿Si?” Franco whined, his lashes fluttering while his eyes fell shut before he could hide his face in the crook of his neck.

“Si. Cum inside.” You confirmed, feeling his lips press against your shoulder blade before the conjoined noises filled up the room, the hand that occupied the space between your legs failing in its constant rhythm, while the other dug into the doughy merge your hips and upper thighs conformed.

You let your eyes close while the wave of pleasure washed over you, chests rising up and down rhythmically. It felt like you had just floated down from the sky, settling down into the reality of the position— a bit insane, to say the least— you found yourselves in, guided by the pure lust and yearning of each other after the sudden separation.

“All good over there?” You laughed softly, receiving a small ‘eh’ in a high pitched tone. It took Franco another moment before he raised his face, his lips pressing a tender kiss to your jaw before his arms wrapped around your midriff and into a tight hug.

“Con vos? Todo perfecto.”

#𓈒ㅤׂ 𓇼✽ — writing !#franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #fc43 x reader #fc43 x you #fc43 #fc43 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader

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temis-de-leon · 6 months ago

Text

He has a nightmare where he rejected you

Characters: Solomon and Simeon (x gn!reader, separately)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Main Masterlist

CW: spoilers for Simeon's character development in the OG game (I haven't played NB yet).

A/N: brace yourselves for Simeon's part because I still can't write him.

Solomon – He will inevitably lose you

From all the things he thought he would miss when he reached immortality, being able to remember his exact age wasn’t one of them; and yet, there was the regret.

He tells himself is not that deep; that reaching the thousands is already an impressive achievement, but lying to himself has its limits.

Maybe, if he hadn’t been so occupied tracking demons of interest and travelling the realms in search of knowledge, he would’ve had the time to keep score and be aware of just how long he had been roaming amongst the rest of his kind.

Maybe, if those who cared for him stayed longer than their perishable bodies allowed, someone would’ve been there to remind him.

And there were only so many burials he could attend before finally throwing the towel and accepting the emotional safety of solely seeking the company of immortals like him.

But then, centuries later, the human exchange program happens and you make him feel like reuniting with an old friend, even if you’ve never met before.

So he listens to experience.

So he remembers all those funerals he’d attended in the past; all those faces lost to time and inevitable death.

You’re way too enticing to ignore and of course, there’s the need to protect the fellow human surrounded by demons (never mind he acts like one too), but he knows how to stay occupied and at a distance, keeping his feelings at bay.

Casual friendship is the limit he willingly stops at.

He knows that if he allows himself to accept and reciprocate your love, the only important number in his life wouldn’t be his age anymore, but the day he’d inevitably lose you forever.

Tears pooled in his eyes as a violent coughing fit made him bend over, lungs pushing themselves up his throat in an attempt to escape from the stench and the toxic effects of the room’s atmosphere.

Ventilation.

He needed to open the windows.

It was like a cloud had entered his laboratory; a dense, humid fog that barely covered the furniture and crushed against the walls like a rot-smelling milky tide.

Still, Solomon wasn’t sure whether his tears were caused by the abnormal air around him or that unpleasant nightmare he just had.

Although he tried not to think about it, especially the heartbroken expression on your face, the scene did nothing more but repeat in his mind. His words and reasoning carried some logic, yet he couldn’t imagine a universe where that would’ve ever happened.

He enjoyed risks and danger but had never been masochist enough to deny himself of your company; on the contrary, the sole idea of spending time with you was usually a strong motivation to finish his work quickly and make some free time in his schedule, so rejecting being your lover was the strangest and unlikeliest idea he could’ve ever had.

Making that damn potion sure was another one.

Ironically, it was supposed to be a gift for you to use with him as a bonding couple activity, a concoction he had been experimenting on for days to use as introspection into your relationship. His original intention was to glimpse into your possible futures and even your alternative pasts, to see which other ways you had fallen in love with each other; not to witness a rejection.

Had that happened, then? In another timeline? Or had that nightmare been a fragment of his sad imagination?

Thankfully, the air inside the laboratory started to purify the moment he opened the window. He felt his thoughts return to rational and realistic as the fresh breeze of the Devildom night hit him right in his face. The fog, icy and moist, slithered around him and past the window into the darkness, dissipating and completely disappearing from his line of sight. However, behind him, the potion was still bubbling and rattling the cauldron, threatening to throw it to the ground.

Was it the measurements? The temperature of the fire? The direction of the stirring?

Trial and error; success didn’t come one’s way by dumb luck.

With a flick of the wrist and a sour scowl, he magically extinguished the overworked flames and threw the dangerous mixture down the drain.

It would be better to leave his experiment alone for a few more days, though. Perhaps even a week. That would be enough time for him to forget the dreadful nightmare, or at least try to do so. Until then, he’d leave the windows open, hoping the scattered fog didn’t affect any unsuspecting creature on the street, and close the laboratory under lock and key.

Solomon would buy you flowers and sweets and each good thing you deserved in life until the day came when he could give you something better.

Trial and error.

Simeon – The consequences could be fatal

You see.

He lived through the cautionary tale, a horrific incident that affected everyone involved, so he is painfully aware of how any potential intimacy between you two could end.

It doesn’t necessarily have to be like that, of course, but he knows that if he gets to love you, he’ll take risks and chances. Everything you could ever need, Simeon would give you, and not even the pearly gates of the Celestial Realm would be enough to stop him.

Lillith’s treason against their home in favour of her human lover would repeat in his hands if the situation required it.

His love runs deep and he knows so from the very first moment he sees you.

Although, at first, there isn’t anything extraordinary about your friendship.

He still appreciates it. It’s a carefree arrangement, for lack of a better word, light and kind in nature, and it helps him ease into the Devildom in a way he didn’t think existed.

You hang out sometimes, mostly because of Luke and his strong angelic need to protect your pure human soul, and you study together every once in a while, but your shared time isn’t enough to spark the flames of romantic attraction.

It’s easier to let you go when you have seven demanding demons trailing behind you like lost puppies; an amusing sight and a welcomed one.

And still, you choose him.

Why?

Is it his gentle demeanour? Or the determination shining underneath? Is it because he’s so different from the brothers, who show no remorse in admitting their darkest desires regarding their love for you?

He feels forced to reject you and he does as such, basking in the reassurance that you’ll both keep your friendship intact.

Don’t be mistaken; he loves you as well, but he doesn’t feel like that love belongs to the angel he used to be.

It was a melodic sound what woke him up, a tune he recognized as a warning coming from his new laptop.

Frowning and groaning in discomfort, Simeon brushed his hair away from his forehead and tried to rub off the imprints left on his skin by the keyboard. The document in front of him was full of random letters and numbers, no wonder a product of his unconsciously moving head, and a message on the screen asked for his authorization to carry out some type of order.

He didn’t quite fully understand what it asked, so, as per your usual requests, he closed the laptop and kept it inside his backpack.

Now at least he had a reason to visit you.

Not like he needed one, but the brothers, especially Lucifer, tended to leave you both alone more frequently if there was.

Thinking about them made the nightmare reappear and remain fresh in his mind, but somehow, surprisingly, it didn’t bother him as much as It should’ve. While the aspect of rejecting you hurt his heart in a special way, he knew he ultimately didn’t do it and chose the better option; but it was everything else what was stopping him from forgetting about it before leaving to see you.

He was changing, wasn’t he? It wasn’t your fault, you were merely an adding factor, but the truth was undeniable.

No longer the angel he used to be and neither a human, there were parts of himself he couldn’t keep ignoring. The darkness within that could compete with a demon’s, Lord Diavolo’s inability to read him as fast as he would anyone else and his willingness to bend the rules he had been taught should you ever need him to.

Lillith’s presence is blurry in his memories after so many years, but he would never be able to fully forget her; how could he ever do that? She fell in love and risked what she had and what she was to preserve it, although it ended in tragedy.

And still, he understood her.

Solomon’s and Luke’s voices reached him from the living room, bringing him back to reality. Besides his slow breathing and an unclosed faucet, the bathroom was otherwise silent. Droplets of water ran down his face like tears, but his eyes were dry and hardened by his thoughts. His reflection in the mirror seemed tired and he dreaded how his actual appearance might look. You would ask about it, no doubt, but what would he answer? He didn’t even know the full truth himself.

Glimpses of self-reflection and fragments of a realistic nightmare weren’t enough to dissipate your worries, so it’d be better for everyone if he kept hiding, at least for the moment.

Sweet actions and sweet words shielded by the honest love he felt for you.

The truth would come out eventually, but, until then, let the nightmares remain a mere fragment of his world-renowned imagination.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom @books-and-catears

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blue-jisungs · 7 months ago

Note

hi hi hi!!! is it possible to request for long distance relationship with piwon? and thank you for your contributions within the p1ece community with all of these masterpieces you've made 🫡

[ 💌 ] long distance relationship w piwon

# author’s note ... ahhh sorry it took so long:(( TYSM FOR RQING THO N FOR UR NICE WORDS HEHE!!! i got a bunch of piwon reqs and u dont even know how excited i am to write them mwhaahahah <333

┆彡 KEEHO [ 기호 ]

i feel like he’d be the strongest soldier amongst them all

because he’s just so chronically online LMFAO

no but even if you don’t text everyday (which happens, given his busy schedules), there’s always a way that keeho will reach out

sends you reels on insta, sends you tiktok’s he found or he filmed, you can see his bereal, you can see what he’s listening to on airbuds … like he makes sure you know he’s safe n sound (i hope that makes sense?!)

and he clings to every notification from you as well!!!

like oh, you just hit another milestone on duolingo?? he’s texting you asap !!!

also the type to spam you with photos of things that remind him of you:((((

he loooves to face time you but more often than not the call always ends up interrupted by one of the boys 😭😭😭

┆彡 INTAK [ 인탁 ]

he’s so loverboy im actually gonna cry

he was not build for this please save him from this misery 😿😿😿

cannot survive without calling you at LEAST twice a day. like for real.

will spam you with i love yous and i miss yous so so much because he just wants to be sure that you know his feelings for you are unchanged:(

facetiming is a must as well, he’ll often do that at the end of his (or yours if you’re in diff time zone) day so you can talk before going to sleep:(

won’t admit but loves when you fall asleep on ft:( like at least he can adore your sleepy face like he does when he’s with you:(

deffo buys everything that he thinks you’d like so when you reunite he has BAGS of gifts:(

(can you tell i love him so dearly.)

┆彡 THEO [ 테오 ]

he’s so:<

checks up on you everyday!!!!! tracks your lil icon on find my and calls you sometimes like “oh i saw you’re in your fav cafe, what are you getting?”

i believe he’s a romantic okay? so you two deffo have those apps for couples that like ,, you can draw something and it’ll pop up on his screen

or locket! :( like he loves getting notifs n he deffo stares at the silly selfies you take:((((

he also sends flowers for you, sometimes no matter the occasion <\\3 may or may not send a bottle of his cologne because he just knows you’ll feel less lonely if you can smell his perfume🥹🥹🥹

he’s sooo nostalgic❤️‍🩹 will scroll through your pics and videos… watch them all the time… m smile so fondly at the screen (while others make fun of him >:T)

has bought tickets to your place impulsively… at least three times

(and obv used them ?! like hellour he won’t waste the money now that he bought them !!! )

┆彡 JIUNG [ 지웅 ]

please end his suffering pt2

he is physically sick when you’re not around !!! (his tummy hurts… well, his heart too…)

spams you all day everyday – he saw a cute cat? sent. cool clothes? sent and asking for advice. a dead frog on the street? sent with caption ‘me when you’re 372028193 km away’

selfies too!!! you’ll get soooo many selcas bc he just knows you miss his face (and worry not, you send yours in return!! he kicks his legs like a teenage girl whenever he sees them~~)

facetimes you (or you him) even when doing the most mundane things ever… you could be studying in silence and he’ll be playing on his switch, none of you talking because you’re locked in… but he steals glances at the screen and your face,,, mentally counting down days when you’re gonna meet again 🥹

literally thinks about you sm that he can’t help but mention you whenever he can:( “omg yn would love that!” “oooo this is yn’s favorite snack!!” “i need to take a pic for yn!!!”

atp his friends scheme how to get him to you ASAP!!!

┆彡 SHOTA [ 翔太 ]

i feel like he’d handle it the worst actually:( but only bc he’s just such a lover boy, he needs you close:(

keeho or other members will often send you pictures of sulking shota once you hang up on face time <\3

will spam you even with single kaomojis so you’re an expert with those, professional translator if you will

definitely spams you with lots of content too, like pics of plushies, his short blogs, food pics

requires food pics in return (secretly makes sure you do eat this way)

when he’s feeling like a little tease, he’ll send lots of pics with keeho when they’re hugging and caption them with something sassy 😭

deffo tracks you on find my when he’s bored but deep down he just checks up on you and makes sure you’re safe

┆彡 JONGSEOB [ 종섭 ]

you’re literally vlogging to each other 😭😭😭 voice memos or insta stories just for him !!

and you bet your ass he’ll reply to every single one

loves face timing you when he’s writing new songs… you’re his muse (but it’s not like he’ll say it out loud)

definitely looks at your pictures with a whipped smile (and got caught sooo many times but they don’t tease him that much since he’s just so in love it hurts

another one to use every app possible to keep in touch w you HOWEVER he’s not very cheesy,,, so expect him to doodle theo with a big butt in return to your hearts and flowers

sending memes and reels is his love language, will send lots with the caption “us when i get back” :((

masterlist <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,,

@mon2sunjinsuver ,, @litepowee

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fabuloustrash05 · 1 year ago

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Hazbin Hotel Season 2 Predictions/Wishlist

Lilith is the main antagonist but Charlie and the others don’t know

Lucifer is a massive simp for his (ex?) wife (Like Manny’s dad with his ex wife in El Tigre)

The Vees get a more primary focus, while Lilith is the main antagonist they can be the secondary antagonists

Alastor betrays the hotel

And because Husk and Niffty’s souls are owned by Alastor they also maybe betray the hotel by helping Alastor against their will

Sir Pentious in Heaven shenanigans

Cherri missing Sir Pentious (maybe they start a long distance relationship, if possible?)

Emily rebelling against Sara

Sir Pentious meets and befriends Angel Dust’s sister, Molly

Angel Dust reunites with his family (drama ensues)

Adam comes back as a demon in hell.

Adam becomes a guest at Charlie’s hotel in hopes to return back to Heaven (after knowing it’s possible to be redeemed once learning that Pentious got to Heaven)

More of Husk’s backstory. See flashbacks of him during his Overlord days

Niffty lore

Huskerdust moments, maybe feelings start blooming between them or even have them kiss?? Or hold hands. I’m happy with either

More Alastor vs Vox

Charlie has to do the favor she promised Alastor

Alastor stops smiling (Lilith may or may not be the reason)

Eve appears?

#this is my season 2 bingo card #random thoughts #hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #lilith morningstar #lucifer morningstar #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin adam #hazbin emily #hazbin husk #hazbin niffty #hazbin vox #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin cherri bomb #hazbin molly #Huskerdust #lucifer x lilith #cherrisnake

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tobiosbbyghorl · 2 months ago

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- works ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

psh

- Undercover Hearts

⤿ In a world of crisp suits and unspoken rules, you and Sunghoon danced on the edge of secrecy—love woven between stolen glances and whispered midnight promises.

- The Things I Never Said

⤿ loving him was never the problem—pretending I was okay when he loved someone else was.

small things

⤿ snippets of moments she cherished most from “the things i never said.”

More Than Okay part 2

⤿ As time passes, the distance between Sunghoon and Y/N grows, turning laughter into silence and familiarity into something distant.

Everything Comes Back | Finale

⤿ Three years after going their separate ways, Y/N and Sunghoon reunite by chance, leading to a week-long bachelor reunion at a villa. Forced to travel together and share adjacent rooms, lingering tension, jealousy, and old feelings resurface.

- If He’s the One coming soon

⤿ Where in Sunghoon watches the love of his life choose someone else, silently wishing for her happiness while carrying the pain of letting go.

- Hyper & Chill

⤿ a series of happenings between your dynamic relationship.

- act 1 ⤿ just a normal day between a chill bfhoon! and dramatic gf!reader

- act 2 ⤿ Love at First Annoyance

- act 3 ⤿ accidental fiends

- act 4 ⤿ Oh.

- act 5 ⤿ His actions

- act 6 ⤿ Oh..He likes me.

- act 7 ⤿ same minds

- act 8 ⤿ the first time dating awkwardness

- act 9 ⤿ sick

- act 10 ⤿ stuck for the night

act 10.2 ⤿ Disaster

- act 11 ⤿ weird things

- act 12 ⤿ first time fighting

- act 13 ⤿ getting hurt

- act 14 ⤿ matching?

- act 15 ⤿ bf approve

- act 16 ⤿ caught on act

- act 17 ⤿ too hot to handle

- act 18

- act 19

- act 20

- act 21

- act 22

- act 23

- act 24

- act 25

check #hyper&chill tags for more parts!

- Bounded by Fate (most popular)

⤿ When CEO Park Sunghoon needs a date for his friend's wedding, he unexpectedly asks you-his dedicated secretary-to accompany him on a three-day trip. What starts as a professional arrangement quickly shifts into something more as unforeseen circumstances bring you closer together.

- Entagled coming soon

⤿ Caught between two brothers—one cold and distant, the other warm and familiar—she mistakes infatuation for love, only to realize that the heart she truly longs for has been beside her all along.

- Caught on Camera: Falling for You

⤿ When a casual vlog at her favorite cafe captures more than just pastries-namely, a ridiculously attractive stranger-her life takes an unexpected turn. What starts as a playful internet crush soon spirals into a viral sensation, drawing the attention of none other than Sunghoon, the gym influencer himself. To her shock, he not only sees the video but slides into her DMs, sparking a whirlwind of flirtation, laughter, and unexpected feelings.

-moments with you ( bonus)

- Oddly Attractive

- collegehoon!xreader

idea from hoon chewing a gum😩

- Only For You

- Scoring Points with You

⤿ As a dedicated student leader, Y/N never expected Park Sunghoon, the school’s star basketball player, to turn his playful pursuit into something deeper. Between late-night practices, unexpected gestures, and growing tensions before the championship, their connection becomes impossible to ignore. With the biggest game of the season approaching, one thing is certain—win or lose, everything is about to change.

- Chicken.Cheeks.Chaos.

- Let Your Body Loose 🔞

- Paid in Full 🔞

- Hoodie Thief🔞

more…

Enhypen Reaction The Series

- Smelling their Armpits

- Wearing Sabrina Carpenter Body Suit hyung line

#tobiosbbyghorlmasterlist #enhypen scenarios #enhypenwriters #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut #sunghoononeshot #sunghoon #sunghoon drabbles #sunghoonfluff

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defututus · 2 months ago

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Baggage Claim Reunion

modern!rockstar!eddie Munson x reader

masterlist

summary: Corroded Coffin is finally home after their first supporting tour in the UK and you get to pick them up.

word count: 5.3k

content warning: established relationship, fluff, more fluff, some language, references to sex and a dom/sub relationship that I'll explore at some point, overall you and Eddie are just happy to be reunited.

author's note: this came to me as I was waiting for @corroded-hellfire to pick me up from the airport when I visited her. I stewed on the idea for a little bit before deciding to write it and I'm really happy with how it turned out!

Also, I'm starting a general taglist if anyone is interested 👉👈

Indianapolis International Airport was buzzing with people in the evening. Most of the individuals walking by look like they’d rather be anywhere else right now as they slump over in the chairs waiting for their luggage or lean against the handles of their carry-on bag. It was amazing to see how some people dressed there. You saw people dressed from head to toe in new Disney merch, in their pajamas, suits, the whole nine yards. Indiana was finally blessed with a few warm days around this time of year so you drove to the airport in a sweatshirt and some pajama pants. The occasion was exciting but did not warrant dressing up since you’d be going to bed right after. You even tried to nap earlier in the day but the anticipation for today’s events kept you wide awake. Hell, you’re probably the only one at the arrivals gate full of energy as you anxiously bounce on your slippered feet waiting for the passengers of an 11-hour flight from Helsinki to return home.

Corroded Coffin had finally made it and was invited to open up for another band on the European leg of their tour. Everyone was so ecstatic when they got the call from the band's agent and began preparing. Eddie quickly got the necessary time off from work approved (one of the perks of Wayne’s new promotion to shop manager), passports were renewed, visas expedited, and before you all could even process what was happening you waved goodbye as Corroded Coffin flew off to tour for the next month. It was hard for you to adjust to your apartment being so quiet. Eddie was always coming over to stay the night to the point that you’d joke he should just move in. Maybe you’d suggest that after dropping everyone off when they arrived home. The band would have weekly hang outs every Saturday night at your place and would sometimes culminate in a sleepover with you all sprawled out across the living room. Your head more often than not would end up on Eddie’s shoulder and his arm draped across your shoulder. It was weird to go so long without him humming a tune or tapping his fingers against something. It almost didn’t feel like home without him.

Eddie would call you after every show and you’d spend as much time as possible catching up on each other's day before he had to go help with loading up the van and promise to call again the next day. There’s the usual back and forth about who should hang up first until one person gives in, or in some cases one of the band members takes the phone and hangs up for you guys. They don’t do it to be mean, but they all know that if they don’t do it then Eddie will make them late for load out almost every night.

You miss Eddie’s warmth, his contagious laughter, the way he always had a corny joke or compliment when you were in a bad mood. Hell, you even missed when he was trying to be annoying. You missed every part of him and as proud as you were to see Corroded Coffin get the attention they deserved, you also wanted your best friend and boyfriend back. The distance made you realize how hard it was to function without him. Sure, he had done other tours before, but the time difference left you two with little time to chat and it made you feel lonely. Your other half was missing.

You get to the baggage claim earlier than expected, having looked up the map of the airport the night before to avoid getting lost. The universe must have sensed your desperation because there was barely any traffic during rush hour. Once you strode through the glass doors, you find the carousel everyone’s luggage would be dropped off and park yourself on a bench facing the gate. According to the boards plastered around the airport, Corroded Coffin’s grueling nonstop flight had landed and their luggage was being delivered to the baggage area, meaning your boys would be arriving soon. There’s a small food court near the baggage claim and still had plenty of time left before the guys come out, so you take the opportunity to get some food for yourself. It’s not much, settling for a quesadilla and bag of tortilla chips with queso. You’ll eat that and let the boys fight over the bag when you drive them all home.

Your phone nearly died earlier and you needed it to get home from the airport so you resort to the age-old activity of people watching to make time pass by easily. You watch exhausted families carrying their sleeping children, pilots and flight attendants heading to and from work, and count at least four adorable dogs that make you want to abandon your post waiting for the band so you can say hello to them. There was even a man who sat near you with what was possibly the funniest, most wrinkly English Bulldog you had ever seen. His name was Hank and you were so excited to tell Eddie about him when you two were finally reunited

You were so excited to see everyone – mainly Eddie – that your heart began to pound every time you saw a group of people approach the baggage claim, but found yourself immensely disappointed every time when you learned it was not Corroded Coffin. There was a surprising amount of tall white men with long brown hair. Were you being tortured? It sure felt like it.

Twenty torturous minutes later and you finally see a familiar group of people approaching the baggage area. Leading the pack is Jeff, who is chugging the last of his water and shoving it in his backpack. Grant and Gareth are passionately arguing about something with Gareth enthusiastically jumping as if the added height would help prove his point. Behind those two is a drained looking Eddie with a can of Monster in his hand and his guitar slung over his back. Eddie insisted he take the guitar as a carry-on because he didn’t trust anyone to handle it with care. The rest of the band’s equipment was being shipped back to the States and would arrive in a few weeks.

He had changed his hair a bit before leaving for tour by getting an undercut and you never realized how much a change in hairstyle could affect his confidence levels. His self-esteem got a big boost once Corroded Coffin began to take off, but this new haircut really helped him.. The longer portion of his hair was tied back into a loose bun to show off the shaved back. You joked that he did it solely to show more of his neck to you since you had a habit of biting it. He had headphones on and wasn’t really paying attention to the argument going on in front of him, looking as exhausted as everyone else in the building, but with little more curiosity about this part of the building and the amenities that surrounded them. He wore a faded Corroded Coffin hoodie (he insisted on repping the band whenever possible) with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his tattoo sleeves and a pair of gray sweatpants, your personal favorite. Eddie was definitely dressing for comfort in this case, although you’d make the case that he looks good no matter what. He looked tired, the long flight most likely taking whatever energy he had left before the show, but somehow he looked as perfect as ever.

Grant is the one to spot you first and waves in your direction. You throw your half-eaten meal down into the large to-go bag it came in and drop it on the floor to dart in their direction. Eddie doesn’t see you barreling over to them, instead taken by the large sculpture near the elevators. It’s not until he hears you yell, “Welcome back!” that he realizes his favorite person is finally here to take them all home that he tugs his headphones off his ears. The metalhead pushes through to the front of the group and meets you halfway to pick you up and twirl you around. He had never looked happier, all semblance of exhaustion wiped off his face the second he had you in his arms.

You’re both smiling at each other and start giggling when he spins you around. Your reunion is like something out of a movie. The world slows down around you as your attention lies solely on Eddie, his eyes, his smile, his everything. The rest of his band watches from afar to allow you both to have this moment. Eddie had a smile on their face that they didn’t see often - it was usually after a great show or whenever you two were apart and he finally saw you again. They collectively decided to keep their mouth shut about how much he’d complain about missing you. Always moaning about how he wished you were there with them, how he wished you saw what he did on stage (you have social media, you saw every second of every show), and how he missed talking to you. Eddie called you every day yet he acted like he hadn’t spoken to you in years. It was easy to just let him have his moment with you while they all waited to collect their luggage at the appropriate carousel as it began dropping out of the chute.

Eddie’s spinning slows down until he’s just standing there with you in his arms.. He loosens his grip enough to place you down on the floor but immediately pulls you in for a tight hug. If there was one thing about Eddie that you liked to share with people, it was the fact that he gave the most amazing hugs. He would hold you so tightly you felt that he might actually break something if he were any stronger. Years of working odd jobs and later at the mechanic led to him building enough muscle so he finally filled out his shirts and could lift anything with ease. Hauling gear was easy for him, and he particularly took joy in throwing you around like a ragdoll, whether during sex or just to wrestle around and get you to laugh. Right now, it felt like he was trying to squeeze the air out of your lungs. All the love he had for you was fueling the hug’s strength. You reciprocated the embrace as much as you could, still feeling a bit giggly because your boy was finally home. Your face is buried in his neck to take in his scent. It was intoxicating. You had started using some of his shirts as pillow cases to tide you over while he was gone. Your bed usually smelled like him since he slept there most nights, but without him visiting the sheets began to lose their comforting smell. Thankfully, he already had a drawer for his stuff so you didn’t even have to ask him to give you anything. You even took one of his shirts the last time you visited his place so you could have something new.

Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead before resting his head on top of yours, almost whispering against your hair, “Oh honey, my sweet girl…,” he presses his nose to your hair to breathe you in and continues with a smile, “I missed you so much.”

His hands move from your waist to cup your cheeks after pulling away from you. There’s a moment where you two don’t say anything, just taking each other in for the first time in a month. Then, he pulls you closer to press a soft kiss to your lips. It’s not the passionate kiss you were craving all month, but you were happy to finally feel his soft lips against yours. You’re leaning into the kiss as the world disappears around you, at least until you hear someone clear their throat and you remember Eddie did not arrive here alone.

“Um, sorry, do we get a hello too?” You pull away from your boyfriend and look over to Jeff who was speaking and laugh at his request. Eddie’s gaze follows yours and he cocks a brow at his bandmate, looking absolutely pissed that his bassist dared to interrupt your moment with him, but also that Jeff wanted to take you away from him. Yes, you were good friends with the rest of the band, and yes he was sure you also missed them, but you were Eddie’s girlfriend. He wanted to hold onto you for as long as humanly possible. If he could, he’d sit in the driver’s seat and use his arms as your seatbelt when you drove home. Despite his protests, you fully let go of Eddie (to which he lets out a sad whine and follows you to the others) and give each member a greeting and a hug, asking how the flight was and making general small talk. Without any warning besides the quiet thud of his footsteps on the tile floor, Eddie moves to stand behind you and wrap his arms loosely around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder. One of your hands reaches up to scratch the back ofhis scalp and he lets out a content hum, happy to just stand here all night as long as you never stop touching him.

“So…” you begin, turning your attention to the group as a whole, “how was the trip? Did you guys get to sleep for a little bit?” You feel Eddie shift a little bit behind you, unaware of the look he’s giving his friends who just chuckle.

Grant looks Eddie directly in the eyes and replies, “Oh, definitely. Eddie was especially quiet so it was pretty easy.” You cock an eyebrow at Grant, a little suspicious of the claim since the Eddie you know, the Eddie who sleeps in your bed most days, is a known sleep talker and never shuts the hell up when he’s awake. There was never a quiet moment with him. This was especially the case now, given how Eddie hasn’t spoken since he held you. Usually he’d be going on and on about every thought that went through his head during the plane flight or things that happened between your last phone call and now.

“I’m sorry, but I wasn’t aware that Eddie had a mute button. Where is it? Does he have a new secret freckle that I don’t know about? ” You point a finger in your boyfriend’s face while questioning the others. Eddie, taking the opportunity to get another laugh out of you, leans in and tries to playfully nip at your finger but you just move your hand away when he does so. He’s still silent and you’re becoming more suspicious of him by the second.

Jeff walks over, having gone to the nearest trash can to dispose of his empty bottle. He adjusts the backpack on his shoulder before replying, “Well, someone lost their voice last night at the end of the show.” The other two boys laugh and Gareth pulls his phone out to seemingly provide evidence for Eddie’s actions as Jeff continues on, “He was invited on stage for the last song of the night with the headliner It was fucking sick. The gutturals? Disgusting. ”

Gareth hands his phone over to you with a video from Tiktok pulled up. You kept TikTok open throughout the night to watch everything unfold live, but somehow missed this part of the night. Maybe this was when you were trying to sleep or went on a cleaning spree.

Like Jeff said, it was the last song of the night and they called Eddie on stage. The metalhead is sweaty from his previous performance but looks like he could go on all night if he had the chance. He has a smile on his face that fills your heart with pride, his joy only growing when the audience begins to cheer even more than they were before once he came on stage.�� Eddie is still in his stage outfit and makeup, some smoky red eyeshadow, wearing a half buttoned up button-down shirt, distressed jeans, and his favorite combat boots. The unbuttoned shirt revealed sections of his tattoos and his two necklaces - one with your first initial on it and the other was his new lucky guitar pick. His original has been hanging around your neck for around two years now. You were sure the comments were flooded with people fawning over his looks, they always are.

The two walk up to center stage as the band plays the first notes. You can almost feel the energy of the room just by watching the video. Everyone in the audience begins cheering. Everyone knows the lyrics and they all scream along with the two men on stage. The first notes of the song begin to play and the two vocalists make it to center stage before they start singing. Eddie has one foot up on the stage risers as he belts out the lyrics.

All in with a losing hand

The sun sets on a wanted man

No spine, born without a backbone

Two-faced, too late for a tombstone

His screams are most akin to a deep growl from the back of his throat. He tried his best over the years to improve his guttural screams without damaging his throat, but maybe last night he got so excited that he forgot to take all the precautionary steps he took to prevent any damage.

Eddie nods at this and speaks up as much as he’s able to and says, “I got carried away and fucked up. I could feel the damage happening maybe halfway through the song but there was no way I was gonna stop.”

Jeff nods, muttering under his breath, “And you’re the one always lecturing us about proper technique…” Eddie huffs and raises a ringed middle finger to his bassist who did the only reasonable thing and gave Eddie one back.

You take a little pity on Eddie because he’s clearly annoyed at himself for doing this and how he hurt himself. You turn to him to peck his lips while soothingly rubbing his shoulders. Your touch is already making him feel better. All he wants to do is go home and snuggle up to you in order to make up for lost time. From behind you, there’s some muffled comments being made by the boys, including a sarcastic ‘I can never get over how whipped he is for her…’ coming from Gareth. Eddie tears his eyes from you to Gareth and hoarsely remarks, “At least I have a girlfriend.” It’s barely audible to them, given the condition of his voice and the overall noise levels of the airport, but they’re able to decipher what he said by lip reading. The reactions are mixed. Grant fakes offense, Jeff scoffs, and Gareth flips him off. Then, the younger man gets an idea.

“You know…”, Gareth says, readjusting the bag hanging off one shoulder with a sly smile on his face, something you notice right away when you turn to look at him, “I’ve actually been acting as his interpreter. I’m pretty good.”

Your boyfriend scoffs and croaks out to Gareth, “No the fuck you’re not.”

Instantly, Gareth replies, “What’s that? You’re indefinitely appointing me as the new frontman? Aww, thanks man! I really appreciate that you trust me with the band!” Eddie shakes his head and is about to walk past you and try to knock some sense into his drummer, mainly because he’s tired and just wants to go home, but you’re still holding onto his shoulder so he stays put. He’s pursing his lips and is clearly ticked off by Gareth, which seems to have been his goal. Most of the time, Eddie could put up with Gareth’s shenanigans, but you swore that every time they went on tour Eddie would come back needing a break from him. He needed a break from everyone, really. That’s what was so great about this job. You’re stuck in a tiny van with them with zero time by yourself and once you get home you can just avoid them until you can bear to look at their faces again. They didn’t schedule a Hellfire session next week for this exact reason. Eddie didn’t want to hear any of their voices or look at them for a while. Hell, he wanted to forget the guys even existed. His plan was to spend time with you, spend time in you, and spend time catching up on his sleep… with you

He’s sick of standing here, he’s sick of the clothes he’s wearing, he’s sick of being awake. Eddie grabs his suitcase from the small pile of luggage that made up their belongings and said to you, “I wanna go home.” He pulls the handle up and takes your hand to begin walking towards the exit. You couldn’t understand what he was saying seconds ago and found the perfect opportunity to poke fun at him.

“Oh yeah, I’d love to watch Titanic when we get home! We can do a fun romance movie marathon!.”

Eddie stops in his tracks and spins to look at you. Did you not hear him correctly? Is his voice that messed up? It’s only when you’ve got the same shit-eating grin on your face that Gareth is wearing that Eddie realizes you’re just messing with him. He gives you the same glare he previously gave the rest of the band and lets go of you before turning to leave the building. You let Eddie take a few steps by himself before shouting out, “You’re going in the wrong direction!”

Eddie groans and turns around again. You and the boys are laughing and all decide it’s finally time to get going. Your boyfriend strode in the other direction to the other exit, one hand on his luggage and the other grabbing your hand again as he passed. You’re laughing even more now and follow him to the elevator leading to the parking garage. Everyone else follows behind and you all make your way upstairs and to your car.

All the bags are packed into the back and the boys into the seats. Eddie immediately claimed the front passenger seat to avoid being sandwiched between the other three, but it gave him the opportunity to hold onto you more. Once everyone was buckled in and ready you began the hour long drive from Indianapolis to Hawkins. There was some chatter at the beginning, but as time went on the chatter morphed into a loud conversation about god knows what. You kept your focus on the road in order to get everyone home as fast as possible. Your patience was beginning to wear thin so you couldn’t imagine how Eddie was feeling. Their loud comments were almost enough to drown out the car radio and the other vehicles whizzing past you on the highway.

The entire time, Eddie kept one hand on your thigh. Neither of you had the energy for sex right now, but you couldn’t deny that his touch wasn’t getting you a little hot and bothered. You were used to satiating each other's urges whenever you had the chance so you had a month's worth of desires and urges to let out with him. When the time came for him to leave for tour, he made you promise not to touch yourself because ‘you can’t play with something that belongs to him’. You could have easily gone against his wishes, it was all for fun, but it just made his homecoming all the more exciting. His hands were warm and the heat went right through your jeans. He would squeeze your leg sometimes when you stopped and sometimes rub the inside of your thigh with his thumb.

You drop everyone off at their respective homes and heave a sigh of relief once it’s just you and Eddie in the car. You love those guys, you really do, but sometimes when they’re all together in the same room (or in this case, car) they all start acting like lunatics. Your only saving grace was the fact that they all wore seatbelts and Eddie, the usual instigator of their chaos, was quiet and drained of all his energy.

As you begin the drive to your apartment, you lower the radio volume until it’s merely background noise. Eddie takes his hand away from your thigh and crosses his arms as he makes himself more comfortable. He even pulls his hoodie up to keep warm

You lived two towns over so the drive would be twenty minutes until you both could finally go to sleep. Out of the corner of your eye you see Eddie moving to recline the passenger seat a little bit and shut his eyes.

“Get some rest, baby. We’ll be home soon.”

There was never a discussion about where he’d be staying the night, you just assumed he would be sleeping here. It was a peaceful, quiet drive. A few minutes after he got comfortable you heard his even, heavy breathing and smiled at how quickly he fell asleep. He tired himself out after that last show. Eventually, you roll into your complex’s parking lot and slow to a stop in your designated area. Once the car is off, you take one of Eddie’s hands and give it a squeeze to wake him up. His eyes flutter open and you give him a warm smile. He blearily rubs his eyes and slowly ambles out of the car. You grab his luggage and he picks up his guitar case to sling over his shoulder. Once he’s out and all his belongings are out of the car, you go over to him and hold your hand out which he happily takes. It’s a short walk from your car but takes a little longer than normal thanks to everything you two are lugging and how sluggish your boyfriend is moving. Thankfully, the temperature wasn’t dipping too low so neither of you were in a hurry. Eventually you get to the front door of your apartment. Neither of you speak on the walk over, but it’s a comfortable silence so neither of you try to fix that.

The door finally opens after you fight the lock for what feels like an eternity. Eddie sighs when he steps inside. He sets his guitar case down on the sofa and you put his luggage down next to the front door. You kick off your slippers as he leans against the couch to bend over and pull his sneakers off. Once those are off, he begins stripping down in the living room without saying a word. Eddie pulls his hoodie over his head and is followed by the Metallica shirt he wore underneath. Then, he pulls off his sweatpants to reveal… nothing else.

“Ed, honey, did you really take an 11-hour flight without underwear?”

Eddie turns to you as he takes his hair down out of the ponytail he was wearing. He runs his fingers through his hair and scratches at his scalp to relieve the tension from having his hair up for that long. Your beautiful boyfriend stands in the middle of your living room, completely drained and fully nude in front of the open living room window. Eddie looks at you and tiredly answers, “I didn’t feel like wearing them” like it’s completely normal. He’s beyond the point of holding a regular conversation. The dim lighting doesn’t help to hide the bags under his eyes. This would be a conversation to be held in the morning.

You sigh and shake your head at him. He’s bending over to pick his clothes up and you get a full view of his ass, and you won’t complain. It’s a great view. So great that you go over and give it a little tap. You don’t have the energy to give it a full-on smack, something else to tackle tomorrow. Eddie turns and has a small smile on his face. He takes the shirt in his hand and throws it at your face. You hate to admit it smells amazing - it’s a little more sweaty than the shirts he usually gives you since he was stuck in a cramped plane for eleven hours, but that was what somehow made it smell better. He picks up his laundry (minus the shirt) and carries it into your room. Your eyes are scanning his body as he walks inside. The only light source in the room is your bedside lamp, so there’s even less light in there. He’s half hard despite the exhaustion over the past 24 hours and you make a mental note to yourself to wake him up with a blowjob, he always loves that. All his dirty clothing is tossed onto the designated laundry chair, now a mix of your dirty clothes and his, before he flops down onto the bed on his stomach. He’s sprawled out like a starfish and groans when he hits the bed, burying his face in your pillows. It gives you the opportunity to ogle him more, the skeleton wings on his back and the bite mark that you gave him that he permanently tattooed onto the side of his neck. It’s the closest thing you guys had to matching couple tattoos - he had a bite from you on his neck, and you had his on your inner thigh. He was perfect.

You take the time to remove your clothing and strip down like Eddie did earlier. He turns his head a bit to watch you. His eyes trace your curves as the clothing falls off and is placed on the growing mountain in the corner. Once you’re properly undressed, he turns his head back to your pillows so he could take in your fragrance again. The mix of your shampoo, soap, and natural scent was better than any drug.

“God, I’m fucking exhausted…”

You tiptoe over to the side of the bed and sit down next to him, moving a lock of curly hair away from his face so you can look at him more. He has a sleepy smile on his face, and it’s obvious that he’s on the verge of falling asleep. You reply, “Mm, I bet. Did you have fun?”

The metalhead nods his head and takes your hand in his to kiss the back of it. Eddie missed a lot of things. He missed the smell of your bedsheets, your warmth when he woke up to your body curled up next to his, the long nights spent in bed just laughing and talking until one of you fell asleep. With his lips pressed against your hand, he mutters, “Yes, but I’m happy to be home…”

He called your apartment home. There was already a mix of his belongings in here besides his clothing so it would make sense that it felt like home to him. The question keeps flying around in your head, but again, it’s a conversation for tomorrow. Your blankets were calling your name, especially with this angel of a man under them. You reach to your bedside table and turn the light off with a soft click, the streetlights outside barely illuminating the room now. Eddie holds the sheets open for you as you tiredly climb inside. The last of your energy leaves your body the moment your head hits the pillow. A pair of strong arms encircle you again and pull you close so your chests are pressed together. You nuzzle him and give him a little kiss before whispering, “Goodnight, Eddie. Get some sleep.”

You two are both out within ten minutes.

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taglist:

@ainelantv

#I meant to just proofread it before posting but ended up adding an extra thousand words #im scheduling this before going to bed goodnight everyone ily #also in case anyone is like hey those lyrics sound cool...... tombstone by wage war #they're cool check them out #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #scripsi

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darlingdekarios · 2 years ago

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the best thing.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 5,608 content: Gale Dekarios x f!tav [f!reader], porn with plot, established relationship (engaged), post-Baldur's Gate III canon, fluff, domestic bliss, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie], kink(s) [overstimulation, orgasm control, hands, hair pulling, body worship]

after everything the two of you have been through, you're eager to give Gale one perfect, blissful day.

It was almost unbelievable seeing you bathed in the golden hues of the morning standing in his kitchen, back to him as you fussed over whatever it was you currently had sizzling on the stove. It was so rare that he was able to sneak upon you these days - you were so attuned to one another that simply entering the same room was enough of a greeting.

But now you were focused, far too much so to notice your lover's entrance, or even to notice him for several more moments as he leaned against the doorframe, peacefully enjoying the serenity that being near to you caused. Even this was enough to fill his heart with love.

"If there should ever come a day when your presence does not fill this tower again it will surely be a day without sunrise."

You turned to him and offered a smile that rivaled the sun itself in beauty and warmth, every bit as life sustaining to him. You were wearing an apron he often donned in the kitchen, the fabric graffitied with streaks of color and puffs of powder. He was struck as he so often was with you, offering nothing more than a smile in return that reached his eyes as he remained transfixed by you - the very center of his universe and far beyond anything his goddess had ever shown him in beauty.

"There are painters who envy me of this privilege. To wake to such beauty in my own home every day…I truly am a fortunate man."

You would never tire of the way Gale's words spread through you like warmest fire, making you feel worthy of a love such as this every moment no matter how your mind was trying to force you to feel that day. To say in the time that had passed since your adventures in bliss would be an understatement - both of you had found what could only be described as heaven in life with one another.

Everything about one another had become home, the deep love the two of you shared the kind that people prayed to the gods for.

"You wake up everyday and set out to make me love you more than the last.""

"I could say the very same to you, my love," his voice was particularly cheerful this morning and you were glad you'd decided today for your plan. It was already off to a great start, and it could truly only get better from here with what you had up your sleeve. "What has you in the kitchen at this hour? We didn't exactly get to sleep early, by any standard."

When you've gone through the things you've been through, sometimes it can feel wrong when someone looks at you with the amount of love and adoration Gale was now…the way he did so often these days. Whether you were resting in his bed, reading at his side, curled with Tara on the couch, or doing any other thing to fill the time, he looked at you now like it was what he hoped to do last in the world.

And he always would.

"I made you breakfast. Or at least…I did my best at…making you breakfast."

The smile that spread across his face was more stunning than any of the scenery in all of your adventures, not a single star or moon matching its beauty. As you were lost in your profound love for him he took the lull in conversation to close the distance to you, wrapping his arms around you and reuniting you into his warm embrace - it hadn't been long, but it was always an eternity.

He pressed several kisses to your forehead as he gazed over your shoulder, analyzing the plates you'd made for the two of you to enjoy. His brows pulled together in an expression you recognized as being deep in thought - you pressed a kiss to the lines as he spoke again.

"I know this meal…"

Your lips lifted into a smile against his skin and he reached upward to encourage you to meet his gaze again, awaiting your response and hoping it was a confirmation of what he suspected. "It was the first breakfast you made for the party. I remember how proud you were and how delicious it was…no one had ever cooked for me like that."

"Your memory is just as astounding as the rest of you," he was positively grinning at you, eyes expressive and proudly displaying every bit of love he felt for you. His head tilted to the side briefly - something you were quite fond of - as his brow furrowed again, the arm that remained around your waist pulling you closer. "It's not my birthday, is it?"

Forget loving him more by the day - you loved Gale Dekarios more by the second.

"No, dearest," you replied, reaching one of your hands upward to rest against his chest. You held his gaze as you spoke knowing he preferred when you didn't look away. "I just realized…in all the time since I've met you there have been many meals that you've made me, and I've never made you a single one."

His expression softened even more, something you didn't know was possible, pressing a gentle and loving kiss to her lips. The first kiss of the new day was always a shared favorite between the two of you - no matter how many days passed the first always created goosebumps and pulled quiet sighs of pleasure from your chests.

"You are truly are a gentle soul," he muttered against your lips, the hand that still cradled the back of your head sliding to cup your cheek instead, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone tenderly. "I'm still not always entirely sure I deserve it."

"But you do," you promised, eager to hush the self doubt that still lingered in your fiancé day-to-day. It was something you were happy to live with - it never annoyed you or grew tiresome, you were more than willing to remind him how loved he was despite any mistakes he'd made in the past, that any he'd make in the future were already forgiven. "You deserve it, Gale. We've been through so much together and I was thinking…I want you to have a perfect day. I want to do anything and everything you want to do for an entire day."

"Starting with breakfast?"

You sheepishly smiled and nodded before confirming, "I know it won't be as good as when you made it, but…"

"It will be perfect," he silenced your own worries gracefully and gently before they could even begin to fester. "As most things made in love are. Would you join me on the balcony for our meal?"

It was incredible how something as mundane as sharing a meal together could become an act of utmost intimacy. With Gale even the smallest moments felt like a life's worth of promise and love - if every day was like this you would leave this life with nothing but happiness in your heart. The day passed with him like a dream, like you'd truly found the person you were meant to spend this much time with. The person you were meant to face the passing years together - who you were excited to watch more grey bloom in his hair.

After breakfast both of you had fallen asleep on the balcony in a gentle embrace, his arms holding you against his chest as you slept. When you woke, Tara was asleep on your back and so you'd continue to lay together until the tressym removed herself to carry on with her day. All the while Gale had gazed at you lovingly, stroking your hair and face when you had continued to sleep a few moments longer. He'd never tire of the serenity that filled your face in truly peaceful slumber.

For lunch Gale opted to eat by a nearby lake, the beautiful afternoon the perfect landscape for him to take a moment to indulge in a bit of poetry…about you, of course. It made you bashful when he did so - it always had and likely always would, a demure laugh passing through your lips as you tried to hide behind your hands as he poetically described the many things he loved about you.

Of course, the heat in your cheeks only increased when his poetry turned to that of describing the ways he wanted to demonstrate his love - but you were certain you were burning when he'd followed it with a kiss not entirely decent for a relatively public setting. Nevertheless, he certainly didn't seem to mind.

It continued with a trip to the bookstore, the apothecary, and to another local merchant where he bought some supplies for home and a necklace for you that yes he insisted you have, even though you now had a collection forming in the tower. Before you could finish your day in town he asked to pop down to the local inn for a quick drink.

You were well aware that this was truly just time for Gale to show off his future wife to the other patrons - something that always made you feel fantastic about yourself. The fact that the famed Wizard of Waterdeep felt pride in having you at his side was no small compliment - it was a fact you flourished in.

Back home, the two of you cooked dinner together, Gale eager to give you tips on how you could improve in the future. When it was time to eat you shared a bottle of wine that you'd selected together earlier and ate in silence, reading your new books with zero complaints even capable of being formed in your mind.

Your eyes only left the words on the pages to glance across the table to him lovingly - something you were joyous to find he mirrored frequently. It was after dinner had been cleaned up and the two of you had tidied up from the day that you found yourself in his embrace, yet again on the balcony where so much of your shared time was spent.

For a while he simply remained with his head resting atop yours, holding you gently as you shared another sunset. It was only once the sun had completely gone for the night over the horizon that he turned you in his arms slowly, eyes finding yours like it was their nature to do so, wasting no time in leaning down to kiss you again tenderly.

"Have you enjoyed your day, my heart?"

He smiled the kind of smile that pulled lines beside his eyes, eyes that were twinkling and rivaling the stars that had started to decorate the sky for the night. You could feel how content and relaxed he was in the delicate hold he maintained on you, the love pouring from him and seeming to wrap you in a tighter embrace. It was these moments where the weave truly connected the two of you, holding you together and proving that you were meant to be together in this world - and the next, if that happened to be what came.

"I have enjoyed every day by your side, even the difficult ones," his voice was so earnest there was simply no possibility of disbelief from you - you could hear the honesty soaking his words, every sentence another promise and declaration of his love for you. "But today has been perfection. I could thank you for a lifetime and it wouldn't be enough."

The kiss he gave you then was the kind that is written about in books - in fairytales, the kind that inspires poetry and signifies the truest of love. He continued to hold you against him gently as your lips entered a dance you both yearned for constantly - at this point you were no strangers to what each of you liked and it was reflected with every swipe of your tongues and movement of your lips.

And it was always until you were both breathless - never a second before. The two of you had experienced so many things together that had made so many of your early tenderness rushed - neither of you were ever in any particular rush anymore. This kiss was exactly like so many these days - savored. And yet this was only the beginning of what the two of you would savor in the night to come.

"Would you like to retire to our bedroom for the night?"

You words were light as you whispered against his lips, biting at the bottom one lightly when you finished your question. A truly pleased grin spread across his face as you pulled away, his arms still anchoring you to him - if you wanted him to he'd release you, of course, but it was never a moment too soon.

"Darling, you need only ask."

Thankfully, the bedroom was mere steps away and it was easy to tug him inside with hands gently pulling at the collar of his shirt, your lips not leaving one another for long. Though it was obvious where Gale's mind was heading - a it was difficult to deny it for much longer as it had been growing since the kiss at the lake earlier - you still had one more thing planned for him.

One of his hands slid lower to cup your ass and bring you closer, tongue seeking entry into your mouth again as he waved a hand to ensure there was some light by way of many candles. You shook your head to which he huffed, pulling away just far enough to pass you an inquisitive look.

"Not quite yet, my love," you cooed, pressing a consolation kiss to his lips briefly before pulling away fully, wrestling yourself free from his grasp with a giggle. "Remove your shirt and lie down on your stomach."

Though he muttered under his breath about it he followed your instructions, brown eyes searching your face for a response as you only sat on the bet waiting for him, always one to enjoy the sight of him undressing. When he was finally in the position you asked him to be you straddled his lower back, hands slowly rubbing the expanse of his shoulders with the perfect pressure to pull a groan from him.

And that was the end of his silent questioning - every swipe of your hand, knead from your fingers and caress was met with a moan, groan, or whine from him - as time continued on he was mumbling into his pillow about how much he loved you…repeatedly. When you reached a particular point you could practically feel tension melt away from him and you leaned downward to press a kiss to the back of his neck before encouraging him to roll with a squeeze of your legs.

And oh, was he happy to oblige - to be reunited with your face, now with the moon's glow coming through the curtains to illuminate you alongside the flickering candles. A considerable amount of time had passed since you began massaging him and still you showed no signs of stopping, continuing to straddle his waist as your efforts now focused on his chest.

"Your hands are divine," he was barely coherent through the pleasure he already felt, his words far less calculated than they're normally be. "I could lay here for a ten day and happily starve."

"I suppose you're feeling well about your day then, my love?"

It was an unnecessary question - you both knew it. But he was also just as aware that you loved to hear about the feelings your efforts had earned, and it had been a long time since he'd denied you of anything you wanted that he could provide. With his most charming smile he nodded, leaning forward to rub the tip of his nose against yours gently in an innocent show of affection.

You reached upward to run your fingers through his hair delicately, pulling a blissful sigh from his lips again. If it were possible to create a symphony from what filled your bedroom you would gladly hear its melody forever…a sentiment he'd expressed toward you once that you held at the core of your memory and found your mind circling back to often.

So much of his mind was an exact reflection of your that sometimes it seemed they were still connected sometimes.

"Absolutely blessed," when Gale spoke it was as though you were the one who could answer his prayers, something you found irresistibly sweet about him. "If you're not careful you will spoil me beyond reason."

You leaned down to capture his lips in a gentle kiss again, his hands grasping your hips again, sliding to rub over the soft expanse of your thighs. Too selfish to release his lips again you whispered into the kiss, your own hands resting on his chest still, his heartbeat steady and soothing.

"I fail to see why that would be so bad."

He could only smile into it as he continued to kiss you slowly, one of his hands sliding up to hold the back of your head delicately. He began to raise until he was sitting upright, keeping you anchored where you straddled him with his resolute hold on your hip still, ensuring your lips never parted from his for longer than a breath.

Before his arms engulfed your waist his hands made quick work of removing the robe that covered your frame, discarding it to the floor with little care. His hands caressed over your torso like he truly cherished every inch of you and sought to ensure not a single patch of you went unattended to.

(He truly loved every inch of you - a fact you believed deep into your core. You'd only asked him once what his favorite part of your body was - he'd almost been offended that you'd think he could narrow a list of such considerable length.)

"Still, it may be good for me to exercise some selflessness tonight," he offered, a handsome and playful expression illuminating his features. His hands were now gently resting on either side of your neck, thumbs lightly rubbing back and forth - unable to stay fully idle for long. "You gave me the perfect day. Will you let me treat you to a perfect night in our bed?"

"Have you known me to say no to you often?"

"Only when I've needed to hear it."

No further talk was needed and the two of you continued to kiss tenderly, his hands returning to lavish your breasts again. Your own hands maintained a hold on the back of his head, fingers grasping his hair delicately - completely unwilling to have him pull away. Happy to oblige and always eager to swallow the quiet sounds of pleasure he could pull from you, especially now in the privacy of a bedroom where it had not always been a luxury you'd been provided, one of his hands continued to trail lower.

Until it reached as low as he could on your leg in this position, fingers brushing over the soft skin of your inner thigh - it was obvious he was influencing the weave to crackle at his fingertips gently, the result a pleasant tingle dancing across your skin. Your legs squeezed tighter around him in anticipation and he chastised you with a light swat to your thigh, not to cause pain but to capture your focus again.

You responded with a light nip to his bottom lip which earned a cheeky smile from him, eyes staying on yours as his hand finally reached your core - where you were desperate for him most. Over your panties it was still obvious how wet you were in anticipation of him - your time with Gale had proven that things like that only spurred him onward more, the confirmation that you wanted him just as desperately clouding his mind of all logic.

"Have you been wet all day, my love?"

The tone of his voice melted you like wax, you could only nod and whimper as he pushed the fabric to the side, slowly running two of his skilled digits between your soaked folds. His lips were only centimeters from yours so every movement brought them together slightly, your moan cut off as he kissed you again, index finger circling your clit slowly. He opted to speak against your lips, unwilling to be too far from your sweet lips for long.

"I'd have indulged you long before now had I known this is what waited for me."

His fingers swiped back down to your entrance and the middle slipped into you slowly, a smile playing on his lips as he kissed you again. Though one finger meant every exit and reentry meant pinpointed strokes the stretch wasn't enough to satiate the pressure that was seated in your core, more of a stretch needed than what one finger provided. It only took a slight squirm of your hips for him to take the cue, slipping a second finger into you which you thanked him for with a moan.

He left your lips to kiss to your neck, reclaiming spots that had often been decorated with his mark in your time since returning home with him. His fingers set a leisurely pace pumping into you, stroking your velvet walls perfectly as his tongue lavished a spot on your neck that you knew would only add to the slick coating his hand.

His free hand came to one of your breasts to massage gently, fingers rolling your sensitive nipple and pinching to add to the melody sounding from your mouth. From where you were seated in his lap you could feel his cock hard and throbbing beneath you, adding to your desperation - as skilled as Gale's hands, fingers and mouth were it would never compare to joining together with him.

You rocked down against his waist which pulled a groan from him, fingers picking up pace as he nipped at your neck. "Patient, darling…"

His hand left your chest to grasp your hip instead, steadying the movements you both knew would drive him over an edge he was intent to tiptoe around still for a while yet. When you continued to try to squirm in his hold he removed from you completely, brow furrowed as he used a hand to push you onto your back. He kissed down your torso slowly, eyes staying fixated on yours as he went - communicating his instruction to stay still without a word.

"Gale please, I need you…"

You tried to tempt him into giving into your way for once by reaching upward and slipping your fingers into his hair, giving the messy locks a tug to try to encourage him upward. It was briefly annoying that you felt his lips curve against your hip - amused by your attempt, no doubt -

*(Later when your mind is clearer you'll reflect on this moment - as you so often reflected after intimacy with Gale - and you'd once again be thankful for his insistence on ensuring he went above and beyond for you in all senses.

It was impossible to forget that you'd become the most important thing to him.)

"You know I won't give you what you want until you've cum at least once for me, darling," he reminded, his voice feather light against your inner thigh now where he sucked a fresh mark into your thigh to match what the fading ones had once appeared as. Your fingers ran through his hair and tugged again, he only groaned deeply in response and lightly bit at the spot he'd just marked.

"Gale -"

He did love when you whined for him - it almost always nearly enough to make him break on the spot, the temptation to give into you near overwhelming.

"Ah ah ah," he whispered, the vibrations in his voice tickling your skin as his lips brushed a familiar trail up your thigh to your core. "No arguing, my love. I'm not asking anything unreasonable."

All that was left to do was melt as his tongue ran through your folds, an appreciative moan rumbling in his chest as he tasted you - as though it was the first time all over again. The argument was completely lost as he continued to cover every inch of your cunt with his tongue. He was exactly what he'd told you to be - patient - as his tongue ran back and forth between your oversensitive and swollen clit and your hole that was eager to clench around anything.

This was certainly one of his favorite ways to spend his time now - sometimes to busy his mind with anything other than tortured thoughts of the past he'd lose himself in devouring you. The fact that you always gushed on his tongue was a bonus, one he was more than happy to work for, sometimes refusing to remove his head until you'd finished multiple times.

Even he wasn't patient enough for that tonight, but he was enough to continue lavishing you with his skilled tongue, hands gripping your hips and angling you upward so he was able to fuck his tongue into you and lean back occasionally to gaze lovingly at your pretty, creamy cunt. With the amount of love and devotion he was putting into every movement, it wasn't long until your thighs were squeezing closer around his head, the subtle shake at his fingertips giving your impending release away before you managed to moan out the warning.

"I'm…I…"

"There you go," he leaned away to look up into your face, his lips and chin covered in your slick and his spit. One of his hands abandoned its hold on your hip to join his mouth, two fingers entering you again in a swift movement, the sound that accompanied the movement enough to build heat in your cheeks. "That's a good girl."

With his fingers now pumping into your hole again it left his mouth to focus on your clit, his tongue relentlessly swirling on the bundle of nerves as he pushed you toward release. Your vision was already whitening and your fingers gripped his hair tighter, a cry ripping from your chest as his other hand pressed down on your stomach.

That sensation snapped like a rubber band through you - while you were lost in ecstasy you hardly registered that your release was gushing from you, though Gale wasted no time in covering as much of your cunt with his mouth so he could drink your euphoric nectar.

As you were coming down he crawled back up you, pressing kisses along your torso as he whispered a word or sentence of praise with each one. You were pinned beneath him, one of his forearms resting next to your head as a leg moved to slide one of yours higher - though you were in a post-orgasm haze you registered you needed to wrap your leg around his waist.

His hand came to smooth your hair back, leaning down to press a delicate kiss to your nose - a tender action that didn't match the lewd way he rolled his hips into yours, his cock throbbing and leaking from what you could feel against your pussy. His other hand maintained a tight grip on your hip and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips now, whispering quietly against them.

"Are you ready for me, my love?"

The truth was, he could never enter you fast enough - or at least he wouldn't, his playful nature shining through one last time before he lost himself completely in intimacy. It showed now in the subtle shake to his voice, the slightly higher pitch that gave away how much he needed you.

"Please."

"I do so enjoy when you ask nicely."

He started sliding his cock into you slowly groaning the entire way, opting not to continue to kiss you so he could gaze into your face with complete adoration, finding just as much bliss in seeing your eyes roll back and flutter closed as a light smile played on your lips as he did in feeling your velvet walls around him again.

And this - this was as perfect as anything else that had ever truthfully been described as such. This is where both of you found some reason, some meaning - where both of you created your own galaxies. It started slow, Gale preferring to savor the first strokes inch by inch every time. His lips never left you, kissing you gently in any place he could reach on your face and neck and shoulders as he muttered quiet words of love and appreciation.

Poetry that would only be shared between the two of you.

When he was satisfied with the amount he'd cherished every inch of your walls welcoming him in again he re-angled your bodies so both of your legs were around his waist now, the new angle allowing him to fuck into you deeper. Now he was hitting a spot he knew would make you see stars, hoping that you'd thank him for remembering exactly how to reach it -

"Gale…feels s'good…"

He sounded his appreciation with a loud moan of his own, his pace increasing as the tension built in his core now. You felt impossibly tighter each time he re-entered, a fact that was driving him closer to release. Unable to voice it he pressed a sloppy, desperate kiss to your lips before leaning his sweaty forehead against yours, breaths falling out heavy against your lips.

No matter how close his release threatened to snap, he would never do so without hearing you tell him to do so. You allowed him a moment to dangle over the edge for a moment as you bit into your bottom lip, catching his attention and focus - focus on your swollen lips, and the sweaty sheen covering your face and slicking your hair…on the way your eyes threatened to spill tears at how blissfully good you felt.

"Come for me, Gale," the instruction already had him grasping you tighter, but when you continued with an offer that hadn't previously been on the table it was impossible for him to hold back much longer. "Fill me…"

He kissed you again - a little too hard for how swollen your lips already were from the amount of kissing already done but with a passion that was returned nonetheless. His thrusts became just as messy as his kisses had and he pumped his throbbing length into you hard and fast, hips pistoning into yours repeatedly.

Both of your sounds filled the room as his movements pushed you toward a second release of your own, walls clenching around him so tight he now couldn't bring himself to remove from you completely. Recognizing both of you needed a breath as his own head began to spin he buried into you to the hilt roughly one last time as his orgasm started, toppling you over into your own at the feeling of his thick seed coating your insides.

You were thankful he wasn't a particularly massive man when he practically collapsed against you, breaths coming out heavy against your neck as his mind found a new addiction in filling your womb. Normally he'd withdraw to get a soft and warm cloth to clean you but tonight it hardly seemed necessary - even if you fell asleep now it wouldn't be long before he was sheathing himself in you again.

He would care for you in other ways tonight, pulling away from you slowly and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he positioned you both into something much more comfortable, facing one another on your sides so you could continue to enjoy the serenity illuminating one another's faces.

Between your bodies one of his hands met yours, your fingers lightly tracing lines on the back of his hand. He continued to enjoy the true peace of the moment before speaking again.

"Today was beyond words," he whispered lightly when he found his voice again. You could hear the love that each word was spoken with - what's more you could see it reflected in his eyes. "You give me everything I could have ever dreamed of and more."

You moved closer to curl up to him, burying your face in his neck as he waved a hand to ignite the fireplace, keeping one arm around you to hold you close as one of your legs slipped up over his waist. After he pulled the blanket over your bodies he turned his head to press a kiss to your forehead, finding your eyes were already closed and yet you still had a small smile on your lips. As he gazed at you for just a moment longer Tara jumped onto the foot of the bed, giving a long stretch before settling in for the night, her purrs mixing with the crackle of the fire.

Just when he thought you'd already fallen asleep you surprised him with another question.

"Let's do it again tomorrow?"

He kissed your forehead with a light smile on his lips as his arms tightened around you, happy to give this and more to you for as many days as you'd allow.

"And the day after that."

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios smut #baldur's gate 3 smut #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #gale dekarios fanfiction

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the-halloween-jack · 1 month ago

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Asphyxiated ✢ Bruce Wayne

Synopsis: Y/N’s once-adoring relationship with the charming Bruce Wayne begins to unravel as his nightly disappearances and distant demeanour create an insurmountable chasm between them. Unaware of his double life as the infamous Batman, Y/N is left to wonder where she went wrong, seeking solace in an old friend, Jonathan Crane. Bruce Wayne x Reader, female pronouns. This piece is not plot-specific, so any iteration of Bruce will work. Though I wrote it with Christian Bale in mind. Warnings: Angst (there's a lot, sorry), canon typical violence (not overly descriptive). Masterlist

Note: This is my first time writing for Christian Bale's Batman, and I can definitely see myself writing for him a lot more; god, I love him. I would also love to thank my lovely friend @lettherebemorelight for helping me with this plot.

Disclaimer: I have since written a prequel to this piece, you by no means have to read it, but if you do, here is the link.

Words: 7,292k

She had once known warmth in his embrace. His open arms beckoned her with a promised safety, drew her in with steady reassurance.

But that warmth had long since dissipated. In its wake, it left behind an empty, desolate bed, cold sheets, and a gnawing uncertainty festering deep within her. Bruce Wayne was slipping through her fingers, their love was fraying at the edges, and try as she might, she could not halt its relentless unraveling. Y/N was at a loss; she could not make sense of it.

The nights were the worst. Y/N would shift in their bed, reaching instinctively for the warmth that now so often evaded her, his warmth, only to find his side untouched, brisk against her moon-ridden skin. She would hear the ceaseless ticking of the clock, each of its hand's faint circuits mocking her with the unremitting absence of the man she adored.

She would lie there, vacant eyes gazing above her, with the remnants of her dream shimmering at the edges of her vision and fading into her memory. The uncertain haze of her unconscious contrivance left a burning at the base of her throat as she fought against her tears. She would always dream of him, and though she was met with twisted caricatures of what their love had once been, she pined for sleep to drag her under its unrelenting grasp once more, simply to reunite with them.

And then, come morning, he would finally show, always interminably long past the promised hour. His drawn movements weighed down with lassitude, and his words bare of any real explanation.

‘Something came up.’ He would reach for her hand and whisper it haphazardly against her hair, in the muted light of dawn shining through their panoramic windows. His words were always nonchalant, as though late-night escapades did not stray far from convention. Bruce would then press a distracted kiss to her forehead before heading to the shower, leaving her alone on their bed, her arm falling slack to her side once more as he drifted away and out of her grasp.

She wanted to believe him; she yearned for it. But there was something in the way his shoulders tensed under her timid caress, in his taut hesitation before offering any answer. It twisted at her stomach and made it coil with unease.

She had tried speaking to Alfred, desperate to understand. The older man, a perpetual fountain of wisdom and warmth, could only ever offer her a tight smile and a soft excuse.

‘Master Wayne has a great many responsibilities, Miss.’

He would always say the same thing, and it was not an answer, not truly. He was speaking without saying anything at all.

Y/N would not miss how his smile evaded his eyes, turning to pity. Alfred felt sorry for her, and her mind was reeling for the catalyst.

She used to tell herself it was better not to ask, that silence was safer. But that silence had since turned into distance, and that distance was unbearable.

When they had first started dating, she felt like the luckiest woman alive. Bruce Wayne—handsome, charming and kind—made her feel like the centre of the universe. But now, spiraling into her dejection, she felt like she was standing at the edges of a macrocosm she no longer belonged to, staring in and hammering at its unabating walls.

Bruce remained steeped in shadow, staring out into the murk that sheathed Gotham like an integument. The familiar weight of the suit clung to his body like a second skin; it was his mind that made it feel as though he was suffocating, a heaviness that seemed impossible to rid himself of. His gaze flickered to the clock on the cave wall—another night spent apart from her. Another night, he had failed her.

He could still discern her face clearly in his mind, how it had looked before all this. Her lips would curve into a dulcet smile when she saw him, a tenderness would reach her eyes when he held her close. It was not just love he felt when he gazed upon her—it was a need. She anchored him, gave him something to cling to in a city that constantly tried to drag him under, take him somewhere darker, twisted.

But now? There was nothing but distance between them, a chasm of unspoken words and apologies; it seemed nothing could bridge the gap.

Bruce clenched his fists, leaning his weight against the cool stone of the cave, head falling back against its concrete foundations. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to admit everything, every single detail — he wanted to make her understand why he could not be the man she deserved.

But the words never came.

He could not let them.

He had convinced himself over and over again that this was for her own good. She need not know. He could not inflict her with the weight of his world. The dangers, the violence. The darkness and the murk. None of it.

He was not blind to the fact she was pulling away; he was making a stranger of her. Bruce did not miss how her eyes, in the gleam of dawn, would search his with that dreaded unspoken question, the one he could never answer.

It was imperative for her safety.

If she knew, if she understood what he did when the night fell and the city beckoned its protector, she would be at risk. If she knew he was the Batman, she would become a target. A pawn in a deadly game that he could not protect her from, a game he could not win.

He had seen it happen before; too many people who cared for him had suffered. He would not let that happen to her. Not when it was within his power to keep her away from it, to suspend her above the reservoir that engulfed him.

But the guilt ate away at him regardless. The empty promises, the way he would brush her off with some vague excuse, knowing she would never get the truth, knowing she did not believe his lies. He hated it. God, he hated it.

But what other choice did he have? She was not just his lover—she was his heart; she was akin to the blood that flowed through his veins; she was life. If Y/N knew, if she saw the man he truly was, she would leave him. She would never forgive him.

He did not deserve her forgiveness.

And the thought of losing her, of watching her walk away, was a torment worse than any form of hell, its torture paling in comparison. He could never survive it.

It was for her own good.

His mind repeated this mantra like a prayer, something to hold onto as he watched her slip further and further from his embrace. But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that it was the right thing to do, the truth gnawed at him, unfurled like caustic tendrils within his abdomen. The expanse between them had become too wide to ignore.

If she knew, if she knew the truth…

He would never be able to keep her safe.

Bruce’s hand hovered over his phone, his fingers trembling with the desire to call her. To hear her voice, to hear her ask him where he had been, what he had done. She felt so close, yet so entirely out of reach.

The rational part of him — the Batman — told him it was better this way. She would be safer if she stayed in the dark, if she never knew the man he truly was. But somewhere deep inside, in a plane where Bruce Wayne still existed within him, he did not believe it; he knew this was not what she needed.

The truth of it was that the Batman was the real him; Bruce Wayne was the façade, an image of the man he yearned to be, the likeness of the man Y/N deserved.

So, he kept her away. Ensured she remained in the dark, drowning in his guilt, persuading himself it was for her own good. Because if he told her, if she saw what he truly did when the sun went down, she would leave him. And that, in the end, was the one thing he could not survive. He was too selfish to allow it.

His eyes flickered to the suit, to the mask now gripped, with pale knuckles, in his unyielding hands, the mask that concealed his true identity. To the symbol of the man he had to be, to protect Gotham, and to protect her — by not telling her the truth.

But it did not feel like protection anymore. It felt akin to betrayal.

He pressed his eyes shut, the weight of it all crashing down upon him. He was not a hero. He was not even the man he had once hoped he could be.

He was a liar.

And she was slipping through his fingers; he was losing her.

It had started as small exchanges, polite words over coffee when their paths crossed amidst the twisting, serpentine alleys of Gotham City. Then, lunches at cafés, after that, afternoon walks through parks. It was the comfort of familiarity that had drawn her in, the sequestered ease of conversation with someone who had known her before her world became so complicated, so delicate.

Jonathan Crane listened when she spoke, his sharp mind quick to offer observations, to make her laugh when she had forgotten how. And she needed that, needed someone to remind her that she was not invisible, that she was not losing herself in the silence of an empty home, a chilling manor.

Because it was not just the empty bed anymore.

Y/N found herself growing accustomed to the silence that followed Bruce’s ever-present absence. There were no longer any excuses, no more explanations to be had. She did not ask. She simply waited, quietly, biding her time, until he would return to her, distorted, in some fragmented form of himself — always just a little bit further out of her reach.

The coffee would grow cold. The breakfast table remained untouched as she piercingly stared at the empty seat opposite her, mind whirling. Bruce was always sleeping, analogous with a nocturnal creature. The shadows beneath his eyes seemed permanent now, etched into the crevices of his face; in this way, they were very much alike. She would stare dolefully at the toll he took within her complexion.

It was becoming too much to bear — the distance, the constant, unceasing unraveling of everything she had known and cherished. She would go on pretending, to herself and to others, that things were fine, that the silence was not loud enough to drown her, but she was gasping for air, trying in vain to ease her asphyxiation.

She had tried everything, every little trick she could muster, to fill the void between them. She tried to meet him halfway, to carve out small moments that would make him feel like the man she once adored. But these futile endeavours were like stitching a wound that had long since festered.

And it was Jonathan Crane who made it easier.

Their meetings were innocent. Just old friends reconnecting. A simple chat over coffee, an afternoon stroll to catch up. Nothing more. But with each conversation, the air between them shifted. The rhythm of their exchanges became familiar, comfortable, safe—something she could almost rely on, like a steady pulse. Jonathan was there when she needed him. He listened. He did not push. He was not an enigma like Bruce, wrapped in layers of secrets she could never quite peel back. She felt like she could breathe again.

She noticed the slight curve of his lips when he smiled. The glint in his eyes when he found something interesting in her thoughts. There was a sharpness to him that kept her alert, something she could not quite place. But it did not alarm her — not yet.

And so, she allowed herself to lean into this unwavering presence, drawn to it like a moth to a flickering fire, not yet aware that the inferno would singe her just the same. She did not notice how the conversations between them shifted from casual, lighthearted exchanges to something more intimate. There was unresistable comfort in the way he seemed to understand her pain, her quiet, gnawing desperation. He did not push her for answers; he simply gave her the space to find them within herself. He quietly guided her toward the conclusion he had already been forming.

‘I know you’re not one to speak your mind often,’ he remarked one afternoon, as they sat in a secluded corner of a café, ‘but I can see it in your eyes, you know. You’re asking yourself all the wrong questions.’

Y/N looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing. ‘What do you mean?’

He smiled again, this time a little softer, a little more knowing. ‘You’re trying to find out what you did wrong, aren’t you? Why Bruce is pulling away.’

She hesitated, the words teetering on her tongue, but she couldn’t speak them aloud—not yet. Instead, she simply nodded, her finger faintly circling the rim of her coffee cup.

Jonathan continued, his voice measured, calm. ‘Sometimes, when people change… we forget that they’re changing for reasons beyond us. But what I think you’re failing to see, Y/N, is that you’re not the cause. You never were.’

This whole time, she had been asking herself what she had done wrong. Instead, should she have been asking what he was doing wrong?

It was the first time someone had told her that. Not Alfred, not even Bruce himself. His words settled into her chest, warmth chasing away the cold that had been so enduring.

But underneath that warmth, there was a hint of something else—a flicker of curiosity, or perhaps something darker, lingering just beneath the surface. What had he been keeping from her?

She did not see it. Not yet.

Bruce brooded in silence. The jealousy eroded him, made him bitter and cold, as he watched Y/N draw closer to Crane. He had seen them together more and more, like a slow, insidious shadow creeping closer to everything he was desperately trying to hold onto, enveloping her and stealing her from his sight.

His suspicions flared, each casual encounter between the two of them fueling the fire within him. He would track their meetings, silent and calculating. How many times had they met this week? How long had they been talking before she left with a smile on her face? A smile that had not been directed at him for what seemed a lifetime, a smile he would do a great many things to receive once more.

He had been foolish, had he not? Bruce could not decide which was worse—the slow, inevitable fall of his relationship with Y/N or the suffocating realisation that he was already too late.

There were nights when the bitterness was overwhelming. He would stare at the monitor in the Batcave, unable to concentrate, watching the movements of Gotham’s criminals as they spilled into the streets, oblivious to the wars they waged. All he could think about was the way Crane’s smile lingered in his mind, how it made his blood simmer and his chest tighten.

It was not just the jealousy. No. He was not stupid. He had seen enough of Crane’s work to know there was something wrong with him—something dark, lurking beneath the façade of a charming, polite man.

Everything she and Bruce had suffered was designed to keep her safe, though his efforts were in vain; he had pushed her away to safeguard her, but in her isolation, she turned to someone precarious.

Crane was luring Y/N into the imperilment he had been tirelessly attempting to shield her from; the very notion of it was sickening.

She was slipping away. She was beginning to look at Crane with something in her eyes, something that was not there before, a curiosity, an ease — a trust.

And Bruce could do nothing to halt it.

The suspicions were creeping in slowly for her, like soft inclinations in the rifts of her mind, barely perceptible at first. Of course, there were the large things — his sudden disappearances at night, his long sleeps during the day.

But then, bruises would blossom on his arms, and he would rush to conceal them behind clothes, to hide them before she could distinguish them. There were the late-night phone calls that always seemed to be cut short when her presence became known to him. There was his perennial fixation on the news and his rush to leave every time an active emergency broke.

She was not naïve. She saw the patterns.

Y/N perceived the unsavoury connection between Gotham’s most elusive figure and the man she loved. But the idea that Bruce could be the Batman was still too far-fetched, too unbelievable to fully take root within her beliefs, to alter her reality.

There were moments. Fleeting moments when she would see something in his eyes, in the way he moved, in the way his voice carried, moments that she could only describe as…

Haunted.

She did not want to believe it. She did not want to acknowledge the possibility. The inclination that Bruce had been hiding something from her was almost too painful to entertain, but the evidence was mounting, smothering. Every time she questioned him, his answers became more distant, more rehearsed, more evasive.

Bruce had been trailing them for weeks now, his shadow lurking behind as they shared fleeting moments of companionship, the kind that burned with familiarity and ease, a type of connection he had once known. He knew it was wrong. He knew it was sick, perverted even. There were countless awful words that could describe his behaviour, but he rationalised it; he told himself he was only worried for her safety. And he was; this was not a deception. But Bruce could not deny the burning there, the acid that would sink down and simmer in the base of his throat every time he saw him touch her.

He would watch, vision burning red, fists clenched, as Crane guided her through doors, hand rested on her lower back. Bruce would visibly cringe as Crane placed his slender hand on her shoulder as she made him laugh. Every time he saw them together—quiet conversations over coffee, casual strolls through parks—something dark inside him twisted. A ghastly sensation he could not name, a vulnerability he would never let anyone see, a jealousy he had, at this point, never known; it was foreign to him.

Tonight, he could no longer bear it. The dreadful images plaguing his mind, of Y/N’s laughter in the company of another man, had piled up until they were an intolerable weight. He needed to see for himself. He needed to know if she was truly slipping away or if, perhaps, he could still save her from the seemingly ineluctable distance between them.

To save himself from the pain of her harrowing departure.

He followed them from a distance, keeping himself shrouded in shadow as they walked together, their movements eased and unburdened. He watched them as they reached the park, a secluded part of Gotham, where trees grew thick and branches cloaked them in gloom.

Bruce lingered in the shadow of a nearby building, hidden from their view, his eyes narrowed on Y/N’s form, her back to him as she walked a few steps ahead of Crane. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath shallow. Something inside him, perhaps the instinct of a man who had seen too much loss, who had felt too many betrayals, sensed it. This was more than simple companionship.

Then, it happened.

Jonathan Crane stepped closer to Y/N, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze. Bruce watched with bated breath. The air was drawn taut with a tension; it could have been sliced with a blade, a strain that needed no words to be understood. And then, with a smooth, calculated motion, Crane cupped Y/N’s face and kissed her.

Time seemed to stretch in that moment; in the span of a single heartbeat, the world seemed to slow to a suffocating crawl. Bruce’s stomach turned, and his throat closed. He had watched it happen—watched the betrayal unfold before his very eyes—and in that moment, he could almost feel it. The fracture of everything he had once held dear, the very thing he had worked so hard to protect, had now slipped from his grasp.

He could not move. He could not breathe.

Y/N’s face had been tilted up towards Crane, her expression soft, vulnerable. But Bruce did not see her eyes in Crane’s approach — he did not take in the hesitation there. He failed to see the way her body stiffened, her hands pressing against his chest, urging him to step back. All he saw was the kiss. The final straw. The moment that would unravel everything.

He turned sharply, his heart pounding in his ears, and walked away.

He did not hear the faint sound of her voice, calling out Crane’s name, pleading.

Y/N did not know how long she stood there, still reeling from the kiss. It had caught her off guard, an intimacy she had not expected and one she had certainly not reciprocated. And for a split second, her mind faltered. But only for a split second. In the moment the weight of what had happened settled, she knew something was wrong.

She pushed away from Crane, her heart thumping in her chest; he let her go easily.

‘I can’t…’ She stepped back, her voice trembling, hands still raised, unsure of whether the words were for herself or for him. ‘This… this isn’t right.’

Crane did not say anything for a moment, simply watching her, his eyes calculating. His lips twitched, but it was not a smile. It was something darker. Something she had not seen before.

But she did not wait for his response. Nor did she want to.

Y/N turned quickly and stumbled away, not caring if he called out to her or how he took her sudden departure. Her feet carried her swiftly, her breath sharp in the night air. She could still feel the weight of his kiss; it prickled against her skin and lingered there. Though it had meant nothing — nothing at all.

It was not until she was far enough away that she stopped, her phone already in her hand. She needed to talk to Bruce. She needed to explain, to plead and beg for his understanding.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, anxiety eating at her consciousness. With shaking hands, she scrolled through her contacts, found Bruce’s name, and pressed the dial button.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

The screen flickered as it went to voicemail.

Her stomach plummeted.

Once the dreaded high-pitched note sounded, indicating it was her time to speak and keeping true to his unrelenting distance, she rushed out a flurry of words; she needed him to understand, to know and believe how much she loved him. To know how little Jonathan meant to her, how much he paled in his comparison.

She ended the voicemail, her hand trembling as she stared at the screen, as if hoping for it to light up with his name—hoping for him to reach out to her, to offer the words of comfort, of validation, she so wretchedly longed for.

But the screen remained blank.

Bruce’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched tight. He knew she had called, but he had left her to go to voicemail. He did not want her explanation, her excuse; he understood the words would feel like a knife twisting in his chest, offering no reprieve. He knew he could not face her; he knew he could not answer her call without breaking, without crumbling under his despair.

He had seen what he had seen, and no explanation, no words from her, and no amount of time could erase that vile image from his mind — the way Crane’s lips had pressed against hers. The way he had held her, as if she belonged to him.

But she did not; Y/N was his. Or was she? He thought once more of the wedge he had driven between them, the walls he had established higher and higher until she was left standing on the other side, wondering if she could ever reach him again. He was not blind to the way she would observe him, sadness steeped within her eyes. Bruce clenched his fists, a deep ache forming in his chest. Had he pushed her away so far that she had to find comfort in the arms of another man? His own insecurities, his unspoken fears, had they created a chasm between them that was too wide to cross now? The thought of losing her, of her slipping through his fingers, falling into the grasp of another — was more than he could bear. Yet, deep down, he knew it was not Crane who had pulled her away. It was him.

Maybe he knew, deep down, that she had pulled away from Crane’s clutch. He knew she would not have wanted this. But this apprehension was futile now. The seed of doubt had already been sowed within his reality, and it had taken root in his heart like a venom.

His phone vibrated on his dash again, informing him of a voicemail left unheard. He could not bring himself to listen to it. The voice that had so recently been a source of comfort, of love, now felt like a weight. Her words would be a reminder of everything he was failing to give her—everything he could not be.

He drove off into the night, unable to find the courage to turn around.

Not yet.

Y/N’s mind raced as she roamed, and the city’s hum buzzed in the background. She was not ready to go back to the manor — not yet. Not until she could find a way to break through the walls he had built around himself, not before she could get through to him. She glanced at her phone once more; the silence radiating from it was somehow, completely illogically, deafening. The weight of what had happened hung over her, and despite everything, she could not bring herself to face him, in fear she might break.

How could she reach him when he refused to answer? Where was he? Her heart ached at the thought of him, so distant, so unreachable in his silent pain. She needed to fix things, needed to make him understand, before they lost each other completely. But the longer she wandered the streets, the more uncertain she became. What if there was no way back? What if they were already too far gone? She sighed and pushed the thought away as her footsteps quickened. The uncertainty settled deep in her chest as she realised she was not sure where she was going anymore. Y/N stumbled backward, her breath quickening as the dark figures loomed closer. She realised too late that she had backed into an alleyway, the weight of the situation settling heavy, like lead, in her chest. Her heart is pounding, her instincts screaming for her to run, to flee, but her nerves betray her. She glanced around herself frantically. She realised with a fear that felt like ice down her throat that there was no escape. One of them lurks closer, the flicker of the streetlamp catching the glint of a weapon in his hand. Her pulse thunders in her ears as she tries to steady her rattling breath. This was not supposed to happen. She was not supposed to be here. This was not supposed to be how it ended.

Her mind races, but it is too late. She knows it is too late.

There is nowhere to hide. The heinous men are closing in around her, swallowing her up. She is trapped.

A wave of nausea hits her, a sharp, cold panic that twists her stomach into knots. Her thoughts are a blur, but one thing is clear: she has to reach him.

She closes her eyes and forces herself to calm down, focusing on the small silver ring Bruce had given her — her last hope. The same ring she thought was merely a gift, a meaningless yet sweet gesture. But now she understands. She remembers the way he had pressed it into her palm, his gaze full of a quiet intensity that she had not fully grasped at the time.

‘If you ever need me…' he had said, his voice low, tone heavy with something unspoken.

‘This will help me find you.’

She recalled the confusion she had felt when he gifted it to her, though she had not dwelled on it at the time. But now, she was kicking herself; it all made sense. She had considered it before, but she was always careful to cut the notion short, halt it before it could fully form, before it became too real.

Bruce was the Batman and she had already known it; of course he was.

The late-night escapades, the sleep-riddled day times, the empty dinner tables, the cuts, the bruises and the urgent, poorly explained disappearances whenever something terrible had happened within the city.

Her hands trembled as she slipped the ring from her finger, the cool metal feeling foreign against her skin; it harboured hope. She placed it carefully between her fingertips and pressed just hard enough to activate the concealed mechanism inside.

The tiny, almost imperceptible whir of the system coming to life is the only sound she hears. And then, as she places it upon her finger once more, the faintest of beeps. A signal sent.

Her chest feels tight as she forces her sight upward, to look upon her soon-to-be attackers, forcing herself to maintain their stare. She is aware of their figures closing in again, of their eyes boring into her, hungry and cold. But her focus is on the single thought that keeps her grounded: He will come.

A sharp laugh echoes from one of the men. They are talking, but the words are unintelligible to her; she cannot hear them over the pounding in her ears. She makes no effort to answer. Her gaze shifts further upward, towards his signal illuminating the murk of Gotham’s night sky, and for a split second, she lets herself believe she can feel him out there—somewhere in the dark, coming to her.

She has to hold on. She has to hold on just a little longer.

Her vision starts to blur, the world becoming corroded at its edges, her body beginning to betray her, but she does not move. Makes no effort to run. She stays still, waiting. Waiting for him.

The night is too quiet, an empty expanse of soundless tension that suffocates with each breath. Bruce’s grip on the steering wheel is tight, his fingers stiff, trying to suppress the tremor that is slithering into his limbs. His chest feels hollow, a dull ache that has been consuming him since the moment he received her distress signal. The weight of it pressed down upon him, pushing the air from his lungs until he could not breathe at all.

The ring. The ring he had hidden a distress mechanism in. In this moment, it is all he has; it is what tells him she is still alive, that she is still fighting, though he can feel her slipping away with every second. He does not have time to think, does not have time to wrestle with the inevitability of what is coming. He pushes the Batmobile harder; the kiss, the betrayal, it is all but a faint memory; it no longer matters.

His heart ticked like a bomb, each beat augmenting the terror that wore at him. It’s too late. It’s already too late. He could not end the foul thought from hammering within his mind, a thought that burrowed deeper within him with every passing moment. But he pushed forward, went faster, even though every fibre of his being told him she was already lost.

He could not afford to think like this. She deserved better.

Bruce did not remember stopping the car. He did not remember climbing from its front seat.

As he moved, he felt akin to a puppet held suspended by strings; he was not in control of himself. He did not know how he made it to her; the time between the last glimpse of the signal on his dash and the moment he knelt beside her, in her blood, was lost to the haze of adrenaline and dread.

But then, he is there.

Her body is crumpled, macabre, like a broken doll, her form so still it makes his heart skip a beat. Her attackers were nowhere in sight. The blood pooling beneath her seems to grow darker by the second, stark and seeping into the crevices of the pale, illuminated pavement. She is breathing—just barely. It is the kind of shallow, desperate breath that sends a jolt of panic straight through his spine.

For a moment, he does not move, hands suspended above her. The world feels frozen, a long, aching pause; like it is waiting for him to act. But he cannot — he is paralysed. The sight of her, broken like this, shatters everything inside him, destroys everything he is. He wants to scream, wants to rage against this fate, but all that fills his mouth is the taste of failure, it burns like acid; he chokes on it.

‘Bruce…’

As soon as she speaks, a burning grief chases away the fear that had kept him still; he feels this morbid flame flow through his system and takes her into his arms. Her voice is a faint rasp, as if his name is all she can summon. Her eyes flutter open, and it is as though she is seeing him for the first time. Her gaze is distant, unfocused. Her fingers twitch, but they do not reach out for him—they do not have the strength. She is already too far gone.

But then, those eyes meet his, and something breaks in him, something deep and painful, something he has not allowed himself to feel in so long. She knows. And it is not anger or betrayal that he sees in her eyes. It is only sorrow, and love, and an ache that mirrors his own.

‘Take off the mask,’ she whispers, her words fragile like glass, much like her figure. She tries to lift her hand, but it trembles weakly, falling short as her body fights to stay alive, to keep breathing. ‘Let me see you... Please…'

Her plea hits him like a punch to the gut, and something inside him crumbles. Still supporting her, his fingers tremble as he reaches for the cowl. The motion is so slow it is almost torturous. Every inch of it feels like it is tearing him apart because once he does this — once he removes the mask — there is no going back. She will see the man beneath it, the broken man he has been hiding for so long. And it will be the last thing she sees; he knows it.

But she is asking, pleading. She wants to see him. And somehow, that small piece of her strength is enough to push him over the edge.

He takes it off.

The cool air brushed against his skin, and for the first time in years, he felt raw. Exposed. She does not flinch. Does not recoil. Not like he thought she would.

She smiles, a faint, fragile beam, as though nothing is wrong in the world; it is enough to break him completely, more than he already was. Her eyes are filled with a quiet recognition, and the corners of her lips twitch upward. ’I knew,’ she breathes, her voice shaky, but the words are certain, resolved. ‘I didn’t let myself believe it. But, I knew.’

His throat tightens and burns. He wants to tell her so many things — everything he never said, everything he kept locked away. But the words do not come. He opens his mouth, but the only thing that leaves it is a strangled sob.

Her body jerked in pain, her chest heaving. His hands let go and instead hover helplessly over her, shaking with the urge to do something, anything. His breath hitches, a desperate, choking sound that he cannot control. But there is nothing to do. Nothing. She was slipping through his fingers once more; only he could have never imagined it would be like this.

‘It’s too late…’ she whispers again, her voice so soft it is almost lost in the wind. The words catch in his throat, and he feels them like prickles puncturing and twisting deep into his skin. The agony of hearing her speak, knowing what is coming next, is enough to shatter the fragile control he has kept over himself for so long, the control that was already extinct, not since he took in her crumpled form on the blood-stained concrete.

‘I’m going to help you,’ he says, his voice cracked, a broken echo of a promise that he knows he cannot keep. He tells her over and over, as if saying it will make it true, but the words are hollow. They are not real. She is already gone; he cannot save her.

Her hand slides to his cheek, her fingers cold against his skin. She is so cold, so small, as if the life has already been drained from her completely. She looks at him with those same knowing eyes, her smile still lingering, even as the weight of the world presses down upon her chest, pushing her under.

Then she exhaled, a long, shuddering breath that shook him to his core, a breath she could not follow.

Her body goes still.

And in that moment, she is gone. Lost to the world. Empty eyes, gazing unseeingly past him and above her, facing, but not taking in the candescent signal shimmering in the ether.

And in the hollow of her absence, Bruce feels everything stop.

His world has fallen away. The darkness around him seems to stretch infinitely, suffocating him, pressing in on his chest.

Tears burn at the back of his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall. He holds her tighter, his body trembling with the weight of her loss, shaking them both. He does not let go. He cannot. He will not.

But soon enough, they come. And he quickly grasps for his cowl, tugging it over his head.

The tears finally fall. Slowly at first, then faster, until they are pouring down his face and mixing with her blood on the pavement; it is already cold, and the groan he makes at this perception is inhumane in sound. His shoulders tremble with it, a raw, guttural sob tearing through him. It is a sound of pure grief, pure, undiluted agony — the sound of a man who has nothing left but the wreckage he cradles.

He does not care anymore.

He does not care when the officers arrive. He does not care when they try to pull him away from her. He does not care about anything but the ever-growing coldness of her being, the weight of her death pressing down on him like nothing had before.

They cannot make him leave.

But eventually, they do. The silence that follows, the vacantness of his arms without her weight, is so absolute, so entirely harrowing. Alone in the manor, he stumbled to his phone, to the voicemail, the one she had left him earlier, after the call he ignored. The voicemail she had left when she was still alive, still reaching out to him with hope. Hope he did not deserve.

He pressed play.

Her voice fills the room, shaky, unsure. ‘Bruce, please, pick up,’ she had whispered under her breath, her voice shaking with anguish. ‘I… I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why it happened. But, please, I need you to understand. This… this wasn’t what I wanted. Jonathan… he kissed me, but I pulled away. I swear. I… I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Bruce. Please, just… just understand. Please. I need you. I love you.’

She paused for a moment, her end going silent. Bruce had thought it finished when her small voice spoke up once more,

‘I love you,’ she had repeated, ‘God… I love you,’ she choked on her sob, trying desperately for air, ‘I love you so much, Bruce. Please, don’t shut me out. I need you. I love you…’

The static cuts through the air when the message ends. The words carved into him like scars that will never fade, worse than any real affliction.

He collapsed into their bed, a broken shell of a man, his body wracking with silent sobs. His hands shake, his chest heaving with each breath, but he cannot stop it. He cannot cease his crying; it sputters out.

And as the tears flowed, it felt like the world around him was disintegrating, leaving only an empty void where she used to be. He reached out, and the cold sheets of her side made him heave harder. Alfred is in the hall, trying to get through the door. He wants to take him in his unyielding embrace and tell him it was not his fault, but it is a lie. Alfred was attempting to suppress his own sobs, though Bruce could still hear them; they pierced his ears like needles.

He can still feel the cold weight of her body in his arms, the way her breath slowed to nothing, the fragile, fleeting warmth that slipped through his fingers like sand. His mind replays the moment over and over, like a cruel loop he cannot escape, a perpetual torment.

If only he had gone to her after the kiss. The thought is bitter, venomous.

He had let his fear — his overwhelming need to protect her, to keep her safe — push him away, convincing himself it was better to stay distant, to be the Batman, rather than risk anything more. But now, he cannot help but see it for what it truly was, cowardice. She was his. She had always been his, and if he had just confronted her, talked to her, if he had given her the chance to explain that the kiss meant nothing, then maybe, just maybe, she would still be alive. She would have told him the truth, and they would have worked through it together. They would have gone home together. They would have been happy.

But instead, he let her fade away, believing the lie that keeping his distance was the right thing to do. The guilt claws at him, a suffocating weight, each breath sharp and ragged. He was not there when she needed him most. He was not there when it mattered. And now she is gone.

And the words she said echo through him once more, louder than anything else:

‘I love you so much, Bruce. Please, don’t shut me out. I need you. I love you…’

But it is too late for those words now. It is too late for anything.

Here is the link to the prequel if you're interested.

Every comment and piece of advice is welcomed and appreciated <3

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #bale!batman #batman #dc comics #dc #gotham #jonathan crane #scarecrow #christopher nolan #x reader #oneshot #angst #alfred pennyworth

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natalchartnurtures · 10 months ago

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PAC: What Greek Mythology love story would you and your FS be?

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[pile 1 to 3- left to right]

Just came out of a bone-crushing healing and shadow work period for my Kundalini Awakening going on right now T-T In an attempt to raise my spirits, I created my very first FS reading-

pile 1:

General vibe of your love story with your FS-

This is the movie pile. I see a full-blown movie arc in my mind’s eye for your love story with your FS. I see an opening at- you guys meeting, the middle act- your separation and individual trials, and the final act- the happy reunion! OBVIOUSLY, there's nuance to how all of this will unfold for each of y’all reading since it's real life we're talking about, but your story with your FS is the closest thing to a happily-ever-after if I've ever seen one.

It's like when y’all first met, y’all were young, or maybe some of y’all didn't know how to handle a relationship or didn't have the resources in the 3D (think money or a place of your own, something like that) to make this relationship happen? Maybe it was long distance for a looong time? And so, for whatever reason (along said lines) y’all had to let each other go or y’all couldn't be together. It's like y’all were shown a grand possibility to be together, and BOOM it was taken away.

Then you guys enter a separation period right after, and the length of this period will differ for everybody reading, anywhere between months to a couple of years. After having worked HARD on yourselves ON YOUR OWN to overcome your personal issues, traumas, and suffering, you guys come together. The key to really mastering your obstacles is in the day to day. You will have set routines to tackle your obstacles, such as say you’ve got anxiety or a dys-regulated nervous system, so maybe you'll always have a stress relief meditation scheduled in no matter how your day looks. So on and so forth, fill in the details of this period as it best suits your life. But the common denominator, I feel like, is that y’all really fight to be with one another. The love is so deep here, and that's what motivates each of you to overcome your personal hurdles, yk? And THEN, when it happens, and y’all reunite, it's sooo beautiful. It's like you guys will build a brand new life together where you can put the past behind and finally enjoy the fruits of your labor! Also, I see you guys growing and blossoming over time with your FS upon reunion 🥺✨.

So… which Greek myth sums up YOUR love story with your FS the best?

drum roll

It’s the story of Cupid and Psyche!

From what I’ve read about this story, Cupid and Psyche couldn’t immediately be together after they met. Cupid could only meet Psyche at night AND she’s not even allowed to see him! T-T This was part of what Psyche has to overcome- the challenges put forth by Aphrodite just because the goddess was jealous of Psyche. And poor Cupid had self-esteem issues from what I gather lmao. He didn't even feel worthy to show his mortal wife what he REALLY looked like (which, by the way, is GORGEOUS af?! Like who hurt you, Cupid?) They eventually overcome their odds and reunite. Eventually, Jupiter blesses Psyche with immortality, which allows them to live forever in their new life happily ever after. Ahhh… beautiful.

I encourage you to read the original story (or watch it on YT, do whatever you like :p) to pick up on any additional messages! Buuut that’s all I have for you lovely folks today.

Love and loads of light, sweet pea :)

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pile 2:

General vibe of your love story with your FS-

Reeeeally strongly coming in right off the bat, I feel like both you AND your FS will be turning a brand new leaf in your lives. Think a new job for one or both of you. A major relocation for one or both of you. A major relationship ending for one or both of you. You catch the drift, right?

It feels like y’all will be closing out a cycle and entering into a new era, so to speak. And in this new era, I sense that you'll keep mostly to yourself and aren't all that interested in anybody because you're still processing this BIG shift you just went through and you're reflecting a lot, drawing on your wisdom, staying in your lane. Ngl, you do feel vulnerable and raw too, which is probably why you seem to keep to yourself mostly during the time you might run into your FS. I sense the same from their end too.

You know what this is? Mutual healing. Your future spouse finds you at a time when you're in the dead center of healing and vice versa. You will both be the catalysts to each other's healing! How cool is that? And after y’all find stability in your journey together especially after navigating healing for so long… I see y’all being so comfortable and content and peaceful with one another 🥺 this makes my heart full!! Stop it! Ahhhhhh <3 The vibes are immaculate, it's giving 'comrades in the battlefield' kinda energy. Your FS will stick with you no matter what, literally. And that's the kind of loyalty many people only dream about. Love it 🤌🏾. Y’all will love each other's pain away 🥺😩. Ugh my heart can't take it anymore!

So… which Greek myth sums up YOUR love story with your FS the best?

drum roll

It’s the story of Odysseus and Penelope!

Now in the story of Odysseus and Penelope, both of them undergo significant changes and face major disruptions in their lives. Odysseus’s long journey home from the Trojan War and Penelope’s long period of waiting and dealing with suitors at home. BUT even in Odysseus's absence, Penelope remains faithful and focused on her own survival and household. Similarly, Odysseus endures many trials and tribulations. Both characters are found in a state of self-reflection in the face of personal challenges (in my humble opinion of course). Their reunion symbolizes mutual healing… both of our characters here show incredible loyalty and perseverance despite being apart for 20 years!

-Side note: on a completely different note, your story low key kinda reminds me of the story of James and Claire from Outlander >< shoutout to the Outlander fans hehehehe, I'm waiting for the 9th season to come out SO BAD ughhhh lmao-

I encourage you to read the original story (or watch it on YT, do whatever you like :p) to pick up on any additional messages for yourself! Annnnd that’s all I have for you lovely folks today.

Love and loads of light, sweet pea :)

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pile 3:

General vibe of your love story with your FS-

Ah.. my Pile number 3s.. you guys are afraid to love.. aren't you? You might be blocked off from your heart and as a result won’t be open to true reciprocal and healthy love for a WHILE. But then I see that the divine will enter your life in some way and shake you up in a big way to show you how you've been standing in your own way and keeping love at a distance.. I'm seeing the tower card in my third eye as I say this even though it hasn't come out for you today.

Ah, this is like a personal journey I see you taking before your FS comes in and swoops you off your pretty lil feet 🙃 tehe! Your energy seems quite mental to me. You love living in your head, thinking, planning, analyzing, and just knowing things. But this came at the grave cost of not being connected to your heart.. and when the divine intervenes and helps you connect to your heart again is when your FS comes in flying ✨.

Side note: Ooh.. suddenly I hear Lavender Haze by our queen Taylor Swift? Take that only if it resonates for you :]

But yea, I see you struggling and feeling out of control when all of this happens because you're used to being in control of things usually but now all of this has you a bit overwhelmed I'm ngl.. but you end up navigating this perfectly well! Yay! I'm glad haha 😅🫂👏🏾

So… which Greek myth sums up YOUR love story with your FS the best?

drum roll

The story of Pygmalion and Galatea!

Yup, just like how Pygmalion accidentally manifested Galatea, you kinda accidentally manifest your future spouse too (low key reeeal funny ngl). Because Pygmalion refused to love anybody, he sculpted out his perfect woman and fell in love with his creation. His deep affections attract the attention of you guessed it Aphrodite herself, and she decides to ahem intervene. She brings Galatea to life, which represents the transformation of Pygmalion's mental fixation (and emotional disconnection) TO emotional CONNECTION. How perfectly beautiful. Ugh. Love your story, Pile 3. Gosh.. who doesn't love their FS simply falling into their laps? Haha

I encourage you to read the original story (or watch it on YT, do whatever you like :p) to pick up on any additional messages! Soooo that’s all I have for you lovely folks today.

Love and loads of light, sweet pea :)

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