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sfehvn · 11 months

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new religion part 6

A/N: Thank you guys for hanging through this series with me :) There is some pregnancy talk beginning this chapter, so pls skip this if that makes you uncomfortable. Enjoy the update, cheeky pups. Some more sexy stuff this time around! Xx Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 3,027 Characters: soft!ascended!Astarion x au!Tav

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Your arms stretch above your head, sleepy eyes flickering open. It takes you a moment to become aware of the empty bed you lay in. The spot occupied by Astarion’s cool figure when you’d drifted into a serene sleep is now bare. There had only been a handful of times he hadn’t been there to greet you upon your wake since you had agreed to stay with him, one of the many attributes you admired to no end about your lover. Georgie is tucked into your side, perturbed by the sudden disturbance of you sitting from your previous position. He mewls, shaking his soft fur before hopping off of the bed, no doubt in search of his morning feeding. Making your way to Astarion’s office, knowing that’s where you’d find him when he was not by your side, your brow creases at the sight of the undisturbed room.

“Lady Tav, Master Ancunin requested your presence in the day room immediately. Presentably.” As she speaks, there’s a tinge of urgency in the maid’s voice. The unexpected voice caused you to jump in surprise, a hand resting on your chest. The abundant amount of help in the manor was indeed something you were still adjusting to. The maid’s features soften as she realizes the fright she has inflicted. “So sorry, my Lady.” She adds.

“It’s quite alright. Just Tav, by the way.” Your clarification is met with a shake of the maid’s head.

“Master Ancunin was very clear-”

“Right. Of course.” You smile softly, and as the thrall makes her retreat, you stop her with another inquiry. “Did he say why?”

“Your brother thought to pay a visit. He’d like to see you.” With that, the maid rounds the corner of the long corridor.

Your eyes widen at the mention of your brother. In the home you now share with Astarion. While you did inform Alan that you’d be staying with your companion, you couldn’t recall telling him where the manor was. It wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, and Astarion could be considered rather influential among the elite of Baldur’s Gate; you had never addressed said companion by name in any of your letters. You push the gnawing questions aside for the time being to make yourself look decent.

Your nerves felt as if they were on fire. While you loved your brother dearly, he could be a stickler about the sanctity of marriage, and reading his distaste of you staying with a man unwed was one thing, now you’d have to face him and hear those complaints voiced. It was not something you were particularly looking forward to. That aside, you couldn’t imagine Astarion getting on too well with Alan either, mentally noting how opposing the two personalities were. To your surprise, you were greeted with the sound of laughter as you entered the dayroom. Alan is seated across from Astarion, cradling a goblet of red wine as he seems enthralled by whatever fantastical story the other man is going on about.

“Ah, darling, there you are. I thought I’d have to send the cavalry to fetch you.” Astarion jokes, gesturing for you to sit down in the seat beside him. You oblige, but not before giving your brother a quick embrace.

“You look great, Tav.” Alan points out. “How have you been faring, sister?” His tone cushions the concern dredged in his voice with care.

“As well as I can. Given the circumstances, of course. I’m actually,” You pause, trying to find a way to put your emotions into words eloquently. You settle on the most obvious. “I’m happy.” The simplicity of your statement is paired with a shrug, your lips upturning into a faint smile. The air lightens even more as your sincere answer puts your brother noticeably at ease.

Alan lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. “You know, I was a bit skeptical about this whole arrangement. Lillian had said some choice words about Astarion; the dramatics with that one are not going anywhere anytime soon. I just had to ensure my little sister was in good hands. It looks as if you are.”

A seriousness settles onto Astarion’s perfect features as he silently curses the young girl. He bites back any unsavory remarks. “I will admit before I met Tav, I did not have the best track record regarding my, er, personal conquests. Unfortunately, it would appear your sister must have gotten word about that. I am not proud of my past in that sense.” He didn’t have any need to explain himself; he owed nothing to the man seated before him. Contrarily, he found himself explaining Alan’s worries away anyhow. “Tav has given me a new outlook on life. I will be forever grateful to her.”

Your cheeks burn with a red tinge at his words, and you look over to your brother in a silent vie for approval. “And that is a commendable thing to admit, my friend.” Alan holds his goblet up in a sort of ‘cheers’ before taking a sip from the glass. “I do wish you’d made an honest woman out of my sister before inviting her to live in your home. Call me old-fashioned.” He laughs.

“Alan-” You begin to scold, but he holds up a hand.

“But you clearly love my sister and only have good intentions. I suppose that means more than anything else you could offer. And it’s about time she does something for herself.”

Astarion expertly refrains from letting out a chuckle, recalling the night you had spent together that was anything but good-intentioned. “That is the truth.” He states matter-of-factly instead. The remainder of Alan’s visit was short-lived, and once he was gone, Astarion turned his undivided attention to you. His hands find your hips as he guides you back into the day room, mischievously smirking all the while. “I have been dying to get you alone since last night, pet.”

A burning desire alit in your chest, you eagerly undo his trousers as he presses you into the chair behind you. His large, hard cock is freed from its confinement, springing to attention before your hungry eyes. You look at him innocently from under a bed of lashes, tongue darting out to wet your lips before taking as much as you can handle into your mouth, tongue swirling over the tip before your head bobs over his length. With his groan of approval and hands tangling into your hair, your heart swells pridefully. How this man fell apart for you just as equally as you did for him made you brim with excitement, evident in the pool of wetness that clung uncomfortably in your underwear. You shift in an effort to provide relief to your aching center. So ready and willing to be filled with his cock, the thought made you moan around his length. Your hand stroked the bit of him you couldn’t fit into your mouth, looking up to see the pleasure on Astarion’s face as his cock twitched in the warmth of your mouth.

He’s close to the edge. You’ve learned every little cue and reaction his body had in response to you. He pulls you up from your seated position, and you whine as his length leaves your lips, heart pounding as he flips you, bending you over the chair. Your dress was pushed up, exposing your wet underwear to him. He moves your undergarments expertly to the side, and you yelp in pleasure as he thrusts his cock into your drenched pussy. You grasp at the handles of the chair to maintain your balance, arching your hips further into his as he rhythmically pumps in and out. “I’ve been dying to taste you again, my naughty little pet.” He grunts. He pulls you up from the chair, not daring to break the contact of him buried deeply into your cunt. Your back is flush against his chest as he keeps pace.

“Please, love. I want to be naughty for you.” You mewl breathlessly. You’re met with a more arduous thrust in response, his hand discarding the bandage on your neck that had been hidden under your flowing locks. Once fangs break skin, your pleasant and now familiar taste fills his mouth. He relishes the way it coats his tongue, the way it pools into his mouth. He knew this couldn’t be a continuous event, but he would take advantage of your new-found turn-on while he had the appropriate healing potions in his possession. He silently reminds himself he could always purchase more, an action he’d send a thrall out for once you two had your fun.

It doesn’t take long for him to fill you with his seed, unable to take the intense satisfaction a moment longer. He continues to feed, his hand reaching around to play willfully with your clit. Your stature tenses, and you feel your knees go limp as your orgasm overtakes you. Astarion removes his teeth from you, lapping up the blood that seeped out upon his exit. Unlike the night before, he was eager to get every drop he could, unwilling to let the precious ambrosia go to waste. He removes his now-soft cock from your mound as he continues to support your limp form. He cradles you into his arms, sitting in the chair you had so unceremoniously christened with you in his lap. His fingertips brush the stray hairs away from your face, soaking in the satisfied smile on your lips.

A thrall entered the room without urging, they were prepared to tend to your reopened wound. A bandage was reapplied in place of the one Astarion had tossed aside; a deep red liquid that tasted of sulfur was provided, and you took it down begrudgingly. The thrall sees themself out hastily. “I like it when you’re rough with me.” You admit shyly, drawing circles over his knuckles with your fingertips.

“Do you, pet?” Astarion’s head cocks to the side, eyeing you curiously.

“I’ve spent so much of my life being treated like I’m made of glass. It’s refreshing.” You sigh happily. “I like it when you’re careful too.” You correct quickly before continuing. “But it is nice every once in a while.”

“I knew you were dirtier than you let on.” He teasingly taps the tip of your nose, and you giggle, pushing his hand away playfully. A comfortable silence settles over you, and you decide to inquire about something heavy on your mind.

“Do you think you’ll get tired of me, love?” You ask from your position nestled into his chest.

“Never. I could spend eternity in your presence and still yearn for longer with you by my side.”

You walk the roads of the lower city, humming quietly to yourself. Your hair was tied back with a neat yellow bow, and your flowing dress matched the color to a tee. It felt odd going out alone after spending most of your time with Astarion. He had been reluctant to let you, but he warily agreed after you insisted the alone time would serve you well. You wouldn’t be entirely alone, he wasn’t a dimwit. Instead, he instructed some of his less daylight-challenged help to keep a close eye on you. With the promise of a fate worse than death if you came home with even a hair out of place, he was confident they’d ensure a safe journey.

The smell of fresh air was replaced with the overbearing scent of alcohol and must as you pass The Blushing Mermaid. You ignore the rowdy tenants shouting your way as you stroll by. It had always baffled you how the place was always in full swing, even mid-morning. It hadn’t usually bothered you, but the smell was particularly potent and made your stomach lurch. Your stride quickens until you’re far enough away to inhale clean air. Your nose scrunches in distaste, mentally clocking just how unhygienic the place had to have been. Without another hitch, you’re entering The Facemaker’s Boutique, greeted by the smiling face of the man behind the counter. “Lady Ancunin! A pleasure to see you’re face again.”

“Oh, well, thank you, Darren.” You’re caught off guard by the usage of your lover’s surname in relation to yourself. “Astarion and I aren’t married, though. No need for all of the formalities.” You giggle.

The older man feigns surprise, his jaw slackening at the revelation. “Not married? And here I was under the impression he’d snatch you up as soon as physically possible. That man is smitten with you.” His words convey a teasing melody as if he were relaying groundbreaking information. “Follow me, Not Lady Ancunin.” His laugh is infectious, and you can’t help but smile as you follow him into the back once he’s unlocked the doors behind him. “Feel free to help yourself to the wine, dear. It’s a delectable dessert wine I’ve just imported. It would be a crime not to share.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. It looks rather expensive. Thank you for your kindness, though. You’re a joy.”

“Don’t be silly. Sir Ancunin’s business alone keeps our doors open and more than enough food on the table to feed our families. The least I can do is share some of my alcohol.” Darren insists as he enters the next room to collect Astarion's purchased clothing. “I’ll be just a moment. Please, try the wine.”

You finally give in, sitting on the chair closest to the table the wine was housed on. You take one of the empty glasses, carefully pouring the faintest amount into it. You bring the glass to your lips, and the sweet nectar rolls over your tongue. You hum in approval, taking another sip. This time, you feel your stomach tighten in rejection. Hastily setting the goblet down, you find the nearest bin and release the contents of your abdomen into it. Darren is before you immediately, holding the small pile of carefully crafted clothing in his arms. “Oh my, are you unwell? Was it the wine?” There’s an undertone of nervousness in his voice. He sets the clothes on a trunk, filling another glass with water from the pitcher beside the wine bottle. You quietly thank the man, sipping the water cautiously, afraid to further upset your gut.

The walk back to the manor is an onerous one. Your limbs feel heavy under the weight of the clothing in your arms; each step is a hurdle in its own right. Astarion is awaiting your arrival, seated in the foyer when you enter. His smile falters when he sees your disheveled state, quickly setting down the book he had been reading. He hurried to your side, taking the pile from your arms. Anger, concern, and confusion are valid in describing how he felt. Anger at the two he had instructed to keep a watchful eye on you, clearly disobeying their one function. Concern and confusion in regards to your current state. “What is it, darling?” The clothes were a forgotten heap on the floor as he scanned your face and body for any signs of harm.

“I’m okay, love. I think I’ve just caught a bug.” Your small smile falters as the familiar twist in your stomach makes the bile in your throat rise. “I’m just going to rest.” You choke back a heave as you swiftly move past him. He had been at your side for every unsavory moment thus far, but the thought of retching in front of him makes you feel sicker than you already do.

You spend your evening in bed, body huddled around a bucket that had the unfortunate job of collecting the contents of your gut. After hours of vomiting, all that is produced from you are painful dry heaves. Still, you’re unmoving. Astarion lays behind you quietly, stroking your arm in an attempt to soothe you. Despite you insisting he leaves you be. Forceful when telling him you didn’t want him to see you in such bad shape, he didn’t go. A sight that once would have made him look on in repulsion; the only thing he felt was helplessness. He did not need to worry about these mortal diseases and deaths before. His mind was plagued by what may be ailing you. Would you share your parent’s fate? No, he wouldn’t allow such a thing to befall you.

“Are you able to eat something, pet?” His words are muffled against the bare skin of your shoulder. You shake your head feebly, unspeaking. “You must drink water at the very least.” His words are firm only in love. He assists you with sitting up, handing you the glass that rests on the nightstand beside the bed. You take a small sip to appease him, offering it back to him. “A little more.” You oblige reluctantly, only to feel the liquid rise up your throat. Astarion holds the bucket under your chin, watching with sad eyes while the water is discarded into it.

“I just can’t right now.” You murmur, laying on your side once more. The chambermaid who sat in the corner of the room came to collect the bucket, replacing it with an unused one in the process. You felt like death; there was no other way to put it. Your head spun, your stomach unsettled beyond repair, but Astarion noted something seemed different. It wasn’t any of your features or simply from seeing you so debilitated. You were just different. His mind wanders as he rubs circles over your back.

It couldn’t be.

He excuses himself once the chambermaid returns, assuring that he’ll be back as soon as possible.

Among the sea of books in the manor’s extensive library, Astarion holds a book firmly in his grasp, eyes flitting over the text fervently. Nausea settled in the pit of his stomach, a feeling he hadn’t recalled the sensation of in centuries, let alone felt. Dhampir’s were not unheard of in his world, though extremely rare. Even more rare for a vampire of his age to produce any sort of offspring. His mind went into overdrive as one sentence stuck out among the others.

Few mortal mothers survive pregnancy; even fewer survive childbirth.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #x reader #reader #tav #ascended!astarion x tav #ascended astarion #ascended!astarion x reader

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breezeoow · 2 months

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Seventeen as Japanese Philosophy-

1.Choi Seungcheol;

Scoups as Mamori Tai: “I will always protect you”

Mamori Tai is a heartfelt sentiment which is typically reserved for when expressing feelings to a loved one, be it a family member, close friend, or romantic partner. It conveys a strong personal wish or intention to safeguard or preserve something of significance. Mamori Tai signifies an emotional or philosophical commitment to safeguarding something that holds particular value or importance. It expresses a desire to preserve or guard something valuable or cherished. It reflects a deep sense of responsibility or attachment to something that is considered important.

2.Yoon Jeonghan;

Jeonghan as Yugen: “Profound awareness and mysterious beauty”

Yugen is used in the context of a deep emotional response to a piece of art, like a Jackson Pollock painting, or nature. Yugen deals with the depth of meaning we find in the world through our imaginative perception of the universe and its wonders. Our perception triggers an emotional response that cannot be explained, for it is much bigger than us alone, and yet we are part of it.

3.Hong Jisoo;

Joshua as Ikigai: “A reason for being”

Ikigai describes our reason for being, the reason we get up in the morning. Be it a family member, hobby, pet, or profession, Ikigai is how we would describe the thing that keeps us going through our ups and downs, and motivates us to move forward in life. Ikigai is about finding true happiness. Ikigai serves as a useful tool to discover dream career, or to find out what one may enjoy doing in life. Ikigai has four primary elements: what you love (your passion), what the world needs (your mission), what you are good at (your vocation), and what you can get paid for (your profession).We all have an Ikigai, it’s just a matter of finding it.

4.Wen Junhui;

Jun as Kintsugi: “The art of broken things”

Kintsugi is used in the context of a broken object, like pottery, repaired with (traditionally) gold lacquer.It’s a practice that was developed 15th century Japan that sought to create beauty out of what would have been considered worthless. Kintsugi teaches us that in life we can turn adversity into something that is beautiful and resilient. Kintsugi shows us that in time, we can heal from our wounds, embrace our imperfections, and become stronger.

5.Kwon Soonyoung;

Hoshi as Kanbina: “A word that sounds sweet and pleasant to the ear”

Kanbina is an expression used when a word is so beautiful to hear – and the Japanese language is full of such words. It might be the way the word rolls off the tongue, the shape of the sounds, the letters it contains, the places it is used, or the meaning behind it that makes it sweet and pleasant to the ear. It can also be used to compliment someone, when they first tell us their name.

6.Jeon Wonwoo;

Wonwoo as Ma: “An efficient pause in time”

Ma is the time and space life needs to breath, to feel and connect. If we have no time, if our space is restricted, we cannot grow. Ma is the pure, and indeed essential, void between all things.Ma is about nuance. Ma describes the space in between. Ma celebrates emptiness as form. Ma is the silences, the pauses, the gaps. Ma is the empty space in a painting. Ma is the pause between music notes. Ma is the silence in between conversations.

7.Lee Jihoon;

Woozi as Furusato: “One’s hometown”

Furusato normally describes as a hometown, at its core, the word refers to the place that we feel our heart belongs. This place may not be where we were born or where we find ourselves in the present, but it’s where we feel most at home and hold in our heart. Where can rest, relax, smile, breathe and gaze upon stars comfortably. Furusato is where everything becomes gentler.

8.Xu Minghao;

The8 as Shibumi: “Effortless perfection”

Shibumi is about beauty of understanding. Direct and simple way, without being flashy. It is about a sense of effortless elegance and simplicity. It's about complete harmony, tranquility, and balance. It is "eloquent silence" and "understanding", rather than knowledge. It depicts the ability to achieve the maximum effect with the minimum means. Shibumi is a holistic approach to living that emphasises balance, and refinement. A livelihood where eloquence, silence and simplicity take precedence.

9.Kim Mingyu;

Mingyu as Koi No Yokan: “A premonition of love”

Koi No Yokan is different than love at first sight. Koi no yokan occurs when you first meet someone and know that you'll be in love later on. Although you may not be in love with them at first sight, you will be in the near future. It's a tender feeling that passes through our heart and mind after meeting someone for the first time. A feeling of "I think I've known you and I'm going to fall in love with you soon" passing us.

10.Lee Seokmin;

DK as Komorebi: “Dappled sunlight filtered through tree leaves”

Komorebi is walking through a wooded area on a sunny summer’s day and seeing beams of light shining through the canopy and the dappled effect of those beams on the forest floor. Komorebi is also the feeling of longing to be near someone who is too far away for us to visit, and missing their presence and all that it brings.

11.Boo Seungkwan;

Seungkwan as Hanagasumi: “A mist of flowers”

Hanagasumi is about the sight in springtime across Japan when it is a flurry of cherry blossom petals on the wind, so many that it appears like a haze of white and pink. Hanagasumi is the feeling and essence of spring, breathing new hopes fully, inhaling the spreading mist, leaving emptiness behind.

12.Chwe Hansol;

Vernon as Shinrin Yoku : “Forest bathing”

Shinrin Yoku is the feeling of walking among trees and nature inducing an inner sense of balance, lowering blood pressure and cortisol levels. Shinrin Yoku describes that experience, but in more spiritual terms, referring to the calm that washes over us when immersed in a forest as a return to our natural essence.

13.Lee Chan;

Dino as Ukiyo: “Floating world”

Ukiyo is a state of mind, emphasising being present in the moment and detaching one’s self from the stress and difficulties of life in order to truly live. It implies a dreamlike quality to the district, where nothing is as it seems. Ukiyo came to symbolize the Buddhist idea that life was transient, the endless cycle of rebirth, life, suffering, death, and rebirth. Ukiyo is about surviving mentally, physically, spiritually by getting detachment from the bothers of life.

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt #svt x reader

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chuuyrr · 9 months

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ SANTA DOESN'T KNOW YOU LIKE I DO — DAZAI OSAMU ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

𐙚₊ CW(s): f! reader, exes to lovers, angst to fluff/comfort, christmas/holiday setting, he still calls you pet names like baby, love, and sweetheart

𐙚₊˚⊹ SYNOPSIS: underneath the twinkling christmas lights, you and osamu embrace the promise of a love rekindled

𐙚₊ NOW PLAYING: santa doesn't know you like i do by sabrina carpenter && new years day by taylor swift ᝰ.ᐟ

in the heart of yokohama, where the winter winds whispered secrets and the city adorned itself in festive lights, you find yourself wandering around in a deep sigh, clutching yourself with your coat adorning you.

the city exuded warmth, and the scent of roasted chestnuts, gingerbread, and an open fire from christmas markets and stores mingled with the laughter of children and adults enjoying the holidays.

as you strolled through the festive scene, you couldn't escape the echoes of your shared past with dazai.

you then stop in front of a familiar bar which was decorated with bright christmas lights and wreaths, and at that moment, you find yourself lost in a sea of memories, reminiscing about the shared moments with osamu, before the inevitable drift that led to your breakup.

among those recollections, two particular scenes painted themselves vividly in your mind, haunting yet bittersweet.

one memory that lingered like a gentle melody was the night you and osamu ventured into the same dimly lit bar, saying that you two deserve a treat.

the air hummed with the soulful tunes of saxophones and pianos as you two nestled into a corner booth. the ambient glow cast a warm aura, reflecting in dazai's brown sugar eyes as you and him clinked glasses of your high-ball whiskeys, toasting to the beauty of the night.

your laughter resonated with the rhythm of the music, creating a symphony of shared joy. osamu, with his enigmatic smile, leaned in to whisper secrets that only you could understand amidst the jazz-infused atmosphere.

it was a night where time seemed to suspend, and your connection deepened through the language of music, laughter, and stories which lead to a shared kiss that became your first.

another memory that tugged at the corners of your heart was the night you spent at osamu's apartment. the air was thick with familiarity as you found solace in the haven he had crafted, even if it was quite empty and rather mininalist, considering how he didn't have much.

either way, you and osamu talked about everything and nothing, the conversation weaving effortlessly between trivialities and profound truths—some even about his day at work, how annoying working on reports was. you even find yourself dancing with him around his kitchen in the middle of the night.

as that night unfolded, osamu's clothes became a comforting embrace, wrapping you in the scent of familiarity. wearing his oversized shirt, you found a sense of closeness, a tangible reminder of the intimacy you once shared.

the cityscape outside his window faded into the background as you and him reveled in the simplicity of being together in his futon, you in his warm embrace, head tucked beneath his chin as you lay on his chest, and he hummed a peacefully melody with his fingers running through your hair to lull you.

the quiet hum of his apartment became a sanctuary in those stolen hours, and even he thought it became a place he could call home when it was previously simply a scarcely filled space, and now it felt more than that. that is, until the fall arrived.

it was a night where the barriers between you and him melted away, leaving only the echoes of whispered confessions of "i love yous" and sweet nothings, along with the soft rustle of borrowed clothes.

now, you stand alone with the weight of these memories, you couldn't help but wonder if those moments were fragments of a love that had slipped through your fingers.

the bar and the borrowed clothes became artifacts of a time when you and osamu reveled in the magic of each other's company, a magic that time, circumstances, and perhaps your own choices had dimmed.

and still, you held onto those memories, recognizing them as delicate fragments of a past that was, in its own way, a testament to the beauty of what you two once had.

the air was crisp, and the city bustled with the festive energy of the holiday season, and you were about to turn away from the bar only to walk and bump into a familiar figure.

there, in the midst of the bustling crowd, stood dazai, and time seemed to freeze for an instant as your eyes met his ever same, warm brown sugar eyes, and the weight of unspoken words lingered in the air—a moment suspended in the delicate dance between past and present.

"osamu," you murmur softly, the name escaping your lips almost as a reflex. his gaze, once distant, softened with a recognition that mirrored your own.

a tentative smile played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the shared history that bounds you both, "hey, fancy meeting you here," he remarks, his voice carrying the hint of a memory you both couldn't escape.

as the crowd flowed around you and dazai, you find yourself standing in a pocket of stillness, a space where the weight of your past lingered.

"what are you doing out here? looking for presents, dear?" dazai strikes a conversation, but you can tell he seemed to be trying to hold himself back. you can tell he was very much ecstatic to see you again despite before.

"no, i was just going for a walk," you respond, rubbing your arm as you blink softly at him.

"just going for a walk this holiday, huh?" he narrows his eyes, a small chuckle escaping his breath, and his gaze soon draws towards the bar where you two would go for a drink, dine, and date.

like a canvas of unread stories, his eyes then hold, a mix of emotions, "funny how memories have a way of catching up with us," he replies, his gaze tracing the invisible threads that connected your past to this chance encounter.

"you know, sometimes, i do wonder if our memories are trying to tell us something," dazai muses, his words resonating with a quiet introspection as you two stood there, grappling with the unspoken question of what these chance encounters meant.

dazai's eyes, once filled with the mischievous sparkle that characterized him, now furrows in a subtle frown as he observed your quiet and somewhat awkward demeanor. the cheerful and festive background chatter of the city around you seemed to fade, leaving only the palpable tension between you and him.

"so," dazai began, a playful lilt in his voice as if attempting to break the uneasy silence, "you've become the epitome of quiet contemplation, i see. is this a new tactic to throw off my deductive skills?" his words were accompanied by a teasing smile, a familiar attempt to coax you into banter.

however, your response remained trapped in the awkwardness that seemed to have enveloped you. reminiscing memories had resurrected emotions that you struggled to articulate, and the weight of unspoken words hung in the air.

his playful demeanor faded slightly, replaced by a genuine concern mirrored in the subtle downturn of his lips. "heh, you're usually more... animated," he mutters, his gaze searching for clues in the quietness that now defined you.

"i guess i've changed, dazai," you mumble, attempting to offer an explanation for the unspoken shift in your dynamic. the words, however, felt inadequate, like leaves carried away by the wind before they could settle.

dazai's eyebrows knit together in a mild frustration, especially when you no longer address him as such, "change, my love, is a curious thing. but this quiet version of you doesn't quite suit the narrative i had in mind," he teases, yet the tease carried an undercurrent of genuine curiosity.

as he continued to speak, the air between you two seemed to thicken with unspoken tension. his attempts at light banter fell against the backdrop of my quiet contemplation, creating a dissonance that neither of you anticipated.

a sigh escapes him, a subtle acknowledgment of the unforeseen awkwardness, "i thought we could maybe reminisce and laugh about old times, but it seems like i've stumbled upon a different scene altogether," his frown deepening.

in that moment, the vulnerability beneath dazai's usual charm became apparent. the frown on his face reflected not just confusion but a genuine longing for the familiarity, the connection that once flowed effortlessly between the two of you.

"hey, since we're already in front of the bar we used to frequent, do you mind sharing a drink with me tonight?" he asked, his tone carrying a mix of nostalgia and vulnerability.

your eyes widen a bit in shock. you know you shouldn't, but it just feels so right to say,

"no, i don't mind at all."

memories of laughter, music, and stolen glances resurfaced, painting a vivid scene against the backdrop of the night in the bar of cozy glow of christmas lights and laughter and merriment, yet the weight of those moments hanging in the air.

dazai's gaze became more introspective, his words chosen with care as the two of you sat together by the bar on the cushioned stools with your usual high-ball whiskeys.

"you know, i've been doing a lot of thinking lately, about us and everything that happened," he starts quietly after taking a sip from his drink, "there are words left unsaid, and i think it's time to address them."

as dazai spoke, a rare sincerity colored his voice, unraveling the layers of complexity that often shrouded his emotions, and the night now became a stage for a conversation that held the potential for healing.

"i suppose so," you say back quietly as you swirl your drink around, holding it by the rim and making the ice cube clink against the glass.

you turn to look at dazai, and you see him a take a deep breath as he places his hands in the pocket of his sandy brown coat.

"i want to say sorry," dazai continues, his eyes searching yours for a reaction, "sorry for the moments i let slip away, for the words i said and didn't say, and for the distance that grew between us, and i never meant for it to end like that.."

the rare vulnerability in his admission hung in the air, a bridge between the past and the present. the ambiance of the bar now stood witness to a moment of genuine confession.

"and i miss you," dazai confesses, his gaze never leaving yours, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice, "i miss the laughter, the shared silences, and the way you understood the chaos within me, and if i can be completely honest, i still love you."

the weight of those words settled in the air, carrying with them the echoes of a love that had weathered storms and yet lingered in the recesses of the past. the quietness between you two even seemed to amplify the significance of the moment, as if the universe itself conspired to create a space for the honesty that had long been overdue.

your heart, a mosaic of emotions, responded to his words, caught between the scars of the past and the possibility of a future rewritten.

you, too, couldn't deny the resonance between you and him, "i guess, christmas has a way of making even the coldest hearts nostalgic," you say in a quiet giggle, your gaze meeting his.

the chilly night seemed to warm however.

"i'm sorry too. i'm sorry for giving up on us," you sigh, taking sip of your drink for liquid courage as the unspoken words became spoken now, "i just, it felt like there was no other way, and that this is for the best for us, osamu."

"you called me osamu again," a smile now tugs on his lips, his eyes lighting up with hope.

"oh, shut up," a smile, too, breaks on your face but you sigh softly once more as you look at him once more, "but i mean every word, osamu."

"i know you do, sweetheart," dazai says with a nod before he raises his glass to you.

"yeah," you hum softly as your raise the glass in return to his, toasting to him.

amidst the snowflakes and the soft glow of christmas lights outside, dazai and you find yourselves in the midst of an unexpected reunion, the chilly air echoed with warm memories, and beneath the twinkling stars.

this festive season really had a peculiar way of unraveling emotions, and as you crossed paths with dazai and it was evident that the connection between you two was more than a mere coincidence.

after a heartfelt conversation of unspoken words between you two with a few drinks at the bar, dazai offered to take you back to your place since it was quite late despite the holidays.

however, in a quiet corner just near your place, away from the laughter and merriment, dazai's eyes met yours as he walked right by your side.

"what is it?" you ask, looking up at him.

a subtle smirk plays on his lips as he pauses his tracks, and so do you, "you know, santa doesn't know you like i do."

it was a statement layered with memories of shared secrets and intimate moments.

as you exchanged glances, the familiarity of your history danced between you two, like a delicate snowfall. you genuinely smile nonetheless at his words, "maybe we've been on the naughty list for too long," you teased, a hint of nostalgia in your voice.

dazai took a step closer, his hand reaching for yours, "and santa may not understand us, but perhaps we can rewrite our story," he suggests, his gaze holding a sincerity that transcended the mask of indifference he often wore, "yeah?"

surrounded by the symphony of the season, you can't help but feel a little emotional as a genuine smile tugs on your lips as you nod and whisper, "yeah."

the clock struck midnight, time reaches its crescendo, and the world around you both seemed to pause in reverence to the magic of christmas, and just like that, coincidentally beneath the mistletoe that was hanging on the street light, his arms wrap around you and pulls you to him.

dazai's lips then meets yours in a kiss that spoke in volumes—a reunion of past and present, a bridge between shared memories and the promise of a love rediscovered.

as you two pull away, breathless, the quiet acknowledgment between you two lingered in the cold air of christmas eve. snow falls as he leans in again, and dazai holds you in his embrace like he always does.

"merry christmas, my sweet girl. i love you," dazai softly whispers in your ear before planting a kiss on your cheek this time around.

𐙚₊ A.N.: advanced merry christmas from yours truly my lovelies ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰ hope ya'll enjoy this christmas dazai fic i cooked in the kitchen—this is also my first time writing an exes to lovers fic, especially with dazai, so yeah !!

𐙚₊ TAGGING: @anqelically (here's ur food <3), && @dazaiyohane @lovedazai @osaemu (my dazai lover moots too ofc hehe, i think you guys will like this- ∩ ⸝⸝ ∩ )

#dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai fluff #dazai fanfic #bsd imagines #bsd fluff #bsd dazai #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd scenarios #dazai x fem reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n

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byhees · 1 year

Text

the beauty of hands.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 500 genre fluff established relationship warnings not proof-read — more

a/n. blank

heeseung

hands that instinctively find themselves intertwined tightly together when walking through a crowded area, not wanting to lose the other in the midst of people.

your fingers moulding perfectly with his, as though every concave and convex of both your hands matched like a puzzle piece.

loving how his touch would solace you, hands still interlocked with one another, despite being a far distance from any large crowds.

jongseong

fingers that brush against one another ever so slightly whenever he raises your hand to his lips to kiss it softly.

a smile naturally tugging at the corners of your lips when he sends a playful bow towards your direction, knowing just how cliché this might have seemed.

him mimicking the action by raising your chin just slightly upwards, cupping your cheeks, and leaving a soft peck on your lips.

jaeyun

pinky swears that leave shadows of promises behind— small, lighthearted ones that simply work as excuses to interlock hands, and sincere ones that signify the beauty of genuineness and communication.

gazes fixating on your interlaced fingers, before trailing up the other’s arm, to their face.

him flashing a small wink to catch you off guard, to which you respond by breaking contact to leave a light smack on his shoulder, giggles falling from your lips.

sunghoon

holding hands whilst running in the rain, relishing in the simplicity of being in the other’s vicinity, droplets of water running down your faces.

his hands that pull you in for a kiss underneath the relentless downpour, caressing your cheeks.

his hands that shield the top of your head, acting as a makeshift umbrella, soft laughter being drowned out by the loud pitter-patter of the rain.

seonwoo

hands that find comfort in being interlinked under the table, both of you not being able to sit still without it.

his fingers softly tapping against the skin at the back of your palm, unintentionally eliciting a few softened titters.

your own fingers returning the gesture, and you two just isolate yourselves from the surrounding conversations and happenings, completely infatuated by the joy of it all.

jungwon

him running his thumb over the back of your hand, and allowing his finger to trace the outlines of your knuckles.

finding tranquility in playing nostalgic finger games with you— a small moment of respite that feels more enjoyable than simply fidgeting with his own hands.

purchasing matching accessories such as rings, and admiring the way they compliment your skin tone.

riki

intertwined hands which swing back and forth in the empty space between your bodies, paired with a melodious harmony of unified laughter.

skipping across fields together during the later hours of day and chuckling at how the moment reminds you both of childhood fun.

appreciating the twinkles of light amidst the expansive lake, his hand resting on your shoulder as he pulls you towards his embrace.

taglist open! @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @syrxiee2 @g4m3girl @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah networks! @kflixnet

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black-dhalias · 1 year

Text

Promise Me

Johanna Mason X F!Reader

Warnings: Death, cursing, normal hunger games warnings, and brief mention of suicide.

Nothing about Y/N ever screamed ordinary to Johanna—you were every bit exciting and amazing from the day she met you until the day Snow stole you away. You were the kind of summer sunshine that brightened everyone you met in Seven, and Johanna was far from that. She was rigid and harsh, like salt into a wound. And for some reason, you were glued to her side.

“Joooooooooooo—” You drag out the nickname, throwing yourself across the lounge in the living room. You were going crazy watching her get ready for the tour, bored out of your mind—but you were here. Hardly left this house since Johanna came home.

She hmmms, turning in your direction and smiling as she spots your smile—you were the only reason she had left to smile. The Games had taken just about everything from her, but as you pout and reach out for her. Johanna is a fool for you, an absolute idiot. The cameras would be here shortly, but you did more than preoccupy her—you kept her sane.

“Yes Y/N?” You continue to reach out, gesturing her close and watch as she finally lets her resolve call and gives in. Something about how your palm melts around her fingers as she lets you pull her close, warmly smiling throughout the entire motion. That feeling just gives her a sense of belonging, of importance—that she wouldn’t trade for anything else.

“Is there something you need?” You feel the hum of her breath as she lays spooned against your chest. You know she’s smiling, even if you can’t see it.

“Nothing more than this.”

Johanna had walked into Victor’s Village like it was any other day, the Games had ended—her tributes dead, and the idea of holding you was just about the only thing on her mind.

First, she imagined herself walking in and you’re there to greet her. You don’t even wait for her to toss away her things before you have embraced her close. Your face buried in her shoulder, everything would slip through her fingers until they were free enough to hold you back.

Second, by the time you let go—Johanna would be relieved, the hate would melt away and that would be enough. You would smile at her, not happy or sad—but that soft and warm smile because you knew what she felt. Knew what she had seen.

Third, you would lead her to the living room where fresh tea and bread would be waiting. A soft spreadable cheese still cool, because you wanted everything to be perfect.

Fourth, she’d sit there all night with you in her arms. Trying to imagine anyone else, and unable—knowing that you were the one made for her. A perfect incarnation of sunshine, and even when she burdened you with her Games. You were always there when she woke up in the morning.

Five, every year was the same thing… Johanna liked that she knew what to expect from you at every turn. The simplicity of knowing where your head is at. It made up for the unpredictability of the Games themselves. Took her far away from those thoughts.

Si-, the door is ajar—Johanna hesitates on the porch, something about the rush of blood to her head makes the world sit sideways. On edge. Like she’s trying to walk through the portal.

You never leave the door open.

Seven, she finds the courage to place her hand against the rough edge of the door. One slip and her fingers would be splintered, it was as if someone had forced their way in. Breaking the trim. There is no rush of fresh bread, or sweet candles you burned so often. There was no you at all. Just a long empty hall. One that is too quiet.

Ei-eight, Johanna knows what’s coming before she even turns the corner… something about the thick metallic smell had a mist already formed in her eyes. She couldn’t even feel her hands that guided her through the home, but there you were.

Nine. She stares at the note as if it could burst into flames, willing it to—Snow. It was easy to decipher the meaning. She got nine years with Y/N. Her perfect match. And Snow gave her nine chances to accept his offer, and she refused them all. Too loyal to her Y/N…

Johanna saw her fair share of dead bodies in the arena, but when the note slips out of her fingers. Her body had gone into autopilot, rushing your form that is hidden by the coffee table.

“Y/N!” Her knees ache as they hit hardwood, the heavy pound of her heart is all she hears as she tries to find a pulse. To will your heart into a steady beat, but it is already gone. And all Johanna could do was sit there and know. “Please don’t-” The words broke off, because they didn’t matter.

You were already gone.

Johanna sat there for the rest of the night, wishing for any sign of life. She could barely stand it when the peacekeepers finally came for your body.

The rumors said you did it to yourself, downed a bottle of pills, but Johanna knew better than that. Knew the edge to her voice was warranted as she tried to silence ever lie, because you wouldn’t.

You didn’t.

Snow just made it seem like you did. That Johanna had finally told you one too many stories, put one too many burdens on you.

She had nine chances, and chose you all nine times… and inadvertently, ended it all.

In District Thirteen, Johanna still found herself seeing you as she did in the Capitol. You were smiling again, the morphine induced visions seemed more joyous than those made by torture. You laid with her, and smiled—made the worst of the dreams disappear.

Even when the morphine wore off, you were still there and Johanna appreciated the memories. Sometimes, if she let herself forget about your death—she would almost believe you were still alive. That it was really you watching over her. Just like you promised you would.

Watching the wedding, something in Johanna felt emptier wondering if she would have married you? She would have asked eventually, no one got her the way you did. You knew when she was upset, or sad, or happy by the smallest twitch in her expression.

Would you wear a dress? Would it be white? Would you kiss her in front of no one, with no family or would your friends be there? Would you have lived through the games? The revolution?

Katniss is next to her, but Johanna’s mind is far off—wondering where you are. How you are? Did you finally figure out what’s after death? Will you still be waiting for her?

“Her name was Y/N…” It was unprovoked, but it was the first time Johanna had managed to speak your name out loud. She couldn’t bare to say a syllable after you died, it was like sending shockwaves through her whole body. Every. Single. Time.

“What?”

“The girl I love. Her name is Y/N.” Johanna briefly sees a flash of your eyes from memory, the brightness shining through even though it is only a thought.

Katniss could hear the echo of what Johanna had said during the Quell: “There’s no one left I love.”

“Snow killed her a year after I won. She was just about the only person I cared about, someone ought to know that much.” She pauses, the words caught in her throat as she looks over at Katniss.

“He has to pay for what he’s done.”

#imagines #requests #reign imagines #x reader #reader insert #request away #imagine requests #hunger games imagines #johanna mason #johanna Mason x reader #fem reader #fem x fem

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antimatterz · 1 year

Text

i'm in a field of dandelions

dan heng x gn!reader

summary: surrounded by dandelions, you're in a garden of wishes. but your biggest wish is already next to you.

cw: fluff, pure fluff.

enyo's note: just a short drabble for my beloved dan heng. i'm so so so soft for him, and let's be fair, he's secretly just as soft for us <3.

content under the cut | masterlist

even the softest whisp of wind was enough to set the dandelion seeds to dance through the air. like white and fluffy parachutes, they fluttered around you, occasionally getting stuck in your hair while others landed around you in the tall grass. soon, new flowers would spring into bloom all anew.

delight coursed through your being as you danced with them, arms spread wide and the breeze gliding between your fingers. you felt free, unbound. you closed your eyes as you relished in the moment, wrapped in the fading light of the setting sun. what a serene evening it was, surrounded by countless possible wishes that cascaded on the breeze.

wasn't it a beautiful legend? set the seeds free upon the wind and they carried with you a wish made by your heart. it had always fascinated you, and from a very young age, you've made a myriad of wishes while gazing at the seeds afloat.

smiling fondly, you delicately plucked a flower and held it up towards the sky. the dandelion swayed in the breeze, stirred by the wind that pulled over the field. as a child, bearing a rich fantasy, you never struggled to find something to wish for. but your desired nothing as you gazed at the flower, and no wish was made as it let go of its seeds after a strong gust of wind.

after all, your biggest wish already came true.

a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind and your smile grew as you leaned into the embrace. a chaste kiss was pressed to your cheek, lips lingering against your skin lovingly.

"hello, angel," a calm voice greeted you, and you didn't heed it possible for your smile to grow even wider.

you placed your hands atop of dan heng's, and you stood like that for a blissful moment. the flowers danced around you in a rhythm only known to them, guided by the summer breeze that traversed the greenfields.

but a wish came to mind – sweet, altogether with its simplicity, yet one that would make your heart flutter. you distanced yourself from your boyfriend, turning around to face him with a playful and joyous smile. you dramatically bent down, exaggerating your every movement grandously. you gently took a dandelion between your fingertips and took it with you as you got back up.

happily, you presented it to dan heng, who had to stifle a smile upon witnessing your gleeful antics. but he failed to do so, the corners of his mouth tilting up ever so gently.

"i wish..." you began, inhaling deeply before blowing the dandelion seeds off their stem. you watched together how they climbed the breeze upon their release, darting around you friskily. then, your eyes sought dan heng, and you giggled softly. "i wish that you'd kiss me in the light of the setting sun."

dan heng merely looked at you for a moment, an amused glint in his solemn grey eyes as he feigned seriousness.

"you know your wish won't come true if you speak them aloud, don't you?" he asked earnestly, barely succeeding to preserve his placid mask.

you offered him a slight pout, and your expression elicited a little chuckle from the male opposite of you. regardless of his words, he came closer to you. his hands found your cheeks in a gentle caress as his lips met yours, making your wish come true. though it was short, it lacked nothing in sweetness and tenderness, the serenity of the evening unblemished.

dan heng smiled at you ever so softly, a rare occurence, which only happened when he was in your company. your heart swelled with love, as it had many times before ever since he came into your life.

on a fateful day in a past long gone, you had stood there on your own, the empty stem of a dandelion between your fingers as you watched the fluffy seeds carry your wish upon the breeze. they brought a wish you held dear up to the sky, and you waited patiently for it to come true.

maybe it was a but silly legend to some, but when you met dan heng, you couldn't help but face the sky with a smile. your wish had not only been heard, but also been granted.

dan heng was your wish come true.

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai #dan heng #— enyo writes #dan heng x reader #honkai: star rail #dan heng x you #dan heng imagine #dan heng imagines

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setsugekka · 1 year

Text

『atarashī 』 ; 06

❝ fixation ❞ | mlist ｡

student!hongjoong x fem!reader, husband!yeosang x fem!reader — drama, dark romance, mystery, heavy sexual content [4,7k wc] ch cws: smut, bad decisions (as usual), a whole lot of lying and pretending and wishful thinking.

The elevator in your building is broken, because of course it would be at a time like this.

After a night like this one.

Late at night or early in the morning—it depends on who you ask, and from whose perspective—you trudge up the stairs with burning muscles and wobbly legs that are barely capable of handling the weight of your body atop them. Your back is sore, head pounding and all of it only slightly quelled by the hot shower you took before making your exit.

No soap used, on account of not wanting to smell of it.

It feels like an endless path you're forced to take. Up, up, up towards whatever it is that awaits you inside. Your mind swims with the thoughts of everything that has transpired in such a short amount of time; the culmination of so many things, all twisted and fucked up in their own, particular ways. You think of Yeosang, wonder how he's spent his night.

Think of Hongjoong, the way the feeling of his touch still lingers on your skin all over. Attentive and wanting and nearly obsessive in yearning to feel your body under his.

You can't ever see him again.

A situation that will have to be dealt with tomorrow morning. For now, this particular situation at hand. You slide your key into the lock, twist it open and slowly step inside. Kick your shoes off, look down at the destruction of your tights and try not to think about the painted nails that ravaged them to that point. You drop your bag by the door, not bothering to even dig your phone out.

Your husband is found lying curled up on the couch with his phone just beside his head. No doubt wracked with guilt, tiredness, and worry in trying to contact you. The sight of it only makes you feel that much worse.

It awakens him though, your entry. Slowly coming back into consciousness with messy, black hair tossed about his head and face as he slowly sits back up and looks over towards you. Once his eyes meet yours and he becomes awake enough to put the pieces of your return together, he springs to his feet and hurries towards you with arms out. Curls them around you in a tight embrace. You've never seen him like this, so distraught.

"My God, I was terrified something happened to you." It did. "I kept calling and calling and I couldn't get a hold of you." I was busy, in bed with another man. Someone who wants me unabashedly for the simplicities I have to offer him. "When Seonghwa finally contacted me and told me you were safe...I wish you had just told me you were with him, I would have left you alone."

Eyes shutting tightly, you meet Yeosang's embrace with just as much longing, nestling your face into his shoulder and staring out into the emptiness ahead of you—mind elsewhere. Mind still partially with someone different.

With hands placed atop your shoulders, Yeosang pulls you back and away from him; looks you over as if studying you in such a peculiar way. It drives up the worry in your stomach, the concern of being found out. That somehow he will know, smell the remnants of another man on your skin, in your hair. Know where it is that you've been and what you've been doing while he's been here all night, worried sick about your well-being instead.

Part of you—the nasty, vindictive side that hates everything that your husband has put you through lately and over the years—thinks him deserving of it, in some ways.

Yeosang's hands come up then to cradle your face. Suppose whatever it is that he had been looking for not being found, if evidence of unfaithfulness was on the agenda, because he looks at you with the utmost softness. Kisses you lightly on the lips, tells you that he loves you. All things that you know and have heard before. Until...

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your mouth, eyes closed and shuddering with the trickling of remaining terror of potentially losing you. "I'm sorry about everything, about pushing you so hard about having a baby, about not fucking considering how it was making you feel seriously. I wasn't taking it seriously, I wasn't taking you seriously."

At the tail end of the words, you hear his voice tremble. A sob that threatens to erupt from his chest—you can't remember a time where you have ever seen your husband cry. Not before now. He fights it back, eyes opening to look deeply into your own and you can see the evident sorrow so embedded in every fiber of his being now.

He means it. He means every word of it. Only it's too late, and what you've done can't be undone with the same sort of apologia.

You feel numb, probably a combination of everything. Yeosang kisses you again and you meet him with matched earnest, because you do still love him, and you do accept his apology. You know that he doesn't act maliciously, and purposefully in ways that will hurt you. He's selfish and entitled and in many ways a little bit privileged—something that's hard to break the habit of, feeling entitled to every desire that one may come into.

"If you don't want to start a family, then neither do I," he says, a pained whisper, but you believe him fully. "If it comes down to the choice; having a baby or having you, then I'd choose you hundreds of times, for the rest of my life and again in others."

Would you still feel that way if you knew.

You kiss your husband again, deep and loving and fully realized in how his arms wrap around your body, hold you close, fill you with all of the adoration and acceptance that made you fall for him all of those years ago.

You wonder if the roles were reversed and Yeosang slept with someone else in a moment of weakness, of heartbreak, and devastation—felt so horribly about it and yet still filled with so much love for you—would you want to know?

No, you don't think that you would.

Sleep doesn't find you particularly well the night before work, though you suppose you have no one to blame for that but yourself.

Mind wracked with guilt still, this is just something that you're going to have to live with. You made your bed, and now you have to find a way to make peace with yourself and lie in it. Maybe go to confessional despite not being particularly religious of a woman, therapy likely couldn't hurt, either.

Regardless, it makes for the Monday morning and work day ahead tiring before you ever even get started on the tasks at hand. Slumping into the office chair in front of your desk—papers and folders piled just where you had left them from before—you glance over it all and then allow your head to fall back against the cushion. Eyes closed. Just a couple of moments more before you have to get it all started, you beg.

Your thoughts drift off as you sit there—to Yeosang, cooking dinner together last night, his smile, his love for you. Cuddling up on the couch under a shared blanket to watch a movie that you've both already seen before, and then heading off to bed early with both parties needing to catch up on sleep after the events of the weekend.

Head lolling off to the side just a bit, there's a remaining pain that sits just near the shoulder. A reminder of other goings on from the weekend; face pushed down into the mattress, discomfort in craning your neck while your hips remain pulled up and pointed, drilled into quickly and repeatedly from behind—

Two knocks onto the wooden doorframe and you're just about jumping out of your skin as you're forced back to reality.

Shoulder leaned casually into it, Hongjoong stands in the doorway just across the room. Your eyes pull away from his immediately, though you find that he has no such qualms about keeping his glued to you.

There's a quake to your hand as you reach up to your desk, grab a pen and a file and only glance at him long enough to acknowledge that he's there at all before addressing him.

"Yes?" you say, weak. Pathetic. You make an attempt to steady your voice before trying again. "What can I do for you?"

Hongjoong smirks, doesn't reply immediately but steps inside of your office further and drags himself towards the side of your desk. Closer to you. Much more so than you'd like him to be, all things considered. The door is still wide open, though it's quite a bit early and a good amount of time before the trickling of students will start to line the halls.

You look up at him again, eyes still gazing down at you in your seated position from where he stands. Wholly unbothered by the circumstances at play, though it makes perfect sense as to why that is. What does he have to lose? Who has he betrayed in doing this? The scales are uneven at best.

"The contacts," he says simply, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It takes you a second to even remember what it is that he's referring to. So much has happened since then. "We talked about it Friday night, among other things."

Among other things, like the fact that he jerks off to the thought of you. Now you wonder if he'll carry on more or less with the knowledge he has acquired since then.

But most importantly is the fact that you have rescinded the offer, though unbeknownst to him. It's not that he is undeserving of them, work and talent not up to par—and in fact, he probably would get far with an extra leg up—but at this point in time the engagements between the two of you have gone much too far, and cannot be saved in any friendly or professional way. You cannot, in good conscious, grant him any professional contacts that you have acquired and especially by somewhat personal means. It's too dangerous—for you, for your marriage, for Yeosang.

Giving your much too young, Akademiya student lover all of the perks of sleeping with the older woman who probably has too much along those lines to offer him. Grotesquely cliché, and you shudder at the thought.

And more than any of that, what he knows even less, is your intention to bring this to the admin board of the Akademiya the moment that he leaves your office and goes to carry on with the rest of his day. Nothing good can come from the two of you remaining in each other’s presence, and while you would like to think yourself a strong enough woman of moral character to say no a second time, should you have been asked only weeks ago and about a first time, you'd think yourself having been much the same.

The best way to not engage in nefarious activities, in many cases, is to remove the option for nefarious activities entirely, and that is precisely what you intend on doing.

It's an unfortunate outcome for Hongjoong, being expelled from the Akademiya on account of your own ethical failing, but suppose there's a snide part of you that thinks him plenty old and mature enough to have weighed the potential risks before engaging with the married owner of Aurelia too.

There's the blood of moral shortcoming on both of your hands. Now, you have to tell him as much.

Inhaling sharply, you pull your attention away from him entirely, pulling open a folder and sifting through the paperwork therein. "I've given it some thought and I'm not sure I'm comfortable with giving out that information after all. I apologize for leading you to believe as much, and I take full responsibility in doing so. We can revisit the topic at the end of the semester and discuss the possibility of it more then."

The words sound strong in conviction. You're proud of that.

Hongjoong doesn't respond, at least not verbally. A bizarre silence finds you instead, causes you to glance up at him and find the amused half-grin that awaits you on his face. That curl of his lips that you know so well. So much of him that you know so well now. You swallow down the lump in your throat, manifested by the on-going fight of pushing back the memories of time shared together with him standing so close to you now.

Something so enticing about him, nearly addicting the way he was able to make you feel that night.

"Is that so?"

You don't reply, watching Hongjoong's hand as he reaches forward towards your own with pen dangling between shaky fingers. Internally, you're begging him not to touch you. Please don't, I don't think my resolve can handle it. I crave you still, even now, after everything.

A lazy press onto the end of the pen that knocks it out of your hand—such a thoughtless gesture.

"Oops."

Hongjoong sinks to his knees.

Barely given any time, any chance to protest before your chair is twisted to the side to face him; hands slipping up under the sides of your skirt and curling at the elastic of your undergarments, pulling them down your legs and then sliding soft palms up the inside of your thighs to pull them apart and make space for him between. Hongjoong's hands curl over and around to the outside of your skirt and settle around your hips, yanking you forward and more towards the edge of the chair—his tongue finds your pussy immediately thereafter.

You melt into the touch all over again. Want to say no, stop, don't do this, but only because you know it's what you should be saying. Your body, the truth of it is that you want him perhaps even more now than the first time, and with the way his fingers curl and fuck into you, it's hard to think anything different for him.

Legs shaking around his head, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and gnaw tightly on it to fight back the sounds that Hongjoong threatens to pull from you. The office door is still wide open, and while no one would be able to see him where he sits knelt below, the debauched twist of your features is likely telling enough.

One hand slides down, cards through his hair as he sucks and tongues at your clit—fingers digging against your walls with just the right repetition—just like when he fucked you. As if he had taken notes of exactly what it was that had you falling apart by his touch.

Hongjoong tugs his mouth away just for a second, the loss leaving you whining in a way that obviously amuses him. Hand never relenting in pumping you full of him in the meantime. "Did you think of me while apart?" He follows the question by a long, firm lick into your pussy, eyes that never for a second fall away from your own. "Did you miss it? Miss the way I touch you? Want more of it?"

"Yes," you whisper, not even giving yourself a chance to reconsider the fact. A single word so destroyed with desperation and desire, slurred at the end as your eyes screw shut and his lips find your wetness all over again.

Only a second or so more, Hongjoong pulls away from you completely; grabs you by the arm and bends you over your desk with the palms of his hands smoothing over your ass from behind. Skirt bunching at the top, exposing you for him as he makes fast work of the front of his jeans.

Hongjoong glides one hand over your ass again, up the small of your back and then settling at the back of your neck. He holds you there firmly, teasing the blunt tip of himself at the entrance of you that's so wet you may as well be begging for him now.

He sinks in, quicker this time than the others. Your body accustomed to him, cunt perfectly shaped around his cock now with how many times you've taken it.

You both moan in tandem, Hongjoong snaps his hips forward a few experimental times to get a feel for the position and whether or not it'll work for him, but in the meantime, your hands come up and around to grasp at the sides of your desk for stability, his name dropping airy and beaten from your lips like it already has so many times before.

"You're perfect," Hongjoong says, teeth gritted through the fervor in how he fucks you. "I can't get enough of you, want your body, want to feel you, it's all I think about—"

The words have an unfathomable effect on your arousal, walls bearing down on him as he buries himself inside of your body repeatedly—hard, pointed thrusts that have you nearly crying out for him if not for the effort you're making to not do that. Hongjoong fucks you like he wants to hear it, wants everyone to hear you. Maybe he does.

"Hard—harder, please, Hongjoong—"

"It's all you think about too, I guess."

He gives you precisely what you ask for, but not before the hand at your neck slips around to your mouth—two fingers shoved inside in an effort to keep you quiet as if it's to make any difference over the sound of his hips harshly meeting the flesh of your behind over and over again.

But the truth is that you've lost the ability to make a rational decision when it comes to him, and the evidence of such lies currently on display across the crumpled paperwork beneath your torso on the desk.

Leaning over your back, Hongjoong cranes his head down closer to your face as you desperately suck and lick at his fingers—imagining it to be his cock, awaiting for the day in which it finally is.

"Gonna let me come inside you again?"

The tone comes off chiding, almost condescending, as if he knows the answer before ever even asking it. A man with you wrapped around his finger—your body is his for the taking—a kind of visceral disgust that lies just beneath your skin at the willingness you have to be his in such a way.

You nod.

"Is that what you want?"

You nod again, faster, more wildly as your own orgasm creeps up on your body. Hongjoong's drives into you become fuller in the final few—pulling nearly all the way from you before sinking completely back inside in a way that makes you feel impossibly stretched open and filled. It only takes a few more before your release rips through your body and subsequently tears his from his own body as well—pushing far and deep with fingers gripped tightly into the skin of your waist as he empties inside of you all over again.

Disappearing from your body, Hongjoong pulls away from you entirely and you expect him to disappear out of your office and down the halls—pretending none of this has happened at all, and perhaps for the best. You turn yourself over and sit yourself up at the edge of the desk and instead are met with the man in question once more as he motions for you to step into your underwear, pulls them up the length of your legs and situates them back in place for you so that he may come up and meet your dry, bitten lips with a taste of his own.

Even still, Hongjoong kisses you like you're the only woman on earth. The only person he has ever wanted, ever needed, like he can never get enough of you. Everything to him, is you.

"I want to see you later," he whispers into your open mouth, fingers dipping into the wet, soiled sides of your panties to toy with the mess that he's left there for the day. "I can't stay away from you. Let me see you later."

Intoxicating. Utterly and unquantifiably intoxicating.

Your hips grind down against his hand, as if you have no control of the fact, the way your body craves him just as much as his seemingly does yours. Hongjoong's fingers once again dig into your cunt—wet and stretched open by his cock just moments before, still fucking you with them as if unable to ever stop.

"Can't," you rattle, barely. Desperately, quickly dissolving all over again into his handling of you. "Need to be home."

"I have to see you again soon," Hongjoong admits, sounding so needy for you in doing so. Still touching, still digging against your walls at just the perfect pace, lips trailing down along the column of your neck as he begs. "I need you. I'm obsessed with you."

"Fuck." You can't manage much more than that, finally giving in to the way he's still touching you, relentless in his desire.

When he finally decides it's enough and pulls his cum-soaked fingers from between your legs, Hongjoong fits them between your lips—slowly pushing them in and out of your mouth and watching the way your mouth and tongue works them as if they were his cock.

"I want to feel every inch of your body, want to have every inch of your body," Hongjoong whispers then as he watches you. The very front door of the theater hall then booms open, alerting the both of you that the beginning entry of student has started, though too wrapped up in your task to even be bothered to avert your attention from him. "I want to make you come over, and over, and over again until you're begging me to stop. It's the only thing I ever want to hear."

When the knock at the door frame of your office comes through this time, you glance up from your chair—situated perfectly, none bothered by the intrusion—Hongjoong standing idly with arms crossed over his chest just at the side of your desk.

"So, like I said, it's something we'll have to revisit closer to the end of the semester," you say calmly, normally. As if nothing has taken place here and between the two of you at all. "Sorry that I can't do more for you."

Hongjoong sighs, and you're impressed by how willing he is to be a good actor about the whole thing. Rolls his eyes, shrugs, and begins to take his leave. "Oh well, it was worth a shot. Appreciate you seeing me about it this morning though, thanks for your time."

"Of course." You glance over at the other student then. "What can I do for you this morning?"

As the student airs his grievances, at the forefront of your mind and disabling your ability to truly be in the moment; the memory of Hongjoong's hands on your body, the warm, hard drag of him inside of you, and the pooling of cum that leaks from between your legs as you sit and revisit the thought.

As the lunch hour rolls around, you're only expected just a little bit down the way.

A small cafe frequented by people from the Akademiya and surrounding business-goers just looking for a quick bite to eat, you're not looking for much more than that either. In fact, your reasoning for escaping the halls of the theater are with something very specific on the agenda, and although you have taken the time to order a warm sandwich and a drink to accompany it, there's something else that awaits you at a table in the corner—someone else—and a conversation that you're none looking forward to as well.

You sit down, small plate and drink atop the polished wood of the table that stands between the two of you. Eyes averted mostly; in shame, in reluctance. Unwilling to take the first step in acknowledging the elephant in the room.

Seonghwa sits at the other side with arms crossed over his chest, only a drink in front of him though it's mostly untouched. A light ring at one edge of it, maybe a sip or two taken. His glare towards you is narrow, not judging exactly, but none pleased with the goings on that he has been involved with, that much is for certain.

You know the man well enough to know that he doesn't wish to be involved in your marital issues more than he already must be on account of being your best friend, but asking him to lie for you? A new low.

"So?" he says first, questioning. He doesn't need to add detail to it, both of you know that. He does so anyway. "Want to tell me why I got a message from you in the odd hours of the night telling me I need to lie to your husband about your whereabouts for the evening?"

No, I don't. "I just needed some time away from him, away from everything that was going on. I didn't want him trying to come find me."

"And where were you, exactly?"

You force a beat of silence, opting out of racing to grant him a response. Anxiety rushes through your veins, manifests as a tremble in your hands as you bring your drink up to your lips. You hope that he doesn't notice it. A tell. A showing of your dishonesty if he knows what to look for.

"Does it matter?"

Seonghwa rolls his eyes at that, exhales heavy like he's already heard enough even though he very much so hasn't.

"Yeah, it might matter." He leans forward, voice dropping to something more quiet. "What happened?"

You're thankful that he appears willing enough to drop the subject of where it was that you spent that evening, though the topic of your husband isn't one that you're any more excited to visit as of now either. Only hours it has been since the last time another man had you for his own.

It's not a topic you have room to forgo though, and you understand this well enough. Unwillingness to divulge any information to your friend most definitely ringing alarm bells in his mind should you insist on doing so.

"He brought it up again, he just couldn't let it go. I flipped out, I just had to get out of there and get some time away from him."

"And how are things now?"

Too good for what I'm doing to him. "Better. Good. We talked when I got home in the morning, he apologized, said he would drop it. He said he would rather be with me than have a baby if that's the choice that it came down to."

A single eyebrow perks up on Seonghwa's face, intrigued by the outcome.

"So that's it? Problem solved?" He pauses, takes a sip from his drink to give him more time to mull it all over. "What do you think? Do you think he means it?"

Problem not solved, things are so much worse than you could ever possibly know. You shrug. "Yeah, I do. He looked wrecked when I got back in the morning, like it all finally came crashing down. Like he finally got it."

Across the table, Seonghwa hums. Leans back into his seat as if relenting to the topic finally. Accepting that it's over and dealt with.

"Are you guys going to be alright then?"

Worry is laden in Seonghwa's tone when he asks, and while this particular aspect of the situation that has manifested so much contempt in your marriage has been laid to rest, now so much more has reared its ugly head and forced its way into the very fiber of your existence. A kind of itch beneath the skin that can never truly be scratched, a dull hunger that can never actually become sated.

An addiction to something new, an addiction to another.

"Yeah, we're going to be fine," you answer back, a practiced calm in your voice that sounds so impressively well-delivered, it scares even you. How quickly we may fall. "I love him. We love each other."

"And when he has to leave again?"

You almost relish the day.

The phone sitting in your bag vibrates then. A part of you wants for nothing more than it to be Yeosang. The better part of you knows that it is not.

"One day at a time," you say, curious tingle of what awaits you trickling across your skin. "We'll just have to take it all one day at a time."

a/n: BIG LOLE. the tragedy of carnally wanting a man who also carnally wants you? how complicated things become and how far we fall when hubby apologizes and then we still wind up banging the other guy...i'm sure that's going to turn out just fine 🤨🤣

#hongjoong smut #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong scenarios #yeosang smut #yeosang x reader #yeosang x y/n #yeosang x you #yeosang imagines #yeosang scenarios #ateez smut #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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hugheswritetr · 8 months

Text

Traditions

MASTERLIST

Heartbeat | Jack Hughes

- prologue part 2

Author’s note: i hope you like it, i love young thalia and luke:)

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

It had been a few days since the last moving truck graced their driveway, unloading their cherished belongings. Yet, Thalia couldn't shake the feeling of unease, as if something was still missing. The walls echoed with emptiness, and the rooms felt foreign and unfamiliar.

She would wander through the rooms, touching the walls as if seeking a connection, hoping to find solace in the touch. But the house remained silent, unable to offer the warmth and familiarity she craved.

The grand ceilings of the family's penthouse gave way to modest heights, embracing the essence of simplicity. The dazzling sight of New York City's Central Park transformed into the serene view of the suburban landscape. Thalia, never one to consider herself spoiled, couldn't deny the longing for her once expansive closet, now reduced to a mere nook.

In her new room, space became a precious commodity, leaving her with boxes of cherished possessions scattered throughout her bedroom, waiting to be unpacked. The walls echoed with the whispers of memories yet to be made, as she navigated the challenge of finding a place for everything.

But amidst the adjustment, Thalia discovered a hidden grace in the coziness of her new surroundings. The smaller space invited her to curate her belongings with intention, cherishing each item that found its place. The simplicity of her new reality brought a sense of focus, allowing her to appreciate the beauty in the little details.

As she carefully unpacked her treasures, she found solace in the process, discovering that it wasn't the size of the closet that mattered, but the memories and emotions attached to each item.

She slowly began to realise that her father is with her and will forever reside in things that she cherished the most.

Her mother was in Detroit, finding comfort within the elegant confines of the Mariott hotel, it was Mattheo and she who stood as the solitary guardians of their own world. The Mariott children, even when their beloved father lived, often found themselves navigating the loneliness , with only the gentle presence of nannies and butlers to accompany them on their journey. In the absence of bustling laughter and familial warmth, they learned to embrace the tranquility that enveloped their lives, cherishing the quiet moments.

Thalia allowed her thoughts to wander freely, tracing the delicate threads that connected her to her dear old friends and the halls of the school she once called home. Yet, in the depths of her soul, she knew that these cherished memories would soon become distant echoes, fading into the tapestry of time. She was redying towards a new chapter, a boarding school nestled amidst the serene beauty of Switzerland. While her spirit yearned for stability, understanding that this journey was an inevitable tribute to her late father's wishes, she couldn't help but feel a profound sense of disorientation. She had her life planned to her last breath, but she still felt so unbelievably lost.

The symphony of silence momentarily ceased as the sound of ringbell permeated the tranquil expanse of the vacant living room. Theo and Thalia, moved by an instinctive longing, rose from their respective places, their hearts clinging to the fragile hope that their mother would be standing there even though the reality of her absence loomed heavily upon them. They were aware, deep within their souls, that she was bound by the weight of important endeavors, her presence scattered across distant kilometers, leaving them to navigate through loneliness alone.

"Hello" greeted the youngest Hughes brother, his presence a delightful surprise. If the children had known the brothers well, they would have been taken aback, for Luke rarely ventured forth to engage in social encounters. Yet, in the presence of the girl, a sensation stirred within him, an inexplicable longing to engage in conversation. Maybe deep within his subconscious, he already sensed that she would become his steadfast companion, a cherished friend for the many years that lay ahead.

Mattheo's gaze narrowed, a playful glint dancing in his eyes, as he teasingly assumed the role of the protective older brother, his posture subtly mirroring the familiar stance. He relished in the fleeting moment of uncertainty that flickered within Luke's gaze. And yet, despite his wavering confidence, Luke pressed on, undeterred, delivering his rehearsed words with a touch of nervous anticipation. "I was wondering," he began, his voice carrying a hint of hope, ,, if Thalia wanted to go bike around the town and maybe talk some more”

The unexpected question caught the Mariott heir off guard, but swiftly transformed into a bubbling wellspring of excitement. No longer confined to the confines of the couch, Thalia's spirits lifted. Though the busy streets of New York had rarely afforded her the opportunity to pedal freely, her countless summers spent in the Hamptons made Thalia good at bicycling . With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she reminisced about the races against her brother, their destination set on the local bakery, where the aroma of freshly baked pastries greeted them each morning.

flashback

"Daddy!" the young girl's joyful cry echoed through the air as she raced against her brother, their laughter intertwining with the enchanting feeling of the idyllic summer town. In that precious moment, William’s heart swelled with affection as he tenderly chuckled, basking in the sheer delight radiating from his beloved children. The Mariott family, united in their carefree spirits, reveled in the freedom of the present.

Luke and Thalia left the house, filled with excitement for their bike ride adventure. The sun was shining brightly, casting a warm glow over the town. As they pedaled along, the wind soared through their hair, heightening their sense of freedom and joy.

After a while, they came across a serene meadow, adorned with vibrant wildflowers and a soft carpet of green grass. They couldn't resist the allure of the peaceful spot, so they decided to take a break and soak in the beauty of nature.

Luke, being the young boy that he was, had a surprise up his sleeve. With a mischievous grin, he plucked a handful of dandelions, carefully weaving them together to create a delicate crown. As he approached Thalia, his heart raced with anticipation.

Thalia, oblivious to Luke's plan, watched him with curiosity as he approached her. With a twinkle in his eye, Luke gently placed the dandelion crown on Thalia's head. The vibrant yellow petals contrasted beautifully with her flowing hair, making her look like a queen of the meadow.

Thalia's heart skipped a beat as she realized the significance of the moment. Luke's eyes locked with hers, filled with genuine affection and a desire for their friendship to endure forever, he said, "I want us to be best friends forever."

Touched by Luke's heartfelt words and the beauty of the moment, Thalia felt peaceful. She couldn't have asked for a more perfect proposal of friendship. With a radiant smile, she nodded, accepting Luke's proposal wholeheartedly.

From that day forward, their bond grew even stronger. Through ups and downs, their friendship remained unwavering, a testament to the power of true friendship.

And so, as they rode off into the sunset, their hearts filled with love and gratitude, Luke and Thalia knew that they would always be there for each other, supporting and uplifting one another on their journey through life.

#jack hughes #nhl #nhl imagine #quinn hughes #nhl fic #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes smut #luke hughes #jack hughes fic

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accordingtolauren · 4 months

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to be seen, to be heard, is to be loved

The way in which he came and went was eerie, yet ineffably comforting. Like flickering prophecies or an aurora plagued by solitude, it was a captivation with an indescribable feeling only managed to be harbored by those whose chosen fate was to lose. Those with cursed fingerprints and skeletons that danced amongst near-empty closets and an ephemeral name that would never be theirs. Macabre was the weight of his lips upon bare skin, a premonition of an aching heart and empty bed in every stolen touch. A personified ardor that'd yet to be stoked by late January's biting attitude dripped from his embrace.

Maybe he was simply just a side-effect. A dissociation that leaked through the fabrics of reality and stained her present with a warming rouge. He was Norman Rockwell simplicity mixed with the oddities of the late sixties. Mismatched yet almost perfect, a thrift-store buy with a warehouse charm. Or had it been the other way around? Either way, she had an addiction to that ceaseless feeling of the blues he ignited within her.

And he could see her. And just for that, she loved him.

He saw every inch plagued by a fragile decay and baseless faith. Heard every syllable from that tired tongue. Understood all the angsts and desires and outdated apathy. Wrapped amongst her tear-stained, baby-pink sheets, he'd crack a smile that took her back to a youthful careless careful. A glimpse of meaning in a savior-less world unable to be purified by even the most innocent hands of a promised keeper.

"What's the point of getting everything you have every wanted anyway?"

He'd always whisper this as she would turn the news on and off and on and off and on to reveal the next city a higher power had engulfed into flames.

-lauren a.p

12.8.22

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withonly-sweetheart · 15 days

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prompt 22 from this prompt list !!! AHH TYSM FOR REQUESTING IT @ekurie987 THIS IS AN EXCERPT FROM MY 100K LEON KENNEDY FIC... NO SERIOUSLY I WROTE IT AS A BDAY GIFT FOR MY FRIEND

said friend if you see this... this year for your birthday it'll be fully edited trust!! im not writing another one.

fic under the cut! wc: 787

Leon and I catch our breath atop the steeple, watching the zombie horde below. But suddenly, the infected stop their mindless moaning. Heads tilted as if listening, the dead villagers stand motionless.

Then, on the faint breeze, a church bell begins to toll in the distance. As if summoned, the zombies shuffle off down the street, drawn towards the sound. Within moments, the village square is empty once more.

"Where's everyone going?" Leon scoffs, glancing around the barren streets. "Bingo?"

I roll my eyes but allow myself to admit that Leon's earned my trust, since we're both still alive, but I can tell by the suspicious look in his eyes that I haven't earned his, which is perfectly fine. I never liked cops anyway.

We shuffle past the rotting bodies and go the opposite way of the villagers, not wanting to confront them again. Leon looks strangely nervous, which is concerning, but I don't say anything about it. What really bothers me is that he's still following me, which won't end up being good for either of us.

"What's your endgame, huh?" I ask in desperation, wildly turning to confront him. "There's no bounty on my head, no treasure in my company!"

"Are you saying you've got an issue with that?" Leon retorts flippantly, the tiniest hint of something like pain flickering in his eyes. "Am I some bothering you or something?"

"Those things, especially their leader," I frantically explain, words spilling out of my mouth like water from a broken dam. "They're all after me!"

"But you seem to be handling it well," Leon counters, his voice filled with an unfounded faith in my abilities, making me yearn for the simplicity of being an ordinary guide. But I'm far from that.

"Can't you see?!" I shriek, my voice bordering on the hysterical, praying the fear in my eyes will send him packing. "Stay with me, and you're signing your death warrant!"

"How can you be so sure?" Leon asks, disbelief coating his words as if he thinks I'm weaving tales just to get him off my back.

"Because," I hiss, my voice a tight whisper. "I've seen it play out. Over and over again."

Leon looks at me, confusion etched on his face. "Not me. I won't die."

"But I can't promise that," I insist, desperation clawing at my words. "If you get hurt, I... I don't know if I can live with myself."

"What makes me different, huh?" Leon insists, hands on his hips, not waiting for an answer. "You knew from the get-go you were leading lambs to the slaughter, and yet you did it anyway. There's no reason for you to be attached to me either, it's barely been an hour since we met, so why should my well being concern you so much?"

"I..." Leon raises a hand, cutting me off, and my voice fades into nothing. Strange of him to use lambs to the slaughter. I've heard that somewhere before.

"I'm law enforcement," he says monotonously. "I can handle myself." His words echo someone from my past life, a life I thought I'd left behind, and all those years come rushing back to me within a matter of seconds. Before I can stop myself, I'm rushing towards him, crushing him in a desperate embrace, my sobs soaking his shoulder.

I want to stop, but at the same time, I can't. The way Leon's arms feel around me is strangely similar to that of... oh no. I left that past behind. Everything with it, too. I can't believe that I don't even remember the name of the boy that risked everything in his life to save me; naturally brown, close-cut hair, eyes that never stayed one color, sometimes a spectral navy, sometimes bronze.

And how did I repay him? I didn't. The regret still eats away at me to this day.

I expect Leon to push me away or something, but he's more like a wall supporting me, strong arms snaking around me and holding me tight, as if he'll regret letting me go. We stand like that for a while, my head in the crook of his neck, and soon enough I realize what an intimate position we're in. It must not seem like that to him, because he doesn't make any move.

I wait for him to pull away. It doesn't happen. Instead, my heavy breaths echo through the empty area. I'm surprised there isn't a horde of zombies stumbling towards us right about now.

"S-Sorry," I untangle myself from his embrace, feeling embarrassed as his intense gaze watches me, unwavering and resilient.

"Don't be," he murmurs, his voice sounding far away. "I'm sure you do this all the time."

#sj <3 #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #i wrote this last year lmao this is what popped in my head!!#maybe ill rewrite it and post it on here?

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silverstonesainz-archive · 2 years

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1k celebration

summary: pushing and pulling, always wanting more until one doesn't have anything left to give. pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!oc word count: 11.7k warnings: not proofread, profanities, SMUT - MINORS DNI! This is an 18+ fic (unprotected sex, vaginal sex, fingering - f receiving, oral - m & f receiving), angsty af, daniel lowkey being very whiney and pathetic but its okay. i could also be so inaccurate in descriptions of monaco and other locations but pls it just works well with the story. note: i hope you love this, i had so much fun writing it. and before you ask, yes i will be writing a part two. but don't ask me when bc i have 2 wips left. s/o to @bigdiccricc for helping me when i was stuck, i literally love you forever.

songs i listened to while writing this:

lifeline - joshua bassett // sad songs in a hotel room - joshua bassett // bad omens - 5sos // bleach - 5sos // emotions - 5sos // the way you look tonight - tony bennett //

Daniel wanders the halls and rooms of the house, curtly smiles and nods to people who greeted him and wished him luck just before the season goes into full swing. The air is thick, filled with expectations of 2022 and what he could just pull off. Most of the people expected the most of him, expected him to whip miracles out of a car that simply wasn’t made for him. It made his stomach churn.

The Aussie looks at his phone for the hundredth time tonight, heart deflating at the screen void of her name. Just more meaningless texts about work and more wishful words. Daniel felt pathetic.

He doesn’t stay at the party for much longer, bidding goodbye to his closest friends and promising to see them one more time before he leaves. No one wondered why the life of the party was so glum or seemed to care. Daniel had never left a party so quickly, never welcomed an empty home more in his life. He shuffles into bed, the soft sheets and plush pillows embracing him. That’s when his phone chimes, screen lighting up the dark room. He should’ve been ashamed of how quickly he reached for his cell, swiping up on his screen to read the gray bubbles under her name.

I’m really sorry. Are you awake? I need you

There it was. Three words that will always keep Daniel hooked. All Anahí had to do was say she needed him, and Daniel was there. Whatever, whenever, she just says or sends those three words and he would come running. I need you. Three words have never sounded so pretty rolling off her tongue.

Wide awake angel. Where are you?

Daniel is already rolling out of bed, slipping back the same joggers and sweatshirt he had on. Just as he rolls his socks onto his feet, his phone chimes again.

Home. I’m brewing tea. It’ll be ready when you get here

He had to chuckle at himself and acknowledge his predictability. Ana knew him all too well.

Just fucking pathetic.

Anahí only lived twenty minutes from his home in Monaco, sometimes ten when he remembers what he does for a living. The drive is quiet, streets empty with exception of one or two cars. Most people were fast asleep, or just about to roll into bed. It’s what Daniel loves most about Monaco. The simplicity, the suburban feel of it. He loved Monaco in all its glory, loved everything it gave him. And that included her.

He parks next to Ana’s gray Mercedes S-Class, feet taking him all the way to her front door. It isn’t the first time he finds himself walking to her door past midnight. Hell, it might be the earliest he’s ever shown up. He taps the door thrice, rocking back and forth from heel to toe as he waits for her to open the door. It’s only a couple of seconds before he hears the locks jiggle and click, and Anahí is yanking the door open. There is defeat in her eyes, the usual brightness in them gone. She doesn’t say anything, just steps aside to allow him to enter. It’s quiet, the air thick with the unknown.

Just as she promised, there are two mugs sitting on the dining table with steam rising from the top. The kitchen is tidy, minus the silver kettle sitting on the stove and the opened box of tea bags on the counter.

“I found this ‘happy tea’ at the grocery store. We can see if it works.” She finally says.

Daniel turns his head, eyes following as she moves around him and to the seat in front of the white mug. He sits in front of her, fingers hooking around the navy blue handle to tug it towards him. Daniel can finally study her, really look and try to understand her at this moment.

The name Anahí is of Spanish origin, meaning beautiful like the flower. Her name never rang more true, even in her dampened state. Her cheeks are rosy, lips a beautiful shade of red, and her lashes long and thick. Long dark hair waterfalls over her shoulder, a mess of effortless waves. Even in the warm kitchen light, unflattering as it is, Anahí looked like an angel. Her thin fingers wrap around the ceramic mug, hugging it between her palms as she brings it close to her lips. She blows softly, before sipping. For the briefest of moments, her eyes fall shut, inhaling deeply. Daniel is mesmerized by the short moment of serenity, the look of content before her eyes open and she sets the cup down on the table.

“Well?”

She looks up at Daniel, a small smile on her lips before she shrugs. “I’m just happy you came.”

He can’t fight the smile forming on the lips, or the small giggle bubbling from his throat. He can’t help the warmth brewing in his chest over such a simple sentence. She smiles back, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. They sit in a much more comfortable silence, just sipping tea and enjoying the presence of the other. Halfway down the cup, Daniel leans back and looks up at his best friend.

“You look nice, did you have a date?”

She shakes her head, “No. Yes… but no. I got stood up. Which is fine, but it isn’t.”

Daniel tilts his head, raising his brow in confusion. “Fine but it isn’t?”

“He eliminated himself.” Ana shrugs, eyes casted towards the dark liquid in her cup. “Now I don’t have to guess if he’s the one or not.”

“But…?”

“But what’s so wrong with me? What is so wrong that I seem to deter men who want more than a one night stand?”

The air gets caught in Daniel’s lungs, throat running dry. He needed to choose his words carefully, craft his response in a way that won’t totally give away his feelings for her. Was there a platonic way of saying that there wasn’t anything wrong with her, that in fact everything about her makes his heart swell? That he’s sitting right here, that he’s been here this entire time pining for her, waiting patiently for her to realize that he’s a man who wants more than a one night stand?

“I guess it’s my mistake for going on Tinder,” Anahí speaks up again, standing from her seat and going to pour the remnants of her tea down the sink.

Daniel chuckles dryly, standing and following her to do the same. “Yeah. Maybe.”

He washes her dishes while she moves around behind him. There is soft clinging and clanging, cabinet doors opening and closing. It’s almost domestic, down right perfect as he stands there in her space while she moves freely. Daniel places the mug on the drying rack, shaking his hands before drying them on the beige hand towel. He turns his body, leaning against the counter as he watches Ana walk around her kitchen.

“Listen,” Daniel’s voice makes her turn in her place, looking up at him inquisitively, “For what it’s worth, it’s not you. It’s the way some men are wired. And I think that the world collectively is afraid of commitment.”

Ana smiles, nodding. “Is it the way you’re wired?”

He chuckles, “I’d like to think not.”

“I don’t know Danny,” Ana teases, dragging out the o in ‘know’. “Thirty-two and no commitment?”

“Woah! Don’t pull out the age card,” Daniel laughs, poking her in the stomach. She giggles, tiny hands grabbing his wrists to stop him from poking her any further.

“Maybe you should be on Tinder,” Ana laughs, jabbing her finger into his chest as he laughs loudly.

“I’m more of a Hinge guy myself actually.” He jolts his hand forward, fingers reaching her skin and poking her stomach once more.

Anahí’s laugh is loud. It’s the kind of laugh that will make your head turn, make you ponder over what kind of a woman would own a laugh like hers. Her smile is wild, ear to ear and tongue peeking between her pearly white teeth. It’s music, Daniel’s favorite song.

Ana catches his wrists in her hands, finally stopping his friendly prodding. “Okay okay, stop! I surrender.”

Daniel nods, straightening his posture. The skin of his wrists tingles beneath her touch, like little jolts of electricity passing between the two. The moment lasted a couple of seconds, but to Daniel it felt much longer. He could stand in that moment forever, under her happy gaze.

“Will you spend the night?” Anahí asks softly, releasing his wrists. “One more sleepover before you become too busy for me.”

“Never too busy for you angel.”

She rolls her eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Daniel contemplates his options. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s spent the night, innocently laying in bed by her. But he knows that it wouldn’t be smart. He knows that if anything, it will fuck him over for the n-th time. The night will turn into him watching her sleep, wishing on the stars that she’d wake up and have an epiphany. Maybe she’d wake up and see him by her side and realize he would never leave. Though, that’s not how life works. She would never magically read his mind, never be able to have that realization on her own. He knows what he has to do, what he needs to say. And in spite of that his fear of fucking up the only good thing in his life keeps his lips sealed. Sleeping in the same bed would only mean he gets his feelings hurt when he has to leave in the morning. It means his heart breaking as he watches her move in her space, perfectly comfortable with his presence and comfortable without it.

Anahí looks up at him with her wide brown eyes, waiting for the answer she already knows. Daniel didn’t have the heart to say no.

So they climb into bed, Anahí on the right and Daniel on the left. He’s stripped down to his boxers, the cotton duvet soft against his skin. Anahí is still sitting up, swiping away on her phone before lying comfortably on her side. Daniel props his head up on his hand, elbow resting on the pillow as he looks down at the girl next to him.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispers, reaching over to push a stray strand of hair off her face.

She hums softly, savoring the delicate feel of his fingertips grazing her skin. There is a look of serenity on her face, the way her eyes shut for the briefest of seconds, and the slight flair in her nostrils as she breathes in.

“Thinking about how lonely I’ve been.” Anahí admits softly, “Thinking about all the failed dates and encounters. Of all the time I’ve wasted… sometimes I think that this life I’m leading is all that’s left. It’s hard to see an ‘up’ from where I’m standing.”

Daniel lowers his head on the pillow, shifting his body around trying to get comfortable. “There’s always an up. This isn’t it for you angel, there’s still so much time left in the world to see the ups.”

“Thank you for coming tonight,” She yawns, moving a little closer to him. “Thank you for always being a constant in my life. I can’t imagine this life without you Daniel.”

He could kiss her. There is no stronger urge than the one he had now. He wants to weave his fingers through her hair and kiss her hard. He wanted his lips to show her how much he cares for her, show her that he will always be a constant even when she no longer needs him. He wants to hold her against him, to feel her warmth against his skin.

He doesn’t kiss her. Instead he rests his hand on hers, squeezing softly.

“Anything for you, Ana.”

It isn’t long before Ana falls into a deep slumber. Her lips are slightly parted hair standing disarray due to her small movements. The room was pitch black, with the exception of the small little nightlight in the corner of the room. The light is warm, making her skin look far more golden than it is. There Daniel lies, admiring her and making all those wishes that will never come true.

The morning goes how it normally does. Daniel wakes before her, rolls out of bed to start up a pot of coffee to start their day. By the time Ana wakes up, Daniel is already walking in with her cup of coffee. She smiles, eyes still closed as she stretches her arms over her head. He holds out the cup for her to take, waiting patiently as she slowly sits up and reaches for it. She says a quiet thank you before sipping her coffee. They sit in comfortable silence until one has to say goodbye. Today it’s Daniel, chucking his early departure to conference calls and training.

He walks out of her apartment feeling unfulfilled. He felt like he had fucked himself over as he drowns in the memory of her asleep by his side and how easy it was being with her. Daniel sits in his blue McLaren 540C, head resting on the steering wheel.

Daniel felt just fucking pathetic.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It must've been three days since Daniel last heard from Anahí. No texts or calls, absolutely no effort from either party to communicate. With him preparing to leave for Bahrain for pre-season testing and Anahí too busy with work, there hadn’t been much time to talk.

Daniel is set to leave in two days, and knowing how busy his last two days in Monaco are going to be, there wasn’t much thought into sending Ana a ‘wyd’ text. Three letters simply asking if she was available. Daniel sits at his desk trying his best to concentrate on reading the lengthy email on his computer screen. There were updates on the car plus a new agenda for his arrival in Bahrain, very important information he needed to comprehend and yet his mind is stuck on his cellphone and its black screen. If roles were reversed, he would be running. He’d have replied in an instant. It made him feel like shit, when it really shouldn’t.

His phone finally chimes after ten minutes.

Sorry, was driving. Just got home, but might go out to take a walk. Join me?

Daniel grins, letting her know he’d meet her at hers in twenty minutes. He makes quick work of replying to the remainder of his emails, taking screenshots of his Bahrain schedule, and making sure that most of his work was squared away. He’d probably hear it from his manager, but it wasn’t anything his Aussie charm couldn’t handle.

Anahí is waiting on the front steps of her building, tapping away on her phone and not noticing the curly haired boy jogging up to her. She finally looks up when his footsteps grow louder, greeting him with a smile and open arms for a hug. He scoops her up into his arms, burying his face into her neck for a brief moment before releasing her. She smells of fresh laundry and vanilla. Her hair is tied up high, away from her face and waves falling neatly to her mid-back.

“We can just walk to the park from here, and we can stop by to get a smoothie too.”

“Sounds like a plan angel.” Daniel smiles, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

The walk from her building to the smoothie shop is only five minutes. And in those five minutes, Anahí rambles on and on about her work, filling him in on the last three days since they last saw each other. She’s always spoken so animatedly, Daniel notes. Her hands move flamboyantly, her voice rising and falling with each story she told. She speaks with such passion, such fire, it was hard for Daniel not to fall even more.

He opens the door for her, like a gentleman does. He orders her mango smoothie and a green one for himself, and pays even with her protesting. And when they walk out of the shop, Daniel’s arm is slung over her shoulder with his hat sitting low.

“Are you excited for the season to start?” She asks.

“Yeah. I’m excited to see how the car has changed, and how I’m gonna kick ass this year.”

Ana giggles softly, “Good to see that spirits are high. I’m excited for you.”

Daniel removes his arm from her shoulder to switch hands holding his drink, trying to shake the cold off. “Gonna come out and see me?”

“Just a call away Danny. Say the word and I’ll be there.”

She leans against his side, steps in sync with his. His heart swells at her words, each one planting seeds of hope in his heart. He smiles widely at her, pressing his cheek against the top of her head briefly. “How ‘bout Bahrain?”

“Bahrain it is.”

Daniel holds the drink in the other hand again, even if it still burns to hold, and slings his arm over her shoulder again. Ana leans into his embrace, sipping on her smoothie like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The quiet moments of the walk are comfortable, just the sound of sneakers hitting the pavement and cars whizzing by filling the space. Daniel savors the calmness of the moments, the feeling of moving with the world instead of hundreds of miles ahead. He commits the moment to memory, the feeling of peace and smell of vanilla all engraved in his brain. Everything felt perfect.

“Okay,” Ana plops onto a bench under a tree, sitting sideways to face the Australian, “One hope for the year that you’d like to see come true.”

The question catches Daniel off guard. “Just one?”

“Just one.”

Daniel looks up at the greenery above him in contemplation. He had many hopes for the year, for the future in general. He had hopes for his career, hopes for the season, and hopes for his life out of the car. There was one nagging in the back of his head, threatening to bubble out of his mouth in gentle confessions.

If he was going to be completely honest, one hope he had for the year was Ana. To be able to give all of himself to her, and for her to find comfort in giving all of herself to him. He wanted to be openly in love with her, to show how much he cares. He hoped for a day where his affections no longer had to be a secret, and that she would be accepting of it.

But he couldn’t say that now. He didn’t want to run the risk of ruining such a perfect moment in their friendship.

“In terms of my career, just being as productive as I can be on the team. I hope for wins and points, and just being the best I can possibly be in the car.”

“But not in terms of your career?”

“Thought you said ‘just one,’ Ana.” Daniel teases, sipping the remainder of his drink.

“Don’t deflect.”

He chuckles, “Kidding. My hope for life outside of work…”

Daniel looks at Ana, smiling at her relaxed state. She looks up at him, wide eyed and patiently waiting for his answer. She looked at him like he held the world in his hands, filled with admiration and eagerness. It nearly tempted him to spill his guts out, lay it all out on the bench in the middle of the park.

“I just hope that whatever I decide to do, however I manage to go about my life, that I’ll be happy by the end of it.”

Ana’s smile is comforting, reassuring him that he said the right thing. “You are such a simple man. I love that about you.”

Love. Daniel ignores the flutter in his gut, posing the same question for her.

“One hope for your year?”

The girl plays with the ends of her ponytail, twirling the loose wave around her finger. She has her thinking face on. Bottom lip tucked between her teeth, cheeks tensed, and eyes focused on her free hand swirling her melted smoothie with the plastic straw. It’s only quiet for a couple of seconds before Ana’s head pops up, eyes meeting his own.

“Same as you, honestly. I just want to be completely content with my life and the choices I make.”

“Simple woman. Love it.”

Ana’s smile is wide, eyes crinkling, and nose scrunched up. They both laugh softly. The air is light, easy to breathe. Their knees are touching as they sit on the park bench facing each other, smiles on both their faces. Daniel didn’t want the moment to end. He never wanted to leave the feeling of belonging, the feeling of knowing that this is where he’s meant to be. Relationships and commitment and the whole nine yards had never appealed to him, until this moment. He revels in the simplicity sitting there, on a dirty park bench, and feeling completely at ease.

He never wanted the smiles and sweet words to ever end.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

P6. It wasn’t bad, but it definitely wasn’t where Daniel wanted to finish at his home race. The whole weekend fell flat. It should’ve been his weekend. From the outside looking in, the days leading up to his home race were ever in his favor. He was home, it was his track. But fuck was it a messy weekend. Had he taken a shot for every colored flag called, every car spinning out, every retirement, he would’ve blacked out. Though he wasn’t entirely without fault. Truthfully, he wasn’t comfortable in his car. No matter what he did, what he tried to adjust, the damn thing was not working with him. Everyone came around to see him win, or at least the bottom step of the podium. He wanted to give home something to brag about, especially after two years of not racing at home. And all he had to deliver was P-fucking-six. He felt like he let people down, felt like a fucking failure.

And to sully the weekend even more, it has been radio silence from Ana. Their text thread is a string of blue desperation, just one text a day. Nothing happened— to Daniel’s knowledge— to elicit the lack of contact.

Daniel didn’t sleep much on his flight back to Monte Carlo. He was drowning in his past race data and his anxieties over Ana kept his mind busy. Over the fifteen hours worth of traveling, the Aussie only got two hours of real peaceful sleep. He was absolutely dead when he touched down in Monte Carlo. Michael is grabbing his bags for him and loading them in his SUV, as he goes through his phone and clicking her text thread.

Could use some company. Not a great weekend. Can I see you please?

“Home?” Michael asks.

Daniel looks down at his phone, heartbeat picking up as he sees the three dots appear on his screen. But it goes as quickly as it comes and there is still no response.

He sighs. “Home.”

His apartment is stuffy, eerily quiet as he walks in and drops his duffle by the couch. The exhaustion of traveling is finally catching up to him. His legs feel heavy, eyes burning as sleep threatens to drape over him. Daniel lays in bed for all of two seconds before his text tone goes off.

I’m on my way.

Daniel smiles tiredly, forcing himself up to lean on his headboard. He types a quick reply for her to let herself in and that he’s already in bed. He does his best to fight the sleep threatening to take him, determined to see his favorite person before slipping into a deep slumber. But his eyes burn and his body is heavy. It grows harder and harder to stay awake with each passing minute. Fifteen minutes feels like eternity.

He barely registers the front door opening, or her soft footsteps padding closer and closer to his bedroom door. It’s as if his head is attached to a fifty pound weight as he lifts it to look up Ana. There is a soft, almost sympathetic smile on her face as she stands in the doorway.

“Oh Danny.”

He tries to smile, Ana can see the effort he puts in to curve his lips upward. His hair is a mess, eyes glossy with exhaustion, and yet he sits in bed trying to show her how happy he is to see her.

“You came.”

“Of course I did. Now go to sleep, we can catch up in the morning.”

The tired boy pouts, eyes already shut. “Stay.”

Ana doesn’t think twice. She closes the bedroom door softly, and kicks off her shoes before climbing into bed with Daniel. He sinks back down to his pillow, arm lazily slung over her torso as he slips into a deep slumber. Ana curls into his embrace, fingers reaching out to twirl the frayed curls. Her hands wander, pressing gently against his scalp as the boy snores softly. She can’t help the smile on her face at the look of peace on his sleeping face. Daniel’s strong features are softened in the sweet moonlight.

He looks beautiful, she thinks.

Daniel wakes up late the next day, head pounding and eyes trying to adjust to the sunlight pouring in through his bedroom window. He groans softly, burying his face in the plush pillow. He reaches over, his hand landing flat against his sheets. His head jolts up, eyes searching the room for dark brown locks and a pretty face.

And as if the universe saw his disarray, it sends Ana strolling in with two mugs in hand. Daniel’s speeding heart slows, and he drops his head back on his pillow.

“Morning. How ya feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck.” His voice is muffled against the pillow.

“Sleeping twelve hours will do that to ya,” Ana chuckles, sitting on the bed and placing her mug on the nightstand. “Get up, drink your coffee before it gets cold.”

Daniel groans softly before forcing himself up. He takes the cup from her outstretched hands, muttering a thanks before sipping. The bittersweet beverage slowly pulls him from his tired state, the taste comforting. He leans over, placing his mug next to her own.

“You stayed.”

“Of course I did. I want to hear all about Australia and the Grand Prix.” Anahí nibbles on her bottom lip, “And to apologize for disappearing on you during an important weekend. I was dealing with some work stuff and I… yeah I’m sorry.”

Daniel nods, “I get it. It was really nice to be home, but it wasn’t the race I was hoping it would be.”

He dives into the nitty gritty of the weekend behind him. He reiterates the details, the feelings of Friday through Sunday. Ana listens intently, legs criss-cross and her chin resting in her right hand. She doesn’t say a word, just looking at him and giving him the undivided attention he so desperately craves and deserves.

“But yeah…” Daniel sips his coffee before rolling onto his back. “Yeah I just want to forget the weekend happened the way it did. Put the whole thing behind me.”

Ana sighs, straightening her posture. “Sounds fucking crazy. But I watched Sunday, you did amazing considering everything else. I might be a dud when it comes to the numbers and the technical stuff, but still. I’m proud of you. I know home is proud of you too. P6 is nothing to be so down about. It’s only up from here Danny.” She ruffles his curls and he smiles.

She uttered words that his entire team had been reiterating all weekend. He didn’t believe anyone when they said he did great, didn’t think that he did enough. But the words rolling off Ana’s tongue felt real, felt more comforting. If she says that he did great, that his efforts were enough, then it must be true.

“Thanks angel. Now, tell me about your weekend. Missed you in the garage.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Ana looks away, eyes trained on the gray duvet below her. “Everything alright?”

There is a beat of silence as Ana fiddles with the hem of her t-shirt. She can feel Daniel’s gaze on her, waiting for her answer. Truthfully, everything isn’t alright. Nothing has felt remotely alright for a while, but she isn’t sure if she had the courage to voice that. Ana finally looks up, looking straight at Daniel who stares at her quizzically. His hair is a mess, eyes soft, and head tilted in curiosity.

“Daniel, I’m moving to Montana.”

His ears start ringing, the world around him seems to slow to a halt. Daniel sits up, hair standing in different directions and his honey eyes in a panic.

“When?”

“Three months.”

“But why?”

Ana looks at him, really looks at him. Her heart comes up her throat as she notes Dan’s furrowed brow and obvious frown. He looks like a lost boy, like she just took away his favorite toy. Moving away has always been in the back of her mind, it was the potential answer to all her troubles but also an answer she wasn’t always comfortable with. And sitting here, with Daniel waiting for her to explain, is exactly why she tried to avoid it all together.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking lately, lots of reflection of my time here in Monaco. I feel like maybe it’s time for a change, that maybe it would be better for me out there to be in a much more quiet and simple place. Maybe… maybe I’ll be happier.”

Daniel frowns even more, “You’re unhappy?”

Anahí shrugs, “Yeah kind of. I haven’t felt much like myself in a while Daniel. I feel sort of…” She trails off, throat closing up. Daniel can see her eyes glossing over with tears and can hear the strain in her stammering. “I just feel lost. I feel like I’m stuck in a bubble floating away watching as everyone moves on with their life.”

Daniel isn’t someone you could walk away from, isn’t the kind of person you can simply say goodbye to without some serious contemplation. Saying goodbye to the only good thing in her life isn’t something she came to terms with easily. Daniel has always been there for her even if he’s far away. But it’s come to the point that their connection scares her. She fears she’s become too dependent on him, and that her happiness is determined by his availability. It isn’t fair to either of them. Daniel didn’t need to carry Ana’s baggage, and Ana couldn’t sit in Monaco and wait for him to be available to do so. She needed to make moves for herself, for her happiness.

Tears fall onto her cheeks even as she tries to smile through her sadness. It breaks Daniel’s heart. He reaches over, pulling her against him as she begins to cry softly. His hand rubs her back soothingly, lips pressing a kiss at the top of her head. “I’m sorry.”

He could’ve called more. He should’ve called more. He should’ve flown her out more. He should’ve he should’ve he fucking should’ve.

“Don’t be.” She blubbers, “You couldn’t have known.” Ana pulls away from his embrace, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand in an attempt to look more composed. The bags under eyes are bright red, matching the tip of her nose. Daniel reaches over, hand cupping her face as his thumb swipes the streak of wet on her cheek.

“But I should’ve Ana. What kind of best friend have I been?”

“Oh Dan,” Her hand comes up to hold his. “You are a busy man Mr. Ricciardo. I don’t expect you to drive the car and keep track of me.”

“I know but–”

“But nothing, Danny. You’ve been great, the best. I think I would be a lot worse if it weren’t for you.” Anahí chuckles, patting his hand as he releases her.

They sit there, the thick air thinning out. Daniel looks her up and down, taking mental pictures of the moment. He memorizes the way her hair falls over her chest, her flushed cheeks, and wide eyes. He looks at the time. 3:47 pm. The sun was behind her, shining through his window and providing her with a glow. Like an angel. His angel.

“I don’t want you to go.” Daniel confesses. “And that might be selfish of me… and it’s not me saying that you shouldn’t I just… I had to say it.”

Ana smiles that same old sad smile, almost as if she pitied him. “Daniel…”

“You’re not gonna be ten minutes down the road from me. No more spontaneous walks in the park or sleepovers. You’re gonna be half a world away.”

Tears well up in Ana’s eyes. “I have three months left here.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt now.”

It’s quiet again. The news of her departure looms above them, and they both wish she never said it. If she never said it out loud, then maybe it wouldn’t be real. Except that no matter how long she waited to tell him, it wouldn’t negate the fact that she would be moving away in due time. It won’t delay the inevitable goodbye and heartache. Parting ways is now in their cards, and Daniel couldn’t be sadder about it.

Ana leaves not too long after, allowing Daniel to try and get his routine together. The sun coats the room orange when she walks out the door. Her hug goodbye is tight, warm, accompanied by the soft promises that they would hang out soon. As soon as the door shuts, this feeling of emptiness settles in his chest. He feels his heart is breaking, and there isn’t a damn thing either of them could do about it.

Selfish thoughts creep into his mind. He could’ve put up more of a fight. He could’ve convinced her otherwise, convinced her that being this close to him is the only solution. What if he poured his heart out, confessing things he only thinks about? What if he told her that she makes his heart soar, that he’s never felt more at home than with her? Daniel can’t help but regret not saying all the gentle and honest confessions, but he also knew that it would be fucked up. It would be him trapping her, because he can’t say goodbye. He was everywhere while she was here, and Daniel didn’t have the heart to beg her to stay. How could he? He traveled the world 9 months of the year. He quite literally moves a hundred miles an hour, how could he ask her to just stay put?

And to that, why would he? Who is he to pine and beg and demand that she stay? He isn’t her lover, they’re not dating, hell he isn’t even fucking her. That she be available to him while he’s in Monaco and to wait patiently while he’s away? He’s only her friend, her best friend, and he needs to be supportive. He needs to show her that he’s on her side. Because he is. She trusts him, and Daniel will be damned if he breaks that.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Two months seems to have flown past Daniel without him realizing it. Time is cruel, and he wishes he could just stop the clock so he can spend one moment longer with Ana.

They saw each other every chance they got. Whether that means she would fly out to watch him race or they’d take another stroll in the park in Monaco, the two were practically attached at the hip. And in the nearly sixty days, Daniel has one hundred and ten percent fallen irrevocably in love with Anahí. If he didn’t know it then, he sure as hell knows it now.

The last time he saw Ana was in between Baku and Canada. Daniel really should’ve been flying straight to Canada from Baku, but he wanted to stop at Monaco to see her. He spent 8 hours, touchdown to take off, sitting with her in her apartment as she packed her life away. He tried to help, much to her refusal. In the end, he moves boxes out of the way so that she still has space to move as she counts down the days before she leaves. They laid in the empty living room, the hardwood cool on their clammy skin.

“I have a question,” Daniel posed, turning his head to look over at her. Ana does the same, smiling at him.

“I might have an answer.”

Daniel remembers the feeling of his heart in his throat, the butterflies furiously fluttering in his gut. “A friend of mine is getting married, and I was wondering if you would be my date?”

The second between his question and her answer felt like an eternity. Daniel wanted to throw up. But then she smiles. The smile was wild, ear to ear with her tongue peeking between her pearly white teeth.

“I’d be honored.”

And that’s how Daniel finds himself in a sleek black Porsche Cayenne, driving the both of them from the airport to their hotel. The wedding is in Valencia, Spain, both in fairly unfamiliar territory. The drive is quiet but short, and it isn’t long until they arrive at their hotel. Daniel hands Ana the paperwork for their room reservation as he lugs the luggage along. Their room is a standard one with two full size beds. It’s spacious, with a view of the resort pool and the coast line behind it.

The first day is fairly mundane, neither of them choosing to get ready until just about an hour until the rehearsal dinner. Daniel chooses to wear gray trousers and a white long sleeve button up. He rolls the sleeves up to his elbows and undoes the top two buttons.

“Hey Ana, you ready?” He calls out, tousling with his curls in the mirror.

“Yeah, just about. Just need help with my necklace.”

Daniel’s breath gets caught in his throat as he watches her walk out of the bathroom. She is in a rose colored dress, with a cowl neckline and the hem falling just below her knees. It hugged her every curve, and complimented her skin beautifully. Ana looks up at Daniel through the mirror, completely naive to the way he is looking at her. She holds up her necklace, and it snaps him out of his daydream of her. He chuckles, trying to play off that he was practically drooling over her. They switch places, Daniel standing behind her in front of the mirror as he lays the pearl necklace on her skin. His nimble fingers figure out the clasp quickly, and he can’t help but let them wander on the expanse of her back. He can hear her breath hitch, goosebumps rising on her skin.

“You look beautiful, angel.” Daniel whispers, taking a step back as he admires her.

Ana’s cheeks tinge red, turning to face Daniel. “Thanks, you look pretty good yourself.”

“C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

Rehearsal dinner is on the property, on the beach. There is a long banquet table, beautifully decorated with elaborate flower arrangements and fancy silverware. Daniel and Ana find their place on the table, smack dab in the middle right across from each other. Dinner was to die for, and the wine was impeccable. They didn’t talk as much, both too distracted socializing with the small group of people closest to them.

The sound of silverware tapping against the glass sends a wave of silence over the table. All eyes are cast on the groom, Adam, and the bride Rachel. They look stunning, standing at the head of the table. Adam looks down at the love of his life as she begins to speak, saying a round of thank yous. He looks at her the way Daniel feels about Anahí, and it makes him smile.

“Everything that Rachel said.” Adam chuckles as his wife-to-be encourages him to speak. “No um… It means a lot to celebrate this love with all of you. In less than twenty-four hours I get to say I do.”

Daniel watches Ana’s reaction, the way she looks up at the couple with adoration and awe. Her eyes twinkle, smile wide, and Daniel seems to fall for her even more.

“I’ll save all the sappy stuff for tomorrow,” The groom says, holding up his glass of white wine. “But a toast. A toast to my girl, a toast to forever, and a toast that you all will find a love as great as ours. Cheers!”

A chorus of cheers are loud, everyone raising their glass before clinking with others. Daniel reaches his glass over the table and Anahí meets him halfway.

Clink. “To everything he said,” Daniel chuckles, winking her way.

“To everything he said.” She smiles.

Everyone turns in early for the night. Daniel feels a slight buzz from the wine, his giggly and touchy state giving him away. The pair couldn’t return to their hotel room without laughter and Daniel poking her. To onlookers, they look like a couple completely and utterly smitten with the other. But the assumption couldn’t have been more incorrect. The reality is that a boy loves a girl, and the girl has no fucking clue.

Ana sits on her bed, watching as Daniel kicks off his shoes and rolls onto his bed. His shirt is wrinkled, untucked, staying closed with the grace of two buttons. She can see his toned, tan chest peeking from under the white material. Her cheeks are suddenly warm, and she turns away. She silently retreats to the bathroom to get ready for bed and effectively from Daniel. When she returns, Daniel is fast asleep with his trousers and button up on the floor next to his bed. She picks up after him before getting into her own bed, folding the clothes messily and placing them on his luggage. She shuts off the light, the room engulfed in darkness. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust, but it isn’t long until she is able to trace his strong features with his gaze. He snores softly across from her, curls messily sprawled on his forehead. Her heart seems to follow the cadence of his breathing as she sinks deeper and deeper into her thoughts.

The idea of saying goodbye to this type of peace scares her, and she can’t help the tears already springing in her eyes. She misses him already. There is a tightness that grows in her chest, and soon she is crying softly in her bed. Not nearly as quiet as she thought, however. She isn’t sure when and how but Daniel tiredly rolls in right next to her, arms pulling her close to him as he shushes her gently. He doesn’t say anything, just allows her to cry softly until they both fall asleep. There were so many unspoken thoughts, both too afraid to admit to the obvious.

The next morning, it’s as if it never happened. They wake up just after ten, wrapped up in the other, like it was the most natural thing in the world. But it wasn’t. Friends don’t hold each other the way they do, or look at the other as they are. Daniel pushes her hair away from her face, delicately as if she’d break.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks, his thumb gently caressing her cheek as he holds her face.

She shakes her head. “No. I just wanna lay here for five more minutes if that's okay.”

He whispers okay, and she nuzzles her face into his bare chest. Daniel’s fingers weave their way through her hair, fingertips massaging her scalp tenderly. He’d give her all the time in the world, all she had to do was ask.

True to her word, they only lay like that for five minutes before they’re both forced to get up and begin their day. The wedding isn’t for another couple of hours, but there is still a lot to do between now and then. They order a room service breakfast, Daniel throwing on a movie to pass the time as they eat. They watch the Parent Trap in full before they finally begin to get ready.

Daniel slips on black trousers and an emerald green button up, making sure to button it all the way up. He slips on his white sneakers before tapping on the bathroom door. “Hey, sorry. I need my gel for my curls when you're done.”

The door is pulled open, and once again Daniel is at a loss of words. Just as she did the day before, she knocks the wind out of his lungs. She is in a strapless, floor length dress in emerald green to match him. The top half is tight, hugging her body until it drops just at the top of her thigh. Her left thigh pokes out of the slit, taunting Daniel. She looks glorious, down right fucking gorgeous and Daniel didn’t know what to do with himself.

“You look beautiful,” Daniel admits, smiling widely.

“Thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself.” She winks, stepping aside. “I’m about done, just lipstick. But you can come in.”

He nods, moving over to his side of the bathroom. Daniel makes quick work of his curls, twirling them around his index finger until they look more put together. Ana watches him through the mirror, admiring the way he concentrates on his hair. His tongue peeks out between his lips as his eyes concentrate on the curls framing his face. He shakes his head lightly, groaning softly. Without asking, Ana moves over to help. She steps between the counter and him, fingers splitting and tousling with his hair. He doesn’t look at her, instead choosing to watch his reflection.

“Good?” She asks softly, hands retreating from his face. A smile grows on his face, nodding. “Good.” She confirms, smiling back.

Daniel looks at his watch, “Alright, lipstick then we gotta go to the chapel.”

Anahí nods, holding up two tubes. “Pick.” Daniel taps one, and Ana opens the tube to reveal a striking red. The boy’s throat runs dry, watching as she paints her lip the vibrant color. “Alright,” she muses, “Ready.”

Ana walks out of the bathroom, leaving Daniel behind as he stands there still mesmerized by her and the red lacquer painted on her lips. His imagination runs wild, and it isn’t until she is clearing her throat does Daniel finally move. He offers her his arm, which she gladly takes as they make their way down and to the car. The drive to the chapel is only ten minutes, and the parking lot is half full by the time they arrive. The chapel is buzzing with quiet conversation, all along the lines of how the day is finally here and how excited they all are. Daniel and Ana sit in the middle of the space, right by the aisle.

Not a dry eye in the room. It’s how every wedding ceremony seems to go, and this is no exception.

“Rachel,” Adam begins, “There were a million and one things that I wanted to say. A million and one things I wanted to write. But all one million and one things come back to the same conclusion, and it’s that I love you. That at the end of all this, when the sun sets, and the world goes to sleep, I will always love you. I promise that in all that I do, that it is in your best interest. That I will love you through all circumstances, love you as you grow with and beyond me. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, Rach. And I refuse to believe that there is a version of me without you. If there’s something I’m most sure of in this life, it’s that you were always meant to be in it. I love you Rachel. I can’t wait for the rest of forever with you.”

Daniel can feel Ana’s head resting on his shoulder and hear her soft sniffles as the priest carries on with the ceremony. Adam’s words settle in Daniel’s heart, making a home there with all his thoughts of the woman next to him. He looks down at the woman who rests on him, her eyes focused on the couple in front of them. The whole room seems to focus on the couple prevailing their love in front of the whole world, except Daniel. All Daniel can think of is her. If there’s something I’m most sure of in this life, it’s that you were always meant to be in it.

The same words play over and over in Anahí’s head. And as her head rests on his shoulder, she feels like she’s where she’s meant to be. Through all the heartache and tears, the late nights and strolls in the park, she finally feels like she belongs. There is a feeling of safety, of home. That very moment, with her head on his shoulder, felt more natural than anything in the world.

The room erupting in cheers tears the both of them away from their thoughts, and his eyes look up to see the couple securing forever with a kiss. Daniel jumps to his feet to join the rest of the room, cheering loudly for the newlyweds. Screams and applause are heard from every corner as the crowd watches the couple walk to the end of the aisle. The two look up at each other, smiles as wide as the Cheshire cat.

The reception is as grand as the ceremony. Decorated with flowers and pompas, the lights are dim and romantic. The setting is just right to fall in love. Dinner is served, and not without alcohol. It isn’t long until both Daniel and Ana are elbow deep in cocktails, a laughing mess as they talk about what friends talk about. They’re surrounded by friends, by people who love the couple as much as they do, but they don’t seem to matter. In a room meant to be in adoration of newly weds, Daniel was only in awe of her. He’s captivated by her flushed cheeks, long lashes, and plump red lips. He’s smitten with the way her hand feels against him, how her touch seems to linger more than necessary.

The lights dim even further, the room nearly pink from the lights. The emcee encourages the crowd to join the couple in a slow dance.

“Anahí, will you do me the honor of dancing with me tonight?”

Daniel holds out his hand, a goofy grin on his face as he awaits her response.

“I’d be delighted.”

Someday, when I'm awfully lowWhen the world is coldI will feel a glow just thinking of you And the way you look tonight

The Way You Look Tonight plays softly on the speaker as Daniel’s hands rest comfortably on the small of her back as hers are draped over his shoulders, fingers intertwined behind his neck. He sways her left and right, following the slow cadence of the song. Even in his tipsy stupor, he seems to move her just right, slow and sweet.

Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm And your cheeks so soft There is nothing for me but to love you And the way you look tonight

The whole room dissolves. It’s just them and the soft music. No one mattered, not even the couple being celebrated. Daniel looks at Anahí, who looks up at him with such fondness and warmth. She looks up at him the way he feels about her.

“What are you thinking of?” Daniel asks, hands squeezing her sides comfortingly.

With each word your tenderness grows Tearin' my fear apart

“I’m just so happy.” Ana admits, “I’m happy.”

“The booze?” Daniel teases, but Ana shakes her head with a small laugh.

And that laugh wrinkles your nose Touches my foolish heart

“No, more than that. I’m just happy Dan, I really am. The happiest I’ve been.”

His hands slide from her hips to her hands, gently raising one of her arms to spin her around. Lovely, never, never change… keep that breathless charm. Daniel pulls her back against him, her hands pressed against his chest as he sways her again.

Won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you. Daniel rests his forehead against hers, humming softly. Just the way you look tonight.

“I’m happy too, angel.”

The moment is too perfect to pass, and so Daniel does what he’s always dreamed of. There is a burst of confidence, and he doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol in his system or the fact that it simply felt right. So he kisses her.

Her lips are slow, soft against his. His hands grip her tighter as his lips mold onto hers lovingly. His heart is beating hard against his ribs, he swears she can feel it. Ana’s fingers are at the back of his head, pulling him even closer. There is a bit of desperation between the two, the need to be close and to be completely wrapped up in the other. Daniel is the first to pull back, breathing deeply as he searches Ana’s eyes for any sign of regret.

But she just stares back at him with fire in her eyes, and Daniel can feel the blood rushing to his groin. Ana cups his face, thumb swiping over her lips to remove the red residue.

“Take me home.”

Daniel didn’t need to be told twice as he practically drags the girl out of the crowd. They pile into the back of a taxi, hands unable to release the other as they kiss feverishly. This kiss is different from the first one. It’s needier, much more desperate, with teeth clashing and hands grabbing. She was halfway on top of him, with her leg slung over his lap and his hands gripping her ass. The driver taps on Daniel’s leg at the end of their drive, trying to signal them that they’ve arrived at their destination. Daniel hands him more than enough for the fare and tip, not bothering to take the change as the two stumble to the elevator. They’re laughing and stumbling, hands grasping for the other. And as the elevator door closes, her lips are back on his own.

The elevator dings just three floors short of theirs, and Ana quickly steps away from the kiss. She stands next to him as another couple joins them. As natural as they tried to act, it was clearly obvious what the two were up to. Red lipstick is smeared on Daniel’s face and neck, and Anahí’s lip line is no longer crisp. But they didn’t care. Daniel grins over at Ana, who smiles in return.

The elevator finally makes it to their floor, and the two are quick to make it to the room. Ana attaches her lips to Daniel as soon as he shuts the door, her fingers quickly undoing the buttons of his shirt. He guides her all the way to the bed, just stopping at the foot of it. Daniel cups her face, pulling away from the kiss.

“Ana, are you sure?”

They both pant, staring deep into each other's eyes. Daniel looks again, searching for any sign of hesitation. He looked for a reason to stop. But Ana’s fingers never stopped undoing the buttons on his shirt, pulling it from the waistband of his pants before pushing it off his shoulders. She looks down at his toned torso, fingers tracing the dips and tops of his muscles. Her fingers move to hook around the belt loop of his pants, but Daniel grabs her wrist to stop her.

“Ana,” Daniel strains, dipping his head to meet her eyes.

“Yes Daniel. I’m sure.”

He doesn’t wait any longer, kissing her like his life depends on it. His fingers pull on the zipper of her dress, listening as the fabric drops to the floor. He lays her down gently, lips moving along her jaw and down her neck. Her soft moans and whimpers are music to Daniel’s ears, and he craves to hear them more. He looks up at her, admiring the way her eyes are closed and lips agape as she soaks in his touch. Slowly, he pulls her underwear down her soft legs, but not without leaving kisses in its path.

Anahí savors the feeling of his soft lips on the innermost part of her thigh, the way his stubble pokes at her skin softly. Anticipation builds in the pit of her stomach as he kisses closer and closer. But then he stops. She lifts her head, looking as Daniel stares at her center with a small smirk.

“Pretty fucking pussy.”

She moans at his compliment, biting down on her bottom lip. Daniel runs his middle and ring finger through her folds, honey brown eyes meeting hers as he plunges them into her. Her breath hitches in her throat, head falling back onto the bed as he pumps his fingers slowly. He wants to tease her, to pull her closer and closer to the edge but never let her finish. He wants to see her melt in his hands. But that’s all in due time.

For now he wants to love her. To make her feel good. Tonight, it’s all about her.

His lips wrap around the bundle of nerves, sucking softly before allowing his tongue to trace figure-eights all along it. Ana’s moans grow louder and louder, her fingers finding their way to his curls. He groans softly at her soft grip, the gentle tugging as if to beg him for more. He obliges, eating her out like it was her last meal. The sound of his tongue against her and fingers fucking her sound obscene, but they make Ana yearn for more.

There’s a bubble growing in the pit of her stomach, growing larger and larger as Daniel adds urgency to his movements. Her pussy clenches around his digits, letting him know she’s close. He pulls away briefly.

“Look at me angel, keep your eyes on me.”

Her eyes pop open, watching as Daniel places his lips back on her core. Daniel’s free hand reaches up to grab her breast, massaging and playing with her. Her eyes focus on the rose, how pretty it looks against her. His tongue is back against her clit, lips sucking and nibbling softly. She pants as the bubble continues to grow, her release right there. There’s something attractive, something downright sinful, about the way Daniel looks between her legs. His hair in disarray thanks to her, with his eyes boring into hers as he pulls her closer to an orgasm. The sight alone is enough to have her dripping.

He hums against her, “C’mon angel.”

Between his tongue and fingers, she finally succumbs to it all. Her legs squeeze Daniel’s head as he laps up her release, milking her until she’s done and begging for him to stop.

Daniel releases her, chin glistening with her slick as he climbs back up to kiss her. She moans softly against him, hands trailing down from her face to his chest, gently pushing her up. Daniel kneels above her, knees on either side of her. He looks angelic, hair standing and features soft as he looks down upon her. Ana sits up, her fingers undoing his belt and pants, pulling it just under his bum. She kisses his cock over his underwear before palming him softly. She watches as he throws his head back, enjoying the feeling of her gentle touches on the most sensitive part of his body.

Ana doesn’t spend too much time teasing him. She pulls his boxers down his legs, watching as his cock springs up. She looks up at him through her lashes, fingers wrapping around his shaft to pump him softly. Daniel’s eyes meet hers, enamored by the innocence on her face contrasting her sinful movements. With doe eyes, she leans forward and takes him into her mouth. She never stops looking into his honey eyes as she bobs her head, taking more of him until he hits the back of her throat. Moans bubble up from his throat as she sucks him off, harder and harder. He cups her chin, pulling his cock out of her mouth. She looks up at him, confused. Her lips are glistening with spit, red lipstick smeared everywhere.

He could’ve cum right then and there.

Daniel climbs off her, pulling his pants and underwear down to his ankles before stepping out of them. He takes his place back between her legs, lips attaching to hers in desperation. He kisses her, hard. He pours his heart into the kiss. Every thought, every wish, every feeling he’s ever felt is poured into that one kiss.

“Daniel,” She breathes, “Please.”

“Please what, angel?” Daniel mumbles, kissing her neck softly.

“Fuck me.” Daniel moans against her skin, breathing hard, “Please Daniel.”

He gives in to her begging, hands wrapping around her shaft as he rubs the head of his cock against her wet center before finally pushing into her. Ana’s moans are loud, high pitched, and needy. Daniel watches the pleasure washing over her face with every stroke, her chest rising and falling. He leans down to kiss her again, his hips never stopping. She feels every inch of him, the way it fills her up and sends pulses of pleasure through her body.

“You were made for me.” He confesses, hips moving faster against her own.

“All for you.” She confirms, fingers between his curls.

He fucks her nice and sweet, pulling her all the way to her orgasm. He fucks her until she is shaking beneath him, his name rolling off her tongue in desperate cries. Her pussy pulsates around him, hugging him tightly until he releases into her.

The moments after are soft, gentle. Daniel kisses her so softly, so lovingly. He holds her tenderly, looking down at her tired state. Her head is on his chest, arm slung over his torso. Daniel presses a kiss onto her forehead before finally falling asleep.

Unbeknownst to him, Anahí is wide awake, the feeling of bliss and completeness beginning to wear off. Daniel is sound asleep beneath her, but his soft breathing isn’t enough to calm her down. It’s far too real now, everything between her and Dan. For the longest time they teetered on the line of friendship and something more and now it’s real. It sends her into a panic.

Just because it’s real, doesn’t mean that it changes anything. It doesn’t change that she leaves in a month. In less than thirty days, she has to say goodbye. She will no longer say goodbye to her best friend, but to someone more. She cries softly, removing herself from Daniel’s embrace. He doesn’t stir, not like the night before. He’s still asleep, dreaming of happier things. Happier than the things she was about to do.

She pulls herself together, packing her things slowly and quietly as Daniel sleeps soundly. And when all is said and done, she looks down at the boy sleeping in her bed. She pushes the curls from his forehead, pressing one kiss on the skin before leaving and never looking back.

Daniel wakes up that morning, memories of the night before slowly coming back to him. He smiles to himself. But the happiness leaves as soon as it comes. It doesn’t take long for him to notice that she’s gone. All her belongings, every piece of her is gone. It sends Daniel into a panic, fingers quick to tap her name and call her. But Anahí doesn’t answer.

Anahí never answered any of his calls. He called once every day, but he would always be greeted by her voicemail. Daniel scoured his memory for the moment it went wrong, for any mistake he might’ve made. The best weekend of his life turned out to be the worst. After flying back from Spain, he immediately went into work mode. He did everything in his power to distract himself from his aching heart, to hide how hurt he was by her disappearance. And it showed in his work. His results in Silverstone and Austria were poor, and he struggled to prove to the world that he was still worthy of the sport.

Daniel arrives back in Monte Carlo after a shabby P9 in Austria. His apartment is empty, eerily quiet. He flops onto his couch, lowering his pride once more when he taps her name. He rings, waiting for her stupid voicemail to greet him. But it never comes.

“Hello?”

The sound of her voice has Daniel shooting up, throat running dry. There’s an uncomfortable silence on the line before the Australian finally musters up the courage to speak.

“H-hi.”

“Hi.”

Silence again. Daniel hated this. He hates the discomfort, the feeling of not being able to be open and honest with the one person that mattered. He’s walking on eggshells, trying to carefully craft his next word.

The first couple of days after Anahí had left, he was angry. He was so upset with her for not saying goodbye, no half-ass excuse for why she left him. He was upset at himself, for potentially fucking up the only good thing that has happened to him in a while. And as time withered by, his anger turned to sadness and confusion. Daniel often pondered their final night together, replaying all the moments of completeness and intimacy, trying to find the second it all went wrong. He imagined her face beneath him, the way her lips felt against her own, just trying to remember if there was a change at all.

“Dan-”

“Why’d you do it? Why’d you leave?”

“Daniel, I don't want to talk about this over the phone.”

“Then I’ll come over… or meet you in the park.” There is a deafening silence at the end of the line. “Ana?”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” Daniel snaps.

“I can’t.” Ana insists, “I’m… I’m in Montana.”

There is a little pot of anger sitting at the base of his being, every word she says igniting the flame bigger and bigger. He feels himself beginning to boil over.

“You left?”

Daniel leans back against the couch, chest heaving as he tries to contain his emotions. Everything he felt in the last three weeks swirls inside of him. It makes him sick. He can’t seem to focus on one thing, and can slowly feel himself slipping from his self-control.

“I… I needed to. Daniel, you knew this.”

“Yeah but you didn’t bother to say bye? No half ass text to let me know?”

“I don’t have to keep you updated on my every move.” Ana argues.

“No, but after the night we shared I would hope you would have the courtesy to anyway.”

Daniel feels insane. He feels like every single emotion he’s feeling is misplaced. The world around him slows to a halt, and not in a good way. For a moment he is frozen in his despair, time and space keep him in a place of self-loathing and loneliness. For just a moment, the world keeps him miserable.

“What did I do wrong?” Daniel whispers, “Just tell me how I can fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix.”

“Nothing?!” Daniel yells into the phone. “Nothing Anahí? Are you being fucking serious?”

“Daniel what’s done is done, and there isn’t anything you or I can do to change it. The damage has been done.”

“Damage?” Daniel scoffs, “That’s what that night was, damaging? Ruined you, did it?” The line is quiet at the other end and Daniel shakes his head. “That night was more than that to me Ana. It was more than nothing.”

The Australian can’t see the tears streaming down Anahí’s face, the way her body shakes as she cries silently, unable to say the words Daniel longed to hear. Unable to give him everything he wanted.

“You know what I think it is Anahí?” Daniel begins again, “I think that you’re afraid. That you’re afraid to trust me, to open yourself up to me completely. I think that you’re afraid to admit that you like me, maybe even love me.”

“Daniel-”

“Because I love you. I do. I tried to show you how much I do and yet… you walk out on me. You fed my ego because it benefited you. You kept me in, made me believe that I had a chance, that maybe you feel the same way I do. But then you get what you want and leave me to pick up the pieces. I’m in love with you Ana, you had to have known. You couldn’t have been so fucking naive and not have seen that.”

Another deafening silence. There it is, out in the open. Three words slipped from Daniel’s lips in a fit of anger. His words are laced with spite, venomous as they travel from one end of the line to the other.

“Daniel,” She chokes, “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too Ana.” He can hear her soft cries this time, each sniffle and sob picking apart at his heart. But the anger inside him consumes him. “I’m so sorry for wanting more. For expecting more. For wishing for more.”

“Daniel I-”

“I have to go.” Daniel cuts her off. “I hope that Montana treats you well. And that… that maybe you’ll find someone worth sticking around for. Bye Ana.”

He hangs up before he can listen to any more of her pleas. He drops his phone next to him, hands returning to his face as he cries softly. His heart falls apart, shatters beneath his ribs.

Pathetic. He feels downright, fucking pathetic.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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