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chronicroderick · 5 months

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Confessional

Will Graham wants to fuck a priest, Father Hannibal Lecter.

Smut, Priest Kink, Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham, Blowjob, Face-Fucking, First Time With A Man, Anal, Implied Internalized Homophobia

Confessional on Ao3

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“Father?” The word echoed through the empty corridors of the stone church. There was no answer except for the distorted resonance, making Will’s question sound more like an expectation.

Will Graham had been going to this church every couple of weeks for half a year now. It was one he had always passed on his evening jogs. Pillars with gargoyles atop them, twisting carvings of vines along the bannisters, daunting in its dark beauty where it stood among the office buildings and the floor to ceiling window paned highrises. Baltimore was not so strange, there were always plenty of churches. Too many, if you asked Will. The severity of this one was what always caught his attention. Old stone outside that was tarnished almost black by time. He had wondered how old it was. He wondered about the services. Eventually he decided he had the time to step inside, that was months ago, he had met Father Hannibal that day.

He shut the heavy doors behind him with a slight bang. There was still only silence. The candles were lit though, mounted on the dozen columns that lined the outside of the pews, and the ones gathered around Jesus’ feet at the front. Their flickering yellow light illuminated the gold cross in a way that made it seem like it pulsed, the red paint dripping from the statue’s crown of thorns and nailed limbs appeared almost black. It was then that Will realised how late it was, the evening mass was already over, just barely, he was sure, but the sun had long since hidden itself behind taller buildings, leaving the stain glass unilluminated, and the corners shadowed. He approached the statue, a moth drawn to the light and the warmth it offered, his footsteps clunking louder than ever it seemed. When he got close enough that all the pews were behind him he saw the faint light coming from one of the rooms offset from the congressional area. There was the sound of a pencil scratching and the shuffling of papers.

“Father?” He asked once again, this time a bit louder despite being closer than before. The scratching stopped and he heard someone exhale.

“Is that you, Will? You missed the service.” Father Hannibal sounded exhausted.

“Yeah.” He’d done it on purpose, but that purpose was still as ambiguous as a dream.

There was no beckoning into the office, so he stood a great deal away from the door, lingering with the candles. He listened to the clergyman gather his papers, closing something, maybe a book, and pushing in a chair. The lamp light from inside the room went out with a click, cloaking the other man in darkness until he reached the outer cusp of the doorframe.

“I reckon that was not a mistake on your part.” The priest’s face looked almost ghastly in the dim light, his high cheekbones and steep nose bright, while the shadows of his cheeks and eye cavities lept and shook.

Will shook his head, looking down at the layered shelves of candles, drawing an index finger up the side of one to wipe away some white wax that had almost made it down to the wood.

“A mistake? No. I can come see you if I need to, can’t I?”

Father Hannibal came closer, but Will did not look up, “Are you seeking absolution, Will?”

The long black bottom of his gown swayed around his feet for a second when he stopped walking and Will allowed his eyes to travel up from there, over the merry green stole draped around his neck, pausing on the brilliant white of his clerical collar.

“I believe I am. It may come too little too late.”

“Nonsense,” the man took Will’s hand and enveloped it in both of his, patting the top of it, “It is never too late in the eyes of the Lord. I will listen, as will He.”

With a gentle smile, he let go, and gestured for Will to follow him to the second pew. Gathering the skirt of his gown in his hands, he sat down in the middle of the row and waited with practised patience for the man to speak. The brunette only looked at his feet for a long moment, gathering his courage, before ultimately stalling.

“Shouldn’t we be in Confessional?”

“If that would make you more comfortable, we can. I figured this would be more fitting, you are an unconventional man, and not a member of the flock.”

Will smiled ruefully, “Church isn’t really my thing.”

“I know.” Father Hannibal almost sounded admiring.

“So,” Will looked at him now, angling himself so he could face him the best he could, their knees brushing against one another. “How do I begin?”

“You make the sign of the cross,” As the pastor spoke he mimed, and Will followed along, “then you say ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.’ after which you tell me how long it has been since your last confession.”

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been… I’ve never confessed before.”

He felt like he should whisper or steeple his hands, though he only folded them in his lap in the same way the priest did his, and bowed his head, eyes still open.

“Now tell me your sins.” There was an edge to Father Hannibal’s voice that seemed more than priestly.

“I…” Will took a breath, “I guess my lack of prayer is a sin. I do not go to church or read the bible. I have lied, as a child and as an adult. I have stolen, mostly as a child. I am sure I have been prideful and envious and lustful. I masturbate.” He chuckled.

“Now is not the time for jokes, Will. This may be uncomfortable, but I would rather you take this seriously. You came to me. What is it you seek?”

“I want to be forgiven.” The words surprised Will.

“By God?”

“Yes. God doesn’t care about me. He doesn’t care about people like me.”

“Homosexuals.” Father Hannibal filled in the blank with ease.

“Yes.” Will unfolded his hands and gripped the edge of the seat, he refused to look into the priest’s eyes, afraid of what he might see.

“I am not meant to judge you. I can only take your words as a vessel. What exactly about homosexuality is it that you wish to be forgiven for?”

He shrugged, “I only want to feel like I tried. Like I said the words in his house, like I did not give up completely.”

“You wish to let Him know that you're still one of his children, in spite of your lack of faith,” Father Hannibal observed, “When you masturbate do you think of God?”

“What?” Will’s cheeks turned scarlet.

“Do you imagine he is looking down on you, watching your self pleasure, aware of no doubt your thoughts of other men, which you know is a mortal sin?"

Will swallowed, “Yes.”

“Did you come here tonight to seek forgiveness from God or to seek forgiveness from me?” His question held authority and a cold curiosity.

“I came here to… From you, but you knew that.”

“I did. I am not blind to the way you look at me, Will Graham. A man of the cloth. Is it me you imagine in your bed at night?”

His knuckles turned white where he gripped the pew, his face scarlet and his eyes scrunched closed. This was more embarrassing than he had ever imagined it to be.

“I just needed to say it. I just had to get it out of my head so you could reject me and I could move on. I’m sorry. I know you can’t have sex and I know you – you can’t be gay anyways. It was – I just everytime I see you I –”

His apologetic rambling was cut short by the feeling of cloth brushing against the fronts of both of his knees. Will opened his eyes and looked up, only to see the faintly lit silhouette of Father Hannibal standing over him. The light from the gathering of candles behind him made him seem like a disciple himself. The bench was deep, so he towered over Will more than normal, and he looked down at him with an expression no less serious than when he was performing confirmation.

“Open your mouth.” Father Hannibal’s voice was smooth as sin.

“What?” Will asked meekly.

“Open,” the minister cupped the back of his head, “your mouth.”

So Will did. Not obscenely wide, just barely, as if he expected to have the body of Christ placed on his tongue. The priest’s robe had a row of black buttons all the way down the front, and a green cloth belt that tied tightly around the waist like that of a pirate. It matched the ornate stole. Will watched the man’s free hand untie his belt with ease, letting it fall to the floor before undoing only five buttons in the front.

“If you want this, pull it out.” All priestly patience was gone from the man’s voice and in its place stood an indescribable blackness.

He wanted it, more than anything, so Will reached into the robe without question. It took him a moment to sort through the cloth, but when he felt the hot skin of his erection, Will pulled it out eagerly. Father Hannibal took in a sharp breath as the cool air of the church hit him and his cock bobbed in front of the other man’s face. Will looked up at him, asking permission, unsure if he should really be doing this.

“Go on. Show me what you must be forgiven for.” Hazel eyes burned into Will’s blue ones and he took him in his mouth.

He could taste the salty precum immediately on his tongue. It was smooth and delightly, Will flicked his tongue over the small hole, causing Father Hannibal to shudder. He swirled his tongue around the tip, teasing the edges of it, sucking on just the end, until the fingers in his hair curled tightly. Then he took the whole thing in his mouth, all the way down to the base, excited to please, excited to have even this part of Hannibal. He swallowed, allowing the back of his throat to clench around the tip of the dick before pulling it out with a small gasp. Looking up at the priest once again he saw the man was biting his lower lip, in a way that looked almost pained. Will could not have that. He wrapped a hand around the shaft, slowly pumping it near the base as he took it in his mouth again. His head bobbed in Father Hannibal’s grasp, he moved as fast as he dared without scraping him with his teeth, overcome with need. He flared his tongue along the bottom of his shaft as he moved up and down, caressing it in a way that made Hannibal groan. This delighted him, finding a rhythm best he could and taking as much cock down his throat as possible with every pass. Firm hands gripped his head, causing him to look up with wide eyes, never stopping, and see the way Father Hannibal had become super imposed on the statue of Jesus on the cross. The gold shone brightly behind him, pulsing like before, this time in sync with the way the priest began fucking his face. Will’s eyes watered, but he focused on not giving the man any reason to stop. He could hear the wet noises his own mouth made, obscene in a bedroom and even more so in the current setting. Father Hannibal registered it at the same time he did, his lips twisting into a sneer, and he gripped the brunette’s head tighter, moving it faster, burying Will’s nose briefly into the front of his robe every time he forced his dick all the way down the man’s throat. Will still gripped the pew with one hand, attempting to keep himself in place against the onslaught he graciously accepted. Suddenly, his mouth was empty, both hands removed from his hair, and he had to wipe away the drool that had collected at the corners of his mouth.

Father Hannibal looked down at him silently, as if giving him time to collect himself before speaking, “You have my forgiveness, Will. I hope God can forgive us both.”

He then grabbed Will by both shoulders, half lifting him, allowing him to catch up and stand the rest of the way, before kissing him, hard enough that when Will’s lip was caught between their teeth, it got cut open. The taste of blood blossomed in both their mouths, causing a deep rumbling to come from the clergyman’s chest, while Will groaned in response. He could feel the man’s freed cock brush against the outside of his pants, an unwitting tease to his own erection which strained against the fabric of his jeans. He shoved his tongue in the priest’s mouth, allowing the man to taste himself as their tongues met. It was delicious. Hannibal’s precum and Will’s blood, equal parts in an intimate dance.

Pale hands travelled up from Will’s shoulders to his neck, while he simultaneously reached around Father Hannibal, strong fingers gripping the creases along his back and pulling their bodies closer, until their hips ground together. He felt hungry.

“I’ve thought about this so many times.” He whispered when he broke the kiss, panting softly.

The priest was silent, eyes flickering between Will’s lips and his eyes, and in response Will trailed his right hand over the other man’s clothed ribs, up his chest, and wrapped one side of Father Hannibal’s stole around his hand. He watched carefully as the man’s face registered understanding.

“There’s a certain eroticism to being more powerful than God, isn’t there?”

The brunette chuckled softly, taking the end of the stole and wrapping it around the back of Father Hannibal’s head, pulling until it rested loosely against his throat, like a scarf.

“Shhh.” Will whispered, “Don’t say his name again.”

The clergyman’s eyes narrowed, but he allowed the shorter man to turn him around and bend him over the back of the pew with a firm hand. Will yanked back on the stole, forcing Father Hannibal to lift his head as it choked him, trapped between the wood and Will’s aching erection. He ground his hips against his ass, its shape slightly distorted by the robes, but not by much. Sighing, he rutted against it, the outline of his cock pressed between the other man’s cheeks.

“I want you and I want you now, Reverend. Pull your robe up.”

Father Hannibal did as he asked, fingers gathering the fabric of his clothes and bringing it up over his waist, draped over his back, now all that lay between Will and his goal was a pair of starched black dress pants. He ran his free hand down the man’s back, until he caressed his buttock, tightening his grip on the stole until he heard Father Hannibal grimace. For a moment he worried it was too much, maybe topping was not a good idea, but when he bent over and snaked his hand around to palm Hannibal’s erection, it was rock solid and leaking a steady drizzle already.

“Good boy.” Will whispered in his ear, licking the shell of it as he began pumping the other man’s cock.

He felt the priests back stiffen and arch underneath him, pushing his ass deeper into the crook of Will’s hips. This earned a small growl from Will, who traded Father Hannibal’s flesh for his belt buckle, pulling the man’s pants and boxers down roughly past his ass, before undoing his own belt. The moment Will’s erection sprang free he trembled with excitement. In the dim light he could still see how pink it was, painfully hard, the slight bend in it dipping deliciously near Father Hannibal’s entrance. He was almost afraid to stroke himself, he might finish before he even had a chance to fuck the priest. That would be a waste. Will yanked on the stole, forcing Hannibal to arch his back even more, presenting his ass in the most inviting way, before the brunette spit onto the hole and rubbed his thumb around the rim. With a surprising amount of tenderness, he worked his digit into the ring of muscle, not wanting to hurt the man more than he had to. It was tight, slow work, drawing little whines out of Hannibal as Will pushed it in deeper, circling as much as he could as his own cock leaked now.

“Please.” Father Hannibal begged. It was quiet, resolute, almost dignified.

Will said nothing, only removed his thumb and spit again, this time as much as he could, and pressed the head of his dick against the entrance enough to trap the small amount of lubrication there. With one hand on Hannibal’s hip, the other still wrapped in the stole and resting in the small of the man’s arched back, he slowly pressed in. They both gasped in satisfaction, Hannibal clenching down on his cock in a way that made him want to shove the entirety of it in, but he held back, certain this was the priest’s first time with a man.

“Relax. I’ve got you.” Will said.

Father Hannibal inhaled audibly, shuddery, as if those words roamed beyond sex. He relaxed slightly, Will pushed in and out, going a little deeper every time, being as careful as he could until he was sure the clergyman was ready. It felt good. Eventually he moved faster, making Hannibal take most of his length. He moaned, a breathless sound as he bottomed out for the first time. The inside of Hannibal was pure heat compared to the desolate church and Will watched the way the muscle tried to hold his cock inside as he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in. This caused the minister to mewl as he brushed against his prostate. That was enough for Will to pick up the pace. He was immediately an animal, slamming into Father Hannibal with all the force of his fantasies, the force of many nights stroking his cock alone in his bed imagining this moment. Hannibal let out a soft pant everytime he was filled up, the wood of the pew screeching ever so slightly along the floor as he was shoved into it by the force of Will’s thrusts. Skin slapping against skin filled the large room, the drapes swaying with some unforeseen draft, the wax from the candles pooling onto the wood shelves as the priest was stretched open over and over.

Will was panting, trying to catch his breath as he pumped in and out of Hannibal, a sheen of sweat covered them both and his thrusts began to lose their rhythm. He abandoned the stole and instead grabbed the pastor’s hips with both hands, forcing him back onto his cock as much as he could. The priest caught on, spearing himself on Will’s dick over and over, both of them groaning, both of their eyes fixed on the shimmering cross, on the watchful eye of Christ, half turned away as he hung from his crucifixion.

“Hannibal.” Will half groaned, half warned. He was close.

“I will love you, Will.” Father Hannibal breathed. It was more than an earthy promise, and Will knew it. It was celestial. It said; ‘If God can not love you, I can.’

And he came undone, bottoming out once again, to be sure he came as deeply as possible inside Father Hannibal. He moaned loudly, his hot seed filling the priest, and as it did he felt the muscle tighten, milking every last drop out of him as the other man had his own orgasm. They both slumped briefly, Will on top of Hannibal, Hannibal on top of the backrest of the pew. It was silent now, only their shaky breathing occupying the space around them. Will was almost positive he could hear the clergyman’s semen dripping onto the floor, from where he no doubt painted the back of the pew. It made him chuckle and he slowly pulled out, his cum rushing out of the man and down the inside of his thigh. Father Hannibal righted himself fully, pulling his pants back up despite the mess and straightening out his robe and stole the best that he could before turning to face Will, hands still buttoning the front buttons as he spoke.

“I hope you will come to Confessional more often.”

Will smiled, making himself presentable as well, “If it suits you, I will,” he paused as both their hands stilled, just staring at one another, then added, “I’ll love you, too.”

This made Father Hannibal smile and lean down to peck his lips, a soft, chaste kiss, before they parted ways. White wax dripping down to the floor under the feet of the Lamb of God.

#priest kink #Priest!Hannibal #Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham #Father Hannibal #Priest Hannibal #Will Graham x Priest!Hannibal #Will Graham x Hannibal Lecter #Priest!AU #MINE MINE MINE #Top Will Graham #Bottom Hannibal Lecter #hannigram smut #hannigram #hannibal nbc #nsft #will graham #hannibal lecter #chronicroderick #bl0wjob

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save-the-villainous-cat · 1 year

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@mirohtron here you go, darling <3

And thank you so much to @creweemmaeec11 for making Secret Santa possible! Merry Christmas!

“I think someone is poisoning me.” It didn’t even reach the volume of a whisper because quite frankly, the hero wanted to keep this to themselves.

“Oh, you think so?” It made them jump a little. They frowned and looked at the villain who was occupied on their phone. It was sort of a tradition to pause when the fight got too heavy.

The hero felt like a lunatic, like a hypocrite. All of it was a play and the hero was the unillumined player on the stage, unknowing of the script and the outcome.

“No, let me rephrase that,” they said. “I think you are poisoning me.”

With a facility that astonished the hero, their enemy laughed at that. It wasn’t a joke on their part. They were being serious.

But the villain didn’t even bother to look up from their phone.

“I mean it.”

“You think I’m poisoning you?” The villain smirked when they switched off their phone and turned to their enemy. The hero had given them a black eye — purely accidentally — and when their gaze fastened on them, the hero could feel their heart skip a beat.

“For that matter, I do,” they said. Now being confronted like this, they felt uneasy. The villain was unpredictable. They could increase the dose anytime if they felt like it, especially when they knew that the hero knew.

“What makes you think that? What are your symptoms?” the villain asked.

“Stagnant trail of thought. Sweating. Dizziness. Being short of breath.” The hero picked on the skin around their nails impatiently. They were often violent enough to make their fingers bleed.

“Fast heartbeat, sweaty palms?” their enemy asked.

“Sort of.” The hero’s fingers hurt from the fight. On their knuckles was dried blood. They tasted iron.

It had to be a poison. Other explanations were too vague, too pervasive.

“It is pretty brave to address this, then,” the villain said. There was still a slender smile on their face.

“Are you gonna kill me now?” That made the villain laugh again, throwing their head back. When they didn’t get a reaction from the hero despite a blank stare, they leaned over.

“Little hero.” They snatched the hero’s chin, pulling them into their own personal space. “Believe me, you’d be dead if I poisoned you.”

They traced their enemy’s bottom lip carefully, their eyes fixed on the way they parted.

“I would’ve killed you a long time ago if I wanted you dead,” they explained casually. “And it wouldn’t be poison. I would kill you with my hands around your neck.”

The hero’s mind reeled. They felt nauseous. The villain’s fingers were oh so soft. It was intoxicating.

“I don’t understand…” They grasped the villain’s wrists, searching for something close to steadiness but they felt more vertiginous than ever. The air felt thin. Their throat pulsed.

“I’m not poisoning you, darling,” the villain mumbled. They let go of the hero and tilted their head. “I’m almost offended you think that I would.”

“But I only feel like this around you. You’re doing something.” Half a minute or so passed before the villain said anything.

“Maybe you’re right. Some would call it a poison.” That was unsatisfactorily inexpressive. The hero was too stunned to say anything, so the villain spoke again. “Now, come on. We still have to give the cameras a bit of footage.”

#merry Christmas!!!#writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #secret santa

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fights4users · 10 months

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Confirmed on the skin

So it’s been a long fandom accepted thing that circuits/light lines are not just a part of the suits but are on programs skin. This is a little thing I absolutely adore in art and fics, and do myself.

But I was never completely sure if there was anything in canon considering light suits are pretty conservative (until legacy). But there is!!

Sarks Lieutenant(?) Appears to have a shorter neck on his suit than is standard, or extra circuitry on the neck. (It could simply be a coloring error but I don’t think that’s true as we also see it black/uncolored/unilluminated) in multiple shots. When I started to notice it was towards the end of the movie.

I just love that really fun little details like the “mood ring” circuits (shining/diminishing with emotion) and them being on the skin itself are a completely canon thing. It adds so much to the world, it’s fun.

#tron #tronblr #tron 1982 #tron legacy #tron lore #rewatch for the millionth time Lmao #sark Tron #sark the control program #tron programs #tron worldbuilding #the game grid #encom system

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justinempire · 1 year

Link

Unilluminable Soundtrack

#Unilluminable Soundtrack

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agueforts · 10 months

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information compilation for me but you can have it too. will be updating w/ new information for as long as my attention holds (EPISODE 1 UPDATE INCOMING. AS SOON AS I FINISH IT. will probably reformat some)

SYSTEM

kids on bikes

marbles: adversity token. gain upon failed roles, to potentially turn a future role into a success. loosing marbles?

STATS

SNOOP:

PLAYER CHARACTERS

hunch curio, he/him: no. 421, deep verdant green, pale blue-white accents. detective, perpetually in state of injury, hungover, repeatedly broken nose. fog in portrait. name card dull orange w/ yellow lean

imelda pulse, she/her: no. ??, rosy pinks (rich velvety, light accents). femme fatale, mysterious, velvet coat, old money, reckless & impulsive. seeking curio's services. bubbly expression in portrait, and on clothing; effervescent. name card dull orange w/ yellow lean (same as curio). name: impulse

anastasia tension, she/her: no. 001 (her files?), navy blue, cyan-blue accents. reporter at daily observer, seeking notoriety, rough lightning-like shapes (could they be something else?). name card purple w/ magenta lean. name: attention

daniel fucks, he/him: no. 80085-69 (self-chosen?), purple w/ magenta lean, tan accents. owns club sugah's, hedonistic. gooey. name card red w/ orange lean

conrad schintz, he/him: no. 794, brown, sea-green accents. newsie, seen troubles, very small. shining surface; glass or water? name card verdant green. best friends with justin. name: conscience

the fix, he/him: no. 404 (error?), red w/ orange lean. hitman, big, custom guns, forceful (as i am well aware). rock or otherwise earth. connected to hyperfixation. name: referencing both fixation & fix (dopamine boost)? name card deep blue

LOCATIONS & ENTITIES

elias hodge: host brain. name significance? to look itnto

cerabell's pacific: company that runs something of importance

synaptic switchboard: at heart of cerabell's pacific

limbic??: crimson red. mask

cerebellum: rusted brown. industrial

brain stem: rail transport

justin: conrad's best friend

COLORS: to add. see here in the meantime

WORDPLAY (maybe not necessary section? will be a lot if maintained)

mentopolis: metropolis + mental

cerabell's pacific: cerebral + bell's pacific (phone company)

synaptic switchboard: control of conduct of electrical signals, organic/inorganic

more. will come back to.

DIAL MOVEMENTS IN TRAILER (significance to be determined; green 240-60, yellow 60-120, red 120-240)

100 to 160, yellow to red

90 to 180, yellow to red

100 to 90, remains yellow

BACKGROUNDS:

synaptic switchboard: grey (matter?) halls & inlaid indigo-purple synapses

curio's office: green diagonally tiled background (square); lines radiating from upper corner

dan's club: red w/ orange lean,r ound shape motif

grey brick w/ cyan-blue rectangles

copper & gunmetal pipes

dark grey cityscape, copper accents (antenna-- dendrite?). dome?

solid black, unilluminated

NOTES

metropolis (1927)

#dimension 20 #mentopolis #d20 mentopolis #d20 #aspen tag

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callsign-phoenix · 1 year

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This is part two to this Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x female!reader fic.

Thank you @footprintsinthesxnd for proofreading!

Warnings: none

Walking up to the man you had been fascinated with for over two hours was nerve-wracking, but with the alcohol in your bloodstream, you managed to do it just the same.

Bob sat by himself on a stool by the dartboard watching his friends, which gave you the perfect opportunity.

He was facing the game but the moment you stopped beside him he glanced over only to a double take, his eyes widening before he straightened up.

He sat up from his seat quickly to face you properly, a hand brushing over his hair on instinct.

“Hello,” you mumbled softly and you swore you saw his eyelashes, that were slightly magnified by the glasses, flutter at your voice.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he replied speedily, stepping back slightly to offer you the seat he had been sitting in with a motion of his arm.

You declined politely, your eyes barely leaving his face.

From the close proximity Bob was even more handsome, not a blond hair out of place and his glasses sitting as straight as could be on the bridge of his nose.

You were mesmerized by his gentle blue eyes and didn’t realize that he had spoken to you, which had you take a deep breath before you rushed to apologize.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” You asked, your voice as gentle as his gaze on you, and you saw the corners of his lips tug upwards in the hint of a smile.

“I just… I asked how you were doing this evening,” he answered quickly, and with the way he stood so straight and poised you felt like telling him ‘at ease’, but refrained from doing so.

You liked that he was so adamant on making a good impression.

“I uh, I’m well,” you answered him and closed your eyes for a second, hating yourself for the quite flat and unilluminating answer.

You felt like you should talk more so you did so out of inner pressure to do well.

“I just met Jess, she’s… she’s kind,” you said with a nod and he mirrored it immediately.

“I’ve known her since kindergarten. She’s soon to be engaged to a friend of mine and member of my squadron, Eugene,” he clarified, and his answer sent a rush of relief through you.

Your eyes were trained on him and his similarly were watching you.

“Would it be alright with you if I took you out to dinner sometime, ma’am?” He asked after a few seconds of mutual comfortable silence.

You felt a rush of excitement course through you and your back straightened automatically, your feet straining in your shoes so you didn’t rock back and forth with joy.

A smile appeared on your face even though you tried to contain your excitement.

“What’s your name, sailor?” You asked him, feeling a weird curiosity in wanting to know his last name.

“Sergeant Robert Floyd, ma’am,” he answered quickly, standing just a hint straighter, which had you smiling wider than before.

“I’d love to go out with you, Bob,” you answered him, which lit his eyes up as his lips spread into a smile.

The rest of the evening went by quickly, you didn’t even realize how late it was or that you had spent hours already talking to Bob Floyd.

He and his squadron had just graduated from flight school and were celebrating at the bar, with the celebration getting louder with every passing hour and many more drinks.

Bob didn’t drink but he offered to buy you some, which you couldn’t decline.

The moment you went to the bathroom Bob’s friends were all over him, some even clapping his back as they interrogated him as long as you weren’t in the room.

“Who is the pretty lady, Bobby boy?” One of them asked, a younger man with a spread of pimples than ran over his face like wildfire.

Adam was one of Bob’s favorites, being kind and open without seeming too pushy.

“The woman I’m going to marry,” he said almost inaudibly, earning a few chuckles and shaking heads in the process.

Someone hollered and Bob suppressed the need to roll his eyes, instead giving his friends and comrades a quick smile.

The moment you returned to your conversation Bob was once again unresponsive to the world around you, only having eyes and ears for you and what you had to say.

You didn’t realize that a lot of people left the bar or that Carole intended to close it, seeing as 2am was already fast approaching.

The two of you continued talking until Carole finally managed to get your attention.

“We’re closing, you two,” she smiled as she watched you almost having to wake up from the intimate atmosphere the two of you had.

Bob was the first to realize what the late time really meant, a sense of apologeticness running through him.

“I’m so sorry I kept you,” he immediately said, his eyes darting to the clock that was poised behind the counter.

“I didn’t mean for it to get so late! Is there anything I can do? Can I walk you home?” He asked, which made you smile gently.

You hadn’t realized how tired you actually were, but Bob’s presence was almost as if it was charging your batteries.

“I wouldn’t want you to be out by yourself at this time, but I of course don’t want to impose,” he said softly, and you followed your instinct to gently reach out your hand and brush over the sleeve of his jacket for a second.

“I’d be grateful if you brought me home,” you answered him honestly, and after he paid for your drinks Bob escorted you outside, his arm out for you to hold.

You didn’t just walk home but instead you took a small stroll in the moonlight, painting the entire setting into something incredibly romantic.

If you were honest it really was, you held onto Bob and the two of you talked without uncomfortable silences or hitting a topic on which you didn’t agree, it was as if he was just made for you.

The moment you reached your home you rushed inside to retrieve a piece of paper and a pen, writing down your name, address and phone number so he could take it home.

When you tentatively handed it to him he folded it carefully and put it into his breast pocket, the thought of it being close to his heart now making a pleasant heat rush through you.

You were reluctant to let him go but the weight of the hour lay heavily on both of you, so you said your goodbyes.

To do that he moved in closer, pulling you into a hug with enough time so you could protest, which you didn’t.

When you got closer to follow his lead Bob moved to set a soft kiss to your cheek, knocking the wind out of you at his display of affection, and the way your heart beat faster at it.

A wide smile spread onto your face and he smiled too, gently watching you to see if you were alright.

He nodded at you for a second before stepping back to let you go inside, but you turned to watch him leave.

“Hey, Bob?” You shouted after him, your eyes still trained on his walking form.

Bob turned around with raised brows, waiting for you to go on.

“Should we say tomorrow at eight?” You asked, and received a happy and relieved smile from him.

part three

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#robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd #bob top gun #top gun bob

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daisybianca · 2 years

Note

hey, could you do a friends to lovers w/ charles!

WAG VIBES

pairing: charles leclerc x femalereader

summary: charles had been your friend since you could remember yourself. after a few years of not being able to meet, he promised you that a package would be at your door in a matter of hours. little did you know that the mysterious package was the man himself and that things would get a little bit complicated between the two of you.

warnings: slight swearing, tiny mentions of sex

NOT CONSTRUCTING AN incredibly powerful bond when in the early ages of your lives, wasn't an available option when it came to you and Charles Leclerc, the admired and favored F1 driver.

Your mothers had formed an appreciable friendship since high school and that seemed to be just enough for their children to inherit that habit as well.

Due to his strenuous and consuming profession, his job required nonstop traveling to different mainlands and constant practicing. Because of this, there had been numerous months you two hadn't succeed to meet.

You had considered the lacking variety of options to spend time with your childhood friend, but none of them really appeared to be the precise solution. The idea of attending an f1 race slipped by your thoughts for a second, but you rejected it almost immediately. The events took place far away from your home country and the responsibility for your job and your limited time were the main reasons holding you back.

However, you two had figured out a way to communicate with each other by texting almost every night to talk about your day and in the morning, before heading to work. Face-timing was also an extremely pleasant remedy to cure your friend's sadness and rage after a rough or even a poor performance at a Grand Prix. Video chatting also seemed to be useful when you lost track of time at work and returned home late at night. Even if you were in your car, Charles insisted that he was willing to keep an eye on you, despite the fact that time zones were undoubtedly a challenging thing.

So generally, you always somehow found your way to each other. One way or another, you both created methods to achieve that.

Charles texted you this morning. Just at 10am. He was fully aware of the reality that you never were an early riser and knew better than to ruin that.

The fact is, though, that you wouldn't really mind as long as it was him interrupting your soothing time in bed.

It was bizarre that he texted you a good morning text. He never surely did, preferring the Face-Time choice to view your sleepy and drowsy reactions.

Your concern about his unusual message faded out by the time a second one showed up, brightening up the screen in the unilluminated room.

Harry Pottah from Walmart: Good Morning, Sunshine.

You read the very first message, which was accompanied by a bright sun emoji.

You let yourself shape a tiny smile. There had been a few days since you last heard him form those words. You adored him calling you that, but it would be so much better hearing it face to face.

You transferred your eyes to glance the second text.

Harry Pottah from Walmart: There'll be a package on your door at 7pm ASAP. Open the door and receive it. I hope you don't need a tutorial for that too, otherwise don't you dare ask me, there's something called freaking internet to help you out. I'm not a Wikipedia machine.

Your smile vanished and for a couple of seconds you felt remorseful for allowing him to know how obsessed you once used to be with Youtube tutorials.

A third, smaller text appeared on the screen, catching you off guard.

Harry Pottah from Walmart: P.S. be kind to the delivery man or I'm calling your mom.

Taking a loud, extended breath, you typed the response to his messages with almost-wobbly hands.

Me: Mrs. Pascale wouldn't be proud of his son talking to a lady like that.

You sent the sentence, mentioning his own mother to tease him a little, while including an emoji that was supposed to portray a sad face at the end of it.

You chortled at his amusing answer and placed your phone on the nightstand to charge it.

Getting up from your bed to endure your monotonous day, all your mind could revolve around was the package Charles referred to previously.

You had a great instinct for that and your heart was fierce and deafening in your chest, only at the thought of him gifting something to you after a very long time. You didn't permit yourself to build sizeable expectations because the outcome could be also disappointing, though.

But you couldn't care less if the content of the package was pretty or cheap or pricey as long as it was from him.

You exhaled and sniffled the odor of the coffee you made and felt the warmth of it enfolding your hands.

Just a couple of hours to figure out.

You could wait with the sensation of anticipation filling every inch of your body.

It wasn't like he could possibly show up at your door. He couldn't do that, he had a race in Russia in a couple of days.

It was just a package.

Nothing more and nothing less.

Yet, your mind denied doggedly to remain at a distance from it.

The hours passed surprisingly briefly and the clock above the kitchen table of your duplex apartment read 6:58 pm.

As you glanced over at the door, the flashings of the booming bolts of lightning outside the window made you observe the violent rainfall which turned the night sky quite gloomy.

Who would have thought that something so colorless as water could make clouds that dark and shadowy?

Approaching one of the wide windows, you tried to scrub condensed water droplets so that you could obtain a clearer view of the busy street ahead. There were plenty of people holding umbrellas and walking down the moist pavement, but no one actually headed to the entry of your home.

You were pressing your lips together in worry when the bell suddenly rang, gaining your attention solely.

You walked to the door with brave and patient small steps, opening it without minding asking who was behind it. If you got kidnapped or robbed, it'd be Charles' fault for instructing you to open the door at 7pm sharp.

The person that came into sight caused a considerably powerful freezing to your entire body, soul, brain, and most importantly, to the red organ vibrating inside of you.

Charles' eyes lit up and changed from narrow to wide when his gaze fell upon you. ''Sorry, the delivery man turned into a wet cat. Jesus, I'm soaked.'' Your head dropped back. Your laugh was a weapon of mass seduction and he had always remained its biggest target.

So he just stood there staring and beaming as he allowed the sound of your chucklesome laugh to imprint on his mind.

He hadn't heard that while facing each other in forever and a day. Only through a lifeless and wireless device, which only produced image and sound but failed to extract the small details of your face while forming the act. Of your petite nose wrinkling when you laughed. Of your dainty features that brightened up the whole room when you were in it and blessed the observer with a unique smile.

You almost rushed to him, falling into his moist embrace. He seemed to be quite hesitant about hugging you back because of his sopping clothes but finally, he gave in and wrapped his hands gently around you. Charles caressed your back and you could sense the watered fabric stick to your flesh, yet you didn't even mind. Not for a single moment.

His sweet glare reminded you of a golden retreiver.

''How long have you been in the country?'' You gestured for him to enter the house and he did, after removing his waterlogged shoes.

''Since this morning. I texted you the moment I got off the plane.'' His gaze found you and there was a glimpse in those colorful eyes of his that made butterflies take flight in your stomach.

That made sense. That was the reason why he selected chatting instead of video chatting.

He was here. With you. You couldn't believe it.

You needed to shoot a question but his penetrating gaze incapacitated you. ''Don't you have a race in like three days from now?'' Curiosity finally won as you blurted the words out.

''You mean the Russian Grand Prix? It was canceled so I have a few days to rest.'' Charles blinked twice. How the hell didn't you read somewhere about the race being called off? ''Oh, um--I bought you this.'' The man handed you a plastic bag with a heavy, brown box with a red, decorative strip in a heart shape on top of it. It looked like a product from a pastry shop.

You grinned and accepted the bag, placing it on the table that was located a few feet ahead. ''What's that?''

''I played the role of the delivery man, so I suppose that's for the package I promised.'' Charles explained and approached you from behind, eventually his posture hardening a few inches away from you.

You nearly gasped at the sight of the content of the box.

It was a remarkably enormous cake. A chocolate one, to be accurate, which made your mouth water momentarily. With dissimilar-hued sprinkles patterning small hearts and covering the surface of the dessert. Additionally, a smiley face was laying in the heart of the cake, two white cookies forming the eyes, while the mouth was nicely done with matching truffles.

''Charles, did you forget the date of my birthday?'' You giggled.

''Of course I remember when your birthday is, (y/n)!'' Your childhood friend's orotund voice sounded rather... offended?!

''Why would you buy me a cake then, Charles?'' You tittered, turning around to face the man standing with his arms crossed firmly and his eyes traveling around.

He kind of seemed taller. But he obviously wasn't because you had last seen him a few months ago, not in puberty.

''I just--I recalled how much you love cakes.'' Charles' tone emerged as gruff and hoarse. ''I never forgot, to be honest.''

A sense of pride hit you, considering he never failed to commit to memory small, inconsequential details about you.

''I have a few clothes kept in the closet for you. You should probably get changed before devouring the smiley face with me, Mrs. Leclerc.'' His eyes dropped down to you and then, he shook his head unapprovingly and smiled.

You placed your palms softly on his drenched and strong chest, expecting the warmth of him to have kind of hidden behind the frostiness of the fabric.

But there it was. Covering every inch of his flawless-crafted upper body.

''Nah,'' He pronounced the word confidently and loudly. Charles' lips curved into a seductive smile that made your knees feely unsteady for a little while. Reaching out, he grabbed your hands from his chest and delicately applied carefully small kisses to them. ''I'm not sharing that cake with you. It's all yours, Sunshine.''

Your stomach did a betraying little flip that somewhat terrified you.

''If you don't eat, I don't eat either.''

Charles released a shuddery breath, uncapturing your hands from his grip as you immediately missed the feeling of his flesh touching yours.

You looked up to find his gaze already fixed on you.

''Fine.'' Smacking slightly the back of your neck, he started running upstairs in a hurry. ''But you're not playing fair!'' He yelled as you sprinted behind him.

Entering the commodious guest room, you spotted Charles almost buried in the broad closet.

''I don't know which one might look better on me.'' He extended his hands, swirling two different-shaded hoodies in the air. ''What do you think?''

You blinked at the two pieces of clothing. The one to your left was deep green while the other was a Spongebob hoodie your mother had gifted Charles for his 22nd birthday.

''Since when do you care about being fashionable?'' You joked, raising an eyebrow. ''Last time I checked fashion was a completely foreign word to you.'' Moving nearer to him, you examined the two options in his hands.

''I feel rather offended.'' Charles laughed, turning into ice as your forehead was a few inches away from his mouth. The desire to nudge forward and collide his lips with your forehead ignited like a scorching blaze inside him.

''I think I prefer this one.'' Your eyes connected with his as you patted the greenish hoodie. ''Don't tell my mom I didn't choose the one she bought you, but the green one matches your eyes better.''

Charles swayed his head. ''Your secret is safe with me.''

Dropping the Spongebob hoodie on the bed behind you, he pulled his phone, a wallet, and his keys out of the pockets of his jeans. Your friend handed them to you instead of dropping them on the bed with the yellow fabric.

Charles forced his wet hoodie off his head, unveiling the abs, arms and chest beneath it.

You suddenly sensed a slight flushing on your face. Charles noticed that.

''Are you blushing?'' His question caused a tickle to your heart.

You turned around, not allowing yourself to view the almost naked Charles anymore.

''No, I am not.'' You denied the painful truth, biting your bottom lip to prevent any unethical words from escaping. ''Next time racing don't choke on water. Try utilizing it to clean your eyesight, because you're clearly fairly blind.''

Charles fleed a husky growling that was supposed to sound like a laugh.

Gosh, you were so fucked.

''I don't remember you having such an attitude, sweatheart.'' His tone was smoky and flat.

You ignored his statement and could identify the sound of his jeans being unzipped.

You froze and tried desperately to locate something to distract you from what was occurring just behind you.

Abandoning his wallet and the keys on the closer furniture, which happened to be a forgotten desktop, you turned his phone on in rapid movements and headed to the camera app, while posing to take a few funny photos of yourself.

At the sight of the photo that covered his phone screen, your thoughts emptied.

''Am I your lockscreen?'' You blurted out as you re-viewed the woman on Charles' screen to double-check it was certifiably you.

''Shit, you weren't supposed to see that!'' The man grabbed the device and you spun to find him changed in his favorite cozy, grey sweatpants and the hoodie you had selected just moments ago.

The image that seemed to be his lockscreen was a moment he had captured two Christmases ago. In the photo, you hugged tightly a snowman that leaned like the tower of Pisa as you two laughed uncontrollably at it falling apart in your embrace.

It was the last Christmas you two had managed to spend together and it was nearly painful recalling those unforgettably beautiful moments that had stamped your mind.

''You're the one blushing now, Sir.'' Charles frowned at the last word you added to your ironic statement.

''Don't fucking call me that.'' He passed by you furiously and you giggled.

He was mad for some reason now. But everything would be just fine in a few minutes. That's how your friendship worked since you could remember yourselves being each other's dearest company.

As your hands scratched the wet surface of the dishes, Charles' ethereal voice echoed, approaching from behind. ''You sure you don't need any help with those?'' He asked for the second time, referring to the dirty dishes on the sink with dregs of chocolate on them.

''No, I'm almost done.''

Looking at you, he bit his upper lip, tasting the flavor of the chocolate from moments earlier.

He had one slice while you almost ate half of the cake.

Indeed you adored chocolate cakes. You had almost forgotten how much you loved them.

But Charles hadn't.

Charles breathed and let his gaze wander on you. He couldn't fathom how this earth and the sun and the moon and the sky could exist and be perceived as enteral sources of happiness, yet... yet the woman standing right in front of him could bring so much warmth and comfort to him with just a single glance or a small smile.

He moved closer to you. You could sense the heat of his body right next to you. However, you didn't permit yourself to move or talk or even breathe...

Charles' arm found its way around your neck and froze there. At first, you thought it was one of his platonic gestures where he would jokingly wrap his hand around you, preventing you from moving, and would tickle the shit out of you until you burst into mixed tears and laughs.

But when his lips collided with your forehead softly, you realized it wasn't one of those moments.

Charles planted a smooch on your skin, depositing his wet mark there.

''I've been waiting to do that for quite a while. And more.'' Your eyes extended as Charles pulled you into a warm embrace. It felt so good and you realized your friend enjoyed it as well when a small groan escaped from him. You wished you could stay like that forever. ''I kind of missed you, Sunshine.''

''Kind of?''

Charles smiled before correcting. ''A lot.'' You smiled too as he amended his words. ''Oh, and I-um, I have an announcement to make.'' He whispered, pulling back to view your reaction as he spoke the words loud and clear. ''I'm sleeping in your bed tonight. With you. Like those old days when we could fit into a single bed, remember?''

You tried to hide your excitement. You would have tried to suggest this to him, but you were a little scared of any possible rejection of your plan. ''My bed is king-sized, so I'll guess that would be pretty cool.''

If the sound of the rain didn't completely fill the room, you could have possibly heard the roaring of his heart in his chest when you accepted his idea. Besides, your head was just a few inches away from his torso. It wouldn't be too difficult for the organ to be noticed.

The rest of the afteroon progressed rapidly, forming into a rainy night. You two watched an SCI-FI movie, which Charles insisted he had seen before, although it was eventually proven that he hadn't, because of the fact that he had predicted an extremely different ending.

You laughed at Charles' hilarious stories of the F1 races, rolling in the aisles, and he took advantage of that, capturing the moment with his phone camera.

You danced and pursued Charles to join you. The frown drawn on his face at that moment was something truly worth-laughing at.

By the time the clock had declared that it was nearly 2am, Charles approached you on the floor and you didn't protest as he wrapped an arm around you, taking the brunt of your weight. He didn't think as he hauled you over his shoulder, bringing your ass to his eye level.

''I think my feet need to be amputated.'' You flinched, completely losing your footing as he carried you upstairs. The dancing was genuinely exhausting but the overall experience was certainly worth it.

''Problem solved, Sunshine.''

''Charles!'' You shouted, facing his back. You could swear that the cake you previously devoured was by far the most satisfying thing you had ever smelled, but the aroma extracting from Charles' body was always so outstanding and incredibly... alluring. ''What are you doing?'' You rammed your small fists into his spine and he grunted.

''Being a gentleman.''

''More like a caveman! Put me down right now! This is so embarassing.''

''No one is here to see you, (y/n).'' Charles mentioned as he slowly walked up the stairs, heading to your room.

Your head lifted. ''What time is it?''

''Almost two.''

You gasped. ''Gosh, I lost track of time.'' Charles blinked. Twice. He tried so hard not to transfer his eyes to your ass. He even moved his rough hands lower on your thighs, so that he wouldn't have any physical touch with that exact lovely part of your body.

''No worries, we'll make it to your room before you turn into a pumpkin, princess.''

''That's not even how the story goes, Charles!'' Your laugh was muffled by his hoodie as he carried you to the door.

''Close enough.''

''God, you can be so annoying sometimes.'' If you two held eye contact right now, you would be receiving a very alarming death stare from him.

But that was not his response presently.

Instead, Charles smacked your ass for that comment.

''Did you j-just spank me?!'' You choked at the sound of his hand colliding with your ass.

He just touched you.

There.

Charles' hand burnt to do it again if only to hear that little gasp you made when his palm slammed your flesh.

Returning the favor, you smack his ass hard.

He almost dropped you from the shock of it all, but he finally recovered with a loud laugh.

''Ugh! You weren't supposed to like that!''

Charles took a breath to collect himself.

''I hate you so mu--.'' Your sentence was cut by Charles dropping you on the soft surface of the bed.

The corners of his mouth lifted at the sight of you like that.

''I do find your wicked statements entertaining.'' Leaving you alone to make yourself comfortable, he went in the opposite direction of the bed and pulled the blankets to make enough room for his body.

When you turned around, you saw him already drowned in the mattress while facing you.

''I still need those deep conversations before sleeping.'' You said and his pupils were swollen.

''What do you want to talk about, Sunshine?'' Charles questioned and his dimples were charmingly placed on his reddened cheeks. You extended your hand to reach for the light switch and turned it off.

Sharing beds as kids never grew to something more than a platonic activity both of you really enjoyed. It had to be kept that way. You two couldn't ruin your unique friendship. He knew that too, even though the look in his eyes declared something... something entirely different.

''You look beautiful even in the dark, (y/n).'' His voice was husky, he blood immediately frozing in you.

''Charles, are you flirting with me?'' His eyes moved to your lips for a brief moment and he hoped, he really hoped, you didn't notice it, but you did. And things initiated to complicate in your mind.

''You finally noticed?'' He murmured as if he didn't want anybody else to hear his thoughts. ''You're pretty much the only reason I turn on my phone in the morning, hoping for a message or a call, (y/n).''

''Charles, I can't, we are--I--''

''Shh--'' He silenced you by bringing his hand gently to cover a part of your lips. ''(y/n), I think I have fallen in love with you.''

Your mind stopped working. ''Then k-kiss me.'' Your response was somehow hesitant.

''The problem is,'' He said as he leaned in. ''If I kiss you, I don't think I'll be able to stop.''

''Who says I'd want you to stop?'' His gaze was penetrating, as if he tried to read your soul, your thoughts, the feelings you kept well-hidden...

He leaned in more, so carefully, hearts beating between you two. He was so close, so close and you weren't able to feel your wobbly legs anymore. You couldn't feel your fingers or the cold or the rain outside because all you could feel was him.

Charles connected his lips with yours. His hands found their way around your cheeks and moved closer just to sense you press against his chest.

He tasted like sugary chocolate and the sweetness made your heart explode.

Your hands were instantly in his hair, pulling him even closer, filling the gap to expore his mouth with your tongue as the raindrops echoed on the windows. Charles groaned between your lips.

He pulled away to whisper. ''I've been waiting so many years to do this, (y/n).'' Charles' eyes glistened and he thought about all those times he let himself picture you two like this to ease his mood. ''Come with me to Monaco. Please, (y/n), you're all I need.'' Charles pleaded and you could understand how much he meant his words. He craved you there. With him. In every race. He was not willing to make memories without you by his side anymore.

You smiled. ''As long as you let me re-decorate your house there. Damn, it looked terrible from the photos.''

His voice was so low. He was going to be the death of you. ''Our house, baby.'' Charles corrected you and placed a kiss on your forehead. ''Our house.''

Leaning forward, he touched his lips to yours. He kissed you and forgot to breathe. It didn't seem significant to him at the time.

You were all he ever needed. All he would ever want. And you were his now. Solely, exclusively his.

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