pairing: Leonard Hofstadter x f!reader
genre: fluff • tensions
notes: You, unfortunately, live in the same building as Sheldon and Leonard. Unfortunately for Sheldon, you are not big on rules... But fortunately for Leonard, that means he has a reason to go see you every once in a while. Finally he decides to take matters into his own hands...
(reader is an artist, and also a bit of a nerd, but with more extrovert energy!)
MINORS DNI!!
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part 1
Your downstairs neighbour was your worst nightmare.
Some insufferable scientists with absolutely no sense of boundaries, at least one of them.
Like always, it started again.
Knock, Kno–
A sharp exhale left you as you shoved yourself up, storming toward the door. You didn’t even think before yanking it open, far harder than you meant to.
“What is it now–”
But it wasn’t the one you expected.
It was the other one…
“Hi.” he said awkwardly.
You blinked once, thrown off just enough to hesitate.
Not Sheldon, thank god, but his roommate. Leonard Hofstadter.
Your annoyance didn’t fully fade, though.
“What is it…?” you asked, arms crossing over your chest as you leaned against the doorframe.
Leonard visibly winced at your tone, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. He shifted awkwardly under your stare, clearing his throat like he was trying to steady himself.
“Could I… come in for a minute?” he asked, hesitant.
You looked him up and down, unimpressed.
“If Sheldon sent you,” you said flatly, “tell him I said fuck off.”
“If he didn’t… then yeah. Sure. Come inside.”
Leonard groaned at the mention of his roommate, shaking his head quickly as relief flickered across his face.
“Oh god, no. Nothing to do with him. Thank god…”
He slipped past you into your apartment, running a hand through his already messy hair like he needed something to do with himself.
“This has everything to do with you, actually.”
You shut the door behind him, unfazed, already drifting back toward your makeshift workspace.
Your “kitchen table” was more paint-stained wood than anything functional, a half-finished canvas propped up.
The window stood open, letting in a faint breeze, your cigarette slowly burning in the ashtray.
“About me?” you echoed, barely looking at him.
You picked up your pen again, continuing your sketch like he wasn’t standing there awkwardly in your living room.
The cigarette found its way between your lips.
Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Leonard glancing at it, then back at you, a flicker of concern crossing his expression.
“Uh… yeah,” he said. “About you.”
He shifted again, weight moving from one foot to the other, hands fidgeting like he didn’t quite know where to put them.
“I was just… wondering if maybe you’d wanna grab coffee sometime?” he said, the words tumbling out faster near the end. “Or a drink.”
His face turned pink almost immediately.
“N-not like… not as anything weird!” he rushed to add. “Just… y’know. Talking.”
You let out a quiet snort at that, almost a laugh, smoke slipping past your lips as you shook your head.
Leonard’s smile faltered almost instantly.
His shoulders dipped, and he looked down, fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater.
Yeah. He definitely thought he’d just embarrassed himself.
Despite trying to play it off, the blush on his cheeks only deepened.
You glanced back at him, catching the sudden silence.
“Shit– you’re serious?” you asked, brows lifting as you reached over to stub your cigarette out in the ashtray. “I thought this was like… some elaborate scheme to get Sheldon to plan my downfall–”
You gestured vaguely, like the idea itself explained everything.
“Yeah, I mean… of course we can grab a drink.”
For a second, he just stared at you.
Then something in his expression shifted… surprise first, then relief, then something softer. His heart practically jumped into his throat, and he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face.
“Really?” he said, almost disbelieving. “You’d be cool with that?”
You huffed out a small laugh at that, tilting your head.
“Alright, Hofstadter, calm down…” you teased lightly.
You paused, then added with a grin,
“I always thought you and Sheldon were like… y’know…” you mimed two people kissing with your fingers.
The reaction was immediate.
Leonard’s face went completely red, like, impressively red.
“No– no, no!” he stammered, hands flying up in frantic denial. “Me and Sheldon? No. No, definitely not. Oh god–no, never.”
He physically shuddered.
“We’re just roommates.”
That did it, you laughed properly this time, pushing yourself up from your chair, amused.
“I’m just messing with you…” you said, still laughing.
You pushed your glasses up your nose, glancing at him again.
“I’m free… even tonight, if you’re up for it.”
Leonard let out a small, breathy chuckle, the tension finally easing out of his shoulders.
“Heh… yeah, you definitely got me there,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. Then he perked up a little, hopeful. “Tonight? Yeah… yeah, I’d be down for that.”
He checked his watch quickly.
“I could pick you up around eight?”
“Eight works fine fo–”
“Y/N L/N! Y/N L/N! Y/N L/N!”
A loud voice and three sharp knocks interrupted you.
“–I can smell the smoke through the vents, it is against property guidelines!”
Leonard’s expression dropped instantly, all warmth replaced by pure, exhausted annoyance.
“Ugh,” he groaned, rolling his eyes. “Speak of the devil.”
Another knock.
Louder this time.
“Y/N L/N, failure to respond will result in a formal complaint!”
Leonard glanced at you, “I swear,” he muttered under his breath, already backing toward the door, “it’s like he has a sixth sense for whenever anything remotely good happens.”
“Right…” you laughed, as you reached for the door handle.
You opened it.
And there he was.
Sheldon Cooper stood in the doorway. Hands on hips. Chin slightly raised.
Expression locked in bureaucratic disappointment.
His eyes flicked from you…
To Leonard.
“Is the stench of cigarette smoke coming from here?” he asked.
You didn’t even blink.
“Oh no,” you said smoothly, “Leonard was already coming back to your apartment because we are so done having filthy sex–”
Leonard made a sound. Not a word. Not even a coherent noise.
Something halfway between a cough and a soul leaving the body.
His eyes went wide, his face going an even deeper shade of red as he stared at you.
Sheldon physically recoiled.
“OH DEAR LORD,” he exclaimed, taking a full step back. “Why would you put that image in my brain?!”
You didn’t even try to hide your laugh.
Leonard opened his mouth again,but you were already stepping forward, patting his arm once like you were sending him on his merry way.
“Alright,” you said lightly. “See you later.”
Then, glancing at Sheldon, you added sweetly:
“Have fun thinking about that now.”
And you shut the door.
On the other side, Leonard stood frozen for half a second, still red-faced.
Leonard stumbled along as Sheldon demanded they leave immediately, still flustered, still trying to form a coherent thought, but his eyes flicked back once toward your closed door.
There it was again.
That small, ridiculous smile he couldn’t quite stop.
Leonard pretends he is not sentimental about aftercare, which is exactly how you know he is. He acts as if the entire thing is merely practical: water on the bedside table, a towel tossed in your direction, a dry comment about how you look like you’ve “survived a hostile peer review.” But his hand lingers at the small of your back. His voice softens when he asks if you’re sore. He watches your face too carefully for a man claiming indifference.
He is not soft in the obvious way. He will not coo over you like some adoring fool. Leonard’s tenderness is quieter, sharper, almost annoyed with itself. He pulls the blanket over your bare shoulder, brushes your hair out of your face, and mutters, “Don’t look so surprised. I’m not an animal.”
Then, after a pause, in that dry, devastating voice:
“Not entirely.”
B – Body Part
Yours? Your eyes.
Leonard loves watching the exact moment arrogance becomes uncertainty. He likes your eyes when you’re challenging him, when you think you have the upper hand, when you’re furious enough to argue and clever enough to almost win. But he loves them most when you’re undone beneath him, wide and wet and startled, as if your body has betrayed every intellectual defense you tried to build.
“Ah,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek. “There you are. Finally honest.”
His? His mouth.
Cruel, clever, elegant, lethal. Leonard’s mouth is his primary weapon long before it becomes anything sensual. He can shred confidence with one sentence, praise you with another, and make both feel equally intimate. His lips are thin, expressive, often curled into that sarcastic almost-smile that makes you want to slap him or kiss him.
Unfortunately, he knows this.
C – Cum
Leonard is deeply, privately possessive about finishing inside you. He frames it as indulgence, inevitability, biology, anything except attachment—but there is always something darker beneath his composure when he does it. He likes the intimacy of it. The finality. The way your body tightens around him afterward, as if trying to keep him there.
He becomes especially insufferable if you beg for it.
“Oh, now you want commitment?” he murmurs against your mouth, hips grinding deep, voice rougher than usual. “How charming. A little late in the semester for that, don’t you think?”
But he gives it to you.
And afterward, when you’re trembling and furious at how smug he looks, he kisses your temple and says, “Excellent. Full marks.”
D – Dirty Talk
Devastating.
Leonard does not waste words, which makes every filthy thing he says feel deliberate. He speaks as if he is marking up a manuscript: precise, observant, merciless. He notices every reaction and turns it into evidence.
“You’re very loud for someone who claimed not to care.”
“Careful. That sounded almost sincere.”
“Is this your argument, then? Because I admit, it’s becoming persuasive.”
“Look at you. Finally producing something worth reading.”
He is worst when praising you, because his praise is so rare that it lands like a blow.
“That’s it. Good girl. See? You can follow instructions when properly motivated.”
E – Experience
Extensive, complicated, and ethically disastrous.
Leonard has lived too long, drunk too much, travelled too far, and disappointed too many people to be inexperienced. He knows bodies with the same cynical accuracy he knows writers. He understands insecurity. Vanity. Hunger. The way people pretend not to want approval until they’re shaking for it.
He is not romantic in bed, at least not at first. He is analytical. Patient. Slightly cruel. He reads you too well and makes no effort to be polite about it.
The problem is that he is rarely wrong.
F – Favorite Position
You bent over his desk.
It is far too obvious, which irritates him, but Leonard cannot deny the appeal. Your notes scattered beneath your palms, pages creasing under your fingers, his hand at the back of your neck while he leans over you and speaks directly into your ear.
“Still think that paragraph works?” he asks, voice low and infuriatingly calm.
You can barely answer because he is pressed against you from behind, white hair falling slightly out of place, his hooked nose brushing your temple, his hips moving with slow, punishing control.
“Use your words,” he murmurs. “You’re supposed to be a writer.”
G – Groaning
Rare, low, and deeply inconvenient.
Leonard is not a loud man. He prefers control, and noise suggests surrender, which he finds vulgar in theory and irresistible in practice. Most of his pleasure comes through clipped breaths, rough exhales, murmured curses, and the occasional dark laugh against your skin.
But when you catch him off guard—when you clench around him unexpectedly, when your mouth finds the sensitive place beneath his jaw, when your nails drag hard down his back—he groans from somewhere deep in his chest.
It is not elegant.
It is not polished.
And he hates how much you love it.
H – Hair
White, thick, usually controlled with the sort of careless precision that clearly took effort. During the day, it gives him a severe, professorial elegance. After sex, it becomes deliciously disordered, falling over his forehead in a way that makes him look less like a ruthless literary tyrant and more like a man who has been thoroughly compromised.
He does not like you touching it too casually.
He absolutely likes when you tug it at the right moment.
The first time you do, his hazel eyes flash with outrage and arousal at once.
“Careful,” he says, voice rough. “I’m not one of your bad metaphors to be handled carelessly.”
Pubic hair? Mature, white and silver, neatly kept but not vainly overgroomed. Leonard is too self-possessed to look careless, but too old and too cynical to pretend he is twenty-five. He looks like a man, not an advertisement, and carries that with almost arrogant ease.
I – Intimacy
Difficult.
Leonard can fuck with frightening confidence. He can seduce, tease, praise, humiliate, unravel. But intimacy unsettles him because intimacy requires honesty, and honesty is far less controllable than desire.
He is most intimate when he thinks you are not noticing.
His hand resting over your hip after sex.
His thumb moving slowly along your wrist.
His mouth brushing your shoulder while he pretends to read.
The way he remembers exactly how you take your coffee but mocks you for it anyway.
He will not say, “I need you.”
He will say, “You’re intolerable when absent,” and expect you to understand.
J – Jacking Off
More often than he admits.
Leonard has too much pride to confess to loneliness, but not enough discipline to avoid indulging it. He touches himself late at night, usually after drinking, usually after rereading something you wrote and becoming angry at how much potential you have. He hates when desire gets tangled with admiration. It makes him feel vulnerable, which makes him meaner the next day.
He thinks about your mouth first.
Then your eyes.
Then the way you look when you’re trying not to beg.
Afterward, he sits in silence, annoyed with himself, and mutters, “Pathetic,” though whether he means himself or the human condition is unclear.
K – Kinks
- Praise kink. Not receiving it—giving it. Leonard knows exactly how starved you are for his approval, and he uses that knowledge ruthlessly.
- Intellectual dominance. He likes verbal sparring that turns physical.
- Humiliation, but refined. Less crude degradation, more surgical observation.
- Jealousy. He enjoys provoking it, though he pretends to find it tedious.
- Oral fixation. He is fascinated by mouths, especially when they stop arguing and start begging.
- Clothing. Pencil skirts, undone blouses, his shirts on your body, bare skin against tweed and linen.
- Voice kink. He knows exactly what that baritone does.
L – Location
His office.
Not because it is comfortable. It is not. It is cluttered, book-lined, intimidating, and full of evidence that Leonard has built an entire life out of judgment. That is precisely the point.
He likes you surrounded by manuscripts, criticism, half-empty glasses, expensive pens, and the smell of paper and old smoke. He likes the wrongness of it. That his reputation, your composure, and several academic boundaries are all hanging by a thread.
Other favorites include hotel rooms after readings, narrow hallways after everyone else has left, and his apartment when rain presses against the windows and neither of you says the thing you both came there to do.
M – Marking
Possessive, but discreet.
Leonard does not leave careless marks. He leaves deliberate ones. A bruise high on the thigh. Fingerprints at the waist. A bite just low enough to be hidden beneath a collar. He likes the idea that only you know they are there. That you will sit through class, dinner, conversation, some tedious literary party, and feel the quiet ache of him beneath your clothes.
If you mark him back, he pretends to be irritated.
“Juvenile,” he mutters, inspecting the scratch on his shoulder.
But he does not actually sound displeased.
N – Nudes
Dangerous territory.
Leonard would never ask crudely. He would make some dry, infuriating remark about visual evidence, then watch your reaction over the rim of a glass. But if you sent him something private, something tasteful but unmistakably obscene, he would go very still.
He would study it like a manuscript he was not ready to admit moved him.
Not smiling. Not laughing.
Just looking.
Later, he would tell you, “Compositionally, it has flaws.”
Then his voice would drop.
“But I’ve found myself returning to it.”
O – Oral
Giving? Devastatingly thorough.
Leonard approaches oral sex like an argument he fully intends to win. He is patient, observant, and mercilessly attentive. He watches your body for every involuntary response, adjusting with the precision of a man who has spent his life noticing weaknesses. His mouth is warm, clever, and cruelly unhurried.
He praises you between kisses, which is worse.
“There. That’s the sound I wanted.”
Receiving? He likes it more than he lets on. He especially likes your mouth because it gives him the rare pleasure of seeing you temporarily unable to argue. His hand rests in your hair, not forcing, just guiding.
“Much better,” he murmurs, breath uneven. “Your strongest work so far.”
P – Pace
Controlled until it is not.
Leonard enjoys escalation. He likes tension. He likes making you wait until impatience ruins your dignity. He will kiss you slowly for what feels like forever, touch everywhere except where you want him, and deliver increasingly cruel little comments until you are flushed and furious.
When his control breaks, it breaks sharply.
Suddenly his mouth is on yours, his hands are under your clothes, and his voice is no longer quite so smooth.
“Enough,” he mutters, pinning you against the nearest surface. “I’m bored of restraint.”
Q – Quickies
He pretends to dislike them.
“Adolescent,” he says.
“Undignified.”
“Proof that civilisation is collapsing.”
Then he locks the office door.
Leonard’s quickies are not romantic. They are tense, breathless, and edged with irritation, as if he resents how badly he wants you. They happen after arguments, after you impress him, after someone else flirts with you, after he says something cruel and immediately regrets it but is too emotionally constipated to apologise like a normal man.
So he drags you close instead.
R – Risk
High in theory, controlled in practice.
Leonard likes risk when it sharpens the moment: a locked door, voices down the hall, your hand on his thigh beneath a table, his fingers brushing your wrist during a critique as if nothing is happening. He enjoys watching you try to maintain composure.
But he is not stupid.
True exposure would irritate him. Scandal bores him unless he is the one writing about it. He prefers danger contained, privacy maintained, and plausible deniability preserved.
“Discretion,” he murmurs, mouth against your ear, “is the last refuge of intelligent sinners.”
S – Stamina
Excellent, but not in a showy way.
Leonard is not trying to prove he is young. He knows he is not. That confidence is part of the appeal. He is patient, deliberate, and skilled enough to ruin you without rushing. He can spend an absurd amount of time teasing, pausing, talking, touching, studying your reactions until you’re trembling with frustration.
He does not need frantic athleticism.
He has timing.
And he uses it like a weapon.
T – Toys
He prefers improvised elegance.
- His tie around your wrists.
- A fountain pen dragged cold along your thigh.
- A leather belt, not necessarily used harshly, but placed where you can see it.
- A chair.
- A desk.
- A marked-up manuscript beneath your palms.
He is not against toys, exactly, but anything too obvious makes him sneer. Leonard likes objects with context. Things that already belong to his world, repurposed into something private and obscene.
U – Unfair
Unbearably.
Leonard is unfair because he notices everything. The way your breath changes when he lowers his voice. The words that make you defensive. The praise that makes you melt. The criticism that makes you furious enough to kiss him.
He will absolutely exploit every one of those discoveries.
“You’re angry,” he observes calmly, fingers sliding beneath your chin.
“I’m not.”
“You are. It’s making you sloppy.”
“Shut up.”
His smile barely appears.
“Make me.”
V – Volume
Low.
Leonard likes quiet because quiet makes every sound more revealing. Breath. Skin. Fabric. A stifled moan. Your hand slapping over your own mouth because someone might hear. He enjoys secrecy far too much.
He himself is restrained—until he is close. Then his voice roughens, his curses become less polished, and the sarcasm falls away into something much more honest.
“God,” he breathes, gripping you harder. “You’re going to be the death of my better judgment.”
W – Wildest Fantasy
Not merely sex.
Surrender.
Leonard’s wildest fantasy is not about a position or a place. It is about someone seeing him completely—the arrogance, the failure, the bitterness, the talent, the loneliness—and still staying. It terrifies him, which is why he buries it beneath cruelty and cleverness.
But physically?
A long weekend away from everyone. No students. No literary parties. No reputations. Just rain, books, alcohol, arguments, sex, silence, and you wearing one of his shirts while reading something he wrote years ago.
He would mock you for it.
Then watch you from the doorway like a man quietly starving.
X – X-Ray
Mature, thick, and heavy in the hand.
Not pretty in a delicate way. Substantial. Masculine. Slight curve, flushed dark at the head when aroused, with that startling physicality made more intense by how cerebral he usually seems. Leonard spends so much time as voice, intellect, judgment, and ego that seeing him hard feels almost indecently revealing.
The first time you stare too long, he arches one brow.
“Yes,” he says dryly. “It does have narrative weight.”
Y – Yearning
Hidden badly.
Leonard yearns through criticism. Through sarcasm. Through the extra glass poured without asking. Through the book left on your chair because he “thought you might benefit from reading something competent for once.” Through the way his gaze follows you when he thinks you are not looking.
He is deeply cynical about love because he believes wanting makes people stupid.
Unfortunately, he wants.
This makes him furious.
Z – ZZZ
Leonard sleeps like a man who has spent decades arguing with his own mind and finally lost. Once he is truly asleep, the sharpness leaves his face. His white hair falls messily across his forehead. His mouth softens. His arm ends up around your waist with unconscious possessiveness, despite the fact that he would absolutely deny doing it on purpose.
If you try to leave the bed too early, his hand tightens automatically.
“Don’t,” he mutters, voice rough with sleep.
You pause.
His eyes remain closed.
Then, after a beat, quieter:
“I haven’t finished ignoring you yet.”
Bonus:
WW – Writing
This is how Leonard realizes he loves you.
Not through some dramatic confession. Not through jealousy, not through sex, not even through the strange, quiet ache he feels when you leave his apartment and the room becomes offensively empty afterward.
He realizes it while writing.
At first, he tells himself the character is fictional. Obviously fictional. A woman with your sharp mouth, your restless ambition, your irritating habit of pretending not to care when you care so violently it practically enters the room before you do. She appears in one scene as a minor complication—nothing more. A clever line. A pair of hazel-lit eyes narrowed across a table. A hand wrapped around a coffee cup. A laugh at the wrong moment.
Then she stays.
Worse, she improves the pages.
Leonard begins writing her again and again, despite himself. She slips into margins, arguments, doorways, unfinished chapters. She becomes the only character in the manuscript who refuses to obey him. Everyone else bends beneath his control, but she resists. She contradicts him. She makes the prose less dead.
It irritates him profoundly.
For days, he denies the resemblance. He tells himself all writers steal. From life, from weakness, from desire, from whatever unfortunate person has lingered too long in the imagination. He has done it before. He has cannibalised former lovers, enemies, friends, failures. This is no different.
Except it is different.
Because he does not write her cruelly.
That is the first warning.
Leonard can be merciless on the page. He knows how to expose vanity, stupidity, hunger, desperation. He knows how to peel a person down to their least flattering truth and leave them there, shivering under literary light. But with this character, he keeps protecting her. He gives her better lines. He lets her win arguments she has no business winning. He describes the vulnerable tilt of her mouth with such tenderness that, upon rereading it, he goes very still.
Then he deletes the paragraph.
Then he rewrites it worse.
More honest.
That is when he knows.
He sits alone at his desk long after midnight, white hair disheveled, hooked nose shadowed by the desk lamp, one hand resting over the manuscript as if he could physically restrain the truth from rising off the page. The character looks nothing like a confession and exactly like one.
You are in the rhythm of the sentences.
You are in the cruelty he cannot quite bring himself to give her.
You are in the one line he keeps rereading because it sounds less like fiction than surrender.
She made him want to be understood, which was intolerable, because understanding was only another word for being seen too clearly and loved anyway.
Leonard stares at the sentence for a long time.
Then he mutters, “Oh, for Christ’s sake.”
Because there it is.
Not lust. Not fascination. Not intellectual vanity. Not the old, familiar thrill of wanting someone he should not want.
Synopsis: You have seen many things in your life, however, what you did not expect is for your life to undergo some changes because of an honest mistake.
Pairing(s): Klein Moretti x Fem!Reader x Leonard Mitchell
Notes: I just finished the first novel and HOLY PEAK, Cant wait for the special episode heheheeh. Not really romance-esque(?), I will write more for these two idiots in the future lolol. ALSO SOMETHINGS MAY BE INACCURATE, DONT @ ME ON IT. SPOILER FOR THE NOVEL
'Why are they glaring at me...?'
It was one of those gloomy days in Tingen where the cloudy weather affected the vitality of the people living in them. Though, even then, everyone was busy.
The stalls and stores were loud, the streets were crowded and the air smelled of smoke. Yes, it was not the prettiest sight, but to many it was home.
Including you.
So, it was not that unusual for you to occupy the streets that had always been familiar to you.
Each step you took, eyes followed your figure.
Even under the dark cloak you wore, your beauty seemed to seep through the fabric. With crystal like (e/c) eyes, clear (s/t) skin, and shimmering (h/c) hair, it would be more shocking for others to not notice such a visual.
It was something you experienced in the daily: unwanted attention to someone like you, who only wanted to vanish in a large crowd.
Growing up, you have always been the center of everybody's attention. From your parents who treated you like a princess, to your teachers and classmates who would smile at even the sight of your passing figure.
Such attention was the cause of your eventual shyness. A form of defense against the unwanted attention, to have some time for yourself.
As you walked further, you felt eyes bore into your figure even more, scaring you even more into your cloak.
Turning your head to where the feeling was, you saw two men. Both looked to be your age and quite good looking, which scared you even more.
The shorter one of the two had wavy brown hair and matching eyes that looked at you with suspicion. Meanwhile, the one beside him had long black hair and green eyes, and like his companion, had a certain venom in his beautiful eyes.
'D-did I do something? Oh no, are they mad because their fiancees badmouthed me to them? Please don't beat me up!'
It was not uncommon for you to bump into men who are interested in you for two things:
The first ones are those who want you. Whether your body, your hand, your heart, it did not matter if you kept saying no for they insist that one chance is enough for them to prove to you that they were the one. And of course, the more they push, the more sure you were they are not the one.
And the second type are those who are loyal to their wife or fiancee which you respect, but are willing to go through hell and back just to hurt you just because their partners hated you.
You shivered at the memory of almost being stabbed by a blunt knife by this one man who took it in his hand to get revenge for his fiancee who was a 'friend' of yours.
Only for you to find out that she befriended you to then betray you, for nothing but mere spite.
And seeing these two men's gaze, you could only bet that they leaned more onto the second type.
'I have to go home fast...!'
"Then, she's probably a newly turned Witch. We have no intel of her from Captain yet."
"That's my guess. Hm, then she's a higher sequence than we are. We should keep our distance then."
Leonard's smile tightened a bit, his fist clenched as if preparing himself for a clash in public, even if that is unlikely.
After all, the Demoness Sect, like any other secret organizations, are careful of their tracks lest they want to get the attention of the Orthodox Churches and its official Beyonders.
After the whole Alfalfa Incident and the subsequent search for Tris, the Nighthawks have been taking more cases that could possibly relate to the aforementioned organization.
Most missions were trailing some suspected members in hopes to capture atleast one for interrogation on the reason as to why so many of them have gathered in Tingen.
And now, the two found themselves following a suspected member.
According to reports of many people who knew the suspect, the girl had always been quite secretive. Most mention her connections to the many higher-ups and nobles of Loen.
With most officials supposedly asking her to be in an intimate or romantic relationship with them.
Of course, that was not enough of an evidence, however, something like that should not be natural so the girl being mixed in with the supernatural is more believable than it being all natural.
Klein who now touched his molars, looked at your figure, and much to his discovery, an unnatural aura surrounded your figure.
It was a dark gold smoke that embraced your figure like a large blanket of spirituality, shielding you from everything around you.
"Yes, she is definitely not normal. Probably a Beyonder or she holds some type of Artifact. But, seeing the whole seducing higher ups thing. She's probably a Beyonder."
"Hm, then we report this to Captain, shall we?"
'Why are they not stopping in following me?!'
It had been approximately two days since the anomaly started and you found yourself even more alert than anything.
Compared to everyone else, you have always been more alert about your environment as the fear of being followed by evil meaning people never vanishes, especially when you always seemed to get involved in the matters of rich and powerful men in the kingdom.
'Could they be spies for the nobles I said no to then? W-who could it be?! The police superintsndent...?! Or that one viscount...? Even that Earl from Intis...?'
You shivered at the thought, as you tugged at the skirt of your dress hard. You pretended to be deep in thought as you looked at the fresh fruits in the stall in front of you.
"Those apples please."
After paying for the fruits, you tried your best to hide within the crowds of people in the market, yet it seemed no matter what you do, you cannot shake off the two guys following you.
Yep, they are definitely going to hurt you! You have to run to the police or something, right?!
Bowing your head to hide in the crowd, you managed to snake yourself out of it hiddenly before running in one of the tight alleyways you knew.
The alleyway was small and not crowded as much, so it was pretty hard to hide away for someone who has been tailing you-
"EEK!-S-sorry-"
"WATCH IT- Hey, it's you!"
At the voice, you jumped in your place before turning around to face the person you bumped into and froze in your place.
The man wore a familiar uniform of black and white, his blonde hair slicked back exposing his wide forehead as his expression contorted into a smirk.
You recognized the man to be a police sergeant, one who approached you a week ago in hopes of a "fun night" as he called it.
Seeing as he looked to be older than your late father, and how disrespectful he was to your body, you of course said no, which pissed him off.
So, like always, you pretended to be this helpless little lamb before kicking him off to run away, which you successfully did.
But now, your little actions seemed to finally catch up to you as the man gripped your wrist tight.
"L-let me go!"
"What did you say to me, little bitch? You should be thankful a man still pays attention to you after you break everybody's heart. You think you're that important!"
You whimpered when he pushed you against a nearby wall hard, knocking the wind out of your lungs before his hand wrapped itself around your neck tight enough to make you choke a bit.
"Just because you have the eyes of some richass noble, doesn't make you more important, you hear? Now stay quiet and let me have my fun!"
"No! Please! Let me go-huh?"
The wind suddenly seemed to pick up, and before you knew it, the man had let his hands off of you as he fell to the ground, leaving you sitting on the floor, hugging yourself, not hearing the man's eventual silence as he thumped on the ground, asleep.
It was just as you snapped out of it did you notice the policeman's body slumped on the ground and beside him, rose petals fluttered on the pavement floor.
Not wanting to stay any longer in the dark alley, you ran away as far as you could, even dropping a few of the things you bought behind.
Meanwhile, on a nearby roof, two men looked at the now knocked out policeman with a disappointed sigh.
"This is why the people don't trust us when we pretend to be a part of the police."
The green eyed man shook his head before jumping down to take care of the man and hopefully, send hin to jail where he belongs.
Meanwhile, the brown-eyed man beside him could only look at the direction where you ran off to.
'She got away. Though, even if she was a demoness, this is still traumatising for her. Maybe Leonard will understand if we wait a few days before continuing the investigation.'
"This is not normal."
You always knew that you are quite the unlucky gal.
Ever since you were born, you have always been an awkward klutz who's only defining trait was her face. You have long accepted that, after all, but it definitely got worse over the years.
However, nowadays? You have never felt safer.
Whenever you bump into a man whom you have offended before and wanted immediste revenge, you would suddenly find them knocked out, giving you time to run.
When you wake up in the morning, you would find yourself safe and tucked away in bed when you used to be a terrible sleepwalker who would probably be dead if it was not for your worried neighbours.
It was small instances like these that almost made you forget the fact that your two stalkers have not stopped. Well, eventually you let it be.
You are a woman with a lot of things in her mind and two men who do not seem to want your death or pain in some way yet? Yeah, you would put that thought for later.
Meanwhile, Klein and Leonard are not as amused or enthusiastic to say the least.
"Why...why is she this unlucky?"
The Seer panted as he caught up to Leonard who was on your tail once more. For the last five days, he felt even more drained than he ever was in this past month.
'Was all her luck poured into the beauty category so none are remained for everything else?!'
It made the Nighthawk gaunt just thinking about the experiences he and Leonard had went through for the past few days.
From divining your every choice in choosing a street to go through, to the green eyed poet saving you from aggressive stall owners whom you offended to even more aggressive men who you rejected. To even at times guarding you in the middle of the damn night to ensure you were alive.
Goddess, it felt like babysitting an adult child.
The poet, who is just as tired yet hid much better, looked at Klein with an unsure and stiff smile.
"After today, I wanna request Captain to stop tailing her and find a new suspect cause we are not paid enough for this."
The romantic air around the Nighthawk seemed to vanish under the pretense of almost having no sleep and always having to drain his spirituality just to ensure you were alive.
And besides, for this past days, you never did anything suspicious. No hidden meetings, hidden places, and unknown people in any activities you went through.
So what if you are a demoness at this point? Maybe, even the Demoness Sect abandoned you because of how clumsy and death prome you are.
And this means, they can let go of you too after today.
Until, everything changed.
You were about to head out for a last minute grocery run when suddenly, you felt a hand wrap around your waist, your back hitting something or rather, someone warm.
"Hello, dear. Oh, how much I missed my little runaway..."
"N-no...H-Harley..."
There she was, in all her glory as her hands snaked around your chest like you are her toy, her manicured hand clasping your jaw with a force that made your knees shake.
Harley was a rather...interesting case of obessiveness for you. Even with all her beauty and charm, in the end, she never used them to get with men with money or power.
Which you did respect, if only she was not always tailing you.
To say she was obsessive and possessive was an understatement. Back when you were still in college when you met her, she always ensured to pick you up and send you home herself.
Always inserting herself in your business and pushing herself to charm you into a relationship which you always back out on seeing as you did not like her that way.
But, she was insistent. Always telling you that she was sure you both were 'destined for each other' or that she will treat you unlike any other man or woman will.
Which in turn, made you even more scared of her. Until, her words turned into action.
Any guy who so much as talked to you, suddenly falling ill or collapsing suddenly, their expressions as if they were tortured. When Harley was beside you in walks, any guy who so much as smiled at you would get a loud punch from her, which always made you flinch in fear and sadness.
You did not want innocent people to get hurt, but in Harley's eyes even an innocent smile was worthy of her wrath.
So, you ran away. Dropped out of college and hid away. You did not want to take chances, and from rumors, you think she may have been using black magic to hurt others.
However, now, here she was again. Standing before you, ever so beautiful and elegant with her long black hair and green eyes, staring down at you with obsessive lust.
"Why did you run away? I love you, and you know that. Yet, you disregard me? Is that how you repay someone who gave you everything?"
"Please, Harley. You...you can have everything back. I don't want them. You deserve someone who would return your affection-"
"NO! YOU WILL LOVE ME! AND I WON'T STOP UNTIL- AGH!"
A gunshot.
In a blink, Harley's beautiful face contorted in pain as she held her now bleeding arm. As if on instinct, she grabbed your arm and pulled you behind her. Her arms extended on her sides as if preparing for battle.
The door to your house was knocked over as an old looking man in a black coat with light brown hair and grey eyes that seemed to be in a constant state of tiredness and peacefulness.
He stared coldly at Harley, flicking a charm at her which seemed to make the woman slow down and soften her stance.
Before you could process more of what was happening, the window behind you shattered and you found yourself in the arms of the black haired and green-eyed man.
"Y-you...!"
The man blinked at your exclamation before giving a charming smile as if a literal fight to the deaths was not happening behind you both.
Immediately, he jumped out of the window, you still in hus arms as he landed on the dark alleyway beside the apartment.
Before you can say anything, his green eyes sharpened at the sight of something around your neck. It was a pendant, and from closer look, it seemed that the spirituality they were sensing was not coming from you but from the item.
With his gloved hand, he grabbed the golden pendant before tugging it off of you, ensuring that the tug would not harm you in any way before throwing it up.
In a blink, the other man he was with who had black hair and brown eyes ran up in front of him and catching the pendant before shoving it inside a black luggage bag he was holding with the symbol of the Evernight Goddess engraved on it.
"W-what's happening?!"
"Everything will be alright, Miss. Just...trust us."
'Right...as if you both have not been stalking me for the past few days!'
Shaking the thoughts off your head, you let them run due to the fact you did not have much of a choice.
Once the two hit the main road, the long haired man immediately led you inside a carriage before they ran back to the site where Harley was likely still fighting off that man.
'What's going on? I'm so confused...'
"We apologise for the inconvenience, Miss."
The man, who introduced himself as Dunn Smith, a high-ranking officer of the police immediately talked to you alongside his other co-workers and began apologizing.
Mainly because of the mess that is now your apartment, but truly, you really did not mind. After all, Harley has been a problem you have been dealing with for so long.
Though, you of course, do not want her to die, it seemed to be the only choice seeing as she was fighting off the authorities. So, you gave a smile at the officers and shook your head.
"Its okay, really! I should thank all of you for helping me! Harley has been...the reason why most of my life is in shambles and I thought I would be stuck in such a place for so long until you guys came along. So um, thank you! May the Goddess bless you all!"
As if the surroundings turned into mush and flowers, the non-Beyonders and newbies of the police task felt their cheeks redden at the smile you gave.
As if sensing the charm you exuded, the green-eyed man who introduced himself as Leonard seemed to laugh which went unnoticed by you but not by Klein who was beside him.
"She is definitely weirder than a Beyonder. Where is that charm coming from, I wonder?"
'You're the one making it weird, Leonard. This has always been the rules of life. Sigh, pretty people do have it all.'
Klein lampooned before running off to meet up with you, with an ever so gentlemanly smile.
"We're sorry for all the trouble these past few days, Ms. L/n. It was just the investigation that needed it."
"You...you knew that I knew?"
'It was quite obvious from the way you always alert and looked twice at our directions.'
Klein thought but did not say. He was actualy quite impressed that a regular citizen like you is that skilled when it came to tracking them down. It was definitely a skill that not many ordinary people had.
Though, seeing the reaction most people had towards you, it was probably a necessity you had to pick up.
"Um, anyways. I don't mind it at all, Mister Moretti. All is well that ends well."
It was awkward for a few moments, after all, Klein was ever inexperienced when it came to talking with a lady, much less a beautiful one at that.
With a small bow, he was about to leave when he felt a hand grasp the sleeve of his coat.
"Wait-! Oh-um..."
"Yes?"
Klein was a bit shocked at the sudden touch, as he turned his face to you, who was also just as shocked and flustered at your actions.
"S-sorry, um...I just wanted to ask...about my pendant."
"O-oh sorry, we can't really return it-"
"No, no, no! I mean, can I ask if it could have harmed me in the long run?"
He was shocked at your question. The Nighthawks did not have to hypnotize you in anyway due to the fact that Leonard managed to carry you away before you saw any of the supernatural exchange between the Captain and Harley.
However, this question, it made it seem like you understood to some degree that the pendant you had was not as simple as just an accessory.
Though, Klein did want to avoid the conversation from turning into one that discussed Beyonders. After all, you are a normal citizen who should not concern herself with the difficulties of the supernatural.
So, he gave a warm smile.
"It was a way for Harley to track you down. It had some type of mechanism built inside of it. We took it to give to the people of the Church of Steam and Machinery to tinker with for even more confirmation. In a way, it would have indeed harm you if it stayed with you for long, Miss L/n."
It was really a half-truth. Harley did use it to track you down, but instead of it being a mechanism, it was a cursed charm that ensured eyes on you at all times.
If the demoness wanted to, it could injure or kill people around the vicinity as a means of protecting you. Though, it could be volatile since it could turn around and hurt you in the crossfire as well.
The spirituality of the object was just too powerful for something like that to be a guarantee. Still, you seemed to accept his explanation as you nodded, a small frown-like pout on your glossy lips.
"Okay...thank you, have a nice day, Mr. Moretti. Please tell everyone in your team goodluck in their other cases as well."
"Of course, thank you for your kind words, Miss."
With a tip of his hat, the man finally walked off to where the rest of the Nighthawks and police were waiting for him as they watch you wave them goodbye with a hint of elegance and freedom.
As he entered the carriage, he could not help the chuckle leaving him as he watched one of the policeman looking at your direction wistfully.
Dunn Smith, who was beside him sighed before snapping the policeman out of his stupor.
"Focus."
"S-sorry, Captain."
"Sigh, do forgive me, Klein, Leonard, for getting the details of the case wrong. I really should have vetted it properly."
'I can't blame you though, Captain. I thought she was a member of the Demoness Sect too. Like...a really powerful one at that.'
Looking at Leonard who leaned away from the carriage window, he seemed to mirror Klein's thoughts as he looked at Dunn.
"No, we made a mistake as well, Captain. It's all good. We just have to accept that Ms. L/n really is just a lucky lady whom the Creator smiled at when making her."
It was some sort of poetic joke, yet, there was a hint of respect that oozed out of the poet's tone, one that Klein himself felt for you.
'After all, beauty can be a curse sometimes.'
Life had been much better.
It had been a day since the whole incident with Harley happened and it felt quite nice to not constantly look behind your back anymore.
Feeling more energized, you found yourself baking a few treats until you heard a knock on the door, which confused you since you really do not have much visitors you welcomed. Unless, of course, it was one of those unwelcomed visitors.
"I hope not or else my mood will be ruined."
With a sigh, you opened the door only to find that it was not one of the many insistent suitors you had, but instead a familiar green-eyed officer who had that romantic smile.
"Mr. Mitchell? How may I help you?"
"A good afternoon to you, Miss L/n. Captain sent me here to do a check-up. I think he had already informed you that Harley belongs in an illegal organization and we really do not want you being targeted by them, now do we?"
"Of course...um, please do come in, if you have the time."
You welcomed the man in, feeling a bit sheepish since you have yet to fully clean the destruction that happened yesterday, so you had no choice but to lead him in the dining area insstead since it was less affected by the fight.
"Thank you for the hospitality. Though, this check-up will just be a quick interviee if you do not mind."
"Please go ahead."
Most of the questions were pretty standard. Him asking you if any suspicious visits in the area have occured or you encountering suspicious people which you have not experinced at all.
And just lile he said, it all went pretty smoothly until he questioned you on the backstory between you and Harley.
"I met her in my college days. I thought she was my friend but she wanted more from me...she treats me like I'm her doll and lover at the same time. And, she didn't really respond well when I say no to her whims. So I hid away, broke contact with everyone I knew and went into hiding until yesterday...I really am thankful for you and your team, you know? I feel free."
You smiled, nervously playing with your fingers while recounting the tale. Leonard just returned your smile, his smug one softening a bit.
"Why of course. It is our job after all to care for the people of Tingen. Hmm, I must say, for someone of her beauty, she sure can be quite possessive of someone who she finds is even more beautiful, hmm?"
"Oh...no. She's more charming than I am. And she knows how to use it. I...I really did not understand why she was so hooked to me too. She introduced me to some of her friends and they were even more charming, so I was so...confused and tired."
"Maybe, it was more than your beauty she found charming."
"What...?"
Someone like Harley saw something deeper in you than just your beauty? Someone who is so obsessive and shallow as her? But Leonard continued.
"I don't mean it in a good way, Miss L/n. But in a way that she probably liked how submissive you were to her advances. People like her really like feeling in power and dominant, and the fact that someone of your caliber felt inferior to her probably boosted her ego in a way."
"I...I guess. I never thought of that. I just...I guess I was always used to people liking me for being...a pretty face. Maybe you understand that too, Mister Mitchell."
Did he? Yes, Leonard knew he was not bad looking at all. But it was never something he thought too deeply about for he had many people around him that valued strength more than beauty.
So, something trivial like that has never been a problem for him. However, as a female living a normal life where beauty mattered, it probably became a burden to you.
He was not one to care about deeper societal constructs, but that did not mean he did not observe them. The importance a lot of people placed on beauty is quite daunting.
And so, you probably have been the center stage of that large wave.
You are not rich by any means, from the background checks they made, your family was gone too. No one was there to protect you but yourself, and that was quite...intimidating to say the least.
"I guess so. However, there is more to life than beauty and I think you are on the right path for acknowledging that deeply, Miss Y/n."
"Oh-"
The male stood up from the chair and put on his hat, and with one final smile waved off his goodbye to you that you reciprocated.
'That girl seems to be trouble. In a way that she cannot control.'
"You think, Old Man?"
'She is trouble because of how she was born. Oh, fate, how cruel you truly are to those who don't deserve it. '
Hehehe I love Volume 1 Klein and Leonard too much. Leonard acted like this smug man that I was actually shocked on how pathetic he is on later volumes lololol
Lord of the Mysteries belongs to Cuttlefish that Loves Diving. Credits to the rightful owner(s).
Request: Yes / No No clue if this has been requested before but...temperature play with Leonard Snart??❄️Anon
Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night
Leonard Snart x Fem!Reader
Word count: 1449
Warnings: SMUT! Temperature play!
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The wind howled outside as snowflakes danced through the air, blanketing Central City in a soft layer of white. Inside our cozy apartment, Snart adjusted the thermostat, glancing over at me. I was curled up on the couch, a warm blanket wrapped around me. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows that played across the walls.
“Are you cold, babe?” He asked, a teasing glint in his icy blue eyes as he approached me. I looked up at him, a playful smile tugging at my lips.
“Not yet, but I might be soon.” With a smirk, Leonard knelt down beside me, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the blanket.
“Let’s change that.” He leaned in closer, his breath sending shivers down my spine.
“I have a little game in mind… Temperature play.” My heart raced at the thought. I loved when he took charge, loved the way he made me feel both excited and safe.
“Okay…” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath. His eyes darkened with desire.
“You trust me, don’t you?”
“Always.”
“Good. Undress.” he said, his voice low and commanding. He slowly pulled the blanket away, exposing me to the cool air of the room. I started undressing as he watched.
“Let’s see how well you handle the cold.”
With that, he stood and walked over to the freezer, pulling out a few ice cubes. I watched him, anticipation building as he returned, the ice clinking in my palm. He knelt beside me again, his fingers gently caressing my cheek before trailing down my neck, sending shivers through my body.
“Close your eyes.” He instructed softly. I complied, my heart pounding in my chest. I could feel the coolness of the ice as he pressed it against my collarbone. The sensation sent jolts of pleasure mixed with a hint of discomfort through me.
“Leonard…” I gasped, my body instinctively arching towards him.
“Shh.” He murmured, I could hear the grin on his face.
“Let me take care of you.” He continued to move the ice along my skin, exploring my shoulders, then down my arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. I could feel the chill creeping deeper, but it was paired with a warmth that radiated from the control I held.
“You’re doing so well.” He praised, his voice smooth as silk.
“Just relax and let the cold take over.” As he pressed the ice against my stomach, I quivered, biting my lip to stifle my moans. The contrast of the cold against my warm skin was intoxicating and I found myself sinking deeper into the sensation, surrendering completely to him.
“Now, let’s add a little heat.” He said, his tone shifting as he tossed the ice aside and cupped my face in his hands. He leaned in, his lips brushing against mine. They were warm and inviting, contrasting sharply with the ice. I melted into him, the warmth of his mouth igniting my senses. Our lips moved together, and I could feel his hands trailing down my body, igniting every nerve ending as he explored my curves.
“Do you want more?” He asked, pulling back slightly to look into my now open eyes.
“Yes…” I breathed, my voice shaky with need.
“Then I’ll give you what you crave.” He kissed me deeply, pouring all his dominance into the kiss as he pressed my back against the couch, his body hovering over mine.
He reached for another ice cube, holding it against my thigh. The chill contrasted with the heat of his body pressed against mine. I moaned into his mouth, my body arching up as he dragged the ice along my skin, teasing and tantalizing.
“Leonard, please…” I whimpered, craving more of the warmth and pleasure that only he could provide.
“Please what?” He teased, his breath hot against my ear as he continued to play with the ice, moving it closer to my most sensitive spots.
“Please… don’t stop.” I gasped, my body trembling with anticipation. With a wicked grin, he tossed the ice aside and focused on me. His hands and mouth explored every inch of my body, igniting a fire within me that melted away the cold.
“Just let go.” He commanded softly, and I obeyed. I surrendered to the sensations as he worshipped me with his lips and hands, bringing me to the edge and back again.
Leonard’s fingers, calloused yet precise, brushed against my thigh sending a ripple of goosebumps across my skin. He held the glistening ice cube between his thumb and forefinger, its edges already softening from the heat of his touch.
“You’re trembling. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through the stillness.
“Let’s see how much you can take.” With deliberate slowness, he trailed the ice upward, the cold biting into the tender flesh of my inner thigh. My breath hitched, a sharp gasp escaping my lips as the sensation teetered between pleasure and sting. He paused, hovering just shy of where I ached most, his eyes locking onto mine with a wicked intensity.
“You ready for this, babe?” He murmured, the faintest hint of a challenge laced into his tone. Before I could answer, he pressed the ice cube against me, slipping it past my folds with a deft, teasing nudge. The shock of cold hit me like a jolt, my hips bucking involuntarily as the ice settled inside, melting against my heat.
“Leonard!” I cried out, my voice a raw mix of surprise and need, my fingers digging into the couch.
“Shhh, just feel it.” He soothed, though his grin betrayed his delight at my reaction. He shifted closer, his knees sinking into the couch as he positioned himself above me. His dark jacket hung open, revealing the taut lines of his chest beneath a fitted black shirt, the fabric clinging to his frame like a second skin. His hands gripped my hands, steadying me as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear.
“You’re so damn perfect like this.” He growled, the words dripping with possession. With a fluid motion, he unfastened his belt, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet room. His jeans slid down just enough to free himself, his cock already hard and straining, the tip glistening faintly in the firelight. He didn’t rush, he never did. Instead, he dragged the moment out, letting the anticipation coil tighter inside me. The ice was melting fast now, a cool trickle seeping out, mingling with my own slickness as he pressed himself against me.
“Fuck, you’re soaked.” He muttered, almost to himself, his voice rough with hunger.
Then he thrust in, slow and deep, the heat of him clashing with the fading chill of the ice. I moaned, loud and unrestrained. My body arched to meet his as he filled me completely. His hands slid up my sides, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts, before a palm flattened against my stomach, pinning me in place.
“That’s it.” He rasped, his pace quickening, each thrust deliberate and forceful. The wet sounds of our bodies colliding filled the air, underscored by the crackle of the fire and my ragged breathing. His lips parted, a low groan escaping as he watched me writhe beneath him.
“You feel that?” He asked, his voice a husky whisper.
“Hot and Cold, all at once, just for you.” He shifted his angle, hitting deeper, and I felt the pressure build, a delicious ache that spread from my core outward. The melted ice dripped down my thighs, pooling on the couch, its faint chill lost in the overwhelming heat of him.
“Leonard, I-” My words dissolved into a whimper as he drove harder, his grip tightening on my hips.
“Don’t hold back.” He commanded, his tone sharp and urgent.
“Let me hear you.” His thumb found my clit, circling with a roughness that sent sparks through me and I shattered, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crashed over me. He didn’t stop, riding me through it. His own breath grew jagged until he followed, a guttural ‘Fuck’ spilling from his lips as he came. His release was hot and thick inside me.
He collapsed forward, bracing himself on his forearms, his chest heaving as he pressed his forehead to mine. The fire popped beside us, casting golden flickers across his sharp features.
“You’re something else.” He murmured, a rare softness breaking through his usual edge. His fingers traced lazy circles on my thigh, smearing the mix of ice water and us into my skin as if marking me as his. The storm raged on outside, but in here, with him, the world was nothing but heat and shadow.
TMNT2012 Hamato Leonardo x Reader - Gingerbread House
Summary: You convince Leo to indulge in one of your favorite topside traditions.
Warnings: pure fluff, Leo not understanding much about Christmas, really short/rushed
"So...you build cookie houses to show appreciation for your elders?" Leo deduced, staring a the gingerbread house kit scattered about on the coffee table.
"Not exactly," you giggled. "It's kinda just something you do with people you love to bond with them and get into the festive spirit."
"Oh," he said, tilting his head. "But why?"
"Because it's fun?" You loved sharing your human traditions with the turtles, and usually, they liked indulging you, but Leo just couldn't wrap his head around this one. He'd do it though, because he loved you and your weird traditions. "First, we have to build the house, then we can decorate it."
"Then we eat it?" He asked, hoping he was finally on the right track.
"No, silly! Then we display it with the other decorations." you corrected with a laugh.
"But then Mikey'll eat it..."
-----
"Okay, Okay, hold it steady..." you instructed with bated breath as you carefully drug the tip of the icing bag across the seem of the roof. "I just gotta-"
Suddenly, the entire structure fell in, not only in the pieces it came as, but in many more, very jagged and crumbly ones. It soon became obvious that Leo had been holding them a little too well, his calloused fingers crushing the cookies. Silence fell over the living room.
"I-I'm-" he stuttered, incredibly remorseful for ruining your favorite holiday tradition. "I-I'm so so sorry, (Y/N)..."
Your shoulders simply slumped and you laid your hand on his. "It's alright Leo," you comforted. "I'm not mad, I promise. I won't say I'm not a little disappointed, but I'm not angry in the slightest."
"I didn't mean to ruin it..." he muttered, gaze downcast.
"Hey, hey! No, you didn't ruin it!" you stressed, cupping his cheek and pulling his attention toward you. "I just meant I'm disappointed you won't get to see it all put together is all!" After a few moments more of trying to soothe your guilty boyfriend, you got an idea. "Hey, hope about we switch gears?"
"What do you mean?" he asked, his sapphire eyes finally meeting yours willingly.
"What if we turn on some Christmas movies, and we can eat the pieces and the candy while we watch?"
"But I thought you said the gingerbread wasn't for eating?" he asked, tilting his head again.
You smiled at him warmly and pulled him into a hug. "Sometimes, you have to change your traditions a little when you share them with someone new."
Summary: Never listen to your gut. It just might ruin something beautiful.
Rating/Tags: T (referenced Sheldon & Leonard; high school teacher!reader; lit teacher!reader)
Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.
Tag List: @imaginesfire
Early
It wasn’t every day that a scientist from Cal Tech deigned to speak to a high school English teacher while said teacher pored over historical fiction in the local bookshop. Cal Tech was big. Cal Tech was smart. Cal Tech was–well, to put it lightly, a lot of the people from there came off as a little snooty to the rest of your kind. So when the adorable guy you saw getting coffee there almost every week came up to you, you were surprised to find he worked at Cal Tech. You’d been even more surprised when he’d stammered out a request for a date later in the week.
Not that you’d come off as much cooler with your hasty, embarrassed acceptance. It wasn’t like guys were just falling over themselves to ask the local lit teacher out to dinner. Leonard had bumbled off toward a skinny guy that only looked annoyed, only to hurry back to give you his phone number. All while you stood there clutching a stack of biographies on Abraham Lincoln.
In the four days that followed, you often wondered why you had agreed to go. You had not been on a real date since college. It was hard to find the time when you were so busy grading essays and drawing up quizzes over The Lord of the Flies. And what did someone that worked at Cal Tech want to hear about weak excuses for papers on symbolism?
You had talked to Leonard for five whole minutes. That seemed about as much as someone at his level would be able to deal with someone at yours. Now, standing in your shower and dripping soap from the ends of your fingers, you wondered if you shouldn’t just text him and call the whole thing off.
The battle raged inside you, back and forth, back and forth, for the duration of your bathing. Standing underneath the stream of water, you argued that you could handle one date, and clearly he liked you. You had noticed him watching you before, on other trips to that same bookstore. Scrubbing at your skin with a loofah, you told yourself that that was probably a sign of him being some creep or perhaps even a serial killer. By the time you’d finished your shower, you were too anxious to think straight. Even if Leonard had meant to ask you out, he wasn’t going to find you in your right mind that afternoon.
Maybe, you thought with a spurt of hope, he had decided to cancel. Yes, that seemed likely. There might have been some emergency at his school that required his scientific expertise. He wouldn’t be able to use your date as an excuse to stay away. Just rescheduling would be enough. Then perhaps you could get your head back on straight before you had to see him again.
Unfortunately, your cell phone remained where you had left it charging in the kitchen, forcing you to endure your nervousness for as long as it took to dry your skin and slip on a robe. Only then could you exit the bathroom in search of relief.
It was quiet in your apartment, something unusual for the summer. As you passed the window, you saw some of the complex children tossing water balloons at one another in the parking lot below. You almost wished you could join them. It seemed so much less stressful than your current situation. This was all you could think about for a few more steps, until walking past your front door caused you to notice a shadow sitting on the bench nearby it.
It was only walking past again a few seconds later with your sadly voicemail-less phone that the shadow's presence really registered. It was vaguely human-shaped and had been there so long that it could not be someone dropping off a package. Your heart leaped into your mouth as unbidden thoughts of a lurker or an intruder paraded through your mind. There you were, all alone, on a sunny Saturday afternoon. The likelihood of a neighbor hearing your cries for help wasn’t very high, and what help would those kids be?
You stood there, watching. The shadow sat there, unmoving.
On tiptoes, you turned on the spot and slunk back to your room. Wedged between the nightstand and the back wall was an aluminum baseball bat kept for this very reason.
You wrapped your fingers firmly around the bat’s handle, then slunk back to the front door. Whoever was out there was still sitting in the exact same spot as before. It appeared that they were waiting for you to answer the door, perhaps to head to your car to leave for your date. Well, you’d be giving them what they wanted, wouldn’t you? Plus some brain damage.
You flung the door open and didn’t hesitate.
The form jumped–and thank goodness added a “holy crap!” for good measure. The voice was familiar. You stopped with your bat still in the air over your shoulder.
“Huh?” you said intelligently.
On his feet and cowering against the bricks was none other than your date. Leonard squinted at the raised bat in your hands, his arms held up to beat off your attack–an attack that now wouldn’t come.
You gasped as you dropped the bat onto the welcome mat. “Leonard?”
“Uh, yeah, hi?” His voice tremored upward into a question. “I can leave, if you want me to.”
“No, no, I–what are you doing here?”
To your surprise, Leonard blushed bright red. “I, well…are you sure you don’t want to just smack me with your bat? It might put me out of my misery.”
“Misery?” you echoed.
He looked away and began to play with his fingers. For a few seconds, you thought he was going to answer. Then he bunched his shoulders up around his ears, only to force them down with what appeared to be great effort. This effort was nothing compared to what it took him to speak, however: “I–well, I was excited for our date. So I headed out, and I sort of…ended up here. An hour and a half early.”
“You just…ended up here?”
“I was excited,” he repeated. “I-I did get you flowers.”
Hastily, Leonard bent, picked something up, and held out a small bouquet, wilted slightly in the California heat. They’d been sitting on the bench with him the whole time. If you’d seen those, you wouldn’t have gone after him with a baseball bat. Probably. In the wake of your mute acceptance of this gift, he squirmed again.
“I stopped and did that. Still showed up early. I can leave, if you want. Probably don’t want to…huh?”
He trailed away at your trembling. That was the final straw. Seeing his dark eyes narrow uncertainly at you through the lenses of his glasses had you laughing fit to burst. Almost hesitantly, Leonard smiled back.
“Did I say something funny?” he asked.
“No…No, sorry,” you said, straightening as you rubbed the moisture from your eyes. “I just thought you were going to cancel on me.”
“Cancel? Why would I do that? I’ve been looking forward to this all week!”
“You can’t have!”
You had meant this (mostly) in jest. Leonard’s stiffening made plain that he had not taken it this way. Your grin faded.
“Well, I mean…” Why had you brought this up to begin with? You were afraid he thought you were stupid, and now he absolutely would. “I’m just…I’m me. And you work at Cal Tech.”
“Have you seen the people at Cal Tech?” Leonard asked. “Believe me. You’re the better deal.”
You offered him a shy smile. Maybe it could have been bigger, except the heat was starting to get to you. It had to be getting to him, too, in that jacket of his. “Would you like to come in?”
“Oh, I–uh, I don’t really want to interrupt. I can just wait out here. It’s–it’s no big deal.”
“Leonard.”
He stopped fidgeting enough to look up at you, mouth slightly agape.
You smiled wider as you pulled the door open a bit. “I just need to take care of my hair. You can have some coffee at my table before we go. I really don’t mind,” you added at what looked to be an argument forming on his lips. After all, you were still in your robe, and those kids in the parking lot were beginning to stare.
He looked toward the open door, eyes darting from you to the living room and back. “If–If you insist.” Slipping past you into the air conditioning, Leonard twisted toward you with a smile of his own. “I thought you would cancel with me. My neighbor says I’m a freak!”
You smiled into your flowers. Maybe Leonard was a freak. Most guys didn’t turn up an hour and a half early for a first date. If he was a freak, though, he was a freak in the right way. He wanted to be there. He hadn’t asked you out on some dare from his beanpole of a companion. Even better, he thought more of you than the geniuses at his school.
Forgetting your fears from earlier, you found a vase for your bouquet and coffee for Leonard, then headed back to the bathroom to finish getting ready. Funny how this took even longer now that you were enthusiastic about your date than it had when you’d been dreading it. That might have had something to do with stopping every five minutes to ask Leonard question, but he wasn’t complaining–and neither were you.
Summary: You and Bones slip away from the Enterprise New Years celebration for some peace and quiet.
Warnings: N/A it's pure fluff
It was a moment of bliss for you, the lights were dimmed and you could feel the tension of the last couple weeks slowly melting away from you. Your shoulders relaxed as you leaned into his chest, the doctors arms wrapped around you in a tight and comforting embrace, your head on his chest and arms around his waist.
This had been exactly what both of you needed after the new years celebration. As much as you enjoyed your co workers company there was only so much converaation and mixed noise that you could take.
Leonard understood this, he was always attentive and knew when you needed to escape a situation to recharge or just be left alone and you were grateful for it. Sure you'd have to answer the captins jetting questions tomorrow but it would be fine and honestly a bit fun if you were being truthful a ith yourself.
As you felt your eyelids start to get heavy you glanced over at the clock on your nightstand just in time for the numbers to flip and hit 00:00. A small smile made its way to your lips as you tilted your head up to look at Leonard and your eyes locked with each other.
Then he kissed you, briefly and sweetly as sleep overtook the both of you in eachothers arms.
