#-came up was years ago. he holds onto his last name as part of the heritage he loves and loathes at the same time - attached to his culture-

[buttercup-barf]

Under the cut are mostly self-insert doodles of decreasing quality. Again, not much directly tied to Team Fortress 2. Might as well toss these out while I have no access to my puter. Much yapping under the cut and in the tags incoming.

Another self-insert, this time less of a "here's me as a tenth class" and more of a "here's my game experiences translated into the class I would take the place of". The Cleaner. Although I guess they could still be wearing either suit. It doesn't matter that much.

That one Convict's Case taunt with Backup would be extremely funny, because the man would be on the verge of a breakdown (he does not want to go to jail so bad you have no idea). The second image- I owe no explanation. You know what I am. You see the pattern with my favourites.

The duality of the man. Resting face versus "just heard you express interest in religion/Russian folklore" face. He's not that hard to make friends with, when you pull him away from all the explosions.

Some doodles of trying to figure his face out. Unfortunately, the more I stare at him, the more I worry that he looks like A Certain Guy With The Last Name "Kazarin", and the fear of never being original in my life caught up to me.

Don't look at me, don't perceive me, I refuse to explain any of my actions to you.

[ohnogemini]

Are You Sure?

Hello, the name is Gem ✧⭑๋

This is the first fic I have ever written, and I have been sitting on it for a few months entirely too nervous to post it. I know typically fics tend to be short but this one flew out of me and I could not stop. I would love to hear your feedback and thoughts however please be nice to me for I am but a ｡⋆୨soft baby୧⋆｡ I hope you enjoy my story that came to me after watching every video of Lee Minho going camping over and over again ᵔᴗᵔ

✶ Word Count: 13k

★ Genre: !afab reader x Lee Minho

✹ Rating: Explicit 18+ Minors Do Not Enter

★ Comments: Tropes used: oops one bed; friends to lovers. Fluff and yearning. Slow to smut but it gets there. Felix and Seungmin make an appearance. M & F receiving oral ; unprotected consensual sex ; light spanking ; some cursing.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪.

You're sitting on your hands, with your feet hanging off the dock looking out onto the clear lake before you. The water is still enough that you can see your reflection when you look over the edge. You pull a hand from under you and absentmindedly put a strand of hair back behind your ear.

The air is warm, but the shade from the tree nearest to you is covering the top half of your body and you silently thank it for shielding your head from the beating sun. You feel the vibrations of movement on the deck before you hear the footsteps and you're immediately reminded of the knot in your stomach, the tension in the air that has been pulling at you for the last 20 hours.

You're aware that you've been sitting here by yourself for a while but cannot place how long that could have possibly been. The footsteps approach and stop next to you; glancing down to your right you see his sandaled feet and slowly trail up to see his half smile, left side of his lip curled and his eyes looking soft and half closed.

He's dressed differently now than when you parted with the guys and came to sit at the dock. Soft black shorts, a black shirt with the sleeves cut off, a baseball hat sits on his head barely revealing fading blond hair around the tips of his ears. He's holding a small wicker basket, though you can't see its contents.

"Hi, Minho" you say softly - as your eyes fall back to your lap, curling your hands around the hem of your shorts. He chuckles a little.

"Would you like one?" You hear him grab something and the sound of a glass clinking together. You look back up and see he's holding out a bottle of soju, your favorite flavor.

You pretend to read a watch on your wrist that you don't have - " I suppose now is as good a time as any. "

You try to shine a sincere smile up at him and hope he doesn't catch that your joke may have a double meaning. You grab the bottle from him; he moves a little bit forward and gracefully but forcefully plops himself down over the edge next to you, quickly realizing he has slips on and pulling them off and setting them down next to him, along with the basket. Minho grabs another bottle and two tiny clear cups and offers you one with a sly grin and kind eyes.

You shake your head, "Thank you, but I don't think I'll need that at the moment". Twisting the cap off your bottle, you hold it out to him for a cheers.

His smile softens a little, air blowing out of his nose like he's trying not to judge you and clinks your glasses together. You turn straight ahead again and pull a long swig from the bottle relishing in the sweet taste of strawberries. He opens his and takes a long swig too, opting to go the same route as you perhaps to ease the tension or maybe he needs it, too.

A silence falls around you and him. It's gentle but the quiet tension is still there from last night and this morning. He's sitting a little closer than you had expected him to. A flash from last night pings through your head and you wince at the thought.

It's been 5 months since you last saw him. Although you text quite often, and he calls you occasionally to check in, just like he always has since you met him 4 years ago- the distance has grown recently and become a little harder for you, even though you'd never admit it. Last time you spoke on the phone he invited you to this vacation.

You were a little nervous at the thought of tagging along with him and a few of his roommates on a camping trip, but you couldn't fight the need to be by his side again, so you accepted.

Every day, thoughts spin in your head about him. Each time the feelings become more vivid, more real, and precise. The corner of his lips when he smirks. How his entire face lights up, head tilts back and eyes crease when he laughs at one of your dumb jokes. No matter how desperately you try, the images and thoughts always fight their way to the surface.

"Neulbo..." His voice is incredibly soft and teasing, trailing the nickname out a little long but it snaps you out of the small trance you were in. You look over to him with a squint of pretend aggravation. He lets out a loud, quick couple of punctuated ‘hahas' and smacks his knee. He knows the nickname annoys you but not in a bad way. It’s true, you are lazy, but only because you like to enjoy the little things in life.           

              Just like this moment.

"Have you reconsidered my offer to go fishing tomorrow morning? I think you'll be good at it since it doesn't take any skill." He winks. "Plus, it’s a perfect relaxation moment for a little sloth like you. It’s just like what we’re doing right now but - with stinky bait and a pole."

He finishes the last sentence with a cheesy grin, his perfect bunny teeth showing, head tilted a little- like he knows his charms are working on you.

"If it also involves some of this, then I suppose it can't be too bad. But I'm still debating!" You hold up your drink and take another long swig as you look him in the eyes. He doesn't look away as it drops from your lips, and you clasp it in both hands. His face falls to a more serious look and the knot in your stomach swirls.

In your head you're repeating, please don't bring it up, please don't bring it up, please don't bring it up. But he does...

"I'm sorry about last night. Seungmin can be a little instigator and doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut. And it certainly doesn't help that Yongbokie can sometimes be clueless. They mean well but I don't want you to feel uncomfortable during our time here. Only I am allowed to make you feel uncomfortable." He quickly reaches out and pinches your thigh and you let out a squeak.

He's always known how to break the tension in most situations- by making a funny face at you, saying something absolutely random that it catches everyone off guard, or simply screeching in the most ungodly way that everyone bursts out in laughter. This moment is no different.

The tension subsides except for the small pull in your stomach- you're not sure that will ever go away. He's not wrong about Felix either. You've been around him enough to know that his sunshine demeanor and kind soul is no facade. He would never intentionally make you feel awkward.

Seungmin on the other hand... He knew what he was doing. It was already determined during the group text when you guys were planning the trip that you and Minho would share one of the glamping tents while Felix and Seungmin shared the other. It made the most sense since you didn't know the others as well as him. What you didn't know, was that Seungmin had purposefully booked one with two small cots and another with one larger cot. That little shit. And since they got there before you and Minho, they had already picked the one with the two small cots.

After dramatically rubbing your thigh and making an exaggerated frown, you look back up at him,

"Felix is lucky he's so adorable. However, Seungmin is on my shit list."

He punches out a laugh with a fake shocked expression on his face. You continue, "I truly don't mind sharing a room with you, we've done it before. But hiding condoms under the pillow and loudly playing "Let's Get it On" from his phone pressed up against the side of our tent was him digging his own grave."

You smile and laugh a little, taking another sip as he falls back against the dock covering his face with his arm, his nose pressed into his elbow. He's really laughing now. It's pure and loud and makes you laugh harder. You turn your body towards him slightly, fold your right leg and put your elbow on your knee to look at him writhing in laughter.

It truly was funny what Seungmin did, but it did make you extremely aware that you would be sleeping very close to Minho all weekend. You continue to trail your eyes over him as he laughs. First to his perfectly toned arm laying over his face, down his chest that's bouncing softly with each laugh, falling to the slit that his shirt is making right over the top of his shorts giving you the tiniest, thrilling view of his tight stomach muscles, finally to his thighs... strong, thick muscles... perfect to sit on, or even bite... 

The silence rings in your ear a moment and you are acutely aware that he has stopped laughing. Your eyes dart back to his face to see that he’s dropped his arm and was watching while you were very much staring down at his legs.

You see the smallest hint of a smirk across his lips - but you don't linger - and quickly bring your bottle up to slam the rest of your drink. He sighs softly and leans back up to a sitting position. With the way you turned to see him laughing, when he comes all the way upright, the closeness between you two is aggressively narrower than before.

Since this proximity is not new to either of you, you try not to move away so as not to seem startled by the sudden closeness, but your heart is beating rapidly; you hope he can't hear it or sense the tingles that run down your spine when his knee brushes yours. You remind yourself again that this is not abnormal, you've even rested your head on his shoulder a few times while watching a movie on the couch. But something in the air has felt different this weekend. Palpable.

"I suppose the guys will be back in the next half hour or so." He takes another sip of his drink and looks straight out across the lake.

You follow his eyes and take in the sight with him. The sun is just barely starting to fall slowly behind the mountains. This spot truly is serene. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his profile. Sharp but delicate. You turn ever so slightly to pretend you're looking at the oncoming sunset. His skin has become more honey-like since summer has started, and you hadn't noticed before, but he turned his hat backwards. Annoyingly attractive.

Although the lake sits still in front of you there is a faint sound of the river that flows behind the campsite and connects to the lake up above. You feel the heat rise slowly in your stomach but stop yourself. This is Lee Minho, your friend...

You shake out of your thoughts, smile and say, "I bet you 15,000 won Felix tripped and fell at some point."

He turns to you with a mischievous look "I bet you 15,000 more that Min tripped him"- Your hand raises to your lips with big eyes, and you can't help but giggle. His had bolts up and grabs the yours that was covering your mouth, "Let's go hide some of Min’s stuff!" He stands and pulls you up with him.

"I would love nothing more!" you say as you squeeze his hand.

You both remain for a second longer then would be normal with your hands lightly clasped, feeling an approaching heat flush up on your cheekbones, you pull your hand away to secure a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Also, you brought ALL of the soju for us?? Did you expect us to drink all of that just sitting out here?!" you look over his shoulder at the basket he brought. Sure enough, it had a bag at the bottom with ice and 6 bottles of soju sitting in it.

He turns around and points down at the basket "Firstly, that's not ALL the soju we have. But also, I wasn't quite sure how you were feeling. You opted out of the hike and then told us you'd wait by the lake. I figured maybe... if you didn't want to come back, we could sit here and drink heavily until we'd have to crawl to camp later for bed." He looks up with another sneaky half smile and a chuckle in the back of his throat.

His words were playful, but you can't help but notice that lying within those words was concern for you. Was it only concern? Or maybe he wanted to spend some alone time with you? You blink away the thoughts quickly.

"However fun that really does sound, I really want to mess with Minnie, and I am getting pretty hungry." You reach down to grab the basket, but he swats your hand away and wags his finger at you.

" Nuh uhh, my clumsy Neulbo."

You pull the towel tightly around your chest and tuck the top part in between your cleavage. The showers at the campsite are bleak but it got the job done. During your shower your mind continued to betray you. Your thoughts couldn't help wandering towards the way Minho's thighs looked flat against the dock, shivering at the thought of tracing your fingers over the defined muscles...

However, the cold water helped free your mind from the slight fog of the bottle of soju you inhaled while sitting with him at the dock, and your stomach was screaming at this point.

During the group text, Felix had brought up hot dogs for dinner and you were excited at the idea of having an American styled camping dinner. You missed your home but being in Korea for the past 5 years has been the kind of adventure and change your soul really needed. Besides, after meeting Minho a year into your time here everything really fell into place. It was an immediate connection. Both of you being on the more reserved side but still craving adventure, music and food. And damn did Minho know his food.

That's how you know that dinner isn't going to just be hot dogs. If anything, Minho has made at least 10 other side dishes, and you're not mad about that.

You quickly towel dry your hair and slip into your outfit. It’s still decently hot so you picked an oversized graphic tee with the collar and sleeves cut off, so it falls down one shoulder, your bandeau bra shows slightly on the sides, and jean shorts that are a little shorter than you remembered.

"Oh, wow Noona, you're absolutely glowing!" Felix says with a bright smile and a cute wave as you walk back into the opening of your campsite. You stick your tongue out to the side and wink as you pass him by to place your things inside your tent.

Minho had made the bed and even picked your jacket and purse off the ground and put them onto a hook at the back of the tent. You chuckle to yourself and throw your dirty clothes on top of your luggage in the corner, knowing he'll pester you later about your laziness. Right now, you're too hungry and ready for another drink to care.

"That's absolutely not how it works, and you have lost, just accept it." Seungmin is sitting back in a camping chair speaking to Felix who is dramatically waving his hands in the air.

"You can't only suggest word games with me and expect me to ever win a single round. If it was in English, I could win!" Felix stomps over to a large brown bag that they filled with games for the trip and pulls out Jenga. "We're switching to physical games, I'm too soft and tired for your mind games Min".

Pulling a bottle of soju out of the cooler you glance over to Minho who is working studiously over an open fire cooking. He's carefully turning over huge sausages on the grill and using a white towel here and there to wipe beads of sweat from his forehead.

You notice that the table next to him is just as you expect it to be, filled with small plates of Korean meats and side dishes. The man can never go without being extra when it comes to food. You bend back down to pick up another bottle of soju and a water bottle and mosey over to him.

"This looks like thirsty work." You outstretch your left hand that holds both a bottle of soju and water to him.

You can really see the sweat on his face and neck now. A single drip comes down from the corner of his forehead, slowly falling down his cheek to the swoop of his neck; he catches it with the towel pressing it down around his neck and onto the bit of chest that's showing from the top of his shirt.

His eyes blink at the drinks several times in serious thought and grabs both.

"At least someone appreciates my hard work out here." He gives you a small toothy smile and sets the soju down, twisting the water bottle cap off and chugging most of it in one go.

"I haven't seen that shirt in a while. I like what you've done with it." He points the water bottle at your shirt and goes back to drinking it.

You truly didn't think he'd remember giving you this shirt years ago. It was within the first year you guys became close. Being the clumsy person you are, when you were at his apartment you had spilled an entire glass of red wine on your new blouse; he demanded you take it off immediately so he could wash it in cold water and gave you one of his old t-shirts to wear. It was comfy and you liked the design. But you liked it especially because it was his.

"Oh," you chuckle nervously- "I hope you don't mind. You said I could keep it and it felt like the perfect shirt to make into a summer fit." You glance down at the cartoon cats high fiving on the front of the shirt and pull at the bottom hem a little.

"No, no. I don't mind. You somehow turned my old dusty shirt into a thing of fashion. Let's try not to ruin this one too, huh? I couldn't bear the thought of the kitties being thrown into the trash tonight. There is only so much heartache one can go through in life." His playful smirk is back on his lips again as he turns back to the fire to pull the food off the grill and place it on the table.

"Alright you animals, come eat before it gets cold and Lino gets angry!" He clanks the tongs together a few times towards Felix and Seungmin and they are up out of their seats headed to the table before he even finishes the sentence.

The food is outrageous. You can't help but wonder if it's because you're so hungry or purely because Minho can make anything delicious no matter where he is or what supplies he has. The sun had fully set, and you and Felix clicked on all the lamps during dinner. Conversation was fun and easy like it usually is between all of you. You, Felix and Seungmin played rock, paper, scissors to decide who had to take all the trash to the animal safe bins and by no surprise Felix lost.

The drinks flowed swiftly now. The remaining soju was finished, and everyone ripped into the case of beer Seungmin had brought. There was whining and groaning about fishing in the morning, but Minho held firm that everyone had to participate. As the night dwindled, the games became too much of a hassle and eyes grew sleepy, Felix and Seungmin waved half-hearted goodnights as they dragged their feet to their tent.

You were slightly bent over towards a small faucet coming from the ground, rinsing your hands free of some soap and the remnants of dinner and a Jello candy you had for dessert when you're caught off guard by a voice right behind you -

"Are you going to use all the water from the well?" Minho says just above a whisper- your heart jumps and you stumble forward catching the faucet on your hip falling a swift path to landing on your face.

As your stomach flips at the plummet, you feel yourself stop midair. His hand is holding tight to the top of the back of your shorts while the other quickly finds its way right below your belly button to stop your fall. The fear you had a moment ago all at once turns to relief as you dissolve into laughter.

"What the hell Lino, you scared me! How are you so quiet with all these damn twigs everywhere!" You're still giggling quite loudly as you try to straighten yourself up.

The hand holding your shorts lets go warily, but the one on your stomach holds firm helping you get your balance pulling you back up and closer to him. You did not realize you were still a little tipsy, but it is apparent now as you teeter backwards flat against his chest. Both your hands come up to meet his over your belly as it softens from the adrenaline-fueled laughter.

"Someone still seems a little affected by the drinks tonight." His laugh is low, but you can tell by the way it sounds that he has that mischievous smile on his lips again.

He still hasn't made an effort to let go of you and you're unsure if that's because he's nervous to let you go if you might fall or if he's happy to have the sensation of your body pressed up against his and your hands laid gently over his.

"Let's say we take a night stroll by the river. I promise I'll try my best not to push you in no matter how strong the urge is." He squeezes you a little tighter now before grabbing one of your wrists to turn you around and starts to lead the way, not looking back to witness the flush on your cheeks.

The walk to the river’s edge isn’t far. You stopped at the camp to grab another bottle of water before continuing. The short walk was quiet which was not uncommon with you and Minho. Silence never really bothered either of you when you were together. Usually filled with giggles at whatever anime or new movies you happily dived into. Or silent looks and gestures at food or scenery you enjoyed.

But tonight, you wanted him to talk. Even though he spoke plenty with you and the guys at dinner, it was different when it was just the two of you. His voice had this special edge, and his tone would lilt upwards unlike his more serious voice when around others.

"Thanks for making us hot dogs Lino. Even though they were most certainly sausages and not Ball Park Franks like I'd usually have at home." You skipped up next to him with your hands behind your back pushing playfully into his shoulder.

"I've never heard of them, but they sound unhealthy." He looks over at you one eyebrow raised blinking a few times, "I'm confident these were better." He chuckles softly and pushes back into your shoulder.

The sun had set hours ago but there was a clear view of the moon on the other side of the river giving you the perfect amount of light to see his feline eyes patrolling the ground for large rocks and pointing them out or guiding the both of you around them.

You scoff and turn your head up a little at his diss of your favorite guilty pleasure food, that is admittedly not that healthy.

"Not every meal has to be a perfect balance of nutrition you know. People are allowed to enjoy a little junk food once in a while!" You both laugh again, smiling at each other very well knowing you've made midnight runs to the corner store for ice cream plenty of times together.

"Thanks for bringing me on this trip too. I definitely was not expecting the invite." You say this part a little quieter than the last.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?" His response is quick, his tone is matter of fact.

"I guess I just didn't anticipate it at all." You're looking down at your feet now. He looks over at you, but you don't look up.

"Well now you're sounding ridiculous." He says this one through a huff that could have been a laugh. But for some reason you can’t match it. You're not sure why, but you suspect it has something to do with the knot that's still in your stomach, keeping you tethered to some sort of unspeakable tension.

"Either way, I was surprised. I sort of started feeling like you'd forgotten about me." As soon as you said it you felt foolish. He stops dead in his tracks.

"What made you think that?" His voice sounds more serious now than when he was retorting your statements earlier, with a tone of concern as if he thinks he's done something wrong.

You stop too and turn towards him as your hands come up waving in front of your face with your head shaking back and forth. The bottle in your hand has a tiny bit of water left in it and is making a small sloshing sound as your vigorously waving. He reaches up and grabs it, sliding it into his back pocket; the action is done before you can realize it’s happening.

"I just meant that..." you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you calculate the right words to say how you've been feeling but not too acute that you sound crazy. He's looking at you more intently now as he watches you think. Patiently waiting for your response.

You meet his eyes- "Ever since the last time we hung out, when we went to that cafe, you've been sort of more reserved? I'm not sure if that's the right word or if I'm just imagining things."

Your face is flushed now but you're hoping the cover of night is making it hard to see. He squints his eyes slightly and now you can see the gears in his head turning.

His arms come forward and he crosses them in front of him for a moment; then they fall quickly to his sides, and he puts his hands into the front pockets of his sweats. It’s almost as if he found something particular he wanted to say but decided against it.

"If I'm being honest, I didn't realize I had been acting differently." He picks up his hat off his head, combs his hand through his hair, sets it back down on his head and sticks his hands back in his pockets.

You can see clearly now his brows are furrowed. You reach up and cover your eyes with one hand and rub them with your thumb and middle finger realizing now just how stupid it was for you to bring this up,

 "I'm sorry- I didn't mean to make you feel weird." Your hand drops down to see he has a grin back on his face. It's slight and his shoulders are pushed back into a more relaxed position now.

"Nonsense. I'm always weird." His grin widens, curled at the corners more with a small number of teeth showing. It softens when he continues. "But I'm glad you did bring it up because I suppose when I think of it, I have been a little distant and I'm happy to be more aware of it now."

You're not exactly sure what that means but you're too nervous to be direct and ask outright. Is he happy to be aware that he's been distant so he can try to not be? This is the first time in a while you've spoken about something so serious with him so you're unsure how to continue it.

You realize you've been silent for a little longer than anticipated as questions roll around in your head.

Instead of acknowledging his statement out loud you turn and point down the path. "There is a bench up ahead and it’s calling my name."

As you start moving ahead, you hear him chuckle and follow behind you. The air is slightly brisk now. But the heat over your body from the embarrassment of bringing that up makes you wish for a large cool breeze to wash over you.

You reach the bench quickly. It’s made from a log of wood, carved out with an L shape so you can sit and lean back against it. It’s quite small too. Just enough for two people to sit comfortably.

You sit on the farther end pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around your legs as he tosses the water bottle into the trash and sits next to you, legs stretched out in front of him leaning back with his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Ahhhhh" he sighs loudly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath inwards from his nose, his head tilted up at the sky. He looks stunning in this light. His sharp features are softer, more rounded in the low light of the moon. It’s almost as if you're in a black and white film. His eyes stay closed for a moment longer before they open to look at you, looking at him. Your lips press together, turning into a thin line of a barely visible smile.

He quirks one side of his lips up and pulls his hands out of his pockets to clasp them together and place them on his lap.

"So then, what made you decide to come? And don't tell me it was your excitement for fishing because I know that will be a lie," he says with a faux serious look on his face.

A loud laugh bursts from you "You're going to be so mad when I catch the biggest fish out of all of you tomorrow. I know I'm clumsy, but my luck is insurmountable."

You can tell he doesn't deny it by the shake of his head as he returns your laughter. But he doesn't respond, clearly waiting for your real answer. You drop your hands down to your sides and shuffle a bit in your position pulling your legs a little tighter inward towards your body. Thinking back to that initial invitation and the excitement he had when you accepted it, you realize that maybe it's not too serious of a thing to admit that you missed him...

"To be honest, it’s been a while since I had a really good laugh. If feels better when I get to laugh with you instead of at my phone." It's not the whole truth, but it's what you're willing to say at the moment.

"I'm glad I can bring you some relief." He raises his left arm and leans it back on the bench turning his body slightly towards yours. He gives you much more than just relief, but you're not sure how to tell him.

"Well, what made you want to invite me on this trip?" It's time for you to ask the questions.

You look over at him now, keeping your eyes as soft and clear as you can manage despite the craving in your chest to hear certain words come from him, trying desperately not to expect anything. He looks out across the river with a shy smile on his lips and then turns to look you right in the eyes and speaks softly -

"I missed you."

He said it. The thing you were too scared to say. Plain and simple. Your heart stutters a bit as you try not to make a face. Against your wishes your lips part as you take your next breath and then it turns into a smile. He can definitely see the red in your cheeks now because he stares more keenly.

A surge in your stomach flows through you at that moment. Something just clicked and became clear to you that you hadn't noticed before or even thought twice about. How come Seungmin did those things last night?

As far as you can remember, he has never done anything like that before when you we're over at their apartment. Even the times you drifted off to sleep on the couch after staying up too late watching something or talking with Minho. What was different this time?

His last words seem to embolden you for a moment as the next question slips past your lips quicker than you can vet them in your mind. "Did Seungmin do those things last night for a reason?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest now. You really didn't think you'd have the courage to ask that. You went from semi-innocent questions to one with a significant undertone. However he looks a little more nervous than you for a moment.

He chuckles anxiously but you're unsure if it’s at the awkwardness of your question, or at the surprise of what he wants to answer. His pause is drawn out a little longer -

"I told him not to do anything stupid, but you know how he is. When he gets an idea to mess with someone he rarely can be stopped. A while back, he may have figured out something even I wasn't fully conscious of yet."

The implications of his statement are not lost on you. While he's not outright saying what you believe he's thinking, you're quite used to the way he speaks. His eyes search yours; they are a bit darker now, piercing, and you fight desperately not to look away. The tension that has been here all weekend was not in your head.

He tilts his head to the side, still gazing at you like he knows you're lost for words. You've never been good with saying what you mean out loud and he knows this, but he's being patient with you.

"I...." You pause for a moment as you draw in a shaky breath. "Are you saying something has changed?".

Your hand comes up to your mouth as you fiddle with your bottom lip, a nervous habit of yours he knows well. He reaches up and grabs your hand to pull it away from your mouth and down between the two of you. He rubs a small circle over the top of your thumb as he's looking down at them gently clasped together -

 "It doesn't have to if you don't want it to," he says in a low voice.

It feels as if your head is spinning. This must be why he was so distant lately. Fighting with his own thoughts on how to speak to you with this new knowledge in his head. You think back to December, when you realized he had started acting a little strange.

"Why did you wait so long to say anything to me?!" It comes as a surprise to you too as the words come out.

His head falls back as he laughs, eyes creasing in the way that reminds you just of how much you adore him. His hand releases yours and moves to grab your ankle pulling your right leg out and across his lap. He trails a hand up your shin and grabs your calf as his head falls back down to look at you.

"I may be incredibly smart and handsome, but I can be an idiot sometimes too." His smile is sly and mischievous again. His words are silly, but you're suddenly snapped back into reality at the feeling of his hand on your skin. A current runs up your leg and straight into the center of your stomach.

Before you let yourself chicken out, you move your other leg out and across his lap turning to face him completely, immediately craving more touch. His arm moves to let you, and finds its way around both your legs, resting his arm across and his hand placed delicately on your knee.

Your hands come down in your lap as you look down at them, twisting a ring around on your finger. Your legs feel heavy like they want to press completely against his strong thighs. Having the courage to move closer still didn't change your nervousness to look into his eyes. Hoping silently that perhaps your body language is answering better than your words can. You’ve thought about this moment a lot. You've danced the words around in your head while speaking with him face to face. But saying them, that was different.

After a long moment, you speak up quietly -

"I would like that."

You hope he knows you are answering his question earlier about things changing between you two. You peek your eyes up at him, slowly raising your head. "For things to change," you say, just in case to clarify.

His eyes are softer now but he's biting his lower lip. Then the corner of his lips sweeps up again,

"Are you sure?" He asks after a beat, like he's letting your words sink around him.

You can feel the tension snap inside of you, and the only way you know how to make him feel what your body has been screaming for, is by showing him.

Your hands come up to his cheeks as you close your eyes and press a soft kiss to his lips, holding there for a moment. His lips are so soft, and you've wanted to kiss them for years. You feel his right hand slide up from your knee to the side of your thigh and squeeze lightly as his other comes up and lands on the back of your neck.

The nerves in your body light on fire. His hand on your neck guides your head to tilt a little and deepen the kiss. Pressing together a few more times, still gently. It feels surreal. You can smell his skin better now; a deep woodsy smell mixed with salt and some of his shampoo from his shower earlier. It's intoxicating and you want to inhale him completely. The mix of his hands on you and the closeness of your bodies kicks off a need in you.

He pulls away and you make a sharp inhale. Your eyes open to see his trained on yours. They are dark and lustful, ones you have never seen before. The look in his eyes feels almost as if he had to pull away and look at you like he needed to check and make sure you were real.

The next kiss is hungrier than the last. He shifts his body over on the bench to get closer to yours, his firm legs now pressing up against the bottom of your thighs closing the gap as far as he can.

He lets out a low "mmmm" at the back of his throat as your lips start moving faster, parting just enough to pull his lip into your mouth and suck softly. Dragging your teeth against his skin, drawing another noise from him.

The sound jolts your body and sends a spark straight down, deep in your center where everything is swirling, moving too fast for your mind to focus on. Your hands release from his face and slide down to his shoulders, running over his defined muscles, stopping to feel them, then wrapping around his neck and locking him in.

You can feel the vulnerable apprehension of your kisses as the speed continues to pick up. You want to taste him more. It feels like you should have been doing this forever. His hands let go of your face and neck, then are instantly at your hips. Clutching tightly. You shiver and your lips disconnect again.

"Come here." He says through a soft grin as he pulls you up and over him easily. Your legs spread over him until your knees are on either side and your ass is resting perfectly on his lap. It's very apparent now that he's starting to harden in his sweats. You press down against him, rolling your hips cautiously so you can feel him more, straddling his perfect frame.

His hands find your hips again as he grabs you, holding you down against him as his head falls back and lets out an excited sigh. You can't help but smile and delight in the way he looks crazed already.

"Why did it take so long for me to tell you?" He laughs as he leans back in to kiss you. This time, he dips his tongue out of his mouth and into yours. You moan as he swirls the muscle around in your mouth and you reciprocate. Languidly, taking your time to taste him.

You pull away after a minute, breathless and filled with desire- "I'm not sure, but I don't want to wait anymore."

He looks up at you and presses a hand to your cheek as he watches your eyes, hazy, filled with lust and staring at his lips. His thumb rubs back and forth on your cheek, "Should we go back to the tent?" He looks carefully at you waiting until your eyes meet his.

"Please." And you nod a few times. It's all the confirmation he needs before he stands up, holding you, wrapping your legs around him and starting to walk back the way you came.

His steps back start very fast. His hands grabbing your thighs tightly as they're wrapped around his waist. Your kisses had only just begun, and you don’t want to stop now. Your arms locked around his neck, pressing your lips to his over and over trying your best to line them up despite the awkward angle.

His right arm wraps itself around your back as his left holds you up by your ass. His steps slow as he pulls his head back and chuckles, "Despite not wanting to let go of you, If I don't put you down, I will likely trip and we will both go into the water."

He stops completely, attempting to let you down. Your legs tighten around him as you tilt his head back for another kiss; you finally have the right angle, passionate, pushing your tongue past his lips to taste him again.

Your tongues dance around each other, testing movements and finding a perfect rhythm. He moans as you pull on his bottom lip again, giving you confirmation that he likes it as much as you like doing it; there’s a small popping noise as you pull away.

"That's fair. Only because I know I'd have to rescue you, and I'm not sure I am strong enough." You giggle as you release your legs and connect your lips to his again. Not letting go from the kiss even as your feet are planted on the ground.

You step back and sigh, a little breathless from how hungry you were feeling in the moment. Everything is moving so fast your mind hasn't really taken a second to think about anything other than him. It all felt so natural, like it was meant to happen. Alone in nature, with your favorite person, mixing both your needs and wants together in a swirl of excitement.

He turns you around and gently but firmly slaps your ass to get you moving.

"I've spent years staring at your perfect ass. I need to see it without clothes on soon or I might die". He walks up next to you and puts his arm around your waist fiddling with the hem of your shirt, sending small shivers up your spine, guiding you quicker towards the camp.

Years?

"How long have you known?" You ask as you glance over at him.

"It's always been there." He's looking forward in contemplation.

"Well you said something changed. I guess... what was it?"

He takes a deep breath as he arranges his thoughts. His hand moving around your lower back in small circles as if he's grounding himself to you.

"I'm not sure anything changed really. I think it just became clearer." His hand moves again and closes around the base of your neck, possessively. You shudder a bit at how soft but strong his hands are, trying not to show how much that simple act turned you on.

"I started realizing things like how your voice made me feel. Like how it calms me when I'm feeling stressed- or how you match my energy when I'm excited about something. My thoughts became deeper, and it just clicked. I was nervous for a while, to mess things up between us, but I knew I didn't want you as 'just a friend' anymore."

Your belly whirls in warmth as you hear the words. You pull them apart in your mind. Embedding them into your memory. Then, your feelings quickly build in a vortex of restlessness seeing the path open to your campsite. You've had enough talking and you need him. Now.

He lowers his arm and strides in front of you a little bit to get to the tent, pulling the Velcro apart slowly, trying not to be too loud. You register quite quickly that his roommate’s tent isn't exactly next to yours, but still close enough that they could potentially hear you. You make a mental note of that as he holds a side open for you to step into your tent.

Hear you? Oh god, is this really happening?

His smile is playful, and his eyes are following you as you kick your sandals off and move past him through the opening.

The second you make it to the middle of the tent it becomes all too real what's about to happen. What you desperately want to happen. Your stomach tightens and your breath quickens as a panic fills your body mixed with anticipation.

But before the feeling takes over, you feel him pressed up behind you again, one hand is on your stomach and the other runs from one side of your collarbones to the other, then slowly up your neck, to your chin, guiding your head to the side to kiss him over your shoulder.

Your breath trembles but your body relaxes against his, immediately settling into his touch- bringing all those feelings down your body, tingling in your fingertips and building in your core. He held you like this earlier, but this time it was different.

Your lips move together as his hand leaves your chin, back down your neck to your chest where it slips beneath the top of your shirt and over your shoulder, the inner corner of his elbow around your neck.

You instinctively reach up to grab his arm feeling completely encompassed by him, running your fingers over his toned muscles. A short high-pitched whine escapes your mouth as his other hand slips under the bottom of your shirt placing his firm hand on your bare stomach.

"Your skin is so soft... I want to taste every inch of it..." He breathes out between you.

A chill runs down your spine at his low voice- as his lips come away from yours and smooth against your neck. Your head falls back onto his shoulder giving him better access as you moan quietly from the sensation.

Your back arches and your ass grinds back into his cock where you can feel it straining against his sweats. He moves his lips back and forth, teasing the skin, giving you goosebumps, then starts taking small bites and placing kisses anywhere his mouth can reach.

He leads the two of you forward, lips not leaving your neck, taking small steps towards the bottom end of the bed. As you reach it, his hands come back down to your waist and slowly turns you around.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you're face to face with him, his eyes are filled with desire, almost closed, with his mouth open slightly breathing deeply.

"You can," you reach out and put your hands on his chest, kissing him again. " You can taste it... you can have all of it..." Your words are whispers as you kiss him deeply. Making sure he feels your words, tastes the ache your body has for him.

You assume he receives it because his hands are pulling at your shirt now, asking to lift it up over your arms. You stick them up as you let him pull his old t-shirt up and over your head and onto a pillow on the bed. Your bra is still there, hiding what you know he wants to see. You feel a little shy for a moment, then pull it up and off, revealing your round full breasts for him.

"Fuck..." he says under his breath; then almost as if he senses your shyness at being topless in front of him, he yanks his shirt off over his head and presses your bodies together wrapping one arm around your back, leaning forward, pushing you slowly back onto the bed to lay on top of you.

He kisses you delicately now, like he's savoring the moment, lips coming together for soft pecks. Then moves to your cheek, down your neck, stopping first at the soft spot just below your jaw, shifting his body to start going lower. The way he's laying on you, fitting between your open legs so perfectly, you can't help but wrap them around him. You know he can feel the heat coming from your lower half.

He continues down your chest, kissing softly and tracing his hands down your sides. He takes his time with his mouth on each breast, starting on one, kissing the peak of your now very hard nipples, then swirling his tongue around and finally pulling them into his mouth- eyes closed, like he's truly relishing the taste of your skin. Your mouth parts and faint moans fall from you- shuddering every time he gently bites your nipples.

You've never felt your heartbeat so fast before, feeling like you may not even make it out of this alive at the rate your body reacts to his every touch. His hands come up and graze over your arms that lie flat against the bed as he continues his path of kisses down onto your stomach. Then they’re quickly at your waist pulling your body down, positioning your ass is at the edge of the bed. You gasp at the sudden movement, realizing what he wants to do.

"Lino..." your voice comes out in a whine as your eyes pinch shut for a second, body racing at just the thought of him between your legs.

"Hrmmm?" he hums out, his eyes not leaving your frame, hands tracing over every part of open skin he can come in contact with. You can’t form words to answer back, instead just squirming under his touch.

"May I take these off?" His hands cusp around the top of your jean shorts, one of his thumbs playing with the button as he looks up at you for confirmation. You lock eyes for the first time in a few minutes; he looks crazed but calm. You nod your head and lift from the bed slightly so he can unbutton and pull them off easier, down your legs and he tosses them towards your luggage.

You giggle a little as your shorts hit the pile - "So you can do that, but I can't?" Your voice is teasing but low.

He huffs and waves a hand "We'll talk about that later, right now I need you to do something for me."

You sit up on your elbows looking at him confused, his brows are bunched up and he licks his lips -

"I really need you to turn over so I can see your ass in these lace panties before I rip them off."

Your head tilts back as you laugh at how incredibly serious his face is with that statement, but quickly comply and roll over onto your stomach so he can get a clear view. You've always been proud of the shape and size of your ass. Never skipping squats when working out but never going too far so it stays soft and plump.

You hear him suck in a breath, hissing between his teeth as his hands come down to caress your cheeks. His thumbs go under the creases as he kneads into your soft skin getting as much of a handful his hands can allow. He pushes up with his palms and spreads your cheeks getting a clear view of how much you've soaked through your panties. Another sound escapes him, like he was holding his breath and blows the air out slowly.

You smirk at his intensity and wiggle your ass back and forth a little. A quick smack comes down on your right cheek that punches out a breath from you.

"mmmm...ohmygod" you purr out.

His hand quickly soothes over where he made the connection. "I had a feeling you'd like that." You can tell in his voice he's saying this through a smile.

Both of his hands slide up your back, then down to your ass, sliding flat up under your panties pulling them tight against your pussy, grabbing firmly now on your soft flesh. You're surprised by the cool, yet warm sensation of his lips followed immediately by a bite. You yelp quietly but intuitively push yourself into him more. He continues licking and biting each cheek, letting out soft grunting noises like he's a man starved who hasn't eaten in weeks.

His movements slow, lips trail down to where your panties are pulled tight against you, stopping right as he gets to the center. His hands push your legs apart slightly and lets out a breath, so warm against your aching skin. Your brain short circuits when you feel the first contact of his lips pressing a soft unrushed kiss on the fabric right over your clit leaving himself there for a moment. He pulls away and kisses again, with more pressure.

"Lino, please," you whine, your voice cracking a little.

*smack*

Another swift slap comes down, this time on your other cheek. Leaving no time for you to react he's yanking your panties down your legs and off you, before effortlessly turning you over. You're laying breathless for a moment, gathering yourself.

"Do you know how long I've been wanting to do this," his lips meet your right thigh, trailing kisses up towards your center and propping your leg over his shoulder. "There will be no rushing through this."

He pushes your left leg out, opening you further for him and you're instantly aware that you are lying completely naked, spread out, in front of the man you've longed for all these years.

He takes his time tracing lines on your left thigh with his fingers while kissing your right until he's planting them right around exactly where you need him to be. You can hear his breath deepen for a moment, then licks a stripe from the bottom of your pussy up to the top and pulls your clit between his plush lips and sucks.

The moan that escapes you is loud. Your hands grip the blanket as your body is already crumbling from his mouth. His tongue drags along you again dipping into your center to taste all the wetness he's created from this antagonizing slow pace he's controlling. He hums in appreciation and starts to circle around your clit with his tongue with the most perfect amount of pressure.

He's always been pretty in tune with you from the get-go. But the way he seems to know what to do, what your body wants, is thrilling to you. You squirm and push against him, vying for some sort of control as you feel yourself getting hazy.

He carries on his work, expertly lapping at you and pulling you into his mouth to suck and swirl his tongue around. You prop yourself up on your elbows not wanting to miss the sight of him between your legs. His eyes are closed, seemingly peaceful, despite the ravening way his mouth and head are moving to do exactly what he said he wanted and taste all of you.

Your eyes flutter as a familiar sensation builds up in your body, but you force them to stay open looking down at the insane sight of the most beautiful man enjoying you. His eyes open as he hears your breath quicken. You lock eyes with his and your head spins, the muscles in your legs tightening. His eyes crease as he steadies to slowly trail his tongue up and down you again.

For a moment you're confused, your brows furrow and a whine escapes you. He giggles, then moves his right hand up to your face, bringing his middle and pointer finger together, touching your lips softly, staring intently at them. His tongue doesn't stop moving as he pushes his fingers past your lips, and you dutifully take them in your mouth, sucking on them and swirling your tongue around.

"Mmmm," you hum around his fingers, aware that you've been receiving so much pleasure from him and haven't even started giving him any.

He pulls his head up a little farther to better see your mouth around his fingers. His lips part slowly as he watches you - eyes closed giving his fingers all you can to show him how ready you are for your turn.

His mouth connects to your clit again with more fervor as he brings his now slick fingers down to your entrance. His eyes trained on you, he slowly teases you with the tips of his fingers watching your body and your face as you writhe on the bed. Then before you can get used to the idea of his fingers being down there, he slides them in.

Your head rolls back, and a long breathy moan leaves you followed by a quick breath in. If you were close earlier, you’re quite literally on the edge now.

He feels you clenching around him, your body reacting strongly to every one of his licks, sucks, the curls of his fingers and touches of his other hand on your body, gripping the flesh on your thigh.

"God, you look so beautiful," he says breathy while continuing his work.

Your moans are louder now and for a moment, with his words in your ears, you don't care. But as he continues to put more pressure on a particular spot within you, your whine almost becomes a yell, you quickly bring your hand up to cover your mouth as your start to fall from the edge. He's still staring at you but with soft eyes now, like he really means what he said.

The feeling crashes over you, rippling through your body fast as his fingers and mouth keep pace to help you through it, lips not leaving you once. It undulates through you, taking all the burning from your shoulders, down through your spine, exploding down your center all the way to the tip of your toes leaving a trail, hot in its place. Your arms give out and you fall back on the bed. He slows his movements, letting you ride it out, then sensing your sensitivity, presses slow soft kisses around and on your center removing his fingers.

"Fuck..." you say under your breath as your try to regulate the speed of your heaving chest, ripples still making their way through your body. Legs twitching as he soothes circles on your thighs.

He chuckles and stands up over you between your still open legs, leaning down on his hands to watch you gasp for air. His eyes are squinted, and his lips are curled up into a satisfied grin watching you with what looks like amusement on his face. 

He leans in and whispers in your ear, "I'd gladly do that every day if you'd let me."

Your eyes finally fix on his and you can't help but giggle a bit at your euphoric feeling. His legs start to move forward, pressing into your thighs, pushing your legs and body up farther on the bed. Before he settles down on his knees reaching down for a kiss, you put your hands up to his chest stopping him.

He tilts his head inquisitively and it’s your turn to smirk. You lift yourself up on the bed to sit upright, legs still spread around him, pushing him down on his heels between you and taking his mouth in another heated kiss.

His lips are soft and slick and feel puffy from all his hard work. You kiss them gently as your hands trail down his chest to his stomach right to the hem of his grey sweats.

His hands come up to trace your sides and then find their place on the side of your breasts thumbing your nipples softly and palming at the smooth skin. A moan hits the back of your throat between your kisses, and you pull back to look up at him, tugging on his sweats for permission to pull them down.

You've spent a lot of time looking at Minho since you've known him. You've seen him without a shirt on before once or twice, albeit briefly. But never in this context - and the way he looks now, in the low lamp light from the corner of the room, looking down at you with a blaze in his eyes and his chest rising and falling in anticipation. You're certain he is the most stunning creature to walk this planet.

He must have seen the reverence in your eyes because he reaches out to push a piece of hair behind your ear and smiles sweetly at you. You have to remind yourself of the task at hand before you get lost appreciating him. You trail your eyes back down to the now extremely noticeable bulge in his pants.

You lick your lips, "May I?" As you go back to tugging on his sweats, mimicking what he asked you earlier.

He laughs, "You may."

You pull them down along with his boxers, freeing his cock from its strain. It bounces heavily right in front of your face, and you swallow eagerly. It shouldn't be a shock to you how pretty it is. The skin looks like velvet, soft pink and perfectly adorned with a few veins tracing the sides creating perfect patterns for you to touch. His length perfect, his thickness mirroring his thighs. You wrap your hand around the base and squeeze.

His body tenses and he sucks in a hiss as you lick his tip, savoring his flavor with your eyes closed, rolling your tongue around in your mouth. You look up at him with big eyes as you wrap your lips around him embracing his warmth on your tongue.

You start slow just as he did with you. Bobbing your head on his tip, whirling your tongue around - appreciating the feeling of his now fully hard cock in your hand. His head falls back for a moment when you take him further then quickly snaps back to watch you. Your eyes crease as you see the haze in his eyes as his hand comes forward to find its rightful place at the back of your neck.

Your stomach flutters at the feeling which drives you to relax your throat and take him as far as you can, only stopping when your breathing is cut off, but you stay and swallow a few times eliciting a deep groan from him. A sound you're sure you've never heard before but crave to hear again.

Pulling back, you take another deep breath, using the slick you've created on him to twist your hand up and down his length, following with your mouth moving your head side to side.

After a while of creating a pace and soaking in all the beautiful moans and gasps coming from his lips, you break it suddenly, thrusting him down your throat to the base again and stopping to look up at him. His lips are almost in a snarl, his teeth gritted, chest heaving. For the first time all night he says your name; not the cute nickname you pretend to hate but fold inwards on yourself every time he speaks it. Your real name, coming out in the most lustful moan.

He pulls your head back with his strong grip on your neck, slowing his breathing, and relaxing his face, looking at you with fire in his eyes.

"You have no idea how crazy you make me feel," he lets out a long shuddering sigh.

"If you don't stop now, I'm not going to last."

Your hand grips his base a little tighter while still holding his gaze, he shakes his head and lets out a weak laugh with a smile on his lips.

"Then you better push me back on this bed, because I don't want to stop," you stick your tongue out and quickly swipe his tip.

You can see his vision go blurry for a second then his attention snaps back, reaching his hands down to your thighs gripping them and pulling them off the bed, your arms instinctively wrap around his neck to steady yourself, as he hoists you up towards the pillow in a flash.

You land on your back surprised but with a smile adorning your face. He steps off the bed and lets his sweats fall to the floor stepping out of them, powerful legs on full display for you. He drops his hand and lazily strokes himself while looking at you on the bed, his eyes all over your body, like he's making a map of it in his mind. Committing every detail to memory.

A mischievous look comes over his face again as he slowly takes a few steps over towards his bag, where you know he slipped the box of condoms in from last night.

"Wait," you squeak out, fast but quiet.

He turns to you with questioning eyes.

"If you don't mind... we can go without. I'm clean." Your eyes fall down a little. "I really want to feel you..." You take a breath and glance back up at him through your eyelashes.

His eyes are soft but serious, and you can see a hint of thrill in them.

"Are you sure?" He asks raising an eyebrow.

Your eyes roll back softly, still with a smile on your face as you sigh, mildly annoyed at his competence in always making sure things are above water and safe. You raise your arm and tap your bicep a few times hoping he gets what that means,

"For fucks sake Lee Minho, yes, I'm sure. Please get over here before I scream," and you flop back against the pillow.

He chuckles softly but wastes no time, practically jumping on the bed between your thighs, plastering himself against the front of your body. Your lips meet again, and he cages you in with his forearms on both sides of your head. You share a few giggles between kisses as you shake off your declaration becoming aware of his weight pouring over you.

He's leaning over you, pressed against you so fiercely, you can feel his cock throbbing against you and your attention quickly pulls to your core. Your heart begins thumping in your chest again and you shudder when he does a tentative roll of his hips, sliding his cock along your wetness. Your lips fall from his as you suck in air. Breathing deep in the stillness of the moment.

He lets his lips trace your jaw, up to your ear and hums before nibbling right below it, still rolling his hip leisurely.

"I've watched your body from afar for so long." He licks your neck raising goosebumps over your arms.

"The way your hair falls delicately on your shoulders." He kisses you there earning a soft moan from you.

"How you always wear the most perfect fitting jeans to show off your curves." He bites into your lower neck sending a ripple through you.

"Your perfect lips saying my name." He kisses you so delicately on your lips that you think you might cry.

"And now your here, under me, and I never want to lose this." He kisses you with more heat and you have never felt more whole, more alive, with sparks coursing through your body, his words filling every crack and fiber of your being.

"Minho..." His name is a whisper between your kisses, and you feel him reach down a hand. He softly rubs the tip of his cock from the bottom up, spreading your wetness around and massaging your clit. Your breath hitches in your throat in anticipation as he captures your mouth in another kiss. Drowning your thoughts.

He pulls away from the kiss and settles his piercing gaze, looking into your eyes as he lines up with your entrance and slowly pushes in. Nothing could have prepared you for how good it feels. His tip pressing in slowly, filling your warmth and stretching you out so perfectly. The intimacy of the moment and his words still lingering in your ears makes your eyes shut, mouth parting as your arms wrap around his waist.

He bottoms out and stays there. All you can hear is both of your breath, lingering in the space between you. Soaking in the feeling of the moment. It feels like pure bliss. But you need more. You clench around him and his breathing stutters for a moment. You open your eyes to see him looking at you with a beautiful half smile on his face.

You smile back and kiss him, gripping his waist urging him to move. He starts to roll his hips in slow drawn-out circles, hitting every space, every inch within you. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly the knot in your stomach tightens, as he finds a steady rhythm, angling his thrust to hit the right spot. Those damn dancers’ hips.

You've been dreaming of this for so long. And now he's here, in your arms, between your legs and inside of you and everything feels right for the first time in forever. You want to take your time, but your body is a traitor and desperate for more. Moving your hips now to meet his thrust, he leans over on one elbow, using his free hand to roam over your body, grabbing at any and all of your skin, picking up his pace.

It seems as though he senses your impatience, because he readjusts, sitting up on his knees more while his hands come down to your hips to pin you to the bed. You had been cautious of your volume for so long now but the sound that escapes you in that moment is inevitable. You reach up to cover your mouth hoping to quell any more sounds, but he quickly pulls it away and pushes it up above your head.

"No, don't be quiet. I need to hear your every sound. Whoever else hears it, had it coming." His concentration is fierce as he says those words to you, making your stomach coil in heat, head rushing, and whimpers fall from your lips.

You’re certain you’ll be slightly embarrassed tomorrow, but your mind quickly pushes those thoughts aside as your need to give him what he wants overpowers everything else. Your moans grow louder, and your repeating his name through choked out breaths. Your hand that's not secured under his tight grip, finds its way to his arm that's now caressing your thigh to trace his skin.

He looks devastatingly elegant yet rugged above you. Chest heaving, eyes trained down towards where you meet in the middle. Where he’s driving into you, straight towards absolute pleasure. He looks up at you eyeing him, licks his lips, and a sly smile paints his features. As if it were even possible, he pushes up closer against you, using his arm to hook under your knee angling your body even more to hit the most perfect spot over and over again.

A wildfire courses through your veins as your eyes roll back, clenching around him again, quickly approaching your release. You can hear his breathing becoming a little more erratic as his hips stutter a few times giving you the knowledge that he’s not far behind. You use your free hand to grab his arm that's holding yours down and pry it away licking and sucking on his fingers quickly before guiding them down between your bodies.

"Touch me," you ask softly.

You can see the wild excitement in his eyes as he starts rubbing your clit in perfect circles with determination. It doesn’t take long before you’re gripping the sheets tightly beside you, arching your back, ready for the wave to crash over you. He sucks in a deep breath hearing you let out a sinful moan as you’re shaking under him and your second ripple of pleasure streaks down your body.

Your legs try to move and tighten him in a vice grip once the over sensitiveness snakes through your thighs, but his hands are quick to act. He slides both his hands up the back of your legs landing in the crook of your knees and pushing them forward towards your chest. Your breath is pushed out of you once his weight is pressed firmly against your front with forearms flat on the bed, caging you in.

His eyes have never looked more powerful, almost as if he's looking straight into the most secret, venerable part of yourself that you didn't even know existed. His mouth parts and his hot breath only feeds your desire to have him closer, stomach still fluttering in the aftershock. Wiggling your arms free you reach out and caress his face, tracing his bottom lip with your thumb before pulling it into your mouth, humming at his delicious sounds and taste.

"Fuck, I'm..." he mumbles into your mouth, but you don't give him a chance to finish his sentence.

"I know. I want it. I want it so bad, please." You lick into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck- feeding your fingers through his hair, gripping him as close as you can. You feel his body tense and eyes go wide at your statement and he's gone. Hissing through his teeth, he picks up pace; his head buried in your neck, teeth latching on for a moment followed by the deepest groan that vibrates through your body.

His warmth radiates through you, pushing himself as deep as he can with each slowing pump, hips flush with your ass as he softly trembles through his release. You slip your hands down his back rubbing soft circles and scratching ever so gently as he pants in your ear.

His hands find your legs again as he guides them down and secures them around his waist, still seated deep within you. Your breathing and heartbeats are still settling together as he turns his head to look at you -

"That was, " he huffs out a few low laughs as a smile forms on his lips, and he kisses your jaw, "I don't think words can describe it." He kisses the side of your lips and neck a few more times as he leans up on one elbow, placing a hand on your waist.

A sense of shyness briefly floods you as you turn your head to the side and cover your lips with the tips of your fingers, blushing slightly. He reaches up and pulls your fingers from your mouth, kissing them lightly. You can see adoration in his eyes as he takes in the pink that has flushed over your cheeks and chest.

"That was long overdue." Your smile is relaxed. Your eyes soft on his. You take your fingers locked with his back towards your mouth and repay the soft kisses.

He looks down between the two of you. Wrapped together, sticking sweetly at the skin touching, and slowly starts to pull his body from yours. As he disconnects from you, a shiver runs down your spine at the lack of contact and he rubs your legs while getting up from the bed.

Once again, you're amazed at his silhouette gracefully making his way over to the wooden shelf, grabbing some wipes and a towel.

Your body lays still for him as he delicately cleans you; tracing your finger tip up and down from your navel to your collarbones, eyes closed, basking in the sweet afterglow of the moment. An hours ago, your thoughts were racing, so many uncertainties in the air. Skin prickling anxiety at unsaid feelings and questions floating behind your eyes. But now that comfortable silence sits in the air between you again.

"Scootch," he giggles, as he jostles you to the side with his knee; he pulls the covers out from under you, climbs in and settles them up over the two of you. He reaches out and nestles you in close, your arms pushed up between your chests, face pressed to the column of his neck. You take a deep breath of him, feeling the sudden weight of sleep and the day settle over your skin.

"Don't keep things from me anymore, ok?" Your mouth is in a straight line, slightly pouted, but your eyes are round and playful as you look up at him.

His face is soft, and you can see a hint of mischief behind his eyes before he closes them, kisses your nose and speaks low but just loud enough for you to hear -

"You're stuck with me now. I'm never letting go."

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[12:41 pm]

(cw: f!reader, a child, pregnancy complications, "Mommy" and "daddy")

"Mommy is tired?" dad!Jaehyun heard his little girl ask.

"A little bit, princess. The baby is getting bigger so Mommy just needs to lay down more, but she's not sleeping," Jaehyun explains in a sweet voice, pushing her unruly hair away from her face.

This was tough to explain to a 4 year old. Your first pregnancy had been a breeze compared to this one. Your first pregnancy almost five years ago came with some nausea that plagued you for the first few months, labor was long and arduous, but there was nothing that really hindered you from going about life as normal as possible. This pregnancy wasn't the same.

This time around you came down with gestational high blood pressure, which at your last appointment didn't look to be getting much better, so your doctor had put you on bed rest. You were doing your part by taking your medication daily and staying off your feet, but man was this a pain. You hated laying around and doing nothing, especially when your need to nest was nagging at you. You hated it, but you also knew that you wanted to avoid the induction being too early.

Jaehyun grabbed some food from the fridge and played it for you, lunch time. A healthy meal that he himself knew didn't sound super delicious, but he was being just as cautious as you were, if not more. "Let's take Mommy her lunch, princess," Jaehyun told his daughter.

She squealed excitedly, running to the bedroom with her Belle costume swishing around her legs. She pushed the door open and ran to the bed, climbing up onto the foot of the bed before settling beside you. Jaehyun smiled at the sight of his two girls. You were sat up against the headboard, folding laundry- which you had insisted on doing, Jaehyun didn't want you lifting a single finger, but you were stubborn.

"Lunch time, my love," Jaehyun smiled, walking over to you and handing you the plate. He tried not to laugh as your face scrunched up into a look of disappointment and smidge of disgust.

You stabbed the fork into the food and sighed before bringing the food to your mouth. If the bed rest worked, you'd be back on your feet in a week. Your doctor wanted to see if the bed rest would prove useful paired with the medication she'd put you on. You couldn't speak without the medical knowledge she'd possessed, but your blood pressure was going down and staying consistent. Your legs weren't as swollen and when Jaehyun took your blood pressure each morning it wasn't as high and remained consistent.

"I gave you your medication this morning right?" Jaehyun asked while holding up the pill bottle.

You hummed in agreement, swallowing your food, "as if you'd let me forget. I took it with a whole glass of water and ate it with my avocado toast. Hey, have you not been doing her hair? She looks like the brush hasn't touched her hair since I brushed it after her bath last night."

Jaehyun looked away, avoiding your gaze. Doing his daughter's hair wasn't a skill he had perfected yet. So yes, you were right, a brush hadn't touched her hair since last night. On the other hand, everything else had been taken care of. Your daughter didn't spend the whole day in her pajamas, she was dressed in real clothes, even if her Belle costume covered it up, she had brushed her teeth this morning, already eaten two meals today, and Jaehyun had her practice writing her name. On all levels, besides hair, he was killing it.

"Bring me the brush and some rubber bands please," you asked him sweetly, using your hand to tame the hair on the little girl's head.

He raised a brow, "finish your lunch and then I'll get you what you asked for."

You rolled your eyes, stabbing the fork into the food more harshly with a look that asked 'happy?' Your daughter turned her eyes away from the show on the TV and rubbed your belly, placing a small kiss on the apex. "Sister is making you tired, Mommy?" she asked, laying her head on your stomach.

You sighed tiredly, "yeah, princess. We don't want sister to get here too early so the doctor says I have to rest."

"But I want sister here already," she tells you with a pout.

Jaehyun takes the now empty plate from you while you brush your fingers gently brush through some of the tangles in her hair. "If the baby comes early, she won't be healthy, princess. We want her to be healthy right?"

"Yes," she sighs out, "Mommy, can you do my hair? Daddy doesn't know how."

Jaehyun rolls his eyes as he hands you the things you asked for, watches as his daughter willingly lets you comb the tangles from her hair gently, and watches as your fingers work deftly to braid it away from her face. He loves it.

He presses a kiss to your stomach, not trying very hard to keep the words that slip from his lips low and quiet, "if you want to give us a surprise and come out as a boy, that's fine. I'll still love you. Save me."

When two similar slaps to his arm come at the same time he can't help but laugh, if he's surrounded by girls that act like you and are the perfect mix of your genetics, he'd die a happy man.

[leclercss]

Tainted Love, Part 1 (Charles Leclerc)

Masterlist

plot: in an attempt to fix your marriage, you've reluctantly agreed into being in an open relationship with your husband. so far, it's only been your husband that has taken advantage of your recent arrangement until one night out you meet a man who makes you begin to question your marriage.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing

authors note: this is based on a story that i was writing in my spare time but thought it would be interesting to use Charles and a couple of other drivers as characters instead. so Charles is used as a character inspo rather than it including his life as an f1 driver. would love to hear your thoughts and if you'd be open for a part 2. i'm thinking of making this a longer fic.

word count: 4.8k

"[Y/N!]”

You don't really hear your name being called at first. You've been stuck in your own thoughts for the last five minutes, staring at nothing in particular.

"[Y/N]!" It's a little louder this time but still not enough to knock you out of the deep trance you've found yourself in. It's only when you get an elbow into your side and the champagne that's in your hand falls onto your lap that you finally snap out of it.

"Shit!' you squeal as you look down at the champagne that now soaks the bottom of your dress.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry," the girl beside you laughs, "We've been trying to your attention for the last minute."

You look up at her, eyebrows furrowed. You can't remember her name. Was it Bethany? Stephanie? You didn't care, to be honest. It didn't really matter anyway; she wasn't your friend. You were only here as you were roped into pre-drinks before a girls' night out by your best friend, who was the only person you know here.

"It's fine, I was totally out of it," you mumble as you reach out for a napkin to dry the bottom of your dress.

"No shit," you hear a familiar voice say with a hint of smugness. You look across the table and see your best friend Whitney holding back a smirk. "You're on your fourth glass of champagne. I'd be out of it too if I was drinking as quickly as you've been".

You chuckle half-heartedly. Laughing it off as if it was the bottle of Moet that you mostly managed to get through on your own which caused you to be zoned out for so long. Not the fact that you’ve been replaying the arguments that you’ve been having with your husband over the last few weeks in your head. Nor the fact that you’ve been thinking about your shambles of a marriage.

As Whitney takes her attention off you to start cleaning up the mess, you let out a little sigh to yourself and go back to your previous thoughts.

How had your marriage gotten to this point?

You had been so in love with your husband when you first met. In fact, he’d been the only person you had ever been in love with. There was a ten-year age gap between the two of you but that hadn’t stopped you both falling for each other so quickly. He was one of the first people you had gotten to know when you first moved to London six years ago. You’d met on a night out about three months after moving to the city. The physical attraction was instant but that blossomed into something much deeper and within two years you had gotten married. He was your rock, your entire world. And maybe that was a bit of a risk for a girl, who at that point was in her early twenties, to depend on somebody so much and so quickly.

You had a few sceptics when it came to your relationship back in the early days. A few friends from back home had told you it was just a whirlwind romance with a hot older guy. Your mother had been unsure about the age gap. What would a girl in her early twenties need from a man in his early thirties? And what would a man in his early thirties need from a woman in her early twenties?

Your brother had joked that it was probably daddy issues.

You married him anyway. And the first two years of marriage had been bliss. Until about eighteen months ago when things had started to change.  Your husband spent more time away from home (he said it was work related), the sex had become less regular (not by a lack of trying on your part) and you slowly started to feel like a spare part in your marriage.

You started to have a feeling that someone else was now involved in your marriage. And that feeling was unofficially confirmed to you when your husband had brought up the possibility of having an open relationship - basically, he could fuck whoever he wanted, and you couldn’t (and wouldn’t) complain about it. You reluctantly agreed. You loved your husband, and you were willing to make this sacrifice if it means that you could start to repair your marriage. But you were so wrong.

Deep down you knew that you were never going to leave him. And your husband knew that too. Six months into your “open relationship” and your husband had been taking full advantage of the arrangement. Meanwhile, you took the opposite approach and hadn’t slept with anyone outside of your marriage. Despite that, your jealousy grew towards your husbands’ new partners and your loyalty was wearing thin. You had initially been quiet about your doubts when it came to your arrangement. But lately you had been more vocal to your husband about your feelings. Of course, he dismissed those feelings. That’s why you were arguing lately. He had told you that it was something you both needed in your marriage, you guys were too dependent on one other. You told him that you should be enough for him, you didn’t need other people to fill whatever void he was feeling. But you were beginning to realise that maybe you weren’t enough for him.

“Oi! Snap out of it. I’ve poured you another glass. But you better drink it quickly. And fix your dress because the Uber is getting here in ten minutes,” Whitney scolds as she shoves the champagne glass back into your hand.

“Thanks, Whit.” You can’t help but smile at her. Apart from your husband, Whitney had been your only other source of love and stability during your years in London. And that was why she had dragged you out tonight to pull you out of your recent misery.

“You know what you need? A girl’s night out! And before you roll your eyes and tell me how you’re officially too old for clubbing, we’re going out. You need to spend time with someone else other than him. And it’s been so long since you’ve been shitfaced,” is what Whitney had said when you had told her that you and your husband had been arguing more and more these days. You still hadn’t told her about the open marriage thing. She’d never forgive you for agreeing to it.

You flash her a smile before downing your last glass of champagne. Despite your hesitation, maybe a girls’ night out was what you needed.

-

“To getting shitfaced!” you yell before throwing the hard liquor down your throat. You try not to gag as you slam the empty shot glass down on the bar. Despite your previous doubts of this girl’s night out, you had been having a good time. It wasn’t your usual scene, but you had made an effort to join in and found yourself in a tipsy but playful mood.

“Come on, Stephanie has found a group of hot guys who’ve got a table,” Whitney shouts in your ear. You look at her and giggle, “Seriously?”

“Seriously! Now come on, I think they’re French.”

You allow yourself to be dragged over to the table where the other girls were mingling and flirting with a group of guys. You take a quick glance; they look about two or three years younger than you. Not your type (there was no harm in looking) but they were definitely good-looking.

“This is my friend Whitney, she’s single by the way. And this is her friend, [Y/N},” you hear Stephanie tell them. “But she’s married”.

One of the guys looks at you and lets out a laugh, “What a shame. Lucky guy”. You try to fake a smile at his remark, but your mind momentarily flashes back to your husband.

Rather than trying to come up with a response, you look around the table for something to drink. “Who’s up for some shots?” you ask before grabbing whatever alcohol you can find on the table. God, the hangover is going to be deadly tomorrow.

Just as you’re about to pour yourself something, you feel someone lean over to place a tray of Jager bombs on the table in front of you. “Did someone say shots?” he shouts before being met with a round of cheers. Before you have a chance to look up, the guy has sat down beside you. He leans over and whispers in your ear, “Weren’t you just doing tequila at the bar?” His breath is hot in your ear, his accent even hotter.

“Didn’t know there was a limit to how many shots a girl could have,” you tease, your playful mood apparent.

As you turn to face him, you’re met with a pair of piercing green eyes staring back at you. Fuck, they’re gorgeous. He’s said something to you but you’re too busy staring into his eyes that’s you have no idea what he’s said to you. “Huh?”

You only break eye contact with him as you notice his eyes start to scan your face, most notably he’s looking at your lips before lowering his eyes towards your cleavage. His eyes stay there for a moment before he’s looking into your eyes again. A knot begins to tie in your stomach.

You feel yourself starting to blush at the intense eye contact when you see his mouth start to move again. You really have no clue what he’s said this time.

“I’m sorry, what?”

He chuckles. He quickly scans your face again, smirk still intact, before leaning over to your ear once more. “I said, there’s no limit as long as it doesn’t stop me dancing with you later.”

As he leans back, you can’t help but admire his face. He has a light amount of facial hair, making his somewhat boyish face slightly more mature and handsome. You notice his dimples as he continues to smirk at you before taking a not-so-subtle glance at his lips. As you look back up at his eyes, you realised your staring is painfully obvious.

He leans over you and grabs two glasses from the tray of shots, handing you one. His eyes are back on yours again as he clinks his glass against yours, “Cheers!” You down the shot, wincing in the process before slamming the glass back on the table. “That was disgusting,” you groan before letting out a giggle.

You look back at the Frenchman who’s smiling at you. “Now I’ve gotten you a drink, are you going to tell me your name?” he asks. As he does so, he leans in slightly, so his face is a little closer to yours.

“It’s [Y/N],” you reply. “And yours?”

But before he has a chance to respond, the guy sitting behind your drinking companion leans over and chuckles, “Leave the girl alone, Charles. She’s married,” before turning back to his previous conversation. The beautiful man in front of you, who you’re assuming is Charles, looks back at you. “Married, huh?” He doesn’t look phased.

You nod. “And he’s not with you tonight?”

“No, it’s girls’ night. No husbands or boyfriends allowed,” you reply.

“And what other rules do you have on these girls’ nights?”

“Get as drunk as humanly possible with a group of hot guys.”

-

You’ve spent quite a while talking to Charles. He’s still flirting with you, lightly pushing the boundaries of “I know you’re married”. You’ve learned he’s from Monaco, not France. And he’s been living in London for about a year with a group of his friends from back home. He’s single (you’re not entirely sure how when he looks like that) and he’s better at handling his alcohol than you are.

You’ve spent a short amount of time getting to know some of his friends. His best friend Joris has been getting cosy with Whitney. You didn’t even get a chance to learn one guy’s name before he had started making out with Stephanie. The others you’re too drunk to remember they’re even here. However, your attention always falls back on Charles. And his attention always falls back on you.

You hadn’t even spared a thought about your husband until you saw your phone light up. First you notice your phone background, a picture of you and your husband kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower (and you’re aware that Charles is looking at your phone too). Then his name pops up on your screen. You glance at the message through your alcohol-blurred vision. It says something along the lines of how your night was going and if you were coming back home tonight. You roll eyes before swiping away the message.

“Husband?” Charles asks you. His finger has been tracing your knee for the last few minutes. You nod, trying to push the face of your husband to the back of your mind.

“Yeah, nothing important.”

Charles smiles at you. “How long have you two been married?”

“Four years, together for six.”

“Six years, you must have been late teens when you got together right?” you think it’s his attempt of saying you look good for your late twenties (as if that’s old). But it works on you momentarily, or it’s the fact that the finger tracing your leg has now turned into a hand.

“Well, I was twenty-one. He’s ten years older,” you tell him.

“And how’s that going? Is he okay with these girls’ nights out?”

You’re not sure why he’s quizzing you. It’s probably because of the face you pulled when you saw your husband’s name pop up on your screen. Or the fact that you haven’t mentioned him once all night. Most girls Charles has come across quickly name-drop their partner into conversations quite quickly if they aren’t interested but not you. Your body language has changed since the mention of your husband. And you’ve only been giving short answers when being questioned about him which tells Charles that your husband may be the reason you’re here tonight.

“He has his nights out, I have mine,” you lie before having a quick look around the table. “I’m not here to talk about married life.”

You momentarily look back to Charles who seems a bit taken back by your bluntness before looking back across at Whitney who’s no longer being occupied by Joris. “Whitney, can we go dancing?”

“Let’s do it!”

You stand up from your seat and look down at Charles. “I’m going to go dance. Whenever you want to do another shot come grab me,” you tell him before Whitney takes your arm and leads you to the dance floor. You feel a bit rude for ending your conversation with Charles so abruptly. But you weren’t here to spend the night talking about a man you’re trying to avoid.

-

Swaying your hips to the music and dancing with your best friend was exactly what you needed. The alcohol was well and truly coursing through your body at this point and it gave you the confidence you needed to feel sexy on the dancefloor. You weren’t a bad dancer by any means, but the numerous shots and glasses of champagne were a big help.

Whitney had reunited with Joris on the dancefloor, grinding and making out with one another. You didn’t mind dancing on your own. You were lost in the rhythm of the music, attracting some bystanders who you subtly moved away from when they got too close.

That was until you felt someone place their arm around your waist from behind. The hand felt familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it until you felt a mouth press against your ear. “You were looking a little lonely, thought I’d come and join you.”

You could get used to that voice whispering in your ear.

You look up at him and smile, “How thoughtful of you, Charles.” You were a little too drunk to care about the fact that his other hand found itself around your waist, pulling your body towards gently towards him. Mostly because you were enjoying it.

You felt his torso press against your back, and you leaned against his body as his hips joined yours in swaying to the music. As the both of you found your rhythm, you pressed your ass against his crotch and grinded a little harder on him. Truly letting yourself get lost in the moment with him. You think you hear Whitney cheer at the sight in front of her, but your only focus is on your movements against Charles. You feel one of his hands slide from your waist towards your ass, squeezing it a little before running it back up your waist to just below your breasts.

Fuck, that felt good.

You lean the back of your head against Charles’ chest and peer up at him through your lashes. He’s looking down at you and slowly moves his face towards yours, hips still moving in synchronisation. You look into his eyes, his attention fully on you before you take a quick glance at his lips. They’re slightly parted and if you didn’t have a slight nagging voice in the back of your head you totally would have kissed him. You’re suddenly nervous, you haven’t felt like this with a guy since you first met your husband. It’s new territory but it excites you. Is this why your husband wanted an open relationship? For the thrill and excitement of being so close and almost intimate with someone that wasn’t you?

Charles notices that you’ve gotten lost in your thoughts but wants your attention back on him. He lifts your chin with his thumb, so your face is closer to his and mimics your actions from a few moments ago – looking into your eyes before looking at your lips. You can feel his breath hitting your face and so you lick your lips. If he wants to kiss you, he’s going to have to make the first move.

He senses this and leans in; your parted lips meet his. You’re not sure if it’s nerves but it’s almost like you’ve forgotten how to kiss. The feeling of Charles’ lips against yours has caused all thoughts and logic to leave your body. You’re thankful that he takes the initiative once again and starts to move his lips against yours. You find your momentum again as your place one of your arms behind your head and place your hands on Charles’ cheek, your back still firmly pressed against his torso. As you continue to kiss, you notice that his crotch is still placed firmly against your ass, the bulge in his pants is slightly harder this time and it causes you to feel a slight tingle in your underwear.

As your kiss becomes more passionate, Charles turns you around so you’re face to face. He cups your cheeks with one of his hands, his thumb firmly under your chin and he reconnects your lips together. This time he slips his tongue into your mouth, and it begins to move against yours. The tingly sensation in your underwear is back again and it causes you to moan against Charles mouth. You can feel him smile against your lips, but it doesn’t stop him, it only encourages him to deepen this kiss even further. It’s like you’re the only two people in the room. Your body is tightly pressed against his, slowly tracing his chest with your fingers while Charles’ hands are covering as much body surface as possible. The hand that was cupping your cheek is now on your breast, his thumb grazing over the area where your nipple is. You’re not wearing a bra, so your nipple hardens at his touch, causing him to smile into your kiss once again. His other hand is very low on your back, his fingers spread across the top of your bum.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been kissing for, it could be thirty seconds or thirty minutes but you don’t want to stop. One of your hands finds its way into his silky brown hair and you tug on it lightly. In retaliation, he squeezes one your bum cheeks. This time you’re the one smiling against his lips.

After what feels like an eternity, you both part from the kiss. Your eyes meet his and it feels like you’re in a trance with him. All you can do is just look at him, only him. You’re not sure how long you’ve been standing like this, your hands on his chests, his on your waist. Once again, it’s Charles that takes the initiative but this time in conversation.

He leans down to your ear, your body lightly pressed against his. “Do you want to come back with me tonight?” He leans his head back slightly to gage your reaction. You quickly lick your lips. Your body is telling you to say yes – the tingle in your underwear is only getting bigger. But your head is pounding and you’re not able to open your mouth. The only thing you can do is move and so you move one of your hands from his chest up to Charles’ cheek, your thumb slow soothing the soft skin beneath you.

He's still waiting for an answer. His green eyes staring into yours.

As you finally muster up the courage to speak you feel you feel a strange hand placed on your shoulder. You jump slightly at the sudden touch of contact which clearly isn’t from Charles and turn your head into the direction it came from. Stephanie, the queen of impeccable timing, is smiling at you. She’s saying something to you but you’re not really paying attention.

Only until she starts waving your phone in front of your face do you realise what she’s saying. You thank her before taking your phone and looking at the screen.

It’s your husband. Out of all the nights he could have given you attention, it had to be tonight. You quickly look at your phone and see a missed call accompanied by three or four more unread texts. From a quick glance, you see he’s a bit concerned that you hadn’t responded to his previous message telling him what time you’d been home. He’d never usually ask so it’s a bit baffling to you why he’d suddenly care now. Then again, it’s the first “girls’ night” you’d gone out to in about two years. And you remembered the arguments you guys had been having for the past few weeks and the way you stormed out of the flat this morning.

And what you didn’t realise is that he had seen you pack one of your more revealing dresses in anger when you told him you were going out with Whitney and a few of her girlfriends tonight.

He was worried. Not about you. But about what you might be doing.

“Is everything okay?” Charles voice brings you back to reality and you look up at him for the first time since Stephanie had given you your phone. You hope he hasn’t seen you gulp but he has. He notices a flicker of hesitation in your eyes.

You nod and smile at him, but he’s not convinced. Your husband’s messages have brought you back to reality and your body language has become closed off. You’re no longer touching Charles. He removes his hands from your waist and you’re both left standing there awkwardly on the dancefloor.

You open your mouth to say something but at first nothing comes out. You let out a deep breath before you finally allow yourself to speak, “I can’t. I’m… I’m married, Charles.” He breaks eye contact with you and place his hands into his jean pockets. He’s nodding but doesn’t really say anything.

You both stand there awkwardly for a few moments before you speak again, “I think I need to go. I’m sorry, Charles”. You lean up to place a soft kiss on his cheek. His posture softens a little bit, but he’s disappointed.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. It sounds a little deflated and you can’t help but feel guilty. Moments before Stephanie had handed you your phone, you would have easily said yes to anything Charles would have asked you but now you find yourself in a weird mindset. You’re curious and you want to know what going home with him feels like, but your husbands’ messages are now imprinted in your brain. And so, you take the easier option which is to go home to your husband and be the loyal wife you’ve talked yourself into being for the last eighteen months.

“Have a good night, Charles,” you say softly before flashing a sympathetic smile. You turn away to leave the dancefloor when you feel Charles’ hand wrap around your arm. He tugs you back towards him and grabs your phone out of your hand. He gestures for you to put in your pin, and you oblige. He takes your phone once again and taps away on the keyboard before handing your phone back to you. You look at your screen to see he’s put his number into your phone.

“For whenever you need another “girls’ night”,” he whispers into your ear before letting you leave.

You quickly search for Whitney to let her know that you’re leaving before ordering an Uber home. As you hug Whitney goodbye, she leans in and whispers, “I hope you had fun tonight. I won’t say anything”. And you know she’s referring to the kiss that you’ve shared with Charles not so long ago. You thank her before making your way out of the club and getting into the Uber which arrives a few minutes later.

-

You rest your head against the window as you the Uber takes you through the busy London streets. You can’t help but feel disappointed with how your night ended and your mind flashes back to the look on Charles’ face when you told him you were leaving. A part of you wishing you had stayed.

You let out a little sigh and shut your eyes, pushing the image of Charles and the feeling of his lips against yours to the back of your head before opening your eyes again. Your phone lights up, catching your attention and you see a text from Whitney asking if you had made it home yet. You scroll down a little further on your notifications to see the unread text messages and missed calls from your husband.

You unlock your phone and start to type up your replies.

The first text.

Whitney: Just in the Uber now, be home in 20 x

The second text.

Lewis ♥: Staying at Whitney’s tonight. I’ll be home before noon tomorrow. Love you xx

You close your conversation with your husband and click on the + icon to open a new message. You let out another sigh before you begin typing the message.

To Charles: Hey, it’s [Y/N]. We didn’t get to finish our dance, mind if I come to yours? X

Your thumb hovers over the send button. You’ve typed your message, now all you have to do is send the it. Shit! You’re such a coward. You tell yourself that if you count to five you’ll send the message. Okay…

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

Sent.

You quickly lock your phone out of embarrassment and throw it onto the seat beside you. Shit, why did you just do that? You refuse to look at your phone and tell yourself it was a dumb idea to message Charles. You just need to get home, get to bed and pretend like it never happened.

It’s about fifteen or so minutes later and you’re only a few streets away from your apartment. You’ve told yourself not to look at your phone but at the same time you’re curious to see if Charles has responded.

You pick up your phone quickly and see a couple of texts.

First from Whitney:

Text me when you’re in. Love you! Thanks so much for a great night xxx

Then from your husband:

Okay, text me if you need me to pick you up in the morning. Night, love you x

But it’s the third message that piques your interest the most. From Charles:

You changed your mind? We’re on the way home now. Here’s my address if you’re still up for it? X

You can’t help but smile to yourself. As the Uber driver pulls up outside of your apartment building, you look up towards your apartment window, the curtains are closed but a flicker of light is breaking out from the lamp on inside. Knowing Lewis is awake prompts you to make your next decision and you hand your phone to the Uber driver.

“Sorry, I need to go to this address instead”.

The Uber drive grunts at you but he begrudgingly types in the new address before pulling off. You can’t help but smile to yourself as he drives away from your building , and you let out a little giggle as excitement starts to course through your body. That tingly sensation is back as you type your next text:

Charles: I’m on my way x

[spencerreidswhore187]

False Confidence

Don't take yourself so seriously / Look at you all dressed up for someone you never see.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer and Y/N hate each other, they just don't realise they have been anonymously messaging for months.

Word Count: 2.8k

T/W: Mentions of murder and death

A/N: For @sackofpissandshit . I came up for the premise of this as a plate of prawns fell onto my head at work. Enjoy! ◡̈

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SherlockHolmes1887: You were right. 

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face; you replied immediately, the half-drunk coffee in your hand forgotten. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Feel free to say that again.

He did.  

Briefly, you looked up from your phone to cross the road. You were on the way to work having just received a message from Hotch. It sounded urgent. 

NapoleonOfCrime: So what made you realise that, as per usual, I was right? 

You had spent the better part of the night trying to convince him that Sherlock Holmes was in love with Jim Moriarty. You had met him online several months ago, on an Arthur Conan Doyle forum and have been messaging ever since. 

He, except for the one and only Penelope Garcia, was your best friend. You told him everything. Except for who you are. 

Early on in talking you both had agreed not to exchange names, tell each other where you lived or what you did for a career. You knew what SherlockHolmes1887 favourite film was (Star Trek), that he liked wearing mismatched socks and his mum used to call him ‘Crash’ because he would crash into things when he was younger. You knew that, like you, he had four qualifications, liked Sherlock Holmes and had an unhealthy obsession with coffee. You just didn’t know his name. 

Your phone vibrated. 

SherlockHolmes1887: “The greatest schemer of all time, the organiser of every devilry, the controlling brain of the underworld, a brain which might have made or marred the destiny of nations—that's the man! But so aloof is he from general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable in his management and self-effacement, that for those very words that you have uttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your year's pension as a solatium for his wounded character. [...] Foulmouthed doctor and slandered professor—such would be your respective roles! That's genius, Watson.”

Your phone buzzed again. You silenced it as you walked into the BAU elevator. 

SherlockHolmes1887: I reread ‘The Valley of Fear’ last night. 

You were about to reply when a voice cried out. 

“Hold the door!” 

Instinctively, you stretched your arm out between the closing elevator doors. 

The person entered beside you. 

If you had known who had asked, you would have let the doors shut. 

Dr Spencer Reid leant on his cane, drumming his fingers against its metal top as the elevator moved upwards. He had recently been shot in the leg on a case. You would never tell him but when that gun fired, you thought you were going to be sick. Your heart ached. It made you hate him even more.

“Reid,” you said, staring forward. You refused to look at him.

“L/N,” He replied. 

That was the most words you’d exchanged in days. 

When the doors finally opened again, you both headed towards the round table, where the rest of the team was waiting. 

You and Spencer were the last to arrive. 

It’s not like him to be late, you thought.  

You took a seat between Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan - you were sat as far away from Spencer as possible.

“Now that you are all here,” Hotch began, pulling you from your thoughts, “let’s begin.” 

Penelope connected her computer to the screen; there was a picture of a body. The flesh was rotten, decayed from what was evidently years hidden away. Your eyes are wide as you saw it: a long cut, rough and jagged, stretched from neck to naval. You recognised this signature. 

“The Brooklyn Butcher,” you said, interrupting the silence. 

Hotch nodded. 

It was a case that had occurred six years ago and ended up going cold. 

Spencer recalled, “Eleven women, all under the age of twenty-five, all with red hair, went missing and then their bodies always turned up three days later with a long knife wound across their torso.” 

“The only body,” you continued, “that was never discovered was Sharon Lewis’. The first to go missing. The wife of Mitch Lewis, the prime suspect during the investigation.” 

“Why wasn’t he arrested?” Derek asked. 

Spencer answered before you could, tucking a strand of his brown hair behind his ear. Why did you want to run your hands through his hair? 

“There was no evidence. The police’s only theory was his wife was his first kill and he killed all the other victims who resembled her in an attempt to relive the thrill of the kill.”

“He had an alibi for Sharon Lewis’ disappearance,” you added. 

“Correct - they also never found her body. They couldn’t prove their theory without her body.” 

“Well,” Hotch said, “they have now.” 

“Sharon Lewis, aged twenty-four, was the first victim in the Brooklyn Butcher killings. Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.” 

JJ leant back in her chair and pressed her pen to her lips, “So the cut was postmortem?”

“According to the coroners.” 

“But that was not the case for the rest of the victims?”

“No,” Hotch replied. 

“Our UNSUB gained confidence in his kills.” 

Lewis was likely his first-ever kill. You wanted to message Sherlock and ask him what he thought. He was intelligent beyond belief, you were sure he would add valuable insight to this case but you couldn’t tell him. Then he would know you worked for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. You couldn’t let him know that. He couldn’t know who you were. What would he think then? When he knew you were more comfortable around dead bodies than real people.

“How was the body discovered?” Spencer asked. 

Hotch had that dark look in his eyes, the one he got when an UNSUB scared him. You hadn’t seen that look in his eyes since Haley died. 

“The body was left on an empty police vehicle parked outside a station in Brooklyn. There was a note attached to it.”

Penelope clicked a button on her laptop and the slide changed to a screwed-up piece of paper nailed to the shoulder of the body. 

Hotch read it aloud, “You have three days before I kill another. Happy hunting, the Butcher.”

He stood up from his seat, “Selene Harker was reported missing twelve hours ago. We leave for New York now - wheels up in twenty. Penelope, you’re coming with us.” 

She smiled nervously, you gave her a discreet thumbs up. 

Everyone stood up from the round table and headed towards the door, you had grabbed the handle when Hotch stopped you.

“L/N, you need to stay here.”

You froze, confused. 

He continued, “Reid has not been cleared to fly by his doctors yet and I need you to go through the old Mitch Lewis interrogation clips, find out whether he told any lies. Stay in touch.” 

With that he left the room, leaving you there with Spencer before you had a second to protest. 

You weren’t really sure how you did it, it’s an ability you’ve had since you were a kid. It’s how you were flagged by the FBI. You could tell when people lied. Everyone has a tell and, like the lie-detecter you are, you knew how to spot it. 

When you and Reid had first met, three years ago, he had told you all the statistics about lies: “Did you know,” he had said, “10% of all lies can be defined as exaggerations, though 60% of all lies are considered to be deceptive.” 

You remembered how you had nodded, anxious as it was your first day. 

“Of all liars, 70% of them claim to be willing to do it again. Every week, Americans tell 11 lies. In a study of 11,366 lies told by 632 people over 91 days, 75% of them lied between 0 or 2 times per day.”

“You know a lot,” You had laughed. 

Reid seemed kind. You liked kind people; you dealt with a lot of horrible people growing up. 

“I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187.” 

That was the first time you and Spencer had ever spoken and it was the last time you ever spoke like friends. 

You spun on your heels to face Spencer. 

“You leave me alone and I’ll leave you be. Understood?” 

“Understood,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. 

“God, you are so infuriating.”

“I hate you,” he retorted. 

You noticed the way his jaw tensed. 

You grinned, “Lie.” 

Spencer groaned and left the room. Through the window, you saw him take a seat at his desk. 

Laughing, you walked into Penelope’s office and pulled up the police footage. 

You were three hours into the Mitch Lewis footage and he had told three lies. 

The first was that he did not know what happened to the other victims. Although, this could mean he had read about the case online. 

The second was more interesting. Lewis said he was at the pub when his wife disappeared. Even though there was security camera footage to confirm this, he was lying, 

The third made your head spin. He said he didn’t kill her. True. He said he didn’t know where she was. Lie. 

You paused the interrogation and contacted Hotch to tell him what you had found. He replied telling you to take a break as they searched for Mitch Lewis. 

In an attempt to distract yourself, you reached for your phone and messaged Sherlock. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Hi.

He replied almost immediately. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Hey.

NapoleonOfCrime: So you read ‘The Valley of Fear’ in one night just to try and prove me wrong? 

SherlockHolmes1887: If that’s how you want to interpret it :) 

NapoleonOfCrime: And?

SherlockHolmes1887: And…they are very much in love. It’s almost blindingly obvious. 

NapoleonOfCrime: “It has been an intellectual treat for me to see the manner in which you have grappled with this case.” The definition of enemies to lovers.

SherlockHolmes1887: Enemies to lovers? 

You don’t think you ever smiled as much as when you did with him. 

NapoleonOfCrime: It’s better you don’t ask, or else I’ll be sending you links to Moriaty x Sherlock fan fiction.

SherlockHolmes1887: What are you doing right now?

Your fingers danced along the tiny keyboard on the phone screen.

NapoleonOfCrime: Work. You? 

SherlockHolmes1887: Work. 

NapoleonOfCrime: How is it? 

It made you nervous that he didn’t reply instantly. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Don’t worry, this isn’t me trying to figure out what you do or who you are. I like the mystery. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Horrible. But it’s not really work that’s the problem. There’s a girl. 

It hurt a little to know there was a girl, of course it did, but you didn’t mind. What you cared about was how he seemed distressed. 

NapoleonOfCrime: If you want to share, I’m a good listener. 

He typed for what seemed like an eternity. 

SherlockHolmes1887: We, her and I, have worked together for years. She’s smart and funny and beautiful. So beautiful. But she hates me. I messed up when we first met, I was so nervous around her that I just ignored her. Whenever she tried to speak to me, I would walk away or just act like she wasn’t there. And, now, I am finally more confident, she can’t even be near me without glaring in my direction at least once. 

You yearned for someone to talk about you that way. No one had ever told you that you were beautiful. You didn’t need someone to tell you because you didn’t believe it, it’s just that sometimes, on the inevitable bad days, you want to feel wanted. 

NapoleonOfCrime: I’m sure if you explain it to her, she will understand - you said she’s smart. I can see why you like her. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Yeah, I fell hard. 

I fell hard. 

You recalled what Hotch had said, “Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.” 

You recalled how the cut was messy and hesitant whilst the rest were neat. 

 You recalled how it was done postmortem whilst the rest were the cause of death. 

You ran out of Penelope’s office, straight to Dr Spencer Reid. 

“Spence,” you shouted.

You were both alone in the room. 

Spencer looked up from his phone. It was strange, to see him on a phone. You had always thought he was the type of person to hate technology. Instead, he seemed thoroughly invested in whatever was on his screen. 

“Who are you messaging?” You asked, acting causal.

“No one,” he said.

Lie.

“A girl?”

“No.” 

Lie.

Spencer’s face had gone bright red. It was cute; it made you smile. 

Why did it make you smile? 

You decided to change the topic before your face went red. 

“Do you have the coroner’s report?” You questioned. 

He dug through the many files covering his desk and held it up for you to see. 

Blunt force to the frontal lobe, that confirmed your suspicions. 

You stared into Spencer’s brown eyes.

“I know what happened to Sharon Lewis.” 

You explained how it must have happened. Sharon was reported missing by her friend at 19:37. She was supposed to be meeting her a 18:00. Mitch Lewis was at a bar from 17:30-20:01, this was confirmed by camera footage. This means that Lewis can’t have kidnapped his wife. Or, perhaps, she never went missing. She tripped getting ready to see her friend and fell down the staircase. She would have died upon impact.

Spencer nodded in agreement with your theory.

“When Lewis got home and saw his wife’s body sprawled out at the base of the stairs, he saw an opportunity…” 

“He dragged her downstairs to the basement, explaining the deep scratches on her back noted in the coroner’s report.” You said, “Lewis worked in construction, he had a table and tools down there, he said so in one of his interrogations. He placed her on that table and cut her. He butchered her. And then did the same to others to try and recreate the high of killing his wife.” 

“We need to call Hotch.” 

Four hours later and Mitch Lewis had confessed and was in police custody.

Derek and Emily had found Selene Harker chained to the very same table Lewis had carved his wife like a cold slab of meat. 

The team was on their way back from Quantico.

You found Spencer sitting on a bench outside the FBI building. Spinning the silver ring your grandmother gave you around your index finger, you sat down next to him. 

You both stared forward, at the road. 

You were glad that you weren’t the only one who was affected by cases like this. You were glad that you weren’t the only one overwhelmed by empathy. Your mother once told you that empathy without boundaries was self-destruction but you were just glad that after so much time in this field, you still felt something. 

Spencer eventually broke the silence. 

“It scares me, Y/N, how easy a life can end.” 

Spencer clutched his cane so tightly that his knuckles went white. 

Gently, you eased one of his hands off it and held it in yours. 

You could hear your blood rushing in your ears. It was deafening. 

“You know, when I was a kid, I was always tripping over things. I walked into doors, tables, you name it. My mum would call me ‘Crash.’”

He laughed dryly whilst your world began to crumble around you. 

You dropped Spencer’s hand. 

“Sh-she called you what?” 

Spencer turned to look at you, confusion and worry were etched across his face, “Y/N? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

It’s not that you were upset, in fact, you felt almost the opposite of that. 

Your voice was steadier than you expected when you spoke.

“He is the Napoleon of crime, Watson.”

“Y/N?”

“He is the organiser of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city.”

“It can’t be.” 

Spencer held his face in his hands. 

“Disappointed, Sherlock Holmes 1887?”

You said it mockingly but you were terrified of what Spencer would say. 

“No, Napoleon of Crime. Not even a little bit.”

True.

“You told me to explain how I felt to that girl so here goes. The first thing I noticed about you was your smile. I saw it from the other side of the room. And, Y/N, it was contagious. Just looking at you made me smile. You are so beautiful and so intelligent and I have wanted to tell you how desperately I liked you since the day we met.” 

He cradled your cheek with one hand. 

“And now I know that this whole time, as well as being the person I can see myself falling in love with, you are my best friend, my favourite, my person.” 

“I hate you, Spence,” you say just before you kiss him. 

Smiling against your lips, you hear him whisper, “Lie.” 

[cherrycola27]

Till Death?

Summary: You and Rooster promised to love each other until death do you part. You just didn't think it would come so soon.

Next Part

Pairing: Rooster x Reader, Hangman x Reader

Warnings: Major Character Death, language, loss of a spouse, PTSD, light smut. 18+ Minors DNI

"It wasn't supposed to go like this," you thought as you watched them lower the casket into the ground.

Almost everyone around you was crying, but you weren't. You knew that the casket was just symbolic. It was an empty wooden box being buried in the earth because they'd never found your husband's body, even after almost two months of searching.

You weren't crying because you knew he wasn't dead. That's what you kept telling yourself. It was the last hope you had, and you needed to cling onto it, if not for yourself, for your unborn child.

You were pulled from your thoughts as Jake presented you with the flag from his casket. You tried to put in a brave face as Maverick held onto you. You and everyone around you were hurting.

You didn't miss the flash of guilt in Jake's eyes. He felt the most responsible for this.

Six weeks ago, the Dagger Squad decided to rent a both for the 4th of July. Jake, being the only member of the crew with a boating license, was driving when the storm came out of nowhere.

He tried his best to save it, but the ship wrecked in the rough waters. The last thing you remember is your husband putting a life vest on you before everything went black.

When you came to the hospital four days later, Maverick and Jake were there. The first thing you asked was if your baby was okay. The second was about your husband.

Neither of the men will forget just how heartbreaking it was hearing you wail his name when they told you he was missing.

They were both there the day the police showed up at your door step a month later telling you he had been declared legally deceased.

You wanted to argue with them, to scream, to cry, to be angry. But, you had to keep it together, the child you were carrying, your son need you.

So here you were, standing and staring at the headstone. You let a few tears slip as you traced the inscription:

Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw

1984- 2020

Loving Son, Husband, Father, and Friend

You had made sure that "Father" had been included because even though Rooster might not ever meet his son in this lifetime, in the four months of your pregnancy that he was there for, he made sure that your son knew he was loved.

In the weeks that followed, your parents would drive the forty-five minutes to check up on you almost every day. If they weren't there, one of Rooster's teammates was. All of them decided to make sure you and Baby Bradshaw were taken care of.

Most of the time, it was Jake or Maverick and Penny checking in on you. Maverick was the closest thing Rooster had to family left, and Jake felt like he owed you. He felt like he was the reason you were barely thirty-one years old and already a widow, a pregnant widow at that.

As time went on, the visits from your parents and even Maverick seemed to be less frequent. Once a week, maybe, but not Jake, he was there at least three times a week.

You tried to tell him it wasn't his fault, but you knew you'd never be able to convince him other wise.

Then, the day you were dreading came, the birth of your son should have been a joyous one, your family was there, your parents holding your hands through it all.

When the nurse laid Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw Jr. on your chest for the first time, you sobbed, a mix of happy and sad tears. You thanked God for your son but cursed him for taking your husband.

You decided to call him Nick. Maybe one day you could call him Bradley, but not right now. After his birth, you asked Jake to be his godfather. You told him that you and Rooster had talked about it when you first found out that you were expecting. Jake cried like a baby when you asked him, but happily accepted.

Three weeks later, Jake found a house for sale a block away from you and bought it. He claimed it was because he had been looking for his own place for a while, but you knew it was because he wanted to keep an eye on you.

Everyone helped you with Baby Nick. They took turns babysitting him if you needed a break. They also made sure you didn't show any signs of postpartum depression, especially after everything you had been through.

You fell in a routine after Nick's birth. Everyone supported you, but Jake seemed to be the most present. The two of you frequently ate dinner together, and there had been several times he'd fallen asleep on your couch instead of making the short walk back to his home.

Everything was going well until Nick was about six months old. You knew waking up today was going to be hard. Today was the one year anniversary of Rooster's "death," and when you rose this morning, it crossed your mind. For the first time, you cared to admit, you accepted that he was gone.

You quickly got yourself and Nick ready to head to the cemetery. You texted the squad to let them know what you were doing and to tell them you wanted to go alone. You knew all of them took the day off today, just in case.

You and Nick spent hours at Bradley's grave talking to him and visiting with him. You laughed and cried as you filled him in on everything he'd missed. Towards the end of your visit, you pulled up one of the stories Rooster had recorded on your iPad when he found out you were pregnant. He filmed them just in case he was deployed during the first year of Nick's life.

You thought he was ridiculous for doing so, but now you were grateful for them. You were thankful Nick would have them to know his father's voice and laugh.

The two of you sat in the grass listening to Rooster read a book about planes when he said it: "DaDa"

Your head snapped down at your son. You thought you were hearing things. But as if on cue, Nick reached out one of his chubby baby hands towards the screen and said it again while looking at Rooster. "DaDa," he cooed.

Your chest felt tight. Sobs threatened to bubble up out of you. You quickly scooped up Nick and your things and bolted to your car. Before driving home, you sent a text to Jake asking him to meet you at your house in fifteen.

Jake met you in your driveway. The second your car was in park, the tears came pouring out. He quickly grabbed Nick out of his car seat and helped you inside. He left you in the living room as he put Nick down for a nap in the nursery.

When he came back out to check on you, you were a whimpering mess.

He pulled you close to him, rocking you and whispering soothing words. "What happened, honey?" He asked you.

"Nick said his first word today. We were there in the cemetery, watching a video that Rooster had recorded, and Nick grabbed the screen and said,'DaDa'. He knew who he was." You sobbed out.

Jake wasn't sure what to say. He just held you until you stopped crying.

That evening, he ordered takeout for the two of you and made sure Nick was fed and changed and ready for bed. Once he put him down, you knew he'd be out for the rest of the night. Nick was a great sleeper.

When he came back into the living room, Jake noticed you had showered and changed onto some sleep clothes.

"Do you want to me leave?" He asked hesitantly.

"Can you stay, maybe just a little while longer?" You asked him.

"Of course." He said, coming to sit by you on the couch. You leaned against him as he slipped his arm around you.

"I'm sorry." You told him. "Sorry for what?" He asked you. "I'm sorry that I lost it today. I'm sure you had better thing to do than take care of me." You tell him.

"Honey, I took the day off just on case you and Nick needed me. You have nothing to be sorry for." Jake assured you.

"Some days are better than others, you know?" You say to him. He nods his head in agreement.

"Like some days, I swear I see him in the grocery store, or I smell his aftershave, or I hear him at the Hard Deck." You explain, sitting up to face Jake.

"And then some days, I lay down at night and realize I haven't thought about him all day. Some days, I think that I'm ready to move on and put myself back out there. I know I wouldn't be doing anything wrong if I did go on a date. I mean, I promised Rooster till death, I just never expected it to be so soon. And on days like that, I feel—I feel guilty. Like I've betrayed him." You finish telling him.

"You can't do that. You can't beat yourself up. Rooster wouldn't want you to wither away in this house. He'd want you to be happy." Jake says, taking your hands in his.

You don't know why, but your heart quickens in your chest.

"I know he would want me to be happy, but what if I can't love anyone again? What if no one ever loves me again? I mean, I'm a thirty-two year old widow with a baby. Who's going to want that?" You tell him.

"Sweetheart, don't be so hard on yourself." Jake says, cupping your face and wiping away a stray tear.

"Any guy would be lucky to date you. You're smart, hard working, beautiful, an amazing mother, and one of the strongest people I know." He tells you earnestly.

You meet his eyes and feel the emerald orbs looking deep into your soul. You can tell he is being truthful, his words sparking joy in your heart, but there's something else there, just behind his smile.

You aren't sure what possessed you to do it, but before either of you can process it, you're in Jake's lap, connecting your lips with his.

His arms wrap around you, one hand splayed across your lower back, the other griping at the base of your neck as you kiss him with fervor.

It's a hot, passionate mix of teeth and tongue.

You can feel him growing harder through the fabric of your sleep shorts and his pants as you grind down on him.

You reach for the hem of his shirt, and that's when his brain finally catches up with him and he pulls away.

"Honey—Honey stop." Jake says pushing you back slightly.

"What's wrong? You ask him, slightly out of breath.

"Honey, I don't want to take advantage of you while you're like this." He tells you, tucking a stray piece of hair being your ear.

"You aren't taking advantage of me." You tell him.

"Jake, please, I want this. I need you." You breathe out.

Before he can think about it too long, Jake's lips are back on yours, and he is picking you up to carry you to your bedroom.

You gasp as he lifts you, giving him a chance to slot his tongue in your mouth.

You're both nearly naked by the time you lays you on your bed. He takes his time with you. Bring you over the edge twice with his mouth and fingers before he even thinks about entering you.

"Honey, I don't have any protection." He says when you try to pull him on top of you.

"I'm on birth control. I have been since Nick was born." You tell him.

He looks back at you, laying on the bed, hair fanned out, body flush. You looked amazing.

Jake's mind was racing. Was he really about to sleep with his dead best friend's wife in the bed Rooster once slept in?

In the back of his mind, the angel on his shoulder told him it was wrong, but the sounds you made when he kissed you and touched you made it feel so right.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Jake slid into you slowly. He cared for you as he passionately made love to you.

He knew that tomorrow you would come to your senses and this would never happen again, so tonight he planned to enjoy every moment of it.

You came with a breathy gasp of his name, something he's sure would haunt his deepest fantasies for years to come.

After he helped clean the two of you up and began to gather his clothes. But you stopped him. "Stay." You muttered, and how could he not.

The next morning, he woke up in a panic, but you soothed him, stating that you didn't regret anything and he didn't either.

He searched your eyes for any indication that you didn't want this, didn't want him.

If he had any sense, he would have run out of there. But the way you were looking at him, he couldn't deny his attraction to you. If he had been stronger, he would have said how wrong this was, but Jake Seresin was a weak man.

He couldn't believe that he was considered dating his wingman's widow. He shouldn't have given in. Temptation always had consequences, but if it meant he could be with you, he was prepared for them, whatever they may be.

Then came the talks of where to go from here. You agreed that whatever you were should say between the two of you for now.

But after two months of being together, you finally told everyone. They were instantly supportive of your blossoming relationship, claiming Rooster would want you to be happy.

Things seemed to finally be looking up for you after so much darkness.

Soon, it was Nick's first birthday. Everyone was there to celebrate him, the house decked out in "TOP ONE" decorations.

You brought the airplane cake you had specially made out for him. Lighting the candle, everyone began to sing before you helped little Nick blow it out and make a wish.

Penny was taking pictures, and you were too distracted to notice that Jake had gotten down on one knee until he tapped your back.

Everyone gasped and smiled, waiting for your answer, but before you could say anything, you were interrupted by the voice of a ghost.

"Hangman, what the fuck is going on here?"

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Sorry for the trauma, babes! If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know. Also, likes are great, but reblogs and comments are golden!

[jq37]

I think the wildest part about the Porter isn't that he's evil. As you've said, Brennan's been hinting at Porter being evil this season for a while now, so while it's still shocking, it's not surprising, if you get what I'm saying.

No, it's the fact that this has always been the plan and not something that was reconned in this season. Like, we all thought this was just Brennan taking the bit to its logical conclusion, but no, this has been a reveal five years in the making...

And Emily figured it out Day fucking One by sheer accident!

Yeah for me the thing that floored me wasn't the reveal because that's been on the table for a while now. It was when Brennan said he'd been holding on to it for five years.

Because I even an amazing DM like Brennan can't plan EVERYTHING in advance. Like, the Night Yorb was obviously an addition purely based on the fact that Murph anagrammed Garthy of Brian looking for clues. And I can't imagine Gilear was ever meant to be anything other than a 4 HP divorcee. The Night Yorb fight and Gilear's curse are both pretty clear instances of Brennan running with a bit and working it into the story. But he said he's been sitting on this for FIVE YEARS. Since Freshman year!

I would even be less shocked if he said since Sophmore Year because there is that weird conversation with him, Jace, and Arianwen that finally came up this ep that was never resolved. But since Freshman year? That's nuts!

Second Edit: I am untethered to the passage of time and did my math to figure out when 5 years ago was incorrectly lol. Still impressed Brennan sat on this for so long but 5 years means since Soph Year not Freshman Year. See the replies for me realizing I did my math wrong last night.

If he's not exaggerating then, imo, it's pretty incredible to have this much lore in the back pocket with regard to NPCs that aren't even necessarily factoring into your main story that much. I wonder if this is akin to Mr. Gibbons (dude Aguefort killed to rez Gorgug in ep 2) just being evil and it never being explored but Brennan having had it in his notes. Does he just have a list of 3-5 other evil plots simultaneously happening in the background ready to be stumbled onto or just the general vibes of which teachers are shady?

And, as a sometimes DM, the last time I ran a full length campaign, literally before the game even started--like during Session Zero--I had my BBEG guessed offhandedly by a player just based on her name which wasn't any different from the other names I listed as part of background info and I just went through all the stages of grief internally and then pressed on without changing anything because of Story Integrity. Anyway my point is that it happens and as a DM it is WILD when it does.

Anyway, I am SO excited for the AP tomorrow. Brennan, you better not hold anything back I am SO curious about your DM machinations!

(Edit: Equally excited for Emily's reaction. Adaine is the diviner of the party and, evidently, Emily is the diviner of the table. WILD.)

(Second Edit:

[bahrtofane]

after pleading and much excitement on kylians’ end, you finally bite the bullet and take him with you to your hometown of algiers. 

kylian x algerian!reader

word count : 1.3K+

watch it: fluffy fluff fluff, mild over thinking and angst if u rly rly dig deep for it 

luv my country fr fr

—--

theres a small dent on the wall from where you banged your elbow so hard you swore you broke it. you were around 10. it's been years, and the little spot still stands. you never forget to run your thumb over the ridges, the cool wall warming under your touch.

It's been years, but the wall holds the memory, a mirror of you. each flick of your thumb ignites the scene inside your head over and over, you swear you can feel your elbow sting. you remember the way you hissed sharply and called for your mom, who came scuring from the hallway. and how your cousins all lined up to see the damage and soon teased you for being a baby. screeching at the 'crater' you left in the wall. your aunt snapped a picture of the comotion while she laughed hysterically, hand on her hip, head tossed back while the rest of the family filled in to check out the commotion. 

you were given a wet towel to keep in your elbow till the swelling went down. and the teasing never stopped, in fact you're bound to have it happen at any second. your cousins called you bulldozer for years, some still do. that's even your contact name in a few of their phones. 

it's so silly how such a little moment from so many years ago carries on. wasn't even your funniest moment in full honesty. you have much better ones. 

it's been years, and it remains one of your many contributions to your grandmother's little flat. cozy and quaint in the center of algiers. today you bring a new addition, kylian.

you joked about taking him once, just a passing comment while you showed him pictures from your last trip. he hummed, latching onto the idea like an excited puppy to a chew toy. bothering you with itineraries (as if you need one in your hometown?), your texts are a wall of flight screen shots at this point. and of course bombarding you with questions every second he got the chance. 

"should i pack light?"

"what cities will you take me to?"

"do you think i'll need to bring a lot of security?"

in truth, you were hesitant to bring him along.

 going back home is a feeling you can never get enough of. from the moment you step off the airplane and the familiar smell of your country hits your face, to your first dip into the mediterranean, a homemade meal, singing out of cars in the dead of night while you race through the city. 

bringing him is an intimate ordeal. your country is your first love, first home. she raised you in a sense. 

she is a part of him, the same as she is of you. but having him in your grandmother's home? introducing him to your very lively extended family? you don't know about that.

you were worried about your sanity as much as his. you know the questions will be never ending. he's your fiance now after all, wedding in the works. this is only going to add to the disaster that is wedding planning. you know you're going to have to squeeze in promises of inviting your 2nd cousins aunts cats neighbors gardener. 

and how could you forget, he's kylian. kylian mbappe. there's no way you're bringing him to the heart of algiers and going to be free to roam the streets as you please.

you know you'll never be able to do so on your own again once the media puts two and two together. good by freedom. it's easy in resorts or fancy hotels. everything can be arranged. but not here. 

you and kylian value your privacy dearly. french media has barely ever gotten a proper look at your face and you intend to keep it that way. but you don't think you can get away with that here. you want to show him real places that hold history and the people. not just fancy villas on the coast that cost more than you want to think about. 

he pleaded with you anyway, even after you voiced your concerns. "i have an agent and security for a reason. just take me and the rest will come easy. don't even worry."

you frowned, "it'll be in the summer, when everyone else and their mother is going."

"i just want to see it you know, authentically. i want to experience just a part of what you did growing up." he confessed, shy. 

and so you caved. and here he is. leaning against that same wall you rammed into all those years ago, fanning his face with a pile of notebook paper he found lying around after a long day of unpacking the gifts you bought for your family. 

he's had a long day of posing for pictures and videos, all of which you rolled your eyes at. it's nearing sunset, and you press your forehead against the familiar cool wall of one of the living rooms. it's going to be where you sleep for the next 2 weeks or so. 

the couches convert to beds and you get to play the age-old game of war with the mosquitoes that torment you. you haven't told kylian yet. he needs to be ambushed in the middle of the night for the full authentic experience. ha ha ha. 

you look back to where kylian is sat on the couch perpendicular to yours, hes given up on the fanning. hand under his thighs while he watches what he can of the balcony. you can see the sea from here. in all its beauty. the gentle wind it brings flutters the curtains while you hum. 

tomorrow he meets the rest of your family and you can't help the butterflies that pool in your stomach at the thought. your fiance, meeting the rest of what makes this house a home. you can't wait. for now though, all you want to do is nap.

you get up from your couch, sliding on your socks to press up against his side. even if its pushing near broiling temperatures. he doesn't complain, only bringing his hands to cup your face gently, giving your nose a peck. 

"its so beautiful here, " he sighs, "thank you for bringing me."

you hum into his lips, giving them a firm kiss, "you're welcome my love. i'll show you around tomorrow. it's time for my post flight nap."

he gives you a lazy smile, "yes please i was waiting for you to bring it up. it's past my nap time." he pouts.

you roll your eyes and throw one of the couches throw pillows against his chest. he manages to grab it, hurling it back at you. and while you're distracted he curls his hands against your side, tickling you till you yelp and thrash in his hold, back pressed against the couch while you gasp in between laughter. 

he finally lets you go and collapses on top of you, kissing any skin he can reach.

"okay get off, it's too hot for that." you groan.

he at least listens to that, peeling himself off you and retreating to the far end of the couch while you set up yours for what you know is going to be top 5 naps of your life, easy. 

against the gentle breeze and city sounds, you're lulled to sleep. in your vision you see kylian getting ready to do the same, reaching over to press one sound kiss on your forehead before settling down into his little bubble. 

you could do this forever you think. you're glad he came.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Three Years Behind

Requested?: No/Yes

Notes: this sucks ass as it was spit out while I was in the car and was written in like 20 minutes

Description: after a one night stand with Bill Kaulitz, you thought nothing would be left behind. But something was. A small boy and girl, the children of Bill Kaulitz.

If someone had told you three years ago, at just seventeen you would become a teen mother to twins, a girl and a boy, you would've laughed in their face.

But three years ago you didn't expect to go to a Tokio Hotel concert. Three years ago you didn't expect to be taken on stage by Bill Kaulitz.

Three years ago you didn't expect to be taken back to a hotel room, much less expect what happened that night in those sheets.

Yet you didn't expect to be treated so nicely. So genuine only to be left behind in the dust when Bill and the band switched cities the next morning.

You also didn't expect to be staring down at a positive pregnancy test a month later.

Much less down at twins heads in the hospital at barely eighteen years old.

But you did it.

You were (Name) (Last Name). And you were the mother to the daughter and son to Bill Kaulitz.

You tried getting hold of him, but were sworn as a crazed fan girl who lied to catch his attention. You were broke, as most eighteen year olds were, and couldn't afford a meet and greet nor concert to talk to him.

It took three years, and your son and daughter had grown up in that time.

First steps, first words, first birthdays and everything.

You did good though, as well as you could. Your life went on, you raised your kids and almost gave up hope on Bill ever reaching your children

But what you least expected was to be standing in a plaza, hand in hand with your children as you walked through the grass to get to the playground.

You saw an almost crowd of people, band equipment and people crowding around the men dressed in black, a camera and so much more.

You didn't register what was happening until you stopped in your steps, your children looking up at you as you stared at a familiar head of black hair, accompanied by a smile you loved, smiling at fans as he signed autographs and CDs.

You couldn't help but stare, and almost as if he felt it, Bill looked up and around, finally making eye contact with you in almost three years.

It felt like the world stopped spinning.

But to Bill, he did too.

A genuine smile crossed his face, a toothy grin as he broke off from fans and went towards you, security keeping them at bay.

Bill walked to you, stopping just a few feet away, his smile never leaving.

Until he saw the two children hooked onto your hands.

Bill looked confused, between them to you for moments before he studied them.

You watched his face fall into widened eyes and a parted jaw dropped mouth, eyes flashing between you and them vigorously as he took in their features, blonde hair and similar smiles.

He finally looked back to you, adding it all up in his own mind of assumptions as you looked down, every rehearsed word flying out your brain as you stood frozen.

Tom came looking for his brother, smiling playfully as he hooked an arm around his brother's shoulder.

"Bill? Come on, we gotta go." Tom said before his voice faded into background noise for Bill, who was still stuck staring at you three.

Tom raised a brow, confused before he glanced at you. Tom knew you immediately.

From the speeches from Bill about the one he felt guilty about leaving. The one who couldn't leave his mind and who he hoped to see in the crowd.

The one who Bill wished he could go back for and ask you on a proper date.

Tom half smiled at you, almost in pride for his brother in his second chance, still confused on why his brother remained so still and wide eyed.

Tom finally looked down at the two kids, confusion even more evident as he looked between all of you.

Tom then studied the shocked look on Bill's face, the frozen on yours and the way the twins held onto your hands, looking up at you.

"Mom?" Your son mumbled out, tugging your hand in agitation as he wanted to go out of the hot sun.

You finally looked up at Bill, seeing the almost tears in his eyes out of shock, guilt and realization.

Tom's eyes almost blew wide, adding it all up as he looked between his niece and nephew.

"Holy shit."

Tom's voice faded away.

You never looked away from Bill after that

-------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @billsjum6ie @bigbootahjudy @ilovebill-and-gustav @r3dheadedw0rld @kiwitsune @novaaisstupid @billybabeskaulitz @yas-v @iischafer @dilfverz @ahswhore0 @graciegizmo3184 @sweetpuffy12 @80s-tingz @ryiana @yuriayato5 @bunnysenpai31 @banshailey @bellastoner420 @victryzvv9 @stxngnr @killed-kiss @stilesandjames @m00nzyblogs

[bun-z-bakery]

Parent! Dogday x Child!reader? Reader trying to find their parent who went missing in the factory 10 years ago and Dogday realizes "Ah no that's my baby!"

✧. ┊𝛮𝘰 𝐿𝘰𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑌𝘰𝑢

A/N: Sorry this took me so long to get to! life is extremely hectic right now >.<

CW: slight hint of suicide near the end if you squint. not major but still wanted to let you know!

You were alone. As much as you hated to admit it, you were. And that was the truth. The only person you had in your life, your father, had disappeared. Now you are alone. No trace of him was left behind, almost like he never existed, as if he were a figment of your imagination. Yet that didn't stop you from seeking him out again. You knew he had to be out there somewhere. You wanted answers. That's why you're here, after all. 

"You… You're Poppy's angel…" A pained voice croaked out, making you turn around. You shuddered at the sight. All you could do was stare. You wanted to run as fast as you could, but your legs kept you in place.

"Come to save us. Nothing left to save, not here… You're in-" He stops once your legs begin to move on their own, almost as if you were in a trance. You take a step closer, now revealing more of yourself in the dimly lit area. He stares at you. Even though you're covered in dirt and filth from your time down there, he knows your face; how could he not? How could he forget the face of his own child? "y-you you're-"

His eyes burst into hot tears. His face breaking into a sob. He struggled against his restraints. Quickly, you did your best to help him out of fear he'd injure himself further. Dogday falls to the floor as he weeps. You could've sworn you heard him say your name. You hold the trembling dog in your arms as he clings to you, his baby. He was content that you were safe, but seeing you in a place like this? He was furious at whoever thought it was a good idea to even let you near this place. You shouldn't be here. No child should've. "How… How do you know my name?" You did your best to comfort him. You were confused; he could tell as he held your face. But you let him have his moment. All he could do was stare at you. His breathing trembled as he held you for the first time in 10 long, painful years.

"Dogday?" You call to him, and his ears go down at the mention of that name. The name you'd now forever call him by, he hated it. But if it meant keeping you safe and by his side, he would endure it. "Are you ok?" you ask as you gently pet the giant mascot that trembles in your arms. He can't tell you why, he couldn't even tell you how all this came to be. He knows there's a chance you may hate him or have many questions. He also has his own questions. His main priority right now is to keep you, his little angel, safe. Just like any parent would with their child.

"We need to leave! There's no time to waste!" He was quick to point at an exit. You secure him onto the open part of your grabpack, doing your best with the extra weight on your shoulders. You struggled but continued, not looking back. Dogday would've sobbed more if he hadn't wasted the little tears he had left before you showed up. His heart will forever long for the day he hears you calling him "dad" again. His heart aches, He regrets leaving to work early. He regrets not kissing you goodbye or even saying "I love you" before leaving on that dreadful day. The sight of you, healthy and grown, was a cruel reminder of the years he had spent in despair, mourning a loss that never was and a part of his life he’ll never get back.

If you both somehow managed to escape, he already knows your lives will never be the same. If you choose to keep him in your life as he is now, he'll be ecstatic. But if you decide not to, he'll understand. He'd be able to die happy knowing he got to hold you one last time.

A/N: Here's your order and i hope you enjoyed!

[mercuriians]

can't remember to forget you

content warning — some profanity, mentions of alcohol, references to terminal illness. reader’s last name is mentioned once for plot purposes later on.

author’s note — HI YALL 🥴 this is totally unedited & i wrote this at 12am. i just wanted to get this out as quickly as possible so bare with me. as a fair warning there is a LOT to unpack with the reader’s backstory, and to be honest 90% of this fic is literally just you brooding over kenji LMAO 😭. this is basically just an experiment so if u guys like this plz let me know so i can write a follow up!!

you really have no idea as to how such an important piece of information slipped your mind. two of japan's most recent superstar athletes were returning home at the exact same time. it would've brought a smile to your face in any other situation. if only those two athletes hadn't been you and him. kenji.

it's been years since you two have spoken. well, those years were spent productively, with both of you dedicating much-needed time towards your respective sports. he rocked the baseball field. you shone on the basketball court. but at the end of the day, behind all the sweat and arena lights and post-game interviews, there was a sharp pain that remained unresolved at the back of your mind. the last memory you have of kenji is still freshly imprinted. you had been at his house, and having recently heard the devastating news of your mother being terribly ill, you had come to him seeking comfort. little did you know that he was hurting too, with another fight having just happened between him and his father.

there was so much going on at the time, so much to worry about and so much pain in general, that all the pent-up feelings between you two had burst within one crucial moment. he kissed you, and you kissed back. clothes came off. you ended up in his bed. for a while it had felt like heaven because yes, it distracted you from the worry that consumed you from the inside out, but it had also made your most secretive wishes come to fruition.

until that moment, only you had known how deeply and utterly in love you were with kenji, and how strongly those feelings had grown since you two were fourteen.

there was nothing else that could have made you happier. even now, you remember the feeling of his strong arms around you, the feeling of his mouth against yours. the way your name rolled off his tongue so smoothly, so adoringly, as he whispered it into your ear. the way he hugged you so firmly after you two made love, as if he was afraid that you would disappear.

but then you also remember how something in him changed only a few seconds later. how the atmosphere grew dark the moment he pushed you off and told you to leave without even looking you in the eye. there's a part of you that wants to think kenji didn't mean to hurt you the way he did. it's the more naive, more hopeful part of yourself, spinning stories of how he actually didn't want you to leave, and he just said it because he didn't know how to cope with his own feelings. ultimately, it's all wishful thinking, borne out of a desire to believe that he maybe did really love you.

kenji broke your heart that night, and right now, even as you board the plane headed to tokyo, even as you put on a smile and sign an autograph for a starstruck fan, you admit that not a single thing has changed. you're still holding onto the past, and you hate yourself for it. especially when you realize that kenji probably moved on a long time ago.

"you alright?" your agent, himari, asks when you two sit down. she's one of the sweetest people ever, and you really don't want to lie to her because of the guilt that you know you'll feel. you meet her hazel eyes. you open your mouth to respond.

"yeah, i'm fine," you smile.

damn it.

as the plane takes off, you do your best to remove kenji from your mind, if only for a little while. perhaps inevitably, you start thinking about the very reason you've decided to finally come home. exactly two nights ago, there was a dream you had while you were sleeping. it was vivid in its entirety, and there was fire and people screaming and something very, very big in the distance, in front of what seemed like a sports arena. conveniently enough, there was some sort of fog surrounding the mysterious figure, but you didn't need to see it to know what it actually was. a kaiju.

you remember the words your mother told you before she passed away. it was an extremely painful memory, and really there was nothing in the world that could have encapsulated how helpless you felt when you saw her frail figure. she used to be so strong, so lively with everything she did and said. it took you a while to recognize the woman that laid in the hospital bed. however even with the tears that had stung your vision at the time, you heard the very last traces of her resolve within the very last words she said to you.

"when you're old enough, i want you to start what i couldn't. . to protect the world with the gift i'll give you. please. . just remember that i love you, and that it's worth giving things a second chance."

as you stare out of the plane window, watching the world pass by below you, the clouds mix together and blur into a white haze. a moment later, you realize that tears are threatening to fall from your eyes. you wipe them away with your sleeve before they have the chance to. i'll do my best, mom, you think, hoping that somehow she can hear you. i don't know where or how i'll start, but i will.

there's a lot of things waiting for you in japan, and you're not entirely sure if you're ready. but at the end of the day, it's your home, and you know deep within your heart that you'll do anything to protect it. sliding your sunglasses onto your face, you close your eyes and try to get some rest before the plane lands.

around twelve hours later, tokyo is there to greet you in all its glory. it's night time, but the way the city lights contrast so beautifully against the sky's inky blue-black canvas is more than enough to bring a smile to your face. "we're home, himari," you say to the woman next to you.

"we are, indeed," she breathes out.

“man, not even los angeles can compete against this,” you chuckle lightly. your words carry quite a lot of weight to them, especially considering how you were completely and utterly starstruck for the first couple of weeks you were in california. there’s a reason so many movies were filmed there. yet, tokyo remains on another level, still reigning as the undefeated champion.

fine. maybe you’re a little biased.

however, your smile fades away when you realize that the probability of seeing him—kenji—is at an all time high. chances are, he’s already here. waiting for you.

stop that.

you shrug off the thought, reminding yourself that he had probably moved on years ago. there was no use in entertaining an idea that had been burnt out for a long time. the only person that would end up being hurt would be yourself—and speaking from experience, emotional distress was a lot different than physical. physical pain you could handle. as a basketball star, you were pretty accustomed to them by now. ankle sprains, muscle cramps, even that torn acl from a year ago, which had hurt like an absolute bitch.

emotional pain was entirely different territory. and it was territory that you were not willing to cross. not again.

god, you were such a mess. maybe indulging in a momentary distraction wouldn’t hurt.

“hey, himari, you wanna know what i’m cravin’ right now?” you ask, a false smile creeping onto your face. the woman in question gives you a wary look, brows slightly scrunched together as if she already knows what you’re going to say.

“a good night’s rest before your interview tomorrow?” she asks flatly.

you shake your head. “alcohol. lots of it.”

“ms. matsuda, i don’t think that’s a smart decision—”

waving her off, you protest, “just for tonight, i promise. we’re back home and i wanna celebrate. and how many times have i told you to call me by my first name?”

himari stares at you for a few moments before lowering her head and heaving a sigh. “fine. . [name]. please take care of yourself out there. and be prepared—i’m sure quite a lot of people will recognize you when you walk into the bar.”

you smile in triumph, holding up your sunglasses. “i’ve got that covered. sure, having these on at night are a little weird, but i’ll just pass it off as the new trend.”

your agent gives you another slightly concerned look before bidding you a good night. and with that, you start walking to the nearest bar. it’s small, inconspicuous, and lit up with only one neon sign. all good indicators that there’s probably not a lot of people in there. you walk in, head held high, without any trouble. your footsteps are light and unhurried against the wooden floor as your eyes quickly scan the environment—eleven or twelve people, give or take, two bartenders, a potted plant over by the corner. and a vacant stool at the far end. perfect.

sliding into the seat, you drum your fingers on the freshly cleaned counter as you decide on what to order. “the denki bran looks good, think i’ll get that,” you mutter to yourself.

you feel someone take the stool next to you, but you don’t pay it much mind. at least until they reply to your words. “yeah, it is good. pretty bold choice, though.”

your mouth drops open.

you hear the person next to you snicker quietly.

the snail-esque speed at which you turn your head would have been comical if it had been any other situation. however, it’s anything but funny when your heart jumps into your throat, when your eyes widen with pure and unadulterated shock as they meet those of familiar gunmetal gray bordering on black.

kenji gives you a sharp grin that’s only a little bit sheepish. “nice to see you again, ace.”

[rayassecretlife]

So this is love?

Pairing: Aged up!19 year old Neteyam sully x Fem!omaticaya!reader

PLEASE READ PART 1, PART 2, AND PART 3 BEFORE READING THIS.

Summary: After the long loving night you shared with Neteyam, it was time to go back home to the clan and tell them the news, but you also had to deal with your father.

Warning(s): Mentions of ab*se, Self h*arm and death, mature language, mentions of pregnancy, mature content, choking

“Neteyam?” You call as you walk further through the forest, listening to the trees blow in the dangerously silent wind. You had just woken up moments ago but it was still night, forest darker then it had been before you got there which was weird because the forest was anything but dark. “Neteyam!” You yell but receive no answer, calling to your Ikran but she was nowhere to be found.

A tall silhouette came into view making you sigh in relief, walking up to it slowly with one last call to his name. You smiled as he began to turn around, just a few feet away from his body.

“Nete-“ Your once love filled eyes turned into pure fear as the silhouette turned, gripping your neck in their hand as their face started to become clear to your eyes. “D-dad” You couldn’t breath, his hand was too tight against your neck and only got tighter, staring at you with the most hateful look you’d ever seen.

You choked out a cry as you clawed his hand, but he wouldn’t let you go—your breath getting caught in your throat quickly. “Y/N” a voice called faintly but it wasn’t your fathers, your mind not even processing it as you struggled to breath. “Y/N” the voice repeated, your vision starting to get foggy. “Y/N!”

With a blink of an eye you found yourself gasping for air in a whole new area, hand clasping at your chest with every shaky breath. “Y/N, look at me, Sweet girl” you jumped as you felt hands touch the small of your back, still gasping for air as you looked toward the figure. “It’s okay, I’m right here” you looked at your mate mortified, eyes widening at him without you even noticing. “Come here”

He pulled you into him and you soon began to cry, his hand grabbing yours to place against his heart. “Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that, Baby”

“I-I-“ he shushes you once more, hand stroking your hair gently as you continued to cry, holding onto him the hardest you ever could. “He almost killed me…”

“It was just a nightmare, Ma’Tìyawn. Nothing will happen to you while I’m here” His words are as true as Eywa herself, his comforting arms only tightening around you. Another day, another nightmare—this was nothing new to either of you. It hurt him horribly to see you so scared, feeling all the emotions you felt in your dream because your queues were still connected. “Don’t cry, beautiful girl. I’ve got you”

You wanted to apologize but you knew what he’d say so you bit your tongue, resting your head against his chest. You sigh as you felt his tail hook your leg, his hands roaming your hair as he kissed the top of your head.

“It felt so real… his hands—god, his hands, Nete” Neteyam didn’t want to hear of it any longer, shushing you once again in hopes you’d leave it alone. He was more worried about what was to come, how you two would soon walk home to the clan mated.

“As long as I’m still breathing, nothing will ever hurt you again, you hear me?” He lifts your face into his hands, eyes sincere with plead and you nod, wiping away your tears. “Let me deal with him when we get back, yeah?”

You remembered… the fact no one knew this had happened—that you had to explain it to them soon, just as you were to walk into high camp. You were nervous but you knew this is what everyone wanted, they wanted you to be Tsahìk. It was so much pressure. You didn’t know how to be Tsahìk, or even act like one—lessons with Neytiri and Mo’at we’re gonna be a long process.

“My love, your nervous” you look beside you and realize where you two had connected, head ducking down slightly once you realized he could feel everything you felt. His hand calmly rested in yours, thumb caressing over your skin. “Do you…have regrets?” He hesitantly asked and you quickly shook your head.

“No, of course not. I’m afraid I won’t be the Tsahìk they want me to be. I’ll fail…” He watches you closely as you reach down to your queues, thumb brushing over the root of them with a sigh. It was a terrifying feeling, falling in love and actually pursuing it. You had no idea how to give him what he needed, how to be the leader he needed you to be.

“I don’t want to worry about that now” His voice interrupts your thoughts and you look up, watching his lips peak into a small smile. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise” Eywa, how beautiful he was. His eyes always seemed to sooth you, always so sincere when he spoke to you. He wanted you to feel comfortable, safe whenever you touched. He would never let anyone lay a finger on you again.

“Can we stay here a little longer? Just… alone?” He smiles and nods his head, laying back onto the grass with his arm open to you which you happily accept. He can feel your nerves relax as soon as you lay your head against his chest. You didn’t want to think about the future either, just wanted to stay with him for as long as you could. His fingers began to stroke through your long hair and you couldn’t help but stare up at him, admiring his features without saying anything.

You swore you could fall back asleep just in his arms. You felt so weightless, like nothing could even get close to you as long as he was with you. You felt safe. “Your so pretty, Nete” The words slip from your mouth but before you could react he lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

“It still feels surreal. I’m mated to the most beautiful girl on pandora” You push his face with a laugh, hiding your head in his chest so he wouldn’t see your burning cheeks. You were laughing but he truly was being serious. He waited so long for this moment, spending so many days debating on whether it would come true or not. This was his dream. “Kids gonna be so pretty, I’m gonna have to fight off any boy that tries to fuck with our daughter”

Your laugh slowly dies down and he looks at you slightly worried he had taken it too far, his ears falling back against his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“How many do you want?” You ask, fingertips tracing circling over his chest. You could tell he was still on edge, but he knew you meant it. You always wanted kids—always talked about how well you’d treat them because of how you had been treated growing up. You wanted to give them a good life, good parents.

“A lot” He lets out a nervous laugh but your indistinct giggle is enough for him to lighten up, your eyes meeting his with a smile. “Like… four? Five?” Neteyam was always a family man. He wanted to treat his children the same way you did, and had the motive to treat them better then his father treated him and his brother. He needed a big family—it’s where he belonged.

“Boys and girls?” He nods his head instantly. “So if we have five, how many girls do you want?”

“I want three girls and two boys, but I want the oldest to be a boy” You smile, he wants girls. you couldn’t help but look at him in awe—admiring how his eyes lit up when he talked about it. “I don’t want a lot of boys… stresses you out” He notices your eyes on him mid sentence, a small smile appearing on his lips with a laugh. “What?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. Your just so cute, wanting a family with me and all” You snuggle into him, heart full at the sentence you had just said. You and Neteyam… parents? Oh Eywa, it sounded so good. “I used to stay up all night dreaming of this. Just the two of us, you know?” His heart is doing backflips, stomach filling with butterflies at your words.

“Eywa, I’m so in love with you” You smile against his neck, pressing a small kiss against his jaw. You could cry just over your relationship. You’d never felt so safe, so calm in another’s arms. Your mate would admit his love for you in a heartbeat, over and over if you needed him to. “As much as I love being here with you, they have been paging me all night” You notice his pager against his necklace, letting out a small sigh before nodding.

“I’m just nervous… it’ll be okay” you reassure him but before you could get up, he cupped your face, pressing a soft but passionate kiss to your lips. It felt like his way of telling you it would be alright, and that he wouldn’t let anything ruin this day for you both.

“Don’t be nervous, Syulang. The people love you. Plus, we need to move into our own cave now, huh?” A smirk appeared across his lips and you rolled your eyes, pushing him. “All alone, every night… man, we’ll have 5 kids in no time-“

“Neteyam!” You cover his mouth and he only laughs, watching your face turn into a mug. “Not funny”

“Really? Cause with what happened last night…” His hand reaches down between you, pressing onto your stomach with a smile. “We’ve already started”

The two of you made it back to the village about 15 minutes after, Neteyam’s hand locked into yours just waiting for someone to see. You hoped it was Neytiri, knowing how badly she had been rooting for you guys. She would be the easiest.

“Neteyam!” Oh no. The little voice calls to your mate, running up to the two of you with the biggest smile on her face. You knew she’d draw so much attention, and now you were royally fucked.

“Tuk, did you see him-“ Neytiri’s eyes fall on the sight before her, her pupils lighting up with excitement. She made her way to you, pulling you into a tight hug with her hand soothing your back, whispering little reassuring things into your ear. “Great mother… you are mated?”

You nod and she almost shrieks out of excitement, the clan now coming to see what had been happening. Neteyam grabbed your hand and pulled you further, walking to the people who had been coming to you. Only one person stood out.

Mo’at.

“My sweet grandchild, I am never wrong!” She pulls you into a hug and you laugh, wrapping your arms tight around her. “I was hoping that’s where you went, boy. You’ve been ignoring us all night!” He laughs, hugging an arm around her while she still hugged you.

“Does this mean we have a Tsahìk?” Tuk’s little voice asks and the family all looks at each other, Neteyam’s hand squeezing your own. The simple nod of your head makes the clan cheer, and you couldn’t help but smile. You were nervous, but these were your people.

“You can’t keep me in here forever, sully! I’ll find my fucking daughter!” Your head turned at your fathers loud voice, almost jumping from your mates grasp. He placed a hand against the back of your head, squeezing your hand.

“Hey, hey” He soothes, turning your head to face him. “I’m right here, your safe. Your safe now” Neytiri smiles at you two, giving mo’at a slight look. Neytiri taught Neteyam to protect you growing up, but now? Great mother, nothing was getting passed him. “I’m going to deal with it, okay? I’ll be back”

He kisses your head before you could say anything, voice hesitant as you watched your mate walk toward the caves where the yelling came from. You hated that you felt so empty without him next to you, now biting your lip to try and stop your nerves from getting the best of you.

“Come, child” Mo’at grabs your hand and you turn to face her with slightly widening eyes, watching her face soften. “It is okay, he will handle everything” Neytiri’s hand cups the small of your back, giving you a reassuring look. “I will show you to your new cave—that is, if your looking to-“

“Yes. We are” Neytiri smiles, noticing how you’d lightened up when she soothed you. “I will follow you” And you did just that. Mo’at did you a solid giving you one of the more deserted Caves that happened to be bigger then most. Only the best for her grandchildren, right?

You enter the cave and almost instantly fall in love. It was a beautiful cave under the trees, and it had an opening on the back wall which looked out onto the waterfall behind your new home. You imagined it all here, the moment you’d bring home your first child.

“Do you like it?” Mo’at doesn’t miss how your eyes begin to water, her hand rubbing your shoulder with a small smile. “Sweet child, don’t cry” it was bittersweet. You grew up in a broken home with a broken family, The Sully’s being the only thing you ever had—and now, you were soon to become the Tsahìk of your clan and live a normal life with the boy you loved. You couldn’t believe it was real.

“I love it, Mo’at. I—oh, Eywa” You sniffle, wiping the tears that fell from your eyes. “Thank you… thank you both so much” you couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful water, remembering you still had to take a bath due to last nights events. Neytiri must’ve known what you were thinking because she almost instantly reassured you.

“We will give you time to get used to your new home. Let us know if you need help grabbing things from your old one, okay?” She combs your hair and you nod, giving her a small smile.

Soon enough, the two mother figures left the cave to go on about their day, most likely planning something much bigger for you and Neteyam later on. The only thing that had been holding Neteyam back from becoming Olo’Eyktan, was the fact he didn’t have a mate. Now that he did, you knew things would move fairly quick.

You let the water take you as you walk into the small waterfall stream, the loud crashes of the water somewhat soothing you in the fact you had been alone. You could still feel Neteyam’s hands against you, and his voice in your ear. You must’ve been losing it. This mate bond was far too strong.

Neteyam on the other hand, but standing right behind you with his eyes flush just taking in your perfect body. He was mesmerized by your looks, your voice, your hair, hell—even the way you smelled. You were so beautiful.

“Need some help with that?” He asks as you try to wet your back, body quickly turning toward the loving accent you were so fond of. Your eyes were big with excitement and he loved every second of it—pulling you into his arms so you’d wrap your legs around his waist. “I was only gone for 30 minutes”

“30 minutes too long, Mr. Sully” you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you into a kiss. You felt your queues connect, eyes squeezing shut at the still fairly new feeling. “Did you see the cave? It’s so beautiful, Tey. We have a waterfall and-“

Neteyam watched in awe as you continued to ramble about your new life, only imagining what things are gonna be like from now on, what it would soon be like once you two started a family. He imagined you would be even more beautiful then before, pregnant and carrying his child? After years of feelings hidden away, you two were finally one—and he couldn’t wait to start a family with you.

“I love you, Syulang” He blurts out and you stop talking, looking at him while your cheeks burned with heat. He lifted his head toward you, still holding you up with his hands—pressing a passionate kiss to your lips.

Everytime your lips touched, you’d get lost in yourself. You’d forget where you even were whenever he was with you. You don’t know what came over you, but one hand set on the back of his neck, pulling him closer into the kiss while your other hand roamed his chest.

“My love, Not right now but later” Fuck. He knew you so well. You whine against his lips, tugging his hair gently back, earning a small moan from his lips. “You make it real hard to stay on task, Pretty girl”

Just as you were about to reply, the sudden snap of a twig caught your attention quickly, and your head snapped toward the direction it came from, pulling away from Neteyam’s grasp. Was someone watching you?

“Let her go!” Your mother yells, your now bleeding body fallen onto the dirty under you. Your father continued to beat you, objects cutting you and leaving bruises

“Daddy…” you tried to wipe your tears, you tried to stay strong like your mother had told you, but you couldn’t when your body had been this destroyed. Your were 9, it wasn’t your fault.

It wasn’t your fault

It wasn’t your fault

At this point, he was trying to take in the many cuts and bruises along your back, placing a soothing hand against your body. Your ears stood tall as you searched for what made that noise, up until he engulfed your body against his.

“Can we check it out—what if-“

“It’s not him, baby. He’s locked away. He can’t hurt you” You didn’t believe him. You didn’t believe that your father would leave you alone because you knew he’d find a way. He always finds a way. “My love, you can’t stay this way forever”

His hand softly caressed your stomach under the water and you couldn’t help but close your eyes, letting a small tear roll down your cheeks. That fact only made you cry, the fact he could hurt your child if he got out… it terrified you.

“I’m sorry” He shushes you, turning you towards him and pulling you back into his chest, your head laying in the crook of his neck. You felt like such a burden. You didn’t want neteyam to have to deal with this, you wanted him to be able to love you easily.

But Neteyam didn’t care that you were harder to love. He didn’t care that you woke him up every night because of your nightmares, he didn’t care when you zoned out because of your memories—he loved you. His broken hearted girl, he loved you so much.

You were all he needed, and he wanted every part of you.

Just a little cute ending to the series that started me off. Excuse the inactivity 🩵

Taglist: @doggyteam2028 @luvagirlsworld @mashiromochi @angelsamor @neytirishottie @lu-the-ghost-reader @jakescumdump @myh3artttt @rinizitos @luz15sstuff @lalamac125 @countryandsweetbabygirl @queenmizuki @sunnysolhaze

Sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged, the tag list is a copy n paste of my other post ://

[youthereader]

Near Zero part 1.

pairing: cillian murphy as j. robert oppenheimer x fem!reader

summary: 2.8k words. Brought on as part of the Manhattan Project, your old physics professor sees you in a new light.

rating: eventually E (no smut in this part); age gap (10+ years), infidelity, period-typical sexism

a/n: Though based on real life characters, this is J. Robert Oppenheimer as played by Cillian Murphy, a fictional character. This is not intended to be historically accurate, merely written as entertainment. This is my first reader fic ever, so please be kind! Many thanks to @indulgence-be-thy-name for encouraging me and helping iron out wrinkled ideas.

part 2. 3.* 4. 5. 6.* 7.*

When you see him now, he’s so different to the last time, but he’s unmistakably the same man. Now, he wears a broad hat and carries a pipe as he approaches you in the empty room.

“I was wondering when you would show up,” he says, and his smile opens him up completely.

He extends a hand as you rise to meet him. Your things are being sorted thoroughly somewhere out back, but you still hold onto your coat and matching pocketbook. Los Alamos feels like another world, so remote that you hadn’t expected the town to be built here, with roads and people swarming. It is a living, breathing thing you’ve somehow managed to stumble into, it feels.

“Dr. Oppenheimer,” you reply, shaking his hand. “I didn’t know if you were meeting me.”

“Wouldn’t want to miss it,” he replies, though he sounds distracted. “What do you know?”

Hardly any pleasantries, which you expected. In the years of knowing him, Dr. Oppenheimer didn’t get to know you as your professor, and certainly not as anything else outside of the classroom. You had not subscribed to the Cult of Oppie, and not necessarily out of choice.

Though there were women studying theoretical and experimental physics, they were few and far between. Since leaving high school, you had understood that to be taken seriously, you could not act like a man. The few friends you had in high school often teased you about your lack of grace, your ability to be covered in chalk dust at any given time, and your unwavering standoffish nature.

You belong in a think tank, not on a podium proclaiming these theories. You could work in a team, which was why you supposed your name came up for this.

“My country needs me,” you reply.

He smiles again, somewhat smaller. His eyes survey you a beat longer and you swallow, picturing your hair windswept and unruly from the train journey. You might smell of sweat, you hadn’t showered since yesterday and came straight here when you let yourself known to security.

“And your country will be glad to have you. Have a seat.”

He gestures to a desk and chair, waiting for you to sit. The silence stretches and you feel his eyes on you. You’re wearing your best dress and your nails match your lipstick. Though you were given little context about being summoned here, it felt like a job interview from the telegram you received a few days ago.

The last time he saw you, you dressed like someone that didn’t care about making a good impression.

To stamp down any nerves, you pluck your cigarettes case from your pocketbook, fishing one out. A lit match appears as you put a cigarette between your lips, Dr. Oppenheimer’s hand cupping the flame as you lean in.

“Mm, thank you,” you murmur. You exhale, watching as he pulls back, extinguishing it with a short puff of air.

He stares down at the burnt-out match for a couple seconds before he looks back at you again, his brows furrowing.

“This opportunity means reaching beyond what we have before scientifically,” he says, and you take another pull from your cigarette.

You speak around your smoke. “This is to do with Nazi weapons, isn’t it.”

“They split the atom,” he replies, and you nod. “And since you’re here, it means you’ve been cleared to be part of our great endeavour.”

The ‘our’ would be ‘his’ to a lot of people. You know better, having seen the hundreds of people outside.

“I need like-minded people,” he says.

You rub the tip of your thumb and forefinger together absently, frowning. You were the first to admit that you had very little in your life besides your work, and that hadn’t been plentiful since war broke out. Belatedly, it occurs to you that he’s referring to your intelligence.

“What could I contribute? I wasn’t one of your best.”

“You were,” he amends, lowering his voice a little. “You just didn’t participate outside of a school building. You were invited.”

Your eyes swing to meet his and you recall that Oppie reputation, that he was a womanizer underneath the genius. It never meant to be aimed towards you, that charm. Or so you assumed.

“I’m not the type to enjoy crowds,” you reply. “It’s a character flaw of mine.”

You were speaking just like your parents, the ones that had not encouraged you to pursue academia. Being a homemaker, someone with a reliable husband was what they wanted for you.

“Would you have come, if I asked you to, personally?” he asks.

His question throws you, and you stammer out: “N-now, or back then?”

“I asked for you both times,” he says.

For the first time, you blush. Hoping he ignores this, you smoke some more to clear your head. You had almost forgotten about his ability to make you flustered.

“If you asked me to come to a class party personally, I would have said yes,” you admit.

You dare to glance his way again, stomach flipping. So much for being a more polished version of yourself, you’re back to being mousey and strange under those intense eyes.

“That’s a pity,” he murmurs. “But I’m glad you’re here now.”

-

In the days and weeks to follow, it’s quickly made clear that there’s no leaving Los Alamos. Your residence is between a series of identical houses. The house itself is barely larger than your living quarters you remember from college. A cramped bedroom, a washroom, and a kitchenette. Nowhere to entertain to speak of, but it was still a privilege to have your own space. Your neighbors to your left are a young family of three, and to your right, there are two secretaries related to fellow scientists.

You keep to yourself. You opt for a long letter to your parents explaining very little about the new role here. You’re certain your letters are read by someone along the way for obvious reasons, and explaining it all tires you anyway.

Being a part of something as insular as this takes some adjusting to say the least. There is no escaping without being noticed, as there are guards all over. You overhear town gossip without meaning to; the tiny bubble you circle over and over is both thrilling and stifling. Everything feels pressurized in those first couple days in your new home especially. You sit on your new bed with your hands in your lap, cigarette perpetually lit in times like these.

You leave early the morning you’re expected in the department, unable to delay the inevitable any longer. You’re not the only one with this drive, walking into the main laboratory (a wide room with desks in rows with a blackboard at the back) to find several men already seated, chatting with one another.

You pause, waiting as their attention diverts to you. You recognize a few of them from professional acquaintance, whereas others you’ve only known by reputation. The air shifts, and you feel very out of place.

“Good morning,” you say, voice soft, controlled.

You wish to be invisible, which was why your clothes were far demurer than what you arrived in earlier that week. Admittedly, you did agonize over your hair for perhaps longer than necessary, but you’re glad you haven’t done childish braids or nothing at all. There’s a fine line to tread with these men; being attractive but not ostentatious is usually the aim. From what you’ve learned over the years, not caring about your appearance tends to backfire in terms of being taken seriously.

You don’t agree with any of this, of course. No-one should be judged on their appearance in terms of their intelligence or whether they’re worth listening to. Unfortunately, this is just the game you must play, especially in academia.

Your eyes catch various reactions, some eyes lighting up with recognition, others perplexed. Some might not have seen you in years and don’t remember you at all, which is fair. You never strove to be known; your work is what mattered.

A couple men come forward to shake your hand, pleased to see you. You ignore the way a few pairs of eyes dip to your exposed ankles. You’re scanned and assessed, and whether you’re found wanting is forgotten, for you feel the touch of someone’s hand on your arm and turn your head towards the source.

“Oppie. Back in one piece!” someone calls out.

You stare at the side of Dr. Oppenheimer’s face, your arm burning from where he touched you to slip past. Had he been that close behind you on your way there? You don’t think you could have missed him, though you were preoccupied with your thoughts.

“Yes. Well rested and ready to get back to work,” he replies, striding towards the front.

He doesn’t look your way, doesn’t acknowledge you in the slightest, which is fine. It’s not out of the ordinary, and so you sit down on the edge of the group, ankles together under your desk.

“Oppie the Rancher, I don’t see it.”

You can. His hat reminds you of a frontiersman. You can picture him staring out across the desert on his horse, reins in hand.

“A night under the stars can do wonders for your mind, Richard,” Oppenheimer retorts, pointing with his pipe. “You should try it sometime.”

The men banter and you sink into your observer role with ease. At least they’re not acting that differently with a woman present. As more people fill the room, you relax into your chair with your notebook and pen at the ready.

You stand as Dr. Bethe enters, shaking his hand. You will report to him, the head of the theoretical division. Once he takes a seat, the noise dissipates, and Oppenheimer launches into the meeting.

You will have to play catch-up for some time, but it’s not altogether intimidating. You know you can dedicate all your time to this, since you have no family staying here.

-

Days are spent with your head full of equations. You drink cups of drip coffee over and over, and ashtrays are filled and emptied. You are among a team of theorists assigned to a specific task by Bethe, whose own intellect is dedicated to your cause.

The goal is to solve the issue of nitrogen fusing into magnesium, or, to understand the probability of the nitrogen atoms fusing. There isn’t data on this, and so you must calculate for this occurring every time a fission bomb would detonate. Every time, there is a chance that the bomb would cause a chain reaction.

You write out the calculations like everyone else, and each conclusion is the same. There is a chance that the atmosphere itself may ignite.

Everyone else begs for rest, but your mind won’t give you relief. You chain smoke, standing in front of the blackboard with your chalk aloft, as the world darkens around you. You ignore your rumbling stomach, finishing the calculation again with a short sigh. Stepping back, you hear:

“What are you doing here?”

You turn your head to see Oppenheimer standing by the doorway, lips parting at the sight of your face, his hat in his hand. He walks over, glancing at the board behind you.

“It’s the same,” he says, eyes darting left to right.

“I’ve done this ten times,” you murmur. “Theory always leaves near zero chance of catastrophe.”

“Near zero,” he repeats, pulling in a breath. “Yes, I know.”

The weight of this is as much a reality to you as a theory, since this isn’t a classroom back in California, but a laboratory equipped with hundreds of scientific minds all working to build the same weapon. There are marbles representing very real plutonium in the fishbowl six feet away from you.

“I don’t wish to be an alarmist,” you add.

He looks at you again, eyes dipping to your mouth, and you feel a stir beneath your navel. To your surprise, he gives a small smile, but it’s not condescending. You’ve seen him give those out plenty before but have yet to receive one yourself.

“Your fears are valid, though not entirely necessary,” he murmurs. “I just got back from Michigan. I left in a panic about theory. But theory can only take you so far.”

You recall not seeing him for a couple days, though you are prone to missing others when you’re stuck in your own head. Oppenheimer is the exception, always.

He moves to lean against the desk beside you and you follow him, perching yourself at the edge as he looks down at his hat.

“I needed to speak to Compton about the potential chain reaction, of course there’s no possibility of speaking about it on the telephone-”

“So, you took a train all the way to see him?” you ask, and he nods. “But now you seem calm.”

“Not calm,” he says, though his voice is level. “More understanding that there’s a 3-in-a-million chance of total apocalypse.”

Those chances, though conceptually low, are not non-existent. You watch as he glances up at you once more, the air leaving the room. His eyes implore you.

“Near zero.”

“Near zero,” he echoes, his voice a near whisper. He places his hat back on his head.

You push off the desk and pick up the eraser, beginning to wipe the board clean of your calculations. When you finish, you look over at him again, frowning.

“If you’re more understanding, why are you here?”

It’s possible he didn’t go home because he needed to work this all out, like you. He keeps staring back at you, intimidating you as always, causing heat to rise at the back of your neck. In the low light, you hope it’s undetectable.

“The light was on. I saw you through the window.”

You swallow, ducking your head. “Oh.”

You place the eraser back on the ledge, and the space between you seems to shrink though neither of you move. You might be imagining the way he takes you in. He’s the director, and he has valid concerns for his staff.

But you’re no fool. His gaze is too familiar, especially when he nods at you, saying:

“Grab your things. I’ll work you out.”

You obey, following him out, switching off the light along the way. As you walk together down the halls, your footsteps echoing, you smell him beside you. He is tobacco, and body odour. Nothing sharp or unpleasant, but intimate, a semi-sweet musk. You smell the dust on his jacket and think of him sitting astride his horse with that thousand-yard stare.

You exit the building with nods to the guards, bringing you back to the present. You don’t want to leave him there in the street, but his residence is nowhere near yours as far as you know. You think of his wife, not for the first time, and wonder what he tells her about what they’re doing here.

“I’m this way,” you murmur.

Oppenheimer doesn’t respond how you expect, walking beside you for a few minutes instead of leaving you to find your way home alone. The silence between you in companionable, not strained, which feels like a miracle to you. From memory, he has never been someone you had a poor encounter with. It feels like a fluke, but statistically, it makes sense.

Your head still reels with equations, probabilities, and dire consequences. The chances of sleeping are so low, but you still wish him goodnight when you arrive at your residence.

There are people in the street, some glancing your way, seeing him and wave. He lifts a hand but doesn’t greet them further. He waits, watching you try to figure out how to leave him.

“Try to sleep.”

“I don’t know how likely that is,” you admit, turning back to him.

His hands are on his hips, and he smiles knowingly.

“I need you sharp tomorrow.”

You stand so close to one another now that his voice is low, the intimacy of the moment spreading over you.

“You’re no longer Sisyphus, you can rest.”

You think about pointing out the hypocrisy of this. You doubt he finds it easy to sleep at night, under the stars or otherwise.

“I think it’s more like the incy wincy spider,” you say, emboldened by his proximity to you. “Not quite as tragic.��

He chuckles and you smile back at him. He steps back, nodding a little. “Have a good night.”

He waits for you to go to your door, and you open it, glancing back at him for a moment. His smile returns, an understanding shade to his eyes.

“Remember the sun comes out again,” he calls.

He takes off, and you shut the front door behind you, leaning your forehead against it as you exhale.

Thank you for reading! 🖤 Likes, reblogs and replies are always appreciated and genuinely motivate me. 🥺

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 9: "A Truth Revealed"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 4.5k

a/n: After the entire fiasco with my cat destroying my previous keyboard, I am pleased to say I managed to buy a new one and still managed to get this up in time to hurt/frustrate you all a little more. We're inching closer to some comfort though! I believe the next installment will be titled "The Weight of Grief" for this series. Enjoy the angst and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705

Curled up on your couch, you were comfortably cocooned in a blanket and completely focused on the book in your hands. Over the last few nights after work you’d been reading it, taking some time to escape into a romance that actually had a happy ending–unlike your love life. You’d been looking forward to having a quiet night in tonight, especially after the long and stressful day you’d had at work. 

And also because you’d gotten another call from Matt earlier today. 

After the dinner at Matt’s apartment with your friends almost three weeks ago now, you’d really tried to consider what Karen had said. Maybe it was time to try to distance yourself from Matt. If he wasn’t interested in you as more than a friend, you really couldn’t keep torturing yourself over him. You needed to try to move on, to put some space between the pair of you, but you certainly couldn’t do that if you kept jumping at every opportunity to spend time with him. Which is what you’d always done when it came to Matt.

So you’d been distancing yourself from him. Avoiding him lately until you finally thought you might be ready to see him again. You felt bad for doing it though, especially because the calls from him seemed like they’d oddly increased over the past few weeks since that night. You had explained to Foggy and Karen what was going on and what you were doing. The pair of them had been happy to help keep Matt off your back and to keep him from thinking too much into things, though every time his name appeared on your phone screen you felt guilty for all the times you let it go to voicemail. Or the times that you’d lied and told him you were busy and couldn’t talk. 

You needed this though. You needed to find a way to let him go before your feelings drove you insane. Because Karen’s question that night had made you suddenly very aware of the fact that you hadn’t been happy for a long time. Not really. You’d been pining after Matt for years now, clutching onto the hope that maybe he liked you, or that maybe someday his feelings for you might change into something more. You’d held onto that hope with a death grip for so long that you’d realized it was gradually dragging you further and further down. And you couldn’t do that to yourself anymore. That other night a few weeks ago, when you’d flirted with Matt and made a complete ass out of yourself only to receive nothing in return from him that even so much as hinted at the fact that he was flirting back, you’d realized that you’d needed to finally release that hold on your hope. 

Matthew Murdock was never going to love you as more than a friend.

It was a line you said to yourself almost daily lately. Anytime the feelings would randomly crop up, you repeated that over and over in your head. It was a reminder that you needed to actually try to move forward this time.

Which was why this weekend you were letting one of your coworkers set you up on a blind date. You’d spent this past week trying to get yourself excited about it. Stephanie certainly seemed to think you and this Alexander would be a great match, and apparently he was an incredibly sweet and charming guy. Which was good. You needed to find someone nice. Someone who would be good for you. Alexander wasn’t going to be Matt but you were going to be open-minded when it came to that date.

Another thing you kept repeating to yourself daily lately.

Turning the page of your book, you were so engrossed in it that you almost didn’t hear the noise outside of your window nearby. Except you had. It was a faint, muffled noise that sounded like it came from your fire escape. You lowered your book, eyes narrowing as your head slowly turned towards the window.

Immediately you screamed, your book flying out of your hands and falling to the floor. There were two figures standing on your fire escape right outside of your window–one in all black and the other in red. Both of them had their faces obscured and it took you a moment to recognize the one in black as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, but you didn't recognize the other beside him who looked like they were struggling to hold him up. At least, you didn't recognize them until they'd reached a hand up and slid the mask down their face and leaned forward, knocking on your window. 

Your jaw dropped at the sight of Elektra Natchios in the flesh, smirking at you on the other side of your living room window. 

"Knock, knock, darling," she called out, voice muted by the glass. "Open up."

You froze on the couch. Letting Elektra into your apartment was the absolute last thing you wanted to ever do. You absolutely loathed her. And you also had no idea why she was toting Hell’s Kitchen's vigilante on her arm, either, but you figured the reason couldn't be good. 

"You're not welcome here," you called back, sitting upright on the couch. "We aren't friends, Elektra."

Her face contorted into a look of faux sadness and offense at your words before it quickly returned to its previous smugness. "I don't particularly care what you think of me," she replied, "but I'm sure you wouldn't want your friend here suffering outside in a dumpster."

Your face twisted in confusion as your focus shifted to the masked man clinging to her, his head hanging forward over his chest. He looked like he was in pain from the way he was slumped over. But why would she call him your friend? You'd met him once and you had been drunk–and managed to get even drunker after that encounter. He wasn't exactly your friend.

"I don’t even know him," you shot back, eyeing him through the window. "Take him to a hospital where he can actually get some help."

“Aww,” she cooed through the glass, one hand reaching up towards his black mask. “Are you sure you don’t know him?”

Your mouth opened to once again tell Elektra off, but before the words could even form she’d pulled back the black fabric from the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’s face. At first all you could see was a mess of dark hair, but then her hand still holding the mask grasped underneath his chin, raising the man’s head up so you could see him better.

You audibly gasped, jaw dropping wide open as you stared at Matt’s face on the other side of the window. For a long moment your brain became entirely devoid of thoughts as you sat on your couch staring at Matt on your fire escape dressed as the masked man.

“Still want to say you don’t know him?” Elektra questioned.

It took you a minute to slightly recover on the couch, your mouth finally closing but your wide eyes still staring in shock at the sight of Matt–the same Matt who you’d drank beers with, the one who you’d shared your insecurities pre-graduation with, who’d cried on your shoulder when he’d told you about his father–as the masked vigilante running around Hell’s Kitchen. The very same one who you’d seen grainy video footage of in the news with superhero-like fighting skills. 

“Can you open up already? He’s getting a bit difficult to hold onto,” Elektra called out.

“Matt?” you whispered.

On the other side of the window, you saw Matt’s lips twist into a small, apologetic smile. He nodded his head just once in response. 

Still in shock, you unraveled yourself from your blanket and rose from your couch, making your way to the window. You unlocked it, sliding it up and watching as Elektra tried to help Matt through the opening. Reaching out, you grabbed onto Matt’s shoulders and attempted to help her get him inside. Matt’s own hands darted out to grab onto your upper arms in return, groaning as he made his way through the window and into your apartment. 

You hadn’t been expecting him to lose his balance though, and he’d stumbled straight into you. You toppled over easily, his body falling with yours and pinning you to the floor beneath him. Matt’s hands had flown out just in time to catch himself so he didn’t fully crush you under his weight, his face hovering just above yours. You could see a few bleeding gashes across his forehead and cheeks as his sightless eyes focused along your right cheekbone, a pained expression on his face. 

A plethora of emotions raced through you in that moment. Part of you, a very small part, wanted to lean up and kiss him. You’d never been in such a compromising position with him before, and you certainly wished it was under different circumstances–though you knew you shouldn’t be feeling that way and you quickly tried to divert your thoughts. Especially because this was certainly not the time for those types of thoughts.

For the most part you were hurt and confused, though. Matt had been lying to you all this time about those injuries he’d been getting. He’d been going out and intentionally putting himself into danger. And it hurt you that he’d hid that truth from you, that he didn’t trust you with that information. 

But not only that, how the hell did Matt go out blind fighting bad guys like the masked man did? Clearly someone taught him to fight like that, something he’d never told you about before–more secrets he’d been hiding from you. But you knew he was blind, so how could he do the things the masked man did? That you’d seen actual video evidence of? How was that Matt?

And why the hell was Elektra in a similar crime-fighting ensemble? What pieces of the goddamn puzzle had you been missing all along without even knowing it? 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

With a grunt, he pushed himself back onto his knees before Elektra was at his side. She grabbed onto his arm and roughly tugged him up, Matt hissing in pain as she did. You winced at the sound, slowly rising back up from the floor after him. 

“He needs somewhere safe to stay while I finish…dealing with some things,” Elektra told you, leading him past you and straight towards your couch. “Your apartment was the closest. And he said he trusted you.”

You stood there gaping at the pair of them as she lowered his battered and bloody body onto your couch. Matt was making noises of discontent as she situated him along it. 

“What–what the hell is going on?” you stammered out.

When Matt was settled, Elektra straightened and turned towards you. She exhaled a rough sigh as she eyed you from top to bottom. 

“Well darling, your BFF is the masked vigilante roaming the city,” she said. “ Clearly . I thought you’d caught that already, but apparently you’re a little slow, I see.”

“Elektra,” Matt warned through gritted teeth.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Someone beat him with a metal pipe,” she explained. “Now we’re thinking he’s fractured a rib and he’s honestly quite useless to me like this. So he needs to stay hidden here until he can get his ass home. Think you can manage that, darling?”

Your mouth had dropped open at the mention of a metal pipe and it had stayed that way for the duration of her explanation. Elektra groaned in irritation at the look of shock on your face, her head dramatically falling back over her shoulders as she did.

“He’ll be fine ,” she told you. “Throw a blanket on him and he’ll probably walk it off in the morning.” Attention shifting over her shoulder, she frowned when she glanced at Matt. “And it’s a damn shame I’ll miss seeing your ass walk it off. It’s certainly gotten so much nicer since I’d last enjoyed it. I remember–”

“Enough, Elektra,” Matt snapped.

Heat rose up to your cheeks in a mixture of awkward embarrassment and jealousy at what she was hinting at. But when Elektra’s eyes dropped down to where your book had fallen onto the floor beside the couch, you saw her head tilt curiously to the side, a grin slipping onto her mouth. Embarrassment won out as you watched her bend over and grab the book from the floor, slowly rising back to her full height as she examined it. Her attention slowly shifted back towards you, one of her perfect dark brows arching up on her pretty face.

“Didn’t realize we’d interrupted your fascinating read, darling,” she purred, eyes dropping back down to the book. “Romance novels though?” She tsked, shaking her head. “Doesn’t even look naughty. How positively–” her eyes landed back on you, an amused smile on her lips, “– you .”

“Shut up,” you muttered, heat burning at your cheeks.

“Still in love with your friend?” she taunted. “Love life a mess so you read this trash?”

Your arms crossed awkwardly over your chest, your gaze dropping down to your feet. Tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes at her words. She damn well knew you loved Matt and she was toying with you like it was entertainment to watch you hurting.

“Mmm, I see you’ve never actually told him then,” she continued. “All this time and you couldn’t–”

“ Elektra ,” Matt snapped.

Elektra had actually stopped mid-taunt, her lips thinning at Matt’s harsh tone. Even you’d been surprised at how irritated he’d sounded. Maybe he was finally seeing how rude she’d been to you for once. Though you doubted that would stop him from being with her; you were certain they would be back together if they weren’t already. Even if you knew Elektra would only be toying with him yet again. 

“You’re both no fun,” she said with a pout, tossing your book onto the coffee table.

You couldn’t look her in the face as she sauntered past you, tears still welling in your eyes. Blinking hard, you did your best to force them back. You didn’t want to cry in front of her or Matt. You were so tired of the tears.

“Don’t worry about getting up, Matty, darling,” Elektra said, sliding your window up behind you. “I’ll handle this one for you. But you owe me something in return.”

Elektra slipped back out of the window before you heard her slowly sliding it down after herself. Your apartment filled with silence at her absence, Matt’s head shifting towards you on the couch. There was a frown on his lips, his dark brows pulled together in something that wasn’t pain, but you couldn’t quite make out the meaning behind his expression.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your night,” he said softly. “And that you…found out. Like this. About me.”

“What the hell, Matty?” you breathed out. “How long have you been doing this?”

"Around the time Fog and I left Landman and Zack,” he answered.

You ran a hand across your forehead, trying to piece things together as question after question ran through your mind. You almost didn’t even know where to start.

But something in particular surfaced in your mind, panic flooding you. 

“So that–that night the man in the mask found me drunk in an alley,” you began slowly, the hazy memory coming back to you as Matt’s expression shifted to something even harder to read. “After I’d found Liam cheating on me. That was…you?”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

You grimaced, remembering how you’d unknowingly and drunkenly spilled your heart out to Matt himself that night. How you'd embarrassingly sobbed on him about being in love with him. Which meant that he knew you loved him, right? And he’d just spent all this time pretending you didn’t, like that moment hadn’t happened because he didn’t feel that way in return?

But of course he didn’t love you because as fuzzy as that night was to you, you remembered the masked man crying to you about loving someone, too. The conversation had been difficult to recall from all the alcohol you’d drank that night, but you remembered he’d been upset about a woman he loved. He must have meant Elektra, you realized.

Because of course he’d still be in love with her, even after she went and broke his heart. And now he finally had her back.

Swallowing the lump forming in your throat, you felt even more inadequate for Matt now. With whatever he was out doing around the city at night, apparently he'd found his match in her. Because you certainly weren't about to go out and play at being a hero with him. That only further cemented how wrong you were for him; you’d never be Elektra.

“If you’ve fractured a rib I should really get you to a hospi–”

“No hospitals,” Matt said earnestly, cutting you off. “I’ll be fine, I just need somewhere to stay until I can heal a bit. If that’s alright? Just–just for the night?”

“Matt,” you began slowly, “if you have a fractured rib, that could take weeks to heal, not one night.”

His lips pulled back into a sheepish smile. “I’m different,” he admitted quietly. 

Your head tilted to the side, eyes narrowing back at him curiously. He was different ? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Different how?” you asked him.

“I…have heightened senses,” he confessed. “And I was taught a long time ago how to meditate to heal myself faster. So a fractured rib really isn’t that big of a deal to me, but I–I can’t fight like this. And my place was too far from where we were. I just–just needed somewhere safe to rest and heal. But I’m truly sorry for dragging you into all of this.”

“I–” 

You stood on the opposite side of your coffee table utterly dumbfounded with this new information about a man you’d thought you’d known for years . Mouth opening and closing a few times, you struggled to figure out how to piece a coherent thought together.

“You–you heal yourself?” you asked in shock. 

“Yeah,” he answered.

Another few moments of silence passed, your brain attempting to wrap around that crazy bit of information. But then you remembered the other thing he’d said and a whole wave of new questions rose in your mind.

“What do you mean you have heightened senses?” you asked him nervously.

“I’m still blind, but my other senses are able to pick up on things that others can’t,” he answered.

You sucked in a breath, fear building inside of you. What the hell did that mean?

“Like what?” you hesitantly questioned.

“Well I can hear that your heart rate just elevated even higher than what it had been at after hearing that. I can hear your blood pressure increasing, too,” Matt told you. “And I can smell that your adrenaline and cortisol levels just rose–meaning you’re nervous or afraid.”

You saw the corners of his lips curve downward as he spoke, his focus lowering towards your coffee table. Though at that admission, you felt your own heart rate sky-rocketing. He could read you that well?

“So–so all of your other senses are able to pick up on small details like that?” you questioned.

Matt nodded his head solemnly. “I can hear someone’s heartbeat if I focus. Can even tell when they’re lying to me depending on how it beats,” he explained. 

“How long have you been able to do all of this?” you nervously asked. 

A sad smile slowly drew his lips upwards at the corner. Despite your panic about everything Matt had probably been picking up on with you for who knows how long now, you wondered how hard it must be to live like that. How much outside stimuli was hitting him all of the time? What all was he experiencing that no one else had to experience?

“Since that accident that blinded me as a child,” he answered quietly. “You remember the one I told you about?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I remember you telling me about it,” you replied. “But how come you didn’t tell me this , Matt?”

“How was I supposed to?” he asked back. “What I can do, it isn’t normal. I’ve always kept it a secret.”

“You don’t think I’d like to know that my best friend can hear my heartbeat? Or smell my–my hormones ?” you asked him. “That you always knew when I was lying? Or–or was afraid? Or whatever the hell else you’ve picked up on from me? This whole time?”

There was not a doubt in your mind now about Matt having known the truth about you at least liking him. Being attracted to him. How could he have not known? If he could hear your heart alone, he’d know it was always racing around him, that he always had an effect on you. But he’d never flirted with you, never taken an interest back in you.

The tears started falling before you could stop them, your hands flying up to your mouth to try to cover the choked sob building in your throat at that realization. The strangled sound still fell out of you despite your efforts to hold it back, though. Matt’s focus immediately shifted to you, something soft and sad reflecting in his own eyes.

“If you can pick up on all of these things happening with someone's body that–that means you’ve known then?” you asked, your voice cracking as more tears fell. “This whole time? That I’ve had feelings for–” you broke off on a strangled sob, unable to just say it.

Matt nodded his head slowly across from you. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’ve known for a long time, I just–just never said anything.” 

Another sob fell out of you before Matt said your name so softly, but the sound of it only drew more tears. He’d always known you loved him then. And he certainly didn’t feel the same.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I do my best to give everyone privacy around me, but some things I can’t help but…pick up on.”

Your tears fell faster now as your hands slid up and you buried your face in them. You didn’t think it was possible to hurt anymore than you did when it came to loving Matt, but you certainly had discovered tonight that you were very, very wrong. Because his admission felt like it had torn your heart straight from your chest before he’d tossed it out of your window straight down to the street below to be repeatedly run over by traffic.

Matthew Murdock was never going to love you as more than a friend. Hadn’t you already been repeating that to yourself lately? Well, how fucking spot on you were.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I’m–”

“Who else knows about you?” you asked, cutting him off with your face still buried behind your hands.

You tried your best to ignore the way your heart twisted at the way he'd called you 'sweetheart'. He'd never done that before and now was certainly not the time for him to start. 

Matt expelled a rough breath, the sound causing you to peak at him between your fingers. His head had rolled away from you now, his sightless eyes focused on the ceiling of your apartment. 

“Foggy found out,” he whispered. “On accident. That’s why we fought and the firm broke up. And uh, Elektra has always known.”

“Of course she has,” you muttered bitterly.

“You’re upset with me,” he pointed out.

You shook your head, rubbing the heels of your hand along your cheeks to try to wipe away the dampness. “I’m not upset at you ,” you told him. “I’m upset that you knew so much about me and I didn’t–didn't know that you did. And that you didn’t tell me all of this back at Columbia, because I’d have wished you’d trusted me enough with this information about yourself.” You inhaled a shuddering breath, that aching, empty feeling in your chest somehow feeling like it was finally consuming you entirely. "And I'm upset that you–you knew . All these years and you've–you’ve always known ."

Matt said your name gently again, but you shook your head quickly, continuing on and trying to force down the tears and the feel of your heart breaking. Matt was hurt and he needed help, that was your focus tonight.

“What do you need from me then, Matt?” you asked, sniffling loudly. “Just a place to crash? Medical help?”

You watched as his eyelids slowly lowered, a frown deepening on his face. “A place to stay for the night so I can heal, yes. And if you could call Fog, ask if he’d bring some of my clothes from my place here. That way I can–can change in the morning before I leave.”

Nodding, you wiped your hand across your cheeks again. It was a moment later that you realized you hadn't spoken. 

"Sorry, I nodded," you muttered.

"I know," he whispered. "I could hear the way the molecules in the air shifted when you did."

You winced, suddenly uncertain what all Matt had always known that you weren't aware of. But yet again you tried to focus on your current situation instead. It didn't matter he knew you liked him, he'd always just wanted to be your friend instead. You’d cry about it later, when he wasn’t lying on your couch bleeding.

"I'll go call Fog," you informed him. "Get him to bring over your clothes. You can stay here tonight, Matt. You know I'll always be here for you. I've always told you that." Curling your hands into fists, you tried to stop the way they had begun shaking. "I'm going to get a washcloth, though. To clean your cuts. If that's alright?"

Matt nodded, his head turning as he focused on you across the room again. "Yes," he replied quietly. "Thank you."

Chewing your lip, you turned and headed down the hall to your bathroom. You switched on the light and made your way over to the vanity, bending down and pulling out a clean washcloth from under it. Rising to your feet, you set it on the counter before slipping your phone out of your pocket and dialing Foggy. It took a few rings before he finally answered, and for some reason the sound of his voice greeting you with your name had you crying again. 

"Hey, Fog," you said, voice cracking.

"Shit, are you okay?" he asked in a panic. "Did something happen? You sound like you're crying. Why’re you crying?”

Your eyes slowly slid up towards your bathroom mirror, taking in the sight of your red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You looked awful.

"I know Matt is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen," you breathed out. 

There was a long pause on the line after you'd spoken, the silence eventually broken by Foggy muttering a curse.

"Where are you?" he asked. 

"At home. Elektra dropped him off injured on my couch," you told him, your voice breaking as you spoke.

"I'll be right there," he promised.

"He wants you to bring him a change of clothes," you said, watching as more tears slid down your reflection's cheeks. 

"I'm on it," he assured you. "But we are definitely talking later when we're out of his hearing range."

"Yeah," you whispered. "We definitely are."

[byunpum]

Heyy!! I read your fic ''MY LOST CHILD…'' and i really loved it. Can you imagine where Aunt Sully meets Quaritch I would really like to see her reaction to him coming back

A small continuation of "My lost child".

PART 1

Pair: Aunt Sully human x Spider Socorro (mother and son)

Note: I have two requests that are practically the same thing. So I decided to put them together. +HERE+

"You guys get out of here" you shout pushing your nephews and son on the edge of the ship. They must get out of the place quickly, everything was sinking. And between gunshots and chaos if they didn't get out of there fast a catastrophe was going to happen. You grabbed your nephews' arms and pulled them into the water. They were scared, and you could see how their little eyes were looking for comfort with you. "Calm down…go!!!" you command, taking spider's hand. You had managed to rescue your son, after neytiri left you at the base of the boat.

"Mom…but you can't stay" says spider, his voice was shaken and he was starting to cry. You take his arm, pulling him closer to the edge. "Follow your cousins…just get out of here" you say. Spider starts to climb up to the edge of the tubes that overlooked the ocean. It wasn't until you hear a loud voice that was shouting your name. That voice you hadn't heard 15 years ago, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you watch as Spider's eyes meet yours.

You were very young when you came to Pandora, only 20 years old. You were the youngest human to enter the pandora program. You had studied so hard since you were 18 years old, in order to enter this program with your older brother, and you had succeeded. You were sent long before your brother. This gave you the opportunity to get to know the Omaticaya clan deeply and create a relationship with everyone in the clan. Although you could not have your avatar, they accepted you. You were the only human allowed in the clan. Everything was perfect, but the only mistake you made was falling in love with Colonel Miles Quaritch, a man who was older than you, who had his own goals and you were his doll that he could use as he pleased. You had put up with everything, even when Jake came to Pandora. You stayed with him, everyone told you to stay away. But no…you married this man. And you loved him…but he had hurt you so many times.

"Y/N" Quaritch's voice was loud. All your memories come flooding back. Neteyam and lo'ak had already moved away. But because of your state of shook, you were still holding spider's arm. He was holding you, moving you a little to make you come to your senses. You turn your head slowly, your eyes widen. He was there, in his new avatar body, but his features were identical. You swear you feel like you're going to throw up.

Quaritch has a cheeky grin on his face as he takes a step forward. "You look just as beautiful as you did that last night we met," he says coldly, fucking bastard. He turns his head to the side a little, waiting for you to say something. "Spider…back yes. Behind me' you say, pushing spider back behind your back. The boy holds onto your arm, while you hold the gun you had in your arm. Pointing it at him.

"I see that since you couldn't have your own kid…you decided to steal mine" Quaritch says sarcastically. You feel the spider's grip on your arm tighten. He shouldn't be listening to all this…he was your son. He always has been, you were his mother. "HE IS MY SON!!!" you scream, anger and frustration coursed through your body. But you were so afraid, it was an old fear. It was a feeling he provoked in you. "Mom.." says spider in a low voice. You raise your gun and point it in Quaritch's face.

"No… she isn't. And she never will be, he had his mother" says quaritch, but is interrupted when spider shouts behind you. "SHUT UP!!!" you feel your son hug you more from behind, pulling you further over the edge. You could barely express how you felt, you were supposed to defend your son. But no part of your body could move. You see how he's getting closer, and your heart races. "Mom…come on!!!" shouts spider, dragging you by the shoulder.

It wasn't until you see how he's inches away from you, he leans over and tries to grab spider by the arm. You point and shoot…

"Mom, if I ever get lost, will you come and rescue me?" asks a little spider, the boy was only 6 years old. They were lying on the roof of the lab looking up at the stars, while you stroked his hair. "I will send out an army to find you, in the middle on the darkest night. It's true, I will rescue you" you hum, while you feel his little arms hug you more. "I love you mama" says spider, rising from your chest. You smile at him and take his hand for a kiss. "I love you even more my little sunshine" you say.

Your breathing was agitated, and your eyes didn't stop looking at him. You watch as his body falls to the ground, crumpling to the floor in pain. Sure, a human-sized gun couldn't do any damage to an avatar, but many shots will. You tuck your weapon further into your arms, ready to end his life. Oh no, this demon wasn't going to take away the most precious thing you had in this life, your son. You see how he looks up, to meet you, for the first time in your life you can see how he looks at you with fear, for the first time he was the one who begged. With strong and fast steps you get closer, ready to shoot. Until you see how Jake, stands in front of you. "I'll take care of it…get out of here!!!" shouts jake, grabbing your arm and pushing you towards spider. "No, I…" you start to speak. But jake drags you to the edge, where spider hugs you to be close to him.

"I need you alive… I need you to take care of our family. Go with neytiri, that's an order" you obey, but not before taking one last look at Quaritch. He was on the ground, still twitching in pain. The shot went straight into his left shoulder. Spider pushes you further, so that you both enter the water. You swam to a safe area, where Neytiri was, and it wasn't long before you see Jake coming towards you. You feel someone hug you around the waist, spider was on the ground. "You came to rescue me" says spider between tears. "Always" you pull him closer to your chest.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

AHH HII I DONT KNOW IF YOURE TAKING REQUESTS BUT YOUR 2007 FICS ARE SO 💋😩🤌

i would LOOOOOVVEEEE to see how everything went down when leo actually came back.. would they tell him? would raph continue to do it? would she choose one over the other? AHHH SO MANY POSSIBILITIES if you’re not taking requests ignore this but i would beg you for some closure or just more spicy fics HAHAH🤭

Anger: part 2 (18+) (Angst)

2007!Raphael x reader (a little 2007!Leonardo x reader)

Part 1 / Part 3 Leonardo's Ending Raphael’s Ending

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A/N: Thank you for your request! I’ve been so tempted to continue it, but I wasn’t quite sure how, as I can only see this situation end in a specific way. I decided to go in a third direction, bc let’s face it, everybody has made their own bed in this lol. And bc it is the 2007 TMNT, I’ve allowed myself to go extra angst. Hope you enjoy!💙❤️

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You and Raphael’s sexual relationship has taken a turn in the serious direction, but then an old missed face comes home, stirring up feelings once again, especially anger.

Warning: Sex as a coping mechanism, angry sex, angst, emotional betrayal, swearing, Leo and Raph being horrible brothers to each other, cheating?

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It had been almost a year. A year had passed since Leonardo’s training had ended, yet there was no sight of him. You clearly remembered the night you sat in your window, with a slight hope that Leo would come home. It almost felt wrong to think in such a way, especially after a year of sneaking around with his own brother. You had found Raphael’s pressens comforting, even if most of the time was spent moaning or calling out his name in ecstasy, with your legs spread wide or over his shoulder.

You really liked the time you had spent with Raph, even if he wasn’t much up for talking about emotions. He was there for you, in a way Leo hadn’t been able to in a long time. Yet, when you saw a familiar figure out on your fire escape, during the last hour of Leo’s return day, you were slightly disappointed to see Raphael instead. He too didn’t seem too happy. And that was the moment you realized that Leo most likely wouldn’t come home again.

That night with Raphael was way more passionate than what you had been used to with him. Passionate with an undertone of sadness, but intense. There had been very little dirty talk from Raph, yet his eyes spoke with more emotion than they ever did before. Same with his hips, as they thrusted into you with more focus and intention, instead of his usual rapid angry way.

Raphael stayed that night, like he had done so often up until that point. And as you woke up the next day, and began your obligatory morning sex, a change in your and Raph’s relationship was noted. Though still rough, it was not as hard as usual. Though there was still anger hidden in there somewhere, it was not as prominent as before. Sex between you and Raph was no longer a coping mechanism. It was no longer about the absence of Leo, but just about you and Raphael.

Sex in Leo’s room grew old long ago. After Raph had had you in every possible way on every surface of his older brother's room, it started to move into his own room. The first time he had you on his own bed, he felt like he had won a major victory in a long fought battle. It satisfied him to have your scent spread all over his room, in such a way that Leo had never managed to in his own room. With your legs over his shoulders, his hips pounding into you over and over again, and your hands holding on to him for dear life, he felt like the king of the world. How you would hold onto his head while his tongue was writing his name over your dripping cunt, or the way your mouth felt around his dick and how you worked to make him feel good. It was enough to make any man go mad. And that was almost what Raph did, whenever he sat around, waiting for the perfect moment to jump on you again without, the rest of his family noticing.

When Raph would come back home, after a night of crime fighting as the Nightwatcher, finding you sleeping in his bed. Waiting for him to come back home to you. Waiting for him to hold you tight before giving you yet another earth shattering night to remember. And unlike his brother, Raphael did just that. He came home to you to take care of you, just like Leo never would. Or so he thought.

Leo had to admit that he was slightly fearful as he stepped into the sewers. Even after what April had told him, he still feared the reactions that would come from his family. Would they be angry or would they be happy? He did not know. But the reaction he feared the most was yours. Leo first thought when he came to New York was to go to your place, just to see you again. But remembering how late it was, and not knowing what plans you had the next day, he opted to make his way straight to the sewers.

The first thing that met Leo as he stepped into his old family home, was the sound of his two youngest brother’s snoring. Both Donnie and Mikey sprawled out in front of the TV, pizza boxes laying all around them. Leo smiled at the sight, remembering what April had told him. They had jobs now, however that was possible for two mutant turtles. But because of that they probably needed their sleep, and therefore Leo decided it was best to leave them alone for now.

When Leo first stepped into his room, he was surprised by the smell that met him. The scent of you was very strong, almost jumping at him. Had you been touching yourself in his room? It touched Leo deep. A pang of guilt pinching his heart. But there was another smell. A familiar one, yet he could not place it. It did not seem to fit into his room, and definitely not with the smell of you.

After having placed his things in his room, Leo went down to the dojo. He had a feeling that Master Splinter was up and waiting for him there. So when Leo found his father sitting in the dojo patiently waiting for him, he sat down.

Raphael knew as soon as he walked out of his bedroom. He stopped in his tracks, feeling all sorts of emotions. Happiness, pleasantly surprised, confused, unsure, angry. Leo was home. His big brother was home. The man that had you first was home.

He went to the dojo and peeked through the open doors. The sight of his brother talking to Master Splinter was like a punch to the guts. They were talking like they did any other day, as if Leo hadn’t been gone for two years. Raph did not hear a single word they said. All he could think about was you, and how you would react when you knew Leonardo was back home.

Master Splinter said something, which prompted Leo to turn and look in Raph’s direction. The red clad turtle panicked a bit, not sure what to say. He ended up settling with a simple welcome home and that he was going to bed, before turning and waking up his brothers.

But Raphael did not go to bed. While Master Splinter and his brothers were distracted by Leonardo’s return, Raphael went straight to the apartment he had found himself in more and more often over the past year.

You were sleeping peacefully when Raph came to your bedroom window. If it had been any other night, Raph would have climbed in quietly through your unlocked window, before spooning you in your sleep, waiting for you to wake up. But not that night. Raph had thrown all his quiet skills as a ninja out the door, as he banged your window closed behind him, causing you to stir in your sleep, slowly waking up.

“Raph?”, you asked, rubbing your eyes as the named turtle started taking off his gear, in a way he hadn’t done for a long time.

Raph didn’t answer, but instead he slammed his lips to yours. You moaned out in pleasant confusion as your tongues danced together in your mouth. It had been a long time ago since Raph had been this rough with you, and you could not help but wonder what had caused it. But as he started pulling your underwear off, feeling how wet you already were against his fingers, you couldn’t help but moan in pleasure, enjoying this side of Raph you hadn’t seen in a while.

The sex that night was rough. Not unpleasant, but hard. It was like being fucked like the same way Raph used to do it one and a half years ago. Expect he didn’t talk dirty to you like he used to back then. This time he growled more than before, and would bark out  small sentences, such as “take it”, “look at me” and “say my name”. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy it, because you did. You had nothing against rough sex, and especially not the way Raph did it, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something had pushed him. The gripe of his hand around your neck as he fucked you sensless, made you think that he wanted people to notice someone had held you down like this. Like he wanted to prove something.

Raph was angry as he slapped your ass during doggy style, bringing his hands down hard against your flesh, one after the other, before grabbing onto your hips and thrusting into you like a drill. But he was not angry at you, but Leo. After all this time, how dared he come home now? After you and him finally were doing a little more than just fucking, he had to come and fuck it up. He just had to come and take you away from him one more time. But Raphael wouldn’t let that happen, especially not now while you were calling out his name, begging him to make you cum, just like you had done so many times before.

After three rounds, you thought that Raph would what had almost become a habit to him. To stay the rest of the night, and leave in the early hours of the morning, before his family would notice he had been gone. But to your surprise, Raph was already putting his gear back on, just as quickly as he had been taking them off.

“Raph?”, you asked, watching him in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing”, he said, tying the knot on his belt. “Absolutely nothing”.

“But that’s not true, is it?”, you asked, getting out of your bed, while he acted like he didn’t hear you. “Somethings going on, isn’t there?”

Raph growled quietly in response, irritated that you could feel his anger. He tried to relax his fists as he turned to you, fighting to keep his expression neutral. “Nothing is going on, (Y/N)”.

But you didn’t buy it. You frowned your eyes, blinking at him a few times, and Raph knew he had no way out of this one.

“You know what? Forget it. It’s not something to bother you with”, he said, trying to sound as sincere as possible, before turning to leave out the window. You called after him as he climbed up the fire escape. You quickly put on a pair of pants before hurrying up after him, your bare feet against the cold metal of the fire espace. He might have been a ninja, but you wouldn’t let him leave so easily. First Leo and now Raph. You couldn’t let it happen again.

You caught up with Raphael on the roof, grabbing onto his arm before he could leave. He looked at your hand on his bicep, almost as if it was hurting. But he did not pull back. Instead he sighed as you continued to ask him.

“Please tell me what is going on, Raph”, you almost begged him, shivering in the cold wind of the New York night. “You can’t just leave like that, not like…” You didn’t get to finish that sentence, before another presence jumped onto the roof. A breath hitched in your throat as you recognized the shape of his face, shell and the katanas strapped onto his back.

Raph’s eyes fell to the ground as he took a long breath in. Of course he had to be here now.

“... Leo?”

Your expression and the way you said his name was almost enough to bring Leo to his knees. Surprise, hurt, sad, confused. You stared at him, wondering if you were dreaming, almost scared to reach out to him. Leo could only imagine how confused you must be at that moment. It hurt him, and it hurt him even more to know that he was the reason you felt like that.

“Hey, (Y/N)”.

Raphael bit the inside of his cheek, watching as you let go of his arm and walked to Leo. He had known this would happen. It was like watching the two of you a few years ago. I love with those eyes you and Raph was slowly building up over the days. He almost had what you and Leo had, just so much better. But then Leo had to come and ruin it. Not only did he come back and take you from him, but he just came back like that, leaving Raph feeling even more betrayed by his brother.

Leo opened his arms a little, ready to hug you like he had done so many times before. To comfort you in the way he should have done once his training had finished. Raph looked away, feeling the lump in his throat build up when...

SMACK.

Raph looked up at the sound, staring at the scene in front of him. Leo almost forgot to breathe. Eyes staring off into the distance, his cheek burning with a tingling yet painful sensation. You had just slapped him. Leo looked confused at you, only to be met by your angry expression and your teared up eyes. You wanted to slap him again, feeling all the anger from the unknown that had been building up over the past two years, finally boiling over. But you didn’t. Instead you started yelling, louder than Leo had ever heard you yell before.

“A whole year, Leonardo! A whole fucking year! Half a year without writing, and then you don’t show, and another year later you expect a hug!?”

“I’m- I’m sorry, (Y/N). They needed me, I- I had to”, Leo stammered, not sure what to tell you.

Raph was surprised. He had never heard Leo stammer and never in front of you. The fearless leader never stammered, not even when he was cold. But a slap to the face by you was what did it.

“And you never thought that I needed you?! Leo, I fucking waited for you everday, even after you stopped writing!”

“Like I said, (Y/N); I’m sorry! They- they needed me in the jungle! They were killing people! Innocent people! I- I had to stay there, I couldn’t just let people get killed!”

“And you couldn’t tell me that at least once during a year and a half? Leo, I thought you were dead when you didn’t come home!”

Leo didn’t answer that. Instead his eyes fell to the ground as he felt guilt eat him from the shell up. Why didn’t he write? He wasn’t sure. He did have the time. Was it because he at one point feared that everyday could be his last, or was it because he for a short time felt he did better saving people in the jungle, than he ever did as a leader for his brothers? He did not know. He had totally forgotten about you and how you must have been feeling while he was gone. Leonardo had fucked up big time, thinking he was saving people, all while leaving the girl he used to call his girlfriend alone in the unknown.

“And you!”, you yelled, turning to Raphael, pointing your finger straight at his face. “This is why you were so angry, wasn’t it?! And yet you didn’t tell me?! How long has Leo been home Raphael?! Huh?!”

Raph snatched your finger in the air, his blood boiling with anger. He just had to say it. Especially in front of Leo, now that you had been yelling at him like that. He just had to stump it further into the wound, even if it meant evoking your anger even further.

“As I recall you didn’t seem to mind me doing you angry while Leo was gone”.

Leo snapped his attention straight at Raphael with that comment. Then he realized. That smell in his room. It was Raphael. It was his own brother. His scent mixed with yours all over his room. On every fucking surface. The realization hit him even harder than any of your words had. He couldn’t believe it. He refused to believe it.

“You didn’t”, was all Leo could choke out, feeling his hands shaking.

Raph cured himself and his own anger. He cared for his brother, but his brother never cared for him. Raph’s hurt and insecurities grew stronger than any rational decision he could make up.

“Every night and every day”, Raph said, letting go of you before turning his attention towards his older brother. “Hard and good”. You saw as Leo’s chest moved up and down as his breathing sped up, a fire burning in his eyes. You would be lying if you said it didn’t scare you. Because it did.

“You’re lying”, Leo growled.

“Why would I lie about that? For the same stupid reason you didn’t come home? Because guess what, while you were gone, being a hero in the forest, I took care of her better than you ever did”.

That was what broke Leo. In anger he drew his katanas, not even waiting for his brother to pull out his sai. Raph felt horrible for liking how angry he made Leo. As he dodged his brother's sharp blades, he pulled out his sais, ignoring how you yelled at them to cut it out. The battle that followed was intense, with you yelling at them to stop. But they didn’t. Not until Raph and Leo pinned against the roof.

It was there, staring down at his big brother’s hurt and angry eyes, Raph realized what he was doing. What he had done. Broken his trust with not just you, but his own flesh and blood. And now he was fighting his brother, ignoring the calling of the person he told himself he was doing it for. Just like Leo, he had fucked up. He had fucked up big time.

Raph didn’t know what to do. He was scared. Scared of his own actions against two people he cared for. Therefore he grabbed a hold of his sais and ran. For once he didn’t feel anger, but sadness. And Raph didn’t know what to do with sadness like this, except hiding.

Leo called out for his brother, telling him to call back. Not to fight. No, he knew just as well as Raph that he had fucked up. He had created a burning absence with no closure, and the two of you had found your own way to cope. He was naive to think you would still stick around after a year and a half without a single word.

Anger burns bright and hot, and kept unchecked it will bring down everything around it. And now you, Raph and Leo were all feeling the effects of that burning anger.