Angsty Fluff - Tumblr Posts

I Love You, I Love You. It’s Disgusting. - Leon S Kennedy

Pairing: Leon S Kennedy x reader

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: the deal has always been no serious commitment, but that all changes when you accidentally confess your love for him

CW: FWB, angst -> fluff, hurt/comfort, commitment issues, unrequited love, mutual pining, love confessions

syd? making fun of Leon’s commitment issues? call that projecting B)

————

“Do you really have to go?” You look up at Leon with sad eyes. 

He tugs his jeans over his hips and starts to lace his belt through the loops. He sighs. It was barely five in the morning, you should’ve been dead asleep. You usually were.

Through the countless times Leon had ran out on you during the night, you had been out cold. It made it easier for him—not having to see the disappointed look on your face, not having to confront your feelings. 

All it took was one fumble of his hands for his phone to clatter on your floor, snapping you out of your sleep. He knew he was fucked as soon as your eyes flickered open. 

“You know I do,” he says. “It’s work and—”

“It’s always work,” you mumble bitterly, drawing your knees into your chest. 

“My work is important.”

“And I’m not?”

It was a low blow. You knew the nature of your relationship just as much as Leon—nothing serious, no commitments, just him reaching out to you in the dead of night for a shred of comfort. Your arms were wide open for him, but he always kept you at arm’s length. 

You’ve tried so fucking hard to not catch feelings for the man, knowing how he is and his inability to ever commit. Still, when he had walked into your door a week ago and wrapped his arms around you, your feelings bubbled to the surface. 

All week, it had been on your mind, on the tip of your tongue. Not that you would ever say it—those weren’t words you could say to him, not unless you want to be hurt. 

“You know what this is,” he sighs, “so I don’t know what your problem is.”

Leon’s words make you cringe, but you know he’s right. If you were less stubborn, you would just move on. Find someone who actually wants to move forward with you. But that would mean moving on from Leon, and a part of you knows that you never truly could. 

I love you. The words float around in your mind, trying to force their way out of you. You bite them back, swallowing hard. 

“The problem is that I don’t want this, Leon! We’re not kids anymore, I want to move forward with my life!”

“And why does that have to be with me?”

You tug on your hair in frustration. “Because I lo—” you stop yourself before the words slip out, but the look on Leon’s face tells you that he knows what you were going to say. 

You turn your head away from him and bite your tongue, trying to hide your wet eyes from him. You can hear him rustling his clothes behind you, pulling his t-shirt and jacket on. 

Leon can’t bring himself to say anything. He knows he should. At the very least, he should just tell you he wants space. You clearly feel something for him that he can’t for you, and you deserve to be let go. But the thought of not having you leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and a pit in his stomach. 

He grabs his wallet off of your nightstand and leaves without so much as a glance at you. As soon as you hear your front door slam, you let yourself fall apart. 

—

The next two weeks is sheer misery for the both of you. 

You hear nothing from Leon, and while it’s not unusual for him to be radio silent for days at a time, this is something else entirely. There’s a constant cloud of anxiety floating around you, and you find yourself checking your phone way too much. 

Leon knows he’s an asshole. His guilt overwhelms him, and it makes it almost impossible to focus on work. To focus on anything other than the image of you, teary eyed and half naked in bed after almost confessing your love to him. 

The words float around his head. He’s always had some feelings for you buried under the surface, but love? That’s such a stupid word. Such a big deal. Love feels like a cage to him, and the idea of being in love? It makes him sick. 

He grabs his phone and opens your contact. He types three words and then deletes them, and types them again, and then deletes them. He should just leave you alone. He’s done enough damage, and he knows if he talks to you again, he’ll have to actually acknowledge his feelings towards you. Towards what you said. 

You wish you could say you’re surprised when he shows up at your door at 3am, almost three weeks after the incident. 

You go to close the door in his face but he catches it with his hand and forces his way inside. 

His blue eyes are stormy and his soft hair is dishevelled. “I just want to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you, Kennedy.” 

He sucks in a breath at your use of his last name. He’s always been Leon to you, or on some late drunken nights, Scott. This is nothing like those nights, and the warmth he feels at the memories of you are drowned out by the fear in his chest. 

Fear of losing you. Fear of those three fucking words that have been plaguing him for the past three weeks. 

“Please?” His voice is soft, pleading. You’ve never quite heard him like this. 

You keep your back turned to him. You’re not sure if you can even look at him right now, not without remembering how much of an idiot you are, how stupid you are for having these feelings for him. 

“I’m sorry just—look at me, please.”

You turn around impossibly slow, drawing your eyes up from the floor to meet his. He’s dressed casually—a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, but he looks like a model. Even with his under eye bags and the frown on his face, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. 

Despite the fact that you’ve spent countless nights together, having his eyes on you still makes you flustered. 

“What were you going to say? That morning, I mean.” 

You fight the urge to raise your voice. “You know what I was going to say, Leon.”

He relaxes slightly when you use his first name. It’s not much, but it’s a start. “So say it now.” 

“I’m not going to say it. I can’t say it.”

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s you, Leon. It’s you and it’s me and god, it’s you. You’ll be out of the country before I even finish my sentence and I—I don’t want to deal with this right now.”

He takes a cautious step forward. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t just—ugh!” You tug on your hair, blinking back the tears that are threatening to form. “You can’t say that after you walked out on me.”

Leon stays quiet, stormy eyes fixated on you. He’s become something of an expert at reading body language, and he knows you well enough to know you’re about to cry. 

“You’ve spent the past few years insisting that we’re nothing more than what we already are. And now you’re sitting there, looking at me, expecting me to lose everything.”

Leon grabs your shoulders, looking at you seriously. “What do you think you’re going to lose, y/n?”

“You,” your voice is barely a whisper and you choke on the lump in your throat. “I’m going to lose you.”

“Y/n…”

You shake your head, salty tears rolling down your cheeks. You lean your forehead against his chest.

“It’s not fair,” you sob, hitting his chest with your fist. “I just—I can’t.”

Leon catches your wrists in his hand, holding them tightly. “You’re not going to lose me. I know what I said before, and I was wrong.”

You look up at him through teary lashes. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable before. He’s always been quiet and stern and withdrawn, and you’ve gotten used to his silence over the years. So to see him this vulnerable, this vocal….

“I,” he sucks in a breath, “I love you.”

His words echo in your head. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted to hear, and yet you don’t know what to say. 

“That doesn’t change anything.”

“I love you.”

“You’re still going to leave me in the mornings and you’re still going to hate commitment and—”

“Y/n,” he stops you before your thoughts can run wild. “I love you.”

Your heart speeds up at his words. There’s butterflies in your stomach, and for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel ashamed of your feelings. 

“Please say it back,” he practically whimpers. 

You step forwards and wrap your arms around his shoulders, letting your whole body weight fall into his arms. “I love you,” you mumble into his shoulder. 

He pets the back of your head and holds you as close as possible. Love has always seemed like a cage to him, but with you, he’s never felt more free. 

summary: "drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain."/"kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain." The first time you meet Spencer Reid, you swore that you could feel the sparks fly. You figured that it would be unreasonable to ever consider him to be anything more than a friend, and in a moment of selflessness you tell yourself that you are perfectly fine in that position. As time goes on, the line between romantic and platonic love begins to blur indefinitely. But it would be ridiculous to think that the resident genius would feel anything for you... right?

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

genre: best friends to lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, mutual pining, happy ending

warnings: rated 16+ for canonical criminal minds trauma, drugs/relapsing, torture, therapy, panic attacks/night terrors, guns, death, ‼️always read each fic's individual warnings for triggers‼️

taglist: send an ask :D

schedule: (hopefully) every thursday

01 — better than revenge

“she’s not a saint, no, she’s not what you think. she’s an actress.” 

you thought you were past the immature arguments now that you're an adult. you thought you left those in high school, or even college. maybe you thought you did. apparently, spencer thought otherwise.

02 — haunted

“something’s gone terribly wrong, you’re all i wanted.”/“you’re not gone, you can’t be gone.”

it wasn't supposed to be like this. it was supposed to be a normal open-shut case. but people are unpredictable and you're left picking up the pieces as you work yourself to the grave.

03 — labyrinth

“uh oh, i’m falling in love”/“thought the plane was going down, how’d you turn it right around?”

everything hurts. it's understandable, after everything he's went through. spencer wishes that he could erase every one of his scars. he wishes he could stop chasing the highs and embrace the lows. but at least he has you.

04 — you are in love

“you can hear it in the silence.”/”you can hear it on the way home.”/”you can see it with the lights out.”

spencer didn't think that something like this could happen. no, rather, he wanted to deny the fact that something like this could happen. but all he can think about is you.

05 — tbc...

reblogs are always appreciated!

kiss with a fist.

A Ravenclaw with a surly attitude and sharp tongue.

A Slytherin with a cocky smirk and sarcastic flair.

It was no secret that Y/N and Theodore Nott were the worst academic rivals Hogwarts had ever seen. Since first year, the two have been vying for the top spot. As their seventh and final year rolls around, will the serpent and the eagle overcome the titular sins of pride and prejudice and succumb to the brewing tension between them or will their claws and teeth prevent them from acknowledging their feelings?

CHAPTERS

chapter one.

chapter two.

chapter three.

chapter four.

chapter five.

chapter six.

chapter seven.

chapter eight.

chapter nine.

chapter ten.

chapter eleven.

chapter twelve.

chapter thirteen.

PLAYLIST

💋 kiss with a fist - florence and the machine 💋 baby said - måneskin 💋 high enough - k. flay 💋 bohemian rhapsody - queen 💋 me and the devil - soap & skin 💋 w.i.t.c.h. - devon cole 💋 it's nice to have a friend - taylor swift 💋 people i don't like - upsahl 💋 only love can hurt like this - paloma faith 💋 the way i loved you - taylor swift 💋 18 - one direction 💋 those eyes - new west 💋 we made it - david hugo

TAGLIST

@annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover@bubybubsters@moony-artemis @natasha887@lucyysthings@criesinlies @bunnymallowo@niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl@wordsarelife@clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar @mishtay @cherry-hoe  @littlebookbengal @maybefoxysouls @nomup  @aliensknowmyillusions @cinderellawithashoe @starsval @kalulakunundrum @lucyysthings @siriuslysmoking @purplegirls-posts @unstablereader @lqclercs @whatsupb18 @rikirritated @psychedeliccc @jetblackpayne @clairesjointshurt @ama1a2 @omwtkydttfym @cinderellawithashoe @xeqr @txzii @goldenmagnolias @ilikefictionalmen @xxpeachyxo @dirt-cup-draco @willowecho25518 @shulipp @pompeygirl89 @lame-ferrum @dustbunniess @justdizzie @sopsopsopy @therealallisonspear @sweetwonieee @spacecadet16 @moonsreid @grrbrielew @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @imaginationlover101 @s0kovianwitch @lucy-is-never-logical @unstablereader @ellieslaces @bellarkefandom @shereadsandcries @hrts4pads @loveforlupin

Cooking Up Speculations

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: With y/n rushing around to doll herself up for an event, it's only a matter of time before things get out of hand.

Word Count: 6.7k

Notes: I have never written something like this before, and I thought I would give it a shot. I haven't checked the grammar, but if Google Docs missed anything, that's none of my business.

warning: alcohol and mentions of throwing up out of nervousness but no one actually does, or even comes close.

__

The prep work was close to done and for once in The Bear’s short existence it was not a screaming disastrous mess. Everyone was on track and prepared, the sauces were sitting in the fridge, the cakes were waiting to be sliced, the rolls were warm and ready to be cut open and it was all thanks to (y/n) coming in extra early this morning. She had started the prep work for most of the chefs that had yet to arrive in the effort of softening the blow. She would be abandoning them for the dinner rush on what was predicted to be a very busy day.

What sport was being played? Who is playing? And who won were all unknown to y/n but all she knew was that the restaurant was going to be filled with rowdy and obnoxiously drunk men who were going to make everyone’s life miserable and she was going to get a “get out of jail free card”. She felt a small pang of guilt for basically leaving them for dead but sacrifices had to be made and if she could cover anyone’s shift with little to no notice she was allowed one day to herself.

The restaurant was expecting the dinner rush to crawl in at about 6:30 pm which left y/n about an hour and a half to get ready. Y/n was finishing up cutting up some garnishes so that everything would be perfect. The sounds of a spoon slapping skin was approaching and y/n knew that she needed to state her case convincingly so she could leave early. Fighting the urge to not bring anything up, work through her shift and miss her event was deviously tempting but with a deep inhale she put the knife down and turned on the balls of her feet.

Her (e/c) eyes meet his and before she could choke out a lame excuse as to why she was blocking him she spit out, “I was wondering if I could have a word with you.”

Carmen looked expectantly, he thought she was going to ask him to taste test the braised beef she had just finished prepping, or ask an obscure question about the food science between ingredients. Y/n had once asked if he found it annoying during one of their late night clean up sessions and he said it was a nice change of pace and he really didn’t mind. How could he when you were so eager to learn?

Y/n didn’t want to do this out here, people are working and if she was going to beg, which is how she expected the next 5 minutes to go, she didn’t want any witnesses. The damage that would do to her pride would force her to change her name, move to Vegas and make money by selling timeshares to idiot tourists.

She cleared her throat, “Privately, chef”

Although his face didn’t betray anything, y/n knew that she had caught him off guard. After a while of spending most of their time together cleaning the kitchen after hours and talking about every minute detail in their lives, y/n knew that she had raised a few alarm bells in Carmen’s head. If she paid attention she could hear the sounds of a car alarm blaring in the back of his head signifying that he thought something was wrong. He always assumed the worst possible would happen, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He wordlessly guided y/n to his office. The door was closed and it felt like they were transported to a different dimension where there was nothing outside but the vacuum of space, it was just the two of them in this room and if one of them were to leave the outside pressure would make their body implode and smash into the size of a ping pong ball. She really didn’t want any of them to leave.

With a silent inhale, “I have to leave early today.”

Carmen softened the crease in between his eyebrows, “ Yeah sure, take the day off.” The imaginary crisis was averted and the car alarm stopped blaring in Carmen’s head.

Y/n was surprised that he was being so easy today. Y/n had yet to ask for a day off but she had spent last night imagining the worst possible scenarios possible, she would get yelled at, rejected, or worst he would guilt her for leaving them to deal with the upcoming shit storm.

“Honestly, I was expecting a bit more of a fight.” Y/n joked, “I even made this whole pitch to convince you.”

“ I can hear the pitch so that it doesn’t go to waste,” Carmen said with a glint of humour in his eyes.

Carmen was giving her an inch and so she might as well take the whole mile. Knowing she was about to push her luck and Carmen’s patience a bit more she continued.

“I came in at 4am and started everyone’s prep and helped Tina with the sandwiches during lunch, and did all of Syd’s prep because she had that doctor’s appointment. And I think it's cruel and unusual that you wouldn’t give me a day off when all I did today was prove how much of an angel I am. The least I can get is a measly day off…What you're not gonna give me a day off you selfish prick? You see this is what always happens, little guys always get pushed aside by the Big man. Carmen you're supposed to be better than those billionaire pricks who probably hunt their interns for sport. And I think it's so unfair that I grace you and this business with my presence and I don't even get a single day off- ” Carmen let out an exhale from his nose and covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smirk. The move had almost made y/n fall to her knees, the way his hair was tousled, the way he looked up at her with his sharp blue eyes, the tattoo flexing on his hands that were a calloused and dry from years of washing them nearly a hundred times a day, the veins trailing up from his hands to under his white shirt.

“Okay, I get gist.”

Y/n knew he didn’t ask for an explanation but she wanted to keep him here for just a bit longer.

“I have this thing I have to go to and I live too far away to go home and change so I need your office to get ready. I would get changed and stuff in the bathroom but the lighting is really bad, the outlets don't work, it’s smelly-”

After a quick glance at his watch he realised that he had a few vendors coming by and he needed to get back to the kitchen. “I know, that bathroom is a real shit show. I told Fak to fix it but nothing he fixes lasts for very long. The office is yours.” Carmen rushed out.

“I'm going to be here till 12 so if there is anything you need me to do before I leave just give me a holler.”

Carmen gave a nod of appreciation before his eyes lingered on her face for a second before grabbing a few papers and a clipboard and then opening the door to leave. It was stupid and childish but y/n held her breath wondering if he would be crushed to the size of a ping pong ball as soon as he left but when she heard him yelling at Richie she knew that the “alone in space” fantasy had died.

Y/n slipped out and went to her locker where she pulled out a dress, makeup and a straightening iron. She had an hour and a chance to make herself look like she just came out of a Mattel box and it was a daunting task for someone who didn’t have much experience dressing up.

Makeup was a bit of a disaster at first because she didn’t want to ruin any of Carmy’s papers but after she accidentally dabbed a bit of concealer on a light bill she just stopped giving a fuck and finished up. The hair was tricky, the outlet was near the ground and she had to crouch to straighten her hair.

The last and most daunting task was the dress because y/n was about to strip in her bosses office and although she had dreams about something this amazing, the reality was much less sexy. In a small burst of paranoia she rolled the chair over to the door so no one would walk in by accident and quickly changed. In the back of her mind all she was thinking about was the small glimmer of hope that Carmy would be the one to walk in. In reality, it would be Rich or Fak because boundaries were a foreign concept to the both of them.

And with 10 minutes to spare, y/n was done. She sprayed some perfume and hyped herself up to leave. She knew she would get teased so she wanted a smooth exit, an Irish goodbye would be perfect, fingers crossed hoping that Richie was out back so she would get out before he made these stupid jokes.

After a few deep breaths, y/n picked up her things and opened the door. The coast was clear and she made a beeline to the lockers to grab her purse, change her shoes and go. She would leave most of her stuff, because if you want to survive you have to be light, like those firefighters that ditch their equipment so that they don't get burned alive. Everyone looked busy and with a quick once over, y/n tried to walk through the kitchen. And although women and heels have had centuries of history, the heels still managed to betray her at the very end. The long sound of heel on tile brought Syd’s head up. Y/n eyes widened as she shook her head as to signal to Syd to drop it but Syd let out a playful gasp and Y/n knew that the jig was up.

“You look amazing.”

And a sea of eyes were looking at y/n.

“You get all dressed up for me?” Syd joked and for a split second y/n wondered if she could make a run for it before she realised that she would fall and crack her head open.

“Who else?” Y/n joked back hoping to get out before she was held captive by their questions.

“You look so nice, where are you headed?” Tina said as she came closer and dragged you closer to everyone.

“Umm- I was actually going to-”

“You know who you look like?” One of those women who seduces James Bond at a casino.” Sweeps commented unhelpfully. A hum of agreement was shared among the crew. Y/n’s face grew warm.

“So where are you going?”

“A date, women don't dress like that if it's not for a date” Ebra chimed in.

Another gasp, “ IS it a date, is he handsome?” Sydney probed.

“Actually, I'm not- '' Y/n tried to finish before she was interrupted.

“What type of car does he drive?”

“We'll see when he picks her up. When is he picking you up?”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU CLOWN JABBERING ABOUT '' Richie burst through the door to see what all the commotion was about and he looked like he was in utter disbelief.

“I didn’t know that it was possible for you could look like that”

Y/n was slightly offended.

“You normally look like death.” Richie laughed. Scratch that y/n was very offended.

“I could look like this everyday if I wasn’t in front of a stove, you clown.”

Ignoring her, Richie asked the room,“ Where is she headed?”

“A date”, Sweeps added.

“I'm going to my friends-” y/n tried to interject.

“A date huh, our little y/n is all grown up now. Soon we’ll be sending her off to college.” Wiping a fake tear and leaning on Tina for mock support, “They leave the nest so soon, it was like it was just yesterday when I saw her struggling to walk.”

“It WAS yesterday and I was only struggling because I hit my knee on the shelfs in the walk-in.”

“Who’s the guy?” Richie asked

“ Your dad.” Y/n knew it was childish and unoriginal but she was too flustered to be a bit more creative.

Richie ignores her and continues, “You know what you look like? You look like one of those girls who kills Johns”

“Are you saying I look like a prostitute?”

“A classy one for like the president and shit.”

“or an ambassador,” Ebra added.

“or a CEO,” Richie continued.

Y/n knew it was going to be tough but she wanted to get out before she was stuck forever.

“I have to go now, I’ll see you guys bright and early tomorrow. Richie you suck major ass. And just so you know, i'm not going on a-”

Carmen walked in with a clipboard and a pen not even sparing a glance up.

“Ok, I just got the beef delivered so we should have enough for Ebra till the end of the week.”

“Heard, chef”

“And Marcus”, who watched the whole thing and didn’t offer any help to y/n except the occasional chuckle.

“I have your eggs”

“Heard, chef”

Although no one said it, everyone was waiting for the moment that Carmen looked up and saw y/n. The dishwashers who never really left their stations shut off the water and were subtly watching this mess unfold.

It was the longest that y/n had seen Richie quiet. He just stared at Carmen, while hiding his mocking smile under the guise of rubbing his stubble.

“I know we are low on onions but the guy is coming in a bit so sit tight”

“Heard”

Maybe, y/n thought, she would be able to walk past Carmen unnoticed if she walked on the balls of her feet so that the heels made less noise. Y/n took a step forward to hightail it out of here so she could make it in time and even though the heel was a lot quieter then last time, the unusual silence in the kitchen made it impossible to disguise the sound.

The sound of heels on tiles brought Carmen back to reality.

He looked up and y/n didn’t know if she imagined it but she thought she saw him raise his eyebrows. And if she was really going to feed into her delusions, she would say that his eyes widened and his pupils dilated too.

All that came crashing down thought, because after a beat of silence barring the sounds of sizzling and bubbling. Carmen questioned, “I thought you would have left by now chef.”

“I got held back but I really do need to leave now. I'm going to miss you guys and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.” And with a quick wave y/n brushed shoulders with Carmen as she left. The smell of her perfume lingered and Carmen felt a bit dizzy.

Carmen wanted to ask where y/n was going but he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, not when the two of you have already gotten so close. Richie had different plans, “Hey cousin guess where y/n going?”

“I don’t know cousin, that isn’t really any of our buis-”

“She is going on a date”

“A hot one” Syd chirped

“With a nice car” Ebra added

Richie’s comment felt like a ton falling on his head. Now he felt a different type of dizziness. He quickly composed himself

“Chefs, we have a dinner rush coming, now is not the time.” Carmen said with a bit of an edge.

Richie led Carmen to the front under the guise of asking a question about the tablet. The crew looked around and shared a knowing snicker.

“I can't believe that you let her go like that?” Richie added. “Right now she is in some guy's car about to get wined and dined to high heaven while you wait here with your cock in your hand like some cuck.”

“ Cuck?” Carmen said with venom, it's like he was giving Richie a chance to take it back before he killed him.

“I would be fucken pissed. I wouldn’t let someone take my girl out like that, all dressed up for someone who isn't me”

For a second Carmen imagined you sitting across from your rich new date with the nice car and the handsome face and felt like throwing up. He was angry, he was angry with this “date”, he was angry at Richie for saying all that stupid shit to get a reaction, and embarrassingly enough he was angry at y/n. He had no right to be but he just couldn’t help it.

“Richie if you don’t knock it off, I’m going to send you flying out the fucking window”

“Yes, chef.” Richie mockingly replied.

And with a swift turn Carmen returned to the kitchen with a different temperament then he had 10 minutes ago.

The dinner rush was a nightmare, but the kitchen was hell. There wasn’t a single thing that didn’t set Carmen off. He wasn’t screaming like he was with the to-go orders but he was on edge. They could feel it when they had to remake dishes because he didn’t like them, or when they had to listen to him criticise innocuous things after housekeeping. When that dinner rush ended, the crew looked like they wanted to be anywhere else but there. The second the restaurant closed, chefs cleaned as fast as they could to get the hell out of there. It was the fastest they had cleaned since the morning rush with the pre-orders.

With a quick goodbye, everyone but Carmen left the restaurant hoping that he would be in a better mood tomorrow.

Carmen did what he did every night, got on his knees and scrubbed the floor with a towel. Carmen knew it was unfair and he knew he had no right to dictate what you did. You weren’t his and he waited too long. A part of him understood where y/n was coming from, during one of their late night conversations he had mentioned that he had never had a girlfriend and he didn’t really have the time. This conversation took place some time after the two had gotten close but before he realised that he might have liked her for quite some time. Things were different now and Carmen wanted more.

He tried his best to be understanding but the thought of y/n clinging onto someone else’s arm and laughing at their stupid unfunny joke, made him livid. What if they kiss? Or what if they sleep together?” That thought made him stop scrubbing and sit on the balls of his feet and throw the wet towel with an unnecessary amount of force to another corner of the kitchen. He couldn’t do this today, he couldn’t be here. He got up and cleaned up the towel and bucket of dirty soap water and walked home.

He ended his night with a nightcap hoping that he would fall asleep easily but it didn’t work. He spent a good amount of time staring at y/n contact hovering over the call button before flaking out because it was 2 in the morning and he had to get to work at 6:30. Maybe Richie was right and he was a coward but before he could think too long, sleep had overcome him.

The restaurant was a bit of a walk away from Carmen’s house but he never minded it before, it felt like a good buffer between “Home Carmen” and “Work Carmen”. Today was different, he couldn't not think about y/n and that annoying date of her’s so for the first time in his time in Chicago he listened to music on his way to work. The music was so loud that it was just obnoxious noise and allowed him to stop worrying for a few moments. Carmen couldn’t think about y/n without feeling a bit… he didn’t know how he felt he just knew it was not a great feeling.

Being the first one in the restaurant was not new to him but it felt strange that after 30 minutes he was still the only one there, normally y/n would be there by now asking Carmen about a baking show they both happened to catch the night before, or ask what he ate for dinner last night and breakfast this morning. Carmen would always fight the urge to lie and say that he cooked something magnificent when in reality he probably ate a bag of chips and drank some flat soda. One of the things that these AA meetings emphasised was honesty, to both himself and others, and even if it was embarrassing he told you the truth. You never really judged him because you did the same thing.

After sorting through fuck ton of bills, a few of which had brown power on them and one of them had a (s/c) smudge on the corner he heard a buzz in his pocket. He looked at it hoping it was you saying that you'll be there any second.

(Y/N): I'm so sorry to do this to you but I'm going to be a bit late today, not super late but like an hour. I have to grab my extra apron from my place and I'm a bit far from there. I'll be there by 8 the latest. Again, super sorry :(

Carmen read the text a few times to check if he read that right, you were going to be late because you weren't home and slept somewhere else and needed a change of clothes. Which translated to, you were with someone else, which means you might have done something with someone else. He just stared at the text for a few more seconds before he heard the sound of the front door opening, Carmen didn’t have to look to know it was Sydney. He snapped out of it and sent back an “ok”, lowercase just to be a bit petty. Was it immature? Yes. Did he regret it? Not really.

Y/n spent the rest of her food budget for the week yesterday in a drunken haze with an uber from one side of Chicago to the other. The bachelorette party was a success and y/n was glad that her friend had a good time at the fancy restaurant that she picked out. Y/n was trying to be responsible and limit herself to a few drinks but it's hard to say no to the bride to be and before she knew it she had to leave her car at the restaurant because they took her keys and y/n and her friends crammed into an uber headed towards one of the bridesmaids houses.

Y/n woke up in a hurry, she grabbed a random shirt and joggers from her friends closet because all she had was that dress, which now had wine spilled on it. She quickly gathered her things and texted the group chat that she had to leave early so she could get to work. They would read it when they woke up. Not repeating yesterday’s mistakes she took the train to the restaurant, got her keys back and drove at illegal speeds to get to her place where she took a shower, changed back into her friends clothes because she was way behind on laundry. She took one last look in the mirror before grabbing the apron and sprinting out the door to drive to work. She got there at 7:30am and she felt like death. The hangover was finally catching up to her, and she poured herself some water from the dispenser out front. She knew everyone was in the kitchen by now. She gave herself a few more seconds of quiet before she opened the door to the kitchen and gave a quick hello and rushed towards the lockers to put her stuff in and change into her non-slip shoes and apron.

Richie raised his eyebrows. This was too good, it was too easy, all he needed was for Carmy to get out of that depressing office of his to bear witness to this.

Richie was the first to ask, “New shirt? Never seen it before? ”

“Good Morning to you Richie, if you need to know I borrowed it from my friend.”

Carmen wanted to rush out as soon as he heard your voice but he refrained. He promised himself that he would give you a bit of space to respect you and your date/boyfriend. That didn’t stop him from listening through the door.

“Some friend you got there, real close.” Richie jokes

y/n didn’t know what he was talking about, “Friends tend to be close, Richie. You would know that if you had any.” Y/n barked back.

“How was it?” Syd asked as she sliced what looked like gallons of onions.

Y/n knew that last night was probably a good night but she was so drunk then and so hungover now that it all made her a bit nauseous to think about.

“Honestly, I don't remember much but I do know it was fun.”

“Hungover?” Tina asked.

“Very, my whole body feels like i was run over by a semi”

Marcus handed y/n a gatorade before going back to work with the cakes.

“You come back to us in new clothes, showered, late, hungover, and sore. You must have one hell of a night!” Richie said louder than necessary just so that Carmen would hear, he had a feeling that Carmy was eavesdropping.

“Im telling you guys i didn’t actually go on a-”

Carmen didn’t want to hear anything after Richie spoke because he felt like he was going to hear something he didn’t want to know. He picked up a clip board, slammed the door open and began walking around.

“Chef.” Carmen said mechanically

“Chef.” Y/n replied back fully expecting this, she left early, came late and was now distracting everyone.

Y/n quickly busied herself with peeling garlic and the rest day fell back to its usual rhythm. The prep finished right before the restaurant opened and they worked on filling to-go orders along with the regular lunch and dinner orders. One thing was noticeably different to y/n, Carmen hadn’t looked or approached her once. Normally he would walk by all the chefs and ask how they were doing, checking the quality, etc but the second he got to y/n who was at the far end of the kitchen he circled back. He made comments to everyone’s dish and he had yet to even get within a 3 feet radius on y/n.

Y/n could feel that something was off and to test it, after the dinner rush she finished making one of the test items that Sydney and Carmen had wanted to try out and after a small taste she knew she killed it.

Y/n walked up to Carmen with the dish and set it down. “Can you taste it and tell me what you think?” Carmen didn’t look up, he just grabbed a fork, took a bite and said a quick “It's fine, chef”.

Y/n then looked the dish over to sydney and asked her to try it.

“It added a bit of chocolate because I read somewhere that Japanese people put chocolate in their curry”

“Chocolate huh?” Sydney grabbed a small notebook and made a note.

“It’s okay?” y/n asked.

“It's fire, chef. Great work”

In y/n mind that confirmed that something was wrong with Carmen. Y/n waited till the restaurant closed and everyone left to bring it up. It was just Carmen and y/n alone in the restaurant and y/n could feel there was something in the air.

“You don't have to stay late, you should leave early” Carmon proposed while not looking at her.

That was strange because Carmen never asked her to leave early. She walked up to Carmen who was sweeping the floor and ripped off the bandaid.

“Thanks for the offer but I want to stay with you for a bit longer.” Carmen’s grip on the broom toughened till his knuckles turned white. It was a risky thing to say and after a beat of silence y/n took the coward’s way out by diverting and changing subjects.

“I'm sorry I was so late today Carmen, are we good?”

“We're good.”

Another awkward silence.

“ I don’t think we're good, you seem, I don't know, pissed?”

“I'm good, you're good, we’re good” Carmen said by turning his attention to a very interesting onion skin on the floor.

“You didn’t say anything about the dish I made, or that I was late. Someone told me that you seemed off yesterday.”

“Was this someone named Sydney?”

“Cannot confirm or deny, Carmy”

Carmy finished sweeping and took a few steps back.

“There it is again! You keep walking away from me and not looking me in the eye.”

Carmen didn’t know that he was being obvious, he thought he was subtle because Richie would have brought it up if he wasn’t. Carmen forced himself to look up at y/n and felt like the wind was knocked right off his lungs, he really hadn’t seen her at all today and he missed her.

“You can tell me what's happening so that I can help or at the very least listen to what's wrong.” y/n offered

Carmen bent down, and started to scrub in silence. He looked like he was piecing something together and y/n didn’t want to intrude so she continued to scrub assuming the conversation was over and that they were going to spend the rest of their lives in this uncomfortable silence. A few minutes pass and then a long sigh is heard from the other end of the kitchen. Carmen looked up.

“I’ve been a bit..” Carmen started. Y/n wanted him to finish his thought before she called him a dick.

“It's been a weird day.. I know it shouldn’t but I can't help but ask..”

A pregnant pause passed.

“How was..” y/n leaned in so she could hear.

“How was your “thing” yesterday?” He spit out.

Y/n looked a bit confused, “Umm it was fine, I mean we were at a restaurant so it wasn’t anything to crazy”

“Why were you so late today?”

The other shoe dropped, “ I knew you were pissed that I was late.” With an exhale she continued “We went to dinner and then got shit faced drunk and ubered over to a friends house. I had to go by that restaurant in the morning to pick up my keys and drive to my place so I could take a shower and not smell like a walking liquor store.”

“How was he?” Carmen choked out after a few more beats of silence.

“How was who?”

“Your umm…”

“Mmm” Carmen continued.

Y/n waited but it felt like he was testing her patience,

“Your date?” Carmen finally conceded while swinging his head down.

“What date? I went to a bachelorette party with a few of my girlfriends.”

Carmen’s head shot up, “ I thought-”

“The people in here are so nosy, I kept telling them that it wasn't a date and they wouldn’t bother to listen.”

Carmen’s shoulders relaxed and he felt like he could finally look at you without feeling guilty that he was looking at another guy’s girl.

“What’s been on your mind, Carm?” Y/n probed and Carmen's shoulders tensed up again.

Y/n could feel the atmosphere change and she wanted to capitalise on it while she still could, she could trick herself into thinking that Carmy was jealous of some imaginary guy that he thought she went on a date on, when he probably was just diverting attention to avoid talking about his own problems.

More silence.

More scrubbing.

Carmen looked up with a look of determination, y/n assumed that he had finally hyped himself to tell her what has been bugging him. Although the tension was killing her she did want this moment to last for a bit longer. In this moment she could convince herself that Carmen was troubled because of her and not because work was drowning him or that he is a mess because his brother left him this shithole and left.

She wanted him to have a problem with an easy solution. If he liked her, the easy solution was that she would kiss him and tell him how much she longed for him. He would then confess how much he yearned for her and she would give all of herself to him and he would finally have a win in his life, something that wasn’t tainted by his love/hate relationship with cooking, his family, his brother. Something that he would have all to himself, her love.

Just for a few moments she repeated, that's how long she had till the dream died. This wasn’t the first time something similar had happened. They would stay late and in the comfortable beats of silence Carmen would look up with such a look of determination and y/n heart would flutter hoping for those three special words but she would get something completely different but still equally important, information about a very private part of his life whether it be the AA meetings, or the guilt he felt for resenting his brother. And everytime y/n’s heart would break a bit and then mend itself knowing that even if she couldn't have him like she wanted to, she would still be important to him.

That type of relationship, friendship, used to be enough, but not anymore. With his plans to change The Bear he was getting further and further away from her. It used to feel like it was the two of them but y/n was starting to wonder if she was going to be left behind. If she would stay friends for a while until the longing grew too strong and y/n would leave The Bear. Even if Carmen misses her for a while, y/n knew he would bounce back like he always did and she would slowly be replaced by Sydney or whoever. The thought that in a few years he will have learned to cope with his grief and trauma and move on from the past, move on from y/n, and maybe settle down with someone else made y/n feel like throwing up.

This time y/n didn’t fall for Carmen's “look”, she had a neutral face and was ready to hear what Carmen's issues were. She wouldn’t assume that she was going to get a confession. This time she will help him with his problems and move on from this one-sided crush. Maybe she WILL go on a few dates to forget about him.

“Carmen, do you want to talk about it?We don’t have to do anything you don't want to.”

Determination morphed into apprehension.

“I am feeling something, it is n-n-not…” He exhaled through his nose.

”It's selfish y/n. I'm being selfish. You have every right to do whatever you want but I..”

Y/n tried to look as comforting as possible trying her best to hide any confusion, if Carmen was any other person she would ask if he was sober right now because he was a total mess.

“I’ve never done this before, and I-” and he ran his palm through his hair.

Y/n refrained from thinking about how amazing he looked under the fluorescent lights with his tousled hair and apprehensive gaze. He could bring up his nightmares or sleepwalking, and she would feel so guilty for perving over his eyes.

“You looked very nice in that dress yesterday.” Y/n felt like a lump was forming in her throat. He was going to say something like this and think it's an off handed comment but she would go to the bathroom and cry because she knew nothing would come from it. Y/n thought it was a bit cruel.

“You looked so beautiful yesterday it was hard for me to look at you without making a fucking idiot out of myself. I wanted to run over to you and tell you that as soon as you left but Richie told me you're going on a date and it was…”

Carmen continued, “You are special and you deserve someone who isn’t…me. And you're free to do whatever and if this is completely …wrong…bad…i don't know, just stop me and we will never talk about this ever again…”

He searched y/n’s eyes looking for a sliver of doubt or disgust but he was met with glassy eyes and a look that longed for him to continue.

“When I thought you were going on that date I knew that I couldn’t not have you and that made me feel….” A sigh reverberated through the kitchen.

“ I like you…romantically.” Carmen uttered.

Y/n didn’t say or do anything for a moment, she spent a few moments wondering if she was hallucinating or dreaming. And in a moment of pure adrenaline, she scooted over to Carmen who was still on the floor before cupping his face in her hands and whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

The kiss wasn't electrifying; it felt like a wave of warmth seeped into every corner of their beings. It felt like dipping your hand in warm water after shovelling the show, the type of warmth that sends shivers down your spine. Y/n fingers get lost in his wavy hair and his hands hesitate, not knowing where they should go before landing one on her hip and the other on the back of her neck to pull her closer. Y/n heart was beating so hard she wondered stupidly if he could hear it, Carmen was wondering something similar. They slowly pulled away for air before getting a good look at each other, both their lips were swollen and red and their eyes were dazed.

Y/n knew he was a flighty person, one wrong move and he would go running for the hills so she refrained from asking if they were dating now, this could have just been a one time thing and she didn’t want to ruin it. Thankfully Carmen held her hand and stroked it with her thumb before swinging his head down and looking up at her.

“I want to be with you y/n”

“I like you too, Carmen, for a very long time.” And their lips meet once again.

Y/n resisted the urge to say that she only bought the dress in the hopes that he would take it off of her, that was a story for another time.

“Let's get you home” Carmen mumbled into her lips, the vibrations and the friction making her lips burn in sensitivity.

Carmen helped y/n get up before they both packed up their stuff and headed out the door. Both hiding the smile of triumph from each other, not really knowing how much the other loves them yet, and only time would remedy that.

[[and then I met you || ch. 14]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Words: 3.8k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

A loud, angry voice wakes Minnie from her sleep.

It takes her a few moments to process the change, but once she does, she focuses on finding the source of the bad noise. It's coming from below her, a few floors down. She can't understand the words - Mommy says people speak lots of different languages so this must be one of them - but she knows it is Mister Chavez. He's a nice man who helps Mommy with the trash, sometimes. Minnie likes him.

She lets her ears open up more and quickly finds out why he is so grumpy - he is watching television. She recognizes the sounds as some sort of sport. Mommy says sometimes people yell at their television when watching sports because they love their team and get excited - but they aren't really angry. That makes her feel better - she doesn't like it when people are angry. It's scary.

But he is still being loud, and even though she knows he's not really mad, she doesn't want to hear him. Minnie wants to listen to good noises when she sleeps.

Her favorite noise to sleep to is her Mommy's heart and it can make all the bad noises go away and right now, she wants to be extra close so it's really loud.

So, Minnie reaches up and pulls her sleep headband down so it's around her neck and rolls out of bed.

Mommy went to sleep the same time she did, which is weird because Mommy also took a nap with her after they came back from the park. Mommy doesn't take naps - she's an Adult, but all day she's been sleepy. She doesn't understand why - they didn't do anything Big, like go somewhere special or do lots of things.

Minnie crosses the short distance between her bed and her Mommy's and quickly climbs up the bigger one. Mommy is on her back and under her covers, still asleep. The loud noises don't bother her because she can't hear them like Minnie and Daddy can. That makes Minnie happy - Mommy needs lots of sleep.

But she's hogging all the blankets and Minnie wants to get under them, too, so she shakes her shoulder, “Mommy, share the blankie.”

Nothing happens.

Minnie pouts and shakes her again, just a little harder, “Mommy, I'm cold, too.”

Mommy makes an upset noise in her throat, but she doesn't wake up or give up any of the blanket. Minnie frowns and looks back to her bed - she could get her blanket if Mommy doesn't want to share, but she likes Mommy’s blanket more. It smells like her.

Maybe she can crawl in from the bottom, near Mommy's feet.

As she considers this option, something new catches her attention.

Something smells stinky.

It doesn't smell stinky like the train or the monster her Daddy chased away a few nights ago - she doesn't know this smell, but she quickly decides she doesn't like it. It smells like wet and dirty and it's really close. It is inside the bedroom. She turns to start looking around, trying to find where it is coming from. Nothing in the room looks different and she knows things don't just get stinky. Something has to happen to make it stinky. She closes her eyes and opens her mouth a little like Daddy taught her, and breaths in through her nose. The smell is stronger behind her, so she tries to follow it, crawling closer.

She runs right into Mommy.

The bad smell is coming from her.

Minnie doesn't understand. Mommy never smells bad, ever, and she didn't smell bad before they went to sleep. Why does Mommy smell bad now?

She tries to wake her up again, shaking her shoulder hard, but Mommy just scrunches up her face. She doesn't wake up.

Minnie is starting to get scared.

“Mommy, wake up!” She tries tugging the blanket next, but it is wrapped tight. Her next idea is to start patting her face and that is when Minnie gets her next clue.

Mommy's skin is really warm, like she's been in the sun, and she's sweaty. Did Mommy go outside when Minnie was sleeping?

But that doesn't make sense, the sun isn't up. It's night time and Mommy wouldn't leave her alone during the night. Mommy never leaves her alone - she always has a babysitter.

Why would Mommy be hot and sweaty and stinky and not wake up?

She sticks her fingers in her mouth and starts to suck on them as she thinks hard - like she's trying to figure out a puzzle.

Minnie gasps when she realizes it - Mommy is sick!

Mommy has never been sick before, not that Minnie can remember, and if she's sick, she needs a doctor. Minnie knows how to be a doctor!

No longer as scared now that she knows what is wrong, Minnie slides off the bed and hurries to her toy chest. She has a whole doctor kit full of all sorts of things - it even has a doctor's coat and glasses. She takes the big bag out and sets it on the ground so she can pull out the costume and put it on. She has to push up the sleeves because they are too long, but it doesn't matter.

Now she's Doctor Minnie and can help her Mommy.

She hikes the bag up on her shoulder and brings it back to the bed. It takes her a few tries to get it up beside her Mommy - the bed is high up and the bag is heavy - but once it is, she climbs up too and starts looking through her supplies.

She pulls out the step-scope first and puts the plugs into her ears. She doesn't need it to listen to Mommy's heart, but doctor's do, so she's going to use it. She puts the end-circle on Mommy's chest and listens Hard. Her heart doesn't sound any different than normal. It is a little faster, like she's been walking around a lot, but that isn't weird. Minnie is used to that sound - so it's not why Mommy is sick. She puts her step-scope back into her bag and takes out the next tool.

She knows the little hammer is supposed to be used to hit her Mommy's knees, but they are under the covers, so she isn't sure if it will work. She tries anyway. She bonks where she thinks her knees are and absolutely nothing happens. She isn't surprised - Mommy's head smells stinky, not her legs. That is not why she is sick.

Her next toy is the therm-o-meter. She puts it against her Mommy's forehead and presses the button. The toy lights up, the screen flashing red a few times before becoming solid. She brings it closer to her face to examine. She doesn't know what the numbers mean, but she guesses it says her Mommy is sick.

She turns off that toy then starts digging in the bag again, looking at what she has to help. She finds the band-aida first, which won't help at all. That is for boo-boos and Mommy doesn't have one of those. She finds what she needs at the bottom of the bag and removes it carefully. She doesn't know what it is called but it gives shots - and shots help people not be sick. Mommy told her that - that's why she has to go get them from the doctor.

Shots go in the arm, so Minnie needs to move the blanket out of the way. Mommy wrapped herself up tight, so it is hard, but she manages to pull it enough so her shoulder is out. That is part of the arm, so it counts. She doesn't want to mess up, so Minnie takes her time picking up the shot-giver and pulling back the pusher. She places it in the middle of Mommy's arm, as low as she can get it, then pushes the pusher back down slowly. Once it's all the way down, she sets the toy aside. She remembers that shots do get a band aid, so she takes one out of the box and opens it. It's pink, to match the rest of the set, and it goes over where Minnie gave her Mommy the shot.

To make sure it works extra well, Minnie adds a kiss, then sits back to wait.

She starts sucking on her fingers again, not to help her think, but because it helps her not be scared - and she's scared her Mommy isn't going to wake up. She doesn't know how long she is supposed to wait for medicine to work - when she plays Doctor with her toys it is always right away. But Mommy isn't a toy. She sits and waits for what feels like at least thirty-two minutes before she tries shaking her Mommy again, “Wake up. Mommy, wake up, please. You gotta wake up.”

She doesn't wake up. She doesn't stop being stinky. She stays asleep and sick.

Minnie doesn't like this. She wants her Mommy to wake up and hug her and tell her it is okay. She doesn't understand why she won't wake up.

Minnie gave her a shot - that should have made her better, right?

Does she need to go to the real doctor? She can't go to the real doctor if she is asleep and Minnie doesn't know how to call the doctor to tell him to come.

Minnie sniffles, trying to hold back from crying. She has to be a big girl, she can't be a baby - being a baby won't help Mommy. She wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of her doctor's coat and tries her bestest to think.

What did Mommy say in their last Big Girl Talk?

They talked about what it means to have a Daddy now. Mommy had told her that meant he was like Mommy, but a boy, and anything that Minnie went to her for, she could also talk to Daddy about.

Maybe Daddy can help Mommy, like he helped with the Monster.

But Daddy isn't here. He doesn't live with them.

But maybe he can hear her? He has really good hearing like Minnie does.

With a new plan in mind, Minnie climbs off the bed and leaves the bedroom. The fan and a/c make lots of noise and he might not hear her over them. The living room is quiet, though, and she gets up onto the couch before looking straight up at the ceiling. Daddy was up there last time.

“Daddy?” She asks, “Daddy, are you there?”

She waits, but there is no answer. Maybe she needs to be louder? So, she tries again, speaking in her Outside Voice.

“Daddy, it's Minnie. Daddy? Can you hear me? I need you, please, thank you.”

The only response she gets is the city. It's not as loud as normal, there's not as many cars or people because it's night - people sleep at night. Maybe he is asleep and can't hear her? Or he is too far away and his hearing can't reach her.

If he is too far away to hear with his ears, she has to find another way for him to hear her. Mommy talks to him on her phone when he is far away, so she has to try that next.

Mommy keeps her phone next to her bed, so Minnie goes back into the bedroom. She's not supposed to play with the phone, but this isn't playing - this is an Emergency. She's allowed to use it for emergencies - even though she never has before. She knows how to unlock it - the numbers are her birthday - and the screen lights up. She looks from the bright phone back to her Mommy sleeping on the bed. It's rude to talk on the phone when someone is sleeping, so back out to the living room and the couch she goes.

She settles into the cushions then stares at the phone. She knows how to bring up YouTube but not how to call someone, but she can talk to the phone and tell it what to do. She's done that before and Mommy does it all the time. She just has to say the magic words.

“Hey, Siri, call Daddy, please, thank you.”

The phone lights up as it thinks, then the robot-lady in the phone says, “Uh-oh, I do not have a phone number for Daddy.”

Minnie pouts at the phone - she knows that isn't true. Mommy calls Daddy all the time. Then it occurs to her Mommy doesn't call him Daddy. She has to use his grown up name. She tries again, “Siri, please call Mister Matt, please, thank you.”

“Calling Matt Murdock,” the robot-lady says and a moment later, ringing starts coming through the phone. Minnie quickly holds it up to her ear and waits for him to answer.

He doesn't answer. It just rings and rings until another robot-lady starts talking instead, but Minnie doesn't want to talk to her, so she presses the big red button to end the call.

She doesn't know why he didn't answer. His hearing is extra good, so if he was sleeping, he should have heard it - like Minnie heard Mister Chavez. She tries to think of why he wouldn't answer and decides he must not have his phone - Mommy does that sometimes. She forgets her phone places, like she'll leave it in the bathroom.

Maybe he left his phone in the bathroom.

She makes another attempt, telling the phone again to call her Daddy but nothing changes. Only the robot-lady talks to her.

Minnie glares at the phone as she tries to figure out what to do. Mommy needs a doctor and Daddy isn't answering.

Her conclusion is she needs another Adult. She doesn't know many Adults. She knows Miss Apple, who runs Daycare, and Miss Linda, but Minnie doesn't think she is supposed to call them. Mommy never talks to them on the phone, even if they are Adults.

Daddy's friends are Adults, though, and she heard Miss Karen and Froggy tell Mommy to call if she ever needs anything, so maybe it is okay to call them? Minnie hopes so.

Froggy is Daddy’s bestest friend, so that is who she decides to call. If he doesn't answer, she will call Miss Karen. She wipes at her face again, clearing away any tears, then asks the robot-lady, “Hey Siri, call Froggy, please, thank you.”

The phone starts to ring and, to her great delight and relief, is answered after only a few moments. It sounds like he almost drops it before she can hear him breathing directly into her ear.

“‘lo?” A very tired sounding Froggy asks.

“Froggy!” She tries her best to not yell, but she is so happy he answered the phone and now she can help Mommy. Part of her wants to cry because she is happy, but she still needs to be a Big Girl.

She can hear lots of movement on the other end of the call before he answers her, “Minnie, is that you?” He sounds very Worried.

“Yes,” is her response, because it is her. She knows she is supposed to wait for more questions, but she can't help herself. She does her best to not rush out her words.“I need help, please, thank you. Mommy is sick and she won't wake up and she needs to go to the doctor.”

Froggy says a Bad Word, then, “where are you, Minnie?”

“I'm on the couch. It's rude to talk on the phone when someone is sleeping,” she explains, then adds, “Mommy is in bed.”

“Okay. Okay. Did you try to call your Daddy?” He asks. She can hear him moving around a lot more now and that makes her happy. He's going to come help her and she doesn't need to be scared. Froggy is an Adult and can take Mommy to the doctor and she can get better.

“He didn't answer. I tried two times and he's not outside. I can't hears him outside,” she tells him. Froggy knows she can and Daddy can hear everything, so that is important to let him know that.

“Of course, he didn't answer,” Froggy says, then he says another Bad Word in a grumpy voice, before his voice gets Nice again, “Okay, sweetie, can you listen to me?”

“I'm listening!” She can listen really good and follow directions. She's a Big Girl.

“I'm going to call your Daddy. He has a…different phone he uses at night. I'm going to call that phone and tell him he needs to come over, okay? And I'm going to come over, too,” he explains.

“A different phone…?” She doesn't understand why he would have more than one but maybe it is an Adult thing.

“Yeah, sweetie, a different phone. But to call it, I need to not be on the phone with you. Is that okay?” Froggy asks.

“You're both gonna come?”

“We're both gonna come,” he promises, “I'll keep calling him until he answers, and we're gonna come over and take care of you and your Mommy. Okay?”

Minnie starts to suck on her finger as she thinks over what he said. She wants to stay on the phone with Froggy - she’s scared and she doesn't want to be alone while her Mommy is sick, but he needs to call her Daddy. Mommy needs Daddy more than Minnie needs Froggy. Part of being a Big Girl is being brave when things are scary and she needs to be brave for her Mommy. She drops her hand to her lap and mumbles, “Okay.”

“Okay, Minnie,” Froggy says, then he gets a nice voice again and she can tell he is smiling, “You did a really good job calling me. I'm proud of you.”

The words make her smile, too, and she tells him, “I'm being a Big Girl.”

“Yes, you are,” he agrees, “You are being such a big girl right now. Your Mommy and Daddy are going to be proud, too. Now, I'm going to hang up and call your Daddy. He might get there before me, but I'm on my way, too. If anything happens, you can call me back, and I'll answer. Understand?”

“I understand,” she says, because she does. Froggy will answer his phone if Minnie calls him. Even if it is night time and everyone else is sleeping.

“Okay, good girl. I'm hanging up now, okay?”

“Okay. Bye-bye,” she says because that is how Mommy says to end a call. She lowers the phone from her face and hits the big red button.

She decides to keep the phone with her and slides off the couch, putting it into her doctor's coat pocket.

Now that she has called an Adult to help, Minnie doesn't know what she's supposed to do, but she does know she wants something to hug to make her feel better. She goes back to the bedroom and grabs Pig and Scooby off her bed before squeezing them tightly to her. They are soft and smell like Mommy and Daddy and make things less scary. Everything will be okay if she has them.

She looks over to where Mommy is sleeping and frowns. She hasn't moved at all since Minnie went to try to call Daddy. Minnie sucks on her lip since her hands are busy holding her toys and tries to figure out what to do next, but all she can think about is how sad Mommy looks in bed.

Does Mommy know she's sick and that's why she won't wake up? Is she scared like Minnie is?

Minnie doesn't want her to be scared.

She rocks side to side for a moment as she thinks over how to make her Mommy not be scared, then slowly makes her way to the bed. She sets Pig down in the ground then, with Scooby Doo in her arms, crawls up to be next to her Mommy. With great care, she places him next to the pillow, then leans in to whisper, “Scooby, you need to watch over, Mommy, okay? I gotta go wait for Daddy and Froggy.”

She pats Scooby on his big head before slowly bending over to give her Mommy a kiss on the cheek, “Don't be scared, Mommy, Scooby knows a lot about being brave when you're scared…and he'll keep you safe, okay?”

Mommy doesn't respond.

Her doctor glasses fall off as she slides back to the floor and she knows she should pick them up, but she doesn't. Instead, she picks up Pig and goes back out to the living room. She opens up her ears again as she does - Mister Chavez is still watching his sports but the rest of the building is quiet. Everyone else is sleeping, even the doggies and kitties.

She tries to listen for Daddy and Froggy as she sits down in front of the television. She closes her eyes and remembers what Daddy said about looking for things. She has to Turn Off the sounds she doesn't want, like turning off the television. She squeezes Pig tight to her and tries really really hard.

Daddy isn't an animal, so she can turn off the doggies barking and the rats getting their dinners. There are no birdies or alleycats around to send away.

“Bye-bye,” she mumbles and closes her ears to them. Her little section of the world slowly gets quieter until she's pretty sure there are no more animals left to distract her.

Next is city noises.

There aren't many cars out on her block - just a taxi man listening to music. He's not Daddy, so she says goodbye to him, too, before he goes away. His car disappears around with him, since there is no one else in there with the taxi man.

Her head is really starting to hurt from all the loud noises she hasn't turned off yet. It's making her dizzy because it's coming from all over and it's hard to understand what it all is. Everything is starting to just become one big scream and she can't tell what is what.

“MINNIE!”

She hears her Daddy’s voice through all the other noises loud and clear and she can't be a Big Girl anymore.

She bursts into tears and begins crying loudly.

She doesn't want to be brave anymore. She's scared. She wants her Mommy to wake up and not be sick. She wants to get into bed and cuddle and watch cartoons on the StarkPad.

She wants her Mommy.

She wants her Daddy.

She turns off her ears and sobs and sobs until two strong arms wrap around her and she is crushed into her Daddy's chest. She clings to him, burying her face into his neck and lets him overwhelm her senses until she can't cry anymore.

Little Doctor Minnie passes out from sheer exhaustion, cradled in the arms of the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

-----

a/n: everyone tell Doctor Minnie how proud of her you are

---

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

 @petrovafire39 @allllium

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare 

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

@two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @ astridstark13

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos

Grinning Like a Devil

Matt Murdock x Reader

Words: 3539

Summary: Matt and the reader tease each other relentlessly at work. What happens when they discover that it’s more than just harmless flirting? One night of one too many drinks may prove just that. 

Notes: Some of my favorite Matt edits are to the song ‘Cruel Summer’ by Taylor Swift, and while I didn’t totally want to do another song based imagine for it (I have a different one for him in the works), I really love this cute little line for him. Plus I really need to write more fluff for him because everything is so angsty. This is, as so much of my fluff, a total mess, so I hope you guys enjoy. 

More Matt imagines: HERE

-

“And that’s three for me and… oh yeah, none for you,” you smirked, leaning on your pool stick. 

“Isn’t there some kind of rule about making fun of the blind guy?” Matt chuckled. 

“Matty, we both know you could have kicked my ass hours ago.” You shook your head and stepped towards him. “Stop toying with me and play.” 

Matt leaned towards you. 

For a second, you were afraid he could hear your heart racing in your chest, the butterflies in your stomach resuming their painful, wild dance. You faked a cocky laugh, letting him know you weren’t backing down. 

A grin formed on his lips. “Okay.” 

The next break landed three stripes. His next series of shots landed two more. You were right about one thing- he was perfectly capable of kicking your ass. The end of the game yielded only one shot for you while he swept the table. Hell, looked so bad for you, that you were half tempted to cheat and point him at the wrong ball. Somehow you felt he would know. 

Matt put up his pool stick and took yours with a smile. You tried to keep your jaw from dropping. 

He chuckled. “You asked for it.” 

You snapped out of your awestruck state and laughed. “Remind me to keep my mouth shut next time.” 

He paused and his smile shifted into a smirk. “Next time?” 

“Oh, that was just round one, Murdock. One of these days, I will beat you fair and square. Without you going easy on me.” 

He held out a hand. 

You took it. 

“Challenge accepted.” 

The touch sent a pleasant shock up your arm. His finger traced along the back of your hand as he pulled away, grazing your knuckles. Your breathing hitched and another smirk spread across his face. 

Bastard. 

“I’m going to get another drink,” he said. “Do you want anything else?” 

You cleared your throat to stop from squeaking. “Surprise me.” 

He nodded and headed back to the bar. You had to lean against the pool table to stop your knees from shaking. This was stupid. You saw Matt every day. 

But the way he smiled at you…

“Here.” Matt handed you a tall glass of a dark liquid.  

“What the hell is that?” You laughed through your grimace, holding the drink up to the light. It was clouded and hardly allowed any of the neon to shine through. 

Matt shrugged. “A surprise.” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Oh, but you love me,” he teased. 

“Whatever.” You took a drink and immediately regretted it. The burning liquid traveled down your throat like black tar and despite how hard you tried, you couldn’t hold back the coughs. 

Matt laughed and sipped his perfectly normal beer. 

“Shut… up…” you sputtered. 

He kept laughing. It sent a surge of idiotic courage through your chest. 

You tapped the bottom of the glass against the pool table, took a deep breath, and gulped down the rest of the foul drink without breaking. You swallowed back the disgusted coughs and touched the empty glass to his chest. 

“Is that-” You winced at the taste still lingering in your mouth. “The best you’ve got, Murdock?” 

Matt chuckled and shook his head, setting the glass aside. You take a step forward on wobbly legs and stumble. His arms shot out to catch you and held you up against his chest. 

You both froze, dizzy from more than just the alcohol. 

“Maybe that’s enough for tonight,” he breathed. 

Having you this close, he didn’t need his hearing to know your heart started to race. And he knew, with your hands pressed against his chest, you could feel his too. 

“That’s probably a good idea,” you agreed, finding your footing again. 

The break of contact left a hollowness in his chest. His hand found your arm, both to steady you and to fill the space the lack of your touch had created. 

You closed your tabs and he insisted on paying, despite your protests. 

“After that toxic waste you downed, it's the least I can do,” he said. 

“Celebrating anything specific?” Josie wondered. Her eyes shifted curiously between the two of you and she gave you a smirk. 

Your face reddened. 

“We won a pretty major case today,” Matt explained with a smile. “The big bad land developers were defeated all thanks to Y/N’s investigating skills.” 

“Are you kidding?” You scoffed. “You and Foggy did all of the real work in that courtroom.” 

“Work we couldn’t have done without you.” He squeezed your hand. “Give yourself some credit. Without you, we’re just a couple of guys in suits and no case.” 

“Hey, don’t sell Foggy short,” you snorted. “He does all the real lawyering while you  stand there and look pretty.” 

A sly smirk spread across Matt’s face. “Pretty, huh?” 

“Goodnight, Josie,” you said, trying to hurry away, but Matt’s hold on your arm remained. Standing this close, his laugh vibrated through you. 

You walked out together into the chilly February evening. The brisk air bit at your bare arms, having forgotten your jacket in the office. You tried not to shiver. 

“Here,” Matt said. He slipped off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“Thanks.” 

You tried not to think about how the fabric smelled like him- like cedarwood and leather. 

Matt kept his hold on your arm, less to guide himself and more to keep you from tripping on something. The heat of his fingers on your skin radiated throughout your body. You tried to keep your breathing normal, but it was like the air was getting thin. That last drink really was a bad idea. 

By the time you reached the door of your apartment, you were sure your flesh was burning up. You desperately dug through your purse, feeling the dread build up more and more as you searched. 

“Shit,” you muttered. 

“Everything okay?” Matt asked, brows furrowed in a way that was far too adorable for you to handle at the moment. 

“I, um,” you gulped. “I can’t find my keys. I must have left them at the office. Damnit.” You smacked your hand against the door, hitting it a little harder than you meant to and wincing.

Matt took your hand in both of his, holding you steady. “Hey, it’s okay.” 

“No it isn’t. You walked me all the way here and now I can’t get in and it’s too late to try to call me landlord and-” Your intoxicated brain spiraled into all of the things you’d done wrong that evening that led you to this moment. 

Getting drunk with the man you were in love with being numero uno. 

You started to hyperventilate. 

Matt put your hand against his chest so you could feel the slow and steady rhythm of his heart as he breathed. He took a deep breath, indicating for you to do the same. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, just calm down,” he said softly. “Can you do that?” 

You closed your eyes, took a few breaths, and nodded. 

“Sorry,” you said, sheepishly dodging his gaze. “Sometimes drunk-brain turns into anxiety-panic-brain and I have moments like that.” 

“You don’t have to apologize,” he smiled. Matt let go of your hand but kept hold of your arm. “Why don’t we just go to my place? It’s just a few blocks away. We can pick up your keys tomorrow.” 

Your heart leaped into your throat. 

“Like… spend the night?”

Matt gave you that famous smile. “I’m flattered, Y/N, but I’m afraid you would be taking advantage of me,” he teased. 

You shoved him playfully. “Shut up.” 

-

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been to Matt’s apartment before, but this felt different. Maybe it was that horrible, horrible drink still making your brain a little fuzzy, but the neon lights of the billboard outside lit everything in a beautiful, color-changing glow. 

The two of you sat on Matt’s couch and talked for what felt like hours. About nothing, about everything, about you, about him. 

“So I go every year now to commemorate the occasion,” you said confidently

“You have an anniversary for falling off of a swan boat in Central Park?” He snickered. 

“It was a formative moment in my childhood!” 

Matt held up his hands. “Okay, fair enough.” 

“When’s the last time you just took a walk?” You asked, leaning a little closer. “You know, stopped and smelled the roses? In all the time I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you slow down.” 

Matt swallowed and didn’t answer. You had a point. 

“You have to let yourself live, Matt. You can’t go around trying to save everyone.” You leaned closer, eyes falling to his lips. 

Matt drew in, unable to stop himself. How long had he thought about this? How long had he thought about telling you? When he thought about slowing down, he wanted to do it with you. You made him want to want to have a life. 

He pulled away. 

“I think you should probably get some sleep.”

You jerked back. 

“Right,” you said. “Thanks.”

What the hell had you been thinking? 

“I’ll sleep out here,” Matt said. He stood up and went to a cupboard in the hall. 

“Matt, you are not giving up your bed because I forgot my keys.”

“Too late, I already grabbed clean sheets.” 

“Matthew-”

“Y/N, really, it’s fine.” He said and from his tone, you knew there was no winning. Besides, you were embarrassed enough. Did you really just try to kiss him? You didn’t even feel drunk anymore, which you didn’t know if that made it better or worse. 

You hurried into Matt’s room and tried not to think about the fact that you were sleeping in his bed, under his covers, blanketing you in his scent. 

This whole night was starting to feel like a mistake. 

Matt listened to your heartbeat and felt the heat rushing to your face, kicking himself for making you feel like you’d done something wrong. He’d have to talk to you in the morning, when you were both sober, so you could have no doubt that what he wanted to say was true. 

You both went to sleep with butterflies in your stomach and thoughts of each other in your dreams. 

-

You woke up to a killer headache and the smell of coffee. You felt the sheets around you. Silk. Definitely not yours. 

The memory of the night before started to come back to you. 

Oh. God. 

You were at Matt’s apartment. 

You slept in his bed. 

You tried to kiss him. 

And he was outside the sliding door, right now. 

The floor was cool against your bare feet, your legs shaking as you tried to walk silently to the door. You slid it open just a crack. Just to see where he was. 

Matt was walking around the kitchen, most of his frame hidden by the open fridge door. 

You stepped out of his bedroom. If you could just sneak to the door…

“Morning,” he greeted cheerily, closing the fridge door and giving you a bright smile. “I made you some coffee.” Matt held up a steaming mug with a slight chuckle. “I thought you might need it.” 

You winced. “Right. Thanks.” 

Matt could feel your skin getting warmer, as well as the churning of nausea going through your head. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Super.” 

Matt grimaced. “Yeah, I felt the same when I woke up. Hence, coffee.” He took a drink from his own mug. 

There was a long, unbroken, and horrifically awkward silence between you. Why couldn’t you have one of those hangovers that obliterate any memory from the night before? Why couldn’t you get the image of him pulling away from you out of your head? Why did you have to try to kiss him? Why did you have to ruin everything?

“I should go.” 

Matt blew out a low sigh. “I’ll walk you home.” He moved to stand, but you put a hand on his arm to stop him. 

“I think I should go by myself,” you said quickly. If you stayed any longer, you would start to cry and you couldn’t do that in front of him. 

“Y/N-” Matt started. 

“Thank you for letting me stay, but I have some stuff I want to get done before we have to get to the office.” 

Matt heard your heart racing. He could hear the edge in your voice. 

He’d hurt you and he hated himself for it. He wanted the chance to fix things, but at the moment, he knew that anything he said would just make it worse. 

“I’ll see you there, then,” he said quietly. 

“Yeah, uhuh, right. Bye, Matt.” You scurried out of the door, forgetting your jacket and your purse but being far too embarrassed to go back in for them. As long as you had your keys, you would be fine. A fresh change of clothes and a cold shower. That’s what you needed. 

Once you forced yourself to get ready for work, you actually had to go to work. Which meant facing Karen- who knew all too well your crush on your boss. And worse, it meant facing Matt again. Maybe you could get away with avoiding him. 

You could not. 

When you got to the office, Matt was there, perched on the edge of your desk with your bag and jacket in hand. 

“You, uh, forgot these,” he said, giving you an awkward half-smile. 

Karen sat at her adjacent desk and raised a brow. 

You took your things and put them on the desk, feeling that all too familiar rush of blush to your face. Thank god he couldn’t see it. 

Matt nodded and walked to his office, letting his hand graze your shoulder as he went, hoping it would be a comfort, but when he heard your heartbeat rise, he realized it was probably a mistake. 

How could he show you that what happened last night, the reason he pulled away, was not what you were thinking? 

The day passed agonizingly slowly, but at least Foggy and Matt kept busy enough that you were able to avoid him for the most part. You couldn’t bear the pitying half-smile he gave you so you made sure to stay with Karen, looking over cases and organizing facts about clients. 

Matt was going mad, flipping through papers and listening to Foggy read off statements. All he could think about was the hurt in your voice and how he was the reason for it. 

“Uh, earth to Matt,” Foggy said, snapping his fingers. “You there buddy?” 

Matt swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?” 

Foggy leaned over the desk with a slow, teasing smirk. “I think I know what’s going on.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You finally made a move on Y/N. Didn’t you?” 

Now it was Matt’s turn to blush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh come on, Matt,” Foggy exclaimed. “I saw it from the minute she wandered through our doors. You like her.” He poked Matt’s shoulder, prompting him to shrug away and stand. This, of course, was all the answer Foggy needed. “Oh my God you do like her!” 

“Foggy-”

“So what happened? Did you guys go on a date?” Foggy raised a brow. “Did you do more than go on a date?”

Matt went silent. 

Foggy’s jaw dropped. “Oh, did she reject you?” 

Matt ran a hand down his face. “That’s not what happened.”

“Don’t tell me that you rejected her.”

“That’s not what…” Matt grimaced. “It wasn’t like that.” Because of course, he liked you and of course, under different circumstances, he would have liked to do a lot more than kiss you, but he couldn’t unless he knew that it was really what you wanted and not what the liquor was telling you to want. 

“Well, whatever it was like, you better fix it,” Foggy said, walking to the door. “Because you do not want to let that one get away, my friend.” 

The rest of the day passed painfully. You were avoiding him and he was trying to figure out how to make you stop avoiding him. It didn’t help that Foggy kept giving both of you painfully obvious hints, worst of all being when he asked Karen to help him run an errand, clearing his throat loudly as he passed Matt’s door. 

You kept your head down, looking over client files and incident reports. Anything to take your mind off of the way his arm felt around your waist. His breath on your cheek. You came across a file that had a recorded statement. Shit. it must have gotten put with your things by mistake. 

You swallowed, stood, and made your way to Matt’s office. 

“I think this is probably for you,” you said softly, standing in his doorway. “I don’t usually listen to the statements.” You swallowed again, your throat feeling dry. “I just look into who you tell me to.” 

“You do more than that,” Matt said, shaking his head. Why did you always downplay your importance? Could you see how much you meant to this place? To him? “Y/N, stay for a second. Shut the door please.” He took off his glasses.

You froze under his unfocused gaze, feeling him watch you in his own way. 

“Is something wrong?” You gulped. 

Matt gave you a small smile. “You’re the one who has been avoiding me all day.” He motioned for you to sit beside him on the edge of his desk. “I think we should probably talk about last night.”

“W-what… I don’t…” You stammered, staying where you were. “I didn’t think there was anything to talk about.” 

Matt raised a brow, motioning again to the spot beside him. 

You hung your head and shuffled to stand beside him. 

“Now,” he said softly, “will you please talk to me? It’s been driving me insane all day not being around you.” 

“What do you want me to say, Matt?” You sighed. Emotion crept its way into your tone. Embarrassment. Heartbreak. “Things took a turn. We stopped. We went to bed. What else is there?” 

“What else is there?” Matt huffed, turning to fully face you. His hand reached for your arm. “Y/N, I did what I did because you were drunk. I didn’t think-”

“It’s okay, Matt.” You didn’t look at his face., at his dark eyes that managed to see you better than anyone ever had. “You don’t have to explain. You were just being kind. You let me stay because I was too drunk to open my own damn door. And I appreciate that, but please,” you grimaced at the memory of him pulling away from you. You shrugged away his hand. “Please just drop it.” 

You moved to leave.

Matt stood in your way. 

“I won’t just drop it,” he said, desperation in his tone. “Don’t you get that I can’t?” He grabbed you by the shoulders, not letting you go this time. “Y/N, I can’t stop thinking about last night. I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

You blinked. “W-What?”

This wasn’t real. This was another trick of your mind. Surely you weren’t still drunk. 

“I have wanted a night like last night since you first walked through those doors,” he admitted, listening to your heart as it started to race. He gave you a small smile, hoping to calm you down. To convince you that what he was saying was the truth. “But I had to make sure that it’s what you really wanted. Not because of some awful drink I dared you to drink or because you felt like you owed me.” 

“Matt…” You trailed off. Couldn’t he tell? Couldn’t he sense that you’d wanted the same thing ever since you first saw him? 

“I just,” he sighed, “I need you to know that.” 

You didn’t know what to say. Any words that formed on your tongue died before they could make it out of your lips. 

Matt heard your heart pounding. He heard your fingers tugging on the bottom of your shirt- a nervous tick he’d noticed your first day. He let his head fall. He’d made things worse. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said softly, grabbing his cane and heading for the door. 

You didn’t think. Thinking had so far gotten you nowhere. Instead, you grabbed his arm, pulled him back around, and crashed your lips into his. 

Matt stumbled back in surprise but only for a moment. His hands found your face, cupping your cheeks gently as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. 

Both of you stepped, him forward and you back, his body pinning you against his desk, his arms moving around to hold you up against him. Your hands traveled up his chest and into his hair. 

This was happening. 

You pulled away, resting your forehead against his. 

“This is happening,” you gasped, unable to stop yourself. 

Matt just grinned. He gave you that ridiculous, intoxicating, devilish grin. And it melted you. 

“Do you want it to keep happening?” He asked cheekily. 

You didn’t answer and pulled him back to you.

Inadvertently Yours pt. 9 - Azriel x Reader

Description: As Eris Vanserra’s most trusted spy, you‘ve found yourself spending a surprising amount of time with the Night Court’s Spymaster. When your rendezvous with Azriel is discovered by High Lord Beron, the only way to protect the alliance is to pretend that you and Azriel are madly in love.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Warnings: canon typical violence, death

Author's notes: I loved writing some of this part and absolutely despised writing the other half... my brain was simply not cooperating! thank you for reading 😚💕

Word Count: approx. 2500 words

As he enters Beron’s office, your father stands tall, centuries of pride draping over him.  

“My lord,” he greets, bowing at the waist in deference to his High Lord—the male he had pledged his loyalty to in his youth. 

Beron merely grunts in response, not bothering to look up from his papers.  

“Bring me a glass of whiskey, will you?” Beron says, his voice gruff, his eternally youthful face furrowed as he examines his work. 

Your father, the dutiful servant, nods.  As his hand closes around the extravagant crystal decanter, his back to his High Lord, he says, “I have news, my lord.” 

He pours Beron a hefty glass of whiskey, offering it to the High Lord, who takes a large swig.  Beron raises an auburn eyebrow impatiently.  He never was one for patience. 

“It seems your heir is plotting to hasten his inheritance,” your father notes, his tone serious. 

Beron’s russet eyes flicker to your father, widening slightly.  He lets out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he takes another sip of whiskey. 

“Ungrateful boy,” he spits.  “What do you know?” 

Your father takes a breath, carefully considering each word before he speaks.  “I overheard him plotting with the Shadowsinger.  They plan to kill you together.” 

That has a smirk forming on Beron’s lips, amusement glinting in his gaze. 

“And here I was thinking Eris was too blinded by his own jealousy,” Beron muses.  He traces a finger around the edge of his crystal glass before taking another sip.  “It seems your daughter’s cunt isn’t as magical as he thought.” 

Clenching his fists at his sides, your father takes the comment in stride.  He doesn’t dare disagree.  He’s used to this—has heard Beron call you all sorts of uncouth things as the High Lord concocted his plot to breed himself a Shadowsinger.  Nothing could be gained by disagreeing. 

“What would you have me do to resolve this?” Your father asks in a deferential voice. 

Beron tilts his head to the side, considering.  Then he downs the last of his drink before setting the glass on his desk with a loud thump.  

“For now, do nothing,” Beron orders.  “Even with the Shadowsinger’s powers, Eris is no match for me.  When the time is right, I’ll punish the boy as I see fit.”

“Of course, my lord,” your father says with a bow.  

And then, the coughing begins.  

At first, Beron merely sounds as though he’s clearing his throat, as though there’s a tickle he can’t quite itch.  Slowly, it intensifies, the High Lord of the Autumn Court struggling for breath. 

“More whiskey, my lord?” your father asks, concern glinting in his gaze. 

Beron shakes his head.  “No, no.  I’m fine—I just feel…strange.” 

“How so, my lord?”

Beron wheezes, hitting his chest as though it might allow the air to pass smoothly.  “I’m not sure.  Perhaps I need the maids to dust the office.” 

Your father hums, his gaze meeting Beron’s as the High Lord struggles for breath. 

“I doubt the maids will be able to help,” he says in a low voice. 

Beron’s brow furrows in confusion.  “And why is that?” 

“Because you just drank whiskey laced with faebane,” your father says, nodding to the empty glass sitting on Beron’s desk.  The glass he had poured himself. 

Hours Earlier

“You really ought to be careful about where you discuss murdering a High Lord.  You never know who might overhear,” your father says in a condescending voice, and Azriel and Eris are moving before you can even blink.

Azriel’s infamous dagger shimmer in his hand as he stands in front of you, blocking your body from your father.  Eris unsheathes the Made dagger Rhysand had gifted him, ready to pounce at your father. 

But your father merely holds up his hands, raising an eyebrow at the two males.  “Now, now, I didn’t come here looking for a fight.”

“Then why did you come here?” You ask, your tone tense.  

“Perhaps I was simply interested in the company you keep, daughter,” your father says, his gaze sliding between Azriel and Eris.  “You haven’t come to visit since your little wedding.”  

You scoff, rolling your eyes.  Your father was not a kind man, had never been generous with his love or affection.  Surely, he wasn’t just missing you. 

“Speak plainly,” Eris commands, and your father straightens his back slightly as he takes in the Autumn lordling.  “What do you want?”

“Perhaps I want the same thing as you,” your father notes.  

“You’ve always been loyal to Beron.  Why are we to believe that’s changed?”

“That was before he decided to breed my daughter with a lesser faerie brute,” he sneers, and you bristle as tension seeps through Azriel. 

“Do not speak of him like that,” you snarl, narrowing your eyes on your father, who merely raises a brow at your defense.  You wonder if this is truly the first time you’ve ever stood up to him. “Azriel is better male that you’ve ever been.” 

“I wondered if it was a love match,” your father muses.  “I must say, I am surprised.  I thought I trained you better.”

A growl seeps from your throat, and your fists clench at your sides.  You want to say more, a retort forming on your lips, but Azriel’s hand slipping into yours, stills you, drawing your gaze.  He offers you a small smile, squeezing your hand gently as if to say it’s alright. 

Your father watches the exchange carefully, noting the way Azriel’s wing curls around your body protectively, as though he would do anything to keep you safe. 

Loosing a sigh, your father takes a deep breath.  When his gaze meets yours, there’s something unfamiliar lingering within his eyes.  Remorse, perhaps?  Or even stranger still—an apology. 

“I did not know Beron’s plans,” he tells you, his tone strangely soft, as though he’s begging you to believe him.  “I may not be the perfect father, but you have to realize that I will not stand by and let him force you to bear a child against your will.”

“Especially not a ‘lesser faerie’ child?” You challenge, and your father merely shrugs. 

“I’m not perfect,” he admits.  “But you are my daughter.  I may be loyal to Beron, but your welfare, your happiness comes first.” 

You’re not sure what to say, what to think as you take in the male who stands before you.  Azriel’s shadows dance around your father’s body for a long moment, determining the truth of his words.  When your husband meets your gaze, nodding slightly, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.  

Eris watches carefully, his lips pursed.  “So you will keep what you heard to yourself?” 

“I will do more than that,” your father says, his gaze locked on yours.  “I will do whatever I can to help.” 

And with that, the four of you plot how to kill the High Lord of the Autumn Court. 

The Present

Beron’s russet eyes widen on your father, processing his words, his betrayal.  Clutching his chest, he tries to catch his breath.  He’s so shocked by your father’s treachery that he doesn’t notice Azriel’s shadows as they loop around his wrists, pulling him towards his desk chair. 

When you, Azriel, and Eris winnow into the room, armed with your favorite daggers, Beron snarls, struggling against his shadow bindings. 

“How dare you?” He growls, flames burning in his gaze.  He bares his teeth at Eris and your father—his heir and his most loyal advisor. 

“Now, now,” Eris says with a smirk, twirling his Made dagger in his grasp.  “You always did tell me to take what I wanted without asking, father.” 

A low growl flies from Beron’s throat, but he can’t break past Azriel’s shadows with the faebane in his system.  Your father had played his part, had given Eris the opportunity he needed to end this.  To end his father. 

“All this for a female married to another male?” Beron sneers, and Eris’s grip tightens on his Made dagger as he prowls forward. 

“This is for her and for mother and for Lucien, and for all the other people you’ve terrorized,” Eris says, his voice firm as he approaches his father.  He doesn’t balk as Beron glares at him, daring him to act. 

“You’ll never–” Beron starts, but Eris doesn’t let him finish.  With a single swoop of his wrist, Eris silences Beron, dragging his Made dagger across his throat.  

For a long moment, Beron chokes, his eyes wild as he looks at his son—the child he raised to be brutal and conniving.  The heir who was destined to take his place. 

And as Beron bleeds out, Eris lets his dagger fall to the floor, overcome by the weight of what he had done.  The reality that his father now longer owned him. 

When he turns towards you, there’s a mixture of relief and horror in his amber eyes.  You don’t hesitate before throwing your arms around your oldest friend, holding him as his entire world shifts.  

“I did it,” Eris breathes, as though he doesn’t quite believe it’s all real.  You nod, clutching him to you. 

And when Beron’s final breath sputters out, life leaking from his body, you take a step back as the High Lord power seeps into Eris’s bones, rewriting his very essence.  Your gaze meets Azriel’s, and he offers you a small smile, drawing your body closer to his, his wings enclosing slightly around you. 

“My lord,” your father says, bowing his head to Eris, and it all sinks in.  Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court. 

Eris nods at him, acknowledging his presence, the gift your father had given to both him and you.  That gift, his role in Beron’s demise, likely earned your father a place in Eris’s court.  Perhaps even a place in your future life. 

Then Eris’s gaze finds yours, noting how you stand by Azriel’s side. 

“You have a place here,” Eris tells you.  “You’ll always have a place here.  Marriage or not.” 

You offer him a smile even as Azriel stiffens by your side, his shadows returning to him.  They swirl around his muscular body, never quite settling.

Eris’s amber eyes slide over to Azriel, assessing the Shadowsinger.  He takes a step forward, refusing to break eye contact as both males size each other up.  

“Shadowsinger,” Eris says, and you find yourself holding your breath, carefully watching the interaction.  

“High Lord,” Azriel replies, only scrunching his nose slightly at Eris’s new title.  

And then, Azriel bows his head, offering Eris an ounce of deference—an offering of a truce in the never-ending feud between them.  When Eris nods back, there’s gratitude in his gaze.  He won’t forget the Shadowsinger’s role in his ascension to the throne, the way he chose to stand by Eris’s side. 

“When you’re ready, my lord, we should discuss next steps,” your father says, finally drawing Azriel and Eris’s attention away from

Eris nods, standing tall. 

“Will you return to the Night Court?” Eris asks you, and you can feel Azriel’s heavy gaze on you, his attention unwavering.  You nod, offering Eris a small smile.  You and Azriel had unfinished business.

“Dinner next week?” Eris asks.

“I’d like that.”

And without another word, the new High Lord of the Autumn Court makes his way from Beron’s office, your father on his tail.  The power, the responsibility, looks good on him.  And you find yourself truly believing that Eris will make the Autumn Court a better place. 

…

“I thought you might decide to stay in Autumn now that Beron is dead,” Azriel says when the two of you have winnowed back to the House of Wind.  Azriel keeps his voice low, his tone soft as he stares at you, his hazel eyes warm but wary.  

You meet Azriel’s gaze, tilting your head to the side.  “Well, all of my belongings are here.”

“Right.” Azriel’s hazel eyes leave yours, focusing on a point in front of him.  His voice is stiff, his body held tight.  “Of course.” 

For a moment, you say nothing before letting out a small laugh.  Reaching up slowly, you place a hand on Azriel’s cheek, drawing his gaze back to you.  He looks down at you, his eyes widened, and for a moment it looks as though he’s holding himself back, unsure what to think. 

“Azriel,” you say, letting your hand linger on his tan cheek.  “I know we were both coerced into this marriage.  I don’t expect anything from you moving forward, but I can’t say that I’m eager for whatever this is between us to end.” 

“You aren’t?” He asks, swallowing slowly.  

“No,” you trace your thumb gently across his cheekbone, appreciating the way he leans into the touch.  “I must admit, I’ve grown rather fond of you.” 

“Have you now?” Azriel’s lips quirk upward into a smirk. 

You roll your eyes, but your smile widens.  “I have.  But I understand completely if you don’t feel the same way.” 

A strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to Azriel.  He holds you firmly against his body, savoring the feeling of your skin against his. 

“I don’t want this to end either,” Azriel tells you, his voice soft.  “I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this way about someone before.” 

Your heart sings in your chest as you look up at the male who went from stranger to husband to whatever the two of you were now.  “Me neither.” 

Azriel lets out a relieved breath.  “I know Eris said that I wanted this marriage to end, but now that I know you, now that I know how good we are together, I don’t want to lose this.  I don’t want to lose you.”  

“What is it that you want, Azriel?”

He smiles down at you—the sight breathtaking.  You let your hands rest on his firm chest, breathing in his scent.  “I want to have you in my life; to be your husband for real this time.  I want to hold you and kiss you, and at some point, I’d like to bed you without any of Beron’s scheming.” 

There’s a weight to his words, to the longing that has settled between your souls. 

“Oh, is that all?” You tease, lost in the warmth of Azriel’s touch.  He lets out a soft laugh, his hand tracing a pattern on your lower back.  Standing on your tiptoes, you smile up at him.  “I want this to be real too,” you tell him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

And then Azriel is kissing you back—his lips crashing against yours as he finally releases the desire he had kept hidden, locked away.  His lips taste of devotion, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss.  Azriel’s scarred hands cup your face, his tongue exploring your mouth, memorizing your taste, and you wonder if he feels it too.  If he feels the way your soul sings at his touch, the way it feels as though you’re two halves of the same whole.

You can’t be sure what tomorrow will bring, but the thought of having Azriel by your side—as your husband—makes it all worthwhile.

@lizziesfirstwife @waytoomanyteenagefeels @icey-stars @vellichor01 @bubybubsters @secret-ly-here @judig92 @glitterypirateduck @saltedcoffeescotch @alovelywriters @bbycowboi @sweetxime @thesnugglingduck @possiblyphobia @naturakaashi @itsleniiilosers @asllsmilesreally7 @nastynesta @danielmarie @vera0124 @supercalithehamm @whatsupb18 @tomatopotato22 @imxnotxhere @marina468 @thisisnew @hnyclover @azriels-mate2 @sourapplex @girl-who-writes-stuff @anotherbook-obsessedhoe @acourtofbatboydreams @amygdtjhddzvb @v3lv3tf0x @high-lady-of-bookss @fasoaurore @thereadinggremlin @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @annaaaaa88 @reiincarnatiion @nocasdatsgay @luvmxo @littlelunatica @brandywineeeee @one-big-fangirl @konaanaria13 @runniem @lyinginameadow @fides25 @i-m-in-loki-s-army @mali22 @thisiskaylin @gorlillaglue25 @brieflyclassymortal @multi-writer-personal-blog @shannonsaid

Luke x reader where a girl, daughter of Aphrodite, flirts with him and insults the reader, causing her to avoid Luke, but later he manages to find her and confesses that he actually likes them... I don't know if they should already be together or not, but I believe in you!!! you write very well :ooo

Sorry if the idea is bad or you wouldn't want to write something like that, if that's the case please pretend you never read this 🤡🤡🫶

true colours; luke castellan

wc + pairing: 3.6k, luke castellan x child of iris! reader

synopsis: everyone wants luke castellan, including you. curse your mother for getting your hopes up.

warnings: friends to lovers, reader is very insecure, bullying, lee fletcher & will solace cameo!! some angst with a fluffy ending

notes: thank you for the request!! as always this is longer than i anticipated but hope you like it :) i also combined it with another request for a child of iris reader (i also identify as a child of iris sometimes so i lovee writing for them) also i’m pretty sure lee + a lot of parts of this are ooc sorry but i havent read the books in about a year so hopefully everything’s fairly accurate!🌈

You knew this summer would be different because your mother sent her wishes twice as much. On the first day of July, when children flood into Camp Half-Blood like a hive of wild bees, a rainbow always lights up the sky. 

This year, there were two. 

As a child of Iris you’re technically supposed to be in the Hermes cabin. But your love for art, for music, for fun, has made you a particular favourite of the Apollo cabin. Most of your friends are there. They tolerate you singing in your soft, often unsure voice. They love when you catch sunlight and filter it into prisms of colour on their cabin walls. 

You’d probably move in there permanently if it weren’t for Hermes. Or rather, his son.

Over the last few months, in the sticky summer heat, your mother knew you would fall in love. 

It's not any surprise you love Luke. Everyone loves Luke. A fact that's becoming more obvious every passing day. 

It used to bother you less. You’ve always been his meagre, hopeless friend, never any real competition to these girls. You’d basically taken yourself out of the running and instead decided to pine after him in the very back of your mind. A safe, deluded fantasy that would never happen. 

Until recently, where it seems less like a fantasy and more like a terrifying possibility. 

Over the past few weeks Luke has gone out of his way to be sweet to you. Or at least you think so. He’s spent extra time talking to you at lunch, laughing at your half-formed jokes almost in earnest. At bonfires he saves you a seat, grabs you a marshmallow on occasion. You even made him a friendship bracelet of sorts—admittedly a little ugly—but he’s never taken it off. Not since the day you gave it to him. 

Not to mention helping you last week before the archery competition. His hands lingering over yours as he steadied your bow, the curls of his breath on the back of your neck when he stood behind you. 

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, a tinge of mirth in his voice. “You just steady your aim and first is as good as yours.”

(You came in fifteenth.)

You don’t want to say that it’s him weakening your aim, making your pulse beat out of your neck. His nose brushes against the back of your jaw as he leans forward and you smell the pine on his skin. Is this friendly? Is he this close on purpose? Are you delusional?

It’s all you’ve been thinking about these past few days. So when Luke Castellan’s endless admirers come to the forefront of your mind, you feel like all those moments of potential buildup have been ripped away. 

“You alright there, sunshine?” 

He takes you out of your spiral with a teasing lilt you love. When you look at him, his face is a shimmering warmth, complete with boyish smile. 

“Yep,” you reply, trying to ignore the nickname making your insides flutter even though you know he’s saying it ironically.

You’ve always had a gift for identifying colour. It’s the thing you pay attention to most. Something inherited from your mother, you suppose. So you’ve memorized the way Luke’s eyes melt in the sunlight. How his scar blends with his pinking cheeks when it’s hot outside. You never told him, and you probably never will, but you’ve painted him from memory quite a few times in the Apollo cabin—always with the excuse that you were practicing. It's so blatantly obvious you're in love with him there's no point in your friends bringing it up.  

The two of you are meandering around camp before dinner, a tradition Luke started early on in the summer. You talk about high points of your day (mostly you) or share nuggets of gossip you’ve heard around camp (mostly him). It's the thing you looked forward to every morning. A time when his words are just for you. 

Idle chatter flows as you keep walking. Sometimes your arm brushes his and you have the embarrassing urge to tug yours away. You do your best not to stare at him too long or laugh too loud at his jokes. 

“Hey, Castellan!” Someone calls. 

Luke’s head turns. Your heart plummets. A beautiful girl, Aphrodite cabin, you think, is heading towards you. She’s all honey-spun hair and dazzling pink lips, and it’s obvious she knows it. You don’t know her name. But Luke does. 

They fall into conversation the second she arrives. It’s just greetings, pleasantries, but there’s a coy smile on the girl’s face that betrays any sense of disinterest. “Heard you’re not too keen on pairing up with us for the Chariot Race next week. What gives?” Her tone is pouty and playful as she taps Luke’s shoulder. She side-eyes you, lips curling imperceptibly. “I’m sure you’ll have a better chance with us.”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “Dunno, just thought it was fine to switch it up.”

Just like that, you’re out of the loop again. More of her friends flock after her, and soon Luke is tangled in a whole other world. They’re all glowing with a kind of righteousness you only get when you’re popular. You know Luke has friends, tons of them. He's the leader of the cabin with the most campers. Not to mention assertive and gorgeous. His presence is so inviting it’s a challenge not to fall in love with him. 

So you can’t blame this girl, the one that keeps touching his arm and giggling. It’s not like you’ve staked your claim on Luke—no one even knows you exist. As much as you want him to be yours, you know you’ll never stop someone from taking him first. It’s your fatal flaw, you think. Cowardice. 

You end up sidelined completely. Watching him swathed in people more charismatic than you plants an ache deep inside you. All your wishful thinking feels sour now, a pipe dream, a bedtime story to help you sleep better. Somehow it hurts more knowing that it’s nobody’s fault but yours. These people can’t be doing this on purpose. It’s just who they are. It’s who you are—always a step behind, always daydreaming. You are your mother’s daughter, after all. Just a prism reflecting everyone around you. 

Eventually, one of the boys in the group takes notice of you. He’s not nearly as captivating as Luke is—you don’t find the colours of his eyes hold as much depth. There’s also a haughtiness when he looks at you. He sneers, “What the hell do you have on your face?”

It draws the attention of others in the group. You feel like a naked sculpture in an art gallery. “Uh, what?” You stammer. 

Some of them purse their lips. The girl with Luke lets a laugh slip. You’re pretty sure you look like an idiot, waiting there with your brows wrinkled in a daze. Their gazes keep flicking over to your cheek, so your hand flies up there before you can delay any more. When you press your fingers to the side of your face, they come away tacky and pink. Mortification constricts you.

Paint. It’s leftover, half-dried paint. The colour of Luke’s cheeks in the sun. 

“Oh,” you say dumbly. It’s drowned by snickers. All you can do is find Luke, the only face you know, and ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?” without sounding too hurt. 

You know you failed when your voice comes out wrong and his ebony brows push together. “I thought it looked—”

He never gets to finish because the golden girl laughs a little louder, the pink tones in her face a little darker. “Oh my Gods, you’re that Iris kid that’s always singing, right?” She giggles sharply, cornflower eyes darting between her friends. There’s something in there you can’t quite pick up on, until it flushes the pupils of all her friends, and they all grin with a secret knowledge they want you to see. “You’re, like, really good!” The girl simpers, but her bottom lip pulls between her teeth to soften another laugh. 

“Oh, so good!” Another friend piles on. 

Their passive-aggressive chuckles start to sound like hail on a window. You shift further away from them. Dirt slides beneath your shoe, and you long to kick up more of it, displace yourself, disappear. 

You don’t look at Luke. The giggly, flaxen girl has already turned back to him, and you’re sure he’s enthralled once more. You try to stir up the image of Luke’s closeness during archery practice, the lilac bruise on his knuckles when he angled your bow, but it doesn’t take. Now, it feels like you’ve dreamed it. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Luke leaning down to catch a whisper from the Aphrodite girl’s ear. The boy that first commented on your cheek leans closer to you again. He’s suffocatingly smug when he grins, “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you go … wash that off? You don’t want to look like that at dinner.” He snorts. “For an Iris kid, you really aren’t good at taking a message.” 

If you were a more confident person, maybe you’d point out how that didn’t really make sense, or how stupid it sounded coming out of his mouth. But the sentiment of it wounds you, and you’re weak enough as is. 

"Guess you're right," you mumble. You wipe your face of paint as you leave. The memory of Luke’s skin stains you until you wash your hands off in the sink. 

You haven’t talked to him since. 

It’s been a few days of you avoiding him, and it’s hard to explain to anyone why you’ve been doing it. How do you tell the truth? Luke Castellan is a work of art and you are … a weird doodle, or something. Despite your adoration, you know there’s no reason he should feel the same for you. Everyone loves him for a reason. Everyone must ignore you for one, too. 

“Why haven’t you been talking to Luke?”

The question breaks your concentrated silence in the Apollo cabin. You’ve been sitting here for a while now, humming to yourself over a mostly blank canvas. The cabin is dusted with a lilac haze, thanks to your manipulation of the light streaming through the windows. Helps you feel less like you’re at camp and more like you’re in a fairytale. 

“Helloooo, lady, I asked you a question.”

You begrudgingly look up. Lee Fletcher, head of the Apollo cabin, is at the mouth of the cabin, gazing at all your supplies strewn about the floor like they’re a bunch of unsavoury substances. “It looks like a hurricane came in here. Now why aren’t you talking to Luke?”

“How do you know I’m not talking to him?” You mutter as Lee sits beside you. 

“Uh, because you’ve been sleeping here multiple nights in a row and you never do that. And you don’t sit with him at dinner. And whenever we see him you drag me in the other direction—”

“Lee!”

“I’m just saying, you should probably talk about it. My beautiful voice can heal wounds, yes, but not of the heart.” He splays a hand across his chest in mock theatrics.

You don’t say anything. The familiar weight of the brush against your fingertips is far more comforting than trying to talk, so you busy yourself with your canvas again. “He waits for you, you know,” Lee continues, quieter. “In the morning. And before dinner. He always asks if you’re here.”

“Oh,” you say, and your wavering voice betrays your expression. But you think of everyone else at camp, their gleaming smiles and their celebrated parents, their own cabins and friends and dreams, how you don’t seem to have any of those. You think of the girl whispering in Luke’s ear. All her shades of beauty. You know it’s wrong to compare yourself, to be jealous. You’re just … sad.

The cabin darkens from a lilac to an imperceptibly gloomier shade. A blue sort of longing gets caught in your throat, blurring the colours on your canvas. But you keep your brush steady, focused on the scratch of its bristles so you don’t have to hear what you say next. 

“I think I love him, Lee.” And then, “But I don’t think he loves me.”

There’s no sound except the scraping of your brush when it’s run out of paint, and a sniffle when a tear rolls down your cheek. 

“Oh,” Lee fills the silence the way you did just moments before. Then he says your name, laced with pity, and hugs you on the floor of his lavender cabin. 

“You want to help me lead the bonfire song tonight?” He asks after a minute. “Or at least … come to the bonfire song?” 

“No to the first, yes to the second.”

You wish you said no to both. 

The spot you choose after dinner is right next to the fire so you can distract yourself with the golden flecks of flame. Fire is so fluid, so complex, from a colour perspective. But no matter how close you get, the searing warmth can’t hide Luke’s gaze peering over the embers. 

He will not. Stop. Looking at you. 

The singing from the Apollo kids usually soothes you but tonight it’s just making you anxious. All this attention so close to you. Will Solace has been sitting next to you this whole time, your unofficial assigned companion for the night thanks to Lee. One of his siblings beckons him over, and he shoots you an apologetic look, hesitating. "Just go," you wave off kindly. "It's all good." He's not entirely convinced, and you aren't either, but he squeezes your shoulder with thanks and leaves you anyway.

Now you’re acutely aware the space next to you is wide open. And so is Luke, it seems. There’s an awkward moment where your gazes slide over each other and he weaves out of his current crowd towards you. So you do the most mature, sound thing you could possibly do in this situation:

You say you have to go to the bathroom to no one in particular and get out of there. 

It’s dark, but you’ve got sharper eyes than most. Soon the noise of the campfire is behind you. You traipse through the camp towards the bathroom,but you don’t get far before you hear something that makes your stomach drop in the worst and best way. 

Luke, calling your name. 

At first you think you can get away with not hearing him. Then he calls a second, a third, a fourth time, punctuated with, “Come on, I know you can hear me, can you just turn around?”

He’s got longer legs than you so the next time he speaks it’s practically in your ear. “Hey, just look at me. Please. I want to talk to you.”

There’s something so tender in his voice that it makes you cave immediately. But you already feel so fragile, you can feel the tears behind your eyes. You know you won’t have the strength to talk to him. 

His hand curls gently around your wrist and it sends warmth all the way up your arm. He says your name again, softer, and you love the way it sounds. You can’t meet his eyes, but you already know what he looks like. Even in the dark you picture him crystal clear. 

“Look at me,” he repeats. “I just—I need to know what I did wrong.”

His dark eyes are full and apprehensive when you heed him. You notice how much you’ve missed studying his face—the slight bunch of his brows, the tensing in his jaw. And you almost delude yourself that he’s missed you just as much, the way he squeezes your wrist and rakes over your expression.

“Why are you ignoring me?” He asks. 

“I’m not—”

“You are. I know you. Just tell me why.” 

He looks so sweet, so earnest, and it kills you. You think of the way he looked when all his friends made fun of you. It all comes up before you can help it. 

“Do you always let me walk around looking like an idiot?” You ask bitingly, staring at the floor. “The thing, with the paint on my cheek—why didn’t you tell me? I looked so stupid and all your friends just laughed at me!” 

His face falls. “I tried to tell you, I thought—”

“It’s okay to say you don’t like me, or that you’re embarrassed, or whatever, but I …” You swallow, tears thick on your lower lashes. “Everyone makes fun of me. I don’t know why you don’t.”

“Because I do like you,” he states, hand moving up to your forearm. 

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You’re so much … better, you know you are, and I don’t want your pity, or your spare time. I just—I made something up in my head that wasn’t there and I only noticed it the other day after you talked to that girl and that guy made fun of me and I’m really, really sorry—”

“It looked cute. I was trying to say I didn’t tell you about the paint because I thought it was cute.”

There’s a lull.

“What?” You blink stupidly. 

“I know I should’ve told you about it, but I swear I was going to before dinner, I didn’t think we’d run into anyone before then.” His cheeks tinge red. “I had this whole dumb thing planned out where I’d wipe it off your cheek and tell you how cute it was once you got embarassed. I was waiting to tell you. I was thinking about it the whole time.”

His hand on your arm is a frighteningly grounding thing. You're dumbstruck by that alone. Your lips part, but all that comes out is, “Why?”

A gentle laugh tumbles out of his throat. “Why do you think?”

His other hand comes up to brush your cheekbone, where the paint had been, and you can imagine him doing it to you on that day. How you'd probably react just the way he said you would, the way you are now. A warm orange glow blooming in your chest. “But the girl—”

“She tried whispering to me how much she liked my bracelet,” he smiles fondly. “Told her you made it for me. It shut her up. I don’t know what that guy said to you but I chewed ‘em all out the second you left. They knew I wasn’t happy. I tried looking for you but you were gone. I don't like them, you know."

You don’t know what to say. It’s too difficult, too uncertain for you to jump the gun on this. So you just stare at all the shifting colours on his face as he moves closer to you. All this time going over his every detail, and there's still more to be enthralled by.

“I found the paintings,” he says, voice so close you can feel it brushing your skin. “The ones of me. I was looking for you in the Apollo cabin a week ago and you left one out. I knew it was yours because ... I mean, there’s no one in the world that can make me look that … beautiful.” 

The last word is apprehensive but it’s spoken with an unimaginable tenderness. He looks a little teary himself. You think you’re dreaming. “I knew I had to tell you after that. I’ve been trying to tell you. But you started pulling away from me so I thought I was making it all up.”

“Tell me what?” It’s a ghost of a question between you, an impossible thing, but the hand on your arm slips around to your back and he presses it there with such certainty. 

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” He cocks his head, but you nod. “I’m in love with you, I think.”

The words cascade over you in ribbons of warmth. Your brain feels fuzzy, seperate from the rest of your body. Your mouth opens multiple times but you can’t seem to control what comes out. “Luke, are you joking?”

“Not even a little.”

“But you’ve got so many other—”

“I want you.”

“I am literally the most incompetent person alive; I can’t sing, I can’t talk to people, I have a weird knee—”

"Your knee is fine!"

"I'm just saying, this makes no sense from an outsider perspective, it's—"

“Okay, clearly the telling thing isn’t working so I guess I’m just gonna have to kiss you.”

It happens so quickly you don’t have any time to think (probably for the better). You let out a surprised “oh” before his mouth silences you, stopping every other thought. He’s gentle, thumb still rubbing your cheekbone, other hand still firm at your waist. You want to panic—where should you put your hands? How do you know you’re doing this right? But he steadies you, the way he always does, and you give in. 

He starts to smile against your lips. You’re almost positive the intensity of your heartbeat could summon a storm. When he pulls away, he kisses the corners of your mouth and you think you’re going to evaporate. “I don’t think I’m very good at this,” you whisper.

“You’re perfect.” He grins a little when your hands tentatively tug at a curl on the nape of his neck. “And none of that stuff you say is true. I mean, you’re definitely a better singer than me.”

Leaning close to your ear, he warbles out a song you know but gets the words horribly wrong anyways. You can’t help but laugh. “Okay, maybe you have a point.”

He hums and chuckles with you. You swear the moon gets brighter when he wraps his arms around your waist to kiss the side of your face. “Next time you paint me, I want to be there when you do it.”

You blush harder than you ever have in your life. “Only if you try painting me,” you say quietly.

“Of course. You’re very pretty, so I’m sure my horrible artistic skills won’t even make you look bad.”

Luke lets you press your face into the crook of his neck. You soak it up for all it’s worth. 

In the morning, you wake up in the same position. Your nose tucked against his collarbone, the shade of pink you love freckled across his cheeks. You can't wait to paint him again.

When you look out the window, you say a silent, grateful prayer to your mother.

She's given you two more rainbows.

There Will Come A Ruler || Coriolanus Snow x Reader (You) (+18)

Outline: You agreed to a marriage of convenience with Coriolanus Snow to please your parents and be an asset in his campaign to become the new president of Panem. On your first wedding anniversary, the man who you barely spend time with and hardly know, tells you that he wants you to give him a heir.

Tropes: marriage of convenience, smut.

Word count: 3’938

Warnings: pregnancy (TTC), explicit smut (+18)

You sat at your vanity, adjusting the necklace of pearls around your neck. The reflection in the mirror showed such an elegant woman, with the poise and grace expected of a future First Lady. You had even managed to master the art of making your fake smiles appear real, leading on everyone to believe that you were living a dream, even though things were nothing like what you’d let on in front of the people of Panem.

You repowdered your face, and brushed your hair to make sure you looked flawless before taking a deep breath and leaving the intimacy of your bedroom, the one only you slept in, to go downstairs and join your husband for dinner.

Tonight was one of the few nights he wasn’t working late or had a business dinner or event to attend. Those nights dining in your manor, just the two of you without any guests always felt strange since they were so unusual. You had a cook and a waiter, employees hired to serve you and care for everything so that the only thing expected from you was to show up, dressed and polished for the occasion. Not that Coriolanus would have noticed if you had showed up for this dinner in your pajamas and messy hair, he’d usually be too busy reading the newspaper or writing his next speech to even look at you during the meal. Then, you’d retire back to your bedroom and he would stay working late in his office until he too, would go back to his room, at the far opposite of yours in the opulent manor you resided in.

It had been a year of this routine, ignoring each other unless there were some peering eyes to scrutinize you or some important people to impress. You couldn’t say you were unhappy because what was there to complain about ? You lived in a gorgeous house, you had the privileges associated with being a powerful man’s wife and you were free to spend your days and money as you pleased, the only rule being to never, ever, do anything that could reflect badly on your politician of a husband. Days were sweet and easy. A lot more than what you had imagined when you were told that your parents had agreed for you to marry a complete stranger, just because it was an honor and a wonderful opportunity to be chosen as the fiancée of one of the most important people in Panem. The fact that you had never talked to Coriolanus Snow once before didn’t matter, the papers were signed and three days later, you found yourself walking down the aisle to a blond man, dressed in white as you were, to vow each other love and support until death brought you apart in front of a crowd of cameras, reporters and nosy onlookers.

You made your way to the dining room. With its large windows, it offered one of the best views on the garden and greenhouse, which were always well taken care of, not a single strand of grass out of line or a single rose withering without being cut off of its branch. The furnitures were simple, yet luxurious and the long table was perfect for you to sit at opposite ends from your husband. It was much easier for you to ignore each other, separated by two rows of empty seats and various dishes and platters scattered across the table.

The cook always made five courses meals , with refined food and expensive wine , and although it was only the two of you, tonight was no exception. The hors d’œuvres and entrees had been served already, red wine filling the crystal glasses on each end of the glass table. However, one thing wasn’t right…

“Mrs Snow.” Your husband greeted you, with the same politically warm smile you had mastered to do too by taking example on him.

You stopped on your way to your seat, unsure of what to expect. Despite the few meals you had shared in privacy, he had never been waiting for you standing by the window, with a glass in hand and a gorgeous rose in the other . Nor had he been so perfectly dressed and groomed for such an occasion. Usually, you could tell he had spent a long day working or attending events, his clothes always classy but his light hair frequently tousled and light purple lines under his eyes. This time though, it looked like he had dressed and prepared himself just for you, wearing his best suit and his blond locks perfectly combed back.

“Mister Snow.” You replied, observing him with a sucpicious expression.

“Happy anniversary.” He said, taking the few steps that still separated him from you to hand you the white rose he held. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, something definitely wasn’t right as he never had such caring gestures towards you if they weren’t witnessed by others. But you took the rose, politely thanking him. And surveyed the room carefully in search of a camera or an important guest you might have missed… But you didn’t find anything to justify his odd behavior. “I asked the chef to make your favorite dish for the occasion.”

You knew Coriolanus had no idea what it was, but the fact that he had been so thoughtful to ask should have been enough.

He pulled your chair for you, like the perfect gentleman he was but never bothered to be if it didn’t benefit his image, and you sat at the table, taking in the carefully presented trays of all the things you liked to eat in front of you.

The waiter entered to serve both of you, because since you became Mrs Snow, you apparently weren’t required to do the most basic things, such as filling your own plate with food yourself anymore.

Coriolanus raised his glass of wine to you, proposing to toast to the first of many years together before drinking a long sip out of his beverage. You knew you didn’t have a choice but to do the same, as etiquette dictated it, but his sudden acknowledgment of your existence was enough to make you want to throw your glass at his face and demand he told you what he was up to. But of course, you knew better than to cause a scene, even in privacy.

“I’m sure you’ll be glad to know sixty percent of the voters are favoring me for presidency.” He stated, with a proud smile you couldnt quite tell if real or forced. “Gaul says that with a few more efforts, I should be able to gain the majority, and then I’ll unquestionably win the elections.”

“That’s wonderful.” You replied, truly hoping Coriolanus will be elected to rule over Panem. It was the only thing he wanted and cared about, you didn’t want to imagine the depth of his misery if he didn’t make it. You also might have not known your husband intimately at all but, since you often had to accompany him for official duties, you had learned a thing or two about the way he’d address important business. “Is there anything I can do to help ?”

You saw him smile at your question. A genuine smile, letting you know you were asking exactly what he was hoping you would.

“Well, according to the surveys, I seem to have convinced most of the older electors . However, one part of the population seems to still have doubts about my program.” He explained, while the waiter refilled his glass of wine. “Apparently, families don’t believe I have their best interest at heart.”

“A few more events centered around children and education and I’m sure they’ll be acquired to your cause.” You said, understanding that he probably meant to ask you to accompany him more often to those, as a proof that he cared enough.

“Surely, but Gaul also suggested we start a family of our own to appear more relatable.”

You swallowed your wine with difficulty, the bitterness burning down your throat at his words. Your chest tightened, your heart pounding wildly.

“We agreed on having our first child after five years of marriage.” You reminded him, and by the way his pale eyes focused on you, you knew you were about to start an important business negotiation with him.

“Unfortunately, I need the support of these voters now, not in five years.”

“We signed a contract that detailed this topic very clearly.”

“And in that contract, you vowed to support me in my endeavors and give me two heirs at minimum. I don’t think getting started on our family now instead of later will make much of a difference to you.”

“You are asking me to carry and birth a baby but it won’t make much of a difference to me ?!” You snapped, raising your voice louder than you should have.

“What I meant to say is that you’re going to have to do it sooner or later. Might as well be now so you’re done with this part of your duty. It would benefit me greatly, and you too.”

You bit your lip to keep yourself from shouting at him. The way he was so detached about it all made you unreasonably angry. You had agreed to give him children and he was right, you knew that sooner or later you’d have to get it over with but in all honesty, it wasn’t the idea of being pregnant that gave you anxiety but the thought of what you had to do in order to achieve that.

You were good at putting up a show for the public, pretending to be perfectly in love and happy together but in truth, you didn’t even know this man. He was a stranger, living in the same house as you and that was about it. Imagining anything more intimate with him seemed preposterous.

“I’ll need to think about it.” You told him, and he nodded quietly. He was gracious enough to accept that answer for now but you knew he’d have things his way, wether you agreed or not.

●○●○●○●○●○●

You spent a sleepless night tossing and turning in your satin sheets, mulling over Coriolanus’ request. Damn Dr. Gaul and her bright ideas ! It already was her fault if you had been chosen to be Mister Snow’s perfect wife, an honor in the eyes of most but it felt oddly similar to being picked as a tribute and sent into the arena to you. You didn’t have much say in what you wanted then, you knew you didn’t have anymore to say now. You really were faced with only two choices; either agree and conceive a child, either take the risk of being replaced by a more willing - and less opiniated - new wife.

It took you until the next evening to finally accept that you only had one resonable answer to give him. Unfortunately, the hours seemed to pass by way too slowly since Coriolanus wasn’t home for supper that night, leaving you alone in the empty dining room with your thoughts. You had waited for him for a while, enjoying the cosy living room as night fell over the Capitol until you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore and fell asleep on the teal sofa by the chimney.

When you woke up, the flames that had kept you warm were merly embers. You hadn’t noticed the difference in temperature, thanks to one of the house employees who had been thoughtful enough to cover you with a warm wool blanket. You rose up and stretched, deciding to finish your night in the comfort of your bed but when you walked passed your husband’s office, you noticed a light seeping from underneath the door.

After a gentle knock, you tentatively turned the knob to enter the room you had never been in before. Just like his bedroom, his office usually was a place you avoided in order to keep the distances between the two of you when you didn’t have to fake a happy marriage for others.

You weren’t too surprised by the luxurious items that decorated the room, the white couch and the very large desk in the center of the room were very much in Coriolanus’s style; classic and elegant. But what really caught your attention in this unknown territory was the man behind the desk, dishelved, with his tie undone and the first few buttons of his shirt opened. In a year of living together, you had never seen your husband look so… common.

“You’re awake.” He remarked, leaning back in his armchair and rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“And so are you.”

“I usually don’t go to bed before three or four o’clock.”

You glanced at the clock on the mantel of his fireplace, indicating three twenty five. You quickly did the math, realizing how little sleep he got since most days, when you got up and had breakfast at seven in the morning, he always already was off to his other office in town.

“Don’t you think you might be overworking yourself ?” You asked him, finally daring to fully step inside the room and approach his desk.

“It’s better than having nightmares.” He confessed, matter of factly before looking away from you, as if he hadn’t meant to say something so personal to you. “Did you need something ?”

You stopped in front of the white desk, standing with your thighs pressed against the edge. Even sitting, he still looked quite taller than you.

“I’d like a whole new wardrobe designed by Fabricia Whatnot, a pond in the greenhouse with koi fishes and to add some shelves to the library with more up to date books, mostly romance.”

Coriolanus’ intrigued pale blue eyes observed you, the ghost of an amused smile on his lips.

“And what will I get in exchange of all of this ?” He asked, although his smirk showed he already knew the answer.

“A heir.” You replied, with the satisfaction of at least gaining the most you could ask for out of the deal. His smile grew wider, and you wondered if it was a genuine one. It had to be. It seemed so much warmer than his other ones…

“Then you’ll get everything you want, sweetheart.” You smiled at him, genuinely happy with this outcome although the perspective of what was meant to happen next still terrified you.

He stood from his chair, eyes remaining fixed on you as he walked around his desk to join you on the other side. You felt a shiver run up your spine once he was close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his skin onto yours.

With a hand on each of your hips, he lifted you up to sit you down on the edge of his desk. He looked down at you, his face so close to yours and even if it caused your heartbeat to go wild, you knew he wouldn’t kiss you. He never did.

Instead, he finished unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, revealing his unexpectedly muscular chest, a vague testament left of his previous life as a peacekeeper in the districts.

He placed his white shirt on the desk next to you, careful to fold it neatly enough to avoid creasing before focusing his attention back on you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his hands on you again, first against the bare skin of your legs and slowly but unmistakably making their way up to your thighs, bringing your skirt up in their wake. A ragged breath escape your lips when his fingers trailed the elastic of your underwear, exploring the shape of it by following its lines until suddenly, the warmth and roughness of his fingers had slipped under the fabric and pressed directly on your skin.

He reached between your legs rather gently, a finger slipping between your folds and softly tracing a few lines connecting your entrance to your clit He was being considerate enough to take things slow and prepare you for him, which was something you strangely didn’t expect him to do. Well to be fair, in all twelve months you had been Coriolanus Snow’s wife, you hadn’t given much thoughts to what intimacy might be like with him. Of course, you knew it would have to happen eventually, you had signed a contract after all but you usually avoided fantasizing about it.

You knew Coriolanus probably had an abundance of mistresses to please him whenever he wanted - or needed - them. He was a very good looking man. You knew that already, but seeing him as he was tonight, without much care to his appearance, was yet another proof of how devastatingly handsome he could be.

You liked the way he caressed you, it was the most intimate touch you had ever shared together, and it somehow felt nice to connect with him. But it also was pretty obvious that, even in a situation such as this one, he still was very much in control of himself and of every aspect of what was happening. It was unfair. If he was asking you to let go and was slowly but surely awakening your desire for him with the way his finger still circled your center, he might as well abandon his pretenses and enjoy it too.

Determined to help, you reached out for his pants, unbuttoning them before he could protest and pulling out the hardened length of his cock out of his underwear. It was so rigid and warm in your hand, dark veins running all along his shaft up to his pale tip, which was slightly glistening already. You looked back at him unable to conceal your surprise at how ready he was for you already. You hadn’t done anything to get him in the mood, nor had you removed a single piece of clothing yet but he already seemed to be throbbing with desire with the simple anticipation of what was about to happen.

You ran your thumb over his tip, collecting a drop of his precum with a blush creeping to your cheeks. He stared at you as you did, refusing to let any emotions show on his face but unable to stop himself from shuddering. It helped you feel more confident. With a soft smile for him, you used your other hand to undo the bow around your waist, which held your dress together. It came undone by itself, revealing your chest to him which caused his eyes to darken slightly.

A silent struggle seemed to take place in his mind, hesitating between following his plan as he had imagined it, methodically proceeding in order to procreate or giving in to the violent pulsion of pure lust he felt at the sight of your gorgeous body , taking you like a wild animal rather than pretending to be a gentleman.

You huffed in surprise when you felt his finger slip once more into your wetness before he pushed it inside you, as deeply as it could go. In return, you pumped his cock a few times, enjoying the sight of him trying to resist the pleasure it instantly gave him. He moved his finger in and out of you in synch with your own movements along his shaft before deciding that you were stretched enough to add another one and try to expand you a bit more. You moaned and immediately bite your lip to silence yourself, if he was being careful to not lose control over any of this then you were determined to do the same. But the way he smirked with satisfaction as the sound of your whimper of exctasy when he added a third finger inside you almost caused you to climax already.

You lifted your hips up, trying to move your body and get him to hit even deeper inside you which seemed to amuse him. He liked the way you were slowly starting to lose your mind over the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you.

You gently tugged on his erection still firmly squeezed in your fist, attempting to bring him closer so that he would understand that you were more than ready to take him, as big as he was.

His fingers left you, your walls pulsing with a need for more but instead of his cock pushing past your entrance, it’s his lips savagely crashing against yours that you felt. It was a messy kiss, full of unspoken words and concealed passion finally pouring out. A kiss that was nothing like the chaste, picture perfect, kiss you had shared on your wedding day.

The next moment, his lips were gone and he yanked you to the edge of his desk by a tight grip on your wet panties. They teared under the pressure of his movement and, with the fabric out of his way, all he had left to do was press his hips between your legs spread opened and slam his cock inside you. It was so sudden, your eyes rolled back with the intensity of it all for a moment.

A panted breath escaped his lips, letting you know you felt as good to him as he felt to you. He was trying to stay focused on you, trying to keep his first few thrusts slow and long but as soon as you moaned, the last of his restrain dissolved and he slammed himself back in, shoving his entire length inside you and hitting deep where you so desperately needed to feel him.

With one hand on your hip and the other reaching for your bra, he rocked you in rythym with his blunt thrusts and you definitely gave up on staying silent, letting your loud noises fill his office and probably resonate in the entire manor.

Your body tensed, clenching his cock so hard that you felt it even deeper and it sent you off the edge. Your legs trembled and your vision blurred as a wave of exceptional pleasure took hold of your entire being, making you feel dizzy and satisfied all at once. No matter the strength of the orgasm shaking your body, your husband kept thrusting abruptly in and out of you at the same pace for a bit longer until you felt his warm release filling you up and he collapsed in your arms, panting.

You brought your hands to his soft blond hair, gently playing with his curls as you kept your eyes shut and tried to regain your senses, your legs still shaking and your core still pulsating around him.

A moment went by during which you almost felt close to the stranger you had married, like you finally knew a very intimate part of him but as soon as he had managed to catch his breath, he pulled out of you and regained his flawless, controlled composure.

“Do you think it worked ?” You asked him, still lightly panting.

He put his softening erection back in his pants and reached for his shirt before taking back his place behind his desk.

“I think we should keep trying, just to be sure.” He replied, with a glance at you that clearly betrayed the excitement he felt at the idea of doing it all again with you.

(( Part 2 - Snow Lands On Top ))

If We're Being Honest [1/2]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6.8k [Part 2]

Summary: Already having an awful week, you're a bit out of it while at Josie's with your friends, too busy sulking and drinking down your feelings to keep up with conversation. The sight of Matt wandering off with a beautiful woman yet again certainly doesn't help. But when you stay behind by yourself to finish your drink and wallow a bit more, you're surprised when Matt reappears and offers to let you stay the night at his place. Eventually, the night takes a turn you weren't anticipating.

Warnings/Tags: Angst with a happy ending, confession of feelings (with a twist), delayed comfort, anxious/depressed inebriated Reader

a/n: This is a two part little fic with angst in this first half and the comfort y'all want in the second half. I was craving angst and a twist on the typical confession of feelings fic, so here y'all go! Feedback is always appreciated!

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia

Absently spinning your bottle of beer on the table with one hand, your eyes were fixed on the little droplets of condensation along the side of it. Your chin rested in the palm of your other hand as you watched one of the droplets begin to snake its way down the side of the brown glass, moving as if it was in slow motion. Outside of the bar, the downpour of summer rain battered against the window to your left.

Foggy’s hand loudly and abruptly slapping the table broke through your daze, causing you to jump in your seat. Eyes flying over towards him beside you, you watched as he let out a boisterous laugh, throwing his head back over his shoulders. Karen and Matt both quickly followed after, breaking into a fit of laughter along with him. Meanwhile you sat in your seat with absolutely no idea what had them laughing so hard because you hadn't been paying attention to the conversation for the past few minutes. 

You'd been having a rough week, both emotionally and mentally, and were currently trying your hardest not to sit and wallow in self-pity tonight–but you weren't doing a great job of that so far. Not only had you received a wedding invitation to your cousin's wedding the other day, but last night Marci had asked you to be a bridesmaid at her and Foggy’s upcoming wedding. Which of course you'd said yes to, ecstatic for your friends to finally be getting married and having an actual date set for their big day. But all of that had made you increasingly aware of your own single-ness this week in particular, especially after Karen had spent the first part of tonight gushing about the new guy she'd been seeing. 

You were happy for your friends, honestly. They were amazing people who deserved nothing but the best. You absolutely couldn't wait for all of the wedding festivities coming up that you'd be celebrating with everyone, either–for Marci and Fog's wedding and your cousin. You even thought the guy Karen was seeing sounded like an actual great catch for her for once. 

But you just couldn't help but feel like there was something wrong with you tonight. It had been far too long since you'd last had a date, and even longer than that since you'd been in a relationship. It didn't help that you certainly didn’t feel like you fit in with this group of friends you’d somehow found yourself a part of for the past almost year now. 

It had been by sheer accident that you’d met Foggy and Karen one morning all those months ago. And it was only because the three of you had had a coffee mishap at a coffee shop near the office where they worked. It was Foggy who’d chased you out of that shop for the drink you'd accidentally grabbed by mistake. Apparently it had been for his law firm partner Matt, who happened to be very particular about his coffee. They needed to be at the courthouse in time for a court case that morning so he didn't have time to get back in line to reorder the coffee. Having not had a chance to drink from the cup in the time you'd managed to grab it and make your way out the door, you'd readily swapped Matt's drink with your actual coffee that Foggy had grabbed. You’d apologized profusely for the mistake, but you'd formed the opinion that his firm partner sounded like an ass to be that particular about his coffee.

And for the next few mornings before work after that, you kept noticing Karen and Foggy at the same coffee shop. The pair of them were always excited to greet you, jokingly dubbing you the ‘coffee thief’ from that moment forward. It wasn’t long before the morning small talk in the line for coffee eventually led to them inviting you out to this little dive bar at Josie’s where you had finally met him .

Matthew Michael Murdock.

As the laughter subsided at the table, your eyes shifted over to Matt as if they were magnetically drawn to him. There was a broad smile stretched wide across his face, displaying his perfect, white teeth. The adorable, lone dimple in his right cheek was visible tonight just beneath the stubble that was a bit darker and thicker than he usually kept it. His dark hair was partially windswept but now finally dry from the rain that had dampened it earlier. Somehow that had just made his hair look messy in a way that seemed intentional. His tie was partially undone, loose around the collar of his light blue dress shirt; and as usual by the time he’d reached Josie’s, his sleeves had been rolled up exactly two times to reveal those muscular forearms of his covered in that smattering of little dark hairs you’d always longed to touch. 

He looked good– so good. But he always did. 

And of course, you were aware that you weren't the only one who ever noticed that.

The tall brunette you’d caught eyeing Matt all night finally appeared just over his shoulder and you released a sigh, already knowing what was coming next. Matt always attracted attention from beautiful women wherever he went because he was handsome and charismatic and sweet. He was impossible to miss in a room full of people. Which was honestly true of Karen, Marci, and Foggy, too. They were all attractive, successful, and exceptionally well-spoken individuals with big personalities that you couldn’t help but be drawn to.

But not you. You stood out like a painting on a hotel wall wherever you went–common, bland, and not remotely out of the ordinary. 

“Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt,” the brunette began as she stopped beside the table. Her eyes landed on Matt as she flashed a stunning smile his way. “I couldn't help but keep stealing glances at you all night and I figured I'd finally just say hello.”

Matt turned in his chair towards the woman, a charming smile already prepared on his face for her. “Well I'm flattered,” he told her. “I only wish I could say the same about stealing glances at you in return all night, but well–”

Matt gestured at his red glasses as the woman laughed, the sound itself somehow even perfect and attractive. That dark feeling of jealousy and despair began knotting together, swirling in your gut and mixing with the beers you'd already downed. Movement across the table from you caught your attention and you glanced over, catching the sight of Karen playfully but discreetly rolling her eyes at you and Foggy. Foggy chuckled lightly in response, nodding a little. Your attention returned back to the condensation on your beer bottle, not interested in having a front row seat to watching another one of Matt's hook-ups pan out.

“Would it be alright if I bought you a drink?” you overheard the brunette ask. “I mean, if I'm not interrupting?”

“I can assure you that you’re absolutely not interrupting anything,” Matt told her, already sliding his chair back and rising to his feet. “I think these three have endured my company long enough for this evening anyway, and it isn't often a woman offers to buy me a drink.”

Matt said a quick round of goodbyes to the three of you as that beautiful brunette’s perfect laugh trilled over the sound of the rock music playing on the bar’s speakers. You muttered something back half-heartedly, not even bothering to glance up from your beer. It wasn’t like he’d have noticed anyway.

“Well maybe it’s about that time,” Foggy said, pulling the sleeve of his dress shirt back to check the time on his watch. “Marci had appointments for cake tastings tomorrow morning and I do not want to miss out on that.” 

Across the table, Karen raised her bottle up to her lips, downing the rest of her beer before setting the empty bottle back onto the table. “I might see if Alex wants to stop over tonight, actually,” she told you both. “Since it’s Friday and I don’t need to show up at the office for once on a Saturday morning.”

As both of them began sliding their chairs back, gathering their things from the table, you remained seated. Fingers tapping against the beer bottle, you watched as a droplet of condensation raced another over the curve of the glass. Out of your peripheral, you caught the way both Foggy and Karen’s movements slowed, the two of them exchanging an uncertain look with each other. Then you heard the way Karen said your name softly in question. Eyes shifting upwards, you focused on her on the other side of the table.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked. “You’ve been oddly quiet all night.”

You forced a tired smile onto your face, nodding as you continued to rest your chin in your hand. “I’m fine,” you lied. “Just going to finish my drink before I leave, I think. Been a rough week at work and I just need to relax a little.”

“Do you…want us to stay?” Foggy asked.

You shook your head, releasing the bottle from your grip long enough to wave the pair of them off. “I’m fine drinking by myself, don’t worry about me,” you told him. “Go on. You both have someone to get back to tonight anyway, I’ll be alright.”

Karen hesitated beside the table, her concerned eyes landing back on Foggy still standing next to you. It looked like they were having a silent conversation with each other, but the thought of them staying here to keep you company when you knew there was somewhere they’d rather be–some one who’d they’d rather be with–only made that uncomfortable and sickening feeling of jealousy in your gut worse. 

Forcing that smile back on your face, you sat upright in your chair, ignoring the way the bar around you briefly spun in your vision from the beers you'd drank. Attempting to play the part of being just fine, you hoped that neither of them could see the truth behind the mask you’d thrown on. You just wanted to sulk back for a few minutes and finish your beer while you unhealthily forced yourself to acknowledge the fact that Matt looked far better next to a woman like the one he was currently laughing with at the bar than someone like you. Then you’d go home, throw on your stained and worn pajamas that weren’t remotely sexy, and probably watch a bit of mindless television before going to bed. Alone. Like every other night.

“Alright, well…hopefully you enjoy your drink,” Karen replied hesitantly, still looking uncertain.

“Make sure you call for a ride, too,” Foggy said, pointing a finger at the window beside you. “Still raining cats and dogs out there. You don’t want to step in a poodle–I mean, puddle–on your way home.”

You laughed lightly at his joke, though not as much as you would’ve done any other night. Exchanging goodbyes with both of them afterwards, you sighed in relief when they finally turned and headed towards the exit. Slumping back down in your seat, you focused on the window to your left as you drew your bottle of beer back up to your lips, watching as the rain continued to come down hard. 

Maybe Melissa at work was right. Maybe it was time you tried downloading one of those stupid dating apps, even though the thought of weeding out so many assholes who just wanted sex was the last thing you wanted to do. But maybe it would beat being alone all the time. It wasn’t like you were having any luck trying to meet someone the old fashioned way–in person.

Taking another drink from your beer, your attention returned to Matt's back as he sat at the bar beside the attractive woman. Drinking down a few deep gulps, you wondered what it would be like to ever have his undivided attention like that. To have him throw jokes your way because he was trying to win you over, not because you were just one of his friends. To have his hand linger on your thigh while he spoke to you because he wanted you and he wanted you to know that. Or to have him lean in towards your ear and whisper literally anything to you. 

Swallowing your beer down, you tore your eyes away from the sight of Matt at the bar. He'd never once flirted with you like that, the thought only increasing the lingering pain of jealousy now spreading to your chest, feeling like it was sucking your heart into a blackhole of nothingness. You just weren't good enough were you?

Ducking your head, you tried to hide the emotion on your face even if the only person left at this bar to notice and comment would be Josie herself. Still, you'd rather not be asked to explain why you looked quite so miserable. But it hurt to realize that every single one of your friends had someone else to go home to tonight, and here you were drinking alone. Going home to an empty apartment after.

Figuring it was time you just downed the rest of your drink and headed home, you grabbed your beer and quickly drained the rest of its contents. Maybe being drenched in the summer rain on your walk back home would make you feel something tonight besides the growing ache of loneliness. 

Setting the finished bottle of beer back onto the table, you clumsily pushed your chair back. Rising to your feet, you nearly lost your balance when you slid out of the chair. Your hands darted out, grabbing onto the table to steady yourself for a moment. Maybe you'd drank those beers back faster than you'd realized, clearly a little more buzzed than you'd expected.

“Not a big deal,” you mumbled to yourself, maneuvering around the chair, “I can still manage to walk back inebriated in the rain.”

Slipping your purse from off the back of the chair, you tossed the strap over your head and readjusted it on yourself. Then you pushed the chair forward so as not to trip over it before turning. 

Immediately you stopped when you saw you weren't alone, a surprised gasp coming from you. You would’ve stumbled backwards if it hadn't been for your hand that flew out, grabbing onto the back of the chair you'd just pushed in. Matt was standing at the edge of the table, his cane unfolded and in both of his hands.

“Hey,” he said, his attention clearly fixed on you. “Josie said you were still here by yourself.”

Brows knitting together in confusion at him suddenly appearing over here when he had just been at the bar, you glanced back over to where you'd last seen him. The brunette he'd been talking to had disappeared entirely, no longer sitting on the bar stool. 

“Yeah, I was just…finishing my drink,” you replied, still scanning the bar for the woman. “Weren't you with someone just a minute ago?”

“Well I was,” he answered, “until Josie pointed out how you were sitting here all by yourself after Fog and Karen had already gone home. Had me worried. Are you doing alright?”

Your gaze returned back to him, taking in the look of concern etched across his handsome face. The same look Karen and Foggy had shared tonight. 

“I'm fine,” you said, repeating the same lie. 

Matt's head tilted curiously to the side, a mannerism of his that you always found adorable. Except for right now, because it felt like he was analyzing what you'd said far more closely than your other friends had.

“If you're heading out, I can call you a car,” Matt suggested. “I can even wait with you if you'd like.”

You shook your head, beginning to make your way past him. “I'm fine, Matt,” you told him. “I was just going to walk back.”

“In the rain?” he asked. “I might be blind but I'm not deaf. It's pouring outside. And you've had quite a few drinks tonight, let me just call you a car. You shouldn’t be walking home in that.”

“Maybe I want to take a walk in the rain,” you countered, coming to a stop beside him. “Something wrong with that? It's just rain.”

His brows drew up onto his forehead behind his glasses as he shifted on his feet. “You really want to walk almost two blocks in the pouring rain right now? Stumbling down the sidewalk alone?” he asked. “You sure about that?”

A frown settled onto your face. When he put it like that, no, you sort of didn't. But you also didn't feel like waiting to grab a cab, either. Especially if it meant waiting with Matt and being the cause of further ruining his evening.

“Alright, how about this,” he continued when you hadn’t answered. “You come back and stay at my place tonight. I think we can both manage a walk around the corner in the rain. I'll let you borrow something dry to sleep in and you can take the bed. That way I won't have to worry if you made it home alright and you can still have your walk in the rain.”

As his offer made its way past the alcoholic fog in your brain, your body stiffened. Had Matt really just invited you to stay the night at his place? Because he was worried about you getting home? And he'd walked away from what was clearly going to be an obvious hook-up? For you ?

You could feel your heart beating a little faster in your chest as all these things gradually began to register in your mind. Why would he do that? He’d never invited you to stay at his place before.

“I–” you began.

You could barely find the words to reply, your brain too muddled by the alcohol to think clearly. Was this just an invitation as a friend, or was it something more? 

“Is that a yes?” he questioned. “Because it sounds like the rain has eased up a bit, now would be the perfect time to head out before it downpours again.”

Slowly you nodded, the ‘yes’ coming out of you before you even realized you’d agreed. Because could you really pass up the chance to stay over at Matt’s place? You knew you’d always be left wondering what might’ve happened if you didn’t go. 

His hand extended out towards you, the movement drawing your gaze downwards. It hovered there in the space between both of your bodies, your eyes lingering on it. 

“Should we go then?” he asked.

Swallowing hard, you hesitantly reached your hand out, slipping it with uncertainty into his. But when his fingers curled around your hand in return, you realized that’s what he’d been silently asking. For you to hold his hand as you walked back with him in the rain.

“Probably will make it easier to keep either of us from tripping,” he told you, turning the pair of you around in the bar until you were both facing the exit. “Though I suppose now if one of us falls down, we both do.”

His head turned towards you, a cheeky grin on his mouth directed solely at you. You could feel the way your heart skipped in your chest at the sight, the cold, miserable feeling that you’d been experiencing all night easing its way out of you just a little. 

“So, do you care to lead the way or…?”

Snapping out of your daze staring at him–something you were grateful he couldn’t see–you quickly nodded. “Right, sorry,” you muttered, beginning to lead the pair of you towards the door.

The moment you’d led the pair of you out of Josie’s and out from beneath the little overhang at the entrance, the warm rain had already begun to soak your hair and your clothes. It had felt good though, especially with Matt’s warm, calloused hand wrapped around yours. As you sidestepped a puddle, you found yourself surprised at the unexpected turn that your evening had taken. Though there was still something on your mind and your inebriated brain just couldn’t resist finding out the answer as the pair of you neared the corner of the block.

“So…how much did I ruin your night tonight?” you asked Matt cautiously.

He glanced over his shoulder towards you, his cane tapping along the sidewalk and occasionally splashing up water each time it hit a puddle. Your bottom lip rolled back between your teeth as you began nervously gnawing on it, afraid of his answer.

“You didn’t ruin my night,” he replied easily. “Though I’ve been a bit worried about you. You’ve been quieter more than usual tonight. Is something on your mind?”

Yeah, you , you thought.

But of course, you couldn’t say that aloud.

You shrugged, your gaze dropping to the pavement ahead of you. “Just feeling a little down on myself, I guess,” you muttered. 

Hearing the words aloud had you cringing as you walked. You hadn't exactly meant to be honest and tell him that. 

“Feeling down on yourself about what, exactly?” he asked.

The pair of you rounded the corner, your blouse already drenched and sticking to your skin. Glancing up at Matt from beneath your lashes beside you, you couldn't help but notice the way his dress shirt was soaked and clinging to his muscular torso. It was physically painful how attractive he was. 

“It's stupid,” you mumbled, focusing back down on the pavement. 

Matt's hand squeezed yours, your heart practically slamming into your ribcage in shock at the gesture. You hoped he didn't notice the way your palm was gradually beginning to dampen with nervous sweat.

“Tell me what's on your mind,” he urged. “You know I won't judge you.”

The pair of you were quickly approaching Matt's apartment building as his words hung in the air between you. It was true though, in all your time knowing Matt he'd never once been mean to you. Never once had he made you feel bad about yourself. If anything he'd always been sweet and supportive, which only made you like him that much more. You sighed, and then suddenly you felt your drunk thoughts spilling out of your mouth faster than you could stop them. 

“I feel like I'm not good enough,” you confessed, the words spewing from you. “I haven't had a date in a long time. And then there's Marci and Fog who're getting married soon–and that's great. They're perfect for each other. And Karen, well, she might usually have poor luck with men, but she gets dates left and right. And she's gorgeous and smart so I get it. And then you–” you continued, wincing at the memory of him next to that brunette at Josie’s, his hand on her thigh, “–you could have a new fling for every night of the week in this damn city. But me?” You roughly shook your head, a tear managing to slip out of your eye and camouflaging itself with the drops of rain on your cheeks. “No one looks twice at me. I'm not special and I'm certainly not Karen or Marci. I don't even remember the last time a guy showed up to my place with flowers. It's been a long time since someone actually asked me on a date. And–”

You stopped short, your brain finally catching up and realizing all the things you'd just said aloud. You sucked in a breath as the wave of embarrassment hit you, your mouth promptly closing. How could you have possibly just admitted all that to Matt of all people?

“You know that's not true, right?” Matt said gently, his hand once again squeezing yours. “I'm sure plenty of guys have given you second or third looks. You're an incredibly smart and talented woman and you're being far too hard on yourself.”

You scoffed loudly, rolling your eyes as heat burned at your cheeks. But at the sound of your disbelief, Matt's hand gave a sharp pull on yours, drawing you both to a stop in front of his building. 

“Hey,” he said, tugging your hand and pulling you towards himself. “You should stop thinking about yourself like that. Stop being so critical of yourself. You're so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

Hearing his kind words, you couldn't bear to look him in the face. Feeling awkward, your gaze fixed down on your wet dress flats. “Easy for you to say,” you muttered, the alcohol once more loosening your tongue, “because you're successful and don't remotely have an issue attracting the opposite sex. It's not like that for the rest of us.”

Matt said your name firmly, the tone of his voice practically commanding you to focus back on him. His expression was serious despite the red glasses he wore obscuring his eyes, making it impossible to see the entirety of his face. His hair was soaked and clinging to his head from the rain, a few droplets streaming down his handsome face as he fixed his attention solely on you. Your hands instantly began to grow clammier under his undivided attention and you hoped he thought it was just from the rain.

“You're an amazing person and some lucky guy is going to come and sweep you off your feet,” he told you. “You'll find him, I can assure you of that.”

As you gazed back at him on the sidewalk, the rain still falling over the pair of you, your buzzed brain tried to understand if there was something else hidden in Matt's words, some other thing that he was trying to tell you. Because just like he'd never invited you to stay at his place, he'd never said anything like that to you before. He'd certainly never looked at you like he currently was before, either. 

“Please try to be kinder to yourself,” Matt nearly begged. “Okay?”

Unsure what to make of his behavior tonight, you nodded slightly. “Okay,” you agreed quietly.

He smiled back at you, the sight nearly knocking you off your feet. It was quickly becoming far too difficult to just stand here trying to look at him as only a friend. And it was getting harder and harder to keep your mouth from blurting out how you felt with that stunning smile on his perfect mouth. Thankfully he continued on towards the entrance of his building, breaking you from your thoughts and leading you into the small lobby and over towards the elevators.

The entire way up to Matt's apartment had been silent after that. You were too busy trying to analyze everything he had been doing and saying tonight to even remotely think of conversation. Because it was supposed to have been that pretty woman at the bar coming up to his apartment tonight, not you. Yet here you were, still holding Matt's hand as he led you down the hallway to his place.

And while this certainly wasn't the first time you'd been here before, it was the first time you'd been here alone at night with him. The thought of staying here overnight in his bed still had your insides buzzing along with the beer you'd downed this evening. 

Was there something more you were missing? Every step closer to his apartment had you feeling like there was.

Matt eventually pulled you to a stop in front of his door, fishing his keys from out of his dress pant pockets. You watched in silence as he unlocked the door, your nerves only growing as you stood there. 

“You can come on in,” Matt told you, swinging his door open and gesturing for you to step inside. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you hesitantly stepped forward and made your way past Matt into the apartment. Your shoulder gently and accidentally brushed against his damp chest as you tried to squeeze past him. Immediately you wrapped your arms over your chest, feeling your heart beat a little harder from the brief touch. His chest was so incredibly solid, you'd never understood how he was so in shape.

Glancing down as you paused in his entryway, you noticed the damp patch you were making on his floor as he shut and locked the door behind you. 

“I'm sorry, I'm dripping water everywhere,” you told Matt. “Do you have a towel or something?”

“How about I grab some dry clothes for you to change into,” he replied, slipping out of his dress shoes. “Then we can worry about the mess we're making.”

As he made his way down the short entryway, you stood awkwardly in place, arms still wrapped around yourself. When Matt reached the end of the little hall, he paused, glancing back at you with a charming smile on his face.

“It's just water, it's fine,” he assured you. “You can come in.”

Slowly you began to make your way into his apartment, cautiously making your way over to the side of his leather couch. Matt once again assured you he would grab some dry clothes for you to change into before disappearing into his bedroom, leaving you alone.

The lights were off in his apartment, but truthfully you didn't even need them. Looking out the window to your right, your eyes landed on the eyesore of a billboard just across the street. It had been awhile since you'd been here at night with your friends and you'd forgotten just how bright it was. Currently it was advertising a nearby hospital, the blue light shining through Matt's windows and coating the room in a navy glow. In a way it was beautiful, but you could absolutely understand why he’d gotten such a great deal on the place. 

“Hopefully these will work,” Matt said.

Tearing your eyes away from the window, your attention returned to Matt as he was leaving his bedroom. But your breath immediately caught in your throat at the unexpected sight of him sauntering his way towards you with some neatly folded clothes in his hands. It felt like you suddenly couldn't breathe as you watched each of his casual steps towards you.

He'd taken his damp shirt off and removed his glasses when he'd gone into his bedroom to grab you some clothes. The sight of which had left you damn near speechless because you'd never seen him shirtless before. It was impossible not to just blankly stare at the sight, taking in all of the defined muscle along his chest along with the girth of his muscular arms. You curiously noted the scars on his chest, but you were too busy trying to control your now violently beating heart at the view before you to think much more of them.

Matthew Murdock looked far too good to actually exist in real life. 

But why hadn't he thrown a shirt on before he'd come out to hand you the clothes? It would’ve taken him barely any time to do so. Had it been intentional that he'd done that? Was it…possible that Matt might’ve been trying to make some sort of move on you tonight? Was that why he’d invited you back here this evening instead of the other woman at the bar?

He stopped just before you, a smile on his face as his eyes fixed somewhere along your chest. You always loved when he took his glasses off around you, but unfortunately it wasn't often. He always seemed far more vulnerable, which was probably why it was a rare sight. But he’d removed them now, and as you watched him, you noticed the faintest twitch to the corner of his eyes. You wondered what that was about as he extended the clothes in his hands out towards you. 

“Here,” he said softly. “Hopefully they're comfortable, but if not, I can always get you a towel to dry off. Though really you can sleep however you're comfortable.” His smile turned cheeky–a smile he didn’t often flash your way–as the corners of his eyes creased. “Not like I can see anything anyway.”

Your fingers tightened around your damp blouse at the implication of his words. Had he just said he didn't care if you slept in nothing? In his bed?

Swallowing hard, your eyes dropped down and focused on the shirt and sweatpants that were neatly folded in his outstretched hands. His clothes. He was offering you his clothes to sleep in. Nervously you unwrapped your arms from over your chest as you took a step towards him, your trembling hands carefully reaching out and accepting the clothing from him.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

Glancing up, you realized how close the pair of you were now standing to each other. Barely any distance was left between you two. Had he even managed to move closer or were you imagining that?

“Of course,” he whispered back.

He was still smiling down at you as you drew the clothes in towards your chest. His head had tilted ever so faintly to the side as you observed him, the heat of his body warming you in your damp clothes. Why hadn’t he moved? Why was he still standing so close? 

A thought struck you as you stood there, your attention turning towards his lips. Was he…wanting to kiss you? No, that couldn’t be it.

…could it?

He had invited you back to his place after all. He’d walked you home with him in the rain hand in hand–which had been his idea. That had been far more intimate than anything the pair of you had ever done before. And now he was letting you stay the night in his bed, offering you his own clothes to change into. Saying such nice things about you. And he was just standing there, gazing down at you in nothing but a pair of damp dress pants because he’d removed his shirt without bothering to put on another one. 

This had to all be intentional, right? He could’ve easily gone home with the brunette from the bar, but he chose you, didn’t he? Maybe what he’d been saying earlier outside the building in the rain had meant something more. Could he have been talking about himself being the guy to come along and sweep you off your feet? Had that been what he’d meant all along?

Hope instantly sparked in your chest at the thought. Everything seemed to make sense, everything seemed to point at the fact that Matt might possibly view you as more than just a friend. So was this your moment then? Your chance to tell Matt how you felt and to hear he felt the same in return? Because he was still just standing there, so close you could kiss him. Why else hadn’t he moved?

Without even thinking–most likely due to the alcohol in your system–you leaned forward and boldly closed the rest of the distance between your mouths. It was a hesitant kiss, your lips ever so gently pressing against Matt’s in an uncertain connection. You couldn’t believe how incredibly soft his were, how warm they felt against your own. Your stomach began somersaulting inside of you because you were kissing Matt. It was everything you’d wanted for almost a year now.

Until he gently but abruptly pulled away from you.

Your eyes fluttered open as you drew back from him, taking in the look of utter confusion on Matt’s face. Panic immediately set in, your hands tightening around the bundle of clothing in your hands. 

“What–what are you doing?” he asked.

“I–I thought–” you stammered, struggling to form a sentence. “Was that–is this not…?”

Matt’s head only tilted further to the side, his dark brows furrowing further together on his forehead until there was a deep crease between them. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or your nerves at this point, but you felt on the verge of vomiting now.

What the hell had you just done?

“Did you think I was inviting you here to sleep with you?” he asked in disbelief. He said your name, the sound like a stab to your chest as he shook his head. “I had no intention of that. You’re drunk and you’re my friend. I wanted to make sure you got to somewhere safe tonight. I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you. That’s not–that’s not what I was doing.”

“Oh my God,” you breathed out, taking a step back from him. “Oh my God, I thought that–that you…”

Your words trailed off, eyes growing wide as the urge to bolt quickly took over you. You could feel the sting of tears burning in your eyes already, absolutely mortified at what you’d done and how you’d wildly misread the entire situation. How could you have been so incredibly stupid?

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, vision blurring from the tears welling up in your eyes. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have–that wasn’t okay. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve had too much to drink and–and I wasn’t thinking,” you blabbered on. “I absolutely misread things, I just thought that–that maybe you liked me, too and–”

Matt said your name softly, as if he was trying to calm a panicked animal. “You’re my friend,” he told you. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression at all this evening but–”

You practically threw the bundle of clothes back at Matt’s bare chest. His hands flew up, somehow catching them, but the gesture had cut him clean off. That spark of hope that had formed in your chest moments ago quickly sizzled out. A roiling, churning instead grew in your stomach, making you certain that you’d throw up soon if you didn’t get the hell out of here. 

“I need to go,” you blurted.

Turning abruptly, you hurried through Matt’s living room and down the entryway hall. Behind you, you heard him calling your name, but you didn’t dare stop. You couldn’t face him, not after what you’d just idiotically done. Especially not now as the tears were finally falling down your cheeks in hot spurts, embarrassment and rejection both burning inside of you. You just needed to get out of here, needed to get away from this entire horrible situation. You couldn’t believe you’d just gone and kissed him like that.

Your frantic hands fumbled with the lock on his door, but you managed to undo it and wrench it open in a rush. Continuing to ignore him calling after you, you pulled the door shut after yourself before you darted across the hall and straight to the door leading to the stairwell. Throwing it open, you began racing down the stairs as fast as you could, a hand covering your mouth as you tried to muffle your pathetic sobs. Your heart slammed away against your ribcage as the tears began to fall faster down your cheeks. As you descended the stairs, your vision blurred from tears and the alcohol you'd drank, causing you to stumble a few times on your way all the way down to the main floor. 

Ignoring the looks from the few people you sprinted past in the lobby, you headed straight towards the building’s exit. Forcefully pushing the doors open, you made your way back out onto the sidewalk and into the rain. A choked sob slipped past your fingers as you continued to hurry down the pavement and back towards your own apartment, your flats quickly becoming soaked as you stepped through a few puddles, splashing water up onto your dress pants. 

You’d just gone and kissed Matt like an absolute idiot. Of course he’d told you that he only saw you as a friend. Why would Matt ever be interested in someone like you? Someone awkward and average, nothing special. 

You’d absolutely ruined that friendship now, too. There was no way in hell you could ever face him again. You weren’t sure how you were going to survive Marci’s wedding months from now. Maybe if you were lucky you could try to ignore him all day. He’d probably be more than happy to do the same after tonight.

“ Why did I kiss him?” you lamented to yourself. “How stupid !”

Your tears continued to fall, mixing with the heavy rain drops pelting your cheeks as you rushed back to your place. All you wanted to do was get up to your apartment and crawl beneath the blankets in your bed and hide. You just wanted to forget this entire nightmare of an evening. There was no way to salvage what you’d done, to take it back. 

You should have never gone out tonight.

Complimentary Colors

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WC: 7.3K

Summary: After recently joining the team, you and Spencer could never get along. What started off as you two ignoring each other turned into bickering at work. What happens when a stressful moment for you turns into an opportunity to get to know this fascinating coworker of yours?

tags: enemies to lovers, fluff, brief mentions of crime/murder at the beginning (talking about cases/kidnapping), reader is shy and anxious, reader looks young for her age. (reader might be female but i don’t think i specified)

A/N: I haven’t written anything in years and I’ve been on a criminal minds kick for a while. I had this idea loosely based off a prompt I saw on cai by (ApolloTheBoykisser) so thanks babes ;) also for once I had a fic of mine beta read lol my bestie beta read this for me. This is also posted on my AO3 page.

You had been working at the BAU for the last few weeks. You tried to get to know most of your coworkers and it seemed like you were making great progress. You had heard a lot about the team before you joined and were pretty intimidated by them at first. Okay- you were still pretty intimidated by them. But you pushed through your quiet exterior little by little and slowly but surely tried to get to know them. 

All except for Spencer Reid. It seemed like he was trying to avoid you. He was always very quiet and would barely talk to you. Being a shy person yourself, you thought maybe he was just shy or a quiet guy. However, he continued to ignore you except for when he had to acknowledge you for work. 

His coldness towards you was increasingly annoying as time went on, and your perception of him had slowly warped. The things about him you once found endearing, you now forced yourself to hate about him. If he rambled for too long, it could potentially make your blood boil. However, you could never stop paying attention to when he rambled on about facts or statistics. You didn’t want to admit it, but you found him fascinating.

It didn’t take that long for him to start acknowledging you, but this soon turned into the two of you bickering like children. When you were discussing cases or profiles, you both would argue over motives, victimology, crime scenes- literally anything about the case- you two could turn it into an opportunity to contradict the other. You both still kept a level of professionalism to not let your rivalry affect your job. 

But there was always this tension between the two of you when you were in close quarters for too long. 

And at some point you both reached your boiling point. 

Last week, while the team was on a case, you and Spencer had gotten into a little spat once again. This time it went beyond the slight bickering or contraction. In the middle of the local precinct, you two were at each other's throats. 

“What was that?” You asked after you and Spencer left the interview room that held a victims family. 

“I was working off of the profile . . .” 

“You mean the profile we haven’t finished?” You interrupted. “The one we are still currently working on and have yet to disclose?” 

“That doesn’t mean we can’t work off of the information we already have,” he objected. 

“You told her information we are still unsure about. We don’t know for a fact how long he keeps them alive,” you accused while placing your hands on your hips, trying to conceal your frustration but failing.

“Guys.” Someone tried to tone things down. Neither of you heard who and you weren’t backing down.

“If I remember correctly, I heard you discussing this very subject and inputting your thoughts  . . .” 

“You still shouldn’t have told her! Especially when you don’t know for sure if her daughter could be alive,” you seethed stepping closer.

“Would you rather me hide everything from the mother who’s suffering from the disappearance of her daughter?” He asked, matching your tone and taking a step forward. 

“I didn’t say that!” 

“It sure sounded like it.” 

“Reid. Y/N.” The two of you turned your heads to your boss like two deer caught in headlights. 

“With me, now.” Hotch demanded and led you to an empty interview room. 

You could tell how angry he was- despite the fact that his stoic face represented almost every emotion in the book. But by the tone of his voice, you knew you and Spencer had messed up. 

“You two do not only represent this team, you represent the bureau. These cops are already not pleased with the idea of their boss calling us in and I do not need you arguing in front of them and giving them a reason to take us off this case. You must learn to respect and cooperate with one another or I will take you both off this case. Do I make myself clear?” He lectured. 

You both replied with a monotone “yes.”

“Good” 

Ever since your argument, you both had been relatively quiet towards one another. Like it had been in the beginning when you were ignoring each other. But that didn’t stop you from letting him invade your mind at every waking minute. It almost saddened you in a way there was no more bickering or quick remarks with him. With how much it annoyed you, you never thought you would miss it. 

The team had just finished a case and before everyone packed up and went home, Rossi announced that tomorrow everyone should come over for a little ‘get our minds off work’ get together. Your coworkers all thought it was a great idea to relax after the last few very stressful cases. 

As excited as you were to finally go to one of Rossi’s house parties, you were also scared shitless. Parties with relatively new people in your life were hard. You were so quiet around new people and were scared to approach others; you often waited to be approached. To you, being a profiler was easier than having a social life. 

But, maybe this time would be different. There’s not that many people on the team and you’d already started to familiarize yourself with them. 

The next day, you were pulling up to Rossi’s house. If there was anything else to be intimidated by with this man- besides his years of experience in the BAU- it was this giant house. You were greeted by the man himself at his front door. 

“Y/N, glad you could make it.” He opened the door and welcomed you in. 

He led you inside to where everyone else was gathered. Everyone was cheery at your arrival. Penelope with her clicky heels ran up to you and greeted you with a hug. It was refreshing to be around people who were so welcoming. It made it a little bit easier to really let your walls down. 

Well, almost everyone. Spencer gave you a small wave from where he stood. 

The night continued on and you would occasionally engage in conversation with the team. At this point, you were off to the side- standing in the kitchen and occasionally sipping some wine that Rossi had been bragging about and was just so excited for everyone to try. You were a bit too overwhelmed to go back to talking. The music was getting a bit loud and the lights seemed to be too bright. You opted for sitting on the barstool next to the counter and observing everyone around.  

They were all off in small groups or pairs around the house. All except for you and Spencer. He was another outlier and standing away from all the commotion. You looked over in his direction and he caught your eye. You both glared at each other and you quickly averted your gaze away from him. Your thoughts started to race and you began playing with your hair. 

After a moment, he glanced over in your direction again when you weren’t looking. He was unintentionally profiling you and noticed you getting overstimulated. Your eyes laser focused like you zoned out, your foot tapping against the chair, and your hand anxiously playing with your hair. 

While he wasn’t exactly your friend, he did understand what it felt like when social gatherings got overwhelming. He made his way over to you, careful not to make you more nervous or uncomfortable. 

“You okay?” He asked you. You were pulled away from spacing out. His voice sounded a bit concerned- which took you by surprise. You were partially relieved someone approached you to help bring you back down to earth. That someone noticed something was off. What confused you was the fact that person was Spencer. 

“I’m fine.”

He was well aware of what it meant when someone was “fine” and you were clearly not fine. He felt bad that you were so quick to shut down his attempt to check on you. After all, it was his fault and he knew that. 

“Do you wanna step outside?” He asked. 

You were conflicted. You didn’t want to be outside alone with him, but at the same time, you needed some time away from everything. Maybe it would help calm your nerves. 

“Maybe for a bit.” 

You followed him outside onto the back patio. You took note of the fresh air and the muffled sounds from inside. It all felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders. Pretty soon though, you realized how awkward it was to be outside alone with him. 

Spencer cleared his throat and spoke to break the silence, “Sometimes these parties can be . . . a lot.”

“A little bit. I was doing fine for a while but I think my social battery is running low.” You confessed to explain your discomfort. 

“Yeah” he replied. He appreciated the fact that you felt comfortable enough to express this with him. He tried to relate to you. “It’s the same with me. Sometimes I just need a moment to collect myself.” 

“Exactly.” You were relieved to hear that he felt the same way. “Plus it doesn’t help that I'm so new to the team.” You crossed your arms and slightly closed yourself off.

“I was the same way when I first joined.” He told her to try and ease your concerns. You were just like him at some point. The new guy and just trying to figure out how you fit in. 

“It’s difficult at first, but you settle down after a bit. Once you get to know everyone.” 

“Yeah it’s just the whole getting to know them part is a bit . . .” You abruptly stopped, hesitating to reveal too much to him.  

“A bit what?” 

“Intimidating,” you confessed, avoiding his eyes.

He obviously noticed your hesitance and avoided his usual behavior with you. You were always so strong and quick to banter with him. But now you seemed vulnerable, and he didn’t want to take advantage of that. 

“It’s not just you, I promise.” He was being honest. This was the calmest and most genuine conversation the two of you had ever had. “I find them all pretty intimidating.” 

Your eyebrows raised at his confession. How could he possibly be intimidated by these people?

“Really? But you’ve known them for so long. You all are so close.” 

“Close doesn’t mean you can’t be a little intimidated,” he replied. It might not make much sense, but it was the truth. 

“I mean Hotch is always stonewall and silent, no matter what you say to him. And don’t even get me started on Morgan.” He joked, knowing you would understand. 

You lightly chuckled at his joke. “I get what you mean.” You were starting to understand him more. You thought it was ironic that one of the team members you were first intimidated by was also intimidated by the team. Now he was starting to seem less intimidating or annoying and more approachable. You kinda liked seeing this new side of Spencer. 

“I guess I’ve always been like that. Worried to get to know people or open up.” You weren’t entirely sure why you were telling him this, but you knew he would understand. 

"I think when you're afraid of being hurt or judged or misunderstood by people, you try to keep your guard up." He told you, speaking from experience. From a young age until now, he's always felt misunderstood. 

"And I think...maybe that's why you're on edge with me? You're not sure what to expect from me."

“Are you profiling me?” You asked jokingly. Spencer however thought you were serious and you noticed him tense up. 

“I’m kidding.” Your expression softened to let him know you weren’t actually accusing him of profiling you. “I’m gonna be completely honest, I’ve been on edge with you cause I thought you didn’t like me.” 

He was a bit taken off guard by your statement. But at the same time, he couldn't deny it. He didn't dislike you now, but at first, he wasn't exactly fond of you. And now he was ashamed of that.

"I didn't like you." He admitted. "I thought you were pretentious, too eager to be accepted. I think I saw you as competition." 

Spencer’s comment did sting. It was never sunshine and rainbows to hear someone doesn't like you. However, you did take note of his language. He said “didn’t,” “thought” and “saw,” all past tense. Does this mean he doesn’t dislike you now? What you did appreciate was his reciprocated honesty. You both were making some progress in your relationship and you wanted to continue it. 

“I was eager to be accepted. I wanted to feel like I belonged.” 

“I know how you feel.” He expressed his sympathy. “I regret not giving you a chance. You’re not like I thought you were.” He also appreciated seeing this different side of you.

“You’re not like I thought you were.” You admitted. 

A little smirk tugs at his lips, “So I’m not as pretentious and selfish as you thought?” 

You lightly chucked, “I never thought you were selfish, but I did think you were a ‘know-it-all’ and trying to show off.” 

Spencer really didn’t want you to think he was a show off. Sure- he had a vast amount of knowledge, but he never wanted you to think he was bragging or that he knew better than you. “I do know a lot but I promise I’m not trying to show off. I just have all this information in my head and I want to share it with people or I’m really passionate about something and want to talk about it.” 

You understood that feeling all too well. There were so many times you wanted to ramble on about things you cared about or had knowledge on, but for the most part just stayed quiet. Meanwhile, he didn't keep quiet. He would go on and on. And while almost everyone else was either rolling their eyes or trying to shut him up, you were listening intently. You didn’t want to admit it back then, but now you were feeling up to it. 

“I will admit, while I did think of you as a know it all, I found a lot of your tangents interesting.” You admitted. 

His eyebrows raised in surprise. He was so used to people dismissing him. It was nice to hear you often would listen. “Really? You didn't mind me babbling on?" He asked, relieved with your response. 

"I mean, it is something I have trouble with. I tend to talk too much.” 

“Oh Dr. Reid I am very familiar with rambling and being worried about talking too much.” You paused for a moment- considering how much more you wanted to share with him. “I know it may not seem like it because I’m always quiet around the team but.. once I get comfortable around people, I actually get very rambly”

"You do?" He asked, sounding surprised. “About what?”  

“Really anything. Mostly things I’m passionate about like you. I’ll also tend to go on tangents about memories or just things happening in my life.” 

You made your way to a bench on the patio as you spoke. Spencer followed and sat down on a chair adjacent to you. You brought your attention back to him and noticed his focused gaze on you and he quickly licked his lips, a habit you noticed he did all the time.

"You really are a lot like me. You're just quieter at first." He added, teasing you a little. While he was not one for social cues, he had the sudden urge to be bold and make a joke. "Maybe next time I see you rambling, I won't immediately contradict you." 

You dramatically dropped your jaw and placed your hand over your heart. “Wow, you really know how to give a compliment,” you said, pretending to be offended. 

He laughed with a bright grin. "I'm sorry. Let me rephrase. The fact that you're so silent and reserved makes it that much more thrilling when I find out how much of a chatterbox you actually are." He joked, being playful as before.

Your cheeky smile slightly falters for a moment. You hoped he wouldn’t notice but he did. “I think you won’t be so thrilled once I actually turn into a chatterbox around you.”

"Actually I think I would find it intriguing." He told you, looking directly into your eyes. "The quiet ones tend to be the most interesting and complex when they do end up talking."

“I’m not that interesting.”

“I beg to differ. You’re very interesting. Probably the most interesting person on the team.” 

Did he really say that? Did he mean it? Or was he just being nice? You tried not to profile him, but couldn’t help it. His body language expressed he was being honest. Uncrossed legs and arms, open palms, eye contact. The only thing you didn’t notice when studying his body language was his dilated pupils. 

“Thank you,” you smiled at his compliment, “I doubt I’m the most interesting though. You maybe, Mr. Three PHDs and can read 20,000 words per minute.” 

He smiled back at you, “Just because I'm well educated doesn’t mean you can’t be as interesting as me, if not more.” 

You couldn’t believe he was saying such nice things to you. This was the first time you guys were actually making some kind of connection.. and it felt wonderful. 

“I still can’t believe we’ve known each other for this long but are just now talking. And by talking, I mean not getting into a spat after speaking for more than 3 minutes.” You confessed with a hint of playfulness in your voice at your joke. 

“Yeah, I feel like I barely know you.” 

“What would you like to know?” You asked. 

He thought for a moment trying to think of a question to ask. You noticed once again that he licked his lips, trying to concentrate. 

“Let’s start with something simple. What’s your favorite color?” He asked. 

“Wow, I think that’s a bit too personal.” You said, voice laced with sarcasm. You tried your hardest to contain your amusement but started to smile. He smiled back at you. At first, he was always confused with sarcasm and social cues. To be honest, he still was. But he could just tell with you. He knew when you were joking and when you were being serious. He found your sense of humor amusing. 

“Yellow.” You answered. “What’s yours?” 

“Purple.” He replied. 

You intended to leave it inside your head- but a quiet “huh” made it past your lips as an idea came into focus. 

“What? Is it my choice for my favorite color?” He tried to joke with you but was also a little bit serious. 

“Oh no, it's just I thought it was interesting because those are complementary colors. You know how they are opposite on the color wheel?” You asked even though you figured he knew. 

He nodded his head, “Yes! Because they are on opposite ends of the color wheel, when they’re used together it creates a vibrant contrast and enhances visual appeal. The two colors almost balance each other out and support each other's intensity. Complimentary colors are a key component to color theory.” He suddenly noticed how long he was talking and his posture stiffened. He pressed his lips into a thin line and avoided eye contact. “Told you I talk too much.”

“And I told you that I find your rambling interesting.” 

His head perked back up at you. You genuinely wanted to listen to him. It was refreshing to talk to someone that didn’t cut him off or zone out. 

“That’s kinda like us though, don’t you think?” 

“What’s like us?” He asked confused, still thinking about the fact that you actually enjoy listening to what he has to say. 

“How our favorite colors are complimentary colors. Like you said, they support each other's intensity. When you first see them they’re opposites, but the more you look the more they compliment each other.” 

He softly smiles. “That does sound like us. The more we learn about each other, the more we find we have in common.” 

There was a short pause where you both considered his statement. You did want to know more about him. You wanted to know all of him. 

“Can I ask you a question this time?” 

“Of course.” 

“So, you're always reading. Like everywhere you go, you carry a book with you. I wanna know: what’s a book you could read over and over again and never get tired of?” You wanted to know beyond his favorite color. You wanted to get to the various  building blocks that made him the way he was. 

Spencer considered your question for a moment. Trying to go through the near infinite list of books he’s read in his life. You could tell he was concentrating on his answer because licked his lips. “Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens.” 

“Is he one of your favorite authors?” 

“Yes.” He said almost immediately, confident in his answer. 

“How come you like that book so much?” You asked.

You could see this sort of spark enter his eyes the more you asked about it. Giving him the chance to share his passions. ”Oliver Twist was one of the first books that used satire to deliver social commentary. Particularly in this book the social commentary was aimed at poverty in 19th century England. The book also quickly gained attention after its publication due to the scandalous subject matter in which crimes, such as murder, were depicted in detail.” 

Spencer finally stopped rambling and almost looked as if he caught his breath from the endless talking. But what he was met with was your undivided attention.

”That sounds really interesting, maybe one day I should give it a read.” You say with a soft smile.

“You should,” he matched your smile, but it seemed a bit more sheepish due to his brief tangent. “Have you ever read Charles Dickens before?”

You shook your head in response. “I’ve never read anything by him. I actually don’t read much. But I used to in high school.” You revealed. 

“What have you read?” He asked. He leaned slightly forward and unconsciously mirrored your body language and placed his right hand on his leg like you did yours.

“Pretty much the same books everyone else had to read for school.” You paused and tapped your fingers trying to refresh your memory.

“To Kill A Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, 1984, um.. a few Shakespeare books.” You answered with the few books you could remember. 

“Which one did you like the most?” 

“I’m not sure”, you sighed and thought about his question, wanting to give him a genuine answer. “Maybe.. Macbeth. I remember finding the story interesting and I did a group project on Macbeth and Lady Macbeth's descent into madness. Like the scene where she’s hallucinating the blood on her hands.” 

Your voice started to pick up speed and volume ever so slightly. He could tell you were getting more passionate the more you spoke. Subtly displaying how you could ramble once you opened up to someone. He smiled as you continued, happy to see that you felt comfortable enough around him to let a hidden part of yourself out into the open. 

“I guess that kinda explains why I wanted to be a profiler and learn about psychology and forensics. I was interested in how Lady Macbeth's guilt manifested and caused her delusions. I wanted to understand why people did the things they did.”

“I can tell, you have this curiosity. You want to understand. Know the ‘why’. He mentally recalled the times you would express your curiosity during work. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” 

He pressed his lips in a line. “Is it- is it my turn to ask you something now?” He stuttered slightly. 

“I mean you don’t have to. It’s nobody’s ‘turn’ but you can if you want.” 

“I do.” He replied immediately. The corners of your mouth perked up into a small smile. He mirrored you.

“I may be stealing your previous question. Like you said you don’t read much. But I have noticed you listen to music a lot. I want to know a song you could listen to over and over again.” 

He was right, you often listen to music. Mostly on your way into work or on the jet, you would be wearing your signature headphones and have some playlist on. It was your own way of coping with the stress of your job. You looked down at the ground as you recalled the songs in your favorite playlist. 

“Dreams by The Cranberries.” You brought your eyes back up to face him. But what you saw was confusion in Spencer’s eyes. He tried to hide it but you knew better. “Have you heard that song?”

He did that little sideways pout you often saw him doing when he was in awkward situations.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. Spencer broke eye contact, embarrassed he didn’t know something from pop culture. 

“It’s okay. Remind me next time I have my headphones and I’ll show you.” You spoke calmly to reassure him there was nothing to be embarrassed about. 

He brought his attention back to you. Relieved to hear your gesture instead of a quip about his lack of pop culture knowledge like he was used to. 

“I will.” 

“Alright my turn.” You shifted your weight and brought your legs up to your side so your whole body could face him. “Um, it's kind of a personal question though. I’m curious about something.” 

“Go ahead. What is it?” He asked, giving you his whole undivided attention. 

“Does it ever bother you when people question your age when you say how educated you are?” 

He was somewhat thrown off by your question, but something told him you've wanted to ask him this for a while.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I wouldn’t say it bothers me. Considering I have had such an extensive education so early in my life, it’s completely understandable that someone would question how I did it at a young age.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed in response. He knew that wasn’t the answer you were looking for. 

“Can I ask you something personal?” He asked before asking his real question. He appreciated your concerns about potentially pushing a boundary and he reciprocated it. He didn’t want to break this newfound friendship- if he could call it that- by making you uncomfortable. 

You nodded your head, silently telling him it was okay.

He slightly fidgeted with his hands. “Did you ask me that because people question your age?” 

“Yes,” you answered hesitantly. “I’ve never looked my age.” 

He thought about his next question before asking. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, I’m just trying to understand. Why does that bother you?” 

“It bothers me when people don’t take me seriously. I mean I’m in my late 20s and some people still think I look fresh out of college. It hasn’t happened as often since I joined the BAU but so many people in law enforcement don’t take me seriously. People tend to think I’m too innocent to have a job like this.” You confessed to him as you avoided looking him in the eyes.

"I wouldn't say you're innocent.” His comment brought your eyes back to him. 

“But you do have a soft demeanor. It makes you approachable. If anything, those qualities are an incredible asset to this job whether it be when you're speaking to victims or their family members.” 

Even though he would often throw snarky retorts to you in the past and try to get under your skin, he always admired how good you were at your job. Of course, you were an amazing profiler and had no trouble standing against dangerous unsubs. But the way you handled incredibly sensitive situations with such calmness and comfort with others was admirable. During cases with children, you were able to ease their worries and provide a safe space.

“While you are very sweet and shy, I would never call you innocent.”

“Thanks,” you smiled at his compliments. You felt understood hearing his affirmation. It also warmed your heart to hear that he thought so highly of you. Especially since the last few weeks, you thought he hated your guts. Although- his comment did make you more curious about how you were perceived. “Half the time I don’t realize how shy I am or how I present myself,” you weakly chuckled.

“There were actually a lot of ways to deduce that you're shy,” he matched your lighthearted tone but also kept a sense of seriousness to prove he was being genuine.

“Was it the fact that I was sitting by myself and scared to talk to them?” You half joked as you figured that’s what he was going to imply.

"That was part of it, yes. But besides that, it was the way you often avoid direct eye contact, and the tone of your voice. It's gentle and low, as if you're afraid of coming on too strong.” He was too caught up in his thoughts and observations to realize how much he was divulging. “You keep your distance and your words are always measured or not overly assertive. Almost like if you do come off assertive you will receive backlash." 

When he met your eyes again, he noticed how frozen you were. On the outside you didn't reveal much, simply had a stoic expression. He knew you better than that. He knew that he had hit a nerve and started to panic that he went too far. He had finally wrecked this slowly growing friendship like he thought he would, by being himself. 

“Wow, yeah that sounds pretty spot on,” you agreed. You sounded soft spoken and played with your hair again, of course without your knowledge.      

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He abruptly spattered in a panic.

“No it’s okay really,” you interrupted trying to reassure him. “I just didn’t expect you to be so ... correct.” 

He pressed his lips into a thin line, relieved he didn't mess things up, but still slightly worried he had left you feeling exposed. "I guess I'm just good at noticing things about people,” he shrugged.

“You forget, we get paid to notice things about people,” you joked with him, trying to make him feel better by lightening the situation. Of course, it worked. 

"That's true." He chuckled and paused for a moment to consider. Then he continued with his profile of you. 

"It's just the way your voice softens whenever you become uncomfortable, almost whispering or lowering in tone. Or your nervous habits, like when you play with your hair." It was a gesture he was pretty keen on catching.

You suddenly were very aware of the fact you were playing with your hair. You quickly dropped your hands and crossed your arms. 

"It's not bad that you do that, you know,” his voice had a slight crack in it. “It's just something you do subconsciously." He told her, trying to be comforting.

“Do you wanna know something you do subconsciously?” You asked, your voice with a hint of teasing. You decided that if he was going to profile you, you were going to profile him back. 

He noticed your tone and that you had gained a bit more confidence. "Sure, hit me." He said as he awaited your reply with curiosity and interest.

“You poke your tongue out a lot or lick your lips. Most of the time when you’re concentrating or lost in thought. Which means you definitely need to start using chapstick. I’ve seen you do it a lot since we’ve been out here.” You explained.

"So, are you telling me my lips are dry?" He replied playfully, his grin widening.

“They probably are,” you lightly laughed at the silliness of his question. He laughed along with you and subconsciously went to lick his lips again, but caught himself.

“I'm gonna be thinking about this so much more now,” he confessed. 

“Consider it payback for pointing out how much I play with my hair when I'm anxious. I don’t know what to do with my hands now,” you remarked as you dramatically waved your hands in the air.                                 

“Sorry,” he awkwardly apologized.

“I already told you it’s alright. You're not the only one who analyzes behavior. I’ve noticed plenty of things you do and why you do it.” 

“Like what?” He furrowed his eyebrows, curious what particular things about him you had profiled. He noticed something though. The confidence you once had, had washed away after you collected your thoughts.  

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you stated.

"You won’t make me uncomfortable,” he responded almost immediately. “I promise. I really want to know.”

You took a deep breath before explaining your observations. “You desperately want to be heard. You love to share the endless knowledge you have, but when someone walks away or cuts you off your reaction is almost that of deflating. And when someone does show a bit of interest in what you have to say your voice perks up and almost cracks with excitement. Then you talk a lot faster, probably a mixture of excitement and as a way to keep the other person engaged and to not lose their attention.” 

Spencer carefully listened to every word you said. Not a single deduction was false. You had read him like a book in the short time you knew him. You noticed something about him that most of the team couldn’t pick up on. 

"You're right about everything,” he said with a soft tone. Almost everyone interrupted him, you never did. This got him thinking. Of course everyone on the team made observations about each other, they’re profilers of course. However, he wondered why you had made so many about him. 

"Are you always this observant about everyone? And I mean everyone. Or is it just me that gets the special treatment?" He asked his last question with a hint of a teasing tone.

You scoffed, “yeah right, like you get special treatment.” You thought about your response, not wanting to reveal too much.

“I guess I might have paid attention to you because you were the only one who was so closed off to me. I wanted to know why. I wanted to know who you were even if you weren’t going to tell me.” 

He was right, you were paying him special attention. The fact that you wanted to know who he was despite his closed off nature revealed enough. 

“So you admit it, I get special treatment?" He cheekily asked. 

“Oh shut up,” you retorted. 

“Make me.”

Your lips pursed, holding back a smile. 

Spencer noticed you were trying to hold back a smile and found it endearing. He also noticed something else about your reaction. You were blushing. You blushed as a result of his taunting. He got lost in the thought of you blushing from him. 

“Something you wanna share with the class?” You teased. 

He didn't want to admit it, not yet at least. He wanted to make you sweat just a little bit and get a reaction out of you. 

"I'm curious about something. Could you tell me what would cause someone's cheeks to flush?" He tried to seem genuine but of course he came off with a hint of cheekiness. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. You were completely oblivious to your red face and were confused by his random inquiry. 

“Are you questioning my profiling skills?” You lightly scoffed, not knowing what his true intentions were.

"No, not exactly. I just want to know what you think.”

Your expression changed to one of confusion but also amusement. You decided to play along with his little game.

“Well psychologically blushing could mean a multitude of things. Embarrassment, stress, anxiety, attraction.” While your voice stayed consistent, he noticed the change in your breath and how your eyes darted away from him. It was a brief expression, but he caught it. He got the answer he was looking for.

"And which one of those can explain why you’re blushing?" He raised an eyebrow and smirked as he leaned closer to you.

Your stomach dropped and eyes widened. You shifted your weight in your seat and touched your cheeks. “I’m not blushing..” You ignored his question.

"You are.”

You sighed and stood up, “Well if I am it’s probably because you just pointed it out and I’m embarrassed.” 

"Oh, really?" He taunted and followed you. "I think that you might be blushing for a different reason."

You bit your lip out of frustration and crossed your arms. “Are you profiling me Spencer?” 

"Maybe I am,” he smirked. "I would say that maybe you've been so interested in me that you've been paying a lot of attention. That's why you took note of so many of my habits and behavior." 

Your face got redder and you started playing with your hair again. You huffed, “I told you before, the reason I paid attention to you was because I didn’t know you.”

"Sure, but you pointed out how you kept noticing I licked my lips. Why were you looking at my lips in the first place?"  

You were caught between a rock and a hard place. “Why are you so interested in why I’m blushing or looking at your dumb face anyway? Why do you care so much?” You asked defensively. 

He couldn’t respond, he froze up. 

“I mean, you question why I pay so much attention to you but here you are doing the same thing to me. Trying to read me like a book,” you accused. 

He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I guess we're both curious about each other."

“I guess we are,” you responded. You saw his cheeks turn pink in reaction to your questioning. “Look who’s red now.”

If his face could even get redder, it did. For a man that could probably say a thousand words a minute, it seemed like none of them could fall from his lips. 

It was your turn to smirk. “I can’t believe I’ve managed to leave you speechless. Never thought that would happen.”

"Shut up,” he sheepishly scoffed. 

“Make me.”

Spencer felt his stomach flutter, he smiled bashfully at your mimicking his own teasing. The seconds passed and neither of you spoke, neither of you had words. Both of you in your own heads. In your head, you got a stroke of confidence. You didn't know where it came from, maybe the teasing, maybe the fact that you had him speechless. But you took it and ran with it.

”Maybe the reason you wanted to know why I was blushing so badly, is the same exact reason I was blushing,” you mumbled. 

The realization hit him in waves. You just admitted to the very thing he was trying to get out of you in the first place. He was speechless once again, but this was different. He stared at you with a stunned look, not knowing what to do. 

You took his blank expression as a negative reaction, thinking you came off too strong. You slowly backed away from him, regretting putting yourself out there. 

“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Just forget it.” You turned around to go back inside but felt something on your wrist. You turned around and saw Spencer had grabbed your wrist to stop you. His eyes wide and breath heavy.

"No. Don’t,” he begged. 

"Really?" You whispered softly. 

He smiled, "yes. Please don't take it back."

You smiled back at him bashfully. Spencer’s reaction make your stomach do backflips, but it made you wonder. 

"Can I ask, why did you pay such close attention to me? 

He released his light grasp on your wrist and instead placed your hand in his. "I couldn't stop analyzing every single detail about you. I wanted to know you inside and out. There was something about you that felt intoxicating. After every time I spoke to you, even if it was just us bickering or arguing, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” 

He looked down at your joined hands and started to rub his thumb over your hand. You looked up at him and smiled, glancing at his lips. “Well you definitely must be thinking about something now, you licked your lips.”

He couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. You made him feel like he was on full display, like he was a book that only you could read. 

He slightly blushed at your comment. “I am. Can you guess what I'm thinking about?"

You grabbed his other hand with yours as a smirk grew on your face, “How close we are. How it’s probably driving you crazy..” You nearly whispered the last part as you leaned closer to him, “how I’m making you crazy..”

"You do.” Spencer wrapped one of his arms around your waist and placed his hand on the small of your back. A shiver ran down your spine as his hand touched your back. Of course, he could tell and was light headed by the effect you had on him. He’d never felt so intoxicated by someone before. “You’ve made me a mad man ever since I met you.” 

Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest.

“What about you?” He asked. “Do I make you crazy?” 

You glanced between his eyes and his lips. 

“Yes..”

It was like you both were on the exact same wavelength. You both dove in at the same time and slammed your lips together. Both of you just so desperate to get a taste of the other. The kiss was tender and passionate, with no single person in control. You both moved together in synced motions. All of the arguments, all the tension that had been slowly building up could be released.

When you finally parted, Spencer rested his forehead against yours. You felt his airy breath as he tried to come back down to earth. You placed a hand on his face and stroked his cheek with your thumb. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” he breathed. 

“I can tell,” you chuckled. “what’s stopping you from doing it again?”

“Do you want me to?” He asked desperately. 

You placed your other hand on the back of his neck, “I love hearing you talk.. but shut up and kiss me.

Before today he never liked the idea of you telling him what to do. But now, he was at your mercy. He didn’t hesitate and locked your lips with his once again. You both melted together like lovesick teenagers. But moments like these of course don’t last forever. 

The sound of the patio door opening fell deaf on both your ears. It wasn’t until you heard Derek Morgan that you both pulled away from each other. 

”What’s going on out here?” Derek questioned with a smirk. 

You and Spencer couldn’t speak, too frozen to react. 

His grin only grew, “My man,” he chuckled as he glanced at Spencer.

“Don’t kill each other while you're out here.”  Derek left the way he came and closed the patio door. 

You sighed, “He’s gonna tell someone isn’t he?”

“Yup”

~

He made his way back to his coworkers with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “What’s got you all happy?” Emily asked. 

“Looks like our two angry birds are now two love birds,” he answered. 

“What? What are you talking about?” Penelope sprinted over as fast as she could with her heels. 

“How I just caught Reid and Y/N making out.”

The room exploded with chaos at the reactions to his news.

JJ, who was standing off to the side with Hotch, furrowed her eyebrows, “I thought they hated each other?” 

Hotch glanced towards the patio door and saw the light shadow of two figures. “No they don't. Not really.” 

Becoming His (Part Three)

Disclaimer(s): The images from my header belong to BigHit and BTS, but I edited them and put them together.

A Note From Kutemouse: Here we are, part three! This was inspired by all of the working from home vibes that have surrounded me since lock-down started. Hope you like, thanks to everyone who has read this and liked it so far. You all are amazing! 💜💜💜

Tag List: @kpopyandere​ @apurpledheart​ @rowoons-noona​ @illnevertrustmyselfagain​ @clarkcling​ @taemaknae​ @wwilloww​

Message me if you want to be added!

Age Recommendation: 18+ (Def not one for youngsters, folks!)

Genre: Yandere Namjoon, Smut, Fluff, Neighbor AU, Computer Genius Namjoon AU

Warnings: All the f*cking warnings, okay? This filth is ridiculous. We’re talking SWEARS, all the unhealthy, obsessive yandere themes we know and love, explicit smut x twelve thousand including masturbation, sexual frustration, denial of sexual acts, grinding, exhibitionism (kind of, if you squint), lingerie, oral (m. and f. receiving), face-fucking, tongue-fucking, and hot penetrative sex. Like I said, absolute filth.

🚨TRIGGER WARNING. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE ISSUES WITH THE FOLLOWING.🚨

There is NON-CON in this part, okay?? Non-con as in Y/n is not completely comfortable with what happens, and in fact, she tells Namjoon to explicitly stop… and he doesn’t.

I want to be absolutely crystal clear. This story does NOT depict Namjoon in real life in any way, shape, or form. What his fictional self does is disgusting and horrific, and is meant to be viewed as such. That kind of behavior, which unfortunately does happen irl, should NOT be tolerated. I don’t tolerate it at all. By putting such a scene in my work, I am demonstrating how ugly Namjoon’s character really is, and how his psyche is beginning to unravel. That is all. There are no other intentions behind that scene.

I’mma say it louder for the people in the back. NON-CON IS NEVER OKAY. It’s not even okay in this fictional world I’ve built. Got it? Good.

Please don’t read if you are not comfortable. Your happiness and well-being, kutie, come first.

Word Count: 6k (almost exactly, wow)

Master List

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Becoming His (Namjoon One-Shot, Yandere, Smut, Angsty Fluff) Part Three

It had been exactly fourteen days since you officially became Kim Namjoon’s girlfriend, and you were loving every second of it. Well, nearly every second. You had thought that, with the promise of commitment out of the way, Namjoon would be open to intimacy, but instead, he insisted on taking things as slow as slow could be. Which you thought was ridiculous, because every other part of your relationship felt like it was put on mega fast forward.

The very night after you agreed to be his to be his, you went on a date. Namjoon took you to a fantastic restaurant with white tablecloths, impeccably dressed waiters, crystal chandeliers, the works. It couldn’t have been more perfect. He didn’t take his eyes off you the entire night, and although you were apprehensive and maybe a tad regretful about becoming his girlfriend so quickly, you found your doubts melting away when you realized… he was way into you. And you were way into him.

Once you got past your reservations, you found yourself ready to take things to the next level, especially when it came time to go home. You and Namjoon stood on your porch facing each other, but before the moment could get too awkward, he reached out and wrapped his arms around your waist. You, in turn, wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him closer. He pressed his forehead to yours, staring deep into your eyes. You didn’t think you could get enough of his eyes. The way they looked brown in the light but nearly black in the shadows reminded you of volcanic stone formed from hardened lava. You had seen those eyes light up in a glow of happiness and a blaze of anger, but now, you were ready to see them light up in a roaring wildfire of lust.

Namjoon pressed his lips to yours in a sweet, chaste kiss. His tongue stayed firmly in his own mouth despite every fiber of his being screaming to taste you.

But he couldn’t. Not now.

With your scent invading his nose, your body pressed against his, and your lips touching, he was practically cumming in his pants already. And he was pretty damn sure you wouldn’t appreciate such an early release.

With a groan, Namjoon pressed his palms into your hips and pushed you gently backward. You frowned in confusion, wondering why he wasn’t taking things further. “Tonight was absolutely amazing,” he murmured, smiling down at you.

He was saying goodbye? Already?

“Are you s-sure you don’t want to come inside for a nightcap?” you stuttered.

Namjoon’s smile grew, showing off those sexy dimples, as he cupped your face in both of his large hands and kissed your forehead. “Not tonight, jagiya. Maybe next time.”

Disappointment flowed through you, unpleasantly cooling the heat building inside your middle. “Are you sure?”

He raised your face a little and pressed his lips briefly to yours once more. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? I’ll text you.”

“Oh. Okay.”

You were so obvious it hurt. Clearly, you wanted more, but Namjoon wasn’t prepared to give it to you just yet. He wanted your first time with him to be absolutely perfect.

As soon as your door shut, he strode towards his own house, restraining himself from breaking into a full-on sprint. He fumbled with his keys, pushed the door open as soon as it was unlocked, and slammed it shut behind him. He leaned against the wood, head thrown back, eyes closed, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out over his forehead. Quickly unbuckling his belt and yanking down his zipper, Namjoon finally freed his hard, dripping cock from the confines of his trousers. He groaned as air collided with his netherregions, his balls tightening as he fisted himself and started pumping at a rapid pace.

Namjoon thought of you, your eyes staring up into his, practically begging him to fuck you, and the way your scent drifted across his senses every time you got close. He thought of your body aligning with his, your breasts pressing unconsciously into his torso, arousing him into a state of uncontrollable ecstasy. He thought of the way you said his name, moaned his name, and suddenly, his orgasm was upon him.

White ropes of cum spurted from the head of his dick, and he grunted loudly, mouth dropping open in surprise. He let out a few more stuttering grunts as he came down from his high, chest heaving.

If this was the effect you had on him now with just a couple of fully-clothed kisses, he could hardly imagine the effect you would have once he actually got you naked. That’s why it couldn’t happen quite yet. Namjoon had to make sure he was in full control first.

Meanwhile, back at your place, you also leaned against the back of your door, but your emotional and physical state of mind differed greatly from Namjoon’s. Your lips were contorted in a pout, and your mind was jumbled with questions. What had you done wrong? Did he not see you that way? Great. You went from a relationship where there was nothing but physical attraction to one where there was everything but physical attraction. Why couldn’t you have both physical and emotional chemistry with a guy? Was that honestly too much for the universe to provide?

You supposed so.

Thirteen days later, you still hadn’t succeeded in shagging your gorgeous boyfriend. You had, however, grown fairly comfortable around him. Namjoon had given you a key to his house, which both surprised the hell out of you and made you want to jump for joy, so you were often over there when he was home. Namjoon’s coffee was good enough that you didn’t feel the need to go out and pick up a cup one to three times a day anymore, allowing the two of you to spend entire afternoons together.

It wasn’t like you were on top of each other, though. Oftentimes, he was working in his office on the other side of the house while you worked from your laptop in the living room, sprawled out across the couch. Hours would go by when neither of you saw each other.

Even so, most guys you knew would have already gotten fed up. Being neighbors, you two were already practically living together. It was a miracle you weren’t sick of each other yet. However, Namjoon didn’t seem to mind. He was so different from every other guy you previously dated, seeming to want you constantly around rather than the opposite. He liked his personal space, sure, but you were now part of that personal space and he treated you as such. After all, you were his.

Namjoon not only liked that you wanted to be around him so much, even if you two weren’t in the same room, but he also enjoyed keeping a closer eye on you. He knew exactly where you were and what you were doing every second of every day. As a software engineer, he was able to install a keylogger on your laptop one evening when you ran out to pick up food. It was for your own protection, of course. He had to make sure you stayed safe, and that no harm could come to you in any way, shape, or form. After all, you were his reason for existing. If anything happened to you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Speaking of harm, you were surprised that Jungkook hadn’t reached out after that day he crashed your neighborhood party. He had all but promised he would get you back, but like always, his silence since proved he was full of shit. You tried to put him out of your mind, but this wasn’t like the Jungkook you knew. Sure, over the years, he had gone radio silent for as long as months at a time, but once he made it clear he intended to win you back, that’s exactly what he did. He would harass you with texts and show up everywhere you went until you finally caved. Not that it took much. His ethereal beauty and bad-boy persona drew you effortlessly in before you realized you were drowning in all things Jungkook.

But this time? This time was oddly different. You supposed he didn’t care enough to try shooting his shot more than once, yet the thought of reaching out just to make sure he was okay crossed your mind more than once. The only thing holding you back was Namjoon. He would likely be crushed if he found out you were talking to your ex.

That, however, was the only piece of truth you knew for sure. Jungkook left your house that night fully intending on getting you back… until his life began to fall apart. The very day after the party, Jungkook’s identity was stolen and someone racked up hundreds of charges on his credit cards. His computer and phone were hacked, and every password he had, every account he ever made, turned his life into a living nightmare.

Every single questionable picture or video, including several nudes and dick pics, were sprawled all over the internet. Every friend he ever made turned on him. He became a disgrace, a laughingstock. Whoever hacked him even sent some questionable content to his workplace from his own email, ending up in him getting fired.

In a span of forty-eight hours, Jungkook was jobless, friendless, and drowning in debt. He was sitting in his room, wasted out of his mind by the only thing that could keep him from feeling, when writing popped up on his computer screen. He looked up in surprise. He thought his laptop was completely fried since the hack.

“Stay away from her,” the message read. “She’s mine.”

Namjoon smirked as he watched Jungkook’s eyes widen as he read the message. After a beat, Jungkook let out a roar of rage and smashed the bottle he was holding into the computer, effectively breaking the webcam and Namjoon’s line of sight to him.

With that problem finally out of the way, Namjoon focused his attention solely on you. He made mental notes of everything you liked and didn’t like, your microexpressions when something pleased you or annoyed you, and how your routine changed now that he was in your life. Life couldn’t be better. There was no evidence of you thinking about that Jungkook guy, and all the evidence that you were almost as obsessed with Namjoon as he was with you.

Almost.

He could tell you were getting frustrated, though. You wanted him, and he wanted you, but he wanted to make you wait even more. He relished in the anticipation build-up and the thought of driving you crazy. He wanted you thinking about nothing but him day-in and day-out.

To Namjoon’s amusement, that’s exactly what happened. You could not stop the heat creeping down to your core every time he so much as looked at you. You could barely keep your fingers away from your crotch every time he stripped shirtless to go outside and exercise. You couldn’t quit biting your lip and crossing your legs suggestively every time you caught his eye. He would toss you a smirk, but otherwise, he seemed unaffected.

One day, your sexual frustration came to a head. Namjoon was in his office, typing away on his computer, when you leaned against the doorway, admiring the view of your sex god boyfriend’s broad shoulders. Of course, Namjoon knew you were there. He saw you stop working, get up, and stretch before padding down the hall on his living room’s hidden camera.

However, he played off being pleasantly surprised. He stretched his arms above his head, flexing his biceps, before seeming to catch sight of you out of the corner of his eye. “Hey baby,” he said, gesturing you over. “Need something?”

“No,” you said meekly, stepping towards him. He tugged you onto his lap, but instead of sitting sideways on his thighs like he intended, you full-on straddled him. Namjoon’s breath caught in his throat, and he quickly let out a cough to cover it up. You flipped your hair away from your face and leaned in to kiss him, covering his mouth with yours. You moaned into the kiss, making your intentions absolutely clear. You wanted him. You needed him. Now.

He indulged you for a few moments, kissing you back, pushing and pulling at your lips with his until you both were dizzy and delirious. You worked his mouth slightly open with each kiss until, without warning, you shoved your tongue inside his cavern, wanting to taste every inch of him.

Namjoon grunted in surprise, immediately feeling the uncomfortable tent forming in his pants as your tongues twirled together. You moaned once more and scooted forward, your crotch now pressed directly into his erection. The sigh you let out when you felt how hard he was sounded like pure heaven to Namjoon. He broke apart from you, gasping, when you started moving your hips, grinding down onto him. He wanted so badly to dip his fingers down your panties to feel how wet you were for him, wanted so badly to follow those fingers with his tongue and cock, wanted so badly to make you scream his name well into the afternoon… 

But he couldn’t.

This time, it wasn’t his lack of control holding him back, or the desire to drive you mad, but fucking work. He had a conference call in two minutes, and that wasn’t nearly enough time for him to have his way with you.

He pushed you gently back, separating your bodies just enough to clear some of the lustful haze from both of your minds. You pouted. “What’s wrong?” you asked. “Joon, do you not like me like that?”

Namjoon’s mouth parted open, glee zipping down his nerves at your use of his nickname. “No, baby, don’t think that, it’s not like that at all.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, despair filling your eyes.

“Baby, believe me, I want you so badly it hurts,” Namjoon said hurriedly. On the inside, he was panicking. Had he fucked up?

“I just want to do this right. I want to make our first time special.”

You snorted. “What are we, sixteen? Please. I’m way past the ‘make it special’ stage. I want you.”

Namjoon let out a low groan at your whining words. God, he wanted you too. He wanted nothing more. “Then you can have me any way you like,” he murmured, combing a hand through the strands of your hair. “But later. I have a conference call starting like, now. Afterwards, I promise, I’m all yours.”

You jutted your lip out in a pout once more, but hung your head and nodded. “Fine.”

“Don’t worry,” Namjoon said, tossing you a cheeky wink as you clambered off his lap. “It’ll be worth the wait.”

You were about to throw a retort back in his face, but smirked instead as a deliciously evil idea entered your brain. “Alright then,” you said, replacing the smirk with an innocent expression. You couldn’t let him know what you were thinking.

You turned and exited his office, but instead of going back to the living room, you quietly slipped out the front door and went over to your own house. Namjoon didn’t see you leave on his hidden camera because he was too busy logging into his conference call, nor did he see you sneak back in ten minutes later, suspiciously wearing a long overcoat despite the humid summer heat.

You crept down the hall and peered into his office. Namjoon had a headset on and was talking quietly into the microphone. You waited until he paused for a bit before clearing your throat. Your boyfriend whipped his head around, his mouth parting in surprise. His eyes widened as you started undoing the buttons of your coat, a smirk spreading from one corner of your lips to the other. Quick as lightning, he turned back to his computer and made a couple clicks with his mouse. “What’re you doing?” he hissed.

“I’m sick of waiting,” you replied, moving fully into the room once you realized he turned his webcam off.

“Baby, please,” he said, his eyes pleading. “This meeting is important. I swear, I’ll give you all the time in the world, you just have to be patient for a few more minutes.”

You let out a hum, holding your finger to your lips. “Fine,” you relented. “But I want to stay here, with you.”

Namjoon sighed. “Like where? I can’t have you on camera, jagiya.”

You knelt down on the floor beside his chair. “Here. I’ll stay out of sight.”

Your boyfriend shook his head, but you caught traces of a small smile that made your confidence grow. Hopefully, he would like what you had planned for him next.

Namjoon gave you a stern look before looking back at his screen and turning his webcam and mic back on. Once he was pulled back into the call, you scooted closer to his chair and resumed unbuttoning your coat. Joon glanced at you briefly, and you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, staring up at him with an eyebrow mischievously cocked. You slowly drew the coat off your shoulders, revealing the lace harness leotard-shaped teddy underneath. He gasped at the sight of you presenting yourself to him dressed in so little. You heard the voices coming faintly through his headphones pause before one of them supposedly asked a question.

“S-Sorry,” Namjoon said, looking back at the screen once more. “Yes, I heard your question. I’m a go for that project.”

Once his co-workers resumed talking, Joon clicked his mic off once more. “Baby,” he hissed. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you said, feigning innocence. “I’m just sitting here, like you told me.”

His eyes darkened as they roamed over your torso, appreciative of the way your perky breasts practically spilled out of the lingerie. “You’re such a brat,” he growled. “I know what you’re doing, and believe me, you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

“Promise?” you teased, fluttering your lashes.

Namjoon chuckled, shaking his head. “Stay put, and I’ll reward you a thousand times over. Move a muscle, and I’ll make sure your punishment lasts all night.”

He clicked his mic back on and began murmuring into it once more, not missing a beat. You obeyed his command for a while, but quickly started to get bored. This wouldn’t do. You came here dressed like this to soothe the ache between your loins, not further it.

Coy as could be, you crawled slowly on your hands and knees to the front of Namjoon’s desk, looking back to make sure he was checking out your barely-covered ass.

Joon’s eyes widened as he realized what you were going to do. He muted his mic. “No, no, no-no-no-no, baby, are you crazy? You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.”

“Relax,” you purred. “I just wanna make you feel good while you’re on this boring conference call.”

You ducked beneath the desk, kneeling in front of his legs and bringing your face between his deliciously thick thighs. You lightly blew on his crotch, relishing in the way he was already tenting his pants. Namjoon chuckled darkly. “You wanna play, baby? Fine, go ahead… but it’s going to cost you. Like I said, your punishment is going to last all night long.”

“Believe me, I’d like nothing more,” you murmured as you started unbuckling his belt. Namjoon waited until the clinks of the metal subsided before resuming his call.

As he spoke, you palmed him and began massaging his hard, still-clothed length. The way his breath hitched, and the way his cheeks grew tinged with pink spurred you on to take it a step further. You unbuttoned his trousers, stared up at him, took his zipper between your teeth, and slowly lowered it, not taking your eyes off him for a single second.

Namjoon let out a long, soft breath, trying so hard to keep himself contained. You were gonna get him so fired, but at this point, he didn’t give a fuck. He was ready to see your pretty pink mouth wrapped around his cock, sucking it like it was the most delicious thing you’d ever had in your mouth.

You licked long strips up his black boxer briefs, still refusing to look away. When someone asked him a question, Namjoon snapped his head back up to look at the screen. “Y-Yes sir,” he said, panting a little. Damn, if he thought he was in control, he was dead wrong. You already had him on the edge, and you had barely begun.

Once the outside of his underwear was moist enough to your satisfaction, you hooked a finger under his waistband and pulled down the fabric just enough to free his large, hard length. You stared at it for a moment, wondering how you were going to fit such a girthy member into your mouth, let alone your dampening-by-the-minute pussy.

Without any more hesitation, you pushed the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking hard. Namjoon squirmed, biting his lip to keep from groaning out loud. God, your mouth was amazing. So good, it was sinful. You, however, didn’t relent. You sucked him down even further, hollowing out your cheeks until he was hitting the back of your throat. Every muscle in Joon’s body clenched as he tried not to cum right then and there.

Then, like a blessing sent from above, Namjoon’s boss announced the end of the meeting and began thanking everyone for coming. As soon as the call ended and all microphones and cameras were off, Namjoon grabbed you by the hair and yanked your head backward. You yelped from the sudden pain and the simultaneous loss of his thickness from your mouth.

“What did I say?” he growled, a smirk spreading across his face. “I told you to fucking stay put and you didn’t listen.”

“I’m sorry,” you whined. “I just wanted you so bad.”

He mercifully released his hold on your hair, letting your chin drop back down. “Clearly. You couldn’t even be patient for the half-hour that call took.”

“How could I?” you pouted. “You made me wait long enough.”

Suddenly, Namjoon’s expression changed, growing softer. “I’m sorry baby, I really am,” he said, pushing his chair away and kneeling on the ground with you.

“Don’t be.” You grinned.”I’m loving this.”

Joon’s eyes darkened once more, narrowing into slits as a smirk crossed over his full lips. “You are, are you? Well, then… don’t mind if I continue.”

He stood, pulled his trousers all the way down, wrapped your hair ‘round his large hand, and shoved his cock back into your waiting mouth. “Fuck,” he moaned as he hit the back of your throat once more. Slowly, he began thrusting, mesmerized by the way your lips swallowed him whole over and over and over again.

Before he began full-on face-fucking you, Namjoon reached out, took your hand, and placed it on his thigh. “Tap once for a break,” he said firmly. “Tap twice if you want to completely stop.”

You nodded in response, unable to respond due to your mouth full of cock.

Joon let out a feral sound, half-way between a growl and a moan, and sped up his pace. The nerve endings surrounding his thick member set his skin on fire, making sweat break out all over his body. His balls tightened in preparation for release, and it felt like all the blood in his body was being sucked towards his dick, wanting to feel nothing but the sensation of your mouth.

“Such a good girl,” Namjoon groaned. You moaned in response, still taking his cock like a pro. Tears were running down your face from the pressure, trailing from your jawline to the curve of your breasts. It was so wet and so dirty, but you loved it. You loved making him feel good. You loved pleasing him. You loved him.

At that realization, your eyes widened from shock, and you ended up gagging and choking a bit on your boyfriend’s cock. That sent him completely over the edge, and Namjoon stilled, letting out a loud, ferocious grunt as he shot ropes of cum down your throat. You tapped his thigh, and he immediately pulled out, a string of white liquid hanging between his large member and your mouth.

“Fuck, baby, that was amazing,” he sighed, grabbing a box of tissues and dropping down onto his knees beside you.

He hugged you tight, kissing your cheek, your chin, your jaw, your neck. “So good, so perfect,” he murmured, his words slurring a bit. “Forget your punishment, you deserve all the rewards in the world, jagiya.”

You continued gasping and swallowing, wiping your tears and spit away with the tissues over his shoulder until the only remnants of the blowjob were the wet stains littering the front of your lingerie. Namjoon continued kissing you, running his hands all over you, cupping your breasts, and smoothing his thumbs over your nipples.

“I wanna run my tongue all over you,” he said suddenly, unbuttoning his shirt and discarding it, leaving him enticingly naked. “I wanna taste your pussy from behind.”

He stood and quickly removed his laptop from his desk before shoving everything else off of it. “Bend over,” he commanded, pointing at the desk’s wooden surface.

You didn’t have to be told twice. Stumbling a bit, you stood and obediently lay your upper half across the smooth, cool wood. “Oh my fucking god, baby,” Namjoon moaned when he realized your lingerie was crotchless. Everything you had was completely on display for him, ready to be used in whatever way he chose.

Your boyfriend wasted no time in kneeling on the ground, his face level with your dripping pussy. He grabbed your ass with both hands, massaging and kneading your cheeks as you let out long, drawn-out moans, egging him on. Finally, he spread your cheeks and you felt his tongue run from your clit to the bottom of your slit.

“Oh god!” you gasped out.

“Mmmm, that’s right, baby…” Namjoon murmured as he nosed at your folds. “You taste even better than I imagined.”

In response, you pushed your hips backward, trying to get more friction. “Hold still,” your boyfriend growled.

You froze at his words, and he rewarded you with slow, soft kitten licks up and down your gushing slit. Then, without warning, he pushed his wet muscle inside of you and began eating you out with vigor.

“Fuck! Namjoon!”

His dick leaked pre-cum at hearing you finally moan his name. He couldn’t believe how turned on he was. Ten minutes ago, he thought you had sucked the very soul out of him. How could he be so hard once more already?

It was you. Everything you did, the way you tasted, your long, draw-out moans that were getting shorter as you got closer to your high, the way you handed over the reins of control to him, all accumulated in Namjoon’s absolute, pure arousal. You were perfect for him… and he was never letting you go.

Namjoon went from tongue-fucking you into oblivion to wrapping his full lips around your clit and sucking, hard. Every muscle in your body clenched, trying so hard to be good and not move like he ordered, but it was near impossible with how stimulated you were. You couldn’t take it anymore when your boyfriend inserted two fingers inside of your cavern, doubling the pleasure shuddering through your body.

You began to pant, your moans coming out more like short screams. “Right there!” you gasped. “R-Right there!”

Namjoon chuckled. He absolutely loved seeing you in this state, completely helpless, completely underneath his spell, completely submissive to him and only him. “C’mon, jagiya, cum for me. Cream these fingers.”

Your brain took his filthy words to heart. Every muscle in your body tightened, trembling from the inevitable snap, and your folds clenched tight around Joon’s fingers. He resumed sucking on your clit, and you completely fell apart.

“Mmmmffff, Namjooooon!” you wailed as your orgasm racked your body. Waves of insane pleasure crashed through you, once, twice, three times before your lungs allowed you to draw breath.

Namjoon gripped your forearms and pulled you upright, kissing you fiercely. “You did so good, baby, so good, so perfect,” he murmured between kisses. His chin was shiny from your juices, and you could taste yourself as he pressed his lips to yours over and over again.

He swooped you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom, gently laying you down on his king-size bed before climbing over you, nudging apart your thighs with a knee. He kissed you deeply, his lips first enveloping yours, then moving down to your neck. You felt teeth graze your skin as he got more aggressive, nipping at your neck until he settled on a spot and began to suck. He wanted to mark his territory, wanted to make the whole world see who you belonged to. You didn’t mind. It’s not like you went into the office very often, and besides, you could always cover the marks with a scarf or a bandage.

Namjoon didn’t stop there, moving from your neck to your breasts, freeing them from their confines so he could mouth at them, sucking each nipple in turn. You moaned at the sensation, feeling the buds peak and harden beneath your boyfriend’s skillful touch. He slid his hands underneath you and started undoing the ties holding your lace teddy together, fingers fumbling with the tiny buckles.

Once he succeeded, he peeled the fabric from your body, showing off every inch of your bare skin, shiny from sweat. “Mmmmmmmm,” Joon groaned. “I could stare at you all day, baby.”

And he really would. You were even better than he imagined, and he wanted this image burned into his eyeballs, wanted your naked form permanently captured, meant for no one’s eyes but his.

He pressed his hard length against you, earning a gasp from between your pretty lips. With a smirk, Namjoon stroked himself between your folds, relishing in the skin-on-skin contact. Your wetness increased as the head of his cock teased your clit, causing loud moans to escape your lungs. However, in the middle of the lustful haze clouding your brain, a tiny bit of clarity shot through. “Namjoon, wait,” you panted suddenly. “I’m… I’m not on the pill.”

Your boyfriend didn’t relent, continuing to tease both you and himself. “So?”

“So… we need a condom?”

He chuckled. “Oh, baby, no we don’t.”

You stiffened at his words. “Um, yes we do?”

Namjoon leaned down and kissed you deeply, pouring his tongue into your mouth like sweet honey. He pulled away from you just enough to brush his lips over your cheek and jawline. “I promise you, I’m clean,” he murmured as he kissed you. He knew you were clean, too. He hacked your doctor’s files weeks ago, wanting to make sure you were safe.

“That’s not the point,” you replied. “I mean, that is the point, but it’s also so I don’t… get… pregnant?” Your mind was still cloudy, delirious from pleasure, and your mind was having trouble comprehending the fact that Namjoon, normally so responsible and together, was saying this to you.

“Don’t worry about that,” Joon murmured, his lips ghosting over yours.

Your eyes popped open, brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?” you asked, sure you misheard him.

“If you get pregnant, I’ll take care of you… and the baby.”

Namjoon would love nothing more. If you had his baby, you would have something tying you to him for the rest of your lives. You’d depend on him more, need him even more than you already did. You wouldn’t be able to leave.

You lay there, mouth parted open in complete shock. Was your boyfriend actually saying what you thought he was saying? Namjoon leaned back and pressed his hips into yours, stroking between your folds once more with his rigid member, moistening your pussy with pre-cum. Slowly, he began to slip inside, teasing your hole with just the tip, sliding further in with each stroke.

You quickly sat up and grabbed Namjoon’s shoulders. “Joon,” you said firmly. “If we’re going to do this, you need to put on a condom.”

Namjoon chuckled low in his throat, shaking his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I bet you’re not even ovulating, baby, and besides, I want to feel you. All of you.”

You lay back down, thinking. He was right, you weren’t ovulating… but still. You didn’t know if you wanted to risk it. Your boyfriend groaned as his length delved deeper inside of you, his balls almost flush with your pussy lips. He was right, his bare cock slipping in and out of your cavern did feel extremely good… but did that justify being so irresponsible?

Namjoon was finally fully enveloped within you, and he began to pick up his pace, eager to finish you both off and make you his for good.

“J-Joon,” you stuttered, placing your palms against his chest and gently pushing backward. His eyes remained closed, his hips snapping into yours as he continued pounding into you, grunting with each thrust.

“Joon, s-stop,” you said, pushing harder. He still didn’t move.

“I said, stop!” you cried. Namjoon’s eyes flew open, and you gasped. They were dark, the same blaze you saw when he confronted Jungkook roaring to life behind his irises. His lips contorted into a smirk, and he slowed his thrusts only to grab hold of your wrists and pin them above your head. Your mouth dropped open from both the pleasure and the pain.

“I said to stop worrying,” Joon growled in your ear. “Let me make you feel good. Let me take care of you. Let me make you mine.”

You let out a gasping moan as his cock hit that perfect spot, grazing that bundle of nerves deep inside you.

“That’s right, jagiya. You’re mine. You’re all mine.”

You closed your eyes and nodded, all worry slipping away as pure pleasure overtook all your senses and clouded your brain once more.

“Look at me,” your boyfriend ordered. Your eyes snapped open, wide, almost frightened as you caught sight of the animalistic lust urging your boyfriend on.

“Say it,” he demanded, thrusting in and out so hard it was almost painful. “Say you’re mine.”

“I-I-I…” you stuttered, your back arching as your impending orgasm approached.

“Say it!”

“I’m yours!” you cried out. “All yours!”

Namjoon’s thrusts became sloppy. “That’s right, you’re mine,” he growled. “Mine.”

“Yours!” you agreed as your muscles tightened once more, causing your entire body to tremble. You could feel nothing but pleasure as your orgasm overtook you, making you splutter nonsense as waves of delectation shook you to your core.

“Yours, yours, yours, Namjoon’s, I’m yours,” you chanted as spots appeared at the edge of your vision.

Namjoon’s hips stuttered, and he let out a series of grunts as he released inside of you. You felt his hot liquid hit your cervix, drawing out yet another wave of pleasure from your orgasm, before your body went completely limp.

Chest heaving, Namjoon slowly withdrew out of you and lay beside you, kissing your cheek. “I love you, Y/n,” he sighed.

Your eyelids fluttered open at the sudden proclamation. “I love you too, Joon,” you murmured, too exhausted to realize the extent of his or your words.

Glee exploded throughout Namjoon’s limbs, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck to hide the grin spreading over his face. He knew it. He knew you would love him just as much as he loved you. He knew you wanted to be his, were born to be his.

He knew he would never let you go.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Another Note From Kutemouse: Holy shit-eu!! That was a wild ride, eh?? Thanks for reading. Part Four coooooming soon!

Okay. Its 2:47am, I have classes tomorrow and I was MAD looking for this. This one is probably one of my favorite yoongi fanfics ever, not only because I see him in every word, every detail I guess he's in my mind, but I see myself too, as a silent lover. This one changed the way I saw my relationships, truly.

Love Language

Summary: Your boyfriend obviously loves you, but his silence has you questioning if he *wants* you. If you could only get past your damn insecurities maybe you could appreciate what you have.  SMUT/ANGST/FLUFF

Pairings: Yoongi/Reader

Rating: it’s fucking explicit. 21+

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral (both receiving), butt stuff (male receiving, its mild ass play during a blowjob don’t freak out), sex toys, angsty dumbass reader, sweet sweet patient saint of a man Yoongi 

Word count: 5,325

A/N: i’m sorry that nothing i write will ever be as good as Sorry, bae. Enjoy this mess anyway. ILY. 

He’s quiet. He’s always quiet. You’re a mess beneath him, all heavy panting and desperate pleas. He asks no questions, offers no endearments, the only sound he makes is his labored breath. You can barely tell when he cums. You have to watch him closely, try to catch that tick in his jaw before it happens. The only other tell is when his release starts dripping down your ass or if he goes soft. He doesn’t talk you through it, doesn’t tell you how good it feels. He’s quiet. This time is no different. You really should be used to it by now, but some small part of you sees it as failure. You wonder if he’s really enjoying himself more and more lately. He fucks you so good you can’t control the litany of filth spilling from your mouth, and somehow he remains stoic. His silence makes you feel self conscious. You tell yourself you’re not going to moan this time every time he sinks into your core. You never make it more than a few thrusts before you’re singing his praises. Doesn’t it feel that good for him?

Continuar lendo

*sniffs* i i cant- *sniffs*

Jungkook: “Well, I remember you used to be mine.”

Prompt requested by anon: Jungkook

#5 - “Hey, don’t cry, alright? I’m here…” 

#12 - “Well…I remember you used to be mine.

> [prompt list] [masterlist] < 

~ 

Regret is such a big word when it comes to love, it really is. 

I and Jungkook have been together for about 4 years now, and it was just this one day that ruined it all. I confessed that it was hard dating an idol, and hell, I knew that from the start. Don’t get me wrong, I loved him so much; I loved his personality, his cute and bubbly personality, the way he treats others, everything. But the hate that I have been hiding in myself for the past three years was getting too much. I appreciated every single person that respected me and his’ relationship, those who fought for us and defended our love to those who despised us. 

And as much as I would hate to say this, I didn’t regret leaving. Hell, I felt happier, I felt free, I felt that I could fly, really. You might say that I’m a bad person for saying this, but it just wasn’t fair for me. He knew how to handle hatred while I didn’t. 

It has been around 7 months since we broke up, and I am on the bridge of moving on. It was hard. His members couldn’t stop messaging me, asking if I was alright, but that didn’t help. But today, Jungkook called and asked me for us to meet. 

My first instinct was, of course, to deny. Why would he? Did he want us to be back together? But I let him speak, 

“No, it’s not like that. I just want us to clear everything up between us…and, you know, not being awkward around e-each other. I still want us to have a good relationship, Y/N.” 

The line became quiet between us. Deep down I wanted this, too. I want us to still be close around each other. “Okay. Where?” I spoke after some time. “The Savory Factory.” 

It just had to be one of our all-time favorites, huh? 

~

After I was dropped off by my uber, there I stood in front of the restaurant. It brought me so many memories, a whole wave came crashing through my brain. This was our first date, our meeting place, our number one takeout place, where we laughed too much and almost got kicked out, every best possible memory with him was at this place. The fact that we never got tired of this building was too good to be true.

I step inside, pushing the door to be greeted with not many people, actually. The place looked peaceful and happy. Familiar faces of waitresses and waiters greeted me. Every customer seemed so joyous. And I guess that’s why we fell in love in this place.

I scanned around the place looking for this brown-haired man. What am I talking about, there’s a lot of brown-haired guys in this place. But after I scanned the whole area, my eyes locked into these pairs of brown, doe eyes. I knew it was him. Those innocent looking eyes which I fell for, those eyes that I knew held so much love for us, those eyes that always held me captive for him. Those eyes that I know so well. 

I smiled politely, making my way up to his table. As I was walking, he suddenly stood up making me stop lightly between my tracks. “No, come. I’m greeting you, Y/N.” Oh. I lowered my head down and approached him furthermore. He made his way around the table and pulled back my chair for me, like the true gentleman I know he is. Reminds me so much of our first date. I thanked him shyly and sat down and he did the same thing opposite of me. 

“I’m so glad you came, Y/N.” he started off. I noticed in his voice that he was trying to hide his nervousness, but it still appeared. I didn’t judge him though, I felt the same thing. “Of course.” He smiled in return. A waiter came up to us to get our orders, a pen and paper in his hands. “Are you hungry, Y/N?” He asked. 

You know what, I was overthinking this situation in the car earlier. If we were to talk about some serious stuff, and if that leads me into a crying mess then I wouldn’t order some baby back ribs like we usually do. “I’ll just have a milkshake.” “Flavor?” He looked at me knowingly while wiggling his eyebrows, making me giggle. “Matcha.” The waiter scribbled it down his paper, noticing how he also chuckled lightly. “Do you guys still have the banana milk in stock?” You can’t help yourself from laughing in your seat. Oh, those banana milk. After the waiter literally said that they have a full on stock, his eyes glistened up and became excited. “Okay, can I have one, please.” The waiter finished scribbling down those two drinks (which you can just really memorize mentally) and went away.

“I think we’re doing this pretty well.” I smiled at him. My heart fluttered when he smiled back, revealing the crinkles around the corners of his eyes. He showed his beautiful bunny-like teeth in his smile while lowering his head. “I know. It’s been a hell of a time that I’ve been here.” He spoke, eyes wandering around the area. Stunning. I missed this so much. I never knew how much I missed seeing his striking face, seeing his smile once again. “My last time that I was here was with you, you know.” He said. I nodded my head, “Mhmm.”

Then, there was this sudden stillness in the air. I couldn’t describe it; it was a mix of a reasonable emotion and uneasiness. He was just staring at me, piercing right into my eyes. I gulped down the forming ball in my throat, forcing myself to look at him once more. “Tell me I’m not the only one that keeps getting these memories thrown at me.” He softly whispered more to himself as his chocolate eyes were kept still in mine. I chuckled softly, grinning at him. “Of course not, Jungkook.”

That was it. The first time that he heard you say his name in months. He missed how your lips formed those letters so gorgeously, how sweet your voice sounds.

You both felt guilty, that’s for sure.

“I remember the time where we stayed up for so long in our seats that there were literally four customers already been sat at the table opposite us. I’m glad that no one noticed that time.” I said, trying to liven up the mood. “I know right! If it isn’t for you, dragging us both out of this place and being anxious about someone scolding us, then we would’ve stayed there a bit longer.”

“Please, you know how bothered I can be in these type of situations in public.”

“Public? The Savory Factory is basically our home!” he exclaimed, eyes shining. My heart clenched so much that it hurts. I missed him so much. I miss the boy that I fell in love with. He was always like this. Always so cheerful and passionate. He brightens up my day up to a million, and it hurts that I know that he knows that we only had each other that brightens our days. He laughed after, giggling in his seat while I just looked at him so…tenderly? It might’ve looked weird, for I noticed his eyebrows frowning just a little. But to distract my troubled thoughts, I asked him this question. “Do you have any more memories?”

Wrong move, Y/N. I mentally slapped myself.

I heard him sigh, smiling down at his lap. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that—“

“Well…” he cut me off,

“I remember you used to be mine.”

My heart jumped. It hurt, it felt like a hundred stabs went straight through me. My breathing became uneven and my palms were sweaty. “Jungk—“

“Sir, miss, here are your drinks. Enjoy.” Enjoy. The waiter came and placed our drinks in front of us. Seeing both of our iconic orders together made me feel even weaker than I already am.

“Jungkook, w-what do you mean?” I stuttered, looking into his eyes. His hand combed his hair, sighing whilst at it. His eyes met mine once more and it felt like he was looking right through my poor soul. He smiled at me whole-heartedly. Full of love, evident in his eyes. “I remember when we first came here, how we used to always come here in the middle of the night for snacks, how we used to order the same thing over and over again, how we used to memorize the whole menu.“ He smiled in between his sentences.

His eyes became watery and a hint of sadness in it despite how lovingly he stared. His eyes always expressed more than words, always. My eyes can’t stop watering as well, feeling my lips trembling. "I remember how we used to hold hands, how you reacted when I first called you ‘baby’”, he smiled even wider while his tears already are slowly dripping down his cheeks. You felt the need to wipe them away, and you did. You gently wiped away his fallen tears with your thumb, allowing him to take ahold of your quivering hand, devouring them in between his. 

“I-I remember how much you loved to play with my hands, and how much I had a weakness when you played with my hair. H-how much I truly loved cooking breakfast for you in the morning, and for how many days do you not fail to impress me. Y/N, I missed you.”

And, yes, there and then I started crying. I let out all of my tears flow down onto my cheeks, dripping down my jaw. With my other hand still in his grasp, I used my opposite to try to cover up my face. There were people looking, staring, and some even feeling pity for us. But I didn’t care at that time. Breaking up was a mistake, I realized I never actually felt happy after leaving him, but I only said that to myself to help me move on. I still, in fact, loved him. 

“Babe, c’mere,” he whispered to me after giving a soft kiss on the back of my hand. I looked up at him a bit confused. 

He stood up, pushing back his chair while he pulled my hand and making me stand up with him. I was still sniffling while he led us into the back of the restaurant which there was the little balcony that we used to go. People mostly go there to smoke, but we go there for other reasons. We spoke a lot of deep stuff in this balcony–and as cheesy at it may sound, we looked up at the stars a lot; we admired the sky that we were capsuled in.  

He opened the door and let it shut behind us, making me turn to face him. His arms were wrapped around my waist tightly, not letting go. “Jungkook, I-I’m sorry.” I mewled, lowering my head in shame, “I’m so sorry for hurting you. I know I hurt you when we broke up. I was so stupid and I didn’t think about you at all–” 

“Y/N, no, don’t blame it all to yourself. I was a dick, I know it. I let you sink into all of these hate without helping you. It was me who didn’t think about you.” he cried. I have never seen him like this, bawling his eyes out to the point that they were red. I cried harder, placing my head on his right shoulder, wrapping my arms around him. He moved one of his arms upward, stroking my hair gently, noticing how it was slightly trembling. 

“Hey, don’t cry, alright? I’m here…” He whispered gently into my ear, calmingly. He himself has hushed down his whimpers a little, now only little sniffs coming out of him. “Y/N, baby, shh, I’m here, I’m here.” 

He let myself take my time, letting the pain all out of his shoulders, staining his black shirt. After a while, I finally looked up at him, smiling. He smiled back which made my heart jump. His eyes were red and puffy, and I could say the same about mine. His hair was indeed messy and his tears stained against his cheek. “I still love you, Jungkook. You know that, right?” I softly whispered. His chest rose up and down a few times, noticing a blush in his cheeks. “I know. I love you more, Y/N.” 

And with that he pulled my body closer to him, his grip tightening on my hips, and we kissed for who knows after an eternity. 

This was requested for anon and I really hoped you liked it! gOSH i had so many feels while writing this one damn, Jungkook boutta bias wreck me lmao. Anyways if you liked this one and you want your own, you can request in my ‘request submissions’ tab. xoxo

JAISJDJDIDJDKWKSJSJSN I HAD TO STUDY SO BAD BUT I SAW THIS AND READ FOR 2 HOURS UDUFJFKGKFKF ISTG I WANT A BABY AND A KOOKIEEE

➝ jungkook x reader

➝ genre: fluff, angst | single dad au

➝ summary: for almost four years it had been just him and sarang, and he had no plans on changing the life they had become accustomed to any time soon, but of course y/n has to come and shake his world.

main masterlist

0.0. intros

0.1. tricks

0.2. blind date

0.3. disappointing

0.4. mid twenties

0.5. confidence boost

0.6. childhood crush

0.7. we’re a family

0.8. fashion prodigy

0.9. dumpling

1.0. back in seoul?

1.1. businesswoman

1.2. sweet angel

1.3. lucky

1.4. let’s talk

1.5. L word

1.6. busan junk food

1.7. coolest kid

1.8. high quality boyfriend

1.9. family

2.0. rainbow cake

2.1. birthday traditions

2.2. my kinda girls

2.3. again

2.4. break

2.5. sugary treats

2.6. my little lovie

2.7. girls on a mission

2.8. positive

2.9. make it right

3.0. my angel

3.1. breakfast time

3.2. soft on main

3.3. the one

3.4. sarang 2.0

3.5. not a party

3.6. daddy’s cuddles

3.7. epilogue I

3.8. epilogue II

extra

this screamed friday night with popcorn and candy, so i dID IT. it kinda became a fav, cause tae here is such an asshole and i don’t know how to treat assholes so i’d be just like y/n (poor girl) and the end is so so cute cute cute gritting teeth cute

stuck with you || [roommate!taehyung]

❥ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

❥ genre: university!au, enemies-to-lovers, fratboy!tae??, comedy that’ll either make you chuckle out loud or roll your eyes and snoRT or maybe u won’t laugh that’s cool too, domestic fluff because i want to go grocery shopping with tae toO (but also fluff in general!!), smutty smut so make sure to read this with your phone’s brightness lowered all the dang way, hi @ librarian!namjoon!!! fratboy!jungkook is also in here 

❥ wordcount: 37k if ur reading this on mobile get rekt

❥ summary: kim taehyung becoming your new roommate is definitely up there on the list of the worst things that have ever happened to you. 

❥ note: it’s finally here! this is my biGGEst fic to date and all i’m going to say is get comfortable and maybe get a snack because you, my friend, are about to read a whole ass novel and embark on a rollercoaster of a fiC. hopefully this was worth the wait!! i didn’t think i was capable of writing so much and my fingers are about to fall off but it was totaLLY worth it!!!! there’s kind of a 10 things i hate about you vibe if u squint and also most of the dumB things tae does in this fic were inspired by my ex-roommate so i hope she never finds this lol but also everyone say thank u to her for inspiring roommate!tae! i hope u guys love/hate him just as much as i do! happy reading!! 

pst if u wanna talk to y/n or tae (or even applicant #8 if ur brave enough) ((you’ll get it soon)) u know what to do ;-)

(gif isn’t mine!)

(((and the read more function iS there but most of the time it doesn’t work on mobile :// i am sorry don’t attack me by sending passive-aggressive anon messages)))

                                    ━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

“what do you mean you’re moving out?!”

namjoon can safely say that he’s never seen such pure, unadulterated rage simmering in your eyes

some apple juice dribbles out from your straw as your grip tightens around your juice box

he swallows nervously and tugs at his collar

is it just him or is it getting kind of hot in here

Keep reading

This is chef's kiss. I live for supernatural themes involving the boys into fanfiction, but besides wolf and hybrid ones, there's still a lot of underestimated universes and creatures. Felix culpa brings a different vision from fairies and incubus, so I felt eager to read more and more until i reached the end in less than an hour. Wonderful!

yoongi scenario | felix culpa

« felix culpa: a fortunate fall; an apparent error or disaster with happy consequences »

➸ prompt: We’re both descended from feuding supernatural families, and to stop the centuries of fighting you and I are arranged to be married.

➸ pairing: incubus yoongi x fairie reader

➸ requested by anon | 4.2k words | fluff, angst

Stay on your side of the wall. That’s the most important rule, drilled into you since you were babbling in your cradle. Before you learnt what magic was, learnt about the power coursing through your body, you knew what the wall was. It’s a constant presence, even when its golden bricks are out of sight, you can still feel its impressive and impassive force. All that’s beyond it is an unending darkness, and darker creatures – some call them incubi, some call them devils. You call them a mystery.

They’re the reason the fairie government put up the wall, and the magic barrier that reinforces it. Faeries can get out, but nothing can get in. Below your artificial lights, your kind are free to live without fear of being snatched into the blackness of the wastelands next door.

But there’s something about the wall that pulls you to it, curious about what lies outside. Maybe it’s your heart pulling you towards love, somewhere on the shadowy other side, in the shape of someone you were taught to fear.

You meet him in your eleventh year.

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I've read this twice. I wasn't satisfied with the amount of pain I've been through reading, so I read another time. It's not about the angst - there is a lot, I should warn - but the "I miss the story the plotline the characters and everything else" kind of re-reading.

This is probably THE fanfiction if you're feeling sad and in a true need for a cuddle. They cuddle A LOT and I love it so so much it even hurts. My favorite parts were definitely those, where intimacy is at the highest point (for me, I guess), and the comfort that it irradiated, even when the smuts came, were *chef's kiss* amazing.

It's already a fav and I know, I just know, I'm gonna read it again, so I need to save this wonderful piece the author gently posted for everyone. Speaking of them: thank you so much for this! Your mind is beautiful and so is your writing. Can't wait to read more!

Sugarplum Elegy (M)

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader Genre | Fluff, smut, angst / College!AU, FWB!AU, Soundcloud singer!AU, Idiots to Lovers!AU Warnings | Explicit language, hopeless and helpless pining, constipated feelings, lots of smut, rimming, cum-eating, spitting, blowjob, fingering, classroom sex, Jungkook is emotionally constipated but wbk  Summary | You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while.

Or, Jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

Word count | 17.9k

There’s no greater testament to love than love itself – the sheer vulnerability of being bound to someone emotionally and physically, and the aching process that bleeds into infinity. To love in every sense of the word is to offer your entire heart and place it on someone’s bare hands, despite knowing that they might crush it in front of your very eyes.

Maybe love is like a dandelion, pretty during the summer mornings, but upon a huge gust of wind, its petals will be blown away, leaving its heart barren, abandoned. Given your past relationships, forming a fresh new ache and vulnerability for yet another person frightens the fuck out of you.

So when you wake up to a Jeon Jungkook beside you, lulled by the quiet sound of his breathing, your heart fizzles in your chest. It’s a no-strings-attached agreement that you two have decided on at the beginning of the year, but it’s still a feeling you can’t quite get accustomed to, especially when the first thing you see in the morning is his peaceful sleeping face, unless he’s spooning you, in which his warm breath will tickle the back of your nape. It’s weird because it feels nice, feels so right.

It’s been six months since you two started the whole fuckbuddy agreement, yet you still can’t get used to how warm Jungkook is, always so warm, as if the sun has chiselled its way into every single pore of your body, softening and melting your sharp edges. While his body still sends zaps down your spine, your mind registers that you’ve grown to adore the heat of his body when your cold feet always find themselves tangled together with his under the sheets.

He’s not much of a morning person, but sometimes, you’d wake up to him staring at you, caressing every detail of your face with his eyes, sunlight glittering golden in them, and smiling like a fool (an adorable one at that) at your groggy and sleepy self, as though your crusty morning face turns him on because it often leads to the continuation of the previous night’s copulation before scrambling to class.

You know no bounds nor depth with Jeon Jungkook. If anything, you’ve concluded that you’ve never met a person quite like him before, like the cosmos has moved for this concurrence to be possible.

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hehehe this is so cute and fluffy and funny and everything i had a bad bad day and the giggles i let go with this are priceless hehehe im laughing rn thank you my dear

𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 || jungkook x reader

genre: crack

→ in which jungkook tastes blood whenever someone lies to him. jungkook also tastes blood when he asks his girlfriend if she's still in love with him and she says yes.

an: initially this au idea was supposed to be a long angsty au...turns out im a clown so now it is a short crack au.

introduction

part one | pinterest couple

part two | small punch

part three | sale chips

part four | no plan good plan

part five | metallic taste

part six | no vagina no privileges

part seven | the damn fish again

part eight | no fish

part nine | pal or fart dude, decide

part ten | day 1

part eleven | cut

part twelve | frickin frick

part thirteen | ok lie but why

part fourteen | big brain

part fifteen | ok but food

end

thank you for reading!

I've finally started my vacations and the first fic i decided to read was this and im aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaslkjflsjflkajs

Seriously. I can tOUCH their cuteness and chemistry, it's one of my favorite couples of all times. Taehyung and oc built their moments brick by brick, and the moment they felt different towards the another, even before the god's party, was the exact same my own heart melted. After that, everytime they interacted i cried.

Despite them being my f*cking favorite, I'd KILL for an enemies to lovers between oc and Jungkook AND the past Seokjin thought she would be a great queen. In my headcanon, they both occurred in her past lives, but weren't meant to be at all, and that's okay.

The main story is great, ok, i get it, but the scenario and secondary characters are SO GOOD!!! The surrounding universe is easy to understand and the way you've written the cat-like eyes brothers, Seokjin, Jungkook as the way we see greek gods - not so trustful, good but still egotistic and with their own personalities reminding their powers - was the best.

Anyways thank you so much for writing! I slept 2am and will never regret hehe

Worshipers of the Sky [1]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 [Finale]

Part of the Worshiper Series

➜ Words: 9.8k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Some Angst, God!AU

➜ Summary: He wonders why the sky doesn’t cry for him. After all, he is a sacrifice to a god whose name he never heard of. A sacrifice to a god that everyone had forgotten about. A god who controls weather through emotions.

➜ Warnings: Drinking. Not very violent depictions of being sacrificed.

➜ Notes: Finallllllyyyy!!! I’ve been meaning to share this three-part series for awhile now!! Hope y’all enjoy.

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