#i love writing angst for you guys lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jamminvroomvroom · 7 months

Text

everything.

ln x fem!reader

in which you’re his best friend until you’re something more

hi! here you go lmao. probs the fluffiest thing i’ve ever written and i am obsessed with the concept! thank you for being here and baring with me - i loved writing this one and i’d love to hear what you think! huge shoutout to my girlies @mcmuppet and @lavenderlando ily both!

songs that set the mood: pink and white by frank ocean, daylight by harry styles, angel by finneas, enchanted by taylor swift, hate to be lame by lizzy mcalpine

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, language, friends to lovers brain rot, slight corruption kink, readers first time, qatar angst

6.4k words

“do you wanna talk about it?” you whispered softly, your hand resting on lando’s sagged shoulder.

your eyes were fixed on the third place plaque on his table in front of you, his very much fixed on the floor.

“no.” his reply was short and sweet, his tone conveying exactly how deflated he was.

you’d only flown in to qatar this morning, the october sun hitting you hard as you walked into the paddock, drastically different to the london climate you’d grown accustomed to. lando had all but begged you to come, your evening before spent on the phone, and you knew that he needed a friend, otherwise he never would have asked you to fly halfway around the world.

friends. that’s what you were.

you’d hugged him tight and told him that the weekend had to get better, and then his teammate put it on pole and got his first win. so, yeah, maybe it wasn’t going to get better and not even the podium could cheer him up.

his radio messages had hurt your heart, your chest aching as he self deprecated in the cockpit. he owned his mistakes, sure, but he’d taken it a step too far and you knew you had a job to do. you’d do anything, quite literally anything, to cheer him up.

you’d always found a way to be there for eachother, your friendship spanning five long years after you’d knocked a coffee over a guy you quickly recognised as the new mclaren driver. both nineteen and awkward as hell, you’d um-ed and er-ed and danced around one another in the busy pret in central london, chucking tissues at him, attempting to mop up the frothy mess all over his white sweatshirt.

eventually you’d just burst into laughter, lando immediately following suit. your cheeks were hurting from smiling at the curly haired stranger, intrigued by the very way his faced moved when he laughed, and he’d looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, not like someone that had just destroyed a brand new hoodie.

and just like that, a connection was born.

you’d gotten used to having a friend for only half the year, but he never let you feel the distance. paddock passes often fell through your letter box and you could usually be located in the background of his streams when he was home long enough to do them, the amount of times you’d been wrongfully accused of being his girlfriend a list as long as your arm. even in those moments of awkwardness, friendship prevailed and you both managed to crack up together about the conspiracy that you were more than friends.

and what an intriguing conspiracy it was.

“we should get you back to the hotel, you need to get some rest.” you told him, standing from the sofa and offering him your hand.

lando grabbed it, squeezing, his own special way of telling you he was grateful for your presence, and let you pull him up. as he tried to walk towards the door, you stopped him, hands on his shoulders. you wanted to shake him, tell him how fucking great he was. you didn’t think he’d appreciate that after an intense session in the car.

“hey, look at me. you got this, okay?” you smiled reassuringly, managing to get the smallest crack back from him, his lips upturning ever so slightly. something in his eyes told you that you’d succeeded, a small glimmer of an emotion that you didn’t know how to unpack.

friends.

that’s what you were.

you tried to ignore how touchy lando was being. you figured he just needed some comfort, physical touch not out of bounds in your friendship, but a new level had been reached.

on the entire walk through the paddock to his car, his hand sat comfortably on the small of your back, despite the endless amount of cameras pointed at you. his hand skimmed your thigh in the car, accidentally, you told yourself, and you had to avert your eyes when his hand graced your headrest as he reversed out of the parking space. knowing that he needed you in qatar so desperately that he’d flown you out was one thing, the way he was treating you once you got there was something else.

he’d opened your door when you pulled up at the hotel valet, helping you out of the car, his hand tucked in yours for a second longer than necessary. once again, his hand seemed to be glued to your lower back the whole way to the elevator.

the ding of the lift had you both shuffling out onto your floor, trailing towards your rooms in a heavy silence, something more left unsaid in the air.

you reached your door first, coming to a stop and shuffling around in your bag for your keycard.

“um, i need to be at the track early tomorrow. breakfast?” lando asked.

you turned to look at him, nodding your head profusely.

“of course, just drop me a message and i’ll come down and meet you.” you affirmed, your fingers finally grasping the piece of plastic that had, of course, fallen to the very bottom of your tardis of a tote bag.

you expected him to leave, but he lingered, as if there was something else on his mind.

“you okay?” you raised an eyebrow, unlocking your door. lando seemed to snap out of it then, awkwardly running a hand through his curls that had taken a brutal hit from the humidity. you liked the look on him, nonetheless.

“yeah, i- yeah, i think i just need some sleep.”

“okay, well, goodnight. let me know if you need anything.” you disappeared through the door then, the tension getting the better of you. you slumped against the shut door, wondering what he so clearly wanted to say.

the clock read 1:32am on your bedside.

a faint tapping had woken you up, and you groggily scanned the room, trying to find the source of the noise. you deduced that it was coming from your door, letting out a groan as you threw the cosy comforter off and trudged towards the disturbance.

you cracked it open, peeking through the gap and coming face to face with your best friend.

“lando?” you croaked, opening the door further.

“i’m sorry, can’t sleep. can i come in? it’s okay if not, i just didn’t know what to do.” he sounded so shy, something you didn’t recognise in the man stood before you, and you quickly swung the door open, ushering him inside.

“come, sit.” you waved for him to follow you across the room to the foot of your bed. he sat down beside you, the mattress dipping.

you patted your lap and he instantly knew what to do, laying down with his head in your lap. it’s something he did quite frequently when you were sprawled on his sofa at home, watching a shitty movie that neither of you were really paying attention to. you’d often be looking at him, praying he didn’t notice, and he’d be playing with your fingers, tracing the palm of your hand.

you couldn’t help yourself, running your hand through his curls. you didn’t mean to, stomach instantly twisting with embarrassment, but it was quickly twisting with something else. his eyes fluttered shut, a low groan falling from the back of his throat. it made your thighs clench, and he must have noticed, the tiniest smirk on his face.

“you okay?” lando asked, his eyes still shut, a look of relaxation finally on his face.

you coughed awkwardly.

“yeah, sorry. are you comfy?” you said teasingly, trying to cut the growing tension in the room.

“i am now, could fall asleep here.”

“you can, you know.” you whispered. his eyes flew open. your heart was hammering in your chest. this was new territory and you were worried you’d fucked up. sleepovers were also a norm, but one of you usually retired to a guest room, not the other side of eachothers beds.

“you want me to stay?” his voice rose in surprise.

“well, i mean, you can if you want, like, there’s space and-“ you rambled.

“do you want me to stay?” he repeated.

“is it gonna help?” you questioned cautiously.

“yes.” the confidence in which he replied did something to you.

“then stay.”

you crawled up the mattress, falling back into the place you’d so comfortably occupied just minutes before. you laid so still, watching with quiet curiosity as he slipped his hoodie off. his shirt came with it ever so slightly, riding up over his back, and you had to pry your eyes away, the ache between your thighs still ever present.

what on earth were you doing, allowing your best friend to crawl into bed with you? emotions were running so high, but it felt like a switch had been flipped ever since you hit the tarmac in qatar. every look, every touch was fuelled by something different to what it had been before and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not.

lando turned towards you, making his way back over to the bed. he looked apprehensive, as if he was thinking the same thoughts as you, wondering if there was any logic in what was about to happen. he seemed to come to the conclusion that this was, in fact, happening, crawling into bed beside you.

“is this okay?” lando breathed into the darkness of the room, his hand brushing yours. you were both as still as planks, mere centimetres separating you, the only light coming from the lamp beside the bed.

“yeah,” you took a deep breath, preparing for the words that were about to come tumbling out. “i’ve just never done this before.” you spoke quickly, sucking in another breath as you finished.

“you’ve never…”

“i’ve never shared a bed… like this.”

“like what?”

“with a… a guy?” your anxiety riddled words came out more like a question than an answer.

“oh. oh.” it seemed to dawn on lando then. “so, you’ve never… oh. i mean i can go if you’re uncomfortable.”

“lando, no, i just wanted you to know. i’m always comfortable with you.” you said, quietly baring your soul to him.

you weren’t sure why you’d basically told him you were a virgin. it held no relevance, he was just here to sleep, for some friendly comfort. he was not here for any other reason. and yet here you were, spilling the beans, all over the bed you found yourself sharing.

“i didn’t come here to, you know. i just needed you.”

you tried to ignore the pang in your chest and the annoying, minuscule butterfly springing to life in your belly.

“god, yeah i know! i didn’t think that you wanted to, well i mean not with me because why would you want me like that anyway, i get why you’re here, lando.” you rambled into the empty air. you heard yourself, groaning in embarrassment and dragging the cover over your face. lando laughed, pulling it back so he could see you again.

he was leaning over you, perched on his side, resting on his elbow.

“trust me, i’m more than happy with any part of yourself that you wanna give me.”

“don’t tease me, lando.” you scoffed. he was joking, right? right?

“i’m not! i promise, this is the one place i want to be.”

“why? why with me? i mean you could’ve called max. all he does is stream when you’re not home, think he misses you.” you were half joking, half deadly serious.

“come on, it’s you. it’s just… its been so hard this year, being away from you so much more. and then you came all the way here…” lando trailed off, averting eye contact.

you turned on your side to face him, placing your hand over his affectionately.

“you needed me.”

“exactly. i needed you. you.”

he gave you a look, one that you didn’t recognise, but you understood what it meant. it said more than anything had done since this confusingly beautiful interaction began. you got it, then, why you were here.

“lando-“

“i know that i shouldn’t tell you this and i can’t just spring this on you in the middle of the night, but i-“

“lando!”

“what?”

“kiss me.”

and god, he kissed you. the air was sucked out of your lungs, dragged out of you by the way he put his hands on your body, so urgent.

you sunk back into the mattress, his body over yours, a hand cupping your cheek while the other rested on your waist, stroking the skin there, exposed from your ridden up top. your hands were in his curls, and you revelled in the way that you could shamelessly touch them now.

he paused for a second, nose brushing yours, breathless and grinning down at you, a knowing smile that was so beautiful that it rendered you speechless.

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this.” lando breathed, scanning your face as if he was trying to take it all in. you, panting beneath him, coy smile, cheeks flushed. you’d never looked so gorgeous to him.

you leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time, relishing in the moment. you were lost in him, thinking back to the very first time you’d locked eyes and how you never thought it would come to this. this, the way he was holding you, was the best surprise.

lando pulled away, peppering your flushed cheeks with kisses, a dazed giggle passing your swollen lips.

he flopped onto his side, grinning at the ceiling mindlessly. you hadn’t seen him smile that big all weekend.

“are you tired?” you whispered, lips brushing his cheek, his light stubble rough against you. you wondered how it would feel elsewhere, scratching over your bare skin.

“no.”

“then why did you stop?” you asked, the words falling off your tongue slowly, sinking all over him like honey. you felt the way he tensed up, the suggestion that laced the seemingly innocent question making you tingle.

“i didn’t come here for that.” he reiterated.

“and i didn’t let you in for that. but here we are.” you weren’t ashamed of what you were asking, the moment was right, the one, and you knew it.

“it’s too soon.” lando was apprehensive. he was always overly protective of you, previously as his friend, but this, god, this was an entirely different ball park and he was proceeding with caution, against every natural instinct in his body screaming at him.

“says who?”

“it’s your first. it needs to be special.”

“everything about this is better than i could have ever imagined.”

“are you sure you want it to be me?” there it was again, those unrecognisable nerves that made everything inside of you flutter.

“lando, there is no one else i could ever want to do this with more than i want to do it with you. i want it to be you.”

“but… now? are you sure? i don’t want you to regret this.”

“the only thing i regret is that this didn’t happen sooner.”

“one last time. i just need to hear it one last time.”

“i want you, lando.”

and with that, the air changed, charged with a different kind of tension. lando pulled you on top of him, hands firm on your body, the action itself gentle. you steadied yourself, hands on his shoulders, his resting on your waist.

“can i take this off?” he tugged at the hem of your shirt. you nodded profusely. “words, sweetheart. i need you to use your words.” lando cupped your jaw as he said it, squeezing ever so slightly, enough to turn you into putty in his hands.

“please. yes.” you said shakily.

he smiled softly, slowly peeling the material off of your body, up over your head and tossed carelessly onto the floor. he kept his eyes on yours, despite the fact you were now left bare, aside from the white cotton panties that separated you both. he pawed at your sides, kneading gently at your soft hips.

“we’re gonna start slow, okay? gonna take my time with you.” he muttered, eyes on yours before they trailed slowly down, across your face, neck, collarbone, further and further until he was taking all of you in. he began to stroke the underside of your breast with his thumb, watching the way your body tensed under his feather-like touch.

“okay.” you choked out, head tipping back as he placed a kiss to the base of your throat.

his kiss trailed further down your body, peppered in the valley of your breasts, and then you stopped breathing, the air caught in your throat because he was looking at you, really, truly looking at you, as his tongue found your nipple. you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was making you feel this good already.

lando pulled away, just for a second, just so that he could shift you from his lap onto his thigh. he was still fully clothed beneath you, totally in control, and you craved him in a way you didn’t know was humanly possible, so much so that you didn’t need the encouragement he was giving you to start rolling your hips, pussy grinding down on his covered thighs, the friction of your underwear driving you insane.

“oh, baby. you want me so badly, don’t you? should’ve asked me sooner. m’gonna make you feel so good.” his hands were on your hips, guiding you backwards and forwards on him.

“it feels so- oh, god.” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his curls, back arching further into him as your thighs clenched around his. he licked over your collarbone oh so slowly, a shiver running down your taut spine.

and then he was kissing you again, tongue slow over yours, his fingertips surely leaving marks where he was controlling your pace. the kiss was filthy, untameable, and you found yourself dragging against him slower, harder.

“i need you.” you panted, forehead falling on his shoulder as you pulled away from his lips, goosebumps pricking your sweat slicked skin. you were so close to an orgasm, desperate to feel him everywhere.

“i want you to come for me like this first, okay? can you do that for me, baby?” he cooed, bouncing his leg ever so slightly. “look at me.” and you did, somehow mustering the strength to pull yourself back up and find his darkened eyes.

you were a mess of curses when you let go, your body convulsing, collapsing into him as you came. you were throbbing on his thigh, one glance down at where you were grinding against him displaying your slick. his arms went around your body, flipping you onto your back so that you were resting against the mattress.

“you did so well, baby.” lando crooned, resting over you on his forearms. you stared up at him in awe, blinking away the haze. “do you want more?”

“i want everything.” you breathed, pulling him against you. you smoothed your hands over his shirt until you reached the hem, dragging it up over his back. he helped you take it off, and then it was lost to the room. you grabbed at his shoulder blades, smooth, muscular planes of bronzed skin so warm under your touch. you felt insatiable, like nothing was enough, totally intoxicated by him and everything he was managing to make you feel.

lando’s hand slid down your body, searching for the band of your underwear. when he reached his destination, he toyed with the lacy edges, letting them snap against the pudge of your belly, teasing you. you bucked your hips, frustrated, and he used the opportunity to cup your pussy, feeling where you’d soaked through the cotton. the groan he let out was carnal, animalistic, almost needy. he could feel all of you, how you ached and dripped, how you needed the everything that you’d requested.

“you’re so fucking good for me, god.” lando almost slurred his words, voice lower than you’d ever heard it. you keened at the sound, pushing your hips further into him.

lando didn’t give you much time to dwell on it, mouth latching onto your underwear where it met the crease of your thigh. he was so close, so tantalising close to where you were aching for him and you were just about levitating off the bed when his teeth grazed your inner thigh. you couldn’t see him looking at you, losing it, inhibitions out the window. your eyes were already squeezed shut when he began mouthing over your cloth-covered pussy, spit further ruining the sodden material.

“take them off.” you cried out, tugging hard at his curls that you hadn’t even realised you were clutching for dear life. and lando was a good listener, because he complied immediately, tearing the lace down your legs like a starved man.

his tongue was on you then, everywhere all at once, running through your folds and over your clit. you didn’t know if you were dead or alive, a different kind of pleasure than anything you’d ever experienced coursing hot through your veins. lando switched between long, slow licks, his tongue flat against you, and rapid kitten licks, burying his face in your cunt.

everything was moving in slow motion, your hands grasping frantically at anything you could reach; his curls, the sheets, his shoulders. you could barely make out what he was saying, his words muffled, lost to the soft flesh between your legs. it seemed to echo, every lick, stroke, word. you snapped out of it, finally, when he pulled away.

“more? you want my fingers, baby? gonna get you nice and ready for me.” you just nodded, voice lost to the air of the room.

one arm locked around your thigh, pinning you still, and the other snaked up your leg until he reached the mess between your thighs. he took a moment to take it in, how wet you were, how fucked out you looked, knowing full well he must have looked the same, unhinged as he gave into your shared desire that he’d tried his best to keep hidden. he’d never felt more stupid in his life for holding back, as he took in the ethereal delight sprawled under his touch.

when lando slid the first finger in, your stomach twisted deliciously. he watched you carefully, searching for discomfort but all he could find was sheer bliss, written all over your face as clear as daylight. he worked the digit in and out, nice and slow, curling against your walls. he could feel how tight you were, clamping around just one finger and he thought his head was gonna explode. he added another finger, watching the way you took him in, twisting his fingers.

“are you gonna let go for me again, sweetheart?” lando punctuated his words by putting his mouth back on you, teeth grazing your clit as he sucked.

you were thrashing, a silent scream building from the fire in your belly. you could just about make out the way he was spurring you on, his mouth running as you spilled over the edge, covering his fingers. you saw white, maybe god, ears ringing, and when you finally mustered the energy to look at him, you could have come for a third time. lando looked feral, lips red and coated in everything you had to offer him. his eyes were glazed over, a hazy grey that sent a jolt through your body, the aftershocks of the orgasm setting in.

“christ.” was all you could sigh out. a lazy smile painted your face, your eyes blown out, everything a little blurry. everything except him.

you could feel him scaling up your body, crawling over you until he was level with your face. he placed a kiss to your throat, your jaw and finally your lips; when he pulled away all that was left was shared giddy smile, both of you suddenly shy. you couldn’t stop the roaming of your hands, exploring all the parts of him that you could reach. when you found the waist band of his joggers, your hand grazing his abs as you did, he sucked all of the air out of the room, a sharp inhalation making him tense up.

“you still want all of me?” he breathed, his shaky breath fanning your face. lando was obsessed with hearing you say it, obsessed with how you wanted him as much as he needed you.

“all of you. lando, this is… you’re perfect.” you admitted, lips brushing his. your hands pushed the material down his hips, nails raking over him as you did. he couldn’t seem to wait any longer, kicking them off the rest of the way, his boxers quickly following suit.

you couldn’t help but stare, all of him bare against all of you. your nipples brushed his chest, his hands holding you close, your hands threaded through his curls. it was like you were sussing each other out, eyes watching lips and hands getting lost. you stayed like that for a moment, pressed together, closer and closer, until he was slotted between your legs like he was coming home. lando searched your face one last time, hunting for a smidge of discomfort.

“are you ready for me?” he whispered.

“yes.”

the initial stretch burned, but he slid into you smoothly, his cock slipping through your folds with ease. he felt you clamp down on him, his head thrown back as far as it could go, thick neck exposed to you. you bit down on his shoulder, where it met the base of his throat, trying to mask the gasp of pleasure that sent your eyes rolling back in your head. he grunted at the sensation, enjoying the sting.

“oh, fuck.” he was shuddering, trying to keep himself in check.

“don’t, oh god,” you started, meeting the roll of his hips. “don’t hold back.”

“we gotta go easy.”

“i don’t want easy.” you tightened around him then, and he saw stars.

“you’re so fucking good.” lando groaned, an edge of excitement in his voice, and then he unleashed everything that he’d held back. how much he wanted you, and a bittersweet weekend of frustration versus success came crashing down and he couldn’t do anything except give himself to you exactly how you wanted.

lando was a delicious weight on top of you, the drag of his hips slow, meeting yours hard. the pressure made you lightheaded, his body moving against yours like the thick drip of honey, smooth and sweet. you couldn’t make sense of it, of how fucking good he felt, grinding deeper and deeper into you like he’d found buried treasure. the overstimulation had your third orgasm building nice and quick, waves of pleasure making you dizzy.

“you like it like this? like when i fuck you nice and hard?” yes you did. “don’t think i can go without this now, you know that? such a good fucking girl.” you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just let his words wash over you. “so beautiful, taking me so well.”

you couldn’t process that this was your best friend lando. this was a different person, it had to be. yet, somehow, it made sense that the man you knew, the one who spoke his mind, mischievous and troublesome, would be like this, a god above you as he fucked deeper into you with every thrust. he was filthy and gentle, brutal and sweet. it didn’t make sense, but it also just did.

“are you gonna come for me? one more time, baby. need to feel that perfect fucking pussy.” well, his wish was your command, because then you were gushing. the one thing you could feel was him, none of your other senses worked, you couldn’t see past the tears that fell, couldn’t get any words past your lips. maybe you screamed, you weren’t exactly sure.

lando was kissing you everywhere. each hip bone was met with his lips, your stomach, over your ribs, breasts, clavicle, neck. your face was covered in kisses next, your cheeks, forehead, a dainty peck to your nose.

“can you look at me?”

your eyes cracked open slowly, the exhaustion hitting as you came back to reality.

“was that okay?” there he was again, this shy version of lando that you couldn’t get used to.

“okay? lando that was…” you shook your head in awe. “that meant everything to me.”

he smiled then, that gorgeous, gorgeous smile, the one with the crinkles by his eyes and his teeth on full display. you melted.

“me too. you’re fucking beautiful. so, so fucking beautiful. should’ve told you sooner.” he murmured.

his words made you think, way too hard for your current state. what happened next? lando had said some things, some pretty big things that you didn’t know how to comprehend. it was crazy, how scared you were to bring it back up to him, considering he’d just been inside of you.

“sooner?” you whispered, hardly audible. lando was midway through tucking you both into bed, pulling your flushed, naked body into his own under the duvet.

“yes. a lot sooner.” he replied, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

‘how much sooner?’ you thought to yourself, unable to stay awake any longer to agonise over it, your dreams haunted by the way he touched you so well. it was magnificent to fall asleep in his arms, and you couldn’t help yourself from wondering when it would happen again.

you woke up tangled with him, fingers stroking your cheek, smoothing your hair out of your eyes.

lando was always so warm, but now his tanned skin radiated sunshine, a beacon of light in your bed. you smiled, eyes still shut, shielding yourself from the streaks of light casting over the room from the crack in the curtains.

“what time is it?” you croaked, bringing a hand to your eyes to rub away the sleep.

“gone eleven. i need to go, baby.”

baby.

you hadn’t gotten a chance to take my notice of the things he’d called you last night, too caught up in the way he played with your body. now that you heard it, in the calm after the storm, it made you swoon.

“already?” you tried to hide your disappointment, not quite ready to detangle yourself from him.

“need to get to the track. i think i’m already late. i just wanted to be here when you woke up.” lando sounded so soft, not as groggy as you, and you wondered how long he’d been awake, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest.

“thank you.” you knew that you’d have spiralled waking up alone, and you were immensely grateful that he’d stayed.

lando began to get up, wincing at your whine of protest.

“i’m sorry. i’ll have someone pick you up later, okay? i’ll see you soon, i promise.”

you knew he had to work hard today, knew how much analysis he needed to do before the race. he was starting further back than anyone would have liked, and he had something to prove as well, oscar starting too close to the front for lando’s liking. there were places to make up and hard work to be done to get back to the front.

“don’t apologise. i hope it goes smoothly today.” you smiled at him, watching him collect his long forgotten clothes. you were entranced by the way his body moved, the lines and shapes that tensed and rippled as he dressed himself.

“i’ll message you.” he promised, creeping back over to the bed. you weren’t sure what to expect, but the soft kiss to your lips, almost apprehensive on his part, could have killed you off, your heart pounding.

your grinned like a fool when the door shut behind him.

the shower was burning hot, loosening up your muscles. you cleaned yourself slowly, examining your body, the same one that you’d given to lando. he’d taken you apart, piece by piece, and put you back together, the traces of him that he’d left behind delectably apparent.

you followed the trail of marks he’d left, starting with the love bite below your right breast that you couldn’t even remember him leaving, making your way to the litter of fingerprints that were tattooed into your hips. your fingertips ghosted over your swollen lips, the kiss that he’d left at the junction between your neck and your shoulder, reminiscing the evening. you seemed to ache everywhere, the dull pain setting into your bones so nicely.

you prayed it would happen again. you felt like it would, everything between you had changed now, changed from any possible return to the norm. you wanted it to change, you couldn’t fathom the idea of staying friends when the lines had blurred like this, when he’d kissed you so deeply, touched you so intimately.

the shower was much needed, refreshing your body that was now tainted by him in the best way. you tried to keep a clear head while you got yourself ready, taking your time to make yourself presentable to the paddock. the time of your departure was looming, the pink and white sunset outside your window indicating that the race was only a few hours away. the air had cooled slightly, and you knew you needed to make your way to the lobby.

your phone dinged in your hand as you were packing your essentials into your bag. you glanced down at the device, unruly smile gracing your face.

see you soon, the text read, an orange love heart punctuating the short but sweet text. it was safe to say that the butterflies in your belly were well and truly alive.

the screen beeped as you scanned your paddock pass, and you slipped through the gate, making your way into the paddock. it was beautiful in qatar, they’d outdone themselves with this structure, the glass ceilings and jungle of greenery an expression of wealth and elegance.

you made a beeline for the mclaren garage, greeting lando’s pr officer who smiled warmly at you. you recognised oscar smirking as you appeared in the garage, and as you got closer you realised why.

“nice to see you. looking for lando?” his monotonous voice held an amused twang.

“hey oscar, great job last night!” you said, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “yeah, is he around here somewhere?”

“yeah he’s just doing press i think. extra spring in his step today.” oscar gave you a knowing look, one that made you blush.

“what do you know?” you deadpanned, fighting back laughter.

“i know that this was a long time coming.” he smiled, and then he was gone, lost to the bustle of the garage.

you stood there, probably in the way, lost in thought about what oscar had just said. he was right, this was a long time coming.

you jumped a bit when a hand landed on your waist, relaxing instantly into lando’s body when he pressed himself against you, head on your shoulder.

“i’m so glad you’re here.” he whispered, pressing a secret kiss under your ear, and then he, too, was gone, before you could even react.

your nerves were shot, ushered to the back of the garage where you found a headset. you chewed your nails, anxious about it all. the race, the changes that you were surely coming. you wanted it, wanted everything from him that he’d give you, willing to commit to all of it, to him. the distance, borrowed time, chaos of his world. last night had changed everything and you couldn’t have asked for more.

eventually the lights went out and the fight was underway. you found your hands clasped together, sweating in the dry heat and the anxiety. you clapped every time he made an overtake, storming through the field. when he made it into p3, picking the pace up on oscar, the nerves resurged and you prayed for a clean end to this race.

lando’s radio messages flooded your ears, and your leg bounced uncontrollably, your shoe slapping against the floor.

“be sensible, lando.” you muttered under your breath, resting your chin on your tightly clasped hands. he would be on the podium, but you knew it wasn’t enough for him, it never was. would you be enough for him?

eventually he agreed to hold position, thank fuck, and you could breathe again. he’d driven a beautiful recovery drive, bringing the car onto the podium, and you rushed out with the team to congratulate him. you lingered at the back of the pack behind the metal barriers, watching in quiet admiration as he jumped out of the car. he slapped oscar on the back, hugging his younger teammate before bounding towards the team. his head was darting around as if he was looking for something, but you couldn’t make it out with his helmet still on. and then the helmet came off and it became clear.

he was looking for you.

lando pulled away from a hug with a mechanic, leaning over the barrier right in front of you. you gravitated towards him, somehow moving through the swarm of team members until you were pressed against the metal too. he was beaming, eyes brighter than they had been all working weekend, and then his hands were on you. the hug he pulled you into was tight and you clung to one another for a moment, unbothered by his damp race suit, or the tickle of his sweat slicked curls.

the kiss he pressed to your cheek was far less secret than the one in the garage, so was the one he pressed to your forehead, but the one he pressed to your lips, as quick as it may have been, was the one that really took the cake. you were blushing when he pulled back, a mischievous grin on his face. you shook your head in disbelief at his boldness, unable to tame your bewildered smile.

“what are you doing for dinner, baby?” he called out to you as he walked away. the podium high had clearly set in.

nothing, you mouthed back, not quite confident enough to shout across parc ferme.

“good, we’re going on a date.” lando winked and then he was gone, pulled into the chaos of post race duties.

tears pricked your eyes when he stood on the podium, a much happier man than the one you found when you’d arrived. you couldn’t put it into words, how one night had changed everything, giving you everything you didn’t realise you wanted.

then again, lando was always good at beating expectations.

hehe the end

taglist

had to remove some tags that aren’t working! let me know if you wanna be added or removed xo

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @turningxstrange @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @yeolsbubbles @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @organasith @micks-afterglow @blueflorals @juno-1610 @lqvesoph @wilmasvensson @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @h0e-xoxo @mattxxamryli @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3

6K notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 26 days

Text

Chasing Cars | Masterpost (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆status: on-going (next update: May 17th, 2024)

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Hoseok x female reader, Namjoon x OC, Jin x OC, Jimin x OC, Taehyung x OC and others.

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆total word count: 182.9k (lmao my fingers slipped)

☆a/n: I got the idea for this fic just a little over a year ago, following a power outage that lasted for a few days where I live and Jungkook's live where he kept coming back with different outfits (the white dress shirt hit me right in the gut). It took me a long time to write, as I was working on multiple other projects at the same time, but I am so so happy to be ready to share this baby with you guys <3

☆Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing this monster <3 (and for all your encouragement and support)

☆And a special thank you to @wintaerbaer and @btsborahaee for encouraging me and supporting me whenever I screamed to you about this fic

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

➳Teaser (Jungkook pov): the day he met you (1.1k)

You fucking touch her, you're dead.

➳Chapter one: when the Incident happens (11.8k)

Jungkook is Tae's best friend.

➳Chapter two: when Jungkook teases you (10.2k)

You know I hate that nickname.

➳Chapter three: when Valentine's Day happens (13.1k)

You know, Taehyung doesn’t have to know everything.

➳Chapter four: when you and Jeon Jungkook clash (9.5k)

I was just going to say that we should keep this between us.

➳Chapter five: when you have to go back to reality (12.1k)

We just pretend nothing happened, no?

➳Chapter six: when Jungkook hosts his friends over (9.6k)

I really want to kiss you right now.

➳Chapter seven: when doubt makes you question everything (15k)

Why do you want to believe the worst of me so bad?

➳Chapter eight: when secrets are unveiled in New York (13.5k)

I want you.

➳Chapter nine: when a party makes Jungkook jealous (11.2k)

You make me insane.

➳Chapter ten: when time slips through your fingers (10.1k)

I don’t want to lose you, peach.

➳Chapter eleven: when Jungkook visits Taehyung in Paris (8.4k)

Can’t wait for you to be back.

➳Chapter twelve: when it breaks (7.3k)

I can’t be with you.

➳Chapter thirteen: when it's too late (8.9k)

I have to talk to him.

➳Chapter fourteen: when the truth comes out (12.2k)

We never told each other how we felt.

➳Chapter fifteen: when you find your way back to Jungkook (7.4k)

You came?

➳Chapter sixteen: when Jungkook takes you out on a date (8.9k)

I think I was waiting for you my whole life.

➳Chapter seventeen: when forever awaits you (9k)

Getting to love you is the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me.

Drabbles in Jungkook's pov (might add more as the story goes on)

➳Drabble 1: the engagement party (453)

Have fun while it lasts.

➳Drabble 2: after a call in Paris (596)

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

➳Drabble 3: a conversation with his mother (644)

Nothing strengthens a man more than heartbreak.

➳Drabble 4: a conversation with Taehyung (1.1k)

It’s never been like that with her.

☆☆☆☆☆

#chasing cars masterpost #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #chasing cars #chasing cars series

1K notes · View notes

sundrop-writes · 2 months

Text

Careful - Chapter Three

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter Three: Turn It Off

Before it gets any better - we're headed for a cliff.

Summary:

Spencer finally gets to see his son for the first time, and there is absolutely no denying - that is his son.

Caught up in a whirlwind of love for the boy and navigating the first small steps in co-parenting with you, he accidentally trips into a minefield from the past when discussing Sebastian's conception, and you both realize with baited breath that you might not be over each other.

(Especially not when that lust still burns so close to the surface.)

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst, Fluff, and Smut.

Word Count: 13,400

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: basic warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder/killing; mentions of the reader being the target of a serial killer; angst/emotional tension between Spencer and the reader; (technically) Spencer being unprofessional by staying on the reader’s case; Sebastian is described to be a combination of the reader and Spencer’s looks, so this does not describe or exclude the reader’s looks/race; the bulk of this chapter is fluff because Spencer is bonding with Sebastian for the first time; most of the warnings for this chapter are because of the smut scene (which is a flashback to Sebastian’s (unintentional) conception) - so warning for smut; (kind of) phone sex; mentions of the reader masturbating; (Spencer calls the reader and she’s touching herself and he realizes it, but there’s not any real dirty talk in this section); the reader calls Spencer ‘baby’; Spencer calls the reader ‘darling’; mention of Spencer feeling emotionally worn down from looking at casefiles; unprotected penis in vagina sex (though Spencer is unsure if the reader is taking oral birth control consistently or not); there is a lack of communication about alternative birth control methods aside from condoms (like plan B and oral birth control) - but both partners enthusiastically consent to having unprotected sex in that moment, knowing the potential risks; creampie kink (not quite breeding kink?); mentions of Spencer eating out the reader after cumming inside of her; there is a scene with a lot of sexual tension between Spencer and the reader in the main timeline. Other than that - Morgan teasing Spencer? (and then having a serious moment with him). And I think that’s it.

A/N: This is by far the longest chapter - I don't know the official length of the final chapter yet, but this might be the longest chapter in the series. It was a bitch to edit, but I hope you guys enjoy it! Especially because I know a lot of people have been anticipating Spencer meeting Sebastian for the first time, and this is the big moment. I'm not gonna lie, when I was writing the first bits of this fic, I rushed to write the moment where Spencer meets Sebastian - and it gave me chills to write it. So I really hope that you guys enjoy it, and you enjoy the sweet moments in this fic, as well as the more saucy ones lmao.

...

Spencer churned with nerves as he walked back up to the house, two gift bags clutched in his shaking hand.

He had walked around the mall for a long time - partial aimless wandering, partial sweaty anxiety causing his feet to move along rapidly. He felt like everything he looked at was not the right gift to apologize to you with after so long. He felt like it needed to be perfect.

After about an hour of wandering, Hotch called him and tore him a new one. Apparently JJ had pulled him aside and explained the delicate nature of his situation privately. Hotch knew how dangerous it was to get so personal and emotional when it came to things like this, and he wanted Spencer back at the police station and far away from you. He said that if you needed protective custody, then he would put Morgan or Prentiss in charge of it.

Spencer didn’t care if it was unprofessional. He begged to stay on the case, to stay with you and watch over you. Apparently you were the only viable lead - with the flowers that had been sent to you, you were the only potential next victim.

After a while of back and forth, Hotch folded.

He sent an unmarked car to watch over your house, and told Spencer to hurry up and get back there. He needed to try and convince you to agree to around the clock protection. At the very least, if Spencer was in the house when the UnSub tried to break in, he could catch him in the act.

The rest of the team tried to farm other leads. They went through the other victims’ lives to see if anybody connected to them had any connection to the firm that handled the preschool applications, if any of their neighbors remembered anybody suspicious lurking around their homes in the days before the murders.

Spencer spent another hour rushing around the shopping center before he found the perfect gifts for you and your son - his son. (He really, really hoped that he was right about that.)

He picked up a couple of gift bags - one with a brightly colored pattern of teddy bears eating birthday cake and the other with a more mature pattern of soft roses. He put the gifts inside and rushed to get back to the house before Hotch called him again.

And now that he was standing on the porch, facing down your door again, he almost couldn’t work up the ability to knock.

But he knew that he had to face the inevitable.

He reached out and gave three firm knocks once again.

This time, what he heard surprised him.

A loud, squealing giggle, and a round of thunderous footsteps across the floor, slightly muffled by the door. Clearly - the sound of a young child.

Spencer’s blood rushed through his body like a tidal wave and he found himself dizzy as he stared at the white panels of your front door, anticipation thumping through him. After a tedious moment that felt like four long years, the doorknob slowly turned, and the door creaked open.

Peeking out of the crack - a big, curious eye, and half a chubby cheek poked out at him.

Your son had answered the door by himself.

Spencer swallowed down nerves as he prepared himself to meet Sebastian for the first time.

Upon instinct, Spencer crouched down lowly on the balls of his feet, getting down onto the child’s level.

“Hey, buddy.” He said, using a light voice, trying to be as non-intimidating as possible. “Where’s your Mommy?”

Mommy.

It felt so strange - using that word to refer to you. But yes, you were his mother.

You were a mother.

That fact truly hit Spencer like a truck in that moment.

Unexpectedly, Sebastian then flung the door open fully. It seemed that he had fully assessed Spencer, and deemed him as someone friendly, rather than some kind of threat.

A large knot formed in Spencer’s stomach then, as he saw his son for the first time. Because in that moment, there was no denying - this was his son.

He saw his own big eyes staring back at him, reflecting the same epic curiosity that he had at that age. He had your complexion, most definitely your same skin tone. The boy had your sweet smile, your cute nose. Spencer ached as he realized that Sebastian was quite literally the perfect combination of the two of you. His own wild, untamable tendrils (hair that clearly hadn’t been cut for a while) with tones of your natural color in it - your sweetness, your laughter.

Spencer used all of his self control in that moment to keep himself from fainting on the spot.

“Who are you?” Sebastian asked, tilting his head slightly, inspecting Spencer with a distinct up-and-down glance. “Are you the police? Mommy’s talking on the phone. She said the police are coming to our house. But she didn’t like that. Her face made a big frown - like when that man at the grocery store asked if she’s ‘free’ on Friday. And I said: you can’t buy Mommy, she doesn’t have a price. You can’t buy people. You buy bananas. That’s why we came to the grocery store, pal!”

Spencer frowned.

This was a lot of information to receive in such a short span, and Spencer quickly tried to sort it all out in his mind.

Technically, he was ‘the police’, but he didn’t want to introduce himself to Sebastian that way if it would bring a negative connotation. Clearly, this was a very observant child - he had picked up on the fact that you didn’t want police protective custody around. (Spencer just hoped that you hadn’t mentioned why you might need that kind of protection around the very clever ears of your son - someone who had interpreted a man asking you on a date as a barter for ownership of your person, apparently.)

Not wanting to upset Sebastian, he chose to introduce himself in another way, rather than saying he was with law enforcement - which is what he would have done with any other small child.

“I’m a friend of your Mommy’s.” He said. “My name is Spencer. Can you-”

Before he could finish talking, your voice entered the conversation.

“Sebastian! Seb!” You called out urgently, looking for him now that you had realized he was gone from your field of view.

You came around the corner in a panic and found your son standing there with the front door wide open. Your eyes naturally flickered toward Spencer, and surprisingly, a look of relief flooded your face at seeing him.

As much as you disliked Spencer for your own reasons - at least someone who wasn’t a predator was with your son. You hadn’t meant to leave the door unlocked. It was just easy to forget things when you were chasing after such an energetic kid.

“Sebastian, Mommy told you not to open the door unless I’m here with you.”

You scolded him, rushing to scoop him up in your arms - unconsciously protecting him from the outside world as you propped him up onto your hip, hugging an arm around his back to hold him there.

Spencer’s insides fluttered at how natural you looked with him in your arms. It was a picture perfect sight: you with his son in your arms. It was something he had been dreaming of for years. And now, for so many reasons, it left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Spencer is my friend!” Sebastian proudly proclaimed, motioning toward his very new ‘friend’. “You said it’s okay to answer the door for friends.”

You clenched your jaw, clearly resisting the urge to make a foul comment about this in front of your son. You wanted to correct him and say that Spencer was not a ‘friend’ - that he was far from it. But you held that back, knowing that Sebastian was too young and innocent to be stung by your anger. (Especially anger from a fight that was older than he was.)

Before you could speak further or insist that Spencer had to leave, Sebastian spoke up again.

“What’s in that bag?” He asked, extending his little arm and pointing a pudgy little finger toward the gift bags that Spencer had in his hand - items that Spencer himself had nearly forgotten about, swept up in pure awe at meeting his son for the first time.

“Oh, it’s a gift for you.” Spencer smiled at him, holding one of the bags up toward the boy. “Because I missed your birthday.”

Sebastian took the bag excitedly, but didn’t get a chance to examine the items yet, still awkwardly trapped in his mother’s arms.

You glared at Spencer over Sebastian’s head. You thought it was a cheap attempt at buying his affection. Spencer avoided your eye. (If you were a lesser woman, you would have banned Sebastian from having the gift. But you weren’t going to take away his joy based on your own rotting emotions.)

“What do you say, bud?” You prompted, wanting him to thank Spencer for the gift - even if you thought it was ill-intended.

“I’m four now!” He excitedly announced, believing this was what you meant. “I just turned four. I had a big boy birthday. So I go to the toilet all by myself - as long as I don’t wee on the floor. And I had a princess at my birthday party, but apparently she doesn’t bring the letters to Santa Claus, the mail does that. Did you know that the U.S. Postal Service was founded in 1775, and Benjamin Franklin was the first postmaster-”

“Seb, that’s not what I meant.” You said quietly, gently cutting off his unrelated string of ranting.

Spencer was grinning widely from ear to ear - he found himself so utterly charmed by Sebastian’s bright, enthusiastic personality.

“Sebastian, you have to say ‘thank you’ to Spencer for the present.” You reminded him, getting his mind back on track.

“Thank you!” He parroted back.

“You’re very welcome.” Spencer replied, his cheeks hurting from how hard he was smiling.

You then put him down, and he ran back into the house, excited to open his gift and see what was inside it.

A tense silence fell over you and Spencer. You continued to glare at him with fury tightening in your jaw. Any joy he previously felt over seeing Sebastian for the first time was completely zapped from him.

He now felt like a groveling idiot, desperate to get back into your good graces. He felt like the picture perfect life with a perfect family was right there, and he was missing out on it because he had messed up all those years ago.

“That was a nice try. With the gift.” You huffed out. “I don’t even wanna know what’s in that one.” You said, motioning to the other bag.

“Y/N-” He said your name, ripe with desperation, and you cut him off again.

“When did you know?” You asked.

The question utterly confused Spencer, and when you saw this flash through his features, you took pity on him for once, and decided to clarify.

“When did you know that he was yours?” You said this lowly, edging on a whisper, not wanting your son to hear it - even though he likely wouldn’t understand what the words meant if he did. (But he was an observant, smart kid. You couldn’t risk him hearing either way.)

“I did the math.” Spencer told you, matching your whisper. “I knew for certain when I saw him.”

You let out a rugged sigh. With your tense body language, your tight jaw - Spencer feared that even now, you might ask him to leave.

For him, that simply wasn’t an option.

“Look, you can’t keep me from my son-” Spencer said, speaking normally now - he knew that eventually, the two of you would have to tell Sebastian that he was his father.

He wanted a relationship with his child no matter what.

“Keep your voice down!” You hissed, looking over your shoulder as if the small child was some boogeyman who would sneak up on you specifically to eavesdrop on the conversation.

From the distant sounds of giggling and some playful voices - it sounded like he was far too busy playing with his toys to care about what was going on between you and Spencer.

“This changes nothing.” You added on bitterly. “You still have no right to be around me after what happened, and-”

“You’re seriously telling me that this changes nothing?” Spencer barked back, intensely offended by that assessment.

You refused to look Spencer in the eye, and he barreled forward, believing that he could convince his way in the door with his stubbornness alone.

“He is my son.” He spit back sharply, so much passion in the words that it gave you chills. “He is a part of me as much as he is a part of you. Even if - even if you hate me,” Spencer said, unsure if that was the right term, and feeling a rock in his stomach when you didn’t protest. “Even if you hate me now and always will, I still have a right to be in his life.”

Guilt flashed across your features. You had always regretted not contacting Spencer in order to let him meet Sebastian. And now all of those late night ‘what ifs’ were coming back to haunt you. With a vengeance.

“And I know you might not view it that way, but it’s been a long time. And I have changed.” He continued on, trying his best to convince you, knowing that these words were hollow.

Spencer didn’t even think about the potential consequences of his next words before he spoke them, but he went on anyway.

“And I would really, really like a second chance with you. I understand if you and I are over. If everything we had is completely… gone.”

Your eyes flickered toward him at this, a dreadful ghost lingering in the back of your pupils. This was the last thing you had expected to hear from him, and you had a difficult time processing it.

His tone was incredibly mournful when speaking these words. He still had so much love for you in his heart, and he could not imagine being around you and interacting with you to co-parent a child and not being with you. Not sharing your bed. Not having more children with you.

“But you and I at least need to be civil, for his sake. Tell me that he really would be better off without both parents in his life.”

Spencer resisted the urge to cite statistics about single parent households and the likelihood of forming antisocial personality disorders - mostly because he didn’t want to think of his son like that, and because you being a single parent household was the entire reason he was here.

He didn’t want to bring up the UnSub again, and the potential danger you might be in - because he didn’t want you to brush him off or get even more angry.

You looked intensely thoughtful, then, clearly mulling over his words in your mind.

He thought that something else might sway your opinion in his favor.

“Plus, if you don’t let me inside, that means I got you this gift for nothing.” He said, giving you his absolute best puppy eyes as he held up the bag in your direction.

You rolled your eyes with a huff, but you took it from him anyway.

“Don’t think you can bribe your way back into my good graces, Spencer.” You said, accepting the bag, and then:

You stepped aside and let him in.

Spencer didn’t waste a moment, gratefully accepting this. He took off his messenger bag and set it beside the door as you closed it behind him. You made a point of locking it this time, putting the deadbolt on so that Sebastian wouldn’t be able to get the door open by himself.

“You used to be very easy to bribe back in the day, if I can remember.” Spencer told you, throwing a grin over his shoulder at you.

That grin, the light in his eyes. Him bringing up memories of ‘the old days’ - for a moment, it was all too much. It was too easy. It reminded you of simpler times - a time when you would have just leaned over and kissed him in order to shut him up.

“Enjoying and accepting gifts is a lot different than being bribed.” You muttered under your breath, leaving the gift bag on the table beside the door as you walked back into the living room where Sebastian was playing.

Spencer left it there for now - but he would have you open the gift before the day was over. That much he was determined of.

“Mommy, look!”

Sebastian ran toward you excitedly when he saw you walk back into the living room - he was waving something in his hand to show you. You quickly recognized it as a character from his favorite show - it was a rather large plush toy of Rubble from Paw Patrol. It still had a tag hanging off its ear, so it must have been what Spencer had brought him in that gift bag.

Your stomach tightened. You knew that it was likely something to do with profiling - the fact that when he had been here before, he had only been in your home for fifteen minutes, but he had likely been able to observe so much about your life (and about your son) just from the simple things you had sitting around. You hated it. You hated that he had so many skills and tools at his disposal that meant you could hardly keep any secrets from him.

“Oh wow, that’s so nice, baby.” You grinned widely, putting on your happiest voice for your son even though you didn’t like that Spencer had so easily bought his affection.

“And look, look at this!”

He nearly tripped over his own small feet, racing back over to the gift bag to fish out something else. He ran back over to you and handed it to you. It was a children’s picture book called ‘Dino ABC’ - it appeared to have a different dinosaur for each letter of the alphabet on each page. Educational and cute. Just what you would have expected from Spencer.

You felt a deep pain emanate out from the center of your chest - your heart literally aching as you fought your hardest to keep a big smile for your son.

“Seb, you still have to finish your snack.”

You told him, tossing the book aside to put it on the couch and walking back over to the coffee table in order to draw his attention to the abandoned plate with his food on it.

“Come on. You can play with your toys later.”

You had been part way through his snacktime when JJ had called you, trying to convince you to come into the police station for a briefing about ‘protection’. Ultimately, that conversation had distracted you when Spencer had knocked on the door.

He tucked Rubble under his arm and rushed to sit in your lap, shoveling cheese and crackers into his mouth off the frog shaped plate while you turned your attention toward Spencer - who had been watching the whole exchange while leaning against a wall, a tentative smile forming on his face.

“I have to hand it to you, you’re good.” You said, trying to keep your tone neutral, straying away from anger. “You hit on two of his biggest interests - Paw Patrol and dinosaurs. That profiling stuff is a lot more accurate than I thought,”

Spencer didn’t want to admit that he had just picked a book about dinosaurs because that was what he liked at that age, and the Paw Patrol thing had been all JJ’s doing. He had been far too busy caught up in anger at your initial stubbornness to try and ‘profile’ you.

“Well-” Spencer attempted to reply, but he was cut off by Sebastian’s loud, enthusiastic voice.

“What’s profiling?” He asked, nearly shouting, unintentionally spraying crumbs out of his mouth as he struggled to chew and speak at the same time.

“Buddy, what did we say about talking with your mouth full?” You huffed quietly, grabbing a napkin to wipe up some of the crumbs he had sprayed out.

You didn’t expect Spencer to indulge him with an honest answer.

“Well, you see…” Spencer thought for a moment, wanting to explain the concept to him in an honest, but child-friendly manner. “Profiling is when I look at the things around you, and how you act, and I can tell what you’re thinking.” He replied. “Like… if you have a secret.”

He moved toward the coffee table and once again crouched down to Sebastian’s level - and his cheeks curled into a smile at his son’s eager, curious eyes staring him down.

You watched the interaction quietly. You never would have admitted it, but it gave you butterflies to see how natural, how perfect Spencer already was with Sebastian.

Sebastian chewed a bit more before he spoke again.

“I have a secret.” Sebastian whispered - a dramatic stage whisper that kids his age always did.

“Hmm…”

Spencer put his thumb and forefinger against his chin, and cocked an eyebrow, looking around the room like a cartoonish detective, acting like he was trying to piece together exactly what this big secret was. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sebastian’s entire body go stiff, as if he could better hide while not moving - and one small, cracker-crumbed fist clenching tight under the coffee table as the boy tried his hardest to contain his laughter told him everything that he needed to know.

“You’re trying to hide part of your snack from Mommy!” Spencer declared, laughter in his voice as he pointed an ‘accusing’ finger toward Sebastian.

The boy burst into laughter and surrendered his hand, dumping a single crumbled up cracker onto his plate as he curled over with epic laughter - apparently finding the whole thing to be a very amusing game.

“You got me!” He chuckled.

You had difficulty hiding your own smile at all of this, and you tried to encourage Sebastian back into an upright position as he wiggled around from laughing so furiously.

“Well maybe we need Spencer around when you try to hide your carrots at dinnertime.” You said, your tone flat, not at all reaching that same joy. “Now come on, you joker, finish up please.”

You caught Spencer’s eye then - and he had the dangerous realization that you weren’t entirely kidding.

“I’ll be around whenever you need me.” Spencer replied, seriousness seeping back into his tone.

You wanted to argue this - but of course, you held back with Sebastian sitting in your lap. Instead, it dissolved into a sharp huff out of your nose.

When it seemed that you had nothing more to say on the matter, Spencer turned back to Sebastian, who was licking the mushy, bright red remnants of some strawberries off his fingers.

“What’s your favorite dinosaur, bud?” Spencer asked.

He was eager to get to know his son better - and he was expecting a rather generic answer from a four year old, like T-Rex.

He certainly did not expect what came next.

“Plesiosaurus!” Sebastian cried out excitedly, accidentally spitting out some food (again), which you rushed to wipe off his shirt and face with a nearby napkin. “They lived in the Jurassic period, and could grow to eleven feet long!”

Spencer beamed with pride.

Even though Spencer hadn’t spent that much time around children, he knew that this seemed to be fairly advanced knowledge for a four year old.

You gave Spencer a very distinct look over Sebastian’s head. You could see that glint in his eye, and you knew that you were both thinking the same thing.

He had interented his father’s big, big brain.

It was something you had known for a long time now. And you knew that it wouldn’t take Spencer long to see it.

“Wow, buddy.” Spencer smiled widely, eager to praise the boy. “That’s so awesome. My favorite is the Brontosaurus.”

Sebastian smiled, and nodded.

“They’re herbivores. Which means they only eat plants.” He replied. “Not like Mommy. She eats steak. And it’s gross.”

You couldn’t help but to let out a laugh at this, and Spencer easily joined you.

Leave it to the random stream of thoughts of a four year old to actually make you forget about your anger towards Spencer - at least for a little while.

“Mommy, can I have more strawberries?” Sebastian asked, holding up his now empty plate.

Something a lot of people don’t realize about little kids - they eat a lot of fruit.

“I’ll see if we have more.” You told him, moving to scoot him off your lap.

“I’ll go-” Spencer moved to get up, and you gave him a sharp glare that cut off his words.

Luckily, Sebastian didn’t see this as he jumped off your lap and rushed toward Spencer, picking up his dinosaur book with still sticky fingers along the way.

“I got it.” You grumbled quietly, picking up the plate and moving toward the kitchen.

You wanted to make a comment about how you had been taking care of him by yourself for the past four years, so a single plate of strawberries was not that big of a deal. But you didn’t want to be so passive aggressive in front of Sebastian, especially because he wouldn’t understand why.

You cleaned and cut up the few strawberries that were left, and when you came back, Sebastian was sitting on Spencer’s lap. They had the book propped open in Spencer’s hands while Sebastian gawked at it and explained in detail about whatever they were looking at - likely far greater detail than the book already had written in its pages.

“Ferrisaurus.” He said, nearly out of breath with excitement. “He has a very sharp beak. He was discovered in 1971 by Kenny F. Larson. He belongs to the Leptoceratopsidae family, and-”

You put the plate down in front of them, and Sebastian frowned when he saw it, cutting off his own words.

“Is there any more?” He complained loudly. “I wanna share some with my friend Spencer.”

Spencer’s mouth flattened into a thin line, clearly trying his hardest to hide a beaming smile at being claimed as Sebastian’s ‘friend’ once again.

“No, sweetie, that’s all the strawberries we have in the house.” You informed him. “I’ll go to the store and get some more tomorrow. But you can’t keep eating all the fruit and then complain when it’s all gone.”

It was a common theme in your life - Sebastian could eat an entire carton of raspberries in one sitting, and then became upset when there was no more in the fridge.

Sebastian shrugged and reached up over the book to grab one off his plate. He shoved it into his mouth before reaching for another, looking up over his shoulder to then clumsily aim for Spencer’s mouth. You were expecting Spencer to dodge it and tell him ‘no thank you’ - a man who was a germaphobe, someone who you had seen use disinfecting wipes on forks at restaurants because he didn’t trust other people to clean the utensils well enough. But instead, he leaned down and captured the half-mushed fruit from your son, giving a small grin as some of the juices smeared across his lips.

Your stomach twisted into knots as you moved to sit on the couch.

You didn’t want to call it affection. You would deeply deny that it was fondness rising in you at seeing Spencer clearly soft and loving toward your son.

Toward his son.

Especially because it was a sight that you thought you would never witness in your lifetime.

“Thank you.” Spencer mumbled out as he chewed, and Sebastian chirped out a ‘you’re welcome!’ - even reaching to grab a napkin to help Spencer wipe his mouth before he then turned back to his book.

“You know, if he wants more fruit, I can run to the store. It’s really no trouble.” Spencer offered, clearly eager to give your son whatever he wanted - whatever he needed.

“He’s fine.” You sighed in return. “It’ll be fine until tomorrow. Do you have any idea how much fruit this kid eats in a day? How much fruit he’s eaten just today alone?” You remarked.

Spencer saw it as the rhetorical question it was, and waited for you to continue on.

“He ate an entire carton of raspberries before he left this morning. I had to change his shirt because he looked like a character from Texas Chainsaw.” You explained, feeling safe that Sebastian would not understand that reference.

“It makes sense.” Spencer replied. “The natural fructose found in most fruits make it an incredibly appealing taste to the underdeveloped palette of a child. It’s actually believed that before puberty, people have a higher concentration of taste buds on the apex of the tongue, which is the area associated with sweet and salty sensations, so children are more likely to crave sweet flavors. And most fruit has a mild but naturally satisfying fructose level, essentially making it less assertive than artificial candy that pubescent children would enjoy with a more developed tongue. Basically - children like it so much because fruit is nature’s candy.”

Spencer let out a breathy laugh as he finished this statement, and you knew that your eyes were glowing with delight as you stared at him.

Sebastian was staring up at him - clearly absorbing every single word that he spoke with eagerness. You wouldn’t be surprised if Sebastian was able to repeat back those facts word for word later on. He was startlingly like his father.

You almost hated it, but this reminded you so much of the Spencer you had fallen in love with. The man who excited you with his passion; the person who made your knees tremble because he was so chalked full of knowledge, but never pretentious about sharing it.

“Is that so?” You grinned in return.

Before Spencer could get too caught up at that affectionate sparkle in your eye, something barreled to the forefront of his mind.

“Wait - what did you mean by ‘before he left this morning’?” Spencer asked. “Where does Sebastian go during the day?”

He needed to know more about your life. There could be something small lurking in some corner that could lead him to the UnSub before the man had a chance to even consider attacking you.

“I go to see Abby!” Sebastian piped up, answering the question as he turned a page in his book. “And my friends: Paige, and Jimmy, and Emma.”

“Abby is his babysitter.” You explained. Spencer nodded at this. “He goes there four days a week. From nine in the morning until three in the afternoon. They have three other kids, Paige, Jimmy, and Emma. So he has friends there. He likes the social interaction. And I get my work done while he’s gone.”

“But you’re on a waitlist for a daycare in the area?” Spencer prodded. You grew confused at this, so he added on: “That’s how my team found you. Through the daycare applications.”

It felt like a violation of your privacy, but you didn’t point that out.

You felt like the conversation was straying into ‘grown-up’ territory. Things that you didn’t want to speak of in front of your son, because children are sponges and you don’t really know how much they absorb. So you decided that it was time for him to have some independent playtime while you and Spencer talked. He had finished his snack in the meantime, anyway.

You picked up a napkin and wiped his hands, and then you gently took the book from Spencer, who had been holding it open for Sebastian to look at it.

“Seb.” You spoke to him gently, leaning into his view. You brushed away one of his wild curls and he looked at you attentively - Spencer’s heart rate sped up uncontrollably, and he knew that he was looking at you much the same way. “Can you go play in your room for a while, buddy? I need to have some grown-up time with Spencer.”

“I want Spencer to come with me!” Sebastian argued gently. “I wanna show him my toys!”

“Yes, you can show him later.” You told him. “After we’re done talking, he’ll be right up, and you can show him all your dinosaurs, and-”

“And the stars!” Sebastian added on excitedly.

“Yes.” You nodded. “Whatever you want.”

Sebastian then let out a bright ‘okay!’ and Spencer helped him up, and there were more thunderous racing footsteps as Sebtastian went upstairs to go and play in his room.

“Grown-up time?” Spencer asked, quirking a brow at you.

You hated that the tiny bit of innuendo in his voice drudged up heat between your thighs.

You labeled it as desperation because you hadn’t been touched by another person in so long, not your genuine attraction toward him coming back again.

“Yes.” You said firmly. “You and I need to talk. About a lot of stuff. And he doesn’t need to hear all the gory little details.” You sighed. “Coffee?”

“That sounds great.” He nodded.

He followed you to the kitchen loyally and leaned against the counter while you went about the mechanical, ingrained movements to make a pot of coffee.

“So, why isn’t he in preschool?” Spencer asked.

He neglected to bring up the fact that the UnSub had likely targeted you through the preschool applications. He knew that you would become annoyed again if he brought up the fact that you were in danger - so he left that alone for now. The longer he stayed in the house, the better chance he had of convincing you to leave, to come into police custody for your own protection.

If the worst case scenario were to take place, his gun was in his bag. He would protect you if anyone tried to break in. He would protect you at all costs.

“They wouldn’t accept Sebastian into daycare because… they thought he was too advanced for their program.” You explained, answering his question. “They wanted me to have him IQ tested. And I refused, so they put him on the waitlist.”

You weren’t facing Spencer as you filled up the coffee machine with water, but he could hear it in your voice. Grit. Disdain.

Did you dislike the fact that your son was so advanced? Did you harbor annoyance because he had likely inherited that incredible intelligence from Spencer?

“Why didn’t you get him the IQ test?” Spencer probed, brimming with frustration. “Get him an assessment with a professional, at least?”

Sure, you disliked Spencer for your own reasons, but it was no good reason to have your son held back in life.

You shrugged. Obviously, you were holding back the truth.

“My mom thought it was a good idea.” You remarked. “But…”

You clicked the coffee pot into the coffee maker and turned it on, and then turned to face Spencer.

“I remembered all the stuff you said.” You said gently.

This confused Spencer, and he eagerly listened as you continued.

“About feeling ‘socially isolated’, and how you were upset that you didn’t have a ‘real childhood’ because you didn’t get to go to school with people in your own age group.” You explained.

Then it truly hit Spencer.

You weren’t avoiding having him tested to hold him back in life - you thought it was for his betterment.

Because you had truly retained something from your relationship with Spencer. From all those late night hours the two of you had spent talking, tangled up in the sheets together after-

Spencer forced himself not to think about it.

“I want him to have friends.” You continued on. “To have socialization. Even if he’s special - he can have education individually. Hell, having a tutor will probably be better for him if he’s so advanced, right? He probably needs individual attention.”

Spencer nodded at this.

“I wanted him to go to daycare - not because he needs to learn the ABCs and shit. He could recite the alphabet when he was eight months old.”

Spencer felt a wave of shock at this, and then intense pride.

“I wanted him to go there and make friends. So I guess him going to the babysitter and making friends turned out to be a better fit for him anyway.”

Spencer couldn’t describe the depth of the pride he was feeling. Not just at knowing how truly intelligent his son was, but at knowing that your instincts as a mother were so well tuned.

Not just because you knew what your son needed, but because you had listened to Spencer talking about regrets from his own childhood and you had tried to keep from making those same mistakes with his son. It was likely that you even saw how socially underdeveloped he was when you met him as a twenty one year old and that was a huge part of your reasoning.

In the few minutes he had spent with Sebastian, he already saw that brilliant intellect colliding with the nurturing you had shown him. His ability to make friends easily, his eagerness to share, his natural curiosity. He was leagues ahead of where Spencer had been at that age - shy, apprehensive, constantly clammed up around new people.

You had raised such a brilliant, beautiful boy.

“It seems like the right choice.” Spencer assured you. “I can already tell that the socialization is doing him well. He - he’s such a great kid.”

He couldn’t hold back his beaming smile this time, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, highly resisting the urge to reach out and touch you. He wanted so badly to pull you into a hug - to kiss you.

But he had to remind himself that he had lost those privileges so long ago.

He had to be thankful for the simple privilege of basking in your smile when you returned the action.

“I - I am actually kind of glad that you’re here.” You admitted meekly, a moment of shy honesty shining through.

Spencer resisted the urge to cheer loudly.

“I’ve been trying to teach him, but I barely know where to start.” You added on, exasperated laughter escaping your lips at the thought. “I can barely keep up with stuff that’s on his level. I read to him a lot, but I have trouble picking books that are appropriate for him? Anything that’s on his level academically has too much violence or racism or complicated themes for his age. At least, when it comes to fiction books. And I can’t really comprehend the scientific stuff. He picks out dinosaur books when we go to the library and reads them on his own, and half the stuff… he just tells me all the stuff he’s learned when he reads on his own and it amazes me.”

You chuckled, and Spencer easily returned it.

His son was truly an egghead after his own heart.

“I’ve been trying to teach him the periodic table, but I don’t even remember half of it myself. I haven’t needed it since high school chemistry.” You remarked with another dry laugh.

Spencer smiled brightly at you.

“You - you were right.” You hated to admit it. “He does need his dad. He needs you. He needs someone who can nurture that big brain of his.”

The detail oriented part of Spencer’s brain was eager to jump into planning - he wanted to ask you about creating a schedule, the logistics of how and when he would see his son, especially considering that the two of you lived in different cities, in different states. (Truthfully, he wanted to ask if you were willing to move closer so that he would be able to see Sebastian as often as possible.)

But he forced himself to set that aside for now, because something else was bothering him.

You reached up to the cupboard and grabbed two mugs, and poured up the coffee, and Spencer watched carefully as you went to the fridge and grabbed some creamer for yourself before you handed him his mug.

“The sugar is behind you.” You told him. “Spoons are in the drawer to your left.”

Naturally, you remembered how he liked his coffee. Black with regular sugar. It was something fond, that left an ache deep in his soul. He set to the gentle task of getting some sugar while he conjured up the courage to ask the question.

“Have you ever told him about me?” He asked. “I mean - have you told him about his father? Does he know who his dad is?”

He knew that obviously you hadn’t told Sebastian outright that Spencer was his father - not with a photo and a name. But he wondered if you had ever told him stories about who his father was - a doctor, a man who fought against bad guys. Did you only have room for malice against Spencer in your heart, or would have told Sebastian some of the good things about his dad? Had you told him how you and Spencer had met? Had you told him that the two of you were once in love?

He hated to think that you resented Spencer so much that you had lied. That you had made up some falsehood. Perhaps you had told Sebastian that his father was dead, or someone who never existed at all (because someone his age would believe that). Spencer’s insides flooded with anxiety at the thought that perhaps you had a boyfriend. Someone who was a fixture in Sebastian’s life already who the young boy called Dad.

Before Spencer could flare with too much jealousy at a completely made-up figure, you answered his question.

“I - ugh.” You stuttered out. “No.” You admitted hesitantly, capping the creamer and moving to put it back into the fridge.

You moved to sit down at the kitchen table and Spencer followed you with his own mug in hand. He found it quietly adorable that there was a rubber dinosaur placemat and a booster seat on one of the chairs - clearly the place where Sebastian sat to eat his meals. He pulled out the chair opposite of yours and carefully waited for you to continue talking.

“It was one of those things…” You stared down into your mug, a wave of embarrassment spiking in you.

Seeing how put together Spencer was now - how mature. It filled you with regret, and made you feel quite embarrassed about not contacting him before.

But the Spencer you had last seen was nothing like this. So previously, you had no intentions of seeking him out in order to introduce him to his son. But every time a major life event came up - toward the end of your pregnancy, the birth, filling out the birth certificate and leaving the section of his father’s name blank… The first time Sebastian sat upright on his own, his first words, seeing how truly intelligent he was, his first steps, potty training him.

Through all of it - you ached with regret. There were more than a dozen times (sometimes more than a dozen times a day) when you considered reaching out to Spencer and telling him the news. But you thought that he might lash out at you in anger for not telling him when you found out that you were pregnant. (And then you thought he would be even angrier for not telling him sooner).

You had considered that with his job, and with the other circumstances - he might be dead. That there might not even be someone on the other end if you did reach out.

You didn’t want to go looking for a father for your son, only to have to mourn over someone you once loved.

You didn’t want to open the door for more hurt to come your way.

“It was one of those things, that… the older he got… I never considered that he might ask.” You explained. “I just thought I could get away without telling him who his father was. Without talking about you at all. Because I was so hurt over what happened between us.”

Oddly enough, Spencer understood this. That night - things had been so messy. Spencer had always wanted a chance to apologize. He would have pushed harder - he would have chased after you better if he knew that there was a child hanging in the mix.

“You had no intention of ever finding me again to introduce me to my son?” Spencer asked.

He needed to hear you say it.

You shook your head, entirely solemn, even more guilty.

“It was selfish.” You admitted. “I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle the pain of seeing you again. I didn’t consider how it might affect him.”

“So… he has been asking about me?” Spencer probed. “He’s been asking about his father?”

You shrugged.

“He’s old enough to understand the concept now.” You said, sipping your coffee. “He sees stuff on TV. Cartoons where characters have a Mom and a Dad. And he reads science books about animals - so he knows that other ‘species’ need two parents to ‘reproduce’.” You were almost annoyed by the fact that your son was so smart and still so young. You couldn’t trick him with gentle lies anymore. “I don’t think I can convince him that I am the only asexual reproducing woman on the planet.”

Spencer let out a harsh chuckle at this. He knew how it was at that age - too smart for his own good.

“What have you told him?” He wondered aloud.

“I have been trying my hardest not to tell him anything.” You replied. “Whenever he asks about his own father, I just… dodge around it.” You told him honestly. “What do you think all the strawberries are for? I mean, I can’t lie to him, but I can distract him. He’s still at the age where his attention span is not that great if he gets excited about something.”

“Would you be willing to have that conversation with him?” Spencer asked meekly. “The three of us? Would you - would you be okay with him knowing me as his dad?”

He was terrified that you might reject him. That you still hated him enough after that horrible night that you wouldn’t want your son to see Spencer as his father, even if it was the truth. (A truth that you and Spencer knew intimately well.)

“Spencer.” You choked out his name, looking at him with tears dancing in your eyes.

You knew that you had been harsh upon first seeing him again, perhaps unrightfully lashing out due to your own vendetta. But you didn’t think that you had made such a nasty impression.

“Of course. Spence, I-” You choked on your own words for a second, taking in a sharp breath in an attempt to regain your composure.

Spencer tried not to get excited at you calling him ‘Spence’ again for the first time in so long. He couldn’t take the familiarity, the sweet nickname as meaning the same thing it used to. He couldn’t take it as a signal of affection.

“Even if you and I can’t get back to where we were…” You continued on.

(Which would be something you would gratefully regret now, those feelings for him locked up inside of you, banging on the door, just begging to get out.)

“My son is so lucky to have you as his father. And I am sorry that it was due to my own selfishness that he missed out on you in his life for so many years.”

“It’s not all your fault.” Spencer replied. “You don’t have to apologize.”

You nodded at this, and the two of you fell silent once again.

Of course, both of you wished that you could go back to that night and do things differently.

You wished that you would have told him about the pregnancy as soon as you took the test - so if he was going to scorn you, he could make an informed choice about doing so.

Spencer wished that he could have chased you - that he could have been in his son’s life from day one.

Which made him curious about something.

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Spencer asked when it came to the forefront of his mind.

“Sure,” You sighed. “I think we have a few more minutes before you have to go.”

You chuckled, motioning toward the stairs - where Sebastian would surely be running down soon, waiting for Spencer to come and play with him, so Spencer could be shown all of his toys, introduced to each dinosaur by name and species.

“When did you find out that you were pregnant?” He asked. “Was it - was it before? Or after?”

He didn’t even have to fully spell it out in order for you to know exactly what he meant.

Had you known that you were pregnant when the two of you had broken up?

You could have easily lied to him. But just like every other moment on this day, stupidly - you felt like you owed him the truth.

“After.” You told him. “It - it was about two weeks after. When I took one of those at home tests. And I had already made up my mind that I never wanted to see you again. So just - then and there, I decided that I was gonna raise the kid alone.”

“You - you just unilaterally decided that you were going to raise my son alone?” Spencer snapped, some of that spite from early coming back like the coals from a fire being stoked.

“Yes. I did.” You said firmly.

You didn’t have to remind him of why.

Spencer sighed and rolled his eyes, and then plowed forward with another question.

“So - so do you know when-?” He began, and you cut him off.

‘Do you know when he was conceived?’

“No.” You quickly replied.

But it was a lie. You knew.

You felt like you couldn’t easily tell him the truth about this. If there was one thing you couldn’t afford to do right now, with Spencer Reid sitting at your kitchen table, staring at you with his big, inquisitive, glossy eyes, licking his lips, with his firm jaw set tight in contemplation - you couldn’t afford to go reminiscing with him about the night your son had been conceived.

You had spent a lot of time during your pregnancy thinking. Doing the math. Trying to remember.

And you knew exactly when.

The night was so vivid in your mind.

It was one of the last good memories you had with Spencer. It was one of the most perfect pictures you had of who he truly was before he came home from Georgia such a different person, and you had no clue why he had changed.

…

Spencer had come over to your place late one night.

He had a key, but usually he was afraid to wake you up by using it. But that night he had been swamped with paperwork, writing up consultations on cases less urgent for police precincts that the BAU couldn’t get out to attend to in person. Images of mangled bodies stuck in his mind and by the time he finished up, it was well past dinner - well past a decent hour to be seeing you. But his insides felt hollow with a unique kind of grief as he imagined all the people who wouldn’t be getting home to their families - the people in the photos.

He fingered over the key to your apartment on his keyring as he walked out the front doors of the office. He had taken the metro that day, and the last trains ran late into the night - until two or three am, to ensure that people drinking could get home safely. But he needed some fresh air, so he decided to walk. He took out his cellphone and decided to call you.

If he let himself into your apartment unexpectedly so late - he didn’t want to scare you.

“Spencer.”

Your voice had a breathy, airy quality to it. He wouldn’t quite call it tiredness, not like he had woken you from sleep.

“Y/N.” He called your name back softly. “Did I wake you?” He still wanted to ask, even though he wasn’t sure that was the case.

“No.” You replied. “I - I missed you, baby.”

The slightest quiver in your tone gave you away. That gentle, needy curl around the word baby - it practically brought him to his knees on the sidewalk.

All at once, his mood changed.

It was something beautiful that you often did for him.

Every single bit of brick-like grief was pushed out of him in favor of that flowery, dreamy lust.

“You missed me?” He parroted the words back, mischief seeping into his voice as he continued the walk toward your apartment on slightly weaker legs, the cool night air brushing up against his now heated cheeks. “You’ve been thinking about me a lot tonight, haven’t you, darling?”

You let out a fluttering moan. You knew that you had been caught, so you felt no sense in holding back now.

Spencer pulled his messenger bag to sit in front of his crotch, praying that he wouldn’t look indecent in public. It took so little effort from you to make his cock swell to attention - with his intense attraction toward you, and with you being so perfect, such a beacon of beauty and sex.

“You caught me.” You huffed out. “Been thinkin’ about you all night, baby. The bed feels so empty without you.”

You both knew that it was a subtle admission. The downright filthy way you said the word ‘empty’ - Spencer bit his lip to hold back a moan just hearing it. You knew that those clouded innuendos turned him on so much. The veil. The intention.

You were touching yourself, and Spencer had called with perfect timing to ‘catch you’ in the middle of the act.

If Spencer strained his ears enough, he could hear the wet slide of your fingers against your pussy on the other end of the line, and he knew that you could hear the increase in his breathing - the hard huff coming out of his nostrils because of it.

“Where are you?” You whined, clearly needy. “Need you, Spence.”

You hoped that he wasn’t too busy, caught up at work.

“On my way to you now.” He told you, his voice leaking desperate breaths.

He was already grinning widely at the thought of what would be waiting for him - how you would be leaking wetness, so warm and ready for him; how he would be able to simply slide his hard cock into you with no resistance and your gorgeous pussy would so eagerly swallow him up. He forced himself to focus.

“Wait for me, okay?” He added on, trying to have some firmness in his tone - but he knew that it sounded too much like pleading and you would be kind to comply.

Wait.

You let out a strained, harsh sound at this.

You knew that it was another subtle code.

He didn’t want you to make yourself orgasm until he got there. (You had already had one before he called, but it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as one by Spencer’s hand, or his tongue.)

He likely wanted you to stop touching yourself all together. He wanted to leave you on edge, to make you even more needy for him. Even if he would only take a few minutes to arrive, he wanted you hungry.

You had the urge to argue with this, but you held back.

You knew that it would be worth it.

Spencer always made it worth it.

“Okay.” You huffed back, an undertone of frustration in your voice that got Spencer even more excited. You needed him. And he planned on providing every single inch of what he knew you needed so badly. “I’ll wait.” You agreed. “But hurry? Please?”

Please.

The way you said it, asking so nicely - it nearly knocked the wind out of him. You would never truly have to ask him to touch you. Truthfully, he should have to ask for the privilege of providing you with pleasure. He would never say no to you.

But there was something beautiful about hearing that from your lustful voice.

“I’ll be there before you know it.” He promised you gently before hanging up the call.

Spencer would have broken out into a full run if - one, it wouldn’t have made him look entirely idiotic, and two, it wouldn’t have stolen all his energy. Energy that he needed in order properly fuck you. He didn’t need to arrive at your apartment sweaty and panting and then collapse onto the floor in a heap and miss out on his chance to make sweet love to you.

He got there as fast as his legs could carry him (at a reasonable pace), and he estimated that it took him less than four minutes - because your apartment really wasn’t that far from the office. Conveniently enough for him. He skipped the elevator ride and took the stairs two at a time in his eagerness (and long legs). And soon enough, he was putting the key into the lock, welcomed by gentle shadows, the smell he recognized as the air freshener you loved to use, and a single guiding light that must have been the tableside lamp in your bedroom.

“Spence?”

You called out from down the hall as he closed and locked the door behind him.

“It’s me.” He assured you.

He tossed his keys into a bowl that you kept on the counter, toeing off his shoes, ditching his bag off to the side, and shrugged off his jacket as he walked down the hall.

“That was fast.” You remarked with a giggle, making him smile.

“A lady should never have to wait.” He replied, coming to stand at your open bedroom door, already working open his tie.

“Then you better hurry up.” You told him, your voice melting into a purr as you stared at him with honey warm lust in your eyes.

You were completely naked, laying in the middle of the bed, propped up on a few comfortable pillows. The comforter was down by your ankles; perhaps you had crawled into bed with the intention to sleep (some of your sleep clothes strewn across the floor, as though you had stripped them off and tossed them aside) - but then found yourself feeling that deadly ache between your thighs and kicked away the covers to relief yourself.

Spencer had called you with perfect timing.

Perhaps your soul had sung out to him like a siren - luring him here to perform his duty to you, to act as the servant meant to bring you pleasure. He could think of no better duty meant for his existence than to serve you. Ideally, it was something he wanted to spend the rest of his days doing. He would buy you a house, give you kids if you wanted them, support you in whatever ways you needed. He felt like he lived to make your life better - to make you smile, to make you laugh, to make you moan with pleasure.

If he didn’t have that, then he was lost.

In the low lighting, the star shaped necklace that he had given you for your birthday sparkled between your breasts, and Spencer found that you were most gorgeous wearing only that - a kiss of his claim on you, a perfect symbol of the beauty of your relationship among your goddess-like curves.

He felt entirely overdressed and he rushed to play catch up; fingers fumbling over buttons, his movements becoming downright frantic as he stripped out of his clothes. He almost knocked his glasses off his face while ripping his shirt off his head, and he had to place them on your bedside table for safekeeping. And then he nearly tripped out of his pantlegs on his way to the bed, which had you giggling, and he flashed you a smile.

But finally, he was freed, as naked as you were, and he crawled between your open, welcoming thighs. It felt like coming home. Your hands reached up to settle onto his ass - gently smoothing from the skin there, up his back, spreading warmth across his body as you groped him smoothly with soft, open hands.

He planted one hand on the pillow beside your head and used the other to gently lift your chin toward his. He captured your lips in a smooth, knowing, passionate kiss - you didn’t hesitate to moan into his mouth, and Spencer echoed it right back. He had missed you so much during the day. Even though he had seen you less than forty-eight hours before this, he felt decades of yearning in his heart.

He really should ask you to move in with him soon.

Even if he had to be away for days on cases, he should get to come home to you.

The two of you should start building a proper life together.

But of course, any thoughts about the clippings of property listings that Spencer had hidden away in a desk drawer fled from his mind when you rubbed your knee across his thigh, sending shivers through him - reminding him exactly what he was here for.

Typically, he would be the kind of man to go down on you, thoroughly, before he fucked you. He loved the feeling of your legs tightening around his head - he loved the taste of you on his tongue.

But when he felt the bare head of his cock bump up against your entrance, smearing your wetness over him - his self control broke down. He had missed you so much. He realized that he needed you just as badly as you needed him. He moaned even harder against your mouth, and he pulled away from the kiss with a huff, moving his hand to your hip.

Then, he asked a very important question.

“Do you have a condom?”

It broached the front of his mind, then, that he hadn’t brought one with him.

He knew that you typically kept a box of condoms in your bedside table. But the last time he had reached for one, the box had been empty. And he had resorted to using ‘the emergency condom’ that he kept in his bag. He didn’t have one in his bag now and he wasn’t sure if you had gotten a new box of condoms for the nightstand.

While he contemplated all of this, he kissed along the side of your breast, and then gently tongued at your necklace, still loving how it looked against your bare skin.

“You don’t need one.” You breathed out in reply.

You combed your hand through his hair, raking your nails across his scalp in a way that made his hips unconsciously buck forward. It was something that made it far more difficult for him to concentrate. Especially when he felt more of that warm wetness smear across him, his cock just barely dipping into your heat.

He didn’t entirely care to decipher the meaning behind your words. He simply trusted you.

(Later, when he was looking back on it, he would have guessed that you meant you were taking your oral birth control consistently. Or that you meant to pick up a Plan B pill in the morning. But looking back on it now - it was the only time within those last months of your relationship that the two of you didn’t use a condom. You were urging him on, and maybe, at the time - a baby truly was what you had in mind.)

“Please, Spencer.” You begged quietly. “I need you. Just you.”

He wasn’t one to deny you anyway. And he certainly wasn’t going to deny himself of this.

He reached down and used a hand around the base of his cock to help line himself up - and then he gently guided the length of his cock into you.

This was always his favorite part.

The gasp - the lilting moan you let out when his cock first slid into you, the way your thighs flexed around his hips - it was all so perfect.

But it was even more perfect without the barrier of a condom in the way. Spencer always thought that it was a myth, men talking about how condoms actually reduced the feeling. It was such a thin piece of latex, how could it truly affect the overall sexual experience that much? Sex with you was so amazing, he couldn’t possibly imagine it getting any better.

But this - this was so much better.

He could feel your wetness sliding against every inch of his cock, he could feel your heat drowning him, he could feel every little clench you made - every little movement. He felt like he was truly drowning inside of you. Like he was being smothered inside of your perfect body.

His head collapsed against your breast, and he sucked in a sharp breath, struggling through it all, as though he was trying to swim through thick, warm honey. His head was hazier than it had ever been - if someone asked him to recite a most basic fact at this moment, he wouldn’t be able to.

“Spence,”

You whined, arching your hips into him, forcing your pelvis into him just slightly more - he felt your pubic hairs grazing against the base of his cock, the sensitive head of his cock angling at a new place inside of you. He let out a pathetic moan, struggling not to cum too early.

“Move, please.” Your voice was breathy, and desperate, and he had to remind himself of his purpose - bringing you pleasure.

“Yes.” He sighed, trying to regain his composure. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just-”

Whatever else you were going to say was promptly cut off when Spencer put both hands on your hips and bent his knees slightly, gaining the traction needed to properly fuck you.

He didn’t initiate a brutal or rough pace, but he pistoned his hips well enough to take the air out of you. His movements rang a moan out of your lungs as pleasure hummed through your body, finally getting what you had been craving all night. You loved the feeling of his long cock finally plunging in and out of you, especially without the barrier of a condom. It was enough to create the delightfully filthy sound of skin smacking through the air, well timed with the chorus of moans that began to echo out from your lips. Something that was complemented by Spencer’s own grunting and whining - something he tried to partially hide by biting his lip.

It was perfect. It was so easy, came so naturally between the two of you. It was a perfect rhythm between your bodies that came from knowing each other so well, feeling so at ease with each other. It was a perfect dance that made your entire body relax - the beautiful tingle of knowing that he was touching you.

“Thank you.” You moaned, reaching around to plant your hands on Spencer’s ass again. “Fuck, thank you.”

You bent your knees and spread your thighs more, angling your body perfectly for him to fuck into you even deeper. At the same time, you used your hold on him to pull him closer - to shove his cock even deeper into you. Something that both of you grunted harshly at. It wasn’t just out of the visceral need to have him inside of you; it was the pure yearning to feel close to him, to have him as physically close as possible.

With your wetness gathering around the base of his cock and dripping down over his balls - with your hot, thrumming cunt squeezing over him, he was getting dangerously close.

“Y/N.” He warbled out your name, almost as a warning.

“It’s okay.” You breathed back. “Cum for me. Come on, please.”

Spencer couldn’t resist - not when you said ‘please’.

The sound that came from his chest could only be described as a cry, and you forcibly held him close by digging your nails into the flesh of his ass. Any fleeting thought he might have had about pulling out left his brain in a millisecond. Especially when he felt your tightness fluttering around him, his hips unconsciously fucking deep into you, his body loving the feeling of being held tightly there while your cunt milked him for all he was worth.

He certainly didn’t miss the sweet moans you let out - the bright eyed awe you started up at him with as you felt his cum fill you up for the first time.

Spencer collapsed on top of you - even as tired as he was, he was careful not to hurt you by putting too much of his body weight onto you. (Even though you professed that you liked feeling his weight on top of you because he didn’t weigh all that much).

“Wow.” Spencer breathed into your neck - finding himself speechless after such a fantastic moment.

“That - that was amazing.” You remarked, breathless.

After a few moments, his cock began to go flaccid and slipped out of you, and he still felt your pussy practically beating with heat. He was reminded of something.

“You haven’t had an orgasm.” He mumbled quietly.

“It’s okay, I-”

‘I made myself cum earlier.’

Your words were cut off as Spencer descended down between your thighs. He felt his cock twitch with interest at the sight of his thick, white cum leaking out of your used cunt, mixing with your clear wetness.

So perfect.

He didn’t hesitate before putting his hands on your thighs, holding your legs apart while he shoved his tongue deep inside of you - partially with the purpose of cleaning up his own mess and partially with the newfound curiosity to taste what the two of you were like together.

You gripped onto his hair and moaned out, not a single complaint to be found on your lips.

It was the most perfect night that either of you could have imagined. All topped off by falling asleep in each other’s arms after a hot shower together.

Three days later, Spencer was called away on a case in Atlanta, Georgia that changed his life forever.

…

‘Do you know when he was conceived?’

“No.”

Spencer could see the lie reflected in your body language - how closed off you became, how quickly you rushed to cut off his words. Along with the intense heat reflected in your eyes. You were thinking about that night.

He thought he knew exactly which night you were thinking about - if his memory served him well enough. Which it usually did.

He couldn’t hold himself back from calling you on it.

He locked his eyes on yours across the table, the memory of that night possessing him - the ghost of your warm skin pressing against his own only further driving the words from his lips.

“Don’t lie to me.” He said, his voice a deadly, low rumble. “Look at me now, and tell me in all honesty that you don’t remember that night. Tell me that you don’t remember the way I felt inside of you. Tell me you don’t remember how good it was.”

Maybe it was pure spite on Spencer’s end. Desperately wanting to know that after all the resentment, the arguing, the years he had lost with his son, with you, that you still felt something for him underneath the anger and the annoyance.

Even if that underlying thing was lust. It was a strange victory, but he mentally cheered when he saw you clench your thighs together past the table - when your jaw tightened up. Your fingers twitched, and he knew you well enough to see the subtle signs of your lust from a mile away.

Old habits die hard.

Spurred on by this, and your steely silence, he kept going.

“Tell me that you don’t remember how perfect we were together - how good it felt when it was just us, nothing but skin on skin for the first time.”

You exhaled sharply.

“Spencer, we are not doing this right now.” You declared, your voice quivering slightly in your throat.

This didn’t deter him.

It was your use of the words ‘right now’ - even if unconsciously, you thought that there might be a ‘later’.

(In your mind, having sex with your ex, the father of your child, just to get off, sounded like the worst idea ever. But he looked so good and you knew that he was good in bed and if you had to be cooped up in the house with him for much longer, you would be making that stupid decision against your own will.)

“Tell me you don’t remember how good it felt when I came inside you that night.”

Spencer’s words were becoming more graphic now, looking to get more of a reaction out of you.

It worked in an instant - you swallowed thickly, your whole body tingling with the imagery his voice carried. The underlying lustful rumble in his tone making your insides quake. Your leg twitched with that unconscious desire to have some friction between your thighs. It was working so well, and he hated how much he loved it.

“I mean - what was your intention that night? Did you want me to fuck a baby into you? Is that why you were so desperate for me to fuck you raw? Is that why you kept pushing my cock deeper inside of you? Were you just that desperate to get knocked up?”

His words were making you utterly dizzy with heat. If it wasn’t for the common sense blinking loudly at the front of your brain, you would have jumped across the table and tackled him just to hump him for some sort of friction on your aching cunt.

Of course, he could read this plainly all over your face.

“Spencer-” You breathed out.

Just then, Spencer’s phone rang, cutting through the dangerously palpable tension in the air.

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and when he saw Morgan’s contact name on the screen, he thought for certain that the man was calling to discuss some development in the case.

“I have to take this.” Spencer sighed.

“That’s fine.” You nodded. You were glad to have some relief from the dangerous tension - you needed a few minutes to collect yourself.

Spencer got up from the table and naturally moved toward the back door - a sliding glass door that he was disappointed to find unlocked. He would have to remind himself to have a talk with you about having better security protocols in your home, even during daylight hours.

Spencer closed the door behind himself, creating a small barrier of privacy as he answered the call.

“Hello.”

“Hey, pretty boy,” Morgan chuckled.

Spencer rolled his eyes, immediately knowing that this wasn’t a work call - this wasn’t anything serious in nature for Morgan to be greeting him that way.

“What do you want?” Spencer replied, his patience already in short supply.

“Oh, come on, man.” Morgan kept up that airy, light tone. “You think you can sneak around with your secret little family and not have it be the hottest gossip we’ve had in years? I wanna hear more about this kid of yours. Me and Prentiss got a bet, goin’ - so, was it an accident or not? Did you really know what you were doin’ when you stuck your little genius thang in her back then? Or no?”

Reid was going to kill JJ. (Well, not really. He was likely just going to glare at her firmly and ignore her for a day - or, just until she apologized.)

He knew that it had likely been an accident - the information about his private life getting leaked to the entire team. But, if JJ could keep important information about killings away from the media, why couldn’t she keep this out of the team’s hands? Why couldn’t she have made up some excuse about where Reid was?

“No, no.” Spencer ground out harshly, reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I am not telling you if my son’s conception was an accident or not just to satisfy some stupid bet.”

“Ooh, a son.” Morgan seemed stuck on this piece of information. “Rossi, you owe me a drink. It is a boy.”

Reid heard Rossi and Prentiss arguing in the background, and he let out another frustrated sigh.

“Don’t you have work you should be doing?” Spencer asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

“Hotch has us spinning our wheels here.” Morgan replied. “Goin’ through more of these daycare forms while Garcia runs more background checks - but, so far, we’ve come up with squat. Your Baby Mama is the only real lead we’ve got so far.”

Reid sighed.

“So, was it a one night stand? An epic night of passion?” He chuckled, still using a teasing tone.

Spencer didn’t answer.

“At least tell me this - is she cute? What was it about this woman that got Doctor Reid to chase after his Darwin instincts for once?” Morgan pressed on.

“She’s beautiful.” Spencer replied without even thinking, his eyes looking at you through the glass door. “She… she’s perfect in every conceivable way.”

Sebastian had come back down stairs, clearly looking for Spencer. And now you had him in your lap, still sitting on your kitchen chair, playing with a couple of plastic dinosaurs that he had brought down from his bedroom on the tabletop.

There was a distinct, humble beauty in the fact that you didn’t know you were currently under Spencer’s attention. You looked at Sebastian with such intense love in your eyes - a way you had once looked at Spencer, before that love had been replaced by scorn and disdain. Before he had messed it all up.

“Woah.” Morgan wisped in reply. “That sounds like a whole lot more than just one night of baby makin’.”

Maybe he was still fishing for information to ‘win’ the bet, maybe not. Spencer couldn’t quite tell from his tone alone. But he did sound a bit more serious, and that wedged Spencer open a bit more in order to feel comfortable continuing.

“It was.” Spencer sighed. “She - she was the love of my life.” He added on, feeling safe to tell Morgan this. “But I messed it all up.”

Morgan instantly dropped his joking and teasing when he heard the choked off tears in Spencer’s voice.

“What happened?” He asked.

“Long story.” Spencer sighed. “But - it ends with me being excluded from my son’s life. For a good reason.”

“I don’t see any good reason why you shouldn’t be allowed to see your kid.” Morgan replied. “Reid, I’ve seen you with kids, man. If anybody deserves to be a father, it’s you.”

“I was different back then. Around the time she got pregnant.” He explained. “It was just after Hankel.”

There was a tense silence as Morgan sat with the truth - as he absorbed it. Clearly, he was unsure of what to say, and Spencer found himself naturally continuing on.

“He’s so smart.” He added on, looking at the way Sebastian ran his fingers along the neck of the brontosaurus - maybe he had brought that one down for Spencer, remembering that he had said it was his favorite. “He’s such a good kid.”

He almost choked on these words, more tears welling up that he forcefully pushed down.

He turned away from the glass door then, just in case you looked up to see his tearful face. He wiped his eyes with a stiff hand, and he was surprised by what Morgan said next.

“So be good to him.” He said. “Be there for him now. Step up and be the dad that we all know you can be.”

Before he could reply, Morgan continued.

“I don’t know if I believe in fate, but Penelope always says that everything happens for a reason.” He said. “And she would tell you to use this as an opportunity to be reunited with your girl, and become a real family. Even if it is because of some scumbag killing people that brought us here.”

Spencer smiled at this.

“That is very Garcia.”

“And you know she’s always right.”

...

Continue reading here: Chapter Four - Last Hope

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

minkiverse · 22 days

Text

POLY!ATEEZ FIC RECS PART 1

Part 2 - Kim Hongjoong - Park Seonghwa - Jeong Yunho - Kang Yeosang - Choi San - Song Mingi - Jung Wooyoung - Choi Jongho

A collection of Ateez fics that I think everyone should know about!!! This has been QUITE the project, but I'm so happy to have done it. Unfortunately not all my recs could fit on one post so there will be at least one other part to this list, as well as individual member lists. (i really thought i could fit them all on one post lmaooo) I hope you enjoy and support these authors!!

DISCLAIMER none of these works are mine and majority are MATURE 18+, please review all warnings before reading!!!

Key:

✨ - My Favs

🔥 - Smut (MINORS DNI)

⛈️ - Angst

💗 - Fluff

🍑 - Humor

POLY!ATEEZ

Sway With Me - @luvt0kki 🔥⛈️ Sci-fi ✧ Ongoing

the world 🤌 the story 🤌 the SMUT 🤌🤌🤌 but truly this fic is such a fun take on a sci-fi adventure. im already obsessed with the mc, AND HER AND WOO'S CHEMISTRY?!?! off the charts sooooo good like 👏👏👏 the interlude has me a tiny bit nervous because now i know how well this author writes angst and yeah its gonna be a doozy 😩😩

Wonderwall - @atzfilm ✨🔥⛈️ Yandere ✧ Faerie AU ✧ Ongoing

i realized pretty quickly that yandere is much more popular in this fandom than in previous ones i've been in, so i never really read any. HOWEVER, i get it now i do lmao. this was the first one i read, and i was HOOKED like i couldn't stop reading! the story just like took over my brain, and i am thinking why am i sympathizing with the guys BUT I AM BECAUSE THEY ARE COMPLEX AND SO INTERESTING AND WELL WRITTEN!!!!! its hard to put into words how much i love this series

The Answer - @berryunho ✨🔥⛈️ Cult AU ✧ Ongoing

i genuinely don't think i've ever read a fic like this, and i mean that in literally the best way possible. i was STRESSED reading this like there are so many scenes that make me question everything, but like there is no one to trust about what is actually happening. idk if i'm making sense but this fic just needs to be read to understand the legit anxiety it gives me in certain chapters lmaooo😭😭

Deep Down - @seventhcallisto 🔥⛈️💗 ABO AU ✧ 9th Member AU ✧ Ongoing

this is just self indulgent fun AND THAT PEOPLE IS WHAT FANFICTION IS MEANT TO BE!!! like im just kicking my feet reading about this 9th member ateez finding out she's an omega!~ i'm having the TIME OF MY LIFE!

Into the Aurora - @honeyhotteoks ✨🔥⛈️💗 Idol AU ✧ Complete

this soooo quickly became my main comfort fic for ateez! like i have reread this TOO many times. sometimes i'll just revisit specific chapters, but i know the exact chapter number.... is that concerning? lmaooo~ but truly this is more than just a you date every member of ateez fic (WHICH ARE GREAT DONT GET IT TWISTED!!) but the more we learn of the mc the more i adore her and her relationship with the boys!! it's just a must read ok 👏👏

Inception - @remedyx ✨🔥⛈️💗 Dragon!Teez ✧ Royalty AU ✧ Ongoing

my brain is still stuck in this world tbh, like its maybe a bit embarrassing how many times i look at the map and moodboards and just vibe and think about this fic lmaoo! but honestly the world building is so thoughtful and its so easy to just immerse yourself in it which is amazing!!!!!!!

Dragon from the Window - @thelargefrye ✨🔥⛈️💗 Dragon!Teez ✧ Fantasy AU ✧ Ongoing

this collection of one shots, drabbles, headcanons, and world building i went through SO QUICKLY I WAS IMMEDIATLY OBSESSED. i am so genuinely invested in this story and how each member react to their connection with the mc!!!! ALSO the mc is a witch SO BIG BONUS POINTS!!!!~

like the moon - @sunmoonjune ✨⛈️💗 Warrior AU ✧ Clan Systems ✧ Ongoing

try not to cry challenge - FAILED, MULTIPLE TIMES 😭😭 this is major hurt/comfort, but its truly such a beautiful story!! i would do anything ANYTHING for gray!!!!! all of them deserve the absolute best in the world and i just adore them so much 🥹🥹🥹

Morning Mist - @mint-yooxgi ⛈️💗 Dragon!Teez ✧ Yandere ✧ Ongoing

another story with an mc that is just 🤌🤌🤌 like she is so badass i'm in love but also scared lmao,, but i think if you are new to yandere, this is a good starting point! like yes they are obsessed but not like terrifyingly so if that makes sense~

MULTIPLE MEMBERS

This Night Together - @honeyhotteoks ✨🔥⛈️💗 Yunho x Reader x Mingi ✧ ABO ✧ Ongoing

listen i'm a bit of a slut for ABO fics and this one!!!! THIS ONE IS SO FUCKING GOOD!!!!!!!!! im like just in love with all of them not just yungi n reader but EVERYONE (except u minseok u bitch) like not only is the main plot so good but the side plots for the other members is just incredible,, i just love this story too ok if you see this author know that every fic they write is going to be a comfort fic for me 🥹🥹

Project Omen - @atzfilm 🔥⛈️ Hongjoong x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ Hybrid AU ✧ One Shot

Bouncy - @hongism 🔥Yunho x Reader x Jongho ✧ Mechanic AU ✧ One Shot

splish splash - @atozfic 🔥San x Seonghwa x Wooyoung x Yunho x Reader ✧ Swimmer AU ✧ One Shot

sharing is caring? - @byuntrash101 🔥Hongjoong x Reader x Mingi ✧ Idol AU ✧ One Shot

Untitled - @orgverse 🔥Seonghwa x Reader x San ✧ Idol AU ✧ One Shot

Untitled - @cheollipop 🔥San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ One Shot

Threesome with Yungi with woosan watching - @k-hotchoisan 🔥Yunho x Reader x Mingi (San and Wooyoung) ✧ One Shot

one more rep - @cheollipop 🔥San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ Personal Trainer AU ✧ One Shot

blue bird - @seonghwaddict 🔥💗San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ Mafia AU ✧ One Shot

What's the Time, Mr. Wolf - @starlitmark 🔥Yunho x Reader x Mingi ✧ Hybrid AU ✧ One Shot

the good friend + the better friend - @byuntrash101 ✨🔥San x Reader x Mingi ✧ Idol AU ✧ Two Shot

as a sangi bias this fic changed my life maybe?!! the smut is just toe curling ESPECIALLY PART TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!! literally i could drool just thinking about this fic 🤤🤤 i need this to be my reality ASAP

Untitled - @ja3hwa 🔥Seonghwa x Yunho x Mingi x Reader ✧ Business (?) AU ✧ One Shot

knockout - @igbylicious 🔥San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ Boxer AU ✧ One Shot

Untitled - @sanspuppet 🔥Hongjoong x Reader x Seonghwa ✧ One Shot

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥San x Reader x Mingi ✧ One Shot

Time of Love - @desayunho ⛈️💗 San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ SMAU ✧ Complete

compromise - @cyberpxnk 🔥⛈️ Seonghwa x Reader x Yunho ✧ College AU ✧ Soccer AU ✧ One Shot

Untitled - @cheollipop 🔥San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ One Shot

cheerleader - @byuntrash101 🔥Seonghwa x Yunho x San x Ming x Reader ✧ One Shot

from eden + Pt. 2 - @atzfilm 🔥⛈️ Seonghwa x Reader x Yeosang ✧ Vampire AU ✧ Two Shot

whichever way - @igbylicious 🔥💗 San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ Neighbors AU ✧ Ongoing

Under the Comforter - @thelargefrye 🔥Seonghwa x Reader x San ✧ Idol AU ✧ One Shot

Double Trouble - @kitten4sannie 🔥 Wooyoung x Reader x Jongho ✧ Hybrid AU ✧ One Shot

What Should We Become? - @sluttywoozi 🔥💗 Yeosang x Reader x San ✧ One Shot

like a dream - @cheollipop ✨🔥💗 Yunho x Reader x Mingi ✧ One Shot

this is like so incredibly hot, literally all i need in life is to be in between these two men 😩😩😩 but it is also so sweet and both boys are so doting to the mc and the end!!!!!!!!!! so loving and cute and aaaaaaaaaaaa 😭😭😭

SCENARIOS/TEXTS/HEADCANONS

ateez as royals who fall for you (hyungs, maknaes) - @eightmakesonebraincell 🔥⛈️💗 Royalty AU ✧ Scenarios

subby ateez - @seventhcallisto 🔥Headcanons

Ateez cumming too soon - @sluttywonwoo 🔥Headcanons

soft cuddles with ateez - @beenbaanbuun 💗 Scenarios

first kiss with ateez - @beenbaanbuun 💗 Scenarios

Ateez and pussy slapping - @kitten4sannie 🔥Scenarios

Bedroom Mishaps (hyungs, maknaes) - @seohwang 🔥💗 Scenarios

Ateez 'n free use - @seventhcallisto 🔥 Scenarios

Cupping their Cheeks - @yeorisanaxox 💗 Scenarios

Ateez as Exes + Pt. 2 - @kisshwa 🍑 Texts

Friends to Lovers Headcanons - @kpopnstarwars 💗 Scenario

boyfriend!ateez discovering you write smut - @eightmakesonebraincell 🍑 Texts

Ateez being overstimulated (hyungs, maknaes) - @ateezscupid ✨🔥 Scenarios

listen i just like sub!ateez a lot 😭😭 but like these are such a go too for me when i NEED some dom!reader content like it is so cute/hot/toe curlingly delicious 🤤🤤🤤

mtl of who would like choking - @sxcret-garden 🔥 Headcanons

texts when they think you’re asleep - @beenbaanbuun 💗🍑 Texts

#ateez #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #ateez fic recs #fic recs #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #fic rec masterlist #in celebration of chellateez week 2~~#merengue makes lists

1K notes · View notes

hollisxwrites · 3 months

Note

could you write a percy x daughter of dionysus reader? 🧎‍♀️🙏🏼

lay all your love on me

AGED UP percy jackson x daughter of dionysus! reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: inspired by the "lay all your love on me" scene in momma mia!, just take out the funny background dancers. pretty spicy, not fully on smut, but definitely some heavy making out and innuendos. underwater kissing, mention of underage drinking and the reader being a little bit of a troublemaker, some language, possibly can be seen as slightly angst at the beginning with some little bitty bit of jealously. i really like this one!

summary: the reader is bored on a beach day with her boyfriend, percy, so she decides to tease him a little bit, which ends up with her and her boyfriend making out on the ocean floor LMAO.

Laughter filled the air as my boyfriend, Percy, and I sprawled out on the beach of Camp. It was one of the rare days of peace we had at Camp, a beautiful, glorious, Sunday. Percy looked stunning, as always, the sun warming his freckled face, and the sea making his already perfect hair even curlier. His swim trunks, even though they had unicorns in shark onesies on them, clung to his figure perfectly. I took a sip of my champagne that we had managed to steal out of the cabinet that my dad kept near his desk, and I tried to pry my eyes away from Percy. He was chattering out about something that had happened with the younger campers the day before, watching the waves from his perch against a rock. I wanted to distract him from the mundane talk of camp, so I decided I would mess with the boy a little bit.

I stood up from where I sat near Percy and pulled off the oversized tee shirt that I had on over my swimsuit. The swimsuit was plum purple, and I knew Percy loved it, he made it abundantly clear every time I wore it. I stood near the water, about ten or eleven feet away from Percy when his conversation finally died down. “You look...beautiful, dear gods.” He choked out, his voice straining a little bit.

I smiled and adjusted my hair, so it framed my face. “Thank you, darling.” I took another swig out of my champagne flute and turned so my back was to Percy. Soon enough, just as I expected, Percy was beside me. He moved to put his hand on my lower back, but I swatted his hand away. I looked over and saw the little pout on his face, and knew my mission was already succeeding.

“I noticed you talking to Connor a lot yesterday, what’s that about?” Percy asked, his tone almost a little bitter, even though I could tell by his demeanor that he was joking with me.

I shrugged. “I lived in the Hermes cabin for a long time, Mr. D never wanted to claim me because he didn’t want to have to punish his own daughter. I used to get into a lot of trouble at Camp.”

Percy chuckled at this. “Oh, I know. What did Connor want, though? You guys don’t usually talk like that.”

“Don’t worry about it, Perc.” I looked him in the eye. “He was just asking me if I knew who had stable duties this week, since we both are in trouble with Chiron right now.”

Percy sighed, letting his eyes wander down my figure, which sent electric shock through my entire body. “Okay, I’m just not used to being so jealous. Any guy I see talk to you feels like a potential threat.” He moved closer to me, our fingers millimeters away from touching.

“You have no reason to be afraid of other guys. You know I’ve only ever had eyes for you. You have all my love.” I said, comforting the boy.

He nodded at this. “Sorry, I feel so possessive of you sometimes, you’re just so fucking beautiful, I know any guy would want to have you, but you’re mine.”

A shiver ran down my spine. “That’s why I love you so much, Perc. That is exactly how I am with you. I don’t want anyone else to even look at you.”

Percy leaned down a little bit, probably trying to kiss me, and I connected our noses, but never our lips. I moved away, pushing his muscular chest a little, and went to take a sip from the glass still in my hand. He smirked a little bit, finally catching onto the game I was playing with him. I set the glass down in the sand, and walked further into the water, thus further away from Percy. I flipped myself so I was facing him again. “Don’t go wasting your emotion, Perc. Lay all your love on me!”

He giggled, obviously getting the ABBA reference I was making here. “Okay, miss disco queen.”

I laughed, getting close enough to kiss him again. This time, just our top lips touch before I pull away and move back to the rock we were leaning against earlier. Perched again on the rock, I looked Percy in the eye. His eyes wandered once again to my figure in the swimsuit, but not in a way that made me uncomfortable, in fact, he made me feel so loved with his gaze. He moved towards me this time, and finally brought us together into a real kiss. My back pressed against the cool surface of the rocks, and I was fully immersed in the kiss. His hands went to my waist, pulling my chest flesh against his, causing my entire body to feel ignited by his touch.

He separated us, leaving me panting and my knees weak. “Two can play this game, disco queen.” He ran off into the water, diving into the depths of the salty sea.

“Not fair!” I shouted out after him, still trying to compose myself after the earth-shattering kiss we shared. Sure, as a Dionysus kid, I may have a lot of wit and a lot of charm, but I could not breath underwater like Percy could. Suddenly, I saw a mop of blond curls pop up from the water about half a mile into the distance. “Percy Jackson!” I yelled again.

I saw, or at least I thought I did, him flipping me off from the distance, and that made the desire in me to catch him even stronger. I hopped in the water and started to paddle my arms, quiet poorly, trying aimlessly to catch up with the boy. I felt a hand grab my calf, and I yelped as I was pulled into the water. I came face to face with Percy. I hated to say it, but he looked even more attractive underwater, if that was even possible. His lips met mine, once again, and due to his touch and manipulation of the water, I could breathe, ish. His hands gripped me, pulling me further down into the dingy water. Being underwater with Percy was always a thrill, especially when we were making out like this, tongues clashing and hands being nowhere and everywhere all at once. When he finally parted from me, both of us were panting like dogs. “Gods, I love you.”

I giggled, pressing a lingering kiss into his jawline. “I love you, too.”

He bit his lip as I continued to press kisses into his jaw, his neck, and eventually his collarbones. Maybe it was the champagne going to my head, or maybe it was my handsome boyfriend, but I had never been happier than I was in this moment. My kisses went lower and lower down his abdomen, and I’m sure what you can guess what happened next.

But, as they say, what happens in the ocean stays in the ocean, or something like that.

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson show #percy jackson x you #percy jackson fluff #percy pjo #percy jackson imagine #percy jackon and the olympians

1K notes · View notes

kyber-crystal · 4 months

Text

i will follow you into the dark || bradley "rooster" bradshaw

summary: your first instinct has always been to push people away when they get too close, but for some reason, you have trouble letting one pilot go. but little did you know that he had settled into your heart from the start and has no intention of leaving. (in which you have Bradley Bradshaw wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even notice—5 occasions that solidify your love for him, and 1 time you realize it)

words: ~3.3k

warnings: angst (BUT A HAPPY ENDING, I PROMISE), near-death experiences, brief mentions of violence, also my writing LMAO

a/n: hi guys i haven't posted a full-length fic in a LONG time but here we go :) this fic won the vote so it's going up first! hope you enjoy :)

I. meet me in the middle

“Mav!”

You and Maverick turned around at the same time. “Which one?”

“The pretty one,” Rooster stated.

“Be more specific.”

“I am being specific, Captain.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Fine, I need your daughter.”

“You always need her for something.”

“Sorry, pops,” you grinned and clasped Maverick’s shoulder, and walked over to Bradley. “Come to kidnap me again, Bradshaw?”

“Actually, I’m hungry.”

“Then…go eat? I don’t see what any of that has to do with me.”

“I’m going to dinner, and I want you to come along,” he explained. “So, let’s go.”

“Is that why Cyclone was grumbling about someone spilling coffee all over him earlier? I knew it had to be you that put him in that mood.”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”

You looked back at your father, who simply laughed and motioned for you to go. The test flight would have to wait.

It was 5:30 when you got there, but the usually-crowded cantina had only one other person inside. Rooster didn’t hesitate as he set down his car keys and slid into the booth right next to you.

“There’s a seat right there,” you pointed out.

“And?”

“You can sit over there.”

“I don’t want to, though.”

“Alright, then.”

You weren’t even done for the day and already, felt tired and worn out beyond belief. The one thing that had been keeping you going was Maverick’s promise to take you on a Mach 7 test flight. (With the Admiral’s permission, of course. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he had never asked.)

Rooster tells the waitress your order without blinking, and you give him a tired smile as a thank you.

There’s no animated conversation, no loud comments or jokes or anything of the sort as the food comes out, but neither of you mind. Sometimes, all you needed to cool down from a long week was each other’s company and a steaming plate of fajitas.

The little routine you’ve established falls into place so easily you don’t even have to think. Impromptu dinners, blasting 80’s music as the sun goes down, taking the offbeat path down to the coast with salt in your windswept hair. Little to no words spoken, and somehow the silence speaks volumes.

But you don’t understand why he’d choose you to do this with, out of everyone. You’d expect him to drift towards someone less damaged. Someone who could keep up to his free and daring spirit and push him to his limits. Someone who had less baggage and didn’t flinch at every little touch.

But despite all that he doesn’t leave. Even when everyone else around you seemed to, he was always there, assuring you he’d wait no matter what.

“Don’t worry about it.” He places a gentle hand over yours as he hands his card over to pay later that evening. “Let me treat you tonight.”

“Thanks…”

He holds the door open for you as you walk out and keeps a ghost of a hand against your back the whole way to the car. You’re trying to burrow into yourself, but he doesn’t stop looking at you. The feeling of his eyes on you sends shivers running down your spine and you nervously shift in your seat.

“You okay?” Rooster places his hand on the headrest as he reverses out of the parking lot. “You seem quiet tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t press any further, assuming that you’re tired and that’s why you’re unwilling to say much. He knows. He understands. “If you ever need to talk, though, I’m one call and a 15 minute walk away. Or 7, if I sprint.”

This makes you laugh a bit. “If you say so.”

II. waiting on you

As soon as you hop out of your plane, he’s the first one there to greet you and pulls you in for a hug. You have no time to react to it because he’s so quick to sweep you up into his arms. You can smell a mix of sweat and coffee and a little bit of raspberries on him, and it helps bring you back down to reality.

“You saw me a few hours ago, Roos…please let me go…” you mumbled into his shoulder. His grip on you only tightens further. “What’s with the excitement?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy to see you.”

Not knowing what else to do, your hands awkwardly reach up to pat him on the back. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Though you don’t say it out loud, you’re also just as happy to see him—it’s comforting to know he’ll be waiting whenever you return from something. And that, you think, is more than enough.

Rooster carries your things for you without asking, and you’re grateful because your shoulders feel like they’re going to fall out of their sockets. Once again, he’s standing close by as you go to your quarters, ever the watchman. If he doesn’t have a hand on you, then his eyes will stay glued to you for as long as they can be.

“Is that my shirt?” he asks as you step out of the bathroom wearing an oversized vintage T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“No.”

“It looks better on you, anyway.” He smirks; you fail to notice the way his gaze lingers on you a bit longer than normal. “You ready to go? They’re waiting for us at the Hard Deck. Hangman’s complaining about a rematch or somethin’.”

You lean into his side and smile, and he puts an arm across your shoulders. It feels so natural that you almost don’t notice. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

His eyes never leave you, even when he’s in the thick of the game. It’s impossible to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach every time his gaze flickers over to yours.

Coyote notices your dazed look and nudges Payback in the side. “How is it that everyone knows that Bradshaw and Y/N love each other except Bradshaw and Y/N?”

“Because they’re stupid,” Payback whispered back.

“Ah. Makes sense.”

“So, we need to do something about it.”

“Hm…I’d say we wait it out. They’re going in the right direction.” A small smile graced Coyote’s face as Rooster pumped a fist up in victory before rushing over to embrace you. “A room full of people, yet all he sees is her.”

“You’re so right, man.”

III. rose-tinted glasses

“What are you looking for out there?” Rooster called out.

“Something pretty,” you replied as you stood by the ocean’s edge, the wind fanning your hair around your shoulders. He’s sure that he’s never seen a more mesmerizing sight.

“I beat you to it, because I already found one,” he stated with confidence, eyes never leaving you.

“Where?”

“I’m looking right at her.”

“That’s not what I meant, silly. Do I look like a seashell to you?”

“No, you’re even better.”

You laugh once again and resume your search. Right then, a glowing scallop catches your eye, and sand dusts your clothes as you bend down to pick it up. It’s smooth and seems to glow in rose gold amidst the early evening light.

“Would you look at that,” you breathed out, palm extended to show him what you’ve found. “It’s perfect.”

Rooster encloses his hand around yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s cold out but you’re not freezing at all because he’s so close. He’s so close. Your heart skips a beat.

“Wow…it sure is.”

He kneels down with you, and you spend the next few hours making it a competition to see who can find the most unique set of stones. A strange feeling washed over you as you watched his brows furrow in concentration. Never had you imagined to be spending Thursday night with Bradley Bradshaw by the seashore, and yet, it feels like you’ve done this thousands of times before.

Everything seems to fall into place.

IV. for you, i’d cross the line

“Y/N, hey.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter. Move over.”

You shifted on the bench to make room for him and he sat down next to you. This was probably his tenth time playing his rendition of ‘Great Balls of Fire’ but that didn’t matter; the man knew how to sing. You found yourself leaning into him and listening to his heartbeat, and the sensation lulled you into a peaceful trance.

You took one good look at your best friend. Sweat lined his forehead and his face was bright red from both the alcohol and heat, but still, you were 100% sure that you’d never seen a more beautiful sight in your life.

The way he seemed to gaze at you made your heartbeat pick up speed. It didn’t matter that he had too one too many drinks in the moments leading up to this, nor did it matter that he was always one to be rather affectionate with you. It didn’t make you love him any less—if anything, it made him all the more endearing.

“You’re looking at me very…intensely,” you mumbled. “It’s making me nervous.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “A man can’t help it when he’s in love.”

“Was that tipsy you or sober you?”

“Sober me is saying I love you.” He continues playing, unfazed, and the sound of the piano in your ears fades away into nothingness.

It’s drunk Rooster telling you he means what he says, the confidence boost making him do things he normally wouldn’t. It’s drunk Rooster attempting to serenade you as his warm, alcohol-riddled breath falls against your neck. It’s drunk Rooster talking…but there’s a sober truth hidden behind his words that sends a shiver down your spine.

You’re nose-to-nose as he starts to sing, and you lose yourself in a sea of gold and blue as his warm thumb grazes over your cheek. As if there’s an invisible string drawing you together, you move closer and closer towards each other. Drunk or not, he was utterly enchanting and you couldn’t turn away.

Once again…you ignore the stirring feeling in your chest at the feeling of his body being so close to yours.

V. saving grace

You find yourself opening the door to Rooster, who has a bouquet of your favorite flowers and some large Tupperware in hand. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you accept them and step aside to let him in. “What is this for…?”

“Thought you’d want something nice to add to the kitchen. You and Mav need to work on decorations,” he said. “Why? Do you not like them?”

“No…I’m…how’d you know these were my favorite, anyway?”

“I heard you talking on the phone to Phoenix about them six months ago,” Rooster explained, taking his jacket off and hanging it over the couch. “I pride myself on being observant like that. Also…I woke up early to cook you that pasta you always go nuts over when we drive to LA.”

“Oh.” Your heart twinged as you glanced over—that damn pasta was your favorite thing on the entire planet. You claimed that nobody could make it as well as the diner in Newport did, except Bradley himself. (He didn’t tell you how many times it took to get it just right, though. He didn’t want you freaking out over that. And besides, Maverick’s pots and pans that he borrowed had already paid the price.)

He paused for a moment after setting the container down on the counter. “I noticed you went home early today. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied as you put the flowers in a vase. But that was no use; he could see right through your monotone response. “Didn’t sleep enough last night.”

Bradley sees your hands tremble slightly. “Sweetheart.”

That’s all he needs to say before you step forward and lean your head against his chest. One arm finds its way around your waist to pull you close, while his free hand smoothes your hair out. A cracked sob escapes your lips and you squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes that if you kept them closed long enough and prayed hard enough, a guardian angel would swoop in and save you.

“I’m here, it’s okay, you’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “You’ll be okay.”

“Please don’t go, Bradshaw,” you begged, voice hoarse. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m right here, don’t worry,” he reminds you, his hand moving down to rub your back. “I’ll be here whenever you need me, I promise.”

You reach your pinky out a bit, and the two of you link your fingers together.

You’re never letting go, and neither is he.

epilogue—soul ties

“I’m trying to shake them off. They won’t let up—shit, I’m hit—”

His panicked voice cuts through the buzz of static and you can feel your whole body go numb. What if he doesn’t make it back… The thought alone is too much to bear.

He curses under his breath and you hear something like that of a whispered prayer and several mentions of Please let me come home to her. Your heart clenches in your chest and you feel like you’re going to puke. Noticing your sudden uneasiness, Maverick grips your hand to keep you steady.

“Bradshaw, what the hell is going on there?” Coyote nervously rubs at his forehead as he looks up at the screen. “If you die, we’re all going to kill you.”

“Left engine’s completely blown out. I have two bogeys on my tail.”

You bite the inside of your cheek until the tangy, metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. This couldn’t be happening. There already was a ghost amongst the skies, and Rooster could not afford to become the second…

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, I’m going down, guys—” Rooster curses again, and the earsplitting sound of a large blast interrupts him before he can say much else.

“Bradley!” you shrieked as you watched his radar signal slowly fade off the screen. “No—”

Silence punctures the air and you finally lose balance, succumbing to the black void of nothingness.

—

10 hours later, you sit outside the hospital room in the cold hallway, a thin, tear-stained blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman and Phoenix had long since given up on getting you to move, so they took turns sitting with you.

“You should try eating. There’s In-N-Out nearby, I’ll get something for you if you want,” Jake offered.

You shake your head.

“Come on. It’s been all day.”

“No.”

“You’re really that worried about him, aren’t you.”

“No,” you muttered bitterly.

“You claim to not care, yet you’ve been sitting here for the past ten hours.”

“I don’t care. This is me looking out for him in the same way any colleague or teammate of his would. This is what I’m supposed to do. What we’re all supposed to do.”

“Y/N.” Jake sounds a bit more serious this time, and this makes you stop trying to bury yourself within your thoughts. “Listen to me.”

“What,” you exhaled.

"The fact of the matter here is,” he cleared this throat, “Bradshaw cares about you…a lot. Not in a simple and innocent ‘friendly’ way. And if you keep pushing him away like you always do, all 'cause you're scared, you're gonna lose him for good. Losing a good man out of fear is never worth the cost."

Your heart stops.

Every hug, every word and cheesy pickup line, every lingering glance and touch and intertwined set of fingers—he'd fallen first long ago, and pulled you down with him. But you let him, and you'll walk to the ends of the earth if it means he'll hold your hand along the way. And that's when everything hits all at once—the realization comes crashing down like a waterfall.

You were hopelessly in love with him, the man who brings you flowers every Friday night. In love with the man who holds the door open for you, gives you his favorite jackets, and stays up late or wakes up early to learn your favorite comfort meal (even if it means failing 17 times in the process and ruining Maverick's kitchen), the man who serenades you to classic rock ballads with the taste of rum on his lips.

This was Rooster Bradshaw, and he was your soulmate.

“But I already lost him,” your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words to say, “I can’t.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That man is going to stay waiting for you until the day his body is buried six feet underground. Deny it all you want, but he’ll keep waiting long after he takes his last breath.”

You let out a long sigh and stood up. “Okay.”

You’re hesitant as you step inside the small hospital room. He’s asleep, but he must’ve sensed your presence and his eyes flutter open.

“Sweetheart…”

“Bradley.” He moves over a bit for you, and you sit down next to him. “You’re alive.”

“Sorry for not dying. That must’ve disappointed you,” he jokes. If he’s in any sort of pain, he manages to mask it behind a soft smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I waited ten hours.”

“You should’ve gone home and slept.”

Closing your eyes, you rest your head against his chest. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that you weren’t okay.”

He hums some tune against the crook of your neck; lips brushing over your skin. “But I came back, like I promised. I’m okay, because you are.”

Helovesmehelovesmehelovesme.

As if he could read your mind, he leans in just that bit closer. You look up at him and your heart somersaults in your chest.

When your lips meet, everything clicks into place and it’s like you finally found the missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for. He was here all along; it made so much sense. Everything else fades away into the background as you get lost in the feeling of him and him alone. You knew from the moment he stuck out his hand and told you with a million-dollar smile “I’m Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, and I can make a mean lasagna or anything else you want,” that choosing him would be the single best thing you ever could’ve done.

And you were most certainly right about that now.

“I kept it, you know.” he murmurs as you eventually break away, “I didn’t think it would last as long as it did, but here it is.”

“What…what are you talking about?”

He fingers dip below the scoop of his T-shirt and he brings out the glittering charm, laying it in his hand. “You gave it to me ages ago. It was a while ago but I still remember the exact time and place. August 5th, 2010, 2:26 a.m. We were both on the verge of falling asleep.”

Your heart grows warmer. “Roos…”

Rooster opens the locket, and inside is a picture of you beaming as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. So young and so in love, but not yet knowing how you felt about each other.

“I think this is what kept me alive up there. I was in the air long enough to think about and reflect on the fact that I was dying, but I knew I had to come home to you. I was dying, Y/N, but you saved me. If you didn’t come into my life right when you did then I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be telling you that I love you.”

He has you at a loss for words yet again. It didn’t matter that you’d known each other for years because he would always find a way to steal your breath. The once-tiny caterpillars crawling in your stomach had morphed into giant butterflies that never stopped fluttering when he came too close.

He leans in and he’s kissing you again; this time it’s like you’re his sole source of oxygen and he’s in desperate need of fresh air. Your grip on his hand tightens as he deepens the kiss, and you pray to God that your heart won’t explode into a million pieces like it did when you thought you wouldn’t see him again.

I’ve died and come back to life twice now, Rooster tells himself.

And both of those times, you’re the angel that magically appears to save him from a certain, unfortunate fate.

tags, including people who may be interested (sorry if this list seems off, it hasn't been updated in a while hahah): @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @purelyfiction @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @buckysbeloved @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @vitanileon @lam-ila @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @queenbbarnes @yeehawnana @t-stark35 @thesunsetphantoms @danirose-0420 @callalily2000 @the-untamed-soul @shizzybarnaclee @bananaa @luvfurdogs @shalaniela @unordinare @and-claudia @lgg5989 @katiemcrae @elenavampire21 @joyfullyswimmingface @nyx2021 @cosm1cfae @ellabellabus07 @vane28282 @bittergomez @littlebadariell @tallrock35 @whotfatemywaffles @hoedameronsworld @aerangi @julia-marshal @uwiuwi

(also if you filled out the general taglist form/top gun taglist form and you're not on here, that means i couldn't tag you for some reason)

#top gun #top gun: maverick #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun fic #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw x reader #miles teller #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x y/n #top gun maverick fic #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you

1K notes · View notes

leclerc-hs · 4 months

Text

capsize - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x nanny!reader summary: in which charles is an idiot and you decide to make him suffer for a little bit warnings: smut, angst!, exhibitionism (kinda?), breeding kink!, language, 18+!, bad french!!! (please correct me and i'll edit), barely proofread (sorry if there’s mistakes my eyeballs hurt) word count: 5.9k (LENGTHYYYYY) author's note: had to give us some angst obvi....but also smut bc single dad charles is so hot. let me know what you think! I can't believe it ended up being this long but it felt like it was impossible to end. xoxo. please blow this up bc the effort I put into writing this took 100% of my brain power away lmao. also I got an anon request to write about nanny getting a internship with a fashion company which is included in this! french edits made by the lovely @dannyramirezwife (idk what I would do without you)

part 1 part 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 52,789 others yourusername welcome to miami 🐚🧡 view all 1,321 comments yourbsf but how do you kill it every time??? landonorris mmmm papaya looks good on you🍊 charles_leclerc how do I dislike a comment? liked by yourusername and 7,829 others yourusername 😂 user guys omg. user charles is NOT having it charles_leclerc beautiful. but please stick to red ❤️ user CRYING user lando is def on his shit list user lando wants her so bad lmaoooo

yourusername

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 78,992 others yourusername luigi follows only the ferraris 🏎️🏁 view all 4,391 comments scuderiaferrari as you should! ❤️ user OMG SHES IN MIAMI!!!! user does this mean his daughter is there!!!! user i would hope. unless she's not doing her job lol user we need baby leclerc content!!! charles_leclerc damn right ❤️ yourbsf miami looks gooood on u. wanna move? yourusername 😏 charles_leclerc absolutely not user charles gtfooooo user what does charles just stalk her comments?

charles_leclerc

liked by scuderiaferrari, yourusername, arthur_leclerc, and 1,582,817 others charles_leclerc special guests this weekend ❤️ we’ll keep pushing as always. view all 5,717 comments scuderiaferrari the most precious guests EVER user literally. user guys he’s using plurals again!!! user it has to be about @/yourusername too user crying they’re so cute carlossainz55 can’t wait for her to design my next helmet 🌶️ charles_leclerc OUR* yourusername sweet baby girllllll 🩷🧸🎀

lando.jpg

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 274,892 others lando.jpg mrs. 305 tagged yourusername view all 3,672 comments user omg. user are her and lando dating? user i hope not user they would be so cute carlossainz55 damnnnnn 🌶️🥵 lando.jpg don't poke the bear @/charles_leclerc charles_leclerc 😒 yourusername don’t ever let me take another tequila shot again lando.jpg should i cancel the ones i just ordered to your room? yourusername you BETTER be joking charles_leclerc is that why i opened the door to shots? charles_leclerc mon dieu user no like she's so pretty user they're sharing a room!??? landonorris tagged yourusername in a story!

seen by charles_leclerc, yourbsf, carlossainz55, and 900,281 others yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, maxfewtrell, and 65,428 others yourusername who let lando behind the dj booth last night???? tagged landonorris view all 2,318 comments maxfewtrell he’s such a 🐍 user omg her and lando?? user lando has been in love with her for so long user can we just take in that charles didn’t like this post? user charles has a habit of not liking any of her posts with other men 👀 user ariana what are u doing here user where is charles?? user prob with his daughter bc she clearly isn't lol user it's HIS daughter landonorris i'm so lucky user WHAT!!!!!!! user GUYS HELP user IS HE CONFIRMING?!!!? yourusername you need to stop trolling the internet lando user DJ LANDOOOOO HAS RETURNED

YOU BEGIN TO wonder whether the universe harbors some inexplicable grudge against you. Because really, you always make sure to check in on your friends often. You always make sure to pay your bills on time, if not earlier. Heck, you even make sure to donate to a different charity every month. Yet, as the jet encounters heavily turbulent skies on the way to Miami, the persistent question echoes in your mind ‘why me?’.

Luckily, a bundle of joy rests on your lap, cupping your face in her hands, and playfully squeezing your cheeks. A sweet distraction from the terror you feel inside. It’s adorable how earnestly she tries to impact calmness in you, even though her eyes are half shut with sleep.

“Ne sois pas effrayé,” Don’t be scared. Her voice maintains its gentleness as she swiftly loses interest in your cheeks, redirecting her tiny hands to play with the ends of your hair. “Je suis là avec papa.” Me and papa are here.

“Chérie,” Charles coos at his daughter, picking her up from your lap and resting her down on the bed. “Repose-toi bien," Get some rest. He tucks her into the bed, a space far too vast for her tiny body, nestling her favorite fluffy bunny stuffed animal by her side. You observe in admiration as he plants a gentle kiss to her forehead, then tenderly strokes her hair in a soothing manner.

“J’ai besoin qu’elle me borde, papa,” I need her to tuck me in. Her tiny fingers point to you and your heart instantly tightens. With a slight shake in your steps, you make your way to the bed, sitting on the side of it. “Bonne nuit, ma petite.” Goodnight, little one.

“Bonne nuit, maman,” Goodnight, mom. The words were mumbled with sleep, but it was the name that couldn’t be ignored.

For a brief period, both you and Charles experienced a suspended moment, a pause in time. Never had she referred to you in such a way, and you certainly didn’t want Charles to assume you influenced her perception in any manner.

“I don’t know why she said that.”

Caught like a deer in headlights, you pivot your head to face him. Panic courses through you, eyes widened, heart pounding. Yet, as you turn to Charles, he appears nonchalant, offering only a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“C’est bien.” It’s okay.

In a hushed pause, the both of you remain motionless aside from turning your head back to the sleeping toddler, entranced by how peaceful she looks. However, Charles finds it hard to divert his gaze from you. His eyes focus on the serene scene of his daughter’s fingers delicately entwined with yours, even in the depths of sleep, acknowledging the profound connection between you two. In these tranquil moments, where your presence is indispensable for tucking her in, Charles not only appreciates the nurturing care you offer but also recognizes the profound love and solace you impact. He can’t help but feel incredibly fortunate to have you in his life.

Only when Charles’s gentle hands tenderly squeezed the back of your neck, providing a subtle massage to your tense muscles, did you become acutely aware of the extent of your own exhaustion.

“Allez, dormons un peu, d’accord?” Let’s get some sleep, yeah? His lips delicately brushed against the shell of your ear, followed by a tender kiss on your temple, guiding you toward the other bed on the jet. Wrapping his arms snugly around your body, he let the both of you fall onto the mattress. While pulling the covers over both of you, your face pressed against his chest clad in a soft t-shirt. As you planted a gentle kiss above the neckline, you could feel the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat.

Despite the passing of a few months since that initial kiss, your connection with Charles retained a serene simplicity. In the quietude of your shared moments, you found solace. Deliberately, you resisted the temptation to let your mind drift into the what if’s, choosing instead to remain in the present moments.

However, within his mind, thoughts raced at a million miles a minute. Regardless of the casualness of your relationship you both claim to have, he couldn’t stop picturing you with swollen breasts and a swollen belly. The moment his daughter called you ‘maman’, an almost feral instinct surged within him. It was a wild and untamable force. He couldn’t stop imagining you pregnant. Full of his kid. Full of him. The need to fill you up with all of him was all but surging through his veins. All the blood was rushing to his cock, and he knew he needed to get these thoughts out of his head.

“Bonne nuit,” Goodnight. His voice sounded so rough as his arms tightened around you and you easily fell into a quick slumber, feeling so safe in his arms from the turbulent skies.

The abrupt touchdown of the jet resonated through the cabin, rousing you from slumber. A ballet of movement ensued before your eyes met the scene: Charles had migrated to one of the plush seats, his daughter perched upon his knee. The ambient hum of the aircraft formed a backdrop to the unfolding familial vignette, a delicate interplay of affection. As Charles tenderly pinched his daughter’s cheeks, childlike laughter following their hushed whispers.

Charles shifted his gaze towards you, now upright on the bed. Your tousled hair framed a face adorned with the lingering softness of sleep, and your eyes, slightly puffy with remnant of slumber, held a captivating allure. Despite your disheveled state, he couldn’t help but find that you remained the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Bien dormi?” Sleep well?

A gentle smile played on your lips as you rose from the bed, indulging in a languorous stretch that showcased the contours of your body. The fabric of the t-shirt clung momentarily, revealing the subtle canvas of freckles adorning your stomach to Charles. His gaze involuntarily flicked away, a reflex triggered by the flooding memories, thoughts of you pregnant resurfacing in vivid detail. The mere glimpse of your stomach had him internally spiraling.

“Uncle Lorenzo and Auntie Char want to see you bébé,” baby. A ripple of excitement danced in his daughter’s eyes as she clapped her hands joyfully at the mere mention of her uncle. Lorenzo and Charlotte had made their way to Miami a few days prior, cleverly disguising their visit as an opportunity to vacation while supporting Charles in the impending race. This strategic maneuver afforded you and Charles the luxury of solitude in the days leading up to the event, a rare and treasured gift compared to the last few months.

“Merde,” Shit. He grunted as his head fell back against the headboard of the shared bed. His green eyes watching you with flushed cheeks as you worked yourself over his cock. “This is where you belong, yeah?”

The morning sun peeked through the curtains of the hotel room. Eliciting a warm glow in the hotel room as you sunk down onto him deeper than before. Your pussy fluttering around his length, appeasing the ache that he created before you even opened your eyes.

You nodded your head repeatedly. “Mon dieu, yes.”

His hands cup your ass, fingers pressing firmly into the delicate layers of your skin, leaving an imprint as if searching for a connection beneath the surface. Controlling your movements, he urges you to move more frantically. The feeling of your hot, wet, pussy squeezing him was almost too much for him to handle.

With each passing second, the pressure of his fingers increased, creating a sensation of both command and invitation at the back of your neck. His touch was a deliberate grasp, not just holding but asserting dominance. Your lips met in a symphony of desire. His tongue slipping into your mouth instantly, brushing against yours as he held you against him. Your nipples flushed against the toned muscles of his chest as you leaned in, and the pound of his hips fucking upwards into you, had you all but mewling into his mouth.

“C’mon mon ange, don’t make me wait.” My angel.

You’re not sure if it was the pet name or the fact that you loved to please him. Or maybe the brush of his body against your clit. But your orgasm came quickly after while the tears spilled slowly from your eyes. He swallowed every moan you gave him like it was his own source of oxygen before flipping both of you over and pushing you face first into the mattress.

Every moan you gave him was like fuel to the pound of his hips. He was completely lost in the feeling of you. “Take it all,” he grunted as he pushed your body into the mattress deeper than before, his eyes not moving from the sight of his cock coated with you and slipping into you.

You were begging and pleading him to give you more, more, more. You don’t know what more he could give you; you just knew you needed it.

“So pretty like this,” he muttered, “like you were made just to take my fucking cock whenever I need.” His thrusts began to slow, but the speed didn’t alter just how good they felt. No, he pushed himself even further, hitting all the spots just right. It was as if he was trying to become one with you. Like he wanted merge you two into a singular existence.

“Cha,” You moaned out his name and you couldn’t see but his eyes widened. His heart clenched at the nickname. He pulled out quickly, provoking a complaint from your lips as he began scooping one of his arms under your stomach and flipping you onto your back. He took a second to just look at you, a shine forming in his eyes as he observed you. You look absolutely fucked. Cheeks flushed, hair all over the place, eyes glossed with satiation, and red marks all over your neck from his fingertips.

“Needed to see your face,” he answered before you could ask, slipping his cock back into your needy hole. The confession making your heart clench and the stretch of his cock had your stomach doing flips. “Besoin de voir tes yeux.” Needed to see your eyes.

His gaze was unwavering and fixed upon you. It was as if sought to etch the intricate details of your face into the canvas of his memory. He wanted to capture every nuance, every curve, and every expression that you made.

“Merde, let me cum in you.” His eyes trailed down your face, to your neck, to your breasts. The bounce of your breasts from the force of his hips had him in a trance, thoughts of you with swollen breasts came back to mind. When he felt your pussy clench around him at the phrase, a smirk formed. “Yeah? Want me to fill you up sweet girl?

“S’il ti plaît,” please. You were pleading. You wanted nothing more. “J’en ai besoin.” I need it.

Charles’s eyes almost rolled to the back of his head at your confession. His groaning and grunting increasing in volume as he pounds into you harder, every inch of his cock pressing against your velvet walls as he releases into you, making you feel all warm inside.

“Tu es parfaite.” You’re perfect. He collapses beside you; his voice was so low that you almost didn’t hear him mumble the words as he pressed his lips to your collarbone before resting his head on the pillows. You felt your cheeks redden almost instantly, brushing off the compliment with a smile and small laugh.

“Je dois prendre une douche.” I need to shower. The mixture of his and yours cum was oozing down your leg. You could still feel the warmth of it. Charles mumbled a soft “mmmm”, already drifting off into a slumber.

You weren’t sure what changed in the few minutes you were in the bathroom, but you could feel the unease build in your stomach as you emerged with a towel wrapped around your frame and skin flushed red from the heat of the water to Charles pacing around the room, a knuckle in between his teeth.

He was agitated to say the least. He felt betrayed by you.

A subtle smile played on Charles’s lips as the sound of the shower resonated in the room, accompanied by your soft hum of a song he couldn’t name. The ambiance of the hotel room cocooned him in a profound sense of peace, and in that moment, he wished he could stay here eternally with you. Kissing you, touching you, inside of you.

When he heard the buzzing of a phone on the table beside the bed, he instinctively reached for it without glancing at the screen, presuming it to be his own. Given the context of it being a race weekend, early morning phone calls were expected.

“Bonjour?” Hello? He let out a cough, clearing his throat from the sound of sleep and satiated desire. The subtle rasp carried with it the traces of his happiness.

“Ah bonjour, hello, this is Camille with Christian Dior.” The woman’s voice echoes into Charles’ ear. He sits up immediately, back against the headboard. His first thought was ‘why is Christian Dior calling me?’ but it wasn’t that abnormal either. Companies reached out to him all the time for collaborations. “I am calling regarding the application we received for the internship and wanted to schedule and in-person meeting.”

Charles felt his stomach twist in knots as he listened to Camille chatter into the phone. Application? Internship? Moving the phone from his ear, he looked at the phone realizing that it was in fact yours and not his. This call was for you, not him. Camille’s voice was muffled as it was pulled away from his ear.

A wave of nausea coursed through Charles, the unexpected revelation at the possibility of you leaving hitting him hard. How could you just apply for another job like that? He felt himself growing antsy and restless as thoughts swirled in his head. Camille, who was confused by the silence, mumbled something about calling back later due to the lack of response from Charles.

He dropped the phone onto the duvet of the bed, standing up and pacing the room while he felt himself begin to question everything. Questioning why you would leave. Does he not give you enough? Was it too much to handle? As his thoughts droned on, taking a turn for the worse, he began to feel angry. Angry that you considered leaving this job. He began to see red.

“Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas?” What’s wrong? You were cautious, not standing too close to him to give him some space. His head whipped in your direction almost too quickly.

Your attention was drawn to the wrinkle lines etched on Charles’s forehead, marking the aftermath of his furrowed eyebrows. The subtle creases and wrinkles, usually absent in is carefree demeanor, painted you a picture of his current inner turmoil. When you shifted your gaze to meet with his narrowed eyes, the cautious padding of your bare feet seemed to echo.

It was an unfamiliar sight to witness Charles engulfed in such a storm of emotions. The stark contrast to his usual carefree and joyful demeanor. He was blinded by his rage as he muttered the next words.

“Es-tu idiote?” Are you stupid? His jaw was clenched. A soft gasp left your lips as you clutched tighter onto the top of your towel, feeling rather exposed now. “Demande à Christian Dior.” Ask Christian Dior. His spat out the name Christian Dior with such disdain. As if it were dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

Your eyes widened, everything clicking. You weren’t sure how he knew, but he was answering your internal thoughts before words could form on your tongue.

“Ils t’ont appelé. J’ai répondu par erreur.” They called you. I answered by mistake. He let out a loud sigh as he leaned against the dresser across from the end of the bed, his forearms flexing as he gripped onto it tightly. You noticed the definition of his muscles and veins forming on his arms. He was squeezing the dresser, trying to gain some relief from such anger swirling within him.

At first, you wanted to argue him for answering your phone. But you knew him. You knew he wasn’t snooping. He said it was a mistake, so you took his word for it.

“Qu’ont-ils dit?” What did they say? You weren’t sure how to approach this conversation with him. You especially were not expecting it to go this way, with you wrapped in only a cotton towel.

His eyes narrowed to an almost imperceptible slit, the vibrant green drained from any warmth of presence. “Are you serious?” The exasperation in his voice reverberated through the room. Your question seemed to strike a nerve, leaving him incredulous. Was that all you had to say? The absence of an explanation hung in the air, adding more tension to the charged atmosphere between you two.

“Ne me crie pas dessus.” Don’t yell at me. You felt your own anger building at his attitude. Who did he think he was? You padded back to your suitcase, grabbing whatever outfit you could without paying attention. You weren’t sure what you even grabbed or if it even matched, but you didn’t care. You were too busy listening to Charles raise his voice.

“Don’t walk away from me.” He pushed off the dresser, trailing behind you. “What is this internship you applied for?”

You didn’t answer right away, instilling more anger within Charles. “Answer me. You’re just going to leave like always?” His tone struck you with disbelief, the harshness leaving an unexpected sting. The air was too intense. You needed to get some air.

Like always?

You turned and faced him. “Are you asking me as my boss or my fuck buddy?” You knew it was a low blow, but it was so unfair for him to be this mean to you. It wasn’t even necessarily his words but his tone that bothered you most. He spoke to you as if you were a child who needed punishing.

You had a shirt half-way over your head and black leggings on. “It’s just a summer internship. I didn’t even do the interview yet, but you seem to know that already.” You waved him off, rushing around the room to get your stuff. You needed to get out of here. You weren’t going to sit here and let him berate you.

“You can’t just leave.” He followed you to the door, gripping your wrist to pull you back towards him. You yanked your arm out of his grip.

“You’re just like everyone else.” His words tumbled out incoherently, much like uncontrollable word vomit. He could feel the panic rising in him as you made your way towards the door. “Right. Use me and then leave. It’s all I’m good for.”

His words twisted your stomach, and you chose to overlook the burning ache in your heart.

“Fine. Just go fuck your ex-boyfriend or something. Or Lando. I know he wants you.” He stood there, chest heaving up and down with his heavy breaths. You pulled the door open, standing in the frame, you took one last glance at him.

“Va te faire foutre.” Go fuck yourself. And with that you were out the door.

“Je n’arrive pas à le croire!” I can’t believe him! “C’est vraiment un connard.” He’s really such an asshole.

“Babes, you’re g’na need to speak in English for me to understand,” he laughed before taking a sip of his beer, “you muppet.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at Lando, seated across from you in the elegant ambiance of the hotel restaurant. Adorned in a snug black dress, every curve of your figure accentuated, the crystal jewels meticulously tracing the contours of your breasts. The garment displayed a subtle dip between your cleavage, adding an enthralling touch. It was safe to say you looked fucking good. Or as Lando said, “holy fucking shit, you took the air out of my lungs.” Which in response, you couldn’t resist a playful shove to his shoulder.

In the aftermath of the argument with Charles, you found yourself in the company of Lando, driven partly by Charles’s mention of him. Despite the strained circumstances, your connection with Lando remained strictly platonic. However, Lando’s penchant for flirting was a constant, adding a playful dynamic that colored your friendship. Thankfully for Lando, he was the reason you were able to even get a change of clothes seeing as you left the hotel room earlier in complete disarray. It was still your day off, one that was originally supposed to be spent with Charles. Lorenzo and Charlotte were still taking care of Charles’s daughter, leaving your night wide open.

“Martin’s driver is picking us up soon,” Lando declared, drowning the remainder of his beer and emphatically slamming the bottle onto the table. There was still two more days before the race weekend began, meaning Lando wanted to go out to which you agreed easily. Meanwhile, you maintained a composed sip from your glass of wine. With a playful glint in his eye, Lando added, “Get your dance moves ready muppet.” The prospect of the evening ahead seemed to carry a promise of lively escapades.

Your laughter echoed, creating a buoyant atmosphere as you seamlessly fell into a comfortable conversation with Lando. His easy-going nature and banter helped soothe the lingering nerves from the earlier argument with Charles. In that moment, you felt nothing but gratitude for Lando’s presence.

The vibrant lights of the club painted the atmosphere in a kaleidoscope of colors, while the unmistakable scent of alcohol lingered in the air. The club pulsated with energy of the intoxicated crowd, bodies swaying to the vibrations of music surrounding them. It wasn’t until you reached the DJ booth that you felt a wave of reassurance wash over you.

The night unfolded with a multitude of shots, some in which you had to pretend to take, just to save yourself from vomiting on the floor. The music provided a lively group, thus creating a joyous atmosphere. You surrendered to the rhythm, dancing through the hours, deliberately steering clear of thoughts about the brunette Monegasque who typically occupied your mind.

As you slid out of the booth, making your way to the bathroom, you finally pulled your phone out of your purse. The screen was littered with missed calls and multiple messages, most from nonetheless Charles.

from Charles (dilf) Where are you? 18:45 You’re such a brat. 19:19 Really? You’re with Lando? 22:47 Could your dress be any fucking shorter? 22:51 Tu essaies de me tuer 01:27 You’re really testing my patience 01:46

You didn’t answer. Feeling triumphant as you snickered to yourself at his messages, him clearly struggling with the concept of you being out with Lando. Slipping the phone back into your purse, you continued your night, leaving all worries behind. Because if you didn’t, the mere reality of the argument with Charles would have you vomiting on the floor.

It was honestly insane how the sun was just beginning to rise. Yet, you and Lando were just stepping foot into the hotel not even a few minutes ago, drunken laughter between you both as you exited the elevator to Lando's floor. No doubt, pictures of you and Lando surfacing all over the internet tonight. But you weren’t worried about that. What you were worried about was the angry brunette standing outside of Lando’s hotel room door, his arms crossed, and eyes tired as if he didn’t sleep the entire night.

You and Lando both sobered up quickly from the sight of him, brooding in front of the hotel door. Charles opened his mouth, utilizing both of your native tongue to exclude Lando from the conversation.

“Tu es putain de sérieuse?” Are you fucking serious? The harsh tone he used drew you back to the argument that had occurred earlier in the day. Or should you say yesterday?

“Que fais-tu ici?” What are you doing here?

He rolled his eyes, teeth gritting as he looked over to Lando smiling beside you with his hotel room key in hand. “Muppet, are you sleeping over, or no? I’m tired.”

Charles didn’t afford you a moment to respond before swiftly shutting him down. The gaze he directed at Lando carried a lethal intensity, a silent warning that spoke volumes. “Absolutely fucking not.” Charles’s grip tightened on your arm, an assertive pull guiding you down the hallway toward the elevator. Surprisingly, you didn’t resist, allowing the momentum to carry you forward. You looked back at Lando who had a smirk on his face and winked at you. What a fucker.

The elevator enveloped you both in an oppressive silence, interrupted only by rhythmic beeping accompanying each floor you ascended. Charles maintained a deliberate gap between you, yet his hand remained firmly clasped around your wrist. In the mirrored surface of the doors, your eyes locked onto each other, breaths syncing. As the doors finally opened, Charles propelled you out with a gentle push, his body behind yours.

It wasn’t until you both stepped into the hotel room that Charles unleashed a torrent of emotions upon you. His voice, thick with a mixture of anger, jealousy, hurt, and worry, carried the weight of the pent-up emotions he had been harboring. He had seen the stories, the posts, and even the photos of you at dinner, images captured by fans.

The way you smiled at Lando in the pictures had him throwing his phone. And don’t even get him started on the dress. The fucking dress.

“Do you like Lando?” He sneered, jealousy bubbling inside of his chest.

And because you felt like stirring the pot even more, you smirked. “Yes.” And although it was the truth, it wasn’t what Charles thought. You felt bad as you saw his face fall, but he deserved it just for a little bit at the very least.

You could feel all the thoughts racing through Charles head before he pulled you both towards the balcony, staring at the city skyline instead of at you. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice thickening with emotion, “What about me? What about us?”

“As a friend.” You finally announced, turning your body to fully face Charles. “I like Lando as a friend, Cha.” You confirmed, a groan leaving your lips. “Do we have to do this right now? I’m so tired and my feet hurt.”

“Oui.” Allowing no room for further complaints, Charles pulled you into an embrace, his arms enveloping you and effectively trapping you between the warmth of his body and the balcony railing. He nestled his head in the crook of your neck, finding a moment of relief in the reassurance that you were back, and in his arms. The tight hold on you spoke of relief.

“You’re mine,” He states. “Label or no label.” He's possessive in the way he speaks and touches you. Like he needs to get his point across. You feel him laugh as his fingers trail around your front side, trailing down until he can slip them up the front of your dress, pressing his fingers to your lace covered core. It was almost too easy. The dress was so short.

The desperate ache in the pit of your tummy grows with each swipe of his thumb along your covered clit. You began to forget why you were even fighting in the first place, his hands on you felt too good. You lulled your head back against him, making more room for his lips to attack on your neck.

Your ability to articulate words faltered, your legs turning to jell-o under his embrace. With one arm securely wrapped around your waist, he became your anchor, ensuring that you remained standing.

“You want my fingers?” His lips are hot on your ear. He slips his fingers beneath your underwear, feeling just how wet you really are. It was almost too easy. “So fucking wet and warm, mmm.” He groans as he slips one finger inside of you, moving it so slowly that you began to get frustrated with the pace. Your hips rut, trying to speed up his fingers, but he holds you in place removing your ability to move.

Your body begins to tremble as he increases the pace of his finger, inserting another one and curling it, hitting the spot you ached most. You want to cum so badly; you want to soak his fingers and tremble around them. “So greedy.” He takes your ear lobe in between his teeth, nibbling gently on it before trailing his tongue down the rest of your neck. “Taking my fingers so well.”

You groaned, his words pushing you towards your climax quicker than anticipated. He could tell you close with the way you were squeezing his fingers so tightly, and the way your words were almost incoherent. As soon as your arm reached back, your fingers brushing through his hair, he pulled his fingers out of you.

“No!” You half-shrieked at the loss of contact, pulling his hair in the process. Your face blushed and eyebrows furrowed from the loss of his fingers.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He flips your body around, your back flush against the balcony railing now. The breeze continues to blow your hair around, no doubt making a mess of it.

“You tell me you’re mine.” You bite back, refusing to say it first. Charles began laughing, it reverberated in his chest.

“Oh, mon ange.” He ignores what you say, trailing his eyes down your body. “This fucking dress.” His words are sharp as he begins gripping the ends of your dress and shoving it upwards, exposing you completely to him now. He placed a quick slap of his finger tips to your clit, the shock and sting of the slap turning you on more than you could imagine.

He pulls you forward, hands squeezing your neck, the area right under your jaw line to be more specific, lips immediately pressing against yours. There was nothing gentle about this kiss. It was hot, messy, and wet. A clashing of teeth and tongue as he sucked on your tongue. Leaving you almost no room to breathe in the process. But you didn’t mind, his kisses were intoxicating.

The firm presence of Charles’s hand on your neck persisted, the subtle pressure from the pads of his fingers inducing a dizzying effect. It was a tactile reminder of his control, a touch that left your head spinning, and wanting more. “I’ve always been yours.” He doesn’t let you respond before he’s pulling your lips back to his. This time, his fingers slip back into your heated core, assaulting and curling them just how you needed them. You breathed hotly into his mouth as your orgasm crashed over you. It was quick and hot. Charles could’ve sworn he was going to cum right in his pants at the feeling of you squeezing his fingers, coating them in you. He’s never been more jealous of his fingers in his life.

He flips you around again, fumbling with the button of his pants as he shoves them down, them falling to a pile around his ankles. He wasn’t slow, rubbing the tip of his cock through your slick folds, he teased you both for a little bit.

When he finally slipped into you, you swore you were going to cum again. You had to squeeze the railing harder to prevent yourself from doing so. You wanted to cum with him.

“Squeezing me so well.” He moaned, the wind picking up and the only glimmer of light was from the sun barely peeping over the horizon. You couldn’t believe you were doing this, out in the open of a hotel balcony, but the thrill of it made it that much more exciting.

“Tu aimes ça, hm?” You like that? He pushes you forward so that your chest was pressed to the railing, your head dangling over the edge as you looked down from the height of the building. Everything looked so small from this height. “Want the whole world to know you’re mine.” He continues.

“Want to fill you up.” You clench hard around him, soft moans escaping your lips into the air in response. Charles couldn’t help but feel his heart pound as he muttered the next words. “Want to fill you up with my cum, want to fuck a baby into you.”

At first, he was nervous muttering the words aloud. But the clench of your pussy around his cock only eased his nerves. Your moans increasing in volume told him just how much you liked that too.

“Merde,” Shit. You were mewling into the open air, the increase in pace of his hips had you seeing stars.

“Are you gonna let me?”

“Yes!” You were yelling it repeatedly. His fingers crawled their way around your body, slipping into the dip in the front of your dress and pinching your nipples. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“C’mon donne-le moi.” Give it to me. And boy did you. You both came with a loud cry, the sound of his hips slapping into your backside a faint noise compared to the moans. The warmth of his cum seeping into you for the second time in less than 24 hours. Although, you were on the pill, you still liked to play along with the idea of being pregnant. The idea of Charles filling you up turned you on like no other.

You both took a few seconds to recoup, trying to catch your breath. He pulled out slowly, but brought his fingers down, pushing the mixture of both of your cum back inside you. He didn’t want a single drop of it to go to waste.

He turned you around, bringing your lips to a sweet kiss.

“Je suis désolée.” I’m sorry. His eyes hold your own. “I should’ve said it sooner. I didn’t mean any of it, I swear. The idea of you leaving had me freaked out, you didn’t deserve any of it. You..”

A small smile graces your lips as you see how genuine he is and you lean up on your tippy toes, bringing your lips back to his. Essentially shutting him up, his hands wrap back around you, lifting you off the ground as he carries you back into the hotel room, both of you collapsing into the bed.

“Even if I got a new job, I’m still yours.” You started. “But actually, there’s this great nanny job I heard about.” Charles feels panic forming in his chest again. But you continue on, “It involves the cutest little girl ever. I also heard that the dad is so hot and cool. Did I mention he’s single?” You joke, laughter erupting between the both of you as he cradles you into his body.

“I don’t think he’s single.”

“Yeah. He definitely isn’t.”

And that was all he needed to hear.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine #don't wake the kids cl16 #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #charles leclerc x you

937 notes · View notes

kooeater · 6 months

Note

Hi babes!! can you do a short fic about older/dilf!jk x reader with daddy issues? smutty and cute pleaseee <3

guys who are older | JJK

Jungkook x f.reader

smut | fluff | tiny bit of angst?

warnings: age gap, older!jk. daddy issues?, unproteced sex, counter sex, dom/sub dynamics, slight choking, afteracare, some cutesy stuff c:

(Is this short? I think so... I'm not sure omg I tried my best anon!! Hope you enjoy!)

Jeon Jungkook, 38-year-old divorced hot dad moved next door to you and fucking hell did he make you go insane. Let's just say, you gotten to know him very well.

Fucking Jungkook was the best part of your day, you two can't go a day without having sex. You made it very clear to him that he can talk to you about anything, it doesn't always have to be about sex! Although, the age gap was certainly something you always swore to him you can understand like an adult.

You're a 21-year-old college student, and he's 38, divorced, and has 2 kids, did you care? No, not at all. You were going to fuck him regardless.

"You're such a good girl for me." a beautiful moan coming from his mouth, his large member thrusting in and out of your tight hole, tattooed hands clamped around your throat.

All you did was knock on his door for some sugar, in the smallest skirt you know he loves.

Now, you're on his kitchen counter, legs spread opened, panties to the side like a whore for his cock to ram into your cunt. Whimpers coming from your mouth as his cock kept hitting the same spot in you over and over again. He knows how's to fuck way too well.

"Jungkook please, cum in me!" you let out a high-pitched moan as you felt his cock hit your g spot repeatedly. You then do a little yelp as his hand comes off your throat and up to your boobs, grasping them like stress balls.

"Fuck, you're going to be the death of me. I can be in this tight pussy all fucking day." his words send you over the edge, you can feel your orgasm coming close. a couple of rubs to your clit and you're releasing sweet cream all over his member just how he likes it.

Sex was great of course; the aftercare was just as good. He lets you know that he cares after fucking you into next week. He would make sure you had a nice spot to nap knowing you're such a sleepy head after sex, he made sure there was snacks for you to munch on.

His praise was everything to you. He knew you didn't have a father figure emotionally there for you while you were growing up, he caught onto your daddy issues really quick. Every time you brought up your grades, good or bad ones he'll always say how he's proud of you.

"Darling don't be sad, an 88% is fine. You studied hard and you did your work, you just need to understand it better. Look, your professor even left a note saying how lovely your handwriting is!" he pointed to the little sticky note, trying to cheer you up as you were letting out tears for not getting the perfect grade back.

"Well yeah I mean, I tried my best to make it look nice." sadness tinted in your voice as you leaned into his chest feeling nothing but warmth and comfort from him.

"I'm so proud of you baby, you're okay." his soft yet simple words are enough to make you break down. He picks up your body and sits down on his living room couch, your hands wrapped around his neck as his arms wrap around your waist.

Times like that were the best, knowing that you can have that comforting connecting with him, knowing that he wasn't just going to walk out on you. He was the older man you always needed in your life, and you're not going to let him go.

this was done pretty fastly lmao sorry if it's boring? Idk I'm not used to writing this way but I wanted to try it out! Like and follow if you feel like it, thanks for readinggggg ~~~ 🤍

- belle 🎀

2K notes · View notes

eternalxvenus · 2 months

Text

⇢ ˗ˏˋ broken promises pt. 2 ࿐ྂ

summary: Rafe promised to take you out and spend your birthday with you, but you don’t hear from him all day and then suddenly he shows up at your door trying to explain. (this is part 2 to the birthday girl angst blurb! i changed the title for the series so it was more appealing)

cw: mentions of drug use, angst, nothing crazy (yet lmao)

wc: 1.2k

notes: i'm excited to write this since its my first series! lmk if there's anything you guys would wanna see in future chapters :)

previous chapters: part 1

You wake up to your alarm droning on annoyingly and feel around aimlessly with your eyes closed to turn it off. Once you had finally woken up on your own accord, you realized you should talk to Rafe. You hadn't spoken to him or left your house the last few days. Obviously, you missed him, but you just felt so hurt and angry with him.

After getting ready and using makeup to look a little more alive and less blotchy from crying so much, you decided you'd go up to Tannyhill to try and talk to Rafe. You left your house, hopped on your bike, and started towards the estate. The whole ride there, you just kept going over what you wanted to say but nothing seemed right. Before you knew it, you were at the front entrance.

You walked inside and heard voices in the distance coming from upstairs. Once you made your way upstairs, you heard the voices more clearly coming from Rafe's room. It was Rafe and another person whose voice you couldn't pinpoint.

"Come on, man you gotta understand where I'm comin' from. I've just been stressed out. Nothing a good time won't fix."

You looked into the room and saw Rafe sitting with some guy you've never seen. There was a table in between them that had some rolled-up bills and coke sitting on it.

You walked inside the room, still unnoticed until you spoke. "Hey, Rafe."

Both of their heads snapped in your direction, and Rafe immediately shot up, walking towards you.

"Shit... I uh- I didn't know you were coming over." He looked back at the man who just sat there unbothered. "Barry, can you uh give us a minute..."

"So let me get this straight, you went to a party and got high, missed my entire birthday, and after I tell you I'm pissed off your next line of action is to get high again with your drug dealer, right?"

Before Rafe could speak, Barry grabbed his stuff and started walking out. "A'ight man hit me up when y'all are done dealing with this shit."

Rafe waited until he thought Barry was far enough before closing the door and speaking, "Can you blame me? I don't hear from you for days so I assumed you didn't wanna be with me anymore! I tried to talk to you and you straight up ignored me."

"I was angry Rafe! I just needed some time to myself. That doesn't mean I'm breaking up with you and it doesn't mean you should start doing drugs again when that is quite literally what we fought about."

This definitely wasn't how you imagined this conversation going. You didn't want to argue with him but your pride wasn't going to let you just back down.

"If you wanted space you could've told me," he sighed. "And I am sorry that I got high at that party and I'm sorry I missed your birthday okay? I want to make it up to you."

You walked over to the bed and sat down for a moment with your head in your hands. You loved Rafe, you really did. But you didn't want him falling into his old habits and lying to you about it.

You both sat there in silence as you thought about what you should do and what you should say.

"Rafe I... I think we should just take some time apart. Get our heads straight and figure out what we want-"

He walked over and sat next to you his eyes wide. "Baby I want you, I want to be with you."

"I wanna be with you too, Rafe, but I have conditions. I don't want you doing coke anymore. I don't like the person you are when you get like that. I know you get stressed and feel like it's your only option but you have me. Or maybe try weed and see how that works for you. I also don't want you hanging with Barry anymore. Non-negotiables."

He nods "I swear I'll work on it and I'll talk to Barry. I swear."

You stand up from the bed getting ready to go out the door. "Rafe... I'm gonna go stay with my parents on the mainland for a few days. I'll be in contact but please try your best to just leave me be. Get clean, for good, and I'll let you know when I'm back and we can figure everything out. Okay?"

He shakes his head. You can see that he's angry and confused, your heart just aches. "The mainland? What- why? Just stay here, I don't understand-"

"Please, Rafe. This is what we have to do okay?"

He took a few deep breaths and ran his hands through his hair. "Okay... okay. When you get back, I'll have made it up to you. Just promise me we aren't over."

You could see the tears that formed in his eyes and had to fight back your own. "We aren't over just yet." You gave him a kiss on the cheek before leaving his room and heading home.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

You were finally off the ferry and on the mainland to stay with your parents. You really wanted to talk to your best friend to get advice so you asked her to pick you up. By the time you reached your house, she was all caught up. Your parents weren't home so you both went straight up to your childhood bedroom.

"Damn... I didn't think he got down like that." Niki looked at you slightly surprised. "Honestly though, it sounds like does care about you, even if he did fuck up."

"Yeah, I know he cares I just... I don't wanna have to worry about shit like this. Whenever he's all coked up he makes irrational and bad decisions. I'm just worried he'll do something and end up in jail or worse."

"You just have to let him know that. Make sure he knows your anger comes from a place of care. If he feels like you're just judging him, it'll probably piss him off."

You sigh and groan into your pillow. "You're right, thanks Niki."

"Don't mention it. Now, let me catch you up on the mainland gossip!" she squealed.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Niki had gone home and you were getting into bed, ready to sleep after what felt like an exceptionally long day, when your phone chimed. You looked and saw you had a text from Rafe.

Rafe: hey I just wanted to make sure you made it to the mainland safely.

You: yes I did, i'm at my parent's house, thanks for asking.

Rafe: of course, goodnight

You: goodnight

Placing your phone on the dresser, you're thankful he doesn't push the conversation further. You decide you'll only stay here for three days before going back to the island to figure things out with Rafe. You just hope he can work on staying clean and that you can go back to being together like normal.

As you closed your eyes, ready for sleep, you heard another chime from your phone. You groaned before picking it up to check.

Topper: hey we need to talk, it's about Rafe.

part 3

likes, comments, and blogs are greatly appreciated!

taglist: @readingsmuts @1aarii1 @bingbongbum @stargirlsturniololover @babygirl229 @poisonedsultana @rafescamshoe

872 notes · View notes

shadesoflsk · 4 months

Text

RETROSPECTION & OUTCOME

pairing: leon kennedy x afab reader.

summary: The journey of healing is not an easy one. Obstacles and doubts filled the path Leon decided to take. However, the agent had planted the seed of self improvement and with your help, a strong and resilent tree will grow.

warnings: strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of reader being a nurse, age gap (reader is 25+) angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of gore, blood and violence, no alcohol consumption but Leon attempts to, Leon's inner thoughts, self doubts, lack of self confidence (from Leon's part) mild mentions of religion trauma, smut, handjob, Leon cries during it, kind of switch Leon, needy Leon (give him a hug please) p in v, creampie, fluffy at the end (yipeee)

word count: 14k

author's note: helloooo :] This is my first try at writing a long fic, I had so much fun writing it. It all started as a character study for Leon and then it ended up as... this lmao. For the first chapters, I had vendetta Leon in mind and at the last one we finally have DI Leon! Please... if you see any mistakes no you don't. Anyway love you guys hope you like this as much as I do.

— masterlist

I. ETERNAL DAMNATION.

His cold blue eyes are a pool of misery and misfortune. The dreadful gaze of an individual who once was and continues to be subject to the violent reality of what a government can do.

He remains stoic to whatever adversity he has to face, one look at him and you would believe this man has no feelings whatsoever. He kills, he gets paid, repeat. A never-ending loop in which many would believe Leon finds pleasure. Especially since he carries himself as the Government Golden Boy aka best weapon. To use and to dispose of, Leon S. Kennedy.

Shoulder pats and praise words stir up a pot filled with anger and hatred — emotions that Leon doesn't often feel with others, just with himself.— He tries not to dwell on them, but it gets so difficult and challenging whenever he hears that his own achievements are cause for celebration. Do these assholes know how many people, infected people, he had to kill in order to bring peace? No, they don’t. Unbeknownst to them, those people could have been saved.

At least in Leon’s mind.

The suited men surround him. Privilege and smugness are qualities that Leon would often use to describe what those who hire his service are. Those congratulations and fake praises ring in Leon’s mind as he keeps thinking about the people he had to betray and kill for the ‘sake’ of his country, for his nation, and for the ego of his president.

But he takes the compliments, like a good boy. The president believes he hit the jackpot with a rightful agent who is proud of his country. God Bless America and in God we trust, he says as his hand reaches for Leon’s. The blue-eyed agent hesitates each time, out of fear of tainting his oh-so-dear boss’ white shirt. Because nobody cared enough to spare him new clothes and a wet towel to clean himself. A trophy to show the world what a powerful human weapon they had. Rough, tall, and with calloused hands, hands of a killer.

Leon S. Kennedy is proof of what the cruelty of a government can do. He is no longer a human, but the shell of a man. His name is printed in many documents which shows the gruesome acts he had to endure, in the name of the country. “Agent Leon S. Kennedy had successfully retrieved a sample of the virus.” “Condor One saved Baby Eagle.” He has received a plethora of names yet none of them really encapsulated who he was.

They have shown that they do not care about their citizens, like at all. Raccoon City was a prime example of that. He sounds like a broken record, the memory replaying in his memory every mission he gets assigned. But, for him, it was his first-hand experience with how cruel and gruesome reality could be.

Tough call, they say. We did what we could, they added. Leon knows all of those phrases by heart now. His gentle nature remains in him, even though it was covered by layers of a rough past and self-taught distrust. But even now, at his grown age, he fully believes they could have done so much more.

His mind is all over the place whenever he comes back from a mission. The usual white and never-changing walls surround everyone at the gathering that the president holds each time Leon ‘succeeds’ in a mission. His fingers seek any type of comfort, they twitch, they pinch his own clothes but nothing works.

People notice, they do. It’s obvious that the spotlight is on him yet he never embraces it. Simple nods and awkward smiles are his way to go and signature gestures. Deep inside, he knows those white-collared dicks spare him weird and pitiful glances every chance they get.

His chest burns with a desire for solidarity and altruism. He feels a lot and feels everything too deep for his own liking. His core dances between his hatred for heroism and the need to be a hero. He doesn’t believe he’s one. Throughout his life he has contemplated who he is and the type of man he has grown to be. His mind is a living hell and he’s the demon incarnated.

He wonders when it all started. Maybe he was doomed for the start, as he stood in front of his parents’ grave asking God why.

Deuteronomy 31:8; “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” The catholic father who used to hold the mass every Sunday said one morning. Now, did God forget about him? He should have prayed harder, to escape his own damnation.

Strained screams and the reek of rotten flesh fill his dreams. Madness and chaos are the main plots in his nightmares in which he pleads to stop having. His own reality was a mirror of every agony he has to face every day in his line of work. Why is God punishing him even in his dreams?

Those cries of pain and the smell of both burnt flesh and gunpowder are a toxic combination to Leon’s messed up mind. To him, they served as an everlasting proof of his devilish nature. He realizes that the image of innumerable lifeless bodies’ guts all over the floor with his brains smashed over the ground is a common occurrence for him. He becomes desensitized albeit his soul hurting for those who lay at his feet.

Now, he knows that what he's doing is in the name of survival. Millions of people live unaware of the dangerous situations he has to fight on a daily basis, they get to sleep on a warm bed next to their loved ones. If he wants to keep that on, he ought to kill.

But he wouldn’t do it otherwise, he wasn’t built for that life.

But despite that, the usual eerie feeling washes over him whenever he has to pull the trigger. He has grown accustomed to them, on the battlefield he was a fiery pawn, following orders as they told him to.

But as soon as his character ends his performance, his facade and mask falls off his face. He’s no longer a puppet from his higher-ups, he was just him. Leon.

II. RECOGNITION.

He places Matilda — his brush to paint every ground with blood — on his nightstand. To be fair, that’s a habit he can’t just let go. After every mission, his mind is all over the place for the next few days. Every sound activates a fear deep within him that keeps him awake at night and worried during the day.

He washes his hands, a thorough ritual he follows step by step. His hands touch the water, lukewarm to bring him some kind of comfort. He rinses away every blood spot he may have engraved on his bruised skin. The warm and clear liquid reaches his fingernails, which he meticulously scrubs, washing away any leftover of someone’s brain.

He takes pride in being clean. However, it had developed into an obsession at this point. Being dirty meant killing, and killing meant despair. So, he tries to avoid his gaze on the mirror each time he arrives home. Sadly, he usually doesn’t recognize the man that is staring back at him.

Eventually, he turns off the faucet and walks towards the couch. He’s tired, both mentally and physically. He doesn’t get any younger and living as an agent surely doesn’t help his case. But at last, his home. Safe.

He turns on the TV, he’s welcomed by the News Channel which he quickly changes. Nowadays, it appears that nothing good happens in this messed up world, and he doesn’t want to bring sorrow to his home too. He searches through the vast choices of channels until something catches his eye. Casablanca.

A feeble smile forms on his face, a simple thing like that brings Leon a small percentage of happiness, which it’s a lot given his constant state of dullness.

He sometimes quotes phrases from the movies he watches. He genuinely expects someone to notice, his tired blue eyes would roam over the numerous faces of agents, hoping someone catches the meaning behind his words. He’s tired, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to chat with someone.

Nobody seemed to notice, maybe they were busy.

Curiously, he had changed the channel just at the right moment when Rick Blaine said his line. Leon’s favorite.

“I never make plans that far ahead.” Both the character and Leon say simultaneously. It brings Leon a sense of joy. Pathetically enough, his hobbies remind him that he is, in fact, still human.

He sighs, looking around his apartment. It was dull, it showed his lack of decoration and personal touch. He believes there was no point in placing ornaments or things of that sort since he doesn’t even spend most of his time there. In recollection, he has no home. At least not physically.

He’s a man of the world, people look at him and see someone who is strong and independent rather than a simple man. But his heart’s heavy, with a burden and anguish that no painkiller could ease.

He’s tempted to grab a bottle from his cabinet. Drown in the burning liquid and pass out. He doesn’t like alcohol. But he has always been weak to addictions. So, even when he was a rookie cop and his girlfriend broke up with him, he ran to the nearest bar and took all the booze he could. Maybe he should’ve noticed the red flags, and maybe gone to therapy or something like that. But… oh, right, the next day the world literally ended for him.

But, he refrains from doing so. Deep down, he knew that letting his addiction win would be a deadly solution to his problems. Acknowledging is the first step to recovery, experts say. However, he knew that he couldn’t do it alone.

Before even letting more negative thoughts come into his mind. He gets up from the couch and walks toward the bathroom, again. He stays in front of the door for a few seconds, as if scared of going back there. Eventually, he does enter.

His hand reaches for the switch and the lights are turned on. The luminescent white light revealed his face in front of the mirror. He takes one, two, and three deep breaths before fully opening his eyes.

He bites his lips, seeking a sort of relief from that action yet he bites too hard that almost draws blood. He’s trying his best, this mundane act is no longer something that he does daily. So, grant him some recognition.

His eyes travel and land on the mirror and after a while, he fully sees himself. His eyes are wide open, not because he was surprised to discover the man that was in front of him. But to compare him to the one he used to be.

Just a few years ago, his blond hair was still bright, showing signs of his thorough routine. But now, it has turned into a black mop that could no longer be compared to his past self. His stubble has grown too, he was a late bloomer, he didn’t grow a beard until he reached the age of 27 when he could finally see some signs of pores growing hair. But to see his face so… rugged and rough was definitely a slap back to reality.

He takes two steps back, his hand reaching for the hem of his shirt. Swiftly, he takes it off, revealing his chest and abdomen. He was no stranger to his own physique since he obviously showers.

However, the sight that the mirror provided was very different from seeing his point of view. His eyes were observing someone else’s perspective, if he ever had the chance to date someone they would see… that.

A chest which was filled with scars and bruises. They were like tattoos, imprinted on his skin. Those will never fade and if he grants someone the misfortune of dating him, will they be repulsed by the idea of witnessing his tainted self?

He wasn’t a hero, he was far away from calling himself that. But he is starting to think that maybe, just maybe, those marks can remind him of his arduous path. Not in a condescending way, but in a fulfilling memory.

III. FURTHERANCE.

He feels… weird. It’s been a while since he last got a haircut, and having someone holding scissors next to his neck wasn’t something he was looking for. But, there he is.

It took everything in him to call the hairdresser. He has long forgotten how to even speak to someone in a normal setting. “Agent Kennedy here, haircut, out.” He couldn’t say that!

At last, he booked an appointment. It wasn’t the most expensive place, not because Leon didn’t have the money but rather, because he wasn’t looking to be surrounded by luxuries and opulence. A cheap but nice place would do.

Once he arrived, he noticed that he didn’t match well with the place. He knew he carried an aura of mystery and unapproachability but Jesus, it was now obvious with the way some old ladies kept looking at him as if asking: Who the hell is this man?

All of his previous actions led him to where he’s sitting now.

The granny behind him keeps showering in compliments which he couldn’t quite understand. A few years ago, he may have blushed and waved a hand dismissively, but now? He doesn’t see how he could be called a handsome man.

For him, looking good and taking care of himself had stopped being a requirement a few months ago. But it wasn’t something that happened out of the blue. He gradually started noticing the changes and once he realized, his whole appearance had changed.

His eyes are piercing and never changing, an unmistakable aura of exhaustion and helpness surrounds him. Yet, once the old lady's eyes land on him, he can’t help but smile back. It was always in his nature — he lives for others.

It’s always been like this. Naturally, his gullibility and his unfounded faith have shaped and molded him differently throughout the course of years. Having to survive an apocalypse, taking care of an infant, and getting betrayed by a certain someone would sequentially take a toll on him. Nonetheless, his primal wish for altruism and hope will always remain in him. They were his roots which led to creating a strong and fortified trunk.

He’s still hoping this tree will thrive.

The lady asks him how long has it been since he last cut his hair, and he doesn’t know how to respond. Normally, he would cut it himself, since time was priceless and he couldn’t nor wanted to go to a specific place to get his hair trimmed. So he learned by himself, which wasn’t the safest option.

By the way the old woman’s hands brush on his hair, shaking and trembling due to the years, he knows that she knows. It’s obvious by the way some strands are awkwardly cut and overall most of them were misshapen. A poor attempt at maintaining his heartthrob boy hairstyle.

He remains silent — for most of the time. — He doesn’t answer any questions that were directed at him. Not because he didn’t want to, it’s just that his line of job never prepared him for small talk. In fact, chit-chat just meant that someone was trying to gather information out of him, which prompted him to just refrain from speaking

The government has fucked him up.

He acknowledges it. But it’s not easy to make a change when that something is the only thing he has known for at least 15 years of his life. The curse of despair had so unlucky landed on him and he knew no witchcraft which could prevent him from that.

His mind register most things people would overlook. Given his duty at the job, he ought to be an observer. Yeah, he is also a fighter but he relies heavily on his analyzing skills before attacking. Knowing your enemy before striking is what has saved him every damn time.

His permanently furrowed eyebrows and cold eyes are the first thing he notices in the mirror as the woman keeps cutting some of his hair. A hand unconsciously reaches for the little space between his brows.

Maybe if he stops frowning.

Maybe if he stops scowling.

Could he give a better impression of himself?

It’s lacking authenticity, he feels like he’s acting rather than being genuine. But for now, he tries forcing a gentle smile which doesn’t meet his eyes yet it’s better than almost pouting every time he breathes.

All of a sudden, the bell of the door rings announcing that someone else has arrived. Some of the old ladies who are waiting for their turn start getting up from their chairs to greet the person who had just come in.

An everyday customer, that must be. Leon thought.

He was oblivious of how much you are going to change his life.

He can’t see you, not yet. But as the observer he is, he can deduce that this said individual is genuinely loved and appreciated. A drastic contrast between the way he’s received when he returns from a mission. Fake laughs, fake thankful words.

A complete fraud.

You walk as if you own the place, but your stride doesn’t come off as haughty or arrogant. You exude an aura of familiarity, hospitality, and therefore a gentleness that it’s foreign to Leon.

You walk towards his seat, where the granny is cutting his hair. As soon as the gray-haired woman sees you, he observes how her eyes light up with delight and joyfulness he hadn’t seen before.

“Adelaide…” You stop before you even reach Leon. He admires the scene developing through the mirror. He sees you for the first time, you’re definitely a nurse or at least you work in the healthcare area given your uniform. You have your hands on your hips and a playful glare was formed on your face. If he could guess, you just caught this lady doing something she wasn’t supposed to do.

“I think I told you you should be resting.” You squint your eyes as you keep looking at Adelaide, Leon takes note of her name. You are accusing her, yet your friendly demeanor doesn’t falter.

It’s refreshing to see innocent social interactions. It's a welcome-back reality check. At least, at this moment, he could embrace the tranquility. Although it will end as soon as the hairdresser informs him that his hair is done.

“You know I can’t stand still…” Her voice comes out as a booming melody. Even though the years were obvious by the wrinkles on her face, she sounded so animated and beaming. “This job is everything I have ever known.”

Now he can agree on something. However, he is fully aware the situation is deadly different. Between cutting hair and slitting someone else’s throat, there is a vast difference. But, in his mind, he could already make up a conversation based on that information.

“I know, but…” You take a step further and place a hand on the granny’s shoulder. Leon couldn’t help but feel like an outsider now that the three of them were reflected in the mirror. “You could just take a few days off… Your shoulder will thank you for it.”

As you advise the granny your eyes dart from her eyes in the mirror to Leon’s.

For the first time.

You acknowledge his presence with a nod and a simple smile. Time seems to stop as he scans your face. You look younger, you are definitely younger than him. Not young enough for him to feel weird about it, but there was a certain glint in your eyes that told him you haven’t experienced misery and desolation in your life. Unlike him who has yet to experience happiness.

He doesn’t want to indulge so much, but his thoughts are having a blast right now. Maybe it was his lack of social interactions and meaningful relationships but he wants to know more about you.

“It’s quite unusual to see a man here. I would have thought someone like you would go to a barber.” He comes back to reality as he notices you are talking to him. Your eyes remain fixed on his as your smile continues to be displayed on your face.

Someone like… him? Yeah, that statement isn’t new to him. Especially since his demeanor is still so rugged. But hey! He’s making a change even though you don’t know.

“Barbers don’t know how to cut my hair.” He realizes his voice came out rigid and plain. He didn’t intend to, but he is used to his military speech and tone. “They… just don’t get it right…” His last sentence is definitely more hushed but not any less monotone.

“Fair enough. At least Adelaide here knows exactly how to keep your hair safe from a buzz cut.” Leon lets out an amused breath as you joke about his hair. It feels like a gentle breeze, indulging in light-hearted teasing with a stranger. And not any stranger, but you.

He has felt attraction, he’s a man after all. His line of job wasn’t the most ideal to find a partner but he can’t deny how some agents were pretty to look at. However, he couldn’t form a romantic relationship there. Between death and violence, the battleground wasn’t the place to have a partner, form a family, and live happily ever after.

“Yeah…” He sheepishly responds, he doesn’t know what else to add. You had taken the reins of the conversation as soon as you teased him. Now, he hopes something comes into his mind to keep the conversation flowing.

“I haven’t seen any other gentleman wearing this hairstyle,” Adelaide says as she resumes her work. She moves the scissors gracefully. She is — with no doubt — an expert in this area. Though the simpleness of her salon tells him otherwise. “If I may say, I think it really suits you.”

“You should have seen me in the 90s.” Those words leave his lips before he even registers them in his mind. It was an innocuous joke, nonetheless, it carried a hint of self-deprecation. He doesn’t look like his old self, he knows that. Especially after seeing himself in the mirror that night. But nobody there has to know, for them, it was a simple light-hearted joke.

The whole salon erupts in laughter, he doesn’t think his words are that funny. But hey, he will take the compliment.

However, his eyes catch a glimpse of you not laughing. At work, most people wouldn’t laugh at his own words because they weren’t needed. He knew that. But then again, none of you were in a life-or-death situation. Leon doesn’t want to overthink, but… did he come out as a pretentious dude? Or an arrogant dickhead?

Or maybe you have caught the real meaning behind those words.

You let out a breathy laugh, not too long to be considered a giggle but not short enough to be a chuckle. You don’t add anything else, your eyes just linger on his face for a few more seconds before turning on your heel.

For a moment, he’s taken aback. He feels like he’s going crazy but for a split second, he sees himself in you. Not because you shared the same past or path and there was no way you had the same traumas. But the way you had observed him, made him feel analyzed, as if you were studying the way he talked and expressed himself.

Maybe he’s indeed going crazy.

Leon watches you taking a seat on an empty chair, next to another customer who gives you a polite smile. From there, he hears you telling Adelaide that your shift at the hospital has just ended and you just wanted to check up on her.

For a while, he relaxes until Adelaide tells him that they are done. She persuades him to bleach his hair after he accidentally told her that he had blond hair in the past. But he escapes her attempts by telling her that he wants to pay.

He walks towards the register and pulls out a 20-dollar bill. It was quite cheap, especially when he had cut so much hair. At least he looks more presentable now.

You appear out of nowhere as he was paying. Your frame leans over the counter and for a second, you let the awkward silence linger in the air.

Eventually, you speak.

“You don't belong here.” You say without an ounce of malice. You're expressing a fact. Leon has never been around the salon and doesn't look the part.

He frowns slightly, he was keeping up his laid-back appearance just fine until you blurted out your thoughts.

“It's my first time here.” He states before turning around and facing you.

“That I know.” You nod.

“Then… was your comment really necessary?” Leon's words could come off as rude even though it wasn't his intention. But, it seems they don't even phase you.

“Not really.” You shrugged. Your voice was nonchalant. “But as you could already guess, I'm a nurse. And I have seen people like you come and go out of the hospital.”

He is trying to understand what your point is. Under any other circumstances, he would have told the other person off for even daring to speak about him and his lifestyle. He wasn't violent, not at all. But sometimes his limit was put to the test.

“What I'm trying to say is that…” He sees your attempt at explaining yourself. “I think It's safe to assume you're an agent or something of that sort, right?”

Leon doesn't react nor wants to. People knowing he was an agent wasn't a problem since it wasn't a secret.

After a few seconds, he lets out a sigh he didn't know he was holding and nods. Being honest could be the start of a friendship, at least that's what Leon thinks.

“Was it my frame and physique that gave it away?” If he was an artist he could easily say he was getting better at the art of improving. Just a few weeks ago, he would have never left a comment like that lingering in the air.

“Nope.” You cross your arms at the level of your chest.

And there you go breaking his fantasies. He thought his phrase was so flirty.

“There's a scar on your cheek, it looks pretty deep.” You gesture to Leon where the scar is on your own cheek. He instinctively brings his finger to where it is in his.

That's one of the few scars he remembers exactly how he got it. 2004, Spain. He experienced what betrayal was beforehand. Who he used to hold in high regard was the one who didn't hesitate to hold a knife and leave a nasty reminder of his deception.

“I got it in a fight.” He sticks with a simple phrase, not diving deeper. Nonetheless, he realized you’re a perspicacious individual, lying won’t get him anywhere.

“Fight… right.”

Both of you smile knowingly, the smirk giving away a sense of teasing between the two of you, for the first time. Even though you know nothing about how far and wild his job actually was, you had an idea that this said fight wasn’t just a normal and common one.

“So…” Leon sees how you shift your weight from one foot to another. There hasn’t been a shy bone in yourself ever since you entered the salon but now words don’t come out of your mouth as easily as before. “If you ever need a nurse, you can call me.”

As you rummage in your bag, you speak once again. “I may not be the most experienced but believe me when I said I had experience with some military and agents.”

You hand Leon a business card, your full name was there as well as your phone number and the hospital you work in. Your name falls swiftly out of Leon’s lips as he reads the content on the cardstock.

“And senior citizens.” He flashes you a dazzling smile, he doesn’t seem to realize that it’s been a while since he last smiled so freely and so.. natural. It feels like the sun hitting on his skin after a cold day. A warmth he had long forgotten he could feel.

He knew it was soon. Too soon to even imagine being your friend. But as he puts the card in his pocket, he wishes that this could be the beginning of something more.

IV. RELAPSE & RESTART.

He almost falls once he opens up at the door that leads him to his apartment. Another gruesome mission to add to his mental diary and more scars that will adorn his already hurting body.

The same never-ending story, the same story being told once again. He doesn’t know when it will end.

If it even ends.

The last months have been all about his ‘recovery’. He was a patient man, he was sure of that. However, he doesn’t understand how doing mundane things would help him. He was taking baby steps and walking on eggshells, trying not to fall back into his old addictions.

Which were slowly creeping into his mind.

A call from Hunnigan was the last thing he expected a few days ago. He was surprised not to get any task earlier but that didn’t mean he wanted to go back to fight off bioweapons and kill walking undead who were once rational people, with dreams and wishes just like him.

But as much as he wanted to hang up and leave that world behind — knowing that the government wouldn’t give two shits about him and would walk through the same door he previously did and blow his brain — he accepted the mission.

In his own story, he’s a tragic character who can’t break the cursed loop he’s trapped in. The soft sounds of the rain no longer brought comfort to his aching heart, since those constant pitty-patter reminded him of the blood dripping from the people who were killed, by no one else but him.

He often thought he was going crazy, especially now as he walked towards the kitchen and stumbled on his own feet. Seeking something to grab on while he fights off the exhaustion. This last mission had taken a toll on him, both mentally and physically.

His fingers reach for the edge of the counter as he finally stays on his feet without the fear of falling onto the floor. His tired eyes close for a moment as he takes in his surroundings, his lonely apartment and his lonely life and his lonely self and his —.

He shakes his head, he wasn’t exactly in solitude. After that hurried meeting with you, he gained a new friend. He got to know you personally, something that he had missed for the longest time. To actually know someone deeper and not only their last names and occupations.

In exchange, he gave himself the chance to be more vulnerable. He couldn’t deny the attraction that he felt. But he was too afraid to fuck up the chance to have something meaningful with you. He told you about his years at the police academy, and he briefly shared his experience in Raccoon City, trying to be as vague as possible. In other words, he bared his soul to you.

But that didn’t mean everything was filled with butterflies and rainbows.

One night when you were treating one of his injuries (which he never treated in the past) he accidentally told you about his addictions and dark thoughts. Those which showed a persistent state of numbness and trauma. It was never his intention to worry you about those minor things, which he truly believed were not important.

But, as he recalls that night, he realizes that sadly, he can’t just end it all with a bullet through his brain. He has always thought about it, it’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed his messed up mind on those lonely nights when he wished someone would grant him a blink of sleep without having to dream about death and despair.

His eyes open as he once again walks through the kitchen, the moonlight provides a faint source of light that casts on his dark space of living. He remembers that you once told him he should get some lights, and he indeed bought them but he can’t just seem to find enough time to put them on.

His mind wanders through the moments he has spent with you. You always said the most soothing of things, when you wanted to. You advised him, told him how worthy he can be and how special he must be to others even though they don’t know it yet.

Another step.

He didn’t quite catch the meaning of those words. For him, he only brings despair wherever he goes. A demon of destruction and annihilation. If hell had a list of its next guests he believes his name would be on the top of that list. God wouldn’t want him in his paradise.

One more step.

Nonetheless, you weren’t a teddy bear who only chanted words of praise and fairy-tale stories. You called out his bullshit, especially when he dared to joke about going back to his old habits.

Stop.

“Would you like a glass of whiskey?” He would sarcastically ask you whenever you visited him at his apartment, knowing the kind of reaction he would get out of you. You had none of that, though. As soon as he uttered those words, the grip your hand had on his arm would get tighter to the point that Leon would beg you to stop it.

He knew you genuinely cared for him and he convinces himself that you’re wasting your time with someone like him. Someone already broken from the start. You were younger, with a life ahead of yourself, and a career to follow. And like the devil incarnate that he is, he is stopping you from that.

The story repeats itself, everything he touches turns into dust. He’s no longer a human but the shell of a man who once had dreams of becoming a cop. To become someone who would help innocent people. But instead, he’s killing those same poor souls in the name of the fucking government.

His fingers graze over the cabinet.

He despises his life, he hates everyone who forced him to follow this path. The resentment flows in his system as his hand grips the cabinet door even tighter; if he wasn’t so tired from his mission, he would have broken the tacky wooden furniture.

Why does it have to be this way?

Why does he have to continue witnessing the horrors of his life every day?

Why do the ghosts of people haunt him every day as he tries to close his eyes and relax?

Why has he become so desensitized to the bloodshed and yet as soon as he comes back to reality, it knocks the air out of his lungs?

And why is he already unscrewing the lid of his whiskey?

Time slows down for a moment as he gambles his choices. It's been months since he last took a sip from his so beloved whiskey. But at the same time, just one tiny drop would crumble all of his progress.

But why is progress so important if the product is going to be the same? Even if he gets better, his life won't. The only difference is that he may smile more during missions and act like everything is fucking alright even if it isn't.

But he isn't so lucky to fall deeper into his hell that easily. As soon as the cap falls onto the floor, the front door knob twists, announcing that someone is entering.

And who else has a key to his apartment?

The last person he wants to see right now.

The door creaks, antagonizing the imminent moment when you would see him at the scene of the crime with him being the culprit of his own homicide.

“Leon?” He hears you say as you step in, the darkness of the room allowing him a couple of seconds to hide the murder weapon – the bottle – and act clueless. But it seems that not even his nervous system is on his side. He just stands still.

“Sorry for being late. I had one hell of a shift back at–...” He sees your frame as you approach the kitchen. Your face falls momentarily, taking in the sight you were watching. Disheveled hair, bruises all around his face, and dark eyebags that gave the impression he hadn't slept for weeks.

Your eyes fall on the bottle in his hand. There was no cap which leads you to believe that he was drinking. Leon wanted to scream and tell you that you got it all wrong, but no words left his lips.

“Are you drinking?” Anger-filled, you take long strides before reaching for the bottle. Your eyes scan the content, seeing that it is half empty. Your accusatory gaze falls on Leon's.

“It's not what it looks like.” Worst phrase ever. He knows that he's telling you the truth, yet he couldn’t come up with anything worse than that.

He looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes wide open as you keep staring at him with those eyes filled with… disappointment which it's worse than being screamed at. He wasn’t built for that. He was used to resentment looks, to punches and kicks. But disappointment came every time he had to tell families that their father wouldn’t make it that night because he died on a mission. It came each time he had to inform a mother that their beloved son succumbed to a virus.

The once rookie cop still lives within him. The one who hates disappointing people, the one who wants to save everyone. But especially the one who can’t do it alone.

“Then help me understand.” You place the bottle on the kitchen counter. Your stare doesn’t falter yet a hint of concern washes over your face. “Because all I see is you drinking after literally promising me that you’d never do it again.”

As a matter of fact, you didn’t actually see him drinking. He wanted to say that, but he knew it would bring even more anger to your already burning expression. However, as soon as that thought left his mind, another one came.

The sole fact that he didn’t drink, doesn’t spare him from any culpability. If it wasn’t for your intrusion, he’d be lying on the couch, wasted and intoxicated waiting to pass out.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. Leon isn’t dumb, he’s exhausted but he’s aware of how much you’re holding back. You would never scream at him, that’s obvious. But you didn’t want to bring even more self-hatred to him.

He had his own mental battles, ones you will never understand no matter how much he describes them to you. His anxiety was always bothering him, like an annoying bug buzzing in his ear. You knew how overwhelming everything was.

And you knew how recovery wasn’t an easy step to take, but it definitely takes so much maturity and perseverance, something that Leon surrounds himself in – even though he doesn’t see it. He’s a fighter, he’s a hero, he’s a lover. He keeps fighting and fighting even when he doesn’t see an end. But he mastered the art of moving forward.

So, he’s allowed to fall from time to time.

“Did you drink?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Were you planning on doing it?”

He’s silent for a moment, he’s afraid that his answer will mean more disappointment from you. That you will get to see how pathetic he really was.

“Yes.” He eventually confesses.

You absentmindedly nod, letting out a long sigh.

“Another mission?”

“...yes.”

You didn’t ask for the details, knowing – to an extent – about Leon’s job, you knew it must have been so impactful in order to almost throw him back to his old friend, alcohol. And you knew Leon was like a sponge, he absorbs everything he experiences and never tells anyone. You thank God that he accidentally told you about his addiction, now you can at least protect him.

“It was…” Leon continues speaking, his fingers scratching a spot on the kitchen counter. His eyes don’t meet yours, as if he’s trying his best to make the words come out of himself. “It was really bad this time.”

He lets out a dry chuckle that sounds more like an attempt to water down the situation. One thing about him is that he doesn’t cry. He wouldn’t let someone see that side of him. He’s rigid, he’s stoic, he’s unemotional. He’s a DSO agent, born to serve his country and die for it.

But right now he wants to be a child again.

He wants to be that same infant who would fall on purpose just to get kisses from his mother. He wants to be that same innocent child who could come back running to his mom’s arms when the world was too scary.

He wants to stop the world for a second and cry at the top of his lungs, he wants to punch a wall until his knuckles bleed, he wants to be held, he wants to be told everything will be okay even if it will never be okay.

His thoughts drift to when he was younger – to when he could imagine himself being a better person. If he could speak with himself, what would he say? The image of a tiny him crosses his mind, a young Leon playing all by himself with tiny police cars.

Within him, there’s a rookie cop begging for help amidst the gruesome scenario he had to face back in 1998. Beneath all the layers of self-hatred and resentment, hidden in that dead gaze.

He shakes his head, in a poor effort of swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. An imminent sign that his emotions will fall like a waterfall, reminding him of his own weaknesses. His curtain of hair falls onto his eyes, blurring his vision.

Or was it his tears? He no longer knows.

He deserves an award for how hard he’s trying to stop the inevitable. His fingers shake, his breath gets heavier and his heart aches. But he couldn’t bear it for much longer, especially knowing that at least, he had someone to go to when his mind was too much for him.

So, he allows himself to feel human again.

“It was horrible…” He finally breaks down. He silently lets the tears fall from his eyes as he sobs. The thought of every mission is on his mind as the constant spams of his sobs control his body.

He feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs, the uncontrollable way that he chokes on his sobs makes his throat constricted.

He lowers his head, he doesn’t want you to see how weak he has become. A tough agent simply doesn’t cry. An agent bites, chews, swallows, and shuts up.

Silence sets in the kitchen, occasionally broken by Leon’s tears and choked breaths. His fingers itched to grab something, to hold onto something. To feel that he wasn’t alone, that he was indeed not all by himself in this messed up world.

You slowly reach for him. Baby steps, for someone who was touched starved, even if he was unaware of that fact. For someone that’d jump whenever he feels touched, because his mind can’t let go of the fear of being bitten, of being killed.

You quietly made your way to Leon’s hand, your fingers ever so grazing it. Feather touches brushes against the back of his hand, making sure to notice if he shows any signs of discomfort. There were none.

However, you surely notice that his sobs have stopped for the time being. He’s still sniffing though. As if on cue, his glassy eyes lock on yours, before you fully intertwine your fingers with his.

You didn’t hug him immediately, you didn’t throw your arms around his neck at the very right moment when he started crying, and you especially didn’t give him a shoulder pat as if saying “Don’t cry.” He appreciates the fact that you took it slow, you gave him a warning and proceeded further when he allowed you to.

Loving takes time, and loving Leon would surely take longer than anything you have experienced. You have treated many patients, you know that the injuries in a body heal fairly quickly. Now, the wounds in a soul that was doomed from the start are not something that easy to mend.

After a while of your fingers being intertwined and sweat covering the palm of your hands, you feel the faintest squeeze, coming from Leon’s side. You look at him and see a tiny smile formed on his lips with some dry tears adorning his face.

You say nothing, scared to break the atmosphere of tranquility that had formed after Leon stopped crying. It took some seconds for Leon to muster up the courage to go further, intimacy and platonic touches were already something he was unfamiliar with. Now, he had to add romantic feelings to that list.

If he had met you when he was younger, he’d have surely asked you out. Take you on a nice little date and steal a kiss or two. But now, he was trapped in the course of the years, older and supposedly wiser. However, you were the one who was being strong – for him. Not the other way around.

But, as much as he wants to pity himself and wonder about those what-ifs, he has a friend now. He would take care of that heart of his in the future. For now, he wants to embrace the one friendship he hasn’t tainted yet.

The one person who still hasn’t seen the horrors that this world has to offer.

He untangles his fingers from yours and looking at your eyes one last time, he brings your hand to his cheek. The palm of your hand bringing some warmth to his skin.

With his eyes closed now, you see an expression you haven’t seen before. A peaceful one, as if he was sleeping without his usual nightmares. It was comforting, in a sense, knowing that you have brought a moment of serenity to his tumultuous life.

You were surprised at first, not expecting Leon to show that display of affection. However, part of you understands that he was seeking comfort. It’s been a while since he last felt safe with someone, someone who he could cry with, someone who wouldn’t judge him.

Your thumb grazes over his stubbled cheek, wiping away any proof that he has been crying.

“Thank you…” His voice is barely a whisper, you almost didn’t hear him singing his gratitude.

You want to say “You’re welcome” or “It’s okay” but none of those phrases convey what you really wish to show. Saying the first one would dismiss all of your previous actions as a simple attempt to comfort him. And the latter was a lie, it’s not okay, even if you wanted to believe it yourself.

“I got you.” You stick with that one. It wasn’t a lie but a promise you plan on fulfilling. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” He asks, opening his eyes. His tone is a hopeful one.

“I do.” You reassure him.

With your free hand – the one that wasn’t on Leon’s cheek – you reach for the bottle of whiskey that was long forgotten after their little situation.

“But before that, we need to get rid of this.” You show it to Leon before he chuckles. “We’re now only drinking apple juice.”

He didn’t miss the use of we instead of you. Maybe he’s reading between the lines, but he hopes that you’re by his side now that he wants to leave his addiction for sure. He wants you to see how much he can achieve if he sets his mind on it.

“Apple juice it is.”

V. ABSOLUTION.

The nakedness of his body didn't override the vulnerability he showed once he let you in his life, mind, and soul. But as you help him wash his back, he can’t help but reminisce about that first night when he first saw himself in the mirror.

He remembers being insecure about showing his scars to someone, scared that the other person would be disgusted by the sight of it.

However, you weren’t repulsed, far from that. In your mind, Leon’s skin served as a canvas and each bruise and scar were strokes of a paintbrush. In this case, they showed Leon’s hard life and non-achievable freedom. They showed how much Leon had endured and how many fights he had won.

Therefore, they were proof that Leon was a lover of life. He loved everyone else’s lives that he would sacrifice his in order to protect the world.

Leon sometimes drops hints about his job. He didn’t directly tell you about the government and its fucked up methods, but you collected the clues and formed your own puzzle.

He was forced to join.

It was strange, in a way. To know that a gentle soul like him had to face the hostility of a country, of a government that could easily threaten someone into joining the force. However, you weren’t clueless about its power.

Eventually, after those hints, other hints came along the way.

Leon was sweet, funny, and a gentleman. Your dynamic as a nurse and patient was long forgotten even though you still tend to some of his wounds. And your friendship shifted into something more, especially after the whiskey situation months ago.

However, even though his qualities overshadow his flaws, there’s something he can’t hide.

He’s too awkward for his own good.

Ever since the alcohol incident, Leon would always try to be smooth and compliment you over the simplest things. “Have you done something different to your hair? No, you didn’t? Oh… Well, it looks good” He would often facepalm himself because he couldn’t flirt even if his life depended on it.

Eventually, after those not-so-discrete hints, he took matters into his own hands. He often faked minor injuries. “You don’t understand, my eye literally hurts” and he would have access to admire every tiny detail your face had to offer. From your moles to the way your eyebrows furrowed trying to concentrate.

And that led to feathery touches. In the name of friendship, of course.

After one dinner – that Leon so gratefully prepared – you would often find yourself sitting on the couch, shoulders pressed to one another as you played with his rough hands. You would ask him where he got that scar, how he got this one right here, wow it looks really deep.

And he let you because he did the same. Because those angel-like touches soon turned into endlessly staring sessions where silence was more inviting than any word could be. You gazed into each other’s eyes for only God knows how long. Expecting that the other one would break the intimate moment but none of them had the heart to do so.

It would be an understatement to say that Leon felt so safe with you. Over the months, Leon had gotten to know what a home felt like. His apartment remained the same, physically and aesthetically speaking. But the way it immediately lightens up when you arrive – yeah, Leon could finally call it home.

That’s why, it was so easy for Leon to let those words slip out of his mouth one night when you were leaving.

“You feel like home.”

And for a moment, you let those words sink into you. You thought you were merely an acquaintance, a simple friend at most. But no – there he was, Leon Kennedy, US government agent, telling you that you’re his home.

Meanwhile, the silence at that moment made Leon go insane. He thought he fucked it up, you would surely run away now. Who the fuck says that someone is their home? Shit shit shit—

“You’re my home too.”

And that was everything he needed to hear to stop all of his dark thoughts from appearing once again. The darkness that embraced both of them set the perfect scenario to indulge in this crucial moment. A late confession, but a real one.

As he gazes into your eyes, he can’t help but wonder if this tiny fragment of happiness would go away like everything else had in his life. You’re too precious, too important to die, to vanish from his life and never come back.

And your hand reached for his cheek, your thumb caressing the same scar you noticed when you first met him, he couldn’t help but ask God to grant him one more chance in life. He promises — in a fragment of seconds — to be a better human, to be a better citizen but please, don’t take away this last string of hope he’s holding to.

And he felt that God had finally responded to his prayers when he saw how you leaned closer, letting your lips find his in a gentle but so meaningful and awaited kiss. He hesitantly parted his lips, scared that this may be a dream. But of course, he doesn’t dream so that had to be the reality. The sorrow, the anxiety, the longing, and the expectations — all of those were long forgotten as he mentally thanked destiny for this.

“Earth to Leon” You giggle behind him as you rub a sponge all over his back. You were careful not to be so rough on his already aching back. “A penny for your thoughts?”

Of course, he found himself daydreaming.

From that night, his relationship with you skyrocketed. And his home became your home too.

He doesn’t know when it happened, but he found himself getting even more comfortable with you. He didn’t even need to ask himself — letting you see him naked as both of you wash each other’s bodies? Yeah, it was definitely love.

And he loves being in love.

“I just spaced out for a bit.” He responds with a yawn, the silence that surrounded both of you was inviting to just sleep throughout the night. Funnily enough, you only just sleep. Leon was grateful the first nights since he was getting used to the fact that someone else was sleeping on his bed.

But now he was growing a bit impatient.

Especially with your lingering touches.

As you let the water wash away all the soap, your lips soon find his back, pressing soft kisses on each scar that adorned his skin. “It’s okay…” a kiss on a tiny scar. “Are you going to take your sleeping pills tonight?” Another kiss on a scar that was near his shoulder.

Right… he was put on medication. He often takes sleeping pills when his eyes won’t shut down even if drowsiness is engulfing him. But lately, sleep has become easier, and his nightmares have decreased.

He’d like to think that after you started sleeping next to him, his mind started to feel at peace. But that was something unreal, nobody could fix someone.

But he had to be honest, you surely helped him a lot.

“Not tonight.”

He feels you nodding as your chin lays on his shoulder blade. It’s in moments like these where he thinks that life doesn’t sound so bad. As he zones out and lets you do all the job, he realizes that maybe it’s okay to keep on living.

He’s a big teddy bear, to say the least. The DSO agent who once swore duty to his country was pushed aside when he was with you. Why would he need to keep up his facade when home meant security, therefore you are what makes him safe. So, as you help him out of the shower, drying him off with a towel he lets you take the reins, his body on autopilot mode.

His strong arms wrap around your frame, perfectly molding and fitting like puzzle pieces. It feels like the flow of water, gently swaying your bodies until they reach their destination, their little nest away from everything outside.

He takes pride in serving, providing, and protecting. It was deeply imprinted in him, right in his bone marrow. The blood that runs through his veins pushes him to never stop, to continue working for others.

However, as you help him sit down on the bed his mind shuts down for a moment. He allows himself to take this moment of peace and drown himself in it. Be a little selfish, if he can. The tranquility of a domestic setting was still so foreign to him yet he doesn’t understand how he could’ve lived without feeling this for so long.

The towel around his midsection hugs him just right to prevent the material from falling. His hair is still a little wet, and so is yours. You use the extra towel to help him dry off.

He very much enjoys the lazy touches you share at nights like these. It was a nice reminder that the darkness of the imminent dusk will not bring more nightmares, but peaceful dreams. The ghost of his past was getting tired of haunting him, it seems.

You’re still pretty careful with him, as if you were handling fine ceramic which in a sense, he was. He was shattered porcelain, glued back together with utter care. You both were artists, who completed with great skill this piece of art called life.

And now, your lips are acting like a brush, as they touch Leon’s skin. Kisses are planted along his jaw and he lets out a sigh from the feeling of being treated with so much devotion. If he could serve as a blank canvas, he was ready to rewrite his story with you.

Or maybe not rewrite, his past made him a person as much as it hurts. His grief, his pain, and his previous solitude built up the man that he is now. So, he will add another page to his life story. He will paint another landscape where the sun rises and casts its lights on the world.

He looks at you and sees nothing but raw love and a hint of desire hidden behind those orbs. He notices, then, that just like him you are indeed eager to please him in the other sense of the word. It was embarrassing to realize that he shouldn’t have kept quiet about his needs when you had already proved to him that it was okay to speak, to think, to feel.

It’s been a while since he last let himself be this physically vulnerable. Sure he wasn’t an inexpert in the area but it has never been this intimate. Hearts never bonded and names weren’t remembered. Never has someone truly cared about his welfare before. To put it a name, he’d have called it a trade. He let off some steam and the other part got what they wanted. No strings attached and surely no feelings hurt.

However, it would be a lie if he told himself he didn’t crave to actually make love to someone. To feel someone’s body brushed against his in a sweet and gentle motion. To let himself and his soul be kissed with so much love that it would make him cringe.

You stop your waterfall of kisses for a while, letting the silence linger for a few seconds as you grab his hand. Slowly, you interlace your fingers with him, a well-known display of affection from you. Your signature, you may even say.

“Hey…” His eyes search yours, and he sees how you’re looking for approval, for his consent. He once heard eyes are the mirror of someone’s soul and the world suddenly feels so small as he remembers that he met those same eyes months ago, unaware of the effect you’d have on him.

“Hey.” You repeated, for the second time this night, his mind decided to wander again. “Is it okay if…” you trail off, not because of embarrassment or sudden shyness, not at all. But he can deduce that you wanted him to finish your sentence.

I’ve been dying to touch you. I’ve been craving you touching me, he wanted to say. However, his sense of decency stops him from uttering that rather needy phrase. In a way, he can infer that you already know about his lustful desires. It was a matter of time before both of you indulged in those carnally and normal needs.

Nonetheless, he is oblivious that you won’t let this night be like any other. No, you wouldn’t try anything too crazy — not yet — But after months of knowing him deeper and rawer, you know he’s tired. Exhausted from his life, exhausted from his job, and overall drained. He deserves to be treated right and you’ve been excelling in that task.

But, you’ll show him that he can be as greedy as he wants to be.

“You can trust me.” You say in a hushed tone as if you were whispering a secret to him. Your hand slowly descends until it reaches where the towel meets his waist.

“I do trust you.” He responds with a determined tone amidst the suggestive move of your hand. “I feel like I won the lottery with you.”

“Is that so?” You laugh, resuming your kisses around his stubbled cheek. Although this time, they carry some neediness in them.

“Positive.” He lets out a shaky breath as your finger ever so grazes over where the towel is tucked in. “Because you saw good in me when I had nothing to offer, you—”

“Stop.” Your voice remains soft even though your command doesn’t falter. ”None of those self-loathing words right now.”

He’s speechless for a moment before he slowly nods and lets your hand go lower. Leon feels his blood going south just from a few words.

But then again, loving you was really easy. So it was no surprise that he found himself already leaking at the anticipation of your imminent touch.

“Let me make you feel better.” You whisper, allowing your hand to undo the towel that was previously wrapped around him. In a swift movement, it falls on the floor exposing his already hard length.

You glance at Leon one last time and observe his reaction. There was no sight of changes of mind or hesitation, so you free his and your desire.

You connect your lips against his neck, and with gentle sucks, you prepare him for what’s about to come. Your wish —besides touching him— is bringing comfort in such an intimate act like this. He has trusted you with his soul and body before, that’s correct. But right now, you can feel the level of loyalty and therefore love he’s showing you.

Your hand reaches for his dick, you thumb the slit of his tip collecting the precum that has already formed there, using it as a lubricant.

Your fingers circle around his cock and, slowly, you start stroking him. You don’t want him to cum just yet, the feeling of being treated like this was something you want him to drown in. So, you keep up the steady pace.

You disconnect your lips from his neck and focus your eyes on your ministration on his cock. The lewd sounds combined with the faint whimpers coming out from his lips were almost like background music that you are starting to love.

He takes the opportunity of you pulling away from his neck to hide his face in the crook of yours. His breath tickles your skin as he continues letting out the most pretty sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck…” He hisses as his word gets lost between the shlick sounds of your hand jerking him off. His nose brushes against the side of your neck as his cries fill your ears. You can hear him whispering your name from time to time, as well as some other curses of his own.

However, his tiny cries of pleasure soon turned into real sobs.

No, he wasn’t sad but Christ, it was the first time actually took their time to focus on his pleasure and his well being. He always thought that love was never meant for him, that the simple act of falling in love would be impossible and unachievable. The thought of having his life attached to someone else used to send shivers down his spine.

Now, his world is no longer black and white, your mere existence brought color to his life.

Your hand stops for a minute, worried that you may have done something wrong. That leads Leon to pull away from your neck as some tears roll down his face.

“Sorry… I — just continue please…” The desperation in his voice didn’t go unnoticed as he went back to nuzzle against your neck. And even if he was dazed out at this very moment, you will remember to talk about this again at another time.

“It’s okay, let it all go.” You reassure him as you resume your previous motions. It doesn’t take long before your hand sends him over the edge and close to his own climax.

You pump him, your thumb grazing over the head of his dick from time to time. He absentmindedly thrust his hips up into your hand, seeking his near release. For him, you were granting him a visit to Heaven itself. Just the mere touch of your hand had him seeing angels and cherubims. How would it feel to be deep inside of you?

His lips are red from biting them, attempting to muffle his moans. His brain is a mess, with thoughts of you and only in there and his cock is throbbing as it chases his own high. Overall, Leon was putty in your hands.

And by the way, his hips are starting to miss their rhythm, you know that it was a matter of seconds before Leon came undone in your hand.

“You’ve been so good for me…” You coo, still jerking him off with a slightly faster pace now. “You deserve to cum, don’t you?” You were always good with words but Jesus, he didn’t expect you would literally talk him through it.

As you whisper those praise words, he can’t stop his hips from rutting and bucking into your hand. “Yeah…— fuck — I’ve been so good. Please, let me cum.”

The image of a tough agent begging for release will surely imprint in your mind for a while.

“Of course.” Your lips tug into a smile as you pick up the pace. It was a sight to behold, seeing Leon coming undone in your hands with his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and a dazed out expression that brought butterflies to your tummy.

Eventually, your hands slow down as Leon writhes under your touch. He lets out a loud muffled whimper as white thick ropes of cum spill onto his stomach and of course, your hand.

He stays still for a while, letting his body rest for a second. He plants lazy kisses on your neck as a way of saying “Thank you” since words couldn’t really translate what he was feeling right.

“Shit—” After a while, Leon curses as his half-lidded eyes meet yours. His expression is one of exhaustion but his lazy smile tells you he was brimming with happiness. He reaches for his towel that was previously thrown off and cleans your hand.

“Are you ok?” You ask as Leon wipes your hand, you can’t help but let out a giggle at the considerate action.

“Yeah but…” He trails off as he cleans his abdomen too. You can already predict what was going on in that head of his. “What about you?”

“I’m okay Leon.” You sigh as you bring your now clean hand to his cheek. “Your pleasure is mine. Besides, you’re exhausted.”

But as much as your statement was true, you can’t deny the desire that was dripping between your thighs. Between the intimacy of your act and having Leon so vulnerable in your hands, your system knows what it wants.

“I am.” He doesn’t deny the fact that your ministrations sucked the life out of him. But he can keep going. For the first time in his life, he is grateful for his stamina as an agent. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do it.”

Before you could even protest, Leon was already kissing your neck. The scent of your body wash filling his nostrils as his lips get hungrier and needier for the taste of your skin. And as you attempt to once again speak, he muffles your words with his mouth on yours.

You feel your reasoning go weak as well as your limbs. It took a few kisses for you to comply and let yourself be laid on the bed, strong but gentle hands holding you close even when you fell on the soft mattress.

He’s above you for a second as he admires the view. Your towel, unlike his, was still wrapped around your body. You wriggle your way to where the pillows of the bed are and you wait for him there.

He wastes no time to join you, carefully lying next to you rather than above you. You catch a glimpse of what he’s trying to do. One of his calloused hands reaches your waist and softly motions you to roll over your side.

You roll over and you’re met with your reflection on the mirror that was next to your bed. Funnily enough, it was perfectly placed so it showed both of your bodies. Somewhere deep in your mind, you wonder if Leon set up the mirror there for this right purpose.

But then again, Leon was spontaneous, behind all of his layers of grumpiness and sadness that once used to surround him, you knew his sappy, corny, and cheesy side that was hidden. And now, you get to notice his quirks every single day.

He grips your hips as he lays sideways too, slightly spooning you. “You no longer need this…” He murmurs as he takes off your towel, the sight of your bare body in the mirror has his mouth watering. Acting like a damn dog wasn’t on the list of things he’s proud of.

As he discards the fabric that covered your body, you feel his once again hard cock. But this time, it was painfully close to your core that you could already feel every vein brushing against your walls.

“May I?” He knows your answer, he’s just asking for the sake of it. To hear your voice dripping with lust and neediness. To hear you hum that yes in your sweet tone as always.

“Please…” Your whisper was enough to make his cock twitch. What is with you and your voice that melts Leon whenever he hears you? You’re both his salvation and weakness. He can’t function without you.

He has always wanted to leave a mark in this world. That he had indeed existed for something else than death and destruction. That he was more than Leon Kennedy, the US’ best weapon. He wanted to show the world that he, Leon — just Leon — was more than his messed-up destiny.

He loves, he desires, he laughs and he yearns for connection. And right now, his body’s aching to feel you around him.

He snuggles closer and wraps a tight arm around your waist, hugging your abdomen just right. Instinctively, you arch your back, letting your rear brush against Leon’s dick making hiss from the friction.

For a moment, he stops hugging you. You almost whined for the loss of closeness when you feel Leon guiding his dick which easily slides through your wet folds. The tip of it bumps against your clit sending electricity all over your body.

He’s savoring this moment. Sadly, he doesn’t think he’ll last much longer once he starts. But, at least, he knows that this won’t be the last time since he finally allowed himself to be selfish, to wish happiness for himself.

Happiness has a name and is both yours and Leon’s.

At last, he pushed into you, just the tip for now. Admiring your face in the mirror, he whispers sweet nothings against your ear. Rambles about how perfect you look and feel right, how lucky he is, and so on.

“Look at you…” Leon points at the mirror and you open your eyes which are glassy from all the pent-up desire you’ve been holding back. At any other moment given, you’d have been quite self-conscious about the exposure of your naked body. But Leon — as you once did with him — is eager to show you that you’re indeed a sight for sore eyes.

“Look how perfect you look being mine.” Even though his words could sound possessive to anyone else, you know his voice brings out affection and tenderness. There are a few things Leon could call them his. And most of them are mundane items that don’t exactly bring comfort to him.

But to call you his was something that he has always looked for. To show you off, buy you everything you’ve always desired, and tell the world that he had finally found his home. His one and only.

As he finishes his statement with a kiss on your cheek, he eases himself into you. He pushes all of his length as he hushes you once you hiss from the stretch.

“Shhh there you go…” He once again wraps his arm around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he inhales the scent he has grown to love. The same that has been lulling him to sleep ever since you decided to move in with him.

He stays still for a few seconds, the feeling of filling you up could make him cum right on the spot but he stops himself. He distracts from your pulsating walls by kissing your neck and sucking on the skin which will clearly turn a soft purple color the next morning.

The pain soon turned into comfort and therefore it resulted in pleasure. As he hears you saying a soft “You can move” he slowly pulls out before thrusting into you with the same pace and force. He feels your walls clamping down his cock as he continues his motions.

He slides in and out with lazy thrusts, his and your eyes are closed as heavy breaths and drowsy moans leave your lips. You were correct, he was exhausted from his previous high. But the way you drowsily made love was making this whole thing even more perfect.

“Taking me so well.” He murmurs against your skin, his breath tickling your neck as he grips your waist even tighter than before, as if he is scared that once he opens his eyes you won’t be there. “Sucking me in, like you know I belong here.”

His hand goes to your chest, where he plays with one of your nipples. His fingers pinching the sensitive spot as his hips continue lazily bucking into yours already feeling like his mind was all over the place.

You feel a heat forming on your belly as Leon continues whispering words you can’t quite register now. Too drunk in desire and too cock drunk to even care. “Fuck I love you so much…”

“I love you too.” You can’t really say anything else, everything would be sentences with no coherent meaning or sense. So you stick with your favorite phrase, you could sing every day that you love Leon, and he would do the same. Because the word love was once so far away from him.

It was poetic to see that Leon could feel his second climax of the night near as he heard you say that you love him. The back and forth of his hips slightly increase their speed but it remains true to the lazy nature of the act right now, though.

“I’m close.” Leon stutters as he says those words. “Can I come inside you? Please tell me I can.” There is some desperation in his voice, an aching and burning desire to paint your insides.

“Fuck, yes. Yes, you can.” You manage to say before Leon lets out countless thanks you. Your body starts writhing under his grasp as your fingers start digging into Leon’s arms, leaving an imprint of your nails on his skin.

“Cum on me. Go ahead, do it for me.” He coos, coaxing more sweet whimpers out of you. “Let me fill you up.”

You let out a muffled whimper as you came undone. He could feel your cunt gripping him as you reach your desired orgasm. Eventually, Leon’s hips which were previously rocking into your and slapping against his skin are now slowing down.

The wet noises sound so filthy yet Leon is having a blast right now. He could imagine himself getting to experience this every night with you by his side. Who could have thought that selfishness could be so rewarding?

With a low grunt, he cums inside of you as he promised. Letting his load fill your insides. He couldn’t hide the satisfied smile that formed on his lips. What a view.

He remains inside of you for a bit longer than needed. You can’t judge him, especially with the way he nuzzles into your neck letting out a yawn. Poor him was worn out. After his first climax, he had already felt that he touched the sky, and now he was in heaven.

After pulling out, he rested his cheek on your shoulder. Part of him wanted to feel you again yet he couldn’t even move an inch. However, it fulfilled him to know that you were going to be right next to him tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and for as long as you allow it.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

“We have to change those thank you into I love you.”

Leon was the sweetest guy. However, those thanks still came from a place of skepticism.

“Sorry…”

He sheepishly said before drifting off to sleep. And, as usual, no nightmare is waiting for him to haunt his dreams.

VI. SERENITY

Attempting to get out of bed on a lazy Saturday morning should be a crime. However, your drowsy state didn’t stop you from reaching the now empty space next to you. The bed still provided you with the scent of the person you loved the most yet he wasn’t there.

With a groan, you decide to get up from the bed. Your feet meet the cold tiles before you curse from the sudden pain you feel as you step on the remote. You have told Leon countless times that he shouldn’t sleep when he’s watching TV, yet the only response you get is “I’m just resting my eyes.” Therefore, that causes Leon to fall asleep with the remote on his chest which obviously falls throughout the night.

After a while of inhaling and exhaling deeply from the pain, you make your way out of the room. The scenario that greets you is the same as other days just that Leon was missing in the picture.

Your steps are slow as sleep is still running in your system, a yawn escapes you while you walk towards the kitchen counter. A note is waiting for you and you deduce it’s from Leon.

“I just went to run some errands, I’ll come back as soon as possible. Love you so so much.”

His name was written at the bottom of the page next to a happy face that he had drawn. Silly, you thought.

You see that Leon had already prepared you a sandwich before he left. It was cold to the touch, so that means Leon has been gone for a while. He may come any time now.

Life with him was… surely an adventure. He still goes on missions, leaving you to your own devices for days or even weeks. But they no longer haunt his mind like before. He still needs to be treated with utter care after one, though. Bruises and scars are not the only effects his journeys have on him.

When he returns from a mission, the once dull and boring apartment welcomes him yet this time, it is full of colors and memories you have made with him. However, it’s not enough for him to completely drop his facade of a tough agent ready to end someone’s life. As you treat his wound, every tiny sound has him jumping on his seat.

You can’t blame him, it takes a while before he can return to his usual self and be embraced by your warm body that will waste no time to hug him tight. Reminding that he was finally home.

Eventually, after settling down and returning to reality, his personality will shine again. If someone asked you to describe Leon in one word it would be impossible. The man that you chose to spend life with was everything all at once. He was definitely clingy, to begin with. Excuses were his everyday words as he tried to explain why it was completely alright for him to follow you everywhere you went.

At this point, it felt like you had adopted a puppy instead of having a boyfriend. “What’ chu doing?” He would often say as he peeked around the edge of the door frame and watched you from afar If he had a tail it’d be wagging so fast. The tough agent no longer existed in your presence, instead, a man who melted as soon as you hugged him took his place.

Loving, in his language, meant going overboard just for you. If he had to get on his knees and beg for a tiny kiss he’d do it. He’s grown needy to those sweet gestures only you could provide. But he didn’t need to win them. Loving, in your language, meant offering your heart on a platter for him.

God does he love you. You have the man whispering funny names in your ears as you wake up. You unlocked a part of him that he had long forgotten he had, he used to joke when he was nervous — freaking out because he thought he might die on a mission. But now, he invented a plethora of new pet names just to bother you and see you rolling your eyes laughing.

He’s gone through so much, he’s seen so much. Tranquility was the last thing he thought he would be surrounded with. Ever since he was forced to join the military, he made up his mind on the fact that his life would never be the same, Racoon City was his starting point and only his death would stop him from suffering.

Now, as you finally hear the door unlocking you admire how his figure appears. You squint your eyes as you try to pinpoint what’s different in him.

“Hey, you.” Leon walks towards you, closing the gap between you two as he hugs you.

“Hey, you too.” You return the hug, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Missed me?”

“Not much.” You punch his side, not strong enough to make him jump but rather tell him that you were joking. “Now… On what adventures did you go without me?”

“I just paid a visit to Adelaide.”

Adelaide, you haven’t forgotten about the old lady that you treated. However, you didn’t expect Leon to remain loyal to his service. And now that he mentions it, you realize what he has done to himself.

His hair has turned lighter. Blonder.

“Did you bleach your hair?” You can’t help but laugh at the thought, he had poor Adelaide working so early on a Saturday morning. But then again, you remember that both of them are workaholics, even though their jobs couldn’t be any more different.

“No, you’re going blind.”

God, he was so dumb.

Eternity used to sound like a cruel fate before. Stuck in a loop that he couldn’t escape from. But now, he will always look for you even in the tiniest details. He’d look for you in the darkness as two flicks of light trying to reach each other. In the universe, as two particles of stardust waiting to create something even bigger — a world for themselves, and a world to live on.

Because, after all, you reached for him when he had nothing more to offer than his rotten self. You loved him when he couldn’t even love himself.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #resident evil

747 notes · View notes