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#but still having that complex feeling of like where WERE you why NOW
totheblood · 2 days
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shiver | s.r.
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pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: spencer would do anything for you, but doesn't understand why you have pulled away from him.
warnings: angst, avoidant!reader
a/n: gonna be so honest i wanted this to be a series but i ended up hating it like 2k words in so that's why the end is so good... if people like it i will do a part two but oh my god its so bad and rushed towards the end... but this one is for my avoidantly attached girlies!! i see u and i love u and i am also sorry.. reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses.. PLEASE SEND SPENCER REQUESTSS!!!
wc: 3.1k
"So I look in your direction But you pay me no attention, do you?."
The hum of the air condition rang through the bullpen as Spencer studied you from his desk. With your hand in your hair, absentmindedly reading files with your body slumped forward, you looked unbelievably and unmistakably tired.
 It was another late night doing paperwork from last week's case, and nearly everyone was running on caffeine and pure luck. Spencer had finished his work an hour, thirty four minutes, and eight seconds ago but he still found himself glued to his chair and taking on JJ’s leftover work. All so he could silently watch over you from his desk. 
He didn't quite understand his fascination with you. It was almost embarrassing how he hung onto your every word you said, willing to do any and everything you wanted him to. But it was more embarrassing that you never paid him that same attention. Well, that wasn't completely true when he first met you, but as the months went on he could feel your attention from him drifting. 
When you first started at the BAU last year you were shy and timid, but Spencer noticed the small chuckles that escaped from your lips at his complex jokes and how your eyes watched him as he spewed some random fact that the rest of the team groaned at. You used to hang onto every word he said, asking him follow up questions with your pupils dilated. 
It was natural how you gravitated towards him. He was the only one on the team remotely close to your age, and like you, he was a bonafide genius. But you always wanted to know more and he always wanted to tell you more. It was innocent and pure, the way he thought about you, until you started to pull away. 
Spencer knew the chemical reaction that occurs in the brain when someone who used to give you attention pulls away. It creates a pattern similar to drug addiction, something he was all too familiar with, and it had started to get all too familiar for him to know how to properly deal with it. It had reached the point where he was counting each glance you gave him, the small way the corners of your mouth quirked up when you spoke to him, and even to the point where he was keeping track of how many words you uttered to him daily. 
He tracked it too. Your conversations with him had been on a steep decline since February, and now in late May he found himself wondering what he had done wrong. He had known the path he was leading himself down was one he shouldn't continue, but he couldn't care. His brain was operating for him, and he was succumbing to his worst fears. 
His brain made any attempts to rationalize your behavior, none of which calmed his anxiety. Maybe he was too clingy, always opting to sit next to you on the jet, or partner up with you in the field. Maybe he had said the wrong thing, something that made you immediately sick of him. Maybe you started seeing someone. The last one bothered Spencer the most, but he couldn't understand why. 
Spencer did everything he could to convince himself he didn't have a crush on you. As juvenile as it sounds was as juvenile as he felt every time his cheeks tinged pink when you spoke to him. He tried to convince himself that he didn't actually ‘like’ you, he just was preoccupied with you. It was your behavior that triggered his attachment style, it wasn't that he liked you. 
And as much as he wanted it to be true, he knew it wasn't. He was infatuated the moment he met you. Spencer knew he could never forget anything, but he knew for sure he would never forget your face. He traced in his mind over and over again, the way your whole face lit up when you ate something sugary, how your eyes blinked up at him when you spoke, and how you would drag your teeth in between your lips whenever you were focused. He'd find himself finding any excuse to be close to you. 
Spencer had once made a vow to himself that he would never pretend to be stupid. Not for anyone, and especially not for a girl. Which is why he almost physically smacked himself when he pretended to not have read a book by Jane Austen just so he could have something to talk to you about. He had read her entire collection when he was eight, yet he still found himself agreeing to read it and tell you how he liked it. He never forgot a word of the book “Emma,” but he still found himself rereading it for you. That was how much power you had over him. A power you seemed to be unaware of. 
6 months ago - November
“So, did you read it?” you questioned, arm pressing into the hardword of his desk, eyes wide and waiting. He didn't notice you at first, which was a first for him, making him jump as he turned to face you. 
“I did,” he answered, lips in a tight smile as he set his pen down, “I still have no idea why everyone seems to love Mr. Knightley. He strikes me as being a bully. I liked Frank Churchill far more.”
“Please,” you scoff rolling your eyes, “Churchill, seriously? All he had were his good looks. He was a total ass!” Your use of ‘ass’ earned a genuine smile from Spencer, whos eyes lit up as he spoke. 
“He wasn’t the most sincere,” he starts, shaking his head, “but he still had a far better personality than Knightley. I’d sooner date Frank Churchill over Mr Knightley. At least Frank had a sense of humor.”
“That's true, I guess,” you agreed looking down at his pristine desk. All he had on it were closed case files and a framed photograph of him and the team on it. You weren't in it but you studied it quickly, noticing how Spencer stared a brunette in the picture. Whoever it was, he was looking at her like she held the world in her hands. You would be lying if you said it didn't sting. As if he could sense you deflate he sat up straighter, following your vision to the picture on his desk. 
“We have to take a new one-” he rushed out quickly, causing your eyes to snap back to him, “You know, one with you… in it,” He pursed his lips nodding as he spoke again, almost as if he couldn’t stop himself, “You know cause now you're part of the team and this picture is old anyways. From when I first started here and as you can tell, I look completely different and it's time I updated it.”
“Who’s she?” you asked, finger pointing directly to Elle’s face. As you spoke you watched for any clues that would give you insight on how he felt about her. 
“Oh, Elle,” the way he said it made him sound defeated, like he forgot that she was in the picture, even though you knew that wasn't the case, “she used to work here, but, uh, she left.”
“You guys were close?” you questioned him, eyebrows raised as you watched him glance over at the picture before leaning back in his chair and putting all his focus on you. 
“Yeah,” he sighed, “we were, but…” his voice trailed off, as looked down at his feet, “we're not in contact anymore. She hasn't really spoken to any of us since she left,” 
“Oh,” you sighed out. You wanted to be upset that it was obvious he was enamored with her, but you just felt bad. The way his whole demeanor changed as he spoke made you feel more upset than anything, “I’m sorry,”
“It’s okay,” his eyes darted back up to you as his tight-lipped smile reappeared. He glanced back at his desk, before turning his body away from you, “I, uh, have some work I should get back to, though,”
“Yeah,” you smiled, standing up straight as you prepared yourself to turn around. You wanted to say something, anything, but you didn't. You just turned around and went back to your desk, something stinging brewing in your chest. 
Present Day
Spencer thought back to that day, wondering if his change in disposition is what made you change. It rang through his head as he tapped his foot, eyes trained on you. He was lost in thought when your eyes snapped up towards him, making him flinch. You offered him a small smile but it hadn't reached your eyes before looking back down at your work. 
The interaction made him decide that it was time to go home. That him sitting and staring was doing nothing for him or you. Standing up, he slung his messenger bag across his body, goodbyes prepared on the tip of his tongue. As he was about to speak Hotch exited his office, eyes meeting sympathetically with Spencer’s as he entered the bullpen. 
“We have a case,” Hotch announced, “I need everyone in the conference room in ten.” 
As the team flooded into the conference room, Spencer hung back, watching as you collected your things and trailed behind the rest of the team with a stack of files in your arms. 
“Need help with th-” Spencer began, arms outstretched towards you.
“No,” you replied abruptly, “I’m fine.”
It came out colder than you would have liked, causing Spencer to shiver, purse his lips and head into the conference room with his head hung low. 
“Our first victim was 35-year-old Leonardo Ruiz,” Garcia started, remote in hand clicking to display the picture of the mutilated man with his hands bound by rope and publicly displayed hanging from trees. Almost instinctively you flinch. You know it's the job but it never gets easy seeing the images. The man's face was distorted, slashed repeatedly with a knife until he became unrecognizable.
“He was reported missing after failing to report to his shift,” another click of the camera to show the abandoned patrol car, with the door open, it was obvious there had been a struggle, “His patrol car was found 2 miles from where his body was found in Arlington, where there appeared to be a struggle. Ruiz was missing for approximately two days before his body was discovered.”
“There was no dash cam footage from the patrol car?” Rossi asks from his chair, leaning forward as Garcia clicks the remote again.
“Exactly what I thought, but here's the creepy bit: There is no sign of another person on the dashcam footage. He doesn't even mention seeing another person, you can't hear the struggle, in fact there is no audio on the footage at all. Because three days before Ruiz went missing, his dashcam footage lost all audio. He reported it to the department and they were going to look into it but they were unable to fix it before Ruiz was taken,” Garcia answers, sending a chill down your spine. 
“So this was premeditated,” you speak up, causing everyone to look at you, including Spencer. You were still finding your footing in the group, trying to be useful to the group without saying the wrong thing, “The unsub is patient, willingly waiting for a perfect moment to strike. Could be revenge,”
“You're on the right track, pumpkin,” Garcia starts clicking another picture onto the screen, “That leads us to our next victim, Detective Luther Hodges from a different precinct was abducted from his home, reported missing for two days before he was found in the same way as our last victim in a public park,” Garcia herself winces as she looks at the pictures of the body strung up to a children's playground, “However this time our unsub left a witness, Hodge’s seven year old daughter, Lucy,” 
“If he left her as a witness, it could mean that he used her as a way to get him to leave willingly,” Spencer started, eyes squinting as he viewed the screen, “or he’s simply… devolving,”
“You’re absolutely right, boy genius,” Garcia starts, clicking the remote again to reveal a final body, causing the group to gasp. On the screen was Federal Agent Angela Barnett in the same position as the others. “One of our own, Angela Barnett was taken from a grocery store she frequented, and only kept one day before she was found in this state.”
“He’s devolving and rapidly,” Hotch says, closing his file and standing up, “Garcia contact MPD and let them know we're coming,” he commands, causing Garcia to nod a quick “yes, sir,” before rushing out the office, “I want to be out of here in ten,” he instructs the group, resulting in nods as everyone stands and begins collecting their things. 
“Hey,” Spencer calls from beside you gently, his voice close to being a whisper, “do you want to ride with me? I just got this new audiobook on the evolving traditions of the Amish and Mennonites on the East Coast,” he offers you a small smile that you can't help but mirror. 
“Oh, uh,” you look down, you know you’ve been pulling away but you can't help it, “Yeah, that sounds… interesting,”
Spencer can't help the grin that spreads across his face as he nods gently, cheeks tinged pink as he picks up his bag from the floor, “Great, I’ll see you then.”
The car ride was awkward to say the least, Spencer glancing over at you every five seconds as you started out the window, watching the passing trees. You drowned out the audiobook, too focused on wanting the car ride to be over that you didn't notice when Spencer had cut it off. 
“Is everything okay?” He spoke up, fingers tapping at the steering wheel as he kept his vision focused on the road. 
“Yeah,” you sat up, looking over at him and scratching the back of your neck, “I’m fine,”
“Are you sure?” he asked again, “You’ve just been… different with me. If I did anything, I’m sor-”
“You didn't do anything,” you cut him off, “I didn't realize I had been acting different,” you lied quickly, earning a scoff from him, “What?”
“The amount of conversations we have daily has been on the decline since February, decreasing by 4 percent daily in the last two weeks,” Spencer let slip casually, his own tone colder than intended, “Hard thing to not realize, especially for someone like you,”
“Someone like me?” You questioned, arms crossing defensively across your chest. 
“Someone smart,” Spencer looked over at you, “And I’m not stupid either, by the way. I would appreciate it if you just told me you didn't want to be friends outside of work instead of avoiding me like I’m the plague.”
You were silent for a beat, looking down at your hands, fingers intertwined with each other. You never understood why you got this way, why romantic feelings caused you to turn in on yourself. All you wanted to do was run, jump out of the car, scream, so you did the next best thing, “I’d prefer if we kept our relationship strictly professional,” your voice came out quieter than you would have liked. 
Spencer felt his stomach drop as his breath caught in his throat. He ignored the stinging in his eyes as he cleared his throat, swallowing harshly before replying, “Okay.”
The rest of the ride was uneventful, Spencer turned back on the audiobook and you allowed the blood to rush to your ears, drowning out the rest of the noise. The night was much busier than anticipated, all law enforcement officers on edge with the rise of a serial killer that put targets on their back. 
You spent a majority of the case avoiding Spencer, opting to partner with Derek on interviewing witnesses while JJ and Spencer built a geographical profile. When it was time to deliver the profile, you stayed back, only offering minimal input. 
Then, you found him: Jacob Raines. Jacob Raines had been a former police officer who was let go due to his use of excessive force and brutality. His rage and anger in turn got geared towards law enforcement, blaming them for his pitfalls. 
Garcia found an abandoned warehouse registered in his name in the outskirts of the city, where he was most likely keeping his victims before murdering him. The team dispatched to the warehouse, with you, Spencer and Morgan, entering first. 
You wouldn't have entered without backup if it wasn't for the sounds of screams coming from inside, and Spencer rushing in first. As if on instinct you followed after him, gun raised as you cleared behind him towards the screams. In the middle of the warehouse was a police officer still in uniform, tied to a chair with a tear stained face. She was crying as she plead for Spencer to untie her. As he worked to undo the knots you heard footsteps, causing you and Spencer to stand up abruptly. In front of Spencer was a 6 foot man, weapon raised and aimed right at him with his finger on the trigger. Based on the profile, you knew he would shoot and you knew he wouldn't think twice. He planned this, he knew the BAU would come for him and he wanted to take out as many people as he could. 
As if on instinct you pushed Spencer out of the way, a bullet aimed for his kelvar vest had made impact with your shoulder, piercing through it as you hit the cold concrete. Spencer was stunned but got up in enough time to take three shots at the unsub who had his weapon aimed and ready to shoot again. The unsub fell with a loud thud, but Spencer turned back to lean down next to your body that was growing increasingly colder. A puddle of blood had began to form underneath you and while it was clear it didn't hit any major organs, you were still bleeding out rapidly. 
Through the ringing in your ears you could here Spencer’s pained and rush voice signal over the radio, “Officer down, need medical, gunshot wound to the shoulder.”
His voice and hands were shaking as he applied pressure to the wound with his palm, as he urged you, “keep your eyes open,” he pleaded with you, “just stay awake until they get here,” he begged. But you were so tired, and your eyes were getting heavier, so you let them close. 
And everything went black. 
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onmywayend · 14 hours
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MG|It's not just a one night stand (M)
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Mafia boss mingi x Mafia boss reader
Smut/Frenemy/Mentioned of alcohol death, blood/Reader has shit boyfriend/Mingi has crush on reader/Make out/Public sex
"It's been a while, Y/N," Mingi greeted you with a smile as you clinked glasses. "How have you been?"
"Same as always," you replied, a hint of weariness in your voice.
"Really? I heard about your boyfriend-"
"Dead. And he was never my boyfriend, just an ex," you cut in sharply, the memory stirring up a storm of anger within you.
"Can't we talk about something else? When did you start caring so much about me?" you deflected, raising an eyebrow at Mingi.
"We're good friends, aren't we? Is it wrong to care about your friends?" Mingi replied casually, sipping his wine which was annoying. Care? Tsk…He just wanted to have a good laugh at you.
Your relationship with Mingi was complex, a mix of friendship and rivalry in the Mafia world, where you could be at odds one moment and allies the next.
“You just want to see my joke. Don’t you?”
“I haven’t said that.” Ignoring his words, you rolled your eyes and sipped your wine.
"Have you thought about finding a new boyfriend?"
"I don't know," you replied, guarded.
"Well, with your fiery temper and dangerous aura, not many would dare to be your boyfriend," Mingi teased, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful voice?" you asked, trying to suppress the urge to hit him and smile slightly.
"No."
“Then why don't you shut up?!”
Your voice carried a note of warning, but instead of being afraid, he leaned in close and whispered provocatively, "I don't know who else could handle you but me."
The intimate gesture caught you off guard, a blush creeping onto your face. You felt his breath brushing against your ear, and you couldn’t help but feel nervous.
“You...”
“Are you shy?” You panicked at being told off and pushed him away, he dodged your kick.
“Look! I was right, wasn't I?” You were about to say something back when a sickening yell stopped you in your tracks.
Before you could respond, a commotion interrupted the moment.
"Y/N!" A man pushed his way through the crowd, tears streaming down his face as if he had been crying for hours.
"Don't security guards work anymore? How did they let this wild dog in?" Your voice was cold and filled with annoyance, your impatience evident on your face.
"What do you mean, Y/N?" The man in front of you paled, unable to comprehend your words.
"You don't understand human language, do you? Are you really just a dog?" Your heart, once filled with love for this man, now only harbored hatred. The memory of the betrayal and violation from that fateful night is still fresh in your mind.
"No, Y/N. I know you still care for me. Please, don't leave me!" The man pleaded, desperation in his eyes. You fidgeted with the glass of wine in your hand, your whitened fingertips looking like they were going to break the stem. The eyes of the entire room fall on you, whispering and murmuring, and there are even ugly jeers.
At this rate you'll be the laughing stock of the Mafia.
“I know I was wrong, can you forgive me?”
"Forgive you? Am I that forgiving?" You raised an eyebrow, the anger simmering beneath the surface.
"She's not!" Mingi interjected, his presence adding to the tension in the room. Your tongue tipping your right cheek in an expression of extreme displeasure.
"Who is he? Your new lover? How dare you?" You lashed out, slapping him to the ground, releasing all the pent-up resentment and anger.
Your action startled everyone and the room fell silent, you looked at the man before you, a sudden realization flashing through your mind. Without warning, you grabbed Mingi's tie and kissed him, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. Without waiting for him to kiss back, you left his lips and met the man's gaze with defiance.
"Yes, he's my boyfriend, and you mean nothing to me. How dare you think you still have a place in my heart?" You declared, holding Mingi close, not realizing that your proximity had caused him to stiffen, his heartbeat thumping to drown out all sound.
"You should be grateful that I didn't kill you at that time. How dare you come to see me and court death? "
“No, Y/N, you're acting, aren't you?” Your patience worn thin and looked down on the man. You poured the red wine over him, the glass shattering against the ground.
"I toast you." With a swift motion, you drew the gun from Mingi's jacket, aiming it at the man's head without hesitation.
The gunshot rang out, ending the chapter of your past love. The crowd scattered, unwilling to be caught in the crossfire. The security guards arrived, swiftly handling the aftermath.
"You can have it back." Without a look , you placed the gun in Mingi's hand and turned to leave. But before you could make your escape, he grabbed your arm, pulling you back.
"What? I didn't harm you."
"Shouldn't you take responsibility?" Mingi crouched down to your eye level, a sly smile playing on his lips, his gaze filled with desire.
"I... I apologize for any offense caused. I'll make it up to you by treating you to dinner next time." You attempted to move past him, but he blocked your path, towering over you with his imposing presence. His strong aura seemed to engulf you, leaving you feeling small and vulnerable in comparison. However, everyone knew that beneath your seemingly delicate exterior lies a formidable strength.
His magnetic presence exudes a captivating allure, making it hard for you to resist or break free. His deep, mesmerizing eyes convey an unspoken longing, causing your heart to race and a blush to creep onto your cheeks. As the Mafia Boss, you refuse to be outmatched.
"One meal doesn't seem like sufficient compensation." Mingi's voice was low and enticing, drawing you in with each word.
"What do you want?" Your question was interrupted as you back hitted a round table, leaving you with no escape. Mingi pressed his body against yours, encircling your waist with his arms and positioning himself intimately close. He leaned in towards your lips, his breath teasing your senses.
"I want what that man once had." His breath dances across your lips with every syllable, as though he's playing with your nerves. Your ears started to get red because of shyness.
"He may not know how to love you, but I do." A faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.
"You... um-" Before you could respond, Mingi captured your lips in a kiss, his scent enveloping you in a heady mix of musk and alcohol. You attempted to resist, but his advances left you powerless. His lips moved hungrily against yours and his hands ran up and down your body, igniting a tingling sensation that sent shivers down your spine. He sucked on your lips, licking and biting them. All was driving you crazy.
You kept your lips sealed, determined to maintain your composure as a mafia boss, unwilling to let him break through. "You have to open your mouth for a kiss, didn't that man teach you that?" He withdrew from your lips abruptly, his breath warm against your ear as he planted a kiss on your temple. “I…Hm…”Before you could respond, he cupped your face and kissed you once more.
His hands roamed down your body, tracing the curves with a delicate touch. A soft moan escaped your lips, prompting him to deepen the kiss, his tongue intertwining with yours in a dance of desire. The intensity of the moment consumed you, the heat between you rising with each passing second. You forget the struggle and throw yourself into the heat of the moment. It had been so long since you felt this kind of passion, this kind of fire.
The kiss was a tempest, stirring emotions within you that you had long buried. As you struggled to catch your breath, he gazed at your flushed, swollen lips with a hint of satisfaction.
"How was my kissing?"
"You..." You lightly tapped his chest, a shy smile playing on your lips.
"Want something even better?"
"What?" His hand trailed down your waist, his knee brushing against you, sending a shiver down your spine. With a few simple movements, he ignited a fire within you that you couldn't ignore.
"But...what if someone sees..."
"Do you care? You're in the business of taking lives, does it really matter?"
"I want them to see how I fuck the life out of you."
"Min..." Your protest was cut short by his kiss, reigniting the passion and possessiveness from before. He devoured your lips, his hunger palpable, greedily sucking the sweetness from your mouth. With ease, he lifted you onto the table, your skirt riding up to reveal your long, elegant legs.
"Oh fuck. You're so beautiful. How can that asshole not like you?" His fingers trailed down your neck and you lifted your head to give him more access. He left a trail of kisses and marks while sucking hard on your collarbone, the deep red hickey standing out on your fine skin.
"Ah! Min..."
"Patience, my dear." His fingers teased over your panties, hooking them gently, and you lifted your ass knowingly to let him take them off. “Don't prepare me, I'm ready.” you whispered, causing his eyes to widen briefly before returning to their calm demeanor. “Tell me to stop if it hurts.”
He pulled down his pants and underwear just enough to free his cock, larger than you had ever seen, glistening with pre-cum. It seemed eager to enter your cunt, to claim you as his own.
He deftly removes a condom from his pocket, tearing it open with a sharp bite. "So, you came prepared?" you teased. "I'm only preparing for you," A mischievous glint in his eyes. He rolled the condom onto his hardened shaft and gently kissed your lips. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," he whispered, his voice husky with desire.
As he eased into you, a wave of pleasure washes over you, and you arched your back in response. Your legs bent against his thighs when you adjusted his size. His left arm wrapped around your waist while another hand put on the table as support. With each rhythmic thrust, the intensity builds, sending shivers down your spine. "Ah! Mingi!" you gasp, your nails digging into his back as he holds you close, his movements becoming more urgent and primal.
“You’re so fucking tight! Did that bitch ever fuck you?” His deep thrusts hitted all the right spots, driving you to the edge of ecstasy. You moan softly, your body responding to his every touch. Your breath quickened, and your heart raced as he explored every inch of your body with his lips and hands as if he knew your body really well. His shaft rubbing against your velvet wall while his tip kept hitting your deepest part.
You couldn’t help but moan shyly and your mouth formed an 'O' shape.Your chest heaved dramatically as your breathing became rapid. You wrapped your hands around his neck to bring him closer to you. “Oh god!!!” He suddenly slammed into you like he's trying to break through your limits, plunging into the deepest part of you, ramming into the same spot over and over again.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” In a moment of pure abandon, he surges forward, his movements becoming more forceful and unrestrained. The table rattles with each powerful thrust, adding to the symphony of passion that fills the room.He hissed as he buries himself in your chest, greedily inhaling your scent.
He had waited patiently for this moment, his feelings for you growing stronger with each passing day. Despite his disbelief in love at first sight, he found himself falling for you the moment he laid eyes on you. Keeping his emotions hidden, he feared that his overwhelming desire might jeopardize your friendship. But when he saw you standing up to a despicable individual, his suppressed feelings surged to the surface, overpowering his rationality. And when you kissed him, he knew there was no turning back.
"Fuck!Y/N!I love you so much!," he showered you with kisses, his passion unleashed like a wild storm. “Ah! Ah!” Your breath caught in your throat as he fervently explored every inch of your being, the intensity of his touch leaving you breathless. He was going faster and the sound of skin slapping and squeaking of water drove him crazy. With one hand hooked around his neck and the other against the edge of the table, you raised your head and moaned, completely lost in the moment. You let go of all inhibitions, the world around you fading into oblivion.
"I'm cumming, fuck,min!" you gasped, your body trembling with desire. His response was a primal growl, driving you both to the brink of ecstasy. As the waves of pleasure crashed over you, you surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, a symphony of moans and cries filling the air. He pushed you down with his hands gripping your shoulders. Both of your lower core pressed together and your body moved back and forth with his thrusts. The friction even hurt your back a little, but you ignored it and let him keep thrusting.
“Min...I wanna cum.” “Cumming mess on my cock. I want to feel you.” His words were like a catalyst that pushed you right over the edge. After a high-pitched moan, you squirted. “Oh my god!” He felt a rush of heat around his tip and felt himself going over the edge. He buried his head in the crook of your neck for the final stroke, and his thrusts became sloppy. Finally, after a few thrusts, he cummed all in the condom and slowly withdrew inside you.
"I've never cummed so much before," he confessed and threw the condom in the trash can. His gaze was soft and filled with emotion. Disposing of the remnants of passion, he then tenderly fixed your disheveled appearance, his touch gentle and reassuring.
"Was that good for you?" he asked. You patted his chest then rested your head against it, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.
“Yah...it's good.” You trailed off, and he teased, “What? Say that again! I can’t hear you!”
You cupped his face and suddenly kissed him. He's stunned into silence. “Now you know?” He cracked a satisfied smile and tried to kiss you again, but you stopped him as you placed a finger on his lips.
“We gotta go now. We’ve stayed here too long.”
“Then just go to my home? Sounds good?” “Up to you.” He carried you in his arms and headed straight for the exit with a smile.
“Hey, Y/N.”
“What?”
“Go on a date with me?”
“You already had sex with me. How can you still ask me this stupid question?” You rolled your eyes with a little impatient tone.
“I'm afraid you'll just think it's a one-night stand.”
“Am I such a casual person?” You rolled your eyes again. You didn’t know why he always asked such stupid questions and could still be a mafia boss.
“Nah, I haven’t said that! So your answer is?
“Sure.”
Soon, word of your relationship spread throughout the Mafia.
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theres a direct line from splinter’s parenting flaws/issues to the fact that raph’s overall series struggle is feeling like he personally needs to be responsible for protecting his family/carrying them, feels that it all stops with him, that he can’t turn to anyone else to help him with it, to the fact that hes acted as a parent to his own brothers, that he grew up too fast
every day i mourn that rise didn’t get time for a raph-splints ep that might dig into that even a little bit tbh
(i am not a rise splinter hater ftr i love him. i am Not about ppl trying to exaggerate him into being abusive and awful when the truth of the character and his mistakes-- and his growth and active work to improve-- is way more nuanced. he has very real flaws/traumas/issues and makes very real mistakes that impact all of his sons, this just fascinates me)
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doctor-disc0 · 29 days
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Bethesda needs to bring back elder scrolls games taking place over multiple years. I'm sorry, but I genuinely don't think that the Oblivion Crisis and all the Oblivion DLCs happened in 4 months.
And don't get me started on the fact that every event in ESO happens in the same year.
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aroacehanzawa · 1 month
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whats ur beef?
My favourite manga lost the plot so now i cope by being a hater 👍
#long answer is i have beef with the direction that the bsd manga has taken#it only superficially resembles the beloved mystery and character-driven detective agency story with atsushi as the main character#i'm dissatisfied with major developments like killing off fyodor and reviving him and pulling this#PSYCH his ability wasn't what you thought it was. with zero foreshadowing or buildup#because the manga has become full of marvel-movie type plot twists that serve little to no coherent narrative purpose except shock factor#it cheapens the story and it cheapens the development of characters and it cheapens the reader's experience#because we can't speculate and we can't draw connections and parallels and engage with the story on a deeper level#what connections there exist (for example between manga and anime) are shoehorned in after the popularity of the anime and#specific characters (e.g. fyodor who was shoehorned into untold origins in the anime) and mostly the characters who bring in money#i.e. fyodor and dazai and chuuya and their relationships especially soukoku. all this at the expense of characters like atsushi or#the majority of the female cast. who have been MIA for god knows how long and who were barely given frame each in the anime's finale#bsd treatment of its female characters has been subpar shounen level at best and now they're completely sidelined#as with most of the original cast and the original themes of the story. in fact i struggle to identify a coherent overarching theme#for the current arc. other than military action scifi movie go brrrr#compared to early arcs where each chapter had a meaningful message to say about the importance of living and what it means to stay alive and#keep going and why we are fighting to keep important people in our lives and to keep ourselves alive#and what it means to belong somewhere and what it means to be good or bad and how your place of belonging affects that#as a long term reader i just feel betrayed and disappointed. by how a story with complex and vibrant characters has become another#generic cashgrab shounen. and i mourn for the lost potential it had and everything the series has build up#only to have plot points abandoned at a whim.#so that's why i'm a hater now 👍#i know a lot of my bsd mutuals are still big fans of bsd so i try not to be obnoxious about it and mainly keep it comedic#like i don't actually hate the manga. because it's so important to me. and i respect the creators of the manga and anime#but it's frustrating to watch a train wreck in real time. and it's my blog i can hate what i want 😔#sorry if there are typos i wrote all this on mobile and can't edit the tags. i didn't wanna put any of this in the main post
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fingertipsmp3 · 2 months
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Can’t tell if I actually genuinely think this job interview tomorrow is a bad idea, or I’m just trying to convince myself it is because I don’t want to do it
#it’s an online interview so i think cancelling wouldn’t be too much of a dick move because presumably this person is interviewing all day#but i’ve already told people about it so they’ll be like ‘hey how did the interview go :)’ and i don’t want to say i cancelled it#but. look this place gives me bad vibes#the business isn’t even open yet so i’ll be one of the first staff hired and chances are i’ll be hauling stuff all over the place#and helping set up. and that just sounds annoying and difficult#plus i thought it was just retail but i looked it up and they have a bar??? which means they probably saw my bartending & barista experience#and that’s why they want me. these people are not going to let me sit down and uhhhh i have an arthritic knee. i need to sit down#also the employment satisfaction reviews are really terrible#i’m talking like; people mentioning they were getting abuse from customers and still weren’t allowed to ban them#but comparable businesses would absolutely ban those type of customers on the first instance#at this place they just let them stay though and you have to serve them even if they’re clearly abusive and not in their right mind#i also saw that you get asked complex mathematical questions in the interview and listen. my brain is mostly fog right now#every single one of my prescription meds is clashing with one of the others and making me sleep 10 hours a day#and my brain feels like a tired soup even if i have slept 10 hours#(or 9. or 8. or 7. it’s basically a 24/7 thing)#suffice to say i don’t think i’m going to be doing fucking mathematics#also it’s a teams interview and i hate them. although it is kind of nice to not have to take the train for half an hour just to be rejected#OH THAT’S THE OTHER THING. they open at 8:30 and it takes me half an hour to get there#so if they want me in right at opening i still need to get a bus at like 7:50. but more likely it’ll be way earlier than that#soooooo it’s not actually much better than my previous job where i was getting up at 6 to get a train at 7:10 to get to college at 8#to sit around for an hour or more waiting for class to start. 🧐#i know i live out in the back of the back of beyond and i will therefore have some stupid commutes. but come ON#and if i work the closing shift instead there literally isn’t a bus late enough to facilitate that for me. they stop at 8pm. when will i win#i’m just going to send an email cancelling it even though it’s the middle of the night and then i’m going to withdraw my interest on indeed#and then i’m going to bed#and if anyone asks; they made me do maths in the interview so i burst into tears and started eating the drywall#personal
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screeching-bunny · 6 months
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Saw that requests were open, and maybe can you do this one? ⁄(⁄ ⁄ ⁄ω⁄ ⁄ ⁄)⁄
Request- A master manipulator yandere husband that’s been with his wifey (us) since childhood. That’s right, we childhood sweethearts <3 He lovingly molded us into a dependent stepford wifey, cause what’d we do without him? He’s always been there to protect, provide, and care for us since we were young, why stop now into adulthood?
Love to have this as HC format with some dash of dialogue if possible to show some of his personality!
Also I loved your latest CEO yandere, what’s his name? He’s a favorite of mine now. Love the ones that spoil you rotten and can’t live without you!
Yandere! Husband Hcs
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Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’
A/N: Yandere! Ceo currently doesn’t have a name rn but don’t worry he will soon!!! Thank you so much enjoying him!!!
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🌟 Yandere! Husband has been friends with you since you were children. From the moment you got out of the car and started to get your things out of the moving van, he was absolutely hooked. He practically rushed his little legs over and started to enthusiastically introduce himself to you and your family. He was honestly so thrilled to learn that you were the same age as him and going to be attending the same elementary school as him. When you first started attending school Yandere! Husband made sure to hold your hand no matter where you went. Whenever anyone asked he would say that he was only doing this to make you more comfortable (he’s doing this for his own enjoyment). This is a habit that stays even in your adult life. No matter where the two of you are, he is always holding your hand lovingly.
🌟 Yandere! Husband in elementary school used to get so upset whenever someone would try to approach you to play with them. Whenever someone did this he would always try to do petty little things to them such as trip them, tattle tale on every little thing they did, and sometimes get even a little physical. At the time he wasn’t exactly sure why he was feeling these awful emotions but what he was one hundred percent sure on was that he didn’t want anyone to take your attention off of him.
Random elementary student: “You can’t keep doing this! You’re acting like they’re yours! They can play with whoever they want, so stop acting like you own them!”
Yandere! Husband: “...” Coming to the realization that he loves hearing that. The idea of you being solely his causes his heart to beat even faster. “Mine, I like the sound of that.”
🌟 Yandere! Husband made sure to protect you from any bullies that ever tried to harm you. He wanted to be seen as a savior in your eyes and would brutally beat up anyone who tried to harm you. If he wasn’t physically strong enough to beat them then he would do everything in his power to frame them for something and get them expelled from school. He definitely has some sort of savior complex when it comes to you. Yandere! Husband made it a mission to be your first kiss when the two of you were going to graduate elementary and go into middle school. He wanted to be your first in everything and felt this was the first step into making you his. Your first kiss had been with him in his bedroom while you were over to play videogames.
Yandere! Husband: “Come on, this is the first step we gotta take in order to grow. Our first kiss has to be with someone special and you're the specialist person I know!”
Just like that, the two of you were leaning in and that was how Yandere! Husband successfully stole your first kiss.
🌟 Yandere! Husband was still stuck to your side even during puberty. It was during this time that he started getting attention from a lot of people due to his looks. He made sure to always ignore or reject them due to only having eyes for you. Yandere! Husband makes sure that your classes are all with him. Believe it or not but Yandere! Husband is extremely smart and a model student. He will make sure to point out how you are lacking academically therefore you need someone to tutor you (even if you don’t) to both teachers and the principal in order to be in the same classes as you. Yandere! Husband will make small and very subtle passive aggressive remarks about how you aren't that academically intelligent and that you need him by your side. At some point you start to believe this and believe that you need him to tutor you everyday in order to survive school.
Yandere! Husband: “It’s okay if you’re not good at anything. As long as you have me by your side, I’ll take care of you no matter what. Even if we’re old and wrinkly.”
🌟 Yandere! Husband has successfully isolated you from making friends by the time you two are in high school. You basically have no friends but him. This was mainly due to the fact that he would always try to outdo the person you were trying to befriend in order to make them seem boring. Having romantic feelings for anyone other than him was off limits. If you ever did have a crush on someone then Yandere! Husband would absolutely destroy them. He would make sure to spread the nastiest rumor about them and cause them so much shame that they would have to move away from your town in order to avoid further embarrassment. It’s probably around highschool that Yandere! Husband officially asks you out to be his lover. He makes sure to go all out while asking you out in order to make you feel special.
🌟 Yandere! Husband is proposing to you the moment the two of you graduate highschool. Don’t worry about funds, he’s a Nepo baby and will inherit his dad’s company. He definitely wants you to be his housespouse when he’s ready to go to college and work a job. He wants you to depend on him and hates the idea of you being independent without him. In order to make sure this never happens, he manipulates you into thinking that you can’t do anything without him and around. So why don't you sit still and look pretty for him when he gets home.
🌟 Yandere! Husband picks out everything when it’s time to get married. He’s a complete groomzilla and wants everything to be absolutely perfect. When he sees you in your wedding attire for the first time he definitely tears up a bit. You’re just so beautiful. Domestic life with Yandere! Husband is peaceful and calming. Yandere! Husband imagines you all the time while he is at work. When he drives home from work he likes to imagine how you would be waiting for him. Would you be waiting at the door for him or would you be asleep sprawled on the couch. He makes sure to always come home as fast as he can in order to wrap his arms around you. The sight coming home to you and a home cooked meal absolutely melts his heart. This is perfection to him and he’ll make sure to do everything in his power to protect it.
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straykeedz · 24 days
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𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 ; 𝐛𝐜
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𝐭𝐰: [afab!reader. angst at the beginning (not between chris and the reader). breakup (also not chris and the reader). best friend!chris. confessions. nipple play. cunnilingus. sliiiiiight pussy job if you squint. first time (together, they’re both experienced though). unprotected penetrative sex (don’t.). creampie. bff2l trope. fluff.]
𝐰𝐜: 5,7k;
🏷️: @silentcry01 , @capitainesyallin , @becomingmina , @cottontailtoy , @warpedspirit , @newhope8 (i tagged you since you interacted with my post but do tell me if it makes you uncomfortable and i'll remove your name!) ;
[check out my masterlist here]
𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭. 18+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢. 𝐢 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬/𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬. 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬.
─── ⋆⋅🥛🍯⋅⋆ ──
When Chris opens his door you’re there in front of him. 
The pouring rain has soaked you from head to toe, clothes sticking to your body and it’s the worst feeling ever. When you raise your head and your eyes meet his, Chris’ breath hitches in his throat - they’re red and puffy and teary and it’s breaking his heart. You look absolutely shocked and devastated and he doesn’t know what to do to help you. 
“What… what…” he opens and closes his mouth a few times, unable to formulate a more complex sentence such as what are you doing here so late? or what happened? 
“Can I come in?” Your lips quiver as you speak, voice broken. You sniffle. 
Chris blinks a couple of times and then he comes to his senses. Stepping aside, he nods rapidly. “Of course. Sure, of course. Come in.”
He doesn’t give a fuck about the fact that you’re practically dripping and wetting the floor, his only preoccupation right now is making sure you’re safe and taken care of. Chris runs to his bedroom leaving you there, shaking and trembling and dumbfounded - he comes back a couple of minutes later with one of his hoodies and long sweats and a pair of warm socks. 
“You should change. Go take a shower and dry yourself. You can put these on, they’re clean.”
“It’s not… you don’t have to,” you hiccup, still crying, and then you sneeze. 
Chris cups your face in his large hand, brushing your puffy cheek with his thumb. “I don’t want you to get sick. C’mon. I’ll make you a cup of warm milk with your favourite cookies.” 
With one last sniffle and a weak nod, you accept the fresh clean clothes and make your way towards Chris’ bathroom. The feeling of the hot stream of water hitting your body is somehow regenerating, and once you step outside you feel light as a feather and so relaxed that you almost forget why you were upset in the first place. Chris’ clothes feel warm on your body and oddly familiar - maybe it’s his scent that makes you feel home, or maybe it’s the fact that you actually are in his home, wearing his clothes after you just got out of his shower. The tears are back, prickling in your eyes, and a few of them actually slip from your eyes before you can stop them. 
“Here you are,” Chris smiles at you as soon as he spots your figure standing in the hallway. You look so cute in his clothes. “Your milk is ready.” 
“With… with honey?” You pout and a smile spreads on Chris’ face. 
He nods. “Of course. Two teaspoons, as usual.” 
The tears are back, and so is the traitor lump in your throat you get every time you look at Chris or whenever he does something that shows extra care towards you. “I’ve… there’s… my wet clothes. I didn’t know where…” 
Chris shakes his head as a no, “ah, don’t worry about that. I’ll do the laundry and put them in the dryer. They’ll be ready before you know it. Just, please, come drink your milk.”
He leaves you a warm blanket for you to wrap around your legs, especially your feet, since he knows they’re always freezing cold. The milk is perfect, just the way you like it - two tablespoons of honey and your favourite cookies. It still amazes you, sometimes, the way Chris knows you like the back of his hand. You hear the sound of the washing machine going off, and then you hear footsteps, and then Chris is back. 
“Is it good?” He asks, sitting on the end of the couch, looking at you with a soft smile and warm, brown eyes. 
“It’s perfect,” you lower your gaze to the now half-empty mug, circling its rim with the tip of your finger. “Thank you, Chris.” 
“Ah, shut up. Don’t even think about thanking me.” Chris squeezes your foot, which makes you chuckle. “You feel like talking to me?”
“About… about what?”
“About whatever was the reason why you showed up here looking shocked and soaking wet.”
“Oh,” you murmur, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not upset at you. Just worried. I want to help you, please talk to me,” he pleads, worried - you can read it in his eyes, in the way he’s fidgeting with the silver bracelet wrapped around his wrist, in the way he’s biting on his lip. 
It’s time to let your walls down, it’s time to tell him the truth. Why are you so scared? It’s your best friend, the man sitting in front of you, and not a total stranger - however, part of you feels as if it’s even worse right now. With him, you know you can be yourself and one hundred percent honest, but right now everything feels different and you don’t know whether things will be the same ever again if you do tell him the truth. 
“We broke up.”
Chris feels a pang in his chest, knowing how you must feel right now. Broken and lost, not knowing what to do. He’s found himself in that exact situation before, when his long-term relationship had ended, leaving him heartbroken and hurt. You looked devastated when you showed up at his doorstep… He wishes he could ease your pain, make you feel better, but right now the only thing he can do is be there for you. 
“I’m so sorry, flower,” Chris squeezes your foot once again. “Was it… was it completely out of the blue or… had things been rough lately?”
Both - should be your answer, which is also the truth in some way. But the actual truth is that you weren’t expecting the breakup at all. There were problems between you and your ex, but you were both willing to work on them. 
“It’s complicated. I still… haven’t realised it. I’ve still got to process the whole thing.” 
Chris nods. “Right. If you need to talk I’m here. You know that, right?” You hum an affirmative response. “Talking about it might actually help you feel better.” 
“I don’t think so, but thank you, Chris.” You place the now empty mug on the small table besides the couch. “It was just sudden and I needed to get out that house as soon as possible.”
Chris furrows his eyebrows and goes into overprotective mode. “Why? Was he being an asshole about it? Did he hurt you?” He instinctively clenched his jaw at the thought of your ex, or anybody else for the record, hurting you - he’ll go beat his ass right now if you tell him that fucker laid one stupid finger on you. 
“No, no. Not physically. He said some… hurtful things, but nothing that isn’t true,” you sigh, and Chris rolls his eyes and scoffs. 
“No. You’re not defending that asshole and I’m sure nothing of what he said to you is true. Nothing.” 
Oh, you don’t know how you’re wrong, Chris. 
“I’m not defending him. Just - thinking rationally, I see his point of view now.”
“What did he tell you?” 
You don’t want to go there, Chris. 
“Just… random stuff. It doesn’t matter, it’s not important.” 
“It is important since you haven’t stopped crying since you got here. I can’t let you believe that asshole is right.” 
It feels insanely hot in Chris’ living room right now. Your palms are sweaty and there’s a weird feeling in your stomach - you can’t really decipher it, but it’s making you feel dizzy. And Chris is in front of you, waiting for an answer, waiting for you to tell him the truth. The truth. The same truth you’d told your ex before storming out of his place and walking to Chris’. It’s a weird thing - the truth. 
“He just… pointed out some things. Like, I’ve been emotionally distant for the past few weeks, and that I’ve changed.” 
“That’s bullshit and you know it, too,” Chris quickly comments. “People change. Emotionally distant? Does he not know you’ve just changed your job and that they’re making you work your ass off?” He scoffs, invested in the conversation. 
“I mean, he’s not wrong. I have been emotionally distant-” 
“It is completely normal to feel drained, especially if your life and your routine have changed drastically. He should’ve been more understanding of-” 
“He accused me of having feelings for somebody else.” 
Chris’ jaw drops. He stares at you, blinking, incredulous. As if you’d just told him the most absurd thing. 
“He what? He… he accused you of cheating? You?” Chris can’t believe the words that left your mouth - well, your ex’s mouth. You’re the most sincere person he knows. “You aren’t capable of such a thing, he should know that. You… you’re the most honest person I know.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, nervously toying with the pendant of your necklace. The necklace Chris got you for your birthday last year. You never take it off, not even when you shower, which is why you had to go get it polished. It’s your most prized possession, and not because it’s from an expensive brand or bullshit like that - it’s because he gave it to you. That’s what makes it so special. 
“He didn’t accuse me of cheating. Just of having feelings for someone else.” 
Chris rolls his eyes, annoyed. “Yeah, and who would this someone be? You’re always at work and when you’re not working you’re at home with him, and when you’re not with him you’re with me- oh.” Bingo, Chris. “Don’t… don’t tell me he thinks there’s something going on between us.” 
Your lack of response is everything Chris needs to know, even though he’s only partially right. 
“Is he for real?” Chris scoffs. “We’ve been friends for decades and nothing’s ever happened, there’s no reason for him to start feeling jealous now. You’ve been together for almost a year, he should trust you and not accuse you of having feelings for me-“
“He’s right,” you blurt out, much louder than you had expected. 
Chris, in front of you, freezes. “What?”
“He’s right, Chris. I… I feel something for you. I think I always have, and I think… I think he always knew.”
“You… you feel something for me?”
You pull the blanket he lent you over your head, but Chris can easily tell you’re nodding. “I’m sorry,” he hears you mumble, even though your words come out muffled by the thick layer, and then he hears a sniffle. 
He comes closer, sitting next to you now. “Hey. Flower,” he calls you softly. You don’t pull the blanket down, you don’t want him to see your tear-strained face. “Why are you sorry, hm?” 
Another sniffle. Chris figures you’re drying the tears with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Because… things’ll be different now. Between us.  And it’s all my fault.” 
“First of all, it’s not your fault. You can’t control your feelings. You can’t choose who to fall for, that’s not how it works.” 
You’re quiet for a few seconds. “So you… you’re not mad at me?”
“Are you mad at me?”
More seconds spent in silence. “Why would I be mad at you?” You ask, genuinely confused. 
“Because I have feelings for you, too.” 
The world stops. Everything’s silent and completely still. Nothing can be heard except for both yours and Chris’ heartbeats. The weird feeling in your stomach has been replaced by a more pleasant one, a more hopeful one. You wish you could turn back time only to hear those words come out of Chris’ lips one more time, to make sure you didn’t imagine them. 
“You’re lying…” is the only thing you manage to say after moments of dizziness. Your head is spinning, heart thumping in your chest. 
“I’m not,” Chris says. “I would never lie to you.”
“You… you have feelings for me?”
It feels weird, to have this conversation when you’re fully hidden by a blanket, but at least you can ask him all the question that come up to your mind without feeling shy. Chris doesn’t seem to mind it, either, even though he’d much rather see your cute face. He bets your cute, puffy cheeks are all red now. 
“I do. I have for a while,” he confesses. “It’s kinda hard not to fall for your best friend when she’s the cutest and the sweetest and most caring person on earth.”
“Stop it,” you mumble, embarrassed, and Chris knows you’re covering your face with your hands right now. 
“Nope, not gonna. Not when I’ve waited all this time to tell you.”
Chris’ hands are trembling, despite the confidence in his words and voice. The one thing he thought would never happen is happening right now - you’re there, in his living room, telling him you like him and he feels the happiest he’s been in forever. 
“Flower?” 
“Hm?” 
“Do you mind lowering the blanket so I can kiss you?”
You’re positive your heart has never beaten so fast in your chest. Chris wants to kiss you. Chris has feelings for you and wants to kiss you - it’s not an hallucination, he really said it. 
“You… you do it…” you murmur, feeling shy. You can’t wrap your mind around the fact you’re about to kiss him. 
Chris finds you the cutest. Grabbing the blanket, he gently pulls it down. Your face is as read as he imagined it, and you’re not looking at him. With two fingers under your chin, he lifts your head. 
Nothing can prepare you for the moment when Chris finally presses his lips on yours. It’s the moment when things change forever, because there’s no way you can keep on living without kissing those lips ever again. Chris feels warm on you, he feels familiar and foreign at the same time, he feels like nothing you’ve felt before, he feels like home. He pulls back only to lick his lips and press them back on yours, cupping your cheek in his hand, pulling you closer. 
Despite this being the first time the two of you kiss, it’s almost as if you’ve done this a million times before. It feels natural, there’s no shyness anymore in your actions, not even when you place your hand on the back of his head and pull him even closer. 
“I’ve wanted this for so long…” Chris mumbles, resting his forehead on yours when he pulls back to breathe. 
“Me too,” you bite your lip, nuzzling his nose, “thought it’d never happen.”
Chris crashes his lips on yours once more. “I never… wanna stop… kissing you,” he mumbles in-between kisses, hungry, craving the contact. 
“Me neither…” you wrap your arms around his neck. 
Making out with Chris feels amazing. It feels like finally being able to eat after weeks of starving. It feels like a dream come true. You truly do not want to stop kissing him, and even if you wanted to you’re positive you couldn’t, because it’s your body that craves him and his presence. It’s instinctual, the way you keep licking lips with him, a thirst that only him can quench. 
“Closer…” you mumble. 
You need to feel him closer. You need to wrap yourself around him, you need to feel his arms around you, his warmth surrounding you and keeping you safe. 
Chris shifts on the couch, but even then the two of you are uncomfortable. “Stupid fucking couch,” he curses under his breath. 
“Maybe we could…” you peck his lips, and then again, and then once more. You nearly forgot what you wanted to say in the first place. “Maybe we could take this to your room…” you breathe on his mouth, curious eyes looking into his and waiting for an answer, shyness long forgotten. 
Chris’ breath hitches in his throat. Okay, maybe you didn’t mean it that way, but he can’t stop his mind from going there. From imagining your body under his, from imagining the feeling of you wrapped around him. He should really stop thinking about it, even though the damage is already done and he’s already hard.  
“D’you mean… I mean, am I reading the room… the way I’m supposed to be reading it?” 
It’s when you give him a small nod that his brain start short-circuiting. The thought of sleeping with you has crossed his mind before, but he never thought he’d actually get to live the moment one day. Like, for real. And now you’re here, in his living room, looking at with with the sweetest eyes, your lips all red and swollen from the countless of kisses, implying what you’re implying and Chris feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest right now. 
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Okay, let’s go to my room.” 
You cling onto him like a koala as he picks you up, hooking your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. As he walks towards his bedroom, you can’t help but overthink this. You haven’t really felt this nervous about sex before - it’s a good kind of nervous, though. You’re excited about it and you trust Chris more than you’ve trusted any of your partners. Everything feels right and natural with him. 
Chris’ bedroom is warm and cozy and welcoming. You’ve been here countless of times before, but never in a situation like this. You’ve slept in this room, just slept, you’ve watched movies with him, you’ve done research for your essays and worked on your stuff - you’ve never entered this room with the awareness you were gonna have sex with Chris. 
Even when he gently lays you on his bed with all the care in this world - even then it doesn’t feel real. He resumes kissing you with the same passion and reverence as before, the same hunger, but there’s no rush in his action - just a desire of living the moment and be in the present with you. He doesn’t care about anything else right now, you’re laying on his bed and that’s everything that matters - the whole world can go to hell for all he cares. You’re wearing his clothes, laying on his bed, and everything feels so beautifully domestic that he doesn’t want to let go of this moment, too afraid to ruin it. 
“Chris…” you breathe out when he starts kissing the soft spot below your jaw. 
Your legs part almost naturally, welcoming his body in between them, allowing him to press himself on you. The contact his erection makes with the front of the sweats you’re wearing makes you want more. The awareness that you’re the one who’s making him feel this way right now sends a shiver down your spine which makes you arch your back. 
Chris slips one hand under the hoodie you’re wearing, caressing your warm, soft skin. He’s never touched you in such an intimate way. His thumb draws imaginary shapes on your stomach, imaginary patterns that make no sense but that right now, to you, they’re the most wholesome thing in the world. Chris’ hand moves up, up, until the pads of his fingers come to brush the underside of one of your breasts and you gasp against his mouth. 
“Is this… not okay?” Chris has to ask, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way. 
You shake your head as a no and he immediately moves his hand, but you place it back to where it was. “No, I meant… it’s okay. More than okay, actually.” 
Chris cups your breast with a delicacy only someone like him can have within himself, treating your body as if it were made of glass and he was terrified to scratch, or worse, break it. His thumb brushes your nipple, feeling it harden under his touch, and you want nothing more than for him to wrap his lips around it. 
He seems to read your mind. “Can I take it off?” He asks, referring to the hoodie. 
“Yeah. You too,” you tug at his black t-shirt, lifting it up just a little bit. 
“Together?” Chris asks and you nod. 
You both take off the pieces of clothing at the same time, remaining half-naked in front of each other. You’ve seen Chris shirtless countless of times before, but never in this context, and that’s why it feels completely different this time. He looks absolutely stunning and perfect and yours. You bite your lip at the realisation. 
He’s going through the exact same thought process inside his head - brain chemistry altered by the sight of your perfect breasts right in front of his eyes. 
“You’re all mine…” he mumbles, latching his lips on yours once more, his hands on your chest. 
It’s when his fingers slip under the thick waistband of the sweats he’d lent you, that you realise it’s not just an hallucination - Chris is about to see you naked and you’re about to see him naked and he’s gonna be inside you and you’re gonna make love to each other for the first time tonight. 
He starts kissing your neck and then your collarbone, and his fingers stay exactly where they are, touching you slowly beneath the waistband, but not going too far as to touch your most private parts. When his lips wrap around your nipple, however, it takes you so off guard that you gasp and arch your back, which allows his fingers to brush you there. You both blush at the sudden contact he makes with your pussy and clit. 
He lifts his head to look at you, searching for any sign of discomfort in your eyes - instead, you just beg him, “please.”
Chris hides his face in your neck, taking a deep breath as he feels his cock throb and twitch inside his underwear. He starts by pulling the sweats down your legs, slowly, while kissing you. You do feel a little bit shy about being fully naked while he’s still got his pants and underwear on, and he senses that, so he starts undressing himself, pulling down his own clothes. Even though you can’t see his cock, you hear the sound it makes when it slaps against Chris’ stomach. 
Both you and Chris shiver when his tip accidentally brushes your naked pussy, completely unintentionally since Chris was just trying to make himself comfortable and ready for what he’s about to do next. 
“Can I eat you out?”
You feel already dizzy at the mere thought of Chris going down on you. “Yeah. Please,” you beg once more and Chris is losing his mind. 
He leaves gentle kisses all over your skin as he moves down. Your chest, your stomach, your navel, your thighs, until his lips brush you there where you need him the most. He starts leaving small pecks there, too, taking his time, not wanting to rush anything, worshipping you like you deserve. 
The first lick on your clit makes you let out a small hmph sound which you try in vain to muffle with the back of your hand. Of course he finds it in record time. That should make you feel jealous of his previous partners and sexual encounters, perhaps, but right now you’re just thankful he’s nothing like your exes. 
Chris knows how to use his tongue, licking and lapping at your pussy like there’s no tomorrow - his only goal is to have you cumming on his tongue and hearing those pretty sounds you’re trying so hard to muffle and hold back. He grunts against your skin, wrapping his plump lips around your clit and sucking, chuckling satisfied when he finally manages to make you moan. All for him. It’s him who’s making you feel so good. 
He licks and kisses and sucks and strokes your clit with the tip of his fingers, pleased with the way your legs are shaking on each side of his head. He starts grinding his cock on the mattress by reflex, smearing pre-cum all over the covers, which you’ve already stained and soaked with your wetness that’s pooling under your ass, a mixture of your arousal and Chris’ saliva. 
“Chris… Chris…” you pant, legs shaking like crazy and Chris hooks his arms under your thighs to make sure you don’t move and squirm too much, burying his face in your sweet cunt. 
He makes out with your pussy, swallowing your arousal and humming at how delicious you taste. He lets out a tiny humph when you entangle your fingers in his hair and tug at it when you’re about to reach your high, pulling him even closer until all he can smell, taste, feel is you. 
“Chris…” with one last whimper of his name you come onto his tongue, clit throbbing in his mouth. He continues to suck and tease it with the tip of his tongue until you gently tap and push him by the shoulder. 
Chris kisses your inner thighs, your hips, your stomach as you come down from your high, your taste is still invading his mouth and he wishes it’d never fade away. He’s already addicted to you. 
“You okay?” He mumbles on your skin, resting his chin on your stomach as he looks at you. 
You nod. “I’m feeling great,” you toy with the ends of his hit, twisting it with your finger, “need you, though.” The need to feel him close is stronger than anything else. 
“Let’s get under the covers, yeah?” 
You feel incredibly at home between Chris’ bedsheets, in his arms as he finds his place between your legs, his hard, leaking cock pressed on your stomach. You can feel it perfectly, hard and hot and velvety at the touch. You want to return the favour, but you’re both too needy right now, and if you don’t get to feel him inside of you within the next couple of minutes you might actually explode. 
Chris’ strong arms are on each side of your head, and then his lips are back on yours. You’re tracing imaginary patterns on his back with the tip of your finger - at least Chris thinks they’re imaginary, while you’re actually drawing little hearts all over his skin.
He begins to tease you by slowly moving his hips, allowing his hard member to slide up and down your folds, his balls pressing on your clit with each thrust, and you feel yourself getting wet all over again, even more than before, perhaps. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer until you can’t even distinguish where your body ends and his begins, until you’re one thing. 
Chris pulls back only to stretch his arm out towards his nightstand to grab a condom, you suppose. You’re quick to entangle your fingers with his, stopping him. 
“Without…” you murmur, hiding your face in the crook of his neck - you’re blushing and your face feels super hot, almost as if it were on fire right now. “Can we do it without?” you ask him and Chris blinks a few times, incredulous. 
“Are you sure? One hundred percent?” He asks. He needs you to be sure, it’s a huge step. 
You nod repeatedly. “Need… need to feel you. I’m clean, I’ve never… I’ve never done it without a condom before. Want you to be my first.” 
Chris kicks his head slightly back and squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to control himself. Those words, together with the way that you’re looking at him and with how hot and wet you feel pressed on him. He knows you’re on birth control, and he trusts you and knows you’re telling the truth about being clean. 
“I’ve never done it without a condom, too. And I’m clean. We can… we can do it without one, if you promise me you’re really sure.” 
“I am, Chris. Promise.” 
He shifts all his weight on one arm as he wraps his fingers around his cock. You can’t help but bite your lip at the feeling of his tip brushing your entrance - Chris makes sure it’s wet enough before pushing inside of you, he would never hurt you. 
The both of you let out a gasp and look into each other’s eyes when he finally slips inside of you. It’s different than anything you know, it’s different than anything he knows. He pushes inside of you slowly, not wanting to rush it and give in to his instincts, and only when he’s bottomed out inside of you you feel complete. You’ve been dreaming of this for so long, and now he’s here, in your arms, between your legs and inside of you, and everything feels right for the first time in forever. 
You’re making love to Chris. Chris is making love to you. You’ve never felt more alive. 
He starts moving inside of you. The pace is slow, excruciatingly slow at first. Chris just sways his hips back and forth tentatively, feeling your warmth and your wetness engulfing his member wholly. He feels the closest he’s ever been to you - physically, of course, but also from an emotional point of view.
“You feel amazing,” he whispers in your ear, thrusting just a little bit harder, craving more and more. “All mine. You’re all mine. My pretty flower. Never letting you go, you’re stuck with me now.” 
You giggle, kissing his lips softly. “Fine by me. I’ve been wanting to be yours for the longest time.”
“I’m yours, too, yeah? I’ve always been, flower.”
He bites his lip to hold back a moan, continuing to fuck into you at a steady pace, sinking deeper and deeper inside of you with each thrust. A soft bite on your collarbone, a sweet suck on the soft flesh, then he cups one of your breasts in one hand and wraps his lips around your nipple once again while still fucking you, and keeps on sucking and licking until he feels his orgasm building up in his stomach. 
“Touch yourself,” he nuzzles your cheek. “Wanna cum together.” 
You look him in the eye as you touch yourself the way you like it, setting the right pace and applying the right pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves, and it doesn’t take long before your toes begin to curl and your legs start to shake. Chris, on top of you, still fucking you, squeezes his eyes shut, his mouth falls open as he feels close to his release. 
Before he could pull out, you whisper in his ear, “inside. Cum inside of me. Need to feel you.” 
Chris reaches his high mere seconds later, with a choked moan, hiding his face in your chest, and you release around him immediately after. He fills you up slowly, and you can’t really feel it, except for the unfamiliar warmth that starts spreading down there. 
Neither of you move. Chris stays exactly where he is, on top of you, inside of you, and you have no intention to unwrap your limbs from around him. It doesn’t matter that you’re all sweaty and sticky and that his warm cum is already starting to ooze out of you - neither of you wants to let go. 
A giggle escapes your lips, and Chris snaps his head to look at you, curious to know the reason behind it. “What?” He asks with a smile on his face. 
His cute dimple appears. You poke it. “Nothing. I just realised that  now I know what you sound like in bed,” you  giggle once more, covering your lips with your hand. 
Chris’ cheeks turn red. “Ah… Hey, I know what you sound like, too!” He protests with a chuckle. 
“True, but I also know what your orgasm face is like,”you add, sticking your tongue out at him. 
“And I know what you taste like,” he whispers on your lips, looking into your eyes, “and I also know what you feel like when you’re wrapped around me. I know what it feels like to be inside you and to fill you up.” 
It’s your turn to blush now. You cover your face with both of your hands. “Chris! You can’t say things like that!” You whine, embarrassed. 
“But why not?” He asks, rolling over and carrying you with him so that you’re now lying on top of him. “I always thought I knew you like the back of my hand. But you know what I just realised?” He pulls a strand of hair away from your face. 
“What?” 
“There’s so many things I don’t know about you, and I can’t wait to find them all out, one by one. I wanna learn everything that makes you… you.” 
“Does this mean…” you mumble, absentmindedly drawing invisible flowers and hearts on his chest. “That you’re my boyfriend now?”
“Well, that depends,” he says seriously. 
“On what?” you pout, looking at him with big, doe eyes. 
He smiles at you, the dimple is back. “Do you wanna be my girlfriend?” 
-
You hate mornings. 
Tossing and turning in your bed, you soon come to realise there’s no way you’re getting back to sleep - the sun is already up in the sky and shining bright, lighting the whole room. When you open your eyes, realisation hits you - this is not your bed. 
You inevitably start thinking of the previous night, of Chris, of your confession and what happened after. The tingling feeling between your legs is the proof that it wasn’t a dream - your, actually Chris’, clothes on the floor are the proof you didn’t hallucinate it. 
You’re in Chris’s bed. The full ache between your legs is there because of Chris. The clothes on the floor are Chris’. But where is he? Why isn’t he beside you and why aren’t his clothes on the floor as well? 
Your heart beats fast in your chest as you get up and start dressing yourself to look presentable, thinking of the worst scenarios possible. Perhaps he realised last night was a mistake. Perhaps he doesn’t know how to turn you down without breaking your heart. You rush downstairs. 
And you find him there, in the kitchen. With his curly hair all dishevelled and all over the place. In a worn-out hoodie he just won’t throw out just because it’s was an old gift of yours. With his bare feet against the cold floor. 
Two mugs on the table. Plenty of cookies on a plate. 
“Oh!” Chris is surprised to find you standing there. “Good morning,” he smiles at you brightly. “I made you breakfast. I actually wanted to bring it to you in bed, but you beat me to it,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck nervously. 
Your favourite smell is lingering in the air. You check what’s inside the mugs. Milk and honey. You smile at Chris - your boyfriend. Everything feels right. 
─── ⋆⋅🥛🍯⋅⋆ ──
𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞. 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢'𝐦 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝.
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kenntolog · 9 days
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it’s 3 in the morning. satoru probably shouldn’t be out this late, but it feels right to be sitting on a random bench on the side of a street, gazing at the sky mindlessly with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. unlit.
though, the bench is ‘random’ only for the idle people walking by, the light screeching or clicking of their shoes being one of the things that disturb the peaceful ambiance surrounding him. another thing is the ringing of his phone, echoing in his mind along the empty street.
the beeping seems just as infinite as the time he spent sitting on this bench, by the entrance of the apartment complex where your flat, the rough wooden plates doing nothing for his hurting back. somehow, when you were sitting with him here, after long dates that never seemed to end because of much you both loved to unintentionally prolong them.
satoru moves the phone away from his face, face scrunching in disappointment before he once again sees the time and tries to accept the fact that you’re probably sleeping, deep into your fantasies in the dreamland, and he should probably bother you later.
he promised himself that if you won’t pick up the phone he will light the cigarette stick. you don’t like it when he smokes, but you wouldn’t know he did, right? and it’s either he spends the night with you or a pack of cigarettes.
sighing heavily, gojo pulls out the lighter, the end of the cigarette now burning red before dimming down. just as he’s about to inhale, the familiar ringtone hits his ears and when he is met with the picture of you on the screen of his phone, with your name shining as brightly as your smile, satoru throws away the stick, hurriedly answering your call.
“sato?”
a soft smile stretches on his lips when he recognises the sleepy rasp of your voice, indicating to him that he did indeed wake you up.
“sweetheart.”
“you okay, baby?”
frankly, satoru is far from okay.
the reason why he’s been sitting on the bench under your building for an hour now being that he is surprisingly unsure if he should go bother you this late because he hates being alone after missions. the part of him that doesn’t accept the words ‘personal space’ wants to barge in and mess with you a little before coddling you to sleep.
the adequate part of him knows you’re exhausted too. but it’s still hard to let go and deal with the troubles that have been building up for a while now alone. he just needs you to hold him and maybe kiss him a little. talk to him and call him by his name sweetly.
tell him that you love him.
make him feel human again.
satoru is so so tired.
“d’you think i could come over?”
“aren’t you already here?”
right. he huffs out a chuckle as he looks up only to see your face a few metres above, hanging over your balcony and waving at him with your free hand. he waves back, eyes never leaving you as you both stare at each other for a brief moment, silence overtaking the line.
you disappear inside rapidly, closing the balcony door behind yourself, “i’ll keep the door unlocked.”
“thank you, sweetheart.”
his steps are finally relaxed, shoulders weighing him down a little as he walks to the elevator, getting inside and pressing the number of your floor. suppressing a long yawn, satoru lets his the frown on face completely fade away, already prepared to be enveloped by you and your magical aura.
the door is unlocked, as you promised. he doesn’t waste time on anything other than taking his jacket off in the darkness of your hallway and hurriedly striding over to your room, the door of which is slightly open.
and there you are. his precious little baby, the sunshine of his own, the apple of his eye, his everything; laying on the bed and waiting for him to join you, your expectant yet soft gaze never leaving his face as he takes off the rest of his clothes, discarding them on the floor with no care.
it’s so nice to be in your arms, though. satoru wouldn’t change it for anything. there is no need to ask if he’s had a rough day, no need to talk about yours and say anything, because it’s almost half past four and you both would rather sleep, leaving all the tough talk for the morning.
you kiss his cheeks, he hugs you closer to himself, arms tightening around your waist as he moves his limbs around just to have more skin to skin contact.
the feeling of your lips on his, a kiss so light and feathery he would have barely sensed it if he was asleep, it brings him back, back to you. satoru responds with a gentle press of his own mouth to your chin, trailing soft nips to your neck and then your chest, stopping right where your heart is.
right where his heart is.
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dungeonpuppykai · 9 months
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When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.
If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)
He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.
Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️
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Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 
You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm. 
You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now. 
Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor. 
The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door. 
One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.
Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.
Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.
Soldat feels something stir within himself.
Something his masters did their best to suppress. 
Not that they would be doing any more of that. 
They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.
His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you. 
You are laughing.
At your friend that is throwing up.
Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible. 
A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.  
His eyes scan your form. 
Beautiful. 
His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;
Mine.
Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.
But he knows that it has been a long, long time. 
And it's time to go home.
But a home is not walls and concrete. 
It is the people that live in it. 
His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.
James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal. 
And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.
For what is a structure without its pillars?
He had plundered them single handedly. 
And now he was a slave no more.
James would live, and he would take.
Just as had been taken from him.
You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.
As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night. 
But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.
Right?
The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.
The third was the window of your room that was open wide.
But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life. 
You should have taken notice of the signs. 
How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem. 
Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was. 
Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence. 
And Divine it was, you lived to learn. 
When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything. 
You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.
What even happened? 
You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning. 
But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second. 
The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside. 
A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.
You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.
You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.
But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly. 
As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…
Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.
Your eyes widen in horror.
Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–
Or, rather, the last time you were awake.
Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen. 
Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.
It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.
With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.
"Who the hell are you?" 
He sighs. 
"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"
The man's features scrunch in disapproval. 
Your choice of words is much unappreciated.
"Good little wives don't ask questions." 
In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.
Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?
He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.
After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.
He is too close. 
There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.
The shock on his face is evident.
He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this. 
You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.
James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.
"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.
Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.
You run without looking back. 
The man is not chasing you like you expected. 
But you don't want to stick around and find out why. 
Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door. 
You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead. 
Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.
Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.
A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.
That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes. 
You ran into the jungle for some cover.
Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.
Your body is weak and confused. 
Many hours pass.
You wander and starve.
You hide and shake.
You tip toe and give up.
There are wild animals all around you.
You can hear them.
It's terrifying. 
So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.
Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently. 
"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.
He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one. 
"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet. 
It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home. 
"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands." 
He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.
"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that." 
He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.
You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.
Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet. 
He tells you your rules as he does so.
"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone." 
Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.
But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.
A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.
"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours." 
Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.
You don't give up easily, though.
You try to run more times than you can keep count.
Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.
Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.
And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery. 
But you don't know when he does it. 
So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern. 
Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.
Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.
He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse. 
James isn't so bad if you follow his rules. 
He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes. 
His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point. 
"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?" 
Today, though, something different happens.
You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.
How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.
The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.
If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning. 
No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.
Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.
When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.
You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.
Has to be.
You have no choice.
And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days. 
While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man. 
How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.
The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep. 
How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.
Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way. 
You don't get him sometimes.
His morals are as mysterious as him. 
Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.
Your tears don't effect him. 
But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.
It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.  
The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.
You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.
James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day. 
After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.
Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.
Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.
"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.
It had been a proud discovery of yours.
James always gave in a little whenever you used it.
"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.
Fuck.
"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"
"What about it?"
You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.
"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.
But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.
Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.
Fuck. 
Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.
Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.
You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.
The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina. 
It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever. 
James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.
You had done so in the past as well. 
But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.
It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.
Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.
And then comes the ultimate test. 
Which decides the course of your future with him.
He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.
It isn't a usual occurrence. 
But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic. 
While he had a metal arm himself…
You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast. 
It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.
"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken. 
Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.
But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.
A motorboat. 
Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.
It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.
You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting. 
A lot goes through your mind.
Flashbacks play before your eyes.
It is almost a full circle moment. 
And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining. 
His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.
"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you. 
The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.
"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–" 
"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy. 
"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"
You two just stare at each other for a while. 
No words exchanged.
Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.
"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."
He has never spoken this earnestly before.
"I just realized that I do too."
James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully. 
He tightens his own arms around you gladly.
He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape. 
The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.
Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.
It was a test and you passed. 
As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife. 
By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.
.
What do you think hAH-
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aperrywilliams · 2 months
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From Now On (Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader)
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader.
Summary: After faking his death for seven months, Spencer is back just to find out you’re eight months pregnant. After the initial commotion and your denial, you both step into the apartment you used to share. Things have changed and you must talk about it.
Word Count: 3.3k
Warnings: Hurt/Comfort. Talking about gunshots, blood, hospitals, faking death, pregnancy symptoms, potential abortion. If I missed something, let me know.
A/N: I’m back! I don't know for how long, but I needed to do something to fight my writer's block. This story can be read independently, but it is the second part of Seven Months.
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The cab ride to your apartment is mainly silent. Your head is tucked into Spencer's shoulder as he rubs your back from time to time. His nose is buried in your hair, inhaling your scent. God, he had missed it so much. He had missed you so much.
And he missed so much of your life in the past seven months. And that scares the shit out of him.
How would he fit into your life now? Does he have any right after faking his death and not telling you anything?
Rossi and Morgan told him you would understand eventually. That you would forgive him for doing this to you.
And maybe you are really considering. Maybe that’s why you went for him to Derek’s in the middle of the night.
Spencer wants that more than anything, but he feels like he doesn't deserve your forgiveness.
Now you both are in front of your building complex. The one that used to be his too.
Spencer knows the concrete walls are the same, but they don't feel like they are.
It's a strange feeling. A feeling that gets stronger when you open the apartment door.
Stepping inside, he knows this is where he used to live, but it doesn't look the same.
The shelves are no longer full of his books. Gone is his globe and coins collection that usually laid over the desk. There are just a couple of pictures of him with you on the wall. The decoration is different. Did you paint the place? Spencer is almost sure of that because it looks brighter than he remembered.
He's silent, inspecting everything around him. The walls, the bookshelf, the furniture: all changed.
After you take off your coat and hang it on the rack, your eyes follow him.
You know what’s going on. You have known Spencer for so long. Even if you thought you lost him, you still can read him like a book.
“Hope isn’t look too bad. I needed to, you know, make some changes?” you explain, not sure how to put the last months in words. Spencer turns to look at you, guilt written over his face. He knows what your words imply and remorse eats him alive.
“I - I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sure it's not enough to erase the hell you have been through since he were gone. Since they told you he was dead.
“I know.” Your response is short but not because you don’t have things to say. It's because you don’t know how to start. “Uh. Would you like some tea?”
It's the safest path. The one you both usually have taken the times you had fought and then try to speak it off. It's different this time, though.
Spencer hesitates. In other circumstances, he would agree and sit on the couch to talk. But it's late, the day has been a rollercoaster and you are eight months pregnant. He knows you should be sleeping, or resting at the very least.
“Maybe it's better you go to bed? It's late and you must be tired,” he points, nervously fidgeting with his hands, his gaze shifts between your eyes and belly.
“Honestly? I don't think I could sleep tonight even if I try,” you confess, moving to the kitchen to put the kettle.
”I don't think I could sleep either,” he admits, following to the kitchen. He wants to help, but he doesn’t want to look like an intruder in your space. A space that it’s not his anymore. Noticing Spencer doesn't know what to do with himself, you invited him to take a seat on the barstool.
“It will be ready in no time, don’t worry.”
You are the one who endured months of grief from your fiancee, carrying his child, and you are the one comforting him. Spencer thinks it's not fair.
In silence, he looks with raptor fascination at the way you move around the kitchen. It's delicate and calm. You have a glow that captivates him. You don’t realize his gaze until you turn to put the mugs over the counter.
“What?” you question softly.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, eyes entranced in you. You laugh, shaking your head.
“Come on, Spencer. I look like a mess. This belly reaches everything minutes before I can. It's huge! I can barely walk decently. Look at my hair! And my skin. It's sticky all the time.”
As you ramble about why isn’t accurate to call you beautiful, Spencer stands from the stool and rounds the kitchen counter to step in front of you. He wants to reach for your hands that you’re waving in the air to emphasize your point, but refrains. He’s still unsure about initiating physical contact. He rests his hands on the counter and clears his throat.
“I can certainly say it's not the way you are used to feeling. But the way I see you right now? I see beauty, power, and life. It's light what I see on you.”
You don’t know when tears started to roll down your cheeks. But hearing the adoration in Spencer’s words only spurs you to let out your emotions.
“You know my hormones have been doing a number on me, right? You’re not helping,” you complain, chuckling. After handing Spencer his tea, you take yours and walk to the living room.
You carefully sit on the couch and reach for the blanket in the back to cover your lower half. Spencer mimics your actions, sitting as well on the couch, but at a safe distance from you.
A silence envelops the room. Your hand plays with the strands at the end of the blanket, and your eyes scrutiny Spencer’s face. He looks tired, with prominent circles under his eyes, and stubble for days of no shaving.
He is analyzing you too. Even if your eyes denote exhaustion, he can see the strength that makes you look put together despite everything that has been going on.
He can see the protectiveness too. Rubbing your belly in soothing motions, shielding your non-born child from the unknown, the uncertain.
How much he would have given to be the one who could have protected you and the baby from the first minute.
“I guess you have questions,” you prompt. “But I have mine too, so if you don’t mind,” you trail off and Spencer understands what you want. He nods, preparing himself to answer whatever question you have. After a pause to collect your thoughts, you start to speak again.
“What really happened in that warehouse? Why you didn't let me go inside with you?”
You are talking about the day Spencer was shot and beaten for the unsub. The day he ended up at the hospital just to be declared dead hours after.
“I thought if we didn't split we could lose him. We were so close so many times. I thought it was our last chance. It never occurred to me it was a trap. That he wanted me there alone. I just didn't see it,” Spencer swallowed hard, remembering that day. You stayed in silence, waiting for him to continue.
“I heard his voice telling me he had you, and I panicked. So I ran to him. I let my guard down. When I realized he was lying it was too late.”
“But you launched at him. Why didn't you try to stall him first?” You asked, leaving your mug on the coffee table, feeling the suddenly urge to protect yourself with your arms around you. You never talked about what really happened with anyone. Not even to Hotch when he questioned you during the FBI investigation of the incident.
The way Spencer reacted with the unsub is something you never understood. The profile said the unsub was a guy who liked to show off, so trying to incite him to do that while waiting for backup would have been reasonable.
“The way he laughed. Maybe sounds stupid, but- I saw the resolve of an end game, and not like the typical bragging-end game, it was an evil-end game. He had the upper hand and he knew it. If I didn't do something first, he would have gone after you. And I couldn't let that happen. I didn't count on the hidden gun, though. Another mistake,” he breaths out.
You remember like it was yesterday rushing to the warehouse after hearing two gunshots. Once inside you saw Spencer lying on the floor, in a pool of blood.
“You were there and I didn't know what to do,” you recount your side of the story. “It was the worst nightmare. I screamed for help and it felt like an eternity before someone came to us. And your eyes-” You stop for a second, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. “You - you were saying goodbye and I wasn’t ready.”
Your resolve from earlier seems to crumble as you revisit what happened in that warehouse. Tears are now rolling down your cheeks, and you bite your bottom lip to stop their quivering.
Spencer wants to hold you, but he’s afraid of how you would react, so tentatively rests his hand on your knee. You are shaking and he’s worried this conversation could do more harm than good.
“We can stop. You are not feeling okay,” he points out. But despite Spencer's apprehensions, this conversation must happen now.
“I need to get this out of my chest. Please, let me do this. I know you need it too.”
Spencer knows you are right. You both need this.
“Do you remember anything after the shots?” you ask, and Spencer thinks for a moment.
“I remember being there, the sharp pain in the chest and my ribs. But most of it is a blur. I remember seeing you there. Crying. God. I hated seeing you cry. I think you held my hand?”
You nodded. “I was so scared, but with you there, I wasn’t anymore. The last thing I remember it’s the guilt of not saying I love you for the last time. I really thought it was the end for me,” he admits, his own tears blurring his sight.
“It was for me, though,” you mumbled, a sad look in your eyes. “I mean, I still had hopes when you were moved to the hospital, but deep down I knew I shouldn’t have had them. And everything shattered when JJ came to the waiting room and told us you didn't make it.”
A heavy sigh escapes from Spencer’s lips. Neither JJ nor Hotch had told him how they let it know the team he was ‘gone.’
“I can’t even imagine - It was unfair to you. And I know no matter what I say it won’t make it better.”
Your thoughts wander to the moment after you heard JJ saying Spencer was dead.
Disbelief. Pain. Denial.
And then, days of numbness.
“You know. I just shut off. I have some flashbacks. Rossi hugging me; Hotch telling me to take all the time I needed; Morgan crying with me.”
It feels weird to recall those memories as yours, like an alternative universe that turned different at the end.
“Where did you go?” Spencer asks. The thought of you in the apartment alone after that breaks his heart.
“Emily took me to her place because I couldn't put a foot here. I stayed with her for a couple of days. She helped me a lot to get through this,” you recognize. And for that, you will always be grateful to her.
You also tell Spencer about how the whole team helped you to make it through the days. Some kind of relief washes over him knowing you didn't face it alone.
He can’t fathom how difficult it was for you, also knowing you were pregnant. And about that...
“When did you find out?” He asks, eyes darting to your belly. You follow his gaze trajectory and a little smile creps on your face.
“Almost a month later. I was feeling sick all the time. Emily pushed me to get checked. They took blood tests and stuff. When they told me I couldn't believe it. For me, it was a twisted joke,” you admit, hanging your head low.
Spencer dreads asking the next question but you already know what is, so you keep talking.
“Yes. I had thought about it. I didn't feel in a good place to be a mom, Spencer. I barely could make it through the days. And having a baby? Fuck, just thinking about it was too much.”
You tell him about how you cried your eyes out. How lost you felt for days. The doubts about the future, but above everything, the protectiveness that aroused in you once the idea settled. Yeah, you couldn’t keep Spencer safe, but you were determined to save the part of him growing in you.
“And seven months later, here I am. About to give birth to our baby,” you conclude, lovingly rubbing your belly.
“It’s weird, you know?” Spencer begins. “The last time I saw you and now. It feels like I lost time. And I know I lost it. It’s just - I never expected to see things so changed. I don’t know how I fit here. What I’m saying doesn’t make any sense right now-” he trails off, darting his gaze to the fidgeting hands on his lap.
He’s been holding back. You notice. Since you both crossed the threshold he has been afraid of invading your personal space, of touching you. Now it makes sense.
“That's why you have been keeping your distance from me?” you ask. Spencer’s eyes quickly flash to you. Guilt is written on his face.
“What?”
Your gaze soften seeing him so stressed by being caught. It's true the past months have been tough for you, but they have been tough for him too. And to see a before and an after so different probably has him reeling.
“Since we put a foot in this apartment you have kept a safe distance. I’m not judging you, I really don’t. I just want to know what’s on your mind right now,” you explain, shifting on the couch to change your position. With an eight-month belly is difficult to be comfy in any position.
Spencer sighs. There are so many things revolving inside his brain that it’s not easy to put them in words.
“When I woke up in a hospital bed in Bethesda, the first thing I looked for was if you were there. But I was alone. A strange feeling squeezed my chest. For a moment I thought -” he pauses to take a breath. “I thought everything had gone wrong and the unsub had hurt you or the team, or both. I was about to freak out when a marshal came and explained to me what happened.”
Spencer recounts how the agent told him about his new destination and how this assignment was for an undetermined time.
“Since then, not a single day passed without the urge to take a plane and come back. To you. But what if I messed up putting you at risk doing so? It was insane to know I was dead for you and I couldn't do anything to fix it.”
“That's why you wrote the letters?” Spencer nodded. In a notepad, he wrote a letter to you every single day since he landed in Paris. He handed you the notepad at the BAU this afternoon before you stormed out, completely shaken and confused.
“I needed to put in words each day without you. I needed to tell you I was there, even if you never could read it.”
His shaky breath forces him to take some seconds to compose himself. You took that as your cue. Shifting again, you scoot a bit closer to him and reach tentatively for his hand, and he clings to it as if his life depended on it.
“And I’m here right now. And so do you,” you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I’m as scared as you are, but we need to do something to get through this. If it is something you want to do,” you add. Spencer's glassy eyes find yours.
“It's all I want. Maybe it's hard for me to understand I can’t fix something like this, but I want a chance to make us work again. I know I can’t get back time, but if you let me I want to gain back the place I lost the day I gone.”
Spencer’s free hand flies to your cheek to wipe with his thumb the tears you haven’t noticed are falling.
“We can start with something,” you prompt, reaching for a folder resting at the coffee table. After opening it, you produce a bunch of ultrasound pictures and hand them to him. From the first appointment you had, to the last one from a week ago.
Spencer’s eyes sparkle with excitement, seeing every detail and the way the baby has grown in the past months.
Tears fall freely and there is pure emotion that fills his heart.
So many nights you both spent talking about what it would be like to have a baby. How wonderful it would be to see them grow. About what traits they would inherit from each of you.
You smile at the scene unfolding in front of your eyes. It feels so good to see in him the same excitement you have. You both wanted this. And until today you thought only you would get the chance to experience it.
After inspecting and committing to memory each detail from each pic, Spencer’s eyes find yours again.
“Do you know the baby’s-” he trails off. He’s unsure, maybe you didn't want to know or want him to know.
You have known the baby’s gender for a while now but have not told to anyone. From the same folder, you extract an envelope you offer to him. With trembling hands, Spencer takes it and gets the paper from inside. Scanning the words he realizes it is the information of your baby’s gender.
“It's - it's a girl,” he reads aloud with a cracking voice and more tears in his eyes. You nod, your own tears clouding your vision.
“Yes. Do you remember when we talked about having a baby and you told me you wanted a girl? When I found out the gender, I thought about how happy you would have been,” you sniffle, and Spencer reaches for you, now wrapping you in a loving embrace.
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” he repeats over and over, kissing your temple. You close your eyes, losing yourself in his chest, inhaling his scent.
You stay like this for a moment. Contently in each other arms. Spencer still can’t believe he got the chance to hold you again, and you are still assimilating the day’s events. It's unbelievable how everything changed in less than twenty-four hours.
“I love you,” he mumbles in your hair, a hand moving to rub your belly. “And I love you,” he says now, talking to your baby.
“We love you too, Spencer,” you respond, voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped, and we will never stop.”
Parting from your embrace, you get lost in each other's eyes. Communicating without words what this moment means to both of you. Cupping your face, Spencer leans to find your lips with his in a loving kiss. You kiss him back, pouring all your feelings.
It's a new promise of love.
After breaking the kiss, he presses his forehead to yours.
“Will we be okay?” he asks, almost in a whisper.
“From now on, we will be,” you assure him. It feels like you are telling this to yourself too. Maybe you do. Everything still looks messy right now, but life is giving you a second chance, and neither Spencer nor you is willing to let it go.
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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger
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kunaigirl · 11 months
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Happy Disability Pride and awareness month! Let's talk about Epilepsy!
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Hi there! I got tired of seeing my condition (that impacts my literal every day life) being left out or forgotten about during discussions about disabilities, so I made my own post about it! Let's go!
First Off! What the heck is epilepsy? Epilepsy is the fourth most common neurological disorder in the world, and it's a chronic medical condition. Epilepsy is a brain disorder that causes recurring, frequent, triggered, and unprovoked seizures to occur.
The official Epilepsy Foundation describes seizures as follows: "Seizures are sudden surges of abnormal and excessive electrical activity in your brain, and can affect how you appear or act. Where and how the seizure presents itself can have profound effects...Seizures involve sudden, temporary, bursts of electrical activity in the brain that change or disrupt the way messages are sent between brain cells. These electrical bursts can cause involuntary changes in body movement or function, sensation, behavior or awareness." (Source link)
Sounds like a lot of fun right? This is our life. Even with medication, we can be VERY limited to what can be safe for us. Seizure medications are NOT a cure, they only exist (at least as of now) as a tool to help have your seizures less often, or be triggered less intensely. Even on medication, seizures can still happen.
If you have epilepsy as a child like I did, it impacts your entire growing and developing experience. I spent MANY times as a child in and out of hospitals, neurologist and specialist offices, an getting so many EEG tests done. The pain of scrubbing the glue out of your hair for DAYS is horrible.
At a young age my seizures were so frequent and serious, it impacted my brain's ability to retain information. I had to re-learn the names of things at age 8 and 9. I had to re-learn HOW TO READ at age 10. I had to be home schooled because the public school system of my state at the time refused to work with me. I have VERY distinct and vivid memories of crying over my little baby ABC's book that I needed as a 4th and 5th grader. I knew I should've known this by this age. I knew that at one point I already did, and it was TAKEN FROM ME.
As an adult, I'M NOT ALLOWED TO DRIVE A CAR. And I can NEVER go to see a movie in theaters or go to see concerts or live music. There are entire TV shows I don't get to see. I can't go to clubs, arcades, dances, or raves. I miss out on A LOT of fun things. I always do, and I'm WELL AWARE of the fun I'm missing out on. The social, casual, and fun life experiences I'll never get to have. That WE'LL never get to have. And oh yeah! Seizures can KILL SOME OF US. Yep.
And the list goes on, and every person with epilepsy experiences it differently. There are multiple different types of seizures you can have, they're NOT always convulsing on the floor. For example, I have complex-partial-myoclonic-seizures. Meaning my muscles DO twitch when I have seizures, but I'm not always completely unconscious and sometimes I'm even able to stay sitting up. However, I'm still very "off" and can't focus or remember much for a good while after the fact. I can't talk or communicate during one, even with my slight bit of consciousness.
My experiences are not universal, I just wanted to talk about it and bring it up. It helps to talk about it even a little bit. Here's more about different kinds of seizures. Here's more about common seizure triggers. Here's more about CORRECT seizure first aid. And here's more general information/resources.
Please stop leaving us out of disability awareness. Please stop ignoring us or saying we're "not really disabled" or anything else like that. Please. Why does it always feel like the only people who care about epilepsy, are people WITH epilepsy? We're so tired of being ignored by others who don't have our condition.
If you're an epileptic person reading this, I see you. I love you. You're so strong, we all are. I believe in you, I believe in us. We're so much stronger than we get credit for, and it's going to be ok. Your anger and frustration are valid. Your emotions and struggles are real. You're valid, and I see you. Hang in there, we got this.
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lovelybucky1 · 8 months
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Nice Guys Finish Last
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Kinktober Day 9- Hair Pulling
warnings: hair pulling, oral sex (f!receiving), name calling, face riding, dom/sub dynamics, fwb(?), crime, tattooed and pierced anakin, 18+ minors DNI
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Picking up Anakin from the police station yet again is not what you thought you’d be doing with your night. Your he is always getting into some kind of trouble and it always somehow becomes your responsibility to save his sorry ass.
It’s the third time this month you’ve had to get him and to say you’re pissed is an understatement. You honestly couldn’t believe the officer when he told you Anakin was taken in for vandalism. He was caught tagging a building with some buddies. How fucking juvenile.
You signed the proper paperwork and Anakin was following you out of the station. Somehow, with his pretty boy charm, he always gets off with a warning. Some day he won’t be so lucky, and you may not feel bad for him when that day comes.
“I can’t fucking believe you, Anakin!” you yell once you’re in the car.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Anakin huffs.
“Don’t give me that. I’m the one bailing you out in the middle of the night for fucking around with a can of spray paint.”
Anakin glares at you from the passenger seat. “Thanks,” he mutters.
“Why am I always the one you call? You know I won’t let you rot at the station and all your other friends are getting arrested with you?” It’s a rhetorical question; you know that’s exactly why you’re his call.
“You’re my best friend. That’s why you’re the one I call,” he says. “Sorry if I’m such an inconvenience for you.”
“Do not guilt trip me, Anakin. You are so fucking irresponsible and yeah, you are inconveniencing me because it’s Saturday night and I had plans that I left to come save you.”
Anakin raises his eyebrows at the mention of plans. “What plans?”
“Is that fucking important right now?”
Anakin wiggles his snakebites with his tongue as he looks at you. “Was it a date?”
You sigh heavily. “Yes it was.”
“First date?”
“Third.”
Anakin makes a huh noise faintly and you want to press him about it, but figure it’s better just to get him home and out of your sight before you punch him.
You start the car and pull out of the police station parking lot. You drive in silence for a few minutes, not having put on the radio in your rage.
“You weren’t drunk, were you?” you ask.
“Jesus,” he says, offended. “No, I wasn’t drunk.”
“Don’t act like that’s not a valid question. Do you have any idea how much stupid shit you do when you’re drunk?”
Anakin kicks his foot up on the dashboard and you quickly slap his thigh so he doesn’t scuff up your car with his obnoxious boot.
Before long, you turn into the parking lot of Anakin’s apartment complex and park in your usual spot. He gets out of the car, then you follow.
“You’re coming in?”
“I missed dessert. It’s the least you could do.”
Anakin attempts to smile at you, but that venture is short lived when he sees your annoyed expression illuminated by the street lights.
The two of you walk into the building and up the two flights of stairs to get to his door. He lets you in and you immediately walk over to the freezer, searching for something sweet.
“Ben’s out tonight,” he says.
“So was I, but you didn’t ask Ben to pick you up,” you respond, head still in the freezer.
“Come on, are we really gonna do this all night? Ben and I aren’t close like we are.”
You pick up a pint of half-eaten ice cream and close the freezer before opening all of the drawers until you find the spoons. You take the lid off the container and lean against the counter, glaring at Anakin where he sits at the counter.
“How was your date,” he asks.
“It was good until you dragged me away from it.”
Anakin looks down at his hands and twiddles his thumbs. “Where’d he take you?”
You fill your mouth with a spoonful of ice-cream. “The restaurant on 15th,” you respond.
Anakin furrows his brows. “That place is a dump. Why would he take you there?”
“It’s not about the food, it’s about the company.”
Anakin scoffs. “It sounds like your company is a cheap asshole who doesn’t know how to treat you.”
You stare silently at Anakin while thoughts race through your mind. The first time you got Anakin from the police station was right after your first date, and you were late your second date because you had to drive Anakin home. In an instant, anger seethes inside of you. You drop the ice cream and spoon on the countertop and storm over to the back of Anakin’s chair.
He turns his head to track your movements. When you reach him, you twist your fingers in his dark hair and pull. His head snaps back and he whines in protest.
“You son of a bitch,” you hiss.
“What?” he asks.
“You’ve been purposely ruining my dates by getting arrested.” He whimpers at the painful tug on his roots. “You can’t tell me it’s a coincidence that I’ve had to get you when I was on dates.”
“Let me go and we can talk about this,” he tries to reason.
“No, Anakin. You’re perfectly capable of talking to me like this.”
Anakin sighs. “He’s not good enough for you.”
“You’ve never even met him,” you scoff.
“I don’t need to! I know he isn’t.”
Anakin tries to look at you upside down. He’s playing with his lip rings again, a nervous habit of his.
“And how the fuck would you know that?” you ask.
“Because he’s not me.”
You freeze, and for a moment your grip on his hair loosens. “What?”
Anakin fights against your hold and manages to break free. He stands up from the stool and faces you, the tension in his brows obvious.
“I don’t want you to date that guy. Fuck, I don’t want you to date any guy. Everyone you’ve ever dated has been an asshole and you don’t deserve that.”
“So, what, you’re not an asshole?”
“I am, but I would treat you right.”
“By getting arrested every night for stupid shit?”
Anakin groans. “Can we please stop talking about it?”
You narrow your eyes at him as realization dawns on you. “Were you trying to cockblock me?” Anakin doesn’t respond. All he does is look down at his yellow laced boots to hide the flush on his cheeks. “It was my third date tonight and you knew that. You didn’t want me to go home with him.”
“Christ, no, it’s not like that-”
“Then what is it, Anakin?”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “I just don’t get what you see in him.”
“He’s nice.”
Anakin chuckles. “You don’t want nice.”
“You have no idea what I want.”
Anakin steps forward to crowd you against the counter. You’re not intimidated by him, despite the height difference. Anakin may be bigger and stronger in pretty much every physical way, but you know he wouldn’t hurt you. And you know his weak spot.
“Tell me, then. What do you want?”
“A nice guy with a good job, life goals, and no criminal record.”
Anakin places his hands on the counter on either side of your body. “But does nice make you cum?”
You gasp. “Anakin!”
“I’m serious. Does your nice, regular guy do it for you?” He looks intently at your face, searching for an answer. “Or is it only guys with tattoos and a criminal record that gets your blood pumping like this?”
“We’re friends, Anakin,” you say instead of answering his question.
“That doesn’t have to change.” You sigh and look over your shoulder to collect yourself for a moment, needing a break from Anakin’s piercing gaze. “You’re angry at me and I’m sure you’re pent up because you were planning on getting fucked tonight. Kill two birds with one stone and fuck me.”
“I can’t believe you,” you say, looking back at him.
He smirks, biting his lip. “It’ll be good, I promise. You can hit me, bite me, scratch me, whatever. Use me however you want and you’ll see why nice isn’t better.”
“Fine,” you bite.
“Where do you want me?” he asks.
You look around the open floor plan apartment. “The couch.”
“Not the bed?”
“Nice guys fuck on beds. I thought you were different.”
Anakin backs off of you and walks over to the couch, sitting lazily as we waits for you to come over. His arms are splayed over the back and his legs are spread obnoxiously. You sit on the couch next to him and look at him expectantly.
“You’re not gonna kiss me?” you ask.
Anakin shrugs. “I don’t kiss sluts.”
You raise your eyebrows at that. “I’m a slut?”
“Oh yeah,” he leans closer to you, grasping gently at your jaw. “That’s why we’re a good match. You’re a slut who needs to be fucked hard and dirty, and I’m a bad guy who loves sluts like you.”
Despite yourself, your heart rate picks up. You’re watching his lips, noticing how his tongue swipes across them. Anakin trails his hand up your thigh and inches it closer to your clothed pussy.
“I’m not gonna sit here and let you talk to me like that after the shit you pulled.”
Anakin backs off, his hands now kept to himself. “I’m all yours.”
You make a split second decision to crawl into his lap, and now that you’re seated on top of his thighs, you’re unsure what to do. His body is firm with muscle underneath you. You know he goes to the gym but you’ve never experienced his strength for yourself.
You push up the hem of his t-shirt and he takes the hint, raising his arms so you can pull it off. You’re met with the sight of his abs and chest covered with tattoos and the barbells that go through his nipples. You realize you’ve never seem him like this before and you curse yourself for not getting a glimpse sooner.
“You like what you see?” he asks cockily.
“Shut up, Anakin.”
You run your hands over his chest, dragging your nails down it to leave red marks on the pale skin. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of fucking you, but you are incredibly horny and need to get off.
“Lay down.”
He raises his eyebrows at you. “Talking to me like I’m a dog?”
“Yeah, I am. So be a good boy and lay down.”
You stand up from his lap and take off your bottoms while he changes positions. His legs are outstretched on the couch and his head is flat against the cushion.
You kneel on the couch, knees on either side of his head and you watch as he stares at your pussy.
“Like what you see?” you ask.
“Fuck yeah, I do. Been thinking ‘bout tasting this cunt since we met.”
Anakin reaches up to grab your hips and he pulls you down onto him. His nose hits your mound first, then you sit your pussy onto his mouth and chin.
He looks up at you from between your thighs as his tongue begins to explore between your folds. You wiggle your hips on top of him to get more friction, and to humiliate him a little by using him.
His nose bumps your clit as he licks thick stripes over your pussy. Anakin is attempting to taste every inch of you, and fuck, it feels good.
You reach down and grab his spiked hair with both hands like their reigns. You adjust yourself on his face so he’s hitting all the spots you want him to.
“Fuck, put your tongue inside me,” you order.
He does, and when you feel the hot muscle slide into you, you tug firmly on his hair. He groans into your pussy and fucks you with enthusiasm.
You pull on his hair again and his eyelids flutter. He clearly likes getting his hair pulled, and you enjoy causing him a little bit of pain.
“You got arrested all those times because you wanted me to sit on your fucking face? Why didn’t you just ask?”
You didn’t lift up so he could answer. It was a rhetorical question and if he stopped sucking on your clit, you would kill him.
“You were right, a nice guy wouldn’t let me drown him in my pussy.”
You grind down on his face and tug his head up to meet your body as you feel yourself getting closer.
“Don’t fucking stop, Anakin. I’m gonna cum,” you say.
His eyes are squeezed shut and his brows have a deep crease between them as he concentrates on pleasing you despite the ache that’s surely in his jaw.
“Fuck,” you gasp as you reach your peak.
Your thighs tighten around his head and he sucks firmly at your pussy to ride you through it. Your hips buck up, searching for more friction until your high passes.
You remain on him, but lean your hands back on his thighs to catch your breath. Your chest his heaving and your legs are shaking a bit.
Anakin pushes up on your thighs, signaling you to get off of him. You slide from his face down to his hips and straddle him there.
His hair is a mess, his face is wet, and his lips are swollen and red. “How was that?” he asks, voice rough.
“Nice,” you respond with a smirk.
Anakin glares at you. He sits up and grabs your hips tightly to hold you still as he grinds his hips on your ass. He spanks you with his right hand, making you gasp in surprise.
“I thought I got to do whatever I wanted?”
“You got your chance,” Anakin grumbles. “Now I’m not gonna be so nice.”
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bueckers · 16 days
Text
𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ━━━ 𝐏𝐁
part two. a/n | hiii! new blog but not new to wbb or writing, i’m infact true to this! masterlist & blog introduction soon but i thought i’d get a fic out first (this is lowkey long but bare with me).
summary | in which the pleasure elicits a confession.
warning(s) | smut with plot! fingering, fear of being caught, praising, pet names, scissoring, some angst at the end, idk paige is absolutely obsessed with you..
pairing | paige bueckers x fem reader
You hadn’t particularly expected yourself to get sexually involved with the star athlete of UConn, but it kinda just happened.
You’d met Paige Bueckers through Azzi Fudd during yours and hers junior year. Hitting it off with her and the team was no problem. You got along with everyone and it was one of the many qualities that could be admired, but Paige found a sense of comfort with you.
During the start of her recovery, she found it hard to go back to going out like she used to. But the one night she’d decided to make an appearance for the first time since tearing her ACL, she met you and it changed everything. You had morals that changed her perspective, a bright smile that lured her in, and confidence that wasn’t too cocky to be deemed unattractive. You were everything.
From hangouts with the group to study sessions and finally hanging out alone, you found yourselves entirely comfortable with one another. So much so that the team had gotten so used to seeing you together, that they asked where the other was when you were by yourself.
One night when Paige had decided to stay over at your dorm, you’d been wrapped up in a conversation about relationships and the complexity that came with them. You both had similar ideas just like you did on nearly everything. Paige not being able to really commit to anybody with her busy schedule, and you just simply not being into dating. It never went well for you. The last girl fucked up and if there was one thing you always got sick of, it was waiting for people to change.
An idea sparked your mind, and just like always, you spoke it. It was a suggestion that would possibly change your dynamic forever, but as Paige watched the words slip out of your mouth and your eyes dart between her lips and eyes; something you always did but it seemed different this time, she couldn’t say no. It felt like a bad idea. She really liked you and wasn’t sure where that would lead the two of you, but she would’ve taken any part of you she could get her hands on.
Now, a little less than a year later, it was safe to say your dynamic had changed. Completely. Paige was at the highest point in her career, her popularity only expanding just everyday. Your casual sex continued, but the more intimate you got, the more Paige found it hard to deny the feelings she felt for you. She distanced herself. You didn’t talk the way you used to and surely didn’t hangout the way you used to, because those hangouts always turned into more.
You missed Paige. You had her but you didn’t have her, and although you knew what your suggestion would bring, you still couldn’t pinpoint why she couldn’t open up to you anymore. Why she avoided conversing with you alone. It was an abrupt change from the comfortability she’d showed when everything first started, exploring each other in ways past imagination because that’s what the agreement was for. But everything changed so quickly, and Paige found more meaning in the words she whispered while reaching her high, more meaning in the flirty jokes, and more meaning in your lingering gazes. She over-analyzed everything, and it was fucking driving her crazy.
Nobody knew. You couldn’t even fix your lips to tell Azzi how you’d been hooking up with her best friend. You were sure everyone had an idea though; paige could hide a lot of things physically but the glint in her eyes when she looked at you was undeniable, and although KK and a few others had pointed it out jokingly, you two brushed it off like it was nothing.
Currently, you’d been sitting at a table with some of the team members at the bar. It had been getting late despite you only being on your second drink and not feeling a bit of it, engrossed in a conversation with Aubrey about all kinds of things. Sometimes you wished you were a lightweight.
A few minutes later, Paige slid onto the stool next to you, but you didn’t acknowledge her. You hadn’t talked to her in a little bit over a week, and finally decided that if she wanted to play the distant game, you would too. She seemed a little tipsy to you, her continuous movements you caught in the corner of your eye proving so. You could admit she looked good when she first walked in. She must’ve worn braids to practice or something because her wavy locks had been flowing over her broad shoulders, a look she knew you fell weak to.
Your attention averted at the sound of Azzi’s voice. “I’m heading out!” She announced loud enough for her friends to hear. They bid her with goodbyes as you began to gather your things, stopping at the feeling of Paige’s hand creeping up on your thigh. She turned to you, a look on your face that you could’ve mistakened for a slight pout.
“I wanna take you home,” was as all she said, and your eyebrows furrowed for a moment. You understood her words, but found it hard to comprehend as her thumb began stroking the crease dangerously close to your center.
Regaining composure, you cleared your throat. “‘S okay. I rode with Az, she can take me home,” You replied almost sharply. You didn’t question her silence over the past week, not in the mood to cause a scene; just responded like everything was normal, yet one thing you could never hide was an attitude.
As you turned to get up, content with the few words exchanged, Paige twirled your stool back around to her with her opposite hand, stopping you. “I wanna take you home,” She stated again, her voice low but firm. You knew Azzi had been stalling as she waited for you, so as you locked eyes with Paige’s piercing blue hues, you knew what you had to do. What felt right but so wrong.
Averting your gaze, you whipped your head to Azzi’s direction, immediately catching her eye and jerking your head to the side slightly to indicate that Paige would be taking care of you (in more ways than one). She gave you a knowing look, causing you to roll your eyes and spin back around to Paige. She had her suspicions, but they weren’t confirmed so it didn’t matter.
As soon as you did so, Paige easily stepped down from the barstool, grabbing your hand so she could help you down, a bigger challenge for your height. “We’re heading out too,” She stated simply, and the crew eyed your exchange, little chuckles escaping their lips. The entire group had their conspiracies about you two, simply because they’d never seen Paige act like this around any other girl.
Saying your goodbyes, you hadn’t realized Paige’s hand still interlocked with yours as she looked around the bar, seemingly antsy and ready to go as you said goodbye to her teammates. As you dragged her out, she glanced down at your hands, quick to pull them apart and cover it up by reaching to slip her lanyard out of her pocket, the ringing of the keys interrupting the silence.
You only stared at her a second longer before sighing, licking your lips as you crossed your arms. Your position didn’t falter the entire way there, and the walk from the campus bar to Paige’s dorm felt like ages.
“Is there a reason for that lil’ attitude you got?” Paige chirped, the two of you barely making it through the door as she walked in before you, her back turned as she flung her keys to the counter. You scrunched your face up as you shut the door behind you, your arms finally uncrossed.
“What are you talking about?” You asked in fake oblivion. You were aware of the sharpness in your tone when you first replied to her. Your demeanor the whole walk here even.
Paige only chuckled, turning around swiftly as she leaned against the island. “Heard it there too,” she said, pointing out the way you’d responded. “I do something?”
It was your turn to chuckle, audibly shocked that she had the nerve to even ask such a thing. “How’d you decide that tonight was the perfect night to have sex with me again after ignoring me for a week?” You ask rhetorically, a smile on your face. You wanted to punch the stupid smirk off of hers. She was too cocky for her own good, and you knew your words would only ignite that trait.
“If you wanted me sooner you could’ve hit me up, you know this,” She replied, her arms now crossed over her chest as her tongue swarmed her mouth. She was amused.
You scoffed, walking closer as you spoke which was something you tended to do when you were upset. You got in people’s faces. “That’s not the point, Paige.” You stuttered out, looking for the right words. Only Paige could make your normally nimble-minded self stutter at such a comeback.
Her eyes scanned your face. “Then what is the point, mama?” Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden pet name. This girl knew you in and out and she was using it to her advantage. It hurt, but you blamed yourself.
You stopped in front of her, trying not to let her looks get the best of you as you bit down on your lip. “You’ve been distant,” you mumbled, avoiding her gaze as you stared at the ground. You felt pathetic— something you’d only felt a few days out of the year. It was rare. “And I hate it.” You finally emphasized, peering up at Paige who seemed to have lost any of her previous confidence at your words.
Her lips were plump and parted as she stared at you. It was enough to know you’d noticed and that you cared, but she didn’t want to address it, she wanted to kiss you. In one swift motion, she dropped her arms to their respective places, like a default and they knew where to go: one gripping your waist like her life depended on it, and the other cupping your face like she was being handed something she was told to take care of.
Your body trembled as you softened underneath her, your lips automatically moving against hers as you used all your pent-up emotions to keep up with her. You’d forgotten all about your said attitude and the way Paige had totally dismissed the conversation, but right now, it was the last thing you cared about.
Her tongue slipped into your mouth, eliciting a whine from you at the quickness that made Paige’s knees buck. She loved to hear you. She loved any sound you made. You made her weak.
“Can never get e-fucking-nough of you,” she breathed out, the comment more to herself. It was words like these that made you question how casual your hooking up was. She got so poetic and warm in the world of sex with you, and you loved it. It didn’t matter if she was praising or belittling you because you would eat it up every damn time.
Your hands roam through the waves of her hair, finding a spot that you comfortably grip and tug, the motion causing Paige’s lips to part from yours as her head tilted back slightly. You brought your lips down to her jaw, peppering kisses down the line and to her neck as you held her by her hair, Paige smiling above you. It always started like this— a constant fight for dominance that Paige always won. It was why she’d been smiling so hard.
It didn’t take long for you to find that good spot of hers, her smile instantly becoming a face of pure satisfaction as you sucked a light hickey onto her neck within seconds. You never did that because you knew Paige would only have to cover it up, but it felt right.
As Paige’s hands hooked under your legs and hoisted you up, you yelped, following the gesture with a giggly laugh that Paige couldn’t help but crack a smile at. She missed you. “Tired of standing,” she mumbled, carrying you to her bedroom. During the short way there, your lips had found her face again, never getting enough of all of the places you could leave a wet, sensual peck.
Setting you down at the edge of the bed, Paige turned around so she could shut and lock the door. She slid her UConn sweatshirt off in the process, pivoting back to you as you sat there in all your glory, laid back on your elbows. Paige immediately got to work, pulling off your pants as she hovered over you, her bottom lip sitting snug in between her teeth.
Glancing up at her, you immediately wanted her closer as she took them off painfully slow, and as soon as she was done throwing them into a corner of her room, she didn’t have any time to fully turn her head before you were pulling her into you, kissing her eagerly for the second time that night.
Her hands roamed beneath your engulfed bodies as her mind already knew where everything was without having to look. If there was one thing she learned from having sex with you, it was your body. She knew it as if it were a topic she’d studied for hours. Her fingers glided over your clothed cunt, causing your body to squirm at the unexpected touch.
She smiled into the kiss at your reaction and the feeling of your wetness, her body falling next to you as she propped herself up with her elbow. She pushed the fabric to the side with two fingers, her lips continually moving against yours as she circled your clit. Without warning, she pushed her two middle fingers into you. You never needed much foreplay because of how wet you got so easily, but that was a gift only Paige received.
You instantly pulled away from the blonde at the feeling, your head glancing down to her moving fingers as your mouth fell agape. Paige’s hooded eyes stared at the side of your face as your head eventually settled back onto her leaned arm with a gasp. She licked her lips, looking at the way her fingers moved in and out of you so effortlessly. “Look, baby. Doin’ so good for me.” She praised, your moans sounding like music to her ears as your eyes fluttered shut.
Suddenly, she curled her fingers, eliciting a loud, pornographic moan from the depths of your throat. “I told you to look,” she stated firmly. You opened your eyes slowly but surely as Paige lifted her arm underneath you so your head was at an elevated angle to see the bottom half of your body, and you swore you would come simply at the sight and Paige’s strength that had been showcased from her holding you. “So fuckin’ pretty,” she cooed. Another praise. Paige never cursed, but when she got in bed with you, it was inevitable.
“I’m gonna come, baby,” you told her, and although your mind had been completely fucked out, you were still good at picking out the things Paige got weak about, which realistically would be everything, including when you called her baby.
Her breathing picked up, the room becoming hot. “Yeah? Can’t wait any longer?” Paige questioned, and you automatically shook your head through moans, turning to look at Paige who had her eyes locked on you. She took a snapshot of you with her eyes, a picture she would frame in the Louvre if given the chance.
“N-no. Can’t wai— fuck!” You came undone on Paige’s fingers with a loud groan as her pace quickened inside of you, your juices coating her fingers. She couldn’t revert her gaze from your glistening cunt and the way it reflected on her slender hands, getting an urge to taste you, yet she held off.
Your chest heaved as she slowed down, a noise being made as she slipped out of you. You laid back once more despite the fact that Paige’s arm must’ve fallen asleep by now, watching through half-shut eyes as her fingers came into view. She shoved them into your mouth, her lips parting as she tilted her head slightly and watched you lick your own slick.
“Mmm,” she mumbled, nearly drooling as you grabbed her hand with your own, pushing her digits further into your mouth. You indulged at your own pace, peering up at her, knowing the thrill it would give her. Your tongue slid between the two fingers, working its way to slurp everything off. Finally, Paige had enough.
She forced her fingers out of your mouth, sliding out with a pop because of how tight you’d wrapped around them. She got up and made her way around the bed, settling with her back against the headboard. You followed her there with a crawl, laying in between her slightly spread legs as you leaned into kiss her. As your lips moved, you felt the urge for more, pulling away abruptly. Catching your breath, Paige couldn’t control her own as she looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. “What?” She breathed out, her hands still cupping your cheeks.
You looked down, your head moving in between her cupped hands. “Too many clothes.” You panted, prompting a smile from Paige who was quick to lift her hips up, your bottom halves crashing for a moment as she slipped her sweatpants off, throwing them off the side of the bed. You followed suit with your shirt, leaving you in a lacy, purple bra that made your tits look fucking phenomenal.
Paige leaned back against the headboard, taking in the sight as you sat up before her, teasingly running your hand up the strap of your bra while you looked down. You knew what you were doing, purple is Paige’s favorite color. Eventually, you brought both hands to the clasp in the back, finally glancing at Paige who seemed to be stuck in a daze. You smirked slightly, not tearing your eyes away from her as your tits fell from its holder, and Paige was ready to dive into you.
“C’mere.” Her voice was husk as she whispered for you to come closer, and you obeyed, crawling back to your previous position between her legs with a smirk. Thinking Paige was going to kiss you once more, you brought your lips closer to her, but she dipped her head to your collarbone, her mouth immediately getting to work as you moaned softly, bringing your hand up to play with her hair.
She began sucking, and you swore you started to feel dizzy. You glanced down at the pink-ish mark forming on your skin above the place she’d now been getting to work on, making you a bit confused in the mist of your heavy breathing before you glanced down at the spot on Paige’s neck that had now been a dark purple color. You didn’t think she’d noticed, but obliviously she had. Paige knew it wouldn’t be a good look to her friends, but she didn’t care. It was fair game and she couldn’t resist you.
She then moved down, beginning to fondle with your breasts. She massaged one with one hand, attaching her lips to the other, her tongue swarming your nipple. “Missed you so much.” You whimpered, bringing your hand around to tuck her hair behind her ear, getting a good sight of her. How pretty she looked beneath you like this was all you could think about.
A few moments later, she pulled her lips away, seemingly content with the work she’d done. She hastily pulled her boxers down afterwards, you following eagerly with your soaked panties, the same ones Paige hadn’t even bothered to pull down when fingering you. Just as the two of you tangled your legs together, your beating cunts an inch away from igniting the longing pleasure, the jingle of keys and distinct chatter interrupted the moment, making you whip your head around towards the door.
You could make out the voices of Amari and Ice, realizing they must’ve left a little bit after you and Paige. The walls were too thin for this.
Without notice, Paige pressed her bottom half into you, making you moan out. She was quick to cover your mouth before you could yourself, your eyebrows furrowing through pleasure and fear of being caught. “You know I love hearin’ you but you’re gonna have to be quiet for me, baby, okay?” she whispered, making you nod. Although the chances of being caught were high because of the unlocked door, the warmth of Paige’s clit hitting yours over and over was enough to make you forget about all of that.
You moved against her in a way Paige thought was painfully slow, a bead of sweat already forming at the top of her head as you both couldn’t tear your eyes away from where your bodies interlocked. She brought you down to her face, peppering soft kisses to your lips as you could barely build up the strength to kiss her back, all of it going into the way you moved.
Through low curses and pants, you finally mustered the strength to move your hand to Paige’s cunt, her reaction resulting in her dropping the hand previously over your mouth, her bones feeble. “Shit, keep going,” Paige murmured, her words enough to make you speed up your motions. Your hips bucked back and forth on her, whining as you tried to get as much as friction as possible.
Paige’s hands shot down to your waist, gripping them as she admired the way her fingers molded into your skin. They trailed down to your ass, her head tilting to the side a bit so she could get a good view of the way you looked from behind. She couldn’t quite fathom how you looked good in every position.
Dazed and breathless, you both felt your high bubbling within you as you continuously moved, the sound and smell of sex filling the room. “Paige, I’mmm.. fu— almost..” you could barely get any words out, but the blonde could make out what you were trying to say as she pushed her hips up further, getting any resistance she could.
“I’m right with you, fuck,” Paige dragged her words out, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to hold off a little longer, but she physically couldn’t. Her stamina was a bit better than yours overall because she was an athlete, but tonight she wasn’t holding off.
You leaned down to rest your head in the nape of Paige’s neck, the slightly new angle pushing you both over the edge. You felt intoxicated as you came undone, Paige’s center never giving the throbbing a rest as she came right with you like she’d promised. “Sh-shit.” Paige’s voice had gotten high for the first time that night. “I love you so fuckin’ much, fuck.” Paige admitted, her words rushed out. You only panted, bringing your head up to rest against her forehead as your chests heaved and you both stopped moving. Paige opened her eyes at your touch, only being able to stare into your eyes for so long— caught in a different universe as your lips hovered over hers.
Still breathless, Paige managed to wrap her arms around you and set you down next to her, your wet, sweaty body hitting her sheets. Coming down from the sacred high and finally having room to think, you’d only just then comprehended what Paige had said, knitting your eyebrows slightly from next to her. You turned your head, realizing she had managed to hoist herself up and put her clothes back on, grabbing scattered pieces of clothing in the process. Your scattered pieces of clothing.
You propped yourself up on both elbows, her comforter covering your chest. You realized that if anyone were to walk in right now, there would be no hiding the fact that you’d indeed just fucked— your mascara smudged, your hair an absolute mess. You cleared your throat, indicating you were back in the right state of mind and Paige’s body shook. Her back was turned to you, but she could already feel the tension heavy in the room.
Paige had never, not once said those three words to you. And with the way she was acting, you could tell it wasn’t one of her heat-of-the-moment sayings. She’d meant it. “Paige—“ she cut you off before you could address it.
“You should go. It’s late.” Despite her attempts to shake you off, Paige knew better than anyone that she wouldn’t get the last word with you. She might’ve been too full of herself, but you were one quick-witted individual.
You chuckled from behind her, an attempt to hide the actual hurt in your tone. “You’re serious?” you asked, although you knew she was. Your eyes were widened and you couldn’t believe she’d said such a thing before literally kicking you out.
She turned around and effortlessly tossed your clothes onto the bed, the garments landing right in front of you. She didn’t have to say anything. You could fucking feel it. You didn’t have the energy to put up a fight or an argument because it simply did not seem like she cared enough for it. Her words would only hurt you more. You’d known and learned this girl through and through and you would’ve never thought she’d do such a thing. You normally stayed the night, took a shower together, or even just stayed in each other’s warmth until having to tend to something. But tonight, she’d dropped a bomb and resulted in acting like an asshole.
You had a slight frown on your face as you hastily gathered your things, your clothes sloppily thrown on your body like you were sneaking out from a one-night-stand. You tucked your hair behind your ears as you put your shoes on, ignoring the unreadable expression on Paige’s face as her eyes shot daggers into you. Why weren’t you saying anything back? Why weren’t you shouting the most cruel things in her face? She felt like she’d deserved some backlash for what she just did, yet you seemed more hurt and eager to get out of her room than angry.
Without a second glance at the blonde, you rushed out of the room, nearly slamming the door behind you which elicited a slight jump from Paige. Waltzing across the living room, you almost didn’t catch the widened eyes of Amari and Ice in the kitchen. You didn’t care that their speculations had been confirmed, because it was shut down now. Despite being the only girl Paige had been fucking for months on end, she treated you like just another fling tonight, and you were hurt. You were hurt because you loved her too and she didn’t care enough to say it again.
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ceesimz · 2 months
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Our Sun Is Setting
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TW: mentions of homophobia and grief for a parent. It's quite a heavy fic, please keep that in mind.
"I told my Mami about you today."
You didn't think it was possible for a relatively normal, short sentence over the phone to make you feel sick to the pit of your stomach, but it did.
"Oh." That was all you managed.
Your mind was in overdrive as you stood in the middle of the grocery store, buying ingredients for the dinner you were preparing for later that evening when Alexia was going to come over. Any other person would have reacted better, wouldn't have been frozen to the tiles of the shop in the middle of the breakfast aisle, wouldn't have been on the brink of a panic attack from a simple statement.
"She was very happy. And she would like to meet you soon, whenever you like."
Another punch to the gut.
"She also teased me for talking about you so much. I couldn't stop myself." Alexia paired her words with a shy laugh.
The sound of it grounded you slightly as you moved out of the way of an old couple walking in your direction, but your head was still being insistently ruthless as you wandered mindlessly through the rest of the shop. Alexia was still talking over the line, seemingly not noticing your silence, but you couldn't work out what she was saying due to the unbearable ringing in your ears.
You were in shock.
"Are you still there?"
"Y-yeah, sorry. I think the signal went a bit weird, I didn't catch much of what you said." You reply in a shaking voice.
On the other side of the phone, Alexia frowns ever so slightly - she can almost sense something is wrong, but she can't quite figure out what or why. She hopes that when she sees you later, you are perhaps feeling better or if not, at least she's there for you.
"Okay cariño, would it be better if I left you to your shop?" She suggests, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel of her car where she was parked outside of the training complex before an afternoon training session.
"Yeah, probably. Sorry, I'll see you later."
And with that, you hung up.
As you went to slide your phone into your pocket with your shaking hands, you missed, causing it to clatter heavily against the tiles. It earned a few stares from the people around you, only intensifying the jittery dread that surged through you. Pins and needles encapsulated your body as you crouched down to pick up your now-smashed phone, but currently that was the last thing on your mind.
Alexia's statements circled relentlessly around your head - to literally anybody else in the world, hearing those words from someone they had were seeing would be enamouring and seen as a key, heart-warming milestone. But to you, it opened up a dark spot in your mind that you had shunned to the side for some amount of time. It seemed now was the right moment for that unidentifiable problem to break free from its shackles and make itself known, and you were terrified of what those repercussions would be.
You carried out the rest of your shop on autopilot, shoving a handful of notes into the cashier's hand before rushing out without a clue of how much you just gave them. For all you know, you could have massively overpaid them or robbed them in broad daylight. You were so out of touch with the world right now.
So much so, that you were unlocking the door to your apartment before you realised. How long did it take you to get home? Did your phone still work? What time is it? Did you walk, get a taxi, catch the bus, how did you get here? What did you even buy at the shop? Why won't this fucking door open-
A neighbour walked past hastily as you barged a shoulder against the door and almost crashed through it as it finally opened. You sent them an apologetic smile, though there was no doubt in your mind it was more of a manic and unnerving look than anything else, before slamming it shut behind you. The icing on the cake to this whole thing was the fact that the bottom of your shopping bag split open, scattering your groceries across the floor of the entryway. At least now you could see what you had bought.
Whether your legs failed you and buckled or you put yourself on the ground, you kneeled on the floor and gathered everything into your arms to transport it to the kitchen. It was a struggle, your trembling arms barely having the strength to hold themselves up, but you managed to dump your belongings on the kitchen side. Once you'd done that, you rested heavily against the counter, desperately trying to replenish the oxygen that had been stolen from your lungs some point along the way to this moment here.
What the fuck do you do now?
You turned to lean back against the counter and slowly slid down to the ground until you were sat on the floor, head back against the cupboard. There were too many conflicting thoughts and emotions rushing through you that all you could do was sit and stare. Feeling nothing but everything at the same time, thinking nothing but everything all at once.
Seeing Alexia tonight might tip you over the edge. You hope it doesn't end that way. You hope that her presence eases you. You hope she saves you from falling, sinking, spiralling into an irrevocable state of mind, whether she recognises that she's doing it or not. You hope, hope, hope.
Time seems to be a temporary concept for today, because before you've even had the chance to start preparing dinner for tonight, Alexia is at your door. Her voice calls out from behind it, asking if you're in there and if you're okay, because you've zoned out again. You're on the sofa, your cross-body purse still hanging off your shoulder, your jacket still zipped up to your chin, your shoes still on. Your groceries are still strewn on the kitchen counter, and the torn bag is still in the entry way.
"Amor, are you in there? Let me in." Alexia calls out, her voice tainted with concern.
"Sorry, sorry, I'm coming!" You jump up, kick your shoes off, throw your bag onto the small dining table, and open the door. She visibly deflates at the sight of you, her tense shoulders dropping, but her face contorts at your attire.
"Why do you have your chaqueta on?" She asks, and you're beyond grateful to hear it's said in an amused tone.
"Bit cold s'all. Come in." You're not cold. You live in Barcelona, and it's the middle of the spring.
You step to the side and she walks in with a tiny smile on her face. She's glad to be here, you realise. She seems to be in a light and happy mood, carrying no extra stress or other burdens, and, rather selfishly, you're glad.
"How was training?"
You plaster a smile on your face as she takes her shoes off and drops her bag beside them, turning to you and opening her arms. You walk into them with no hesitation, but the feeling isn't as relieving as you desired it to be.
"It was good. I did a amazing free-kick, I will show you the video." Alexia beams, and that does warm your heart somewhat. Her passion for her work, her career, her life, was forever an invigorating thing to witness. It's a shame you weren't in the right mood to appreciate it.
"That's great, Ale." You smile genuinely up at her, more than happy to return the soft kiss she offers.
It momentarily calms and heals a small part of you you'd been hoping she would subconsciously fix, but it wasn't enough and you recognised that straight away. You'd get on your knees, beg, and pray to any higher power that would listen to you just so you'd feel okay for one more day. Except, who do you pray to when you don't believe in God?
"What's that?" She points to the white plastic bag from earlier.
"Oh, the bag for the groceries ripped as soon as I walked in. Must have forgotten to pick it up." You shrug it off, wishing for her attention to be elsewhere for the time being. "I haven't started dinner yet, sorry."
"That's okay." She smiles, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly and kissing your cheek. "How was your day?"
Tough question.
"It was alright, haven't done much." You brush it off, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen... where the whole area was still a state.
"Oh, what happened here?" Alexia frowns.
If it was just a few items, she wouldn't be so puzzled, but when a good portion of the food left out was fridge and freezer food? Strange.
"I... I, when the bag ripped before, a jar smashed by the door and, uh... I took a while cleaning it and forgot to put the rest of the stuff away." You ramble unusually quickly. It was a blatant lie, but she didn't need to know that.
Except, Alexia was an incredibly attentive person, and she knew straight away that something was amiss. The first sign was that, in her intelligent mind, she knew that theoretically if a jar filled were to smash by the front door, the white bag from earlier would have been covered in its contents - but that wasn't the case. The second sign: whenever you cleaned your apartment, you used a very strong smelling citrus scented spray - she often complained about it and nagged you to get one that smelt nicer. Your apartment didn't smell uncomfortably citrusy right now. Funny observation, sure, but these two pieces of seemingly inconspicuous evidence gave away the fact you weren't right. Oh, and your strange behaviour showcased on the phone earlier and a few moments ago didn't help your case either.
But, she chose not to pressure you about it yet. She wanted to wait until you perhaps opened up to her some point this evening. However, that didn't entirely stop her from speaking up.
"Ven aquí, amor." Alexia demands calmly, reaching a hand out to you. Suppressing a sigh, you take it, and she looks down at you with a pressing stare. "Answer me honestly. Are you okay?"
No.
"Yes, I'm okay. I'm fine, Ale, I am." You try to reassure her, squeezing her hand and smiling up at her.
"You promise?" Alexia raises her eyebrows and offers her pinky for you to seal your, rather untruthful, truth. "It's okay if something isn't right."
Pinky promises, as childish as they may come across to some, were never to be broken. Since the start of your relationship, they had been a thing that had been utilised by the both of you to ensure you are telling the truth. Alexia had broken one of her promises she had made to you before in the past, so why couldn't you do one in return? It's only fair, right? Relationships were meant to be equal after all.
"Promise." You smile again and raise your other hand to lock fingers with her. She smiles, though you can see she's not convinced, but nevertheless she kisses your knuckle.
"Can I help you cook?"
"I'm meant to be cooking for you. And you are a bit of a control freak in the kitchen." You tease, desperately trying to steer the night away from the morose direction it could go down, and instead towards the light-hearted, content way you so needed.
"I think I am just a control freak in general." She smirks at you before turning to put away the disregarded shopping. You would also happily accept that direction too, you supposed. "Venga, I am so hungry, I skipped lunch at training for a meeting and now I regret it."
To your relief, you both make peaceful conversation once you've told her what you planned on cooking, and it's so peacefully domestic as you do your individual tasks beside each other. Every so often, Alexia will joke and bump her hip into yours as you giggle, and this version of your girlfriend is exactly what you needed. For a moment, you feel the cloud over your head slither away, until the topic you wanted to avoid came up.
"So, what do you think of me telling my Mami about us? You never gave me a response on call earlier."
You freeze momentarily, Alexia thankfully not noticing from the corner of her eye. With a subtle clearing of your throat, you continue cutting up the chilli peppers on the board in front of you, but your now shaking hands pose as a slight kitchen hazard considering the sharp knife you were wielding.
"I, yeah, it's nice. Nice that you, um... did that." You stutter out anxiously, nausea settling cruelly in the pit of your stomach. Alexia takes in your reaction and laughs under her breath, turning briefly to leave a kiss on your forehead.
"No need to be nervous, amor. We have been together for many months now, it was due to happen soon. And M-"
"Ow- fuck!" You gasp sharply, dropping the knife immediately and cradling your hand as blood began dripping from the middle joint of your index finger.
"Woah, amor, what happened?" Alexia winces at the sight, grabbing a few squares of kitchen paper and pressing it against your cut.
"I- my hand slipped and I obviously cut myself." You grimace, eyes tightly shut to rid yourself of the sight. "It burns too, fuck."
Alexia knew you didn't handle blood too well, so she turned you away from the scene and wrapped one arm around your back, rubbing up and down comfortingly whilst she still applied pressure to the cut.
"It's okay, it's okay, it hurts more because of the chilli. Take some breaths, vale?" You nod hastily, not really realising your cheeks had puffed out as you held your breath. Alexia watches your face closely, eyes still closed as you took deep breaths to calm yourself. "You're doing good, bebita. Keep doing that, so good. Let's relax a bit, hm? We should sit down in case you get lightheaded."
The last sentence is her thinking out loud as she started guiding you towards one of the chairs at the dining table. Resting one elbow on the table whilst Alexia continued to hold your wounded hand, you lay your forehead against your uninjured hand as Alexia crouched beside you. Your joined hands lay in your lap as you calmed down, or at least tried to.
To Alexia, it would appear that you were just mentally recovering from the shock of the incident. But actually, you were trying to dispel the unsuspected horror that filled you to the brim at Alexia's earlier reminder.
I told my Mami about you today. She wants to meet you.
That line inevitably meant you had to tell your family too. Except, you couldn't. There was no way you would, no way you could, not without facing realities you had pressed down far into unreachable and forgettable depths of your mind. It was all too much, it was simply not a possibility for you. You knew what it would lead to, and you weren't ready for that.
For the past months you'd been with Alexia and the time you spent getting to know her before that, you had mostly lived in a bubble that dissociated you from the broken, cracked, ruined, utterly destroyed parts of your brain. It had been perfect so far, and you'd be fucking damned to leave that bubble now. But perhaps it was too late and the damage had been done long before Alexia said what she said earlier, maybe that darkness just needed a catalyst before it submerged you in its wake.
"Amor? Hey, come back." One of Alexia's hands lightly patted your cheek to bring you back into the room. "You scared me there. Your breathing got really bad and you were in a... a weird daze. I was talking but you weren't reacting or anything. Are you back now?"
You nodded wordlessly at her, still not entirely taking in what she was saying.
"The blood... freaked me out." You rasp breathlessly, shaking your head a little to rid the glaze over your vision.
"That's okay. Do you feel a little dizzy? I can get you something to help that. Clear your head maybe." You nod again, and she gently lets go of your hand. Cold shivers immediately burst through at the lost contact, but you had to get over yourself and get used to it.
Cautiously, you take the tissue off of your hand and inspect the damage. It doesn't seem deep enough for stitches, which instantly fills you with relief. If you weren't already in a state of intense dismay already, a trip to the hospital would cause a hurricane of emotions that left a lasting imprint on everything and everyone around.
"Here, some apple juice. To get your blood sugar back." Alexia places a mug of apple juice in front of you and notices your now bare hand. "Oof, amor, that looks painful. I'm not sure if that may need a doct-"
"No! No doctors, no hospital. It doesn't need stitches, it's fine." You rush out, eyes wide in what Alexia guesses is fear as you look down at where she's crouched again. "Please, no hospital. It just needs to be cleaned and wrapped up."
"Okay, if you are sure." Alexia replies, nudging the cup closer to you. "Drink that and I will get the first aid kit."
You do as she says, drinking the half-empty cup of apple juice whilst she searches through the kitchen for the green box of medical supplies. Her eyes hardly leave your slumped form at the table, filled with worry for you. Things weren't adding up now, it was obvious, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could ignore it.
A part of her feels afraid to push you; emotionally she wants the best for you and if subtly, or not so subtly, urging you to do that works then she'll do it, but intellectually she senses a deep, internalised issue that could rip through you if handled incorrectly. It's not up to her to cause that. So she asks a question that's so layered it flattens all remaining atmosphere in the room.
"Cariño, how do you feel now?" She pretends to busy herself with organising the already packed box of medical necessities you kept.
"Better." Phyiscally true, but mentally wrong.
"Why don't we order something for dinner instead?"
As if you weren't filled with disconcertion already, that suggestion signs, seals, and stamps the envelope set to be sent to the fucking psyche ward for your admission. Were you so inadequate now that you couldn't even cook a simple meal? Apparently so.
"O-Okay."
Alexia frowns and comes back over with alcohol wipes, antiseptic cream, and a box of plasters, placing her items on the table and gently tapping your chin to get you to look up at her.
"I love you, you know that?"
The words fell from her lips before she could stop them. Alexia maybe wasn't the most emotionally helpful person ever but she sure did try. She thought her saying that would comfort at least a small part of you, but she couldn't be more wrong. It planted the seed of an unforgivable idea in your head.
The realisation of what you had to do poured over you like cold water, washing away every ounce of the little remaining hope and positivity you had. A feeling akin to mourning settled in your heart, accompanied by the debilitating weight of this twisted entity in your mind seeping into your bones. Your body strained under the heaviness of it all, unable to capacitate for the burden of living life like this, only confirming that the thing you must do was your only solution. Your lower lip quivered as the thought consumed you, the devil in your head chanting it over and over and over and o-
"I do know." Your lips tug into a smile but your throat bobs to conceal the sobs bubbling at the surface. "I know that. I love you too."
For the remaining time you had with her, you would make sure she knew that too.
"Let's get you cleaned up, hm?"
It's silent between you both as she delicately cleans the wound before applying cream and wrapping it up in bandages. It's silent as she leads you to the sofa, silent as she ordered your meal for you from one of the common takeaways you always got together. It's silent as you wait for it to come. It's less silent when Alexia turns on Netflix and opts for a new TV show for you both to watch together. It's still fairly silent even as you sit beside her, back stiff and straight beside the woman whose heart you were soon to break.
Alexia has never loathed quietness more than she does right now. It was an occurrence she valued at any other point in her life; watching football, reading, studying a game, relaxing in a post-match bath, going on a solitary walk to gain some peace of mind. But here, in this moment beside you, her skin crawls at the unbearable stillness of the room. Sure, she did enjoy silence with you too, but it felt like the unavoidable elephant in the room was stomping on her heart with every beat of her heart. There was a hidden agenda in the belly of the beast attacking her, and for some reason it felt like she was running out of time to put out the fire.
Her spiralling was interrupted when the buzzer of your apartment rang through the room, letting you know there was someone outside of the apartment complex without a fob to enter the building. Alexia reluctantly gets up from the sofa to let them in and hovers by the door to wait for the delivery driver to find your flat. She keeps her eyes on you, subtly watching you attentively, but even if she stood face-to-face with you, noses touching and breaths mingling, you wouldn't have a clue she was there. Your senses were incredibly warped and you were so far detached from reality, it felt like you and Alexia were two worlds apart.
What's at stake right now is something that's much bigger than the both of you. The dynamic around you may as well have a 'fragile: handle with care' sticker slapped on it, except, even that wouldn't have stopped the hands of the puppets controlling the world from acting so cruelly. You'd taken constant blows for quite some time now with no respite. Just as you started to recover from one punch, another would come to hit you square in the face.
"Hey." Alexia lightly knocks on your forehead with her knuckle. Every concerned glance from the woman in front of you felt like a jab at your body, slowly working you down until you gave in. "You are here, but you are not here."
You blink gormlessly up at her, your shoulders lifting in a careless shrug before you took back control of your mind.
"Food's here?" You force a smile, taking the paper bag from her hand and walking on shaking legs to the kitchen. You get plates and cutlery out, dishing up your meals before joining Alexia back on the couch, the taller woman now the one seemingly stuck in her head. "Ale, your meal."
"Ah, thank you." She leans in to quickly kiss your cheek when you sit beside her again.
The blonde woman has one more trick up her sleeve to try and bring you out of your shell, and it's one she hardly ever played.
Immediately, she begins to babble on about her day and her teammates and her family and whatever new antics Mapi and the youngsters had got up to, going abnormally overboard with the amount of anecdotes she was spewing out. Everybody knew Alexia was not a talkative person, and she only ever acted like this when she was in a rare giddy mood. And that really was rare.
The Alexia on display so far tonight was not in a giddy mood. She was happy, of course she was, but factor in the concern she'd shown for you tonight and the giddiness she had not portrayed at all even recently, something was off. It threw you completely off-kilter, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why she was doing this.
"I'll tell my Dad about us tomorrow." You blurted out, interrupting another of her rambles. It's kind of the truth, not all of it, and it's not the biggest decision you've made for yourself tonight, but you owed her something at least for putting up with you.
"Que?" She frowns. Out of all things she'd expected you to say tonight, that wasn't one of them.
"You're talking a lot because you want to know why I'm acting weird. It's because I'm thinking about telling my Dad about us, I'm scared to do it but you told Eli so I'll tell my Dad." You explained, pushing your food around your plate as Alexia processes your words for a moment.
"You don't have to do that if you don't want to. I don't mind, I know things haven't been... haven't been great between you both since your Mu-"
"Okay, but he's still my Dad." You cut her off again. You're not in the mood to discuss what she was about to bring up.
"You don't owe him anything, amor. Sure, he's your Dad, but you said it yourself only a few weeks ago; he's an idiot. No one should treat their child the way he's treated you after they've just lost their Mami."
There. She said it anyway.
"Alexia, I know you're just trying to stick up for me, but please don't go there. This has nothing to do with my Mum." Another partial lie.
The subconscious, realistic part of you knows every issue you've had in the last two years has everything to do with... her. But right now, the impulsive side that has been at the forefront of your mind ever since it happened wants to blame everything on the world around you and not your flaws that you've ignored all this time. Anyone could see that your refusal to sit with your grief and just feel was your Achilles' heel.
"Okay. I'm sorry for mentioning it. But I am absolutely on your side, amor, I'm always on your side. So if you want to tell your Dad, tell him. If you want me there next to you or if you want me out of the country whilst you do it, then I'll do it. I will do whatever you want me to." Alexia tells you, her voice pleading as earnest swirled around the eyes that bore down into you.
Well, you thought, that's good to know.
"Thank you." You smile ever so slightly, dropping your fork and placing a hand on her leg. You squeeze her knee three times, one more chance for her to understand the love you held for her.
"De nada, amor. Now eat up, please."
The pair of you spent the rest of the evening delicately dancing around the untamed elephant from earlier whose patience was wearing thin at the prospect of going entirely avoided for the night. Conversation topics were kept light, finally giving you a brief reprieve from the onslaught of your mind, and Alexia kept her arms tight as they wrapped around you. It was as if with each breath you let out or with each twitch of your body, she held on tighter and tighter, every hint of movement from you a reminder of your presence and how much she ineffably adored you.
Yet, the sun began to set, indicating that it was almost time for Alexia to leave for the night. She had to get up early tomorrow whilst you had the day off, and initially Alexia always agreed that when this was the case, you should sleep separately so that you could rest. However, as she collected her bag and slipped on her shoes, she kept her movements purposely slow to delay her departure. The last thing she wanted to do was leave you alone.
"Are you sure you will be okay tonight?" Alexia sighs, a reluctant hand on the door handle.
"I'll be okay." You answer simply, hesitating for a moment to decide on your goodbye gesture, before settling for a lone kiss on the cheek.
"Call me, immediately, if that changes. If you wake up in the night and need me, I will be straight here. If you call me in the middle of training, I will be straight here. Please. Don't suffer on your own."
Oh Alexia. If only you weren't so late.
"Everything will be okay, Ale." You tell her, desperately trying to disguise the emotion threatening to break through. "Te veo pronto, sí?"
"Sí. I love you." Alexia smiles, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, then opening the door.
"I know." Is all you can say now to that declaration. And fuck, if Alexia hadn't felt so uneasy in her life after that.
Somehow, you managed to sleep that night. Maybe it was your body allowing you to build up all the strength you need for the day ahead, because your life was about to be irreversibly changed. And the worst was yet to come.
"Hi Dad." You murmur quietly from your place in the corner of your sofa, legs tucked underneath you as you pitifully hold onto a cushion for comfort.
"Well, it's been a while since I've heard from you." The man on the other side of the phone chuckles spitefully. "Remembered who I was again?"
"Hm. How have you been?" The best way to deal with such a man was to ignore his behaviour, in the hopes he dropped the act when you didn't give a reaction. Perhaps you underestimated him.
"That's a loaded question, you know that. It's all everyone asks nowadays and I'm fucking sick of it." He grumbled, and for the first time in a while it sounded like his anger wasn't directed at you.
"I do know that." You stated.
"So why ask then? Still as dense as ever, I see."
Okay, well, clearly you judged him too soon.
"I just wanted to see how you were doing." You mumble insecurely, a frown settling on your face as you try to hold back the emotions you knew would spill out sooner rather than later.
"Don't lie to me." He snapped through gritted teeth. "You couldn't give a shit about me if your life depended on it. Be honest and tell me what you want, I have better things to do than talk to you."
"I... I have a girlfriend, Dad. Here in Barcelona, I've met someone." You reveal with a hint of a smile on your face.
All morning, you'd been in over your head on whether to tell him about Alexia. Part of you thought it was futile since you had already decided on your future with her, or rather, the lack thereof. But the naïve and childish part of you painfully thought he could be happy. That wasn't a concept this man had understood as of late, so it was a wonder why you'd thought he'd be happy for you. Especially given his latest behaviour, and his long-standing opinion on your sexuality. If only your Mother was here.
"Wow. Because I couldn't give you the life you want after your Mum left-" he could never say the true reason for her absence out loud, "-you look for it elsewhere? What did I tell you about doing that? A home can't be a person, kiddo, you need to stop looking for that. Your Mother wasn't home, I'm not home, this new 'girlfriend' isn't home, a person cannot be a fucking home! You're just desperate to fill in the love that's absent in the death of your Mother. Get a fucking grip of yourself and get over it, this 'girlfriend' business. You know your Mum would never have stood for this."
Silence.
Of all the words in the world, across all languages and cultures, over all periods of time, there was only one description to be used of how you felt right now. In your little flat in the heart of Barcelona, cowering in the corner of the couch, you felt suffocated. Any semblance of clarity, peace, hope, love - suffocated, by the words of your father, by the events that had changed you for the worse throughout your life, by the burden of simply just living.
Except, the words 'living' and 'simply' could never be used in the same sentence, because that wasn't a possibility. Every aspect of human nature wasn't simple, that's the beauty in it. The thousands of tiny mechanical functions in your body that allow you to breathe, the hundreds of muscles exerting themselves daily for one small step, the twitches and spasms of nerve endings to feel just a little alive. And despite it only requiring thirteen miniscule muscles to smile compared to forty-seven to frown, the latter felt so much easier. The weight of a smile had never seemed so damning, so suffocating.
The promise of life was a unique one, that's common knowledge and yes, life is beautiful, but any glorification of the struggle of living was inefficacious, nothing could extinguish the flame of the fire inside of your mind that was already uncontrollably burning through your self-preservation. No promise of light one day shining in your world again was worth it; you were merely a shadow of the people you loved.
"Okay Dad." You choke out. Even uttering one word was such a fucking exhausting challenge. "I... I planned on breaking up with her anyway. I think I want to come home."
You expected the feeling of verbalising your plans to be freeing, but the gravity of what you were going to do grounded you so humbly it almost almost stopped your heart entirely.
"Wow, I mean, if I had known that you would listen to my opinion and follow my advice so quick, I would have given it more often." He laughed maliciously, his way of celebrating your fall from grace.
"Can I come home?" You can't stop yourself in time from asking that question in such a begging tone. Another victory for him.
"I don't think that's a good idea, sweetheart. If you're that desperate, maybe stay with your grandparents. Perhaps they'll want you." He sighed as he said it as if he was in a rush, acting like speaking to his daughter was such a chore. "Listen kiddo, you done now? I've gotta go."
"Yep, I'm done. Can I see you if I come home?" The question was paired with a hasty swipe away of tears as if the man hundreds of miles away could see them.
"Oh honey. You fascinate me. You're at danger of almost being interesting now, you know that?" He laughed once more at his own words before hanging up.
Silence again. Such a plaguing thing.
The weight of the conversation you just had collapsed down on you, a whirlwind of emotions surging through you as a result of it. Each beat of your heart served as a reminder of every word spat at you from the man you once thought held all the love you had to give, the thump against your chest echoing his disappointment and distaste for you. A daughter's love for their father was undoubtedly one of the most dangerous things to themselves, proving that point yourself as you mentally scrambled to find a way to mend the fractured bond, yet each time coming up empty, feeling powerless and minute in the face of your father's disappointment. Every response from that man carved deep wounds of guilt and regret into every crevice of your mind.
Behind a facade of stoicism, a torrent of emotions fulminated throughout your body - a spiteful mix of every insecurity, every doubt, every shattered dream, it all coming together to form the final piece of the puzzle that was needed to make the decision to break out of your life. There was no other choice.
Outwardly, there wasn't a hint of such breakage shown anywhere on your body. And that's how it had to be, that's how you had to be. Completely numb to it all until you had escaped this turmoil.
By 2pm, everything was different.
Flight booked. Every suitcase you owned bursting at the seams, waiting by the door. Apartment tenancy ripped up. Your resignation handed in to your work. Every bit of furniture, every little trinket, all of it ready to be left behind. Despite it all, the most heartbreaking symbol of your new start, was the cardboard box of Alexia's belongings sat in the passenger seat of your car as you drove, waiting to be dropped off discreetly outside her door.
Your life was the perfect image to sum up how quick things can change. Twenty-four hours ago, you were walking to the local supermarket to pick up the stuff to make a perfect meal for you and your girlfriend to eat and have a quiet, relaxed evening together. Now? You were driving to said girlfriend's apartment, equipped with the words to tear your lives apart.
Oh, how things change.
In the blink of an eye, you were parked up outside her apartment building. You had the key to her apartment in your hand and the code to enter the complex memorised for one more use. You failed to notice her car parked in her usual space as you walked through the car park. The heaviness of the box was nothing compared to the heaviness in your chest of what you were about to do.
Ears ringing, eyes blurred with unshed tears, throat burning and constricted, your bones aching under the weight of purely just existing, all of it immensely overwhelming. But you were numb still. Numb and out of tune with your feelings, because you had to be. Otherwise, all of this couldn't happen. There was no way any of this would be possible if you just listened to what your heart wanted. No, that devil on your shoulder had gotten its way once again.
"Oh, what are you doing here?"
Fuck.
You had truly done it this time, because here Alexia was, standing in the doorway of her apartment as you froze at the sight of her.
"What are you doing here?" You ask frantically, desperately praying for her attention to be anywhere but the box of her stuff in your arms.
"Well, this is my apartment, amor. I just got back from training but I left my phone in my car." Alexia answers, an eyebrow raised down at you. Of course she'd catch on that something was wrong. She always did. It was one of the things you loved her for. "What's this? Are you a delivery driver now?"
She laughs to herself as she says it, taking the box from your arms and placing it on the floor. You're still stuck to the spot, eyes wide in fear at what she was about to find, and your heart thumps angrily against your chest in protest, trying to get you to react in some way. But it's too late. Alexia has already opened the box and began to read the letter in there before you could stop her.
The smile on her face immediately dissipates at the first line.
"To Ale, I'm sorry... what do you mean?" She asks, glancing up at you briefly before continuing to read it.
That's when your body finally decides to react. You slowly back away from the woman in front of you, but Alexia grabs your wrist tightly to stop you from running away.
"No, you will not leave my sight right now. Explain this fucking letter, what is going on?" Alexia attempts to sound commanding, but there's a certain glisten to her eyes and a lump in her throat. "What is going on? Tell me, now, please."
"I... I'm sorry, Alexia." You croak out, rushing to wipe the tears already falling with the sleeve of your sweater. "I am sorry, you have to know that."
"Sorry about what!?" Alexia shouts, then takes a deep breath to compose herself momentarily. "Come inside, sit down, and please can we talk?"
"Everything I have to say is in the letter, Alexia, I-"
"No, no it is not. This letter is hardly a whole page. You've come to my apartment with a box of my stuff and a letter that starts with the words 'I'm sorry', I'm not letting you leave." Alexia says, and you have no choice but to listen to her. However, she softens for a moment, and the lost look on her face tugs on every one of your heart strings. She takes one of your hands and squeezes it three times, resulting in another stream of tears from yourself. "Please. Whatever is going on, give us a chance to solve it. I need you to explain what's happened so I can help you, amor. Please."
You relent easily, forever at her mercy, and follow her into her apartment. She leaves the stacked box by the front door, completely unbothered by it - in fact, she doesn't ever want to look inside it if this conversation goes the way she thinks it'll go. She's kicking herself mentally, her mind already skimming over every interaction she's had with you recently, desperately trying to plot a point in time where your attitude had changed. It's easy for her to do so, the moment jumps out almost immediately. If only she hadn't been so scared, so cautious, maybe she could have solved this before it was too late.
"What do you want me to say, Ale?" You sigh exasperatedly as you sit on the edge of her sofa, eyes fixated on your fidgeting hands.
"What do I want you to say? Amor, I want you to be honest and explain why you're sorry, why you've come over with all my stuff, why you've written me this letter. It's all come out of nowhere, I have no idea what's going on and I just want you to clue me in. Yesterday we were laughing together and having a nice evening, and now you're... I don't even want to say it." Alexia laughs nervously as she speaks, her shoulder stuck up in a shrug as her hands gesture eratically.
"It's okay, I'll say it for you." Your false facade takes over, body armoured with a hard exterior. "I'm leaving, Ale. I'm leaving Barcelona, leaving Spain."
To hear you say those words were perhaps the greatest pain Alexia has ever felt in her life.
"Leaving... leaving me?" She whispers quietly, the question punctuated with a gulp as she swallows her emotions.
She sounds eerily similar to a young, innocent child who's just lost all they've ever known. It makes you wonder for a brief second if you're a sick individual for causing such pain, but you shun those thoughts away for a later date, because right now you need all the feigned courage you can muster up.
"Yes." The ease with which you say it sends shivers down her spine. It's the hardest sentence you've ever had to say, and it's just one word - once more an example of how life can never be conformed to simplicity.
"Why are you being so cold? This is not the woman I know." Alexia practically pleads, inching closer to you on the sofa. Her hands land on your knees, but you're too far in to back out now.
"I don't know who I am anymore, Alexia. I need time and space to figure my shit out, that's what is best for me right now and that's why I have to go." She scoffs in your face once you've finished, and that's the moment this conversation goes far more downhill you could have expected.
"What about me? What about what's best for me? You're leaving me behind!"
"Leaving you behind? You're acting like a sad dog that I've just abandoned in the middle of nowhere! You were perfectly fine in your life, your very successful and established life might I add, before I came along and you'll be better off without me!" You snap back. This is not the direction you thought this would go. "Why can't you accept the fact I need to leave?"
"Because I fucking love you! I love you and I don't want to live a life that doesn't have you in it! But maybe I should grow out of that opinion since it seems so easy for you to turn off your feelings for me, so easy for you to be so selfish at the flick of a switch."
"Selfish? I'm being selfish?" You repeat her words back to her with an outraged laughter that sounds all too familiar to you. Is this who you've turned into? "I'm being selfish for choosing what's best for me? I'm being selfish for wanting to take time on my own to figure my life out? I'm being selfish for wanting to take time to grieve my own, dead Mother?"
Alexia's face falls as soon as those words come out of your mouth. Never in her life had a sentence caused such a visceral reaction from her because it feels like someone's just plunged a dagger right into her heart. She'd been too panicked, too focused, on her own feelings to even wonder why you had made this decision. She had been the selfish one for jumping to conclusions and now her lethal arguments had completely tanked the conversation. The possibility that there was no coming back from her vicious assumptions instilled a deeper, darker fear in her than she had ever felt in her life.
"No, no, I didn't-" She begins to dig herself out of the hole she finds herself in, but you're in no mood to entertain her begging.
"Good one. Really funny, that." You stand up and go to walk away, but not without one last attempt from Alexia to stop you.
"I didn't mean that, I swear, I am just so confused and scared and-"
"Do you not think I'm scared too? This will be the second time I've uprooted my life and regretted everything I have ever done. I'm terrified to leave, terrified to find out what's waiting for me at home, terrified to figure maybe this is all I am and that there's no better side of myself to find." Your voice trembles with a mix of fear and fury. "I've realised that throughout our whole relationship, from the moment I stepped into this country, I've been someone that I'm not. Losing my Mum was losing the biggest part of myself, and everything I've done from then 'til now has just been a poor attempt at filling in the hole in my heart-"
"S-so, what, you're saying our relationship was fake?" Alexia splutters out. You pause at her words, completely caught off-guard by her utterly stupid and inept fight back.
"That's what you caught from all that?" You ask, dumbfounded. "Right. Because it's always about you, Alexia, isn't it? This whole conversation has just been you talking about yourself. Have you even properly heard what I've said? Have you read more than the first line of my letter?" The guilty look on her face says it all. "That's what I thought."
"But I... I know what it's like to lose a parent, amor, I can help you!"
"Wow. For the sake of us both, don't go there, Alexia. Don't." You fix her a warning glare, shaking your arm out of the grasp of her hand.
"You can't leave. You can't, I won't let you. It's not right." She speaks sternly again now, a final plea for your relationship.
"Oh, fuck off Alexia. You have the emotional maturity of a teenage boy. I'm done with this now. Good luck at the World Cup this summer."
You walk out and slam her door shut without looking back.
Alexia's life had just taken a nosedive, because a breakup was absolutely not on her agenda for the day. The hand that had grabbed your arm earlier tingled with the stain of your touch and certain areas of the room were tainted by the lingering scent of your perfume. One conversation and you had vanished from her life - an excruciating result caused by her own incompetency to act like a decent human being.
For some time after you had left, she had been stuck rooted to her sofa, her mental temporarily ruined by the events of the day. A traumatic event had occurred, this was a natural reaction, to go into shock. To be so damaged by something that all she could do was sit and be consciously unconscious to the world around her until her body and mind could recover.
There was one phrase that ran circles around her mind. It isn't fair. What that defiance was directed at, she wasn't so sure yet. At first it had been you, but as the clouds cleared a little, it was obvious that it wasn't. Despite her words earlier and how accusing they came out, she didn't blame you. Not one bit. No, her anger was aimed at the so called 'fate' bullshit that everyone championed so often. How can people praise such a phenomenon when it had brought so much evil into people's lives? It felt like everything came at the price of something, and that's not fair.
For Alexia? It felt like her career came with the price of her Father. Everything she had done was because of him, and he couldn't even be here to see it. No, because fate or destiny or whatever other nickname it had, had taken that opportunity away from her. It isn't fair. For you? If anyone asked you, in the future when you're in your rocking chair, a knitted blanket draped over you and the waves of the ocean lapping away in front of your eyes, you'd say that in this period of time you had gained the world for the price of your soul. This dichotomy of good and evil sometimes felt like it wasn't worth the fight because in cases like this, it just wasn't fair.
The realisation of it all left a sour taste in Alexia's mouth. But something seemed to snap in her, some higher power finally giving her a backbone, and she sprung into action. You didn't deserve any of the stuff that had happened to you, and she sure as hell wasn't going to be another name on that list. One of her worst fears, a view shared by all of humanity, was to remember someone she loved in such a gut-wrenchingly awful way that it tarnished her entire memory of them. That's something she couldn't do with you. If you were to end this, it had to be on good terms.
So, she grabbed her keys and headed down to her car, where her phone still was. Alexia was a determined woman; when she put her mind to something, she got it done. This would be no different.
Call after call, after call, after call, came through on your phone from the one woman you probably least expected. There was only so long you could hold her off because, after all, you were once in a relationship with the woman, meaning you got a front row seat to her persistance.
"Hi, uh, Alexia. What do you want?" You say when you answer, finally.
"We have to talk more." Alexia rushes out quickly, for lack of better words and composure.
"I don't know if I want that after what happened earlier." You state in a defensive tone. But secretly, you craved nothing more.
"I know, and I am so so sorry for all that. It was so selfish and awful of me, I regretted every word that came out of my mouth the second I said it. I just... can we talk again? Please?" She begs, her hand fidgeting against the steering wheel of her car as tears silently rolled down her cheeks. "I would hate myself if I didn't at least try for this, amor, let me try."
"The decision is final, Ale, you can't change it. I'm sorry. You said yesterday that you would do whatever I wanted you to do. Well, this is what I need you to do, Alexia. I need you to let me go."
"Okay." Alexia squeezes her eyes shut, tears spilling out the corners, and her clenched fist comes to rest against her forehead. "Can I see you one more time? So I can properly apologise? I have no other intentions than that, I promise. I just... I can't remember you that way. I can't remember us in the way we left it. It doesn't give us as people any respect and it does not do justice to the beauty of our relationship."
That was the tipping point for you. There's the woman you love.
"Okay." You smile and sit up in your bed where you previously lay in a cocoon of your own pity. "How about we meet on neutral grounds this time?"
"Let's do that." Alexia responds, and you can hear the smile in her voice.
Some time later, you found yourself walking along the promenade of the beach, looking for where Alexia said she was seated on one of the benches. It was a chilly evening with no help from the sea, so you had your hands tucked into your coat pockets and your chin hidden under the zip of your coat. Alexia had spotted you long ago, a content smile on her face at the all too familiar sight of you and your distaste for the cold. You recognise her soon after, taking a deep breath before approaching her.
"Hi." You mumble, muffled by your jacket and the wind whipping around you. Alexia hears it of course.
"Hi. Sit down, please?" Alexia taps her hand on the wooden slats of the bench beside her, and you quickly follow suit. "I, uh... got you this."
She hands over a takeaway cup of hot chocolate. Your favourite.
"Thank you. Something to keep my hands warm." You say, happy to see her laugh quietly and nod.
"Exactly why I got it."
The pair of you sit in silence for a while, encapsulated by the serenity of the sky and the elegance of the ocean. Strangely, you realise, the two things resemble you and Alexia. Two things of beauty that never quite meet, never quite mend, just a parallel that reflects each other. You can't tell if that's a horrifying allusion or a calming one.
"So, what's this then, a... a post-mortem of our relationship?" You joke, giggling when Alexia scrunches her nose at the suggestion.
"I mean... you could say that." She shudders as she says it, not quite at peace with the new revelation. She's not sure she ever will be.
"I have to go, Alexia. I... it's so hard leaving you behind. It's the hardest decision I've ever made, but it's one I have to make. I hope you know that."
"I do. I do know that. I want you to know I understand. I'll never be... content with it, but... it's a necessary evil." Alexia has her eyes cast down on her coffee cup, fiddling with the lid. You notice and take hold of one of her hands, intertwining your fingers perhaps for one final time.
"It is. I've got no energy to fight anymore. I need to sit with my emotions and all that shit," You pause as you sigh dramatically, making her laugh once more. "So that I can figure out who I am after all this. Doing that whilst in a relationship isn't fair on either of us. It'll only lead to something more soul destroying, no matter how hard this conversation is."
"I know." Alexia purses her lips and nods, finding the strength to look at you. A genuine smile breaks out onto her face. "I had a feeling something was wrong a little while ago. I guess I'm just... angry. That I can't solve it."
"I'm angry that I can't solve it." You repeat, a sad smile on your face. "There's just a lot wrong with me, I think. And I can't burden you with it all. I have a lot of baggage I drag along and there's an awful lot of cracks in my mind-"
"There's cracks in everything, amor, that's how the light shines in."
You had half a mind to berate her for interrupting you again, but you find yourself at a loss for words. Why were you leaving this woman again?
"I'll value you forever, Ale. Nothing could make me change that, even if we left things at what happened before. You're the most astounding person I've ever met, and even when I'm breaking your heart, you still treat me better than anyone else. If we forget what happened at your apartment." You tease, the both of you chuckling lightly.
"It's hard to hate you when you're breaking my heart so gently." Alexia states. "I'll always love you. It's probably not the right thing to say but it's the truth."
"No, I... I'll always love you too." You respond, absolutely certain. Despite the predicament you both find yourselves in, Alexia finds every bit of relief and closure she could ever need in that one simple sentence.
"When do you... when do you leave?" She asks with a sniffle.
"I fly out later tonight." You answer quietly.
"Will you come back one day?" It's the one thing she knows she probably shouldn't say, but she can't resist. She has to know.
"I don't know, to be honest." She turns away and nods slowly. You squeeze her hands three times.
"If you do, will you let me know?"
You can't promise her that, and she knows it.
"I will." You smile softly up at her.
You both fall into silence once more. This one feels a little less suffocating than those of the past. There's still so much more to say, but as your head falls to rest on Alexia's shoulder and you both look out at the view that had been the background of your relationship, neither of you can name a reason to interrupt the peace that's settled. It's perhaps more peace than either of you had felt in a long time.
The thing is, about the ocean and the sky, is that they do meet. They're one and the same in their own essence, and in the distance, they do eventually meet. And the sun will rise again. Two inevitable occurrences that form at the hands of a little thing called fate. Or destiny. Or whatever it is.
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promise-you-doie · 1 month
Text
J. Jaehyun | Coming Home
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After hitting a dead end in your job search, you reluctantly return home to stay with your mom. However, fate has other plans as you unexpectedly cross paths with an old flame. Sparks fly as you navigate the complexities of past feelings and present circumstances, reigniting a passionate connection that refuses to be ignored.
Jaehyun x reader (Exes to lovers)
6k words
Fluff, Angst, Suggestive.
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As a little girl, you had this idyllic vision of what your adult life would be like. You thought by the time you entered your 20s, you would have graduated from college and easily walked into your dream career. But now, as an adult, you're confronted with the harsh realities of life. You only have $300 to your name, a coupon for a free pizza from your go-to pizza place, and a tech degree that seems to be of no use. To make matters worse, you've ruined your credit during your college years, and you've just ended a three-year relationship. It feels like everything is against you, and the only choice you have is to go back to your hometown to stay with your mom until you get back on your feet.
Leaving Los Angeles was hard enough, but landing in Connecticut felt like a blow to your pride. Everything looks the same as when you left, and the people haven't changed much either. You want to drop down to your knees and cry when you realize that this is where you're going to be for the next few months of your life. But you still have some dignity left in you, so you grab your luggage and try to compose yourself as you walk towards the pickup section to wait for your mom.
Blinking back tears, you inhale a deep breath and pull out your phone. You wait patiently as your phone searches for service in the area. When the service finally sets in, your phone blows up with 70 different alerts: two calls from your best friend, Joy, and three text messages from her telling you to have a safe trip and to keep your head up.
Six missed calls from your ex-boyfriend and seven text messages from him begging you to talk to him.
51 emails from the various job search sites that you signed up with and one singular text message from your mom.
Mom: Hey! I won't be able to make it. But don't worry, I'll have Jaehyun come pick you up. Can't wait to see you!
As if on cue, a familiar black 2015 Toyota Corolla pulls up right in front of you, and none other than Jung Jaehyun gets out of the car.
"This has to be a joke." You breathe, your shoulders raising as you do so.
He smirks the second he lays eyes on you, "Wow you haven't aged a bit."
You wish you could say the same about him, he'd grown a lot more mature since you last saw him. He wasn't the 18-year-old boy you were once head over heels for. He was way taller; he grew his hair out, and you could tell that he started hitting the gym.
"Why are you here?" You look up at him with folded arms.
He doesn't take you seriously. He never did. "Sorry, I'm late." He chuckles and takes your suitcase from beside you to load it in the back of his car.
Once he finishes his first task, he walks back around to open the door for you, gesturing to the passenger seat with both arms and a smile that you wish you could hate.
"I'm not getting in the car, Jaehyun." You remain in your spot, arms still folded over your chest.
"No?" He asks condescendingly.
You repeat, "No." Firm on your feet.
"Well, I guess. I'll see you there then." You watch him close the door and walk to the driver's side without sparing you a look. He starts the car and drives away, leaving you with two options.
You could chase after him and embarrass yourself, or you could remain stubborn and just call an Uber.
You choose to chase the car after realizing that the phone that you would use to call an Uber was sitting in the back of his trunk.
He watches you run after him from his rearview mirror; he slows down but refuses to stop until you were banging on the side of the window, begging him to stop. He got a thrill out of this, and you could tell.
"Did you change your mind?" He teases
Physically, Jaehyun was a completely different person; he grew up, well, you'll admit that. But personality-wise? He hadn't changed at all. He was still the same sarcastic asshole you met in high school.
You mutter, "I don't have my phone." As you slide into the passenger seat, out of breath. You subtly look around, taking notice that the car still smells the same way you remembered it; it was just cleaner now. Sooner or later, your eyes dart to the back seat, and Jaehyun chuckles when you do.
"So what's L. A like?" He asks suddenly, one hand on the steering wheel and the other draped over his thigh.
"It's fun and different. My boyfriend helped to introduce me to a lot of new things." You purposely mention your (ex) boyfriend just to see his reaction.
To your dismay, his reaction is as simple as none. He only asks, "How will long-distance work out for you? It didn't seem to work with us."
"We'll do fine." You say, trying to sound confident.
The car falls silent for a few moments before he starts up a new conversation. "I'm glad you're back."
The statement seems taunting, even if you know that's not how he means it. You always dreamt of moving away to a big city where no one knew who you were, and now that you're back home, it just feels like you are a failure.
"I'm not staying for long." You gaze out of the window.
"Since you're back in town, we should hang out sometime," he suggests, sneaking glances at you.
"I didn't come back to see you."
"Suit yourself, but remember I'm always just a phone call away."
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As you step into the familiar house, you can't help but notice that everything looks the same. Though your mom has rearranged some things, the overall feel is still the same. She's standing at the counter, wearing her favorite white robe and sipping on a glass of wine. Even she looks the same, and you can't help but wonder if the past five years have been stuck in time.
Your thoughts are interrupted when Jaehyun speaks up from behind you, offering to take the bags upstairs. You're about to protest when your mom pulls you into a warm hug, rocking you back and forth. "Oh, my baby, I missed you so much," she coos, holding your face in her hands. "Have you been skipping meals?" She asks, eyeing you closely. When you shake your head, she mutters disapprovingly, "I hope you didn't start one of those stupid L.A diets." You hear Jaehyun snicker from behind you, but you can't break free from your mom's grip to glare at him.
"No, mom." You mutter shamefully like a middle schooler who just got through a scolding.
"We've got to fatten you up." She pinches your cheeks before she lets you go. Oh, you and Jaehyun should go try out the taco place down the street." Your mom swings her index finger between you and your ex-boyfriend. "They opened it up after you left. It's amazing, and the staff there is amazing, too."
You open your mouth to speak, but Jaehyun beats you to it. "I think she'd rather the tacos in L.A" he says as he stands beside your mom, looking down on you in a way that feels degrading. The only thing you can do is wonder when they got so close.
Your mom has always liked Jaehyun, but it seemed like she adopted him after you left. If you look close enough, you might find similarities in their facial features.
"Jaehyun probably has other things to do. Why don't we just go instead? It's been a while since it was just you and me." You waltz over and loop your arm around your mom's right arm. Opposite side of where Jaehyun was standing
"Or we could all go out together." Suggests, Jaehyun with a grin so big you could see his dimples.
Your mom's face glows at the thought as she pushes you aside. "That sounds like a wonderful Idea."
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"How was your flight?" Joy's voice comes through the speaker of your phone while you prop it up against your old desk. You slide back in your seat to start your face care while simultaneously talking to her.
"Long, it should be illegal for infants to fly on a plane." You mutter, slapping the moisturizer on your face and rubbing it in circles along your cheeks.
Joy gets closer to the camera just to say, "That's harsh," but she doesn't bother to try to hide her laugh.
"Okay maybe not illegal, but there should at least be a secluded area for parents flying with newborns, or you know… just kids who still cry." You drag out the last part when you get closer to the mirror and run your index finger along the new pimple you have growing in.
"Like a daycare?" Joy asks
"That wasn't what I was thinking, but that works too."
"Okay enough about that, have you seen him yet?" Joy whispers against the speaker of her own phone and thankfully so because just as soon as she mentions him Jaehyun comes walking into your room without a notice or a knock.
"Dinners ready." He stops at the entrance of your room but gets closer when he sees that you're on the phone. Close enough for him to show up on your camera screen and wave his hand around. "Hi, Joy." He smiles tauntingly.
"I have to go," you mutter and hang up the call before either of them can get another word in. Turning in your seat to ask "Why are you here?" for the second time today.
His smile doesn't falter, and he doesn't back away, either. "What? You don't want to see me?" he teases.
"I don't," you murmur, pushing him away with the palm of your hand and rolling your eyes. You stand up when he backs up, but his eyes remain on you. You hate that you didn't hate it, and you hate that you don't hate him.
You always thought you would be angry if you ever saw him again, you expected that you'd shed a few tears even. But all of that was furthest from the truth because now that you saw him again you were only reminded of the love you kept harbored away for him.
You were gonna be fine, as long as you kept your distance.
"You invited him over for dinner?" You quietly mutter to your mom, hoping that Jaehyun won't hear you.
"Don't be like that, he came over all the time while you were gone. That's not gonna change because of a little breakup."
"But Mom." You whine.
She hears none of it as she continues setting the table and praising Jaehyun for how helpful he was compared to her own child. You grimace at the statement before plopping down at the table with your arms crossed.
Jaehyun takes the seat across from you, and your mom takes the one adjacent. "Isn't this wonderful? It's been so long since I've seen the two of you together." She smiles and clamps her hands together.
"Is he going to come over every night?" You ask, wiping the smile off of your mom's face. You've always been a fan of your mom's cooking, but now you were picking at the rice and mixing it around. Your spoon clinks against the bottom of the glass plate before you go to take a spoonful.
Sucking in a hiss when your mom smacks your arm, "Why don't you be nice?"
"I was just asking." You whine once more but pull your lips into a thin line when you realize that no matter what, she's going to take his side and Jaehyun's enjoying it.
"You know the carnival is opening tomorrow." Your mom starts again, "You guys should go out and have fun. It's summer, and you're still young."
"I can't. I have to…" You look around for any excuse that won't get you slapped for a second time. "Unpack."
Your efforts count for nothing as your mom slaps you again on the arm. "Oh, don't be stubborn." She laughs. "Jaehyun, you aren't busy, right?"
"No, mam." He smiles, specifically at you.
"And neither are you," she says when she looks at you. "So it's settled; you can pick her up tomorrow." Your mom claps her hands together with a bright smile.
"No, I really can't." You wave your hand around.
"Well, you don't have a job, do you?" is all your mom has to say to make you lower your chin and shake your head. "Then I don't see why not."
"Besides, you could use a picker-upper since you broke up with that little boyfriend of yours." She adds unsolicited. You want to hide, curl up into a ball, and just vanish, disappear, and go anywhere but here.
"You broke up?" Jaehyun pipes up with a smirk.
You scramble to defend yourself, but the best you can come up with is, "We're just taking a little break."and that's all you get to say before your mom interrupts.
"Say, Jaehyun, don't you have that pan I let you borrow? I think I might need it for tomorrow night's dinner."
He nods, "Yeah, I can bring it tomorrow if you'd like."
"No, you might forget. Y/n, why don't you ride with him and bring the pan back."
The mention of your name makes you choke on your food, "What?"
"That'll give you guys some time to catch up." If you didn't know any better, you would think she was doing this on purpose. But you did know better and knew she was doing this on purpose.
"But it's late, and he has bad eyesight." You point, searching for any way that you could to get her to change her mind. Redacting when you see the way he's looking at you. "I mean, it's never safe to drive at night."
"That's more of a reason for you to go. I wouldn't want him stranded on the side of the road." says your mom.
"What about me?"
"If you're ready, we can go now." She ignores you when Jaehyun stands up in his chair.
"Yes, you two get going. I'll clean this up." Your mother hurries you out of your seat, pushing you along with Jaehyun to the door. You don't even get to say anything before she's waving and slamming the door in your face, locking you out of the house with your pajamas, bunny slippers, and your ex.
"You coming?" Jaehyun yells, standing on the passenger side of his black car.
You look at the door once and let out a long, deep sigh as you stomp to his car, sliding past him and into the passenger seat, but not without rolling your eyes.
"If you keep rolling your eyes, they're going to get stuck in the back of your head," Jaehyun teases before closing the car door.
He gets into the car shortly after and starts it immediately. You hope to keep the car ride quiet, but Jaehyun has other plans as he starts returning to his place. "I see long distance isn't your strong suit."
Naturally, you want to roll your eyes. You notice it's just a common occurrence when you are around him. "I already told you were working things out; I just didn't wanna hold him back."
You turn to him when you hear a small laugh. "Working things out," he repeats. "How come I didn't get that option?"
"You didn't deserve it."
"So you really love him, huh?" He glances over to see your reaction, and based on your facial expressions alone, he knows he's right.
He knows the answer, but you're not as sure. Is it possible for you to love two men at once?
"I don't wanna talk about this tonight, Jaehyun." You sigh and gaze out of the window. Per your request, he remains quiet for the rest of the ride. But now that you're sitting in complete silence, all you have to do is think. Think about the feelings and emotions you thought you had left in the past.
What would things be like if you had never ended things with Jaehyun? Would you have met your ex? Would you be conflicted right now sitting in the passenger seat of your ex's car while thinking about your other ex?
"Are you coming in?" Jaehyun asks, holding his apartment door open for you.
You prop up against the wall behind you and fold your arms. "No, I'll stand right here," you say, but swiftly run behind him when you hear someone else leave their apartment. The last thing you needed was someone else to see you standing outside his door, whether they knew you or not.
"Hi, Johnny." Jaehyun turns to wave at the neighbor against your wishes, smiling at you when you glare at him. "Don't worry, he's not gonna bite you."
Your only response is another glare; he simply smiles while you walk past him and into his apartment.
This seems to be the nature of your relationship: You're hot-headed and easily irritated, while Jaehyun is sarcastic and loves to get under your skin. It's always been like this, and there was just no telling how the two of you ever managed to fall in love.
Jaehyun stands behind you when you scan his living area. It's exactly what you'd expect from a man, and especially Jaehyun. There's a couch and some small decor here and there, but it feels cold and bare for the most part.
It's almost hard to believe that this is where he spends most of his time.
You keep your thoughts to yourself and follow him into the kitchen, where you continue to look around.
"Seems like you and my mom got close," you speak, hoping to distract him from how you are inspecting everything in his apartment.
Jaehyun answers, "Yeah, I guess you could say that." His head dips into the cabinets under the counter, searching for the pan that brought him here in the first place.
You raise your hands to each arm and sigh, "So was that on purpose… or?"
"She was the closest thing I could get to you." He says casually, as if everyone's heard that before.
You, on the other hand, aren't as casual about the subject as he is. You drop your arms to your side and start looking around again for a sudden change of conversation, which Jaehyun misses with his head still tucked under the cabinets.
"I like what you've done with the place; it's cozy." You lie, and you're glad he isn't looking at you because you know he can tell that you are with just a glance.
You forgot that he could also tell when you were nervous. He's always been able to read you like a children's book, and he always used that against you.
"It wasn't as easy for me to jump into another relationship as fast as you did." He stands up with the pan in his hand. The look he gives you makes your face feel hot; you begin choking over words.
"I- I don't wanna talk about this."
"I do." He slides the pan back when you reach for it but closes the distance between you. He gets so close that you have to crane your neck to look up at him. He's so close that you're scared he might hear the beat of your heart. He's so close that you could just kiss him. "I missed you, Y/n. More than you could ever imagine."
You admit you still have feelings for Jaehyun but won't act on them. After all, you're a firm believer in "Control your actions, not your emotions," but he's only getting closer and closer.
You start to rethink your philosophies when you breathe in the scent of his cologne. Your skin feels hot and you don't know how long you plan on holding back from him.
It's going to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner? You think as you allow him to take the last step needed to close the space between you.
When his lips connect with yours, you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, and suddenly, he lifts you up by the back of your thighs to carry you back to his bedroom.
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The bright yellow light beaming over your closed eyelids wakes you up from your deep slumber. The arm wrapped tightly around your abdomen causes your eyes to nearly bulge out of your head.
Your clothes sprawled on the floor is enough evidence to prove that last night wasn't just a dream. Being pretty much naked in nothing but one of his T-shirts is just the icing on top.
You really slept with your ex.
"Jaehyun," you whisper, gently tapping his arm, which is more than enough to wake him up.
He groans, "Good Morning" as he starts to lay kisses all over the back of your shoulders. And if possible, his hold on you just gets tighter as he pulls you back towards him.
"I have to go home."
"Sure thing, baby." He says, laying one kiss on the back of your head and another on your cheek. With that, he rolls off the bed and begins getting dressed, smiling like an idiot while he does so.
You choose to ignore it; for once, he wasn't acting like an asshole, and you just need some quietness while you take the time to collect your clothes from around the floor.
However, when you reach the car, your thoughts spew like a waterfall. "We can't do that again." You don't give him time to respond, to neither agree nor disagree, before you go on a tangent that lasts the entire 12-minute car ride.
"Okay," Jaehyun responds after pulling into the driveway of your childhood home.
He's never really been much of a talker; if anything, he just liked to say simple things that he knew would piss you off. You're certain this has to be one of them. Unfortunately, that doesn't stop your blood from growing hot.
"okay?" You repeat with squinted eyes. "I just told you I never wanted to see or talk to you again and just go 'okay?"
"What do you want me to say?" He almost laughs, and that just riles you up more.
"Anything else? Did you even mean everything you said yesterday, or were you just looking for sex?" He doesn't say anything at first. He looks away and gazes out the window for what feels like half an hour but is only 8 seconds.
"I don't know." He shrugs
"You don't know?" You repeat him yet again.
"Well, do you want me to tell you the truth?" He asks calm as ever, completely opposite to you.
"No, I don't." You murmur, stomping out of his car and slamming the door behind you.
Jaehyun lets you get to your porch before he rolls his passenger seat window down and shouts, "I'll pick you up at two." When you turn around, you're met with a dimpled smile and his crescent eyes.
If you weren't already so angry, you would've matched his smile, and for a second, you almost do.
He always knew how to make you mad and how to make you laugh. That's why you fell in love with each other, and it only took a special set of dimples to remind you of that.
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The sun is still young at 2 p.m., well, 1:51 p.m., to be exact. You were coming to terms with the fact that you had slept with your ex and that you'd been counting the seconds, waiting for two o'clock to come.
The knock at the door sends you rushing down the steps, nearly tripping over your own feet. You barely contain your smile when you see Jaehyun standing on the other side of the door.
"You're early," you scoff, walking past him and closing the door behind you. Jaehyun does nothing but smile at you, reaching for your hand to pull you closer to him as he guides you to his car.
He leaves a kiss on your cheek and mumbles, "I couldn't wait to see you." To which you roll your eyes in an attempt to hide the way your lips turn up into a subtle smile.
The wind from outside seeps into the car as he drives through the highway, one hand interlocked with yours and the other on the steering wheel. He glances at you a few times and, after the third time, says, "You know this is a date, right?"
You turn your head towards the window and pretend like you can't hear him. Only for him to roll both windows up and repeat, "You know this is a date, right?"
"I didn't agree to a date." You retort, "I'm only here cause my mom forced me to."
"Is that why you're still holding my hand?" He asks, his eyes focused on the road ahead.
You shift in your seat, but you don't dare to let go of his hand. If anything, your grasp on him just gets tighter, and you go back to looking out the window. "My hand is cold, and yours is warm," you murmur.
Your answer warrants him to bring your hand up to his lips and leave a chaste kiss or a few. He does that often throughout the evening, randomly pulling you closer to him just to leave kisses on your cheek or forehead.
It feels like high school all over again. Jaehyun's still staring at you like a lovesick fool, and you still get butterflies in the pit of your stomach when you make eye contact. "This isn't a date," you state suddenly.
The warm breeze, carrying the scent of summer, gently tousles your hair as you gaze up at your ex. "And I meant what I said. After this, I don't wanna see you again." The air is filled with the sounds of young teens cheering and laughing, their voices blending into a joyful cacophony.
Jaehyun uses his index finger to move the hair out of your face and push it behind your ear. "Okay," he says softly, with his hand still lingering on your cheek. His thumb softly grazes your lower lip.
You breathe, "I'm serious, Jae." But the use of his nickname and the way you look at him tells him you're anything but serious.
"I know." He says, switching his focus between your eyes and your lips. He kisses you, but you take the initiative to pull him closer by the nape of his neck, feeling the heat of his body transform onto yours.
The feeling is all too familiar,‌ like euphoric bliss or, rather, a certain type of high you don't ever want to come down from. "I missed you." You slur against his lips, arms still tied around him so he can't go anywhere.
"I know." is all he says before he leans in to kiss you again.
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The car is pretty silent other than the small taps of the raindrops on the windows and the music playing on his car radio at the lowest volume. Occasionally, you can hear vibrations from your phone.
Jaehyun's hand is firmly wrapped around yours, and it's been like that for the past hour. He pulls you right back every time you try to slip away. "So what about Sicheng? How is he?" you ask, resting your head against the back of the seat.
"He's married now," Jaehyun answers. The tips of his lips turn upwards into a smile when he sees your widened eyes.
"To whom?"
"I don't know her name." He looks off to the side as if to think. "They got married a year ago."
"I would've never thought." The car falls silent again, and just as soon as it does, your phone buzzes for probably the hundredth time of the night.
Jaehyun lets your hand go just long enough for you to check your messages.
There are over 20 missed calls from Joy and one text from her telling you to call her ASAP.
Then, there are three messages from your ex begging you to call him. His contact is still saved as "my love." It's been like that since you first got together, and you hadn't thought of changing it after you broke up.
Well, it's more like you couldn't bring yourself to do it. If you were to change his name and block him, things would be real for you. And you were desperately clinging on to hope. Maybe things will work out; you'll go back to L.A and be with him again.
"Are you okay?" Jaehyun pulls you out of your thoughts, sliding his hand into yours and interlocking your fingers.
"Yeah," you shake your head and lock your phone.
You have no idea what tomorrow might bring, but for tonight, you just want to sit with Jaehyun, even if it is just for tonight.
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"Hello." It's probably 6 am if you had to guess. Birds are singing right outside of your window, and the sun isn't all the way up yet.
You sit up in your bed with one hand holding your phone to your ear and the other moving your hair out of your face. "Why didn't you call me back?" Joy's voice echoes through the speaker of your phone.
"Maybe because I was asleep?" You snap back, eyes barely open.
"I got you a job." That's enough to have you leaping off your bed with your eyes jumping out of the socket.
"Say, sike." You chirp. "Please don't say sike."
"I'm serious; I told them you were out of town, but you can start next month." She explains, calm as ever.
"Joy, you are amazing." You exclaim into the phone. "Have I ever told you you're the bestest best friend in the entire world?"
"You've mentioned it a few times." You don't have to see her to know that she's smirking. "I have to go now. I just wanted to tell you about the job. I'll call you back later."
She doesn't give you time to say anything else before the call is dropped. You throw your phone down and plop down on your bed. You can't help but smile, thinking about how things are gonna go back to normal.
However, when you feel your phone vibrate against your side and you read Jaehyun's name ‌off your screen, your smile fades. You were so excited about going back to L.A that you forgot about him.
For the next few days, you do your best to forget about everything and just spend time with Jaehyun, whether it be chatting in his car or even helping him redecorate his sad and cold jail ce- apartment.
"What's the catch?" Jaehyun asks suddenly, his index finger twirling in your hair. You shift your ‌ head against his chest to look at him.
"What are you talking about?"
"You've been acting really weird lately," he explains, "You're all clingy now. Which I like, but it also feels too good to be true." You can see a shift in the way he looks at you and in the tone of his voice. "It feels like you might try to leave me again."
"I'm just trying to make up for lost time." You're too afraid to tell him that your time with him is limited. Too afraid of his reaction and of your own emotions.
"You don't have to lie to me." He sits up against the headboard of his bed, and you do the same thing. "I knew this was only temporary, and I know I shouldn't have let my feelings get involved again." Jaehyun takes a deep breath before continuing, "But I love you. I think I always will."
When you don't say anything, he keeps going. "Let's try again." He says.
"Jaehyun-" He cuts you off with a kiss, not wanting to hear ‌your rejection.
"We can move to L.A together." He speaks against your lips, "And we can find an apartment. I'll get a job, I'll sell my car if I have to."
His determination makes you giggle, and soon enough, he starts laughing with you."I thought you hated the city."
"I do. But you love the city, and I love you,"
"I didn't know you were such a romantic." You beam, butterflies erupting as he reaches to move the hair out of your face and behind your ear.
"But we'll have to move my son out too. I'm not asking you to play stepmom, but I do want to be in his life." Jaehyun speaks casually, but your jaw is growing heavy, and the butterflies are starting to feel like poison or mini daggers hitting your gut all at once.
You only manage to squeak "What?" Even though there are so many questions, you want to ask.
"I'm kidding." He breaks into a laugh, but you're still left confused and slightly heartbroken.
"That's not funny, Jae." You whine when he pulls you in to leave a kiss on your forehead.
"It's hilarious, baby."
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You jump up off the bed the second your phone begins to vibrate, running to the door and checking the doorway to make sure Jaehyun is occupied before you slowly and softly close the door to answer the call.
"Hello?" You breathe into your phone speaker as you tiptoe back to the bed.
"Hello? Girl, why are you whispering." Joy asks, "Where are you?"
You don't have to answer that question because Jaehyun answers that question for you when he busts through the door to ask "Do you want take out or should we cook tonight?"
"Take out." You answer, covering your phone mic.
Still, your best friend hears everything, "Who is that?" She questions.
"Okay, do you want Pizza or Chinese food?" Jaehyun asks, leaning in between the doorway.
"Y/n, that better not be who I think it is." Joy scolds from her end of the line.
You answer Jaehyun to ignore Joy. "I don't know, you choose," you say urgently, anything to get him out of the room.
"I know how you are, baby. I don't want to get you something that you don't feel like eating," Jaehyun explains, walking further into the room.
The closer he gets, the louder your heart beats and the more your best friend yells at you. "Baby?" She barks through the speaker and right into your ear.
You rush to hit the mute button, but with your eyes focused on Jaehyun, you slip up and accidentally put your best friend on speaker phone. "Y/n, you better answer me right now."
When her voice rings through the room, your heart stops beating altogether. For the second time this month, you want to vanish, disappear into thin air, and cease to exist.
"Hi, Joy." Jaehyun greets with a large grin that shows his dimples on full display.
Joy only responds in a monotone, "Jaehyun." You rush to say, "I'll do a plain cheese pizza." Once again, you are just trying to get him out of the room.
"Sure thing, baby." He cooes, with a kiss to your cheek. Soon enough he's out of the room and you're alone again. With a deafening silence.
"Things happened." You hesitantly speak.
"Things like what?" Your clothes slipped off, and you fell into his bed?" You hear a sigh immediately after she snaps, and you're too afraid to say anything else. "What about—"" I don't wanna talk about him," you interject.
"Okay, but does he know you're coming back?" Joy asks, referring to Jaehyun. When you don't answer, she gets worried. "You are coming back, right?"
"Of course I'm coming back. I just haven't told him yet." You trail off on the last part.
She doesn't say anything for a long while, and neither do you. You sit in your own disappointment, you didn't need her to tell you that you messed up because you already knew that.
"Y/n, I'm only saying this because I love you…" It doesn't take a genius to know that what's coming next is about to hurt. "You're being really stupid right now."
That hurt a lot more than you thought it would. "Wow, thanks, Joy."
"Listen, I don't want you to get hurt again."
"I'm not, he's changed, and things are different now." You explain although you're not even sure you believe it yourself.
"Then why haven't you told him yet?" She asks, but you don't answer. "You're going to give him the chance to break you again?"
"He's not," you cry, pulling against the ends of Jaehyun's oversized shirt, which you stole out of his drawer to wear.
Joy can hear the tone of your voice soften, so she softens hers as well, but it doesn't change the gravity of her words. "Do you remember how long it took for-" "Please don't mention him." You interrupt her, already knowing who she's about to bring up.
"Look I'll figure things out, but for now I just wanna be happy." You continue, "I think I deserve that."
"You do, Y/n. You deserve nothing but happiness, and if he makes you happy, then don't let me get in your way. but don't forget who you have waiting for you in California with open arms." Joy attests
"I know you're just looking out for me, but I don't know if I can go back to him knowing what I did while I was here."
"You know better than I do that he'd never judge you." And you did. You knew that very well. Your ex never made you feel insignificant or anything of the sort. He never shamed you or made you feel guilty for anything. But that didn't change the fact that you would judge yourself.
"I just need time to think about everything." You say, almost in a whisper.
"I trust that you'll do the right thing." Joy reassures, "I'm gonna go now. I love you."
"I love you too." You say before hanging up the phone and throwing it on the other side of the bed. The call leaves you feeling nothing but confused, and Jaehyun notices it the second he walks into the room.
Your subtle pout and the way you're holding the pillow to your chest tell him exactly how you're feeling. "What's wrong?" He takes the seat beside you, tugging at your waist so you can scoot closer to him.
"Did you mean what you said about moving to L.A.?" You ask first. Your hand rests over his when he reaches to stroke your cheek.
"I wouldn't play about that Y/n"
You take a deep breath when you get the answer you want. "Joy got me a job, and they want me to start next month."
"What? That's amazing, baby." He cooes, grabbing each of your hands. "We're going to L.A"
He reacted way differently than you imagined he would; the look on his face tells you he's sincere, and the flutter in your heart makes you hope that he really is. You don't think you can take another heartbreak, not from him.
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As you stand in your old room, the brown paper box at your feet, you can't help but feel a strong sense of nostalgia wash over you. You take in every detail: the way the sunlight filters through the window, casting a warm glow on everything in the room; the creaking sound of the wooden floorboards under your feet, each one carrying a memory of its own; and the scent of your old perfume that still lingers in the air, like a faint echo of a bygone era.
This time, as you prepare to leave, it feels different. It feels like you're saying goodbye for good, and the thought of leaving this place forever fills you with a deep sense of loss. When you first arrived in Connecticut, you couldn't wait to leave, but now you find yourself wishing you could stay just a little bit longer so you could relive the memories of your past, which you hold so dear.
However, you know that the real reason you're dreading going back is that you don't want to face your ex. The thought of telling him that you're now in a relationship with the man you used to cry to him about fills you with anxiety. You're unsure of how he'll react, and the mere prospect of facing him makes your heart race with fear.
The more you think about it, the more you realize that things are not looking good for you. You're caught between your love for your new partner and your fear of the unknown.
Suddenly, your mom yells from downstairs, "Y/n, someone is here for you." You don't pay much attention to the hesitation in her voice, too lost in thought. You wish you had because when you reach the bottom of the stairs and look up, Doyoung, your ex, is standing right across from you with a saddened smile and a black duffle bag. Your heart skips a beat as you see him. You hadn't expected him to be here, but now that he is, you don't know how to react. You mutter, "What are you doing here?" As you wrap your arms around yourself, unsure of what to do next.
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Part 2
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