#fill the empty spaces | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kxsagi · 2 months ago

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“𝐢 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬”

a/n: for my pretty @iqxatlantic ❤️🌹

suggestive content inside 🌚

you didn’t expect him to answer when you knocked.

not because he was ignoring you, but because you weren’t even sure he was really there anymore.

you hadn’t seen kaiser in a month. not really. he’d ghosted practice, interviews, friends, everyone. and as much as you tried to reason with yourself that it wasn’t your responsibility, your heart didn’t agree. because even when he pushed you away, you knew something in him was breaking. and you didn’t want to be the last person who gave up on him.

the door finally creaked open.

and there he was.

shirtless to reveal the bit of weight he lost. eyes dark. hair disheveled like he hadn’t touched it in days.

you forgot how pretty he was beneath all that ego. but now? stripped down and tired? he just looked human.

“… you,” he said, blinking slowly, voice rasped like he hadn’t spoken aloud in days.

you offered a weak smile. “hey.”

he didn’t move. didn’t invite you in. just stared, like he was trying to figure out whether you were real or just another dream his sleep-deprived brain had conjured.

“i brought food,” you added, lifting the bag slightly. “well, just bread. and tea. that weird brand you said tasted like grass. it’s good for you though and you know it.”

something flickered in his eyes. a ghost of a smile. he stepped aside wordlessly, letting you in.

his apartment was dark. blinds drawn. lights off. the only illumination came from the bluish flicker of the TV, paused on a screen you didn’t recognize.

it was too quiet. even his footsteps didn’t echo. he’d filled every room with silence.

“you should sit,” you said gently, setting the food on the table. “you look like you’re about to fall over.”

“i feel like it,” he muttered, voice low, broken.

you watched him collapse into the bed like gravity had tripled just for him. elbows on knees, hands covering his face.

“everyone thinks i’m on vacation or something,” he murmured. “like i needed a break.”

he laughed. it wasn’t a happy sound. “but it’s not that. i just… couldn’t leave. couldn’t move. like the second i stepped outside, it would all come crashing down.”

you sat beside him. not too close. just enough to be there if he reached out. he didn’t.

“and inside,” he added, voice quieter, “it’s worse.”

you were silent. not because you didn’t know what to say, but because you knew sometimes, silence said more.

“i haven’t slept,” he continued, as if the words had been dammed up inside him, bursting out now. “not really. i close my eyes and it’s just… thoughts. voices. things i should’ve done. said. you.”

you looked over at him. “me?”

he dragged a hand through his hair, fingers trembling. “you always made things feel less... heavy. i didn’t even notice it until you left. and now, every room feels too big. every night’s too quiet. i didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“like what?” you asked softly.

“like this,” he snapped, motioning to himself – dark circles, empty eyes, a body half-swallowed by a bed he hadn’t moved from in days. “pathetic. weak. all that stuff i never let anyone see.”

your chest ached. “you think i only cared about the version of you that had it all together?”

he looked at you like that thought had never even occurred to him.

you scooted closer, knees brushing his. “you don’t have to pretend with me.”

his throat bobbed with a swallow. he still didn’t look at you.

“you always act like being vulnerable means being powerless,” you said. “but look at you, mihya. you’re still here. still breathing. even if you think you’re falling apart.”

“i am falling apart,” he admitted, finally meeting your eyes. “and i don’t know how to fix it.”

“you don’t have to fix it alone.”

he blinked. like that simple sentence hit him harder than anything.

his hand hovered between you, unsure. so you took it, fingers threading through his.

for the first time since you’d walked in, you saw something soften in him. like the sharp edges had dulled just enough for you to squeeze through.

“i kept the mug you gave me,” he said suddenly, voice quiet.

you tilted your head. “what mug?”

“the stupid one with the cat dressed like napoleon. i thought it was ugly.” he looked down at your intertwined hands. “but i couldn’t throw it away. it reminded me of you.”

your lips curved into a smile. “wow. that’s almost romantic.”

he scoffed lightly, gaze dropping again. “i don’t know how to be romantic. or stable. or... not a mess.”

“you don’t have to be perfect,” you murmured. “just... don’t push me away.”

he hesitated, then leaned forward, forehead resting against your shoulder. “i missed you.”

your hand moved instinctively to his hair, gently combing through it. “i missed you too.”

the quiet wasn’t heavy anymore. it felt like a shared breath. a soft pause. a promise.

he let himself fall into you, every inch of him sinking into the warmth he’d been starving for.

he smelled like sleep deprivation and comfort and something sharp beneath the surface, something that said, i’m trying. i want to be better.

your fingers never stopped moving through his hair.

“you don’t have to go yet,” he whispered, almost like a prayer. “just... stay. please.”

you curled your legs beneath you and leaned your head against his. “i was never planning to leave.”

and in that moment, against the weight of all the things unsaid, he felt the emptiness inside him shift. like maybe, just maybe, you were filling in the spaces he thought would always stay hollow.

for a while, neither of you moved. he stayed pressed against your shoulder, like if he let go, the floor might open beneath him. your fingers didn’t stop threading through his hair. the silence wasn’t tense. it was warm. like the static before a storm – soft, charged, inevitable.

“you know,” you murmured, “you could’ve called. texted. anything.”

“i didn’t know if i wanted to be seen.”

you pulled back just enough to look at him. “you mean you didn’t know if i would still want to see you like this.”

he looked away, shame burning behind his lashes. “yeah.”

“and?”

you tilted his chin back to face you. his breath hitched.

“i want to see you,” you said, voice low, honest. “not the version you polish up for cameras. not the one who pretends nothing ever touches him.”

his gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes. “... you’re really not gonna run, huh?”

you leaned in, just a breath apart. “you’d have to do a lot worse to get rid of me.”

his hand came up slowly, fingers brushing your jaw like he didn’t trust the moment to stay. like it might vanish if he held it too tightly.

“i thought i was okay being alone,” he whispered.

“you’re not.”

“i’m not.”

and then he kissed you.

not with the arrogance you’d always associated with him. not with the cocky smirk or the biting charm. no, this kiss was different. raw. desperate. the kind of kiss that says i’m still here, but only because you are, too.

his hands slid to your waist, holding you like something precious, something breakable. you let him pull you closer, straddling his lap, noses bumping as he kissed you again, deeper this time. it wasn’t about lust, it was about need.

about making sure this was real. that you were warm and solid in his arms and not something his exhausted mind had created.

you felt him sigh into your mouth, tension bleeding from his shoulders as your hands found his neck, his jaw, the sharp curve of his cheekbone.

he pulled back, just slightly. “i’m not good at this.”

“yes, you are,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his. “you’re just used to pretending you’re not.”

he laughed a breathy, half-broken thing, then kissed you again. slower this time. like he wanted to memorize the taste of you. like this was the first time he’d truly let himself feel anything in weeks.

your fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt, and when you looked down at him, there was no hesitation in your eyes – just soft, steady affection.

“can i…?” you asked, voice delicate.

he nodded.

you lifted the shirt over his head, letting your palms run over the ridges of muscle and the goosebumps rising in your wake. he didn’t flinch. didn’t cover up. just let you look. let you see.

you leaned down, lips brushing the skin just above his heart.

“you’re safe,” you said softly.

his hands gripped your hips like he was anchoring himself. “then don’t leave me.”

“i won’t.”

when he kissed you again, it was different. there was no fear left in it. just warmth and trust and a soft surrender that he’d never allowed anyone else. your mouths moved together in a rhythm that felt like belonging, like finding your way back after being lost in the dark.

his hands explored slowly, reverently, like he didn’t want to miss a single inch of you. and when you tugged your own shirt over your head, revealing yourself to him, you saw something flicker in his eyes.

not lust.

adoration.

he touched you like he was afraid he’d break you, and you kissed him like he deserved softness, too.

clothes melted away between kisses and whispered promises. you found yourselves tangled in each other on the couch, your body flush against his, hearts pounding in sync. every movement was unhurried. intentional. like you had all the time in the world to rebuild him piece by piece.

his lips found your neck, your collarbone, the dip between your ribs. and when he whispered your name against your skin, it wasn’t teasing or playful – it was a prayer. a vow. a quiet thank you for not walking away.

when you finally came together, it wasn’t frantic or messy – it was grounding. every breath shared, every movement mirrored, every inch of skin pressed together like two puzzle pieces that had always belonged.

his forehead stayed pressed to yours the entire time. like he didn’t want to lose you in the haze. like you were the one thread keeping him from unraveling.

after, the world felt still.

your fingers traced patterns over his bare chest as he lay beneath you, chest rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm. it was the first time in weeks he looked at peace.

he reached for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “you know,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded, “it’s still dark in here.”

you smiled. “yeah. but it doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

he turned his head to look at you. his lips curved. not into a smirk. not a performance. just a real, quiet smile. “i fall apart too easily.”

you leaned in and kissed him one more time. “and i’ll keep filling up the empty spaces.”

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #kaiser michael #michael kaiser #kaiser michael x reader #michael kaiser x reader #i fall apart you fill up the empty spaces

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