#i don’t even know what i want from them. we will not be together. i doubt they want to try being friends and i’m not sure i would either | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkmatilda · 9 hours ago

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𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you thought that after a certain misunderstanding, your relationship had taken on a purely platonic and friendly form but then the investigation sent you to the freezing wilderness of alaska, where every night you find warmth in his bed.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x fem!bau reader, the same reader as in my story "the bolter" but it's not necessary to read it before! there are no major references, but people who have read it might treat this as a continuation (if they want to). in this story, we still have our wonderful queen elle greenaway, gideon and morgan, and many of my attempts (not always successful) at being funny. mostly smut with A LOT of plot, description of the case, oral (f receiving) and some much actions but described in a subtle way. a little bit of angst, but I wouldn't be myself if I didn't add some. again, GLASSES REID!!

𝐚/𝐧: first fic at the beginning of the month, i really wanted to post it today. i think it's time to start posting christmas-themed works? would you be interested? by the way, i hope december will treat you kind <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11k

“I’m freezing, God, I’m freezing.”

“Me too, look how I’m shaking, I swear, one more hour and my feet will fall off, and then my toes…”

“Guys, for god’s sake!” Morgan finally spoke up, his voice tinged with impatience. The hood of his waterproof, windproof jacket covered almost half of his face, and even so, he was clearly the lightest dressed of all of them. “We’ve landed.” He pulled off a glove to check his watch. “Just under fifteen minutes ago. You still don’t know shit about freezing, so stop complaining like a bunch of old women in a knitting cycle…”

“I’d love to be an old lady in a knitting circle right now,” you sighed, your breath immediately turning to steam. You exchanged a look with Reid, who was freezing just as much as you were, and together, you had been driving Derek crazy with your whining. You all had similar gear, thermal layers, and jackets designed for extreme conditions, but it still wasn’t enough. “Sitting by the fireplace, knitting a sweater. Gossiping with other retirees.”

“Exchanging gingerbread recipes,” Spencer suggested, his tone just as wistful.

“And sharing tips for dealing with worms in our cats’ anuses,” you added.

“I’m done," Derek muttered.

Your work often sent you to various corners of the United States, but it rarely involved Alaska. Well, due to the state’s relatively low population density compared to others, fewer crimes were committed there, especially at the federal level.

However, in recent weeks, strange disappearances had occurred—teenagers and young men. Their bodies were found in remote areas, deep in the forest or in completely uninhabited wilderness, places so isolated that even an experienced survivalist would struggle to find their way out.

The local police, as local police often do in most criminal cases, initially pretended there wasn’t a problem, insisting the victims had died as a result of tragic accidents, simply getting lost during a hike. But when the number of deaths began to rise, and the victims included even high school students—locals who were well aware of the dangers of wandering alone after dark in such perilous areas—the case landed on JJ’s desk.

And so, you found yourselves in the brutally frigid surroundings of Fairbanks, heading toward the inn where you were supposed to drop off your things and immediately dive into the investigation.

"The temperature this week is going to range from 15 to 5 degrees Fahrenheit," Spencer informed you over his shoulder as he opened the car trunk to retrieve the luggage. "Of course, that's during the day. At night, it’ll drop as low as -4 degrees."

Elle shivered as he handed her her bag.

"I was doing just fine without those numbers," she said, nudging you lightly with her shoulder—a touch you barely felt through the thick layers of clothing. "What do you say we make up for this with a New Year’s trip? Mallorca? The Himalayas?"

"I’m dreaming of the Caribbean," Morgan chimed in. "Beaches, sunshine, and cocktails—that’s what I’ll be dreaming of tonight."

"And half-naked sunbathers," you added.

"And half-naked sunbathers," he agreed with a grin.

Elle trudged ahead, sinking into the snow up to her calves. The inn was a sizable wooden building, adorned with balconies and terraces that, given the weather, likely went unused, though they added considerable charm. It was tucked away in a secluded spot, offering privacy and a peaceful atmosphere—ideal for work.

You lingered by the car, waiting for Reid to grab his things, unwilling to leave him behind.

“Do you know much about the northern lights, Rudolph?” you teased, nodding toward his red-tipped nose. “I’ve always dreamed of seeing them.”

“Well, then you’re in luck,” he replied, looking at you with a slight smile. “We’re in one of the best places to see them, during the season with the longest nights. They’ll be visible pretty early, though the most stunning views will probably happen between ten at night and two in the morning. I’ve always wanted to see them in person too.”

"So, what do you think?" you asked, raising your eyebrows. "Midnight, at my door, and we’ll go play aurora hunters?"

You shivered just at the thought. Of course, you were joking—there was no way you'd even stick a single hand out from under the covers at this hour with those freezing nighttime temperatures. You planned to admire the beautiful phenomenon from your room window. Warm, you hoped.

"Alright. Just make sure you bundle up,"

"Sure. Thermal thong and all that."

Your room was on the same floor as Elle's and JJ's, and you were glad to have them just behind the next door. Unpacking took you only a minute, and within that time, you were all together, sitting as a team, going through the case files.

“These boys were so young,” JJ remarked, shaking her head with a hint of dread. “Sixteen, the youngest, twenty-four, the oldest. They were found in such remote locations that if it hadn’t been for the ongoing professional search and the dogs, who knows how long it would have taken before anyone stumbled upon their bodies.”

“Given the heavy snowfall, they might not have been found until the thaw. What do their parents and families say about all of this?” Hotch asked.

“Unanimously, they believe their kids would never have ventured that far on their own. This is where the mystery starts, though, because there were no wounds on their bodies, except for the ones they inflicted on themselves in their attempts to survive in the cold.”

“So, it looks like someone kidnapped them, drove them out to a place you’d never get out of without serious survival skills, and just left them to die?” Derek asked, baffled.

“Seems that way. Yesterday, an eighteen-year-old named David Moore was reported missing. Normally, it probably would have been classified as a delayed return home or maybe a runaway, and the police wouldn’t have even taken the report. But given the current circumstances and the rising panic among the locals, his parents decided not to wait. A wise decision.”

"How many hours has it been since he went missing?" you asked, running your own grim calculations in your head. "Around eight, right? Is it even possible for him to survive the night out there in these conditions?"

"That depends on what he was wearing and the specific location where he was left," Reid explained, thoughtfully cleaning the lenses of his glasses. You realized it had been a while since you’d seen him wearing them—he used to wear them daily, but lately, it was only on occasion. For a moment, you found yourself staring at his face, liking how the dark frames suited it.

"His parents believe he was likely abducted on his way home from tutoring," Elle noted, flipping through the case file. "People around here dress warmly as a habit, but even so, I doubt his everyday clothes would be particularly suited to weather like this. At night. In the middle of the woods."

An uncomfortable silence followed her words, broken only by Hotch clearing his throat.

"Anyway, we need to join the ongoing search efforts. We’ll be more useful out in the field than trying to build a profile with the scraps of information we have. I’m not sure if I need to remind you, but out of habit, I will: be cautious and don’t, under any circumstances, stray from the search group. They know this area."

Before you all moved out to get to work, Reid shot you a fleeting glance. Like a dad, you mouthed silently, and he let out the faintest chuckle. You both enjoyed spotting those unmistakably parental tendencies in your boss, though they were directed at you and the rest of the team.

Hours of searching had, unfortunately, yielded no results—the crushing pressure of time bore down on you all. The knowledge that each passing moment was stripping this boy of his chances for survival felt almost unbearable. If he had somehow managed to survive the first eight hours in the forest, sixteen seemed an increasingly unlikely feat.

And yet, hope lingered. The group, driven by his distraught family, refused to stop, likely continuing to scour the area despite warnings. Meanwhile, you stood in your hotel room, so close to the window that the cold glass brushed against your nose.

Your thoughts were consumed by the case and the fate of the teenager. Just as Reid had said, the sky was illuminated by that breathtaking greenish glow. Watching it felt almost surreal, and you wanted to take in as much of it as your eyes could hold.

If it weren’t for the fact that you had frozen to your very core during the search, you might have stepped outside to see it more clearly.

Just as the thought crossed your mind, there was a knock at your door.

You furrowed your brow, not expecting anyone. When you opened it, you came face to face with none other than Spencer. Well, it was hard to tell it was him at first. He was bundled up so tightly in layers of warm clothes that his body lost its natural shape and resembled more of a puffy ball than a person.

"Hey," he greeted awkwardly, raising his hand hesitantly and scanning your appearance from head to toe. "You're not ready yet. Sorry, I think I came too early. I thought we were meeting at midnight..."

"We were meeting?"

"For the northern lights hunt, you forgot? I checked the Kp index, it's a measure of aurora activity that determines its intensity, and it turns out tonight is really favorable... wait, why are you laughing?"

His furrowed brows and face, barely visible in the dimly lit hallway but clearly confused, only made you laugh harder. Shaking your head in disbelief, you covered your smile with your hand.

"Spencer, I was joking," you said, suddenly feeling guilty that your sarcasm had led him to spend time and effort preparing for a night out. "There’s no way I'm going out in this cold. I’d rather dive headfirst into boiling water, at least that would be warmer."

“Oh,” he let out a short, disappointed sigh. He quickly nodded, as if trying to accept the situation, and forced a more neutral expression. “I—I really thought you were serious. Sorry for... for waking you up, then.”

For a moment, you stood in silence, your hand resting on the doorframe. An odd, unexpected thought sprinted through your mind. It had been such a long time since the two of you had been together like this, late at night, in the same room...

“Well, in that case,” he cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I’m sorry again. Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen, okay? Forget I came here and embarrassed myself. That’s all. Sorry. I should probably go if I want to avoid being completely sleep-deprived tomorrow...”

“Go where?” you interrupted, suddenly standing straighter, alarmed.

“Aurora hunting.”

“By yourself? Spencer, have you lost your mind?”

He opened and closed his mouth, caught off guard by your outburst.

“Well, I don’t know when I’ll ever get another chance like this, being in the Arctic Circle...”

“It’s pitch dark and freezing cold. You don’t know the area—”

“...I’ve had a chance to look around, and I’m not going far. There’s a small hill just behind the inn—”

“...And there’s a freaking serial killer on the loose around here, did you forget?”

“Well, I have a gun.”

“Well, I’m not letting you go,” you cut him off firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. Spencer tilted his head, clearly ready to argue further, but before he could speak, you added, “Give me five minutes.”

“What?”

“Five minutes to get dressed. I’m coming with you.”

At first, you could have sworn a faint smile flickered across his lips. But then, just as quickly, he shook his head vehemently.

“No, really, you don’t have to. Not just because of me. I’ll be fine…”

"Five minutes," you repeated once more, slightly flustered and trying not to dwell on the fact that the moment you stepped outside, you’d likely regret this decision. “Wait here. Or come inside—I don’t want to shut the door in your face.” As you spoke, you opened the door wider, inviting him in.

Without wasting another second, you headed straight for your suitcase. Okay, how many layers does one need for a night outside in Alaska?

“I actually bought a set of thermal underwear specifically for this case,” you said, pulling out the essentials from your bag. Most of what you’d worn during the day would work fine, but you debated adding an extra sweater and another pair of socks. “And, oh my God, I hate it. I’d rather wear lace thongs 24/7 than spend more than eight hours in this bugger.”

You glanced subtly over your shoulder, curious to see his reaction and waiting for his reply. It wasn’t like you wanted to embarrass him, but you absolutely adored how, in response to even your most suggestive remarks, he could always respond with complete seriousness—like he was dissecting some profound issue. Judging by the furrow of his brow, this time would be no different.

“Really? You know, thermal underwear is generally associated with comfort. The fabric is typically elastic, soft, and breathable. High-quality models are even seamless, so they don’t cause any chafing. Maybe you bought a poorly fitted one?”

“Maybe. I don’t know, I have no expertise in this area. It digs in so much, though, and I have to keep myself from adjusting it. Can you imagine me sticking my hand in my pants right in front of the missing boy’s family?”

He hesitated before responding.

“Not really. But I can picture Hotch’s face.”

“And I can picture a termination notice on my desk the next day,” you quipped.

You grabbed all the clothes you had gathered and disappeared into the bathroom to layer them on. It wasn’t a quick job—by the end, you felt like your movements were completely restricted by the weight of it all—but at least you were prepared. When the first merciless blast of Alaskan air brushed against the tiny exposed part of your face, it didn’t immediately make you want to run back inside screaming.

Instead, you sighed in awe.

"I know I’ve invoked God's name a hundred times already, but God, this is beautiful," you said, feeling your own words too inadequate to describe the miracle above your heads. The streaks of light stretching across the sky, an intense green with a certain transparency, a glassy quality, the stars peeking through it all.

Spencer turned to you over his shoulder. He was only a couple of steps ahead, but he kept doing it as if afraid that in a moment of not seeing you, you'd fall into the snow and disappear forever.

“Wait until we get to the spot,” he said, his smile clearly excited. In his dark eyes, the light seemed to reflect and stay there, even when he blinked, as though he had already absorbed it all deep inside. “It’s only ten minutes away, but it makes a difference.”

"I hope you're not one of those people who says, 'Oh, it's just around the corner, we don't need a cab!' and then leads you to walk halfway across the city" you scoffed. You tried to keep your gaze fixed on his back, his lantern swinging in his hand. Alaska, the vast empty terrain, the thick layers of snow, seemed to hide some sort of mystery beneath them, and it filled you with a fair amount of fear. "Will you shield me with your chest if a bear jumps out at us?"

"Actually, yes, I would," he replied. "But not because of heroism, it's more because I have bear spray in my pocket, and by that very fact, it's probably my duty."

"Okay, let’s make a deal: you protect us from a potential bear attack, and I’ll take care of Bigfoot. By the way, that legend never really scared me. A monkey with gigantic feet just sounds too ridiculous to me. Remember that episode of History's Mysteries that we watched at your place?"

You both shared a love for a certain TV show about conspiracy theories and famous mysteries from around the world.

"Of course. You know part of it was filmed right here in Fairbanks? Bigfoot never really fascinated me either, but I liked that at the end of the episode they also mentioned other Alaskan legends. Like The Kushtaka, for example."

"I don't remember that. But I'm not sure I want you to tell me," you confessed, taking a breath, the cold biting into your lungs. Despite the layers of clothing, it was getting colder and colder, but at least you'd finally reached the spot Spencer had chosen. He was right; the vast plain on the small hill was perfect for watching the aurora. You had the feeling that the sky was only an inch above your head, and a childlike urge to reach up and touch it. "Alright, you've got me too intrigued. Go ahead."

You noticed that, unlike you, Spencer wasn't tilting his head back to gaze at the sky. He was looking at you.

"The Kushtaka is a creature from the folklore of the surrounding tribes. It is most often described as a hybrid of a human and an otter..."

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

"Otters, seriously? Is that supposed to chill me to the bone?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow in a somewhat sarcastic manner.

"Okay, let me tell you the story differently," he proposed in a similar tone, swallowing as if to prepare himself for the tension-building drop in his voice. "Just like now, we're heading out to see the northern lights. Just the two of us, surrounded by nothing but darkness. The sky is overcast that day, and there’s hardly any light to see." At that moment, he switched off the flashlight he was holding, and his previously well-lit face faded into obscurity. You crossed your arms over your chest, silently promising yourself you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being scared.

“In this story, do my thermal undies also ride up so uncomfortably?”

“Your underwear isn’t a significant part of this tale. Anyway… crap, where was I?”

“The thought of my underwear distracted you?”

You heard him sigh, almost in exasperation, and a sly smile spread across your face.

“Let me continue. No more comments about underwear.”

“My underwear or in general?”

“SO WE’RE HEADING TO SEE THE NORTHERN LIGHTS. It’s dark, it’s creepy, and you’ve got chills running down your spine. Then suddenly, you realize you’ve lost me.”

“Phew,” you exhaled with theatrical relief. “Finally got rid of that creep who kept obsessing over my underwear.”

"You know what, I’m done. I’m done. I won’t tell you the story about the human-otter hybrid."

“I’m devastated by this fact!” you assured him in the same overly dramatic tone. Taking it a step further, you jumped toward him, desperately grabbing the fabric of his jacket. “Dr. Reid, please, I beg you, tell me about the human-otter hybrid. I need this. I’ll sell my soul and body, just please…”

Spencer threw his head back, laughing, and as you tried to calm yourself down, you leaned against him. Taken by surprise, he lost his balance, sending both of you toppling into the snow.

“Damn, we’re going to be wet!” he groaned, trying to get up from the deep snowdrift you both had fallen into. It wasn’t the easiest task with all the layers of clothing and a girl who was dying of laughter on top of him.

“I think that’s enough of our aurora watching,” you said once you both finally managed to get back on your feet. Despite the ski pants and very, very warm clothes, you were starting to feel frozen. “And enough of your legends. It’s late, and we should head back.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he complained, sounding like a little puppy that had been scolded for peeing on the carpet.

“You can tell me on the way,” you replied. “Come on.”

You sent one last glance toward the sky before moving forward, your mind focused entirely on the vision of a hot, soothing bath and a blanket with an extra layer for warmth. For the rest of the walk, Spencer didn’t try to use his low voice or mysterious narrative tone. He finished the story in his usual manner, sounding more like a fascinated lecturer. You couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed—he had sounded really sexy earlier, you had to admit.

When you both got back to the guesthouse, you glanced at the stairs leading up to your room and shook your head in refusal.

“If I don’t get under at least five blankets right this second, I’m going to die, so sorry my dear, but I’m coming to you and I won’t leave until I’m warm, or I’ll never leave at all,” you said quickly and firmly.

Spencer raised an eyebrow but replied just as energetically.

“I don’t think I have five blankets in my room.”

“Three will be fine.”

And that's exactly how it went. First, you took off your jackets, and then, in your typical everyday clothes, you quickly jumped into bed, covered with the duvet up to your neck, waiting for the pleasant warmth to spread across your bodies.

“Was seeing the aurora worth all that suffering?' you asked, turning onto your side in bed so you could face him.

'Well, it wouldn't have been suffering if someone hadn't shoved both of us into the snow...'

He said this while lying on his back, but shortly after these words, he followed your lead and also turned onto his side. Your breath became shallower. It had been almost a year since you last had him this close, almost a year since you slept together, and then decided to let the situation fade into oblivion.

Honestly, you almost succeeded. After all, that incident was like every other encounter you had with guys. Spontaneous, one-time, followed by bolting. But you didn’t see those other guys afterward. Every day at work, forced to watch him wipe his glasses, his damn glasses, with the same fingers he…

“Are you thinking about something specific?” he suddenly asked, his voice eerily similar to the one he used to tell you the story on the hill, a voice you found so sexy.

That was the kind of man Spencer Reid was. Always wanting to know what was going on inside your head.

You sighed, probably too loudly.

"You don't want to know what I'm thinking right now,"

You felt a little pathetic, realizing that your whole excuse about not being able to go to your room was just a pretext to end up in his bed. Once again. This whole trip to Alaska must have really messed with your head. Or maybe it cleared the fog in your mind and left a single thought, naked and defenseless. You wanted him.

"I know how pathetic that sounds, but I always want to know what you're thinking," he replied after a moment, swallowing audibly. You heard it clearly, you were so close. So close...

You had to make a quick decision: whether to continue and face the consequences the next day, or, perhaps worse, to be rejected? It was possible that he had learned from your last time together, and didn’t want to get involved with you that way.

"I can show you what I'm thinking," you finally proposed, not blinking for a long moment, just carefully studying the features of his face, any signs of uncertainty or tension.

Because there was that one small seed of probability that he wanted you too.

His lips parted, but were immediately covered by your kiss.

Slow and curious. How did he taste after all this time?

Maybe it was a thought whispered by the moment, but you had the feeling that even better.

You didn’t play the role of a taster for too long. Soon, still not pulling his lips away from yours, you lifted yourself into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your elbow on the bed, pressing closer to him with every passing moment, more intensely and hungrily.

Something seemed to haunt you, preventing you from moving any further. Something in his posture—lying on his back, surrendered to your control, yet somehow absent.

You pulled away from his lips, your gazes meeting. There was a certain weakness and sadness in his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" you managed to ask, your voice strangely trembling.

Spencer suddenly sat up, straightening himself, though there was still a slight bend in his shoulders. His movement forced you to pull away from his chest.

"I can't do this," he confessed quietly, taking a deep breath. "I can't sleep with you." In a way, it hurt more than if he had simply refused to let you kiss him. Your forehead furrowed in disappointment and... shock?

"Why?" you asked directly, foregoing any excuses about not aiming for that. Because you had been.

He let out a laugh, filled with pity.

"Because after this, I won’t be able to stop thinking about you. And you, after tonight, won’t want me anymore."

You were breathing heavily, completely unsure of what to say. His words were painfully eye-opening, first and foremost. And secondly... true. Because did you plan, like a normal person, to wake up next to him, greet him, date him? That wasn’t how you operated. In your plans, there was always just one option—escape. Exactly like that time.

You slowly began to slide off the bed, his hand moved to reach for yours, and you hoped he would take it, but at the last moment, he hesitated. He hesitated.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," you reassured him, yet you didn’t look at him the whole time. You sounded stiff, almost reproachful, even though you were the one who should be reproached. You were the problem.

You looked around the floor, used to picking up your clothes from it, but this time there was nothing. Except for the jacket hung up and the ski pants you’d pulled on over your regular ones to avoid freezing in the cold night. Leaving without a word seemed excessive.

Your back rested against the door as you turned to look at him. Your quick-thinking mind raced, searching for something to say to at least salvage some dignity in this situation…

“Let’s pretend this didn’t happen,” you finally suggested.

Spencer was still sitting on the edge of the bed, as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to get up or stay there. Eventually, it seemed like he stayed, though you weren’t sure, having already turned toward the door, your hand pressing on the doorknob.

“T-think that’s the best solution,” he admitted, just as one of your feet stepped into the hallway.

Then, you heard someone whistling.

You immediately stepped back into his room, keeping your face turned toward the door.

“Damn, it’s Morgan,” you said, recognizing the person in the hallway by the sound alone. “We better not let him see me leave, or he’ll never leave us alone…”

You expected that when you turned around, you’d find him still sitting on the bed. After all, you hadn’t heard him get up, hadn’t heard him approach. You certainly didn’t expect that, when you turned, his lips would almost immediately attack yours.

It was so unexpected, so sudden, that the back of your head slammed against the door.

“Fuck, sorry…”

But you didn’t think for a second about the pain, nor did you focus on why Spencer had suddenly changed his mind. Your attention was solely on the two of you, two desperate pairs of lips pressing together and pulling apart, never staying away for long.

He pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around your waist. Unlike the last time, it was your back that hit the mattress first. The cool surface, the heated bodies, and the weight of the layers of clothing between you both.

"You've changed," you noticed.

A different dynamic. The pace was set by him—just moments ago, you were standing by the door, and now, half of your clothes were gone, while the soft skin of your neck was buried under a cascade of messy, impatient kisses.

"Do you like it?" he asked, his face hovering above yours, one hand resting on the bed next to it.

"I haven't gotten enough to say for sure," you replied, teasingly. "But I get the feeling you're more confident now. A lot of practice since last time?"

He shrugged.

"I don't think it's about practice," he said, his hand sliding down your side until it stopped at the waistband of your pants, lingering there but not moving any lower. You reached for his hand, brushing against it before trailing your fingers along its length up to his forearm, feeling one of his veins beneath your fingertips. "I guess... I was just scared you'd leave, and I had to stop you somehow. That’s why I rushed," he admitted.

His gaze lingered mostly on your face, but it wandered across your body, his frustration clear as he eyed the layers of clothing still in his way. Something about his desperation and impatience stirred something playful in you, and you couldn’t resist teasing him.

Propping yourself up on one elbow, you tilted your chin to look at him.

“If I tried to leave right now, how would you stop me?”

The corner of his mouth twitched at your question, but he decided to play along, nodding thoughtfully.

“I think I’ve got a few ideas.”

“Care to show me?” you asked, your voice dripping with challenge.

For a moment, he didn’t move at all, just kept staring at you, until he allowed himself that first, utterly shameless drop of his gaze and a soft sigh. His lips began their journey, starting at their usual, safe spot on your neck, trailing toward your shoulder, and crossing over your collarbone with deliberate intent. You were still half-sitting, struggling to steady your breathing so your chest wouldn’t rise and fall too much or too quickly, trying not to disrupt him. The first hint of uncertainty appeared between your breasts when his kisses momentarily softened, carefully exploring unfamiliar territory and testing your sensitivity.

You struggled more and more to keep yourself from collapsing fully onto the mattress. But when his cool tongue met your skin, pressing against it so firmly that his forehead brushed against your stomach, relentlessly moving lower, you couldn’t hold out any longer.

He was between your knees, bent in anticipation. He reached them, sliding his hands down your thighs and coaxing them to relax. He fumbled a bit while unbuttoning your pants, and had trouble sliding them down while you were lying there. You lifted your hips to help, even tried to do it yourself, but he stopped your hands, placing them above your head.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said softly, finally freeing your legs from both pant legs. His hands wrapped around your ankles, his thumb tracing gentle circles around one of them, which somehow completely seized your attention, and you focused solely on that subtle motion. For a moment, you closed your eyes, and when you opened them again, you noticed that his chin was just above your panty line. "Actually, it will be much more pleasant for you if you just focus on feeling and nothing else. I was supposed to show you my ideas, remember?"

“As someone who apologized for being in too much of a hurry, you sure have an unexpectedly large amount of patience now,” you remarked with reproach, lifting your head again. Maybe keeping it down allowed for more comfort and relief for your neck, but on the other hand, the sight of his face immersed between your thighs was simply priceless.

If the sight itself was priceless, how do you describe that feeling?

With every move of his tongue, your hips swayed, adjusted to the rhythm. Often tense, trying to find some outlet, especially when sighs escaped his lips and his cool breath penetrated through you.

"Think I'm gonna cume embarrassingly quickly," you confessed, unsure whether he even understood anything from your sentence, which was at least interwoven with two moans. Three.

When it happened, you uncontrollably squeezed his head with your knees, a similar groan also came from his mouth.

Spender didn’t stay in that position for long. When you opened your tightly shut eyelids, his face was right above yours, stretched in such satisfaction, as if he was the one receiving pleasure.

"Was it too quick for you?" he asked, still absorbing you with the same gaze, which seemed to pulse with desire. "If you want, we can try again, you’ll surely improve..."

"My God, when did you become so cocky?"

He chuckled, but instead of answering, he once again pressed himself against your body and skin, closing his eyes in devotion and lingering on each spot for as long as it took, as if he could never be satisfied, no matter how much he took in.

Your hands, instead of tormenting the innocent fabric of the blanket, moved to his back, tightly embracing his neck and basically everything they could latch onto. All of his earlier composure seemed to evaporate; you didn’t even have to ask twice to make him slide in. It actually sounded more like an order than a request, a bit desperate, it's true, but still an order.

"How is it even possible that it feels even better than the last time?” His words, his lips, ticked your neck as he moaned out this question. "Just... I feel like I won’t have enough of you tonight."

"The night is long," you said, almost into the air, not really paying attention to the meaning behind it. "Tomorrow night too."

Spencer stopped, completely. His eyes desperately searched for yours, and when he finally found them, they widened in disbelief.

"Tomorrow night too?" he repeated. "But I thought... I thought you didn't want anything more than a one-night fling…”

"It's already our second," you reminded him. "And I'll be completely honest with you, I don’t want to walk around all day tomorrow sexually frustrated just at the sight of you. Let's make a deal, okay?"

"A deal?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it in a moment, but right now...Oh God, I think I’m gonna…”

You both got dressed right after, but not because either of you intended to leave. The temperature inside simply didn’t allow for sleeping naked, no matter how warm you were after sex.

"So?" he asked, handing you the piece of paper you had sent him to the bathroom for. Then he sat on the bed, facing you. "What did you mean by this deal?"

"Well, after thinking about it, I'm not sure if it's a good idea after all..."

"I want to know, even if just out of curiosity."

"You want to know everything, Spence. But fine. I thought maybe... while we're in Alaska, we could just, you know, allow ourselves to do whatever we want. In more direct terms, fuck each other as much as we want.”

It sounded a bit...crazy? Spencer kept his gaze suspended in the air for a moment before turning it back to you, questioning.

"But only as long as we're in Alaska?"

"Exactly. Since there's only one floor between us, why not take advantage of it?" you tried to joke, lightening the mood.

It didn’t seem to have much effect on him.

"But what happens next? When we get back?"

"Do we really have to think about that?" you wondered, moving closer to him, to the body that just moments ago made you feel so good. "We'll get used to being apart, just like before."

"Okay," he sucked in a breath, clearly torn over the proposal. "I mean, no, I didn’t mean okay... because it doesn’t seem like a great idea, but on the other hand... on the other hand, I really, really want you, even if it only means for this short time."

You smiled, though deep down, somewhere very deep, there was something somber in that gesture.

Ignoring that, you kissed him to seal the deal. And not just that.

"That was for good night and goodbye."

"Goodbye? You're leaving?" A clear look of disappointment crossed his face, but he quickly shook his head, trying to get rid of it. "Good night, then."

"It's not that I don't want to stay. It's just that it would be better to be well-rested for work, and I don't think we'd sleep properly if I decided to spend the night here. “

You saw him open his mouth, ready to protest, but you had already gotten up from the bed and started gathering your remaining things.

"Wait," he called as you were about to leave. "You said... you said something that's been bothering me, you know? I can even quote it, so listen up. You said that you don't want to walk around all day tomorrow sexually frustrated just at the sight of me."

You couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter.

"And that bothers you?"

"I don’t understand what you meant by that. What in my behavior makes you feel that way?"

"A lot of things."

"Like what?"

"I'll tell you someday. Maybe it's better if you're not aware of it."

"Hey, now I won’t be able to sleep!"

"Anyway, good night, sweet boy."

Almost the first thing in the morning, you found yourselves at the local police station, full of disappointment and anxiety. You had to inform the parents of the missing boy found in the forest that he had been located. But unfortunately, it was not good news.

The first hours of the day passed in constant analysis and discussion, until finally, around noon, you gathered in front of the town's police officers, ready to deliver the profile. You didn’t have much time for any reflection on the previous night, or even for a conversation with Spencer. A sober one this time, when you weren’t intoxicated by desire and each other.

You stood in the corner of the room, listening to Hotch and Gideon.

"The UNSUB is a white male, likely with military experience or, at the very least, extensive survival skills, estimated to be around 50-60 years old. He abducts teenagers, boys, and young men who look younger than their actual age, which suggests he doesn’t know his victims very well."

"If he observes them, it’s for a short period. He doesn’t have time to get to know them but understands their routine and daily schedule well enough to know when to strike."

"He doesn’t drug his victims, which means he is physically capable of abducting them without assistance. This ties into the type of victims he selects. All these boys were more the intellectual type than athletes. When abducted, they were coming from school, tutoring sessions, or the library. David Moore, for instance, was tall but lanky. His family described him as gentle, with a big heart and a passion for learning."

"The UNSUB abandons them in remote forest locations. Forcing them to fight for survival gives him a sense of control and serves as a way to prove his belief that modern society and boys today are incapable of handling adversity. He openly despises them, viewing them as weak and effeminate. His mindset reflects a toxic approach to gender roles and what he considers the traditional male archetype."

“White men aged 50-60 with survival skills make up about half the population here,” a policeman noted. “Take me, for example…”

Hotch began providing more detailed information, while Gideon stepped out of the center of the room, and the atmosphere became more relaxed.

You approached Reid, who was sitting in a chair, and ruffled his hair with your hand.

“Watch your back, genius-boy,” you warned, standing behind him. From his seat, he tilted his head all the way back to look up at you. A smile instantly appeared on his face.

“You might just be next. And we wouldn’t want that.”

“So, you think I’m effeminate?”

"I know very well that you're not. But you do have that intellectual spark in your eyes. And, you know, those glasses don’t help."

Ever since you’d been in Alaska, he’d worn them less often because, as he’d told you while chatting in bed, they kept fogging up. But now, they were perched on his nose, making him look... delectable. Simply delectable.

The rest of your team approached, Elle's gaze lingering on your hand resting on the back of Reid's chair. As usual, she had to notice everything.

"I need to send you all to a few places to check out some individuals the police have identified as matching the profile," Hotch announced. "Y/N and Elle, I’d like you to speak again with the bus driver who drove David Moore just before he was abducted. Once he understands the profile, he might be able to recall more details."

You lingered in the room, wanting to exchange a word with Spencer. In complete privacy... He was slowly wiping his glasses, as if hoping for the same. Watching the movements of his hands, you shook your head.

"This is it—what you asked me about yesterday. What makes me sexually frustrated. Our agreement still stands, right?" you asked, running your hand along his shoulder, just to touch him. Even though the many layers of clothing made it almost impossible to really feel him.

He looked at the glasses he was cleaning, then at you, disbelief written all over his face.

"That's what you meant? Cleaning glasses?"

"Don't judge me. It's about the motion. Or maybe the glasses themselves, I don't know. Maybe I’m a fetishist. Anyway, are you going to answer my question?"

Still seated in the chair, he had to tilt his head back to look at you, which reminded you—just a little, okay, a lot—of another situation where he was down below.

"What about you?" he countered. "You haven’t changed your mind?"

"Absolutely not."

"In that case, yes. It still stands."

“Oh, I don’t know what I’d do if you’d answered differently. See you tonight, then,” you promised, glancing around the room to make sure none of your team members were still there. Just a few local officers... who weren’t paying much attention to you. Even if they were, it wasn’t their business.

You leaned in quickly to kiss him. He closed his eyes, as if hoping for more.

“Not now, and not here. I need to go find Elle. Hotch gave us an assignment. Have a good one.”

You walked away, feeling his gaze on your back.

You found your friend in the car, one of those suited for tough terrain, with high tires. She was sitting behind the wheel, tapping her nails on it.

"So, what was the address of that driver?" you asked, fastening your seatbelt.

"Forgive my bluntness, darling, but I’ll die if I don’t know. What was that all about?"

"What do you mean, ‘What was that all about’?"

"Oh, come on, you know exactly what I mean. Messing with his hair, the chair, the looks. Are you two sleeping together again?"

You technically had no reason to hide anything from her, after all, you trusted her completely and had never hesitated to talk about your sex life. But this time... you kind of liked the idea of keeping whatever happened between you and Spencer just between the two of you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. We're just acting like we usually do," you said.

"Yeah?" She raised an eyebrow, slowly pulling away from the police station, her gaze shifting between the road and you. "Then what were those sounds last night from his room?"

"Oh shit, did we make noise?"

She smiled triumphantly.

"I don't know, you tell me. I'm just teasing you. I'm on a completely different floor. But I'll take that as an admission of guilt."

"Manipulative bitch!"

"I'll take that as a compliment. So?"

You rolled your eyes with a heavy sigh, but eventually, you confirmed her suspicion with a nod.

"I thought you didn't sleep with the same guy twice."

"The air in Alaska really does something strange to me."

"Sure. The air," she scoffed, and you furrowed your brows in slight confusion, looking at her, waiting for her to elaborate. The car glided along one of those completely empty, snow-covered roads where there was nothing to focus on. "You know, I wonder why you just don't admit that you like him?"

"I don't hide the fact that I like him."

"Then why not give it a try?"

"Try what, Elle?"

She glanced at you sideways, her lips tightening at your obviously irritated tone. She didn't mean to upset you, of course, but that's how you felt. She sighed, as if thinking about how to approach the subject.

"You've learned to live with it," she finally began, slowly and cautiously weighing her words. "With that fear. Of intimacy and commitment."

"It's just a preference."

"No, it's not a preference. It's fear. You're afraid that if you get emotionally close to someone, you'll be abandoned, and you don't want to risk another painful loss. You want to have full control over the relationship and disappear when you feel like it's fading. Usually in the morning. It's a common mechanism, and it's not just about you. And no mechanism can be broken without making an attempt."

"Elle, stop. You're profiling me, and you know how much I hate that."

And actually, you hated being confronted with the truth about yourself and being internally forced to draw conclusions about yourself.

It was easy, living without reflecting on oneself. Especially when those reflections were painful. You could hurt yourself, unsuccessfully trying to confront them, or flow along with their current, completely subordinated to them and deaf to the words of others, who said you were only hurting yourself in the bigger picture.

Elle dropped the subject, as you had arrived at the house of the man you were supposed to interview. She didn’t bring it up again afterward. The hours at work passed, and you only waited for that specific moment when you'd cross the threshold of that room again.

The previous night danced vividly in your mind, never slowing down or taking a break for a moment. As soon as he opened the door, you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his face, and unbuckling his belt.

Spencer took a sharp breath, shocked and amused, as soon as you touched him.

"It would be incredibly awkward if someone were at my place right now," he chuckled into your mouth, half of his sentence drowned out by your kiss.

You pulled your face away just slightly, raising your eyebrows. It was only then that you noticed he was wearing glasses. Oh, he was so completely unaware of what you were about to do to him...

"How many people do you bring to yourself every night?" you asked.

"In that regard, only you. Besides, this is only the second time, so I wouldn’t call it every night... but I could always be here with someone, talking..."

"Keeping each other warm," you added.

Your hands slid under the fabric of his clothes, brushing the lower part of his stomach.

He noticeably tensed under your fingers, swallowing slowly, impatient and pleading.

"Engaging in a worldview discussion and exchanging conclusions," he finished, a smile playing on his lips.

"Uh-huh. Exactly like we are now. Honestly, does that turn you on? Do you want me to share my political views while you’re eating me out?”

"This is probably the only scenario in which you could make me not feel pleasure because of it."

His hands hesitated, roaming uncertainly across your body, unsure of where to start. They brushed over so many spots, moving from one to the next, chaotic and desperate.

You didn’t know where to focus – on the lips in the hollow of your neck, on the hand on your hips, or the other, slipping lower and lower?

Or perhaps on that sound, right by your ear, sweet, pleading whimper?

Moan left your body just for that reason and you already knew how you wanted the rest of the night to unfold.

You gently pushed him back, and with quickened breath, you dropped to one knee, then the other.

"After yesterday, I couldn't stop thinking about you," you confessed, making sure your lips were close enough to his body as you spoke. You heard him inhale sharply, whispering something under his breath. "I couldn't focus on work at all. So today, I want to take care of you, completely."

You thought he would be satisfied with the offer; well, it was hard to deny that he was. Still, for some reason, he started shaking his head.

"N-no, that's not... I want to do it. Take care of you, I mean."

You couldn’t stop smiling, but at the same time, you weren’t about to back down, which should probably be enough to describe the dynamics of the following hours.

At times, it was brutally slow, while at other moments, it was hurried and impressive. Sometimes, you interrupted each other constantly, unable to stop talking, and at other times, the only sound filling the room was your two breaths, the only constant, restless, and laced with moans and cries.

"You’re not leaving me tonight, right?" he asked, drawing closer to your body and holding you almost pleadingly. You laughed against his skin, shaking your head in denial.

"At some point, I will have to. For about fifteen minutes, before everyone wakes up."

"You’ll say you just came by for something. To ask a question or something," he tried to convince you.

"Oh, at this early hour, looking like I’ve just done a two-hour workout? Derek would eat us alive. His eyebrow would never drop again. If I ever end up in hell, it will be with him there, looking at me like that." You tried to mimic his expression, tensing your jaw as you did.

"Stop, I feel harassed."

"You see? And if he found out about us, this is how the next... God, I can’t even predict when he’d get tired of it. Maybe in a year. Do you want to suffer for another whole year just to be with me for an extra fifteen minutes?"

"I’d be able to survive that," he declared quietly, placing his hand under your head and playing with your hair with one of his fingers. "But if you don’t want it, I’m not going to waste time and try to convince you."

"Sure," you scoffed playfully. "So many things could be done in that time."

"Like what?" he asked, clearly intrigued. "Try to sleep. What were you hoping for?"

"Nothing, nothing. But you used a plural in that sentence and then only gave one thing. So, I’m waiting for the rest."

"That’s an overinterpretation."

"More like a simple analysis of sentence structure."

"Maybe sometimes it's better to analyze a little less. Spencer."

"I don’t think I’m capable of that," he admitted, his tone a little more serious. You furrowed your brow, looking at his pale face in the weak light, showing signs of the night’s exhaustion. "That’s just how my brain works. It doesn’t give me much time to rest."

You often wondered what the world looked like from his perspective. How, in many ways, his genius was both a revelation and a curse. But you’d never heard him complain about it—until now. In fact, it wasn’t even a complaint, just a statement of fact, somewhat melancholy.

You kissed the top of his head, hoping it would have a soothing effect.

And indeed, it worked. He moved even closer to you, rested his head, and after a moment, almost at the same time, your eyelids fell.

The morning passed slowly and longingly, even though you were still so close to each other. However, there was the awareness that with the arrival of the day, you would have to wait many, many hours before you saw each other again. In a similar way, you meant. After all, at work, you constantly spent time together, which only made everything more difficult. It would have been much easier to push him out of your head and focus, if it weren’t for that.

Meanwhile, Spencer, perhaps trying to gently play on your nerves, cleaned his glasses much more often than necessary. But there was also the possibility that he was doing it the same amount as usual, and you were just imagining it.

"Are you doing that again?" Morgan nodded in his direction as a greeting when you were sitting in the guesthouse room that served as your team's meeting place. There was a long table in there, similar to the one in your office, but much narrower. Sitting across from Reid, you could easily touch his hand. If you wanted to. "Is this some new nervous tic of yours? Polishing them?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Spencer furrowed his brow in mock surprise, stopping the corner of his mouth from twitching. You kicked him under the table, and he couldn’t suppress a gasp.

To hide your amusement, you covered your face with your hand, but Morgan immediately picked up on it.

"Is this some new inside joke of yours?"

"He’s literally just polishing his glasses, leave him alone," you said.

Morgan’s eyebrows raised in the same way you had imitated him the night before. Neither of you could hold it in and burst into laughter.

"What’s going on?" JJ asked, walking into the room.

"Something very strange is going on," Derek announced mysteriously, staring at you both intently. His hands were resting on his hips, and his head tilted in thought. "Something very strange..."

Then Hotch arrived, even more serious than usual, which immediately dispelled the good mood. The rest of the team also arrived—Elle and Gideon—and everyone took their seats at the table.

"In the past few hours, there hasn’t been any concerning missing person reports," Hotch informed you. "On one hand, that’s good; on the other, it means the unsub will strike again soon. And we can’t let that happen."

"And you even have a plan," Gideon stated, with some sort of understanding in his eyes.

Hotch looked at you all with hesitation before nodding in confirmation.

"That's right, I have. I've concluded that we have no choice but to set a trap."

At those words, his gaze rested on Spencer, which was enough for you to figure it all out even before the main subject did.

"With all due respect, Hotch, have you lost your mind?!"

And how exactly do you envision this?" Elle asked, not as shaken as you but clearly concerned. "Sure, he fits the profile of his victims, but how is he supposed to set himself up? Walk around town and hope to get kidnapped?"

"At least two of the victims were abducted on the same stretch of road, after getting off the bus at the same isolated bus stop while walking home alone. It’s an exceptionally safe location for him," your boss explained.

"Honestly, I’m not convinced," Derek interjected, staring ahead with a furrowed brow. "I just don’t think he’d use the exact same spot again. Word has probably spread around the area that the FBI is on the case. He might be more cautious and change his methods."

"But he might just as well try again," JJ said quietly. You looked at her with clear surprise, as you had expected that, with her characteristic care for the team, she would be against the idea. "Right now, it’s the only thing we can do to try to prevent another abduction."

You drew a breath, understanding her arguments but remaining entirely opposed. Your gaze finally fell on Spencer, for the first time since the idea had even been brought up. He was sitting very upright, his brow furrowed, and he slowly began nodding.

"JJ’s right, it’s the only thing we can do," he said. He wasn’t looking at Hotch, nor even at the team as a whole—he was looking at you, directly and only at you. A calming, slightly nervous smile crossed his face, making you scoff. "Nothing’s going to happen to me. You’ll all be around, on the bus, near the stop."

With his words, the decision was made, and all you could do was shake your head in disbelief.

"I want to be on the same bus," you declared desperately, crossing your arms over your chest. You simply couldn’t reconcile with the fact that Spencer was willingly putting himself in harm's way—especially when the unsub's desire was to hurt people like him. "I’ll pose as a civilian. A random young woman. I shouldn’t seem like a threat, and someone from our team has to be inside."

"You’re right," Hotch replied, looking at you with sharp attention. "But it will be Elle."

You and your friend exchanged a confused look, startled by the firmness in his voice.

"I don’t think it makes much of a difference," she tried to intervene, which made you feel grateful.

Although, it didn’t change anything…

"I’m not obligated to explain myself to you about this decision, especially in front of the entire team. This is an order," Hotch announced with almost brutal professionalism. "The only thing I can say is that we need someone who won’t break character until the very end. Someone who won’t let emotions cloud their judgment."

"Are you sure you’re up for this?" Gideon asked, directing the question at Spencer. His tone was understanding, prepared to accept any refusal without judgment.

This time, he didn’t look at you. As Spencer nodded in confirmation, he actually avoided your gaze.

"Then we have the whole day to prepare for the sting. Let’s hope this leads to catching the unsub," Hotch concluded the meeting, signaling that you could leave the table.

You were torn between staying and screaming at your boss or leaving the room after Reid. Well, the second option wouldn’t get you fired. And, honestly, it seemed like the better choice. It turned out he wanted to talk to you too, as he was clearly waiting for you in the narrow hallway of the inn, where animal antlers hung on the walls and an informational board about moose was displayed.

"Are you angry because I want to do this?" he asked, the narrow walls around you making you stand quite close. Well, not as close as you could be, but close enough to add gravity to the conversation and allow you to study his face carefully.

Especially his determination. The determination for this job, for solving the case, and for preventing others from suffering the same tragic fate at the hands of this killer. Finally, you understood that your reaction was a bit irrational. Because if the victims were young women with your looks... you’d agree to it without hesitation. Some hypocrisy, huh?

"No. I'm just terrified that you're going to do this," you confessed, your honesty and concern making his face twitch in surprise. You snorted, trying to ease the tension. "I’m angry at Hotch for calling me emotionally unstable in front of all of you."

Spencer smiled gently, though there was stress hiding behind it. He may have been determined to go through with it, but that didn’t change the fact that there was fear accompanying him. He tried not to show it, but anyone in his position would feel it.

"Well, in his defense, he phrased it a bit more subtly."

You let out a soft laugh, stretching your arm out to gently touch his forearm. As your hand slid up, you leaned in a little, the simple gesture helping you feel more grounded and at ease.

His gaze followed your movements with a gentle satisfaction. You didn’t pull him closer, you were simply stroking his arm in that easy, caring way that calmed both of you.

"You’ve never done this before, have you?" you asked quietly. "You’ve never put yourself in this position like this."

He shook his head in denial.

"I’m really... really worried that I’ll do something wrong and we won’t be able to catch him because of me."

"You should worry about yourself, Spencer. Not about that. I’m sure you’ll play your part better than anyone could. "But I really regret that I won’t be able to be right next to you, in case something goes wrong."

His lips parted and closed in a kind of... amusement?

"I was going to say that maybe Hotch could be convinced, but then I realized, no, he won’t be. No matter what you say. And besides, having you there wouldn’t let me focus fully."

"I’m aware of that," you joked, tossing your hair dramatically. "After all, I look stunning."

"I was more referring to the fact that I’d be focused only on making sure nothing happens to you, but yeah. That’s one of the reasons too."

You fell silent, oddly moved by that confession. It was so simple, driven by care, affectionate. And it definitely made your head spin in the context of your relationship. You shook your head, pulling yourself away from those thoughts. As long as you were in Alaska, you could afford anything. After that, who knows.

You swallowed and put on a playful expression, it came with some effort, but you managed.

"Okay, genius-boy. Let me prepare you. You need to know how to behave."

"I thought I was just supposed to be myself," he noted, letting you pull him by the wrist.

"Well, mostly, yes. But it's still better to rehearse, get you into character. Don't you have any random fun facts to share?"

"I always have some fun facts to share. An endless amount."

"We'll see."

For the rest of the day, up until the inevitable moment of setting the trap for the unsub, you listened carefully to everything he had to say. His constant chatter allowed him to occupy his mind, pushing the stress aside to the point that, when it was time for him to head to the designated location, he seemed almost surprised that the hour had come. Only then did certain shadows begin to cross his face.

You paced restlessly around the inn as the whole team prepared. Your task was to take a position with Gideon at a certain distance from the bus stop, to cut off the unsub's escape route if necessary. The bus driver had agreed to cooperate, and JJ was giving him instructions, asking him to act as naturally as possible. There were to be no civilians on board, only Elle and a few inconspicuous local police officers. Hotch and JJ planned to follow the bus from a distance by car. Morgan was to lay low at the bus stop, also posing as a civilian.

You moved closer to Spencer, breathing heavily, his presence alone calming you down.

“You’ll be fine,” you reassured him just before you were about to leave. Morgan gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and everyone was still gathered around you. You gently hugged him, just as any other friend would, just like Elle and JJ had moments before.

He, on the other hand, wasn’t concerned with appearances. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and rested his chin on top of your head in a strong, lingering embrace.

“Y/N, you and Gideon need to go now," Hotch interrupted.

As you were walking away, you noticed out of the corner of your eye that he also gave Reid a brief squeeze on the shoulder.

It was a truly tense moment. You found yourself in a position where you had no visibility on what was happening inside the bus, nor could you gauge the gravity of the situation. All you could hear through the earpiece was Elle's whispered signal informing you that the suspect, fitting the profile, had just entered the vehicle.

And even though you didn’t have high hopes for the plan, everything unfolded exactly as it was meant to. Spencer exited the bus, and the unsub followed him. The suspect seemed intent on tracking him down that desolate, shadowy road, planning to attack and abduct him. But at the last moment, Reid turned, and before the man could react, he was surrounded by the police.

On your last night in Alaska, you found yourself on top, with his head resting against the headboard of the bed, his hands placed on your hips, and in a position where you could look at each other and talk.

"You really did great today," you praised, leaning in to gently kiss his collarbone.

He didn't seem flattered by your words, no smile on his lips, just that sad, aching expression that caused you pain. Wanting to shake off the feeling, you quickened your movements, hoping it would work, but then he tightened his embrace, making you slow down once again.

"I want... I want to enjoy you," he said with a slightly embarrassed tone, his fingers tracing restless, tender circles on your bare skin. "Since this is our last time together."

For a moment, he gazed at your face, as if hoping you would say something. But he couldn't find any trace in your expression that would suggest you had changed your mind. The small, naive spark in his eyes faded. Elle's words about breaking the cycle echoed in your mind, but not in your heart. You couldn't turn them into reality; you simply couldn't. The agreement remained the agreement.

Once you returned, everything would go back to how it was before.

another author's note: I plan to create a tag list and I want to know who among you would like to be on it. please, let me know in the comments.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spence reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #criminal mind #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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its-avalon-08 · 12 hours ago

Note

Idk if your doing requests but if so could I request something where reader and Lando have been together like since they where 19 or something but a long time, and they have a fight that over something stupid but it escalates and Lando snaps frustrated and says maybe they need a brake and tells her to leave. She is heartbroken, and when Lando tries to get in contact with her, she won't answer, worrying Lando as she ignores his calls clearly. Then, Lando freaking out, thinking it's over and the one person in his life that he loved more than anything is gone. Carlos coming over to get some of readers things but Lando is heartbroken more at that, and when the reader comes back to the apartment after no contact for a week, she packs her clothes, but Lando panics and starts apologising. Happy ending, please, though. Sorry if it's long.

cracks in forever (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort, break up

The night felt colder than usual, and the warmth of their shared home seemed suffocating. Y/N stood in the kitchen, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound as she waited for Lando to come home. He was late again—hours this time—with no texts, no calls.

When the front door finally opened, she didn’t rush to greet him. Instead, she stayed rooted in place, her arms crossed as he walked in, his jacket slung over his shoulder, looking more frustrated than apologetic.

“You’re late,” she said flatly, her voice strained.

He glanced at her, his brows furrowing. “Yeah, I know. The day ran long.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

Lando sighed, dropping his bag by the door. “What do you want me to say, Y/N? I’m sorry. Happy?”

Her jaw tightened, her chest already aching from the weight of the argument that hadn’t even begun. “You didn’t even think to call me, did you? Or text? I’ve been sitting here for hours, wondering if you were okay, and you couldn’t even bother to let me know?”

His frustration flared. “I didn’t realize I needed to check in like a teenager. I’m fine, obviously. You could’ve just assumed that.”

Her eyes widened, the sting of his words hitting hard. “Do you even hear yourself? You think it’s too much to let me know you’re not lying in a ditch somewhere? God, Lando, it’s not about checking in—it’s about respect!”

“Respect?” he shot back, his voice rising. “I’ve been busting my ass all day trying to juggle everything, and you’re standing here acting like I don’t care about you because I forgot to text? Give me a break, Y/N.”

Her lip quivered, but she forced herself to stand tall. “This isn’t just about today. You’ve been distant for weeks. I feel like I’m screaming into a void, trying to hold us together, and you’re not even trying anymore!”

“Maybe because I’m tired of feeling like I’m failing all the time!” Lando snapped, his voice louder now, his hands gesturing wildly. “Nothing I do is ever good enough for you!”

Tears filled her eyes, spilling over as her voice cracked. “Don’t you dare turn this on me. You think I like feeling like I’m begging for scraps of your attention? You think I like crying myself to sleep because I don’t know if you even want me around anymore?”

Lando froze for a moment, her words piercing through his anger. But instead of softening, he doubled down, his own frustration clouding his judgment. “What do you want me to say, Y/N? That I’m perfect? That I have all the answers? Because I don’t! Maybe—” He stopped, clenching his fists. “Maybe we just need a break. Maybe that’s what we need to figure this out.”

Her breath caught, the words cutting her like a knife. “A break?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You want me to leave?”

“I don’t know, okay?” he shouted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Maybe we just need space. I can’t do this anymore—this constant fighting, this pressure.”

Her shoulders shook as she tried to steady herself, but the tears wouldn’t stop. She wiped at her cheeks, her voice breaking. “You know what? Fine. If I’m such a burden to you, I’ll go. I’ll make it easier for you.”

“Y/N, that’s not—”

“No,” she cut him off, her voice rising with the hurt that burned in her chest. “You don’t get to say things like that and take them back. You don’t get to hurt me like this and then act like it’s nothing. I’ve been here, Lando. I’ve been here for you. Through everything. And now you’re telling me I’m too much for you?”

Her words hit him like a freight train, but his pride kept him silent. He didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t know what to say.

She shook her head, tears still streaming down her face. “You want space? Fine. Have it.”

Y/N stormed past him, grabbing her keys and bag. Lando turned, his heart sinking as she reached the door.

“Y/N, wait—”

But she didn’t. She slammed the door behind her, leaving him standing alone in the silence of their home.

The regret hit him almost immediately, but by the time he picked up his phone to call her, she was already gone.

Title: Cracks in Forever

Lando barely slept that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face—tear-streaked, devastated, and broken. He replayed the argument over and over, his words echoing in his mind like a cruel reminder of his failure.

“Maybe we just need a break.”

How could he have said that? How could he have pushed her away when she was the only constant in his life?

His phone sat on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with unanswered texts he had sent throughout the night. He had called her twenty-seven times—each one going to voicemail.

By morning, the bags under his eyes were heavy, his chest aching as if he’d been physically hit. He stared at his phone, scrolling through their old messages. He read her texts from the last few weeks, the ones he had brushed off or responded to half-heartedly.

Y/N: Good luck today! Call me after, okay? ❤️ Y/N: Hey, are you alright? You seemed off earlier. I’m here if you need to talk. Y/N: I miss you, Lando.

He clenched his jaw, tears blurring his vision. He had been so blind, so caught up in everything else that he hadn’t realized how much she had been hurting.

He hit her contact again, pressing the phone to his ear.

Ring… ring…

“Hey, it’s Y/N. Leave a message.”

The beep sounded, and his voice cracked as he spoke. “Y/N, please. Just… please call me back. I know I messed up, okay? I know I hurt you. But I can’t— I can’t do this without you. I need to know you’re safe. Just… let me know you’re okay. Please.”

He ended the call, his hands shaking as he set the phone down.

By the second day, his panic had reached a breaking point. She hadn’t been to their place, hadn’t responded to any of his messages, and her social media was silent. He sat on the edge of their bed—the bed that still smelled faintly of her perfume—and buried his face in his hands.

The phone rang in his hand, but it wasn’t her. It was Max.

“Mate, are you okay?” Max’s voice was cautious.

“No, I’m not okay!” Lando snapped, his voice breaking. “She’s not answering, Max. She’s not answering, and I don’t know where she is, and I don’t know if she’s okay.”

“Have you tried her friends? Her family?”

“I don’t want to drag them into this,” Lando said, wiping at his face. “This is my fault. I need to fix it.”

“You can’t fix anything if you break yourself in the process,” Max said gently. “Just give her time.”

“I don’t have time, Max!” Lando shouted. “What if she thinks I don’t love her? What if she thinks I meant it when I said we needed a break?”

“Didn’t you?”

The question made him pause, his breath hitching. “No. God, no. I was angry. I was frustrated. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“Then tell her that. Keep trying. She loves you, Lando.”

Lando nodded even though Max couldn’t see him. “She did. I don’t know if she does anymore.”

That night was worse than the first. Lando sat on the couch, his head in his hands, the silence of their apartment a cruel reminder of what he had lost. He picked up his phone and called her again.

Ring… ring… beep.

“Y/N,” he choked out, his voice shaking. “Please. Please pick up. I’m losing my mind over here. I don’t know where you are, and I’m scared. I’m scared I’ve lost you, and I can’t—” His voice broke, a sob escaping him. “I can’t lose you. I love you. I love you so much. I don’t care about the fight, I don’t care about anything but you. Just… just come home. Or call me. Please, Y/N. I’m begging you.”

He hung up, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face in his hands. For the first time in years, Lando Norris cried. He cried for the girl who had been by his side since they were teenagers, the girl he had built a life with, the girl he had pushed away.

And he cried for the possibility that he might never hear her voice again.

The doorbell rang, and Lando’s heart skipped a beat, though he couldn’t explain why. He wasn’t expecting anyone. It was too early for anyone to check in on him.

But when he opened the door, there stood Carlos Sainz, a look of concern etched on his face. His eyes softened when he saw Lando, but there was a quiet tension in his posture.

“Carlos…” Lando started, his voice hoarse from the sleepless nights.

Carlos looked at him, his jaw tightening. “I’m here to grab some of Y/N’s things.”

Lando stepped back, letting Carlos in. His apartment felt emptier than it ever had before, each room echoing with the absence of Y/N’s warmth. Carlos entered, his gaze scanning the space, lingering on the couch where they had spent so many nights together, the kitchen counter where they’d cooked meals, the small details that once made the place feel like a home.

“You’re really going through with this, huh?” Carlos asked quietly, his voice laced with disappointment.

Lando swallowed hard, his eyes avoiding Carlos’s. He had never wanted it to come to this. He never thought it would. But now, standing here in the emptiness of the apartment, the reality of the situation hit him harder than ever.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” Lando muttered, his hands shaking. “I didn’t mean to push her away, Carlos. But she… she wouldn’t talk to me. She just… she left. She hasn’t even answered my calls.”

Carlos shook his head, his face hardening with frustration. “You don’t get it, do you, Lando?”

Lando looked up, surprised by the venom in Carlos’s tone. “What do you mean?”

“She’s my childhood friend, man,” Carlos snapped, his voice rising. “I’ve known her since we were kids. I’ve seen her go through everything, and I’ve watched her give you everything, and you—you—treated her like this? Like she’s disposable?”

Lando’s chest tightened at the accusation, but Carlos wasn’t done.

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you, how much she cares for you,” Carlos continued, his voice breaking as he ran a hand through his hair. “And you—you—just pushed her away like she was nothing. Like she wasn’t the person who was always there for you, who stuck by your side through everything, through all your races, all your highs and lows.”

Lando’s heart sank. He could feel the weight of Carlos’s words sinking deep into him. He knew he had screwed up, but hearing it like this—coming from someone who knew Y/N like Carlos did—made him realize just how badly he had messed up.

“I didn’t mean for her to think she wasn’t enough,” Lando whispered, his voice barely audible. “I love her. I always have. I just… I don’t know what happened. I was frustrated, and I said things I didn’t mean. I didn’t want to hurt her, Carlos. I swear to you.”

Carlos’s gaze softened, but his disappointment was still evident. He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “You hurt her, Lando. And now, you have to fix it. But she’s not just going to come back because you say sorry. You’re going to have to fight for her. And honestly, I don’t know if you’re ready to do that.”

Lando looked down at the floor, tears welling up in his eyes as the guilt hit him full force. He knew Carlos was right.

Carlos reached for the duffel bag by the door, picking it up and unzipping it. “I’m just getting her stuff. I told her I’d bring it by. But you…” He paused, looking Lando in the eye, his voice quiet but firm. “You need to think long and hard about what you want. And if you want her back, you need to prove it. Because right now? You don’t deserve her. Not after what you did.”

Lando felt his heart crack at the truth in Carlos’s words, and his voice trembled as he whispered, “I know.”

Carlos hesitated for a moment, then turned and grabbed a few of Y/N’s things from the shelf, placing them into the bag. He looked back at Lando one last time before heading for the door.

“You’ll figure it out, mate,” Carlos said quietly, his voice softer now. “But you’d better start trying, and fast. She won’t wait forever.”

Lando nodded, unable to say anything. He was already too choked up, the weight of the past few days crashing down on him.

Carlos walked out the door, leaving Lando standing there, broken and alone.

Lando stared at the door for a long time after Carlos left, his thoughts swirling, the pain of losing Y/N gnawing at him from the inside out. He needed her. He couldn’t live without her. But the real question was—would she still want him when he finally realized just how much she meant to him?

And how could he prove to her that he was worthy of a second chance?

It had been a week since she left. A week of silence. A week of empty calls and unanswered messages. A week of Lando spiraling, his world without her a place he didn’t recognize anymore.

Now, here he was—sitting on the couch, waiting. He knew she would come back at some point. Y/N never stayed away for too long. But the anxiety had eaten away at him, each passing day a reminder of how badly he had screwed up.

The door opened, and he could hear the soft click of her heels on the hardwood floor. His heart skipped a beat, but when he looked up, his breath hitched in his throat.

Y/N was standing there, her back straight, her face expressionless. In her hands was a suitcase—half-filled.

She was packing.

“Y/N…” Lando’s voice broke as he stood up. His chest was tight, his hands trembling slightly. “What… what are you doing?”

Y/N didn’t answer. She simply moved past him and into their bedroom, not sparing him a glance. Lando’s stomach twisted.

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. He followed her to the bedroom, his eyes not leaving her. “Please, don’t do this. We can fix this. We can talk.”

She didn’t respond, not even a flicker of acknowledgment. It was like he wasn’t even there.

Lando stood by the door, frozen. He watched as Y/N picked up clothes from their closet and threw them into the suitcase without a single word. Each piece she grabbed felt like another piece of his heart being ripped away, like she was disappearing right before his eyes.

“Y/N, please… talk to me.” His voice shook with desperation, but she still said nothing.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he stepped closer, his chest tightening with the fear that she was really going to leave.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know I hurt you. I know I was a mess. I should’ve been better. I should have been better for you. I shouldn’t have said those things, and I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I was angry, and I didn’t know how to handle it, but I swear to you… I swear I love you. I always have. And I need you. Please, please don’t leave me.”

Y/N didn’t stop packing. She moved mechanically, and the silence between them felt suffocating.

“I was scared,” Lando continued, his voice growing quieter, more raw. “I was scared that I wasn’t enough for you. That one day, you’d realize you deserve someone better than me. And I pushed you away because I didn’t know how to let you in. But I do love you. I do. And I’ll do anything to prove it to you. Anything.”

She picked up another piece of clothing, folding it with such precision that it made Lando’s heart shatter.

“No, no, no…” Lando whispered, panic rising in his chest. “Please, Y/N. Don’t do this. Please, I can’t lose you. I know I’ve been an idiot. I know I hurt you. But you are my heart, and I can’t let you walk out of that door without knowing how much I need you. Without you, I’m nothing.”

He was shaking now, the weight of his words settling into the pit of his stomach. His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with emotion.

“I can’t breathe without you,” he choked out, his eyes glossy with tears. “I’ve been waking up every day wondering how I could have been so stupid, so selfish. But all I know is that I love you. I need you. And I don’t want to spend another day without you in my life. So, please… please don’t leave me. I’ll fix it. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right. Just… don’t walk out that door. Please, don’t leave me alone.”

The words hung in the air, and for a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of her folding clothes and his heavy breathing.

Finally, Y/N stopped moving. She didn’t turn to face him, but her shoulders trembled, and Lando could feel the weight of the silence press against him.

“I know you’re angry,” Lando continued softly, his voice breaking. “And I understand that. But I can’t lose you. I can’t lose the one person who knows me better than anyone. The one person who loves me no matter what. You’ve been my constant, Y/N. And I don’t deserve you, but I’ll do everything to show you that I want to be better. For you. I’ll be better, just… don’t leave.”

There was a long silence. Then, almost imperceptibly, Y/N set down the last piece of clothing in the suitcase and turned to face him. Her eyes were glossy, but she said nothing.

Lando took a step closer, his heart pounding in his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. But I can’t imagine my life without you. You’ve always been my best friend. You’ve always been there for me. I don’t deserve you, but please… please don’t walk away. I need you more than anything.”

And that was when Y/N finally broke.

A single tear slid down her cheek as she looked up at him, her eyes full of so much pain that it shattered him.

“You hurt me, Lando,” she whispered, her voice small but raw. “You hurt me so badly. I don’t know if I can just forget that. I don’t know if I can go back to what we were. But I…” She choked on the words. “I love you, too. I just… I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

Lando’s breath hitched. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t.

“I swear, I’ll never hurt you again,” he promised, his voice full of sincerity. “Please… let me show you. Let me prove it to you.”

Y/N wiped her eyes, still unsure, but there was something in Lando’s eyes that made her pause. Something raw. Something that made her think—maybe this wasn’t the end.

“I don’t know if I can just forget what happened,” Y/N said, her voice shaky. “But I do want to try again. I want to believe you, Lando. I want to believe that we can fix this.”

Lando’s heart soared as he rushed to her side, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I swear, I’ll spend every single day proving it to you,” he whispered into her hair, his tears falling freely now. “I’ll make it right. I’ll never take you for granted again. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

And for the first time in days, she let herself breathe. She hugged him back, the warmth of their embrace a promise that maybe—just maybe—they could get through this together.

It wasn’t perfect. But they had each other. And that was all that mattered.

It had been a few days since everything had fallen into place. Y/N and Lando were slowly rebuilding their bond, piece by piece, and while the tension between them had melted, something was still different. The scars of the fight remained, but Y/N wasn’t thinking about it anymore. The past was behind them. She was focused on the present.

But Lando? Lando still couldn’t shake the feeling that any moment, she might walk out again. It wasn’t that Y/N had given him a reason to doubt her, but the guilt gnawed at him constantly. He had hurt her so deeply, and no matter how many times she reassured him, the fear lingered. What if one day, she grew tired of him? What if he wasn’t enough for her?

Tonight was supposed to be just another quiet night in. Lando had arranged a cozy dinner, hoping to make her smile, to show her how much he loved her. He’d gone all out, buying a fancy dress he thought she’d look amazing in. Maybe, just maybe, if he gave her something beautiful, he could make up for the ugliness of the past.

When Y/N walked into their living room, he was holding the dress in his hands, eyes brimming with hope.

“Lando,” she smiled softly, as she entered, sensing the warmth in the air. “What’s this?”

“Just—just something for you,” he said, a little shy, as he handed her the dress. “I know it’s a bit much, but I thought… well, you’d look incredible in it.”

Y/N laughed, though there was something oddly sweet and bittersweet in her eyes. She looked up at him, still feeling the remnants of their past conversation, yet no longer letting it weigh on her.

She took the dress from his hands and examined it, grinning at the fabric.

“You really don’t have to do this,” she said, her tone playful but tender. “I’m happy just being here with you.”

Lando felt his heart race. He wanted to keep proving himself, to show her how sorry he was. But deep down, his insecurities kept churning. What if this wasn’t enough? What if it wasn’t going to be enough?

Y/N noticed the flicker of unease in his eyes. She stepped closer, putting the dress down on the couch.

“Lando…” she began, her voice soft but firm. “You don’t need to keep doing this. You don’t need to keep going all out just to make me happy. You don’t need to prove anything.”

Lando froze, the words hanging in the air, yet it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him.

“But I want to,” he said quietly, as though trying to explain the reason behind his actions, his voice trembling. “I need to make it up to you, Y/N. You deserve so much better than how I treated you.” His voice cracked with emotion. “I don’t know how to fix it. But I need to make it right.”

Y/N’s heart ached, seeing how much he was carrying. She stepped forward, reaching for his hand, but his nerves kept him at arm's length.

“Lando, I’ve already forgiven you. I don’t need grand gestures or endless apologies. I just need you,” she said, her voice steady and full of love. “I want you. Just the way you are.”

Lando looked up, but the pain and doubt still clouded his eyes. He shook his head, feeling as though he could never do enough to atone for the way he had hurt her.

“No, I don’t deserve you,” Lando whispered, his voice barely above a sob. “I’ve been an idiot. I hurt you, and I don’t know how to forgive myself. Every time I see you, I feel like I’m not enough. That one day, you’ll leave. And I—”

Before he could finish, Y/N launched herself into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she buried her face into his neck.

“Stop,” she whispered softly, her hands gently brushing his hair. “You’re my baby, Lando. I’m not going anywhere. I love you. Don’t you see that?”

Lando froze for a moment, his whole body tensing as her words hit him like a wave. Her voice was so tender, so sure, that it broke through the wall of self-doubt he had built around himself. He didn’t know why he had been so scared.

“I need you to stop thinking I’m going to leave,” she continued, her voice firm and comforting at the same time. “You’re my home. You always have been. I’m not going anywhere, Lando. I love you so much, it hurts. So, please, stop trying so hard.”

Lando’s heart melted in her arms as he clung to her, desperate to make sense of everything he had been feeling. “But I hurt you, Y/N. I hurt you so badly. I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Y/N tilted his face to look at her, her fingers gently wiping away his tears. “We’re fixing it, Lando. We’re here. Together.” Her voice softened even further. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re my world. You’ve always been. And nothing’s going to change that.”

Lando’s breath hitched as he buried his face in her hair, holding her tighter, like if he let go for even a second, she might disappear again.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her skin, the words a soft plea in the air. “I promise, I’ll do better. I’ll be better for you. I swear.”

Y/N laughed, the sound like music to his ears, and pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “You don’t have to be perfect, Lando. You just need to be you. And that’s more than enough for me.”

Lando looked at her with a mixture of love and relief in his eyes, finally feeling like he could breathe again.

She smiled, her hands cupping his face gently. “You’re mine, Lando. Forever. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry for ever making you doubt that.”

Y/N kissed him softly, then pulled back just a little, her smile soft and content. “I love you, too, Lando. Always.”

And for the first time in days, Lando believed it. He believed in them. He believed in her. And as he held her close, he finally let go of the fear that had gripped him for so long. She wasn’t leaving. They were in this together.

Forever.

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amastarxoxo · 1 day ago

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ㅤ ㅤ ⠀✣ ⠀۪⠀ ´ beloved ⠘ ✫

yandere jinx x love deprived! fem! reader ft. vi and caitlyn

very self indulgent , regular-ish jinx ( she would be a perfect yandere ) , topside! reader , model! reader , nsfw + sfw-ish , mentions of killing / bombing people , overprotective! stalker! jinx , mini series , self aware-ish! reader , mentions of stolen belongings , reader described to be obsessed with pastels ( pink & blue ) , reader being friends w vi + caitlyn , jealous!/possessive! jinx , pervert! jinx , mentions of manipulation , kidnapping , wlw ( duh )

i — ii

s.masterlist ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა navigation ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა masterlist

Another day, another item missing; your iconic poster of yourself. now the wall it was previous on was now empty and just a void of pink and blue stripes.

“caitlyn, i really don’t know.” your shoulders slump, already exhausted from these missing items; it started off small like from your lip glosses or nail polish to your panties and bra from your laundry basket then to your portraits and photos of yourself you hang up. “do you have security cameras?” vi asked her hand gripping her chin while looking around. “well i mean yes but they’re inactive right now.” caitlyn raised her eyebrow at you. “what do you mean, ‘inactive’?”

“i mean like i haven’t really put them up.” the pinkette and bluette girls stare at you in disbelief. “are you serious right now?” vi threw her arms up in the air. “honestly, we should just leave you to get more of your stuff stolen.” vi said, caitlyn sighed and pinches the bridge of her nose, “let’s put the cameras up.” you got out of bed, wrapping the sleeping robe around yourself, “finally someone isn’t judging me and is TRYING to help!” you glance over at vi as she rolled her eyes.

“another photo of my wife.” the girl muttered to herself, pulling the photo out of the stolen polaroid camera, a photo snapped of your back of your room, the way robe shaped your whole figure got her hypnotized, enchanted even. she shouldn’t even be here, not during the day at least. it’s too risky to be getting caught on the roof of a famous model and being a wanted criminal, but you have this invisible leash on her and she willingly follow you wherever. the only issue is them.

her sister and her sister’s girlfriend. vi and caitlyn, attached to you by the hip. it’s irritating. why do they get to be so close to you but she has to keep her distance? that’s not fair. you watches as the three of you living your bedroom. she thought about what if she just…sneak into your room and stay hidden like underneath your bed? it’s sure is big enough and the blankets spills over the bed and covers the sides so it wouldn’t be hard and you aren’t the most observant type of person.

“cameras in living room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, closet, laundry room, and entrance.” caitlyn swaps on the tablet through the cameras as you make some breakfast, “anywhere else?” you shake your head no. “breakfast done.” you slide the rest of the food onto a plate for yourself and brings it to the kitchen island.

as vi and caitlyn chatted, you stayed in thought. you noticed how every time your stuff goes missing, the culprit always leaves sometime of note in messy handwriting. you haven’t shown your two friends, you don’t know why; maybe because she was swooned by the little love letters. just from the letters you can tell it’s a girl, even better.

“earth to y/n? hello???” vi snaps her fingers in your face, quite literally snapping you out of your thoughts, you blinked barely moving, looking over to the side with just your eyes. “yea? what’s up?” you picked up the warm bacon and egg together with your fork and puts the food in your mouth. “are you alright?” caitlyn asks, looking worried. you nodded. “don’t worry, we’ll find the person soon, they won’t get away with this.” you gave caitlyn a small smile, thanking her. “when’s your next model runaway?” you ate another place of food of your plate, “next…month?” vi looks at the time. “yea, thanks for breakfast y/n, me and caitlyn has to go now.”

caitlyn gets up and starts heading for the door with vi, “remember to give us VIP tickets, okay?” caitlyn joked. you let out a breathy laugh, “sure—later guys.” you watched as vi opens the door and locks back as they both exited and close the now locked door behind them. a faint sound of a breeze blowing inside made you turn around, your view landed on your bedroom.

you cautiously followed the sound and looks inside of the room, your window is open. odd. very odd. you always keep your windows closed, especially on lounge days. you quickly turn back and grabbed the tablet and looks through the cameras.

watching the footage from 30 minutes back, while walking to the shut the window. you were really debating on alerting vi and caitlyn, in the corner of your eye, on the tablet you noticed a slip of hot pink flash. you thought maybe it’s just the way your room illuminate light but you never have your big light on and living in dim lighting; so where did the pink come from?

now you’re really conflicted. you watch the pink light slip into your room but never out. so the whatever it is, is still in here. looking for it and calling the enforcers would be a rational move but you gotten curious and decided to just play along.

in all honesty, it’s way better than getting the enforcers, and the press involved with your personal life. so you’ll just stick around with this ‘game’ until you can uncover the truth yourself.

lwk i ended earlier than i wanted but i need content for the next episodes so you’ll see soon dw

#⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓏲࣪ ִֶָ ︎ִֶָ amastarxoxo 𖤐 .#⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀₊ ˚ works ꒰꒰⠀☆⠀꒱꒱#arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #jinx arcane #arcane jinx #jinx x fem!reader #jinx x reader #jinx x you #jinx x y/n #yandere jinx x reader #yandere jinx #yandere jinx x you #yandere jinx x y/n

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alwaysthefool · 1 day ago

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Coincidence (Sylus x Reader/MC)

Tags: Angst, no comfort, jealousy, misunderstanding, GN Reader, MC Reader

Warnings: major insecurity,

Synopsis: You see Sylus with someone else, causing a misunderstanding between the two of you

It definitely wasn’t one of your best days. Your hair had been dull from exposing it to too much heat, and your skin was facing a breakout. He’d seen you at your worst and best before, and besides, Sylus didn’t care for those things so you didn’t think much about it when he called you over.

Maybe you should have.

She was everything you weren’t, everything people said you lacked, with a beautiful smile and perfect teeth. He called her closer to whisper something in her ear, to which both of them laughed, before she noticed you, gracefully bid her farewell to Sylus, and walked to the door.

“Will I be seeing you at the banquet tonight, sir?” She asked, turning slightly.

“I’ll let you know.” Sylus turned his attention to you, his lips curling up, and suddenly it did not feel so genuine. It felt cunning, manipulative, and the second you found your own brain blaming you for insecurity, you realised your thoughts were being manipulated. He wasn’t using his aether core or evol, it was all a plot, a power play to lift up your spirits and let you down, over and over again. Right?

“…you coming?” Sylus, whose voice was generally hard to ignore, had been talking about something.

“What?” You frowned, not sitting down or making yourself comfortable in his office like you usually would, which made him stand up and walk towards you.

“Would you like to come with me to the protocore auction tonight?” He repeated, staring deep into your blank eyes. He said he could see people’s deepest desires, and at that time you didn’t know what you even wanted.

“I’m actually busy.” You cautiously stepped back, feeling worse than you did when he first called you there. It hurt worse than your heart at its weakest state, than your throat all those times you’d scream when nightmares terrorised you, probably more than any other time an opponent hurt you.

He was about to say something, but a bailing ring on your phone interrupted you. You glanced quickly at who it was— Tara— and excused yourself to pick up the call, a cheerful voice saying something about being bored on her week off, and without a pause, you replied saying you’d be there.

“Really?!” She exclaimed, and you also realised how you’d been neglecting your friends, spending your free time with him instead.

“Really.” You replied solemnly, just walking out of his manor, only dropping a text that a friend needed you for something important.

You thought he’d chase after you, try to stop you, at least text you to stay, but he did nothing of that sort, and you were soon at Tara’s house with a pack of beer, chips, and hidden feelings.

“Maybe you should see other people.” She suggested, looking down at your palm to read the lines. “It seems like you’ll have many romances- ooh, I know, why don’t we go out tonight? Maybe we’ll find the one!”

“Tara, we’re not finding ‘the one’ at the club.”

“You never know!” Although she took the week off to recover, she was quite jumpy when getting ready, helping you too. It was pleasant to have someone like that around in times like those.

You looked better, finally, dressed well with your hair done, although you shouldn’t have done that considering how weak it was, but it felt nice to just feel adored for the first time in days. Tara took you to a tiny get-together with some of her team, the club thankfully not being too crowded. You got along with her friends, the free cocktails helping you get your mind off things.

It seemed you really hit it off with Andrew, captain of the analytics division, who also didn’t seem to mind Tara partying on her time off. “Everyone should have time off every once in a while.” He said, as the two of you watched her dance her heart out with a smile on your faces… and then trip on her own feet and fall.

The two of you rushed to her, helping her up, and calling a taxi for her. She insisted for you to stay and enjoy, telling you she’d be fine by herself. Andrew started to scold her for being reckless but she told the Taxi driver to step on it before he could finish, earning another laugh from you.

The cool breeze made you shudder, and the team leader gave you his coat. You thanked him shyly, the two of you talking for a while outside, until you spied a shiny eyed crow perched on a light pole, immediately ticking you off.

He was with someone else, so why was he interested in what you were doing? You put your arm on Andrew, leaning in to whisper something in his ear, holding his hand as the two of you went back inside.

Back at the base, Sylus watched you through Mephisto’s eyes, not having attended the auction himself as you wouldn’t be going.

“So that’s why you blew me off.” He mumbled to himself, turning off the screen after commanding Mephisto to make sure you got home safe.

He wondered what happened, where he went wrong, how he could fix things. You seemed down for a while, so he set up a perfect date night for the two of you, acquiring tickets for a ball in another city, having a designer deliver garments that would suit you personally earlier that day, because a week ago you told him you wished to attend one of those while mindlessly scrolling through the Pinterest board on your phone. He thought he’d surprise you, but then you hurried away from him, making him think something bad happened.

Now he supposed you just liked the simpler things in life, and a simpler man, too. Is that who called you when you ran without a bye? When he stared deep in your eyes and saw disgust again? You hated him, right? You liked someone else, right?

“Have it your way, sweetie.

Now I won’t chase after you.”

-x-

Pssst if you liked this, i wrote this concept (with a follow up happy ending chapter) for ZN too, I’ll link it in the reblogs!

Also let me know if you want a Part 2 to this and what it should be!

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #lnds x reader #l&ds sylus #love and deepspace #lads angst #sylus angst #shorts #fanfiction #headcanons #hcs #sylus x mc

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musingsunderstarlight · 1 day ago

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I agree with you, 100% OP. I would just be cautious around people who use the opportunity to talk about the West and the Middle East + Africa as their own respective monoliths as it does nothing to promote solidarity and only results in further divide. The language we use is important because we inadvertently send the wrong message depending on our choice of words. I find my own traumatizing experiences growing up in a misogynistic “sex-positive” porn-obsessed culture are dismissed when commenters like NiiwaAngel use this kind of language, and I still don’t see the justification for it. Where is the evidence for the skewed view of misogyny in other cultures? The commenter below the original post was commenting on a semantic issue, so why the long tirade from her?Radfems on here already know that women in the above-mentioned countries face greater challenges to their safety and financial autonomy, and overall liberation as a result. Radfems on here already do not support cultural relativism. So again, I ask, why the constant need to bring up the West when we’re talking about the challenges women face in other countries? The only time I ever heard people enthusiastically talking about this difference between these two giant cultures was from men on the right, and they made my life miserable as a woman of color. Only now is she talking about the men, but up until then, she was obsessed with talking about culture. Culture can exist separate from the men who uphold these misogynistic practices.To lump them together promotes racism and implicitly absolves men of guilt. Also, my life was impacted greatly by both misogyny and racism, but people like the above commenter do not care about the latter. We should be aiming for female solidarity, not tearing each other apart by showing off about “how much better we have it.” It’s rude on all fronts. There’s a reason why we don’t waste time comparing conservative culture and leftist culture and talking about “how much better” leftist women have it.

Notice that she made no effort to refute her support for redberryterf. Notice that she made no attempt at listing even one thing wrong with Western culture when she referred to it as a monolith, only the positive. I don’t even have words for the “reliable internet connection” comment (apparently she was unaware that killallxys2 is from India), but again, where is the evidence for this skewed view of misogyny across different cultures? If anything, it’s liberals who are more guilty of this. I, a rad leaning feminist on radblr, did not need a lecture from her on how bad things are in the above mentioned countries, I already said that many cultures are still hanging onto misogynistic cultural practices, and that women in different countries face unique challenges to their liberation.

Anyway, I don’t want to annoy you further since this wasn’t what your post was meant to be about, but thank you for reading this far if you did.

i’m not afraid to say that many cultures are deeply rooted in misogyny, including my own. im half nigerian and there’s an expectation that women kneel before men and elders, sit in the kitchen while the men talk, and serve the men before anyone else. perhaps it’s why i’m so distant from my dad’s side, i won’t kneel before anyone

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days ago

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Meet the Family 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: my gut said go full self-indulgent so I did.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Your phone lights up again. You’ve already waited too long. You can’t avoid this any longer and in that moment, avoiding Lloyd’s family is a bigger priority. You get up, thankful to be away from Lloyd’s wandering touches, and excuse yourself to take the call. You don’t miss the scathing judgment from Gwenyth, but you don’t care either.

You go out into the hallway and try to keep your voice down. There’s enough chatter that you’re not entirely concerned. You answer and close your eyes.

“Hi, mom--”

“Where are you?” She demands. “You said you would be here. I’ve been waiting. Calling. Your sister too. We’re all worried--”

“Mom, I’m sorry. I missed my flight--”

“Oh, yes, I couldn’t put that together,” she snaps.

“I’m sorry, mom. Really. I know—I messed up again. I really wanted to come but that was the only flight--”

“It’s not that you couldn’t make it, it’s that you couldn’t even let me know! I’ve been in shambles, thinking the worst. I check the flights to make sure there were no crashes, I’ve been looking through news reports.”

She starts to devolve into breathy sobs. You feel horrible. Your guilt overwhelms your self-pity. Suddenly being stuck with these rich snobs isn’t so bad. Your mother has spent half her Christmas worrying over you, and know her, you wouldn’t be surprised if she actually tore some hair out.

“I know I should have called. I’m sorry, I’ve been trying to figure something out,” you lie, poorly since the defeat is in your voice.

Your mother has always been your kryptonite. She’s not cruel like Gwenyth, but her disappointment is devastating and all too easy to earn. She just wants the best for you but you’ve never managed the best.

“So you can come?” She sniffles.

“Um, not today, but I’m looking at tomorrow.” Another frail falsehood. “I promise, I’ll let you know--”

“Sweet pea,” Lloyd’s voice undercuts yours and you cringe. You put your finger up and turn to signal him to hush.

“Yeah, mom, I’ll try for tomorrow and if I can’t get there--”

“Mom?” Lloyd echoes with a smirk.

You shake your head.

“Who’s that?” Your mom asks.

You grimace and glare daggers at Lloyd as he comes closer. You outstretch your arm and put your hand just below his chest.

“Mom, it’s just--”

Lloyd easily reaches past your resistance and swipes the phone. He puts it on speaker with a tap of his thumb as you lunge at him. He grabs your arm and forces it up. Nearly dangly you from it as you lash with the other.

“Is this mom?” Lloyd asks brightly.

“Um, hello? Who is this? Where’s my daughter?”

“Mom, I’m here. Lloyd, give me the phone back--”

“Boo, what’s going on?” She asks.

Lloyd looks at you with a mischievous grin and mouths ‘boo?’ with a tweaked brow. You shake your head again and plead.

“Mom, it’s nothing--”

“I think I spoiled the surprise,” he speaks over you. “We’re going to be coming tomorrow.”

“We?” She ekes out, you hear the worry mounting in her voice.

“Please don’t be mad at Pixie, she was just being a good girlfriend. We stopped by my family’s house and oh boy, the snow we got up this way,” he tuts in a very convincing monologue. You’re stunned into silence at his act. He sounds like a decent person but you know better. “And you know, everything was so hectic as we tried to dig out that it just got all ahead of us.”

“I’m sorry, who are you? Boo?” She asks desperately.

“Mom--”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should’ve started with that. I’m Lloyd. Her boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” You mother breathes, “boo?”

“Yeah, mom, er,” you wrench your hand free and smack Lloyd’s arm. “He’s um, going to come with me, so uh--”

“I’ll be there, both of us, with bows on,” he promises. “Please, allow me to apologise from the bottom of my heart for keeping your daughter from you. You can’t blame her. It was entirely me. I am not a morning person and she can only do so much to keep me in line.”

You grit your teeth as you squint at him. How does he sound like such a dweeb? Well, looking at him with that mustache, he kinda is one.

“Oh, well, that’s lovely, very nice,” your mother coos, “I can let everyone else know. Oh, boo, you could’ve told us--”

“Again, that’s on me,” Lloyd preens, “I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

“It is, it is,” she assures. “Oh, it will be so nice to meet you. We’ve never met any of Pixie’s men.”

“Mom,” you groan.

“We never really thought she had any. She’s always been so focused on work, and before that, it was school--”

“Mom,” you jab Lloyd’s ribs as he smirks bigger and bigger, then snatch the phone from him. “Promise, we’ll get there but uh... gotta go. Love you.”

“Love you too, boo. Oh and it was nice meeting you, um--”

“Lloyd,” he supplies and sticks out his tongue.

“Bye.” You hit end and put your phone in your pocket.

Your agitation peaks and you can’t help from shoving Lloyd. It barely affects him which annoys you more. God, he is such a little—big turd.

“Why would you do that?”

“What? I just did you a favour.”

“A favour? You just dragged my family into this bullshit--”

“Well, hate to break it to you, boo,” he emphasizes the last word as he grabs your hands and pulls them away from his stomach, “but they’re going to have be. We promised mine a white wedding.”

“You are so--”

“So...?” He prompts.

“Urgh.”

“Oh, don’t be so grumpy. It’s a ticket out of this place. Literally. So you just let me know where I need to book tickets and I’ll pull a few strings--”

“Strings? You couldn’t pull these earlier?”

“On Christmas Day? Please, even I can’t do that but the day after Christmas, my guy’s getting into the punch right now, he’ll be just tipsy enough--”

“You are torturing me,” you accuse.

“I really can’t deny that,” he snickers as he lets you go. “Now tell me where I’m booking these tickets too and I’ll hop right on that...” he looks you up and down and bites his lip, “as much as I’d like to hop on something else.”

You huff, “Toronto.”

He twitches, “Toronto? As in... Canada?”

You nod and roll your eyes.

“Wait, Pixie puff, you’re Canadian?”

You tilt your head and look at him. You shrug, “what does that matter?”

“Well, I thought you type were supposed to be nice, first of all.”

“Just make the call,” you sneer and cross your arms. “You’ve already mangled this Christmas, may as well put it out of its misery.”

“Why don’t you do the same for me, huh? I’m suffering, Pix. Just give it a squeeze” he gets closer. You flutter your lashes then he wiggles his hips. “These pants are killing my circulation. I told you, I don’t wear underroos.”

“Back up before I lose it,” you warn.

“I’m close to losing it too, baby face,” he groans.

“Make. The. Call.” You demand. “And I’ll happily break the news to your dear sweet mother that we need to go get ready to fly out.”

His expression sobers and he exhales heavily, “Pix,” he utters quietly, “sometimes, you’re scary. Don’t... don’t piss off mom too much. Please.”

“Book the tickets, honey poo,” you chime in an acidic tone, “and I’ll make sure mommy’s not crying into her champagne.”

You poke centre of his chest and bounce on your heels before you spin away. Your mother’s disappointment might be like arsenic but Gwenyth’s is the exact antidote you need.

❄️

“I know a girl in Toronto. A few actually,” Lloyd says over the steering wheel. He’s tasked with driving back to the hotel since you imposed sobriety on him as punishment for the day. “Strange, you’re nothing like them.”

“I don’t care,” you grumble.

“Ugh, your wheel is too low,” he mutters as he stops at a red and tries to adjust it. You don’t respond.

You just want to lay down. Your head is pounding from the lack of sleep and Lloyd managed to book you an early morning flight which will curtail any meaningful sleep. You close your eyes and ignore his fussing.

Finally, he steps on the gas. “So, Canada, you grew up with those geese, huh? Explains the bite--”

“What?”

“I read somewhere they have teeth--”

“Why the heck are you moaning about geese for?”

“I hear it now. Couldn’t place it before. I thought Minnesota or somewhere but when you’re angry, you get this twang--”

“Be quiet,” you let your head drop back again. “I’m getting a migraine.”

“Aw, baby,” he coos.

“Lloyd,” you growl.

“I can make it better. I read somewhere that you can massage it better. Oh, and you know, orgasms--”

“You read a lot of nonsense for someone who I never see reading,” you drone and prop your elbow against the door to cradle your head.

“There’s a wealth of information on the internet when you’re not scrolling porn,” he chuckles. You let out a disgusted noise. “Don’t worry, pixie. I’m committed to this. Me and you, we’re going to get our piece of the pie and make off like bandits.

"So you let me play the loyal husband. I’ll get you all spread out and loose, I’ll rub your head and your shoulders, then my hands might wander a little bit more...” he hums. “I’ll touch the peach a bit, I just can’t help myself, but I think you’ll be ready by then.”

“Don’t you dare touch me,” you snarl.

“Ah, come on, flying is so stressful and after the day we had, we both need that release--”

“How many more times do I need to tell you to stop?”

“And how many times do I need to tell you I won’t? It’s fate now, Pixie.” He clucks and slowly turns. You lift your head and look up at the hotel sign. “Hey, if you like the long game, I can go along with it. Make it hurt so good.”

“Do you ever think of anything else?”

“There’s a constant undercurrent that never really leaves my mind,” he shrugs as he parks. “But I’m great at multitasking.”

You grumble and shake your head. It sends a throbbing pulse through your skull. You undo your seatbelt and drag yourself out of the car. As the door shuts, you wince. Then Lloyd’s and you feel the nausea start to crawl through your guts. The lack of sleep, the stress, the alcohol, it’s a perfect recipe for a deadly migraine.

You do your best to push through as you make your way up to the room silently. Lloyd is not so quiet. He’s rambling about something; a shirt? You don’t know and you don’t care.

You take out the room and enter the hotel suite. You drop the key and your purse and shed your coat. You hang it on the hook on the back of the door and tread further in. You don’t stop until you get to the bed. You ease yourself down and bury your face in the pillow.

“Pixie,” Lloyd’s worry puts you on edge. You raise your hand and wave him off without lifting your head. “You need some Advil?”

You shoo him again with your fingers. You popped some with your last glass of wine. You probably should’ve opted for water.

Your alarm is set. You will have to awake before the sky shifts that slightly lighter shade of grey and try again. You know better than to trust Lloyd, but you’re putting some faith in him to get you home.

You feel the bed dip behind you and Lloyd’s mutters and grumbles creep into your ears. You move the pillow over your head and hug it against your ear. You tune him out as you urge your mind down to the depths. In your bouts, there is no relief, but sleep can at least dull the agony.

Your brain turns to sludge as the steady pounding evens out to a tempo. You drift into the muddy no man’s land between waking and otherwise. You’re conscious enough to feel the pain, but you're detached enough to bear it.

Time crumbles around like sand in a glass. Your mind swirls with churning recreations of the day behind you. Most of them fractured and nonsensical. Voices without words, faces without names.

A shiver washes through you as a tickle flutters down the back of your thighs. The cool sensation flows over your skin. You shudder and cling to that tenuous state of dissociation. A jolt forces you out of the void.

You roll over and throw your arm out. It bounces off of Lloyd’s shoulder as your eyes slit. You yipe as you find him tugging at your pants. You kick and amplify the siren whining in your head.

“What are you doing?” You rasp as you flail at him.

“Relax, pixie stick, I’m just trying to help you relax. You can’t sleep in this,” he peels your pants down your legs and you swat at him again.

You look down and find your sweater gone, only your bra to conceal your chest. You quickly hide behind folded arms. “What the hell?”

“Damn, Pix, you never said you had a dump truck he untangles the fabric from your ankles.

You whimper and push yourself up on your elbows, you bareness secondary to your irritation. “Get way from me.”

“Just let me rub you down,” he begs as he runs his hands up your calves. “Promise, I’ll be a good boy. I kept my dick strapped down, baby.”

Your eyes flit down unthinkingly. He’s in only his briefs. The rest of him is exposed; his fur-trimmed chest, his thick but firm stomach, and his muscled legs. You look him in the face and he winks. “Made you look.”

“Stop, please,” you flick your fingers at him.

“You got me struggling,” he begs as his hands trail further up and he kneads your thighs. “I’m hurting like prom night and you been grinding on me in a tack ballgown all night--”

“Ew--”

“It’ll make you feel better--”

You catch his fingers as he traces the edges of your underwear. As you curl up, the weight of your head thunks own at the base. Urgh.

“No--”

“I’m just going to rub you down like a good boy. That’s it,” pushes against your hands. “You can even keep these on.” He runs his thumbs along the front of your panties. “They look fucking delicious anyway.”

“Lloyd.”

“Shhh,” he hushes you and shoves your hands off of his.

Before you can stop him, he straddles you. He puts his large hands around your skull and you whine. H works his fingers into your scalp as he continues to shush you and presses his thumbs to your temples. The warmth of his tough makes you sigh. You hate that it feels good.

“Just like this, baby,” he purrs as he keeps you pinned under him. “Just relax.”

Your eyes roll back as you shatter to pieces. In this state, you have no strength to fight him. Besides, why should you stop him when it feels so amazing?

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #dark!lloyd hansen #the gray man #meet the family #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic

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sleepyparalysisdmon · 1 day ago

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Ateez when they're clingy

Requested? Yes! Request: ‘ateez members when they’re feeling clingy and in need of extra attention/affection’

Hongjoong I think this will manifest in subtle ways. Like, he might not be super affectionate around the members, but he might have a hand on your waist or thigh instead of just holding your hand in front of them. It’s not possessive in nature though it might look like it to some, but it’s a comfort to have you close. In those moments, I think he’d actually really enjoy if you were a little clingy too.

Seonghwa I think he’ll just ask and it would be pretty cute actually. You guys might have a routine to pile up on opposite ends of the couch to watch TV so both of you can stretch out and relax, but one night he might pout at you and you’ll give him a curious look. ‘Are you okay?’ Hesitantly, he’ll ask, ‘Could we cuddle tonight instead?’ He’s crawling into your arms as soon as you open them. I hope you didn’t have any plans the rest of the night because he doesn’t plan to move.

Yunho Already clingy and touchy. But where as a lot of these touches are usually done in passing - a kiss every time he passes by you, a hug every single time one of you comes and goes from the apartment, a little squeeze on the hip as he comes up behind you to get something - you’ll know something is up when these touches linger. A kiss turns into a few or the squeeze on the hip stays for a few extra beats even if food could be burning on the other side of the kitchen. And the hugs will make you both late for whatever you were supposed to be going to.

Yeosang I feel like this type of moment would be done in privacy, such as lying together in bed at night. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not against a little bit of cuddling, particularly if you enjoy it, but he’s not usually the one to ask for it. Still, some nights he might scoot over into your space and insert himself into your arms, even if you were half asleep and not ready for it. Will insist he’s okay, and really does feel better after falling asleep like that.

San I’m so sorry, but you’ll never know he needed any extra affection, because he’s already so affectionate. It’s nothing new for him to come up behind you and wrap his entire body around you like a koala, or lie on top of you on the couch because he wants to be held. He will have to verbally tell you that he needs a little extra attention because his behavior is already consistent here. He lowkey expects to be babied when he feels like this, so get ready.

Mingi I think he’d be similar to Yunho, but the big difference here is that he’ll admit that he’s clingy. When there are a few too many lingering touches, you might ask if he’s okay, and he’ll start to whine a bit. “What? Are you denying me?!?” A little bit dramatic, so just let it be. He’s really so sweet, just give him the affection he wants.

Wooyoung Do you know what it’s like to be smothered? You will when he feels clingy, which is often. Some days, he’ll let you go about your business as usual, but often times, he attaches himself to your back and waddles behind you throughout the apartment. Does not care how hard it makes things because he actually wants it to take longer so he can keep clinging. And cuddling will consist of simply lying on top of you, demanding head pats or back rubs. I’m so sorry, I don’t make the rules here.

Jongho Might be afraid to ask for it! He has to break the whole ‘I hate physical affection’ thing he has going on. But there might be spontaneous moments, like when you are ready to get out of bed for the day and he doesn’t have anywhere to go. He’ll feel you throw the covers off and start to get up, and he’ll yank you back down sleepily. It might shock you a bit at first, but he’ll stubbornly insist for five more minutes. It will not just be five minutes, prepare to be late.

#ateez #atz #ateez x reader #atz x reader #ateez reactions #atz reactions #ateez imagines #atz imagines #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho

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maybanksmusings · 2 days ago

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THE WALLS ; JJ MAYBANK

SYNOPSIS ; when an unknown face appears in the outer banks searching for a father she's never met, she's unaware of how her life is about to be completely turned upside down.

WARNINGS ; jjmaybank x routledge!oc, strong language, depictions of violence, afab!reader, sexual content, mentions of abuse, drug and alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, fast burn to slow burn, canon adjacent, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE ; changes are being made! see this post to learn more. to me, this part seems a little like a filler, but i want to explore veronica as a character and develop each relationship with each character as something more than a side character, not just honing in on her relationship with jj, which of course is a huge part of the story also.

part one. part two. part three.

when veronica begins to stir, the sun had long set. there was no way of knowing how long the pair had been asleep, all she knew was the lights of the chateau were off and there was a bright pink post it note stuck to jj’s head.

‘gone fishin’. jb pissed.’

pope signed off on the note, a small smiley face drawn inside the o of his name. veronica knew the pouges hadn’t actually gone fishing, that is was some sort of code jj would decipher when he came to.

in this moment, veronica was content. wrapped in the arms of the most beautiful person she’d ever seen.

what could only be described as a war was ongoing in her head. she wasn’t exactly one to believe in love at first sight, she thought this entire ‘spark’ thing was something made up by male authors to keep women reading their shitty romance books to keep them hooked, waiting for it to happen to them.

but then she met jj, and he was like a magnet. every time veronica was in his presence she was mesmerised, whenever he was gone she felt like all the colour was drained from the world.

there was only two problems.

there was a maximum of forty eight hours that they knew each other, add to that he was her brothers best friend, then add to that said brother made it crystal clear that inter-group dating was not allowed.

oh, and then the whole ‘nobody knows i’m his sister but us’ thing.

“you’re staring, baby” jj mumbled, his voice low and tired as he stirred beneath her “can’t say i blame you��

with a sarcastic scoff, veronica sits upright in the hammock, her legs laid out across the blonds lap “just admiring the drool on your face”

“aren’t you funny.”

comfortable silence follows, jj crosses his arms behind his head and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. even though she was staring off into the water, veronica could feel jj’s eyes on her.

“can i help you?” veronica quipped, a teasing lilt to her words as she face the boy in question “use your words, you’ll get there.”

unexpectedly, jj sighs and lets his head fall back “what am i doing?”

veronica knows he didn’t intent for her to hear him, but she did. she would be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed, but she was even more disappointed in herself at the pang of sadness that hit her.

before she can say, or do, anything, jj is sat up a little straighter and speaking again.

“listen, you’re a really cool girl,” he pauses, shaking his head and starting again “you’re hot as shit, damn it!”

barely, veronica manages to mask her giggle with a cough.

“don’t ask me how or why, but i gotta tell you i’m super into you.” he blurts out “yeah, makes no fuckin’ sense, we barely know each other, no pouge on pouge macking, you ain’t feeling me like that-“

her body is moving before her brain can even comprehend what she’s doing, chipped nail polish framing blond hair as she held his face in her hands and pressed their lips together.

then, her brain kicks in, and veronica jumps back like she’d just been burnt.

“fuck, jay i’m so sorry. i wasn’t thinking,”

seconds pass agonisingly slow and veronica can’t help but think about just how badly she had just fucked up.

but she doesn’t get to overthink for long.

a calloused hand tangled in long, brown hair. the other gripping her waist like it was a lifeline, helping her into his lap as his tongue makes its way into her mouth.

the kiss is messy, it’s desperate. like two people drowning, taking in the other like they were air. hands cling to whatever they can, afraid if they let go it would all be over.

any reservations veronica may have had about ‘the spark’ were discarded, undermined even, this wasn’t a spark, it was fireworks.

but fireworks don’t last forever, and when the sound of john b’s rickety van can be heard drawing closer. the newfound excitement being dulled by the shadow known as a protective older brother, a protective best friend.

by the time the missing pouges pour out of the twinkie, veronica and jj are in much less compromising positions, now sitting beside each other trading menial conversation about the earlier events of the day.

“welcome back to the land of the living,” kiara teases, a yellow vape coming up to her mouth as she took a hit “you two were out cold.”

instinctively, veronica’s hand shot out, wordlessly pleading for a hit of her vape. with a groan, kie handed it over.

veronica lets her head fall back against the hard oak of the tree behind her, relishing the feeling of her first hit of nicotine in two days. she had a vape when she left home, but it died before she even made it to the outer banks and being broke meant she couldn’t even go buy a replacement.

“you could’ve woke us up, y’know” jj defended, trying his hardest to act as if nothing happened, reminding himself to stop staring.

pope scoffs, not missing the longing stares sent the brunettes direction but purposefully ignoring them “we tried, it nearly cost us our lives.”

unamused, john b walks past the rest of the group in silence. when he gets to the door of the chateau he looks over his shoulder and nods for veronica to follow.

the girl is suddenly more attentive, climbing over the human embodiment of a golden retriever and padding her way into the house behind the older of the two.

“does the name redfield mean anything to you?” john b questions, passing a beer from the fridge and getting one for himself “like, the surname.”

veronica is quiet, her finger tracing the rim of the can as she goes through every crevice of her brain in search of any name even remotely close, there’s only one.

“chris redfield.” she answers with a nod, popping the tab of the can and taking a swig “but i don’t get how he’s involved.”

“why not? who is he!?”

“a video game character.”

with a huff of annoyance john b drags a chair across the kitchen to sit beside veronica, unscrewing his compass and placing it down on the table. the name ‘redfield’ is carved into the metal.

“we went back to the boat, found a motel key, whatever.” john b shrugs off the rest of their findings, more invested in whoever this redfield person was. “then i remembered when you showed me that note, the one in the compass. then i found this, figured you would know more than i do.”

veronica gently traced the carved metal, it was definitely their fathers scrawl, she’d memorised it from the note she read over and over and over.

it couldn’t be a coincidence, her fathers note asking her to meet, the matching compasses. now this?

“if i’m going to help you, i need to know..” she trailed off, biting at the edges of her nails as she wondered how to phrase her next question “does this have anything to do with dad dying?”

“he’s not dead.” john b’s voice is louder, stern. then his face softens and he tears his gaze away from the compass and to the floor “sorry, just, i know he’s out there. and this? this is proof.”

“john b, i get it.” the younger routledge speaks slowly, trying not to tread on any toes “you’re not the only one who wants him to be alive, that needs to see him. but i don’t see how this—”

“dad found the royal merchant. four hundred million dollars in gold, and he found it. he’s trying to tell us where to find it.”

veronica sighs, fingers rubbing at her tired eyes as she once again tried to think of any connection to any redfield. when it came to family, she only knew the bare minimum, her fathers name and her mothers maiden name.

what she did know, however, was the royal merchant. as a child her father sent her maps and books on birthdays and christmases without fail, until one day they stopped.

“you’ve got books and stuff, right?” she finally asked, not wanting to get either her or john b’s hopes up. a nagging feeling was telling her their dad was alive, but she knew he wouldn’t just up and abandon his son.

the walls of her fathers study feel like they’re closing in on her, john b let her inside and left her to it. veronicas hand ghosts over the framed maps and dusty books. blueprints of ships with her fathers messy scrawl written randomly around the paper.

there’s pictures of john b littered all over the office, all different life stages, a few feature jj and veronica can’t help but smile at the photo of two little boys holding a fish between them.

on the desk there’s a picture frame, immediately veronica recognises her mother, years younger and a gentle hand placed on her tummy. in the same frame, there’s an ultrasound that veronica almost bypassed as john b, but when she looked at the date it was a long time after he was born.

it was her ultrasound.

it was her in her moms tummy, framed and proudly placed right on her fathers desk.

everything comes back at once. finding the note, and in turn the years worth of letters her mother had hidden from her. the dateline special with john b pleading for information about his father, their father. the fight with her mother, packing a bag in the middle of the night and making her way to the address stored safely inside her compass.

the tears don’t register until they hit the glass of the frame, the last few weeks of pent up anger, sadness and hurt bubbling over from the flame that single photo sparked.

her dad loved her.

for years she’d heard about her absent father, then the absent father that passed when she was a baby. the father who didn’t want the responsibility of a child and ran away once he found out.

but the letters, the compass, this picture? john routledge loved the daughter he was forbidden from seeing, from the second he knew about her he loved her.

and now he was dead.

a sudden wave of anger rushes from her head to her toes, glass shattering when she throws the dusty old frame against the wall with a scream. papers fly and maps fall from the walls as she turns her fathers office into her own personal rage room.

the racket coming from the small room shakes the chateau, so it’s no surprise when the pouges come crashing through the door.

the pouges eyes briefly flash with fear when their eyes land on the destruction caused by the newest arrival, but it’s quickly replaced by a familiar sadness when veronica crumples to the ground, screaming as loud as her lungs would allow for them to get out.

they don’t know what’s wrong, but it doesn’t matter. veronica was now considered a friend, and they gathered that’s what she needed right about now.

jj is the first to enter, drawing closer slowly as if he were being cautious “it’s okay, ronnie.” he mutters softly, dodging shattered glass as he knelt beside her “we’re here, we got you.”

kiara, john b and pope are close behind, wrapping veronica in what could only be described as a group hug until her tears subsided.

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starogeorgina · 1 day ago

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𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

Pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen x reader

Warnings: Swearing

1.05

You and Aegon stand side by side at the stables, watching as Ghost and Sunfyre fly together over the castle grounds; at times their bodies look joined together as they swirl in circles so closely, the gold and ivory blending together beautifully.

“Perhaps they can be our children.”

Aegon scoffs, “The queen wants a grandchild from your womb, not one with scales.”

Your wedding would be held in a week, and Alicent was nothing but persistent that you give Aegon an heir immediately, specifically a male heir, which terrifies you. What exactly would happen if you had a girl? It’s not as if you could choose what gender the babe would be. You didn’t like feeling this type of pressure, and neither did Aegon; he was becoming moody and drinking more than normal.

He observes your cream saddle being cleaned by a stable boy and groans. “How come you don’t need to attend your lessons today, but I do?”

“Because I got permission. Besides, you really need to practice High Valyrian.”

Aegon rolls his eyes. “I know the basics.”

“Our dragons deserve better than basic.“

Sunfyre was the only breathing creature Aegon truly loved; being with his golden dragon was the only time he looked at peace, content even. Even the dragon keepers were mesmerised by how close their bond was.

“And it might be fun; we could speak in a room full of people without them knowing what we are saying.”

“Like badmouthing the guests at our own wedding?” He jests.

“Exactly,” you laugh.

You step up onto the gate so that you can look into the pen. You had always been interested in horses, but it was only recently that you were permitted to go out riding outside the castle walls with a member of the king's guard accompanying you. Your grip suddenly tightens on the gate when you feel it start to move.

Aegon laughs; he was shaking the gate. “Don’t tell me you got a fright.”

“I didn't,” you notice the staff in the stables glancing over. “Aegon behave."

“I have been thus far,” he grins.

“Prince Aegon,” Ser Criston makes his presence known. “Best be going before you’re late to your lessons.”

Letting go of the gate, Aegon mumbles something under his breath, then sulks as he walks away. Ser Criston raises his brows, and you jump off the gate. The knight tries to keep his face straight, but it’s clear he found it funny when a small smile creeps onto his face.

The knight places his arms behind his back. “Time to go, princess.”

—

“Is something wrong, princess?”

“No…”

Usually you enjoy horseback riding, but something Aegon said stuck inside your head and was distracting you. It hadn’t taken long to reach the grounds where tourneys were held; you were surprised to see decorations in preparation for a large celebration had already begun. You watch as three young men struggle to move a large sculpture that’s in the shape of a house Targaryen symbol.

Ser Criston moves so he is in your line of view. “Princess, is it your betrothal that’s troubling you?”

“No, Aegon has been... well, Aegon.”

“You’ve been unusually quiet lately,” he says softly.

“Has it ever occurred to you, Ser Criston, that if a girl is young enough that she needs permission to leave her lessons, that she’s too young to be a bare child? Because it has to me.”

He sighs, “To the left, I wish to show you something.”

“What is it?”

He doesn’t reply. You watch for a few seconds as his dark horse takes him further towards the forest. When the knight and his horse become much smaller than your own, you decide it’s time to start following him.

—

“Just like this?”

“Bend your elbow a little lower.”

A wide smile spreads across your face when the stone you toss towards the lake skims over the water instead of sinking. Instead of going the normal route, the knight took you down to a small lake you'd never known existed. It was a warm day, but the light breeze was enough to keep you comfortable.

When you first saw the knight tethering smooth stones, you doubted this would be enjoyable, but you were wrong. “I must admit this is rather fun.”

“My father taught me to skim stones when I was a boy.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Yes, my mother died when I was young, and it was just the two of us until I became a foot soldier.” He fidgets with the stone in his hand before skimming it over the water. “It can be difficult with fathers; I’ve seen many men regret how they’ve treated their children once they've grown old.”

“I doubt King Viserys will lose much sleep over it. We haven’t spoken since Driftmark.”

There’s a rustle in the bushes close by, but when you look over, a baby deer appears. Its dark doe eyes stare at you until a larger deer comes up behind it, probably its mother. The two of them scurry off quickly to find isolation away from humans.

“I wasn’t at court long before Queen Aemma died, but from what I remember she had a soft face, and she was known to be kind.”

“I’m scared I’ll end up like her,” you admit. “I could fall pregnant quickly after marrying Aegon and die in the birthing bed within the year like she did.”

Ser Criston picks up another stone to throw. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t believe Prince Aegon would make the same decision King Viserys did.”

—

You storm into the king's royal apartments, anger radiating through you so violently that your body shakes. King Viserys notices you and smiles, “Ahh, there’s my daughter.”

“Is it true?”

Otto Hightower and the maester share a look. Your father turns and nods at them, and they both hurry to leave, the few servants in the room doing the same.

Your father looks defeated already. “Is that true?”

“How my mother died. You said it was my fault, but it wasn’t.”

“Do not test me, daughter,” he says harshly. “I will not have my late wife’s name brought up in some childish way.“

You couldn't contain your tears as you struggled to speak. “How could you do this to me?” You choke out between sobs. “Both you and Rhaenyra let me believe my mother died giving birth to me, but she didn’t. She gave birth to me naturally, and then Baelon got stuck, and you chose to let the maesters cut her open so you could have a son.”

“Who told you this?”

Ser Criston was the only one who told you the truth—the whole truth—that queen Aemma was butchered while conscious. You weren’t going to get the knight into trouble by admitting it was him.

“Is that all you care about? What do other people think? What about me?” You may have sounded selfish, but he needed to know what this guilt has done to you. “I’ve blamed myself; I thought I killed her, and not once did you tell me otherwise.”

When he says nothing, you shake your head and go to leave, but hesitantly, the king calls after you. “Rhaenyra never knew; I didn’t want her knowing the truth.”

Your heart hammers in your chest. Learning that he cared more about what your sister thought than you was nothing new.

“Your mother used to laugh because the moment it was announced she was with a child, Rhaenyra declared that she was to have a sister; she wanted to name you Visenya, but Aemma disagreed. They went back and forth many times.”

“I’ve always loved my sister, and yet she’s always looked at me and saw the monster that took her mother from her.”

“No, that’s not true,” his eyes start to glisten. “If Aemma had lived, she would have doted on you; she would have cherished and loved you.”

“Perhaps you would have as well, if she had lived.”

—

Curled up in your bed clutching onto one of your pillows, you continue to sob and only open your eyes when there’s a knock at your door. A few seconds later, it’s opened by your lady-in-waiting, who was sitting with you previously.

“Who is it, Flora?”

“Prince Aegon.”

You think about moving but decide it’s too much energy and remain in the same position. You weren’t upset anymore; all of your sadness had turned to anger hours ago, but you had nowhere for that feeling to go.

Flora lets him in, and soon Aegon spots you. He rolls his eyes and sighs, “I could hear you crying from down the hall.”

You say nothing. Aegon comes over and sits somewhat awkwardly next to you on the bed, lifting the pillow your head is resting on and placing it onto his lap. When he feels you relax into his touch, Aegon starts gently brushing your hair with his fingers, which, in contrast to his wild, unkempt hair, was soft and smooth.

After a few moments, you finally speak, “My septa told me true strength lies in silence.”

“The blood of the dragon runs deep, and I fear it is a burden to feel things so deeply.”

Intrigued, you tilt your head to face him. “Do you feel things deeply?”

“No, but I don’t like seeing you distressed. It reminds me of when Sunfyre hurt his wing.”

“Oh.”

He makes a tsk sound, “Viserys is a fool.”

“He is the king.”

“And the king is a cunt. There are no victors for those who want his approval or attention.” Aegon leans down till his lips are ghosting your ear, “The way to stop hurting is by not letting anyone in.”

“That sounds awfully lonely.”

He shrugs, sitting upright and straightening his shoulders. Perhaps Aegon was right, but you liked that thought that one day he would let you in.

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen x y/n #aegon ii targaryen x reader #Aegon ii Targaryen #aegon targaryen x targaryen!reader #ghosts in the sky #house of the dragon fanfiction #aegon targaryen/reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii fanfic

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eu-nicola · 4 hours ago

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not yours part 4

summary: Rafe Cameron is the perfect boyfriend… but not yours, but Sofia’s. However, fate plays against you when you become the only person capable of understanding him in his darkest moments. What begins as a dangerous friendship soon becomes an attraction impossible to deny.

warnings: nothing i think

word counter: 8734

author’s note: english is not my first language, final part

tags: @immyowndefender @luannemarureis @xcinnamonmalfoyx @fallout-girl219

The trip was over, and with it, you returned to the reality you had wanted to avoid. During the journey back, a mix of nervousness and anxiety had accompanied you. Rafe had promised you that he would leave Sofia. But now, days later, that promise seemed to have been forgotten.

Since they returned, everything had returned to normal for him. Or at least, that facade of normality. Sofia was still by his side, as always, smiling and unaware of everything that had happened. And Rafe… Rafe was still the same as always. Attentive to her in public, but seeking you out in private, as if nothing had changed, as if his life could be divided between both worlds without consequences.

At first, you wanted to give yourself time, to believe that maybe he needed a few days to sort things out. But every time Sofia posted a photo of them together or talked to you enthusiastically about how things were working out again, you felt a pang in your chest, a mix of anger and disappointment.

That day, after ignoring several of his messages, you ended up going to his house. Not because you wanted to, but because you needed answers. The atmosphere was tense from the moment you walked through the door. Rafe greeted you with a light smile, as if everything was fine, as if he didn’t know what you had come to tell him.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he said casually as he led you into the living room. His tone was carefree, as if the last conversation you had hadn’t happened, as if the world wasn’t falling apart between you.

You sat on the couch, crossed your arms, and stared at him. He noticed your serious expression, but tried to ignore it, moving closer to you like so many other times. However, this time you didn’t allow it. You moved away slightly, keeping your distance.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, feigning innocence, but you knew he understood perfectly.

“What’s wrong?” you repeated, feeling frustration begin to boil inside you. Rafe, are you really asking me that?

He shrugged, as if he had no idea what you were referring to. That gesture bothered you more than it should have.

“You promised you would leave Sofia when we got back,” you finally said, your voice firm but restrained. You didn’t want to lose control, even though everything in you screamed for you to do so. “You told me this was going to end.”

Rafe sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and dropped into the chair in front of you. He looked tired, but you weren’t going to let that stop you.

“Things are more complicated than you think,” he finally answered, as if that sentence could justify everything. “I need time.”

“Time?” you asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow. “You had time. Days, weeks… and in the meantime, she still believes that everything is fine, that you are with her.”

Rafe leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his intense gaze locked on yours.

“It’s not that easy. I don’t want to hurt her.”

Those words hit you. He didn’t want to hurt her, but apparently, hurting you was a much easier option.

“You don’t want to hurt her?” you repeated, this time with a colder tone. “And what do you think you’re doing with me?”

Silence settled in the room. For the first time, Rafe seemed speechless, unable to respond.

“You promised me something, Rafe. You told me that I was the person you wanted, that all of this was going to change. And here we are, days later, and everything is still the same. You’re still the same.”

He stood up, as if he couldn’t stand the conversation from the couch. He paced the room, frustrated, but you couldn’t empathize with him. It was his decision, and so far, he hadn’t done anything.

“It's not that simple…” he said again, but this time his voice was softer, almost a whisper.

“Yes it is” you said firmly, standing up too. “If you really loved me, you would do the right thing. But it seems you'd rather stay with her, where you can have both of us.”

Your words hung in the air, raw and painful. Rafe looked at you with his lips pressed together, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the right words.

Finally, it was he who broke the silence:

“I don't want to lose you.”

It hurt you to hear it. Because he didn't want to lose you, but he didn't seem willing to do what was necessary to keep you either.

“You're already losing me, Rafe.”

You turned your back on him, ready to leave, because you knew that if you stayed, you would end up giving in, like so many other times. And this time, you didn't want to be the one who always forgave.

The air in the room was thick with tension, and your words still echoed in your mind as you began to walk towards the door. But before you could take another step, you felt a firm hand grab your arm, stopping you in your tracks. Without saying a word, Rafe turned you towards him, his face filled with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on: desperation, frustration, desire… maybe all of it.

Before you could react, his lips met yours in an urgent kiss, as if he needed to feel you close, as if he was trying to take back everything he had just said. It was a kiss full of contradictions, almost as if he wanted to ask for forgiveness and, at the same time, claim something he knew he had no right to ask for.

Your mind fought against your body, which responded with a mix of rage and desire. You were angry, yes, but you couldn’t deny what you felt when he touched you like that. Every part of you screamed to stop him, to pull away and not let things happen again, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. The desire was stronger, and before you could make a conscious decision, you found yourself beside him, back in his arms, kissing him with an intensity that surprised you.

He guided you towards the couch, and as upset as you were, you couldn’t pull away. The anger was still there, but somehow, that didn’t stop you from moving forward. Maybe it was the exhaustion of constantly fighting what you felt for him, or maybe it was the hope that things could change after this moment, but when the barriers you still held were stripped away, everything else fell away.

Anger and resentment mixed with the passion of the moment, an emotional chaos you couldn't escape. You knew it was wrong, you knew it was a surrender, but you didn't say no. As emotions and bodies intertwined, reality faded away, leaving you lost in desire, in the contradiction of being furious but unable to reject him.

When it was all over, silence settled in again, heavier than ever. You were exhausted, both emotionally and physically. He looked at you with a mix of guilt and satisfaction, and even though you knew what had just happened wouldn't change anything, you couldn't help but feel something inside you breaking.

And so, in the midst of that confusion, the words you hadn't wanted to say continued to float between you, without an answer that could ease what you felt. You got up and changed and before leaving you told him:

“Next time you look for me, make sure you've made a decision. Because I'm not going to continue being the option you keep in the shadows.”

And you left, leaving behind a Rafe who, for the first time, seemed to understand that things couldn't go on like this.

That same night, anxiety continued to vibrate in your chest. Every word you had said to him still echoed in your head, and although you knew you had done the right thing by facing him, you felt restless, uncomfortable, as if something was about to break.

You arrived home, exhausted both physically and emotionally. You didn't want to think about him anymore. You lay down on your bed and stared at the ceiling in the darkness. The silence was almost oppressive, and your mind kept replaying every detail of the conversation with Rafe.

Just as you were beginning to fall asleep, the sound of your phone lit up the room.

A message.

You reached out, feeling the cold of the device on your skin, and as you unlocked it, Sofia's name appeared on the screen. Your stomach immediately contracted. It was too late for her to text you something casual.

With a mix of nervousness and curiosity, you opened the message.

“Rafe dumped me.”

Three words that froze you completely.

You read the message over and over again, making sure you hadn’t misunderstood. But no, there it was, clear and direct. Sofia, your best friend, had just been dumped by Rafe… and with no explanation.

Your heart was pounding, and you felt a surge of conflicting emotions. On one hand, there was relief. Relief that Rafe had done what you had asked, what you had demanded of him. But there was also guilt. Because you knew you were the reason, even if Sofia didn’t know it.

Another message came seconds later.

“He didn’t say anything. He just… left me. Just like that, suddenly.”

Your mind filled with images of Sofia, alone, confused, wondering what she had done wrong, not knowing that the truth was much darker than she could imagine.

You wanted to respond, but you couldn’t find the right words. What could you say? How could you comfort her when you yourself were so involved in what had happened?

Several minutes passed before your fingers finally moved over the screen.

“Sof… I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

You knew it was an insufficient answer, but you had nothing better to offer. You felt like anything you said would be a lie or a betrayal.

Her response came quickly:

“No. I’m not okay. I don’t understand anything. We were okay… or at least I thought we were.”

You read her message with a heavy heart. You knew exactly what she felt. You had seen how Sofia struggled on the trip, how she tried to save a relationship that, for her, still had a future.

“I want to see you.”

The next message took you by surprise. Sofia wanted to see you, now. Your first instinct was to refuse, to look for an excuse, something that would allow you to avoid the inevitable confrontation. But how do you say no to your best friend at her worst moment?

“Of course. Tell me where you are.”

In less than fifteen minutes, you were at her front door. Sofia greeted you with swollen eyes and a tired face. There was no trace of the girl who just a few days ago was excited to save her relationship.

“Thanks for coming,” she whispered as she let you in.

You entered the living room, where the atmosphere was as heavy as Sofia’s gaze. She sat on the couch and you sat next to her, feeling the weight of guilt in every fiber of your body.

“I don’t understand what happened,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “We were fine… at least I thought we were fine.”

The sincerity in her voice broke you. You wanted to tell her the truth, but you knew that doing so would destroy everything: your friendship, your trust, everything you had built together. So you stayed silent, letting her vent.

“She didn’t even give me a reason,” she continued, nervously playing with her hands. “She just said she couldn’t go on. I don’t understand…

And you didn’t understand how you had gotten to this point either. How had you allowed everything to fall apart so quickly?

“Sof…” you began, but the words caught in your throat. What could you say that didn’t sound hollow? “Sometimes… people are cowards. They don’t know how to handle things and they end up running away.”

She looked at you with eyes full of tears.

“Do you think that’s it? That she just… didn’t know how to handle it?”

You nodded slowly, even though you knew the truth was much more complicated. It wasn’t just that. It was Rafe, it was desire, it was everything they had both done behind each other’s backs.

“Sofia, he doesn’t deserve you if he can’t be honest with you.” It was the most sincere thing you could offer her without giving yourself away.

She sighed, letting her head fall on your shoulder.

“Maybe you’re right. But… it hurts. It hurts so much.”

And as you comforted her, you felt your own heart break in two. Because you knew that Sofia’s pain was, in part, your fault.

The weeks following Sofia's breakup with Rafe became an emotional whirlwind that seemed impossible to escape. Sofia, devastated and confused, sought your comfort constantly. And you... you were there for her, like the loyal friend you had always been. But guilt slowly consumed you.

Every time she cried on your shoulder, every time she asked for advice, a part of you was torn apart. Because while you offered her words of support, while you told her everything would be okay, that she deserved better... you continued to secretly see Rafe.

Rafe, who had promised to leave her, who had said everything would be easier once he did. But nothing was easy. The guilt, the tension, the constant lying... it all weighed more than you had imagined.

One afternoon, Sofia showed up at your house with swollen eyes and a broken voice.

"I don't know what to do, I still love him. I can't stop thinking about him."

You stayed silent, biting your lip, trying to contain the torrent of emotions that was overwhelming you. You loved her so much, but you loved him too. It was a paradox that was tearing you apart from the inside.

“Maybe… maybe it’s best that you try to move on,” you finally said, your voice shaking.

She looked at you with eyes full of despair.

“Move on? I can’t. How do you move on when everything you wanted was with him?”

You didn’t know what to answer. Because you were living that same contradiction. You were trapped in something you didn’t want to let go of, but you knew it was destroying you.

Later that night, your phone vibrated on your nightstand. You knew who it was before you looked at the screen. Rafe.

The message was simple, direct.

“Come see me.”

You hesitated. You wanted to go. You wanted to see him, to feel the fleeting relief that being with him gave you, even if it was only for a few hours. But every time you did, the guilt sank deeper.

Finally, you gave in. You arrived at his house when the sky was already dark, and the warm light that illuminated the entrance seemed to mock you. You entered with a divided heart.

Rafe was waiting for you in the living room, leaning on the edge of the table, with that look that always managed to disarm you. The air tensed as soon as your eyes met.

“How is Sofia?” he asked, although he didn’t seem really interested in the answer.

“Bad,” you said frankly. “I have a hard time being around her… knowing what we’re doing.”

Rafe took a step towards you, his blue eyes fixed on yours, intense and challenging.

“Why do we keep hiding?” he asked, his voice low but firm. “She should know.”

The weight of his words fell on you like a stone. You took a step back, shaking your head.

“No. She can’t know. Not now. She’s broken, Rafe. If she finds out now… I’ll lose her forever.”

He frowned, frustrated.

“So what? Are we going to stay like this forever? I want you, not her.”

Your heart stopped for a second. There was something about the way he said it, with such certainty, such conviction, that for a moment you almost let yourself go. Almost.

“I can’t do that to her, Rafe,” you whispered, almost begging. “I can’t be the reason for her pain.”

“What about you?” he replied, moving closer, his hands finding yours.

You looked at him, caught between desire and guilt. Yes, you wanted to be happy. But at what cost?

“I can’t be happy at her expense,” you said, your voice breaking.

Rafe watched you in silence for a few seconds, his eyes assessing you, as if trying to understand the internal battle you were fighting. Finally, he sighed.

“I don’t want her. I want you.”

Your eyes filled with tears. You knew it. You had known it for a long time. But hearing it out loud, said so clearly, made it more real… and more impossible to ignore.

“It’s not that easy,” you murmured, looking away.

“It doesn’t have to be hard. Just tell me you love me too.”

You couldn't answer. Because your heart that was beating wildly, the way your hands trembled in his, and how, despite everything, you kept coming back to him, had already said it all for you.

"Don't make this any harder," you begged, your voice almost inaudible.

Rafe came even closer, his lips brushing your cheek in a gesture that was both soft and desperate.

"Sooner or later, he's going to find out. I can't keep pretending that I don't want to be with you."

The following days you felt trapped between the happiness of finally being with him and the anguish of what was to come. You knew that nothing good could come of this, but Rafe seemed to be in a different reality.

He wasted no time in integrating you into his world, a world that until then had been foreign to you. The first time he took you to one of those meetings with his friends was completely unexpected. He had insisted that you accompany him, assuring you that it would be something casual, just a relaxing afternoon. You had no choice but to accept, even though a part of you screamed that you shouldn't.

When you arrived, the atmosphere was full of laughter, music, and carefree conversations. Rafe's friends, the same ones Sofia used to hang out with, greeted you with smiles and greetings as if everything was perfectly normal. But the most shocking moment came when, almost casually, Rafe introduced you as if nothing had happened:

“She's my girlfriend.”

Your heart stopped for a moment. You hadn't even talked about what you were. You hadn't defined anything. But he said it so naturally, with such confidence, that his words hung in the air. You felt everyone's gazes on you, evaluating you, judging you. Some seemed surprised, others simply accepted the information without further ado.

You tried to stay calm, smiling slightly as your mind raced. He had crossed a line without consulting you, and it left you baffled. However, you didn't say anything at that moment. You didn't want to make a scene, not there, not in front of everyone.

For the rest of the evening, you stayed out of the way, watching, analyzing every move, every glance. Rafe, on the other hand, seemed comfortable, unconcerned, as if there was nothing left to hide. Every now and then, he'd come up to you, put his arm around you, or give you a kiss on the cheek, marking his territory without caring who was watching.

But you knew this wasn't going to go unnoticed. Sofia and those friends shared circles, rumors spread quickly in that environment. Sooner or later, she was going to find out.

That night, when you returned home, you couldn't help but confront him.

"Why did you tell them I'm your girlfriend?" you asked, your voice tenser than you had planned.

Rafe looked at you calmly, as if he didn't understand your concern.

"Because you are."

“But we hadn't talked about it. You didn't ask me.”

He shrugged, as if it didn't matter.

“I didn't see the need to talk about it. You and I are together. That's all that matters.”

His words, though simple, didn't ease the anxiety that was eating away at you inside. Because you knew that for him it was easy to say it, easy to act as if there were no consequences. But for you, for Sofia... none of this would be easy.

That night, as you lay in your bed, the weight of the situation kept you awake. You wondered how many more days could pass before everything exploded, before Sofia discovered the truth and your whole world fell apart.

And as you had said, Sofia found out. You didn't know exactly how, if it was because of the rumors that spread like wildfire in that closed circle or if someone, perhaps with malicious intentions, decided to tell her the truth. But the result was the same: your friendship with her, the relationship you valued so much, was about to break.

It all happened one afternoon when Sofia, with a dry and direct message, asked you to go to her house. "We need to talk." Two words that already gave you an idea of what was to come. You felt a knot in your stomach as you headed to her house, as if every step you took brought you closer to the edge of a cliff.

When you arrived, Sofia was waiting for you in the living room. There was no trace of the kind and warm Sofia who always greeted you with a smile. Her eyes, usually full of sweetness, now shone with a mix of pain, anger and betrayal.

“How long?” she asked you without preamble, her voice cold, sharp.

You tried to stay calm, but your hands were shaking slightly.

“Sofia, I...”

“How long have you been with Rafe?” she repeated, this time with more force, her eyes fixed on yours as if they wanted to pierce you.

The silence that followed was deafening. You knew that lying was pointless, so you took a deep breath and confessed:

“For a while now… after the trip.”

Sofia’s expression changed in an instant. The pain turned into anger, an anger you had not seen in her before.

“After the trip?” she blurted out in disbelief, taking a step towards you. “While I was trying to save my relationship with him, you were with him behind my back?.”

You tried to explain yourself, but every word felt empty, useless.

“It wasn’t planned, Sofia. I didn’t want it to happen.”

“But it happened!” she interrupted you, her voice breaking. “You were my best friend, I trusted you. I thought you were on my side, that you supported me… and all this time you were with him.”

You felt her pain stab you like a dagger. It was true. You had betrayed her trust, something you never thought you would do, but now it was impossible to deny.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you said in a whisper, knowing that your words wouldn’t be enough.

Sofia laughed, but it wasn’t a laugh of joy. It was a bitter laugh, full of disappointment.

“You didn’t want to hurt me, but you did. You took away the person I loved, and not only that, you also took away my best friend.”

The truth of her words hit you hard. You had lost something irreplaceable: her friendship.

“Sofia, please… can we talk, can we…”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she interrupted you again. “Everything has already been said. I don’t know who you are. I don’t want to know anything more about you.”

Each word was like a stab. You wanted to hug her, to ask for forgiveness, but the wall that had been raised between the two of you was too high, too thick. Sofia looked at you one last time, her gaze full of resentment and pain, before turning and walking away.

You stayed there, alone in that room that had previously witnessed so much laughter, now empty of everything you had shared with her.

When you left her house, the weight of guilt and sadness became unbearable. You had lost Sofia, and the worst of all was that you knew there was no turning back. The lines you had crossed with Rafe had broken something that could not be repaired.

That night, Rafe texted you, as always, asking how you were. But this time, you didn't reply. Because nothing was right.

The next day, everything felt different. The breakup with Sofia still weighed on your chest, like an open wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. You'd barely slept, and when you finally opened your eyes, the first thing you felt was that emptiness that your friendship used to fill.

Rafe noticed it right away. You weren't the same. Your answers were short, your eyes avoided his, and your every move seemed laden with a sadness you couldn't hide. Still, he was there. He texted you early that morning, offering to spend the day with you, to which, after a moment's hesitation, you agreed.

When he got to your house, he didn't say much. He simply looked at you, understanding that there was something broken in you, something that he, no matter how hard he tried, couldn't fix. But that didn't stop him from trying.

“Come on, get out of here for a while,” he said softly, taking your hand with a gentleness unusual for him.

You went out together, and even though you didn’t feel like doing anything, he didn’t leave you alone. You walked along the beach, that same beach that had witnessed so many moments between you two, but that now seemed laden with a silent melancholy.

Rafe tried to distract you. He bought you coffee, he took you to a secluded place where you used to escape from the world, he even tried to make you laugh with jokes that normally would have worked. But not today. Today everything seemed out of place.

At one point, as you walked along a deserted path, you stopped.

“I shouldn’t be here with you, Rafe,” you murmured, looking at the ground, as if the words hurt to come out. “Not after what happened.”

He looked at you in silence for a few seconds, his face serious but not losing that touch of tenderness that he rarely showed.

“I know you’re sad,” he said finally. “And I'm not going to pretend that this isn't complicated… but I'm here because I want to be here. Because I want to be with you.”

You didn't know what to say. His presence was comforting, yes, but it was also the reason for your loss. You felt a constant struggle between guilt and desire, between what was right and what made you feel alive.

Later, when you both sat on the sand in front of the sea, the sun was beginning to set on the horizon. Rafe put an arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. You let yourself go, resting your head on his chest while you listened to his heartbeat, strong and constant, as if he were trying to transmit some of his own calm to you.

“You're not alone, you know that?,” he murmured.

“I feel alone.” Your voice was barely a whisper.

He didn't respond immediately. He just held you tighter, as if that was enough to keep you whole, even if inside you felt like you were broken.

You spent the rest of the day together. There were no big words or extravagant gestures, just the silent company of someone who wanted to be there, even if he knew everything was strange, complicated, almost impossible.

When you finally returned home, Rafe walked you to the door. Before saying goodbye, he looked at you with an intensity that made you tremble.

“If I could, I would fix everything for you,” he said, almost in a whisper. “But for now, just let me be here.”

And even though you knew that relationship was built on a fragile foundation, that night you decided that, at least for one more moment, you would accept his company.

As the days went by, things calmed down. Rafe was more present than ever, and even though you felt like your world had fallen apart, he was still there, constant, firm, and increasingly involved in your life. But the void that Sofia had left was still there, reminding you of everything you had lost.

One afternoon, while you were at his house, lost in your thoughts on the patio, Rafe appeared with that confidence he always had, as if everything in his world was under control. He sat in front of you, looking at you with a seriousness he rarely showed.

“We need to talk.” His voice was low, but firm.

You looked at him, somewhat nervous. There was something in his expression that made you tense.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, crossing your arms, trying to prepare yourself for whatever was coming.

Rafe leaned forward, his eyes locked on yours.

“I want you to be my girlfriend.”

The air seemed to have suddenly become thicker. You looked at him, surprised, not knowing how to react.

“Your… girlfriend?.” you repeated, as if you hadn’t quite understood.

He nodded, not looking away.

“Yes. I don’t want to keep hiding, I don’t want this to be something half-baked. I want you to be mine, and I want everyone to know it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You had waited for this moment, somehow, but now that it was happening, a mix of emotions flooded over you. There was a part of you that wanted it, that wanted to accept and leave all the guilt and fear behind. But there was also that other part, the one that knew things weren’t that simple.

“Rafe… this isn’t easy.” You tried to find the right words, but he interrupted you.

“It doesn’t have to be easy,” he said, with that characteristic confidence. “It just has to be real. I love you, and you love me. What else matters?.”

You stayed silent. You knew he was partly right, but you also knew that accepting meant definitely giving up any chance of regaining your friendship with Sofia.

After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, you took a deep breath and nodded.

“Okay.” The words came out softly, almost shakily. “I accept.”

Rafe smiled, that smile that always made you feel like everything would be okay. He leaned in and kissed you, a soft kiss, full of a silent promise. You were his now, and he was yours.

The next day, you decided it was time to try something you had been avoiding: talking to Sofia. Now that you were with Rafe, you thought it was the right thing to do, to make things clear. Enough time had passed since everything fell apart, and although you knew it would be difficult, you wanted to, at least, try to fix things.

You called her first, but she didn’t answer. So, gathering your courage, you went straight to her house. When she opened the door for you, her face reflected surprise, but also a coldness that you had never seen in her before.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, without inviting you in.

“Sofia… I wanted to talk to you.”

She looked at you in silence for a few seconds, before crossing her arms.

“I don’t know what else there is to say.”

You felt the weight of her words, but you didn’t give up.

“I know I screwed up, and I know you probably don’t want to talk to me again, but… I miss you. You were my best friend, and I don’t want this to end like this.”

Sofia looked at you with a mix of hurt and anger.

“Do you miss me?” she repeated, her voice full of sarcasm. “Because I confided everything to you. I confided my relationship to you, I confided my problems to you, and you…” Her voice cracked a little, but she quickly recovered. “You were with him behind my back.”

You tried to explain, but she held up a hand to stop you.

“I don’t want to hear excuses.” She said it with a cold calm that hurt more than if she had shouted. “What you did… can’t be fixed with words.”

You stood there, feeling how every attempt to get closer was rejected. You knew you were right about many things, but you also knew there was no turning back.

“I just wanted you to know…” you said finally, your voice breaking. “That I’m sorry.”

Sofia didn’t answer right away. She simply looked at you, as if she was evaluating how sincere you were.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you.” Her voice was firm, but there was a trace of sadness in her eyes. “But for now… I’d rather you didn’t come back.”

The words were a final blow. You turned around and walked out, feeling the door close behind you, marking the definitive end of something that was once important.

When you returned home, Rafe was there, waiting for you. He welcomed you with a hug, as if he understood without you saying anything.

“How was it?” he asked softly.

You didn’t answer. You just held onto him tightly, feeling the tears you had been holding back finally come out.

You had lost Sofia. But at least, for now, you had Rafe. And that, at that moment, had to be enough.

Despite everything you had lost and the pain that the breakup with Sofia had left you with, there was something that was beginning to heal inside you: your relationship with Rafe. Against all odds, he had become someone who made you feel safe, wanted, and, above all, loved.

The days with him were different. It didn’t matter how much chaos surrounded your lives, because when you were with him, everything seemed to make sense. Rafe, the boy who had previously seemed unattainable, focused on himself and his own world, was now yours completely. And he didn't just show it to you with words, but with constant actions that spoke louder than any promise.

There were the small, everyday gestures: he would show up at your house unannounced, with your favorite coffee in his hand, or some flower he had plucked from who knows where, just because he knew it would make you smile. The text messages at any time of the day, reminding you how much he loved you, how he thought of you even in the middle of his routine. He was always there, making sure you knew you were the most important thing in his life.

But there was something you never imagined he would do. Rafe Cameron, the boy who had always been reserved, even in his way of expressing himself, had gone above and beyond.

One afternoon, while you were at his house, both of you lying on the couch, he began to play with your hand, tracing soft circles on your skin. There was a calmness in the air, a peace that you both shared. Suddenly, he sat up and looked at you with a mischievous smile on his lips.

“I have something to show you,” he said, with that spark in his eyes that always intrigued you.

You looked at him, curious, as he stood up and pulled up the sleeve of his shirt a little, revealing the inside of his arm. And there it was: a small, delicate tattoo, just below the crook of his elbow. Your name. It wasn’t big or flashy, but it was perfect. The typography was simple, clean, elegant, almost like he was whispering rather than shouting.

You were speechless. You knew tattoos weren’t his thing. Rafe had always been more of a minimalist, averse to anything that could permanently alter his appearance. But there he was, with your name etched into his skin.

“You did it for me?” you asked, still taking in what you saw.

He smiled, that soft, genuine smile he rarely showed.

“For you,” he answered without hesitation. “Because I want you to know this is forever.”

You felt a warmth in your chest, a mix of happiness and excitement that you couldn’t contain. You gently stroked the skin around the tattoo, admiring the way it looked. It was something subtle, but meaningful, like he had found the perfect way to show you how much he loved you without losing his essence.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, still in disbelief. “You… weren’t into tattoos.”

Rafe shrugged, downplaying it.

“It wasn’t,” he admitted. “But some things are worth it. And you… you’re worth it.”

The words hit you hard, but in a sweet way. You hugged him, wrapping your arms around him, feeling his heart beat against your chest. At that moment, you knew that, despite everything, you had made the right decision.

From then on, every time you saw him, your eyes inevitably returned to that tattoo. It was a constant, a reminder of what you had built together, of how he had decided to bet on you. Even in his busiest moments, at meetings with his friends or in the busiest places, that little detail made you feel special, as if you were always present in his life, even when you weren't physically by his side.

You were fine with Rafe. It had been weeks since everything changed, since you crossed that line that you had so feared, but that now seemed to have been the best decision you had made. The relationship was moving at its own pace, neither too fast nor too slow, just the way you liked it. You didn't want to force anything, and Rafe seemed to understand that perfectly.

The days with him were a mix of tranquility and passion. They had found a balance. They went out together, shared moments in the privacy of their home or walked around the city, but always with that complicity that made them feel unique. There was no rush, nor expectations beyond what both of them could handle. You were fine, really fine.

You had tried to talk to Sofia again on more than one occasion. You tried because, despite everything, she had been your best friend. You knew you couldn't erase the shared history or the memories you still treasured.

The first time you looked for her, it was complicated. She didn't want to see you. She didn't answer your messages or your calls. It didn't surprise you, but it still hurt. The second time, you managed to meet her at an event that you were both invited to. You approached her, with every intention of explaining, of asking for forgiveness, of trying to save what little was left between you.

"Sofia," you called her cautiously, trying to get her attention. "Can we talk?"

She looked at you, her eyes cold, distant, nothing like the warmth they used to have when you were her confidant.

"There's nothing to talk about," she said bluntly, making it clear that there was no room for second chances.

You accepted her decision. You understood that some things simply couldn't be fixed, that there were wounds that wouldn't heal, and that the price you had paid for being with Rafe had been high. But, for the first time, you didn't feel guilty. You had done what you could, and now you just had to move on.

A few days after that last conversation with Sofia, you spoke to your mother. You needed to talk to someone, to get advice, or simply to feel the comfort that only she could offer.

You told her everything: how you had tried to repair the relationship with Sofia, how Rafe had become a fundamental part of your life, and how, despite everything, you were happy with him.

Your mother listened to you attentively, with that wise look she had always had. When you finished speaking, she put her cup aside and looked at you seriously.

“Did you do all this for a man?” she asked you, her tone firm but without judgment.

“Not just for him, Mom,” you answered. “I did it for me too. Because I love him.”

She nodded slowly, processing your words. Then, with that frankness that had always characterized her, she challenged you:

“So, if you love him so much and you have come this far, you better marry him.”

The phrase took you by surprise, but it didn’t bother you. It was typical of your mother to be direct, and deep down, you knew she was right. You stayed silent for a few seconds, thinking.

“You know what? I think I will,” you said with a soft smile. “I’m sure I’m going to marry him.”

And you were. Because, despite everything you had been through, the losses and the difficult decisions, Rafe was the man you wanted to build your future with.

Since that conversation with your mother, the idea of marrying Rafe stopped being just a fleeting thought. It became something tangible, something you saw in every gesture of his, in every look, in every moment you shared.

Rafe showed you that day after day. He was there for you on good days and bad, taking care of you, protecting you, making sure you knew how much he loved you. And you reciprocated that love with the same intensity. You had found in him a stability you never imagined having, a peace that made you feel complete.

You didn't know when or how it would happen, but you were sure that when the time came, you would be ready to say "yes."

And after so much, a year had passed. A year since everything changed, since you crossed that line you never thought you would cross, and since, with Rafe, everything took a new shape. You had learned so much in that time. Not only about him, but about yourself, about what love and complicity in a relationship meant. It had been a year full of intense moments, of ups and downs, of doubts and certainties. But now, looking back, you could only smile at everything you had experienced with him.

After a while, you had gone to live with him. Your parents had helped you move in and, strangely, they had gotten along very well with Rafe, being that your parents were somewhat peculiar and he was too. Now they were on the beach, a quiet afternoon, just before the sun set. The sound of the waves gently breaking on the shore and the fresh air caressing your face created the perfect atmosphere. They were sitting together on the sand, enjoying the peace, each other's company, without the need for words. Everything seemed to be in place.

Rafe, who had been looking at the horizon, looked at you with a different, more intense expression. He gently took your hands, as if he wanted to make sure you would feel it. His deep gaze left you speechless, and your heart beat faster at the seriousness on his face.

“You know I love you, right?” he asked you, as if he needed to confirm it, even though you knew you did.

You nodded, smiling tenderly. There was no doubt that you wanted him, that you loved him.

But what happened next took your breath away. Rafe stood up, gently put you down, and walked over to a small backpack he had left nearby. From there he pulled out a small box, and your heart skipped a beat. It had been a year full of hints, of little moments in which the two of you talked about the future, about the possibility of taking the next step. But you never thought it would be so soon, not so soon after everything that had happened.

Calmly, he walked back to your side, opening the box with a shaking hand, and inside, a ring gleamed in the evening light. It was delicate, perfect for you. It had a soft glow, but what made it truly special was its story: his mother’s ring, a jewel that had been passed down through generations of his family.

Rafe looked into your eyes, waiting for you to process what was happening. The sound of the waves was the only thing breaking the silence, but at that moment, everything else disappeared.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he said, his voice firm but charged with emotion. “I’ve asked you to be my girlfriend, and now I want you to be my wife.”

Your heart raced. Everything you had imagined, everything you had felt during that year, everything you had experienced with him, was condensed in that very moment. Rafe wanted to be with you, not just now, but always.

“Yes,” you answered, almost without thinking. Yes, because you loved him, yes, because you couldn't imagine your life without him, yes, because he had spent a whole year showing you what love really meant.

The sun was beginning to set behind him, tinting the sky in warm tones. At that moment, there was nothing more important than being there, next to him, knowing that the future they both dreamed of was within reach.

And even though it wasn’t the first time he had proposed to you, this was the most special. Rafe had done it before, a couple of times, but always in spontaneous moments, almost as if he said it without thinking. Each time, you had responded with a smile and a nervous laugh, because deep down, you knew you weren’t ready yet. It wasn’t that you didn’t love him, it wasn’t that you didn’t feel completely happy with him. It was just that, sometimes, the idea of getting married so quickly scared you. You wanted to be sure that it was the right thing to do, that you were both ready to take that step.

But as time went by, everything started to fall into place. You had shared moments so deep, so intense, that the commitment to get married didn’t seem so intimidating anymore. You accepted Rafe’s proposal not out of obligation, not because he was asking you to, but because you knew it was what you really wanted. You had been patient, and in those moments when you had questioned yourself, you had found the answer.

It was several minutes before you said anything. You just stared at him, the ring on your finger, feeling the weight of what it represented. Finally, you hugged him. You didn't need words, because everything was clear between the two of you. You knew that the rest of your life would be with Rafe, and that made you happier than you ever thought you would be.

You had lost a friendship, and although at first the idea of losing Sofia had torn you apart, as time went by you realized that you no longer regretted it. Everything that had happened between you, Rafe, and her was behind you, like a page in a book that now had nothing but scars and memories. It wasn't easy to say it, but in the end you knew that it had been necessary. The decisions you had made, although painful, had brought you to a place where you felt complete, to a place where you knew who you were and what you wanted.

You looked back only to realize that you had grown. The weight of loss no longer crushed you, not the way it once did. You had gotten over the pain of losing a friend you once considered almost a sister, but now you knew that in life, people change, and sometimes, those same people have to let you go so you can move on. Love, decisions, the paths you take... all of that comes with a price.

With Rafe at your side, you had found something new, something that completed you in a way you never thought possible. And what you had lost with Sofia, as much as it hurt, allowed you to open the door to what was yours, what you deserved.

You were there, sitting on the sand in silence, watching the waves gently crash against the shore. The sun was already beginning to disappear on the horizon, dyeing everything in orange and pink tones. Rafe broke the silence, his voice soft but full of intention.

“Do you know what I want most in life?” you asked him.

He looked at you, smiling softly.

“What is it?” he asked, curious.

“I want children. I want a family.” You took his hands, looking at the horizon as if you were visualizing that future. “I want our children to grow up and look like you, like us. And I want to be the best mother I can be.”

“And I want that,” he answered sincerely, squeezing your hands gently. “I want a family. I want our children to be more like you than me. I want to be the father they need, always.”

You looked at him tenderly, caressing his face with your fingertips.

“And I'm going to help you with that. We're going to do it together.” You smiled, feeling your heart beating hard, sure of what you were saying. “I already have everything planned in my mind. And I know it's going to be amazing. No matter what happens, we're going to do it together.”

Rafe smiled, a sparkle in his eyes, grateful and hopeful.

“I never thought I'd find someone like you” he said, his voice low, but full of emotion.

“Just you and me.” you said before giving him a kiss.

He hugged you, and for a moment, the world disappeared. There was only you and him, the sound of the waves, and that future that now felt so close, so real.

Now, standing there, with the ring on your finger and the promise of a future full of love and adventure, you knew that what was coming would be the best for you. The past was behind you, with all that it entailed. You no longer felt resentment or remorse. You had done what you thought was right at the time, and you had done it for yourself, for the love you had found.

Now you were going to do something new. It wasn't just a new beginning with Rafe, but a new chapter for yourself. You were no longer just the girl who had been caught in an emotional triangle, or the one who had had to choose between two people. You were now someone who knew what she wanted, who had learned to make difficult decisions, accept the consequences, and move forward with her head held high.

With Rafe, and with the commitment that your ring now represented, you were going to create something completely new. Something that didn't depend on what had happened, but on what was to come. No looking back, no regrets. Because in the end, only you knew what made you happy, and now you had the chance to live it.

THE END

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