#it's not even something that they had read?

[foxy-eva]

Sweet Dreams

Summary: You fall asleep on Spencer on the way home after a long case

Request: Tired Reader and Spencer who are just co-workers with a lot of chemistry. Reader accidentally falls asleep on Spencer while they’re on the plane after a really long case

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Category: Fluff 

Content Warning: none

Word Count: 700

Masterlist

A saccharine smile was painted over your face when you found your seat right beside Spencer on the plane. There were many seats still available but his nearness was so tempting that you couldn’t resist. 

Softly, you asked, “Mind if I sit here?” 

“No uh… Not at all,” Spencer mumbled, already overwhelmed with your proximity. 

The heat your body radiated warmed Spencer’s skin, making him yearn to feel even more of it. Ever so slightly, he leaned closer until his arm was almost touching yours. Basking in your nearness was everything he longed for, what he dreamed about at night and what kept him going through all the hardship of his job. 

Something so seemingly small as you unintentionally brushing over his hand when taking a file from him had the power to fuel his reverie about you for weeks. He wondered if you had already noticed how often he sought out your company throughout the workday. Certainly the rest of the team must have caught onto it by now. 

They were profilers after all. 

Derek sat down across from you, smirking at the man beside you when he noticed the rosy shade on his cheeks. “Shut up,” Spencer whispered before he even had a chance to say anything. 

Turning your head, you looked at him with confusion written over your face. “What?” you murmured.

“Not you,” Spencer clarified and you decided against asking more questions. 

The last case had been exhausting and you were glad you could finally relax for once. Leaning back further into your seat, you quickly noticed the harbingers of sleep approaching. Spencer watched from the corner of his eyes as you closed yours, content to finally see you at ease. 

He focussed back on the book in his hands until he felt a pleasant pressure against his arm. Already asleep, you found his side to support your body. Just a few seconds later your head dropped to his shoulder, having him freeze in his place. 

Breathing in your heavenly scent, Spencer started to feel drunk and he didn’t want to lose your nearness again. He didn’t dare to move and prompt you to wake up, so he just kept still even when his body began aching from the immobility. It didn’t matter, not when you seemed so comfortable like that. 

Your hot breath tickled Spencer’s neck, making his skin break out in goosebumps. Even if it was a silly thought, he still hoped that this moment would never end. How could he ever recover from finally feeling you pressed against his body?

“Loverboy,” Derek teased. “Don’t you wanna turn that page?” 

Spencer realized he had been staring at his book for many minutes without reading a singular sentence. He couldn’t care less. Turning his head, he dared to look at you. His heart began aching at the view of you curled up in your seat and leaning against him in an attempt to find comfort. 

Then, your body slightly jerked and you woke up, quickly realizing you were basically cuddling with Spencer. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, your voice heavy with sleep. 

Despite your body’s objection, you attempted to sit up straight. That was when you felt Spencer’s hand grab yours. 

“Stay,” he softly spoke. “Please.” 

His words were so surprising that you were sure you must have been stuck in a dream. There was no reason to argue when he seemed so inviting and you were still so, so weary. Nodding, you leaned closer to him again once more. 

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, Spencer lifted his arm to wrap it around your shoulder so you could comfortably curl into his side, having your head rest against his chest. 

The sound of his heart beating against his ribcage could only be described as erratic but you didn’t mind. You were very familiar with the feeling of having your heart almost jump out of your chest whenever you were close to him. 

It was a comforting thought to know he felt the same way. 

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog and leave a comment to show your support and help me stay motivated to write more stories!

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @nomajdetective @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[robertpattersonsleftcoochieflap]

Genshin Impact headcanons

BIG TITTIE COMMITTEE

Itto, Kaeya, Alhaitham, Childe & Wriothsley

Contents: Big tiddie men react to you (their partner) shoving your face in their tiddies.

Warnings: men tiddies, suggestive content, slight nsfw, fluff

Itto

"Hey, babe- What are you doing?" Itto laughed in surprise at your sudden affection. You feel his hard chest rumble as he laughs, making you nuzzle your face between his pecks. Both of your hands reach up and grope his muscular pecks, lightly squeezing them.

"Woah there! Getting handsy are we? Two can play at that game, baby." Itto reached down and grabbed you by the waist with two large, strong hands and easily hoisted you up so your own chest was level with his face.

"Hey! I was enjoying myself there!" You whined at him, giggling lightly at his fluffy white hair tickling you as he nuzzled his face between your breasts. He stopped and looked up at you with a smirk.

"Don't worry, I got something else for you to enjoy."

.

.

.

Did I mention that he has nipple piercings?

Kaeya

You were truly at your wits end with Kaeya. All day you'd been watching him strut in and out of your office, delivering you paperwork in his usual outfit. Only throughout the day, you had noticed something strange. Every time you saw him, his undershirt seemingly became lower and lower. He'd also made sure to bend over your desk every time he passed you your work, giving you full view down his shirt.

You'd finally had enough by the end of the day. It was late and everyone in the knights of Favonious' headquarters had gone home -- besides the usual knights that guarded the front entrance, yourself and of course Kaeya. You had just finished signing your final piece of paperwork when your blue-haired partner slinked through your door.

"Finished yet?" You looked at him, immediately taking note of his teasing smirk.

"Not yet." You paused, your eyes dropping down to his semi-bare chest, "There's still something I need to do." You look back up into his eye. You motioned him over with a single finger. Once he stood before you, you grip him by his ridiculously slender waist and pull him into your lap, finally burrowing your face into his firm-but-ample chest.

"My, my~ It seems somebody has been struggling today." Kaeya mused, his arms hugging your shoulders. He knew exactly what he was doing, teasing you all day. You groan into the valley between his pecks.

"Kaeya, you're truly evil." He laughed at your defeated tone.

"I know." With that, he pulls you up into a kiss.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham was perched in his usual reading corner when you arrived home from class. He greeted you and continued his reading. You had a very long and tiresome day at the academia that day. It seemed like nothing you did was right and it made you want to crawl into a hole and cry. You needed your boyfriend.

Alhaitham looks up at you as you approach him. "Can I touch you?" You ask, knowing sometimes your boyfriend gets a little overstimulated after a long day at the academia.

His eyes scan over you for a moment before he sets his book down and moves himself into a more comfortable position to accommodate you. "Of course." You immediately fall onto his lap and bury your head into his chest, his pecks making for a good pillow to rest your head and his heartbeat calming your soul. You close your eyes and just listen, enjoying the calm ambience.

"Has something happened today?" He asks. You shake your head and mumble, "Jus' needed you." You look up from his chest and see a light blush dusting his ears and face. His strong arms tighten around your body and he gently kisses your forehead.

No more words were exchanged for a while after that. You both just enjoyed the quiet ambience of each others company...

.

.

.

That was until Kaveh came home after his class and complained both your ears off about a project he was assigned.

(Autistic Alhaitham is real.)

Childe

Despite your husband being a fearsome harbinger of the fatui, he was gentle with you. Even during your episodes of play fighting. Ajax laughed loudly as you attempt to tackle him to your shared bed. He'd just made it back home from his business trip to Liyue and you were eager to get your hands on your ginger partner.

You had missed him dearly, but you also understood that his work was extremely important and he even had to complete quests asked of him by the beloved Tsaritsa herself. "I swear I'm going to lock you up so you cannot leave me again." You wrapped your arms and legs around his sturdy body, nuzzling your face into his neck and taking in his familiar scent.

Ajax chuckled and hugged you tighter. "Alright." He sat you both down on the bed where you finally pulled away to take in his appearance. You raised an eyebrow.

"A harness, Ajax? This is what the fatui have you wearing?" You tugged on his chest harness, enjoying the way his body came forward with it. "Yes, they do. Got a problem with that?" He asked, amused by the question.

"Perhaps I really should lock you away." Your hands ran over his chest, admiring the way it looked with the harness tightened around it. You flatten your hand in the middle of his chest and shove him down, leaning over to look him in the eye. "Can't have anyone else seeing you this."

The ginger raised an eyebrow and smirked, watching as you stared at his chest with a glazed look in your eyes. That's when you begin unbuttoning his shirt, making sure to leave the harness on. Once his shirt is unbuttoned, that is when you strike.

You waste no time shoving your face into his pecs, gripping them with both your hands and squeezing them together. Ajax laughs, his hands rub up and down your waist, as you continue your assault. That's when you bite. His whole body twitches and he lets out a yelp. "H-hey!" This does not deter you though. You've been without this man for weeks and you're determined to get your fill of him. You nip, suck and bite across his chest, leaving marks in your path. By the end of it, your husband was thoroughly ruffled, his face sporting a deep blush and his chest and neck covered in marks left by you. You sat up and smirked in satisfaction with your work. You meet his half lidded eyes.

"Take off your clothes.... Leave the harness on though."

.

.

.

You'd truly never seen this man move faster.

Wriothesley

You had been pissing Wriothesley off all day. You'd made it your objective today to see how long it would take him to crack before he punished you -- And you were doing a hell of a good job of it.

The Duke was at his wits end with you. You'd purposely been flaunting around his office all day in your skimpiest clothes and talking back to him. Making sexual innuendos at every possible opportunity and even going as far as to flirt with guards in front of him. It was an hour away from lights out and he was almost done with his paperwork when you sauntered out of your shared bedroom, and back into his office. He immediately gritted his teeth. You were in nothing but one of his dress shirts.

You were thoroughly enjoying the reactions you so easily drew out of your husband. It was immensely entertaining to you. Especially since there was little to do in the Fortress of Meropide. I mean, what did he expect locking you down here?

You sauntered your way over to him, taking no notice of the work he was doing and drape yourself across his lap. He let out a deep growl of your name. You only smirk up at him in response and play with the tie around his neck, tugging on it.

"What's wrong with you today?" He grumbled out, his tone frustrated.

"Bored," You say nonchalantly. "And I want attention." You run your finger down his chest, picking at the dip in his dress shirt. Wriothesley let out a groan. "So you've distracted me all day? Because you wanted attention?"

You grinned up at him, "Yep." You said, popping the P. He let out a sigh and shook his head at your ridiculousness. "Well, I have a few more things to do. Do not distract me." You didn't reply.

The Duke continued to do his work, ignoring you completely. You pouted. Then an idea bloomed in your head and your gaze dropped down to the muscular chest before you.

Wriothesley let out a yelp. You were too busy groping him to notice. You had your face shoved between his tits, rubbing your face in the grey chest hair between them, your hands slipped into his shirt, squeezing and pulling at his pierced nipples.

"Okay, that's it." He gripped the back of your collar and pulled you out of his cleavage like a scolded kitten.

"Hey! I was busy-" You were cut off by him throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and storming off with you to your shared bedroom.

.

.

.

It was going to be a long night for you.

[navybrat817]

Double Shift

Pairing: Chop Shop Mechanic!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky helps you unwind after you work a double shift.

Word Count: Over 1.8k

Warnings: Established relationship, slight insecurities, bit of backstory, dirty talk, mild smut, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: @nixakimbo was kind enough to gift me with this GORGEOUS edit and I had to create a new AU. Sorry, lovelies? @tavners , this is for you. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You dropped your bag the moment you walked through the door. Your feet ached despite the comfortable shoes, and your head throbbed with each passing second. Groaning, you dragged yourself to the couch, collapsing into it like it was the only place you’d ever wanted to be. Working doubles was exhausting, but this? This was something else entirely.

It was a long day in a series of long days, but now you had a chance to relax.

Reaching for the nearby pillow, you inhaled deeply, a smile tugging at your lips. Instead of the usual fresh scent of your couch, you caught the familiar, warm fragrance of your boyfriend’s cologne. He must have spritzed it before leaving for work. It was like leaning into him and your shoulder relaxed more, even though you wished he were really there.

The sound of the door creaking open a few minutes later told you that your wish had been granted.

“Aww. Long day, baby?” Bucky cooed from the doorway, spotting you sprawled out with no intention of moving to greet him. “You know your bag’s on the ground?”

“Mm-hmm.” You rubbed your temples slowly. “You know I worked a double, right? I’m lucky I made it to the couch.”

His soft chuckle reached your ears as he set his keys down and picked up your bag. “I know and I’m sorry. You work really hard.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead once he reached the couch. “I wish you didn't have to.”

You turned your head, the throbbing in your temples easing when your eyes met his. His black tank top fit him perfectly, complementing the tattoos that stretched across his neck and arms. The skulls and flowers, symbols of death and hope, told stories of his past. Stories he didn't have to tell you about, but he did anyway and you were happy to know every detail. As captivating as the ink was, it was his blue eyes that held you. In them, you saw your future, bright and full of love.

“That’s life. And you work hard, too,” you reminded him.

“Yeah. My job is so honorable,” he mumbled, making a mess of his hair as he ran a hand through it. “I’m really making a difference in the world.”

You frowned sympathetically. Bucky was a gifted mechanic, but his family was dealt a bad hand and he did what he had to do to take care of his younger sister. “And you’ll be out of there soon.”

Once he finished paying off Becca's medical bills, he could quit. That day was getting closer and closer. And one day he’d open his own shop, too, a legitimate shop. You wanted to stand beside him when that dream came true. Becca would be so proud.

Both of you wanted the best for Bucky.

He sighed, sinking to his knees and resting his hands on your thighs. You could see the gray peppering his scruff and you couldn’t help but reach out to run your nails through it. The sound of his groan made you smile, so you did it again.

“I just wanna give you the world,” he whispered, turning his head and kissing your palm. “You know that, right?”

“You already do,” you whispered back, his eyes softening. You had a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and his love in your heart. It was all you needed. “But you know, I could-”

Bucky put a finger to your lips to stop you. “I know what you're going to say and we’re not selling your dad's car.”

You smiled sadly. Your dad’s car was a classic and could get Bucky the money he needed, but he turned the offer down each time you brought it up. He didn't want you to give up one of the only things you had left of your dad. “I won't say a word tonight.”

But you could try again tomorrow.

“Thank you.” He took your hand and kissed your palm again. “You up for a ride later?”

“I don’t think I’m moving from this spot tonight,” you half smiled. “But we can tomorrow.”

“You don’t wanna go for a ride tonight?” he asked, surprise laced in his voice. You usually jumped at the chance to ride his motorcycle with him.

“Feet and head hurt a little,” you admitted, touching his cheek as concern etched his features. “I’m fine, really. Nothing for you to make a fuss about, but I won't turn you down if you want to dote on me.”

“Baby,” he sighed, slipping your shoes off. You gasped when he began massaging the sole of your right foot, the gentle pressure making your body sink deeper into the couch. By the time he switched to your left foot, you were practically melting. “That better?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, combing your fingers through his dark hair. He always took care of you. “I swear, you have magic hands.”

“Oh, I have more than magic hands,” he winked, your heart skipping a beat. “And you know what’s good for headaches?”

“Bucky…” you smiled. There was a warning in your voice, but you couldn't help the amusement in your eyes.

“Yes, me,” he grinned. “I’m very good at helping with headaches and you know it.”

Your smile widened. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, so making you come all over my face before I cook you dinner was not what you meant and will not help your headache?” he asked, his voice deep, dripping with desire.

Whatever ache you felt in your body all went straight to your pussy. A deep, throbbing ache that cried out for him to soothe it since he was the cause. “Is making melt on your tongue as my reward for working a double?”

He smirked at your breathy tone. “That’s exactly what it is.” He didn’t need to ask you to lift your hips when he reached for the waistband of your pants and pulled them off with your underwear. Your body moved on instinct for him, fluid and in sync. “I can feed you right here and carry you to bed, too.”

“I’m too big and heavy for you to carry me,” you teased. His eyes flashed, and before you could react, he leaned down unexpectedly, sinking his teeth into your thigh. Your mouth fell open from the sting, but it felt good, too. “Hey!” You shrieked.

“You’re not big. You’re not heavy. You’re perfect,” he snarled, brushing his tongue along the teeth marks. You wanted his mark all over you. “I’ll blame that remark on how tired you are right now from work.”

Framing his face to lift his head, you met his lips in a soft kiss, hoping to convey how much it meant to you that he saw you as beautiful. How touched you were that he always put your care and feelings first. As scary as he looked to others, you knew the man inside. The one with a heart full of passion.

“I’m not perfect,” you whispered against his lips, gasping when he nibbled your bottom lip. A second bite for once again downplaying yourself. “But I’m perfect for you.”

“You think so?” he asked quietly.

“I know so,” you said, biting his bottom lip for good measure.

He thought you were too good for him some days, and you were quick to shut that down. A good man wouldn’t have taken care of his sister the way he did, and he wouldn’t love you wholeheartedly if he was less of a good person than you. His current profession didn’t define him, and you refused to let him believe it did.

“I...” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Love...” You shivered when he kissed the other corner. “You.”

A flame lit within your heart. His tender touches and words burned you from the inside out. “I love you, too,” you managed to whisper before his lips covered yours again.

Fresh arousal washed over you when he smiled and kissed down your body. “Now let me show you with my mouth how much I love you,” he simpered, parting your legs to open for him. “Might die if I don’t get my mouth on you and you wouldn’t want that, would you? And we need to get rid of your headache.”

You moaned, also feeling like you’d die if he didn’t touch you. “Do I get your cock, too? It’s a pretty bad headache you need to help me get rid of,” you teased. If your pain actually persisted, he’d make you take something and insist on you resting. And maybe it was selfish to ask for more than one orgasm, but you both knew he wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to rock your world.

“Before and after dinner,” he promised, his pupils dialting as he stared between your trembling thighs. “Fuck, I missed you today,” he groaned.

“Missed me or my pussy?” you asked, certain that you were going to soak the cushion beneath you and you didn’t care as long as he got you off. “Because we both missed you.”

He smirked, his hand inching up your thigh. “Of course, you missed me. Who else would make you come as hard as I do?”

Cocky was a good look on him, but you could play a little, too. “Well…” Your coy smile had him raising his eyebrow. “If you really want to know, there’s-” You threw your head back with a cry as Bucky’s head dipped down to taste you, effectively cutting off your teasing.

It wouldn’t take long for you to coat his fingers and tongue with your release. It never did with him. He’d make you taste yourself when he kissed you after so you could fully appreciate the orgasm he gave you. He wouldn’t give you any reprieve when he’d bend you over the couch and sink his cock into your sensitive pussy. Your sounds would be erotic music to his ears, just like his words were music to yours.

“Grind that pussy back against me. Show me how much you crave my cock.”

“Such a good girl for me. Such a good pussy for me to fuck and fill.”

“Don’t you dare rub your clit. You wanna come? I’ll make you come.”

“Oh, you don’t have to beg for me to come inside you. I’ll give it to you.”

You’d scream his name in ecstasy and pass out in his arms from the best kind of exhaustion. You’d wake up to him kissing your forehead and holding you upright so he could hand feed you a delicious meal. You’d smile when he told you how much he loved you and that he'd be free of the chop shop soon. And you’d tell him you loved him, too, before he fucked you all over again.

It was going to be a good night.

Appreciate you lovelies indulging me like always and hope to share more when I can. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[v6quewrlds]

❝ slim shady, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: your boyfriend is cool, calm, collected, and now platinum blonde? though you're mentally conflicted, you can't help but feel drawn to his new look.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: requested by an anon! this was supposed to be sunday’s game day fic but here it is today instead lol i am a proud og supporter of the buzz cut and it comes out in this fic. i will die on the "joe says cock not dick" hill.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, sexual content, handjob, romantic dick sucking.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.1k.

You hummed to the rhythm of a song you couldn't quite remember, the office's background noise muffled as you waited for your coffee to brew. The sleek, black machine hissed and spat, the scent of dark roast filling the air. You checked your phone, scrolling through the mundane emails and notifications that had accumulated since your last break. Your thumb hovered over the screen, ready to dismiss the unimportant.

Then you saw it: an image sent from Joe. Your boyfriend's name illuminated on your screen as your lips broke in a quiet smile. Curiosity piqued, you tapped it open, expecting one of Joe's rare but charming selfies with his usual wide blue eyes and awkward poses.

But your eyes widened when the image loaded—instead of the familiar mess of dirty blonde hair, you found a bald head with a wide smile. The message beneath read, "New look what do you think?" Your jaw dropped as you stared at the screen, the buzz of the office around you fading into white noise.

Your mind raced with questions.

Why hadn't he told you? What was the occasion for this dramatic change?

But the office was not the place to get into this. You had a meeting in about five minutes and the coffee was finished brewing, the aroma now taunting you with the promise of a jolting caffeine rush you desperately needed.

With trembling fingers, you typed out a text, trying to match the easy light-heartedness of his message. "Why the fuck are you bald?" You decided to add an unimpressed emoji to remove any ambiguity from your words.

Joe's response was swift. "It'll grow back?" He wrote with a laughing emoji. "Got bored. Thought I'd try something new." You could practically hear the nonchalance in his voice and you couldn't decide if it pissed you off or intrigued you. The dryness of his text was typical Joe—always questionably calm. But this was a surprise you weren't quite ready to laugh off. You took a sip of your coffee, the heat scalding your tongue as you thought about his new look.

The day dragged on, your thoughts inexplicably drawn back to Joe's bald head. You had seen him in every hairstyle imaginable—undercut, grown out, and even a questionable middle part that you had mercifully convinced him to abandon under the guise of bad luck—but this was a step beyond. You tried to focus on the spreadsheets and emails, but the image of Joe's egg head kept popping up in your mind.

By the time you left the office, your curiosity had morphed into something else entirely. An excitement you hadn't felt in a while, a thrill that made your pulse quicken. You drove home, your hand subconsciously tracing the steering wheel as you imagined running your fingers over his newly shaved scalp.

The anticipation grew as you pulled into Joe's driveway. You took a deep breath before letting yourself in, the cool evening air a stark contrast to the warmth that awaited you inside. "Joe!" you called out, your voice echoing through the house.

"In the kitchen!" his voice responded, and you could hear the smack of a fridge door closing. You kicked off your heels, the sound of your bare feet padding against the cool, tiled floor.

As you entered the kitchen, you saw him standing by the counter, a protein shake in one hand, and his phone in the other. Your eyes scanned upwards from his broad shoulders, taking in the stark contrast of his bald head against his muscular physique. He looked up and caught your stare, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

"You bleached it," you murmured, the words leaving your lips in a breathy exhale. The kitchen lights reflected off his pale scalp, giving him an unexpected edginess.

Joe chuckled, leaning against the counter. "Surprise," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Your hand flew to your mouth. "Oh my god," you whispered. "It's... it's not just a buzzcut, it's—"

"Platinum," Joe filled in, taking a sip of his shake. "Figured why not go all out?"

Your eyes roamed over his features, now so sharply defined without the hair to frame them. His strong jaw, the crinkles of his eyes, his stubbled chin—it all looked more pronounced. And you had to admit, incredibly sexy. The shock was giving way to something else, something warm and fluttery in your stomach.

He watched you, his gaze expectant, a smirk playing on his lips. You stepped closer, reaching out tentatively to touch his head. The warmth of his skin was unexpected, and you couldn't help but let out a small giggle. He leaned into your touch, his eyes crinkling as you traced your fingers over the smooth surface.

"I can't decide if..." you said, trying to find the words. "If you look like you should be in a shitty boy band or if you're channeling Slim Shady."

Joe's smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "Slim Shiesty," he quipped, his voice low and playful. "You know you love it." He teased, his chest rumbling with quiet laughter as he took your hands in his.

You felt your smile widen, your heart racing. You didn't know if it was the caffeine from the coffee or the sudden realization that you were incredibly turned on by his new look. The way his muscles flexed as he held onto your hands, the glint in his eye as he watched your reaction—it was all too much.

Your eyes drifted to his lips, and you leaned in, capturing them in a kiss that was equal parts surprise and desire. His grip tightened, and you felt him pull you closer, the coldness of the countertop pressing into your back as his body molded against yours. His free hand roamed your waist, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin just above your hip bone.

"So you like it?" Joe murmured, his breath warm against your cheek as he leaned into you. You felt the heat from his skin and the tension coiling in your belly. You couldn't believe it, but you were insatiably attracted to this new look for him.

"Yeah," you breathed into Joe's ear, your voice silky with want, "I guess so."

Your hands slid down his body, tracing the planes of his chest before coming to rest at the waistband of his sweatpants. He leaned into your touch, his breath hitching. The kitchen light crafted an artificial halo as it bounced off the dye in his hair, and you found yourself craving more of him.

Without breaking the kiss, you tugged at his waistband, and Joe's laughter turned into a groan as your hand found its way to his cock. You wrapped your cold fingers around it, feeling it twitch and thicken in your palm. He pulled away, his eyes dark with hunger. "What do you think you're doing?" he murmured, his voice gruff.

You smirked up at him, your eyes full of mischief. "I'm just... indulging the new look," you said, your voice a seductive purr. You sank to your knees, your eyes glued to his. The kitchen floor was cold, but you barely noticed as the heat between the two of you grew.

Joe's eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his cock twitching in his pants. "Babe," he said, his voice thick with lust. But you were already untying the drawstring, his dick springing free, hard and eager.

You took him in your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as you tasted his surprise and arousal. He was an intoxicating mixture of salty and sweet, and you moaned around him, your tongue swirling and teasing the head. The kitchen light danced over your dark skin and cast shadows across Joe's face as he watched you.

He tangled his fingers in your braids, gently guiding your movements, setting a pace that made him groan. Your eyes flew open to meet his, the blue of his irises burning into the brown of yours. Your cheeks hollowed as you took him deeper, your cheeks hollowing with the effort. The taste of him filled your mouth, the smell of his cologne mixed with the scent of the kitchen's citrus cleaner.

Joe's hips involuntarily bucked forward, pushing him further into your throat, and you gagged lightly, your eyes watering. He stilled, his hand coming up to cup your face gently. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper from the effort of holding back just long enough to indulge in the pleasure you were giving him.

You nodded, your mouth still full. You pulled back with a pop, your lips glistening with the sinful mixture of his precum and your gloss, your eyes gleaming. "Yeah," you murmured, licking your lips. "Perfect."

Joe's gaze was intense, his eyes locked on yours as you took him in your mouth again. He groaned, his grip on your braids tightening, his thumb caressing your cheek. The sound was like a symphony to your ears, the sight of him lost in pleasure pushing your own desire to new heights. You bobbed your head, your rhythm increasing, your tongue flicking and dancing around his shaft.

You felt a rush of power, the kind that only came from knowing you could make him lose control. His breath grew ragged, his hips jerking in time with your movements as his stomach tensed. One of his hands gripped the counter as he cursed under his breath. You could feel his muscles tensing, his legs quivering slightly, and you smiled at the sight of him slowly losing it.

The sound of your mouth moving over him was the only noise in the kitchen, the slick sounds of your saliva mingling with his groans. You reached up and took hold of the base of his cock, your mouth releasing him as your thumb danced over his angry tip. He swore, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought the urge to come.

"Babe," he warned, his voice strained. "If you keep doing that..."

But you were beyond listening. The thrill of his impending orgasm was intoxicating, and you were determined to push him over the edge. You bit your bottom lip with a smirk, a knowing glimmer in your eyes as you watched your boyfriend throw his head back. With a surge of boldness, you kept your seductive gaze on his face as you licked a slow, deliberate stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, tasting him fully.

Joe's knees buckled slightly, now reaching to grip the counter with both hands to keep steady. "Yeah, suck this cock, beautiful," he hissed, his voice a desperate plea.

At the sound of his command, you didn't relent. With a wicked smile, you took him back into your mouth, your other hand now stroking the velvety skin of his balls. The sensation was too much for him, and he let out a strangled groan, his entire body seizing. You felt the warmth of his seed fill your mouth, and you swallowed, your brown eyes round as they stared up into his.

You pulled back, your chin glistening with spit, your expression smug. Joe looked down at you, his chest heaving, his eyes dark with passion. "You're crazy," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "But I fucking love it."

He helped you stand to your feet, your eyes still locked. The kitchen light cast shadows over his bald head, giving him a mysterious allure that had your heart racing. He leaned in and kissed you, his tongue tracing your teeth and tangled with yours, sharing the taste of himself. It was a kiss filled with passion and a hint of appreciation, one that left your knees weak.

You broke the kiss with a giggle, wiping at your mouth. "You know, I think the bleached look really suits you, Slim," you said, your voice filled with a teasing lilt.

Joe's eyes lit up, his smirk growing as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Yeah? Maybe I should keep it then."

You playfully slapped his chest. "You better not, I didn’t say all that," you said, though the breathlessness in your voice betrayed you. "But for now, I can deal with it."

The two of you pulled apart, and Joe took a step back, looking down at you with a grin. "Deal with it, huh?" he challenged. "We'll see about that." His words were met with a confused look from you, but before you could ask him what he meant, he took a swing of his protein shake, set it down, scooped you up, and threw you over his shoulder.

"Joe!" you squealed, laughter bubbling up from your chest as he carried you out of the kitchen. You smacked his ass playfully, but the truth was, you were thrilled. The excitement of the unexpected was like a drug, and you were eager for more.

[tinythebunni]

rafe had his eyes on you for a while. you were new to the island and everyone wanted to be by you. you seemed to have this energy that attracted everyone, like a fucking magnet.

rafe couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you. you were everything he could want in a girl. tall, slim, curvy, shiny skin, beautiful hair, and most of all you were so feminine. he loved a girl he could take care of, provide for even.

he first saw you at the country club. you were clad in skimpy pink bikini with white polka dots, a white bow in the side of your hair, and white flats on. you read some magazine he couldn’t be bothered to even pay attention to. for right now, you were his main object of his attention. you could feel his eyes on you, you usually did.

you’d been here only two weeks and you knew all about the infamous rafe cameron. there were rumors he killed some cop and he had a drug problem.

people said he was one of the most fun people in the world but he would blow up in the quarter of a second. no girl could hold him down and he always got what he wanted. everyone wanted to be him or fuck him.

he’d made slight advances in the short amount of time you’ve been in the outer banks. holding a door open for you, paying for your drink, offering to apply your sunscreen while you tanned at the beach, the whole shabang.

you didn’t give him the slightest ounce of your attention. you wanted him to work for it. obviously you wanted him but you can’t let him know that! if rafe always got what he wanted then he wouldn’t mind a challenge.

you liked this game of cat and mouse you guys played. you didn’t know how much longer you could take it though. your friend daphne had invited you to some kook party at her stupid chad bfs house.

you went of course because rafe would be there. and you wanted him to see you, especially in this outfit. a lacy pink halter neck and pink mini skirt with ties on the sides. it showed just enough of skin to make him crazy. you wanted him to know what he was missing out on.

who knows? maybe tonight you’ll let him have a taste.

after a while of being at the party you started to get a bit bored. there were people making out in the corners, the alcohol tasted shit, and rafe still wasn’t here.

you were slightly buzzed and contemplating walking out when you saw him. he wore only a white wife beater and some denim jeans. what really caught your attention was the way his eyes were immediately on you when he came in.

he looked you over, greeting a few people, but not once did his eyes stray off you.

“top, i gotta go handle something. i’ll catch ya later.” and with that he strides over to you, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you into a room upstairs.

you had butterflies in your stomach. after a month he couldn’t take it anymore. you were excited to see what he would do now.

he swiftly locked the door and turned towards you with an almost primal look in his eyes. you giggle as he rubs the back of his neck and glares.

“do you think this shit is fuckin funny? been wanting you for months and you think it’s game. do you know how hard you make me? those skimpy fucking skirts and that coy smile.“

you were positive you looked like a fish out of water right now. you could feel a heat rising in your belly and a blush flushing your checks and neck.

“i didn’t know i affected you that much” you whispered.

“bullshit. i see you close your thighs each time i fucking look at you. can barely focus on anything when you’re near by.”

rafe is stalking towards you now, and you back up more and more until your knees finally hit the bed. he pushes you back until your lying on your back, with only your elbows and forearms holding you up.

he pulls your skirt over your tummy, glancing up at you as he places a kiss on your thigh.

“tell me this is okay. i needa know what you taste like. i can’t fucking stand it. so close to your pussy i can practically feel you on my tongue already.”

you give a shaky nod but that’s not enough.

he pinches the inside of your thigh and shakes his head with disapproval.

“no. baby i need words. use your voice, ain’t even touched you yet so i know you’re not fucked out already.”

“yes, yes rafe this is okay! please i need it” you whine while your lips pout slightly.

he was being so mean right now! is this what it felt like for him all this time?

he places a kiss on your clit over your panties and thumbs at your entrance. he smoothes your arousal over your lips and curses under his breath.

rafe takes his time making you whimper and whine. you push your hips up for some kind of friction, something more than he’s giving you. he uses his left hand to hold you down while his right pushes down on your clit, the pressure making your eyes roll back.

“calm down sweet thing. s’okay. m jus getting you ready. been dreaming bout this and i wanna take my time”

the cameron boy takes off your underwear and pauses. you can’t tell if he’s in awe or disgusted.

“so fucking pretty baby. is this all for me?” he questions as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

“rafe of course it is, do you see anybody else in this fucking room?” you’re mad now, you’re so fucking horny and he’s being a tease!

“alright alright” he laughs, placing a kiss to your thigh and looking up at you one last time.

“not letting you go after this is done. you’re mine.”

[incognit0slut]

was i stupid to love you?

in which a lingering glance at Rossi’s wedding threatens your engagement.

content: angst, 4.8k, takes place right after truth or dare (14x15), a lot of dialogue, mention of prison arc, emotional distress, relationship conflict, not proofread a/n: when was the last time you saw me write angst? exactly. this is inspired by malcolm & marie bc i really like the idea of having an argument while moving around the house (also disclaimer i have nothing against JJ i just like being dramatic)

The lock clicks open. The door swings with a creak. Your heels tap against the hardwood in a hollow rhythm that feels almost too loud. There’s a tightness in your chest, that prickling behind your eyes, and a familiar ache pressing up from the pit of your stomach, churning into a faint nausea that you try to ignore. You’re trying to hold it back.

Not here.

Not now.

Spencer doesn’t even look up. The keys slip from his hand with a soft clink as they hit the side table, and he turns away with a quiet sigh that reverberates deep in your bones.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, tossing a glance toward the kitchen. “Think we could order something?”

You trail after him, the sharp click of your heels echoing as you step onto the kitchen tile. “We just came back from a wedding.”

He’s rifling through the cupboard, his fingers brushing over the mismatched mugs and neatly stacked plates before he pulls down two glasses. “I barely ate anything at the reception.”

You watch him, biting back a response as memories flicker to mind. The slice of cake he’d poked at absentmindedly, washing it down with sips of water instead of real food.

It wasn’t hunger he seemed focused on tonight. No, it was his quiet glances across the room you keep on catching from the corner of your eye, and that conversation he’d had at the bar. The one where his posture softened, his gaze so intent you’d found yourself staring at the back of his head, trying not to read too much into it—and obviously failing.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

He shrugs, his back still to you as he fills the glasses with water. “I don’t know,” he says, sounding almost absent, like it’s something he hasn’t really thought about. “I didn’t get around to it, I guess.”

The muscles in your jaw ticks as you bite the inside of your cheeks.

Spencer turns, offering you a glass. “I was thinking of Chinese, or maybe we can check if that Thai place you like is still open.”

You take the glass from him, barely sparing it a glance before setting it back down on the counter. “Whatever you want is fine.”

A subtle crease appears between his brows. “You sure? You usually have some opinion when it comes to food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You don’t want to eat anything?”

You suppress a sigh. "No. I'm tired."

The soft amber of his eyes dims slightly as he studies you. There's a flicker of uncertainty passing through them before he nods. “Alright,” he concedes. “We don’t have to order anything.”

A faint, humorless laugh escapes you before you can stop it. It tastes bitter, a little unfair, but it slips out before you can pull it back, “You don’t have to change your plans on my account, Spencer.”

“I’m not changing any plans,” he responds. “I’m just making sure you have something to eat in case you’re hungry.”

Your shoes dig uncomfortably into your feet. You shift your weight, starting to pace a few steps back and forth. "It's dinner, you don't have to check on me for every little thing. Do whatever you like."

He blinks, looking genuinely perplexed. "What are you saying? I was trying to be considerate."

"Right. Considerate.”

There’s an unmistakable bite in your tone.

“Yes, because we like doing these things together," he observes, watching your uneasy pacing. "Am I missing something here?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

"Honey."

The term of endearment lands softly, slipping from his lips like he believes it has the power to melt whatever tension has suddenly crept between you. But it only tightens the knot building in your stomach. It’s stirring the words you’re trying to hold back, tangling them somewhere between your chest and throat.

He calls your name this time, his eyes narrowing into sharp lines. “You’ve been awfully quiet on our way home, and now you’re… honestly, I don’t know why you're acting this way.” His voice dips with a tinge of exasperation. "What’s this really about?"

The words you’ve been biting back feel like a stack of stones in your throat, rising up, up, up, each one pressed tighter by the gnawing nausea in your stomach. You can feel them gathering, and before you know it, they tumble out messily.

“I’m just saying, don’t let me hold you back from getting what you want. I wouldn’t want to stop you from anything—or, god forbid," you add, letting your gaze drift away as if a little distance might soften the blow, “anyone.”

The soft, almost stifled inhale he takes is audible. You don’t even have to look up to see his expression shifting. You’ve known him long enough to recognize the way his shoulders tense, the way his breathing slows as he processes your words. You know his reaction by heart, yet right now, you wonder if saying this was a mistake, if this is the start of something neither of you can take back.

His fingers twitching at his side slip into your line of sight. He's angry.

Maybe this isn’t the time to start a fight.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Your heels click softly as you turn.

“Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything,” you mutter, already moving toward the bedroom that’s been yours, too, for the past year. Although it feels strange tonight, like a space that belongs to someone else. A life you’re not entirely sure you belong in.

“No." His voice is somewhere behind you. “I think you should explain to me what you mean by that.”

You don’t respond, choosing instead to sink onto the edge of the bed, hands fumbling as you try to undo the straps of your heels. You twist the stubborn leather with more force. His shadow fills the doorway.

“Honey.”

Not again.

You decide to ignore him.

“Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

You tug harder at the strap. “No.”

He doesn’t buy it. “You’re clearly bothered by something.”

You shake your head, fingers still fumbling, the leather cutting against your ankle with each pull. “I’m just tired. Can we leave it at that?”

There’s a flicker of frustration in his gaze now, a crease forming between his brows as he studies you. He moves into the room. You barely have the chance to react before he lowers himself, bending one knee to the floor as he reaches toward the strap you’ve been fighting with. “Here, let me—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, pulling your foot away. “I can do it myself.”

“I know you can. But let me—”

“I can do it myself!”

Your heartbeat thuds loud in your ears, each pulse feeding the frustration that’s wound its way up from your chest. He rises slowly, not a word passing his lips, but the tension radiates off him like heat. He’s close enough that his warmth presses against your skin, although it’s not the kind you usually find comforting. It’s almost suffocating.

You turn your focus back to the stubborn strap, your fingers trembling slightly as you struggle to grip it. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him slipping off his shoes, one after the other, the soft thuds barely audible over the rush of your own heartbeat. He pulls off his suit jacket, carefully smoothing the crumpled fabric before hanging it in the closet. For a moment, it seems like he’s going to let it go… until his gaze drifts back to you.

You can tell his patience is fraying, and you’re proven right when he asks again, “What did you mean by that? When you said you wouldn’t want to stop me from anyone… what was that supposed to mean?”

You finally manage to tug the strap loose. The heel drops to the floor with a muted thump. “It was nothing.”

“I don’t think you’d say something like that if it was nothing.”

Your focus shifts to the other shoe. “Just drop it, Spencer.”

"How am I supposed to drop it when you're implying... whatever it is you're implying?"

You keep your eyes down, wrestling with the strap in silence. He cuts through the quiet before it has a chance to grow.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing when it clearly means something. I need to know why you said that.”

You kick off the other heel and meet his gaze for the first time since you walked into the room. “You really want to know?”

He reaches for his bow tie, yanking it loose it with one hard pull. “Do I want to know why you’re giving me this attitude right now? Yes. Yes, I do.”

Oh. So this is going to be that kind of fight.

You hadn’t expected it to go here. Fights with Spencer are very rare, usually more a clash of misunderstandings that you both laugh about with limbs tangled between sheets by the time you’ve made peace. But seeing him standing there with the tie hanging loosely around his neck and his five o’clock shadow casting an even darker line along his jaw, it hits you differently.

This is real. And this time, you don’t know if brushing it off will fix anything.

“Fine, let’s talk about it then.” You rise from the bed, tension carrying you to your feet. “Emily’s speech tonight.”

His brow furrows, not quite a scowl, more a cautious crease as he processes your tone. “Emily’s speech? What about it?”

“What do you remember of it?”

There’s a slight pause, and you can tell he's clearly caught off guard by the question. “She mentioned how Rossi and Krystal are twin flames."

“Right. Two souls that are always meant to be together.”

His face is still marked by confusion, but there’s something else creeping in. A subtle tightening around his eyes tells you he’s starting to piece it together. “I don’t understand what that has to do with—”

“You looked at JJ the second Emily made that speech,” you cut him off. “Spencer, you didn’t even spare a glance at your future wife because you were too busy making eyes at the woman who’s apparently been in love with you all these years.”

There. You said it. The words that have twisted around your insides all evening are finally out. And maybe they taste a little bitter, but at least they're not choking you anymore.

A second passes, then another, and by the time the fifth heartbeat ticks by, he’s standing there with his hand on his hip.

“That’s not what happened."

“Then what was it?” you demand. "I sat beside you the whole day, you didn't even try to hide it."

“That’s not—you’re twisting things.” His hand moves through his hair, fingers digging in as his curls tumble forward onto his forehead. “And you know what happened that night wasn’t real. It was a forced confession. She was under duress, we both were. JJ and I are just friends.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You look at all your friends like that?”

His hand drops to his side. "I don't know what else you want me to say. JJ said what she did because she thought we might die. She has a family, and a husband who she loves. We already went through this, I don't understand why this is suddenly an issue again."

“Maybe I wouldn’t be bringing this up if you didn’t look at her tonight like you were ready to break up that marriage yourself.”

A flash of shock and anger crosses his features.

“That’s not fair,” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’ve heard in a while. “Do you really think I’d disregard everything I have with you because of a look? Because of a history that has never gone anywhere?”

“I don’t know what to think. It's not like it happened just once, I saw you looking at her the same way at the bar." You step forward, accidentally kicking your discarded heel as you move. "What were you two talking about, anyway?”

He lets out a tight breath. “She was checking in on me. She… we haven’t talked much since then.”

The corners of your mouth pull down. “Mhm. Another round of truth or dare?”

“I can’t believe you’re using that against me." His hair flops forward as he shakes his head, falling messily over his brow. "If there were anything unresolved with JJ, I would’ve said something. But I didn’t, because there’s nothing there."

“And yet, she’s always been an important part of your life, hasn't she?"

He tilts his head. "What are trying to say now?"

Your tongue darts out, briefly brushing your lips. You're not sure you should say it, but it feels like a door has swung open—a door to words that have been waiting for their moment.

You take a slow, deep breath, filling your lungs with as much air as you can.

“When you were in prison, you put her on your visiting list ahead of almost everyone else. Doesn’t that say something about where she stands with you?”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

“She’s part of the team,” he says, as if he’s trying to spell out something he’s already explained a dozen times. "There were strict rules, I already told you that only a handful of people were allowed to visit. It wasn’t like I could just put anyone on the list.”

“But you could’ve put me on there!”

The familiar burn of tears prickles at the edges of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. An explanation or protest is poised on his lips, but you’re already moving, closing the distance with a single, decisive step. A finger lands on his chest.

“I was your girlfriend, Spencer. Were you that determined to keep me out? Was the thought of seeing me really so unbearable? Do you even understand how hard it was to sit at home, knowing you were locked up, feeling completely helpless? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself day after day because I couldn’t do anything to help you?”

Your lips quiver. You feel like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I was out here, just… waiting. Wondering if you were okay, if they were treating you alright, if you even had someone to talk to. And meanwhile, she’s there, with you. Every single time, she’s the one who gets to be by your side.”

Your nail digs into the fabric of his shirt.

“So forgive me if I can’t just let that go. Because when it mattered, it felt like you didn’t want me to be there for you. And now… now I don’t even know if you need me the way you seem to need her.”

Your breathing turns shallow, each inhale catching in your chest. The tears you’ve been holding back are dangerously blurring your vision. You swallow the knot lodged in your throat.

“I need a minute.”

Without another word, you turn and walk out of the room, leaving him standing there in stunned silence. You slip back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you finally reach for the glass of water that’s been sitting there untouched. You take a sip, barely feeling the cool water on your lips, when you hear his footsteps behind you.

“You think I don’t want you in my life?” he demands. “You think I somehow need her more than I need you?”

You set the glass down. “What part of ‘I need a minute’ do you not understand?”

“You really expect me to wait quietly after you unloaded every doubt you’ve ever had about us?”

You life your chin up. “Yes, I do. I need space to think right now.”

“What more do you want to think about when you’ve already convinced yourself that I’m always going to fall short? Is it so hard to believe that you’re the one I want?”

“You want to know why it’s so damn hard to believe?” You turn towards him. “Because every time I try to let this go, there’s always something. A confession. That—that not-so-subtle look. And when those things happen, it reminds me that I’m not as close to you as she is. I’m fucking tired of feeling like I’m fighting for space in your life.”

“Do you think I want you to feel like that? Do you think I’d go through everything we’ve been through if you didn’t matter to me?”

“Then explain to me why I wasn’t on that list!” you cry out. “Explain to me why, in one of the hardest times of your life, you couldn’t make space for me?”

“Because I was trying to protect you!”

A heavy, dreadful silence falls between you. He takes a step back, his eyelids fluttering shut briefly, and when he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that mirrors the gentleness now threading through his voice.

“I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you, and maybe it never will, but I couldn’t stand the idea of you seeing me like that. Living through it was hard enough, but having you there, seeing me so helpless… It would have crushed me. I didn’t want that to be your memory of me.”

His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows, a quick, almost anxious movement you’ve witnessed countless times.

“And when JJ came to see me,” he continues, “the way the inmates looked at her, the things they said after she left… it was disgusting. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen to you. I couldn’t live with thought of you being subjected to that because of me.”

You lower your head with a sigh. “I don’t care if they looked. I don’t care what they would’ve thought.”

“But I care,” he fires back, taking a step forward. “Because you mean more to me than anyone. All I wanted was to keep you safe, and maybe I didn't handle it right, maybe I made the wrong call... but it was only because I—" His voice drops into an even more gentle note. "Because I love you."

Your heart stumbles, an uneven beat that feels almost bruised, pounding hard against your ribs.

"I-I love you so much. More than I know how to put into words." The ache in your chest sharpens as his hands come up to cup your cheeks. "I don't like fighting with you. I hate it, actually. I hate seeing you look at me like this."

You also hate the way he’s looking at you. There’s a depth to his annoyingly pretty eyes that makes it impossible to hold up your defenses without feeling them crumble. You let your eyes flutter closed.

“Why don’t we… call it a night?” He suggests. “Let’s lie down. We don’t have to talk about this now.”

The blackness behind your eyelids does little to quiet your mind. Nor does his voice. Or his touch. Instead of offering peace, his presence throws every glance, every moment of tension from tonight into sharper relief.

You draw in a breath, trying to find some comfort in his palms against your cheeks. Yet, even this can’t smooth away the doubt that’s settled in. With a resigned sigh, you release the breath you’ve been holding along with the words that have been pressing at the back of your throat.

“You haven’t explained it to me.”

The shadows in his gaze seem to deepen when you open your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been going in circles, but you haven’t explained to me what happened tonight,” you say quietly. “Why did you look at her, Spencer?”

His thumb absently strokes your cheek in a way that feels more hesitant than reassuring.

“Be honest with me,” you press. “Was there a part of you, even the tiniest part, that still wanted something with her? Some small part of you that… wondered what it might be like?”

The silence between you presses in from all sides, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant, muffled ticking of a clock on the wall. It’s the kind of quiet that sharpens even the smallest sounds, yet his lack of response feels like the loudest thing of all.

You pull back from him with an incredulous laugh.

“Unbelievable.” The word barely makes it past your lips, then louder as you start to move, pacing the length of the apartment. “Unbelievable.”

“Wait,” he says, trailing after you, “I didn’t even say anything.”

You stop short by the couch and whip around to face him.

“You didn’t need to! You—you hesitated," you stammer, searching his face for any flicker of denial, but it’s there, plain as day, that split-second of doubt you caught. “That was already an answer.”

He inches closer. A hand closes in on you. “Please—”

You flinch, pulling back, and every muscle in your body tightens. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now.”

His hand falls to his side. “Please… let me explain."

You watch his hand drop, fingers twitching like they’re not sure if they should retreat or reach out again, but he keeps them there, hovering in some invisible line you’ve drawn. He looks at you with those big, pleading eyes, and for a split second, you almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

A bitter sort of smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "So now you want to explain?"

He takes that as permission, and his voice comes in low, almost cautious. "When I first started at the BAU, I had… maybe a crush. A passing thing, barely anything, really. But that was fourteen years ago.” His hand scrubs through his hair in a frustrated sweep. “Fourteen years."

Your brows pull into a frown. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Because it was nothing,” he says, almost too quickly. “I was young, it didn’t matter. I didn’t think it was worth bringing up.”

“Oh, I get it now. All those old feelings came rushing back the night she confessed, didn’t they?”

He mirrors your frown, a visible line of tension etching itself between his brows as he protests, “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?” you press. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a whole lot like you’re caught between us because some part of you is still hung up on what might’ve been with her."

He shifts uncomfortably, and you notice the muscles in his jaw clenching the moment his gaze falters, dipping away for just a heartbeat before he looks back at you.

“It’s not that I don’t know what I want,” he starts to explain. “I didn’t expect her to say those things, and, yes, it threw me off for a moment. But that doesn’t mean I’m looking back, or that I want her. I want you.”

You shake your head, feeling a tired sort of frustration settle over you, and walk over to the couch. The soft cushions give slightly beneath you as you sink down.

“If you really wanted me, this wouldn’t be happening. You wouldn’t have let her get into your head like that. And now, you expect to believe that none of it meant anything?”

He’s quick to follow, closing the distance in a few tense steps. “It’s not—” His hands flex open and close at his sides. “You’re acting like one single look tonight is enough to decide I’m not committed to you. Do you really think I’d let some confession I didn’t even ask for get in the way of what we have?”

“It’s not just about that single look. It’s the way she could say something and suddenly, you’re pulled back to something you swore you’d put behind you. How am I supposed to feel secure when she still has that power over you?”

“And what am I supposed to do, then? Apologize for things I don’t even feel anymore?”

You flinch at the sharpness in his voice. A low, frustrated noise rumbles in his chest when you don’t respond.

“You’re always going to question me no matter what I say, aren’t you?"

You glance over at him, catching the disheveled strands of hair falling over his forehead, and it pulls you back to that night he came home after that dreadful night. He’d walked in looking worn in a way you’d never seen before, his whole posture weighted down as if he was carrying more than just the fear of being held hostage.

You remember sitting with him on this same couch, fingers brushing his, and asking what was bothering him.

JJ said she loved me.

Your heart lurched, a quick, quiet ache that you tried to swallow down. Really?

Don’t worry. It’s not true.

But with that same haunted look in his eyes right now, you can’t help but wonder if it really was just a well-intentioned lie.

“One glance and you’re accusing me of things that are never going to happen,” he starts again. “Do you really think so little of me? After everything we’ve shared, you really think I’d betray you like that?”

In true honesty, you don’t believe he would ever cross that line. But the doubts still linger, fed by those small hesitations, the moments when his eyes seem somewhere else. It’s not that you think he’d betray you. It’s that a part of him might still be holding onto something he won’t let you see.

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Now those words you might actually believe.

“Maybe I don’t,” you say quietly, eyes drifting to the ring on your finger. You twist it absently, remembering the night he proposed. How he’d stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing as he tried to make the moment perfect but ended up rambling in that endearing, nervous way of his. You’d laughed, reassured him that it was exactly right, that you didn’t need grand gestures. All you needed was him.

And yet, you don’t think he needs you as much you need him.

A hollow ache settles around your hand as you slip the ring off.

“What are you doing?”

You stare down at the gold band in your palm, blinking back the sting of tears.

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

Panic. Desperation. There’s a sudden rush of melancholy in his voice, a heaviness that wasn’t there a moment ago.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I—I don’t know anything right now.”

His face crumples, and in a sudden, almost instinctive movement, he drops down to his knees.

“No, no, you do know me. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. Isn’t this—” he stops, then dips his head, trying to catch your gaze. “Isn’t that what couples do? They argue, they mess things up… but they work through it, right? Right?”

You look down, feeling the cool weight of the ring pressing into your skin.

“Spencer…” you begin. “I trust you. I do, and I’m sorry if I made it seem like I didn’t. But… I need to feel secure. I… I need to know that I don’t have to wonder or worry about where I stand. I never thought you’d be the one to make me doubt that.”

There’s a sharp ache in your chest.

“I didn’t think it could hurt this much. Not from you.”

Your pulse ring in your ear.

“I can’t—” The words catch in your throat, a stinging burn rising as you force them out. “I can’t be your wife when I’m constantly questioning if I have all of you. When I feel like… there’s always a part of you that isn’t mine.”

“I’m yours, honey. I’m always yours.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

There’s a slight falter in his voice. “Don’t—please don’t do this—”

“I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

He falls silent, and for a moment, the only sound is the rough, uneven rhythm of both your breaths filling the space between you. Then, like something inside him finally cracks open, he sinks down, pressing his forehead against your lap. The sudden weight of him forces a broken sob from your throat.

“Please,” he begs, fingers clutching at your sides. His chin presses deep into your thigh. “Tell me how to fix this. I can’t— I can’t lose you.”

“Spence…”

“I love you,” he blurts out, the words tumbling from him in a rush. “I love you.”

But what is love, really? Is it just a word people reach for when they’ve run out of things to say, a way to patch over bruised hearts and broken promises? Or should it feel like something more solid, something that doesn’t leave you questioning or aching? You can’t even tell anymore.

You wonder, too, if maybe you’ve been wrong all along. If this feeling in your chest isn’t love but something dressed up as it, something that fills the gaps while slowly hollowing you out. Because here you are, clinging to a love that somehow makes you feel like you’re both needed and unseen. Everything and nothing all at once.

You feel like a fool.

“I want to go to bed.”

His head lifts from your lap, a flash of surprise darting across his face, as though he hadn’t expected you to say anything at all, let alone that. “Yeah, okay, let’s go to bed. We’ll… we’ll figure this out in the morning.”

“I’d rather be alone.”

The words hit him visibly. His mouth opens, an argument forming there, but he catches himself, letting the silence stretch before he nods slowly.

“Then… I’ll stay out here. On the couch,” he offers softly. “Just… in case you need anything.”

A pang cuts through you at the thought of him stretched out on the couch, his legs too long, his shoulders folded in to fit the cramped space. But the idea of sharing a bed right now feels impossible.

You reach down, holding out the ring towards him.

“No,” he says firmly, gently pushing your hand away. “Don’t do that. This… it doesn’t mean we’re giving up. It just means we need time. That’s all.”

You’re not sure if your mind will change in the morning. The ring presses into your skin, but finally, you close your hand around it, nodding faintly before you peel away from him.

The tears start the moment the bedroom door clicks shut behind you. It spills over in a jagged, helpless cry that sounds nothing like you imagined heartbreak might sound. It’s messy, a kind of aching grief that feels too big for your chest, clawing its way out with no grace at all. You can practically hear how pathetic you sound, and yet you can’t seem to stop.

Even when the hem of your dress trails across the floor. Even when you finally collapse onto his side of the bed. There’s no stopping you. With the ring sitting cold in your hand, your tears keep coming, soaking into the pillow as you cling to the last trace of him woven into the sheets.

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 4

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

In that moment, Sky’s brain didn't function. 

She just sat there, staring at the gorgeous, gorgeous male across from her. She couldn’t think. Not when he looked like that. Not when he looked better than any figment her imagination had ever come up with…

He was…the most beautiful male Skylar Alden had ever seen. 

Everything about him was perfection. From his inky black hair, to his high, chiseled cheekbones, to his...his strong broad body that looked like it was just made to be pressed right up against hers. Gods...he looked like he was made from her deepest fantasies. He was...he was…

And then he gave her a slow, soft smile and her breath caught in her throat. 

Cauldron, he was  beautiful. Like every perfect fantasy she had ever had come to life. 

And he smelled even better than he looked, the scent of cedar and mist so mouthwateringly delicious she wanted to lick it straight off his damn skin. How a male could look this sinfully gorgeous and smell just as delicious, she didn't know. And he...he was smiling at her. Smiling at...her.

And she could feel the bond.

She could feel it.

Something…just clicked into place. Something in her chest shifted and it felt right and perfect and she just knew. 

Sky just knew that nobody else would ever come close to compare to him…

This was the male for her. He...he was hers.

Hers.

Her mate. 

Sky was a hopeless romantic. Maybe she needed to be that, so that she was able to write love stories for a living.

She loved love. She loved the whole fairytale, happily ever after fantasy. And looking at the male in front of her, it was like he came straight from the pages of her books.

But things like this didn’t happen to girls like her. She knew that. She knew that so well. She… he wasn’t going to want to…

Sky wasn't attractive enough, not interesting enough. Why would he choose her? Why would this gorgeous, gorgeous thing of beauty want to be with...someone like her?

It wouldn’t make sense. She wasn't...she wasn't anything special. He could do so much better than...than her.

She was so awkward, so plain. He was just...way out of her league.

“What’s wrong?” He asked her. Even his voice was perfect. One hand reached out for her, and she weakly registered the violent scars that covered it. They looked like they must have hurt. And then he seemingly thought better about it. “You…were happy.Now…”

That was the problem. She couldn't stop her stupid thoughts. They just kept on running through her brain, making her feel...feel self-conscious. Insecure. She was...she was just a mess. Always had been.

And she opened her mouth to respond but no word left her lips, her throat closing as she tried to say even a single sounds.

Tears shot in her eyes. Why? Just for one…just for one fucking time Sky didn’t want every word that left her mouth to be a fight.

But it was. And she tried to say a single thing but her body didn’t allow her, and her heart reatcheted up because she knew that she looked like an idiot but…She couldn't move. Couldn't...couldn't do anything but just sit there and cry like the pathetic, stupid mess she was. She didn't deserve him. He was...he was perfect. And Sky was just...useless.

He was just staring at her, looking...worried, probably so confused about why she was being like this. 

Stupid. So stupid. Like she always was. The tears kept falling, and she felt pathetic. So, so pathetic.

Her eyes closed as she fought back a sob, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. It was...it was too humiliating, being like this in front of him. She probably looked like a total freak. She...she just wished he didn't have to see her like this.

He shouldn't have to see her like this, see her being an absolute mess because she didn't know how to act like a normal person. She could feel him move, and her breath hitched. He...he was probably about to leave. She...she didn't blame him, really. She was an embarrassment.

But then a warm, broad hand was on top of her own trembling fingers, covering her with his own. Her eyes flew open from the shock, her lips parting in surpris, his gorgeous eyes fixed on hers as he gently stroked the back of her hands with his thumb.

“Take a deep breath, love. It’s alright,” he soothed her softly. “It’s alright.”

She could feel her heart flutter as his voice washed over her, warm like a balm over a burn. It just made her want to cry even more, because he...he was being so nice. So gentle with her, even though he probably thought that she was being utterly ridiculous.

“I…I….I am so….so…sorry.” Her stutter was so bad. Clearly at its worst. Worse than it even was when she didn’t have enough sleep.

She felt tears sliding down her cheeks even harder, her vision getting blurry as she tried to avoid his eyes. Her stupid, stupid stutter always got worse when she was upset. Like her brain shut down and she just...lost the ability to form basic sentences.

She tried to calm down, tried to stop crying, but it just kept going. The tears didn't stop, and god, she must've looked completely pathetic.

"I'm s-sorry." she sobbed, her voice a wretched, strangled sound as she tried to stop the shaking that wracked her entire body. She just wanted...she just wanted to be calm. To be normal.

And he had probably even heard Claire. Had probably heard every barbed word her sister had thrown in her direction.

The thought made her want to wail as the tears fell harder, her breathing growing laboured and uneven. He would never want her now. Not after she had embarrassed herself like this. Not after she just...sat here and cried and stuttered like an idiot.

She tried to pull away from his grasp, but he didn't let her, gently taking her hands in his. His fingers felt so warm on hers, and his touch was so, so gentle. It just made the tears fall even harder, an ugly, broken sound wrenching from her throat.

Sky wanted to stop, she wanted to stop crying and being so hysterical, but her stupid, worthless brain wouldn't co-operate.

And then suddenly he enveloped her against a broad chest, strong arms settling sround her. He was hugging her

It was like every fiber of her being froze, her heart nearly stopping as she felt his arms encircle her. It was like...like some kind of dream. He was hugging her, hugging her like she was precious to him, like he...he truly cared about her. After all of Sky’s awkwardness, and stupid, pathetic crying...he still was holding her like this.

“Breath,” he told her softly. “It’s alright. Whatever is wrong, we’ll fix it.”

She took a deep, trembling breath, his scent washing over her. It was like he was everywhere, his arms tight and yet gentle around her, his broad chest pressed against hers, his cedar and mist scent in her nose. It just...it just made the tears fall all the more harder, a small, broken sob wringing itself from her throat.

Of course, his scent was just as amazing as he was. And it made her feel...feel safe. Like nothing could hurt her as long as he was there, like he would protect her from everything and anything. 

She buried her head in his chest, trying to block out the rest of the world as she held onto him so tightly she was sure she was probably hurting him. But still he didn't move, still he let her cling to him as she cried so hard it made her shake.

For once in her life Sky felt delicate in his grasp. She wasn’t thin at all, but against him…she felt small. She felt so safe pressed against him.Secure. Like she could let him hold her forever as she sobbed so hard she was practically convulsing. She knew he probably thought she was being pathetic, but still...but still, he was hugging her.

It was like she couldn't breathe. Her heart was hammering so hard against her ribcage that it hurt to even draw in oxygen, her emotions completely overwhelming her. 

She could feel his fingers running through her brown curls, and the touch just made her cry even harder. She must have looked so awful, so miserable, but he just...he just held her like this. Like she mattered to him, like she wasn't a total, pathetic mess.

And finally…finally Sky managed to calm down.

It took a long while, but eventually, the sobs eased into small, shallow breaths as she curled up against his strong chest. Sky still felt...awful. Like a total idiot. But at least the tears had stopped.

“I….i am sor…sorry.” She managed to bring out.

“There is nothing you need to apologise for,” he told her gently, one hand still delicately rubbing her spine.

“I…I cri…cried all o…over you.”Her voice sounded scratchy and broken from all the crying, and she was so deeply ashamed of it. He probably thought she sounded ridiculous. But she took another deep breath and pressed on, trying to speak through her tears, her stupid stutter still making it hard for her to even form a single word.

He held out a handkerchief for her and she whiled away the tears.

She blinked a few times, staring at the piece of fabric. He...he was giving her something to dry her tears, because she was such a pathetic mess that she had completely soaked the front of his shirt. Shame made heat rise in her cheeks, but she took the handkerchief from him.

She dabbed away at her wet lashes, her voice weak and raspy as she spoke. "T-thank you," she said quietly, still not being able to meet his eyes. She still felt so humiliated, but also so, so grateful that he was still here, that he hadn't left yet.

Sy knew she probably looked completely dreadful, all red-eyed and blotchy from all the crying, her hair mess and tangled from where he had run his fingers through it. 

She wanted to curl up and die from the shame of it all. Of being such a stupid, messy, emotional wreck. She must have looked like such an idiot, but somehow, somehow he was still here. 

"Will you tell me your name?" he asked her softly.

Sky felt her heartbeat quicken as he spoke, as his voice washed over her. Of course. Of course he didn't even know her name. She had been so caught up in her little pity party that she hadn't even introduced herself yet. A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away as best as she was able.

"S---Sky," she managed to bring out. She grimaced at her stutter.  "S...Sorry." She didn't dare to try and say anything else. Didn't dare to try an ask him for his name, because otherwise she was going to stutter even more.

"There is absolutely nothing you need to apologise for," he repeated fiercely. "I am Azriel."

His words made something in her heart quicken, her stomach fluttering in a way that it shouldn't. A small, shaky breath left her lips at the sound of his name, and she couldn't help but repeat it to herself quietly in her head. Azriel. His name suited him perfectly.

She looked up at him, finally looking at him properly, only to find that he was looking right back at her, those deep, hazel eyes fixed on her in a way that made her heart stutter in her chest. She probably looked awful, a total wreck, and yet he was still looking at her like that.

She opened her mouth to try and speak, but only a tiny, broken squeak left her lips. So she tried again, forcing the words out from between her lips. "Azriel." His name felt so good on her lips, even if her voice broke on the second syllable, but still, she had managed to say it.

He smiled that beautiful smile of his once more, and the sight of it made her want to cry all over again. How was it that this perfect male was still here, was still looking at her like...like she was something precious? Like she was anything other than a total wreck?! She just...she just wanted to die from the humiliation of it all.

"Tell me what's wrong." It wasn't as much a statement as much as it was an order. "You were happy. And then you just..."

She sniffled, trying to stop herself from crying even more than she already had. It was hard, her eyes blinking as tears continued to well up and fall. "It's..." She took in a raspy, stuttering breath, her lips trembling. "It's ju…ju…st...just me being...being stu…stupid."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe," Azriel responded, his voice flat. "Take a deep breath. And then tell me what's wrong so I can fix this."

She blinked a few times, looking at him. He was so...straightforward. Direct. So commanding, but also so gentle. Like he actually cared. She felt...she felt so, so unworthy of that. She didn't deserve his kindness, not after acting like a complete lunatic. Still, she obeyed, taking a deep, shaky breath before trying to speak.

"You...You de…de…deserve bet…better than…than me," she whispered. Her voice was quiet, little more than a whisper, and she felt her throat thicken as she spoke. It was true, and she...she couldn't believe he was being so gentle with her. Not with how ridiculous she was being.

He stared at. "What."

She looked down, focusing her eyes on her hands that were clutched in her lap. His own hand was still resting gently on the nape of her neck. "I...I am..." She took a deep breath, forcing herself to try to explain. "You...You…you are…you. And I…I am…me.” He was so handsome. And she wasn’t beautiful in the slightest. 

Sky blinked a few times, trying not to start crying even more than she had already done. It was just so...hard. So hard to admit how...how unworthy she was of him. He was amazing, and she was a total mess. 

A complete emotional disaster.

And he was going to realise that one day and leave or cheat on her with her sister and that was going to crush her heart and...

She tried so hard to blink away the tears that welled up in her eyes. She knew...she knew that this was just a temporary thing. That he was only being this kind to her out of pity. He would see how awful she truly was, and he would leave, just like everyone else did.

"Cauldron, Love, they really did a number on you," he breathed.

She sniffled, wiping the tears that fell from her cheeks. She knew that. She knew that she was unloveable. That there was something fundamentally wrong with her. And she hated it. 

"You…you'll cho…ch…choose s…s…somebody el…else and…and I get it b…but it's go…going to h…hurt and..." she croaked out.

"I am not going to choose somebody else," he cut her off. "You are my mate."

She blinked, her heart stuttering in her chest at his words. It felt...it felt like a dream. It didn't feel real. There was no way, just no way in Hell that someone like him was her mate. She was...there was absolutely no universe where she deserved him.

"That means that until you tell me to disappear off the face of this earth, you are stuck with me," he told her softly. "That means, that I will always choose you. I will always be on your side. I will protect you and I will shelter you."

She just stared at him as her heart hammered so hard against her ribcage that she wanted to pass out. Was he....was...was he being serious? Even as broken and awful as she was...how she had just completely fallen apart in front of him....he was still...he was still saying that she was...was his mate? That he would...that he would always choose her? Protect her...shelter her?

Her side...nobody had ever seemingly been on her side.

"I..." She was at a total loss for words. Him...him wanting to...to protect her? To shelter her? It was everything she had ever wanted. But she was so, so terrified that it was all...temporary. That the moment he saw her for all the broken, damaged things that she really was...that he would leave. Everyone always left.

He lifted his hand and she leaned against it as he cupped her cheek, wiping away even more tears. "You are my mate," Azriel repeated softly. "And if I had dared to approach while your sister was still there, I probably would have wrung your sister’s neck for what she said to you."

Sky felt a small, trembling smile begin to curl at her lips. He...he was her mate. She still couldn't believe it, but there it was. He was her mate, and he actually wanted her. Not only did he want her, but he was willing to...to defend her. To protect her. To stand up for her, even against her own sister. It was more than she could ever have asked for, more than she had ever hoped for herself. And the thought...the thought of that nearly made her cry all over again.

"It's…It’s bet…better to just…to just let Cla…Claire get it out of her sys…system and not inter…in…interrupt her," she said weakly. "She runs out of steam eventual…eventually."

"You shouldn't let her speak to you like that," Azriel said softly, his hand still resting gently against her cheek. "You shouldn't have to endure her venom."

She swallowed thickly, her throat tight. She knew that, she knew that she shouldn't let Claire speak to her in such a horrible way, that she should defend herself. But...but it had just never happened. She had always been too caught up in her own head, too afraid of...of doing something wrong. Of making everything worse instead of better. Because it always seemed to end up worse whenever she tried to stand up for herself.

But...but hearing him say it....hearing him tell her that she didn't have to put up with Claire's horrible words...it made something flutter in her chest. Something akin to hope. The thought that maybe....maybe she didn't need to listen to Claire's vicious words, that maybe...maybe she could stand up for herself after all.

"She's the fa…fa…favourite," she said weakly. "Always…s wa..was. The pret…prettier one."

She sniffled, her stomach twisting at the thought of it. Claire had always been the preferred one, the one that everyone adored. And Skye had always been...well, the other one. The one that nobody wanted to be around, the one that everyone was constantly criticizing.

"She's bone deep ugly," Azriel snapped right back. "There is nothing attractive about her at all." She could just stare at him.

She blinked at him, almost in shock at his words. No one ever said things like that about Claire. Everyone was always so busy praising her beauty and her grace and her charm, but never a single one of them would ever say a single negative thing about her. But here was Azriel, outright saying that Claire wasn't attractive at all. It was...it was hard to even wrap her head around.

"You say tha…that now," Sky said weakly.She swallowed thickly, her heart clenching at the very thought of him ever changing his mind. She knew....she knew that it was a very real possibility. He might think her worthy of him now, but as soon as he got to know her....how pathetic and broken and damaged she was. The thought of losing this....losing him...it made her stomach twist painfully.

She sniffled again, wiping tears away from her cheeks, her voice weak and broken. "You won…won't think tha..that..." she whispered. "When you...when you know me more. You'll think I'm path…pathetic, too. Just like Claire does. Just like every…everyone does."

The words felt like acid in her throat, like a knife twisting through her heart. She knew that it was true, that he would think her pathetic, too. He was only being so kind to her now because he didn't really know her yet. Once he got to know her....once he saw all the broken pieces that made her up....he would realize just how unworthy she was of him.

"I think that you spent your whole life being talked to like that, and that no fucking accolade you ever got was something you take seriously." Azriel's words were harsh, and they made her come up short. 

Sky had always thought that maybe...maybe the next time she achieved something her parents would be proud of her. That they would finally tell her that she had done well. But it had never happened. They were never proud of her accomplishments, no matter how good they were. She was never good enough for them, never anything enough for them. They always just...just told her that she needed to do better. That she had the capacity to do better. That it was her fault she hadn't.

And when she had published her first book...she hadn't wanted them to ruin that for her. So she had kept it a secret from them. Then the 2nd. And the 3rd. Book after book after book. People liked what she wrote. People bought her books. And still it felt like...it wasn't real.

No matter how many books she sold, it never felt like it counted. It never felt like she had actually achieved something. And no matter how much money she had in the bank, no matter how well she fed herself or kept a roof over her head, it just...it all felt like it was built on a fragile foundation. Like it could all come falling down around her at any moment, leaving her alone, cold, and broken. 

Just like how this mating bond could seemingly break just at a snap of his fingers.

That feeling only got worse when she thought about the bond between her and Azriel. It was so new, so fragile, and she knew that he could break it if he wanted to. He didn't have to keep it, didn't have to stay by her side. He could just...just walk away and leave her in the dust. The thought made her stomach clench painfully, her eyes stinging with more tears.

"I don't want your sister. I want you," he told her softly. "You are my mate, Sky. Turn me down if you don't want me, but don't do it because you think that I don't want you. Because I do. I have never wanted anything in my life more."

His words made her heart sing, the warmth of them filling her chest to bursting. She...she didn't think she had ever been wanted in her entire life. Her parents had always been so quick to shove her aside, to tell her that she was worthless and a failure. But Azriel....he actually wanted her. He actually saw something worth keeping in her. It was more than she had ever dreamed of, the thought so impossibly perfect that it made her feel like she was going to burst into tears all over again.

Sky just stared at him, unsure of what to say, how to respond to such an open expression of adoration from him. She had never been good at accepting compliments or affection, her automatic response was always to push it away. But here was Azriel, telling her that he wanted her, that she was his mate. And how could she even think about pushing that away? How could she even consider rejecting the best thing that had ever happened to her? It was an impossible thought, one that left her feeling awed and speechless.

So instead of saying anything, Sky simply reached for him, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly, burying her face in his neck. She felt safe here, in his arms, like nothing could hurt her as long as he was holding her close. And in that moment, she felt more than anything that this, this was where she belonged. 

In his arms, with Azriel as her mate. It was everything she had ever wanted, and she was determined to hold onto it as tightly as she possibly could.

"I won't ev..ever turn you down," she whispered. "I was waiting for you for de…decades."

"Decades? Try half a millennia," Azriel responded.

Azriel's words made her heart stutter in her chest, her stomach twisting with butterflies. He...he had waited for her for so long?

All that time, he had been waiting patiently for his mate, and that mate had been her? It was more than she could even wrap her head around. She had always thought that no one would ever want her, that she was destined to be alone, and yet here he was, telling her that he had been waiting for her for centuries.

So Sky just clung to him, her eyes stinging with a fresh wave of tears. She couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that she was actually so important to someone. That she had actually been....been wanted by someone.She felt so unbelievably lucky, and all she wanted to do was hold on to this feeling for as long as possible. This feeling of being loved and wanted and...and worthy.

She sat back, even when she wanted nothing else but to keep being held by him, managing a weak smile. Sky couldn’t help but stare at him, couldn’t help but take in the black hair and dark hazel eyes that glinted green…and then her gaze snagged at the pair of massive, ferocious wings that sprouted from his back.

“You are Il…Illyrian?” she asked, surprise colouring her voice.

She didn't know why she was so surprised. Maybe because because there weren’t a lot of illyrians that lived in Velaris…maybe because he really didn’t seem to match the picture that most books she had read about them and their culture painted about them. 

His wings were… magnificent. Azriel’s wings were so massive, so huge and powerful, and they seemed to span an impossible distance even when  he had them folded carefulyl against his back. 

“What gave it away?” He quipped, though the ere was a grimace on his face. “I am not…whatever you may have heard…”

She flinched slightly, feeling a small pang of guilt at her reaction to his wings. She knew that Illyrians had a reputation for being brutal and ruthless, but she hadn't meant to make Azriel feel uncomfortable or ashamed of his heritage. 

"I am sor…sorry," she said sheepishly. “I was…just su…surprised. There aren’t a lot of Il…Illyrians around Velaris. I've never seen wings like yours before, j…just read about them. They're beautiful."

She looked up at him, hoping that he could see the sincerity in her gaze. She didn't want him to feel like she was judging him based on his species, or that she was scared of him just because he was Illyrian or a lesser Fae. 

“I…I got some River Nymph blood some…somewhere down the line,” she told him.”It’s the family s…scandal.”

He chuckled at that, even as he mustered her.“Your eyes,” he realised aloud, and she nodded

She blushed slightly, her heart leaping at the thought of him noticing such a small detail about her. To know that he had taken the time to observe her eyes, to notice the faint turquoise hue that came from the bit of River Nymph blood flowing through her veins, regardless of how diluted it was…It made her feel like he truly saw her, not just the broken, damaged parts of her, but everything that made her who she was.

“Gre…Great grandma from my dads s..side,” she explained. “I was the only one who got the eyes…and the bendy bones.” She had always been seen as the odd one in her family. The outcast. Growing up, it had been hard to know where she fit in. Her parents had always been so focused on her brother and her sister, on their achievements and successes, and she had always felt like she was just...there. Just existing in the background, never quite good enough to be noticed or noticed for all the wrong reasons.

“Tell me more,” Azriel requested softly, reaching out to hold her hand again.

“More of what?” she wondered, blushing slightly. 

“More about you. I want to know everything.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his request. He...he wanted to know more about her? He actually wanted to listen to her, to hear what she had to say? The thought was almost enough to make her cry all over again. No one had ever asked her about herself before, no one had ever expressed an interest in her life or her thoughts. She had always been the one listening to others, never the one being listened to…especially not with her stutter. 

”I am not that interes…interesting,” Sky said weakly.She had always been self-conscious about what she liked and didn't like, always been afraid that others would judge her for her preferences. Even the thought of telling Azriel what she enjoyed doing for fun made her feel nervous and unsure. She didn't want him to think she was boring or uninteresting, and yet...and yet she also wanted to be honest with him. She wanted him to know who she really was, even if that meant showing all her quirks and flaws.

“I write boo…books for a..for a living,” Sky told him “R…Romance novels. And I have a cat named Hector that’s …that’s ador…adorable.”

Azriel grinned at her. “I can’t wait to meet him.” She blushed at that thought. 

She had always been nervous about talking to people, about opening up and letting them know who she was, but with Azriel...it felt different. It felt right.

“What…What do you do?” Sky wondered quietly.

“I work for the High Lord,” Azriel answered. “I…gather intelligence, I guess you could say.”

"Intelligence?" she asked curiously. She had never heard of anyone who did something like that before. It sounded like a dangerous job, one that required a lot of skill and training. Azriel nodded, his expression serious. 

"Yes. I gather information about...about threats to our court. About the dangers that lurk in the world around us."

She shivered slightly at the thought of some of the dangers that Azriel had to face on a regular basis. On the things that he was confronted with every single way…He was doing what was necessary to protect their people from harm. SHe knew that it must took a lot of courage and determination to do a job like that, and she couldn’t help but feel a wave of respect for him.

Sky took a deep breath, "Is it....is it danger…dangerous? Gathering all that…all that information?" She asked nervously. "I…I mean, do…do you ev…ever...get hurt?"

Azriel's expression darkened, and he hesitated for a moment before answering. "Sometimes," he admitted. "There are always risks involved in what I do. I have been injured before, but I have also been very lucky. I have survived so far."

She shivered at the thought of him being hurt, of him being in danger. Sky couldn't bear the thought of him being harmed, of him being in pain. She wanted to protect him, to keep him safe from all the horrors of the world. It was a feeling she had never experienced before, this overwhelming need to protect someone else. But with Azriel, she felt it with every fiber of her being. She would do anything to keep him safe, to make sure he never got hurt again.

Sky took his hand in hers, gripping it tightly. "Please…Please be careful," she whispered, her eyes full of fear and worry. "I…I don't want an…anything to happen to you." I don't want to lose you. The words were unspoken, but she knew that he could hear them in her voice, in the way her fingers trembled against his.

“I am careful,” he promised her seriously. “Besides, I am not exactly on my own,” he told her seriously.

She raised an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of her. "You…You're not on…on your own?" she asked, surprised. "Who…Who do you work with then?"

A moment later…she got her answer in the form of wreathing shadows, that welled up behind him.

For a moment Sky could just blink. 

Then: “You are a shadowsinger?!” She breathed in wonder. 

She had read about it, of course…when she had a whole phase of thinking how cool it would be if she had some kind of special powers. Sadly, there never had any manifested. No shadows for her…or mind reading either. 

Azriel chuckled softly at her reaction. "Yes," he said simply. "It's a useful skill in my line of work."

She stared at him in awe. She had read stories of the fabled shadowsingers, of their ability to control shadows and use them to do their bidding. But she had never actually met one before. They were…stupidly rare.” But clearly Azriel was one. 

“Do…Do they…talk to you?” She asked him curiously.

Azriel nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, they do," he said. "They have their own personality and quirks, and I can communicate with them in a way that no one else can. It's a unique connection, one that I…I have grown to cherish."

They were important to him.

So Sky did the only polite thing. “It’s…nice to meet you.” She greeted them, holding out a hand. 

Azriel's shadows seemed to pause for a moment, as if taken aback by her greeting. Then they swirled around her, brushing against her skin in a gesture of introduction. 

She couldn't help but smile at the sensation of the shadows brushing against her skin, their touch neither hot nor cold. They seemed almost sentient, like they had a mind of their own. It was both strange and fascinating at the same time. "Do you have…a name?" she asked curiously.

Azriel chuckled. "No, they don’t have a name. It's just...the shadows."

She nodded in understanding. They did seem…weirdly alive. And they were so responsive to Azriel's commands, so attuned to his needs and desires, that it was hard not to think of them as a separate entity in their own right.

But still…as she wiggled her fingers and the shadows wove between them, she couldn’t help but wonder…

"What...what d…do you wan..want from me?" Sky asked him softly. What did he want? What did he expect? 

Azriel's expression softened, and he reached out to cup her cheek gently in his hand. "I want...I want whatever you are willing to give me," he said quietly. "I want to be there for you, to support you and protect you. I want to make you happy, to make you feel loved and cherished. And I want...I want to be your mate, if you'll have me."

Sky bit her lip, leaning into his touch. "I…I want that t…too," she admitted quietly. "And I really want a family one day. I want kids," she told him. 

"I want that too," he said softly, his voice full of warmth and love. "I want everything with you, Sky. All of it."

She couldn't help but smile at that admission. Hearing him say that He wanted the same thing, hearing him say that He wanted to build a future with her...it was like a dream come true. And then Skylar Alden who had always overthought everything in her life, made this one decision: "Then take me home."

[tarot-quartz]

PICK A CARD - HOW WILL YOU MEET YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE

╰┈➤ Paid readings

left to right

★ pile 1 - When you meet this person you might be in a relationship that’s failing because of lack of commitment or growth. When you meet your fs you will be able to connect on an intellectual level, you’ll find conversations with them stimulating. Yeah for some of you I really see that you will break up with your partner to be with this person but this is absolutely the correct decision. You and your fs’ meeting will be destiny, the stars will literally align for you to meet this person. You or your fs will think "how did I get so lucky?". You will take this relationship slowly, go with the flow and let things develop as they go.

★ pile 2 - Your fs might be your soulmate. This relationship will be such a harmonious one, you will be the type of couple to NEVER have fights. Everything will be so easy with this person, as if they’re one part of you. I’m ngl this person might be an ex for some of you where you thought this person was the one and you still harbour feelings for them. They might’ve been the one if they come back and rekindle your relationship. However for the rest this might also mean that you had a bad breakup and lose hope over meeting the one. They might be an Aquarius. In ANY case, you will be in a relationship with the one destined for you. The future with you and this person will be bright.

★ pile 3 - I see you going into a relationship with your fs might’ve been something spontaneous on your part. Like you might’ve had a crush on them for awhile but did nothing and then one day you’re like "let’s go ask them out". I see you might start a family with them even accidentally because I see you and your fs having a lot of sex. I see some people might be jealous of your relationship and try to stir trouble so be careful. For some reason you and your fs’ relationship might cause a scandal. This might actually cause a rift in your relationship and you will need to take a step back. Maybe this is why people will try to break you up. However, people will come around and accept your relationship as time goes. You and your fs will connect on a physical and emotional level, it will also challenge you. Again, I see for some of you having children maybe quite rapidly. If your fs is a man you will think he’s dad material and if it’s a woman you will think she’s mom material. This is a very exciting pile but also full of challenge however at the end you both will be a happy family. This kind of reminds me of the quote "I’m not easy to love", "I don’t want easy".

★ pile 4 - I see a lot of people vying for your attention. When you meet your fs you will have more than 1 suitor waiting to court you. How you will know which one is your fs, you’ll have learnt from past relationships. This new relationship will be very nurturing, I see your fs might have a lot of money and they love spending it on you by buying you gifts and other. This person will be very masculine. Romance and affection will be abundant in the relationship. They will be devoted, romantic and a great spouse and parent. They might be older than you and they’re generous with their time and money ESPECIALLY for you. They might be an Aquarius, Gemini or Libra. They will be mature, loyal and protective. Think of the perfect Dad and there you have it. There’s a possibility you might meet this person because of work or business. You will be financially stable with them and will florish knowing you have a strong foundation.

[my-castles-crumbling]

black - November 7th - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 356 - trans!regulus (fits in with my longfic, Clandestine, but can be read alone)

Regulus was ten when he'd chosen his first name. When he'd sat in Sirius's room, hidden away from the rest of the world, and picked the name that reflected who he truly was, and not who his parents wanted him to be.

The first time he'd heard Sirius refer to him with his name, the euphoria had been inexplicable. A rush of joy and emotion so intense he'd lost his breath for a moment. That was his name. Not the name his parents had given him at birth.

But even as he grew and learned to not only celebrate his name, but who he was, something still wasn't perfect. Because as amazing as it was to be referred to as Mister Black, he was still saddled with the surname of his parents. The parents who hated him. The parents who hurt him and screamed at him, just for being himself. The parents he'd finally physically escaped, but was still connected to through a stupid name.

So, really, when the opportunity arose, the decision was the second-easiest decision he'd made in his life. Second-easiest, of course, only to saying, "Yes" when James had gotten on one knee only a few weeks prior.

"I want to take your last name," he whispered one night, curled in James's arms as they sat in their small living room, a fire roaring in the fireplace.

He felt his fiancé's breathing still. They hadn't discussed it at all, up until this point, and he knew bringing it up so randomly was probably a shock.

"Baby..." James whispered, pulling back so they could look at each other, "...you know you don't have to, right? I mean, we have options, we can talk about it. We can- we can hyphenate, we can both keep out own names. Hell, I'm so fucking thrilled to be marrying you, I'll be James Black, if that's what you-"

But Regulus was sure. "No," he shook his head, smiling a bit. "I want to be Regulus Potter."

A stunning smile spread across James's face. "Gods," he murmured, eyes twinkling, "that sounds so fucking good."

Regulus couldn't help but agree.

[moviestarmartini]

trátame suavemente. — franco colapinto x gf!reader

no quiero soñar mil veces las mismas cosas / ni contemplarlas sabiamente / quiero que me trates suavemente.

summary: reuniting after spending months apart and having recently recovered from a fight feels bittersweet. however, you have to push all your feelings aside at the end of the weekend to treat your boyfriend softly. 

wc: 2.3k 

warnings: established relationship, hispanic!reader, sentences in spanish, bit of angst, long distance relationship mention, takes place after the são paulo gp, nsfw (18+ mdni), p in v, bathroom sex, oral (m!receiving), lowk edging, whiny!franco, sub!franco if you squint, unprotected sex (get on your pills or shots or SOMETHING don’t raw it), creampie, soft sex and ambiance overall. 

A/N: based on this request ! and yess, franco with soda stereo again hehe. please listen to the el último concierto (remastered) version of this song when reading, it's a whole different vibe than the og !! mil besitos as always and feedback is appreciated

now playing... trátame suavemente by soda stereo

“Vení.” 

Come here. Franco’s voice echoed the minute he noticed your hesitant footsteps filling up the once empty silence. 

You leaned against the bathroom door frame, head leaned to the side. The lights were dimmed— proper of a fancy hotel, where else would you be able to adjust the lighting anyway?— He soaked in the steamy water clouded with the relaxing bath salts, trying to find some relief in what had been his worst weekend yet. Both on and off the track. 

“Hi.” You greeted softly with a tiny wave of your hand before it retreated back to its post across your chest. 

“Sabés que no muerdo a menos que me lo pidas.” He sat up, back straightening. Humor was a natural addition to his words, even when he was at his lowest. It never seemed to impress you, and it was something you could sometimes hate. 

The scene was still vivid and bright behind your eyelids. Counting down the days for him to come home, getting the call he was in fact going to take longer— because he’d made it. He’d made it to Formula One. Your heart sped up when reliving the memory, unaware of how difficult it was going to be from then on. 

Your relationship wasn’t exactly public, something you’d chosen yourself in case occasions like these arose. Then you’ve come to realize it gave him a certain freedom, the one that allowed him to flirt openly with interviewers and not face repercussions to his public image. 

Behind closed doors, it was another story. 

You tried. With your whole chest, you tried to not complain to him directly. It was his personality, the way he’d pulled you in from day one. One day, you just couldn’t. His absence was palpable, and after a week or so without any communication he’d texted to sulk about his mediocre results during the Mexican Grand Prix, having the fast lap taken away from him. 

You couldn’t hold it in. From the fact he was inconsistent in the relationship that had you suffering through a rollercoaster of emotions, to his absence digitally and the lack of interest in your doings. He’d barely have the time to check in with you, not about you. 

The calls were frantic, tears were shed, and he promised to be more present. The fight was left in a stalemate, and you cursed yourself when the flight reminder popped on your notifications. You couldn’t help but wait another week to see him? 

The same word with four letters that broke the silence moments ago was texted by him that same day, and you couldn’t hold a grudge even if you wanted to. You were never truly mad at him, you just missed him. So much so it ached in your bones, both set your heart ablaze and cooled it at the same time. 

Painful could only begin to describe it. 

Your worries were pushed away once you clarified everything, after the Saturday session was canceled and all you had on your shared agenda was cuddle up in the hotel room, quiet promises being made. After all the grief he had to withstand in the midst of this storm— literally— the last thing in your priorities was to stay on your own petty agenda. 

At his request to be closer, you sat at the closed lid of the toilet, unable to take your eyes off of him. 

“You’re too far away.” His insistence only furthered, eliciting a quiet laugh out of your lips. Without further ado, you stood up, stripping off the simple lounging set and folding it aside before sinking opposite to him on the warm water, growing cold with each passing moment now that the faucet was off. 

“What is it?” You blinked, head leaned to the side. Franco looked at you profoundly, and you wondered if he had something he was trying to figure out about you. 

“I missed you so much.” 

The words hung in the steamy air while you processed them, your bottom lip puckering out while a mixture of emotions washed over you. A part of you didn’t believe him, while the other ached for those words, even if it wasn’t the first time he said them during the weekend. 

“Really?” You wondered out loud, not caring that the water could spill out of the tub while you carefully moved to rest by his side, an arm wrapped around you. 

“Yeah.” He insisted, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m exhausted now. This was supposed to be such a good weekend… by the red flag all I wanted to do was lay my head on your tits for hours.” 

“Baboso,” You splashed him with water, both of your laughs echoing in the room, the acoustics amplifying the sound. 

“I missed you too, by the way.” You spoke up after a while of silence, the shapeless shapes he drew on your skin with his index finger lulling your heart to a lower rate. 

“Por si no era obvio.” You added soon after, your laugh making your heart skip a beat. You didn’t feel like your claims from just a week and a few days ago were irrational, and you stood by them. He also did, acknowledging his lack of care. 

But you were there, by his side. When he most needed it. And you wouldn’t change that for anything in the entire world. 

Instead of getting an answer with words, you felt his fingers tenderly cupping your chin, guiding your gaze to his in order to receive his lips in yours warmly. 

Careful and complex. His lips moved with calculation, and a sigh inevitably left yours. This is what your body ached, what made the desperately cold layer dissolve off your heart and set it fully ablaze under his careful affections. 

You moved to straddle his hips, arms wrapped around his neck. You could’ve sworn you heard a whine while he straightened up, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life. 

Desperate and desirable. The kiss transitioned to match the steam in the room, his hands unable to find a place to stay put in, instead just roaming the soaked inches of skin he could get a hold off. 

“Me hizo muchísima falta tenerte así,” Franco let out in a pant, eager fingertips delving into the plush skin of your ass. Now it was your turn to answer with an action, leaning in to kiss down his neck, carefully placing affections on the prominent scar knowing it made him squirm. 

“Ay amor…” He let out a groan, unable to resist when your chest pressed against his torso. 

“¿Qué pasa?” You questioned quietly, fluttering your lashes up at him. You took his physical queues and understood them almost immediately. He couldn’t help but lean into his touch, shaky breath leaving his lips with each grazing of your fingers. 

You noticed how he swallowed hard, just shaking his head to signify nothing was going on— nothing was inherently wrong. 

“Sit up here.” You instructed quietly, patting the tiled edge before the tub began, seemingly used for people to sit and dry themselves. This once, you two were definitely not going to use it for that. 

He followed the command obediently, watchful eyes following your movements while you positioned yourself between his legs. 

“You’ve had such a rough week…” Your voice was hypnotizing, in the same way your hand stroking his length was. “Let me take care of you, mkay?” 

The words he planned on letting out found themselves choked back when you deposited a kiss on the skin edging between his inner and outer thigh. He melted into his spot almost literally, manspreading to give you more access to leave the warm affections that brought goosebumps to his skin. 

You batted your eyelashes innocently up at him while your flat tongue licked the underside of his hard cock, green eyes hyper-focused on your lips wrapping on the flushed tip. 

“Fuck…” He managed to groan out, his right hand reaching to clutch your hair while the other held onto the ceramic, preparing himself for what he’d been desiring for what felt to be years, when in fact it had only been a short couple months. 

You knew how to treat him, how to push his buttons just right without exceeding into a rougher context. All you wanted was for him to relax, at least for now. That didn’t mean you didn’t put in the effort, your hand encompassed what your mouth couldn’t take even when it almost hit the back of your throat.

“Que linda te ves con la boquita llena,” He caressed your cheek tenderly while you took a breather, his hips jerking upwards ever so slightly to thrust into your hand.

“Hm just for you,” You winked in agreement to the compliment before wrapping your lips around the now leaking tip, humming at the taste of the precum on your tongue and inevitably down your throat. 

“Así, así,” Franco whined the minute you started bobbing your head up and down his length with precision and speed. He threw his head back, allowing the moans to leave his mouth freely, mixing in a dangerous cocktail with his heavy breaths. 

The moment was perfect. You knew Franco was getting lost in it, nearing the edge with each desperate jerk of his hips matching up to your nose grazing his lower abdomen. He could still feel the warm water, but nothing could compare with the sensation of your throat. 

Unless… 

“Pará, pará,” He breathed out, his tone high pitched, containing himself into not bursting out the seams right then and there. 

“¿Qué pasó mi rey? Did I do something wrong?” You pulled away visibly concerned, straightening up still on your knees. 

His response was a weak shake of his head, chest rising up and down. He still rested his back against the tiled wall, regaining his composure. Your eyes traced every inch of his skin, every mole and freckle, subconsciously licking your lips. His laugh snapped you out of your shamelessly perverted ravaging, and you looked up at him with a smile. 

“Te amo tanto.” He muttered, leaning in to close the gap between your mouths halfway. Even if seconds ago you were wondering why on earth he would edge himself, the kiss told you everything you needed, adding to the support his hands gave you to get on your feet and sit on his lap. 

His lips parted from yours only to give soft kisses to your cheek and jaw, traveling the marvelous road down your neck. Your moans were soft, beginning to ease into it when a curious hand parted your legs open. 

“Fran…” You breathed you, your hand reaching to caress the hair falling near his nape; it was longer than usual, he needed a trim— you noted mentally, reminding to comment on it later. 

“Let me feel you,” He whispered against your skin, the action forming goosebumps on the area. “Estás tan mojadita; porfa.” 

He didn’t need to beg twice, your back already pulled away from his chest, shifting around in his lap and raising your hips a little in order to sink down his length, your sighs of relief harmonizing. 

“I missed this so much,” You noticed you had rendered him almost incoherent from the way he could barely formulate the words between heavy breaths and moans, a battle to keep his eyes open to watch your figure as you bounced on his hard cock. 

“Ay ese culito…” He groaned, the sound of a smack bouncing on the walls before it remixed with your yelp, but it only encouraged to move faster, wanting to give him the show he deserved. 

Franco didn’t allow himself to get lost in the mesmerizing movement of your body, instead pulling you back to be as close to him as humanly possible, his hand cupping your chin to almost drag your face near his. 

The kiss was sloppy from his part, the grinding of your hips was sharp in comparison, and he couldn’t focus. Your wet skin against his, the noises you started making the moment he started toying with that sweet spot. 

“Amor,” He couldn’t help but call your attention, ripping his lips off of yours in order to speak. You noticed the way his brows furrowed— and how could you not? he was always so expressive— his bottom lip puckering out while he tried to make out the following words. 

But he didn’t need to. 

“Yes,” You nodded, feeling your own orgasm approach quickly. From the moment you stripped and dipped in the water you knew you weren’t going to last long in whatever activity you might engage, and you were okay with that. 

“¿Si?” Franco whined, his lashes fluttering while his eyes fell shut before he could hide his face in the crook of his neck. 

“Si. Cum inside.” You confirmed, feeling his lips press against your shoulder blade before the conjoined noises filled up the room, the hand that occupied the space between your legs failing in its constant rhythm, while the other dug into the doughy merge your hips and upper thighs conformed. 

You let your eyes close while the wave of pleasure washed over you, chests rising up and down rhythmically. It felt like you had just floated down from the sky, settling down into the reality of the position— a bit insane, to say the least— you found yourselves in, guided by the pure lust and yearning of each other after the sudden separation. 

“All good over there?” You laughed softly, receiving a small ‘eh’ in a high pitched tone. It took Franco another moment before he raised his face, his lips pressing a tender kiss to your jaw before his arms wrapped around your midriff and into a tight hug. 

“Con vos? Todo perfecto.”  

[parfaitblogs]

making the bed ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your night crumbles around you, and spencer is happy to pick up the pieces. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort  tags: established relationship. (prior) alcohol consumption. reader is semi-drunk (but sobers up). post drinking depression. healthy alcohol information/discussion 🫡 word count: 2.1k a/n: do not read too much into this for you will begin to question why i still enjoy going clubbing. (joke...) 😄 plsss tell me if u liked this or even if u didnt thank u i love uuuuuu

Alcohol is a depressant. 

You remembered the God awful lecture your boyfriend had given you when you woke up one Sunday morning with this feeling of existential dread, and nothing to pin it to. A ramble about how alcohol can temporarily increase the body's production of dopamine and serotonin when entering, causing a worse crash of both chemicals when it leaves. Leaving you, evidently, depressed and anxious after a big night. 

You knew that. 

You also knew how quick you were to seclude within your mind when you were with people. Too many drinks and not enough social interaction tended to lead to your own isolation, sitting on the outer edge of the booth, absentmindedly playing with the charm on the end of your phone. 

The room no longer spun the way it had an hour ago. You missed when it spun. When it spun, you weren't thinking about how little you had to contribute to the conversations your friends were having. You weren't tallying up how many drinks you had already drank, then falling flat when you realised you couldn't remember, and that was a thought more horrifying than knowing it was over ten. You were fun, when the room was a carousel. 

Now, it's simply overwhelming. Loud chattering from both your table, and the surrounding ones. Clinking of glasses at the bar. A sports game on the television across the room. Balls on a pool table being dispersed for the first time in a game. Dancing feet. Music. People. So many fucking people.

Your phone buzzes against the table, and you pick it up before any of your friends could turn their heads to see where the vibrations were coming from. You figured they were too drunk to conclude it was you, anyways. Or to care. 

Spencer had texted you fifteen minutes ago to check in on you, and though it wasn't long ago, you not responding immediately in a flurry of half strung together sentences and emojis was worrying for him. That was probably why his name was now lighting up your screen, a funny photo of him mid-bite of an ice cream as his contact photo, enlarged. 

You hadn't responded for no reason other than the fact that you had no will to. Which should've been a big enough red flag to yourself that you should text him, and you should ask if he can pick you up. Thankfully, he loved to prove how well he could read you, and he was calling you anyways. 

"Hi," you mumble into the phone, angling your body away from your friends, hand held up to your other ear to block out some of the noise the best you could. 

"Hi," he parrots back to you. "You okay?"

An automatic yes manifests on your tongue, but you're quick enough to keep it to yourself before you can lie to him. Instead, you let out a quiet, "No."

He seems to have expected that answer, for he leaves no silence in between your admission and his response. "What can I do to help?" He also seems to be expecting your hesitance at asking him for anything that would require him to move, because he adds, "I can pick you up. Do you want me to pick you up?"

"Yes. Please?"

"I'm already leaving," he tells you, and you can hear his shoes against the wooden floor of his apartment to confirm that. "Did something happen? Are you safe?"

"No, nothing happened. I'm safe," you reassure him. "I started feeling sick so I stopped drinking an hour ago. Now I'm just sad."

"You remember what I told you about it being a depressant?"

"Vividly," you mutter, and while it isn't meant to be funny, you hear him huff a short laugh anyways. It makes you feel a little better. 

"It's important to know," he defends. "I'm sorry I shared important information with you."

"Mm."

Your lack of a verbal response was expected, but he still hated the sound of it regardless. You heard him sigh. "I have to hang up now. I'll be there in forty minutes. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you too."

No matter how much time had passed, your head lifted every time the door — that your group was so conveniently close to — opened, letting in a rush of cool air and sobering you up with every hit of it. 

True to his word, Spencer was entering the bar after forty minutes, face scrunching up at the sudden onslaught of noises and visual stimuli. Same boat as you, only he had not a drop of alcohol in his body. At least you weren't crazy about it being overstimulating. 

"This is why I don't go to bars," he says once he's approached your booth, and you had stood up next to you, his hand finding an automatic place on your waist. 

"It's usually not this bad," you tell him, but he decides not to ask you anything else upon hearing just how exhausted your voice sounds. You're grateful for that.

The goodbye to your friends is quick, Spencer rattling off a lie about him needing you home for he had work early the next morning, and you only had one key to the apartment. Even the friends who knew that wasn't the case didn't comment on it, and you made a pointless mental note to thank them for it later. You knew you wouldn't. 

The drive home was even faster. Silence, aside from the rush of the wind from your slightly cracked window as Spencer drove, that helped the sick feeling in your stomach from the alcohol you had consumed. 

It didn't seem to help the hollowness of your chest, though.

You weren't sure if anything would, really. A chemical imbalance in your brain — even one as temporary as the deflation from being drunk — was hard to fix without medication. It would go away, yes. But then you would make the mistake of drinking once more, and you would find yourself back in this brain peeling predicament. 

You showered alone. Despite Spencer's offer to join you, and your own personal desire for him to be there with you. It didn't help your fogged mind at all, and you were exiting the bathroom feeling like you had retreated further into your bones. Every movement felt clunky, your skin a heavy coat to your skeleton, restricting your movement down to short shuffles and barely lifted arm movements. 

He was reading when you reentered your bedroom, and you've never seen him put a book and his glasses back on his bedside table faster. He looked visibly tired. Keeping himself awake a seemingly difficult struggle, that you could feel your body heading towards to as well. 

"Hey," he says as you climb into the bed, and he's very patient as you figure out what position you want your bodies in. Head on his chest, but next to him, you had decided on, and his fingers entangled into your hair.

"Hi," you mumble, staring up at the ceiling, counting brush strokes of the paint, as if it were possible to.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

You huff at the phrase, tilting your head upwards so your eyes could land on him. "Do you have a penny?"

He pauses, then angles his head closer towards yours. "Okay, kiss for your thoughts?"

"That'll just distract me."

"Is that what you want?"

You should say no. Arguably the last thing you should be doing when you're sad is let intimacy with your boyfriend distract you. But then again, you're not the best advocate for healthy coping mechanisms anyways. 

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" he muses, and his lips brush against yours. Your heart flutters. 

"I don't really know what I want," you settle on telling him, honestly. "I want my brain to shut up."

His body deflates beneath you, and you feel guilt chip away up your spine at the killing of the less depressing atmosphere. 

"Sorry," you mumble.

"No. It's good. Be honest with me," he reassures you, quietly. His fingers tap at your scalp, "What's going on up here?"

"I'll cry if I try to verbalise it."

"Crying's good for you, you know," he hums.

"I'm pretty sure I still have eyeliner in my waterline. I'll just stain your sheets," you retort. 

"Yeah, probably. That's fine."

You're silent for a few moments, gathering your thoughts in your brain the best you could despite yourself, before you sit up, his hand dropping to the bed beside you.

"I just don't like being... here? Out? I don't know. I'm just really sick of being sad every time I drink. Is there something wrong with me? Did you get sad whenever you drank? Everyone else I know loves going out for drinks because they have fun and they're giggly drunks, or they're clingy drunks. And if I drink too much then I'm a fucking sad drunk, and I'm the only person I know that gets that way. I want to be normal."

He's silent your entire rant, and then some, waiting for your heaving chest to slow, having caught the few tears that slipped down your cheeks. You were grateful — you needed that time.

He reaches a hand out, and you let him tug you back down to the bed, slotting your body atop his own, just so he could see you properly. 

"To answer your question, no, I didn't get sad when I drank," he says, brushing your hair out of your face, before his hands rest on either side of your face. "But I wasn't really happy, either. I just talked more."

"You already talk a lot."

His lips twitch. "I do. Double whatever you think my worst is, and that was me drunk. Focus on the part where I said I wasn't a happy drunk, please."

"But you weren't sad. So there is something wrong with me."

"No, there's not. Alcohol is a depressant," he punctuates his words with a kiss to your nose, which you gratefully accept despite your emotions. "Are you willing to give up alcohol as a whole?" 

"My friends will think I'm boring, then."

He hesitates in his response, but ultimately settles on asking, "Do you think I'm boring because I don't drink?"

"No. Obviously not. And you have a real reason for not drinking, so—"

"—and being sad isn't a real reason to not drink?"

Taken aback by his sudden sternness, you go quiet, breath hitching within your throat. He was right, ultimately. No reason is reason enough. You knew that. 

Sensing your discomfort at his tone, he expels a breath of air and lowers his hands down to your hips. His voice drops to something a little less harsh, as he murmurs, "You are allowed to not want to drink alcohol if you don't like the way it makes you feel. If your friends think you're boring for that, then they're not worth it."

You silently nod your head, beginning to curse your emotional regulators. For while you had kept your tears at bay for the vast majority of this conversation, it seemed all it took was the gentle rubbing of circles onto your hip bones, and a fact checked piece of life advice from your boyfriend to make you cry. 

"Sorry," you sniffle, dropping your head to the crook of his neck to hide your newly tear stricken face. 

"Crying's good for you," he repeats his earlier words, and feels you nod your head. "You don't have to decide tonight. I'd encourage you not to, actually. You're technically still intoxicated."

"I'm sober," you protest, weakly. 

"Okay, honey." He's only agreeing with you to wane any further argument. "I don't think your friends will think you're boring, though, if that's any help."

"I don't think they will either."

He nods his head, and you're relaxing against him a little more. 

"Are you just trying to not be the only loser who doesn't drink?" you mumble, voice muffled by his skin.

"You've caught me."

He relishes in the laugh that leaves your lips, and he places the gentlest of kisses on the side of your head, which prompts you to lift it to look at him again. 

"You're not a loser for not drinking," you say, and his lips pull into a smile. 

He leans his head up, brushing his lips against yours, despite the mix of mint toothpaste and alcohol on your tongue. "I know. You wouldn't be either."

"I know."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[bunnys-kisses]

lust is a loaded hand gun

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, ferrari!reader, baby fever, seduction, cowgirl position, alcohol/drinking, breeding, the reader wants to have a baby and chooses to have it with max, max is not aware

this bunny runs on comments & reblogs! feed the rabbit!

this sounded stupid. but you wanted a baby. and while that was an easy task for most women, you knew that there was something impersonal about picking from a catalogue. reading profiles felt weird, like you were looking for a used car rather than the biological other half of your child. even if you'd raise them without a father, you'd rather have a night of passion than an awkward doctor's visit.

charles leaned back in his seat and asked, "why don't you and i just make one." he shrugged his shoulders. he considered himself close to you. you had been teammates for a little over two seasons and prior to that you knew each other. he didn't mind being the one to help you bring a child into the world, "i can be his uncle and he'd never know."

but, as close as you were to your teammate. you had other drivers in mind.

you made a face, "no offense, charles. but it would feel like doing it with my brother." being teammates meant you two knew too much about one another. you worked well as teammates and rivals because you were more like siblings. while you appreciated the offer, you felt it was weird.

charles asked, relaxed in his seat, "why are you doing this anyway? isn't there a million ways for you to have a child."

you shrugged, "i want to be a mom, i don't know. leave my seat behind to another woman and let her make all the history. i'm honestly tired. i've reached the peak and now." you sighed, "i want something else. i've got enough money to retire and let my future child retire before they're born." you crossed your arms, "i don't want to be doing this shit until i'm forty and just degrade in the skills department. end on a high note." while it was not an insult to other driver's on the grid. you felt bad that they never got to really be parents due to the schedules.

"so you need to seduce a driver to make that happen."

you nodded, out of the corner of your eye you spotted the driver you had your eye on. while you eyed the man crossing your path, your voice got softer, "and i think i know just the driver."

charles looked over to the direction you were looking at. he noticed who was walking by and he looked back to you, shoulders dropped, "max. you're going to seduce and have a child with max?"

you looked back to charles and shrugged, "why not? what's not to like?" max wasn't a perfect man, sometimes you wondered about the mechanics of his brain. but, you knew your child with him would lay waste to the track in the future.

"i can name a few. do you want them alphabetically or severity of it?" charles asked.

you gave him a look, "it wouldn't be hard to get him to sleep with me. you, me and the rest of the garage has seen how he looks at me. i mean who else do i have to choose from? either they're too old, they're rookies, or they have girlfriends. and i'm not getting a heel in the eye because i'm trying to have a baby."

charles rubbed the bridge of his nose, "i think you just like him."

you tensed up for a moment, "no. this is all just simple. scheming... nothing more. i don't expect to trap him with a child. he is free to live his life after i'm done with him."

charles found it hard to believe. not on your end, but max's. he had heard at sickeningly lengths about how max felt for you. it was probably the most eloquent the driver had ever been. if you got pregnant by him, he'd be getting a ring the next day. he sighed once more, "then have fun with the wold champion. i'd say to be safe, but i think being unsafe is the whole point of this."

you gave the once over of max in the near distance and smiled, "don't worry charles, you'll get all the details in the morning." which earned a groan from your teammate.

-

it started over a bottle of wine and ended in the motor home of red bull. you and max had gotten frisky over the evening. you wondered if anyone was selling the photos of you two in the back of the restaurant to tmz or some other trashy outlet. you had shared two bottles of wine over dinner. the benefit of being as wealthy as you were, you could throw the cash onto the table and giggle as you stumble out of your place.

you knew someone had a photo of max kissing you at the table to 'taste' the sauce that came with your meal. as if he couldn't take some from the plate.

but back in the motor home, you had dropped your purse by the door. in the dark of the place, you two were starting to get undressed. heels kicked to the wall, your bracelets set on the coffee table. your dress was on the floor by the bed, your bra over the lamp by the bed and your panties on the bed.

"i'm on top." you said as you kissed max's lips. he tasted like wine and fine dining. he tasted and smelled expensive. in all fairness he could be worth more than a micro nation. he was not an easy man to buy, but the currency of sex was in high demand. max wanted you, and you knew that because he got on his back without much argument.

you were both naked on the bed. the faint lights gleamed through the large windows as you rubbed up against max with no other lighting. you could see his face against the shadows of the night. his blue eyes were like gems and they pulled you in. whoever he ended up with would be very lucky.

but tonight you needed him. he was an important piece in your plan. you rubbed against him and with a little help, you sank down onto his cock. while cowgirl wasn't the best position to try and get pregnant, but it ensured that your plan would work. any position is a working one.

"you're beautiful."

"i know." you said as you rubbed yourself against him. you braced your hands on his strong chest. he was a handsome man, he was good at what he did and he was a winner. you knew anyone would be lucky to have him, but tonight was the perfect partner. you knew a child with him would be perfect.

you continued to rub up against him. the roll of your hips were methodical. this wasn't the first time you slept with a man. you moaned when max groped your breasts, massaged the flesh between those bear paws he called hands. soon you sank on his cock and shuddered, feeling the heat raise in your belly.

this was a mission, no time to get attached. you were both tipsy from the alcohol and the driver under you were more handsy than ever. you try not to feel the emotions that came with it. the feeling of being attached to someone you were having sex with. you batted charles' assumptions about your feelings for max out of your mind as you rode the dutch driver.

you were determined to get pregnant tonight. you measured it all down to a t, all you needed was for max not to get whiskey dick. you curved your back to get closer to him, your lips met his as you moved up and down. his cock was snug in your, but it went in almost perfect. the blunt head hit against the furthest parts of you. your heart hammered in your chest as you moved your hips.

you pushed hair out of your face before your braced your hands on his chest once more. he was very toned, you almost wanted to joke about what happened to his slightly kinder chocolate addiction. but that was neither here nor there.

"you feel so good." he grunted, "why haven't we done this before? fuck." he panted, he could feel the heat in his cheeks as you rode him. he had been with others before but being under you was a pleasure no money could buy. you were really good at it, knowing exactly how to make him feel good.

"good things take time." you panted, part of you wondered what would happen if you covered his mouth. you didn't need the dirty talk, this was a mission. if you wanted a casual friends with benefits, you'd try something online or another in the paddock. fucking max was a certainly that you'd get pregnant. it didn't have to be intimate or soft. it was a means to an end, and you'd get there no matter what.

the sounds of your fucking filled the room as you continued to move against him. you raked your nails down his chest, catching his nipples which made him moan. he was cute on his back, letting you take over. you wondered how deep his affection for you went.

you didn't want the emotional baggage of it all. tonight you were both drunk and having sex in the motor homes. it would be a one night stand before you two finished out the season. you could feel the heat across your back as you stared at him.

his eyes were closed and his mouth slightly open as he panted heavily. there was heat in his face and you felt something tug in your chest. he was beautiful, you hated to admit it. but max verstappen was a pretty boy.

he was already blissed out, his noises forced you by the movement of your hips. you licked your lips and without thinking, you left a mark on his collarbone. it was stupid, but it excited your further.

you continued to move against him. your breasts bounced with each move of your hips. you felt moans in the back of your throat and a hum in your soul. pleasure was close and it wasn't long before you really worked yourself onto his cock and finished.

the tightness around his cock made max's back arch a little bit. he could feel the heat in the back of his head. his heart pounded as he watched you continue to ride his cock. he panted heavily and soon climaxed as well. you made sure to get everything you could out. you kissed him once more before you stopped. when you pulled away you got off of his waist and laid down on the bed.

"wow." he said out of breath.

you didn't want to talk. instead you turned your head to kiss him on the lips to keep him quiet. there was no time for mushy romantic bedroom talk. you needed him to fall asleep before you could leave.

you tried to count down the seconds, placing kisses across his heated face. you reminded yourself that there would be some lucky enough to keep him for life.

when you pulled away from his lips after one last kiss, he curled up beside you and right then fell asleep. you stayed awake, when the heat cooled in your body. you hoped your mission was a success. the lust and the alcohol still made its rounds in your body. but you were lucid enough to find your clothes in the dark and slip out of the motor home before morning.

you'd never bring up the event to max, only briefly mentioning it to charles. you'd drive harder after that, in the end you'd secure a world championship. as you kissed the trophy and your country's national anthem played, you were already pregnant with your child.

-

your retirement was a shock to max. you could've easily decorated your home with many trophies over the next few years. but at the end of the 2024 season, you bowed out. you thanked fans and told them that it was a new chapter in your life. and then like that you fell off the face of the earth over the off-season.

max tried to find ways to contact you. where did you go? what happened? why leave at the height of it all? the more he thought about it, the more questions were raised in his head. he asked around the paddock, even going as far as to ask charles where you went. the other drive shrugged and told him that you moved back to your home country with a "little extra luggage". there were no social media posts. nothing. it nagged in the back of his brain for what felt like a lifetime. what happened to ferrari's princess?

it wasn't until almost three years later, max had claimed another world championship. it felt like these days he was riding high. he was still the best. but as he walked into the paddock to train for the upcoming season, he stopped in his tracks. he felt like he was splashed with cold water.

there you were, three years older with a glow to you. you were laughing with charles and lewis, you looked different but in a good way. you were in overalls and a ferrari shirt underneath. you were more curvy than you were when you were driving. and while you were still beautiful like the sun, pulling max in. what made his stomach drop was who was in your arms.

a young boy, with big curious eyes and round cheeks. he held onto you tightly, his small fists in the fabric of your shirt. he seemed curious about the track, but not scared of how big it all felt. while max would've assumed that you got married and had a child as a lot of people did. but that's not what had happened.

max knew right away at the first glance of your son. looking at him was like looking at max's childhood photos. even in features that matched your own, your son carried a lot of max in him. the itch in his brain after you fell off the earth all those years ago came back, this was where you went. the boy looked like him and if he was right about the boy's age then dates lined up. there was no question. max verstappen was your son's father. and when you noticed him staring. you simply smiled and gave him a wink, shifting the boy in your arms and pointing at the me. when your son smiled, max felt something in his gut. looking at you, holding your (his) son, made max feel like he was home. and all those feelings he had been carrying poured back into his head and heart. the same emotions that allowed you to bed him. <3

sequel (11/11)

[ceesimz]

Misunderstood

Arguments aren't your strongsuit, especially with the person you love most. (Autistic reader)

Other parts of Reverie can be found here! Hope you enjoy :)

If anyone asked you, you would say your relationship was perfect. It was everything you hoped and dreamed for, and more. 

Yet, nothing is completely perfect, no matter how much you try or long for it to be. Even the healthiest, happiest relationships had their moments. That was the reality, but that didn’t stop you from panicking at the first sign of conflict.

An argument was always inevitable, especially in a fairly new relationship, which you knew of course, you just never thought it would happen in the way it did. Not only was conflict possibly the thing you hated most in the world, but it was the cause of the argument that really hurt.

Sometimes, it was hard for you to read people. Other times, you could read them so well, it weirded them out. In your books, the only people that could truly hide how they felt, were autistic people. Masking was natural instinct and when you're unknowingly forced by society and its allistic habits of finding anything other than ‘normal’ weird to hide every aspect of what makes you human, you learn from others’ body language and actions and facial expressions about how to fit in. The knock-on effect of that is you also learn how to spot the signs in other people when they’re trying to disguise their feelings, autistic or not. 

That’s why Alexia loved the fact she didn’t have to say much for you to realise when she was in a depleted mood… most of the time.

“Cariño?” Alexia sighed as she stepped into her apartment, knowing you were somewhere around. 

Whilst you had a day off, Alexia had been going from place to place, feeling as if she had seen more of Barcelona in one day than a tourist in a week. It had been one of those days where it seemed like everyone needed something from her, and for whatever reason, she couldn’t say no. She didn’t realise that everything she had agreed to in the last month or two had been scheduled all in a single day, meaning she didn’t get home until 8pm, a whole thirteen hours after she first left that morning. 

The last thing she wanted to do that day, and everyday, was to upset you.

“Where are you.” She mumbled, dumping her bag beside the shoe rack that she left her trainers beside, too exhausted to even think about the mess she was leaving behind. The mess around her apartment was another story. 

The kitchen looked as if an explosion had occurred, tupperware and plates and cutlery all over the counters, the only saving grace for the frustration that slowly built being the trays of freshly baked goods of whatever variety neatly organised and filling her home with a sweet scent. Her lounge was thankfully less chaotic, bar the blanket left strewn on the sofa and a couple pillows haphazardly placed around, though it was empty without you.

When she stepped into her bedroom for the first time that night, there was a smile on her face. 

You were in her room, headphones on and in your own world, humming quietly whilst you folded up then put away a mix of your clothes and Alexia’s. Over time, since that date back in December at the walled garden with the pansies and the kiss and the admissions, the two of you hardly ever spent time apart. The only time you did was when Alexia went away for Spain camp or one of you was so busy you didn’t want to disrupt the other. Otherwise, every night at least was with each other. Why wouldn’t you? Spending the day with separate friends or like Alexia’s case that day, at work, just to come home to each other was something you both adored.

That meant that some of your belongings had gradually made their way over to Alexia’s apartment, and vice versa. To walk in on you doing something so simple like joint laundry, it caused a barrage of sentimental feelings to rise inside of her. It was like a glance into her future. 

Though, with your headphones on and no doubt blasting your music so loud Alexia should be concerned about your hearing, she didn’t want to scare you. So she simply stood in the doorway, leaning on the wooden frame with her arms crossed, a soft and adoring look on her face as she did so. A minute or two passed by until you turned to notice her, flinching a little before you smiled beamingly at her.

“Hola, guapa.” You grinned, dropping your headphones and the sweater you were folding onto the bed, and bounding over to Alexia.

“Hola, guapa.” Alexia repeated in a quieter voice, distinctly lacking the same excitement as your tone did. Her arms wrapped around your waist as yours linked around her shoulders, completely missing all the tension that she held there. “How was your day?”

“It was so good, I loved it. But all day I was thinking about you and coming home to you. It’s quite late for a work day, are you okay?” You inquired, feeling her nod into your shoulder where she rested her forehead. 

Any other time, that reply wouldn’t have been enough for you, you would have questioned her further. 

You don’t know how or why, but you didn’t recognise her subdued behaviour at that moment. It didn’t exactly make sense to you, nor could you ever in your life find the words to explain why, this was just something that happened sometimes. Maybe it had something to do with you feeling so happy that you wanted to spread that and share it with others. It was a very admirable habit with nothing but the best intentions, it just… didn’t come off that way sometimes.

Your joy was so all-consuming, it was hard to focus on anything else. The world was brighter, you felt lighter, and almost nothing could bring you down. Everything else was just background noise, you’d unknowingly honed in on the complete elation you felt that it kind of made you oblivious to the things around you. Or, more specifically, the people around you, and their true feelings. 

You weren’t aware at the time that it was happening. If you did know what was going on, you’d stop in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, nine times out of ten, that’s not something that can be done.

“Thank you for doing laundry while I was gone.” Alexia said, leaning back a little to smile tiredly down at you.

“Of course! I figured you wouldn’t want me stealing more of your clothes so it was kind of a necessity.” You failed to notice the way her smile didn’t reach her eyes like it always did. “I baked earlier, did you see? Ingrid gave me some recipes that I tried, they came out really good. You should try some after dinner.” 

“I will.” She agreed with a lazy hum, having to hide her frown when you pulled out of her arms and away from her. 

“I left the kitchen a bit… messy. Sorry. I’ll clean it, I swear, but maybe it’s best if we order in tonight?” You grimaced, walking backwards out of the bedroom towards the aforementioned room as Alexia nodded at your suggestion. “Great! You order, you know what I like, I’ll get started with cleaning.”

You turned around the corner and out of Alexia’s sight. She sighed, again, and her hands fell to her hips as she did so. It wasn’t that she was annoyed at you, she just couldn’t find the words to properly express how she felt. 

Up to this point of your relationship, she had never had a day like this, where she was so completely and thoroughly exhausted. Not just that, but also feeling like if she didn’t get into bed sooner rather than later, she might just… cry. She wanted to cry. But she didn’t exactly know why, maybe from being so tired and overwhelmed, she didn’t know. The only things she did know were that she didn’t want to entertain that side of her because she wanted so desperately to enjoy the evening with you. After all, she didn’t have to cook or clean or do any other chores, you’d taken care of all the stresses she had worried about as she gradually felt her energy slip away from her throughout the day. Yet, she couldn’t quite break down the few remaining walls of insecurity that came with any relationship, where she was afraid of showing the weaker, more vulnerable version of herself.

She didn’t want to restrict your relationship with the confines of stereotypes, but she thought of herself as someone as strong and good in a crisis. She was always there when you needed her, there was just some part of her that couldn’t find peace with the idea of reversing those roles. You would be mad if you found out about those thoughts of hers, Alexia knew that, though the thought of opening up about it and starting that conversation was not something she planned to do anytime soon. They were her problems and her problems only, they didn’t need to be yours too.

So she took a deep breath, or four, and left her bedroom to follow after you, opening up the takeout delivery app on her phone. 

However, when she stepped into her bedroom for the second time that night, she made one of the biggest mistakes she knew she could make.

For about twenty minutes beforehand, she couldn’t get a word in with you. You followed her throughout the apartment, from the kitchen when you were done to the lounge, to the balcony, to the small space she had made into her office and back to the bedroom, rambling about anything on your mind, something Alexia normally adored. Though on this occasion, the only thing she wished for was your company and some silence. She had one of those things, but not the other. She didn’t have it in her heart to put a stop to it, she knew what that would do to you and how it’d make you feel.

Instead, she indirectly hurt you anyway, in a much worse way.

You trailed after her, mindlessly, unaware of the internal struggles locked up inside the woman in front of you as she padded into her bedroom with her head down and tears burning her eyes. It wasn’t until you heard a sniffle from her, still looking at her back profile, that you decided to ask if she was okay. She paused in the doorway, quickly wiping her eyes with the sleeve she bunched around her hand, before sighing and placing her hands on her hips. As she shook her head slightly, you went to talk again, now definitely concerned, but she beat you to it.

“I need a break.” 

There was a tremble to her quiet voice which you heard, but all you could concentrate on was the pain you felt as a result. Those four short words cut through your joy like a knife, tainted and tarnished by memory after memory of having been told the same thing before by people you adored, you trusted. 

Maybe if you thought rationally, you would have understood the true meaning of her words. But all you could focus on was that the one phrase you hoped to never hear fall from her lips had come. There was no rational thinking to be done here. Your biggest insecurity had just had a spotlight shined on it, you at centre stage with a theatre of people laughing at the scene they had witnessed, their hysteria a cruel reminder of ‘I told you so’ in much the same way the devil on your shoulder so often liked to remind you of.

You thought you were making her feel better, she always liked to tell you that your happiness was her favourite thing about you. So what was different about this time? You didn’t understand. The only thing you could think of was the one thing that was your worst nightmare.

You were too much for her. Something you’d been told before many times. Alexia was the last person you thought would think that about you. And that’s why it hurt more than any other occasion before. 

Your body reacted as if you were in shock; your hands went numb, pins and needles shooting up your arms, and a high-pitched ringing gradually made its way into your ears and drowned out every other sound around you. Alexia’s statement might have been nothing, but not to you. What she said hit you like a bullet or ten, because this always happened. You got to know someone, trusted them, opened up to them, loved them, only for you to get too comfortable being yourself in their presence and either annoying them or scaring them to death. 

Every time you open up your heart in such a way, you always lose a piece of yourself that may never return to make you whole again in the same way as before. Alexia took your heart and your soul this time. It’s strange, that with just a few words, the people who make you feel most alive can also make you feel more invisible than you ever thought possible.

Perhaps this could be worked out, one day. You would never forget it though, and you weren’t sure you could ever look at Alexia the same again.

In the midst of your anxious spiralling, the woman you thought the world of had made her way into the ensuite bathroom and closed the door behind her. It gave you the perfect time to do the one single thing your clouded mind could think of.

Leaving.

—

The space beside her in bed was empty when Alexia woke up. A silence had settled throughout the apartment, which was relaxing at first, before her tired haze wore off and she slowly began to come back to her senses. Apparently she had accidentally fallen asleep, fully dressed and on top of the covers, after she left the ensuite. Immediately, that silence was something that swiftly began to fill her with dread. 

Alexia never napped. But when she did, you were always right beside her. It didn’t help her anxieties that there were no signs of life coming from any other rooms of her home. Her bedroom door was open, yet there were no sounds from the TV in the lounge, no commotion from you and your grievances with cooking that never failed to make her smile, the spare bedroom was pitch black in contrast to the way it lit up with whatever video game you often chose to play. 

One thing the pair of you had discovered was how much joy and contentment you got from merely existing in the same space. As Alexia sat on the sofa reading a book or watching something on the TV, you weren’t far away, only on the other side of the couch also reading or listening to music with headphones on. If you were using the gaming console Alexia had spontaneously decided to buy you for the spare bedroom, just so you had a space to hide away in her apartment, the blonde was often lay on the bed there, iPad in hand and going through her emails or watching match tapes or chatting with her family, more than satisfied by being in the same room as you. 

In this case, it should have been the same. You should have been there beside her as she slept, it was routine to be attached at the hip, manoeuvring through the apartment together like there was rope around your waists. 

Except this time, you weren’t.

She went from room to room, opening any and all doors even if they did lead to storage cupboards, only to realise you had left. 

There were no messages from you on her phone and as she sent one of her own to you, it didn’t even get delivered. Wherever you were, your phone was completely off, a fact that increased her concern tenfold. 

Two places came to mind. And if you weren’t at either of those, well… she was well and truly screwed. Her nervous system too, that’d be so completely shot that she didn’t think her heart could ever return to a healthy BPM rate. 

It took her hardly any time at all to drive over to the first destination she thought of. Her hands shook as she drove, whether that be from the white-knuckled grip she had on the wheel or the nerves coursing through her, and they trembled even as she jogged up the steps of your apartment block to your flat, her spare key already clutched tight in her fist. Of course, she was never one to disrupt your privacy, so she waited a good five minutes at your door after knocking and talking through it before she let herself in.

Just as she feared, you weren’t there. Your whole apartment was untouched, left entirely as it had been when the pair of you left the previous morning. The only difference was the fact that the light of the night’s full moon was streaming through the gap in the curtains, the sun having set as she unknowingly slept earlier. The darkness that cascaded the place you called home wasn’t too dissimilar to what Alexia’s life was like without you. She would do anything to not have to experience it permanently. She wasn’t sure she could ever live the same way she did before you; meeting you had changed everything, and life would forever feel like a shadow of the warmth she had with you.

And once she had made it up to Ingrid and Mapi’s apartment, she got a glimpse of that prospect. It was a monumental mistake to assume you’d be there.

“Alexia? What are you doing here?” Ingrid answered the door in utter confusion, her voice a small whisper as she stepped out into the corridor and closed the door slightly behind her.

“She’s here, no? Can you tell her to come home?” Alexia asked somewhat desperately, exasperation clear in her tone.

“What? Who are you ta- oh. No, she’s not here, it’s just María and I. Why?” Ingrid continued to look perplexed at the strange appearance of her captain, until she looked into the midfielder’s eyes and saw they were wide and full of regret, concern, guilt, all things that made her odd presence click in her mind. “Alexia. What did you do?”

Alexia snapped out of her frozen state as the gravity of her realisation hit her; she had made you think that she was tired of you. That you were the thing she needed a break from. As if that could ever be true. 

It didn’t matter though, what Alexia thought and what had happened earlier. The most important thing now was how she acted, how she repaired the situation.

“I messed up. She was talking and happy, and I had just got home from working all day. I was so tired, I wasn’t thinking straight! I said something that was not directed at her, never at her, but I think… I think she thought it was. It wasn’t, I prom-”

“What did you say?” Ingrid demanded through gritted teeth.

“I… I said I needed a break.” Alexia let out a shaky breath once she’d spoken, slumping back against the wall behind her and doubling over slightly so that her hands were on her knees. Ingrid stared at her, either in rage or disappointment or what, the blonde wasn’t sure, but she didn’t say a thing whilst Alexia sniffled and wiped away a tear that fell without even realising she had begun crying. “Oh, fuck. I messed up so bad.”

“Yes, you did, because that’s her worst nightmare! To hear someone say they need a break, especially in that scenario, is her number one insecurity. How could you s-”

“You think I don’t know that!?” Alexia stood up straight and snapped, though the fight immediately drained out of her. She slid down the wall until she was on the ground, knees to her chest with her arms atop them as she cried into her hands. Ingrid softened, just slightly, and came to sit beside her. “What do I do, Ingrid? She’s not here, not at her apartment, not at mine. Her phone isn’t on. I have no idea where she is or what I would say to her.”

“I’m on her side, not yours. This is your problem and you have to figure out how to fix it.” She started with the classic friendly warning, before moving on to what she actually wanted to say. “I think this is something you will both forget by tomorrow, as long as you say exactly the right words. What those are, well… that's what you need to decide on. You have to figure out what you want to say to her to make her believe you because it's not going to be easy. You can't just tell her you didn't mean it, explain yourself clearly. But you have to work that out on your own. I can't help you with that.”

The blonde nodded and took a deep breath.

“I know. Madre de dios, I know.” She mumbled, running her hands through her hair and leaning her head back against the wall. “You are angry at me, and I know that. Ingrid, you have to know I didn’t mean it in that way. I never need a break from her, she is the love of my life. It’s not an excuse but I had a really long day at work, that’s what I said I needed a break from. I know I did not make that clear, and… now look what I have done.” 

Ingrid pursed her lips and reassuringly squeezed Alexia’s forearm. Sometimes she got too defensive over you, like now with Alexia. Maybe that would never change, it wasn’t the easiest habit to shake off. However, she was getting slightly better at letting go of the need to do and fix everything bad that happened to you. With the introduction of Alexia into your life, she had no choice but to do that. It was hard, of course it was, yet she was trying her best and that seemed to be working. Even now, as she itched to grab her car keys and drive through all of Barcelona just to find you. That wasn't up to her anymore though. Only if it was really necessary for her to step in.

Both her defensive nature and her new attitude of letting go, they came from a place of love, from having been there every time someone said almost the identical thing that Alexia had said. To most, that phrase wouldn’t really bother many people. They would either know that the other person meant it in terms of work, or their life in general. Except you weren’t most people. Given your reaction to the situation at hand, all the evidence was there that this wasn’t a small thing to you. It quite literally felt like the end of the world, there was no other way to describe it.

All Ingrid could do was hope that her friend was wise enough to be able to get the two of you out of this misunderstanding unharmed. 

“Tell her that then. And more, obviously.” Ingrid teased lightly, pulling a small smile from Alexia. “Just speak from your heart, if you tell the truth then she will of course believe you. But I will seriously hurt you if you upset her again.”

“Lo sè.” Alexia replied, a hint of… fear in her voice? Ingrid really had to suppress her smirk then.

“Now go. Go find her. You know the places she could be, just think. If you can’t find her and get really worried, then call some of us and we’ll come help.” 

And with that, Alexia left. 

—

You didn’t hear the first call of your name. Nor did you hear the second, or the third, or the fourth. It wasn’t until someone sat beside you that you came back down to earth.

“Lieverd, what are you doing here? Are you okay?” Esmee was the one next to you on the bench you found yourself on.

A crooked, old, wooden bench with its paint chipping off under your hands that fidgeted anxiously, in the middle of… the very place you first kissed the woman that had now done you wrong. You weren’t sure how you got here, when you had arrived, and why this was the place you decided to flee to. Yet, here you were.

“Daniëlle, can you go on my phone and text Alexia? And maybe Ingrid? Please?” 

The younger woman’s girlfriend nodded immediately and pulled out said phone, stepping away to give you two privacy as she did so. Esmee turned back to you and stifled a sigh. She ran through everything in her mind of what she had seen Alexia and Ingrid do to help, and from what you had told her in the past. 

One of the first things that came to mind is that time you said on some occasions, especially when you're quite overwhelmed, you can go non-verbal. Your body and mind shuts down, internally honing in on all that was stressing you out whilst everything externally ceases to register for you. It seemed that was what was happening now.

From what she had seen so far, you were staring straight ahead, eyes locked across the yard on a bed of flowers that had sprung to life even more than when you had been there all those months ago in the winter. Esmee didn't want to cross any boundaries or make you feel worse by reaching out to comfort you through a hug or just a hand on your arm, so she didn't. 

“I text them both, Alexia is on her way. She'll be here soon.” Daniëlle said, handing the phone back to the other Dutch girl and watching from afar. 

If Esmee needed her, she'd be more than happy to step in. However, she didn't want to intrude, and she didn't really know much about you or what to do in this situation. And if you were in an able mindset, you would tell her that you appreciated that more than you would ever be able to express. 

“Good, thank you.” Esmee flashed a quick smile at her before focusing her attention back to you. 

Still, you were unresponsive. Conscious of course, but totally unresponsive, your eyes glued to the scenery across from you.

The whole area was astoundingly gorgeous; all bright colours with the fullest trees, somehow drowning out the noise of the busy city around, providing a safe haven that had the complete opposite effect for you. Despite the good memories tied to it, the only thing on your mind was how you had lost everything in just one conversation. All the memories were tinged with a sickening amount of heartbreak.

Those white pansies you were looking at were beautiful, more so than back in December, which made it so much worse. They'd grown and flourished in tandem with your relationship, except now the latter was dead and buried whilst they flaunted their life in front of you. Thriving and beautiful, just like you and Alexia had once been. Now what were you? A thing of the past? What were you supposed to do now? You didn't come to Barcelona to play on a team with your ex-girlfriend, so maybe you should put in a request for a tr-

“Hey, come back to me. I'm right here, it's just me, Esmee.” Slowly but surely, the gentle coaxing of Esmee’s words pulled you out of the prison your own brain had made for you. “You're listening to me, right? You can hear me?”

You nodded, a little cautiously and distant, but it was all she could ask for. As you did so, you averted your eyes downwards and away from your close friend because you couldn’t bear looking at those stupid flowers any longer. 

“If I give you my phone, do you think you could write into my notes app? Tell me what’s wrong? That’s all I want to know, alright?” Again, you nodded, though this time with much more conviction, and Esmee was sure she had never been so relieved in her life. With much more desperation than required, she fumbled through her phone in a rush that would have had you laughing if you weren’t in the state you were in. “Okay, here. Whatever you want or need.”

She watched as your hands trembled whilst typing, and she wasn’t sure what she expected to read but it definitely wasn’t-

Alexia said she needed a break from me.

“What!?” The girl shrieked, Daniëlle having to suppress her laughter at the sudden outburst. Esmee swore she saw the tiniest of smiles on your face. “Wow. What an idiot she is! Look, I am not good at confrontation, or getting angry, or shouting, but… if you want me to do any of those things, I will for you.”

Then, you did smile. Not a bright, beaming, eye-creasing one, but a smile nonetheless. And a shake of your head too for good measure.

“No? Thank god.” She breathed out dramatically, hearing her girlfriend laugh and no doubt rolling her eyes. “I don’t think I could shout at Alexia. You should get Ingrid to do it.” 

No matter how much she wished to, Esmee knew this wasn’t a problem she could solve. She had seen the reply from Alexia a moment ago and decided to not discuss the matter further, because it seemed the captain already had a plan of action and would arrive at any moment. Instead, she did her best to distract you, to cheer you up, with the help of Daniëlle too. 

All was going well, before the gate into the garden creaked open and the sound of heavy footsteps against gravel disrupted the calm that had settled, bringing back all the thoughts you had only just gotten rid of. 

“There you are! Oh, thank god, I-” Alexia cut off her own rambling when she came to her senses, slightly breathless, as she looked at you.

Eyes red from crying earlier, which Esmee had noticed but chose not to mention, and anxiety radiating from your body. Alexia could sense it almost instantly, even from a good few metres away. It was a sharp but necessary reminder of the night’s events and her truly foolish words. 

“Alexia…” Esmee said with a pointed look, her voice stern enough to have the blonde shrinking into herself, even despite the age difference between them both. Turns out, complete and utter anger had no problem making itself known to anyone of any age.

“Could… could you give us some privacy, please?” Alexia asked nervously. The two Dutch women by your side took great pleasure in glaring at her for a couple more seconds before glancing at each other and giving in. 

“Let me know if you need anything, yeah? Anything at all.” Esmee whispered, to which you smiled and leaned into her. She took that as a sign, so wrapped her arm around your shoulders to give you a gentle hug, until she pulled away and linked arms with Daniëlle. One more stare later, and the two left the garden.

For a few moments, the only sounds that could be heard was the wind, winding and weaving through the bushes and trees, leaves brushing against each other, and the noise of it helped to ease the tension for you. Silence in situations like this could be extremely uncomfortable for you, so much so that it was just another thing that could entice you to up and leave at any given moment. However, in this instance, the wind and the sounds of life coming from the streets around you was the perfect peacekeeper. 

Well, it was for you, at least.

Alexia took a couple cautious steps towards you until she knew you weren’t going to tell her to stay away, awkward and shy in her movements. Then she took a seat beside you, ensuring to leave enough space so that you didn’t feel more uncomfortable than you probably already did.

“Engel, I… I am so sorry.” She began in an insecure, worried whisper. As she expected, you gave her no reaction, not a single hint of anything you could be feeling right now. Though, you found yourself staring at those flowers again, wondering how you could let time slip by so fast that you ended up at this point without even realising it. “I didn’t mean that I needed a break from you. I would never ever say that, nor would I ever mean it. I was talking about work, it was a really long day, and I wasn’t thinking stra-”

“You weren’t thinking straight? You weren’t thinking straight when you told me to shut up?” You finally snapped, even out-strengthening your tendency to stay quiet in scenarios like this, all because of how betrayed you felt. The fury was quite obviously kicking in now, white hot anger that set alight every nerve in your body. 

“No no no, I didn’t tell you to shut up! It wasn’t directed towards you, but I know how you could have inferred it, and for that I am more sorry than my stupid mouth could say. I have messed up already, I never want to do that again. I love you, so much. So much, cariño, and I really am so sorry.” 

Her voice trailed off, quivering as it did. Against your will, you found that sudden burst of frustration began to dissipate. It gave way for a disappointing amount of sympathy. You sat there, silent, as she leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands covering her face. The sniffles coming from her really didn’t help your case, but you weren’t one to give up so quickly.

“Next time you think I’m too much, please tell me. Please save me the embarrassment and tell me to leave you alone. Because to hear you say that? Hurt more than anything in my life.” 

Honestly, your mouth was running on autopilot at this point. Your mind still felt a little hazy, but the words came pouring out regardless. You could have sworn Alexia physically flinched at your words, making you feel guilty, because the idea set in that… maybe, after all this was just a misunderstanding. A miscommunication. 

Whether you were upset or angry or annoyed, Alexia didn’t blame you for it. Of course such a statement, especially in a moment like that, would make you panic so much. Hell, if someone said it to her in the way she said it, she was sure her reaction wouldn’t be too dissimilar to yours. 

With some deep breaths, gaining her composure again, Alexia tentatively slid closer on the bench towards you.

“I do not think you are too much. I do not. I never will.” She said softly, willing away her emotions and, most importantly, her shame, for the sake of making a fighting argument. Fighting for you and your trust. “I promise to you that such words will never leave my lips. I will never say anything like that again, especially directed at you. I made a mistake saying that, and I swear this is not an excuse, but work was really hard. Really tiring. All I wanted then was you and only you. I got home, and I just… wanted to cry. I really wanted to cry. But then I saw you, how happy you were, and I knew that would make me feel better. Plus, I didn’t want to… bring you down from your joy by crying in front of you like that.”

Hearing her say those things, it was hard. You knew instantly it wasn’t a trust thing, that she didn’t tell you what was going on in her mind, but instead just a rather irritating and obviously detrimental habit of hers. Despite that though, here she was, beside you and begging for your forgiveness. Now this was a circumstance you had never found yourself in before – someone saying something that offended you, only to apologise afterwards and explain themselves. 

Yet, you weren’t letting her off that easily.

“But do you understand why I reacted like this?” You wondered. Her answer would determine the future of your relationship with her.

“Yes. Yes, I do, engel, I really do. I know you worry that you will steer people away, or make them think you are weird, things like that. I assure you, you could never steer me away. Never.” She answered you desperately, hoping you were taking her words into account and truly understanding them. 

No matter how much it annoyed you, you found yourself believing her. After all, other than this moment here, she really hadn’t given you a reason to doubt her. In the short time you’d known her, she had done more for you and loved you better than most people had in the years you had known them. Those facts weren’t exactly helping your case in staying mad at her. 

“You promise it was just a bad day at work?” You found yourself mumbling sheepishly, which Alexia took as her signal to move in. She shuffled a little closer again, and deftly took hold of your hands, squeezing them in your lap.

“It was just a bad day at work. It had nothing to do with you, mi amor, I was glad to see you. I really didn't want to off-load my day onto you when you were so happy. I love seeing you happy, you know that, and it cheered me up seeing you like that. I was overwhelmed and stressed because it was such a long, difficult day. I think everything caught up with me. Please believe me when I say it was nothing that you did.” 

Her words were beginning to sink in, especially with how honest and open she was being about her version of the day. Unfortunately, things aren’t that simple.

“So let me take care of you next time, tell me you’ve had a long day and you feel awful, so that I can help you and take care of you. I don’t… why didn’t you want to tell me that in the first place? Don’t you trust me?” 

Alexia could hardly stand the vulnerability and the pain in your voice as you spoke. She held immeasurable amounts of shame towards herself at how she’d hurt you so much. You sounded distraught by the events, and she knew what you were telling her now was just a drop in the ocean of how you actually felt. She was disappointed in herself. From the moment she met you and got to know you, she promised that she wouldn’t hurt you. Maybe that wasn’t a realistic thing to do, since this is life after all and nothing is promised, but she hated herself for causing this. 

“I don’t know. I wish I could tell you. But I do trust you, more than anyone in the world. You are everything to me and I am sorry for making you think otherwise. You deserve better and I will work to become that.” It was her turn for her voice to shake as she replied to your doubts, and the tight-lipped smile on her face gave away exactly what was on her mind. 

By this point, you did feel bad for jumping to conclusions, because her reaction now so clearly told you the true meaning of her statement earlier. Pair that with her words here, you didn’t have any reason not to believe her anymore.

Every bone in your body longed for her to hold you, or vice versa. So, you did. You dropped her hands, which panicked Alexia for half a second, before she froze when you turned towards her and wrapped your arms around her shoulders. It took a moment or two for her to catch up, but when she did, she instantly returned your embrace and sighed in relief when her forehead met the side of your neck.

“I’m not sure this is something I can… forget so easily. You say you didn’t mean it but the words came out anyway, and I trust you, but… I worry. And I will continue to worry, and feel anxious, especially on my bad days. This isn’t a quick fix. I’m still going to be scared you did mean it that way.” You told her truthfully. 

This was a moment that needed every ounce of honesty you had to give, even if that might be slightly terrifying, but relationships were built on trust and if you didn’t offer that to each other, then what was the point in it all. Alexia could work with this though, she was more than grateful for the fact you trusted her, even still.

“I understand that, I really do.” Alexia pulled back and her hands came up to hold you by your shoulders. You chance it and look in her eyes, properly, for the first time that night. The emotions present there confirm everything you had come to realise; it was an honest mistake. “I will do everything to erase those anxieties for you. I seriously and genuinely could never think those things about you. I didn’t mean for this to happen, but you will see, in everything I do from now that the way I feel about you is so real, so deep to me. Making you upset? I never intend to do that. I hope you see the true intentions of everything I do with you and for you, because I love and adore you with everything in my body. You are my life now. Thank you for trusting me. That is not something I take for granted, and I never will. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to continue loving you.”

Whereas some people in the past would have laughed at you for getting so worked up at such a ‘small’ thing, Alexia was right in front of you saying all the right things you didn’t even know someone could say about you, especially in a relationship. She wasn’t trivialising or mocking your feelings, she took the time to listen, to understand, and to reassure you. 

One conversation can lead to a lot of things. The one you had just had proved that to the highest degree. No person or thing is perfect, but as long as the time and effort is there, you were certain that your relationship could make it through basically anything. That’s because, despite what had led you two here, you think you might have just fallen even more in love with Alexia than before.

So you gazed up at her, your hands linked loosely behind her neck, and found yourself smiling. You just had one more thing to say to her, which was so important to you for her to know. After all, relationships and communication went both ways. 

“I don’t need you to change. You’re already exactly what I deserve and what I want.” You whispered softly, hoping she understood the depth of your words and realised you forgave her for something that wasn’t her fault in the first place. It was a harmless misunderstanding. 

“I really do love you.” Alexia stated, leaning her forehead against yours and exhaling quietly. Her hands slid off your shoulders and moved to bring you in for another tight hug. “So much.”

“I know you do. I love you too.” At your reply, she turned her head and repetitively placed kisses upon your cheek. 

Some people had no qualms saying you were too much for them, because that’s what they genuinely believed. And it hurts. Others think you’re not quite enough for them, which may also be true for them. But for the people that truly mattered, you were enough, and you always would be. You just have to have a little more faith in yourself.

—

thank you to everyone that reads my stories and supports them, but especially for these ones. can never properly convey how much it means to me, thank you from the bottom of my heart <3

[yourlocalbreadenthusiast]

Kindly take a break from scrolling to read this, it's important.

Take your time to grieve and come to terms with the election results, but once you've done that, it's time to get to work. We have two months. And a lot to do in that time. We have to prepare, to be ready.

Be careful about what you post or say online. Anything potentially incriminating should be avoided. Threatening language, even if clearly a joke, can be used against you.

Know someone who's trans? Someone who's had an abortion? Someone who's LGBTQIA+? Someone who's an immigrant? Someone who attends protests? Someone who's disabled? Someone who might in any way be at risk due to laws being put into place? No you don't.

Move away from social media platforms and browsers that require you to use your real identity or input a large amount of personal information. Now's a good time to find alternate means of communicating online. Tails, Element, Tor, Mastodon, Firefox, and Lemmy are all decent options.

Find a community. Someone you can talk to, either online or in real life, that you'll have reliable contact with. We need to try and create a network, but one that's as anonymous as possible.

Start scrubbing your trail as much as possible. Get rid of old accounts that can still be traced to you but are no longer used, delete personal data off the internet. There are websites out there that will freely remove your data from the internet, but be careful about which one you use, make sure it's safe and legitimate first.

Change any usernames that you can that contain any personal information. Names, birthdays, anything.

Plan B has a four year shelf life. Stock up, but don't take more than you you'll need. We don't want a COVID repeat where everyone buys an excessive amount of things and leaves none for everybody else.

There are doctors that will sterilize you, if that's the way you want to go.

Stop using online period trackers right now. Delete all data from it if possible first, then delete the app itself. If you must, write it down, but in a subtle manner and on something you keep at home. Don't label it, just put the dates. If you're really worried, discard older records and only keep the most recent few, and label the dates as other random events, like "go to mall" or "chicken salad for dinner this night"

Get your vaccines now.

Save money.

Archive. We have to start collecting records, media, data, books, and articles now. On racism, on fascism, on homophobia, on gender, on self-reliance, on survival, on safe travels routes, on equality, on justice, on anything that may be useful and/or censored soon. We can't let them erase it.

Collect those online resources. Bookmark them, copy files into your storage, Screenshot pages. Create a decentralized library where everyone is working to be part of a whole, storing what they can individually and sharing it between one another. Again, be careful about doing this.

Second-hand bookstores are your best friend. Books are usually very cheap in them, and they often have a decent stock. See what you can find.

When buying ANYTHING I have mentioned above, or anything else that maybe put you in danger, try to use cash to reduce your spending trail.

Check your car information online, many newer models can be remotely tracked.

Turn your phone completely off if you may be at risk due to your location and current activities. Turning off your GPS also helps.

Take note of where you are. Who are your friends? Who's a safe person? Where can you go besides your own home that you know you'll be safe? Establish these connections now.

Who around you is not safe? Who and where do you need to avoid? Do you need to move? If you cannot afford moving but need to, there are fundraisers that can help you. If even that is not an option, at least try to make sure your home is secure. Have someone who can help you. Have a fallback safe place.

And finally, I want anyone with resources to put them in the replies. Flood it with useful links, information, tips, anything. We're in this together. Do not panic. Organize.

[gghostwriter]

Time is a Fickle Thing

Girl Dad!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer realizes how important it is to occupy the present and be active in the little things Trope: Fluff & Comfort w.c: 1.48k a/n: this was inspired by an essay I read over the week titled ‘Learning to Measure time in Love & Loss’ by Chris Huntington. It’s very profound so I would suggest you go read it—Andrew Garfield also read it on the podcast called ‘Modern Love’ so go listen to that too. Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

There was still an array of paperwork to be done in his desk at Quantico. Case files that needed to be written down and reviewed by his unit chief, Emily.

The past Dr. Spencer Reid—the one who was still wet behind the ears and green in the eyes of his team members, would have found the droll of filling out forms therapeutic. But now at his age of 40, everything else—typing out information and grading essays, were chores that demanded his every waking attention. He had found himself agitated with the looming workload that seemed never ending.

“Daddy,” a sweet voice murmured beside him. The source—a small body nestling closer to his side.

He hummed in reply, absentmindedly as his brain was preoccupied with estimating how many hours he needed to finish checking submissions in lieu of sleep.

Tiny hands patted his cheeks. “Daddy,” the sweet voice now coated with a hint of urgency.

Spencer’s hazel eyes locked with a pair of replicas. “Yes, Aurora?”

“What happens next?”

Shaking his head, he glanced down at her choice for a bedtime story, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and realized it was the end of a chapter. Reading together was a sacred ritual he formed ever since he had found out you were pregnant.

It made you giggle when you pointed out that she, still a fetus cocooned safely in your body, would not understand the works of The Giving Tree or The Rainbow Fish. He rattled of statistics that although she couldn’t understand the meaning, she could still hear quite well.

In truth, he wanted her to know him—his voice, his presence. Her father who was quite scared to bring in an innocent into the world.

Still, scared even.

Her pink bottom lip jutting out into a frown, reminiscent of the ‘look’ his wife gives to him that renders him speechless and pliable to demands.

It was fascinating how you and him created such a perfect combination—a seven year old daughter who was into reading, as he was, and confident, as you were.

“Daddy, what happens next?”

The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile. The look of exasperation on her tiny face was adorable.

Everything about her was captivating.

“Well, sweet pea,” he began to close the book. “That would be a story for another night.”

“But—”

“Remember what we promised?”

She sighed, gripping her white bunny—a gift from Aunt Penelope, closer. “One chapter only.”

“That’s right,” tucking the stray tendrils away from her angelic face.

As he started to stand up from his precarious lying position on her gingham patterned bed, Aurora’s tiny warm hands gave his sleeves a double tug.

“You’re forgetting something, Daddy.”

He leaned in to give her forehead a kiss.

“Is that it?” He teased.

She giggled, her feet kicking under the covers. “No!”

Brushing his fingers behind her neck—her tickle spot that matched yours. “What about this one?”

Aurora squealed, her infectious happy energy warming his heart. She was a treasure and he felt blessed to be considered her father.

“Stop Daddy, stop!” She sat up, hands crossing over her chest to state she meant business.

Spencer conceded, showing his hands in front of him—a sign of surrender. If she was standing, he could just imagine her little foot stomping on the ground and taking in a wide stance she learned from observing Uncle Morgan.

“Mommy always said you never forget anything,” she argued. “She said you have an ei-eid—perfect memory.”

“Eidetic memory, Aurora, and yes, mommy is right.”

She tilted her head then, her wavy hazel hair swaying behind her. “Then how come you don’t remember?”

“How about giving me a clue then?”

She huffed. “Best part, worst part, Daddy! You forgot to ask me!”

Oh.

That was another ritual he added when Aurora started to learn how to string words along. Although there were nights away from a case that he could not read to her, he always made it a point to ask her via call the best and worst part of her day. It made him feel connected with her even though he was miles away.

“Oh how could I forget, sweet pea,” Spencer sat back on the bed, tucking her back as he went. “Now, can I know what your worst part is?”

She went silent for a moment. Deep in thought, brows scrunching together.

“When Mommy didn’t allow me to wear my new rain boots to school. She said it’s because it wasn’t raining but I really wanted to wear them.”

He laughed, having heard of the small disagreement you had which made you late for work. “We only wear rain boots when the weather is sad, remember?”

Aurora nodded.

“And what about the best part?”

She smiled, the answer quickly spilling out of her. “This is, Daddy.”

Spencer could feel the effect her simple words had to his system. It warmed his heart that expanded for two when she came into the world. It put a halt to any train of thought in his brain.

“Want to know a secret?” He whispered. “This is mine too.”

Tiny hands rubbed her drooping eyes before further nestling in her bed. “Good night, Daddy. I love you.”

He slowly crept out of the room.

“I love you too,” he flicked the light off and closed the door behind him.

Spencer found himself repeating those words and slowly lamenting over missed milestones in her burgeoning life.

Her first steps.

Her first tooth falling out.

Her latest family presentation in school in which you recorded her explaining where he was and what he does for a living—catching bad guys.

In his focused dedication in trying to make the country a better place for her future, Spencer had forgotten to appreciate the present, her growth, and the very notion that time could not be reversed to live the mundane things that make everyday worth living.

Aristotle once said ‘time crumbles things; everything grows old under the power of time and is forgotten through the lapse of time.’

It was a concept he was familiar with by the ripe age of nine, having spent his early youth in isolation and soaking up every thinking thought from the great minds that had roamed this planet before him.

He never forgot the words—not that his memory would allow him to.

And yet, as he found himself sitting on his desk, a cup of fresh tea in front of him, the phrase came to surface like a forgotten pair of lucky socks hidden within the depths of a cabinet.

Perhaps it was his heart that kept it hidden or better yet forgotten, a feat on its own. Perhaps during his tender age, he had yet sculpted the capacity to digest what it meant to his very soul.

Or perhaps, it was a sign from the unknown to focus and live in the present.

She was growing and becoming her very own person right before his unfocused eyes.

Spencer sighed, feeling a pair of arms glide to wrap around his shoulders.

“What’s got you so down, handsome?” You left a kiss on his cheek.

He intertwined your hands together. “It’s just—I missed out on so many milestones. Does that make me an absentee father?”

You walked around him before propping yourself on his lap. “I don’t think so, Spence. Why? What brought this on?”

“I found myself thinking about work when I should be focused on spending time—reading to Aurora. It made me feel sad that she was looking forward to our nightly routine and there I was, thinking about paperwork.”

There was a flash of sadness in your eyes as you caressed his cheek. “That’s alright. We all have our moments, Spence. You just got caught up with life and the responsibilities it has given you,” a lithe finger twisted a loose tendril blocking hos vision. “I know—we know, Aurora and I, that you being busy doesn’t mean you love us any less.”

“I just wish I wouldn’t miss anymore, love.”

You trailed kisses all over his cheeks, the corners of his mouth, before landing perfectly on his awaiting lips. “And I know you’d try your best moving forward.”

“Have I told you I love you?” He teased, arms securely on your waist. “Because I do and I feel lucky to have an understanding partner as you.”

“I love you too, Spence, and Aurora loves you too,” you giggled. “And between you and me, I think you’re still her favorite parent.”

Head thrown back, he laughed, thighs shaking from your admission. “It’s because I cave more to her whims more than you do.”

“Well, there’s that too.”

You gave him another kiss.

“We can try to be more present next time—together. I won’t let you doubt yourself. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[rosyhoneydew]

A quick love letter to my Bucktommy family in the form of a fix-it <3

Bucktommy | fix-it | Teen | 1141 words | warnings: this is angsty at the start and tiptoes toward addressing biphobia so please care for yourself and don't read if that will exacerbate your hurt.

They're three beers deep when the doorbell rings again.

It's been a fucking night. He hadn't really had much to say to Eddie when he got there, thankfully he hadn't had to, especially considering Eddie was clearly in the midst of his own kind of night. It feels better, not being alone, at least. But the alcohol mixes with his head and twists the moment in his apartment further. How come every time I want to move forward I get pushed back?

He's not even paying attention when Eddie goes up to get the door, just fiddles with the bottle in his hand more, peeling the label into tiny pieces and laying them on Eddie's coffee table for him to pick up later.

"Shit-" Eddie stumbles as he makes his way. And then Buck can feel a little breeze as he goes to tell whoever it is that this isn't a good time.

"Oh thank god-" Buck freezes, determined not to turn around. "I wasn't sure you'd be home but I think I fucked up."

That's Tommy.

"I panicked a little. Evan asked me to move in and I think I freaked out."

"Uhh-" Eddie adds.

"We just got done talking about my ex who I had to end an engagement with and it just- it felt like he was trying to make up for his own freak out about it and-" Buck hears him take a deep breath, "I didn't want to force him into doing something he didn't really want to do, you know? He- he should get to make sure that's what he really wants." He takes another breath. "Are you not wearing pants?"

"Umm-"

Buck's heart rate had steadily ramped up hearing Tommy speak, but it's when he stops that Buck feels tears prickle at his eyes. He whips around then, still nestled into Eddie's couch, betrayal in his voice when he speaks.

"I did!" and shit. He didn't really mean to shout that.

"I'm gonna..." Eddie trails off as he heads into his bedroom.

"Why do you think I didn't make sure that's what I wanted?" he demands. He hadn't thought he'd be so angry, but this felt like something to him, and Tommy's running. Again. "Because that girl hit on me at the restaurant?"

Tommy looks shell-shocked. Like he's still grasping the fact that Buck is here, so Buck just keeps talking.

"Or because I haven't dated a man before? So I must not know what I'm talking about, right?"

"Buck-"

"Don't call me that."

"Evan," Tommy steps a little closer, and Buck leans toward the cushions, petty, but feeling raw still. "That is not why."

Buck levels him with a look.

"Okay, what you said is fair enough," he relents. "I didn't mean to make it seem like you couldn't make your own decisions about this."

"What did you mean?"

Tommy looks away for a moment, a flicker of pain on his face.

"I meant... what I said," he lands on. "You would break my heart, Evan."

"You don't know that." The tears finally crest over his lower lids and make their way to his mouth. "You can't just give up every time you're scared that I'm going to leave you, Tommy. It's not fair, you're not even giving me the chance to stay."

Tommy's lip wobbles a little now too, but he stays and listens.

"I wanted to stay, I wanted you to stay. With me. Permanently. Why would you think I would leave you?"

He cries now, and Buck hasn't ever seen him cry.

"I don't know," he gets out, choked and soft. "I see you, sometimes. With the 118 and everyone's families and I... I don't feel like I fit, Evan. I don't get how I fit into that."

"You fit into it because you're my boyfriend. My partner."

"I am?" he asks, treading closer ever slightly to the couch.

This time Buck leans his way. He sets his bottle down and looks down at his hands.

"Did you mean what you told Eddie? You fucked up? Because I fucked up, once, at the beginning of us, and you gave me that second chance and I'm so glad you did, Tommy, because these last few months have been better than I could've hoped. I don't want to let that go because of this so... yeah you can be, if you want."

Tommy rushes to the couch, he sits as close as he can get and grabs Buck's hands firmly. Warm and sure.

"I want that. I want us again. Please."

"You can have it," Buck whispers, resting his head on Tommy's shoulder. He squeezes Tommy's hands. "Just don't leave again, please."

"I won't, I won't."

Then there's a kiss at the crown of his head, and Tommy's other hand rubs soft circles over his back. He murmurs sweet nothings in Buck's ear all the while.

I'm sorry. I'm glad you were here. I missed you as soon as I walked out the door. I'm staying. I'm staying. I'm staying.

They sit like that for a while until a throat clearing from the hallway has them both lifting their heads to find Eddie, fully-clothed.

"What were you guys doing before I got here, by the way?" Tommy asks, humor back in his voice.

"Well, I was drinking my sorrows away. I don't know what Tom Cruise was doing."

"Ha ha," Eddie says, making his way to the couch, no qualms about forcing them to scooch over to make room. "We can talk about my shit tomorrow. You guys worked it out I guess?"

Buck looks up at Tommy, smiles, and kisses him with a loud peck just to make Eddie huff and roll his eyes.

"Yeah," Tommy says, looking at ease. "Although..." he starts.

Buck turns to him, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know that moving into your place is going to work," Tommy admits.

Buck sits up a little, mouth just opening to speak when Tommy cuts him off.

"I want to live with you, Evan, but your place is barely big enough for one person, so maybe we can workshop location, yeah?" he smiles a crinkly smile, the kind that always lets Buck know he's feeling fond, feeling secure.

It's Buck's turn to huff now. "It gets good light," he grumbles.

Tommy kisses his temple again, Buck gets the distinct feeling that he will be getting kissed quite a bit in the near future, and he chances a quick look at Eddie to see if they're being annoying.

Instead, he sees Eddie smiling too, he's looking on like he's proud and it makes Buck want to tear up again. Eddie gives him a nod and Buck nods back.

A weight lifts off his shoulders then. In the arms of the man he's growing to love and accepted by his family.

~~~~

I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who read, commented, shared my fics, sent me nice messages about my writing for these two, and to everyone who created content for them while they were canon. I'm thankful for every minute of it :)