#I guess I didn’t even think that someone would want to recommend my work to someone else | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

growup-thatbeautiful · 1 year

Text

bullet proof… i wish i was

Tags: Kid fic, Canon Typical Violence, Ex-husband Tangerine, Ex-Assassin Reader, Getting Back Together, Soft Tangerine, Mutual Pining, Tangerine Bullet Train, Tangerine x Reader, Tangerine x You

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Blood, Violence, Heavy Cursing

Summary: You and Tangerine have been separated for a few years for the sake of your daughter, Jovie, but when trouble comes, there's only one person to turn to.

Word Count: 8k

A/n: if you want to be added to a taglist for this universe, let me know and i will happily oblige! enjoy my tangerine brainrot :))

Bullet Train Masterlist

chapter one: you have turned me into this

Your heels tap against the marble flooring as you make your way through the crowd of guilty people, the chandelier above you casting an ethereal glow over scared faces and expensive clothing. You keep your head down and hope that none of them are looking at your face too closely. The steel countertop of the bar is cool underneath the tips of your fingers when you order a drink and take a careful sip, your eyes flitting around the room for a certain face. Once you have him in your sights, it doesn't take much to convince him to come over and say hello. The way the silk of your dress contours perfectly around your figure can't hurt.

"Hi," you say, your voice floating through clouds and shaking the walls. Or is it just you who's shaking? The man doesn't answer and instead chooses to signal for the bartender, who nods and starts fixing a drink.

"The usual," the man croaks, his voice weak and failing. It makes you want to go home to the family waiting for you, into the arms of someone who loves you. There's a reason that you can't, but you don't remember it. You just know what you have to do now.

“So, angelface, are you going to tell me how you got here? I think I would remember inviting someone like you.” The man doesn’t recognize you, which is good. None of this would work if he knew who you are and what you’re here for.

“I have an invitation,” you lie, glancing around you and shifting your weight. If he’s paying as much attention to your form as he seems to be then he’s going to notice immediately how obvious you’re being.

“Strange, I didn’t take you for a liar.” He runs a greasy hand along the top of your arm and leans in closer to you, a sick smile on his face.

“I didn’t think you were smart enough to notice. Color me impressed, Sir.” You plant a hand on your hip and twirl a finger through your hair, grinning at him like you’re remotely interested in his sad eyes.

“Thanks. Look, hun. You’re way out of your zone here. This isn’t the path for a pretty girl like you.” He brings his hand up to your face, stroking a sweaty hand over your cheek. Like that’s ever calmed you down.

“Oh, sure it is.” you grab his wrist. “There are plenty of pretty girls getting up to no good. And those are only the ones that I know about and the ones you decide are good enough for a second fuck. But there’s a little more to the story this time. See, I’ve always loved my job, but it doesn’t really allow any room for what I need. I guess you could call it an occupational hazard, but I’ve been trying to change that if you would let me. I have a feeling that you’re going to listen to me.” You can feel the bones under his wrist. The way their ancient architecture creaks and groans under strain.

The beautiful snap of his wrist. Pain lit up in his eyes. Surprise written on his face. “Now. You’re never going to underestimate an angry woman or a protective mother again. I recommend you start listening to me closely and looking into my eyes instead of somewhere else.”

You wake up with a sob. Those memories have haunted you since the moment they happened, an error in judgment, an eclipse against the rest of your life. The things you did to protect the little girl sleeping soundly in the room next to you.

It’s half of a memory, not even getting to the worst part of that evening. Or the nights you spent afterward, cradling yourself against the cold spray of the shower and insistently scraping your skin against a washcloth to get the blood off.

It isn’t the violence that haunts you. God knows you’ve seen enough of that to last a lifetime. No, you don’t bat an eye at the blood that was shed that night, that’s never bothered you.

It’s what came afterward. The fighting, the leaving, the tears that you don’t usually shed. You had put your daughter, Jovie, in the backseat and taken her away from one of the two people who loved her to the end of the earth. It’s not like you had a choice, or at least that’s the easier way to think about it. For Jovie’s sake, you had to get out of that life, and you couldn’t have done that any other way.

But the way you hurt Tangerine back then still hurts you every time you think about it. It’s almost unbearable, to know that you’re the reason why he lives alone in a house that was meant to be filled with pictures of you and Jovie that now has impersonal empty white walls.

With a sigh, you throw the sweat-soaked sheets off to the side and walk into the bathroom that’s adjacent to your bedroom. Your hands shake when your turn the sink on you run your sweaty palms underneath the cool water, and you splash some onto your face. From experience, you know you probably won’t get back to sleep anytime soon tonight, so you might as well get some work done. Maybe with the extra time, you can pick up Jovie early from school one day and take her to the ice cream parlor she likes. There’s no better way to spend your time than with her anyway.

You slip some socks onto your feet and make your way across the hardwoods into your kitchen, where your laptop is waiting at the table. Instinctively, you go to the kettle sitting on the stove and start boiling some water, your mind on autopilot. Next, you grab a cup and some sugar, get some milk from the fridge, and try your hardest to calm your heartbeat. The whistling of the kettle is a soothing balm against your racing thoughts.

You don’t know how many times you’ve had the same dream, but usually, you make it further before you wake up. Maybe it’s finally starting to go away, but you doubt it. You’re honestly not sure that it’s something you’ll ever stop terrorizing yourself over.

The kettle’s whistling reaches an insistent point and you carefully pour the tea into the waiting cup. Once it’s cool enough to move, you settle into the kitchen table that’s closest to the window and open your laptop, where emails and research await.

Right when you’ve finally gotten into a good rhythm of your work, a noise from the hallway interrupts your thoughts. The hinges of your front door creak and strain, something you’ve been meaning to fix for a while, but right now you’re happy that you haven’t. Slowly, you reach for the gun that’s sitting behind the plant on the window and load it methodically, glancing over towards Jovie’s room and praying that she’s still asleep. The floorboards creak underneath the person’s feet and you steel yourself for what’s coming, whatever it is.

“Do you ever go anywhere besides your kitchen table, love? Should I be worried about your work addiction?” You see a familiar silhouette against the refrigerator light holding his hands up in the air.

Lowering the gun and putting it off to the side, you say, “Sure. Just let yourself right in. I’m sure Jovie would love to find you here in the middle of the night.”

“Jovie’s still awake?” Tangerine asks hopefully. You roll your eyes against his response, but there’s no actual malice in your actions. It’s endearing, how excited he gets to see her, even when you know he’s been on a mission for at least a week.

“No, she’s asleep, but you can go see her. If you wake her, you’re going to deal with it in the end, though, because she’s supposed to be going over to your house tomorrow anyway,” you warn. You don’t think it sends the right message, though, because he grins and raises his eyebrows at you.

“You still have to deal with her in the morning,” he grins, taking off down the hall. You know better than to try and stop him when he’s trying to go see Jovie, especially when he’s been gone.

He’s never told you, but you know that he misses her when he’s gone, but you imagine that it’s worse than how you miss her. When you’re gone, you know you’ll come back safely most of the time. Sure, what you’re doing for a living is technically illegal, but you’re not in immediate danger as frequently as he is.

So, when he comes over in the middle of the night asking to see Jovie, hardly able to stand with bloodshot eyes, you give him time with her for as long as he needs.

You remember how it used to be, when you were both working. It was hell, trying to balance everything; going on jobs and finding someone to watch Jovie, spending as much time as possible with her when you weren’t on a job, and trying to maintain some semblance of a relationship with Tangerine.

At some point, it all just collapsed in on itself. You had to get out of the job, and the only way to do that came with consequences that you’re still facing today.

You don’t think Tangerine can look at you without seeing the person that snuck away in the middle of the night with his daughter. And you can’t blame him one bit, even if he won’t say it to your face. You know if he did that to you, you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. Maybe he’s just a better liar than you or a better person. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell.

You can’t tell how long it’s been, sitting at your computer and waiting for Tangerine’s telltale footsteps, but eventually, he comes back and sits down next to you. Silently, without looking up from your laptop, you push your tea across the wooden surface towards him and he accepts it gratefully.

“You still make your tea like shit,” he complains, grimacing at the taste. “It’s like drinking fucking sugar water.”

“Then stop drinking it, Tan,” you sigh, but there’s a fondness that you can’t stop from creeping into your voice. “Just because you like being dark and broody doesn’t mean we all do. Some of us like being happy.”

“I can be perfectly fucking happy without your sugary excuse for caffeine,” Tangerine defends, leaning back into his chair. “Now do you want the information I got you, or not?”

You nod and pull up the folder you’ve been keeping information for your current job in. It’s scarily scarce, and this is one of the hardest assignments you’ve been given in a while. Gathering information on The White Death was hard enough when you could openly travel the world, and now with Jovie, it’s even harder.

Ever since you stopped going on actual jobs where you were part of the physical fight, you’ve been gathering information for the assassins like Tangerine and Lemon before jobs. It comes with perks, like the ability to work from home most of the time, but you can’t deny that you miss the excitement that you used to face almost daily.

For the next hour, Tangerine tells you everything he learned on the job and you carefully take notes. It’s a system you worked out as soon as you realized that the two of you would have to relearn how to coexist with each other for Jovie’s sake. In exchange, you give him everything you have on whatever his next job will entail, because, as scared as he is that he’s not going to come home one day, you’re terrified every time he leaves that he’s going to decide that it isn’t worth it. He’ll realize when he wakes up one morning that he could be anywhere in the world with anyone he wants, and you’re just not worth the effort.

Not that you would ever tell him that. Instead, you keep him through the flimsy excuse of work and information, hoping that, along with Jovie, it’s enough to keep him by your side.

Because you’re unexplainably selfish when it comes to him. Yes, you’re the one who left, but you can’t bear to think about him being happy with someone else.

So, for as long as he lets it continue, you’ll sit at the kitchen table for him in the middle of the night and listen to him talk, his accent lulling you to a sense of false domesticity that will shatter when he gets up to go home.

Tomorrow morning, Jovie will wake up and tell you all about how Tangerine visited her in the middle of the night, and he’ll be gone again, back to his own home where you thought you would raise Jovie with him.

But that’s something to worry about tomorrow. For now, you can sit here and take notes with an excuse to stare at Tangerine while he talks.

And what a sight he is, with his hair falling in front of his eyes, his blue-grey eyes shining in the lowlight of the moon shining through the window. His ringed fingers are drumming against the table as he talks, blood underneath his nails. Before he came in, he must have taken his suit jacket off, because he’s left in a blue pinstriped vest and a white undershirt, both speckled with blood. It outlines the broad expanse of his shoulders and the chain around his neck glints in and out of your sight.

“Do you want to spend the night?” you interrupt, shutting your laptop. Upon seeing the confused look on his face, you start rambling. “I know you probably want to get home- you’ve been gone a while- but it’s late and I’m sure Jovie would love to have you here in the morning. That way you don’t have to come get her later.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he agrees. “And I really don’t want to drive even more tonight, so I might take you up on the offer.”

“Okay,” you say, hiding a smile behind your hand. “You can shower in the guest room, I’ll get sheets on the bed.”

“Don’t go to the trouble, love. I’ll be happy with whatever.” You shake your head and get up, heading for the closet where you keep extra bedding. When you hand a pair of clean, white sheets with red polka dots, he takes them from you with a quiet, “Thanks.”

You lead him to the guest room, flipping light switches on and making sure the bathroom is adequately stocked. “I’ll be right back,” you say, heading to your room and rifling through one of your drawers until you come up with a maroon t-shirt that’s been in the back of your drawer for ages. It’s worn and faded, with holes in the collar and a white stain on the hem. You don’t know if Tangerine has even noticed that you’ve had it all this time, but you haven’t been able to convince yourself to give it back.

Back in the guest room, you hand him the t-shirt and he silently hands you his suit vest and collared shirt, which you take into the laundry room and spray with something to get the stains out. It’s a routine that you two perfected a long time ago, before things were so messed up, so it’s nice to see how some things still stay the same. The sound of the shower starting lets you know that he’ll be out in a few minutes, and a familiar sense of dread fills you. What happens now? Do you tell him goodnight and wait to deal with it in the morning or are you supposed to sit up with him and exchange polite conversation that will only hurt you in the end.

It ends up being neither. You’re sitting back at the kitchen table, pretending to look at your computer, when he shuffles down the hall, wearing boxers and the t-shirt.

“Is this mine?” he asks, gesturing at his shirt. “I’ve been fucking looking for this.” You know he hasn’t because he never liked this shirt, but your ears burn red at the accusation, however well meaning.

“It might be,” you deflect. “Do you need any food?” Tangerine moves to sit across from you at the table. His hair away from his face when he leans back and closes his eyes. He doesn’t look convinced at your defense, but he lets it slide with raised eyebrows.

“No, I stole some crisps on the way home.” You’re not surprised.

“You have a talent, Tan,” you tease lightly, shutting your computer. “You need to teach Jovie one of these days.”

“She can do better than petty thieving, have higher hopes for our girl.” Our girl rings through your mind. You doubt he even knows the impact of what he says, like he usually doesn’t.

You don’t really know what to say, so, “I’m sure she’s got your knack for finding something worthwhile to do,” is what you end up replying.

“A man can dream,” Tangerine sighs. You realize how late it is and how tired he must be, which you can see by the darkness underneath his eyes.

“As much as I would love sitting up with you, I think it might be a proper time to go to bed,” you admit softly. He looks at you with a strange look in his eye and nods slowly, matching your actions when you stand up.

“Goodnight, Tangerine.” You’re standing across from him, unable to cross the distance between the two of you, both physical and mental. It would be so easy, so instinctive, to fold yourself into his arms like you used to all those years ago. It’s alarming how deep the desire to do it runs through you, and you chalk it up to the nightmare that you and earlier.

“Goodnight, love. I’ll see you in the morning.” Those words, from him, are achingly distant to what they used to mean, but they fill the crack in your heart with a blooming flower of some unnamed emotion.

It stays with you when you crawl into bed and it has you looking forward to the morning, whatever it brings.

The sound of singing wakes you up much more gently than the nightmare did. It’s loud and boisterous and completely off-key, and you recognize it immediately, just like you would recognize anything about him.

You force yourself out of the warmth of your bed and throw on the first clothes that you find, a pair of black leggings and a deep green sweater with countless holes. A look in the mirror tells you that the bags under your eyes reflect the late hours of last night, but you don’t feel like doing anything about it right now. It can’t be worse than the other states of disarray Tangerine has seen you in before.

The bedroom door closes shut quietly behind you as you walk down the hall, and the sight that you’re met with is both concerning and heartwarming.

Standing at the stove in his now spotless suit from last night is Tangerine, his hair in its usual slick back style. Your kitchen is a mess, with flour all over the cabinets and countertops and a towel is thrown over his shoulder. He’s bent over the stove, watching a pan intently as smoke rises to the ceiling.

Jovie is sitting at the kitchen table watching, her brown curls a messy hall around her head. It’s the same as her father’s, something that he takes great pride in. She has your eyes, but hers are full of hope.

You make your way over to where Tangerine is standing and lean against the counter across from him, watching with amusement as he fiddles with your burner. “Bastard,” he mutters under his breath, trying again to light the stove. “Fucking bastard.”

“Let me help you,” you laugh, sidling up next to him and pushing the knob in before turning it. “It gets stuck sometimes, you just have to force it a tad.”

“S’that right? Well, someone’s going to have to fix that. I wouldn’t want the world deprived of your cooking,” he deadpans, a glint in his eye.

“Fuck off,” you say under your breath, glancing at Jovie to see her utterly occupied with the spoon and bowl. “I haven’t poisoned anyone yet with my cooking.”

“That was on purpose,” he defends easily. “And I don’t think they’re quite the brag you think it is, love. Jovie-“

“-come on, don’t bring the poor girl into this-“

“-how do you think your mom’s cooking is?” His grin is wide and dagger-sharp as he looks at Jovie, who’s staring wide-eyed and helpless at the wills of Tangerine’s smile.

“Mommy makes dinner all the time,” she says, looking at you.

“Thank you, baby,” you sing, smiling at her and sticking your tongue out at Tangerine. He frowns at your childish display and turns his attention to Jovie with soft eyes.

“I beg your pardon, Jovie, but why don’t you tell Mommy the truth?”

You sigh, having accepted your dare a long time ago as someone who’s talents lau outside of the kitchen. “Go ahead.”

“Sometimes your food tastes yucky,” Jovie says slowly, her head tilted to the side as she waits for your reaction.

“Well, I’m trying my best,” you defend, but you don’t take any of it personally. You’re happy, at least, that Jovie’s being honest with you, which is more than a lot of parents can say. This day was bound to come.

“I’m sure you are,” grins Tangerine, giving Jovie a cheesy thumbs up before returning to his cooking. “That’s why I’m going to handle breakfast this morning.”

And he does, without complaint, grinning and cracking jokes the whole time. It feels like he belongs here, sandwiched in your tiny kitchen with Jovie sitting at the table and laughing.

He brings two plates full of various breakfast items and a bowl for Jovie with grilled tomatoes, her favorite. You eat in comfortable silence, filled occasionally by Jovie’s chatter.

“Can I have that?” Tangerine asks, looking hopefully at you. He’s pointing towards your tomato, which you really had planned on eating, but you give in to his pleading eyes.

“So now you’re a gentleman?” you tease, shoveling your food onto his plate.

“Love, I’m always a gentleman.” He takes your food happily and shares with Jovie, talking with her about school and her friends while bringing you into the conversation.

It’s so easy to forget, in moments like these, why you ever left, but things can come crashing down when Tangerine has to leave.

“We should be off,” he admits softly. “I wouldn’t want to take up more of your time.”

“Okay,” you agree, but your smile feels wrong and tight. You want so badly to tell him that you’d rather be here than anywhere else as long as he’s here. “Jovie, baby, are you ready to go to Daddy’s house?”

“I need Murphy to come with me,” Jovie says, and you smile at her before going to her room to grab her favorite stuffed bear. It’s something that Tangerine got her on one of his trips, this time to New York. The stuffed bear is wearing a red guard’s uniform and a top hat, affectionately missing one shoe with faded colors. It’s laying on her bed, shoved beneath her pillows and blankets, and you double check the rest of her room to make sure that there’s nothing else she’ll need.

“Here’s Murphy.” You hand her the bear and Jovie accepts it happily with a hug and a pat on the head. She gives you a hug and a messy kiss on the cheek before going over to stand with Tangerine.

“Jovie-love,” Tangerine says, calling your daughter by his favorite endearment, “Say another goodbye to your mom, you’ll see her again in a few days.” Jovie nods obediently and looks at you again.

“Bye-bye, Mommy.”

“Bye, Jovie. I’ll see you soon, Tan.” Tangerine nods his goodbye to you before taking Jovie’s hand in his own and leading her down the hall and out the front door. You see them out the window as Tangerine buckles Jovie’s seatbelt and taps her on the nose with a soft smile.

You watch his car drive away until you can’t see it anymore.

Days without Jovie go by uneventfully, with not much distinction between the hours, and the next few are no exception.

But now, you have more than Jovie to look forward to. You have Tangerine too, however short your interaction may be. Because he’s always been a bright spot for you, even when you don’t get to bask in his sunlight every day. You’ll take whatever you can get, however small, because anything is more than you deserve.

Especially because you’re the one who ruined all of it in the first place.

After a long day of interviews and field work, you just want to go home. Jovie’s with her babysitter Mary because Tangerine had to take care of something with Lemon, which is an unfortunately common occurrence.

The drive home is painful and irritating, and it seems like everything is trying to push you over the edge. You have to keep reminding yourself that Jovie is waiting for you at home; sweet, loving Jovie whose face lights up when she sees you walk into a room. She’s back at your flat now, from when Tangerine dropped her off earlier today, which is good, because you don’t know what you would do if she wasn’t there. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to have much of a conversation with him because everything had been rushed.

Finally, finally you make it to your flat, where you can’t seem to find a parking spot quick enough to satisfy your desire to be finished with today.

When you walk through the door, you’re met with a silence that puts you on edge. There’s no blaring kids television program or the sound of Jovie playing with her toys, or even the soft lull of Mary reading her to sleep.

“Jovie? Baby?” You walk faster through the apartment, paranoia taking over. When you turn the corner, a gasp lodges itself in your throat and your hand comes up to cover your mouth.

It’s a cinematic scene. Your big-eyed Jovie, standing, covered in blood. The homey glow of the broken lamps cast shadows across the mangled corpse in front of her. Jovie isn’t moving, simply standing there, red spreading across her truck pajama pants.

“Jovie, honey, come here.”

“You always say not to get my pajamas messy.”

“I know, love, but this is more important right now. It’s okay, I understand.” You hold out your arms, knees on the ground, soaking in the pool of blood. “Please, baby, just walk towards me and everything will be okay.” She dutifully takes a step, walking straight into the mass of blood.

“Shit, Jovie, stay there, I’m coming to get you.” The blood is warm against your feet as you pass through it. She looks at you with her big eyes and you feel the tears threatening to overflow. You don’t have time for this now; you can always cry about it later in the shower.

“You said a bad word. Daddy says bad words sometimes when he thinks I’m not there.” Despite wariness, Jovie climbs into the waiting arms, holding on. She leaves ripples in the growing mass of blood when she walks.

“Yeah, that sounds just like him. How about we go into the kitchen-“

“For juice pops?” interrupts Jovie, oblivious to the violence around her. You wish that you feel surprised at the continued glimpses of the fight. A broken plate on the floor, a red smear on the white cabinets, and a drawer pulled out of the island.

“For juice pops,” you confirm, opening the freezer for an, ironically, red popsicle. “What color do you want?”

“Blue,” she says decidedly. You grab one of the first ones you see and unwrap it with your teeth, handing it to her. She takes it happily and you push her up higher onto your hip.

“How about we call daddy? I think he can help us.” The thing is, you know how to deal with this on your own. You’ve talked about it with Tan more times than you can count, but this is so much harder than planning for it. “Can you go grab your backpack from the closet? Mommy’s going to go get her own bag and we’ll call him from the car.”

She mumbles okay as you put her down and she heads dutifully down the hall to her room. You would rather be close to her, but time is essential at the moment. The only thing running through your mind is getting Jovie somewhere safe, no matter how you do it.

You rush down the hall and grab the gray duffel bag from the corner of your closet. Quickly, you go through the contents and make sure that you have everything you might need. Yours and Jovie’s passports, some first aid materials, a few extra weapons, and a change of clothes are the main items that you have to make sure are in the bag.

Once you’ve double-checked everything, you throw the duffel onto the bed and grab the extra bullets that you keep in your top drawer, shoving them into your back pocket along with the small gun that you keep in the bathroom.

“Jovie, honey, are you ready to go?” you call, waiting for a reply. She yells a muffled response back at you, which you take as an okay. You don’t really have enough time to contemplate it anyway.

As fast as you can, you scoop up Jovie’s bag from her arms and grab one of her hands in yours. She’s clutching Murphy close to her chest, the bear squished tightly against her. The hallway seems to be clear when you check it for any threats, and, thankfully, Jovie stays silent until she’s safely buckled into her seat. Part of you hopes that she can tell how serious the situation is, how dire it is that you make it to somewhere safer.

The slam of the car door rings in your ears as you pull out of the carpark, as does the heavy sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Mommy? Is Mary dead?” asks Jovie, staring at you from the backseat with eyes just like yours. You grip the steering wheel tighter between your fingers and let out a slow exhale.

“Yeah, baby. Mary’s dead.” You don’t know what else to say, so you let silence fill the car. After you’re far enough away, you pull the car to the side of the road and turn the lights off. To anyone passing by, they won’t see you unless they’re looking.

“What are we doing here?” Jovie’s voice is high-pitched and scared, and you brace yourself for the feeling of tears pricking your eyes. When Jovie cries, usually you’re able to be the calm one, but you don’t know if you can be that person right now.

“We’re just resting for a minute.” The words are hard to get out and you lean forward against the steering wheel, taking a breath with your head in your hands.

“Because it’s dark out?” Any other time, you would happily answer all of Jovie’s questions and more, but you need to think right now. But you also don’t think that it’s a good idea to shift Jovie’s mind to anything that could lead to her thinking more about what happened.

“Jovie, honey, do you think you can let me call Daddy? We need to make sure that it’s okay for us to go over to his house.” Jovie nods and looks out the window quietly, tracing the passing houses with her finger.

You pull up your phone and select Tangerine’s name from the top of your contacts, but you don’t connect it to the car speaker. Jovie’s been through enough. While you wait, you pull back onto the road and start heading in the direction of Tangerine’s house.

It feels like the dial tone rings forever while you wait for him to answer. It goes to voicemail and you bang your hand against the steering wheel, biting back a curse and some tears. The beep for a voicemail sounds and you start talking before you can consider anything else. “Tan, we’re heading to your flat now. There’s-there’s a problem. I have Jovie with me now, just- please be home. Please fucking be home, I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, Tangerine, and I don’t know how Jovie’s going to cope with this. I came home and there was blood on the floor, and Mary was on the floor. I don’t think we can go back there for a while, maybe ever. I have some things with me, and I have my gun, but I- I don’t think it’s safe still. Just, please answer me whenever you get this. Please, Tan.” You end the call and throw your phone to the side, running a hand through your hair.

When you look back at Jovie through the rear view mirror, she’s fast asleep, her head tucked against the top of her car seat. Your heart melts at the state of her. The curls on her head are rowdy and unruly, and you realize now that she’s still in her pajamas. The blue truck patterned pants are stained at the ankles with deep blood, and you have to fight not to pull over again and clean her up.

From its spot in the passenger seat, your phone rings loudly, and you reach across for it with one hand on the steering wheel. “Hello?”

“Love, are you almost here? I fucking swear, I’m about to drive to you myself. How is Jovie doing?” The tension and the anger in his voice somehow make yours melt away a little. It feels like you can breathe, knowing that he’s there waiting for you.

“I’m five minutes away. And Jovie’s asleep right now.”

“Fuck,” he swears. “Mary’s dead?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what we’re going to do about that. She doesn’t have any family, and as far as I know Jovie was the only one she sat for, so that’s ideal I guess.” It’s easier like this, to remember how you’re supposed to respond in situations like this. He’s always made things so much easier for you; your focus pinpoints on Jovie’s safety with the help from his voice.

“I’ll get someone to go over there and clean up. I’ll have things ready for you and Jovie when you get here.”

“Okay,” you agree quietly. “We’re pulling into your neighborhood now.” Like clockwork, Jovie's head snaps up when you pull into Tangerine’s driveway. You’ve never made it to his house without her waking up at the very last moment. It’s endearing on good days and frustrating on the rest, but now you’re just happy that she’s still with her normal routine.

The car rolls to a stop in front of the house and you park the car before stepping out and unbuckling Jovie. Both of the bags are carried in your arms, along with Jovie’s little hand in your own. You stop on the edge of the driveway, looking at Tangerine. You honestly don’t know what to do now that you’re standing in front of him, yearning for the safety of his arms but not knowing if you’re allowed.

“Come here,” Tangerine says. You don’t move. There’s an edge to his voice that you haven’t heard before. Something consequential. Something desperate. “Please.” He says it so quietly and with such little conviction. Like he knows you’ll say no.

Jovie goes first. And you have no choice but to follow her little footsteps until your in his arms. Once you’re there, you can’t remember why you ever wanted to be anywhere else. Slowly, like he’s going to let go at any moment, you wrap your arm around him and clutch the back of his suit in your hand, pulling yourself into him.

He’s so warm and solid against you, his suit jacket soft and welcome against your cheek. It makes you think of how things used to be, when you could come home together to this very house and let yourself bask in his presence.

Those days are gone, but the ghost of them remains in this depraved picture of a family hug: Josie’s blood splattered feet, your shaking hands and blood-dyed shirt, Tangerine’s immaculate suit and slick back hair.

Eventually, you have to let go and walk inside, dropping your bags off at the front door and crowding Jovie into the living room. Tangerine tells you that you should go wash up, and dimly, you agree, walking absentmindedly to the bathroom and stripping down.

It’s not until the warm spray of the water is hitting you that you realize you’re in his bathroom, the one that you used to share when Jovie was a baby.

Instinct had taken over and sent you right back to the past, when you were Tangerine's wife and Jovie’s mother at the same time. Strange, how different things are now.

Now, you’re washing blood off, which isn’t necessarily new, but you’re alone and thinking about the similar blood that covers your beautiful Jovie.

You’re wearing his shirt when you walk out. It used to be your favorite one, worn thin and soft from use, light blue fabric falling to your thighs. You always forget just how tall he is until you’re forced, in moments like this, to remember.

“Jovie’s asleep. I didn’t put her in her room because of the windows, so she’s in the room next door on the couch. Lemon’s on his way over,” Tangerine explains softly, coming over to hand you a towel for your hair, an old habit that neither of you even acknowledges.

“Thanks,” you reply just as quietly like somehow you’ll wake Jovie up from here. “Is she okay? Did you wash her feet off?” It almost seems trivial, to be asking if your daughter didn't go to sleep with blood-covered feet, but it matters to you.

“Yeah, love, I did. Are- are you okay?”

You let out a laugh that sounds too much like a sob and sit on the corner of the bed. “I came home to find our daughter surrounded by blood, which we have a plan for, a plan that I didn’t follow.”

“You made a judgment call. There’s nothing wrong with that, we have to do it all the time,” he comforts. Before you can reply with more negativity, he comes over and puts his hands on your shoulders, cupping your neck. Carefully, he tilts your head up to look him in the eyes. He’s towering over your sitting figure, but it’s far from intimidating. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in his presence, in his comfort.

He’s always been a source of comfort for you, even when you’re not with him. He’s a safety net to fall into during times like these, and you’re falling hard.

“I think it’s my fault,” you whisper, shutting your eyes. “I should have been there sooner. She’s going to have nightmares now. Tan, what if I’ve fucked her up? This is why I stopped, and now it doesn’t matter, she’s going to have these memories of blood and pain and I wasn’t there to stop it.”

He waits patiently for you to finish before shaking his head against your thoughts. “We knew something like this could happen. It’s as much my fault as it is yours, if it’s your fault at all, You’ve tried your best to protect her from this as long as she’s been alive.”

“I could have done more.”

“So could I, but we didn’t. However,” he continues, “Jovie’s okay. She’s safe now. You know that, right? M’not going to let anything happen to the two of you.”

“Thanks, Tan,” you whisper. There are so many more things you want to say, so much more negativity flying through your head, but it’s easier to let him take a little bit of the burden, like you know he wants to.

“Of course, love. We’ll figure this out together.” Slowly, he kneels down on the floor in front of you so you’re at the same height, bringing your heads together. You close your eyes and get lost in the feel of his hands against you, his breath against your own, his presence all around you. A part of you in the back of your mind reminds you that this could be your normal.

You pull apart and Tangerine wipes the tear from your eye with his thumb, so gentle. “Who did this to you?” There’s an edge to Tangerine’s voice that you’ve never wanted to hear aimed at you. But you don’t think it’s you that he’s mad at.

“It could have been a lot of people,” you start.

“You fucking know who it was. Tell me.” He’s losing patience now, wanting to help in the way he knows how. There’s no way for him to know the way that he’s already helping by being with you. His presence is a comfort, a safety that you can’t get if he’s out there looking for someone.

“Probably White Death’s guys,” you admit, thinking back. You’ve been careful, but there are always people who will talk. “They’ll do whatever to keep their names out of people’s mouths.”

“Fucking hell,” he swears, his hands on his hips. The dying light from the hallway casts shadows against his silhouette, the shiny silver signet ring on his pinky and the warm metal against his chest glinting along the hardwoods. “Why would they leave Jovie alive?” It’s a stupid question, one that both of you already know the answer to anyway, but you know why he’s asking. Sometimes it’s easier for other people to say the hard things. It’s not like you’re upset about Jovie being alive, you’re so utterly grateful, but it can’t be for no reason.

“Because they know who Jovie is. They want to scare us because there planning for something worse, something we aren’t expecting.”

“Mommy? Daddy? I’m scared,” Jovie calls from the other room. “There are monsters underneath the bed.” It’s something she’s been scared of for as long as you can remember, but you can’t help the spike of fear that courses through you. You’re not alone though, because Tangerine looks at you with the same panic in his eyes.

“We’re coming, love,” he replies, and you follow him through the door. Jovie’s sitting up in the bed, surrounded by blankets that build up around her and holding her stuffed bear close to her chest.

“Do you know which monster it is this time?” you ask softly, crawling next to her. Dutifully, Tangerine checks under the bed carefully and gives an exaggerated thumbs up that makes Jovie’s giggle beside you.

“It’s Lenny,” she whispers into your ear, and you nod solemnly at her.

“That’s a serious monster problem. Do you think Daddy’s going to have to move out of his house?” For as long as she’s been scared of the monsters under her bed, you and Tangerine have tried to twist it into something better. That’s when you started asking her what the monsters’ names are and what she thinks they're doing under her bed. Usually, you’re able to get her to a point of calm and, on the rare occasion, to a point where she’s no longer afraid of a certain monster. So far, you and Tangerine have been able to convince her that the monsters Polly and Patrick are protecting her, but Lenny has been a challenge since the beginning.

“I will not be moving, ladies. I don’t think Lenny’s here tonight, Jovie-love. And if he is, tell him to piss off because I’m too tired to fight a monster.” For emphasis, he plops face first down on the bed and starts snoring loudly.

“Tan, language,” you chastise lightly, sending a half-hearted glare in his direction. It’s a fruitless task, which you learned a long time ago, but you won’t stop trying, more for your own sanity than for Jovie’s sake.

“Yeah, Daddy, language,” Jovie mimics, crossing her arms over her chest. You laugh and nudge Tangerine, who looks less than thrilled.

“Right, you two are a pair,” he groans into his hands, peeking through to wiggle his eyes at Jovie. “But I think it’s time for my ladies to go to sleep.”

“Thank you for saving me,” Jovie adds sweetly, snuggling further underneath the blanket. Your heart melts at the way she holds her teddy close to her chest. “Will you always come for me?”

“Jovie, baby, there could be dragons and mountains and oceans between us and we would still find a way to you, okay? Daddy and I will never stop looking for you if you’re away from us. Never. Do you understand?” You run a hand over her hair and tuck a stray strand behind her ear.

At that, Jovie opens her eyes and looks at you, blinking slowly.“But you and Daddy don’t love each other.”

“Oh, baby,” you sigh. You can’t look at Tangerine next to you, you can’t bear to see the look on his face. “I’ll always love your dad. I love that he’s the person I get to raise you with. I love that he’s there when I need him. We just…weren't able to love each other together. It’s like that sometimes.” You wish it weren’t, but that’s not a fight that you want to have again.

“Jovie-love, your mom and I have loved each other since before you were born, but it’s easier for us to love each other from separate places,” Tangerine adds, smoothing the side of Jovie’s face. His words ring a painful truth that you’ve known for years.

“But we’ll always come together to be with you, baby. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Promise?” she asks, holding up her pinky. You smile and take it in your own, and Tangerime dutifully does the same.

“Promise,” you echo, holding onto her hand. She nods her acceptance and you let go, as does Tangerine. “Now, it’s time for bed. We’ll be here in the morning, so you just come and wake us up, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy. You’re both going to be here?”

“Yeah, love. We’re having a little sleepover for tonight until your mom’s house is better. Does that sound fun?” Tangerine asks, tucking Jovie further into the blankets and glancing over at you.

“Yes,” Jovie agrees sleepily, snuggling further into her blankets. “Sounds fun.”

“Good,” you smile. “Goodnight, Jovie.” With that, you slowly make your way out of the room, Tangerine on your heels.

Once you’re out of the room and back into his bedroom, you sit down on his bed and he sits next to you, shoulders against each other. “You can sleep in here, I’ll sleep in the living room,” he offers.

You shake your head and respond, “No, I couldn’t do that. It’s your house, Tan.” And you don’t want to slip in the bed you used to share without him,

“It’s alright, love, really. I don’t use that couch enough.”

“I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch in your own house,” you argue back. “It’s rude.”

“Look, you’ve been through a lot today. I’m not going to make it worse by giving you a sore neck and back tomorrow. I know you well enough to know that it would happen, so don’t pull any shot with me,” he warns, and you don’t have a lot of defense against that.

“Fine, I’ll sleep in here, but I’m absolutely not going to have you sleep on the couch. We’re both adults here, we can share a fucking bed for one night.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “If that’s what it takes.”

There’s space in between you when you lay down, but he’s closer than he’s been in a long time.

#tangerine fanfiction #tangerine fanfic #tangerine fic #tangerine x y/n #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine x reader #bullet train fanfiction #bullet train #bullet train fic #bullet train fanfic #tangerine #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson fic #aaron taylor johnson x you #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson #bullet proof universe

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sunflowerxthoughts · 9 days

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Finally, here it is! The first date! Can be read as it’s own but highly recommend knowing the lore first. Thank you for the love this little blurb series is getting, sooo much more to come 💜

Eddie was coming to pick you up in the van with one big worry in his mind. You were perfect. Literal woman of his dreams. However, there is this nagging in his head, self doubt. Why would someone so fucking great date the resident freak of Hawkings?

It makes him want to turn arround. He is so torn. This is a one in a million chance, but can he promise something so precious won’t go unharmed? He was so hopelessly devoted to you yet he didn’t even know you that much. There was just something so enchanting.

When you open the door, smiling bashfully and looking so radiant, he feels like he has won the lotery. He understand right then and there that this is a chance he is not willing to miss on.

You are just as nervous. Letting Eddie in, it feels easy. He looks at you like he would never actually hurt, but you’ve learnt looks decive and you don’t know if can actually trust him not not break the heart you’ve put back together since you moved to the town.

“You look… wow.” He says, with his hand over his heart. “Sweetheart oh my god.”

“You look really good too, Eds.”

The drive to the dinner is far from quiet. Eddie is set on paying, having worked overtime dealing and at the mechanic’s, but still there is so much he can afford.

“I promise if you give me a chance, I’ll get you on nicer dates. I swear.”

“Eddie I couldn’t care less about money, honestly.”

The date goes smoothly, Eddie swoons as he hears you speak. You on the other hand are stunned. You thought the walls would be too much, yet with everything Eddie does, he chips at every brick, little by little.

Time ticks and you are both in his van, talking about life.

“So Wayne said something the other day. Something about your past.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much. That it wasn’t easy. That it was your story to tell.”

“Listen Eddie-“ you take a big breath, this is not first day material. “It’s hard. It’s not something I want to get into right now but I guess I must warn you.”

“Warn me? What?”

“It won’t be easy, Eddie. I come with baggage that I’ve learnt to mask. And I don’t want to get into… something, relationship or not, just to be left after because it gets too much.”

“I don’t understand, I don’t wanna leave.”

“All I’m saying is at some point it’ll be hard Eddie. I want to date you, I really do. Just being your friend would be great too because you have such a pure, beautiful light. But that is something I don’t have.” You look at him, hoping this is not scaring him. “I’m not saying you have to stay for the long run, we’ve only just met. I just need you to be honest with me. Because I can’t let the walls crumble again, Eddie. I need to know that things are okay, that you don’t feel like you have to run away.”

“I don’t think you will believe me right now, but I understand you. So much. I feel the walls, I know them all too well. I know I make everything lighthearted but this whole town hates me, sweetheart.”

“How could anyone hate you, Eddie?”

“That’s the thing, they do. They really do. I’ve spent all my life being made fun of. A freak. And then you come around and make me feel… human. Like I matter, like I don’t have to see life from an outside perspective. And it’s so fucking refreshing. So let me be that for you, I want to be that for you. I want to get to know you more. I need you to know I don’t see you as a challenge, I see you as someone worth getting to know. You don’t have to let your walls down right now, I get it. We can work each brick, little by little.”

The tension is high. Eddie wonders if he has just fucked up, while you wonder how you managed to be this lucky. It feels like luck. So you kiss him.

It’s tender and it’s sweet and you can feel Eddie melting onto the kiss. It doesn’t go any further than that. There’s a shyness to it, both of you just trying to memorize this on your brains.

“For the record, I do think you have a light. I think you are radiant. And you deserve to be taken care of, and cherished. And listen I don’t have much money, but I promise I’d give you the moon and stars if I could. I am full invested in this, in you. I’m not running away, not matter what.”

Original post Pt. 2 Pt. 3

Tag list: @josephquinnsfreckles @yujyujj @maedesculpaeusoubi 🦋

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie #eddie munson

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matthewkniesys · 1 year

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i know it won't work - trevor zegras

summary: You let go of Trevor but why can't he let go of you? You know it won't work so why can't he see that? You're only trying to save each other from more heartbreak than necessary. You just want him to be happy.

a/n: this is the second fic in my good riddance by gracie abrams fic series. you don't have to read the first one for this to make sense. so this is my first song fic so please be nice. idk if i did it right. everything in bold is the song lyrics. i recommend listening to the song but you don't have to. i really do love this fic so hopefully yall will too🫶

pairing: trevor zegras x gn!reader

warnings: angsty and some swearing

good riddance fic series

The last year has been hard for you. Nobody ever told you how hard graduating highschool would be. Everyone paints graduating as this big celebration. You're never warned of the hard choices you’ll have to make and the people you’ll lose. The one person you never expected to lose was your childhood best friend and boyfriend of 3 years, Trevor Zegras. And you could never have predicted that you would be the one walking away. Not him.

I left you there

Heard you keep the extra closet empty

In case this year I come back and stay throughout my 20s

Your body is drained of any energy. Moving into your dorm room has sucked any will to do anything for the rest of the day out of your body. You’re excited for the new chapter that University will bring to your life but you’re also mourning the loss of the life you had before. You feel like a different person since everything in your life did a complete 180 a few months ago.

Leaving Trevor was probably the hardest thing you’d ever done. You didn’t just lose your boyfriend that day, you also lost your best friend. It was what needed to happen though. It was this one day when he made a comment about how he would follow you anywhere and give up hockey in a heartbeat that made you freak out. You had to cut ties. Trevor loved you in an all consuming way. You loved him in a nostalgic kind of way. In the way that you two had been best friends forever. You loved him but slowly you were realizing it wasn’t in that same romantic way his love for you was. It was not purely but more platonic. You couldn’t ever see yourself marrying him and so even though it hurt both of you, leaving was the right decision. If only Trevor could understand that.

Picking up your phone to check social media, you see you’ve got a missed call from a friend, well she’s probably your best friend now, since you walked away from Trevor. You choose her number from your recent contacts and let it ring until she picks up.

“Hey, y/n, how are you? Are you all settled in?”

“I’m good. It was a real tight fit, to get everything in the dorm but it worked out. How about you? How’s your dorm? I can’t believe we are literally on the opposite side of the country now.”

Your friend laughs, “ Yeah, it was quite the tight fit here too. The dorms are tiny. But I’m doing good. I’m excited for classes to start.”

You pause for a second, wanting to ask the question that’s been burning in the back of your mind for weeks now. You wanted to know how Trevor was. Trevor and your friend had always been close. When you walked away from Trevor you didn’t want them to have to end their friendship so they still hang out.

Stuttering, you ask,” Hey, um how’s Trev doing?”

“Are you sure you really wanna know?” Yes, you are sure. At this point you feel like you need it as much as you need the air you breathe. You can guess he probably isn’t doing great, you aren’t either but you need to hear it from someone who knows.

“Yes, I do.”

“Okay, well I’m gonna be honest with you.” She pauses. “He’s fucked up over you. You walking away from him really came out of the blue. He blames himself. He thinks he did something wrong.” Hearing that he thinks it’s his fault breaks your heart. All he did was love you with all of himself and you couldn’t reciprocate that.

“I-fuck. Why couldn’t I just love him back? It’s what he deserved and I couldn’t give it to him.”

“Y/n, it’s okay. In the long run this will be better. At least neither of you will be stuck in a shitty relationship. But if I’m being completely honest I think Trevor still thinks you’re gonna come back. Like you’re gonna realize you made a mistake and change your mind. You probably don’t wanna hear this but he keeps the extra closet empty. You know, just in case you decide to come back and stay for good.”

Hearing that, shatters your heart into a million pieces.

What if I won’t?

How am I supposed to put that gently?

And down the road

You will love me until you resent me

You talk for a few more minutes but then you hang up, your heart wasn’t really in it and you’re emotionally exhausted. You feel as if your body is about to combust. Sighing, you toss your phone on the bed and flop back, shutting your eyes and letting your thoughts consume you.

You shouldn’t go back to Trevor. It wouldn’t be fair to you or him. It would only cause more pain than it’s worth. But maybe a little part of you still wants to. You miss him. There is history there that can’t just be erased.

You feel like you need to tell Trevor that you really meant it. He can’t keep holding out for you. He needs to live his life. He’s at BU this year and next year he’ll be in the NHL. All you want is for him to be happy. You want him to go out and kiss other people and to find the person of his dreams but instead he’s hung up on you.

If he stays hung up on you, if he can’t move on he’ll eventually start to hate you. He’ll love you so much that it’ll turn into resentment if it hasn’t already. And even though you broke his heart you really, really don’t want him to resent you. You couldn’t stand it. He still means the most to you.

I’ve had the thought

Tried to work it out through anxious pacing

What if I’m not

Worth the time and breath I know you’re saving?

Despite being tired down to your bones, you slept horribly that night. Knowing that Trevor might be up at this very moment, not being able to sleep because of what you did is killing you. You aren’t worth this much thought or time. He could have anyone. Any kind, beautiful person that he wants. Someone who can give him everything but instead he’s agonizing over you. For fucks sakes he even has a closet empty just for you. He must really believe you’re coming back.

It’s your first night sleeping in your dorm and that isn’t helping either. You look over at your roommate who is peacefully sleeping, wishing you could be doing the same. You grab a water bottle and chug half of it trying to gain your bearings. Your mind is running wild and you need to do something.

You start pacing back and forth, in your tiny dorm room. You really hope your roommate doesn’t wake up because you don’t need someone you barely know thinking you’re crazy.

You just want Trevor to just move on. To not let you live rent free in his mind. You aren’t even worth it. You’ve seen how many other girls are after him. He could have any of them. You aren’t worth it. He’s saving too much for you and he needs to let it go.

But it’s a lot

All the shine of half a decade fading

The whole facade

Seemed to fall apart, it’s complicated

You’ve known Trevor for your whole life and liked him for 5 of those years. Until it just kinda stopped. You stopped wanting him so much romantically and you just wanted to go back to being best friends. Part of you, a big part, wished you had never even dated in the first place.

A few months before graduating everything started falling apart with Trevor. It stopped feeling right, your relationship. It stopped feeling like where you wanted to be. You hoped it would pass but it didn’t. The feeling kept growing and growing until it felt like there was just a huge hole in your chest where something wasn’t quite right. Where something was wrong.

And part of me wants to walk away 'til you really listen

I hate to look at your face and know that we're feeling different

'Cause part of me wants you back, but

I know it won't work like that, huh?

Weeks fly by but it doesn’t really get that much easier. You’re happy and you’re making friends but you still miss Trevor. And you’ve gathered from talking to hometown friends that still talk to him, that Trevor isn’t really doing any better. You can’t get past the fact that you’re the one making him hurt like that.

It’s completely sudden. You aren’t expecting it. There’s no text, no build up. Just one day out of the blue he calls. You don’t want to pick up. It’s only gonna lead to false hope for him that you want to get back together and false hope for you that he wants to simply just be best friends again. But you can’t help it, you pick up the phone and answer.

“Y/n,” Trevor says the moment you pick up, sounding a little breathless.

“Um, hey Trev.” You don’t know what else to say so you leave it at that.

You hear Trevor mumble, “Oh fuck, there’s no way i can do this.” and then he starts talking.

“Y/n, please, please tell me what I did wrong so I can fix this. I miss you. You’re my best friend and the love of my life. I need you.”

Fuck, you won’t get through this. You can’t stand to talk to Trevor, knowing you both feel completely different. And it’s the fact that he thinks it’s his fault. That he did something wrong.

You desperately wanted to tell Trevor that you would come back, that it could be like old times but you can’t. It would be a lie. It could never be the same ever again.

A part of you wants to go back and just say fuck it. You want your friendship back so badly that you’re willing to fake the romantic part. Maybe you’ll eventually for real fall back in love with him. It’s possible, but you know that’s not right. It won’t work like that.

“Trevor, you didn’t do a single thing wrong. It just wasn’t working. It wasn’t meant to be forever. I have so much love for you still but not in the same way that you do. We can’t keep doing this to each other. We need to get past this. Hanging up the phone was hard. Sitting with your thoughts after was harder, but you’ll get through it. You did the right thing.

Why won't you try moving on for once? That might make it easy

I know we cut all the ties but you're never really leaving

And part of me wants you back, but

I know it won't work like that, huh?

In the weeks that follow you don’t hear anything from Trevor. Until mid November and then everything starts seeping back in.

First it’s a text. A simple, hey, how are you? And you know you shouldn’t respond so you don’t. And then it’s pleading. It’s text saying we need to talk or I miss you. And you almost respond to those because you can’t bear to think that you are causing Trevor so much pain. But again you hold out and don’t respond. It’s when he starts picking up the phone and calling that you can’t stop yourself.

He called you once, you didn’t pick up. He called you a second time, and still you restrained yourself, but the third time was when everything went crashing down.

You had been having a really shitty day to start off with and you were already in the worst of your feelings, so when Trevor called it’s like it breaks a dam inside of you. A wall that had been holding strong but was now toppling over.

You pick up the phone and for a minute it’s just dead silence. You hear Trevor’s breathing so you know he’s there but he hasn’t said anything. So you decide to speak first.

“Trev, I thought we agreed to cut ties. We can’t keep doing this. You need to move on. This isn’t healthy for either one of us.”

“ Y/n, you’re the one who said we should cut ties, I never agreed. I need you in my life. I miss you.” The desperation in Trevor’s voice makes you want to cry. It makes you feel as if someone took a jagged piece of glass and cut open the wound that was slowly starting to heal. The wound that you inflicted by walking away. A part of you still wants him. But you can’t. You just can’t. It isn’t possible.

I'll open up

I'm thinking everything you wish I wasn't

The call was tough

But you're better off, I'm being honest

You take a deep breath. You need to give Trevor the closure he needs and then leave for good. You need to explicitly say that this won’t work. You need to tell him without any fancy words that he needs to accept that you're not the one for him.

“Trevor,” you plead, needing him to listen, “You need to walk away. I’ve been trying to for months now but you keep pulling me back in. I’ve already moved on but you’re the one who won’t let me leave. We were what we were but we can’t be that anymore. I’m not the same person I was 3 years ago and you aren’t either. Let me go and in the long run we’ll save each other a ton of hurt. I love you but this won’t work. You have to let go. I’m gonna hang up and you aren’t gonna call me again.” You pause, catching your breath. “I wish you nothing but the best. Goodbye, Trev.

You sit in silence for a moment. It was hard. You have tried telling him goodbye before but this felt much more final. After all the other times you tried saying goodbye to Trevor, you still felt as if there was more to the story before it would be over. You hoped the story was over now. It was the best thing for you and for Trevor.

So won’t you stop

Holding out for me when I don’t want it

Just brush me off

I’m your ghost right now, your house is haunted

It took all of five minutes for Trevor to call you again. 5 fucking minutes. God, all you want at this point is for Trevor to move on. To realize this is the best thing that could’ve happened. You don’t pick up. You need to set some boundaries. You can’t keep picking up the phone when you don’t wanna talk. He needs to just brush you off and move on.

But he calls 4 more times that night. And you’re scared it won’t stop. So you pick up. Of course you do. It’s that little part of you that still wants him back that makes you.

“Trevor, you need to stop. I’m sorry but we can’t. I don’t know how many times you want me to say this. I know this won’t work the way you want it to or at all. So please I’m begging you stop. Put both of us out of our misery. You start moving on so I can finish letting go. Trevor, don’t call me again or I will block your number. I don’t want to because for some reason it just feels wrong. But I will. Goodbye, Trev.”

You hang up and this time you know. It’s final. Trevor won’t call again. You’re sad but more than that you’re relieved. You can finally start living again.

It’s as if for these past months you’ve been this ghost for Trevor. One that would constantly follow him. You were haunting him and know you’re finally being set free.

I know it won't work like that, huh?

It’s been years now. You don’t think about it often but every once in a while Trevor will pop into your mind. You’re happy. You really are. And from what you see on social media, Trevor is too.

You try not to dwell on it but sometimes you think about what might have been. What might have happened if you had gone back to Trevor. And honestly you aren’t sure. Maybe everything would’ve worked out and the two of you would be happily together right now. Or maybe it would’ve ended up being exactly what you thought would happen if you went back.

You truly believe you made the right decision in letting Trevor go. You knew it wouldn’t work the way he was envisioning. And hopefully you spared the both of you a lot of heartache.

You’re happy right now. That’s what matters. You and Trevor don’t talk much except for the occasional birthday message but maybe that was how it was supposed to be. You knew it wouldn’t work like that and you made the right decision, for you and for Trevor. You had and still have so much love for him and that’s all it’ll ever be. And you’re okay with that. You really are.

thanks for reading 🫶

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razorblade180 · 7 months

Text

Home improvement

[Sumeru Tavern]

Dori:Aether! Have you seen Kaveh? It’s time for me to collect.

Aether:Uuuuhh-

Dori:Stop! You’ve said enough. That alone told me he’s here and told you to say “You didn’t see me.” Let me guess, men’s room?

Aether:….Am I allowed to speak know?

Dori: *sighs* To think a day early on payment has him shaking. I’d collect tomorrow but I have to go on a trip. Kaveh is an intelligent person. I know he’s saved the appropriate amount after his recent commission. What could be the hold up?

Aether:I think anyone would be slightly scared of the person who made them sell their home.

Dori:Kaveh is homeless?

Aether:What?

Dori:What?

………

Aether:Didn’t you…overprice Kaveh or something?

Dori:Overpri- KAVEH! YOU HAVE THREE-

The man already walks out before she could finish that probably real threat.

Kaveh:Stop shouting. You’ll cause a scene! Anyways I still have to cash in-

Dori:Do you have people believing I put you out of a home?

Kaveh:What? I never said that. The project crippled my finances and I owe you money but I never really said…hmm *rubs chin* Okay, I can see how that impression was made.

Dori:Kaveh! That’s slander!

Aether:Wait, Dori didn’t bankrupt you? I heard you had buy a bunch of stuff with your own expenses.

Dori:*slowly turns*…

Kaveh:Who told you that? The situation is more complicated than that. *rubs head* I guess that might be my problem. I tend to avoid topics about my living situation so someone got the wrong impression.

Aether:(Or you were drunk…)

Dori:I commissioned and paid for his work, like I was supposed to. How would I scam a person when I’m the consumer and could afford it!?

Aether:To be fair, you’d find a way.

Dori:Yeah, with haggling! That’s fair game and once again, I’m the consumer. Nobody knows a good deal like I know a good deal. I also know I wasn’t a fan of the location Kaveh wanted for my original house!

Kaveh:The cliff side was a gorgeous backdrop and you would’ve loved it!

Dori:It literally could’ve been anywhere and you insisted on the place that not only you liked, but The Withering loved!

Aether: Original house? It was ruined by The Withering!?

Kaveh:Roughly 70% in fact…

Dori:My hard earned mora, completely wasted! All the resources I bought were no longer good and my palace became a dream I was content with abandoning. I neither cared about it being built nor did I ask you to compensate me for it.

Aether:Wouldn’t have counted as a natural disaster?

Dori:An avoidable one if he had listened, but I let the artist have his way after obsessive insisting. Regardless, I was ready to wipe my hands of the situation, but it was Kaveh who couldn’t let it go!

Kaveh: Your alace is my Magnum Opus; the pinochle of my efforts in physical form. There’s no way any self respecting artist would let that go unfinished!

Aether:*eyes widened* So you paid out of pocket to redo it!?

Dori:Oh no, dear Kaveh did more than that. Like any crazy scholar graduate, he paid for the things he wanted, then pleaded for me to cover the rest of the finances he couldn’t afford in this project I had lost time, money, and interest in.

Aether:….Kaveh.

Kaveh:What!?

Dori:However, I’ll hand him a bit of credit. Despite the fact he was clearly doing this to satisfy his own ideals, I can respect a individual not willing to buckle for them. So yes, I paid the remaining costs of his pride, but not for free.

Aether:So that’s the debt. I can’t even say you got away with a free house, because you didn’t.

Dori:I’m a good talker, but nobody is that good. Anyways, it’s not like I didn’t give him anything worthless. Being your benefactor has introduced you to a several recommendations and work. Knowing you, it probably isn’t stable income because you continue to spend for your dream.

Kaveh:That’s…complicated as well. Putting that aside, I’m not advertising my situation and didn’t go spreading around false accusations.

Dori:Of course. You’re not the type. You would however make a complete mess out of a simple situation. I could refer you to a very savvy financial advisor if you’re-

Kaveh:Not a chance. It’s either you or a book of common sense.

Dori:And just like that, you’re a little sharper. Well I business to attend to. Kaveh, there’s a job regarding a fountain you may want when I get back. Until then, might as well enjoy a meal with Aether. He’s actually eating for free. *walks away*

Aether:(I am?)

Kaveh:*sits down* Sometimes I really can’t deal that woman. I’m drained! So, I can order anything?

Aether:Uh, knock yourself out. Get leftovers if you want. (She didn’t even mention the bill again. Maybe because she’s actually a day early?)

He glances towards the tavern owner as they take a bag of mora from Dori. Guess she has tab here and today it was used.

Aether:(Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, given her discounts for me and her past- oh!) Kaveh, question. So clearly not everyone knows the extent of situation properly, yet you still work with Dori despite the drama.

Kaveh:No matter how you look at it, I could only build my dream because of her. She’s one of the few clients that allows nearly complete artistic freedom. I’ll always grateful for that. I just wished she cared about more than money!

Aether:….So why didn’t you just offer your future services for dirt cheap in exchange for living in the palace as a way of managing your debt, having a home, and keeping an eye on your art.

Kaveh:…..

Aether:It never crossed your mind, did it?

Kaveh:*puts head on table*

Aether:Hey Boss, give this man your finest wine!

#genshin impact #gi kaveh #gi aether #gi dori #I just think it’s funny most people don’t read how he became broke

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aperrywilliams · 2 years

Text

Lost and Gain... and Lost Again? (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credit to the creator)

Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: Reader and Spencer’s bond strengthens after the team receives devastating news. But what happens when that bond becomes an agreement that ends up confusing them more?

Word Count: 10k (Ouch!)

Warnings: MINORS DNI. NSFW. 18+ ONLY. Reference to a character’s death; crying, feelings of regret; mention of nightmares and ideas about drug use (doesn’t happen); mention of wounds and blood (superficial); strong language; penetrative and unprotected sex; oral sex (f and m receiving); fingering; rough sex with chocking; crying after sex; oral and penetrative sex in a public place; voyeurism (from a third person); size kink; gagging. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: I wrote this one for Smurph’s Birthday Challenge. Happy birthday, my friend!!!! (a bit late, I’m sorry). If you haven’t read a @smurphyse fic yet, I recommend you do! You’ll find a great writer (Room 405 has the top 1 of my heart). On top of that, one of the best human beings I have had the honor to know. For the challenge, I used the prompt “Get on your knees and show me.” (Category 2); and Choking, Deepthroating, Public sex; Voyeurism; Size Kink (Category 3). Thanks for reading, and keep sending me requests!

Do you want to be added to the taglist? Go HERE

------------------

Reader’s POV.

Emily Prentiss is an extraordinary woman. Smart, determined, brave, tough, compassionate, and the best friend you could ask for. But when she faked her death and disappeared for seven months, it started a series of events that hit my life forever.

‘Devastation’ falls short of describing our emotions after getting the news. The team crumbled. Nobody could believe what had happened. Not to our Emily.

I remember being in my apartment crying for days. I barely made it to Emily’s funeral. I was a complete mess.

Hotch granted us time to process, but we didn’t think it would be enough to overcome our loss.

I knew the other team members were grieving Emily’s death too, but I felt it harder. Maybe it was because I had known Emily for eight years back then. We worked together before she joined the BAU.

Two years after she settled there, a suggestion from her to Hotch gave me the chance to join the team. Once me there, we got inseparable.

So you can guess how hard it was to assimilate that you would never see your friend again.

Morgan and Spencer weren’t okay either. Derek leaned on Garcia for support, showing his anger whenever he could. Spencer leaned on JJ in a more reserved way, although he thought JJ couldn’t fully comprehend his pain.

He told me about this feeling when he knocked on my door one night.

“Spencer?” I looked at him, puzzled. It was near midnight.

“Hey,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry I came here like this all of a sudden. I - I thought that -” he trailed off. His hands were shaking, eyes glassed, dark circles under them, and he looked pale. I knew that face. I saw this in myself plenty of times in the last weeks. Nightmares.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. Come in.” I pulled him inside the apartment and led him to sit on my couch.

That night we talked until the sun rose. We talked about everything and nothing. He told me about the nightmares, the headaches, and the cravings. I knew about what happened after Hankel. But never did someone tell me the details, and I didn’t ask. It wasn’t my business.

We never were that close before, but I guess circumstances did the job. Grieving the loss of our friend, we realized that we were struggling in a similar way. So why not lean on each other?

That way, nights like that kept happening in the following weeks. Some days at my place, others in his.

Sometimes we just sat to talk. Other times we watched a movie to turn off our thoughts. We could even sit on the couch without talking and staring at the ceiling in comfortable silence.

Gradually the pain gave us a truce, and the company became nice by itself.

I never thought of Spencer as a close friend, at least not in a sense Emily was, but the time we spent together gave us a chance to get to know each other better. I was pleasantly surprised that we had more in common than I had imagined.

We hung out a lot, and we liked it. But there was something more there that I couldn’t explain. Yeah, we could talk, cry, and laugh, but why did it feel like something was missing?

I couldn’t pinpoint what it was until one particular night.

After a messy unsub takedown, Spencer got some cuts and bruises, but he didn’t let the paramedics check on him.

On the flight home, I saw Spencer hiss every time he brushed some spot on his left side.

Spencer-fucking-stubborn-Reid.

When we landed in Virginia, I persuaded him to have dinner and a movie at my place. Secretly I was worried that he would go home without anyone checking on his injuries.

As we put a foot in my apartment, I required him to sit on my couch while I went to get my first aid kit.

“Okay, now let me see those cuts,” I said, inspecting his face as my hand clutched a gauze dipped in alcohol.

“You are being dramatic,” he pointed.

“Oh yeah? Well, prove me wrong then,” I challenged, cleaning one of the cuts on his forehead with the gauze. Spencer hissed at the contact.

“Who’s the dramatic here,” I teased.

Spencer rolled his eyes, knowing I could be as stubborn as he.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Once I finished wiping his face, I took another piece of gauze.

“Okay, now let me see your left side.”

“What? Why?”

“I saw how you sizzled whenever you rubbed your left side, Reid. Don’t argue with me.” I instructed. I could see his cheeks turning pink.

With hesitation, Spencer unbuttoned his dress shirt and slid it from his shoulders.

My eyes immediately focused on the scratches on his torso and the dark bruise on his ribs.

“Holy shit Reid. That must hurt,” I said, using the gauze to give attention to his skin.

Then is when I felt it.

A change in the air. It became thick and difficult to ignore. I met Spencer’s eyes, and there was an intensity in them I didn’t see before.

Honestly, I never noticed how beautiful Spencer’s eyes were and how desirable he looked, licking his lips as he watched me methodically sweep the dried blood off his wounds.

Feeling the nearness between us ignited in me a spark I didn’t know was there. When did Spencer’s lips start to look so kissable?

I tried to put that thought in the back of my brain, but touching his skin - even indirectly through a gauze - made it almost impossible.

Chastising myself, I did my best to concentrate on whatever could move me away from my salacious thoughts about my coworker and friend.

‘A Friend. A Friend. A Friend.’ I repeatedly told myself as I finished bandaging the cuts I had just cleaned up.

Little did it help that he was looking at me with those doe eyes.

I wanted to kiss him so bad.

I wanted to fuck him so bad.

I could feel the warmth in a specific spot on my body. My cheeks tinted in dark crimson when I realized what was happening to me.

“Are you o-?” Spencer tried to ask, but before he could finish the question, I silenced him with my lips on his.

I felt Spencer frozen in his spot as I kissed him. Surely he wasn’t expecting that. Neither do I, but I couldn’t help it.

When the senses returned to me, I pulled away.

Shit, I had fucked it up.

Stuttering, I tried to apologize.

“I’m sorry. This was so inappropriate. I - I shouldn’t have done that,” I mumbled, scooting back on the couch and entirely baffled.

Spencer seemed surprised. But something in his eyes told me that he wasn’t upset, quite the opposite. The confirmation came from the very Spencer. Not saying a word, he cupped my cheeks and leaned to kiss me this time.

It didn’t take me long until I let loose and kissed him back.

Quickly our lips started to move frenziedly—all tongues and teeth. The kiss turned heated fast, and our hands began to wander. Just running my fingertips on his bare chest sent shivers down my spine.

Without a second thought, clothes flew from our bodies to land somewhere on my living room floor. I was on Spencer’s lap only minutes later, grinding over his massive erection.

“Fuck,” he muttered. His hands gripped my hips as he bucked up his to increase the friction between us.

Desperately I grabbed his dick to pump it a few times before aligning it to my entrance.

I looked at him, and his full-dilated pupils told me everything I needed to know. He wanted this as much as I did.

Feeling him stretching me was like heaven.

He was big, and his girth perfect enough to have me trembling around him in no time.

That night we fucked on my couch once and two more times in my bed.

I didn’t know if my lack of sexual activity at that time had to do with it, but those were the best orgasms I had had in a long time.

Panting and looking at the ceiling, we agreed not to do it again. It would be weird, and we didn’t want to feel that way at work.

But it happened again. And again. And again.

Some people say that when you get the ‘taste,’ there is no return. If I stick to that, Spencer Reid turned out to be my favorite drug those days.

And I had the feeling I had become the same thing to him.

We settled a new agreement: the typical friends with benefits. How cliche is that? It didn’t really matter to me at the time; we needed the release, the sex, and neither he nor I wanted to pursue a romantic relationship. Let alone when it all started as animalistic sex.

Fantastic, marvelous, extraordinary, necessary animalistic sex.

Thanks to Spencer Reid, I got laid considerably more times in three months than in the past years.

Not that I would complain about it, quite the opposite.

The rules - because, of course, we settled rules - were not to tell anyone, keep it as only sex, not stay the night, and not jeopardize our friendship. If any of us suspected this arrangement could put our friendship in danger, we would call it to quit with no resentment.

It seemed pretty easy.

Having clear rules, we used every chance we got to fuck. His place, my place, sneaking to our hotel rooms during cases. Even at work, we had our favorite abandoned office in the basement.

I found out a lot of things during these months. For example, I didn’t know I could be that horny all the time. Okay, thinking better of it, scratch that.

I did know I could be that horny, but kind of I forgot how it felt until then.

What I truthfully didn’t know was that Spencer could be that horny and touch-starved all the time.

You would say the boy genius that doesn’t shake hands avoids any kind of touch. Wrong. He loves it. Spencer adores cuddling after sex. He likes me playing with his hair and drawing soft patterns on his skin with my fingertips.

Could you believe that Spencer Reid is a boob man? I do now. Sometimes, he lays his head on my chest and hums comfortably between my breasts. I’m pretty sure he would do it if he could always use my boobs as pillows.

But all those displays of affection - or lust, if you want to call it - were only reserved for the bedroom. As soon as we left bed, we returned to our traditional roles as friends and coworkers.

It was working for us. And nobody had to know.

After Emily ‘died.’ Hotch thought we could be fine without another agent, but Strauss had another opinion. That’s why Alice Brown joined the BAU. Strauss herself brought her directly to the team.

As you can guess, we weren’t very enthusiastic about the decision, but the poor girl hadn’t any fault. Young and inexperienced, Alice came to a team with a fractured heart.

The first one who showed friendly with Alice was JJ, who took her under her wing.

Brown did her best to fit into the team. Not much time passed until Morgan and Penelope warmed up with her. Rossi acted like her loving father and Hotch like an understanding boss.

Spencer, the gentleman he is, was way far nice to her. He usually talked to her about books and facts about our cases and the BAU history.

That’s how Alice seemed welcomed after a couple of weeks.

But with me, things didn’t come easy. I knew the poor girl wasn’t trying to replace Emily. I truly understood that, but for me, something about her didn’t fit. I never was deliberately harsh or not polite to her, but we didn’t get that groove she had with the rest of the team.

I thought it was a matter of time.

But maybe I was wrong.

With Hotch away for months, JJ moving to another division, and Rossi barely present, the job weight laid on the remained team members: Morgan, Garcia, Reid, Brown, and I.

Only four agents in the field made things a little bit rough. Rough enough for me to be irritable very often. The bad thing was that my sour mood tended to land on Alice most of the time.

“Why do you go so hard on her?” Morgan chastised me once Alice ran from the conference room crying after I said something a bit sharp.

“I don’t go hard on her. It’s just she should be in tune by now,” I explained.

“Pretty girl, you already forgot when you joined the team?”

“No, Morgan. Don’t play the sentimental card with me. It’s not going to work,” I warned him. Morgan only shook his head.

“I’m just saying you should be more understanding. That’s all.”

Yeah. Maybe Derek was right.

That’s why I gathered the courage to talk to her and apologize. But when I reached Hotch’s office, where I knew she was, I saw Spencer hugging Alice.

The girl was fully crying with her head buried in Spencer’s chest.

I halted in my tracks. Spencer noticed my presence and gave me a disapproving look.

What? Now everyone blames me?

Huffing, I left the room without saying a word.

I didn’t know what was more upsetting: that people accused me of being a bitch with Alice or that she played the victim role. Because that’s what she was doing. She was in Spencer’s arms, looking for comfort, and the bastard provided it with no question.

How does SHE dare? How does HE dare?

That last thought made my heart stop for a second.

Why was I so apprehensive? Was it because of her nearest to Spencer? No. It couldn’t be.

Spencer was only my friend and my fuck-buddy.

And maybe that was the problem. I didn’t want Alice to steal my friend AND my benefits.

“It’s not - fuck!- it’s not I dislike her,” I managed to say to the man with his head between my legs.

“Yu-shul-be-nice-tho,” Spencer mumbled from his spot as he lapped my clit with his glorious tongue and used his slender fingers to pump them in and out of my pussy.

“I am - Oh my God! - I’m nice to her, really - Spencer! Please! Right there!” I whined.

“No. Yu-not,” Spencer rebutted, muffling his words in my core. Feeling my heavy breathing, he sped his fingers’ movement and sucked on my clit hard. Fuck, I was so close.

“Okay! I’m not, but- would you - fuck! - can we stop talking about our coworker? I’m trying to have an orgasm here!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you know, Emily lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her...”

Hotch’s words reverberated in my head as we were in the conference room discussing what to do about Declan’s kidnapping.

‘Stabilize her’? I was still trying to make sense of those words when I saw a ghost at the entrance.

Emily-fucking-Prentiss was alive.

It wasn’t my imagination. I pinched myself to be sure. I locked eyes with Spencer and Morgan, looking for confirmation.

Of the three of us, I was the nearest to faint.

The lack of oxygen made me feel dizzy.

Why didn’t JJ seem surprised? Why Rossi hadn’t the same shocked expression we had?

A lot of those questions were kept on standby as we focused on getting back Declan.

Emily was cautious and didn’t approach anyone just yet.

I worked on autopilot most of the time. I barely spoke a thing in the twenty-four hours the case was open.

After finishing Doyle’s ordeal that night, we returned to the BAU. Emily tried to talk to me, but I ditched her attempt by sneaking into the kitchenette.

I was pouring coffee on my mug for the umpteenth time that day and so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice Spencer standing on the threshold.

He cleared his throat but kept silent as he decided what to say.

I spared him the trouble.

“You don’t need to say anything, you know. There are no words to make sense of this.”

Spencer sighed.

“Eventually, we should,” he pointed.

I met his eyes so that he could see the bitterness in my gaze.

“Should we? I was prepared to miss her forever,” I confessed, sensing tears pricking my eyes.

“I guess I was prepared to do that too.”

Spencer didn’t look better than me. His eyes were as glassy as mine. His lips were tightly pressed like he was holding back.

Truth be told, both were holding back emotions.

That’s why when I asked him to help me to unravel, he was quickly in the same boat as me.

That night we fucked harder than we had been doing in the past five months.

We were angry; we felt betrayed, and this was the way we thought could help us to navigate those emotions.

I needed to lose control. I needed to stop thinking, so I gave him the reign of my body and, maybe, something else.

Spencer understood what I was looking for and didn’t waste time. He gave me what I craved.

Dark hickies and bite marks on my skin would prove that the next morning.

“Please, harder!” I begged, clasping his wrist as he put more pressure on my throat. Spencer’s kept his rough thrusts, grunting each time his hips snapped to mine.

“You want me to let you dumb, uh? So fucking needy,” he panted, his pace not faltering.

“Yes! Make me dumb! Use me!” I cried out, feeling the air leaving my lungs. The dizziness was welcoming as I allowed the tears to run free—a mix between the pleasure and the past hours’ pent-up emotions.

I didn’t need any other stimulation to trip over the edge for the third time that night. After a wild scream, I let myself go, clenching my walls and sending Spencer to his own end.

Collapsing on top of me, Spencer hid his face in the crook of my neck as we tried to catch our breath.

But my body started to shake, and sobs left my lips. That alerted Spencer, who immediately pulled out and leaned back to inspect my face.

His concerned hazel eyes met mine. I could see the panic in him.

“Did I hurt you? Was it too rough? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-” he trailed off. I shook my head, resting my palm on his cheek.

“No. No, Spencer. You did nothing wrong. It was amazing, actually. It’s me. It’s just- I don’t know what-” I couldn’t end the sentence because of the lump in my throat.

“Hey,” he mumbled, engulfing me in a tight embrace. It didn’t matter we both were naked and spent; I needed his solace, and he didn’t hesitate to supply it.

Kissing the top of my head and tracing delicate patterns on my back, he took his time to whisper sweet nothings until I calmed down.

It’s weird, but this was the first time I showed myself so vulnerable to him, and it scared the shit out of me.

We leaned on each other when Emily died, but this was different.

Our relationship was different now; even if I didn’t want to admit it, Spencer became an essential part of my life. As a friend. As a confidant. As the man who has seen beyond my defenses and knows me in the most intimate way.

When I regained some composure, Spencer put his boxers on and helped me to reach the bathroom. Then he went to the kitchen to grab me a glass of water and a snack. Once I was dressed in my pajamas and under the covers, he looked at me to ensure I was okay.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, sipping the water.

“You are welcome. Uh- well, I think I should go now? You need to sleep,” he said, hunching to grab his clothes scattered on the floor.

I couldn’t conceal my disappointment, although it was a reasonable thing to do. Our agreement worked like that: Don’t stay the night.

But I wasn’t ready for him to leave.

Maybe I didn’t want him to go ever again.

That last admission wasn’t clear to me at that moment, though.

“Spencer? Would you stay tonight, please?” I asked, my voice small as if I was begging for something forbidden. In some way, it was.

He halted his doing to look at me. I cleared my throat.

“I know it’s not what we agreed on, but I don’t feel I could stay alone now. I’m sorry if-” I stuttered.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain to me. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay,” Spencer offered.

“Thank you.”

Spencer joined me on the bed, wrapping us with the sheets and comforter and switching the lights off.

I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder and arm over his naked torso.

Waking up the following day, the first thing I noticed was the grip of a strong arm around my waist and a soft fan of breath on my shoulder. A warm sensation filled my senses.

Not wanting to wake him up, I slowly turned in bed to find Spencer asleep. He stirred a little but did not wake up. Soft snores escaped his lips. He looked so beautiful sleeping. By far the most attractive man I have ever met.

My stomach clenched as I analyzed the potential consequences of my thoughts.

What was this feeling? Of course, there was infinite gratitude for the best friend I could have found. But a friend who also became your sexual partner? Someone with whom you have been able to experiment, and is willing to please you, just as you would do anything for him to please him?

This was moving to another level.

I was falling in love with Spencer Reid.

Neither Spencer nor I mentioned the morning we woke up together in the days that followed. I assume it was just a one-time thing, and I thought Spencer considered it the same way.

As the cases kept coming, we had no chance to chat about that. So we let it slide.

But I couldn’t get out of my mind the idea there was something more. Was it just me imagining things?

--------------------

Spencer’s POV.

It was the perfect arrangement until it wasn’t.

I must have known that it could happen. I’m not that experienced in that field.

I only kissed a few people in my life.

I had sex just a few times before her.

And non just a few months passed until I broke the rules. At least one of them: no mixed feelings.

We were friends, and we fucked.

That was all.

In theory.

The rule was clear: if we saw this could put in danger our friendship, sex had to end.

But this was more than that for me. And it had been that way for months, yet I didn’t dare to call it to quit.

Having her by my side is the best thing that happened to me. I didn’t know I could fall so deep for someone, but she made it easy.

After the long talks and hanging out a lot, it wasn’t difficult to notice our connection.

But that was a friendship means. Or that is what I thought until we had sex.

God, it was amazing. I didn’t feel like that with anyone before.

What did she do to me?

I thought I had it under control, but I lost the last ounce of self-defense the night he asked me to stay.

How couldn’t I? She was vulnerable and needed someone. A friend. Me.

Watching her in my arms sent me into a spiral of overthinking. I wanted this for the rest of my life, but I would never have the nerve to confess that to her. That would mean I’ll lose her forever.

She didn’t feel the same way I did. Why should I bother then?

Sure, we were attracted, but keeping it physical was the agreement. No other feelings should have been involved.

I screw it up. What do I do now?

It became worse when she started to act a bit cold around me. I mean, not the same friend affection we used to have daily.

God, I was losing her as a friend too, and I couldn’t let that happen.

Two options came to my mind: play it cool or finish the friend with benefits bullshit. I needed to decide something, but I delayed it. Like if things could resolve themselves magically.

She knew something was happening yet didn’t say anything. Instead, she tried to keep it casual.

“What are you doing?” I complained when one afternoon, she dragged me to an abandoned office.

“Hey, relax. I only want a moment alone with you, okay?”

“Somebody could see us!” I scolded. Honestly, it wasn’t an issue in the past five or six months, so why would it be now?

“Don’t be paranoid, Spencer. We are in our usual abandoned office. Nobody walks here. You know that” she reassured me, kissing my jaw, but I was still tense, with my hands to the sides. Hands that, in another time, would be pulling up her skirt to squeeze her delicious ass.

She wrapped her arms around my neck to kiss my lips hungrily. I couldn’t help but gasp, kissing her back and gripping her hips. I was almost lost in the feeling and about to give in until my senses returned.

I rapidly used the grip on her hips to pull her away.

“I think we should come back.”

She frowned and parted entirely from me. I could see the anger rushing in her.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She spat.

Well, I couldn’t tell her truly what was wrong with me, so I tried to play ignorant.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re avoiding me.”

Her voice sounded annoyed and something else that I couldn’t decipher.

“I’m not.”

A lie, of course. Excellent, Spencer Reid.

“Yes, you are. We haven’t fuck in two weeks. You tell me what our statistics are. A week at most?”

I knew that: six days and twenty-one hours. I opted for a nonspecific answer, though.

“Sort of. I guess.”

“Why then? Don’t tell me it’s because of work or anything like that. You know we managed before.”

She was trapping me. Every remark she made was pushing me to tell her the truth. I wasn’t ready for her to know, though.

Maybe I will never be. I needed to escape from there.

“We should end this,” I blurted out.

She frowned again. “End what?”

“This arrangement. It’s not working.”

I saw her demeanor change. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was, but my first guess? Hurt. That broke my heart.

“Why? You... You don’t want to be my friend anymore?” She asked. Her voice was small. Why could she think I didn’t want to be her friend anymore? Not in a million years. I would like to be more than that, but I knew it was impossible.

“No! No that! I’m talking about the benefits thing. I - I think we should end that,” I hastened to explain. I prayed she could agree with me without any question. Too much to ask?

She kept silent for a couple of seconds, contemplating her answer. I knew this would happen. I knew that doing this would mess up everything between us. And the people assume I’m a genius. Waste of genius I am.

“So it’s true you found someone else. You want to fuck someone else.”

‘No! I want only to fuck you!’ I wanted to scream, but instead, I repeated myself: ‘Calm down, Spencer. Calm down. Stay focused’.

“I’m trying to keep our friendship, that’s all.”

“So you can fuck someone else. I get it,” she insisted. Why was that so important? I mean, she could have any man in the world to feed that need. I’m not that special.

“It’s not - I mean, not that I - “ I tried to explain, but she cut me off, putting a hand over my shoulder.

“Spencer, it’s okay. I know. She is pretty and a smart girl. Not to mention she’s head over heels for you.”

Now I was confused. Who the hell was she talking about?

“What? You - she, who?”

“Alice. You are talking about Alice. I know.”

Alice? Our colleague Alice? Does she think I want to fuck Alice Brown?

“I’m not thinking-” I stuttered.

She sighed.

“Spencer. I’m so sorry for my outburst. We knew this would happen eventually. One of us would find someone and want to be in a relationship. You have the right to get that,” she said, shedding some tears. I was so confused that I couldn’t determine the real reason for her tears. Was it because she was happy for me? Or because she didn’t feel she deserved the same? Damn, why am I so incompetent at interpreting this kind of thing? Either way, she was giving me a friendly outing. Wasn’t that my initial purpose?

“Thanks,” I mumbled. (Y/N) gave me a tiny smile and kissed my cheek.

“She is lucky, you know? But if she hurt you, I’m going to kill her,” she sentenced before leaving the office.

I would like to say that after that conversation, I was more relieved. I would like to say that it was the best decision I have made in a long time. But I would be lying.

Yeah, we’re still friends, but things were weird between us, though. She avoided me more often, and our conversations were more superfluous than before.

It didn’t help that Alice was always around because when she saw Alice, she definitely stopped talking to me or left the room.

That’s where the jokes started too. Morgan jumped at every chance he got to suggest - in a not subtle manner - how interested Alice was in me. I didn’t think so, but JJ even ventured out once and asked me when I would do something about it.

Little did she know that Alice was not the woman my heart and desires gravitated around.

God, I missed (Y/N) in my arms. But I needed to be strong. Hopes weren’t an option in this case.

And it seems that peace of mind wasn’t an option either. When (Y/N) started flirting with other guys, I felt the blood boiling inside me.

I shouldn’t have felt jealous; I didn’t have any right, but I couldn’t help it. Knowing she could have some of those guys in her bed, the bed I used to be in for a solid six months, made me sick of my stomach.

I didn’t know that part of me—the possessive one. That part that yearned for her and was desperate.

Another local case closed, and Prentiss convinced us to go for drinks.

After Emily’s return, it was rough to settle for the idea of having her back, but she managed to coax out of us any resentment we could have, even with (Y/N) and me. We didn’t take pretty well Emily’s fake death. Not after grieving her for months. Of course, rationally, we understood her reasons, but it hurt. It hurt a lot.

But they say time helps, and they are right. At the end of the day, Emily was alive, and slowly we got used to that.

Garcia picked the club this time.

Only Hotch and Rossi were excused for not going.

Instantly Morgan pulled Garcia and JJ to the dance floor, leaving Emily, Alice, (Y/N), and me at the table, sipping our alcoholic drink of preference.

Sitting by my side, Alice laced her arm with mine, leaning her head over my shoulder.

“I’m so exhausted, Spence. This case was so draining!” Alice sighed. I returned a hum in response, more focused on how she clutched my arm. When I shifted my gaze to (Y/N), she quickly averted her eyes from me. In a matter of seconds, she stood and strolled to the dance floor, joining Morgan, Garcia, and JJ.

Emily narrowed her eyes as she realized something.

“Alice?” Prentiss asked. The girl looked at her with full attention. “Can I ask you something from the bar? I would go to bring it myself, but I don’t want to be abducted by Morgan.”

Convinced enough, Alice complied and headed to the bar.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on between you and (Y/N)? Or should I say between you and Alice?” Far from Alice’s eardrops, Emily asked immediately.

“Nothing.”

“Spencer, I’m not stupid. (Y/N)’s behavior with Alice around? Your eyes on her?”

Profilers. Not that I had been subtle about it anyway. I cleared my throat, Emily’s gaze on me the entire time.

“I - we - uh. We had sex.”

“With (Y/N)?”

“Yes,” I admitted. Prentiss didn’t look surprised. Of course, she wasn’t.

“And what’s the problem?”

I spit in thirty seconds what had happened between us in the past six months.

“That kind of agreement never works. But sure, you already know that.”

“Believe me. I know that” I sighed.

“Tell her.”

“What?! No! She’s my friend on top of everything. She doesn’t feel like I do. I can’t tell her.” I assured Emily, who didn’t seem too convinced.

“How do you know? I bet she’s jealous of Alice.”

“I don’t think so,” I mumbled, pointing to the dance floor. (Y/N) was grinding against a guy who seemed too enthusiastic about it.

“That means nothing,” Prentiss scoffed.

But for me, it did. (Y/N) was enjoying the night and that guy’s company. And I was stuck in the same shit I wanted not to. I needed to move on from her. Try, at least.

Alice came back with some drinks. Emily took hers and stood to talk to someone who greeted her from another table.

I sipped my beer as Alice smiled and scooted to my side.

“Well, it seems we are alone now,” she pointed.

“Technically, no. The team is scattered between the dance floor and the -” I tried to explain, but Alice’s giggle cut me off.

“You know what I mean, Spencer. In fact, you know what I have been trying to do in the past months,” she asserted, looking at me with a smirk on her face.

“Do I?”

“Yeah. Flirt with you. I want you, Spencer. And I know you want me too,” Alice said, brushing some hair I had over my face. I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t say anything, seeing how she moved closer and closer. I darted my gaze from her eyes to her lips, which was her cue to close the remaining gap between us, pressing her lips to mine. It was a foreign feeling, but I told myself, ‘why not?’ so I kissed her back.

I cupped her cheeks and cocked my head to deepen the kiss. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she pressed her body against mine. I swept my tongue over her lips, and she complied and opened her mouth. Our tongues were fighting for dominance.

But it was wrong. I was kissing Alice, and I was thinking in (Y/N). How different she kissed me, how I missed her touch. The way she plays with my hair on the nape of my neck. The sounds she makes when I touch her.

I ended the kiss because of the guilt for what I was doing and the lack of oxygen. We both were panting, but Alice was the one who had a grin plastered on her face.

“I’m sorry. I - I shouldn’t have done that,” I apologized. Alice looked at me with a frown.

“Why do you say that? That kiss was amazing.”

“Alice. I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I just can’t. You are such a beautiful and intelligent woman; any man would be lucky to have you.”

“But I want you to have me, Spencer. Why not? You are single; I am too. And I know we’re attracted to each other,” she reasoned.

“But I love someone else,” I blurted out. Alice sat straight in the booth, scoffing.

“It’s (Y/N), right?”

I nodded. I really didn’t care right then if the whole DC finds out.

“Yeah. It’s (Y/N).”

“Come on, Spencer. She is not the one for you. I know you have been friends for a while, but you? with her? In a romantic relationship? Not a chance.”

That judgment took me aback. Why was it so difficult to believe?

“Why do you say that?”

“You need a person who cares about you, for real. Not someone that is constantly bossing everyone around and ditching your feelings. I saw how she was treating you lately. The cold shoulder and everything. She doesn’t deserve you, Spencer.”

“(Y/N) is not like that. You’re mistaken,” I shook my head. Alice didn’t understand. It was all my fault.

“Well. If I am, then please tell me what you see right now. That’s the woman you love?” Alice mocked, pointing to a corner where (Y/N) was making out with the same guy from the dance floor.

They both were getting handsy, and my blood started to boil again.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I barely heard what Alice said when I stood up and marched where (Y/N) was.

--------------------

Reader’s POV.

Kissing that bitch. Spencer was kissing that bitch. But why was I surprised? He was the one who told me that our agreement should end because he wanted to fuck Alice.

It shouldn’t hurt the way it did. Not when I had another human being roaming my body with his hands and whispering praises into my ear.

Fuck you, Spencer Reid.

I took my fuck-mate prospect’s hand and made him follow me to a more private corner. I needed to forget what I saw, and if that meant getting lost with another guy, so be it.

We were heavily making out when I heard someone clearing his throat. I recognized that sound immediately.

“I need to talk to you,” Spencer sternly said, tapping my shoulder.

I parted from the kiss, and my buddy didn’t seem happy about the interruption. I wasn’t either.

“Hey dude, we’re busy here,” Randall - I’m sure that was his name - told him.

“Yeah, get lost, Reid,” I snarled. It was dark, but I still could see the redness on Spencer’s face.

I was about to resume my kissing session with Ryan when Spencer cleared his throat again, speaking louder this time.

“I will not go. We need to talk (Y/N). Now.”

Did I hear correctly? Was Spencer Reid demanding something from me?

Raymond was pissed off right now and turned to face Spencer with anger in his eyes. I should have felt bad for Spencer, but he deserved it.

“You heard the lady. Get lost!” Reggie grunted, but Spencer didn’t move from his spot, preparing himself for the worst.

When I saw Rendell fisting his hand to land a punch on Spencer’s face, I felt like I should do something.

“Hey, hey, Richie. Calm down. I had fun with you, but my friend needs me now. I’m so sorry,” I said, quickly grabbing Spencer’s wrist and dragging him to the back exit.

“Call me! And it’s Robbie. My name is Robbie.”

The poor guy spoke out before I disappeared.

Once outside, I looked at Spencer deadly.

“Spencer, what the fuck was that?!” I yelled.

“That guy only wanted to take advantage of you,” he spat back.

“How the hell do you know that?” I asked him, my hands on my hips and my best-annoyed look.

“He was touching you!” Spencer cringed as if he were talking about the world’s more disgusting thing.

“Oh! Is that a problem?” I mocked. Spencer looked frustrated with my sarcasm.

“Yeah, it is! You were going home with a stranger!”

“Good observation, genius. Maybe it is what I wanted to do.”

“To fuck that guy?” Spencer asked in disbelief.

“Yes! Since I don’t have my fuck-buddy anymore. Does it make sense to you?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. I huffed.

“You did end our agreement, not me!” I reminded him.

“So that is what you miss. Your fuck-buddy,” Spencer pointed, his voice pained as if I said something hurtful.

“Yes. I mean - yes! Of course, I miss you,” I added, but Spencer shook his head.

“No, you miss the sex. Not me,” Spencer corrected.

“What the hell are you trying to say? Just say it, Spencer!”

An awkward silence fell between us. Spencer had his hands fisted as if he was holding something back. As if I had struck a chord in him.

“It can’t be that I was the only one who felt it! All this time was just sex for you?” He asked, and I saw the hurt in his eyes.

“No! That’s why we are friends too. You are not a stranger to me, Spencer. You could never be a stranger to me.” I tried to explain.

“And what if it was more than that? What if I broke the main rule of this whole thing?”

This time I was speechless. How could it be?

“You did not. You have feelings for Alice. That’s why you ended it.”

“No! And no! I don’t have feelings for Alice, and I didn’t end it because of her.”

“Oh please, you were devouring her in that booth minutes ago!” I scoffed.

“Yeah. I - I did kiss Alice, but because I wanted to forget how you were rubbing your body with another guy!” He argued.

“What? Why does that bother you so much?”

Spencer ran his hands through his hair. He was holding back something. When he locked eyes with me, I could see his struggle inside.

“I’m jealous, okay?” He yelled out, and I stepped back from the impetus in how he said it. “And not only because another guy was touching you. I’m jealous because I realize you can go on with your life without me. And not a day goes by that I don’t regret telling you we should have ended our arrangement without explaining the real reason.” Spencer said, averting his gaze from mine.

“And what is that real reason?” I asked in a whisper. I was afraid about what he would say.

Spencer returned his gaze to me.

“That I fell in love with you.”

I was taken aback. I didn’t expect Spencer would say that. I thought that I would be the one who would say it. My surprise seemed to deflate him.

“I know. I screwed up. We said this couldn’t jeopardize our friendship. And I really tried. I swear. But it got stronger every day, and I didn’t know what to do-” he rambled until I pressed my hand on his cheek. Spencer looked at me with doe eyes.

“If it makes you feel any better, I broke the rules too. And I’m not only talking about the night I asked you to stay with me. Although that night, I realized I had already loved you for a while,” I confessed, feeling my cheeks burning at the admission.

Spencer looked at me in utter surprise.

“You – you what?” I let out a nervous chuckle, like a teenager confessing to her crush.

“Yeah. I love you.”

Spencer didn’t seem to get the whole idea yet.

“But you were - I mean, that guy over there-”

“I was jealous too. And what could I do? You told me that we should end it. I thought you would fuck Alice and start a relationship with her,” I shrugged.

“God, no! In a million years. You have to believe me,” Spencer hastened to say.

“I don’t think that’s such a bad idea. I saw you excitedly kissing her a while ago,” I pointed matter-of-factly.

“You would think that even if I tell you I was thinking of you when I was doing it?”

“Liar.” I jeered, looking anywhere else but him. Spencer’s hand on my chin guided my gaze to him again.

“I’m not lying. Alice will never kiss me the way you do. She won’t give me goosebumps like you do when you touch me. Much less could she make me – you know – make me that hard, like when you kiss that special spot on my jaw,” he said, now stroking my cheek. I chuckled because I knew that sweet spot so well.

“I bet she couldn’t suck you off as I do,” I dared to say to see his reaction.

Spencer groaned, and I knew he was picturing the scene. Me on my knees, my lips around his shaft.

I was sure that my sultry voice filled him with pent-up desire. He missed me. He wanted me. He needed me the same way I missed him and wanted him.

“Kiss me,” I begged. I couldn’t take it anymore.

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned and complied, with one hand on my cheek and the other on the back of my head; we crushed our lips together. I tried to ground myself, grabbing Spencer’s coat lapels, but the kiss was so fierce that I felt my knees weak. It was sloppy and full of passion.

I could feel Spencer’s erection pressing on my thigh. Maybe this was heating us faster than it should, but I didn’t care, and Spencer didn’t seem to care either.

When we broke the kiss, we were both panting. I could see Spencer’s eyes full of lust, which turned me on more than it should have. I was going to kiss him again, but he stopped me, holding me in place with his hands on my cheeks.

“Did you say she couldn’t suck me off as you do?” He asked me, and I fastly nodded. A smirk emerged on his face.

“Then get on your knees and show me,” Spencer demanded, running his fingers up and down my cheek and jaw.

Wait, what? Was he asked me to give him a blowjob in the back of a club? A public place?

It’s not that we haven’t talked about something like this before, but it was left as a fantasy that could happen in the future. Well, it seems that this moment could happen now. The idea made my panties absolutely soaked.

Without a second thought, my hands worked on Spencer’s belt.

I quickly unzipped his pants and freed his cock from his boxers. Before I got down and started my task, Spencer stopped me, took off his jacket, and hunched to put it on the ground, where I would put my knees.

Quite a gentleman, worried that my knees would not touch the dirty floor. Sure, a gentleman who was going to get a blowjob, but a gentleman nonetheless.

Once ready, he leaned against the wall as I pumped his cock with my hand. I could see the precum on the head, which I spread with my fingers.

Jeez, no matter how often I did this, the man was packed, and it was always a challenge to give him a blowjob.

A groan of satisfaction left his lips as I took him into my mouth.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he muttered.

His hands immediately landed on my head, stroking my hair while I sucked on it, trying to take it whole. I hollowed my cheeks to take more and more of him as I bowed my head to increase his pleasure. And it worked. Spencer’s moans were all I needed to go on.

“Baby, you take it so well. You don´t know how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth,” he praised, coaxing a loud moan from me.

My eyes were fixed on him. Seeing him so lost in pleasure turned me on, throwing his head back, grabbing my hair to hold me in place, and pushing his hips up to fuck my mouth.

As he quickened his pace, I couldn’t help but gag when his cock hit the back of my throat.

“Come on, (Y/N). I know you can take it. This big cock is made for you,” he encouraged me. That way, it helped me relax my throat to take more of him.

I could feel him twitching, a sign that he was close. I loved knowing that I was the one who could push him to the limit, that I was the one who could give him so much pleasure. I wanted to do this for the rest of my life.

Spencer yanked on my hair to stop me as he was about to explode. Panting, he gazed at me adoringly as he helped me to my feet.

“I think we’ll leave this kind of ending for another time. Come here,” Spencer panted. I grinned, sweeping my lips with my tongue.

Spencer collided his lips with mine in another heatest kiss. He could taste himself in my mouth.

In the dark alley now was Spencer, who caged me against the wall. The cool bricks didn’t cool down the fire running through my body.

“Please, Spencer. I need you, baby,” I moaned on Spencer’s lips. He didn’t hesitate to act for his desires. His fingers toyed with the hem of my skirt, pulling it up enough to slip his hands under the fabric, caressing my thighs up and down but still not touching where I wanted him the most.

Feeling me squirming, he knew I was growing desperate for more.

“Are you greedy right now, sweetheart? Tell me what you want,” he taunted. That little did help me to stay still. His low voice and the teasing only made my arousal grow.

“You. I want you. Now. Please,” I mumbled. My eyes shut, feeling Spencer’s hands traveling upper my tights.

He took pity on me and reached my covered center with one hand. He started to circle my clit over my damped panties. A growl escaped my mouth.

“So wet, and I barely touched you,” he teased.

“Umm. It’s all for you. Keep touching me, please.”

I purred, feeling the pleasure of his thumb circling my bundle of nerves.

His lips sucked the skin on my neck, making me moan. My hands tugged the curls I had in my reach. Spencer grunted as his hand pulled the fabric to the side, letting his thumb work on my clit without any barrier. He added his middle finger, pushing it between my folds. A silent scream told him that it was what I wanted, quickly adding a second finger.

“Fuck! Spencer!” Still dizzy, I bucked my hips to feel his fingers deeper and deeper.

“You like that, uh?”

I couldn’t manage to let words out. But Spencer already knew the answer, speeding up his pace.

The poor light in the alley let Spencer see my face. Sure I looked like a mess, moaning and taking what he was giving to me.

“Spencer, baby. I’m so close,” I whimpered.

“I know. Do you want to cum in my fingers? Here, where can anyone see us?” He was openly teasing me, but honestly, he was just as worked up as me.

“Yes! Make me come. I want to give it to you because I’m yours—nobody else. Yours.”

That encouraged him to work faster, panting praises in my ear, circling my clit, and fingering me. That was enough to push me to the edge.

A loud moan and my walls clenching around his fingers told Spencer I was almost there.

“Let it go, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispered in my ear.

“Spencer! Fuck!” I whimpered as I came.

He helped me ride my orgasm, moving his fingers slowly and kissing my lips tenderly. Carefully, Spencer retrieved his fingers, brought them to his mouth, and sucked them clean. The sight made me moan, pulling Spencer by his lapel to kiss him again. Now I could taste myself in his mouth.

“Are you okay?” He asked after breaking the kiss.

“Yeah. But I need more,” I panted, still regulating my breathing. Although the poor light, I saw him smirk.

I wanted to feel him so bad. It didn’t matter that we were in a dark alley where anyone could pass and see us.

Spencer pumped his shaft a couple of times before aligning it at my entrance. He made eye contact with me to confirm if I was ready.

“Fuck me, please,” I whined.

It was the answer he needed.

“Fuck!” Spencer groaned when he slid the head of his cock between my folds, pushing inch by inch until he bottomed out.

“Oh my God. Yes!” I moaned. The feeling of him filling me up has always been so intense, no matter how many times he had done this.

“Baby, you’re so tight. I don’t know how I can fit in you,” he panted, stilling there and basking in the feeling of my warmth and wetness.

“You’re so big. I love how you stretch me. I love to feel everything of you,” I whimpered. Spencer let out a grunt trying to keep still and not move until I was ready.

“You - you can move now,” I whined, urging him to oblige.

Spencer pulled out almost entirely, only to slam into me right after.

“Shit!” I cried as Spencer set a pace. Ragged breaths erupted from both of us.

It was like being at home. I’ve never felt like this with anyone else.

“You like that? Uh?” Spencer grumbled, increasing the speed of his thrusts.

“Yes! You feel so - so good. I love the way - ah! - the way you fuck me,” I said.

“That’s why you were flirting with that asshole? You - you wanted me jealous?”

“Uh - yes! Yes! Yes! I wanted you so bad. I missed you so bad!”

Some tears pricked my eyes. A mix between the pleasure Spencer was giving to me and the realization that I missed him, and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him.

People might say it’s strange that such a collected, shy, and socially awkward man could have such an animalistic side. For me, it is part of a whole. Spencer is all that and much more. People are multifaceted, and our social side often seems to be the opposite of our intimate side. Honestly, that’s not a problem for me. I love Spencer in all his different ways: the nerd, the fact-spouting young genius, the Dr. Who fan, the good friend, the one who’s by your side when you need him, the one willing to sacrifice for you, the man who is self-conscious when he receives compliments, the lover, the one who can mark your body with lovebites and who can make you see stars with his tongue or his fingers.

They are all the Spencer I love, my Spencer.

Spencer grabbed one of my legs and looped it around his waist. I held onto his biceps for stability as he speeded up his thrusts. Our moans were loud enough that it was a miracle no one had seen us yet.

Though perhaps I spoke too soon.

I opened my eyes, looked over Spencer’s shoulder, and saw someone looking at us. That made the adrenaline rush in a different direction than it was at that moment.

“Spencer. She’s - she’s watching us - she’s there. Fuck!” I managed to say between whimpers. Spencer didn’t seem bothered by my announcement, as his thrusts remained in the same delicious way.

“Who? Who’s watching us?” He asked, panting in my ear.

“Alice. Fuck! Should- should we stop?” I barely could form coherent words at this point, but I needed to warn him. We were in a public place, after all. The realization made my arousal grow somehow, so I only could close my eyes and feel Spencer’s cock stretching me most delightfully.

Almost forgetting that I told him what was happening around us, I swear I feel Spencer smirk on the crook of my neck.

“No. No. Let her watch if she wants. So she knows I’m yours. That you’re the only one - the only one I want to fuck in my entire life. Every time, everywhere. Let her see us. I - don’t - fucking - care,” Spencer emphasized each part with a deep thrust. I was a moaning mess, eyes shut and clinging to Spencer’s biceps for some balance as I lost myself in the pleasure.

The coil in my lower belly built it faster and faster.

“I love you so fucking much,” I panted, bucking up my hips to feel him deeper if that was possible at this point.

We both knew it was animalistic, lacking all rationalism. But we need it. We craved it in the most primal essence, where the words were not enough.

“I love you too. Look at me. I want to see your eyes when I’ll make you come. That’s it, my love—my good girl.”

“Repeat it, please,” I begged, arching my back.

“I love you, my good girl—only you,” he said, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Yes! I’m yours. Spencer! God! So so good,” I babbled. I didn’t know it was something coherent, but who cares anyway?

“Are you close? Are you going to cum on my cock? Let her see how I fill you up?” He asked, a twisted smirk on him. Oh, fuck, how I love this man.

I didn’t know if Alice was still watching us, but the thought of her realizing that Spencer only wanted me and I only wanted him made me delirious.

“Yes! Please! Let me cum. I’m so close, baby.”

The feelings must be shown in some way, expressed, and offered in the form of actions. This time it was the possessiveness: the fact that reminded us that the fire was there because we belonged to each other.

At the top of our climax, mouths only served to moan our names, curses, and praises.

“Spencer! Fuck!” I yelled, shutting my eyes in pleasure.

My muscles tightened around Spencer when I came, pushing him to the edge. Spencer groaned as he emptied himself in me.

“Arg! So good, so good for me,” he muffled as his head nestled in the crook of my neck.

The moment and the place made the feeling more powerful. So powerful that we got lost in the dizziness of that post-coital bliss for a minute or two.

“God, I love you,” Spencer mumbled, kissing my neck. I giggled, feeling his stubble on my skin.

“I love you too. You’re more than my fuck-buddy, Spencer. And more than my friend too. You’re the man I love. I mean it,” I reassured him, tracing my fingers between his locks. He hummed contentedly. Parting from my neck, Spencer focused his eyes on mine.

“I know I should have said something before, but I was scared,” he confessed.

“Me too. But here we are. In a dark alley, in the back of a club, after fucking the shit out of us. I guess we are okay now.” We both giggled.

“Yeah, we’re more than okay,” he said, pecking my lips and hugging me tightly.

Well, maybe Emily Prentiss faking her death did bring something good to my life, after all.

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Spencer Reid’s Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @thebloomingeagle

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#Smurph's Birthday Challenge #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfictions #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!bau!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x y/n

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teaberrii · 1 year

Text

Chapter Twenty-Four: Right Around the Corner

Alhaitham has the looks and the smarts. He will also be the stand-in CEO for his grandfather's company for a year.

But, he's been mysteriously cursed to turn into a cat every night since his eighteenth birthday… until he meets you, an employee at his grandfather's company, who rescues him as a cat and changes him back with one kiss.

Alhaitham/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on AO3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

When Childe walks in through the front door of this parent’s place, he knows something is wrong. The place is nearly empty with only a couple of boxes—big and small—lying around the living room. The floor is also dirty, which Childe guesses are from the remnants of packing. He knows his mother. She cannot stand a dirty floor. So, where is—

“You came.”

Childe looks up and sees his father carrying a small box and slowly coming down the stairs.

“Of course,” Childe says. “Did you expect me not to come when you said you were moving?”

“Moved,” his father clarifies. Childe is about to take the box from him but his father dodges his attempt and puts it on the kitchen counter. “...I’m just back to take care of some last-minute things. Your mother is already in Snezhnaya.”

“I didn’t think you’d be in such a hurry to leave.”

His father turns to him. “We had no choice.”

"Do you hate Sumeru that much?

“Is that what you think?”

“If it’s not, then just tell me,” Childe says, the last of his patience leaving him. “You and Mom have been ignoring my calls… my texts.” He sighs. “I have no idea what’s been happening.”

His father inhales sharply. “Your mother had to leave... for the sake of her health.”

“...Her health? Wasn’t it because you got a promotion?”

His father leans against the kitchen counter and looks his son in the eyes. “Your mother’s sick.”

Childe’s gaze hardens. This is a bombshell he obviously isn’t expecting. Sick? With what? For how long? And… how? She sounded healthy on the phone. Every time he saw her, she also looked well. How can—

“...It started with her saying she was having difficulty seeing. She went to a doctor and they didn’t find anything wrong. But then it started to escalate.”

For a brief moment, the rest of his father’s words fall on deaf ears as it sounds like something out of a horror movie. But what Childe can’t believe is that his parents kept this from him.

“...It's getting harder for her to move,” his father says. “One of the doctors recommended someone in Snezhnaya who specializes in these kinds of diseases. She’s staying at a hospital right now.”

“It’s… curable, right? She will get better… right?”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” his father answers quietly. “There’s no known cure, but people have recovered.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?" Childe demands. "Because you didn’t want me to worry?”

“What could you have done, Childe?”

The question throws him off guard. Yet, it’s also true. What could he have done if he’d known?

His father sighs. “...Even I didn’t know what to do.”

“...Is that why she asked me to move back?”

“I hope you know we want what’s best for you,” his father says. “Isn’t that the case with every parent? Your mother knows you’re talented. She knows you’ll get better opportunities at Snezhnaya, and… you would be with her.”

“That still doesn’t address the core of the problem. Mom is sick. That’s a separate problem from the fact that even after all these years, you still don’t accept what I do for a living.”

“Maybe we’re too old-fashioned. It’s true we don’t know how the entertainment industry works. But everything is still dependent on numbers, is it not? A show or a film does well because this many people streamed it? Viewed it? Whatever the correct term is.”

“...Yes, that’s true.”

“So, it really doesn’t matter if the content is good. It just depends on the numbers.”

Perhaps Childe underestimated how much his father knew about his industry.

His father walks up to him. “I’m not in the mood to have this conversation with you right now. I’m leaving for Snezhnaya the day after tomorrow. It… would be nice if you could visit your mother. Not for my sake but hers."

As Childe hears his father walk back upstairs, he looks around the empty living room. The house he grew up in that was once full of life—the good and the bad–was now… dead.

That evening, when Childe returns to his apartment, he’s on the phone with Lumine.

After telling her what happened after he left his parent’s place, Lumine says, “...I’m really sorry this is happening to your mother.”

“Hey.” Lumine looks up as if Childe is right in front of her. “Don’t look so sad.”

"How can I not?" she huffs. Then, her shoulders fell slightly. "I just… I also can't believe they kept this a secret from you."

Childe sighs. “It’s just such a coincidence I found out about this now.”

“A coincidence?”

That’s when he tells you about his conversation with you about the curse. All of the secrets that the curse wants them to find out.

“...Does this mean your curse will start changing?” Lumine asks.

Childe looks at the clock. “It already has. I’m already late.”

Lumine smiles. “That’s progress… I think.”

“Well, I’m getting more time talking to you, so… yes. It is progress.”

“I… I wish I could be there for you right now.”

“You are, aren’t you?” Childe smiles. “I’m thinking of visiting her next week. What my father said to me tonight… I might’ve underestimated how much they really know.” He sighs. “Maybe it’s time we can have an open conversation about it without letting our feelings get in the way this time. It just… sucks that it took something like this to get us here. But… maybe I should consider myself lucky.”

Lumine chuckles softly. “You know… I was kinda thinking the same thing.”

There are too many stories where people leave things unsaid or problems unsolved and then regret not saying anything when the person was still around.

“Your mother will get through this,” Lumine says. “I know she will.”

“...Thanks, Lumine.” Then, in a slightly lighter tone, he says, “I know she will, too. She has to meet you formally after all.”

“...Formally?”

“You’re my girlfriend. A formal introduction is necessary, don’t you think?”

She feels her face grow warm. “How long will you be gone?”

“...I don’t know.” He smiles slightly. “Hey, you used to say that you would never miss me if I wasn’t around. What changed, huh?"

“That… that was just a joke!”

“I’ll miss you, too, Lumine.”

Her shoulders fall. “It’s just… so sudden.” She flops on her bed. “I really hope things go well, though. You’d better keep me updated!”

Childe chuckles. “Of course.” Then, jokingly, “I’ll send you my breakfast pictures every day.”

“Of what? Your buttered toast and black coffee?”

"Hey, I'll have you know I've been upping my cooking skills."

“You? Cook?”

Childe almost feels offended. “My cooking isn’t that bad!”

Is it?

“Well… you did make us that crisp, black… thing last year. It was, uh, very unique.”

“I’m a changed person, Lulu. I’ll have you know that I’m constantly improving myself.”

“Riiight… But I don’t think you can beat Mr. Neighbour.”

Childe’s jaw almost drops. “You don’t think I can beat Alhaitham?”

“Sis showed me some of the stuff he makes, and it looks amazing!”

Childe frowns. “Just wait and see. He’ll have nothing on me.”

Lumine laughs. “Are you jealous?”

“...No.”

“Whatever you say… Kittyman.”

Childe is about to retort when…

Poof!

Then, all Lumine hears is a long, annoyed meow that almost makes her laugh.

◆◆◆

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Before Childe got to work the next morning, he'd already told his father he'll be visiting Snezhnaya next week. Now Childe relays the same message to his manager but adds that it's because of his mother's unexpected illness.

“But, I don’t want to stop working,” Childe says. “So, I want to ask if I can work remotely.”

“You know, Childe, you work very hard. You’ve never taken more than a day off since you started working here.”

Childe blinks once. Twice. Is that… bad?

“You aren’t indirectly telling me to take a break because I’m not needed or something, right?”

“Not needed?” His manager almost laughs. “Where in the world did you get that idea from?”

Childe awkwardly scratches his head. "Well, isn't that usually the case? Managers tell people that it's okay not to come back or it's okay to take long breaks because that person isn't really… needed."

“You’re watching too many dramas,” his manager says, standing. “I meant that you shouldn’t have to worry about work while visiting your mother. That’s a lot of stress.”

“...But I can’t just put everything down.”

“You're one of the most hardworking ones on the team, Childe. You’re also talented.”

“Where is this going?”

His manager chuckles. "This is going off on a tangent, but I'm just wondering why you aren't willing to expand your horizons a little bit. You've been doing so many commercial scripts you can probably write one in your sleep. Why not try something more difficult?"

It was late evening, and Childe thought he was the last one at the company. That was until he bumped into you in the lounge.

“You’re still here?” you asked.

“I could ask you the same thing. What are you still doing here?”

“Well… I'll let you in on a little secret.” Then, you smiled. “I just got news from the production team that Love in the Spotlight was chosen to get the biggest budget of the year. They also told me that the leadership team loved the script!”

The rest of your excitement fell on deaf ears. Childe kept his usual smile on the outside, but a storm was brewing on the inside. So, this was it, huh? You still got chosen despite his hard work. Little did you know, Childe also submitted a screenplay to the production and leadership team. He'd worked on it outside of work as it wasn't part of his usual responsibilities. But he'd wanted to give screenwriting another shot.

The feeling of losing to you was still fresh in his mind. You had come in second. He came in third. He was happy for you, but he wasn't. Regardless, he strived to get better at the craft. The two of you were close friends. Perhaps that was why he compared himself to you. That aside, it didn't help you have a supportive parent, and his parents gave him hell for pursuing creativity as a career.

After years of honing his craft, he still lost... to you.

“...I’m happy for you,” he finally said. Then, he put a hand in his pocket. “To celebrate, I’ll grab you a coffee tomorrow morning.”

“Well, it’s a little early to celebrate."

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t want to celebrate just because I got a big budget.” Your smile widened. “I’m crossing my fingers that this does so well that it gets nominated for awards."

So, you were aiming for something bigger. Of course, you would. You'd already overcome the first hurdle. Then, there was him. Still stuck at the starting line.

“I… have my reasons,” Childe finally says. “I’m comfortable writing commercial scripts. It’s something I’m familiar with.”

“Well, you’re a good teacher, that’s for sure. The interns we had this year said that you were the best mentor.”

Childe smiles. “See?”

"It's just a shame if you ask me. But, I can't force you to do something you don't want to do. If you ever change your mind, let me know. Oh, and you can work remotely. But don't hesitate to let me know if things get too much."

“You’re the best.”

His manager gives him a deadpan look with a little smile. “I try.”

After Childe's meeting with his manager, it's just about lunchtime. He heads back to his desk, grabs his wallet from his bag, and heads to the restaurant to meet you and Tighnari for lunch.

When Childe arrives, you and Tighnari are already sitting at the table. Childe walks over just as you lean over and gasp at whatever is on Tighnari's screen.

“Oh, you do know how to pick ‘em, Nari,” you say with a small smile.

“Who are we talking about?” Childe asks, even though he already has a good idea. He takes an empty seat.

“Nari’s mystery boyfriend. Well, he’s not so mysterious anymore.”

That’s when Tighnari shows Childe a photo of him and a man who looks around Tighnari’s age with tan skin and medium-length gray hair.

“Why does he remind me of a mini Alhaitham?” Childe asks.

You laugh. “What?” You take another look at the man in the photo. “Oh, I can kinda see it.”

“Let me guess…" Childe moves into a thinking pose. "This guy’s quiet, mysterious, and kind of intimidating.”

You and Tighnari look at each other. “That… actually sounds about right,” he says. “But he’s actually really nice.”

“What’s his name?”

Tighnari smiles. “Cyno.”

“I… guess this means we have the same taste in guys, Nari,” you say.

Tighnari chuckles. “I guess so.”

After Childe orders his food, the three of you briefly chat about work before Childe drops the news he’ll be leaving Sumeru for a while. You and Tighnari are in shock when he tells you about his mother.

“That’s… so sudden,” Tighnari finally says. “I’m so sorry, Childe.”

“Yeah… I’ve been hearing that a lot. Don’t get me wrong. I do appreciate it. It’s just… after hearing it again and again, it gets a little much.”

“If there’s anything we can do,” you say, “just let us know.”

Childe smiles. “Just don’t have too much fun while I’m gone.”

“...Does Lumine know?”

Childe nods. “She was the first to know.”

“Lumine?” Tighnari looks at you. “As in your sister, Lumine?”

“That’s right,” Childe says. “I’m dating her sister.”

Tighnari’s eyes widen. “Oh, wow. I… Wow. When did this happen?"

"I'll tell you the full story another time."

Once the food arrives, the conversation takes a different turn, eventually leading you to reveal that you’re going to have dinner with Alhaitham and his mom this week.

“Ooh, it’s getting serious,” Childe says.

“Any advice?” you ask.

“If it’s you, you’ll be fine."

Tighnari nods. “Agreed. My parents loved you the first time they met you, remember?”

You laugh. “Oh, I remember!”

"I was getting jealous that they were giving you all the food," Childe says.

A short laugh later, Tighnari says, "I know you're going to a restaurant, but maybe you can impress her with your cooking."

"Uh, maybe if you want her to get food poisoning."

"Rude!" you say, half-jokingly. But you have to agree with Childe. "Hey, I've been getting lessons, though. Haitham’s been teaching me.”

“I heard he’s a good cook."

“Did you hear from Lumine?”

Childe nods. “I told her I can compete with him.”

“Ooh, does this mean we’re getting a cook-off in the future?” Tighnari asks.

You smile. “Nari and Cyno can be the judges. Gets rid of any bias, I think.”

“I, uh, I don’t know about that,” Tighnari says. “Even if it’s temporary, Alhaitham is still the CEO of our company… I wouldn’t want to say anything that might be taken the wrong way.”

"So, you only care about his feelings?" Childe asks, feigning dramatics.

“Maybe just a tiiiny bit more.”

Childe gives him a deadpan look just as you say, “Regardless, it’ll be fun!”

After some time, Tighnari leaves early for a meeting, leaving you and Childe at the table. There's a short silence as you and Childe finish what's left on your plate. Then, the conversation takes a serious turn.

"...Remember our conversation about the curse the other day?" Childe asks. You nod. "When I found out about what's been happening to my mother, I changed much later. Love might be the key to solving this, but it's like we're getting there one step at a time by discovering these secrets."

“...And it seems like we can’t run away from them.”

“Yeah… By leaving Sumeru, I’m pretty much forcing myself to talk to them.”

“I know you’ll be fine,” you say reassuringly. “And… your mom’s strong. She’ll get through this.”

Childe smiles weakly. “Thanks. But, hey, doesn't this mean there’s still something between you and Alhaitham you have to find out.”

You sigh. “Yeah, good point. And…”

“...And?”

You’re silent for a moment until you finally say, “Nevermind. I… I think I’ve been watching too many dramas lately.”

“Watching or writing?”

“Both.”

Childe chuckles. “C’mon, lunch is almost over.”

After you and Childe pay for your respective meals, you head back to the office.

◆◆◆

This isn't the first time Alhaitham has visited a TV station. However, it is the first time he's been invited as the CEO of a company and not as a researcher. Along with other experts and company executives, he will appear on the evening news as a speaker to discuss views on the ever-evolving technology industry and artificial intelligence. Alhaitham has just finished speaking to the producers when he overhears another interesting conversation a few feet away.

“What? Ayato didn’t get the role?”

“Shh! It’s supposed to be confidential.”

When Alhaitham happens to meet that person’s eyes, that person quickly walks away with his colleague. Alhaitham walks into the hallway, looking for a washroom, when he bumps into someone unexpected.

“Oh, Haitham.”

“Ayato. This is a nice surprise.”

Ayato smiles. “Yes. I saw you filming for the evening news channel. Very interesting perspectives.”

Alhaitham nods once. "How have you been?"

"Well... I can live without any surprises for a while."

"Is everything alright?"

Ayato glances around before quietly saying, “...Thoma told me everything. The truth of what happened to my ex-fianceé.”

“...You’re telling me she killed herself?”

"I’m… truly sorry, Ayato. I shouldn’t have kept it from you for so long.”

“...So, why are you telling me this now?”

“I don’t want you to shoulder this burden anymore. I thought… it’ll help you gain strength to pursue what you really want in life.”

Ayato closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “What I really want in life, huh?” Then, he looked Thoma in the eyes. “I didn’t get the role.”

“What? They… made a decision already?”

Ayato smiled wryly. “I guess… my best wasn’t good enough.”

"...We talked for a bit, and he told me that you and she knew about it long before I did," Ayato finishes.

"...That's true."

Ayato sighs. "Is it bad that even after knowing what really happened to her, that is the last thing on my mind right now?”

“...I don’t think so.” Ayato looks at him as Alhaitham continues, “It happened so long ago. I would assume you’re focusing on your problems… in the present.”

Ayato smiles. “Yes, you’re correct in that regard. It was my first time auditioning for a lead role, and… I lost it.” He looks down. “...The casting director said I lacked purpose.”

“Purpose?”

Just then, Alhaitham’s phone goes off.

“Ah, my apologies,” Ayato says. “I went off a little on a tangent. You must be busy.”

Just as Ayato walks past Alhaitham, he hears his name. Ayato turns around and sees Alhaitham looking at him.

“Don’t give up.”

Ayato smiles. “I appreciate the encouragement.”

As Ayato walks off, Alhaitham answers the call from his mother.

“The table has been booked!"

“You sound excited,” he says.

“Of course, I am. I’m meeting your girlfriend, after all.”

Alhaitham thinks back to Layla's conversation with his mother and says, "Are you sure you haven't met her somewhere, perhaps?"

“Why would you say that, Haitham? If I did, I would tell you.”

Alhaitham looks over his shoulder as two TV station employees pass by. "...I'll see you tonight at dinner."

Then, he ends the call, puts his phone inside his pocket, and continues on his way.

◆◆◆

Is this how Alhaitham felt when he met your mother? Nervous? Jittery? Because that’s exactly what you’re feeling. You close your closet door and look into the full-length mirror. You're wearing a casual, beige evening dress; you also opt for a natural make-up look to match. When you hear the knock at your door, you grab your small bag hanging on a hook and go to open the front door.

Alhaitham is wearing a teal, collared shirt that snugly hugs his athletic figure. He leaves the first two buttons unbuttoned, giving you a little tease of his chest. His black pants emphasize his long legs. When he steps closer to you, you get a whiff of his cologne. He takes your hand and lightly kisses it.

“Good evening, my lady.”

“My, what a greeting,” you say with a small smile. Then, you lean closer and kiss his cheek.

Alhaitham bends his arm, signalling for you to loop your arm around his. Once you do, he ushers you down to his car.

“I bumped into Ayato at the TV station today,” Alhaitham says as the car weaves through the busy Sumeru streets.

“Really? How’s he doing?”

“...Thoma told him what happened to his ex-fianceé.”

“Ah… and is he… okay?”

“I’m sure it came as a big shock,” Alhaitham says. “But he seems to be fine."

“That’s good to hear. Does he know if his curse changed?”

“I didn't get a chance to talk to him about it." A small pause. "I think there's a lot on his mind right now.”

Does it have to do with the acting role you last heard about?

Alhaitham pulls up to a fancy restaurant in the heart of the business district. Eventually, you two walk into the building, holding hands, and meet up with Alhaitham's mother.

As soon as she sees you, she gasps.

"Hello, hello!" She stands, walks over, and gives you a hug. "It's so nice to meet you, dear."

Alhaitham subtly glances around. It looks like Layla decided not to show up. What excuse did she give his mother? And… how did his mother take it?

“...What did you say your name was?”

Alhaitham tunes back into the conversation just as you repeat your name. He looks at his mother and sees an expression of shock break through her polite smile. But, it disappears as quickly as it came.

“That’s such a pretty name, dear.” She gestures to the table. “Shall we sit?”

You and Alhaitham sit beside each other while his mother sits across from you. As his mother starts another conversation with you, Alhaitham subtly takes note of the slight stiffness in her actions. He can see the gears turning in her head.

Something’s up. He can feel it.

Chapter Twenty-Five

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#alhaitham x you #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x yn #alhaitham x y/n #genshin al haitham #al haitham x reader #al haitham x y/n #al haitham fluff #al haitham

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sugarxlumps · 8 months

Text

This is where you're weak, right?

Inspo Ep.~ when he's killing Hanami ... wrong timing, but I swear it nearly killed me I've been so horny all week, and these IG edits are not doing anything for my poor heart *:･ﾟ✧this is a doozy *:･ﾟ✧

EXPLICIT MDNI | NSFW | +18 ONLY

Warning: Smutty smut, degradation, choking, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap y'all), pet names (princess, sweetheart, etc ~~, size diff, dom!gojo, oral (both rec.), overstim, fluff if you tilt and squint

🚩it just gets worse after the break🚩 .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

As the strongest sorcerer and the boldest ego alive, it would be an understatement to say it annoys Gojo Satoru when you don’t give in to him. When you don’t give him the satisfaction of getting to hear you whine for him; if you’d ever just let him make you.

Alongside him you were one the strongest sorcerers, and sure you didn’t have his six eyes, but you worked damn hard and Gojo’s incessant bouts of flirting wasn’t going to ruin that. Especially since you were still considered a student, you had a lot more reputation to uphold.

He’s been feigning over you since he first laid eyes on you. It made him want you even more when you bit back with your sharp tongue and stubborn attitude at his attempts to get under your skin… and the fact that he was handsome as all hell DEFINITELY didn’t make matters better for you.

You borderline hated being alone with him, it made for a distraction-free zone for him and his piercing six eyes to bore down on you from his height to target you.

“Oh c’mon y/n, mission wasn’t that bad was it?” Gojo smirked through twirling a lollipop in his mouth.

“It is if you keep tagging along, Gojo” you rolled your eyes, “I don’t need you here” you huffed, continuing forward. Since you were recommended by Nanami as a special grade, someone other than him had to accompany you on your first mission… only this wasn’t your first.

“You’d think I’d miss you in action? You’re a rare sight ya know” Gojo tilted his glasses to give you a sly wink. You rolled your eyes and continued to walk on while his eyes remained glued on the sway of your hips, the way your uniform skirt grazed your upper thigh teasing him with a view of your cheeks.

It drove him mad trying to imagine what color panties you had on.

“Why in such a hurry, princess? Dying to get back to my place already?” He kept pressing, easily slinging his arm around you small stature. His sheer height alone was domineering in comparison to yours, let alone his actual strength.

“Aw not the silent treatment” Gojo pouted sarcastically, finishing his lollipop with a smack of his lips.

“You’re annoying and I don’t want you here” you huff plainly, not bothering to sugarcoat. “I’ve passed every single mission and still haven’t been given my promotion yet cause you keep failing me, Gojo”

“You don’t need that shitty title anyways” he shrugged, “we all know what you are … I know what you are” he peered down sending you another wink.

You rolled your eyes and shoved his arm off your shoulder.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You questioned heatedly

Gojo put his hands up in defense “You’re so uptight, y/n. My guess is somewhere in that stubborn attitude and sharp tongue of yours, you’re just dying to have someone loosen you up” he grinned cheekily

“Am not. Of course you’d put it that way. I have my fair share of ‘loosening up’ Gojo, I don’t need your sympathy” you defended.

He stepped toward you, instantly snaking his large hand around your throat to give it a light squeeze and forced your eyes to meet his before you could refuse.

“Then show me, princess”

His voice was low, commanding, dripping in another type of dominating tone you’ve never heard from him. It awakened a fire in your core you didn’t know could ever exist, especially in regards to him of all people. You regained your composure to glare back at him.

Gojo let out a breathy chuckle, the change in your expression and the submissive slack in your body failed to go unnoticed by him.

“Ah, there she is”, lips laced with that infamous devilish smirk of his. “Why do you fight me so much, y/n? How long has it been since you’ve ‘loosened up’ a bit, huh? Bet I could do it better for you, yeah?”

His lips threatened to graze yours. You grow lightheaded and hot from the proximity of your bodies and the pressure he puts on your neck with ease, sending pulses to the heat between your thighs. God am I really so horny right now that I’m fucking dizzy? How pathetic.

Your body betrays you, but you hold your ground.

“And what makes you think you’ve got what it takes to do that for me?”

Gojo scoffed, his hand on your throat pulled you to him, closing the distance between the two of you. Your lips connect and he pushes your body into his by your hips. You let a moan fall from your mouth as his hands roam to down to massage your ass.

He easily slips his tongue across your lips, grinding your body against his. You quickly melded into his touch, giving up whatever rebuttal you had for him. Your hands tugged on his hair and slid across his chest. You were so curious about what he looked like, you could feel how chiseled he was through his uniform.

You almost hated how good he made you feel. How good his tongue felt in your mouth and how you imagine it might be between your legs.

Gojo’s lips left yours abruptly, your mouth swollen and cheeks flushed.

“Well well sweetheart, something tells me I’ve got exactly what you need” he smirks.

Before you could snap back, you’re in his bedroom and he’s pushed you against the wall. For the initial milliseconds, you were curious to see what it looked like, after all you’ve never been to his place all these years. But the cold wetness in your underwear quickly reminded you of exactly how horny you were.

Gojo wastes no time placing his hands back on your body, as if they belonged there. He nudged his thigh between you legs, the contact on your pussy making you gasp.

He laughed darkly at your response to his mere touch. “Still think I’m annoying?”

You rolled your eyes, in both annoyance and pleasure from the way he kissed down you neck.

“Yes” you replied. You squirmed under his hot touch as he unbuttoned your uniform and stripping your bra, exposing your breasts.

You winced as he sucked them harshly, nipping and biting as he ground your hips onto his thigh.

“Tsk tsk your pussy’s telling me otherwise, pretty girl. You’re so wet just rubbing on my thigh like this” he hummed in satisfaction.

If it was even possible, more heat rose to your cheeks in embarrassment. God how did I get here.

Gojo simply laughed at your lack of response, continuing to mark your neck as he hooked his hands into the hem of your skirt. “Mm I’m always wondering what you’ve got goin' on under here”

He kneels down as he peels your skirt to pool at your feet and he stops instantly. Hands still on your hips, his glowing eyes remain glued to the dainty baby blue thong barely covering your mound.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re gonna be the death of me” he whispers, kissing your hips and the fabric of your tiny blue thong. “It’s like you wore it just for me” he joked, entraining the sight to memory

You remained silent, cheeks still blushing and eyes looking anywhere but down at him.

Gojo paused to look up at you, that cocky grin beginning to spread across his handsome face again

“Oh c’mon now y/n, don’t tell me you actually wore these just for me?” He questioned again, but all you could do was look away and bite your cheek, making him laugh. “Looks like I wasn’t the only one waiting for this then” he massages your thighs, slinging your leg onto his shoulder as he kissed the fabric covering your entrance.

You sign at the sudden contact. You writhe under his tongue as he continues to lap over your panties, wishing he’d rip them off already. You hate to admit the fact you’ve thought about this exact moment, how his tongue would feel on your bare pussy. Yes, you got these with him in mind…as annoying as he was he drove you insane. You only imagined how handsome he’d look below you, making you cum on his tongue. And now here you are about to do just that

He pulls the cloth aside, licking his lips at the sight of your glossy entrance. “You’ve always been so stubborn with me, princess.” He teases, continuing to kiss everywhere but where you need him the most.The cold air making you jump as it hits your bare wet pussy.

“Always acting so tough… but this is where you’re weak, right?” He smirked, his bright blue eyes boring into yours as he licked a long heavy stripe between you slit. Your mouth falls open when a loud moan escapes you, eyes still connected to his godly ones as he devours you.

Like a deprived man, he ravished you. Lapping up every single drop from your pussy to savor. He hummed at the taste, eliciting another groan from you. “God baby, you taste so fucking good for me.”

Without warning, he slides two of his large capable fingers into your slit, making you toss your head and roll your eyes with a loud moan muffled by your hand. Though he was quick to remove it.

“Ah ah, princess. I’m not getting silent treatment from you anymore. Do that again and I won't let you cum tonight” he threatened. You whimper in reply.

Gojo resumes sucking on your clit and pumping his thick fingers in and out of your sopping pussy. The sight of him devouring you on his knees gave you a false sense of power seeing him this way. Seeing the strongest sorcerer on his knees for you, but with all the power and capability to make your own knees weak with just his tongue and fingers alone.

You moan loudly as he begins to curl his fingers into your sweet bundle of nerves, instantly cutting off your thoughts about how he could’ve found it so quickly and you feel your orgasm approaching already. You tangle your fingers in his soft silver hair, grinding your hips on him as he slips his tongue past your folds and circles his thumb around your clit.

The anticipation of heat builds deep in your tummy as your moans and breathing become more erratic, your grip on his hair tightening.

“C’mon baby, cum on my tongue already. I know ya want to. Like the needy little slut you are”

Your pussy clenches at his name for you, causing him to chuckle while still connected to your slit.

“So you like that, huh? Guess I’m not surprised. Why don’t you cum on my face then pretty girl, lemme see how much of a slut you are for me”

With his words, it only took a few more seconds for your orgasm to wash over you; leaving you shaking and weak under him as he practically holds you up by your hips. He doesn’t let up, slurping and savoring every drop from your soaking entrance while humming in satisfaction. Your moans continuing to spill was heavenly music to his ears and he’s waited too long to hear them. He wanted more.

Once he removes himself from beneath you, he helps to hold you up.

“I’m only getting started, sweetie. You can keep up, right?” He asked rhetorically, that annoyingly gorgeous smolder plastered on his face.

He locks his lips onto yours and you taste yourself as he slips his tongue to roam your mouth. Wanting more from him, you tug on his lip. Slowly releasing it from your teeth he groans, sending chills down your spine and a new wetness to your core.

He sweeps you up without removing his lips from yours and seats you both over to the edge of the bed as you straddle him. You feel his hard bulge straining under his pants and curse mentally to yourself at his size, and you haven’t even seen it yet.

“Greedy girl, always taking and taking. How bout you return the favor, hm?”

Regaining your strength, you slide off of him and down onto your knees as he stands. He removes his shirt and you unknowingly gawk at the godly man before you. God he’s even hotter than I’d imagined. All of his muscles chiseled and defined, like artwork.

“Go on sweetheart, do the honors” he orders. Your pussy throbs in anticipation as you undo his pants and remove his briefs.

You almost gasp at the sight, mouth agape you swear you might be drooling as you stare at the most perfect cock there could be.

Gojo chuckles at your cute expression in awe, “Don't get shy on me now”

You place your small hands around him and lick a long strip from his base to his tip without hesitation. He hisses at the sudden contact.

“Sensitive, huh?” You say breathily, not even noticing your own words. Gojo’s quick to grab your hair, forcing you to look up at him.

“Easy, princess. I see you still got that sharp tongue of yours. How bout you use it to suck this cock”

He guides your head to his cock and you take him whole, groaning as he bottoms out on your throat. His overwhelming girth and length brings tears to your eyes and he doesn’t let up. Bobbing your head on his dick, choking as you do so.

He doesn’t dare take his eyes off of you, committing it to memory. “Shit baby, keep sucking me like that.”

Gojo continues to abuse your mouth, your hands on his thighs as he thrusts his cock into your throat while guiding your head with his fingers in your hair.

Your eyes roll in pleasure and your pussy soaks even more.

“Ha- whatta needy slut you are, baby. All this time, that dirty mouth of yours just needed to be stuffed with my cock, huh?”

You moan in response to his degradation, tears now running down your cheeks.

You bring one of your hands to massage his balls while another delves between your legs to finger yourself. He growls at the contact and his cock twitches on your tongue.

“F-fuck” he chuckles breathily, “Horny brat wants my cum that bad?”

You moan in agreement as he continues on your throat relentlessly, you’re sure your throat will be bruised tomorrow.

“Ah, y/n I’m gonna fuckin cum” he grunts. He spills into your throat as you hum and swallow.

Gojo finally removes your head from his still-hard cock. He grabs your cheeks and taps for you to open your mouth.

You comply, showing him your tongue to prove you’ve swallowed all of him.

He scoffs, “Atta girl. So obedient for me already”

He lifts you up onto the bed and lays you down. Gojo’s quick to tower his body over yours, and he delves down to suck harshly at your nipple.

You moan at the sensitivity, and Gojo takes the opportunity to slide his fingers back into your pussy.

“Mm you’re so tight around my fingers already, baby. Whad’ya think it’ll be like around my cock?” He teased, pumping and curling his fingers into your g-spot. You grip and scratch at his arms, your back arching to him as you feel your orgasm bubble within you again.

He nips at your neck as he does so, bringing you closer to your brink. You pussy throbs, signaling your only a few seconds away and Gojo halts all ministrations. You whine, making him laugh sadistically.

“Fuck you, Gojo” you groan in frustration, rolling your eyes. But he’s quick to correct you.

Gojo shoves his hand to your neck to silence you.

“There ya go again with that tongue, princess. Better watch it or I’ll keep teasing you like that for the rest of the night” he threatened, his tone deep.

You whined in agreement, but his grip tightened around your neck. “Use your words like a big girl” he cooed.

“Y-yes, sir”

He chuckled, “Mm I like that, that’s much better”

He grinds his cock teasingly past your entrance, mixing your juices. You moan and squirm impatiently under his touch, you feel like your about to burst just from the contact of his tip against your entrance alone.

“Patience, baby. I’ll get there” he assured darkly. He was going to savor every single moment of this, after all, it took him this long just to even hear you moan for him.

For the first time tonight, he softly caressed your cheek, almost feather-like. Bringing your chin to meet his darkened ethereal gaze.

“Eyes on me.” And you did just that, easily getting lost in the beautiful maze that was Gojo’s bright blue orbs. He began to plunge his length into you, your mouth falling open while still holding each other’s gaze.

How lost you were in his eyes and the stretch in your pussy was overwhelming. You moan loudly as he continues to push himself through your tight walls. Inch by inch goes into you and it feels like forever before Gojo bottoms out with a groan through his teeth and you grip his arms even harder.

“God you’re so fuckin tight, y/n” making your heart flutter at the sound of your name falling from his lips in this moment. He begins to move, not giving you much time to adjust as he grows feral.

He‘s pushed your knees to your chest, and your moans turn into screams as he’s pummeling himself into your throbbing pussy.

“G-gojo, f-fuck like that” you pant breathlessly

“Tell me baby. Tell me how good I’m fucking you” he smirks, continuing to pound into you.

His command falls upon deaf ears as you continue to moan, your mind beginning to fog from the pleasure.

He forces a grip on your neck again and you groan aloud. “I said, tell me slut”

“Fuck s-so good. You fuck me so g-good Gojo” you manage to babble.

“That’s not my name, pretty” he growls, somehow pushing even deeper into you, and you feel the band in your tummy coil. He passionately smashes his lips to yours, wanting to feel as much of you as he could.

You begin to whimper, your mind only focusing on the closeness and pleasure he’s blessing you with, though you know you somehow have to manage an answer.

He thrusts slowly but ferally into you, “My name, pretty girl” he emphasizes on each harsh thrust. He sits himself up on his knees and circles his thumb on your clit, making you scream.

“Oh fuck!” You pant, “Sa- oh my fucking god! Satoru, satoru, satoru satoru you’re gonna make me cum!”

You scream shamelessly, sure that everyone and anyone around you could hear but you didn't care; nothing else mattered. His cock felt too good plunging in and out deep into your cervix, you could die here. And Satoru knew that.

He chuckled in satisfaction, “Good girl. You can cum all over my cock now baby” he encouraged, and that’s all you needed for your coil to unravel.

You’re a shaking, moaning mess beneath him and he’s fucking you through your orgasm. As soon as you manage to calm down from your high, Satoru wastes no time in turning you over to your hands and knees, forcing an arch in your back and the side of your face into his silk sheets.

You grow wet with anticipation as he massages your cheeks “God, I’m never letting you go” he admits, bringing a harsh slap to your ass, making you moan as it ignites another flame within your core.

“And unfortunately for you princess, you’re never gonna want to either.” Gojo chuckles. Seeing your fucked out state already and your still sopping pussy, he knows he’s ruined all sex for you with anyone else. And he wouldn’t want it any other way now that he's finally got you to himself

He begins to push himself past your entrance, still proving to be as tight as it first was. You moan uncontrollably, the stretch feeling even more immense as he takes you from behind.

Gojo hisses at the grip your pussy has on his cock, “There ya go again sweetheart, always fighting me” he grunts as continues to inch his length into your heat, “Let me loosen ya up”

All you could think about was how full you were when he finally bottomed out; it was euphoric. With a death grip on your hips sure to leave bruises for tomorrow, he began thrusting relentlessly into you.

The room filled with a mixture of both of your moans, the harsh slapping of your skin and the headboard against the wall was so lewd it made you moan louder.

Satoru's eyes gleam and he licks his lips at the creamy ring you've left at the base of his shaft

“Fuck fuck fuck” you repeated mindlessly, his dick reaching far past your cervix and bringing you closer to another high.

“What’s that baby? I can’t quite hear you” he teased, grabbing your hair and bringing you up to him. Instinctively, you hold onto the headboard for dear life as he thrusts up into your g-spot.

Bringing his hand to your neck and the other on your hips, he’s abusing your sweet spot at this angle. Your juices leaking down your thigh and soaking his expensive sheets.

“You’re being so fucking good for me. This tight pussy’s taking my cock so well, don't ya think, baby?” He groans smugly into your ear, his deep voice like sweet music to your ears.

“Dirty little slut, making me wait so long to take you like this” he growls, his grip on your body increasing as he persists with his abuse. You’re a babbling mess and he chuckles at the sight of you with tears streaming down your face. He brings his lips to yours, devouring you whole as he muffles your moans.

You throb around him once again and your screaming his name like a prayer, “Satoru satoru satoru!”

“Yes, y/n? Tell me what ya need”, you see him smirk widely, knowing your orgasm is hanging by a thread.

“F-fuck me, make me cum, m-make me c-cum!” You yell, but he’s not satisfied.

His hips slowly drag in and out of you, making you feel every vein of his thick shaft. You whine as he tortures you.

“Why don’t we try that again, brat. This time use your manners like a good girl, yeah?” He commands lowly, grinding himself deeply into your sweet spot, driving you insane.

“P-please Sa-Satoru! Please make me c-cum! Please d-don’t stop! I want it! Ma-make me t-take it, please!”

Gojo’s sadistic laughs reverberates throughout his chest, “That’s even better”

He resumes his harsh thrusting into your sopping pussy as you scream through your orgasm yet again. He kisses and bites into your shoulder to hold himself back as your pussy grips around him.

Satoru flips you onto your back to face him and enters you, giving you no time to adjust and no time coming down from your last high.

“Satoru, it- it’s too much” you whine, pressing your hands to his flexing abs in a weak attempt to get him to let up from your overstimulated folds

“Aw not so tough now, are ya?” He teased breathily, marking your neck possessively.

You moaned uncontrollably, scratching at his back making him growl in pleasure. The force of his cock destroying your pussy was feral and filthy, and your incoherent moans were absolutely lewd; you couldn’t manage anything else but his name and wordless nonsense.

Satoru scoffs at your expression, “Fucked out on my cock, baby? Careful now, your stupid’s showing”

More tears stream down your face, both from overstimulation and his mean degradation. Who knew he could be this mean… I guess you deserved it, after all the times you denied any feelings for him with your own spiteful remarks. Even despite his demeaning commands, it made your tummy flutter and your pussy drool.

His presses closer to you to fuck himself deeper into your throbbing heat and he feels it tightening around him already.

“F-fuck ha- shit if you keep squeezing me like that you’re gonna make me cum, sweetheart” he pants, shoving his cock into your cervix.

Moaning loudly as he drills into you, your nth orgasm of the night threatens to take hold again.

“Satoru, I-“

“Just a little more, sweetheart.” He encourages to comfort your whines, caressing your jaw and meeting your half-lidded gaze.

You were dumbfounded. He was breathtaking. You didn’t know if you had it in you, but you were willing to do anything for this man right now.

Gojo’s hips began to stutter at a rapid pace, groaning in your ear.

“Come with me, baby” he pleaded, eyebrows knit together in pleasure before crashing his lips onto you.

You moan into his mouth as your orgasm ripples through your shaking body, having you seeing stars. Satoru grunts and spills into your heat, milking his cock of everything he has.

After a few thrusts of his hips into your sensitive walls, you whine and he stills inside you. Satoru kisses you tenderly before he removes himself to lay beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist to hold you to his chest and placed his forehead to yours.

Attempting to catch your breath, your body lay slack against his own.

“No more silent treatments, right sweetheart?”

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojou x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou smut #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu smut

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hwavsg4ch4n · 2 years

Text

Take Me Away || H.J

little note: only part in the series that doesn't have the same title as the song it's inspired by

Warnings/tags: fem!reader, unexperienced!reader, Switch!Reader (leaning sub), Bestie!Jisung, SoftDom!Jisung, petnames, making out, oral (M&F receiving), female orgasm, male orgasm, face fucking (s0ftly lol), virgin!reader, face grinding/sitting, cum eating, mention of food once, mention of not being able to sleep, unrecognized subspace. i think thats all

Note: I haven't been here for a while *giggles*. This just me picking up from where I left off. Also, late work for Han's Bday I guess. I dont have anything for Lixie :( i feel bad. But honestly, I've been working on this any many other things for monthssss. I hope you guys enjoy!

The music series, I chose songs and assign them to each member. I write each work according to the vibe of said song. Each work will have smut, whether it is soft, hard, or a mixture of the two. You don’t need to listen to the song to enjoy it, the song would finish before you’re done reading but listening to the song in general is recommended, because why not? To learn more click <here>.

Sypnosis: Han is grateful for you being there, he always will be. But will you ever let him take care of you? He's willing to do it any way you'll allow him to.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction (not real). this is mature content and has mature themes. 18+. This is not a reflection of how skz act in real life

this isn't a jeongin one but you did ask to be tagged when i post so here you go, lol @dadonbabysworld

Part of the music series <masterlist>

“One thing I‘m sure about you is that, whatever time of day it may be… you always come rushing to me if my voice wavers even just a little bit.” You blinked as Jisung spoke his mind without thought.

You cleared your throat, “Is that a problem?” You asked softly. He scoffed, shaking his head. “How could that be a problem, Y/n?” He ran a hand through his freshly dried hair, looking at the blushing moon through his shut patio door. Jisung gazed at your confused features through his ruffled bangs before sighing, going back to picking at his chipped black nail polish.

He took a deep breath before speaking, “I just- I’m not sure if I deserve someone like you in my life, that’s all.” It was your turn to scoff, frowning as you watched your best friend fiddle with his thumbs.

You stayed silent, the softest of songs playing quietly through his speaker. It was 1am, his roommates were fast asleep; so were you just 2 hours ago. In the middle of the night, Jisung called you, his voice groggy as he muttered “I can’t sleep.” He was a grown man, he didn’t need you to rock him and sing him a lullaby. But he just wanted to hear your voice, loving how your tone could warm his heart in a millisecond.

He never admitted it out loud, but he was in love with you. Platonically and romantically. At first, he tried to deem it as infatuation, a silly little crush he developed because you were one of the most caring people he’s met in this lifetime. Unfortunately, it was way deeper than that. But he’d never tell you, that would ruin everything.

Therefore he used your kindness in order to see you whenever he could. Granted, this was selfish of him. Waking you up at 12am just because he knew you were too pure to just tell him ‘wait till the morning’. You cared too much, and he loved you for that, loved how you cared for him; along with many other things. He wasn’t that shallow.

The only thing he despised about you, was how you’d never let him take care of you; not properly at least. You always had to pay for food, he wasn’t allowed to. You got him gifts but frowned when he got you one. He accepted your love languages, they were a part of you. But still, it bothered him to no end. Who was taking care of you if you were so busy taking care of him?

“Did you eat dinner, y/n?” He asked you softly, clearing his throat as he swiftly changed the subject. You allowed it, “Mhm,” you muttered, “But it was boring without you there.” You let out with a soft chuckle.

God, why did you have to say that? Jisung’s heart skipped a beat at the image of you eating, pouting since the lack of his presence didn’t allow you to talk to him about nothing like you usually do. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ll be there next time.” Your love languages: quality time, gift-giving, and of course, words of affirmation.

This allowed him to call you pet names without you thinking too much into it. This was one of the ways you allowed him to look after you, making you feel comfortable around him. He’d call you “babe”, “Princess”, your personal favorite was “beautiful”, but you’d never let him know that.

You smiled at the pet name. Silence fell over the two of you, sitting on his soft cushioned king sized bed, bathing in each other’s presence. That’s until you remembered something you discussed with your friends earlier. It was an embarrassing topic to say the least, and the question you had was even more questionable. But it was Jisung, what’s the worst he could say?

“Ji?” You muttered, he hummed back. “You know how I’ve never kissed someone before?” You pouted as he chuckled, softly slapping his bicep. “I’m sorry. Yeah, what about it?” He says, chuckling softly; still gazing at the blushing moon.

You gulped, it was now your turn to start playing with your chipped nail polish. “Why haven’t you offered to kiss me before?” You could see him frown in confusion before turning to you with an unreadable expression. “It's just that, Felix asked me… if you ever offered before. Because we're so close, you know? I’m only comfortable, with you… as of now.” you muttered, awaiting his answer.

“I didn’t think you’d want that from me, Y/n.” He stated, his tone still soft as ever while he searched your eyes for a further explanation. “Well, I think it would be better to kiss you than some random person, no? I mean, I trust you with my life.” You said, slowly becoming timid due to his intense stare.

He nodded, finally understanding your intentions; wanting to experience something you’d probably longed for. And Jisung was the only one that seemed safe. His hair fell into his eyes as you watched him take in your words, looking at you with care. “I wouldn’t mind kissing you, beautiful.” Your lips parted as he smiled at you gently.

“Can you kiss me now?” His brows raised at your sudden request, but he nodded nevertheless. Scooting closer to you as you stayed stationary, awaiting his arrival.

“Don’t be scared, Y/n,” he whispers once he got close enough that your knees were touching, his breath fanning over your cheeks. “Like you said, it’s just me right?” He smiled, showing you his teeth as he found your shy eyes. You nodded, smiling back as your hands absentmindedly fisted his sheets.

“Can I touch you? Is that okay?” He asked gently. “Uhm, touch me how?” Your innocent question shouldn’t have affected Jisung the way it did, his mind traveling to more mature places; having him chant “don’t fuck it up” in his very active mind.

“Your cheeks, can I hold your face?” he whispered, hoping you didn’t notice him growing tense. You muttered yes. A light involuntarily gasp escaped as you felt both his warm hands grab a hold of your hot cheeks. Jisung licked his lips out of habit, catching your gaze as he was now so close that your noses brushed.

His thumb brushed your cheeks soothingly, “Ready?” He whispered, his gaze switching from your eyes to your impatient lips. “Mhm”. He gave one last smile before pressing into your lips with his.

His lips attached themselves to yours like they belonged there all this time. Smooth, sensual, gentle. You could feel your heart beating against your chest as he took his time stroking your cheeks, kissing you deeply. He wanted this to be nice for you, fun. He didn’t want you to overthink and to just feel him instead, get lost in him momentarily. Luckily for him, his message got conveyed. You untensed, kissing Jisung back as you reminded yourself that you were safe. Instead of asking yourself if you were doing it right, the decision was made to get lost in Jisung instead. Completely lost, almost taken away by him.

Did kissing always feel like this? If so you should’ve given into temptation much earlier, asking your best friend for harmless make-out sessions every week if you could. You sighed into him, frowning as you tried to get impossibly closer, wanting more of him on your lips. He chuckled against you, amused but not pulling away as he tilted his head for a better angle, wanting you to have a good first kiss. His lips were soft, it made your brain… fuzzy? A new, unfamiliar feeling that you’ve only heard your friends speak about. However, you accepted the new feeling. What could go wrong?

Undoubtedly, maybe you should’ve hung on to that last bit of sanity you had left. Maybe it was the way Jisung pulled away shortly to say you're doing well, asking you if you were okay. But you knew it was the way he hummed into you, kissing you deeper but going softer at some points; not wanting to get lost in his head. It was… attractive, this kind of attractive where you feel a funny feeling in your tummy. You moved closer, one hand found his knee while the other placed itself on the slither of blanket between the two of you, clenching the fabric for dear life; not that it would help with the sweaty palms and heat pooling in your underwear.

Thank god Jisung was still conscious. Making it his mission to be hyperaware, reading any silent cues you might have given off. Jisung pulled away when he heard you whimper, thinking he might’ve done something wrong, maybe you’ve had enough. Totally oblivious to your roaring thoughts. But his worries soon disappeared as he opened his eyes only to find yours still closed, brows scrunched as you tried to chase his lips, not wanting his warmth to go just yet.

Jisung gulped as your eyes fluttered open, your gaze seeming darker from when he last looked into them. Your pupils were blown out as you looked at him in question. “Why did you stop?” You asked breathlessly. He couldn’t form a proper sentence, not knowing how to answer you. How long have you wanted to be kissed? Did you always want this from him? Him… specifically? That’s how you were acting. Desperate, needy, like you’ve been starved, waiting for him.

He didn’t move away when you abruptly took initiative this time, grabbing his cheeks and pressing your lips onto his, rougher than before. He grunted into you, grabbing your waist to hold you still. You pulled away, only to whisper “more.” Jisung’s eyes widened as you moved to straddle him, kissing him with urgency. Jisung let you do your thing for a while, almost letting himself go brain dead until he remembered, you’ve never experienced something like this.

He pulled away, tapping your lower back as you caught your breath, now looking down at him due to sitting on his lap.

“Slow down Y/n, hm?” He whispered, peering into your dazed eyes. It made his heart pound, you looked like you were drunk on him. “Do you realize where you're sitting right now?” He asked softly. He pressed his lips together as you bit yours, his eyes looking at how plump your lips were; he couldn’t even measure how long you kissed. You nodded slowly, your hands resting on his shoulders.

“I-I don’t wanna have sex,” Jisung stiffened at your comment, his eyes widening as he opened his mouth to talk; you beat him to it “But I want you, in some way.” You whispered, gazing down at him with nothing but need.

Jisung started to understand that lust was taking over your mind, you weren’t thinking clearly. He’s never seen you so… weak. “Y/n, baby,” he takes hold of your face, “I know it feels nice, but think for a moment, hm? I don’t want you to regret anything.” He says seriously.

You resist the urge to whine in frustration, “I can take care of myself Jisung.” You whisper, He sighed, “I know bab-”, “Do you wanna… do want me to… taste you? Can I taste you? I’ve always wanted to.” his lips parted in surprise, hearing his best friends speak in ways he’s never heard before.

You took his silence to explain yourself. “My friend, from uni, she said it’s fun. When you get to feel a guy twitch because of you. The only guy I could think of reacting like that for me… is you. I- I wanna make you cum.” You whispered shyly, your hand bunching the fabric of his shirt.

Jisung felt his member twitch and grow at your words, he knows you felt it because you jolted in his lap. “S-sorry, but when you talk like that… Jesus Y/n, what’s got into you?” He mummers, observing how set in your ways you were. You bit your lip, hands traveling to play with the collar of Jisung’s sleeveless band tee. Jisung began to think - trying his best to ignore how your fingers caressed his bicep - if this was gonna happen, he was gonna make sure to take care of you.

“How about, I taste you instead? How does that sound princess?” Jisung couldn’t help but smile as your eyes widened, pointing at yourself in disbelief. “T-Taste me?” You whispered softly. Jisung hummed, rubbing your thighs that had him caged in. “Mhm, I want you to feel good. It’ll be much more fun for you. If you still want to go down on me afterward, we can try.” He smiled up at you, gently squeezing your hips.

His comforting smile didn’t leave his face as you nodded in agreement. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you y/n?” You slapped his chest softly out of embarrassment. He let out a chuckle before laying down. You looked at him confused, now playing with the hem of your skirt.

“You’re gonna sit on my face, beautiful.”

He grinned at your shocked face. He loved seeing this side of you. So different from your caring nature, always wanting to take care of him to the best of your ability, never letting him be the one to be strong for the both of you. Full 180 from what he’s used to. But if this is the only way you’ll let him pay you back for your kindness, he will gladly do so.

“Uhm… what if.. Uhm,” he watched you stammer with a soft expression, using his hand to continue rubbing at your thigh. “What are you nervous about? Hm?” Jisung asked softly, “What if I like… suffocate you or something?” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Babe, it would be a pleasure to have your thighs around my head. The only way I can breathe is through you… you have no idea how much I want that right now.” Your eyes widened at his confession, feeling his hands grip your thighs tighter as he bucked his hips slightly; reminding you of how hard he was under you.

“You’re not gonna hurt me, y/n.” You watched his soothing close lipped smile as he guided you closer to his face. You didn’t fight it, only being slightly disappointed by not being seated on his bulge anymore. “Make yourself at home beautiful,” Jisung whispered, licking his lips as you finally hovered over him.

He looked into your eyes as he slid your panties to the side, biting his lip softly and he let out a sigh. “So… wet, from what baby? Kissing?” His chuckle made you gulp, your cheeks heating up as he lowered you onto his face.

“Oh,” you gasp as you feel his lips gently latch onto your bud. You gulped at the new unfamiliar feeling, staring at the wall in front of you as you adjusted slightly. You flinched as he hummed against you, lightly sucking as his hands slid underneath your shirt.

“J-Jisung, it feels kinda… ni-oh.” Your chest heaved as you felt him chuckle, squeezing your clothed breast in response. You felt his lips unlatch from your clit, only to lick a long strip up your slit; the tip of his tongue flicking and pressing against your bundle of nerves, only to start flicking faster.

You let out gasps and whines, your hands pressing on the headboard for leverage as you flinched away from his face. Looking down only to see him looking back up at you with a glistening mouth and dark eyes. “Is it too much, princess?” He asked, his voice raspy. “You can take it, I know you can. Be a good girl for me.” You felt your clit pulse at how he spoke to you like he was in charge, it made the fuzziness deepen. You whimpered, nodding as you lower yourself back onto his awaiting mouth.

This time around you felt wetter than before, his tongue slipping and sliding across your flesh with ease. Feeling his lips suck and tongue flick had you seeing stars, you didn’t even know that you were grinding on his face until you looked down.

“Oh, I-I’m sorr-”, “Keep fucking using me.” Your lips parted at his grumbled words, but you did exactly what he told you to do. Grinding on his face, trying your best not to press too hard. But it was difficult to think with all the different sensations running around your form.

It felt like his lips were everywhere, you began to get lost in the feeling. Your moans grew a bit louder, not that Jisung minded. Maybe his roommates did, but he loved it.

But what made tears start brimming was when you felt his tongue slide into your sopping entrance with ease. “Ji- w-what… fuck.” You whined, your pelvis moving faster against his tongue, no longer caring about how much of a mess you were making. “You’re… so good.” Jisung hummed at the praise you gave him, continuing to make you feel good.

You reached down, your fingers raking through his locks as you pushed him closer into your heat. You haven’t looked down at him in a while, therefore you wouldn’t know that Jisung’s eyes were closed. Letting himself get lost in the taste of you, letting himself be used by you in the best way possible. All the while trying not cum untouched, your moans traveling like waves through his body, right down to his member.

You lurched forward, feeling pressure build up in your tummy, aching to be released. “Ji… I’m- oh…” your mouth parted with your eyes being screwed shut as you came, the climax being strong as it’s the first time you came in the hands of someone else.

Jisung's eyes snapped open to watch you, analyzing how you came undone above him; it was like heaven to him. While trying his best to Ignore how his dick fought against the material of his sweats in order to be relieved. He hummed against you, licking you clean as you slowly came down from your high. At that moment he swore you started glowing.

You gulped dryly, weakly scooting off his face and placing yourself back to the position of straddling, causing him to hiss at the contact of your middle pressing into his bulge.

You felt small under his gaze, now comprehending that your best friend made you cum, the fuzziness weakening slightly. You bit your lip, reaching up to wipe his face that was slathered with your arousal. “Thank you…” you trailed off. You were only met with Jisung bucking into you, making you whimper quietly as he pushed deep into your sensitive area.

You watched with timidness as Jisung chuckled. “That’s enough for today, hm?” You frowned at his words. “No.” He raised an eyebrow lazily. His lips slightly parted as you scooted down to his upper thighs, your hand grabbing his bulge, stroking experimentally.

“Baby… you don’t have to.” He huffed, licking his lips as he watched the movements of your hand, now slowly unbuttoning his pants. “But I wanna.” You muttered. You gulped as you pulled his member out from his boxers, unknowingly licking your lips as you observed how painfully hard he was, lightly twitching at your gentle touch.

“You were just gonna let this go?” You asked, fingers stroking up and down his shaft. “I mean… yeah?” He sighed. His hands clutching your thighs. The fuzziness subsided, the only headspace you found yourself in was pure lust.

Jisung’s gaze was dazed as you lowered, your mouth now hovering over his tip before you looked up in question. “Tell me what to do.” Jisung couldn’t help but smile. Despite you being determined, you were still like a baby deer. His hand stroked your cheek as he told you to open wide, guiding his length between your lips as he grunted at the feeling.

“God, just stay still for a sec, please.” His voice sounded strained, like he was holding back. He was. The combination of you kissing him like he was your oxygen, you expressing to him how bad you’ve been wanting him, from having you use him for pleasure had him aching for release. He didn’t wanna tell you, but he was so sensitive, not having touched himself in a while due to his mind being too focused on other life events.

You tried your hardest to listen, and stay still for him. But feeling his tip pulse on your tongue was borderline torture. You couldn’t help but have your tongue run on the underside of his tip, playing with the small vein that made him suck in a breath. His hand transferred to your hair as he got a good grip.

“Y/n,” he grumbled in warning. Opening his eyes to see your mouth stuffed full of him, the sight making it even harder for him to keep himself tamed. “Start sucking baby.” He whispered, sitting up on the headboard a bit to get a better view of you.

You hollowed out your cheeks, sucking and licking, using your hands to stroke his shaft; remembering how your friends drunkenly taught you how to give oral.

You were too focused to recognize how his grip on your strands tightened, his groans getting louder. The only time you unfocused was when he bucked into your mouth causing you to gag. “O-oh I’m sorry,” he moves your hair out the way, apologizing softly. Your mouth slides off of him, “Use me like how I used you.” Jisung gulped at your words, watching as you continued to stroke his length. What happened to that cute headspace from earlier? Well it’s gone now, he didn’t mind.

“I don’t wanna hurt you princess…” he whispered. “Please Ji… please? I can take it.” His eyes softened as you pleaded. Of course he’ll give you what you want, “God, you’re killing me. I didn’t know you’d be so needy, hm?” he smiles as you whine in embarrassment. “Okay, okay. Be still baby, I’ll be gentle.” Jisung said softly, guiding you back to his dick. He hissed as you engulfed him once again. “If you need a break tap me 3 times, do you understand?” you hummed in approval. Jisung tilted his head, almost like he was preparing himself, trying to give himself a pep talk not to go too hard on your precious throat.

He delivered a cautious thrust, observing how you reacted. His eyes widened as you took more of him down your throat. “Don’t push yourself.” He warned, of course, you ignored him, taking as much as you could of him.

Jisung felt as if he was fighting for his life here. He never thought he’d be able to see you like this. Wanting to please him, but also use him in a way that made you feel fulfilled.

Jisung soon realized that letting you do whatever you want at this moment was exactly how he should take care of you. You’re a big girl. You said it yourself, you can take it. Therefore, he started thrusting into your mouth. He still remained careful, not wanting to overwhelm you. But nevertheless, it felt amazing. Jisung threw his head back onto his pillow, his breath coming out in huffs as all he felt was your warmth sucking him in.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” His mutters went straight to your heat, making you whimper as you felt his member slide in and out of your mouth with ease. The noises emitting from your throat were lewd, and he loved every sound of it. Jisung’s thrusts got a bit rougher, and his moans got louder. You didn’t care that your mascara began to run, it was worth it. The view in front of you was worthy of touching yourself to the memory later. Seeing your best friend's chest rise and fall rapidly as whines and moans filled the air made, Jisung’s hair in his face as his eyes were screwed shut, sweat forming at his temples. This made the experience all the more rewarding.

Jisung gulped dryly as you swallowed around him. “Baby… I’m gonna cum, maybe y-you should g-get,” He could barely finish his sentences as he removed his grip from your hair. “If you don’t want it down your throat, g-get o-off.” Jisung stammered as he stopped thrusting, giving you leeway to get off of him. But you didn’t, instead, you took matters into your own hands. Sucking and stroking as you felt his member twitching on your tongue. “F- y/n…” Jisung gasped for air as he looked down at you, observing how focused you were on making him feel good.

He bit his lip, muttering a warning “Fuck, I’m cumming.” before he finally came, shooting into your mouth as you flinched slightly at the impact. Your friends lied, it tasted like nothing.

You continued to suck, milking him as his cum dribbled out of your mouth and back onto his member. You didn’t even know what overstimulation was but you seemed to be a master at it right now. Jisung’s head fell back as you continued sucking, your tongue tracing the underside of his tip as you wanted to catch every lick of him.

His legs trembled as he grabbed ahold of your hair again, trying to pull you off. “Th-that’s en-ough baby, please.” he pleaded as he slid your mouth off him.

You sat up, straddling his thighs, watching silently as he tried to catch his breath. His cheeks were bright red and his hair tousled from moving around on his pillows.

Jisung let out a scoff, “I thought you never did that before, y/n?” You bit your lip at the subtle compliment. “Even going as far as to overstimulate me. Did you have fun, beautiful?” He asked. You nodded, “Can we do it again?” Jisung chuckled. “Just… give me a second, maybe a couple of hours.”

If it meant making you feel taken care of, he’d do it all night.

#skz imagines #skz smut #skz jisung #stray kids #han jisung #skz scenarios #skz fiction #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz x y/n

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goodluckclove · 1 month

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The Archivist no. 1 - Control

so fuck it i'm trying this anyway. here's a long-form, but ultimately singular piece i wrote trying to process the singular Terrible Event of my upbringing. if unaliving stuff is triggering for you now you shouldn't read this.

i'm not going to do this that often because it's nice to work things out in my head but holy shit this was weird to come back to. if someone finds it relatable in that oh hey your shit sucked too and you survived huh?? way i'll get into it again at a later time.

otherwise uh. yeah. enjoy? legit though read the tags before you do this i don't want anyone freaking out.

The Archivist no. 1 – Control

Mom wasn’t sleeping much in the nights before she killed herself. It wasn’t unusual given her rampant insomnia. Dad would pass out in the bedroom, and I would come out of my room at the end of the hall tin the middle of the night and find her watching bad crime dramas and reading the news on her iPad. I didn’t sleep much back then either, I guess.

Sometimes I would sit with her for a while, but the shows didn’t interest me much. Mostly I’d make a joke and continue to the kitchen to grab a snack before going back to my bedroom to keep on writing. I was almost sixteen years old and I had completed two novels that stood, unread, on an elephant’s graveyard of abandoned projects. So it goes.

Near the end of summer I came down with some sort of head cold. I woke up in the middle of the night, feverish and frustrated, and went out into the hall to see if Mom would be awake.

Time flickers and I’m lying on the couch with my head in her lap. She’s stroking my hair. She’s telling me that in the morning we’re going to go out in the mall and she’s going to buy me new pants. I don’t know why she told me that. I don’t know if it was a lie. She solved a lot of problems by shopping for clothes, so it sounded like something she would say. Mom even insisted in a voice that hung quiet in the dark that we would go to Macy’s, a rarity when she only ever bought my wardrobe from Goodwill.

I believed her then because I was a child and I loved my mother. I was sick and I loved my mother. I was looking forward to her buying me new pants.

Did she know then? I don’t know. She’s had two rounds of electroshock therapy since then, so the memory has been thoroughly wiped from her brain. It’s just gone. That moment exists solely in my own recollection, which is barely better than it never existing to begin with.

Later that morning she left saying she had some errands to run. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I had no way to, really, being that they had me on nine hundred milligrams of Seroquel at the time – one hundred more than the recommended dose for an adult man. The mornings left me in a sticky daze and I usually wasn’t able to gain any lucidity until a few hours after I woke up.

Once that happened I felt a little stirred by the circumstances. Mom had errands? What errands? She didn’t do the grocery shopping, she had my brother and I make that trip every week. She didn’t have a job or friends to meet. More than that, her agoraphobia crippled her at times and made leaving the house for anything a feat. But no, she just let for errands and told me that as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

I told myself it was fine.

When I texted her a few hours later she didn’t respond. I called her after that and she didn’t answer. I think I called her a few times.

She didn’t come home at all that day. I remember feeling the dread clinging tight to the top of my rib cage like something toxic just about to drip. It was a feeling I didn’t know how to communicate, and in retrospect I know now that it is a deeply-rooted instinct from my childhood. The warped insight that tells me that, when Mom leaves under mysterious circumstances, or when she leaves after you make her made – she’s going out to drink.

But that couldn’t be it. Mom was sober now and proud of it. She marked her sobriety date as Cino de Mayo and laughed every year at the irony. Mom was sober now. Things were different.

Dad came home from work and I was lingering in the living room, standing guard like an anxious animal. My older brothers were in their bedroom, on their laptops, no knowledge of the panic I was feeling.

Dad greeted me and asked where Mom was. In a voice that mimicked neutrality I said that she left to run errands. He took that with a nod and went to the backyard. I don’t know why he did that – he wasn’t smoking anymore, but by this point he might’ve been using e-cigarettes. Or maybe he was just enjoying the evening air. I just know I was sitting inside the house, very aware that the only other adult I knew was outside, and my mind was racing.

Do I tell him? Should I tell him?

Eventually I opened the sliding glass door and stood in the kitchen until I drew his attention. In my imagination he sees the look on my face and knows that something is wrong. I don’t know if this is true.

“You have to look for Mom,” I said.

He did. No questions asked. I didn’t linger over that at the moment, but thinking now I know that must mean that he understood what was happening. He wasn’t surprised.

Mom had no intention of taking me to Macy’s.

I don’t know what I did while he was driving around looking for her. I don’t really have a clear playback of finding out what happened. The extent of my trauma has severely limited what I am able to remember, and for this specific part of my life what I know happened now is influenced heavily by the many times my Dad recounted it to me.

A few years later he took me for ice cream and we sat in the parking lot to eat it, staring out at a night bathed in orange streetlamp haze. At one point he put his cup on the dashboard and pointed.

“You see that motel?” He said, drawing my attention to a nondescript line of buildings. “That’s where I found her.”

He recognized her car in the parking lot. The manager didn’t want to tell him what room she was in, (“I bet he was worried I’d catch her in an affair,” he’d remark darkly) but I imagine he explained the situation and got the help he needed. Apparently they found Mom after she took all of our medication. Well, I don’t know if it was all our medication. I just know that she had taken my psych drugs, as well as my dad’s and her own, and decided to mix them with a six pack of beer.

Did someone specify it was beer at some point after that? I don’t know why I would know that. I also don’t know why I would assume it was that over any other type of alcohol.

My Mom took my medication to end her life.

It didn’t work, though. Dad told me later that she died for a little over a minute.

I told them I was worried about taking more Seroquel than both of them put together and they promised me it was very hard to overdose on Seroquel.

Was she counting on that? Or did she forget?

I never liked anything at Macy’s.

At some point I found out that Mom was stable and in the hospital. She was in a coma. In my head I have a memory of standing at the kitchen counter and watching my father call Kaiser to get a new supply of all of our medication. He wrote them all down, every name and their proper dosage. I listen to him speak kindly to the pharmacist on the other end of the line.

“The thing is,” he explains, “we packed to come home from vacation, and our luggage got lost on the flight…”

Inside myself is a vacancy so haunted that ghosts are too afraid to dwell there.

Dad ends up sleeping on the couch. He does not want to sleep in an empty bed. He tells me that he will leave in the morning to go back to the hospital, but he just wants to get a little bit of rest. Once he closes his eyes I slide a quilt above his sleeping body and put on a Jim Gaffigan stand-up special that I only process every third word of.

I don’t know where my brothers are in this memory. I am not thinking about that when it is happening. I’m thinking of my father, and my mother, and how if I didn’t tell my father to look for her he might’ve waited and ended up too late.

Years later I will learn that my father never told my brothers, or my older sister who lived on her own, that Mom tried to kill herself. I can’t bring myself to say tried – she succeeded, and was only brought back by the marvels of medicine. While I am thinking of my mother’s death none of them have any idea what is happening.

I am the one that told my siblings how our mother died for a moment years prior. We learn at the same time that they had no idea. When I ask my father why I was the only one he told about her death and not them, he told me that I agreed they shouldn’t find out.

When did this happen? I was fifteen years old and I have no knowledge of this conversation. Was I there? Or was only my body present and he decided that was enough.

Mom wakes up after three days. My sister joins my brothers and myself and we drive to the hospital to visit her. I can’t imagine what I am feeling. Maybe everything, maybe nothing. I remember riding up the elevator and going down the hall, and then my brain skips again and I am standing at my mother’s hospital bed.

She looks sick and she looks the same. There are tubes. I think she’s probably sedated. She is my mother and I love her and she took all of my medication to try and kill herself.

“Why did you do it?” I ask her, voice soft. I am trying very hard not to cry.

Mom smiles. I don’t know if this is true. She smiles as if doesn’t realize that she didn’t stay dead. When she speaks her voice wavers, faint and weakened.

“I didn’t feel – like I had control,” she pauses to catch her breath. “So I did this...and now I do!”

She is pleased like a child presenting an interesting leaf. My mother is proud of what she was able to accomplish. In some part of my brain that hasn’t fully learned how to speak up enough to defend itself, I absorb the knowledge that she has told me something that will ruin me time and time again for the rest of my life.

All of that is gone now. Mom doesn’t remember, and Dad has decided that it is our job to make sure she never has to.

I wonder if he heard what she said to his child. If he is able to process the deep, permanent damage his wife has done in two simple statements. A sympathetic part of me says that I wouldn’t know what to do in his shoes either, but is that true? I’m not sure.

Pull the child aside in the hallway of the hospital. Take them by the shoulders and lean in close so you have a semblance of privacy.

She is sick, I would say. She is unwell and she is lying. When she is like this, you do not have a mother.

Most of the time I do not have a mother.

When I am in the psych ward after my own suicide attempt my parents are the only ones I allow to visit me. I love my parents and my mother sometimes offers to take me to Macy’s. My Dad crafts little notes like cootie catchers written in red ink. I peel tangerines from the bowl in the cafeteria while they tell me what the dog is doing. He does not treat me like I am sick. Perhaps he considers me more suitable for survival.

I wonder if Mom does what Dad did to me in the parking lot with the ice cream. Does she press her palms into the sheets of her bed and think this is where my child came and told me they tried to drown themselves.

She probably doesn’t. I don’t think she remembers anymore.

I don’t think about the night Mom killed herself as often as I used to, and when I do I don’t really feel anything anymore. As I heal I’ve been warned that things might emerge, and that time might actually make the memory more vivid instead of distant. I don’t know what to say to this. When the possibility emerges I just tell myself that all of that is gone now. It isn’t real.

By this time next year my parents will have no way to find me. I’ve taken control my own way – not through death, but by cutting them off entirely. Whether that is something they understand, or even remember, is not my problem anymore.

#writing #writeblr #writing community #writers on tumblr #queer writers #actually writing #creative writing #memoir #non fiction #tw sui attempt #tw sui vent #tw family trauma #tw family abuse #tw family death #tw family problems #tw childhood trauma #archivist

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