#i've lost all my brain cells making this set because honestly just look at him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

renjuseyo · 3 years

Note

Can I request a Dino x male reader where they’ve been in a relationship for 3 years but the school doesn’t know since Dino is a jock and reader is chubby. Dino wants their relationship to be known but reader is insecure. Dino comforts and reassures the reader. You can decide the ending :].

insecure ; dino

group: seventeen

pairing: lee chan / reader (male)

synopsis: you and chan have been dating for three years. he wants to make your relationship public, but you’re insecure.

genre: angst, fluff

warning: body image issues, bullying, explicit language

i would like to apologize for not posting any fics in so long! ^^" i hope i delved into this topic as realistically as possible. i honestly lost inspiration for this, but it's been sitting in my drafts for so long so i just worked my way through. i'm sorry for this mess :( that aside, feedback is appreciated!

"say, (name)-ssi, what do you say about being my gym buddy? we can exercise together," chimes yoon taeho one thursday afternoon.

you look up from your notebook, unimpressed. despite being your senior, yoon taeho has a notorious reputation for his crude remarks. where his terrible attitude came from, no one knows. you once caught him throwing out all insults imaginable at a boy from your chemistry class, simply because he had accidentally spilled his water on him.

you had marched straight up to the duo, looked taeho in the eyes, and stepped on his toes as hard as you could. that was the first time you two met.

the memory nearly makes you laugh, especially since he hadn't expected a bystander to step in. but even when you've gotten on his bad side, he still pesters you through an overly sweet facade, like now.

before you can ask why, he scans your sitting frame, making sure you see the way he winces. "i've been noticing that you've been putting on some weight lately! it's not healthy, you know," he innocently explains.

your eye twitches.

you aren't unfamiliar with mean comments like his. although they aren't so excessive that you're being thrown into a garbage bin, the malice is obvious in their words no matter how subtle they try to be. mirroring his smile, you set your pencil down and lean towards him, cupping your cheeks. "say, taeho-ssi, what do you say about being my study buddy? we can study together," you mimic.

he shoots you a quizzical look, but you don't give him the chance to ask, because you follow up with, "i've been noticing that you've been slacking in all of your classes! it's not good for your gpa, considering how you always brag about your plans to enroll in prestigious universities."

his jaw drops in shock before quickly contorting to one of offense. but your smile is unwavering as you continue, "i know it's hard, especially with your microscopic brain cells, horrible work ethic, horrendous personality... oh, i'm rambling aren't i? but despite all of your flaws - your many, many flaws - i know you can still do it!"

by the time you lean back in your seat, smile still intact, his face is red with fury. from your peripheral vision, you see your friends seungkwan and yena standing by the door. gathering your stuff, you shoot taeho one last smile. "for a homophobe, isn't it pretty gay to be checking me out all of the time?" his jaw practically hits the floor now, but all you do is throw up a thumbs up. "gotta run! i have more productive things to do than talking to brain dead assholes."

you approach your friends with a smile. peering over your shoulder, seungkwan shudders in disgust. "is that asshole still bothering you? i swear, he needs to get a life."

waving a dismissive hand, you shrug. "his insults are elementary. i've heard worse."

yena winces. "that's... a little sad."

you exit the classroom, walking into the hallway. you're about to respond with a witty remark when you hear loud laughter from the other end of the hallway. turning your head, you watch as students lined against the walls of the hallway pause to gape at the small group in awe. the group consists of kim mingyu, xu minghao, hansol chwe, and lee chan. the popular jocks, if you will.

chan is laughing at something that mingyu said when he turns and makes eye contact with you. you're both staring at each other from afar, suddenly tuning out of your conversations with your friends.

it isn't until yena playfully slaps your shoulder that you're pulled out of your staring contest. "why'd you stop?" she asks.

before you can answer her question, seungkwan looks over your shoulder, following your line of vision. "ah, are you staring at them over there?" he throws an arm over your shoulder, sighing. luckily he doesn't notice that you've zeroed in on one person in particular. "it's okay, i understand the appeal of unattainable men, too."

yena rolls her eyes, flicking his forehead. "what happened to your monologue about self confidence?"

"have you seen high school musical? you've seen what happens when different cliques intermingle together."

she slaps an exasperated hand against her face. "you and your corny disney movies."

"hey! what do you mean corny disney movies?! i will not let you disrespect sharpay like that!"

as they continue bickering, they pull you away from that end of the hallway and towards the stairwell. even as you're about to head down the steps, your gaze lingers on chan, and you can see his gaze on you, too.

you, seungkwan, and yena have been an inseparable trio since elementary school. all of you have different accounts of how your friendship blossomed, but the one thing all three of you can agree on is that your mutual love for girl groups sealed the deal. you three are so close that there are barely any secrets within your trio.

well, aside from two that you keep from them.

at your school, there are several cliques, but the ones that most of the student body deems as the most popular is the group of jocks that consists of mingyu, minghao, hansol, and chan. it's no surprise, considering how the group is comprised of a mix of visuals and great personalities. almost everyone you talked to has had at least a small crush on one (or all) of them. well, except for yena, but that's because of her crush on their underclassman yuri. they're friendly to everyone they meet, but from what you can tell, they really only have each other.

well, aside from chan. because he has you.

and that's your first secret: your friendship with chan.

you and chan have been classmates and neighbors since elementary school. despite this, you had never talked to him until one day during the seventh grade, when he kicked a soccer ball straight through your bedroom window. to this day, you still don’t know how he kicked it so high up. but oddly enough, the punctured soccer ball and shattered window marked the beginning of a friendship. it's a little hard to hide from your friends, considering how chan spams your phone with memes and texts at any given opportunity, but through sheer luck, your friends are oblivious, only knowing him as your next door neighbor.

your second secret is your relationship with chan.

befriending him is already odd enough. who would've thought you'd be his boyfriend, too?

your relationship with chan isn't like one straight out of a fairy tale, but it's heart-fluttering and comfortable, like any relationship should be. but despite how perfect and amazing it may be, it's something you two have kept under wraps for three years, mostly because you know it isn't one that would be kindly looked upon.

if you're being honest, you never would've thought about befriending him, much less dating him. although he's an absolute dork, you both stand on opposite sides of the social spectrum. while you're the quiet wallflower who, unfortunately, is the target of unwanted teasing, chan is the shining star of the dance team who basks in the limelight. high school can be a harsh time during one's youth, so hanging out with someone outside of your clique would draw for unnecessary attention. or as seungkwan would say, a scene straight out of high school musical.

personally, you think it's ridiculous, being categorized by cliques. but you're already ostracized for simply being a wallflower and looking different. you wouldn't want chan to undergo similar pain, either.

when chan had texted you, suggesting you two have your next date at a amusement park he had tickets for on the weekend, you were both nervous and excited. amusement parks always bring out the child in you as you hop onto all of the rides possible, radiating with joy. but you were also nervous about the location, since it's a hot spot among your classmates. still, chan had reasoned that weekends were always crowded, so the chance of being seen were fairly slim. so eventually you had accepted, and now here you two are.

the rides on the park leave you two breathless, but whereas you're breathless from excitement, chan's breathless from fear. with his low tolerance in mind, you decide to take a break, sitting on a park bench as you sip on sodas and munch on churros. so far, your date had been going quite smoothly. you're planning what to do next when chan pipes up, breaking the silence.

"are you ashamed of me?"

chan's comment is short but unanticipated, and sounds many alarms in your head. you frown, shifting yourself to face him. "of course not, why would you say that? did i do something to indicate that?"

he shrugs, but you can tell he's bothered by the implications his statement comes with. "it's not that, it's just... why don't you want our relationship to be known?" he asks.

come to think of it, of the three years since you've been dating, chan never once asked why you were so keen on keeping your relationship a secret. before you can open your mouth, he explains, "i've been thinking about this for a while now, but i don't want to hide anymore. especially since i have to hide my wonderful boyfriend from the boys and put up with them trying to set me up on blind dates. i was wondering, were you hiding it because you were ashamed of me?"

your eyes widen as you scramble to explain. "that's not it, i promise."

"then why? it's been three years, (name), and you haven't told me anything."

you can hear the dissatisfaction in his voice, and it does nothing to calm the nervous beating of your heart. the appeal your food had suddenly vanishes, only making you feel queasy. "can we not do this here? please?" you ask, voice laced with desperation. while this is a conversation you'd like to avoid altogether, you'd rather do it somewhere secluded, as opposed to a public spot like here.

"then when? when can we be talk about this?" he asks, voice tense. he no longer looks like he's enjoying himself, all giddiness from the amusement park gone.

you sigh, shaking your head. since neither of you seem to be in the mood to go back and enjoy yourselves, you explain, "i'd rather not talk about our relationship so openly. if we're going to talk, we do it at my place."

he doesn't oppose, instead silently trailing after you as you head to your house.

thankfully your parents are out for work, so you two have the entire house to yourselves. once you've shut the door behind you, you turn to face chan, whose arms are defensively crossed over his chest. he's silently awaiting your response, which only makes the hairs on your arms stand. chan is never this quiet unless he's frustrated.

you sigh, taking a few deep breaths to collect your thoughts. "i'm scared." he raises an eyebrow and looks like he's going to interrupt, but you continue, "what will others think? i'm not exactly what people picture when they think of your ideal type."

"who cares what others think? as long as we're both happy, that's all that matters."

you laugh, dry and sarcastic. "that's easy for you to say. you've been showered with praise all your life, and everyone loves you. you can say and do what you want and come out unscathed, but me? they'll bat your eyes at you, all pretty and polite, but the moment i'm alone, i'll just get more shit than i already do."

you had made it a point to not tell chan about the bullying in fear of worrying him, but now that you're revealing your reasons as to why you two shouldn't go public, there's no reason to hide it anymore. his eyes widen in shock before contorting to one of betrayal. "you-"

"you're the shining star of the dance team, the boy that everyone just adores. i'm this antisocial introvert who only has two friends, and i'm built like a snickers bar. even in private, i question if i'm good enough for you. but if we put things out in the open, i know for sure that i'm not the only one who's going to criticize my self worth."

he looks upset, but you're not sure if it's because of your differing views or your sudden revelation. "if people have been bullying you, why didn't you tell me? i could've at least helped ease the pain."

you think about people like yoon taeho, who would criticize just about anyone, even if it's someone like chan. people like him are brain dead assholes, so his words rarely upset you. but you know that once things are out in the open, people like him will increase. "it's one thing, dealing with it by myself. but i'm not going to let you get dragged into my problems."

"you're not dragging me to any problems. none of this is even your fault. i'm your boyfriend, (name). what kind would i be if i just let people push you around without doing anything?"

no one wants to date someone who simply looks the other way when they're in trouble, but you'd rather shoulder all of your pain than share it with chan. "the thing is, it's easy like this, to pretend we don't know each other. but- to go public!" you laugh in disbelief, but he doesn't reciprocate the motion. "this is going to affect us both, channie. people are ruthless. i don't-" you bite your lip in frustration. "i don't want to dim your light."

"why do you get to dictate how i'll feel? i just want to hold your hand and kiss you in public, and go on dates without worrying about our classmates and gush about you to the guys. what's wrong with that?"

you feel like pulling your hair out of frustration. "can you not try to understand my point of view? do you think the little shits at school are simply going to accept that the school icon is dating..." you pause, all of the insults you've heard in your life suddenly echoing inside your brain. "someone like me?"

"there's nothing wrong with you, (name). you're so much than what others think. as long as i like you, who cares? why don't you get that?"

"you don't understand, channie," you begin. you don't realize that you've gotten emotional until you hear your voice waver, but your eyes remain firm. "i tell myself that i don't care, but in reality i care so much. it's so dumb, seeking validation, but what can i do? it's hard enough, living in this body. you've been there for me whenever i've had my episodes where i wanted nothing more than to crawl out of my skin. i'm not a model with a sculpted six-pack like the guys at our school, nor am i this soft, wholesome boy that people adore. i'm reminded of this enough, being at school. it's not that i listen to the shit that the mindless assholes at school say, but years of going through this... it piles up."

his eyes that were flaring with frustration have softened after hearing you speak, and he no longer looks tense. "(name)..."

he takes a step towards you, but you instinctively take one back. "i act like it doesn't affect me, because i'd rather pretend to be confident than conform to the likes of the bullies at our school. i at least have an ounce of respect for myself. but when it comes to you... i'm myself in my purest form when i'm with you - well, and with seungkwan and yena. i have a lot of insecurities, but they're all gone when i'm with you, even for a moment. but i'm terrified that if people find out, this comfort that i have will disappear, and suddenly i'll have all of these eyes analyzing my move, wondering if i'm good enough for you. because everyone only wants the best for you, the school icon. i'll admit it, i question my worth sometimes, too. but to also have a bunch of outsiders question it... it fucks with your head."

by the time you finish your tangent, you can hear your blood pumping in your ears and eyes pricking with tears. chan is stunned into silence, and judging from the way his eyes widen, you guess that he sees your glassy eyes. "i don't even want myself sometimes. why would you ever want me?"

although his expression has softened, he approaches you with a newfound urgency, as if he's afraid he'll lose you if he doesn't do something. his fingers ghost your shoulders as he implicitly asks to touch you, but from the way you move to the couch and curl in yourself, he opts to sit beside you instead. you stare at your knees with blurry eyes, willing the tears to go away. but the moment you start sniffling, aggressively wiping your tears away, you know it's no use. "i'm not going to say i understand, because as much as i try to empathize with you, i'll never truly get how you feel. but i'll try my best, okay? i'm always here for you, you know that."

"i know," you mumble, voice muffled.

"but you don't," he softly says, "because if you did, you wouldn't be fussing about if you're good enough for me or not. and i know my words alone won't help you understand just how much you mean to me, but (name) (last name), you're the only one i want. i fell for all of you, not just one part." he gently places an arm on your back, and breathes a sigh of relief when you melt into his touch. "i'll admit, i should've tried to be more understanding, and i'm sorry for that."

in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, you snort, wetly chuckling. "wow, what's this? this is the first time i've heard you apologize."

although you can't quite see his face, you can tell he's rolling his eyes. "you make me sound so bad. i own up to my mistakes."

"since when?"

"since now."

you can't help but laugh, tilting your head to look at him. there are tear stains and loose strands of hair on your face, and you can only imagine how gross you may look. but chan looks at you like you hold the world, eyes shimmering as he leans in to thumb away the tears. "my handsome, amazing boyfriend," he coos. "you deserve the whole world, and it's so saddening to hear about what you've gone through. but you're so, so strong. i'm so proud of you, and i love you no matter what. you are so much better than your insecurities and the hoard of idiots at our school. i'll tell you that every day until you believe it, too."

he scoots closer, raising an implicit eyebrow as he tentatively wraps an arm around you. when you nod, he brings you close, pressing the side of his head against yours. as much as the small voice in your head tells you that you don't deserve his warm touches, chan clings onto you as if he never wants to let go. his grounding presence is enough to quiet the voice, even if it's for a short while. "it's not like i want to hide forever. but... i'm not ready now. maybe when i'm more confident, we can try." you timidly loop your pinkies together, keeping him close. "i'm sorry, channie. if you had someone else, maybe you wouldn't have to worry-"

"hey," he interrupts, frowning. "what did i say earlier? i told you, you're the only one i want. and your worries have reason to them, so i understand. i'll wait until you're ready."

"...you're a pretty impatient person, channie. can you even withstand waiting without knowing when i'll be ready?" you ask, voice quiet.

"i'll wait for you," he simply repeats. "until you're happy and see just how beautiful you are, we can just keep things simple. we don't need to go big on pda." he pauses as if to collect his thoughts. "but... there's one thing i'd like to do. we don't have to do it if you're not comfortable, though."

"what is it?" you ask.

chan smiles, sheepish. "i want to tell my hyungs about us, if that's okay. i've known them since we were kids, and it doesn't feel right for me to lie about someone so important to me. they won't judge, but i just wanted to ask you in case you don't want me to."

his words make you think of seungkwan and yena, as well as the guilt that comes with lying to them. they tell you all of their secrets, no matter how dark or embarrassing, because they trust you. and it's not that you don't trust them - you would trust them with your life, even if they're a reckless bunch - but when you had started dating, you both had kept it a secret from everyone, even those as important to you as them. you suppose there's no harm in telling them, but...

as if he's read your mind, he squeezes your hand. "i know my friends won't judge, just like you know yours won't, either. but it's okay if you aren't ready now. i just thought i'd let you know."

after pondering his words for a few minutes, you shake your head with a small smile. "it's not that. i agree with you. you can tell them, i think they deserve that much, anyways. i think i'll just need more time before i tell seungkwan and yena, though."

he nods with a smile. "of course. anything for you."

you both stay close together for a while, reveling in the bliss of sorting out your feelings. although there are still many things about your relationship to discuss, you're glad he is open-minded about how you feel, and you make a note to do the same, too.

chan is the first to break the silence, flopping onto the couch. "all of this talking has made me tired. let's cuddle."

being in his embrace sounds wonderful and cozy, and you want nothing more than to do that. yet despite having been reassured by him, you still feel hesitant. seeing the subconscious frown on your lips, he opens his arms, gesturing you to come over. "are you just going to leave me hanging? come here, i'll even give you my hoodie," he innocently convinces.

this sly fox. chan always knows how much you like wearing his clothes; how dare he use it to his advantage! you glare at him, but it's void of its usual malice. "you can't do that. that's cheating."

"then come here~ i need my hugs from my warm, lovely boyfriend~"

you roll your eyes but comply anyways, laying down to slot yourself in his arms. despite how different you two are, chan feels like home, your solace when times get tough. no matter how many times you think about it, you always wonder how you got so lucky.

"i love you. i wonder how i got so lucky," he hums, thoughts matching yours.

perhaps it's because of how much energy you exerted at the amusement park, or how draining the insecurities and crying has made you. whatever the reason, you feel yourself grow groggy, falling into his embrace. "love you, too. thank you for staying by my side."

"anything for you."

#seventeen #seventeen performance unit #kpop #seventeen x reader #seventeen x male reader #lee chan #dino #dino x reader #dino x male reader #renjuseyo — seventeen #renjuseyo — fics

196 notes · View notes

geniusgub · 3 years

Text

north//chapter twenty

genre: fluff, angst

warnings: mentions of canonical violence and deaths, lmk if I missed anything

word count: 4k

summary: Spencer is getting reacquainted with life outside of prison, and he gets a not-so-great phone call.

pairing: season twelve spencer reid x oc

please remember to comment, like, and reblog!!

AMELIA

Spencer and I managed to sleep through the entire day and the majority of the night. After all, the previous day was probably one of the most eventful of my entire life and it left me absolutely exhausted. I can't quite speak for Spencer because I'm sure he's had much longer days than yesterday, especially when he has been away for cases, but it was still stressful and way too long for both of us.

I wake up before Spencer as the sun starts to rise the next day, the sunlight pouring in through the opened window on the other side of the room. Before I even consider getting out of bed or looking at my phone, I look to my side to check on Spencer. He's sleeping soundly, his cheek pressed against his pillow and his hand on my side of the bed, no longer wrapped around mine. He looks absolutely angelic at this moment, his mouth hanging open and his body completely relaxed.

I promised Spencer that I'd be here for him and that I wouldn't leave the bed without him. I've never broken a promise to him before and I don't plan on starting now. So, moving as little as possible so I don't disturb him, I sit up against the headboard, reaching into my bedside table for my journal. I pop open the top and start furiously scribbling down everything I can remember from the last two or so days and how I feel about it, how excited I am to have Spencer home again, and how terrified I am to have Spencer home again.

I barely even notice it when Spencer starts squirming beside me, and my attention is only taken away from my journal when his hand grabs onto my thigh. I smile down at his suddenly tiny figure, finding that he's already looking up at me with a tired gaze.

"Good morning, love," I chirp, tossing my journal onto the floor and sinking back under the duvet in an attempt to absorb some of his radiating body heat. Since he already touched me and he's seemingly feeling okay in the morning sun, I let my hand stray and trail through his flat curls. "Did you sleep well? You didn't wake me up."

Spencer sucks his lips between his teeth, shrugging softly. "I woke up a few times. I just--" he wiggles his hips as he tries to come up with an excuse, "I didn't need to wake you up. I didn't need to bother you. Having you here was enough."

I bring my hand to the back of Spencer's neck, huffing with some slight annoyance, "You're not a bother. You never have and you never will be," Spencer just shrugs dismissively in response, and reaches his hands up to rub his eyes. Spencer has never been good at these kinds of conversations and I imagine he's far too tired to entertain a lecture about how important he is. So I make a mental note to bring this topic back up as I sit up and stretch. "Alright, well, do you want some breakfast? I can make us something to eat."

"Yeah, sure," he nods, ducking away from my grasp and quickly sliding out of bed, putting on a pair of shoes I hadn't realized he set up on his side of the bed.

I reach for a pair of sweatpants but when I look up to find Spencer frozen in his spot, staring at the bed, I drop the pants and sit up on my knees. The sheets are rustled and the duvet is in a heap under me, and he's very fixated on this. His arms are glued to his side but his fingers are twitching like he's dying to use them.

"Spence? Everything okay?" I ask gently, and like the other instances where he gets lost in a daydream, he doesn't react to me. "Spencer?" I call again in hopes of getting some sort of response. But his fingers just twitch and he takes a long, frustrated breath. "Talk to me," I don't know if pressing the issue will help, but if I don't at least try to get him to talk, then I'll never figure out what his issue is. "I just wanna help you, but I can't do that if you don't talk to me."

Spencer quickly covers his face with his hands, his breathing becoming labored and heavy, chest heaving. "The bed. It's the bed. It's-- I need-- it's the bed."

It looks like a bed to me. It's a messy bed, sure, but it's just a bed to me. I pause for a second to try to get my brain to match Spencer's. I try to see what he is seeing, but all I see is a bed that we just used for its intended purpose. It just needs to be made, that's all. I can't see into Spencer's brain so I have to resort to asking. "What about the bed?"

"I--" he drops his hands, balling them up into fists again, "The bed is supposed to be made. I need to make the bed. It needs to be made or else they're gonna come and I'll get in trouble. It-- the-- the bed needs to be made."

Oh, this poor baby. My heart aches for him. Not all of him made it out of that prison cell. Part of him is still there. He's not here with me. He didn't really come home.

"Spencer, you're not gonna get in trouble here. It's just me. It's just Lia," My voice shakes as I try to speak, my hands pressed to my cheeks to continuously wipe the tears that start to fall. "I'm never gonna yell at you or hurt you or get mad because you didn't make your bed. Dove, you can make the bed if you want to, but you don't have to. It's okay. I'm not gonna be mad. You won't get in trouble. It's just me."

Spencer stares at me, his eyes wide and his lips parted. His hands aren't twitching anymore but they're still reaching towards the bed. He doesn't say anything, he just stares at me in bewilderment.

I compose myself with a deep breath, wiping my cheeks quickly and climbing off the bed. "Dove, make the bed, please. I want you to do anything that makes you feel better. But if you choose not to, I'm not gonna be mad," I step towards Spencer, holding my hands out in front of me and not expecting him to grab them. "I'm gonna go downstairs and I'm gonna start cooking, and you come down when you're ready, okay?"

I give Spencer one more attempt at a convincing smile before turning and going downstairs. My first stop is to the living room, and I pop the record into the player that Spencer had put on yesterday. If it did something to comfort him yesterday, hopefully it will do the same today. I grab both of our phones and start cooking breakfast.

I mix batter for waffles in a bowl as I check my notifications, sifting through a whole load of texts. My groupchat with my friends has a couple hundred texts, starting off with lots of questions and concerns about Spencer from yesterday, asking if he's okay, if he's home, wondering how happy we are. I have other texts from Wendy and Mike, asking the same types of questions that my friends did. I send some quick responses to all of them and let them know that we're home, we slept for a very long time, and that I'll contact them later with more updates.

Spencer's quiet footsteps approach and I turn to face him, breathing a sigh of relief when I find he's not so worked up anymore. "I hope waffles are okay."

Once I've closed the waffle maker and let it start cooking, I glance over my shoulder to ee what Spencer is doing. He's sitting gingerly at the island, placing his elbows on the granite and eyes darting around the room. Honestly, I don't even know why he sat there. He absolutely hated sitting there and eating yesterday, and it made him have some sort of flashback. Maybe it's because he started off the morning with the prison-bed situation, and now the natural order of events in the day is to be transported right to prison-breakfast.

"Hey, bub, you don't have to sit at the table," I say casually, trying not to bring too much attention to it. "You didn't like that yesterday. But you seemed better when we sat on the floor so we can do that again, or we can go on the couch or the balcony." I don't even have time to see his reaction before the waffle maker beeps, and I have to whip around to pull the waffle out.

I can hear Spencer shuffling behind me, and then I feel his shoulder brushing against my leg as he slides down to the floor beside me. I put the waffle onto the plate and hand it down to him, then open the drawer above his head to grab a fork.

"Thank you," Spencer mumbles, catching my free hand in his and pressing his lips to the back of my hand. It's clearly a thank you for more than just handing him a fork, or making him breakfast, or sleeping with him, or showering with him, or anything of that. It's a thank you for being so patient with him, but I couldn't fathom not being there for him in the way he needs. I want to tell him that he doesn't need to thank me, but in his mind, it is something he needs to do, so I decide to let it happen for a while before I start to refuse his thanks.

The next week functions almost identical to this. Spencer is quiet, keeping to himself and eating his meals on the floor and making the bed perfectly in the morning, cleaning the bedroom floor every night, wearing a tee shirt to bed. I get just a few glimpses of the man he was, but not many.

Emily had called later that day to let Spencer know that the entire BAU was placed on a mandatory six week leave, but also that he had to be evaluated for reinstatement. A whole slew of people have to review Spencer's actions, have to interview him, have to test him to see if he's fit to return to work, and he didn't take this news well. He didn't talk to me for a hours and just curled up on the floor of the bedroom, staring out the window with the drawn-back curtains. I tried, for so long, to get him to talk to me, but he didn't budge and he didn't even look at me. So I just grabbed whatever book was inside his go-bag from the last case he went on and sat beside him, reading aloud in an attempt to bring him back down to earth. And when he did, he went off to shower and then straight to bed.

Spencer's work is his life and there's few things he loves more than his work. I know that he would be lost without the BAU and that he would have absolutely no clue what to do with his life if he couldn't keep working there. So hearing that there's a chance that he may not be reinstated to the BAU is absolutely crushing.

On the other end of the spectrum, the prospect of Spencer not being reinstated isn't all bad to me. In his line of work, there are always going to be enemies. There's always going to be another Cat and another Lindsay. He's always going to have guns pointed at him and bombs blowing up beside him and people wanting to kill him. If he's not reinstated, I get to have him home every morning and night and I won't stare at the wall at lunch with Jenna, wondering if Spencer has just been shot or if he has a knife to his neck. I know that he would absolutely hate not being reinstated, but it would save me so much heartache.

That's an incredibly selfish thought, I know. I'm happy and willing to strip Spencer of one of the things that makes him happiest in his life just so I can sleep at night. But all I've wanted from the moment I met him is for him to be safe and to be happy and if he's not chasing serial killers, I know that he will at least be safe. Happy? I can't help but imagine he wouldn't be.

After a tense week at home, I convince Spencer to let me take him back to his apartment. He insists that he doesn't want for stay there and would rather stay with me, even though I said I would stay at his apartment with him, but I'm happy to let him keep with me. I just want him to be happy.

So I drove him over to his apartment, picked up most of his clothes and whatever else he was needing, and he rounds up an entire duffle bag full of books that I'm sure he would read in just one day. But we collect whatever he could possibly need and shove it in my car, then go straight back to my apartment. I'm starting to get a little stir crazy, being trapped in my apartment, but Spencer doesn't want to go out anywhere yet and the last thing on my mind is forcing him into things he's uncomfortable with.

"So what do you wanna do today?" I unzip the bag full of books and start making a few small piles against the wall, glancing over my shoulder at Spencer. He shrugs gently, too distracted with picking a record to properly respond to my question. Sighing, I return my attention to the books.

The record turns on and this time, I recognize it to be a record full of Christmas music. We've been listening to nothing but Taylor Swift, Frank Sinatra, and Christmas music this past week, and while that's my favorite music and I have no problem with it, it's odd. Spencer never really listened to that music, whether we were together or not. He always managed to convince me to put on some cello concerto that wound up being fifteen minutes long. I thought he would rather listen to that and not Christmas music when it's almost the summer, but I haven't questioned this yet.

"Could we," Spencer starts speaking after a moment, tearing my attention from the books, "maybe watch a movie?"

It's the first time he's suggested anything like that. Honestly, it's one of the first times he's suggested that we do anything. He's just been staying quiet and following me around like a puppy dog, watching me attempt to draw in a sketchbook or watching me cook or watching me do the laundry. He's stuck to my side, even if he hasn't been touching me much. So now that he's suggesting that we do something, I'm not about to pass up this development.

"Yeah, of course. You can choose whatever you want. I'll be over there when I'm done," Spencer nods and turns his back to me, and I pick up my pace in emptying the books from the duffle bag. I don't want to lose this momentum of him, maybe, feeling just a little bit better.

Once I've stacked all the books, I fold up the duffle bag nicely and put it in a place where it won't bother Spencer, and then head into the living room. He's sitting on the couch with a DVD case in his lap, and he holds it out to me when I approach. Always a technophobe, he never goes near the DVD player and lets me do it.

"Polar Express?" I raise my eyebrows, but that's as far as my questioning goes. I pop the DVD out of the case and put it into the player, then grab the remote and press play.

I settle onto the couch with my favorite plaid blanket, draping it over my lap. As the movie starts and the title screen shows, I feel cold. I'm completely covered and under my trusty blanket, but I'm cold. Absolutely freezing. I pull the blanket tighter around me and when my temperature doesn't shift, I quickly realize where the cold is coming from.

Spencer and I are a very physical couple. Despite his aversion to touch, he never seemed to have the problem when it came to me. Especially when we watched movies, we were always touching. Legs, hands, shoulders and heads, laps and heads. There was always a connection, but now there's none. I'm left on my own couch cushion, not sharing Spencer's cushion and continuously pushing closer and closer until we're squished together. A shiver runs down my spine.

We watch the movie in silence for a little while, all the way up until the three main characters are singing a song at the back of the train. And while they're singing, I feel Spencer reaching over, grabbing the edge of the blanket, tugging it closer to him. "You can come closer," he tells me, looking up at me through his lashes, fingers grasping the fuzz of the blanket.

Happy to comply with this request, I scoot closer to him until our legs are touching. I think that's enough for now, but then Spencer slings his arm over my legs and tugs me closer until my knees collapse over his legs and I'm laying my head on his chest. It's a position that I'm so familiar with and I've been dying to be in, but he hasn't been up for lately. My body warms up. The shivers stop.

I completely melt into his embrace, pressing my ear against his chest to listen for the steady beat of his heart as I wrap my arm around his stomach. I let my eyelids flutter closed and relax into him. The movie isn't important anymore, at least not to me.

///

SPENCER

///

Today is a good day, one of the first I've actually had since being home since my prison release. I thought that actually leaving Amelia's apartment would make me nervous, but returning home wasn't as horrible as it seemed like it would be. For once, I'm feeling pretty good. I'm even feeling well enough to watch a movie and cuddle with Amelia on the couch, just like we used to do. She still can't creep up behind me or touch me without showing me her hands first and I still can't eat at a table, but it's an improvement. Albeit a tiny one, but it's there nonetheless.

By the time the movie is coming to an end, Amelia has slid down to rest her head on my lap, her curls sprawled out and her hands pulled up to her chin. She looks ridiculously adorable like this, and even though it's a sight that I've seen many times and I've committed to memory, I wish I could sit and stare at her forever.

But that plan is foiled when my phone starts buzzing on the coffee table. My first instinct is to look down to check that Amelia is still sleeping, and all she does is scrunch up her nose a bit before relaxing. Adorable.

I grab a pillow from beside me and slide it under her head when I slip out from under her. Thankfully, she doesn't notice and she doesn't wake up. Pleased with this, I grab my phone and rush onto the balcony. I don't have time to check who it is before I answer. "Reid."

"Hey, Reid," Rossi's voice comes through the phone. "How's it going?"

"It's-" I ponder my answer for a moment, double-checking that the door is closed as I sink into one of Amelia's adirondack chairs, "um, it's a good day today."

"Good, I'm glad. And I'm glad you've got Amelia to look after you. You've got a good one there. She really cares about you," Rossi says, and his words prompt me to turn and peer into the window at her sleeping form, curled up on the couch and holding the blanket to her chest. "Where-- uh-- where is she right now?"

"She's sleeping right now. I'm on the balcony," Honestly, this is already some of the most talking I've done in the last week and I'm exhausted. I'd rather be talking to Amelia, but Rossi called me for a reason, plus I know that Amelia needs to get some sleep. "Did you need something?"

"Yeah. I'm afraid I may need to bring your day down a bit," Rossi sighs, and my heart drops down to my feet. "I feel horrible calling you now, after everything you went through and while the BAU is on leave, but you need to know the situation."

I furrow my eyebrows, balling my free hand into a fist, digging my nails into my palm to give the pain somewhere to go. "What situation?"

"Damian Kelsey's signature popped up on two bodies in LA."

I didn't think that I would have to face a day where Damian Kelsey's signature reappears. I admit that I have stayed late at work many times just to look at Damian's case file and rememorize the details and try to predict what his next murder would have been all while ignoring the chilling family photos that contain my girlfriend as a horribly abused child.

And this is the worst possible time for this to happen. I can barely go a day without flashing back to prison or almost yelling at my amazing and patient girlfriend. How can I possibly tack on dealing with her serial killer father's signature resurfacing, all while trying to keep it a secret from her? It's nearly impossible. I thought that I could just take these stupid six weeks off to spend time with Amelia and try to rest comfortably, but I guess that's not possible.

"I'm heading to LA as we speak. I'm getting on a plane right now. And while we both know what his signature coming up again could mean, the good thing is that these are male victims and they're not surrogates for Amelia. I know that's what you're worried about. The other good thing is that this is across the country and obviously nowhere near Virginia. So--"

"Spencer?" Amelia's sweet voice comes from the balcony doors, the blanket disregarded on the couch and her hair messy on the top of her head.

"Gotta go," I mumble, hanging up my phone and tossing it aside, not even waiting to say goodbye to my coworker.

Amelia steps onto the balcony, her bare feet silent as she approaches me slowly, rubbing her eyes like a small child. "Everything okay?"

I reach my hands out for her and she smiles, placing her hands in mine and slowly sinking onto my lap, resting her head on my chest, similar to the position we had been in before. Amelia runs a hand over my chest and it takes everything in me not to let out a sound akin to a cat purring.

I just hold her tightly in my arms, probably the tightest I have since I saw her for the first time in the parking lot of my correctional facility. Rossi swears that Damian Kelsey won't come after Amelia but I just hold her tighter, as if that will protect her from the horrors of the world. I have a lot of holding to make up for from when I was gone, and I suppose that time starts now.

TAGLIST

@babybloodstonebones @bxnnywriting @blameitonthenight21 @feralreid @anepiphany @reidscardigan @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @4x24 @whollytaciturn @thegingerfairchild @yasminwashere @shrimpyblog @anamelessfacelessnerd @wonderlandhatter @whxt-to-write @just-call-me-non @imagining-in-the-margins @boldlyvoid @homoose @gubler-me-up @thundergunexpresss @eideticmemory @andiebeaword

9 notes · View notes

astro-rain · 4 years

Text

delicate; b.barnes

chapter four - mri’s & other modern commodities

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: bucky faces his first day of treatment, and discovers some new things along the way: some scary, some awesome, some maybe slightly embarassing.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: not my gif

When he woke up, he scanned his room, making sure everything was the same as how he left it the night before. Making sure no one came in while he was asleep and poisoned his brain. Making sure he was waking up in his living quarters in Wakanda and not a damp cell in some secret Hydra base. It was just something he did now.

Some may call it paranoia, others may call it adaptation. Either way, once he stepped outside and made sure he was alone, he allowed himself to take a breath.

Today was the day, the first day of official treatment. He had no idea what to expect; he was just hoping to high heavens that it would end up working. Freedom. That's all he wanted. Liberation from the chains Hydra had had around him since he fell from the train all those years ago.

He was apprehensive for sure, but he tried his best to keep himself optimistic. Bucky was sure that Shuri was smarter than any Hydra scientist he once came in contact with. So, if they can tear apart his mind, perhaps she can put it back together. Right?

Her in addition to (Y/N). That psychologist woman. He had spoken to her the day before at the lake. She was funny, and she seemed decently easy to talk to. That's a good sign, he guessed. She told him that she hadn't minded relocating to assist in his treatment, but he honestly couldn't make out her true feelings. She was rather hard to read. Perhaps it was a psychologist thing; he tried not to look too far into it.

He waited outside his door until two Wakandans came to escort him to Shuri. Bucky noticed they were armed. Guards. He wasn't surprised nor did he blame them. However, that didn't make it any easier to trust. He hadn't had that luxuy in a very long time. The former assassin fought against the voice in the back of his head telling him to analyze their every move in order to ensure that he wasn't in any danger. That any minute they weren't going to strap him down and rip his brain apart the way it had been so many times before. So many times. He gave the slightest wince at the thought. His brain suddenly felt prickly, painful memories creeping up on him.

Not now, don't think about it.

Sometimes, if he fixated on the thoughts for too long, he would drive himself to this panicked state of fear and constriction. He wasn't sure exactly what this thing was. All he knew was that these things - these episodes - were extremely unpleasant, and utterly unnecessary at the moment.

He shook his head (somehow hoping that this would rid him of the prickly memories like a dog shaking off water), strands of long brown hair swaying quickly in front of his eyes, and fixed his gaze to the floor.

Floor. Floor. Floor. Floor. Just the floor. The floor. The floor. The floor-

"Sergeant Barnes!" Shuri welcomed him happily.

Oh. He was in the lab now. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Let's do this.

"Good morning," he smiled, "and just Bucky's okay."

"Of course, of course. This is my lab! Best place in Wakanda in my humble opinion. Today's only the first day of treatment, so nothing too intensive. But, we will be working all the same!"

He glanced around the lab. The guards were at the doorway and they didn't look like they were leaving anytime soon. Again, he wasn't surprised. Moreover, sitting at a table a few feet from Shuri, was a familiar face. This familiar face soon met his gaze.

"Hi, Bucky" (Y/N) greeted, offering a polite smile. "See! I remembered this time."

Bucky grinned. "Are you still (Y/N), or is it Dr. (Y/L/N) since we're in the lab now?"

"I'm always (Y/N)."

"I don't know, if I went to school for as long as you did, I'd make everyone call me Doctor," Shuri added.

(Y/N) laughed. "Well, if you want to call me Doctor you're more than welcome, Shuri."

"That's the spirit, Doc," she declared before turning to Bucky. "Now, follow me and we'll get a quick MRI done."

"A what?" He quickly caught up to Shuri who already started walking away.

"An MRI. It stands for magnetic resonance imaging. Basically, scanners use strong magnetic fields, magnetic field gradients, and radio waves to generate images of the organs in the body."*

Yes, very basic.

(Y/N) leaned over to Bucky, explaining softly, "It's used to form pictures of the anatomy and the physiological processes of the body."**

"Oh."

"You just lay down and it scans you. Y'don't even feel anything."

"Thats... not too bad, I guess."

"It's a bit of a tight fit though, so I hope you're aren't claustrophobic."

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, after cryo, I doubt tight spaces will be too much of a bother for me."

"Right," said (Y/N), "but it's still decently in your personal space. Just so you know - so there's no surprises."

He nodded. They didn't say anything until Shuri stopped short in front of them. She stood a couple feet from a shiny metal table which was lined up in front of an equally shiny and metallic semi-cricle arch. It was long enough to fit - well, would you look at that - a body.

"Oh. I guess there is a surprise," (Y/N) blurted, turning to Shuri, confused. "That isn't like any MRI machine I've ever seen."

"That's because you're in Wakanda," Shuri flashed a proud smile. "Tech's a bit... advanced here."

(Y/N) turned to Bucky. He thought he saw something resembling self consciousness flow across her features, but he wasn't sure.

"Sorry, I guess I was wrong. But, honestly this is way better than a typical MRI set up. It's much more open... and wide. Regularly, it would be like a super narrow tube with hardly any space inside. This way, you'll even be able to see us and the rest of the room."

That's good. More space. More freedom. And he'll be able to see her- them, see them.

Shuri clapped. "Alright! Shall we get started then?"

He had no idea how any of this worked; he was way out of his element here. He just barely learned what a damn MRI was, and had to hide his shock when he found out. Medicine has changed dramatically since 1945. Although it is helpful, he is completely clueless. Great.

"Do I jus-just lay on the table?" He asked, unsure.

"Yep! Just lie there and be absolutely still, and I'll do the rest," Shuri replied, reassuringly as she walked around to a control panel next to the machine, preparing to start.

Bucky took his place on the thin metal table, and he thought he was seeing things. Was it was levitating? Honestly, from what he's seen so far he wouldn't even be surprised. He stared up at the ceiling, getting lost in thought. A string of various questions and uncertainties fluttered through his battered mind.

Would the metal arm interfere with the magnet- oh. Right. No arm. Just a scan, no need to worry. (Y/N) said it would be fine. Can I even trust her Then again, can I even trust anyone yet? She's the best I got right now. Damn it, I wish I wasn't so wary of everyone.

"Hey," a gentle voice pulled him out.

He looked over to the left of him, the side with no arm. (Y/N).

"I can practically hear your brain whirring around right now - which is justified - but do you need anything?"

'Do you need anything?' He hadn't heard that phrase in a while.

He adjusted his body on the table. "I'm alright, just... a bit out of my element here."

She nodded, knowingly. "Honestly, me too. This lab looks like somethin' out of a sci-fi movie for me, so I can't imagine what it must feel like to you."

She was looking down at him. He felt vulnerable, exposed. It seemed like she noticed.

"Here, I have an idea."

With that, she turned and grabbed something from a nearby table. Rotating around to face him again, she displayed what she had taken: a pair of headphones... but without a wire? What the hell?

"Are they broken?" he asked, feeling perpetually confused.

"No, they're wirelessly connected to my phone. It's called bluetooth."

The look on his face was almost laughable.

"Bluetooth? What kind of name is Bluetooth?"

"The kind of name that I didn't invent nor should I be blamed for," she chuckled. "Do you want to listen to music while you're in there? It might help to keep you down on Earth with us."

Music. The thought was almost surreal. He hadn't been privileged with such a pleasure in longer than he'd care to admit. It actually seemed... nice.

"Y-yeah," he said, pondering. "That'd actually be nice."

"Awesome."

She leaned over him to put the headphones on his ears, causing him a very conflicting series of emotions.

First of all, close. She was very close to his face. His face, his eyes, his nose, his lips. It almost seemed a tad bit intimate. And then he realized he hadn't been this close to a woman in forever. A real woman, not some fellow assassin he had to take out. He hoped the shy embarrassment he felt didn't show on his cheeks.

Second of all, she was wrapping something around his head, his brain. He tried not to, but he couldn't stop the muscle memory of what he'd been conditioned to feel. Hydra's machine would wrap around his head and rip his psyche apart. His mind expected pain, the worst pain, the dehumanizing, out of body, mind splitting pain. He hoped the way he flinched ever so slightly didn't offend (Y/N).

She didn't seem offended, and her voice was soft. "You're good. Just music and a scan. Then you're done."

He looked up at her face, reassuring and calm. He took a deep breath.

"Good?" she asked.

He nodded. "Think so."

"If it's too much at any point just let us know, and we'll pull you right out. It's your comfort level, your choice."

His choice. Choice. Control. The prospect gave him comfort.

She gave him one last look before stepping away and signaling Shuri to start the machine. The seemingly levitating table began a smooth descent into the machine when the music started playing. It almost startled him, but he then he was pleasantly surprised by what he heard.

There were loud drums, guitar riffs with attitude, and voices that had so much emotion they were almost screaming. It was like no music he had ever heard before, and he loved it. In fact, he was so into it that he didn't even notice when the MRI had finished. That is, until he felt a feather light hand on his shoulder. His eyes opened, and (Y/N) had the biggest grin on her face. While taking the headphones off of him, she looked very pleased with herself.

She looked at Shuri but declared to no one in particular, "Bucky likes Rock and Roll!"

- - -

* = from wikipedia

** = from wikipedia

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky headcanon #marvel #steve rogers #bucky blurb #bucky drabble #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky reader insert #avengers #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

181 notes · View notes

jjmaybanksblog · 4 years

Text

Lost Sweater- Kiara Carrera

Kiara x female reader

Summary: Alternative Universe where when one person loses something, their soulmate receives it.

Word count: 2,028

Warnings: None

B/N: Brother/ boy name

Y/N: Your name

Y/A: Your age

Soulmate. A simple word that brings many thoughts to the brain. Someone who you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with, happily. Someone who will treat you in ways you could only dream of. Many people believe in them, others don't. You grew up a non-believer never understanding why God would make something so amazing, such a difficult task for people. Your friends all around you had begun receiving their lost items, all of them meeting their soulmates, meanwhile you remained confused and alone.

You were a non-believer until one day your missing sweater wound up on your bed with a note attached to it.

"You must have misplaced this, I was confused when I was sleeping and the cotton fell on my face, fun fact I almost suffocated. Anyways, hi. This must belong to my soulmate, damn that's crazy. In my entire life I never believed in this shit, my parents telling me about how they met because my dad found and returned a necklace that meant a lot to my mom. I always thought it was bullshit until recently. Here's your sweater back, I 'lost it' throwing it out my window. I hope to hear from you soon.

Your soulmate"

You read the letter over and over as the thoughts finally sunk in. Maybe you wouldn't be alone after all. Gently biting your bottom lip, you suddenly felt a rush of adrenaline run through your body. You ran out of the room and into your brother's room.

He was sitting down at his desk when you barged in. He turned around towards you, only to be nearly tackled in a hug. "Who are you and what have you done with my sister. You barely hug me." B/N asked as he saw the letter in your hand. "Ohhh shit. You got your soulmate." He mumbled, putting the pieces together.

"I'm not gonna end up alone!" You smiled. Your brother knew of your fear. You had talked to him before, explaining your thought process about this all. You were afraid you would die alone, not knowing what it would be like to love and be loved. You knew it was irrational, but growing up you never pictured someone falling in love with you. You took it to heart so you just shut every romantic aspect out of your life.

Your brother congratulated you before you ran back into your room, writing on a lined piece of paper.

"Dear soulmate,

Wow. Just writing those two words felt foreign. Sorry about my sweater almost killing you, I'm just a clumsy person that loses things a lot, but I'm glad you're okay. I also was a non-believer. I always saw the people around me finding their soulmates and being happy, meanwhile I was in the corner watching all my friends find the one. For the longest time I was convinced that maybe I just wasn't meant to have one, but knowing you're out there makes me feel... safe. Attached to this note is a picture of me, I figured maybe if you're curious enough you would want to know what I look like. My name is Y/N I'm Y/A years old and I can't wait to find out who my soulmate is. Xx

Y/N

You took an image of yourself and stapled it to the back of the letter. Opening your window that led to her backyard, you grabbed a scrunchie and wrapped it around the note. You carelessly threw the note and picture out of the window and watched it effortlessly fly away in the night sky. You fell onto your bed, staring happily at your bedroom ceiling.

Slowly drifting off to sleep, your eyes snapped open when you heard a soft popping sound echoed by your desk. Rubbing your eyes, you stood up and walked over. Another letter was displayed on the wood, you smiled softly as you sat down. Your eyes scanned the letter as you read it out loud.

Y/N,

Wow. Just wow. I can't even think of words to form right now. You're absolutely breathtaking. I'm not gonna lie I wasn't expecting a girl, but God, do I feel blessed knowing that you're my soulmate. Your letter and picture were actually soaking wet. But it smelled like salt water, so I'm guessing you live possibly on a coast. I live in the Outer Banks in North Carolina. When I got your letters it just smelled like home. I wanna go traveling, to you, out of the country, just explore new things. I totally understand how you felt about feeling like you're not gonna find a soulmate. I've watched more than half of my high school senior class find their soulmates during the year. Meanwhile I was acting like everything was completely fine and I wasn't distraught. I should be asleep right now, but I'm dying to talk to you. Get to know you. Later on if you'd like, I would love to call you. To hear your voice and your laugh. I think you should get some rest as well. I have no clue what time it is where you are but I want my love to be well rested. Goodnight Xx

Kiara Carrera

You flipped the paper around to see a beautiful mixed girl with carmel colored skin. Her hair was curly and beautiful, flowing from wind. Your eyes were drawn to her smile, you could tell she was laughing and you wished to be able to hear her laugh.

For days on end you and Kiara had been 'losing things' with letters attached to them. Tonight was the night where Kiara was going to call you. Both of you were on the edge of their seats, your hearts beating rapidly. Kiara's hands shook as she dialed your number, pausing between each number.

After what felt like forever, the phone began to ring. You audibly gasped at the sound of a bell ringing. You hesitantly picked up your cell phone that was placed on the bedside dresser. "H-hello?" You spoke into the phone. Kiara broke out in a grin, "Y/F/N, Y/L/N." Your name rolled off her tongue, goosebumps rising on your arms and back of your neck.

"Kiara Carrera" you spoke back, Kiara internally squeaking at the soft, velvety voice that spoke her name. "My god your voice.. okay I totally don't mean to sound weird but it's just so calming and relaxing. God okay wow hi, I never thought I'd see the day where I'd be on the phone with my soulmate." Kiara spoke as she nervously chewed her bottom lip.

"Honestly, me too. Growing up I always... ugh I don't mean to sound like I was sympathy or attention, I always grew up insecure and pictured myself as someone who could never be loved. And everyday I always saw or heard about people finding their soulmates in different ways. It went on for years and everyday I lost hope, but now I'm here talking to you and I feel nauseous, but in a good nervous way. Does that make sense?" You asked, rapidly shaking your leg.

"No I totally get it, I feel really hot right now mostly because I don't know what to say to you. Like my whole life I've planned on things to say but now that I'm talking to you I have no clue what to say or how to say it."

Kiara threw herself on her bed, her smile never leaving her face as she closed her eyes, listening to your soothing voice. "So, tell me about Kiara, what it's like to live in the Outer Banks?"

4 months later

After months of planning, you had managed to save up enough money for a plane ticket to OBX. You were currently walking off the plane and into the terminal, your heart beating a mile a minute. You stood to the side as you were about to text Kiara, asking where she was.

That was until you locked eyes with the girl you'd recognize from the pictures. Kiara's heart felt like it was about to leap out of her chest as your eyes met. You held your suitcase tightly as you made a run towards your girl.

You released your items mid run as you opened your arms out. With one swift motion Kiara picked you up in her arms, holding you close to her. Your legs wrapped around her waist as you held each other tightly. "You're real." Kiara mumbled into your neck as she held back tears.

You pulled away from the hug, your legs still around her torso. Her fingers brushed their way through your hair, subconsciously leaning into her touch. Kiara pecked your cheek as she placed you down onto your feet. Your hands intertwined as you guys walked to her car, your thumb rubbing over her knuckles.

They spent the car ride debating on which Beyonce song was truly the best. Kiara blasted the music as loud as she could take as she sped down roads to her house.

She drove past the beach, your eyes not leaving the beautiful view in front of you. Your head was turned to the window as colors of the sand and the ocean blurred by. "You want to go?" Kie asked you as she saw you admiring the waves.

You were left speechless, only able to nod your head.

As soon as they got to Kiara's house, her family was waiting at the door to be introduced. You felt an overwhelming amount of support from her family, none of them giving you attitude or being rude. No one was being homophobic, they were so welcoming towards you which made this day even better.

"Let's go get changed. Bathrooms down the hall and to the left." You dragged your suitcase behind you as you entered the bathroom. You quickly changed into a teal bikini, both pieces of fabric covering you properly, throwing on an oversized shirt for comfort. Kiara grabbed 2 towels and waited for you at this point her face ache from smiling but she couldn't stop.

You walked back out, giving your girl a thumbs up. Joining Kie in the car, she set off to the beach which was only 5 minutes away. It was currently 7:42 p.m. and the sun was beginning to set. The sky was painted in a mixture of purples and pinks, splashes of orange thrown into it as well. You laid down the two towels and sat down on one of them, patting the space next to you.

Kie sat down, instinctively wrapping her arm around you. You rested your head on her shoulder, sitting there in a comfortable silence. You were still in awe at the sight, the waves rising and then quickly falling onto the sand. This was everything compared to the beaches in New Jersey. The birds that flew above, diving down at any food they could find. The sounds of the waves crashing relaxed you to another level.

"I can't believe you get to see this everyday." You whispered. "You could get to see it everyday too. Well, one day. Well only if you want of course." Kiara nervously stumbled on her words, not knowing how to recover from that. "I'd love that." You simply said, looking at her. The sunlight reflected perfectly off her skin, giving her a sort of Golden look.

"Kiara?" You questioned, your eyes falling to her lips. "Hmm?" "Can I kiss you?" Kiara was taken back at your question, but immediately answered by moving in toward her. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against yours. You made the final move and pushed slightly so you two were finally kissing. Both of you melted into each other's touch as you smiled into the kiss. You two shared a passionate kiss for a few seconds before pulling away, your noses gently touching. You pressed a kiss to her nose as she shyly bit her bottom lip.

You rested your head back on her shoulder, staring back into the sunset. "I'm really glad I lost that sweater." You admitted.

"I am too."

87 notes · View notes