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wileys-russo · 11 months

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house wife II l.willamson x reader

for our charming LW6, yet another fixation of my blondie obsession.

house wife II l.williamson x reader

if they said the way to someone's heart was through their stomach, one woman who would never disagree, was leah williamson.

with no cooking ability of her own, life since living out of home had consisted of jumping from one team mates table to another when wanting a hot meal, or seemingly endless takeaway containers and microwave meals filling her yellow bins.

little did she know that was all to change, the day that leah met you.

for you, life growing up with three older brothers meant a childhood and early adolescence of rough housing, relentless teasing, and playing football with only boys. and as much as you were more than able to stand up for yourself physically when pushed around, all thanks to having three older brothers, you had always been a lover and not a fighter.

choosing your words diplomatically and carefully even from a young age your brothers often teased that you were adopted or dropped off on the doorstep by the postman one morning, all of them preferring to settle things with fists than words. but as they soon found out just because you preferred to speak things out, you weren't above a swift kick to the groin or firm punch to the stomach at their teasings.

growing up around boys, playing football with boys, befriending boys, meant you craved feminine company and attention in other aspects of life. this lead to most of your free time on a weekend spent tucked away in the kitchen with your aunts, grandmother and mother, attentively watching and eagerly learning all of the little tips, tricks and secrets of cherished family recipes.

the older you got and the more serious your football career became, the more your passion for being in the kitchen grew, cooking becoming a somewhat therapeutic escape from the pressures of the pitch.

hosting dinner parties for loved ones, dropping off baked goods and flowers to friends on birthdays, your heart swelled to see people appreciate your laboured work.

your favorite part about cooking being doing it for other people, your own little love language.

having grown up in the young lionesses playing alongside the likes of georgia stanway, alessia russo, ellie roebuck and ella toone, you had heard of leah in passing from your friends and team mates long before you actually met her.

you should have met her during your senior call up for prep camp pre olympics, but unfortunately suffering a bad tackle in your early seasons playing for man city you'd missed out on your chance due to a knee reconstruction surgery. though an also injured alessia and yourself still made sure to watch every game together on the couch at home, screaming encouragement to your friends through the tv as if they could hear you.

your confidence in your football ability took its first serious knock when you completed your post reconstruction rehab with flying colours and returned from injury, only to learn your man city contract was in fact not being renewed.

you admittedly shut down at the news, withdrawing into your shell and pushing away friends and family who attempted to console or support you .

you fell out of love with being in the kitchen, preferring instead to sit on the lounge and feel sorry for yourself as you spent time encompassed in all of the creature comforts you’d often forgo in order to be match fit and game day ready.

but all of this came to a screeching halt the day you got a call from your agent, well the day you answered a call from your agent. the older woman finishing telling you off for the days spent ignoring her, your stomach flipped as she then announced multiple clubs had been reaching out and showing interest in securing you before your man city contract was up within the week.

some of the figures and sums put forth to you that day had been more money than you ever knew.

you grew up mostly comfortable in a middle class family, but with four kids being raised by a single mum, times could be tight and often were full of over sized hand me downs and second hand boots.

there was one club offer however that peaked your interest far more than the others, which had absolutely nothing to do with money. it was the team you spent years secretly supporting behind closed doors, hiding jerseys and flags in a battered and beaten shoe box underneath your bed, lying about your whereabouts to sneak off to games.

your brothers all chelsea supporters you were sure you'd be disowned and thrown out on the streets had they discovered the arsenal merchandise squirreled away expertly all throughout your childhood bedroom.

but now all adults and very proud of you (and forever telling people they taught you all you know), you couldn't help but tease as all three of them proudly showed you the bright red shirts with your last name and number plastered across the back the day your signing with the club had been finally announced.

the sheer euphoria felt at this new opportunity meant you quickly readjusted back into life, calling and messaging friends and team mates you'd been icing out, offering sincere apologies and making plans to catch up. you returned to the kitchen, sending off cupcakes, cookies and brownies to your loved ones, cooking cosy home cooked meals for friends as they came over for dinner parties once again.

having been given a proper tour of the arsenal grounds and emirates stadium, and days spent full of media and interviews during the last of the off season, you didn't get a chance to meet your team mates until around a week and a half after news of your signing had gone public. though never being a particularly shy or outspoken individual, it didn't take long for you to get to know the team, and in turn for them to warm up to you.

leah having been given a very stern warning from georgia to look after you, it was following a particularly brutal training session that the older girl properly sought you out, asking if you wanted to join her in the recovery pool.

only having encountered the defender briefly during your first few days you were quick to agree, relishing in the opportunity to get to know her a little better.

having been taken under the equally watchful as they were dangerous wings of katie mccabe, the irish woman had been whom you partnered up with for most drills and spent your off time hanging out with.

but needless to say after only a short twenty minutes speaking with you leah found herself absolutely enamored with your cheeky smile and quick wit, unknowingly setting into course the actions which would eventually flip her world upside down.

fast forward a few years and here you stood now as her girlfriend staring her down from the end of the lounge, having happily lived together in your shared flat for the past eighteen months.

"lee please!" you begged, stepping to the side to again block the tv with your body as the england captain tried to crane her neck to see past you, attention fixated on the arsenal mens match on the screen.

"babe they just scored and i missed it!" leah moaned in frustration as the crowd erupted behind you, the blonde dragging her hands slowly down her face. "they lost 4-2. you promised me you would do this while i'm recovering!" you now glared at her sternly as the blondes mouth formed a small o in shock.

"and you said you didn't watch it without me!" leah huffed at the betrayal, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring right back at you, once again completely ignoring the rest of your sentence which had been your reason for interrupting her in the first place.

"leah." you warned as you continued to stare her down, free arm reaching to point away from the living room and into the kitchen, also known as your girlfriends least favorite room of the house. the blonde simply moaned louder at the silent request, throwing her head back and soppily sliding her body down the lounge like that of a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"or we could just order dinner?" she tried with a charming smile, holding up her phone and wiggling her eyebrows. "okay fine you win lee. i'll just continue to cook for us as always. but of course let me first just take my arm out of this sling and-" you began with a shrug, reaching out to undo the velcro strap hooked under your elbow, having dislocated your shoulder at last weeks game, nothing too serious but it meant needing to take a further 2 weeks off for rehab.

"don't you dare!" leahs eyes widened and she scrambled to grab at you, carefully tugging your free hand away from the sling and holding it firmly in her grip. "sling stays on." the defender commanded, determined both as your girlfriend and team mate for your recovery to be a smooth one so you could return to the pitch again as quickly as possible.

"then you cook dinner tonight." you retorted back in the same tone, staring her down stubbornly as the two of you stood locked eye to eye, neither wanting to be the first to back down. "kitchen, go!" you ordered firmly, pointing again in its direction as leah simply scoffed. "you know that sounded a bit sexist." the girl retorted as you raised your eyebrows in challenge.

"the other morning you quite literally woke up and the first words you said to me were 'well where's my breakfast then woman?'" you mocked your girlfriends MK accent, her unimpressed glare melting into an amused smile. "yeah that was a good one." she chuckled fondly to herself with a shake of her head, smile quickly dropping from her face when you continued to blankly stare her down.

"oh for fuck sakes fine!" leah gave in with a loud groan, dropping your hand as you smiled victoriously, leaning in to quickly press your lips to her own. "yeah yeah, just get on with it!" the blonde rolled her eyes moodily, pulling herself to her feet and trudging after you as you practically skipped off towards the kitchen.

for years you had happily cooked for and fed the english captain without any complaints, after all it was one of the main ways you showed your love.

but as time passed on you began to try to attempt to teach your girlfriend to fend for herself in the kitchen, but the defender would always insist she didn't need to know, and you were honestly worried that if anything should happen she would have no choice but to live her life off of 5p tesco ham sandwiches, with no mayo of course.

so as the weeks and months ticked on, determined no longer to let her be completely useless you began to request her help more and more frequently. knowing that with a bat of your eyelashes and a few sweet words you could get her chopping or prepping things for you, which though seemingly small was still a huge win in the long run.

now, with your arm needing to be in the sling for almost the entirety of your days, and very minimal things you could actually cook and prepare with only one good functioning arm, was your red hot chance to commence phase two of your master plan; teaching leah to actually cook something.

this of course was all heading up to the final hurdle. it was long overdue yours and leah's turn to host team game night, and with the hosting duties came the responsibility of feeding everyone. due to commitment clashes, family events, game days, early training's or just rotten luck, it had been rescheduled about 5 or 6 times now.

but it was locked in for the upcoming weekend, and as much as leah had begged you both reschedule and blame your injury, you were determined to avoid this at all costs. the backup option was of course to just order in some food, but following beth and vivs elaborate 3 course meal of the last game night, you figured the least you could do was teach leah to whip up an easy pasta and some garlic bread.

though this a seemingly simple task to you, it loomed over leah like her own personal everest.

having talked her through the steps twice, and now supporting her to locate all necessary ingredients, you sat on a bar stool happily instructing from the island in the middle of the kitchen.

with your ongoing encouragement and praise at even the simplest of tasks, leahs competitive drive had kicked in and she found herself believing there was maybe a slim to slight chance she could pull this off.

"you know i don't like the look of this. i thought this was a pesto pasta!" things began to click for leah as she grabbed out the last of the things she needed from the freezer, peas. "i fink you'll find it is the same pasta i cook for you frequently babe, which you love." you replied, purposely mocking your girlfriends common tendency to replace her th's with f's.

"we agreed you would no longer mock my speech impediment." leah deadpanned at the comment, hands on hips as she glared toward you unimpressed. "you do not have a speech impediment, you're just from milton keynes." you continued to tease with a cheeky grin, loving nothing more than winding the older girl up when you had the chance, the shoe often on the other foot with her own relentlessly teasing of your habits and quirks.

"well the secret is now out. it is not a pesto pasta, the green sauce is made from blending peas, mint, olive oil, garlic and lemon juice. delicious!" you kissed the tips of your fingers before flicking them into the air, a look of bewilderment and disgust forming on leahs face as she registered the information.

"but i hate peas." leah grimaced, glancing to the bag on the counter with utter contempt. "no, you think you hate peas. realistically, you've been enjoying them all along!" you smiled smugly, popping a strawberry segment into your mouth from the bowl on the counter, already having had leah cut them up for you as a refresher of her knife skills.

"right. so then our entire relationship is built on a foundation of lies!" leah yelled dramatically, throwing her hands into the air before smacking them back down on the counter and pointing a finger toward you threateningly. "what else have you been secretly feeding me then woman?" the girl asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion as your own practically rolled into the back of your head at her childish antics.

"those are secrets i will take to the grave williamson, you'll never know." you replied cryptically, popping another strawberry segment into your mouth before clapping and ordering her back to the task at hand. "so bossy." leah mumbled to herself, now her turn to roll her eyes as she busied herself prepping things, you ignoring her little comments about how she would never get over this pea related betrayal.

"ah! we're doing that from scratch." you tutted at her as she opened the freezer, reaching for a pack of pre made garlic bread. "what! need i reminder you i am a beginner." leah protested, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout.

"oh i know, i don't think i've ever put anything as bland or unseasoned into my body as that sandwich you made me for lunch yesterday." you shook your head sadly, shuddering at the memory. "oi! how's that for gratitude then, should have just let you starve." leah huffed, shifting her concentration to dicing up the bacon she had just finished frying off.

"need i remind you again of the 'well where's my breakfast then woman?'" you cocked an eyebrow in her direction as her face again broke into a grin, the blonde once more chuckling to herself at the memory, never being someone afraid to laugh at her own jokes, especially if she was the only one laughing.

"i obviously meant to say where is my breakfast then my gorgeous, wonderful, lovely, lovely girl." the taller girl smiled charmingly, making her way around the island and slotting her body in between your legs as you spun around on your chair to face her. arms wrapping around you your back pressed against the edge of the cool granite countertop. "nice try." you hummed against her lips, pushing her away from you as her tongue ventured into your mouth.

"mmm not yet, littlee bit more." leah was careful of your injured arm and shoulder as she pressed you harder against the counter top and reconnecting your lips. quick to take advantage of a hitch in your breath as her cold hands wandered up the inside of your hoodie, which was technically her hoodie, easily dominating control of the kiss.

"no, you're cooking. focus!" you pulled your head from the cloud of pleasure it forever drifted to when consumed by leahs affections, once more shoving the taller girl away and smacking lightly at her chest as you panted, now slightly out of breath. "cock blocked by a bloody kitchen, typical." leah rolled her eyes, pushing herself off of the counter she had you trapped against and padding back towards the stove.

"i can't believe you won't just let me order pizza for the girls, they won't care!" leah whined as she stirred the sauce, glancing at you over her shoulder, bottom lip jutted out in a pout. "it's the principal of it baby. if only life was like ratatouille and i could sit on your shoulders, tugging on your hair and doing all the hard work for you." you pouted back at her, eyes twinkling as she shook her head, shoving her hair to the other side of her head with her spare hand, still stirring the rapidly thickening 'pesto'.

"well now my girl you know i would never say no to you practically sitting on my fac-" you cut off the girls cheeky remark before she could finish, calling out that her pasta water was over boiling, leah turning quickly and letting out a yelp of panic at the sight, looking to you with wide eyes for help.

talking her through what she needed to do to settle it again you watched on in amusement as she zoomed around the kitchen, focus heightened, multi tasking between watching the pasta and sauce both cooking on the stove and making sure not to burn the home made garlic bread baking away in the oven.

and sure enough her focus paid off as a little while later she finished off the meal with a small sprinkle of grated parmesan into your serving, refusing to add the same into hers despite you pointing out you'd always done that for her anyway, another thing she hadn't picked up on.

"i'm so proud of you lee." you beamed, jaw almost hurting from the face splitting grin you sported as the two of you sat tucked up together on the lounge, bowls of pasta resting on your knees as leah browsed through the tv trying to find something to watch.

"yeah yeah, no biggie." the girl muttered dismissively, but you didn't miss the small smile of pride that flickered across her face at the praise, craning your head back to sweetly kiss her jaw. "oh no come on, leah!" you protested loudly as your girlfriend clicked in to watch a golf tournament repeat, full well knowing you absolutely detested the sport.

"ah ah ah. i cooked, i choose, isn't that right?" leah smirked down at you as she held the remote out of your reach, echoing back your own regular words as you huffed moodily, protests falling silent as you shoveled a mouthful of pasta into your mouth instead.

"good girl." leah whispered into your ear, kissing your cheek which had flushed bright red at her words, settling back into the lounge as the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound the clinking of your forks against your bowls and the droning on of the golf commentary on the tv.

"where you going?" leah asked a couple of hours later with a confused frown as you unwrapped her arms from around your mid section, carefully sliding your body out from where it laid between her legs.

“upstairs. it’s shower and movie time." you stretched your good arm, glaring down in annoyance at the one strapped to your chest, feeling pins and needles crawling around but unable to really do anything about it.

"where do you think you're going? you cooked, you clean. isn't that right?" you mocked her words from earlier as she stood to follow you, nodding to the small mountain of dirty cookware laying in the kitchen sink. "what!" leah spluttered out in shock, protesting that it wasn't fair.

"1, i can't help you clean even if i wanted to." you started, gesturing to your slinged up arm. "and 2, you never help me clean up after i cook unless your mums here to nag you about it!" you reminded with a shrug, turning back around and heading for the stairs, leah collapsing back onto the lounge with a loud and frustrated moan.

"better hurry babe, i think you forget i require your help to shower." you called downstairs, grinning as you heard leahs feet pound off into the kitchen, the obvious clanging of pots and pans signaling her frantic efforts to finish the task as quickly as possible.

game night.

"well, i personally think a big congratulations are in order!" katie announced, standing to her feet and clapping to gain everyone's attention. the rest of your team mates sprawled around your living room quietened down, bowls of pasta in their laps and a large board of garlic bread sitting on the coffee table in the middle of the room.

"this should be good." leah quietly murmured in your ear, a smirk crossing her features as she readied herself for the praise coming her way from the irish woman for the meal she had cooked, mostly on her own.

your arm now out of its sling you had assisted her with prep but refused to do much more than that, blaming your shoulder was paining you with a pout as leah had rolled her eyes and playfully swatted at your bum as you left her alone in the kitchen.

"to y/n - for making none other that leah williamson into the little domestic house wife none of us thought was possible!" katie shouted proudly, raising a glass of wine into the air in a silent cheers as you suddenly burst into a fit of laughter at the unexpected toast, leah yelling out shocked protests toward your team mates cheers of agreements to katies statement.

"nah that's a violation!" leah huffed angrily, head shaking firmly and eyebrows knitted into a deep frown as she stabbed aggressively at her pasta, lia reminding her to lighten up with a laugh and a light shove from beside her.

some more light teasing and a few heated rounds of mario kart later, leah had downed a few drinks and indeed lightened up. "you all laugh now but once her shoulder heals up she'll be right back into her old position. attending to my every need like the well practiced little house wife she is." leah grinned, right arm wrapped around your neck as you laid against her chest, most of your team having slowly filtered into ubers, only the two of you and a few select others left.

"i'd love to deny it but this was truly a one off fluke, without me she's useless!" you slurred drunkenly, katie reaching over to swipe your glass of wine as you reached for it, pouting up at her as the older woman shook her head, downing it herself and handing you back the now empty glass with a wink.

"mccabe!" you gasped, flipping her off as she returned the gesture, glancing at her phone and announcing the final uber of the night had arrived to take the last of your team mates home.

wishing them all goodbye and making brief drunken plans for brunch tomorrow which none of you would likely remember, they headed off down the driveway and leah closed your front door.

just before making quick work to press your smaller frame against it as soon as she had.

"hi." "well hello."

you grinned as your lips met and the usual fireworks exploded in your stomach at the sensation. fueled by red wine and a few too many rum and cokes, the kiss quickly turned sloppy as leahs hands groped at you anywhere they could, a quiet moan leaving your mouth as her attention quickly turned to your neck, knowing exactly how you to send your body into overdrive.

"no we can't, i'm still a cripple!" you cried out both dramatically and drunkenly, pushing her away and stumbling at the sudden action, leah quick to dart in and catch you before you fell over entirely.

“okay bed time it is." the older girl chuckled, though drunk she was not quite as bad as you, the taller girl tossing you over her shoulder and heading for the stairs.

"it feels demeaning you can do this so easily." you slurred out, smacking at her bum as the two of you ascended towards your shared bedroom. "you look after me, i look after you. that's how this whole relationship thing works." leah gently placed you down onto the bed, stealing a kiss and making quick work of changing into something more comfortable as you did the same, though with a little more struggle.

flicking off the lights and climbing into bed beside you, leah clicking into netflix the two of you were quick to intertwine your bodies, your girlfriend selecting the first thing she saw knowing it was more so going to be white noise than something either of you paid attention to, already fast fading toward a good nights sleep.

"you did really good tonight baby, my house wife in training." you mumbled quietly, blindly reaching up and patting at leahs cheek, feeling her body gently vibrate with laughter underneath you. "don't get used to it, you deserve far better than a mediocre pasta every now and then." leah smiled, running a hand through your hair and placing a soft kiss to your warm forehead.

"now i know you're capable of washing dishes best believe i'm never doing them again." you muttered into her elbow, burying your head into the crook of the defenders arm. "you're lucky you're cute." leah smiled tiredly, eyes fluttering closed as both your breathing evened out, drifting off into a dreamless sleep as the office played quietly in the background.

no longer one but now two happily domesticated house wives.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #arsenal women #arsenal wfc #arsenal

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hellodarling1357 · 2 months

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Tiny Toes: Part 7 - Cassian x Reader

Hi! It's been awhile and I'm so so so sorry for not posting anything the past few weeks. I've made this part extra long to make up for the wait but have honestly been feeling a little off with my writing at the moment so bear with me while I get back into it 🥰

Also, writing this while being in the middle of an endo flare up was incredibly therapeutic!

Summary: Reader gets her period + Ottie being a menace + family time + fluffy Cassian/reader moments

Word Count: 4.5k

You can read the previous part here

A sharp, stabbing pain tore you from your sleep and had you quickly sitting up in bed as you let out a quiet cry of pain. “Fuck,” you murmured to yourself as you sluggishly pushed the sheets off your too-hot body, mindful of not disturbing Cassian who was fast asleep and softly snoring beside you.

On shaky legs you managed to get yourself to the bathroom, carefully closing the door before turning to look at yourself in the mirror. Wincing at your reflection, you took in the dark circles under your eyes, the pasty, clammy complexion of your skin as you leant heavily against the counter, suddenly overcome by another shot of pain. Turning on the faucet, you splashed your face with the cool stream of water, a momentary reprieve before that unbearable pain made itself known and you found yourself crumbling to the floor, legs unable to keep you upright. The cold tiles offered some comfort as your curled in on yourself and despite knowing that a hot bath would help with the pain, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

*****

“Y/N?” The sudden call of your name had you jerking awake and blearily blinking up at the bathroom ceiling. The momentary confusion was swept away by the onset of another throbbing cramp that had you squeezing your eyes tightly shut as you breathed through your nose.

“Y/N? Are you in her– Y/N! What happened? What’s wrong?” The comfort of Cassian kneeling beside you and pulling you into his warm body did little to alleviate the pain coursing through you. You desperately held onto his arms as you leant against him, breathing heavily as you waited for the current cramp to subside. You focused on the soothing rise and fall of his chest and the way his fingers softly caressed over your skin before pulling back slightly to look up at his concerned face and offer a small smile that you were sure was more of a grimace.

“I’m fine,” your voice was hoarse and utterly unconvincing judging by the quirked eyebrow Cassian raised at you. “Really, it’s nothing. Just my cycle…” you trailed off as another wave of pain took over. You slumped against Cassian who let out a tut of concern as his fingers wove through your hair, pushing the strands away from your sweaty forehead.

“What do you need?” Cassian asked after a few moments when he felt your body finally relax against him. Shifting so that your face was buried in the crook of his neck you let out a small sigh, snuggling in closer when you felt the press of his lips against the top of your head.

“To be knocked unconscious for the next week.” Cassian’s huff of a laugh caused a small smile to tug at your lips as you let out another sigh against the pain.

“Well I won’t be helping you with that, so how about I run you a bath instead?”

“Fine,” you grumbled as Cassian helped you to your feet and gently lifted you up to sit on the counter, leaving you with a kiss, before he went about filling the bathtub with hot water and soothing oils.

“There, how’s that?” he asked, guiding you over to the steaming tub and helping you peel off your pyjamas.

“Perfect,” you replied as you let the hot water envelop you, “you’re perfect.” You reached out to grab his hand, pressing a grateful kiss to the back of it as you sunk further into the warmth, breathing in deeply as the smell of the oils filled your senses.

You grinned at the soft tinge of pink that spread over Cassian’s cheeks at your words, but he just shot you a playful look before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek then the top of your head. The moment was short lived, however, as another cramp took hold.

“What else can I do?” Cassian’s words were laced with helplessness as he sat on the edge of the bathtub, staring down at you with worry etched across his face. You remained silent, willing the pain to pass as you held onto his hand like a lifeline and stared into the swirls of the water around you.

“I don’t know. Maybe… maybe just a cup of tea? One of Madja’s teas that helps with the pain? It’s in the cupboard –”

“In the cupboard next to the window, right at the back of the shelf in the brown jar. Don’t worry, I remember from last time. What else?” He asked almost desperately. You blinked up at him, the attentiveness and thoughtfulness of the male in front of you still managed to take your breath away even though it should no longer be a surprise to you.

“Other than joining me?” you gave him a mischievous grin, scrunching your nose up and laughing as he flicked water at you with a smirk. “Honestly though, this is enough. More than enough, thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” he said softly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I’ll be right back with your tea, okay? Let me sort a few things out for today, then if Ottie is still sleeping, we’ll see about me joining you. Although, with her track record of interrupting us lately, she’ll be awake the second I get in.”

You laughed at the disappointment in his voice; he wasn’t wrong though. Lately Ottie had seemed to pick up the habit of walking in or making herself known just as things were getting heated, luckily, she was too young to understand what was going on and was seemingly oblivious to the two of you spluttering and jumping apart.

But shit. Now that your mind had trailed to the young Illyrian sleeping soundly down the hall, you remembered the plans you had made with her for today and knew you would have to cancel given your current state. Biting your lip in worry, you missed Cassian returning, steaming mug of tea in hand.

“Here you go. Oh, sweetheart…” you looked up at the concern in his voice as he took in your troubled expression. “Drink this, hopefully it kicks in soon and takes away some of the pain.”

“It’s not that,” you explained, gratefully taking the mug from him with a soft smile. “I just remembered, Ottie and I were meant to go into the city today. We’ve had the whole day planned out for weeks.”

“And why wasn’t I invited?” he teasingly quipped, though you knew he was somewhat serious about missing out on time with the two of you. “Or is this a mummy-daughter bonding day?” The grin on his face matched the one that spread across your own at his words; Ottie had been calling you mummy for the better part of three months now and your heart still skipped a beat every single time, Cassian also couldn’t contain his grin and the look of love and adoration that spread across his face whenever he heard it.

“You weren’t invited because you have work today –”

“Had work. I just spoke with Rhys and have the rest of the week off.”

“Cass…”

“Don’t tell me I didn’t need to; I wasn’t going to leave you alone like this, love.”

You smiled softly at his words, heart pounding in your chest as you gently cupped his face and pulled him down into a kiss.

“Thank you,” you kissed him once more before letting him sit back up against the edge of the bathtub. “But what I was going to say was, you had work today so we thought it would be the perfect time to go shopping for your birthday next week. No, don’t groan about it. You went all out for my birthday so of course I’m going to do the same.”

Cassian glared down at you, and you stared right back up at him with a smug grin, “I’m over 540 years old, sweetheart, you do know that, right? We really don’t need to be celebrating at this point.”

“Okay, sure. But how many of those birthdays did I have with you? How many did Ottie? Don’t pout over the fact that we love you and want you to feel special.”

“The fact that you both love me is enough–”

“Then consider everything else we have planned for you as a bonus.”

Cassan stared you down, letting out a sigh when he realised there would be no changing your mind. “Fine. But only because I love you.”

Your smile was short lived as another cramp coursed through you, causing your breath to catch as your eyes squeezed tightly shut in response. Cassian ran a tentative hand through your hand, doing his best to sooth you and offer some form of comfort.

“Come on, lean forward and I’ll help you wash your hair, then I’m taking you back to bed so you can sleep.” A hum was the only response you could offer as you did your best to will away the pain by focusing on the feeling of Cassian’s fingers rubbing the lavender scented shampoo through your hair.

“We’ll have a bath later?” you asked in a quiet voice as Cassian finished helping you rinse out the conditioner, hands trailing down to rub soothing circles into the tight muscles along your shoulders and back.

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder before helping you stand and climb out of the bath, a fresh, fluffy towel at the ready.

Once you had dried off, Cassian helped you into some clean pyjamas then led you back to bed. He climbed in first before gesturing for you to sit between his legs so that he could brush out your hair. The feeling of his body embracing you and with the constant warmth that seemed to radiate from him, you were quick to relax against him, content in having him simply holding you as you drifted back to sleep.

*****

Once he sensed that you were asleep, Cassian shifted you both so that you were laying down against the pillows, his arms wrapping around you as he did his best to massage your stomach in hopes of alleviating some of the pain without waking you. He let out a sigh, feeling completely useless as he took note of the slight grimace that tainted your soft features, even as you slept.

Cassian quickly found himself dozing off, the comforting and familiar scent of your shampoo lulling him into an easy, but short lived, sleep. A sudden commotion sounded from down the hall and had Cassian lifting his head, careful not to disturb you as you shifted further into the blankets. He slowly pulled away from you, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead as he quietly walked over to the door, closing it behind him with a soft click.

“Morning, daddy,” Ottie cheerfully called out to him from where she stood by the stairs, “want to see what I’ve been practicing?”

If he hadn’t been so worried about you, Cassian would have taken a second to think about what Ottie could have been practicing by the stairs, what could have caused the commotion he had heard. Instead, with a hesitant glance towards the bedroom door, he absentmindedly answered, “go on then, princess,” and watched in horror as Ottie all but threw herself down the stairs.

“OTTIE!”

Cassian couldn’t remember a time he had moved so fast in his life as he bounded after her. With all the years of standing against multiple enemies, fighting across multiple battlefields, not once had his heart stopped as it did in that moment, utter, undiluted fear coursing through his veins.

But the delighted giggles that sounded from his daughter broke through that fear as he watched from halfway down the stairs as Ottie flung her wings out and landed with a soft thud at the bottom of the stairs.

Cassian stared at her, frozen to the spot before lowering himself down to sit on the steps, his heart hammering rapidly in his chest as he placed his head in his hands and drew in a deep breath.

“Ottie?” he could hear the strain in his voice.

“Yes, daddy?”

“Promise me,” he started, looking at her as she tiled her head to the side in curiosity, “that, under no circumstances, will you ever do that again.”

“But –”

“No buts. You will not do that again.”

“But mummy will like it, she will want to see it.” Ottie stared back at him, a defiant expression on her face as she crossed her arms.

“No, princess, she will not. New rule, no more flying inside, alright? Or there will be no more lessons for the next four weeks. Including lessons from Uncle Rhys and Uncle Az.” He sternly added when she opened her mouth to argue back.

“Fine,” she finally agreed but Cassian could clearly hear the resentment in her tone. “Don’t you have work today? You’re going to be late.”

He raised an eyebrow at his daughter. Was she trying to coax him out of the house?

“I did but I’m staying home today. Mummy isn’t feeling well,” he explained while ushering her into the kitchen to get a start on breakfast.

“Oh,” Ottie climbed up onto one of the bench stools and waited for Cassian to pass her a plate of toast and a glass of orange juice.

“What’s wrong with her?” she asked between a mouthful of food.

Cassian gave her a look, knowing he was in no position to lecture, but nevertheless, “don’t talk with your mouth full, Otts.”

Making a show of swallowing the mouthful of toast she had been talking around, Ottie cleared her throat then repeated, “what’s wrong with mummy? We were meant to go into Velaris to buy you a – we were going to do something today.” Ottie quickly cut herself off, eyes going wide upon realising she had almost ruined the birthday surprise the two of you had planned for him.

“There’s nothing wrong with her, she’s just got her cycle,” you and Cassian had decided to be completely open about these topics whenever they came up, Cassian was just scared he might stumble with this one without you there to help guide it.

“What’s a cycle?”

“A cycle happens every couple of months to grown females, they bleed for a few –”

“Mummy’s bleeding? She’s hurt?” Ottie’s wide eyes stared back and forth between Cassian and the doorway, as though debating whether to run up and check on you herself.

“No, no, no, princess. Mummy isn’t hurt, alright? It’s normal to bleed during your cycle, and it’s only a little bit. It’s the bodies way of getting ready to have a baby if–”

The excited squeal that Ottie let out had Cassian stopping mid-sentence, staring at her intently as he tried to work out what was running through her head.

“So, mummy has a cycle right now?” she clumsily asked. Cassian nodded, taking a sip of juice as he leant against the counter. “So, that means there’s a baby in her tummy?” And the sip of juice Cassian had just taken was now being spluttered across said counter.

“No, Ottie, that’s not what that means. It’s just the bodies way of…” but Cassian could tell Ottie wasn’t hearing a word of it as she kicked her feet excitedly.

“So, I’m going to have a little brother or a little sister?”

“No, Ottie, mummy isn’t pregnant, alright?” The scare you had a few weeks ago, followed up by an appointment with Madja and a stronger contraceptive made sure of that. “There’s no baby in her tummy.”

“Oh,” Cassian couldn’t help the slight ache in his heart at the dejected look that darkened Ottie’s excited expression. “But one day she might be?”

“Maybe…” the two of you hadn’t really spoken about having a child together, but now that the idea had been planted, Cassian couldn’t help but let his mind wander at the thought.

“Good because I want to be like Nyx.”

“What do you mean you want to be like Nyx?”

“You know, with a little brother or a little sister.”

Well, that was news.

“Nyx is going to have a little brother or sister, is he? And how do you know that?”

“Because he told me. He said that he heard his mummy and daddy talking about wanting to have another baby.”

Cassian found himself grinning at the thought, tucking away that snippet of information to share with you once you were awake and for when he next saw Rhys.

“Can I go and see mummy now?” Ottie asked in a tentative tone.

“She’s sleeping at the moment, princess. Let’s let her rest for now, okay? Then later in the day when she’s feeling better we can go up for cuddles.”

*****

You shifted against the plush mattress as a stream of afternoon sunlight snuck through the crack in the curtains, but it was the quiet patter of footsteps that had stirred you from your sleep. Sluggishly, you lifted your head to look towards the bedroom door where a small, winged frame was silhouetted against the light coming in through the hallway.

With a soft smile tugging at your lips, you whispered out into the dark room, “Hi, Ottie.”

“Hi, mummy,” she replied in a hesitant voice. “Daddy said I couldn’t see you until later once you had rested, but it’s been a long time now…”

“Do you want to come up here?” you asked, heart softening at the eager nod you got in return as Ottie scrambled up the bed to snuggle in beside you. “I’ve missed you today. Sorry we couldn’t go into the city to get daddy’s birthday presents.”

“That’s okay. Daddy told me about your cycle…,” she made an effort to really enunciate the word, causing a smile to spread across your face as you held back a laugh, “…and that you’re bleeding and that you’re not having a baby, yet.”

“Well, I’m still sorry we couldn’t have our day out together. I would’ve much preferred that than being stuck in bed all day.” You replied, choosing to actively ignore her comment about not having a baby yet. Ottie hummed in agreement, shifting so that she could curl up against your side, your arm wrapping around her to hold her close as she rested her head against the crook of your neck.

“What did you get up to today?” you asked in a whisper, not wanting to break the silent trance that had fallen over the room.

“I painted like Auntie Feyre showed me. And I helped daddy make lunch and then we played some games. He’s doing some work in his office, so I tip-toed past him because I wanted to see you,” she whispered back, lowering her voice even further as she explained how she managed to deceive Cassian. “Daddy was really worried about you today and kept coming up here to check on you, so I thought I would look after you while he’s busy working.”

“Well, I’m already feeling much better thanks to your cuddles.” Ottie grinned at you in delight, pressing a sloppy kiss to your check before continuing to tell you all about her day.

“Oh,” she exclaimed as though remembering something important, “Daddy also said there’s a new rule: no more flying inside. I don’t think he was very happy with me.” You stifled another laugh at the voice she put on when reciting Cassian’s new rule.

“And why wasn’t he happy with you?”

“I don’t know…”

“Ottie…”

“Because I jumped down the stairs,” she quickly said, the words muffled against your shoulder as she cuddled even closer to you.

“More like threw yourself down the stairs before catching yourself at the last minute,” Cassian’s stern tone had you both looking up to find him leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. You glanced at Ottie, who was looking at her dad with a guilt-ridden expression, before turning back to Cassian who nodded in confirmation.

“So, the new rule,” he continued, making his way over to the bed and sitting on the edge beside you, “no more flying inside, or else…”

“…or else there will be no flying lessons for four weeks.” Ottie mumbled back.

“Exactly,” he fixed Ottie with a look before his eyes trailed over your face in concern.

“I’m fine, Cass.”

“She is,” Ottie started, speaking up before Cassian could say anything. “She said my cuddles made her feel better. Right, mummy?”

“It’s true,” you smiled, bopping her on the nose as you turned back to face Cassian. “Her cuddles are truly magical.”

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be then if I’m up against magical cuddles, but is there room for one more in there?”

“What do you think, Otts? Should we move over? Make some room for daddy?”

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t know!” Cassian exclaimed in faux offence, leaning across you to tickle Ottie as she tossed against your side to get away from him, fits of her infectious laughter filling the room.

“What about if he comes back with a cup of tea for me? Can he join us then?”

Ottie fixed a contemplative look on her face, struggling to hold back a grin as she eyed Cassian up and down.

“How about, I make mummy a cup of tea that will make her feel better, and throw in two of our special hot chocolates? How does that sound?”

“Deal.” You watched on in amusement as Ottie stretched out her small hand, Cassian taking it in his as they shook in agreement.

“Deal,”

“Come on then. I need my chocolate taste tester with me if I’m going to be making special hot chocolates.” Ottie scrambled out of your arms and ran out the bedroom door. Cassian turned to you, looking as though he was about to say something before, “Ottie! Remember to–”

“I know. Walk, don’t fly. You already told me.” Her little voice echoed back, followed by the resounding thump of disgruntled footsteps as she walked down the stairs.

Cassian shut his eyes, an exhausted expression taking hold before looking back at you with a soft smile.

“Kids, hey?” you teased, both of you listening to Ottie making the final stomp down the stairs.

“Kids,” he repeated with a shake of his head. “gotta be crazy to want them.”

You hummed in response, the silence settling between you both for a second too long as you nestled back against the pillows.

“You sure you’re feeling alright?” Cassian asked, tucking some stray strands of hair away from your face.

“Yeah, just a bit sore, but not as bad as this morning.”

“Good,” he leant down to press a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, pulling back a bit to gently cup your face before pressing his lips against yours. “I’ll be back. Do you need anything else while I’m downstairs?”

Shaking your head with a small, content smile, you quickly reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face back down to yours for another kiss before whispering, “thank you.”

“I already told you, no need to thank me.” He replied with a wink before making his way out the door.

You let out a sigh as you drag yourself out from underneath the sheets, stretching as you make your way over to the other side of the room to open up the curtains and the window, letting in the fresh afternoon air.

“Ottie,” You stilled as Cassian’s voice echoed up from the kitchen. “What did I say about flying inside?”

“I was helping you! You asked me to get the chocolate, I couldn’t reach it, now I can…” You couldn’t help the laugh you let out as you pictured what was currently happening downstairs.

*****

Ten minutes later Cassian and Ottie returned, one steaming mug of tea and two hot chocolates between them that were all placed carefully against the bedside table. “I’ll be back in a minute,” Ottie exclaimed before racing out of the room.

Cassian sat beside you, hiding his face against your neck with a groan as he mumbled, “she is going to be the death of me.” You stretched your arm up so that your hand could trail through his hair.

“She’s growing up.”

“And she’s already a handful. She’s lucky that I love her…” he joked as Ottie walked back into your bedroom, arms loaded with soft toys and books that were place at the end of your bed.

“These always make me feel better, so I thought they might help you too,” Ottie explained with a shrug as she passed you her favourite teddy bear.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Alrighty, now that we’re all here,” Cassian said with a pointed look at Ottie’s pile of toys, causing a giggle to escape her as she settled down beside you. “One tea for you.”

“Thanks, Cass.” You said, taking the mug from him and smiling at the wink he shot your way.

“And one special hot chocolate for you.” He said, carefully handing the mug to Ottie before settling in on your other side and draping the blankets snuggly across the three of you.

“Thanks, Cass.” Ottie copied you with a cheeky grin that looked identical to Cassian’s.

“No, nuh-uh, nope,” Cassian leant forward to round on Ottie who was giggling from the safety that came from you being between them both. “You, missy, you do not call me that.”

“Why not…Cass?” she repeated.

“Because,” he looked at you for backup, eyes widening in betrayal when he found you stifling your own laughter. “Because you’re my little girl, that’s why.”

Before Ottie could jump in again, you cut her off, “I think what your dad is trying to say, is that you calling him by his name, instead of daddy, is making him feel old. He is turning 544 next week, you know.” You teased in a conspiratorial voice, nudging Cassian’s side as he scoffed and leant back against the pillows.

“So much for making me feel loved and special,” he jokingly muttered, referring back to the birthday conversation the two of you had that morning.

With a gentle nudge to Ottie’s side, you gave her a look that had her letting out an over-dramatic sigh, “I’m sorry, daddy. Sorry for making you feel old.” There was no chance of holding back your laugh at her words, especially when Cassian simply shook his head in defeat as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you tightly against him.

Back in the warmth and comfort of his arms, with Ottie nestled in tight on your other side, you found yourself relaxing further into the mattress as the effects of the tea took hold. The soothing rise and fall of Cassian’s chest from where you rested your head, along with the playful back-and-forth banter and melodic laughter that filled the room made that excruciating pain you had been feeling all day worth it if it meant being able to have a moment like this.

*****

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st4rbwrry · 21 days

Text

━━━ 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑚𝑒. a.h

warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.4k. fem reader, lowercase intended, she/her pronouns, murder mystery, aki is a chef, oral [ f + m.], sneaking away, marijuana use, praise, fingering + finger sucking, aki's tongue is pierced, sexual acts happen quick, mentions of depression, brief mention of emotional/physical abuse, reader is desperate for help/attention, parental neglect, grooming, minors aren’t allowed.

━━━ ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 .ᐟ ꒱ ; another old piece of mine i never fully finished and now posting yrs later!

“okay, i'm out!" aki is shouting as he tosses his white chef coat over his shoulder, book bag on the other, the cool breeze of spring blowing through his raven hair the minute he opened the tall glass door that led to the front of the restaurant. his friend, also a coworker, is busy, in the mix of gathering dirty dishes and clearing trash bins but still sends him a farewell, a quick, 'see ya tomorrow. good job today!' till he's off to his bus stop. he was thankful he got out early, just before five in the afternoon meaning the sun hadn't set yet.

he sighs, extremely worn out, in dire need of a steamy hot shower and a greasy pizza while laying in the comfort of, finally, his own apartment he worked entirely too hard to gain. the commute to his place in brooklyn, new york became rather annoying due to rush hour traffic at this time. having to take the bus then switch to the 'n' train, hopping off and walking fifteen minutes until he finally reaches his destination. his second goal was to afford a vehicle to save him money instead of wasting it on expensive monthly metro cards.

aki's lived here his entire life, growing up in the bronx, not much different. he loved new york, but not their uppity expenses. the fact that he's paying nearly two grand for a 600 square-foot apartment with no in-unit laundry nor a gym at that, was nonsensical. did he want to reside here forever? yes. he'd feel homesick if he ever were to leave. having the opportunity to travel seemed like a much better alternative, that way he'd still have his home but be anywhere in the world doing what he loved, and that was cooking. aki hayakawa was twenty-six years old, earning his master's in culinary arts at the culinary institute of america, also known as the C.I.A.

his ultimate dream was to open his restaurant, which he would name after his tragically deceased mother. a terrible accident in which he dreads the memory of. falling endlessly into a black hole, hearing nothing but the sound of his own fear, the breaking of his bones when it interacted with brick interior, the feeling of his heart thumping excessively against his chest as he continued to drop deeper like a rock that was chucked down an empty well. this emotion he knew all too well; failure. when he lost his mother, it felt as if the world crumbled beneath him, malicious dark vines slithering up to grab him by his ankles and pull him down a bottomless pit of nothingness.

he tasted the agony, the anger, the sadness, and even the hate from the fact that she was gone and never coming back. countless tantrums, anxiety attacks, and depression summed up the apathy of it all. it took him six years to realize that drowning in pain would never help him gain the strength that he knew she wanted him to have. by letting her witness the pain he was going through from above, he was hurting not only her . . but himself. so to overcome the tragedy, he kept himself busy with cooking. going to school, earning his degree, and the current job he had with his best friend since middle school.

school was probably the greatest thing he'd ever done to reinvent who he was as a person. cooking is a delicate yet challenging obstacle to undertake, yet, it's so therapeutic to him. the nature of it all, being able to witness what he can do for many people, bring laughter and happiness—it's a beautiful thing. when aki was small, he and his mother would give back to people all the time. whether they were donating clothes to the homeless, or feeding small pigeons pieces of bread on a sunny day as they flew to the gray pavement, awaiting a feast. they always cared about others. they would experiment a lot, going to food markets just to come home and whip up a good meal which they would then donate to the less fortunate. that's when he learned how humble he felt to give back to those in need.

he wanted to show his mother his achievements, to push himself and become a world-renowned chef, just like gordon ramsey—without the aggression. he wanted his name plastered on articles for his extraordinary talent, talked about on tv, in fact, given his own cooking show on foodnetwork. aki grew up watching that channel, an obsessive enticement his mother could never break the young boy from. he was making recipes at the age of twelve, and learned how to cook at eight. eggs were the first thing, usually everyone's first, then as time progressed, he grew from simple pasta dishes to revitalizing gourmet meats, and anything french. just recently he schooled himself on how to create wine. every day he learned something new, and that was the beauty of culinary.

"hayakawa! come here!" star yells as soon as she sees the tall man emerge through the front door, ready to start his morning shift, raspy voice laced with slight panic, instantly making the man run to her out of worry.

"what's wrong?" he furrows his brows.

"look who just fucking walked in," she grabs his bicep, pulling him closer to the front counter. aki curiously follows where her finger points, seeing a slim man with black curly hair dressed properly in a white and black suit. silver and sapphire rolex on his wrist, his pale green eyes scanning through the lens of his glasses at the menu while he sips his water. expensive.

"i have no idea who that is," aki blinks, making star gasp.

"he's alexander bodari, one of my favorite authors of all time. remember the novel i told you i was reading, about this girl who was kept in this lunatics basement and almost murdered?"

aki's eyebrows raise. "the book dylan bought you for your birthday, right?"

"yeah! that's him. oh my fucking god, i'm so nervous, whew," star begins to fan herself, nearly having a breakdown. aki grabs her shoulder and chuckles.

"chill out, star. you don't have to serve him if you don't want to."

"of course i do! i just. . . can't," she frowns.

"you can, you've done it many times before. this isn't the first celebrity we've come across."

star sighs, nodding. "you're right, i can do it."

"good girl," aki smiles, patting the top of her head. star catches his wrist and scowls.

"fuck off."

"aki," another voice calls to him, this time it's the head chef, also known as his boss. aki greets him with a small, 'good morning, chef' before waiting for his response.

"i'm guessing you know that alexander bodari is here," lane says, arms crossed over his broad chest. aki nods. "i want you to cook for him."

aki and star share a glance of shock.

"uh, why me. where's dylan?"

"he's not feeling well so i gave him the day off. you're the only one here that's near his level, and he's a higher-up man, so i want you to cook for him. star will cater to his needs. we're kinda short-staffed today, and i trust you two will handle it properly."

"yes, chef," they say in unison.

star was only a waiter, working here for four years while aki earned his position two years into her time. the last thing the woman could do was cook, ironic since she worked in a restaurant with very talented people. lane would've asked her in a heartbeat if she was as skilled as aki. aki was known for making dishes at the top of his head, so if anyone asked for a special, he was the one to ask. before they began to serve anyone inside, aki gave star a small prep talk before sending her out. eventually, she got through with taking his order without stuttering or sweating. when she walked back into the kitchen, actually shoved the doors open with a joker smile on her face, aki cocks his head at her.

"you—"

"he wants your special!" she screams, doing a goofy dance, and skipping in her spot.

aki's face drops. "are you deadass?"

"yes! when he was looking at the menu, he saw your four courses on the back and chose your mom's stew! fucking a, man!"

aki is still frozen, weakly giving star their signature handshake, smile slowly easing onto his face. "my mom's stew? seriously?"

"yeah. chop chop, get to it."

aki was persistent. no one's ever ordered his mother's stew, which made this day very special for him. even if the dish was only on the menu for a month, it still meant a lot to him. he made sure there were no distractions, taking a tender chuck roast and cutting them into cubes, seasoning them well while throwing in worcester sauce, balsamic vinegar, garlic cloves, bay leaves, and beef broth. making a slurry with flour and water to thicken the stew. adding onions and potatoes. it was a simple yet fulfilling dish he looked forward to every sunday.

"deep breaths," star whispered as she carried the steaming tray of stew plated professionally on a porcelain oval-shaped bowl. in a way, it felt like she was telling not only herself but him. it's a rarity that people order his courses, and serving this to an author, a bestseller, a man worth millions, made him giddy. he was cheesing like an idiot, pushing star out the double doors to the dining area.

although as soon as she walked out, that's when doubt clouded his gut. did he put too many seasonings? is the meat tender enough? what if he doesn't like it? will he write about it on his author blog? god, he hoped the potatoes weren't hard. he had only tasted the broth, it tasted just like his mother's. what if. . .

"aki," star walks back in, an even wider grin on her a-symmetrical face this time. he blinks, realizing that he's been standing here for three minutes now. "he wants to see the chef."

he's dumbfounded. "me?"

"no, lane. yes, you!" she's squealing like a girl, and sometimes he forgets she is one, even underneath her blunt features and boyish sense of style.

he's clearing his throat now, strolling mindlessly towards alexander bodari's table, greeting himself and waiting for his constructive criticism.

"you're aki hayakawa?" the man questioned, lifting his glasses back onto his face.

"yes, sir."

"i just have to say," alexander chuckles, softly clapping his hands. "this may be one of the best stews i've ever had."

the tenseness in aki's shoulders relaxes, and he's sighing with relief, alexander noticing and laughing. "i'm really glad to hear that, sir."

"did you create this on your own?"

"it's actually my mother's recipe. it's my favorite. every time i make it, it reminds me of her."

"that's really ironic because this reminds me of the stew my mother used to make," he grins. "yours is the first that i haven't seen carrots in."

aki laughs. "my mom hated cooked carrots."

"mine did too," he fixes his collar. "is this your restaurant?"

"no, no. i'm just a cook here. i plan on opening my own soon. i already have my master's."

his brows raise. "wow, that's amazing. wow old are you?"

"twenty-six, sir."

"well, you're definitely going places," he compliments and aki feels even more satisfied. "say what, i'm having this pre-book release, about a hundred guests. i was wondering if you would like to cater the party. i'll pay you however much you want."

it's like the whole world collapsed on his chest. he'd never gotten an opportunity like this, especially this big. to cook for so many famous people at once was a blessing. he could really show off his skills if he took this offer . . . and did. after thanking him, exchanging contacts, and then handshakes, aki lets the man finish his meal before jogging back into the kitchen to scream about it to aki, lane, and the rest of the crew. alexander offered star to come along to serve, but unfortunately she couldn't, seeming as she'd be out of town for family matters that day.

alexander, of course, knowing she was a big fan signed a copy of his book she already had in her bag and letting her know she could help the next time he had an event. that made her happy enough. the two of them couldn't wait to finish their shifts today, taking the train to star's place and planning dishes all night, even cooking them to get them just right. alexander was hosting the party at his penthouse down soho. and aki had a week to prepare himself.

୨♡୧

cashmere sweaters, silk gowns, and jewelry that most likely cost more than his savings account roamed the lovely terrace of alexander bodari's home. every inch of it screamed filthy rich. rows of tables were set outside, the dark night sky making the moon shun brightly amongst the glass centerpieces filled with calla lilies and moss. white cloths, sterling silverware, and porcelain dinnerware. the terrace itself was elegant; freshly cut bushes trimmed as squares, a marble three-tiered italian water fountain placed in the middle. roses, dandelions, tall plants ranging from bamboo, snake plants, and pothos. alexander was very in touch with nature and his spirit. it's crazy he writes about the things he does.

speaking of, the book he was presenting that would be released in august was titled, 'to riven a magnolia.' he wouldn't quite reveal what it was about yet, wanting it to be a surprise, but did read an excerpt from the novel. aki only paid half attention, big words throwing him off plus he wanted to set the food table properly so guests could take what they wanted after his reading. aki didn't go all out since only seventy-two people were available to make it, and he didn't want any meals that would make anyone too full to converse, so he kept it simple yet exquisite. each guest received a slice of japanese fluffy cheesecake with a side of strawberry and mandarin orange tanghulu. beef wellington, and a six-sided cream garlic bread.

he received praise all night long. people gasping and thanking him for the food, giving him all sorts of compliments making the man blush like a child. at one point he held both sides of his face in his palms when a woman and her husband approached him to talk, way too shy, and the woman flirting with him didn't make it go away. eventually, her husband dragged her out of his sight. the night went on, classical music played as people sipped their champagne and talked about their wealth, their yoga classes, their thousand dollar dogs, golf, marketing . . . aki hopes he never becomes this way.

as he's pouring an elderly lady a glass as she rambles about baking, he notices a woman he's barely seen all night. he's disoriented, eyeing this girl leaning up against a vintage roman painting reaching the ceiling once the lady departs. brown eyes; the first captivating part of her body he captured. they appeared lonely, bored perhaps as they scanned through the crowd of people, soon landing on another pair, his own. the godly woman stared at him longingly. aki had no business nearly losing his shit under her gaze. wow. she was truly stunning.

one feature that stood out the most were the freckles scattered from the bridge of her nose to the swell of her cheekbones. pretty. her black hair styled protectively in butterfly locs that grazed her collarbones, seeing the industrial piercing hiding behind a piece. her lashes were long, naturally extended. heart-shaped lips were full and pouty, the upper lip brown while the lower, salmon pigmented. an emerald satin mini dress loosely clung to her alluring brown skin. cowl neckline, ruched waist, and an open back partially revealing the red dragon tattoo painted on the side of her hip. black suede gucci heels strapped prettily around her ankles, showcasing her white painted toenails. a three layered gold necklace on her chest. this woman, you, were the rationale of celestial.

it was the moment you smiled at him, tilting your head slightly to the side while tapping your ombré acrylic nail amongst the glass of your champagne, calling to him while he thoughtlessly followed, that aki would realize he had made one of the worst mistakes in his life.

"you're pretty."

it's the first thing you say when he walks towards you, offering a piece of cheesecake with a cheeky smile. aki is taken aback, chuckling nervously, palms already clammy the minute he approached you.

"pretty?" he's perplexed.

"that's what i said," you say, taking the gold fork from his palm and cutting a slice to taste, widening your mouth while maintaining eye contact. the man swallows.

"uh, i've never gotten that before. thank you."

you're too busy eyeing him to say a thing. even if he dressed in simple black skinny jeans and same color tee, a silver necklace tucked beneath his shirt, sable combat boots, and a white apron around his waist . . he looked damn good. his eyes were blue, somewhat smoke gray, dark hair long and straight, the top half tucked into a small messy bun on the back of his head. a few loose strands swaying around his cheekbones. he was tall, shoulders broad, forearms and hands slightly veiny. you gazed at his hands holding the plate for you, wide and rough, fingers long.

"you don't seem to be enjoying the party," he says, knocking you out of your daydream.

you hum with displeasure. "he's a fake."

aki furrows his brows. "sorry?"

"alex, he's unoriginal. most of his novels are stolen by people he pays to keep quiet," you side-eye him while downing the last drop of your champagne, slowly licking your lips. his eyes flicker there for a split moment.

"how do you know?"

the question makes you quiet, tapping your glass. "think of it like this; everyone starts off as a cocoon. eventually as time goes by, we evolve into butterflies. the cocoon represents our innocence; the purity and unawareness of what's to come in life. once we sprout into butterflies, we become tarnished, facing the real world and learning to adapt to its cruelty. life can be beautiful, but it's always painful no matter how happy or dismal we are. it's our choice to fly in the direction we want for ourselves even when the harshness of life beats us down. butterflies only live for so long. we disintegrate after inhumane amounts of stress, loneliness, or tragic events that take a toll on us, removing the power of staying beautiful. we show beauty to the public but don't feel it when everything around us is falling apart. but we can't make life harder on ourselves by dwelling on what we can't have rather than pushing for what we can have."

aki is speechless, half-understanding what you meant. "are you saying alexander is a butterfly that can't fly?"

"he's more like a mosquito, latching onto those who want to sprout into a butterfly but sucks the nutrients from them for his pleasure. he's a fraud. he'll never be a butterfly because he simply can't."

"did he steal from you? is that why you resent him?"

"no," you bluntly state, although aki doesn't believe you.

he takes the fork from you, cutting you another slice before holding it towards your lips, waiting for you to bite. you looked like you needed it. the drowsiness in your eyes may have indicated that you were tipsy. you giggle, shaking your head before he feeds you, your big eyes captivating him more. "is there something you want?"

"you."

aki nearly chokes and he's not even the one eating, your bluntness throwing him in a spiral of emotions.

"am i beautiful to you?" you lean closer, aki swallowing, scanning his surroundings. most of everyone remained in the living area, the two of you far behind a wall near the glass door of the terrace. he could smell your scent better, a sweet smell of caramel. soft skin shimmering with glitter.

"very."

"so what's stopping you? you got a girlfriend or somethin'?"

"n-no, it's just. i barely know you."

"that's part of the thrill," he watches as your small wrist turns and your palm is flat outward. "come upstairs with me."

like any man would, his feet walked on their own, stupidly following behind you up the black marble staircase, hand in yours as his eyes watched your hips switch.

"what's your name?" that should've been the first thing you asked, idiot.

"[♡]."

"i'm aki."

"i know who you are."

that's right, alexander introduced him to everyone after his reading right before supper. things felt like they went too quickly. aki didn't know who he was at this moment, completely floating out of his body and letting you take over like a spell. he was entranced. one thing leads to another, you're locking the door to one of the four bedrooms here. aki's sitting on the bed while you walk around, talking to him more about anything. his age, his aspirations in life. nonsense, basically. until he notices something.

a room with an open bay window revealing the late-night city of new york, stars in the sky, skyscrapers high. the breeze is warm, the air making the fabric of your dress rise just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the pink thong you wore. he's gulping, your legs shifting and a grin coming on your face as you see the tint of red blush across his cheeks. you're leaned against the window, toes pressing into your other foot, a gold anklet with the first letter of your name clasped on your skin. your shoes were off, and in between your two fingers sat a blunt, maybe about three inches now since you were too busy talking, letting it burn away.

once you flick it out the window, you fully turn to face him, sharp nails skidding up your thighs teasingly slow until the hem of your dress rises fully, and he's staring at the belly button piercing you have. your thick thighs, your curves, and your nipple when you moan and lift your arms to stretch and one of the straps falls down your shoulders.

"oops," you're pouting, and aki's had enough. he got it now. he understood why you wanted him to come up here. the liquor buzzing in your veins, and going straight to your clit like a drug. you wanted him the moment you saw him. you needed him, for more reasons than one.

aki was always one to put a woman's pleasure before his own. so when he saw you drop to your knees to crawl towards him, dainty hands trailing up his clothed thighs until you're undoing his belt and he's biting his lip. . . he was drawn in further. pulling him out of the confinement of his jeans, holding his pulsating dick in your hand, darting your tongue out, and pressing it flat to the aching head. he's squeezing his eyes shut when he's deep in your throat after a while, moaning around him and twisting your hand along as your mouth glides. his hand is in your hair, gathering some of it in his large fist while leaning back a bit to see those gorgeous eyes of yours stare into his, slightly watery. he liked that. he liked you.

"nnn, baby. like that," he's throwing his head back, jaw slacked as he tried to keep his voice down, not daring to let too much slip out regarding the guests below them. eyes back on you, he's watching as your hips gyrate in the air, desperately needing to be touched.

it's so foreign, this level of intimacy. it's been so long since he's had his dick buried deep in anything. sure, he masturbates like any other human being, but it's a rarity. he's so consumed in work that by the time he goes home he's knocked out in slumber, not even thinking about grabbing his fleshlight to fulfill his pleasure. the last time he had sex was at the beginning of his freshman year of college. it was some girl in his cutlery class who invited him over for late-night drinks, leading to more than just that. it was frequent until he realized he was failing courses because of the distraction and had to get back on track, so, he called it quits.

now he's pulling you up, feverishly pressing his lips to yours in a messy kiss, lips smacking, tongues bumping. you're keening when his thick fingers clasp around your throat as you straddle his waist, clinging to his shirt you eventually pull over his head. it's as if the both of you forgot that people were here and might hear you, but neither of you cared. aki's not even scolding you when you're moaning too loud the second he has you beneath him, your clothing still on, barely, and his jeans and briefs clinging to his ankles, your knees to your chest as his hot mouth latches around your puffy clit, back arching off the plush mattress.

the metal from his pierced tongue rushing against you as he holds the back of one of your thighs to keep them up, grunting and swallowing your arousal. you're whining so much it has his dick twitching, pulling on his hair not helping either. you're rocking your hips with urgency, legs twitching after he lifts his head to spit, collecting his saliva with two fingers before curling them into you, holding your stomach down while he shakes his fingers. that alone has you convulsing around him, tears in your eyes as you whimper his name and squirm helplessly, his lips kissing your inner thighs.

coming down from your high, aki's already propping himself behind you, turning you on your side while he laid on his, leveraging your head with his forearm underneath your neck, fingers in your mouth you suck while glaring at him. he curses, monotoned voice rasping, "don't do that."

"do what?" you hum, wrapping your lips around them again and moaning.

aki clenches his jaw, lifting your right leg to open you up before slipping inside, hearing you gasp as you adjust to the stretch. both of you groan in unison, turning your face to the side to kiss him while your nails clawed at his hip, then his ass as he rolls into you, too horny to be gentle and snapping his hips hard against your ass, grunting, "i heard you, girl," and drilling faster. your eyes scroll to the back of your head, aki swallowing the breath out of you as he sucks on your bottom lip and chokes you, the two of you whining in each other's mouth, muffling the noise although the skin interaction didn't cease.

he's brutal, a different person when in this form of bond. dropping your leg and reaching between to rub at your clit, heavy breaths on your neck as he hides his face there. you can easily smell the citrus scent of his shampoo, his scent overall a main attraction when he stepped toward you. . . like lavender. when he's nearing his climax, he gropes your chest, slurring, "be a good girl and cum all over me, baby. can i feel it this time?" and you nod, doing just as he says, his taunts and praises making your gut swim with butterflies.

you try not to scream as he licks and bites your neck sloppily, dazed. instead, you grab a pillow nearby and stuff part of it in your mouth, aki's face hovering over you as tears leak from your eyes and you cum hard, harder than you ever had. aki holds you close by your waist, taking a few more pumps before he furrows his brows and slowly pulls out, cumming on your flush skin with a hiss. by this time, his hair had fallen down his face completely, and even in your fucked out state, you reach up to rake through it with a lazy smile. aki chuckles, kissing your forehead before building the strength to find a cloth to clean you up. luckily, there's an en-suite bathroom, giving him access to warm water and toiletries.

fixing his posture in the mirror, he's rubbing his face and adjusting his clothes to appear as he did when he arrived; neat and professional. although what he just did wasn't so classy of him. he fucked some woman he barely knew at a millionaires home. work, he was working. not here for personal pleasure. he wanted to slap himself for being so easily enraptured. no one had to know about it. he only hoped not a soul downstairs heard what went on.

he's good to go, done scolding himself and turning off the bathroom light before stepping out. he finds you perched up, sipping a miniature bottle of crown royal you found in the bedside mini-fridge, sniffling your nose and blankly staring out the window. aki comes forward, gently grasping your thigh and gliding the wet cloth over your skin, the silence awkward.

"dandelions.”

aki's eyes slowly drift to your face, staring in confusion. "what?"

he notices how eerily slow tears built up in your eyes, gripping the bottle harder before exhaling. "dandelions," now you're finally looking at him, the coldness on your face making him anxious. "that's where his body is."

your voice is like vanilla. it's one thing about you that he grew infatuated with. it's one of the many reasons he was captured by you, brought to where he was now. standing at the bedside as he watched tears pool down your broken face. body? what body? he grew cold, nervously eyeing you as you sniffled, standing to fix your hair, dress, and walking around the bed to slip back into your heels.

“wait," he goes to grab your arm when you try to walk out the door. "what the fuck are you talking about?"

the deadness in your eyes scares him even more, and he's panicking when you say, "alex."

“alexander?!" he shouts, dragging you away from the exit, hands on either side of your shoulders as he eyes you, his own wide. heart pumping drastically. "what did you do? where is he?"

"by the dandelions on the terrace," blunt, again. as if you aren't phased at all by his reaction. "follow me."

he's stunned, unable to fully process what you were telling him. he already assumed the worst when the term 'body' came to light. though his heart raced heavily in his chest, his feet blindly dragged in your direction. cautiously watching your every move in case he had to protect himself. fuck, he didn't have any weapon. then again, he's sure he could easily handle you, knock you out if he needed to. lock you in a closet and alert the hundreds of guest just below their feet. that's right, there are still people here. and if you mentioned alexander, how the fuck and when the fuck did you have the time to . . . kill him?

"[♡]," he began to speak your name, but your head was in the clouds, ignoring anything that came out of his mouth as you cut into a passageway that led to a grand master bedroom, then facing the terrace you spoke of. he was nervous, your neck turning to eye him as you step onto the gravel, blankly staring down at something. he couldn't see from where he stood, matter of fact, he didn't want to see.

"he's here," you say. "he's here."

aki has no choice but to advance forward, wanting to squeeze his eyes shut from the upcoming scare of a human’s body. and not just any human, the alexander bodari. a flaccid arm sticks out from beside a bush, palm facing the sky, details of a struggle bruised into his hand as the skin in the area seemed peeled. aki’s heart drops the closer he gets, hand covering his mouth as he stares down at the lifeless body laying in a pool of blood. the aluminum wire draped around his neck stained with blood gave aki the answer he needed when it came to the cause. you strangled him to death. the question remains; who are you and how were you affiliated with alexander? most importantly, why’d you kill him?

“i don’t understand,” is all he can get out.

“the proof is in his first novel,” you utter, and he’s still confused. “the story about the woman who’s trapped in the psychopaths basement? it was about me.”

aki couldn’t grasp the thought of you being the woman from the novel star always talked about. that you had been the victim of his story. that it was a real life phenomena. that he met you, slept with you, and now you want him to, what . . . cover up a murder in a house filled with two hundred guests?

“he painted this image as if he was the most prestigious man on the planet. he made money off of real events. events that played out by torturing me, and using me to get his ‘creative juices flowing.’ he needed a test subject. he was a sick man who deserved to die,” tears pour down your face, the anger in your tone thick and pent up from years of pain and sorrow. “he was my father’s partner. my father despised me simply because of my resemblance of my mother and my rebellion against him. when he died from heart failure, in his will, he married me to alex.”

“that’s fucking. . . sick. i didn’t think that was possible in this day and age.”

you scoff with agreement. “yeah. he watched me grow from a preteen to making me his wife. sick bastard for sure.”

aki wants to vomit from this information. still unable to wrap his head around any of it. his hands sit on his hips as he stares up at the sky and blows a raspberry, try to keep his nerves together. you watch him with sadness, and maybe regret. you weren’t intentionally planning for this to happen. though part of you wanted someone to save you. to see the real you and rescue you from this torment.

“i know this is probably the last thing you expected to happen. i apologize for dragging you into this. i just didn’t know what else to do. i felt hopeless. and i refused to let his popularity run by making another fortune of a sick novel.”

“did he attack you?” he asks.

“he didn’t,” you clarify. “i think i just finally snapped. granted, tonight of all nights wasn’t the correct setting.”

aki makes a face that reads ‘fucking clearly’ as he rubs both palms down his face. he doesn’t know whether to run and call you insane or feel sympathy for a victim. but, murder is murder. and now, standing here with you, that’d make him an accomplice. as scary as that was, he couldn’t risk his future career. but he was stuck in a pickle. he wanted to help you.

“there are clear signs of struggle, so we have to make it look like an accident,” aki suggests, but immediately, you shake your head in disagreement.

“they won’t believe that. he’s one of the wealthiest men in new york. it’ll be a huge investigation.”

“then the only answer would be to tell the truth,” he finalized.

“the . . truth?”

aki nods, pulling you toward him and stepping away from the body, chills still going up his spin and goosebumps on his arms. “listen to me, you can tell the world exactly who you are and what he’s done to you. you have proof. transactions, marriage certificate, i’m sure there’s documents for days in his computer that can prove what he’s put you through. there’s evidence somewhere.”

“and if i tell the world, who’s to say they’ll believe me?”

“i believe you,” aki says. your eyes fill with hope, and thankfulness. “people will have their opinions, but we know the truth. do you have anyone else that can be your alibi?”

you think long and hard, until it hits you. “the maid. she’s been working for him ever since i moved in after my father died. she’s fed me, helped me heal wounds . . even get rid of his unborn child i lost after too much stress.”

“jesus christ,” he bows his head in disbelief. “where is she now?”

“luckily, the kitchen. the woman with the braided red hair. she promised me she’d always protect me. after his book succeeded he became nicer to me, gave me a ‘real’ marriage. she was like his mother, always scolding him when he raised his voice at me or wouldn’t let me live my life. it’s all so depressing.”

“okay. it’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” aki comforts you as you begin to sob once again, cradling your head in his chest.

the night ends in the blink of an eye. aki takes you into another room and wraps a blanket around you as you sit on the edge of the bed and wait for the police. he finds the woman you spoke of, pulls her to the side and informs her of the tragedy above. she herself looks relieved. not at all shocked by what played out, as if she knew you’d go through with it. aki guesses he truly was a horrible man. and to think he would’ve worked for him in the future. the police arrive shortly after the woman goes to check on you, insuring that everything would be okay, and that she’d stick to the full story. the police instructs everyone the leave the premises, aki being questioned for a full hour, this home becoming a crime scene, and all of their faces full of black ink on the daily news the next morning.

aki will never forget the chilling smirk on your face as they removed alexander’s body from the terrace. it was . . haunting.

#𑄽𑄺 ━━ ꒰ 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎'𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑦 .ᐟ ꒱#aki hayakawa smut #aki smut #aki x reader #aki hayakawa #aki x you #aki x y/n #aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa x you #aki hayakawa x y/n #csm smut #csm #chainsaw man #aki csm

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 month

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Rusty | Chapter 11 | S.R

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A/N - Just an FYI - the fics being posted now were finished months ago. I haven't written anything for the fandom in quite a long time and at present have no drive to do so. Once Midnight and Rusty are finished posting that will be it from me for the forseeable. Thank you for coming along for the ride.

Chapter Summary - Spencer pushes through another barrier on his way to recovery. But when a face from his past shows up out of the blue it threatens to destroy everything between the two of you.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - male masturbation, Spencer’s incredibly dirty thoughts, brief mention of three ways, handjobs, oral sex (f receiving) and penetrative sex (both p in v and p in a) all by way of Spencer’s imagination (Spencer is basically writing his own smut fic in his head), self inflicted wounds, talk of weight loss, swearing, arguing, yelling, tears, sad Luke, bit of a cliff hanger ending. WC - 7.6k

Chapter 11 - All My Ex's Live in Texas

The sentiment, to be able to love someone we must first learn how to love ourselves, felt oddly poignant in this moment, as Spencer stood in his bedroom, in front of the full-length mirror tucked away in his closet.

It wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, he often gave himself a cursory glance before he left the lodge of a morning, giving himself a brief once over.

It also wasn’t something he made a habit of doing. He kept the mirror inside the closet for the purposes of not having to look at himself for long periods of time.

But this was for entirely therapeutic purposes.

And the idea of having to love oneself before allowing others into our heart rang true in an entirely different way.

Spencer needed to be able to engage himself physically before he could expect anyone else to do the same.

It had been four days since his trip to Doctor Ortega’s office. In those four days the two of you had participated in a string of increasingly heavier make out sessions, three of which fervent enough to yet again cause Spencer to come in his pants, but as yet had not graduated onto anything more intimate.

Yesterday the two of you had ridden your respective mares into Pipe Creek for Spencer to collect his new prescription and Doctor Ortega had caught him on his way out.

She’d taken him aside and reminded him that in order to take back control of his own body, he had to truly own it himself before he frivolously tried to hand it over to someone new.

And that’s what led him here. Standing in front of his full-length mirror, naked as the day he was born.

The only part of his body that was concealed was his casted arm, he’d even gone as far as to remove the dressings from his bicep, thigh and stomach.

The wounds were all at various stages of healing, scabbing over and starting to scar. They would all leave their marks upon his skin for the rest of his life, a constant reminder that he’d been to hell but was desperately trying to claw his way back.

He focused on them for longer than necessary, trying to distract his mind from the task at hand for as long as he possibly could. You’d gone to the grocery store with Rusty and wouldn’t be back for a while. He had time for his introspective.

He inspected each cut with a keen eye, taking note of how each brandished him, pictured what they’d look like once solid and pink against his alabaster flesh.

This was not an activity Spencer relished. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at his naked form in such a manner. It felt clinical. Yet another experiment.

Spencer liked experiments so he tried to keep that in mind as he took himself in as a whole before slowly ingesting each individual facet that made the full Spencer Reid picture.

Start at the top, work his way down. Cold, removed, distant.

Still got a good head of hair, not like William. Good hair. Thick hair. No greys. Almost forty and no greys. That’s pretty good going considering the stress I’ve been under.

Nice eyes. Friendly eyes, that’s what JJ called them. Or was it kind eyes? Nice no less. Brown with gold flecks mom always used to point out.

Bags under the eyes aren’t so nice. When did they get so purple? I look like I’ve never slept a day in my life.

Nose. Lips. Chapped lips, such dry lips. How does Y/N kiss me? Need to buy chapstick. Must remember to buy chapstick.

Need to shave. Or do I? I don’t hate the stubble, it makes me look tougher. Wonder what Y/N’s opinion on it is? Maybe I should ask her.

His eyes trailed slightly lower to his torso.

Still so skinny. Didn’t I put on weight? Where did that go? Mom always says I look like I’m not eating. Have I been eating? When did I get this skinny?

Lost weight in prison. Couldn't eat after…my mouth was always too sore. Thought I’d put it back on. Did I lose it again? How? When?

He raised his hand in absent-mindedness and ran his fingers along the visible bones of his sternum, protruding through his milky skin. He pulled a face and dropped his hand again, somewhat unamused.

His eyes briefly flitted back over the cut on his left side, garnering his attention once again before flicking to his stomach.

Definitely lost weight, but how? Hip bones are more prominent. Got one of those little v-cut muscles I was always jealous of on Luke. Did I get that from riding? It does require core strength. I’ve never noticed it before.

He continued quickly past the appendage where his attention was supposed to be, down to his legs. He’d always had strong thighs, thick thighs but they were somehow even meatier than he remembered.

Is that from riding too? Must be. Good legs, definitely not terrible legs. Sturdy. Load bearing.

I’m stalling.

He closed his eyes with a loud huff, feeling incredibly self conscious all of a sudden. Opening his eyes again he forced his gaze between his legs where his flaccid member hung in a bed of pubic hair.

And here we are, the thorn in my side. The bane of my goddamn existence. My…

…it’s not gonna get hard if you berate it.

He grit his teeth and stared almost aggressively at the length of flesh and muscle between his legs.

Masturbation should not be this difficult.

It felt forced. He wasn’t aroused, not even a little. On the occasions in his life he had turned to self pleasure, it was only because he was incredibly horny, which wasn’t a regular occurrence for him unless he was in the act itself.

He’d never just sat and thought I’m bored, maybe I could jerk one off. What was normal protocol here?

His new phone had the internet and he would probably be able to look up a porn site. But what porn? Spencer didn’t even know what kind of porn he liked.

He found both men and women attractive, where would he even begin? In an ideal world, what kind of sexual desire would…oh…oh!

He stared at his cock as it twitched very slightly, heart beat picking up at the simple thought. He kept his eyes trained downwards while he contemplated it again.

I like both men and women, I find them equally attractive. Specifically one man and one woman so what if I could have both?

Again he twitched, before his very eyes his cock started to swell. His mouth fell open, chest heaving with his breaths.

Y/N and Luke? Together? And me. All three of us. Together. Touching. Kissing. Or I could just watch, I’d be pretty happy to watch.

Again he was amazed by the sudden jerk of his shaft, swelling slowly but surely.

Oh this could work. I think this might work.

He wrapped his hand around his shaft without too much thought in case he might talk his way out of this. He was only semi-erect but the speed in which it had happened meant he could be fully aroused in no time.

He kept his eyes open, trying to force himself to watch as he started his slow strokes but his mind was wandering quickly down a sinful rabbit hole.

Standing over them while she straddles him, her bare thighs pressed against his bare thighs, taking hold of his hard cock in her hand.

Hearing Luke moan as his Adam’s apple bobs at her touch. Her beautiful, petite hand, unable to wrap all the way around his shaft. But she tries, she tries so hard. She wants to make him feel good, wants to give me a show.

Luke’s looking up at me, his eyes blown out with lust.

“Come closer, cariño, let me touch you.”

Oh how I happily oblige.

Whilst she’s stroking Luke I kneel on the bed next to them and Luke is immediately taking me in his own large hand. I moan and my head falls back against my shoulders at his touch.

He strokes me in time with her strokes on him. The sound of flesh on flesh echoing in the room. Moans and heavy breaths.

There’s another hand on my jaw, I look at her and she draws me in for a deep kiss. Her tongue explores my mouth while Luke’s hand pumps my cock.

My other hand finds her breast and I knead it beneath my fingers, pinching her hardened nipple in my hand.

Yep, that’ll do it.

He was fully erect in his hand now, stroking himself at an almost furious pace. His hand twisted and tightened, staring at his cock in his own hand in the mirror.

Laying on my back and she’s on top of me, lowering herself down, slowly, slowly. Inch by inch I watch myself disappear inside her silken walls. I can feel the way her body stretches and pulls around my hard cock.

Luke is behind her, palming her tits, kissing her neck. She’s whining, moaning because she’s so tight and I’m so big.

“How does he feel, baby?” Luke whispers against her flesh once I’m completely sheathed inside of her.

“Fuck, he feels so good.” She starts to rock back and forth on top of me, eyes staring intently down at me.

One of Luke’s hands travels downwards, to the juncture where our bodies meet. His index finger pressing against her clit.

She vibrates around me, sending shockwaves down my cock. The moan that leaves my lips is nothing short of feral.

Frantically fisting his own cock whilst imagining the pleasures of being with the both of you and his head was already leaking against hand. He swiped his thumb through it, legs buckling a little at the sensation and using his precum as lube.

He was gnawing on his lip, watching the way his cock throbbed in his hand. It was a heady sight to behold. He thought he’d be disgusted by it. Was it wrong that it turned him on more?

He looked good like this, strong, virile, dare he even say, sexy? He felt powerful as he watched his face contort in the pleasure he was bestowing upon himself. His staunch thighs shook beneath him.

His thick and heavy length pulsed against his palm.

She’s on her back, legs spread for me. I leave a trail of kisses across her soft skin but I’m in a hurry, I need to get to my final destination.

Once my face is buried between her folds, I lap up at her arousal before my tongue settles on her swollen bud. She writhes beneath me at the contact, trying to move away. But I stop her with an arm across her abdomen.

She moans and screams as I take her in my mouth, suckling on her sensitive clit. Like a man possessed I work between her legs, like she’s my favourite meal.

I can feel a heat behind me, and hands on my hips guiding me up onto my knees. I comply because I’m so wrapped up in the way she tastes on my tongue.

Then there’s something pressing into me from behind, I’m being stretched but in the best possible way.

As Luke fills me up I moan into her core, making her squirm. The sounds in the room are melting into the walls, the smell of sex is heavy in the air.

Luke thrusts into me hard and fast and I take two fingers and plunge them inside of her waiting heat while keeping my mouth on her desperate clit.

She’s rocking against my face, coating my lips and chin in her arousal as my fingers sink inside of her.

Luke is grunting as he fucks me, filling me up in a way I haven’t been filled in so long. Between my legs I can feel my cock twitching, pulsing, close to the edge without being touched.

“Oh fuck,” Spencer mumbled, legs trembling. “Oh Jesus fucking Christ.”

More precum leaked from his tip, coating his hand as he thought of eating you out while Luke fucked him. His head was hazy, his breaths ragged.

“Fuck, Spence, I’m close. So close.” She screams as I plunge my fingers in and out of her and swipe my tongue over her clit.

Luke’s thrusts are growing more violent, his balls slapping against my ass.

“Make her come, Spence. You can do it, cariño.” Luke encouraged me and I pick up my speed.

Soon enough I feel her walls clenching around my fingers and she’s coming undone at my will. She’s convulsing beneath me and I know it’s all because of me.

And as I feel her coming, moaning my name, my own orgasm starts to pinch at my stomach and I know it won’t be long before I’m…

…“fuck, fuck, fuck!” Spencer screamed as he gripped the base of his shaft and started splattering streaks of his come all over the mirror.

He kept stroking himself through his orgasm, his legs undulating back and forth as he expelled himself on the reflective surface, covering his hand in his sticky seed.

He watched every small movement of his body, his quivering thighs, his leisurely strokes on his spent cock, his chest dragging up and down with each shallow breath.

His brain was foggy but his vision was exceedingly clear. He was fascinated by the way his body moved, how one small ripple in one muscle caused another to flex and so on and so forth.

The contours of his body seemed so sharp in his post orgasm haze, every pull or push, every pulse, every dilation.

He’d never looked upon himself with such startling clarity before as his shaft started to soften in his hand, it was all becoming clear.

This is my body. I can see it. I can feel it. My body belongs to me. My body doesn’t belong to anyone but me.

I am whole. I am whole.

I am Spencer Reid and I am whole.

He was so lost in his newfound captivation of his own frame, he didn’t hear you enter the lodge or call his name. He also didn’t hear the bedroom door open or your footsteps on the wooden floor.

It wasn’t until your face appeared in the reflection behind him that he registered his company.

“Uh, hi?” A smirk adorned itself on your features as you regarded him, soft cock in his hand and the distinctive come stains on the mirror.

You couldn’t stop your gaze flitting up and down his body. You’d never seen him completely naked before, uninhibited, exposed.

You tried to make a mental note of every dip and curve of his glorious body. He really was a sight to behold.

“Hi,” he replied, returning your smile.

“Everything okay here?”

He let go of his length, turned to face you. His pupils were blown out wide.

“More than okay.” He nodded.

And suddenly he advanced on you, smashing his lips against yours and not caring in the slightest that he was naked and sticky with his own come.

He grabbed at you, pawed at you hungrily. His wandering hands got you out of your clothes in no time at all and soon the two of you were falling back to the bed.

He was on top of you, kissing you with reckless abandon. He could already feel himself growing hard again between your bodies.

His tongue desperately explored your mouth as though it were the first time, he manoeuvred you both so he was on his back and you were straddling him.

He hissed as he got an unhindered sight of your breasts as you sat atop him. Needy hands wandered until they were palming them, pinching your nipples between his deft fingers until they stood to attention, not allowing himself to be impeded by his cast.

You moaned and rocked back and forth on top of him, his hard cock gliding between your folds. Spencer whined and bucked against you.

He removed his hands, letting his casted arm fall back to his side. His good hand circled around your wrist, gripping it tight and moving your hand so it hovered above his cock.

You stared at him, silently questioning him. Spencer simply nodded in response and let go of your wrist.

You sucked in a breath, cautious as you lowered your hand closer to his throbbing member. When your hand wrapped around his base he moaned in fervour.

His eyes rolled back into his skull, back arching off the bed. You slowly started to move your hand up and down around him but he was soon bucking into your hand, setting the pace for you.

His desperation was evident in the surges of his hips snapping back and forth fiercely. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as his eyes landed on you again.

He smiled up at you, the ethereal being perched on his thighs whilst working to bring him the utmost pleasure.

He was whole. He was finally beginning to feel whole.

***

It was getting late by the time the BAU finally wrapped up in Texas. Luke had agreed with Rossi that he would take one day off to visit Spencer before he joined them back at Quantico.

Given the hour, Luke intended on getting a hotel for the night in Bandera town. He drove those forty some miles north from San Antonio in his SUV, fingers tapping nervously against the steering wheel as he tuned into a country and western radio station.

The back seat was full of gifts and cards which Garcia had sent to the police precinct for Luke to deliver to their old friend for his birthday which was just a few days away.

Luke’s nerves flooded his body, causing his stomach to form into tight knots. The closer he got to Bandera, the more anxious he grew, palms sweating against the wheel.

He was under no illusion that Spencer would be happy to see him, especially with him showing up unannounced. But in Luke’s defence he had tried to call Spencer several times over the last few days to inform him of his visit. It wasn’t his fault Spencer didn’t answer.

It was nearing eleven pm by the time Luke arrived in Bandera and try as he might he couldn’t get himself to the hotel.

He couldn’t wait another minute. He needed to see Spencer now.

He took the turning off the main road with the directions Garcia had sent him. He drove a little ways up a dirt track until he came to a stop next to another car.

Killing the engine he frowned himself. He didn’t think Spencer had a car. He supposed he could have purchased one any time.

He slid out of the SUV, dropping to the dirt and closed the door behind him. There was a small single storey lodge a few hundred yards up on the left.

There was a light on.

Luke swallowed, smoothing out his shirt and running his fingers through his hair. His chest swelled with nerves and his legs shook a little as he started towards the lodge.

***

Spencer’s second orgasm seemed to come quicker than the first, your small, dainty hand bringing him to completion in no time at all. Chest heaving with his breaths, he immediately pulled you down by the back of your neck so he could kiss you.

He was whole. He was whole. They didn’t win.

He kissed you fiercely, his come sticky between your bodies but neither of you minded. His hand stayed on the back of your neck, pinning you to him.

“You’re amazing.” He mumbled against your lips.

“No, you’re amazing.” You replied.

You wanted to tell him you were proud of him but you didn’t want to make a big deal of it or have him think you were patronising him. Instead you continued kissing him, grinding your bodies together as you did so.

Spencer felt like every single one of his nerve endings were on fire. He was overstimulated, he could feel every thread of the sheets beneath him, feel every negligible movement of your body as it moved against his own.

It was eye opening. He’d forgotten how this was supposed to feel. Intimacy wasn’t meant to make him feel guilty, pleasure wasn’t designed to cause him pain.

He’d neglected to remember how it should feel. Two bodies coming together, becoming one. Becoming whole.

He felt as though he could well be floating, his body lighter than air. He needed more. He needed so much more. He needed everything and he needed it with you.

He gripped the back of your neck firmly, tongue roughly exploring the deepest recesses of your mouth. The sound of heavy breathing filled the room alongside soft moans and the friction of skin on skin.

And for the second time that night, Spencer didn’t hear the door to his cabin open or the heavy footsteps on his hardwood floor.

***

Worryingly, Luke found the door to Spencer’s lodge was ajar, not quite closed all the way. His hand immediately pressed against the butt of his gun in its holster, ready just in case. In his experience, nothing good came from doors being left open. Least of all way out here in the sticks.

He hesitantly pushed it open and took a step inside. The space was small and mostly full of books which didn’t surprise him at all. There were a few paper grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Nothing looked out of place or disturbed.

He let his hand fall back to his side, trying to calm his erratically beating heart. Spencer could be scatty sometimes, perhaps he’d just been in a hurry. There was nothing to panic about.

He stepped closer towards the closed door past the kitchen, for which he assumed was the bedroom. It was only as he drew closer that he started to register the sounds of heavy breathing.

His first thought was that Spencer might be having a panic attack. He’d had them a lot after prison, Luke knew all too well what they looked like. Perhaps he’d started to have one when he arrived home with groceries, it would explain why the door wasn’t closed properly and why the bags were still on the counter.

Another wave of unease washed over him and he quickly pushed open the door without a second thought.

The two bodies on the bed came into view and Luke felt as though the whole world came crumbling down around him in a single second. The body on top with their back to him was definitely female. The body beneath, laying on the bed was obscured from view but Luke would recognise those soft moans anywhere.

“Wow,” he croaked out the single word as tears flooded his vision.

Spencer suddenly sat up in bed, glaring at Luke over your shoulder. His mouth fell open, eyes wide in shock at the ghost standing in his doorway.

“L-Luke?” He stuttered.

“Luke?” You hissed without looking over your shoulder. “As in…?”

“Hmm.” Spencer nodded.

You were still in his lap, trying to hide your naked frame against Spencer’s. You needed to leave. You couldn’t be part of this. You swung yourself off of the bed and in one swift move sprinted to the bathroom before you could give this stranger an eyeful.

You’d left Spencer exposed and he quickly pulled the sheet around his body despite the fact Luke had seen him naked hundreds of times before. He hadn’t seen this version of him though, the one with the cuts and scabs from self abuse. He stared at Luke and Luke and him. Seconds seemed like hours.

He noticed Luke’s gaze flicker down to his arm and his brows pinched together.

“What happened to your arm?” Luke asked in concern.

Spencer didn’t know whether he meant the cast or the cut on his bicep but he didn’t ask.

“Riding accident.” Spencer clenched his jaw. “What are you…why are you here?”

“We were in town for a case. I tried to call, you didn’t answer. The door was open and I thought something might have happened to you.” The hurt in Luke’s voice was palpable and Spencer felt a little guilty that he’d had to walk into this.

“Uh, lemme get dressed okay? I’ll meet you outside?” Spencer chewed on the tip of his tongue, half thinking his overstimulated brain was imagining the man in front of him.

Had he given over so entirely to his fantasy that it had begun to feel real? Was this all part of his vivid speculation? Was he in fact still masturbating in front of his mirror?

No, it was all too real. The sadness in Luke’s eyes, the way his shoulders slumped with the weight of seeing his ex in bed with someone else. The way you’d so hurriedly scampered off to the bathroom.

This was real life, even if it did feel like a nightmare.

Luke nodded stiffly and turned about on his heels. Spencer watched his retreating form pad out of the bedroom and close the door behind him.

Spencer got to his feet and started gathering up his clothes from the floor. He tapped on the bathroom door as he was fighting with his boxers.

“Are you okay?” He called when he got no answer.

“Your ex is here, what do you think!” You hissed in response.

“I had no idea he was coming here, Y/N. I didn’t invite him.” He was stuffing his legs back in his jeans, trying to ignore the way the fabric scratched his open wounds.

“What the hell is he doing here then?”

“I don’t know! I have no idea.” He grabbed his t-shirt whilst still working on the button of his jeans. “I need to deal with this, hopefully I won’t be long.”

“Okay.” You whispered, hearing his footsteps head away from the door.

He pulled the t-shirt down over his torso as he swung open the bedroom door. Through the window in the front door he could see Luke pacing the length of his porch.

Spencer exhaled, raking his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it from his previous activities. He swallowed around his dry tongue and stepped towards the door.

A frigid burst of air hit him as he stepped outside, joining Luke on the porch. Luke stopped in his tracks and glanced at Spencer. Even in the darkness he could see the tears in Luke’s eyes.

“So, you’ve moved on, huh?” Luke folded his arms across his chest.

“It’s been two years, what did you expect?” Spencer shrugged.

He hated that even after all this time Luke could still cause all the air to leave his lungs. He looked much the same as Spencer remembered in his mind's eye that last time he saw him. He had an extra few creases around his eyes, a few more greys peppering his hairline, but otherwise he remained unchanged.

“What did I expect? Well for starters I expected more from you than leaving without a damn word! I expected that you wouldn’t completely cut me out of your life! I expected…maybe I hoped that I wasn’t the only one still pining like an idiot.” He choked back a sob. “So she gets the healed Spencer Reid? She gets to have you now you’ve worked through your trauma? When I was the one that spent a year by your side after, trying to help you? How is that fair?”

“You think I’m healed?” Spencer’s voice raised a little. “You think I’ve worked through my trauma?”

“It looks that way to me. I seem to remember the last time I tried to get you into that position you pinned my arm behind my back!” Luke spat.

“You have no idea what this is like for me.” Spencer shook his head angrily. “She is the first person I have been able to get close to and even still I’m terrified I’m only one second away from breaking down at all times. It’s been four years and this is the closest I’ve come to moving past what happened to me but I am by no means suddenly shiny and new. I haven’t had sex with her, is that what you want to hear? At this point I’m not even sure I can!

“You can’t just show up here after two years and think you know what I’m going through. I have to take medication every day just so I am not completely crippled by my trauma. I blackout when the stress gets too much, I dissociate because my mind can’t handle the pain. Don’t come here and assume you know what I’m going through. You have no idea.”

In the bathroom you heard raised voices outside and worried about Spencer’s rising anger and what could happen if he let it get out of control. You snuck back out and found your clothes, quickly redressing and creeping into the living room.

From the kitchen you could see them through the glass pane in the front door without them being able to see you were watching. You told yourself you weren’t eavesdropping, you just wanted to be ready in case Spencer needed grounding.

You tucked yourself away in the corner, eyes on the side of Luke’s face. You felt that swell of familiarity again that you couldn’t place. Your fingers kneaded your achy jaw as you listened.

“You were supposed to come back! I gave you time, I gave you space. I thought if I did those things you would come back and we would be okay again.” Luke rubbed his eyes to try and stem his tears.

“That’s not my fault, Luke. I didn’t ever give you a reason to believe that would be the case. I’m sorry I left without telling you, I know I should have said goodbye. But I can’t change that. This is my life now, I have no intentions of coming back to DC. I’m sorry if you thought that I would, but I never gave any indication that I would.” Spencer rubbed his hand on his jeans, focusing on the rough texture.

He needed to stay tethered, he couldn’t let the anger bubble and cause his mind to detach.

“Did you love me?” Luke’s voice pitched. “Did you ever really love me like you said you did?”

You knew that voice, you were sure of it. You just couldn’t place it.

“How can you even ask me that?” Spencer softened. “Of course I did.”

“But it was easier for you to run away than try and make things work with the man you supposedly loved?” Luke exhaled.

“I had to leave. After everything that happened, after Merva, it was just too much. I needed to get away from DC, away from it all.” Spencer sniffed loudly.

“You could have talked to me instead of running away, Spencer. It’s what I was there for. But you never talked to me.”

“I couldn’t talk to you, Luke. I couldn’t talk to anyone. I just wanted to forget.” Spencer’s eyes filled with tears and he rubbed his palm roughly against his thigh, focused on the material of his jeans.

“You know I know what happened right?” Luke shrugged. “I know what happened to you in prison. I read the medical reports.”

Spencer froze. His rampant rubbing of his thigh stopped, he felt like his breathing stopped. He glared at Luke while he processed his words.

He’d read the report. He’d known all along.

Inside your brows pinched together. Prison? Spencer was in prison? Surely you must have the wrong end of the stick? Spencer did not seem like the type. There must be something you were missing.

“You…how could you?” Spencer croaked. “How could you do that to me?”

“You wouldn’t talk to me. I was worried about you.”

“Worried? You were worried? So you invaded my privacy? Those reports were not your concern Luke! I figured Prentiss would have to see them but you…I can’t believe you would do that to me.” Spencer’s voice raised again and felt the anger in his stomach.

Deep breaths, take deep, calming breaths. One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three, four, five. Feel something beneath your hand, ground yourself. This will be okay. One, two, three, four, five.

“Maybe if you’d talked to me I wouldn’t have felt the need to.” Luke didn’t know why he was trying to justify himself, he knew what he’d done was wrong. “How did you ever get cleared to come back to work? You were clearly struggling.”

“Oh please, we wrote those questions. You think after fifteen years of profiling I didn’t know the right things to say to the bureau shrink so she would reinstate me?” Spencer clucked.

“Did you ever tell her you were ra-”

“Don’t you dare you say it.” Spencer cut him off. “Don’t you dare.”

Your head was spinning with the new information. Prison. Profiling. Bureau? What did this all mean? Your cell phone was on the counter next to the bags and you reached for it before hiding back in your corner. The arguing continued outside while you brought up a Google search.

Spencer Reid + bureau

Within less than a second, hundreds of search results popped up on the little screen, articles upon articles. You quickly skim read some of the search results as your hand shook around the device.

The youngest academy graduate recruited to the FBI’s illustrious Behavioral Analysis Unit, twenty two year old Doctor Spencer Reid…

With his three PhD’s, and IQ of 187, SSA Doctor Spencer Reid was hand picked by BAU founder Jason Gideon…

After a high speed chase in Mexico the FBI’s Behavioural Analysis Unit are on the scene. It’s thought that a member of the team is involved…

BAU Member SSA Doctor Spencer Reid acquitted of charges against him…

Hostage situation involving two members of the BAU…no further information is known at this time…

Your head swam. Your stomach lurched. This couldn’t be true, yet it was here in black and white.

You were sleeping with the enemy. The sweet, kind cowboy you’d rescued from the desert was a former FBI Agent.

Three PhD’s? An IQ of 187? Doctor?

What the fuck was going on? You knew there were things he hadn’t told you but did you know him at all? And what led to an FBI agent going to prison? And what happened to him in prison that Luke had ascertained from his medical records?

You felt dizzy. You pushed yourself back up against the wall so you wouldn’t collapse. Luke’s raised voice brought you back around.

“You could have told me! I would have understood, I could have helped!”

“No one can help me! Why don’t you understand that?” Spencer yelled back.

“She seemed to be doing a fine job.” Luke scoffed, nodding his head towards the door.

“Goddamnit, would you let that go?”

“Let it go? How the hell can I let that go? Every time I close my eyes I will see her on top of you!” Luke threw his arms up into the air.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be stronger, okay? I’m sorry I pushed you away. But I am finally starting to move past what happened to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t do that for you but Y/N is…she makes me feel like I can heal. And I need that Luke, I need to heal.” Spencer sniffed again, feeling his tears dangerously close to falling.

Luke didn’t appear to be listening though, his brows pinched together as he rolled something over in his mind.

“Did you say Y/N?” He rubbed the side of his neck.

Your back went rigid. Hearing him say your name dislodged something distant in the back of your mind.

“Have you seen this woman? Her name is Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N and we have reason to believe she’s been seen in this area.”

“Yeah, why?” Spencer’s voice broke through your memory.

“I…I’m not sure.” Luke looked deep in thought. “Can I…? One sec.”

Spencer watched in confusion as Luke turned and headed down the stairs towards his SUV. He wrapped his good arm around himself in protection and to stave off the cold night.

“Have you seen this woman? Her name is Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N and we have reason to believe she’s been seen in this area.”

“I don’t know nothing, ‘bout nothing.”

“Can you take a closer look at her photo ma’am? Your neighbour seems to think she’s been staying here.”

“Again, I don’t know nothing, ‘bout nothing.”

“Would you mind if we took a look around?”

“You got a warrant?”

“No…”

“Then get the hell off of my property.”

Magnolia Springs, Alabama. Mrs Royce, the kindly old woman for whom your mother had been best friends with all throughout childhood. She’d offered you a place to stay after you escaped custody. That was until her nosy neighbour recognised you from the wanted posters.

You’d buried your mom’s money under a tree in the wooded area behind her house and watched from a distance as two FBI Agents had come to her home to question her. Even though she hadn’t seen your mother in more years than she could count, Mrs Royce was fiercely loyal, and hadn't said a word.

You hadn’t had a great vantage point for which to see the agents, only caught small glimpses of them from where you hid in the back of the house. But they’d introduced themselves as -

- Agents Phil Brooks and Luke Alvez.

Luke was hurrying back from his car with a manilla folder and Spencer stayed stock still while he awaited him. Luke opened the folder and pulled out a sheet of paper which he proffered to Spencer as soon as he was close enough.

“What is this?” Spencer frowned at the paper.

“Is this the woman? I only saw her from the back. She coulda changed her hair? Is this her?” Luke jabbed a finger at the photograph in the corner of the page. “She escaped from a max security facility a few weeks ago. Phil called me.”

To Spencer’s credit, no matter how many years it had been since he’d needed to to use his poker face, he was still an expert at it. His expression didn’t even so much as flinch as he looked at the photograph of you on Luke’s printout.

He was right, you had changed your hair. But it was without a doubt you looking back at him from that mugshot. He glanced away, back at Luke and shook his head.

“No.” He lied. “I’ve never seen this woman before.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed in scrutiny, watching for any little twitch, any tiny hint that Spencer was keeping something from him. But the truth was, even though they had dated and Luke thought he knew Spencer better than anyone, he never could read Spencer.

“You wouldn’t lie to me would you, Spencer? Because this woman is dangerous, and if you’re lying to me, that’s harbouring a fugitive. I don’t need to tell you that comes with a prison sentence.” Luke observed again.

Even at the mention of prison, Spencer’s features didn’t change.

“I’m telling you Luke, I don’t know this woman.” He waved the paper in front of him. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

Your own brows pinched together. You peered out the window to see the paper in Spencer’s hand but it was too dark to see exactly what was on it. But you were certain he would know it was you in the photograph. So why was he lying?

“Right, I’m just being paranoid I guess.” Luke huffed, snatching the paper back from Spencer.

“I think you should go Luke, it's late and you shouldn’t have come here.” Spencer returned his arm to its position wrapped around him.

“I’m staying down the road for the night. Maybe we can meet tomorrow for coffee or something?” Luke tucked the file under his arm.

“No,” Spencer shook his head. “I don’t want this Luke. I moved out here for a reason, to get away from my life in DC. To get away from…from…”

“From me?” Luke croaked.

“From everyone.” Spencer corrected him. “You will always have a place in my heart, Luke. I did love you but I’m not the same man I was when we started dating and I’m never going to be him again. You have to let me go, Luke, please? Please just let me go.”

Luke wanted to argue, he wanted to argue with every fibre of his being. He didn’t drive all the way out here to have it end like this.

But Spencer’s sad eyes and downturned lips forced him to bite his tongue. Spencer had been through an immeasurable amount of trauma and he was just trying to make it through to the otherside. Luke couldn't help him, he tried, but he’d failed. Perhaps the best thing for Spencer’s wellbeing was for Luke to walk away, to let him go once for and for all.

Luke huffed a breath out through his nose and took a few steps backwards. He navigated the steps whilst never taking his eyes off of Spencer.

“I wish it could have been different.” Luke’s first tear fell and he didn’t try to hide it. “You were the love of my life.”

“I know.” Spencer scrunched his face up as he felt his own tears ready to escape.

“But I wasn’t yours.” Luke spoke for him with a weak shrug of his shoulders. “I want you to be happy, Spencer, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. Just promise me you’ll check in? I’m not asking for daily phone calls or anything like that but please stop ignoring me when I reach out. I’d really like to still be a part of your life even if only in a small capacity.”

“That, uh, sounds reasonable.” Spencer nodded.

“And call Penelope more. She worries about you more than anyone.” Luke shrugged, still walking backwards toward the SUV.

“I will.” He nodded, swallowed thickly. But he was sure if you were who he now knew you to be, he’d never be able to talk to any of his old team ever again.

He felt overcome with discomfort. The goodbye he’d avoided two years ago now here at his feet. Spencer didn’t like goodbyes, it was why he’d left without them the first time.

Goodbyes were endings. Full stops. The closing of a book. Spencer had wanted to keep the story open, unfinished, just in case he ever had the impetus to write that final chapter. But it had been penned for him. Luke had snatched the metaphorical pen from his hand by coming here and effectively completed their story.

“Uh, goodbye then I guess.” Luke shrugged as he reached the car.

“G-goodbye, Luke.” Spencer whispered.

The book slammed shut. Or perhaps it was the car door. Either way, Spencer Reid and Luke Alvez’s story had come to its bitter end.

He stood on the porch and watched as Luke started the engine before putting the vehicle in reverse. He continued to observe as the headlights cast an eerie glow on his land as the SUV turned around. He still just stood there as Luke’s car took to the dirt track back to the main road and soon vanished from sight.

He huffed out a breath, rubbed his eyes to disperse the tears before turning to the door and practically throwing it open. He marched inside and found you in the corner of the kitchen, back pressed up against the wall. You’d been listening, of course you had.

Spencer stayed on his side of the kitchen counter, worried what he might do if he came too close to you. He needed the barrier between you. He slammed his good hand on the counter top but you didn’t even flinch. His eyes were manic as they looked at you, large and wild. His chest was heaving erratically.

He opened his mouth several times to speak but the words kept getting stuck in his dry throat. Minutes of painful silence stretched between you while you kept your eyes on each other.

Eventually Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, his jaw set in a tight line when he finally spoke.

“Who the fuck are you?” He spat the words like venom on his tongue.

You straightened yourself, squared your shoulders as if it might somehow intimidate him. When you spoke it was with equal malevolence.

“I was going to ask you the same thing, SSA Doctor Spencer Reid.”

More silence followed, reaching out into the sparse caverns that gorged their way between you. The wicked talons of the unspoken words weaved around you, wrapping you both in their icy clutches.

You were both acutely aware that whatever conversation was about to transpire between you would inevitably make or break this fledgling relationship. You were no longer who you had been just hours before. A lonely cowboy and a weary traveller no more. All that remained was an FBI Agent and a Fugitive.

It seemed inescapable that this could only end in one of two ways -

Either he called the cops on you and you were thrown back in prison, having the key thrown away and left to rot for the rest of your life behind bars. Or one of you would wind up dead.

And you were not going back to prison.

@kalulakunundrum @small-and-violent @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @mavellover1819 @babyspiderling

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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huboi · 3 months

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☆ - GUINEA PIG HYBRID READER FT MULTIPLE JJK MEN !

╰┈➤ includes; gn! hybrid reader, mainly focused on reader squeaking and the guys falling heads over heels all over again, mentions of eating food

╰┈➤ a/n; this fic is heavily inspired by @appleblueberry-pie s’ post on Guinea pig hybrid reader with jjk men, tysm for letting me use this for a fic 🧡

SATORU GOJO

when satoru first met you, he was instantly in love

you’re guessing that it’s mainly due to your unusual features such as small ears and a tiny barely noticeable tail

he hasn’t seen many hybrids in the sorcerer world, other than panda

one thing that gave him a huge fright was when you first squealed out of nowhere when he brought home some sweet treats

he was very concerned that you were in pain or injured in some way, only to be relieved once told you involuntarily tend to squeal when you get excited

after this experience he tries his best to excite you when possible, since he can’t get enough of your squeaks

always refrains from just squishing your cheeks together in response

man wants to keep you in his pocket

GETO SUGURU

enjoys hearing your squeals

he becomes extra soft when he hears them

one second he’s tearing down another pathetic useless monkey

and the next he’s practically cooing as you squeal in happiness once he comes back from his cult to visit you

you also tend to purr like a cat, especially when he sits you on his lap

his heart fucking melts

loves giving your ears little scritches since it makes you practically vibrate on top of him whilst putting like a lil’ kitty

if you’re unable to speak whilst squealing then he doesn’t mind, he actually finds it enduring how you can’t talk when squealing in joy

yes his daughters also love you so much, they both think you’re the cutest thing they’ve ever seen

NANAMI KENTO

man damn near shat himself the first time you started squeaking

it was when he came home from the usual sorcerer work, and he had a fresh loaf of bread to share with you

you just couldn’t hold back your excitement

you were so embarrassed afterwards, hiding your face behind your hands as nanami looked at you with concern

stuttering, you explained to him that you tend to squeak uncontrollably when you get excited

nanami finds it relaxing when you perch yourself on his lap and start purring in content

he low-key finds it very therapeutic and it helps him destress after a hard day at work

he finds it very cute and unique how you make certain noises when feeling different emotions, gives you more character in his book

won’t admit it but he always finds himself with a little smile plastered on his face when around you

TOJI FUSHIGURO

he’s such a meany about your squeaks :(

always teases you whenever you make animal noises

“aww, you happy to see me sweet thing? why didn’t you just say so?” he’ll coo whilst squishing your cheeks together before giving you a small yet sloppy kiss onto both cheeks

your squeaks scare him at times, but you won’t hear that from him

sometimes he’ll just be chilling then all of a sudden loud ass squeals echo throughout the house and he nearly has a heart attack

actually enjoys hearing you purring, especially sat on his lap

9 times out of 10 pretty much forces you on his lap or chest when you start purring

he actually seems to become less stiff and more calm when you purr on him

sometimes forgets you’re a hybrid and so gets a small surprise when he spots your lil ears on top of your head

CHOSO KAMO

has never in his 150 years of life seen a hybrid at all

very curious of your existence

will ask lots of questions even when you get into a relationship, he’s just a really curious fella what can he say?

he asks them so that he understands you better

when you first squeaked was when he gave you a small kiss on the lips, he was worried he did something wrong

only to be proven wrong when you snuggle up against the crook of his neck, arms wrapped around his body whilst your squeaks slowly but surely turn into content purrs

he melts into your embrace, he’s never felt this content in life other than when he’s with his brothers

your squeaks give him serotonin, he can’t live without your squeaks

enjoys how when he makes spaghetti that you start squeaking even before the foods ready, he concludes that you simply enjoy food so much

SUKUNA RYOMEN

claims that your presence annoys him to no end, especially your squeaks and purrs

then when you stop making those noises around him he feels…. sad?

not even an hour later and he’s telling you that he actually doesn’t mind your noises, low key is fond of them, but he won’t straight up admit he likes them, he’s too far up his own ass to admit when he likes something

he has probably seen hybrids at some point during his thousand plus years of existence, but even he’s aware of how rare hybrids are in the jujutsu world

your happy squeaks make him feel things he’s never felt before

the same goes for your purring

if he’s been gone for a long amount of time, you’ll rush up to him and embrace his muscular body as tight as possible whilst you purr which causes your body to vibrate against his

he finds it weird how your body vibrates when you purr

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cybergothvox · 6 days

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This may not be a new observation for people familiar with hypnosis and trauma, but has anyone noticed how hypnosis seems to work on very similar mechanisms as trauma does?

I was already deeply familiar with trauma academically and personally when I recently started researching hypnosis, and the similarities are making me understand more about how trauma triggers form.

Both hypnosis that induces hypnotic triggers and trauma triggers cause you to associate something with another thing on a deep, subconscious level. Obviously associations can occur in other ways, but only in trauma and hypnosis have I seen such a deep correlation where a single phrase can cause someone to very reflexively perform an action or experience strong emotions.

Additionally, both trauma and hypnosis can induce a dissociative barrier between the trigger and conscious awareness. I read this post on amnesia play for hypnosis kink and I was just struck by like. Holy shit. That is what it feels like when I find an alter with trauma memories I am not supposed to know, and for a second I can remember everything and as I am starting to react emotionally suddenly it all starts to slip away until it feels blank and blurry and I have no idea what it was even though I knew it just a second ago. (Which is why I think to have a full understanding of hypnosis you cannot just look at therapeutic use because I do not think in therapy a memory barrier would be induced like this.)

And it makes sense, right? Like a brain is a brain, its going to have the same structure and mechanisms even in different contexts so it makes sense that it's not that different but I was still quite shocked by it.

And the thing it is making me realize about how trauma forms has to do with what hypnosis is and how it works.

At its core (at least this is what I have read, in several places, though it is a theory and not confirmed, which is fair it is hard to confirm for certain anything about how the mind works due to the nature of it) hypnosis is a heightened state of focus. Generally during hypnosis you are focused and relaxed, and the relaxation is how you can clear your mind enough to focus only on the hypnotists words and the feelings they make you feel.

This made me realize that trauma formation occurs during intense focus as well. The focus is based on fear; one needs to be highly focused on what is going on in a survival situation or a situation where they are being hurt in order to best navigate the situation and get out as quickly as possible, and because that is a High Priority all of the brain is focused on it.

I believe this heightened state of focus in trauma accesses a similar part of the mind that hypnosis does, albeit through violent and unpleasant means, and this is why things that occur during trauma formation can trigger these feelings that were felt during trauma formation to come back.

This is just my personal observations do not take this as academic truth but I am very interested in studying these similarities. If anyone knows any academic papers on this or personal experiences people have written on this topic I would be very interested in reading them.

I will be researching it but of course looking up hypnosis and trauma brings up mainly how hypnosis can be used to treat trauma (which is relevant to the topic still) and it will be hard to find something talking about specifically how hypnosis can sort of mimic trauma on a mechanical level.

(tw: violence)

It's like as if trauma is being attacked and torn open, and hypnosis is surgery. One is violent and damaging, and one is careful and can be healing, but they both reach inside of you to touch the same places.

#beep boop #hypnosis #hypnotism #trauma #hypnotherapy #abuse #its so funny i literally went to the hypnosis like oh kink? *looks around for two seconds*#HEY DID YOU GUYS REALIZE THIS IS THErAPY?#DO YOU GUYS. KNOW YOU ARE PRACTICING PSYCHOLOGY

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phantomspiderr · 1 year

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Rest

Pairing: Steven Grant x gn!reader

Word Count: 750+

Summary: a sleepy cuddle with Steven

Warnings/Tags: just some cuddling fluff that I think about all the time, not really any description of reader, reader also doesn't talk, trying to keep it as neutral as possible, I don't think there's anything else but let me know if I've missed something

a/n: two posts in one week omg, Happy Holidays bbys😘

･☆: *.☽ .* :☆

There is no sound throughout the flat, only occasionally is the silence broken by pages turning or scribbling of notes. Another evening of research had turned into being up until the early hours of the morning. Steven was hunched over his desk, hyper-focused on researching for a new exhibition that had been announced at his work. Since he’d finally settled back at home—after everything that happened with Marc, Egypt, Khonshu, all of those things that had been addressed—he’d been dying to get back to the museum. Unfortunately, Donna still worked there and everyone still remembered he’d trashed a perfectly good bathroom for no particular reason but luckily London had many, many museums. Steven felt like his luck had finally begun to change when he came across a part-time tour guide position at another fancy museum. Then the manager had loved his enthusiasm and knowledge so much that they’d offered him the job there and then. Now he's been working there for a few months but he was still set on making a good impression, that and he just found learning all of the knowledge therapeutic. There was a deep-seated comfort for Steven in reading over history books, especially on days like today when the streets of London are covered in snow and the flat is so cosy. He is so lost in his reading that he jumps when the floorboards creak, his head whipping around to your shadowy figure. Steven’s entire body softens, his fight or flight instincts calming down when he sees that you’re wrapped up in a blanket, standing a few feet away sleepily looking at him.

“Hi, little star. What’re you doing up?” Steven reaches a hand out to you, while his other removes his glasses and places them down on the desk. You quietly walked toward him, rubbing at your eyes with your blanketed hand and he can’t stop a smile from forming. As soon as you’re close enough Steven wraps his arm around you, looking up at you fondly, “you okay?” You only nod to the question, the memory of sleep still evident in your brain and Steven knows it’s late, so late, and that he should just allow you to drag him back to bed with him but he’s almost done with this chapter. Then you let out the quietest little whine and he almost gives up there and then, “I just have a few more pages love and then I promise I’ll come to bed. I swear.” Of course, you just pout and whine a little more and again he considers just leaving the rest for tomorrow but he’s so close to being done. He just looks between you and the desk a couple times before the idea pops into his head, “come sit with me till I’m done.” You don’t even take a moment to think about it, immediately climbing into Steven’s lap. With his help, you’re straddled in his lap facing him and he’s cupping your face in his hands, thumbs rubbing the tops of your cheeks while he takes a moment just to admire you. He gives your cheek the gentlest kiss as he allows you to make yourself more comfortable, your arms along with the blanket wrapping around his shoulders and your head resting to the side, tucked against your own shoulder and his face. Steven allows himself a minute to just hold you like this, he hadn’t even realised he was a little cold until your warmth was wrapped around him. He appreciates the comfort before he starts to realise how tired he actually is and now he has to fight his drooping eyes as he picks his book up again.

In no time you've dropped back into a slumber cosied up against Steven and he's struggling now. The urge to finish the chapter slipping from him, maybe he's learned enough for one night or maybe he can just rest his eyes for a moment and he'll find the energy to finish. He decides he'll just rest for a minute and he'll be fine. So, he ever so gently nuzzles his head into your neck, the book he'd been so absorbed with abandoned on the desk in favour of wrapping his arms around your body. Then within minutes he completely succumbs to sleep, research forgotten, now all he thinks of is you. Of how warm you are and that you smell so good and that all he wants at this moment is to stay like this forever. To always be this close and comfortable.

#moon knight fluff #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight x you #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfic #moon knight #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant fic #steven grant fluff #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant #steven grant x gender neutral reader #steven grant x gn!reader #steven grant x y/n #moonknight #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel fanfic

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copperbadge · 7 months

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lightwit

I love your mindfulness posts. I personally hate the concept of mindfulness with a passion because to me that's just normal being human and using your effing brain properly, but as an educator I have had to accept the fact that manymany people do not in fact have much self awareness and actually do benefit from this mumbojumbo. So, I am so glad I am not the only one struggling out here. 😜

I hope it's okay if I pop this into its own post because it actually gets at something I'm contending with. So, in order to get my research lined up and my thoughts in a row for therapy I turned all this research into a powerpoint called "Doing A Stupid Powerpoint For My Stupid Mental Health". And one of the slides in it is titled "Mindfulness: Petition To Rename It".

Mindfulness, as a term, is uselessly broad; it's such a bad way to identify a category of treatment/behavior that there appears to be an entire subgenre of scientific papers that work to create a framework of what Mindfulness actually is -- I read at least three papers, all published in the last ten years, that are like "What is Mindfulness in a useful sense?" and all of them had different answers. And because Mindfulness is now a buzzword, if you're researching it then you're likely to run into everything from scholarly articles to pop journalism to clickbait, to both harmless and genuinely dangerous peddlers of quack science. And sometimes the quack scientists are also publishing scholarly articles where they've just been p-hacking.

So I'm inclined to agree that mindfulness is mostly nonsense, but that's a problem with the term, not what falls underneath it. There are therapeutic modes that call themselves mindfulness that actually are rooted in real science. I think these should probably have a new name, like Therapeutic Awareness or something, but it'd just get co-opted back into the woo, I have a feeling.

So there's a lot of nonsense, but the goal of being present in the moment and self-aware isn't an idle one; there's an increasing body of knowledge suggesting that it's a foundational skill for emotional regulation and healthy coping. The scholarship goes way beyond "mindfulness arises from Buddhist practice" which if I have to read one more time I'm gonna throw stuff. Clinical testing is looking at things like physiological responses to mindfulness behaviors that have nothing to do with what's going on in your conscious mind. There's some woo surrounding "Coherent Breathing" and I don't trust the foremost proponent of it as far as I can throw him, but he didn't invent it, and testing shows that people trained in and practicing Coherent Breathing have better focus and can, to an extent, lower the level of stress hormone in their body. "Positive affect" (happy emotions) didn't rise, but "Negative affect" (sadness, anger, stress etc) was lowered.

A lot of what's being studied on a clinical level involves us as humans somehow activating shit in our nervous system that we have no conscious control over, the same way we develop muscle memory by doing a task repeatedly. That has measurable value for the issues I'm trying to solve, but it's not universally applicable, which is another reason so much of mindfulness comes across as junk science, because it tries to tell us that it's a cure-all when it isn't.

But there's reason to believe that if you can reroute your nervous system when you're starting to become upset, you can short-circuit maladaptive reactions and prevent it from causing a spiral or an over-reaction or similar, and some practices called mindfulness can train for that. And that's my goal, so I'm willing to rummage in the garbage for the gold.

#lightwit #sam has adhd #not yet fired from therapy

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etherealyoungk · 8 months

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—⟡ covert desires (teaser)

summary: the mission is simple - infiltrate a high-stakes auction that the top leaders, businessmen, women, and politicians of the world attend every year and steal one of the most highly guarded and hidden-away paintings from the target’s collection. the only downside, you had to work with kim mingyu, whom you absolutely hated. and to make it even worse, you had to pretend to be his wife for this mission to work.

pairing: spy!mingyu x assasin!reader (fem!reader)

themes: spy au, mafia, enemies to lovers, fake marriage, mutual pining, spies, angst, fluff, killing

warnings: suggestive, kissing, use of curse words, weapons, guns, knives, violence, use of drugs/painkillers, blood, gore, killing, death

wordcount: 750 words for the teaser (17.8k full fic)

a/n: i had so much fun writing this! please note that this is purely a work of fiction!

i'll be posting the full fic when i hit 3.5k to celebrate! teaser under the cut!

you wipe the last of the blood off your hands and carefully move the body, manipulating the crime scene to make it look like it was a suicide. with a carefully crafted suicide scene, the police wouldn’t even blink an eye and just close the case as a suicide, not wanting to bother investigating further.

you just had to leave around the right clues and bait them. once they’d find it, they’d conclude the case without thinking any further and your job was done. you were sure no one would even miss the bastard that you had just sent to hell anyways. after scanning the room, you make sure everything is in place before exiting quietly and disappearing into the shadows.

when you reach home to your apartment, you swiftly change out of your soiled and bloody clothes. the idiot decided had put up a fight, making things harder for himself really. you planned on killing him quietly, but the fight he put up was unnecessary and he wasn’t going to stand a chance against you regardless. you would have finished earlier and your clothes would have been significantly less bloody. sighing, you peel off the clothes and they fall to the floor in a heap as you step into the shower. the warm water offers some sort of relief and relaxation, your muscles relaxing under the hot water. wrapping a towel around yourself, you step out and hear the faint ring of your burner phone fill the room.

“hello?”, you say as you put the phone to your ear.

“did you get the job done?”, the voice on the other side asks.

“yes, you didn’t hire the best for no reason, did you?”, you scoff back, offended he’d have a sliver of doubt in your skills.

“good. we have another urgent matter on hand and it has to be discussed in person. you know where to meet me”, the voice adds.

“i swear if it’s another-“

“you’ll love this one, trust me”, the voice says, cutting you short and hanging up as you begin to say something. you curse under your breath; that idiot never had manners. you huff, throwing the phone on the bed, changing into something comfortable before you crash into bed, too tired to complain or think about anything else.

you were an assassin or a hired killer you could say. but you liked to call yourself an assassin - because let’s be real, it sounds cooler. you were trained, skilled, and good at what you did – which was killing people, bad people specifically. when you weren’t out hunting people down, you were working as a barista at a local cafe. it was somewhat therapeutic compared to your other occupation. but you had to if you wanted to survive in this world. if you wanted your life to have some semblance of normalcy. the world was a cruel place and somehow you ended up doing this for a living but hey, at least it paid well.

the next morning you’re sitting in the hall of seungcheol’s fancy office, or what you liked to call the safehouse. “you’re here! let me tell seungcheol”, dino says upon seeing you, flashing you a friendly smile. you give him a small smile as he retreats, making his way to look for seungcheol.

seungcheol walks in a few moments later, and his presence can be felt in the room immediately. no one messes with him – everyone knew that. he was the most feared man in the underground mafia and a threat to the government as well. his connections and dirt on powerful people ran too deep with secrets only he knew and used as leverage. hell, even the government would hire him to do their dirty work so he was practically untouchable.

“what’s this urgent matter that needs to be discussed in person?”, you ask, once he sits down opposite you.

“no hi?”, he prompts, raising his brow as he looks at you.

“no thank you for yesterday?”, you prod back, challenging him. you were really the only person seungcheol let speak to him like that. he’d pretty much raised you and he didn’t seem to mind, especially since you did most of his dirty work.

“we seem to have gotten ourselves another lucrative mission”, he starts off, treading carefuly with his words. “it’s something worth millions if not billions, so this is a really high-stakes operation.”, he tells, observing you. “and we’re getting paid handsomely for it and so will you if it goes well”, he says.

taglist: @daisycheols @naaaaafla @weird-bookworm @fairyhaos @icyminghao @kyeomyun @joshuaahong @idubiluv @slytherinshua @wheeboo

send an ask or drop a comment down below to be added to the taglist for this fic!

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1d1195 · 1 year

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Tulips

This is the story I dubbed as therapeutic for myself. I've been struggling a lot lately (I apologize for the delay in posting). I actually wanted this to be more but I wanted to post very badly. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy a lot of fluff and bit of angst.

Harry was convinced that even if they did end their relationship (and he was certain that would never happen) he would thank her for the heartbreak.

Harry was at the grocery store, passing the florist department when he realized his mistake. He had been dating her for nearly two months when he came to the realization that he hadn’t gotten her a bouquet of flowers yet. He felt horrible immediately and wanted to remedy the situation as quickly as he possibly could.

But he wanted her to like the flowers he got, and he wanted it to be a surprise. Neither of which he was sure he could pull off when he hadn’t asked her once what her favorite flower.

Like an absolute creep, he messaged her youngest sister on Instagram; he had at least met her in passing on one of their dates when they stopped for a coffee while she was working. Harry hadn’t met the other two just yet so messaging them would have seemed insane.

Hiiii. Uh...sorry to message you like this...any chance you know your sister’s favorite flowers?

Oh, my goodness, that’s too sweet! Umm...now that I think about it, I’m not sure. Let me ask.

Er...I was hoping it could be a surprise.

Aww...Don’t worry I have just the idea, wait one minute.

Harry waited patiently for her response thinking about how smitten he was with the beautiful girl. Just the mere thought of her brought a smile to his face, making him nearly giggle with how much he liked her. Flowers didn’t seem like enough. She deserved a whole garden.

Here’s what I got. She’s so sad sometimes *eyeroll*

Harry frowned and clicked on the screenshot titled Will Recipients. He chuckled at the name. He knew it was between the four girls and Harry was looking for his lovely lady’s response in the many messages they managed to send. He was slightly amazed they had time to send all of them in a matter of five minutes that he texted her sister.

Her sister started: I’m doing a project for school. What’s your favorite flower?

Harry didn’t know which middle sister was which, but he thought their responses were funny, nonetheless. What kind of project asks about your favorite flower?

I like daisies.

That’s the most boring answer I’ve ever heard. Harry knew the youngest was brutal sometimes and he thought of messaging with Gemma, and it was nothing in comparison to four girls ranging from their late teens to their mid-twenties. It’s for my stats class.

I took that class, we never did a flower thing.

Can you just tell me?

Finally, the oldest answered and Harry examined her little gray message for entirely too long. Like the one I actually like? or the one I tell everyone I like? That was her response.

What kind of lunatic lies about their favorite flower?

The kind that gets told their favorite is old-ladyish all the time. Or laughed at because it’s a stupid flower. Forget it, I like sunflowers.

Harry frowned and responded to her sister once more. Any chance you could find out the real one?

Sure!

Within moments Harry had another screenshot.

Hey drama queen, I won’t tell the others, what’s your real favorite flower. I’ll even keep my comments to myself.

Tulips.

Nothing else. That was the only thing she wrote. Harry didn’t really know what to expect but it wasn’t tulips.

Thank you, love. I appreciate it.

Any time Harry! Let me know how she likes them!!!

Harry was planning when he’d see her next and looked into all types of tulips and how to care for them as well. He wanted her to like them and didn’t want her to feel bad about liking them. Making her happy was his goal. He didn’t really feel any particular way about tulips at all. He didn’t really think they were old-ladyish so he wondered where that came from. He felt bad the poor thing had to hide her real feelings. He never wanted her to feel that way around him.

Harry thought it would seem too obvious if he brought flowers right away. So he had to wait for just right the time which gave him plenty of time to research the perfect color and care needed for the pretty girl that deserved pretty flowers.

Harry knocked on her door holding the bouquet in his hand. They were going to dinner and a movie that evening and Harry came prepared—especially since it was now approaching nearly three months since they began dating. After a quick greeting she seemed to finally notice all at once the flowers in his hand. “Kitten?” He asked gently as she stared at the flowers. Her eyes sort of glazed over.

“Are you the reason my sister was asking us our favorite flower?” She wondered.

Harry frowned a little. First, she was too smart. He was sad she knew so quickly the motives of her sister asking the question were tied to him. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she still lied to her sister, and these weren’t her favorite flowers. Harry bit his lip and sighed. “Er...yeah,” he sounded so shy. “M’sorry, kitten...I thought I got the right—” She shook her head and stayed silent as Harry stopped speaking. It was so silent. Nearly uncomfortable with how silent it was. Why would her sister lie to him?

God, he really liked her, and he thought he ruined everything just by getting her flowers. His frown deepened and he sighed as he went to the kitchen to find a vase. She stayed by the door almost in a trance, and Harry felt a little awkward trying to figure out what her reaction meant.

“Harry?” She said softly and suddenly hurried to the kitchen. He was filling the vase with water, and he looked at her entering the kitchen a tad nervously.

“Yeah, angel?” He asked.

“Thank you,” the thankfulness, the kindness, the overwhelming amount of gratitude in her voice almost shattered Harry. She was so grateful for the flowers.

He sighed with relief and smiled at her as he put the stems into the vase. Setting it on the counter he came to her side and slid his hands up her neck and gently rubbed his thumb across her cheek. “’Course, beautiful,” he hummed and pressed his lips against hers. Kissing was still kind of new—and he loved the way she nearly sighed each time their mouths connected. He smiled as he pulled away. “Sorry it took me s’long t’get y’some.”

She bit her lip. “What do you mean?” She asked.

“Should have gotten y’flowers every time I saw you,” he smiled and rubbed his thumb on her lips. He kissed her forehead and then the tip of her nose before he turned his attention back to the vase and settled it in the middle of her coffee table. “Y’ready t’go?” He asked.

Since she seemed speechless, she nodded. Harry gave her a reassuring smile, took her hand, and left happy the bouquet seemed to be a hit.

They were flowers. Flowers. Just flowers. She wasn’t going to lose her mind over a bouquet.

But she kind of was.

Fortunately, Harry was giving her a hilarious recap of the movie that she was hardly able to stay focused on while it played. His summary allowed her to make believe she had watched the whole movie. While instead, for the better part of the last two hours, she really thought only about the tulips that Harry had placed so effortlessly in the middle of her apartment. As if the flowers didn’t mean everything in the world. Like it wasn’t earthshattering that he got her flowers.

“Are you okay, love?” He hummed and gave her hand a squeeze as they made it to the restaurant. He put his hand on her lower back as he held the door open for her and ushered her inside. His eyebrows pinched together. “Did y’like the movie?” He wondered nervously as she walked inside. Maybe his recap was overdone. But Harry enjoyed the movie and the way she seemed so engrossed and how captive she was through his summary he assumed she did. Maybe he was wrong this time about her—like he thought she didn’t like the flowers. She grabbed the next door and held it open for him but he placed his hand above her to hold it open so she could walk through first once more.

She would have enjoyed the movie if she paid any attention to it. But she didn’t. So, she fibbed a little. “I did, yeah. M’just a little tired... movies make me tired,” she explained with a breath of exhaled laughter. That wasn’t a lie. They were lucky they were in a theater because if they were at one of their apartments—and she wasn’t having a meltdown over a bouquet—then she would have fallen asleep for sure.

He frowned. “Oh, m’sorry, kitten. D’you want me t’take you home instead?”

She shook her head quickly. “No, I’ll perk up. I’ll get a coffee,” she said and reached for his hand as they stepped to the hostess stand. She squeezed it reassuringly. “I...I like our date nights,” she smiled sweetly.

Harry seemed to sigh with relief. He liked her so much. Lately, more and more, he didn’t want their date nights to end either. Of course, he would have taken her home if that was what she wanted. He would do anything for her. But he was so glad he didn’t have to. He wanted to spend forever with her. “Okay,” he said with a happy grin. Turning his attention to the host, “I have a reservation for two under Styles?” The host nodded and brought them to their table. “I know it’s not your job, but could you get us a cup of coffee, please? Cream and sugar,” he asked as he held her chair out for her. The amount of chivalry and manners in Harry made her melt every moment they were together. No one ever held a door open for. Certainly, never pulled a chair out for her. He always asked so politely for anything she wanted. It made her fall so effortlessly and heavily in love with him at every moment.

Harry sat down and placed his napkin in his lap. She kind of wished she told him she would like to go home. She would much rather enjoy the bouquet and sit with Harry on her couch until she did fall asleep. The restaurant seemed too public, even though no one was paying any mind to them. They were just a young couple on a date and there wasn’t anything to really witness.

But she was in love.

And Harry was perfect.

She wanted him all to herself. “Have y’ever eaten here?” Harry asked.

“Umm,” she looked at the name on the menu as she did wonder if she had been there before when he broached the date idea earlier in the week. As she scanned the titles of the dishes, she responded to him. “I think so—but it was a while ago.”

Smiling, he nodded. “M’a huge fan of the cauliflower.”

“We should get it then,” she answered. “If you’re willing to share,” she winked at him.

He chuckled. “Only with you, kitten.”

When they headed back to her apartment, he rubbed his thumb on the outside of her hand. He loved touching her—even just holding her hand made him feel like he was floating. “D’you have any plans for tomorrow, love?” He asked.

“Probably just clean and read some. Maybe go for a walk or something,” she shrugged.

“That sounds nice.”

“How about you?”

Just think about you all day. He thought to himself. “Hmm...nothing comes t’mind. Probably just lounge around.”

She nodded. “Well...you should come lounge around with me then,” she said sweetly. He turned to look at her with a grin.

“Yeah?”

A beat of silence, her lips pursed together, and she glanced up to meet his gaze briefly as she spoke finally. Harry thought she was nervous again. He didn’t like that she was nervous—he wanted her to feel utterly comfortable around him. “I really like spending time with you, Harry.”

Harry leaned against the wall beside her door and smiled at her. He couldn’t see his own face of course, but he hoped his expression was as loving as he felt. “I love spending time with you, angel,” his voice was filled with infatuation, she felt her face warm under his gaze. Gently, he reached for her and brought his hand to cup her face so he could kiss her once more. He let his lips linger against hers for a few moments and peppered a few extra kisses along her jawline. “Goodnight, kitten. Send me a text when y’want me over,” he nearly hummed as he left her standing in front of her door.

He heard her sigh near dreamily and he smirked to himself as he headed off to his car. As he turned his car over, her message popped up on his screen. Thank you again for the flowers, Harry. It was so so sweet <3

Of course, kitten. Glad you like them :) See you tomorrow, sleep well. Xx Alone with his thoughts Harry left feeling excited that she liked the tulips so much but was suddenly overcome with disappointment—but not disappointment of her. Merely because her reaction made him a bit sad.

He messaged her sister before pulling away from his parking spot. She LOVED the flowers. Thank you for the help, love! Xx

Woooo! Yay! I’m so glad I could help!

Harry was sincere in his thankfulness—she did love them. But she loved them so much for so much more than they were... and Harry felt...devastated by that fact. He wanted to know why. Wanted to know why she was so quiet when he entered the apartment. She was rendered speechless. So much so that it seemed she didn’t pay any mind to the movie. He didn’t harp on it of course, but now alone he couldn’t help but think about it. He supposed he would see her the before he knew it the very next day maybe he could figure a way to ask then.

It was early afternoon when she finally messaged him. Harry was waiting anxiously by his phone with nervous energy worried that she wouldn’t ask him over. Hiii I’d love to have you over if you’re not busy.

Harry thought that maybe he should have waited longer than thirty seconds to respond. It seemed desperate. I’ll be there soon, love :)

He arrived nearly fifteen minutes later, knocking on her door and smiling at her as she answered. He leaned against the wall beside the door frame just as he did the night before. Pushing off he smiled at her and wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tightly. Kissing the top of her head, he sighed. “Mmm,” he hummed. “Hey, angel.”

“Hi Harry,” she murmured into his chest.

They were quiet for a moment before he released all but her hand and gently nudged her inside. “Didn’t know there was anything t’clean in here,” he smirked as he inspected how spotless it was (as it always was). He enjoyed the scent of the candle she lit that seemed to mix so effortlessly and perfectly with the smell of the dryer running from another room.

She giggled cutely. “It’s not...bad, y’know...I just am a bit particular. And I like to make things look nice.”

“It’s lovely, kitten,” he chuckled. “Do y’want to watch a movie? Or read...?”

“Are you...sure?” She asked.

“Well yeah. Y’said we were lounging. I’ll do whatever y’want, love,” he made himself at home on the couch and he set the book he had in his bag on the coffee table beside her bouquet of tulips that still (thankfully on Harry’s part) looked beautiful. He patted the seat beside him. After a second of uncertain hesitation, she situated herself beside him. “Jus’ glad t’be spending time with you,” he said and dropped another kiss to her temple. Turning to face her she smiled at him. Harry thought he would melt just from the warmth of her pretty lips curving up in his direction. He cupped her face delicately between his hands. He brushed his lips over hers causing that beautiful, wonderful sigh to escape her lips. Harry rested his forehead against hers. “M’in love with you,” he told her.

She all but gasped as her lips parted ever so slightly as she looked at him mere millimeters away from her face. “Really?” She whispered.

That crushed him. “Very much, beautiful,” he murmured even though he was heartbroken by how...confused she looked. Of course, Harry loved her. She was perfect. “Been loving y’more every day.” She blushed between his hands, and he kissed her nose. “Y’don’t have t’say it back,” he said softly. His heart broke a bit at the idea. “I know m’probably a bit early, but...I jus’ wanted you t’know tha—”

“I love you,” she said simply, not quickly like she was rushing to say it. It was definitive. She didn’t have to follow up with her next words, but he was so lucky and grateful she did. “So much.” Harry felt breathless and he leaned forward and kissed her so deeply he thought he might never breathe again.

Harry was helping her with the dishes after they had eaten at his place. He was tired of having her overnight bag sitting on his bed and just a drawer of her things being the only part of her around when she wasn’t. But that wasn’t true. She was constantly in his thoughts. Even in the brief seconds he wasn’t thinking about her, the notes she left behind for him to find made his attention turn right back to her. “You okay?” She asked kindly. “You seem a little quiet and out of sorts.”

He shrugged. “Mmm,” he sighed. “Jus’...thinking.”

“Sounds scary,” she smirked after a moment.

He rolled his eyes. “Baby, I would handcuff you t’myself.” She giggled and turned her attention to making sure the dishes didn’t shatter as she put them back. “D’you ever wish we lived together?” He asked.

She paused. Harry thought that maybe as good as things were going after a year, it was still too soon. Sure, they spend nearly every weekend together. They talked every day and saw each other every other day. But maybe that was enough for her. Maybe it was easier to just have a Harry-weekend and live her life during the week. Harry pursed his lips about to take back his offer—or make some excuse that it it didn’t need to be a right now thing. “You want to live with me?” She wondered.

He turned to lean against the counter, and he watched as she put the dishes away as if she did in fact live there. “Well, yeah,” he said. “I’d see you a lot more,” he reminded her. “Wouldn’t be sick missing you s’much,” he brought his hand to his mouth, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers and pulled nervously at her response. “If y’don’t—”

“No, I...I really want to live with you,” she nodded. “If you want to live with me,” she reaffirmed quietly.

Harry dropped his hand from his mouth and grabbed her hand. “Yeah?” The smile on his lips grew by the second. “Of course, I do, angel. You’re the best part of m’day—I want it every day.” She looked down slightly and smiled. Harry didn’t miss the blush that painted her cheeks and he squeezed her hand. “I love you,” he reminded her.

“God, I love you, too.”

It was Saturday. The first one they were living together. Harry moved into her place, and she was so utterly accommodating. There was so much room for all his stuff. She made it effortless. They went through everything logistically—her bed was bigger, but Harry had a better couch. Harry wanted to hire a mover, but she was insistent that she and their friends could do it. And they did.

It was embarrassing how long Harry lay in bed. He scrolled through social media, answered a few work emails, and read some of the books he started before he went to bed last night. He would have gotten up sooner if he noticed the sound of her wandering about the apartment. It wasn’t until he heard a few dishes clink together that he realized she was home. He assumed she may have been running a few errands—she mentioned them before—things she wanted to move in for herself.

After the dish clinking, he paid closer attention to her movements and that was when he heard the distinct sound of a cleaning spray bottle and the sound of the washing machine going. Shit. He thought to himself, threw the covers back, and marched out to the kitchen.

He realized he should have started with a good morning, but it was too late. “What are y’doing?” He asked.

“Oh! Hi Harry,” she jumped at his question. She must have only half heard him through the music playing in her ears. She turned to him with a hand over her heart. She wasn’t used to Harry being around so casually. She was used to him shirtless and only in boxers, but it was the first time seeing it in their own place. He didn’t seem amused as he waited for her to answer his question. Which she nearly managed to forget while she waited for her heart to simmer down. “Uh...cleaning?”

Harry looked...annoyed? That couldn’t be right. She didn’t do anything to cause him to feel annoyed. She was quiet and cleaning all morning. It couldn’t have been an issue. Harry was just hanging out in their room and—

“You’ve been cleaning all morning, yeah?” He said already knowing the answer. She felt like she was suddenly in trouble. She nodded solemnly.

“Uh...yes,” she said quietly.

Harry ran his hand through his hair and sighed. Pursing his lips he glanced around at the near spotless place—their place. Their. Place. “Can y’go sit down for me, then?” He asked gently.

“I’m sorry?”

“Jus’...don’t want y’doing t’much. I wish I was paying attention more—I thought y’were...well I don’t know what I thought y’were doing. M’sorry. I’d like t’take it from here and do the rest of the cleaning so y’can lounge around.”

She swallowed and the uneasiness in her stomach transformed a bit into something less of feeling like she was about to get into trouble and more into a worry of not...being enough. “Oh, Harry. I don’t mind,” she whispered looking at her feet. “I...I’m really used to cleaning...I kind of like it and...I don’t know. I didn’t mean to bother you. I thought I was being pretty quiet, so I’m sorry if I woke you,” she spoke to his feet the whole time and she couldn’t shake the idea that he was mad. It made her so nervous that she had already ruined their first couple of weeks of living together.

He didn’t respond but he kept his eyes glued to her face—or where her face would be if she was looking up. “Kitten,” he said so quietly, almost sadly. “Can y’look at me please?” He asked. Tears were in her eyes, and it felt more like she was in trouble once more. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. Harry looked as sad as he sounded. He reached out and grabbed her hand. “M’not mad at you, m’love,” he whispered.

Harry was crushed by the relief that exhaled from her body. “No?” She whispered.

He squeezed her hand. “Angel, why would I be mad?”

“Um...” she swallowed again and smirked but there was no humor. It was just sadness. “Uh...I don’t know,” again, no humor, but a laugh escaped her lips.

“Kitten,” he hummed gently. Tears started to overwhelm her vision and she swallowed nervously against the emotion. When she sniffled, Harry finally lost the stand he was taking. The one where he was going to make her say it, because he wanted her to, and he didn’t think it was right. He pulled her forward and pressed her against his chest, her head beneath his chin and he sighed softly. “Tell me, baby,” he said rubbing his hand up and down her back. He kissed the top of her head and hated the way her shoulders shook from the tears that fell from her eyes.

She hated that he was so handsome—especially almost entirely naked because there wasn’t even the layer of a thin t-shirt to hide the tears that she was shedding. “He was,” she sniffled like it hurt to say.

“I know,” he sighed. “But m’not him,” he reminded her. “I don’t want you t’do it all, kitten. I don’t expect you to,” he slid his hands to her face, and he crouched just a little as he peered down into her eyes. “I love you,” he promised. “You’ve done so much for so long... for so many people.” Biting her lip, she turned her head from him. He wasted not even a second tilting her chin back, so her eyes were back to him. “Y’don’t have t’do anything for me,” his voice was so gentle it hurt. It made her feel sick and undeserving.

“If I don’t...then...” she sighed and closed her eyes.

“Kitten, please look at me,” he begged so quietly, she hardly heard him, but she didn’t open her eyes.

“Then...you’ll...not...want...me,” the pauses between each word hurt more than all of them said together. It meant she was thinking about every single syllable. Each word that was going to break her heart...and Harry’s.

It wasn’t the time to do it, but he couldn’t stop himself. Harry thought of the tulips. He thought of the times she thanked him for putting the laundry—the laundry that she washed and folded—away. The way she said “Really?” when he told her he loved her for the first time. There were all the times she never asked for anything from Harry but he could sense she wanted to but was...scared to do so. It made sense now. She was scared. For no reason. But still scared. Harry felt so angry toward every person that ever broke her heart and made her feel less than perfect. He hated when she hurt. “M’beautiful angel,” he sighed softly stroking his thumb over her face.

She sniveled and brought a hand to her face. “Harry,” she whimpered.

“I know, love,” he cooed softly and brought her back to his body. He let her cry for a few moments. He listened to the way she sounded like she was in pain as she let the tears fall freely and it made him so sad and upset, he could have cried himself. “Baby,” he hummed to the top of her head. “Y’don’t have t’do anything for me, m’love.” She nodded against him and he sighed. “Y’don’t, kitten. Y’really don’t need t’do anything,” he promised. He hoped if he repeated it enough she would believe him.

“But—”

“No,” he shook his head. He didn’t say anything else. It wasn’t final or demanding the way he spoke. It was just a simple no. There wasn’t anything else to be said. Harry let her tears subside before he settled her on the couch and finished her cleaning. For the first time since she moved in, she relaxed on a Saturday while someone else cleaned for her.

The love she felt for Harry was overwhelming.

They were lounging on the couch. The TV was on, but she was turned away from it, facing Harry’s chest. With one arm looped behind his head he could see the show and with his other hand he rubbed it up and down her back. It was so peaceful and gentle. It was everything he ever wanted in a relationship. It was everything he wanted with her. “Y’okay, love?” He hummed dropping a kiss to the top of her head. She nodded wordlessly and he smiled and continued watching his show.

“Wanna stay here forever,” she mumbled. He smirked, placing another kiss on the top of her head. He sensed there was more, but he hated pressuring her into saying more than she may have wanted to—after that first weekend she cried to him, he let her feel exactly what she wanted and how she wanted. Harry knew most of her thoughts. He of course wanted to know all of them, but he knew that she always told him anything she wanted to tell him.

“Is there more, kitten?” He asked quietly. She nodded. “Y’can tell me if y’want,” he reminded her gently.

“It’s stupid.”

He shook his head and glanced down at her perfect face and her fingers fidgeting with the cross and chain around his neck. “You’re anything but stupid, angel,” he felt her feet wiggle uncomfortably. He wanted to beg and pull the words from her lips, but he waited patiently.

“How do you know when I want to say more?” She asked instead.

“Because I adore you,” he responded instantly. She snorted a short laugh but didn’t seem to have an answer to that. “Jus’ know you so well, love. Been trying t’read your mind for the two and a half years...think m’getting pretty good at it. Now jus’ have t’make sense of what y’don’t say,” he smirked and kissed the top of her head.

“Are you frustrated that I don’t tell you things?”

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, course not.”

She was silent. “I think about marrying you every day,” she whispered so quietly Harry almost missed her words.

“Oh?”

“I never thought about a wedding with anyone I’ve ever dated in the past. It seemed like so much work because I would do all the planning and the everything...” she explained. “Now...God...I just...I want to show you off to everyone I know and show how wonderful you are because I know you would make the wedding of my dreams come true...because you make all my dreams come true.”

Harry was so quiet thinking about how that may not have seemed like much but to her it was—it was letting herself be vulnerable about wanting to spend her life with Harry. Without knowing how he felt—which was silly since he wanted to spend every second with her in his arms, reading her mind, or listening to her every thought. He wanted to cheer her every win and console her every loss. She was all his and he adored her so completely. He tipped her chin back. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he promised. He saw the way her face seemed to sink with relief which broke his heart, but he couldn’t get over how beautiful she looked even when she did—it left him breathless, wordless, soundless. Harry was convinced that even if they did end their relationship (and he was certain that would never happen) he would thank her for the heartbreak. As he always did when she left him speechless, he kissed her so deeply he thought he might never breathe again.

But it would have been the best way to go.

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