#i have had the worst day and spent most of the evening in tears- so its been nice to use wayhaven to escape that!

[her-devils-advocate]

It's almost 4am and I need to wake up for work in 4 hours, yet I'm incapable of falling asleep anytime soon... Which means it's the perfect (worst) time to start a new WIP!

I've been meaning to write a book 1 pre-relationship fic, I hadn't been meaning to torment Nate with social media through it!

[sugarcoated-lame]

Sometimes A Bride | Jake Seresin x Reader

18+ only, minors DNI

Jake Seresin x female Bradshaw!reader

part two of Always A Bridesmaid

Synopsis: You’re having some pre-wedding jitters and there’s only one person you know can help calm you down.

or

You and Jake sneak off for a quickie before the two of you say ‘I do.’

WC: 11.5k (another long one oops)

warnings: a smidgen of angst?, anxiety, mentions of alcohol, smut, fingering, unprotected piv, slight overstimulation, i think jake calling reader a good girl deserves a warning, unspecified age gap (reader is in around mid-late 20s, jake is in early-mid 30s), once again jake being too damn charming for his own good, tonssss of disgustingly sweet tooth-rotting fluff, really sweet fluffy moments with big bro bradley, natasha being the best sister-in-law and maid of honor, jake still being an absolute menace, i'm literally the worst at coming up with titles for my fics, moodboard is not any indication of reader’s appearance

a/n: The very long-awaited (I’m sorry 🤍) sequel to Always a Bridesmaid. Thank you so much to everyone who’s stuck around and shown the first part so much love and support, and waited so patiently for this story! I love y’all 

beautiful dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

〰・♡・〰 reblogs, comments, and feedback are greatly appreciated! 〰・♡・〰

You love weddings. 

It's a fact you try to remind yourself of as you take a deep breath, taking in your reflection in the vast vanity mirror.

Hair styled to pristine perfection, professionally done makeup better than anything you’d ever be capable of doing yourself, in a gorgeous white dress that fits just right and makes you feel more beautiful than ever.  

You love weddings. You love the fancy clothes, all the chatter and the sweet scent of champagne flowing through the air at the reception, the contagious laughter and dancing.

But, most of all, you love getting to watch two people profess their love for each other and promise themselves to one another for the rest of their lives through beaming smiles and tears of joy. 

It’s been a little over three years since Bradley and Natasha said ‘I do’, and after meeting the love of your life at your big brother’s wedding, how could you not love them? 

Three years since that fateful night that you met Jake and both of your lives were changed forever, and the two of you have been pretty much inseparable ever since. Well, nearly ever since.

Initially, both you and Jake were scared by just how much you liked one another. 

After spending the night together at your brother’s wedding — and the morning after — you had feared that it was just that rose-colored haze of love in the air that comes along with weddings, and you wondered if that magical pixie dust was going to wear off eventually — and take your feelings with it. 

But it never did. 

Even at the beginning, back when Jake had tried to push down his feelings for you and said he couldn’t offer much more than no strings attached fun, ‘because I’m going to be away on deployments and dangerous missions all the time, and because you’re Bradshaw’s little sister.’ 

Because he ‘didn’t have time for anything serious’ – but really, because he was afraid of just how strongly he felt for you – even then, you were so drawn to him and Jake couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed spending time with you.

How he thought about you and that amazing night you’d spent together nearly every second of every day. 

From the moment he’d wake up in his boring, lonely apartment, to the hours spent in briefings or flying dangerous maneuvers in his F18, to the moment he’d go to sleep alone every night in his bed that all of a sudden seemed too big. 

And, what scared Jake the most was that it wasn’t just the sex – though, that was definitely a great part of it – that he yearned for. It was just you. 

You, with your bright eyes and your radiant smile, your melodic laugh and effervescent personality. You had quickly wormed your way into his heart and lit him up from the inside out. 

He no longer found himself wanting the mundane and meaningless hook-ups or one night stands that places like the Hard Deck had to offer, which had become routine for him since his time as a young pilot at Top Gun. 

You brought Jake’s world from dull grayscale to vibrant technicolor and he found that he just always wanted you around. 

He’d never felt that way about anyone before, and it terrified him.

You’d never wanted anyone so bad, and you were fearful that it wasn’t going to last. 

But, try as you might, the two of you just couldn’t seem to stay away from each other for long. 

Once Jake got his head out of his ass and he took you out on a few proper dates – which, naturally, ended in you fucking each other’s brains out a few more times – you both agreed to try to take things slow, because your feelings for each other were real and neither one of you wanted to mess things up. 

However, you quickly learned that there was no such thing as slow when it comes to you and Jake. Before you knew it, things between the two of you had become pretty serious, and you realized – much to your brother Bradley’s dismay, that the two of you share a very real connection. 

Through all of the ups and downs — triumphs and hardships, happy times and tears, the silly fights and even sillier make-ups that these past three years have brought the two of you. 

From going mad missing each other when Jake is away on deployments, up until his recent request for a more permanent position at Top Gun so he can be closer to home – closer to you –  you and Jake have stuck together through it all like super glue.

Three years of unconditional love and support, of growing and becoming better together, loving and living life with your best friend.

You’ve never been quite sure if you believe in the concept of soulmates, but if they do exist, you’re positive that Jake is yours.

And, you love weddings… so why are you currently freaking the fuck out, today of all days? Oh, right… because it’s your wedding day. 

You’re pretty sure that your vision is beginning to blur, your body growing a little dizzy as you watch the constant stream of people flitting all around you through the glass of the large vanity mirror.

Your bridesmaids chatter excitedly as they too work to finish getting ready, sipping from mimosas as they make their way into their dresses while Natasha – the best sister-in-law and best maid of honor you could ever ask for – helps to keep everyone focused and on schedule. 

She paces the room with her phone in hand, probably texting Bradley to make sure things are running smoothly in the groomsmens’ suite as well. 

There are at least three people at any given moment hovering around you like bees, fussing over your hair, doing last minute touch-ups on your makeup, and making sure there’s not a wrinkle in sight on the beautiful wedding gown of your dreams that you’re oh-so nervous for Jake to finally see. 

Not nervous because you’re worried he won’t like it – he’s told you plenty of times that he’d be more than happy to marry you if you were wearing a trash bag – but because this is your big day, the beginning of the rest of your lives together and you just want it to be perfect. 

After all the months of painstaking planning – from centerpieces to seating charts, the choosing the color of the napkins to the dinner menu and countless trials of cake flavors. From finding the perfect venue, to the best floral arrangements, and of course the dream wedding dress. 

After being so hyper-focused on this day for months, now that that day is actually here, you just need everything to be perfect.

Not even the two and a half mimosa’s you’ve had this morning have been enough to quell the stress currently coursing through your veins, and the buzz of the busy bridal suite is beginning to make your head spin. 

Between all of the running around you’ve done since waking up — way too early — this morning, the little bit of alcohol and all the commotion going on around you now, your face feels too hot, a tiny sheen of sweat beginning to shine through your makeup.

You can’t help but wonder if Jake is feeling this flustered right now too. Probably not, the man is cool and calm about just about everything; it’s one of the things you love about him.

As the makeup artist powders your nose for the fifth time in ten minutes in an attempt to tamper down the shine, you feel your resolve beginning to crack. You try to take in a deep breath to shake the nerves, but feel as though there’s not enough air in the room to fill your lungs and you find yourself feeling like you need to escape. 

As if she can sense your distress from all the way across the room, Natasha — ever the dutiful maid of honor — materializes behind you with a comforting hand on your shoulder, politely excusing the makeup artist and everyone else that’s currently milling around you, before meeting your gaze through the mirror with a gentle smile. 

Though, you know your sister-in-law too well and you can see the concern in her brown eyes.

“You okay?” When Natasha gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze, you close your eyes and heave out a deep sigh, grateful for a moment of calm. 

It’s in the same moment that you open your eyes and give her a nod and an unconvincing smile that there’s a knock on the bridal suite door just behind you, and you turn your head to find Bradley opening it a crack and peeking his head in. 

“Everyone decent?” Your older brother asks, meeting your eyes with a soft look and you swear you could cry.

Through all her running around to help make sure that your day is perfect, you’d seen Natasha on her phone and you figure that, always knowing just what you need, she must have texted Bradley – and that’s exactly what she did. 

Natasha had let her husband know that his sister was feeling some pre-wedding jitters and could use some reassurance that she knew you could only get from your big brother, and he immediately made his way from the groomsmens’ suite to come to your aid.

“Yeah, come on in!” Natasha calls out with one last squeeze to your shoulder before meeting Bradley at the door and greeting him with a quick kiss on his cheek.

She gently pushes him towards where you stand in front of the large mirror smoothing your hands over an invisible wrinkle on the flowy white skirt of your dress, before ushering the rest of your bridesmaids and everyone else to the other side of the large suite to put their finishing touches on their looks and give the two of you some privacy. 

You turn around to face Bradley, standing there in a classic black suit with a bow tie, and you could swear your brother gets a little misty-eyed as he takes in the sight of you in your lavish white dress, a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mustached lips when he asks, “You okay, sis?”

You think about lying for a second and telling him that you’re just fine, but this is Bradley -– your big brother and self-appointed protector for all your life, even when you don’t always want or need him to be, and you know that he’d be able to see right through you.

Blowing out a small sigh, you carefully take a seat on the plush couch that sits in the nearest corner, making sure to arrange all the layers of fabric that surround your lower half in a way that they won’t become too wrinkled.

“Honestly… I’m kind of freaking out.” You tell your brother as he joins you on the sofa. Your voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough that he’s able to hear due to his close proximity.

You’re looking down at where you nervously wring your hands in your lap when Bradley speaks. 

“Why? You’ve got nothing to worry about.” His words are matter-of-fact, but his voice is soft in that comforting, brotherly tone that’s only reserved for you.

“I- I don’t know.” You tell him with a light shake of your head. “I guess I’m just nervous?” 

The words come out as a question and your gaze lifts to meet Bradley’s before you continue on.

“You know, it’s such a big, important day that I’ve spent so long dreaming of and planning for and– that I’m going to remember for the rest of my life and I just…” your voice trails off as you realize you’re rambling, stopping to take a breath before you continue. 

 “I just love Jake so much and I… I just want everything to be perfect.”

Bradley takes in your frazzled expression, nodding in understanding. “You’re right, it is a big deal, and it’s totally normal to have some nerves.” 

The pensive look on his face shifts to one of what looks like amusement as he glances across the room to where his wife is chatting away with the rest of your bridesmaids, before leaning closer to whisper conspiratorially. 

“I was scared shitless when I married Nat.” 

Your eyes widen at Bradley’s confession, a small puff of laughter escaping your lips as you question him, “What? Really?”

“Yeah,” Your brother’s smile grows at the sight of your own, a quiet chuckle leaving him. “But, then I remembered that I was marrying my best friend and all of those nerves just sort of melted away.”

“Which is why you should believe me when I tell you–” Bradley reaches over to take your hands in his, his brown gaze warm as he speaks earnestly.

“It’s going to be perfect no matter what happens, because you and Jake will be together.”

Your lips can’t help but quirk up a bit at your older brother’s reassurance. “You really think so?”

“Yeah,” Bradley gives your hands a gentle squeeze. “In fact, I know so.”

“Because, I have never seen you happier than you have been these past few years since you’ve been with Jake.” That small smile never leaves his lips as he continues talking and your heart nearly melts in your chest at the sincerity of your big brother’s words. 

“It’s clear that the two of you love each other very much.”

You have to admit it’s a bit of a shock to hear those words from Bradley of all people – sure, things have gotten a lot better between your brother and your fiance over the years, but you’d still consider them frenemies at the best of times. 

You realize that you haven’t said anything in response, being too stunned to speak, when Bradley continues on with a knowing smirk on his face as he takes in your dumbfounded expression.

“Trust me, I wasn’t the biggest fan of the idea of you dating Jake in the beginning, but I see how much he cares about you. Above anything else.” 

You nod your head in agreement, but not without a laugh and a playful roll of your eyes. With your brother’s reassurance that everything would be okay so long as you and Jake are together, and the reminder of just how much your husband-to-be loves you, now you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face if you tried. “Yeah, he does.” 

Bradley takes in the lovesick smile on your face and tilts his head, raising a brow in question. “We feeling better now?”

“Yeah,” Feeling much more calm now, it’s your turn to squeeze Bradley’s hands, nodding happily at him before releasing them. “A lot better. Thank you.”

“Good.” Bradley stands, offering his hands to pull you up off the sofa as well, before pulling you into a hug. 

With a quiet instruction to ‘call me if you need me’, your brother releases you from his arms, venturing over to Natasha to place a small peck to his wife’s lips before making his way out the door and back to the groomsmens’ suite.

You really do feel a whole lot better, but all this talk about your fiancé and his love for you, and how truly, utterly happy he makes you, has you missing him. Yearning to be with him in this very moment, and you realize that the only thing that would really put your mind at ease is right now Jake himself. 

Jake’s head perks up as the door to the groomsmen’s suite opens for the second time in about fifteen minutes to reveal Bradley, adorning a tux matching that of all the other groomsmen. 

It’s still crazy for him to think about the fact that your brother, who was so adamant about you not seeing Jake all those years ago, would be one of the groomsmen at his and your wedding. 

“Where’d you disappear to, Rooster?” A relaxed smirk lifts up the corner of Jake’s lips as he fixes his tie in the mirror.  

“Just went to check on the bride-to-be.” Jake’s smile softens just a bit at the mention of you.

“You know, I never thought the two of you would last this long, so I had to check and see if my sister was ready to back out yet.” 

Bradley drops down onto the sofa next to Bob and Coyote, who are quietly snickering at his teasing of the groom. 

“Oh, ha-ha.” Jake’s smirk grows devilish at the joke, turning his sights on the mustached man ready to tease him right back. “Face it, Bradshaw. We’re gonna be brothers real soon.” 

Bradley only rolls his eyes goodnaturedly at his soon to be brother-in-law, a fact that Jake has made a point to remind him of, all the time, since the two of you got engaged a little over a year ago. 

“How is she, though?” Jake asks, and Bradley can hear the sincerity creeping into the blonde’s tone. 

“She’s good. Was just dealing with the usual pre-wedding nerves, but it’s all good now.” Bradley tells him honestly. 

Jake only nods in response, already retreating into his head, into his worry for you, causing your brother to speak up again.

“Jake, I promise, everything’s good.” Bradley reassures him with a small smile.

“Yeah… good.” Jake nods once more, making an attempt to paint the best smile he possibly can on his lips.

He’s not worried because he thinks that you might not want this, or him – he knows without a shadow of doubt just how vast your love for him is – but, because he knows how you get when you put your heart into something and that you’ll drive yourself crazy trying to get everything perfect.

Jake’s seen firsthand just how painstakingly you’ve worked to plan this wedding, all the months spent making sure that every little detail is just right. 

He knows that all of that time and stress, culminating to this one day, is likely weighing on your mind now that the day has finally come. 

And in this moment, Jake wants nothing more than to just be able to see you – to hold you and comfort you and let you know that everything is going to be just fine.

He knows the old superstition that the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride before the ceremony, but…

“Fuck it.”

The two words escape under Jake’s breath just before he’s shrugging on the jacket to his tux and quickly making his way to the door. 

“Where are you going, man?” Javy questions his best friend, drawing the attention of the rest of the Daggers — sans Phoenix who’s with you getting ready in the bridal suite — toward where Jake stands in the now open doorway, one hand on the knob and one foot already out in the hall. 

“Just gotta check something with the wedding planner. Be right back.” 

It’s not a total lie. Sure, you had forgone hiring a wedding planner and chose to do everything yourself — with the help of Natasha and Penny of course -— but that technically made you the wedding planner. The guys don’t have to know that.

Jake traverses the winding halls of the venue, the anticipation of seeing you building up as he walks briskly in his dress shoes until he finds a door with a paper sign that reads, ‘Bridal Suite’ in loopy, cursive lettering.

Taking a breath, he knocks on the door, and he’s lucky to find that a moment later, it’s you who answers.

“What-” Your eyes widen in surprise and you’re hardly able to get a word out as one of Jake’s hands grasps yours, swiftly pulling you out of the door and into the hallway with him. 

You don’t get a chance to finish your question, because within seconds your fiancé is practically sprinting down the long hallway, pulling you along with him with his large hand wrapped around your smaller one. 

You can't help but giggle at Jake’s antics as the two of you run through the halls, watching his free hand reach for a few knobs along the way only to find them locked, finally stopping when he finds a door that seems to be open. 

He quickly peers into the room just to make sure that it’s empty before gently pulling you into the dark space, lit only by the natural light that shines in through the windows, and closing the door. 

You're still laughing breathlessly when you find your words again, Jake’s own breathy chuckle mixing with yours in the quiet of the room.

“Wha— Jake? What are you doing, you’re not supposed to see me in my dress before the ceremony!”

“Screw that, my girl needed me.” His warm hand is still in yours, his free hand moving to clasp your other one. That emerald gaze that you’ve come to know so well bores into you as he smiles down at you lovingly.

Your eyes lift to meet Jake’s and it’s like any and all nerves just melt away.

You always feel safe when Jake is near and just the sight of him now, being in his presence, has a toothy grin making its way onto your face.

Another giggle escapes you, trailing off into a content sigh as you look up at the gorgeous man in front of you.

The two of you just gaze into each other’s eyes for a long moment, and with a light shake of your head, your grin becomes coy. 

“Hi.” You find yourself whispering into the quiet of the room.

Jake lets out a chuckle, the outer corners of his eyes crinkling up in the way that you love when smiles at you. “Hi.”

Without letting go of your hands, Jake takes a step back to really take you in for the first time since breaking you out of the bridal suite just a few minutes ago. 

Finally getting a good look at you in your wedding dress that beautifully accentuates the shape of your body, your makeup done to perfection — though Jake doesn’t think you ever need it — and hair styled prettily but still flowing and free just the way he likes, renders your soon-to-be husband practically speechless. 

All he can say is, “Wow…”

You can hear the pure awe in that one word and can’t help but smile bashfully, heat rising in your cheeks. Jake’s compliments still manage to make you flustered, even after all this time. 

“Wow, yourself.” Your gaze sweeps up and down the length of his body, taking in the crisp black tuxedo and matching bow tie, and the white dress shirt underneath. Appreciating the way it fits him just right, how you’re still able to tell just how toned his body is even under the layers of clothing.

Jake’s hands tenderly squeeze your own, pulling you a little bit closer once again as his eyes search out your own. “You doing okay, honey?”

And though you were definitely feeling anxious before, you couldn’t be more content than you are now when it’s just the two of you, standing here holding hands with the love of your life.

“Yes,” You nod gently. “I’m just a little nervous.”

You look down at your joined hands before quietly continuing. “I just want this day to be perfect.”

“Hey,” Jake lightly swings your joined hands to get you to look up at him again, and when you do, you see that he’s still wearing that confident smile. “It’s going to be perfect because it’s all coming from you. And everything you do is perfect in my eyes.”

You have to bite back your giggle at his sentiment, in disbelief that this sweet man is soon going to be your husband.

“It’s going to be perfect because it’s us. Together.” You correct him with a playful grin. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jake’s hands leave yours, wrapping warmly around your shoulders to pull you in for a hug. Nestled in his embrace, your own arms wrap around his middle, your head moving to lean on his chest, taking in the familiar scent of his cologne as he leans his head on top of yours. “Together.”

The two of you stand like that for a few moments, wrapped snugly in each other’s warmth, Jake beginning to sway you just lightly as you breathe each other in.

It’s with your cheek pressed against his pec that you finally take a look around the room the two of you are standing in, realizing that it’s another suite similar to the one you had been getting ready in earlier.

“You know,” You lift your head from Jake’s chest to look up at him as you speak, a playful tone filling your words. “This feels oddly familiar to the night we met.”

“Sneaking off to a dark, empty room,” You continue with a growing smirk, arms unlatching from around Jake’s waist and pulling back just a touch, his own arms falling from around your shoulders. “Just the two of us.”

Your hands slide gently up Jake’s torso over the fabric of his suit jacket, up past his broad shoulders to rest at the back of his neck. 

Jake’s gaze leaves you for just a moment to glance at the space around you. An airy laugh leaving his lips as his hands reach for your hips over the soft fabric of your dress to pull you a little bit closer, his green eyes falling back onto you. 

Faces just inches away from one another, the two of you share matching silly grins as you think back to the night of your brother’s wedding. A look of pure love and adoration passing between your eyes and his as you both absorb the fact that you’re here, three years later, at your own wedding. 

“Yeah, we’re just missing the champagne.” 

Jake softly brushes his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering shut as he leans in to connect his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. 

Tasting the remnants of the sweet mimosa on your lips, he hums against them before pulling back just slightly. “But it seems like you’ve already got that covered, Sweets.” 

The familiar nickname paints his favorite smile on your lips that has Jake diving back in for another kiss, this one deeper as his tongue dips into your mouth to taste the lingering sweetness of champagne and orange juice on your tongue.

His large hands pull you in closer by the waist as your fingers find the short blonde hairs at the nape of his neck, a groan falling from Jake’s mouth and into yours as your fingernails gently scrape along his scalp.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly your body still responds to his touch after all this time; your knees going weak, and you’re practically melting into him as you feel wetness begin to pool in the skimpy, lacy white panties of your bridal lingerie that you’ve been dying to show Jake since you picked it all out a few months earlier.

The kiss quickly becomes more heated, lips slotting feverishly together as though one can only find much-needed oxygen within the other’s mouth, tongues swirling in a well-known dance and relishing in the familiar taste of one another. 

Jake’s hands are all over you, pulling your body flush against his as he sucks your bottom lip between the both of his. Your skin feels hot from his touch even through the fabric of your dress, and the realization of his quickly hardening length pressing against your hip has you mewling against him.

Jake pulls back from the kiss, his gaze still hungry, but you also catch the mirth in his eyes as he chuckles at his bride-to-be.

“Always so needy for me.” He slowly shakes his head with that classic, cocky Jake Seresin smirk that still makes you weak in the knees. 

“Me?!” You scoff, eyes wide as you look up at him incredulously, though you’re fighting back a smile because you know he’s right. 

“Well, I’d say someone is also pretty needy.” 

Your hand leaves the back of his neck to travel between your bodies to prove your point, reaching down to palm at his hard length through the fabric of his dress pants. Your brows raise in a playfully vindicated look that screams ‘I told you so’, as Jake lets out a groan at your touch. 

“Yeah, o-okay.” Jake’s chuckle is breathless this time as you cup your hand around him a little more firmly, grinning up at him and batting your lashes. “Always needy for you too, Sweets.” 

His hand wraps around your own to remove it from his bulge, already missing the friction as he brings your knuckles up to his lips in a sweet kiss before letting it go.

Before you even know what’s happening, both of Jake’s hands are reaching down to grip your thighs through all the layers of lace and tulle, a squeak emitting from your throat as he sweeps you off your feet and carries you over the nearest wall. 

“Jake! What are you-” Your arms circle around his shoulders, legs parting of their own volition to make room for him between them. Bracketing his hips as your back lightly hits the wall, the fabric of your dress all bunched between the two of you exposing your calves as he holds you in his strong grasp.

Large palms wrapped around the underside of your thighs, his weight pressed against your front and the wall at your back keep you upright as you giggle in your soon-to-be husband’s arms. 

Jake is beaming back at you, the adoration in his green eyes clear as they crinkle up due to his grin. 

“I love you, so much.” He lifts a hand up to your face, the backs of his fingers caressing along the soft skin of your cheek and Jake shakes his head as if he can’t believe that this is real, that you’re real. 

He leans in to press a soft, but dizzying kiss to your lips before murmuring against them, “I wanna show you how much.”

A part of you feels like you could cry at the sincerity in his voice, at just how well Jake loves you and how he’s never shy to make it known. 

But mostly, you just feel the white-hot pooling of arousal growing in your belly, your eyes glazing over with a look of both love and lust as you gaze back at him.

“Yeah?” You nod up at him in a daze, biting back a grin as you take in the hunger in those pretty green eyes. 

“Yeah.” He places a feather-light kiss to the corner of your mouth that makes you whimper and you can feel his smile against your skin. “Let me show you.” 

You nod your head again, mind in a haze of want at the feel of his warm breath on your skin, your hands squeezing at Jake’s broad shoulders. 

Feeling the velvety-soft fabric of his black suit jacket beneath your fingers, it’s only then that you’re shaken out of your stupor and you remember where you are – what today is.  

“Wait-wait, Jake, we can’t!” Your fingers continue to absentmindedly play with the fabric covering his shoulder. We’re supposed to be getting married like… now.” 

You can’t help but giggle at the predicament you’ve found yourselves in, though it’s very unsurprising for you and Jake. 

Jake’s laugh mingles with your own as you begin to lightly shake your head, and you feel his strong shoulders shrug beneath your grasp as you watch his lips quirk up into a mischievous grin. 

“All our guests–” Jake interrupts your words with another quick peck on your lips, laughing at your stunned expression. 

“The guests…can wait.” He states matter-of-factly. “Can’t exactly have a wedding without the bride and groom, now can they, Sweets?” 

Jake’s smile is smug and you can’t fight the one materializing on your own lips as you continue to shake your head. 

“Besides, would we really be us if we didn’t sneak off to have sex at a wedding?” He finishes off the question with a kiss to your jaw before trailing his lips down the column of your throat, lightly nipping at the skin of your neck – careful not to leave a mark – before soothing it with his tongue.

Jake was right. It had happened the night you first met at Bradley and Natasha’s wedding, and had become a tradition of sorts for the two of you at every wedding you’d been to in the three years since – and there have been quite a few.

You can feel your resolve quickly beginning to crumble as Jake presses his hips more firmly against yours, his hard length pressing up against where you need him most, the friction not nearly enough through all the layers of fancy clothing. You’re already soaking through your panties for him and you know you’re a goner.

You drop your head onto Jake’s shoulder with a sigh, before looking back up at him through your lashes. 

“Fine, but we have to be quick.” Narrowing your eyes at him, you give in, but with the most stern tone you can muster and it only makes Jake laugh. 

“Ain’t nothing slow about me, sweetheart.” You can’t stop the snort that escapes you, or the playful roll of your eyes at his words, leaning up to kiss that stupid grin off of Jake’s face. 

“Please, just– just shut up and fuck me already, Seresin.” you manage to get out through your giggles.

“With pleasure.” Jake’s lips claim yours in a hungry kiss and you feel one of his big hands venture underneath the skirt of your dress, traveling up your thigh and past the frilly fabric of your white garter in search of your core.

When his fingers brush against the damp lace of your panties, you choke out a gasp against his lips and Jake pulls back to take in your expression — your brows furrowed in pleasure and eyes heavily hooded with need. His kiss-swollen lips lift up into a smug smirk as he feels how wet you are for him. 

Jake’s deft fingers press more firmly against that wet spot, rubbing along your seam through the damp fabric. You can’t hold back your whine, already writhing against him as his thumb finds your clit, expertly circling it through the lace. 

“So wet and I’ve barely even touched you.” He breathes out a laugh and there’s a hint of smugness to his words — because of course there, it’s Jake — but you can also hear the awe present in his voice, see it in his emerald gaze that burns into you lovingly and it makes heat creep up your cheeks.

His hand dips beneath the waistband of your panties and you and Jake groan in unison as his fingers make a few quick circles around your wet, swollen clit. 

Your head falls back against the wall behind you and Jake takes the opportunity to kiss at your neck again as his hand dips down further to collect more of your wetness. 

“Already all ready for me, Sweets?” Jake’s words are whispered next to your ear as his fingers graze your entrance, your hips bucking toward them of their own volition.

“For you, ahh–” Your words are cut off by a shaky moan as Jake slides two long fingers inside of you, up to the knuckle in one swift motion. Your breath hitches and you’re practically melting against him, your voice already sounding wrecked as you whimper for him, “Always.”

Jake groans at how easily your slick walls envelop his fingers, gushing with new arousal as he fucks them in and out of your tight hole to get you ready for his cock -– not that you really need much prep with the way you’re already soaking his hand.  

“Such a good girl for me.”

Your walls clench tight around his digits, from both the praise and the way he curls them inside of you, that coil in your belly quickly winding up. 

“Fuck- Jake!” He can hear the desperation in your plea of his name, can feel it in the way your hips chase his fingers each time he pulls them almost all the way out. You’re already feeling so close, but you’re needy for more. Need to be full of him. 

Your perfectly manicured nails dig into Jake’s bicep, the heel of your foot pressing into his backside in an attempt to pull him closer as you gaze up at him through your lashes. “Please, baby– need you.”

“I got you, honey.” 

Your chin falls against your chest and you cry out as Jake scissors his fingers inside of you a few more times before they retreat completely, leaving you clenching around nothing and keening at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

The hand that was in your panties begins to trail slowly back down your thigh, and though you can’t see it through all the fabric of your skirt, you can feel the trail of slick it leaves along your skin in its wake. 

As Jake clutches your thigh in his firm grasp to hold you more securely against the wall, his other hand moves to the tent in his tight trousers where his throbbing length has been neglected.

How he’s able to hold you up with one arm while the other hand unfastens his dress pants is beyond you, but it’s moments like this that you’re grateful to have a big, strong naval aviator for a husband-to-be. 

Jake pushes his suit pants and underwear down just far enough to finally release his cock and you can’t help but moan at the sight of it. Long and looking almost painfully hard, the tip red and angry and weeping with precum. 

Jake lets out a groan as he wraps a fist around his length, relishing in the friction as his hand moves along the shaft and works to spread the pearls of his arousal from his tip down to the base. 

His hand then leaves his cock to push up the skirt of your dress as far as it can go. 

Deft fingers pry the seat of your panties from where they stick to your slick-soaked core, and gingerly move the fabric to the side so he can access your dripping cunt before he grabs ahold of himself again.

Jake lines his tip up to your entrance and pushes in slowly, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that pushes the air out of your lungs, stealing your breath and leaving you dizzy with it as his tongue tangles with yours. 

Your hands glide up the soft, expensive fabric on Jake’s arms, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as you gasp and writhe against him. Relishing in the feeling of him all over you. 

His lips covering your own, short breaths mixing with yours as you both pant and moan into the frantic kiss. His strong body, solid as the wall behind you as his front presses taut against you to hold you up, his long cock pushing deep inside of you with every single thrust and leaving you feeling so unbelievably full of him.

Jake pulls back from the kiss and looks down to where the two of you are connected. His length glistening with your arousal as it moves in and out of your tight walls, your beautiful, intricate wedding gown all bunched around your hips as he fucks you, and he can’t help the chuckle that escapes him when he thinks about how crazy this is.

“Wha-what’s so funny?” You ask breathlessly through kiss-swollen lips, your eyes that had previously been shut tight in bliss now opening to search out his green ones. 

“Just— this,” Jake’s gaze lifts to meet your eye as he continues to laugh, unsure if his brain is going fuzzy with pleasure, or if that’s just the intoxication of being with you. 

“My beautiful, perfect bride,” his hips slow just a touch, pressing forward in a particularly hard thrust that has you gasping and clutching onto his shoulders tighter, you and Jake moaning in unison before he continues, panting through his words.

“All a mess for me — fuck– right before we’re supposed to say ‘I do’ in front of all our family and friends– and pretty much everyone we know.”

Your eyes widen, lips tugging up into a bashful smile and you can’t help but giggle along with him, burying your head in his shoulder and speaking into the soft fabric of his jacket as he continues to fuck you.

“Oh god… well, I’m sure there’ll be some time to steam the dress again before I have to walk down the aisle.” 

You can feel Jake’s laughter reverberate against your cheek just before he cups your chin, lifting your face back up to be level with his and beaming at you with that megawatt smile. “There's my wife!” 

You’re both still grinning when he pulls you in for another kiss. Teeth gnashing against one another’s, mingled laughter and moans coming out in breathy puffs against each other’s lips as his cock works inside of you, his hips still moving against yours at an even pace.

“This is crazy.” You can barely get the words out, still giggling between messy kisses. 

“Yeah,” Jake punctuates with another press of his lips on yours, teeth nipping at your bottom lip and drawing out a quiet whimper as he pulls it back towards him and releases it before continuing. 

“It is crazy,” – Another kiss – “You make crazy, Sweets.”

With one more firm peck to your lips, you feel both of Jake’s hands wrap tighter under your thighs, rough fingers squeezing your ass as he hikes you up a bit higher against the wall, pressing impossibly closer to keep you firmly in place. 

The change of the angle combined with his thrusts accelerating in speed has you crying out loud as he ruts up into you, Jake’s lips moving to cover yours once again and muffle the sounds of your moans. 

You shudder against him as his tip prods against that spongy spot inside you that makes stars appear behind your closed lids with each and every thrust, and you feel that coil beginning to tighten again, the familiar heat rapidly licking at the base of your spine.

Jake knows you’re close when your nails begin to dig into his shoulders through the jacket of his tux as you gasp for air, your lips parting from his with a string of saliva still connecting them for a moment that makes him growl as your head lulls back to lean against the wall. Eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as you quietly, breathlessly, cry out his name like a mantra.

Your body is sandwiched tightly between Jake’s and the wall as his length fills you, hips pinned to yours and barely able to pull out on each thrust for how tightly your walls are clamping around him, the coarse but neatly trimmed hairs at the base of his cock deliciously grazing your clit and setting your whole body alight.

He's the only thing keeping you upright when your orgasm hits you. His mouth swallows your cries as your whole body goes taut, holding Jake in a vice grip as you fall apart on his cock. 

Jake can feel it as all of the tension leaves your body. He continues in slow, shallow thrusts, the quiet of the room only accentuating the salacious sounds of your release flooding around him as he works you through your high. 

He pulls back from the kiss as your moans begin to subside to get a look at your fucked out, blissful expression. 

Your eyes are still closed, lips parted and now devoid of any of the nude-pink lipstick shade you’d been wearing before, and your skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat. 

Your chest rapidly rises and falls beneath the fitted white bodice of your wedding gown, accentuating your cleavage with each little pant as you try to catch your breath.

“So fucking pretty, honey,” Jake begins a light trail of kisses from the corner of your mouth to your warm cheek, and up to your hairline where he whispers against the slightly damp skin. “My beautiful bride.”

Your hands scramble for purchase on his back, whimpering as you attempt to pull him in closer. 

“Jake- '' Your legs tighten around his hips, heels pressing against his backside where they’re crossed at the ankles, your desperate mewl mixing with Jake’s deeper grunt as the movement pushes him even deeper inside of you.  

“‘M so lucky to- to get to call you my husband,” Jake swears that his cocks swells just that little bit more at your loving words. “Cum for me. Wanna feel you.”

“Fuck.” The sweet praise whispered from your pretty lips sends him into a tailspin. 

You’ve barely come down from your high when Jake’s hips quicken their pace as he begins to chase his own release, the beginnings of overstimulation making you cry out a string of broken moans, incoherent whimpers of curses and his name. 

The fullness and the delightful drag of his cock through your tight walls making you clench around him harder, and the assault of his tip against your g-spot leaving you feeling boneless, your grip on his shoulders tightens like you’ll float away at any moment.

The way your velvety walls are squeezing him, your release soaking his length and the obscene sound it creates as he continues to fuck into you, have Jake right on the edge of his own high. 

His head falls to your shoulder where he grunts deeply into the crook of your neck. 

“So good, baby. So good for me.” He praises, peppering sweet kisses to your hot skin, a stark contrast to the harsh force of his hips pounding against yours as they begin to lose their rhythm. 

After a few more sloppy thrusts, Jake finishes inside you with a strangled groan. The familiar sensation of his cum filling your still-spasming walls pulls a contented sigh from your lips. 

Jake’s lips dot a trail of soft kisses along the heated skin of your shoulder and neck, then under your jaw before he lifts his face to be level with yours. Pressing his forehead against your own, the two of you stay there just breathing each other in as you catch your breath.

When the groomsmen realize just how much time has passed with still no sign of Jake, and with only minutes until the supposed start of the ceremony, Bradley is seeing red. 

For a moment, jumping to the worst conclusion — that Jake may be standing his little sister up on her wedding day — and he’s just about ready to murder the groom.

It’s only when Natasha knocks on the door to the groomsmens’ suite, looking frazzled as she asks him and the other Daggers if any of them have seen the bride, letting them know that you’ve gone missing as well, that Bradley and his wife both quickly come to the realization that the two of you must be together. 

So, Natasha and Bradley begin the hunt to find the soon-to-be newlyweds, the latter rolling his eyes before grumbling, “They’d better not be off somewhere fucking.”

Natasha only responds with a snicker because she knows that’s probably exactly what the two of you were doing. She offers her grumpy husband a sympathetic look and gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze before they split up to search through the maze that is the halls of your wedding venue. 

In no rush to move just yet, you and Jake just rest for a moment, foreheads pressed together, your body still sandwiched between his broad frame and the wall. His softening cock still inside of you, puffs of air warming each other’s lips as shallow pants become more steady breaths.

You know that you and Jake’s little er —detour— has almost definitely put things behind schedule for your big day, but in this moment you honestly couldn’t care less. 

When it’s just you and the love of your life, bodies intertwined and relishing in each other’s warmth, shared breaths becoming one, you can’t help but think that this day already couldn’t be more perfect.

You feel a flurry of excitement, your heart bursting at the thought that it’s always going to be like this. Solace in the fact that you’re Jake’s and he’s yours, that this is only the beginning of the rest of your lives together. 

He seems to share in the sentiment, pulling back to admire you for a moment before you feel his smile against your skin when he lightly presses his lips to your forehead. 

One of his hands reaches up to cradle your cheek, those green eyes are boring down into your own with that look of pure adoration once again as Jake moves to speak.

“God, I can’t wait to marry you,” His voice is breathy and full of awe–almost a laugh, eyes crinkling up at the corners in that way that you love as his smile begins to take up more of his face. “I’m so happy that you’re gonna be my wife.”

“Jake…” If you thought your heart was bursting before, you think it’s about ready to break free from your chest now, your eyes glistening with emotion as you lovingly look up at him through your lashes.

“You’re gonna make me cry and I don’t want to mess up my makeup any more than I probably already have,”

The two of you share a quiet laugh, smitten as ever as your hand makes its way up to cover his where it still rests on the side of your face. “But, to have you as my husband… I couldn’t be happier.”

Jake leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips before whispering against them. “Love you, Sweets.”

It’s only after you return his kiss and those three little words that have become as easy to you as breathing, that Jake finally pulls out of you and the two of you let out a simultaneous sigh. 

He reaches down to where the mix of his and your release begins to dribble out of your spent hole, a shattered moan falling from your parted lips as your head lulls back against the wall once more. 

Your legs begin to shake from the overstimulation as two of Jake’s long fingers push his cum back into you, expertly thrusting them in and out a few times before pulling them out again, and you find yourself grateful for the sturdy wall behind you when he purposefully brushes them against your oversensitive clit, leaving you breathless as he shifts your panties back into place to keep his cum inside. 

Your mind is cloudy of all things but Jake — his scent and his warmth and the feeling of his hands all over your skin, his pretty green eyes and his voice and his gorgeously cocky smirk — each one of your senses being invaded by him and you couldn’t be more content. 

And, you love knowing that underneath all the layers of fancy lace and tulle, right before the biggest moments of your lives, that you have his cum inside you.

Just as you part from one another, a knock on the door causes you to jump. 

You can hear Natasha out in the hall calling out your names and you and Jake share a look, wearing matching guilty smiles. 

However, it’s not long before his smile shifts into a more of a smirk, and you have to bite back a giggle as he rolls his green eyes playfully before leaning in to peck your cheek, pulling back to mouth the words ‘you good?’. 

With your grin and nod of confirmation, Jake leaves you with one more kiss, fastening the button on his pants and straightening out his dress shirt as he makes his way over to the door.

He pulls it open, still wearing that signature smirk on his face and Natasha glances up at him before she cautiously peeks her head in to see you too, hair smoothed out as much as you could manage on such short notice, the skirt of your wedding dress now back in place and hiding the fact that Jake’s cum is soaking through your underwear and beginning to drip down your thighs. 

“Thank god you’re clothed. I wasn’t looking to get scarred for life today.” Natasha breathes a sigh of relief and steps fully into the room. 

“You’re lucky you didn’t find us five minutes earlier.” Jake chuckles as you lightly smack his chest, that ever-cocky smile on his handsome face that you’ve come to love so very much over these last three years. 

You can’t help but snicker along with him when you catch sight of Natasha’s nose wrinkling in disgust. 

“Ok, ew… And you’re lucky I found you and not Bradley.” Natasha gives Jake a glare before clapping her hands in front of both of your faces. “Now come on, hurry the fuck up. The ceremony — your wedding ceremony — is about to start soon.”

You nod your head frantically, as if only just remembering where, and when, you are.

“Right, yeah! I just gotta go… clean up a bit.” you squeak out to your sister-in-law with a bashful grin before scurrying off the bathroom of the suite you’d snuck into. 

Natasha just gives Jake a deadpan look that conveys her slight disgust before leaving the room, making her way out into the hall to call Bradley and let the him know that she’s located the happy couple. 

After taking care of the mess between your legs and wiping off the smudged remnants of your lipstick in the bathroom mirror, you return to find Jake, who’s leaning up against the wall opposite the door, looking cool and calm and handsome as ever in his tux. 

Making your way over to him, you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, letting out a little snort as your hands reach up to delicately fix his hair where it sticks out in a few places—no doubt from your tugging on it during your recent activities. 

Once Jake’s golden locks are back in a more presentable state, you smooth a hand down the nape of his neck, leaning up to attach your lips firmly to his. 

Jake groans into it as his mouth moves against yours with just as much fervor, his hands reaching blindly for your waist to pull you in closer, and the two of you share one last passionate kiss that you hope conveys both your love for him and your excitement to be marrying him — though Jake already knows. 

“Alright, Natasha’s going to kill me if I don’t get back in the next two minutes.” You pull away from his lush lips, reluctantly and breathlessly, wanting to live in this moment with him forever. 

Your arms unwrap themselves from behind Jake’s neck, but you don’t get very far when he reaches out to take one of your hands in his own, and you can tell he’s just as reluctant to end the moment too when he brings it up to his lips to kiss a trail from your knuckles to the tips of your fingers.

“Yeah, I’m not really looking forward to dealing with your brother either.” 

His words make you laugh in that sweet, boisterous way that he’s so ready to hear for the rest of his life and with that, Jake chuckles and lets you go, his hand still holding onto yours until you’re too far out of reach. 

Jake calls out your name just as you reach the door and you stop short, turning around to face him just as you pull it open. You stand in the threshold, brows raised, and look at him expectantly. 

“See ya out there, my beautiful bride.”

You’re surprised your cheeks don’t perpetually hurt from how much this man makes you smile.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, my dashing groom.” You leave him with a playful wink and that intoxicating smile, in a flash of flowing white fabric as you quickly retreat into the hallway. 

Jake chuckles to himself, moving over to the mirror to make sure he looks presentable, smoothing a hand over his hair and giving himself one last once-over before he makes his way back to his groomsmen. 

Trailing behind Natasha, you quickly make your way through the halls back to the bridal suite, giving her your most innocent smile when she peers back at you over her shoulder with a pointed look.

Your sister-in-law sends you a half-hearted scoff and a playful roll of her brown eyes, but you can see the smirk just beginning to grow at the corner of her lips before she turns and reaches out to open the door. 

“Come on.” Natasha half laughs, half groans, ushering you into the room.

Before you know it, you’ve got a plethora of people surrounding you once again — one giving your dress a very last minute steam to get rid of any wrinkles your activities with Jake a few minutes earlier had caused, others rushing around to touch up your hair and makeup and to finally pin up your veil. Although, this time around, you find that you’re unbothered. Feeling a lot more at ease, and you’re back in tip-top shape in record time. 

You’re practically vibrating in excitement and anticipation as Natasha and the rest of your bridal party shower you with hugs and their own squeals of excitement and encouragement before they make their way outside to the beautifully set up venue to get into their places for the ceremony. 

You give yourself one final once-over in the mirror, unable to curb the smile that grows at how beautiful you feel. 

It's only a few moments later when Bradley pokes his head in the door once more to ask if you’re ready. He takes in the giddy — and much more self-assured than earlier  —  smile on your face when you turn to him and nod your head excitedly. 

“Ya know, you can still back out of this if you wanted.” Your brother jokes, his tone teasing as his mustached lips form into a sly grin.

With a punch to your older brother’s shoulder, you pin Bradley with a pointed look and a sarcastic ‘ha ha’.

“Come on, I’m sure the Bronco would make a great getaway car!” He chuckles as your eyes widen in surprise.

“Bradley!” You move to punch his arm again, but he quickly ducks out of the way this time, and though your eyes are now narrowed at him in a feigned scowl, Bradley can tell that you’re not really angry with him by the way your lips are fighting back pulling up into a smile. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to hold my peace when that part comes up.” He raises his hands up in surrender and you can’t help but laugh along with Bradley’s joke, though not without a playful shake of your head and roll of your eyes. 

“You better!” Your big brother flinches as you lurch at him again, but this time, instead of hitting him, your fingers reach up to pinch his ear and it’s like the two of you are kids again; you giggling maniacally while Bradley — now a big, tough 6’1 fighter pilot — yelps in pain, arms flailing as he tries to get out of your grip.

He’d probably pull your hair like he did when you were kids too, if it wasn’t all styled to perfection with your beautiful sheer veil pinned to the crown of it, all ready for your big day. 

“I will, I will!” Bradley hisses through his teeth, chuckling as you release your hold on him to grab your bouquet that’s a beautiful mix of both yours and Jake’s favorite flowers, and then move to link your arm with his to begin the path down the hall. The path to the rest of your life and you couldn’t be more excited. 

As your brother guides you through the venue’s winding halls towards the doors to where the outdoor ceremony is being held, a gentle grin befalls your lips as you think about how you got here — and your big brother’s part in all of it. 

“You know… I know you told all the guys at your wedding to steer clear of me.” 

Bradley stops in his tracks at your divulgence, pulling you to a quick stop as well and nearly tripping you over your heels and the fabric of your long wedding gown.

“You wha- huh? You know?!” 

Admittedly, Bradley thought he was taking that secret to his grave.

“Yeah, I know.” You can’t help but giggle at your brother’s flustered expression. “Jake told me, a few months after we started dating.”

You’ve known for almost three years and you never said anything. Huh. 

Bradley stands there with his lips parted, but no words are coming out. He’s still in shock at the fact that you’re laughing about this. 

“So… you’re not mad?” He asks the question apprehensively, a grimace on his face as he awaits your answer. 

“No, I’m not mad.” You shake your head, still smiling as an airy laugh escapes you. 

“Well, maybe I was for like a second back then. But, I appreciate how much you want to protect me, Bradley. Even if it does make you an idiot sometimes.” 

You playfully roll your eyes and Bradley finally relaxes, shoulders dropping as he laughs along with you. 

“For what it’s worth, you and Jake actually aren’t a half-bad couple.” You playfully smack his chest in response to the — albeit sweet — jest. 

“Thank you.” You beam up at your brother, content knowing that that’s his way of letting you know he truly is happy for you and Jake. 

Bradley links his arm with yours again and continues leading you towards the doors. “I wish Mom and Dad could see how beautiful you look today. They’d be so proud.” 

“Oh, come on, Bradley! You’re gonna make me cry off my makeup!” You whisper-yell at him half jokingly as you finally reach the doors that will lead you out to the ceremony — to where you’ll very soon be married to the love of your life. 

“Me too.” Giving Bradley’s arm a gentle squeeze, the two of you share a smile, knowing that your parents will be there in spirit. And grateful for the fact that your uncle Mav who’s always been like a third parent to you will be there too. “Now, come on. Let’s go get me married!”

The wedding ceremony goes off without a hitch — albeit a little bit later than planned. 

When the music starts and Bradley walks you down the aisle, you’re surrounded by the smiling faces of friends and family. 

Although, your eyes are only on Jake — looking so unbelievably handsome in his tux and his wide smile and you can’t believe just how lucky you got — and his mossy green eyes are focused on only you. 

Both of your eyes shine with tears and it’s as if only the two of you exist in that moment when you meet him at the altar, the two of you happily joining hands with matching lovesick grins adorning your faces.

Though he’ll never admit it — and Natasha will never let him live it down — Bradley definitely shed a few tears himself as he listened to you and Jake exchange your vows. 

It’s been a long day of running around getting ready for the ceremony — and sneaking off for a quickie, of course — before marrying your soulmate in front of practically everyone you know, then taking countless family photos and enjoying a cocktail hour with your friends and family showering you and Jake in congratulations and well wishes. 

But, it’s all worth it because you’re finally able to call Jake your husband and you couldn’t be happier.

You’re both more than ready for the reception, ready to let loose and enjoy your time together as a newlyweded couple. 

After a nice dinner comes the best man and maid of honor speeches from Javy and Natasha, and a speech from Uncle Mav that includes a few embarrassing anecdotes about your childhood that have you giggling as you hide your face in Jake’s shoulder. 

Then it’s time for the newlyweds to make a toast before sharing your first dance to Fleetwood Mac’s Everywhere, the first song you and Jake danced to on the night when you met three years ago at your brother’s wedding. 

The two of you hold each other close and sway along to the music without a care in the world, Jake dipping you towards the end of the song and claiming your lips in a long kiss that has the entire room cheering — although again, it’s as if you and Jake are the only two who exist in that moment.

When Jake pulls back from the kiss, one of his large palms is still cupping your cheek, fingers gently grazing your skin as his green eyes gaze down at you in adoration. 

“I can’t believe you’re my wife.” He lightly shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m never gonna stop saying that — my wife.”

You’re smiling against one another’s lips as you pull Jake down for another kiss, giggling when you mouth parts from his. 

“I love you so much, my husband.”

You can see that familiar look of both adoration and hunger beginning to overtake Jake’s features in response to your words as your first dance comes to an end.

After sharing what would traditionally be a father-daughter dance with Mav, he returns you into your husband’s loving arms as others begin to join in on the fun, the dance floor now filling up with your guests. 

Jake sees his opportunity to whisk you away from the dancefloor, using the commotion to make a sneaky getaway — again. 

You should be used to it by now — his large hand warmly encompassing yours and pulling you along with him — but you still can’t help the giggles that break free as you quicken your pace to match his as best as you can in your heels, sprinting until the two of you have disappeared from dancefloor, and soon from your wedding reception entirely.   

Out of the ballroom doors and into the empty hallway, the loud music and sounds of your guests having fun now a muffled to barely-there background noise, you find yourself alone with Jake. Your husband.

You pull on Jake’s hand to bring him to a stop in front of you, turning him around and pulling him in closer to you as you lean your back against the closed door, gazing up at him with a lip-bitten smile. 

“What are we doing?” You question through a breathless laugh, although you’re pretty sure you already know the answer. 

Jake’s broad frame crowds you in closer to the door and you find your breaths coming in quicker as he presses the front of his body up against yours.

Your eyes flutter shut as he leans down even closer, his nose gently brushing yours, lips just shy of touching your own. His breath fans against them and it sends a shiver down your spine, a jolt going straight to your core when he speaks.

“Well, we’ve gotta consummate our marriage, Sweets.” Jake whispers against you, his mouth just barely grazing your own. “And I’d like to consummate it as soon as possible.”

The evident hunger in his voice has you frantically nodding against him, eyes still squeezed shut when you feel his front press impossibly closer to you — and the growing bulge there. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, honey. Gonna consummate the shit out of you.” 

Jake’s whispered words, and their mirthy tone, have you bursting into a fit of giggles, your head falling back against the door behind you. His own laugh joins in with yours as you shake your head at his silliness. You love this man so much.

Your hands reach up to the sides of his neck to pull your husband down for a kiss, lips and teeth clashing as neither of you can break the smiles from your faces. 

“You’re such a dork, Seresin.” You whisper sweetly against Jake’s lips.

“Yeah, but you love it… Mrs. Seresin.” His large hands squeeze your hips, both the heat you feel on your skin through the lacy fabric of your dress and the name making you giddy.

“Well… lead the way, Mr. Seresin!” 

You’re unable to contain the massive smile that breaks out on your face as Jake presses one last kiss to your lips, before grabbing your hand and beginning to pull you along with him once more, and you don’t care where takes you as long as your hand gets to be intertwined with his for the rest of your lives. 

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Thank you for reading! x

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[ceesimz]

Wallflower

Autistic Reader x Barça Femení

The main story can be found here, this is just a small one shot I had the idea for :)

Birthdays. What a massive inconvenience.

Actually, scratch that. You enjoyed other people's birthdays, just not your own. In fact, it was your worst nightmare. One of the most dreaded days of the year.

Having all of the attention on you? Having gifts and envelopes and surprises forced your way? People singing to you? God, it made you sick to your stomach just thinking about it.

Not to sound ungrateful, of course. The idea that people liked you enough to make a fuss of you did spark something in your heart, but it was too much. In the nicest way possible, it was utterly overwhelming, and often at some point during the day, there would be tears. Possibly a shutdown too, or  even a meltdown of some kind. 

All in all, it was a terrifying experience no matter how you spent it.

Now double that, triple it again, multiply it by ten, and that's how it felt waking up on your first birthday at Barcelona. 

For the whole month so far, you had near enough begged Ingrid to make sure the team doesn't do anything excessive. You needed the day to be as normal as possible, just so you could get through it. And to be fair to her, with a sad smile, she had promised that your wishes would be met. 

So waking up alone to an empty flat on the dreaded day was both calming and uncomfortable. You'd asked for it, obviously, so had to get over it. You showered, got dressed into your training gear, and sat down on the sofa whilst waiting for Ingrid to arrive. Again, it was just like any other day. If you ignored the way your phone vibrated every few minutes, that is. And the stomach-churning anxiety that only increased as time went on.

There was a knock on the door and, expecting it to be Ingrid, you shouted for her to come in. Except, it wasn't her. Though you couldn't really be too disgruntled by the surprise guest.

“Good morning, cariño. Can I come in?” Alexia peered around the door cautiously, smiling hopefully over at you. 

With a solemn nod, she quickly stepped in and closed the door behind her. In her arms was a bouquet containing some of the flowers you had gawked at way back when on your first date with her. That was a few weeks ago now, and being in the early stages of a relationship did have its difficulties, but only due to the adjustment of it. Everything else was, well, perfect. Alexia was perfect. 

But having her, your girlfriend, show up unannounced on your birthday wasn't the worst thing in the world, you supposed.

“Is it okay that I'm here?” She asked nervously, pausing a few feet away from you.

“It is.” You smiled shyly up at her, standing so you could greet her properly. 

In an instant, there was a cheesy grin on her face, and she placed the flowers down gently on your coffee table before lifting you off the ground into a tight hug.

“Happy birthday, mi amor.” She whispered before scattering light kisses from your neck, up to your cheek, down along your jaw, and reaching her final destination, sealing her greeting with a soft kiss to your lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Stressed. Anxious.” You laughed nervously, leaning into her hand when she puts you down and cups your cheek.

“That’s okay. I… I haven’t made you feel worse by showing up, right? I can go if you would prefer.” With a silent shake of your head, you wrapped your arms back around her and buried your face in her shoulder. She smiled and happily complied, keeping you close to her. “Then I will stay.”

“I’m really glad you came.” You stated, slightly muffled by the material of her jumper. “Thank you.”

“No, no need to thank me. It is my girlfriend's birthday, and I will always show up for her if she lets me.” 

She voiced her determination to love you, even though those three words hadn't been said aloud by either of you yet. You were sure of it; the warmth you got in your chest was the first time an all-consuming feeling didn't feel quite so terrifying. It was at first, the initial realisation was something that kept you up at night for a few days, until one morning it clicked and all that was left was serenity and security in your feelings. Telling her such was an entirely different challenge.

After her latest admission, it took everything in you to keep those words inside rather than spilling straight out.

“Will you drive me to training?” You asked, seemingly out of nowhere. But, with so much running through your mind, so much weighing on you today, it was easier to stick to the simpler things rather than focus on all the stuff that’s overwhelming in that moment. The day still felt like a mountainous obstacle to get over, hence your need for simplicity and slight dissociative nature. 

“Of course. Have Mapi and Ingrid been yet?” Alexia said, watching as you pulled away and slumped down onto the sofa again, your legs pressed up against your chest and your arms folding around them. You shook your head no, to which she nodded and collected the flowers again to put them in a vase.

“Thank you for the flowers, Ale.” You mumbled, resting your chin on your knee whilst watching her and fidgeting with the TV remote. She smiled over at you from the kitchen before turning back to the bouquet, spreading some of the flowers out a little and leaving them on the kitchen counter. 

Another thing about your birthday, though it had only developed once you got into your teenage years, was that receiving gifts from people caused a lot of anxiety. When the dust settled, the sentiment behind each gift one was something you treasured. But getting them and opening them was an event you worried about much more than the average person- was your reaction what they wanted? Did you thank them enough? Did you come across as rude and ungrateful? There was just too much to think about.

With Alexia, you didn’t have to stress about any of those things. She was great at reading you by now, she knew what version she would get and when. And yet, her adoration still never faltered. You had come to know her just as well as she knew you, so you were sure she had gotten you other presents than just a bouquet of flowers (though they were more than enough for you) and that she was just waiting for the right time to give you her proper gifts. That, you were grateful for. 

“De nada, amor.” Alexia murmured as she sat down beside you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Instantly, you curled into her side, smiling when her lips pressed against your temple in a soft kiss. “Training will be okay, you know. I understand it is the unknown that makes you anxious, but once you have a ball at your feet, it will all calm down. Try to remind yourself that, okay?”

“I just hate the anticipation, the waiting. Want to get it over and done with.” You sighed, relishing in the comfort Alexia provides just by being beside you.

“I know. Time isn’t kind.” Alexia whispered, taking one of your hands with her free one and squeezing it. “You wanna skip breakfast at training?”

You raised your head quickly at her question, not even knowing that idea was a possibility.

“People won’t be mad if I do? That I won’t be there?” You checked, because if you could get away with doing such a thing, it’d get rid of a mighty chunk of your worries.

Being seated in the canteen with everyone at Barcelona on the one day dedicated to you was terrifying really. There would be expectations, possible celebrations, and the eyes of everyone would surely be on you. They meant well, you knew that of course, but that unfortunately didn’t make it any less frightening. Breakfast was a social event, for some hell-sent reason, whereas training was a professional setting, it was work. Avoiding it altogether would be a dream, except you know the mass disappointment it’d cause. And everybody knows how that ends.

“No one would be mad, cariño. They would understand.” Alexia physically felt the tension leave you under her hands at that, your body deflating as you let out a breath of relief. You moved to wrap your arms around Alexia’s torso then, and leaned up to kiss her cheek.

“Thank you, Ale. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You said, punctuated with yet more kisses.

All those weeks ago, Alexia had been right. Having someone by your side did make a lot of things so much easier. It was like night and day. You recognised the difference in yourself since you had met her, and you never knew it was possible for you to grow like this. With the move from Germany to Spain, you were well aware that there would be some changes for you, but the unknown came into play again. Would those changes be progression or regression? Evidently, and to your relief, it was progression. Your dream of thriving here was fast on its way to becoming true.

“Feliz cumpleaños, preciosa!” A certain Spaniard bellowed the second she opened your door, giving you and Alexia slight heart attacks.

“Mapi, dios mío! Why!?” Alexia groaned, you giggling beside her as you could hear her heart racing at the jumpscare so kindly given by the shorter woman.

“I warned her, she did not listen.” Ingrid sighed with feigned annoyance, but the second she looked over at you, there was a beaming smile on her face. “Come here, søster!”

Sheepishly, you unwound yourself from Alexia’s hold and walked over to Ingrid, laughing when she squished your cheeks together and kissed your forehead before embracing you tightly.

“Happy birthday!” Ingrid squealed, grunting when her girlfriend’s gangly arms flung around you both. Mapi squeezed you both together before looking over at Alexia who was watching the interaction fondly, still seated on the sofa.

“Ale, come join.” Mapi demanded, only for her to shake her head and wave the defender off. Mapi wasn’t having it though. She left the hug for a moment and grabbed her friend by the wrist to drag her over, before manually moving Alexia’s arms to wrap around the three of you. “Stop being a party pooper, Alexia. Get that grumpy look off your face, we know you are enjoying this.”

“Yeah, Ale.” You looked to your side at her with a teasing smile, the love radiating off of the both of you when your eyes met. Ingrid could feel it, Mapi could feel it. You were possibly the only two in the world opting out of acknowledging it.

After the impromptu group hug, Ingrid went over to the bag she had brought and unpacked a load of your favourite pastries. You knew she was making them for you, but in your anxious daze of the morning so far you’d entirely forgotten about them. The way your face lit up at the sight was enough for Ingrid’s day to be made and for Alexia’s heart to run wild in her chest. All four of you sat down at the dining table to share them since Ingrid had made enough for everybody, and like always you mostly stayed quiet and let the other three carry the conversation. You’d drop in every now and then, but most of the time you just liked to listen. They all knew that by now and were more than happy to keep the chat flowing, until it was time to leave for training.

Having Alexia drive you there had its advantages and disadvantages, and you were well versed with them by now. Being a passenger meant you were free to get caught up in your thoughts, which could either go really well or really bad. Meanwhile, being the driver meant you had to focus on the road, forcing the doubts to be silent. Yet, sometimes not having the chance to mentally work through what was stressing you out only made the situation worse.

In this instance, you had no time for overthinking when Alexia was emphatically singing along to any song that played on the radio, keeping you entertained and distracted for pretty much the whole journey.

It was a completely different story once you arrived though.

Alexia near enough had to lead you through the building and into the locker room, her hand on your back as a comforting reminder. Thankfully you managed to get there without bumping into anyone since the pair of you were some of the first to arrive. The only teammates you had seen so far were Ona, Aitana, and Jana, but they hadn’t seen you. Alexia had laughed when you ducked behind her dramatically, using her as a cover to stay hidden as they walked ahead of you both. They took a left turn to go to the canteen, whilst you headed in the other direction. 

You sat down at your cubby and slumped back against the wall, body sagging with relief. Alexia smiled softly and took her seat a few down the line, and the pair of you both booted up in comfortable silence. 

Being captain of the team, the midfielder obviously had the authority to get her team to listen to her. Without making much of a deal out of it, herself and Ingrid had discreetly gone around the team to ensure there were no surprises or big occasions prepared without your knowledge. Instead, they were taking a much more low-key approach that they hoped would convey just how overjoyed they were to have you on their team.

She sat not too far from you with the knowledge of what the surprise was, and she was probably the most excited out of the lot for you to receive it. It was nothing big, in fact most of the team worried it was too little, but having known you for so long Ingrid had reassured them there wasn’t really anything you would appreciate more than the gesture they had in mind. Some of the members you were slightly closer with had decided on small gifts of their own they would give to you in their own time, but for today, they would stick with their collective plan and hope for the best. 

“You ready for me to beat you at free-kicks?” Alexia grinned once she was ready, standing as she tied her hair back into her usual updo.

“I’ve beat you the last two times we’ve done this, I wouldn’t get too cocky.” You smirked, squirming when she squeezed your sides as you walked past her. “Plus, it’s my birthday.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to pull that card. I’m definitely going to win now.”

For just over half an hour, you got invested in a free-kick contest with none other than La Reina herself. It had become somewhat of a tradition now, to the point where you had even made a points system for it. The further out you went, or the harder the angle, the more points you scored. A few months back, after Alexia had caught you once again avoiding breakfast, she had suggested the pair of you practise free-kicks after she had missed one in the game before that day. It quickly became a thing for you both, getting so competitive with each other and scoring goal after goal in the secluded morning sessions together, that a points system just had to be introduced after two draws in a row. Neither of you had looked back since. Those moments together, with a ball at your feet and the quiet company of the other, had become something you both looked forward to. 

Unfortunately, Alexia beat you this time, by just one point. One. And she was gloating like she’d gotten another Ballon d’Or.

“I told you, cariño. Just because it is your day doesn’t mean I will go easy on you.” She shrugged arrogantly, wandering back over to where you stood with your arms crossed petulantly over your chest. She grinned at the unimpressed look on your face, raising a hand to poke at the corner of your mouth. “Smile, amor!”

With a scoff, you swatted her hand away and turned to walk over to where your drink lay on the sidelines. Not a second later, you heard her jogging after you before two arms wound around your waist and a chin rested on your shoulder.

“You know I should have won that. You put me off.” You grumbled, referring to the moment she had crept up behind you and made a weird noise right by your ear just as you stepped off to take the kick.

“No no no, there was just a bug on your shoulder. I had to protect my girlfriend.” She said, grunting when you lightly jabbed your elbow back into her stomach.

“Protect me from what? A tiny fly? You are the only irritating little bug I need saving from.” You argued. As you picked up your own bottle, you got Alexia’s too, only you dropped it purposely when she went to take it from you. “What comes around, goes around, Alexia.”

Alexia wasn’t quick enough to come up with her own payback before the rest of the team started filing out for the actual training session. First came Esmee on her own, who, at the sight of you, immediately lit up and came over. Quietly, without making too much of a fuss, she wished you a happy birthday before hugging you. She was just as shy as you sometimes, so she left it at that. Ultimately though, being on a team of people that mostly came from affectionate countries, they all couldn’t resist. Funnily enough, you didn’t hate it. The hugs, the well wishes, the toothy grins sent your way, the cheek kisses and pats on the back were welcomed. It wasn’t overbearing, or too much, it made you feel… loved. And appreciated.

For the first time in your career, it didn't feel entirely fake either. Not that your other teams didn’t shower you in their gratitude, but it always felt like there was a barrier between you and them. Like you weren’t fully with them. You knew exactly why it felt like that, but not an ounce of you was prepared to solve it. This time around, that blockade wasn’t there. They knew you, not a facade, and still they willingly conveyed their feelings towards you. Quickly you were learning that this was the right way to live. Not like you had in the past, where you weren’t even half of your true self.

Living unapologetically as yourself was freeing. You couldn’t go back if you tried.

As always, you loved training. It was equal parts light-hearted and competitive, the perfect combination. Everybody was playing well, feeling well, and it was evident on everyone’s face. Not a moment passed without everybody smiling or laughing. Even during the gruelling seven-a-side game at the end. During a brief reprieve from the tight match where you were stood on the sidelines, watching on, it gave a moment of clarity. You did belong here. 

“Has Ale given you your presents yet?” Aitana joined you with a smile on her face, but you looked down at her in confusion. “Ah, I see. She hasn’t. Well, take it from me, they are really cool. You will love them.”

“What are they?” You tried to get it out of her, but obviously she wasn’t letting up that easily.

“You will see! I am not spoiling it.” She laughed. “Tell me when she has, I have to talk about them with you.”

“How do you know what they are?” You wondered, only for her to shrug slyly.

“You just have to find out. Go on! You’re being called back in.” She shooed you away, smiling again when you shake your head at her antics.

The game didn’t go on for much longer before the end of training was called. On the way in, you were watching Pina and Vicky spray each other with the remainders of their drinks, laughing when one of them accidentally sprayed Marta. Before you knew it, all of the ‘class clowns’ were chasing the team around with the ice cold liquids, and you found yourself at the centre of it. Apparently, turning 27 meant getting doused in sports drinks, because by the time you were back in the locker room, your shirt was mostly damp.

Alexia had stuck to the back of the group with Patri who had unusually opted out of joining in, though it wasn’t something you picked up on. The two were talking calmly as if there wasn’t a full blown water fight ahead of them, but Alexia knew Patri was itching to join in. What caused her to stay out of it though was very important to her. 

“Hey.” She came over to you in the locker room with a spare towel for you to somewhat dry yourself off with, another item hidden behind her back. “I have something else for you.”

You could tell everybody in the room was fighting to keep their eyes averted, but their curiosity got the better of them. After all, it was a small token of appreciation from everybody.

“Oh, okay. Sure, what is it?” You forced a smile, but below the surface, Ingrid and Alexia could tell there were alarm bells going off in your mind.

“Well it is your birthday, and though you said you don’t want to make a big deal of it, we couldn’t let it go under the radar. This is just something small from all of us.” Patri revealed an envelope in her hand and held it out for you. Your name was written on the front, as well as a huge smiley face.

“You don’t have to open it now, in front of everyone, don’t worry. Look at it in your own time, that’s more than okay.” The midfielder smiled her bright smile at you, squeezing your shoulder before heading back to her cubby. 

It was then that Alexia came over, standing beside you when you turned back to your space.

“Was that alright?” Alexia murmured quietly. Everybody else was back to doing their own thing now, giving you two the privacy you probably needed.

“Yes, just unexpected.” You said, eyes still staring at the yellow envelope.

“I know. Like Patri said, you don’t have to open it now. You can look at it whenever, it’s fine. Okay?” She checked, smiling in relief when you looked up at her and nodded.

“Did you do this?” You wondered. Instantly, there was a redness to her cheeks that couldn’t be blamed on the weather or the training session beforehand.

“I may have played a part in it. But it was the other guys’ idea. I just approved it.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “You showering?”

“Yep. When I get out, I’ll look at it.”

You liked taking your time in the shower post-workout, whether that be training or a game or even just a 5k jog. By the time you got out, most of the team had left. It was just Alexia sat there on her own, scrolling through her phone whilst she waited for you. One of her legs was bouncing up and down, and you weren’t sure if that was a sign of anything or not.

“Ale?” You got her attention as you dropped your towel and training kit down into your locker, now dressed in comfy sweats and a t-shirt.

“Mhm?”

“I’m going to open the envelope now.” You stated shyly. She tried to disguise the excitement on her face, but she didn’t do a great job. It didn’t really help your nerves, but there were worse audiences to do it in front of.

“Absolutely, go for it.”

Shaking hands tore open the paper, revealing a birthday card. What was in it, though, made it much more than just a card.

On both pages inside were personal messages from every member of the team. From Cata, to Irene, to Salma, and even Alexia. From the first one you read, there were tears in your eyes. Alexia could read you well, but she wasn’t perfect yet.

“Amor? Are you not happy?” She asked nervously, coming over to you. You shook your head, only worrying her further, before burying your face in her chest. “I’m so sorry you don’t like it. I’m so so sorry. I-”

“No, I love it. I really, really love it.” 

Every message was personal, not just a generic one. Whether it contained an inside joke or a compliment, you couldn’t have imagined they thought these things about you. They weren’t saying things for the sake of a congratulatory message, or just to come across as kind, they were deeply meaningful and thought-out. From Mapi’s teasing message that was filled with love, to Frido’s reminder of the car park fiasco and how she signed it as ‘cupid’, to Aitana’s that relayed the memory of your first goal, signifying it wasn’t just a special moment for you but for her too. 

You were left speechless. All you could do was read it again and again and again, something you know you’d be doing for the rest of your life. You’d get it framed if it was socially acceptable. 

The idea, no, the fact that these people, Ballon d’Or winners, World Cup winners, Euros winners, the people you held at such a high regard like this. It was almost unimaginable, if it wasn’t written right in front of your eyes. If the months beforehand hadn’t shown you how important it was to be vulnerable and open and honest, this gesture sealed that decision and was all the proof you needed that everything that had led you to this moment, the good and the awful, was undoubtedly worth it. 

You were part of a record breaking team, sure, but it was the people in it that made your personal dreams come true.

“I wrote my message last so that nobody saw me being soft.” Alexia admitted, making you giggle as you read hers. “So you are okay with it?”

“Okay with it? Alexia, this is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” You said, placing the card down and embracing her tightly. “Thank you. I need to thank everyone, but thank you.” 

“I’m glad.” She whispered. “There was one issue on my behalf though.” 

“What?” You wondered, leaning back and looking up at her with a frown.

“I was too scared to write how I truly felt.” Well fuck, if that didn’t make your heart drop and your stomach churn.

“Ale, what do you mean?” You said quietly, taking a step back from her. She chuckled nervously, scratching the back of her neck.

“I… wanted to write that I love you in it, but I didn’t want to ruin the card.” 

It took a few moments for your mind to settle at that proclamation, but eventually it did. It left Alexia stood there, looking terrified though.

Your first thought, once the commotion had settled in your mind, was that you were utterly in love with her too. You kind of thought you’d known that the day she took care of you when you collapsed in training. Your second thought was, why would that ruin the card?

“Ale, you’re such a dork.” You laughed. Okay, maybe not the best reaction. “You must know that I love you too, right?”

“You do?” Alexia asked in a childlike wonder, as if all her wildest dreams were coming true. “You sure?”

“I feel like I should be the one asking you that.” You said. Any further doubts that began to creep in were immediately cut off when she cradled your face and kissed you. Just like you did to her during your first kiss.

“I love you, cariño, and I will not have you worrying otherwise. I really love you.” Alexia breathed out, as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders.

“I really love you, too.” You stated shyly, gazing up into the eyes you'd come to love, only to see sincerity and mirth swirling in the hazel of her orbs. She wasn't kidding, this wasn't some evil birthday prank, she actually was in love with you.

It certainly wasn't a gift you were expecting, but it topped them all indefinitely. Frankly, it was hard to process. Hard to comprehend. How someone of her stature could love a person like you. But, seemingly so, it would have to be something you came to terms with. Because she was stood before you, professing exactly how she felt, and when she gave such a brave show like that, it'd be cruel to reject her.

Except, there was one question you had.

“Was that the gift that Aitana mentioned?” 

“What? No!” Alexia tutted, rolling her eyes affectionately as you grinned. “Your actual gifts are in the boot of my car, in the cardboard box I told you was full of old Barça kits.”

That wasn't a total lie. In the aforementioned box, there were old kits in there, but they weren't all Barça ones. They were real, match-worn shirts from not only Alexia's collection she'd made over the years, but from Aitana's, and Mapi’s, and a few of Alexia's ex-teammates turned good friends. They ranged from international jerseys, like the USWNT jersey with Christen Press' name and number, as well as one of Christine Sinclair's Canada shirts. Not to mention the array of club kits. There were loads of them, god knows how valuable they all were, but you adored every single one. Your personal favourite was Alexia's old Barça shirt from her first season in 2012, one of your favourite designs from Barcelona as a whole.

The fact that Alexia had listened to your stories of when you were younger where you were crazy for any kind of memorabilia, even going as far as asking her friends for their shirts, was a notion you couldn't begin to understand. To be loved is to be heard, and Alexia had taken that phrase and ran with it. You gazed at each shirt, having laid them out across your bed to send a video to Ingrid (and Aitana, of course), but for a while you just stared at them. 

Alexia stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, a proud smile on her face. She knew she had done a good job, but seeing you geek out like you were over them was so endearing, she couldn't help but fall further in love. It was her mission to show you a life of joy and compassion, and in her professional opinion, she'd made a damn good start.

Her love for you was woven through the fabric of the jerseys she had gifted. Your approval of that fact was shown in the way you barely let her out of your hold for the rest of the evening, even as you slept that night. 

The be all and end all of everything was written into the bonds formed with people in the world, and yours with Alexia was enough reason to wake up everyday with a smile on your face and contentment in your heart. The essence of your existence was not limited to the three words of your medical diagnosis, but rather the three words that were whispered in your ear the moment you opened your eyes in the morning and the moment you closed them at night.

Maybe birthdays didn’t have to be so bad after all.

[lowkeyremi]

YOU’RE DOING GREAT, MAMA !

pairing: ushijima x fem!reader note: this has been in my drafts foreverrrr. it’s finally seeing the world thank God. i need to write more abt toshi summary: your husband comforts you through postpartum depression. content: angst, fluff, bittersweet moments, marriage, implied pregnancy, reader doubts her ability to be a mother, etc

The three of you returned home after three days in the hospital. During those three days you haven’t really been yourself at all.

Your baby boy, Nao was born healthy and strong. He’s doing all the normal stuff a newborn should do, but for some reason when you look at his tiny face you feel dread pitted deeply in your stomach.

Shouldn’t you feel joy when you see your little baby’s face? A lump forms in your throat as you start to think of the worst outcomes. Are you… rejecting your child? There’s no way. You and your husband spent months waiting for little Nao’s arrival. You were so excited setting up his room and buying him stuff. The ultrasounds were also very amusing to look at.

None of that excitement remains right now. “You must be tired, honey. Since you’ve already nursed him I’ll put him to sleep.” Wakatoshi pulls you out of your saddening thoughts. He shoots you a look of worry, because you’re clutching your chest tight, like you’re struggling to breathe.

“O-okay. Thank you ‘Toshi.” A faux smile crosses your face just to try and reassure your husband. He walks off to Nao’s nursery with his baby carrier in hand, but you know that he knows you well enough to ask what’s wrong later.

While your husband put Nao to sleep you changed out of your clothes into some comfy pajamas and you head to the bathroom to pee, brush your teeth and wash your face.

As the minty paste foams in your mouth you start thinking about your son again and you don’t even notice that you’re crying until-

“Sweetheart, why are you crying?” His voice comes soft and he uses his big hands to wipe away your salty tears.

You spit out the toothpaste, and in a few seconds you’re rinsing your toothbrush and your mouth out.

“I’m not sure- I just- I-” you pause letting out a shuttering breath, how do you even explain something like this? “I’m not as excited about Nao as I had been before he was born…”

Wakatoshi engulfs you in a hug from behind. “I’ve noticed at the hospital how you didn’t want to hold him much.” He too pauses before continuing on, “I was reading into this a few months earlier, but many women get postpartum depression after their baby is born.”

“This doesn’t make any sense, we just brought a life into this world and I don’t even feel any excitement about it.” Wakatoshi rubs small comforting circles onto your stomach which hasn’t completely gone back to its normal size.

“‘Toshi am I a terrible mother already?” You ask looking at him through the mirror. His brows furrow at the suggestion and he shakes his head violently which almost cheers you up because it’s so out of character for him.

“Not at all. Please do not talk about yourself that way. You’re going to be an amazing mother. Just give it some time.” He’s telling the truth, Wakatoshi is nothing but brutally honest about things, so you have no choice but to believe him.

Although, everything feels like it’s not okay, you allow your husband to comfort you through these baby blues. It won’t last forever, you tell yourself, as you put your toothbrush back in the cup.

Wakatoshi kisses your temple, it’s so soft and delicate. “We’ve created a beautiful baby boy and he’s going to grow up with the most loving parents.” He means that too, Wakatoshi grew up in a divided household so it’s no wonder he wants his son to grow up in a household that’s warm and loving.

“You’re right, we’ll raise our baby boy the best we can. Thank you ‘Toshi. I really needed to hear that. I was starting to spiral.” He squeezes you in a hug again.

“It’s nothing, and if you ever feel yourself in these baby blues again, just let me know, so I can remind you that you’re a great mother.” What in the world did you do to deserve this man?

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

[sunny44]

I’ll love you to the day I die

Pairing: Lando Norris x Girlfriend!reader

Warnings: it’s a sad story guys so be prepared. And English is not my first language.

Summary: It’s yours and Landon’s one-year anniversary.

I look out over Monaco's stunning landscape as the sun slowly rises, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The city, usually vibrant with the sound of engines and the glow of lights, is quiet this morning. I adjust my shirt collar and check my watch once more. The flight to London is scheduled to leave in a few hours, and I want to make sure I arrive on time for such an important date.

As I drive to the airport, my thoughts turn to Y/n. I remember how she always laughed at my jokes, how her eyes sparkled when I talked about racing, and how she supported me unconditionally in every challenge. Today, we would be celebrating one year together, and I want to do something special.

At the airport, I meet some fans asking for autographs and photos. I smile and answer them all, but my mind is far away, focused only on the surprise I'm preparing. The flight to London is smooth, and I spend most of the time mentally going over every detail of my plan. I want everything to be perfect.

When I land in London, I take a cab straight to the city center. The streets are busy, as always, but I don't pay any attention. My destination is clear and fixed in my mind. I get out of the cab and walk through the streets until I reach a small flower store. I choose a bouquet of white roses, Y/n's favorite flowers, and go on my way.

As I walk, I mentally revisit every moment I spent with Y/n. Every laugh, every kiss, every promise. Finally, I reach my destination. The entrance to the cemetery is sad and silent, a shocking contrast to the liveliness of the surrounding city.

With slow steps, I enter the cemetery, walking among the gravestones until I find Y/n's. My eyes fill with tears as I see her name engraved in the marble. I kneel down, placing the bouquet of white roses on the grave after cleaning it up with my hands.

"Happy one-year anniversary, my love," I whisper, my voice breaking. "I miss you so much. I promised I'd be here today, and I am. I wanted you to be with me so we could celebrate together. I love you so much."

I stay silent, just staring at something that still seems like a lie. Today was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life, but it has become one of the worst. Five months ago, I wouldn't have thought I'd be coming to the cemetery to celebrate one year of dating the love of my life, but here I am.

"It's funny how I never thought that out of the two of us you'd be the one to passed away first, and considering what I do for a living it's ironically sad." I sniffle again and feel my heart break more and more.

"You have no idea how much I love you and how much I miss you. How I miss your wet towel on the bed, seeing you walking around the house in your bare feet and the post-it’s you used to put in my suitcase before I traveled to a race you weren't going to."

I stand there in silence for a long time, remembering all the precious moments I shared with Y/n. I think of the first time I saw her, the way our eyes met and I knew, in that instant, that she was going to be special.

I think of all the races where she was there, cheering me on, sending me strength and love. I remember the quiet days when we walked hand in hand through the streets of London, laughing and making plans for the future.

Even in her absence, I feel her presence, and that gives me the strength to carry on. I know that, somehow, she will always be with me, guiding me and loving me, no matter where I am.

And I feel that it’s so unfair that I could only have her in my life for such a short time, cause I know and I feel in my heart that we should’ve had more time together.

Finally, I stand up, wiping away the tears. I take one last look at Y/n's gravestone, promising to come back soon. With a heavy heart, but full of love, I leave the cemetery, determined to honor her memory in every race, in every victory, and in every day of my life.

As I walk back to the city, I think about how Y/n had changed my life. She taught me to cherish every moment, to live intensely and to love deeply. I know that, no matter how difficult it may be, I will continue to live for her, keeping alive the flame of the love we shared. And so, with Y/n's memory engraved in my heart, I prepare to face another day, knowing that she will always be by my side, in spirit.

Bonus Scene!

Landonorris instagram post

Liked by @carlossainz, @olivernorris, @maxverstappen1 and other 917291

@landonorris missing you extra hard today my love. These past few months have been the worst of my life and I still can’t believe that you’re gone.

I love you so much and I’ll make sure to live for the both of us.

Happy one-year anniversary muppet, you’ll be forever my girl 🖤.

@carlossainz I’m really sorry mate, we all miss her so much. Stay strong

@oscarpiastri sending you lots of love Lando

@maxverstappen she was a very special girl, we all will live for her

@charlesleclerc a very special person taken away from us so soon, we’re all here for you mate ❤️

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[peachdues]

TOXIC

LEVI X READER

A/N: a combination of the horny angst that’s been swirling in my head for a few days.

Listen. Do I condone what’s about to happen in this? No. Was it fun to write? Absolutely.

CW: MDNI • explicit sexual content below • toxic fucking • unprotected/raw sex • creampie • breeding kink • fucking does not solve problems • neither do babies • toxic Levi and toxic Reader tbh

This was a bad idea. Terrible; one of your worst to date.

And yet, as Levi spread you out across his kitchen counter — the counter that, until two weeks ago, had also been yours — you couldn’t for the life of you remember why every alarm bell in your head was sounding off, begging your body stiffen, to reject the man lowering himself between your thighs, his gray eyes glowing nearly silver with desire.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?” His lips are hot and silky as they slope messily across your thighs, and his fingers push aside the hem of your sundress to make way for him. “Because try as you might, you know no one will ever be able to fuck you like I can.”

Ah. That was why.

Because you and Levi had broken up. You were no more; a past concept, a memory.

In the end, your three-year relationship died not in a fiery blaze of glory, but in cold resignation. He’d sat stoically at the kitchen table as you’d confessed that you could no longer stomach being second or third or whatever place behind his true passion — work — and that it was time for you to put yourself first, for once, since he wouldn’t.

The only sign of his emotion has been his fists — clenched so tight that the skin of his knuckles had gone white.

I’m done. I have nothing left to give you, Levi. Not when you only ever take and offer nothing in return.

He’d tried to argue once you announced your intention to move out that night. He’d fought to convince you to wait until morning, to put away the small suitcase you’d packed with your most essential belongings, to sleep on it — on the decision overall. But you’d known that if you’d stayed, you would have changed your mind — would’ve let him change your mind, and he’d known that, too. So you’d held firm, turned your back on him and forced yourself to walk out of the door to your apartment, suitcase in hand.

You hadn’t intended to return, and it seemed like he’d accepted it. He’d even gone so far as to mail whatever of your belongings you hadn’t managed to pack to your parents’ address. So though you spent your nights staining your pillow with bitter tears, your heart feeling like little more than a misshapen lump of meat barely beating in your chest, you’d at least gotten what you thought you’d wanted: a clean break.

Until he’d texted you that all of your mail was still being sent to your — his — address. He’d offered to pay to have it forwarded to you, but when you saw how much that would have put you in his debt, you’d begrudgingly told him you’d stop by on your way home from work and pick it up.

Really, you knew better; should have known better, at least.

And perhaps your logic would have won over your desire, but then Levi’s fingers tug your underwear to the side and his mouth latches to your core, and all the chatter that constitutes your higher reasoning fades to an indiscernible buzz in the back of your skull. The moment you feel something hot and wet prodding your entrance, your mind whites out without the hope of coherency returning any time soon, as Levi begins to fuck you with his tongue.

With a keening cry, your legs seize around his head, trapping him between your thighs. Your hands shoot to grip his hair, desperate to find purchase; to find anything to help keep you tethered here, to reality, rather than risk floating away in clouded bliss.

But Levi is too committed to tearing down the wall you’d carefully spent the last two weeks building, brick by brick. So as his tongue pumps steadily into your core, he shifts, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as he presses you harder against his face. His jaw works furiously and when his teeth graze against your clit, you lose whatever last vestige of control you’d clung onto.

You’re sobbing through clenched teeth but utterly helpless to stop your hips as they begin churning and grinding against his mouth. Levi hums in approval, and throw your eyelashes, you spot the way his pupils dilate, chasing away the cool silver of his irises and replacing them with something black and hungry.

“Atta girl,” he praises between his thrusts, and the vibrations of his mouth against your heated, sensitive flesh nearly makes you drool. “For once in your life, stop fuckin’ thinking.”

He swirls his tongue around you entrance one more time before he replaces it with his fingers, plunging two into your cunt and curling them. He finds that rough patch on your innermost wall with a near frustrating ease.

It’s infuriating to know that the person you know can’t give you what you really need is somehow the only person who knows exactly how to give you what you want. And, judging by the faint smirk pulling at Levi’s lips they latch around that bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs, you know he can see your resolve crumbling under his feverish mouth.

“You don’t even remember why we were arguing, do you?” He jeers between harsh sucks at your clit as you continue to writhe and cry out for more. “You just wanted to cause a scene; make me sweat a little.”

You want to fight back; you want to tell him that he’s wrong, that you’d meant it when you’d said your relationship had run its course, but he won’t give you the space to do so. Not when he presses his face firm against your center and rocks his head side to side, reducing any protestations you might have had to pitiful whimpers.

“You’ve got my attention, sweetheart. Let’s see if you know what to do with it.”

Levi slips a third finger into your core and you come undone. With his teeth grazing your clit in time with each measured thrust of his fingers into your heat, you shatter against the kitchen counter, hard enough that stars dance in the corners of your eyes.

“That’s my girl,” Levi groans as he continues to lap at your sensitive and overstimulated flesh. “You’re always so fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

His praise, coupled with the way his mouth continues to work at your cunt prolongs the waves of your release, until your legs are trembling against the smooth granite of the countertop, and tears are gathered in your eyes. Your walls spasm weakly one final time and then it’s over, your limbs limp and your brain little more than a puddle of liquid between your ears.

Levi steps back and the heat in his eyes is unmistakable; you know, by the way his eyes turn from steel to molten ore that he wants more; wants to take and take and make you bend to him.

You shouldn’t do it; you know you shouldn’t. You know that what’s happening between you is a manifestation of everything that was toxic about your relationship. Levi, always needing to be in control, who only listened when you were at your breaking point, but could never fully give you what you needed. You, who made far too many excuses, who let him dictate the norms of your relationship because it was easy; being with him was easy, until it wasn’t.

So no, you shouldn’t give in; you should stand firm.

You reach for him anyways. “Levi,”

That’s all it takes; a pleading whimper of his name, your hands outstretched toward him, and Levi pounces. His mouth crashes against yours, and his kiss makes you feel whole even though you know he’s tearing your resolve apart.

And you let him; you let him, because you’d sworn you were going to spend your life with him. You believed, without a moment’s hesitation, that Levi was the one for you — the one you’d share the remainder of your days with, the one with whom you’d create and share a family. It was all you’d wanted, and Levi, to his credit, had assured you it was what he’d wanted, too. At least, he did; once.

And, as Levi’s hands slide under you to peel you off the counter, your legs locking around his waist with practiced ease, you know it’s what you still want; he’s what you want.

For all your desperation to have him, Levi is just as eager for you. He pivots you away from the counter, lips still moving heatedly against yours, only to drop you both to the cold tile floor, spreading you out beneath him as his lips begin trailing down your jaw, your neck. He’s too impatient to carry you to the bedroom, his hands fumbling with the buckle on his belt so he can have you then, now, on the kitchen floor.

“‘S been too long,” he pushes the straps of your sundress from your shoulders, yanking the bodice down to expose your. He groans at the sight of your bare breasts, and idly you wonder whether you made the subconscious decision to forgo your bra when you dressed that morning, in the event you’d end up here, under him.

His mouth closes around one pert nipple and you think it was the best decision you could have made; for nothing could possibly feel as right as the sensation of his hot mouth and silken tongue swirling around your soft flesh, nipping and sucking his devotion into your skin.

Your chest is heaving as his hands stroke down your body, pushing and pulling the skirt of your dress up, exposing the lower half of your body. Your legs are still little more than jelly thanks to the intensity of your previous climax, but you manage to wrap them around his hips all the same, clenching in an effort to bring him closer.

“Fuck,” he growls, and he imparts one final nip at your breast before he pulls back, his hands hurriedly shoving the waistband of his trousers and briefs down his hips, just far enough that he can pull his cock free. Your stomach flutters at the sight of him, ramrod hard, his tip already leaking with his desire.

He’s just as desperate for you as you are hopelessly in need of him.

Your eyes trace back up from where his length stands hard against his belly back to his face. A pretty pink blush has flushed his cheeks, spreading down his neck and chest, and his eyes are glassy with want.

“Levi,” you plead with a soft moan. “Baby, please —“

Baby. You hadn’t called him that often while you were together, but when you had, it was because you’d been so filled with affection — with love — that his name hadn’t been enough.

It was a slip, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by your ex. In an instant his body is covering yours, and he’s moaning into your mouth as one hand ensnares itself in your hair. Between quick kisses, you swear you hear him whisper your name against your lips, before his tongue swipes back in and steals your breath away.

He breaks your kiss to shove a hand between your bodies, gripping himself at his base and giving his length one, solid pump. You shift, spreading your thighs wider, ready to take him and feel whole once more.

He lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance and pauses. Impatiently, you buck your hips forward, trying to take him in, but he twists back just far enough that your wetness can only brush against him, a mockery of how you truly need him.

Levi ignores your howl of frustration. “If you want it, then tell me you’ll come home.”

Your teeth clench hard enough to crack, but you won’t give in; not yet, at least.

He’d been right; you wanted him to sweat a little, and damn if you weren’t going to try and bring him to his knees, if only for a bit. At least until he had you back in the palm of his hand, begging for a crumb of his attention.

So with a gritty determination that borders spite, you lock your ankles against his backside and haul him into you with all your might.

“Jesus — fuck!” His yell echoes off the gleaming stainless steel appliances as you force him fully inside you, unwilling to let him win this battle so soon. He falls forward, an arm flinging out beside your head to catch himself.

Your boldness pays off, for Levi is forced remain still, panting hard and his eyes screwed shut as he adjusts to the sensation of being fully buried in your warmth after so long. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the way the muscles in the arm needed by your head ripples under the force of his restraint. Slowly, his eyes open and the darkness in them makes you pulse and contract around his length, your stomach fluttering in anticipation.

Your mouth falls into a perfect “o” as he begins to move once more. He sits back on his knees, back straight, and his hands come to rest on your hips. He tugs you up just enough that your backside rests against the tops of his thighs, your back forced into an arch away from the floor. His gaze drops to where you’re connected, your base pressed flush against his, and the sight of himself embedded so deeply inside you makes the fingers on your hips tighten.

Slowly, and with careful precision, he withdraws his cock from your heat until only his tip remains lodged in your entrance. His eyes flick to yours and then he slams back into you, forcing your breath from your lungs. He repeats the movement again and again, until your lower lip is wobbling and your fingers are sinking into the corded muscles of his forearms, unable to do anything but cling on as he hammers into you.

The stillness of the kitchen is soon disrupted by the telltale sounds of skin slapping against skin, punctuated by your breathy moans and Levi’s pants. Between the sharpness of his hips and the cold tile of the kitchen floor, you know you’re likely to walk away from this with bruises, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. Especially not when Levi is moving like this, each of his thrusts as punishing as they are calculated.

“What’d I say, huh? No one can fuck you like I can.”

Levi more often than not was a soft lover. Kind; generous; prone to taking his time with you, so much so that it was nearly painful, usually leaving you in a tearful puddle on your mattress, begging him for more.

But now, he’s trying to remind you of what you’re leaving behind by leaving him; he’s punishing you as much as he’s begging you to stay.

The thought makes you moan out, wanton and desperate, and the walls of your cunt clench harder around him.

His hips snap harshly against yours, choking off the sound in your throat. “So come back home,” and though you know he means for it to sound like an order, his eyes betray his urgency, his desperation to confirm that you hadn’t really meant it; that you’d given up on him in a moment of stress and exhaustion. “Quit being a brat and come home.”

You want to tell him you can’t — that the door had closed on your relationship the moment you’d pulled it shut behind you that day, but try as you might, the words will not form. All that spills from your mouth are broken utterances of his name, and even those flatten out into pathetic whines as Levi’s callused thumb finds your clit and begins to work, determined to haul you to the edge of your sanity and shove you over.

Your legs spasm around his waist as you begin your ascent to that sacred precipice. Your eyes are rolled back, your head thrashing from side to side as the pleasure, white hot and searing, mounts within you, that coil in your belly winding tight with every impassioned movement of his body against yours.

Distantly, you feel his hold on your hips tighten, and you can feel his thrusts growing sloppy. You know it’s only a matter of time before one of you succumbs to your release.

He growls your name, the last syllable tapering off in a small whine. “T-tell me — fuck — tell me where.”

Your eyes fly open and meet his, sobering awareness washing over you like a tidal wave.

Only once in the entire course of your relationship, did Levi ask where he was allowed to cum: the beginning. He’d asked the very first time you’d slept with him, legs in the air and over his shoulders, and once you’d made it clear you were on birth control, that had been the end of the discussion. You’d known that if you’d changed your mind, all you’d needed to do was tell him, and he’d adjust. Truthfully, however, you’d not minded the possibility of your birth control failing; you’d been content to let whatever happen, happen.

You’d told him as much, and he’d told you he shared the sentiment.

But that was then; this time, he’s giving you an out. A way to make sure this remains a one-time thing, a moment of weakness between two people too lost and broken to want anything different.

Levi’s eyes widen as the silence stretches between you, and his hips slow until he stops moving all together. The friction mounting where you’re connected is nearly unbearable, and you know the only way to relieve it is to give him an answer — whatever it may be.

This was it; the decision that will make or break you both. For once, he’s out the ball entirely in your court, and whatever comes after this moment of bliss — or frality — ends depends entirely upon you.

“Inside,” you barely manage to squeak, eyes wide and locked unwaveringly with his.

Even Levi hesitates. “Y/N —“

“Inside,” you repeat with slightly more conviction. “Cum inside me, Levi.”

“Your pill?” His hips have already resumed their pace, and you can feel how he’s grown harder at your insistence. But though his body is already moving in accord with your demand, his eyes look ready to bulge out of his skull when you manage the smallest shake your head.

“Inside.” You beg again, and you dig your heel harder into the steely muscle of his backside, limiting how far he’s able to pull his hips back; to pull out at all.

Because damn if he isn’t the only person in the world with whom you could fathom facing the consequences of fucking raw without even the safety net of the tiny blue pills still sitting at your pharmacy, waiting.

“Fuck,” he growls through clenched teeth, a tendon in his neck throbbing. “Fuck, you want me to give you a baby? So fuckin’ be it. As long as you’ll stay.”

He shifts over you, planting one foot on the ground so he can use his thigh to pin one of your legs back and to the side. His hand shoves under your other thigh, mimicking the position of your other leg as he mounts you, his full weight pressing you harder into the floor and keeping you spread wide for him.

Gone was the calculated precision of his earlier thrusts; now, Levi only presses his groin firmly against yours as he begins to rut, each rock of his hips pushing his length impossibly deeper into your slick warmth.

A cracked moan of his name signals that the blunt tip of his cock has brushed up against that spot within you that Levi knows will have you coming apart in minutes. And so, with a feral gleam sparking to life in his eyes, he shifts himself to press the head of his cock firmly against it, his hips rolling hard enough into you that you begin moving in time with him, your hips lifting up from the floor only to be pushed back by him as he works.

His balls are heavy against the underside of your ass as he continues to rut into you. You know he’s close when you feel him begin to twitch inside you, and the anticipation of being filled by him — so hot and sweet — makes the walls of your cunt clench harder around him.

If you thought you were a mess before, the way Levi mounts you on the floor has you nearly screaming with pleasure, so electric and blinding that all sights of the kitchen fade to white, and your eyes flutter shut.

But Levi won’t allow you to check out; not now, not ever.

“Look at me.” His free hand grabs your jaw in an attempt to force you to meet his eyes. You want to give him what he wants, but it’s far too difficult, what with the way yours are glued to the back of your skull, a thin line of drool leaking from the corner of your mouth.

“L-Levi,” you try and plead, to explain. But he has always demanded more of you than you knew how to give.

“Look at me.” His fingers squeeze your cheeks, insistent. “If you want my baby, then you’re gonna look at me while you cum.”

He’s doing it to prove a point — to prove that he still has control over you, over whatever it is that remains between you. And you, helpless against the whims of your heart, let him have it, because you love him.

Fuck. You love him.

You force your eyelids open to meet his punishing stare, and then his lips are crashing down against yours in a fiery clash of lips and teeth as both of you fight to consume the other. But you lose first, breaking your kiss to cry out as your climax slams into you with the force of a freight train, knocking your breath clean from your lungs.

It’s powerful; the most powerful orgasm you’ve had in memory, one that sends your back arching sharply up from the cool kitchen tile below, and pulls a howl of Levi’s name from your mouth.

You’re still straddled among the clouds of your pleasure when Levi succumbs to his own. His body tenses for a moment and then he’s coming undone, his hips giving one last, mighty push before he explodes.

He cums with a strangled groan that he silences by searing his mouth against your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin as he pulses within you.

You don’t try to stop the pleasured grin that forms on your mouth, nor the contented hums which vibrate in your chest as you hold him close to you, savoring the feeling of being warm and full of him.

You know you might regret the decision later; but there, spread out across his — your — kitchen floor, Levi’s full weight bearing down upon you as he continues to flood you with his release, you can’t help but feel that maybe this wasn’t the toxic choice at all. Perhaps this is simply a manifestation of everything that is good in your life.

Good. That’s what you decide to tell yourself as you feel Levi’s lips press sleepily against your neck. This is good; this is right.

Because this — he — is your home.

[aliteralsemicolon]

3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes

When Spencer doesn’t call at midnight on your birthday like he usually does, you believe he truly wants nothing to do with you because of your fight a few days prior. Until there are two FBI agents knocking on your door, neither of which are your apparently missing boyfriend. 

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is SFW but mentions strong themes. It is intended for mature audiences only.  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read. 

WARNING: Mentions of kidnapping, injuries & vague description of panic attack. Proceed at your own risk. 

Word count: 8.6K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers. 

11:57 PM

Eyes trained on the long red hand, you watch as the minutes spin around the clock hanging on the otherwise-empty wall. A century could’ve passed between the last minute and now. It sure as hell feels like it. 

11:58 PM

The movie meant to keep your mind from replaying the events from a few days ago failed its purpose before you even turned on the T.V. If the time between every minute was a century, then the last time you heard from him must have been an eternity ago. When was the last time you heard from him anyway?

“I don’t want to see you anymore. I can’t even bear to look at your face right now.”

In all your time together, Spencer had never once raised his voice at you. The fact remained even during your worst fight yet. God, how you wished he had yelled at you. Maybe then he would’ve needed less time away from you. 

“Yeah? I don’t want to be near you anyway. Not when you’re being like this!”

He was unfair. So were you. Surely neither of you truly meant what was said. You wanted to be near him so, so badly. Did he really not want to see you anymore? He must not, or Spencer would have returned at least one of the twenty four calls he ignored. 

11:59 PM

It was well-intentioned on your part. The migraines were most likely psychosomatic. Otherwise the MRI scans would’ve picked up on the issue. 

“You think I’m crazy? I am not crazy!”

“Spencer, I’m not implying that you are! I’m saying that it’s probably stress induced-”

“No! No. That’s not what you really think, is it? Go on, say what you really mean.”

“GOD SPENCER! You think that just because your mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, I think you must be one too? You’re completely reaching! You just don’t want to deal with the reality that maybe it is all just in your head!”

12:00 AM

Perhaps he did mean what he said. He’d still call though, right? If not to return one of your voicemails then to wish you a happy birthday? After everything the two of you shared together he should at least call today. 

“Leave. Please.”

“Spencer..”

“Stop. Please. Leave.”

“Wait Spence-”

Unsure of how much longer you could hold out, you uncurl from your fetal position on the sofa and reach over for your phone. Vision peeling from the wall-clock and redirecting to the photo on your lockscreen. How beautiful he looked adorned on your screen. Then again, he always looked beautiful. 

12:31 AM

‘Twelve thirty one’ read the time on your screen. The first thirty one minutes of your birthday were spent replaying exactly what you wanted to avoid. He must’ve fallen asleep. He would never intentionally miss his tradition of wishing you a happy birthday, 12AM, on the dot. “That was before you ruined everything”, your mind began. “You ruined everything”, it repeats over and over in a mantra. 

“He hates me. He would’ve called if he didn’t.” a whisper only for yourself to hear. Minutes passing you by once more as you begin your spiral into doubt and self-hatred. Tears completely stain your skin, clothes, the blanket hugging your legs. Your vision is too blurred to notice it. What you do notice is that you can not breathe. Shit. You can not breathe. 

“Five things” You can almost hear his voice whisper into your mind. “Five things”, you repeat aloud.

“Five things you can see.” As his voice begins to guide, your eyes frantically wander. “The blanket on my lap. My hands curled on top of it. The coffee table in front of me. The T.V playing across from me. The wall-clock hanging just above on the wall behind.”

“Four things you can touch” Not waiting a second before answering to the thought of his voice: “The cushion next to me. The couch beneath me. The sweatshirt I’m wearing. The rings on my fingers.”

“Three things you can hear” Tuning your focus on the sounds around you continue, “The T.V playing. The cars passing by outside. That stupid wall-clock ticking.”

“Two things you can smell” This one was always your least favourite because you had to think the hardest. You could hardly breathe a minute ago and your nose is clogged. How can you smell anything? “I can’t smell anything. I can never smell anything.”

“That’s okay. It’s okay. Just tell me one thing you can taste” . His voice was engraved in your brain. You probably couldn’t forget it if you tried. “Salt.”

Shoulders slumping into your body, you wipe the tears clouding your line of sight and dare to look up at the clock once again. If it could speak it would probably taunt you for your pathetic state. 

12:56 AM

You barely make out the time as your eyes begin to cloud again. At least you can breathe normally now. Except your head is throbbing, your eyes are sore and you’re so tired. Sinking back into your previous fetal position, you feel your body give out. As you drift off, you make one final plea for your sanity: “He probably just fell asleep. He’ll call when he wakes up.”

The pounding headache was bad enough, but the rapid pounding against your door made you want to shout violently. As if your body was now on auto-pilot, you attempt to jump up from your position on the sofa - only to not so gracefully trip over your blanket and almost face plant into the coffee table. “Fuck-AH-bitch”, you grumble just as you manage to catch yourself. “I’m coming in just a minute!” Yelling for the very impatient recipient at the other side of your door. You quickly give the clock a glance before making your way to the hallway mirror. 

2:07 PM

You aren’t vain, you’re just a decent enough human to save the person outside your apartment a jumpscare from your post-ugly-crying state. When you stood in front of the mirror and actually saw yourself for the first time today, you didn’t believe there was anything you could do to save that person. That person could be Spencer. So you gave it an attempt, regardless, quickly brushing your hair out with your fingers and wiping the dried tears from your face. Finally shuffling to the door, you take a deep breath as you unlock it. He probably just showed up instead of calling. At least that’s what you wanted to believe.

“Oh. Derek? JJ?”, instead you find two of his friends and FBI profilers, who definitely caught the disappointment in your voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey Pretty Girl. Any chance Pretty Boy is somewhere behind you?” Morgan asks, slightly concerned by your poorly concealed state.

“Hi, sorry, no, he’s not here.” You blurt out as you make eye contact with your nosy neighbour passing by. You consider inviting the agents inside for privacy, but remember that your living room shares the same messy look as you and abort that thought. 

“Can we come inside?” JJ asks for you, also noticing the unwanted eavesdropper.

“Um, sure”,  you hesitate, clearly embarrassed. “Excuse the mess, I wasn’t expecting company.” The agents share a look that you miss and follow behind as you quickly begin to tidy up a little. 

“Hey, are you okay?” JJ follows up. 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Why are you looking for Spencer here?” You were deflecting. She definitely knew that you were deflecting, but didn’t push further and for that you were grateful.

“He’s not at work and he’s not picking up his cell. So we thought he might be with you.” Morgan answers you, taking a quick glance around. 

“When did you last talk to him?” JJ cuts in.

“Uh, two days ago I think?” Your breath hitches at your first reminder of the fight you had. 

“Two days?” JJ’s brows furrow in a questioning manner towards Morgan, who looks just as confused. “Are you sure?” He chimes in, not waiting for your reply before he dials a number on his phone and rushes off towards your kitchen. 

“Yes, I’m sure…” your eyes follow him as he disappears and quickly snap your attention back towards the blonde woman in front of you. “JJ what’s going on?” 

“Exactly what time did you last see him?” She ignores your question. The slight panic in her voice is contagious and begins to shift into you. “Well I don’t know the exact time, but I’d guess some time just before midnight? When did you last see him?” 

Before she can answer, Morgan calls your name as he walks back in. “Get dressed. You’re gonna need to come back to The Bureau with us.” 

“The Bureau? Okay, seriously guys, what’s going on?” 

“I’ll explain later. JJ and I are gonna wait here while you get dressed okay?” His tone was assertive. 

“No, you’re going to explain right now actually, what the fuck is going on?” But you were too worried to care about his tone. 

He took a deep breath, clearly frustrated. “Spencer’s been missing for two days. ” Realisation spreads across JJ’s face as she puts the pieces together, “ And I think you might’ve been the last person to see him.”

3:42 PM. 

You were currently sitting alone in one of the interview rooms at the FBI Headquarters, phone in hand, repeatedly checking the time. Morgan and JJ gave you time to clean up and get dressed before leaving your apartment. None of you uttered a single word on your way here and JJ led you into this room, telling you to get comfortable and to let her know if you needed anything. 

Somebody was supposed to come in and interview you, but you had been waiting for at least twenty minutes now. The room itself was mostly empty, except for two muted couches in the middle facing each other, separated by a small table. An old rug laid under the setting and a couple of stock pictures were hung on the walls. You had taken JJ’s invitation and claimed a spot in the corner seat of one of the couches, facing the door, but sitting as far away from it as you could. 

The air conditioner was set at room temperature but everything felt cold. Spencer was missing and you were definitely the last person to see him. You felt like the worst person in the world right now. The man that you loved more than anything in the world was missing and the last thing you ever said to him was that you didn’t want to be around him. 

What did missing even mean in this situation? Did he just decide to up and disappear? That would be believable if he was anybody else, but this was Spencer. He would still say goodbye to his friends before leaving. Friends who were also his coworkers. Coworkers at his extremely dangerous job. If Spencer was missing then it wasn’t because he chose to be. Which means that there’s a strong possibility that he’s really hurt, or dead.

Your mind was filled with so many concerns and had you not heard the door handle click, you probably would’ve driven yourself into another panic attack. A raven-haired woman walks into the room and takes a seat opposite to you on the couch across yours. 

“Emily!” 

“Hey, how are you holding up?” 

“Have you found Spencer? Is he okay-” The questions begin piling out of you.

“Woah, take a deep breath okay.” She cuts off your worrisome ramble before it begins. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” You cry out in frustration before catching your tone. You take a short, deep breath and continue, “I’m sorry. I’m just really worried okay. I’ve been here for god knows how long and nobody will tell me anything and I just really need to know if Spencer’s okay.”

Emily slightly tilts her head as she looks at you, slightly narrowing her eyes in sympathy. “It’s okay, I understand. You feel really isolated right now because you don’t know what’s going on,” she leans in a little “but the truth is, we don’t entirely know what’s going on either. All we know is that Spencer hasn’t been to work in two days and you were the last person to see him.”

You stare back at her with an apologetic look and the two of you share a brief silence of understanding. As worried as you were right now, you had to remember that Emily and everybody else in the BAU were also extremely worried. You nodded, not saying anything.

“I need you to tell me about the last time you saw him." She’s the first to break the silence.

Instead of simply responding, you stare at her blankly. You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound would come out. It was like you physically couldn’t respond. You couldn’t even let yourself think about the last time you saw him. The guilt was overbearing, it was pushing tears to well in your eyes. Sighing, you take a gulp and try to get yourself together. Eyes wandering everywhere except towards Emily.

“You okay?” She questions for the second time, giving you the same narrow-eyed look as before, but this time there’s concern behind her eyes.

You try to respond but all you can do is bite the inside of your cheek. Emily’s presence was a welcome distraction from the current situation, until it wasn’t a distraction anymore. She’d unknowingly pushed you back into the headspace you desperately needed to stay out of to keep composed. It wasn’t her fault, you knew she was just doing her job. However, right now you desperately needed her to go away or you were going to completely break down.

Then for the first time in days the universe took pity on you. It leaned into the room in the form of one colourful Penelope Garica, giving you a rushed greeting and ushering Emily out of the room.

“Hey Em, sorry to interrupt, but we need you in the conference room. By that I mean like yesterday.” Garcia turned towards you and squeaked a sad “Good to see you again, I wish it was under different circumstances.” before disappearing. Emily drops a quick “Excuse me” as she gets up and disappears after her.

You knew she would be back. For now, you had time to calm down and you were extremely grateful for that. Taking deep breaths, you check your phone again. There on your screen was Spencer, smiling back at you brightly. You glance at the time again.

4:03 PM

Your eyes instantly land back on his face. They must have stayed staring for a while; before you knew it Emily had re-entered the room. “What’re you doing there?” The sudden interruption from her voice pulled you out of your trance. “Huh? Oh-Sorry, I was just checking the time.” A half-lie. “It’s 4:17.”

No verbal response. Her only response was a look you couldn’t entirely make out as she took a seat in her previous place. “Emily, is everything okay? Did something happen?” 

“I need to tell you something and you need to listen to the full thing, okay? Spencer’s been kidnapped.” She nervously bit her lip as she broke the news to you. “Garcia pulled a recording from a surveillance camera on the street outside your apartment building.”

“What..” You interrupted, unintentionally. “What do you mean kidnapped? Outside my apartment?”

“Look. I won’t lie to you, this is bad. You were the last person to see Spencer and then he’s taken from outside your apartment-”

“Wait a minute, are you telling me that I’m a suspect?” The second time you cut her off, she leans forward and takes your hand in hers. “Listen to me. The whole thing okay? No interruptions.” Her patient tone gives you some comfort. You nod, giving her the go ahead to continue. 

“Now, in normal cases, those closest to the victim would be looked at as initial suspects. But this is not a normal case. You aren’t a suspect but you might be the key in finding him. I’m going to play the recording for you in just a minute and I need you to tell me if you recognise anything. Before I play anything though, we’re going to have to run a cognitive interview and recall your last day with Spencer. I understand that it may be hard, but if you want to help find Spencer, you’re going to have to.”

As your mind processes her words, your hand attempts to close into a fist and squeezes hers. “Emily, I can’t” are the only words you can bring yourself to say.

“Why?” She’s quick to ask in surprise. 

“Because it’s horrible, Emily. The last thing we did was fight. The last thing I told him was that I didn’t want to be around him.” You spit out before you can stop yourself. 

The woman sighs as she mumbles your name, “You can’t possibly blame yourself for this. All couples fight. You couldn’t have known this would happen. I promise you, no matter how bad you think it is, it really cannot be worse than not finding Spencer.”

Her words are blunt, but her voice is empathetic. It’s just what you needed to hear to break out of your ego. “Okay, what do you need?”

“I need you to close your eyes okay. Just listen to the sound of my voice as I guide you.” The brunette instructs. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. “Think back to that day. What were you doing when you first saw Spencer?”

“We met at our favourite café after he got home from work. He had missed our date the night before and wanted to make it up to me. I was checking the time when I heard him call out my name from behind me.” You begin to recall.

“Okay, you turn around to see him. What’s happening around you? Is it busy?” 

“No, it’s actually really quiet compared to usual. There’s maybe four or five other people here besides us.”

“What was Spencer like? His behaviour, was he acting like he normally does when you’re together?”

“He was pretty normal at first. He just looked tired, more than he usually does. But it wasn’t until we started talking that I noticed that something was off.”

“What was off?”

“He just wasn’t present like he usually was. I could tell that he wasn’t feeling great, so I insisted we go back to his place. It was closer than mine.”

You continued recalling the events of the night. When you turned on the light as you entered his apartment, he hissed slightly. That’s when you realised what was going on. He admitted that his migraines were back after some pushing. You asked him if he’d gone to the doctors and he told you how they’d found nothing again. You sat him down on the couch, got him some painkillers and brewed some tea for him. He began ranting about how there had to be something wrong. That’s when you suggested that the migraines could be stress induced. The two of you began arguing not long after that. 

“Spence, have you, maybe, considered that the migraines are psychosomatic? Probably from all the stress you face at work?”

“What does my job have to do with this? What are you saying?”

“I’m just saying that you have a stressful job. It can take a pretty heavy toll. Stress is a common factor for migraines.”

“No, not like this. I just need to find another doctor. One that can actually help.”

“How many doctors will you see before you finally understand that it’s in your head?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry, I should have worded that better.”

“You think I’m crazy? I am not crazy!”

“Spencer, I’m not implying that you are! I’m saying that it’s probably stress induced-”

“No! No. That’s not what you really think, is it? Go on, say what you really mean.”

“What? No. That’s not at all what I’m saying.”

“But it’s what you’re thinking”

“No, it’s what you’re thinking, Spencer.”

“Don’t hold back now, just come out and say it.”

“GOD SPENCER! You think that just because your mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, I think you must be one too? You’re completely reaching! You just don’t want to deal with the reality that maybe it is all just in your head! … I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Leave. Please.”

“Spencer..”

“Stop. Please. Leave.”

“Wait Spence-”

“I don’t want to see you anymore. I can’t even bear to look at your face right now.”

“Yeah? I don’t want to be near you anyway. Not when you’re being like this!”

Emily’s hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your head, “Hey, it’s okay. Take a deep breath for me.” And so you do, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Once she’s sure you're calm, she leans back in her seat and continues, “You’re doing great. I need you to go back to the café. Was there anything or any one out of place?” 

You think back. You and Spencer were sitting just by the entrance. There was another couple ordering at the counter. You could smell flowers. Not the nice, light, floral kind of scent. It was the loud, head-ache inducing, overpowering roses kind. It was coming from your left, where there were two old ladies sitting not too far from your table, lost in their own conversation. Behind them, in the far left corner, there was a man sat glaring at Spencer. You couldn’t really see the man that well but, nothing felt out of place. 

“No.” You mumble in disappointment, unable to remember anything out of the ordinary. Wait. The man in the corner. “Yes, yes there’s some guy. He’s barely in my vision, but he was glaring at Spencer. I made eye contact with him once as I entered but I didn’t think anything of it.”

“I need you to really think hard,” Emily urges, “What can you remember about this man? Any distinct details?”

“Um, he was dressed in dark clothing and wearing a beanie. There isn’t really anything that stands out. I’m sorry Emily.”

“No, it’s okay you did great. You can open your eyes now.” You do so, greeted by the sight of Emily across from you fidgeting with the tablet in her lap. “I’m going to show you the recording and I need you to tell me if you recognise anything from it.” 

She passes the tablet over and you click play. It’s a little blurry but you can see Spencer walking on the street outside your apartment building. It looks like he’s making his way over to your place. A man shows up out of, seemingly, nowhere and bumps into him. Spencer appears to become drowsy, unable to coordinate his movement at all. Thirty seconds later, a black van pulls up and that same man from before yanks your boyfriend into the van before it drives off. 

Your stomach drops. “Fuck, Emily! He was right there. He was right outside my apartment. They took him…I should’ve…oh my god..” If you thought you were gonna have a panic attack before, you were in for a heart attack now. 

Emily tries to call your attention using your name as she grabs hold of your hands, “You need to take some more deep breaths okay, panicking now is not going to help.” She’s right. Spencer has already been kidnapped, panicking isn’t going to bring him back. The video replays in your head, you recognise something.

“Wait Emily..the man - that man from the café. That’s the same man. The one who bumped into Spencer. He’s wearing the same clothes and everything. Oh my god, was he following us the whole time?” The realisation seeps through your body and shivers run down your spine. Spencer was being watched the entire time you were together. “Why did they wait? Why didn’t they just take me out and then kidnap Spencer?” 

“I don’t know the answer to that, but you’ve helped a lot. Now I’m going to go and tell the rest of the team what you’ve told me, okay? But you need to stay here.” 

“Why? I can’t just wait here forever, how is that gonna help?” you question. You couldn’t just sit here alone with your thoughts, you needed to get out. 

“Those men that took Spencer, they clearly know about you. This puts you in danger and we don’t know what their plan is. Here is the safest place for you to be. I’m going to send an agent to sit outside that door,” She points at the brown door that serves as the only entry and exit to the room you’re currently in, “His name is Agent Anderson. You tell him if you need anything at all, but you need to stay here. Please.”

You watch her stand up hurriedly and head for the door. You know she’s right. They can’t search for Spencer if they also have to worry about your safety. Getting Spencer back was the most important thing. “Okay.” You agree. “But Emily,” she turns back to look at you from the doorway, “Please bring him back, okay?” 

“We will.” She Promises. It may be an empty promise. There’s no guarantee that he’s even alive, but it's enough to keep you hoping for now. Spencer has to be okay. 

Spencer’s POV

It’s not very often a person finds themselves escaping death’s grasp. The chances of the same person escaping death twice is even less likely. Yet here I am, in the back of an ambulance, on my way to the hospital, having escaped death for the second time in my life. Hopefully, it won't cost me an addiction this time. “Rossi this is ridiculous, I’m fine!” I insisted to the older man next to me, looking over me like a watchdog. I was already aware that my injuries were serious enough to warrant a hospital visit, but I hoped that the EMT’s would ignore that regardless. I need to get back to her, I just want to hold her as soon as possible. “Sir, you need to lie back down” I hear a voice instruct from my right. Then I hear Dave from my left.

“Kid, you are not fine. The sooner we get you to the hospital the sooner you can leave. Now lie back down and let the medics do their job.” How am I supposed to stress the seriousness of the situation in my drugged up state? My girlfriend is in danger! “No Rossi, I need to see that she’s alright, you don’t understand. They got me from right outside her apartment, they know about her!” Why doesn’t he understand? “Reid, relax. She’s been at headquarters since yesterday afternoon. She’s fine. She’ll meet you there, Anderson’s driving her there as we speak.” I have to count on this reassurance for the time being, because I was clearly not getting my way anytime soon. 

Wait yesterday? “No Rossi, that's not right. What day is it? What time?” Guilt surged my veins, did I really miss the most important day of the year? “It’s Friday. Wait no, Saturday now, about uhhh,” he paused “1:43 AM.” No, no, no. “Saturday? She spent her birthday at headquarters? That wasn’t the plan!” I desperately needed to explain something to Rossi, but I couldn’t find the right words. I couldn’t even fully remember what I needed to explain. “Okay, Sir, I’m going to have to inject you with a light dose of tranquillisers if you don’t calm you down.” I hear the voice on my right say. 

“No, don’t touch me! Get away from me! Rossi-” My objections are interrupted by Rossi on the left again “Kid, you’re heavily drugged right now and you’re not making sense. You need to calm down. Just do as the nice lady says.” I’m entirely perplexed. What lady? And where am I right now? I try to make sense of my situation but my senses are suddenly taken over by a strong sense of drowsiness. I feel at peace, but something has to be wrong because I can hear rapid beeping behind me. “Sir, you need to keep your eyes open, do not fall asleep!”

Your POV

Somebody’s hand hesitantly shaking your shoulder wakes you up. You slowly open your eyes to see Agent Anderson crouching in front of you. Before he can get a word in edgewise, you start throwing out questions at the poor man and rush to sit up-right. “Agent? What happened? Did they find him? Is he okay?” The rapid fire of questions knocks your own breath out of your lungs and forces you to pause for a deep breath, allowing Anderson to cut in. “They found him! I’m not entirely sure of his condition, but he’s on his way to the hospital and so is the team. I can drive you so you can meet them there.” He stands up and walks towards the door, holding it open for you.

“Yes! Please! Let’s go!” You don’t even hesitate as you respond, jumping up from your seat and practically running towards the door. The journey from the building, to the car, then to the hospital is another blur. Spencer fills your mind, as usual, while your eyes are fixated on the time displayed on the dashboard. You watch the minutes pass the whole ride. ‘2:13 AM, 2:14 AM, 2:15 AM, 2:16 AM’ and finally as you arrive at the hospital:

2:17 AM

“You head on in, I’m going to park and follow behind you.” Anderson breaks the streak of silence. The car barely comes to a stop before you jump out and make a bee-line for the doors. You probably look like a maniac running up to the reception desk. “Hi Ma’am, how can I help you?” The receptionist asks unfazed, probably used to seeing maniacs like you. “Spencer Reid. That’s the patient's name. Where is Spencer Reid?” You pester urgently. “Just a moment please.” The receptionist smiles as she begins to type on her keyboard. She turns back to you after a few seconds, instructing you on where to go. “Thank you!” You don’t even blink after she’s done speaking and immediately head towards where you're guided. 

As you enter the waiting room, you’re greeted with the faces of his team from the BAU. “Hi! There you are!” Garcia is the first to notice you, coming in for a hug. “Hey, how is he?” you ask hugging back, no time for proper pleasantries. The rest of the team start making their way up to you one by one for a quick greeting too. “We don’t know yet, the doctor should be out soon to let us know.” Derek, the last one to hug you hello, answers. That’s never good to hear, nervousness covering your face. “Don’t lose hope, he’s going to be just fine!” Rossi interjects your train of thought before it can even begin. Damn profilers. Anderson, true to his word, shows up too. 

Feeling slightly ashamed for your rushed behaviour you apologise and thank him for his patience. He assures you that there’s no need and he understands, before Hotch sends Anderson home for the weekend. It seems like everybody in that room takes turns sitting and pacing around. Everyone except you. Your eyes are glued to the clock at the entrance, occasionally making small talk with the others. It’s officially been three excruciating days since you’ve last seen Spencer and even now, as he’s just a few metres away, you’re unable to see him. “Happy belated birthday.” Rossi whispers, taking a seat next to you. You turn to face him, slightly stunned. “Sorry?” 

“I said happy belated birthday.” He repeats. You can only return a puzzled look, unable to muster the common ‘thank you’. “Spencer. He told me, in the ambulance.” He answers your unasked question. A single tear manages to escape your eye before you sniffle and re-adjust to compose yourself. 

“How bad is it?” Your boyfriend's condition is your immediate concern. 

“You know it’s funny,” the old man ignores your question, knowing it’s better to not worry you further, “the whole ride here the kid would not stop going on about needing to be there for you. It’s like he was unable to comprehend anything in regards to himself. And now here I am, talking to you, and it’s like you’re unable to comprehend anything that doesn’t concern him.” He takes an almost dramatic pause so he can look you in the eyes, like he’s trying to pass on an unspoken message. Whatever that message was, you didn’t understand it. 

He knew you didn’t, because he continued, “even in extreme situations like this one, you think about each other before you think of yourselves. You truly love each other. So, whatever happened before this, let it go. Feeling guilty about it won’t help.” With that he got up from his seat and headed towards the vending machine. Damn profilers. You don’t have a chance to linger on his advice for too long before the doctor shows up. “Spencer Reid?”

Everybody gathers almost immediately around the doctor, waiting to be updated. “He’s got a broken rib, minor concussion, a few deep bruises, specifically around the abdomen, and other minor cuts and bruises. Other than that he’s been heavily sedated, but he’s going to be fine. He’ll be knocked out for a couple of hours, but he’ll be just fine. You’re welcome to see him now, but only two at a time please.” Almost immediately as the doctor leaves, the group turns to look at you and JJ pipes up first. “Would you like to go in first?” 

You couldn’t wait to see him before, but now the nerves were getting to you. “No. You guys go in first.” 

“Are you sure?” Emily asks. 

“We’re allowed two at a time, you know.” Derek reminds you.

“Yeah! The rest of us can take turns while you sit with him!” Garcia pipes up, softly.

“No, come on guys. He’s just as important to you as he is me. Besides I’ll be here for a while, the rest of you need to get home. I can see him after.” You reason. 

“Okay. If you insist. But if you change your mind, let us know.” Emily nods, as she begins to head towards Spencer’s room.

You were sitting in the waiting room once more, while the team had taken turns going in and out of Spencer’s room. Eyes trained on the clock, again. 

4:31 AM

Most of the team had headed home by now. You were honestly surprised they stayed as long as they did, knowing how late it was and how exhausted most of them were. The only people left besides you were Derek and Hotch. Jack was away at a sleepover so Hotch decided to stay longer, feeling responsible for Spencer. “What’s going on in that mind, Pretty Girl?” Derek now sat across from you.

“Derek!” you jumped slightly, not expecting him. “Nothings going on. Why? Is Spencer okay?” 

“You know you keep doing that. Deflecting.” He doesn’t let you get away with it this time. 

“I’m not.” You persist. 

“You are. Look, Spencer’s one of my closest friends and by extension you’re also my friend. I’m not going to force you to talk about it if you don’t want to, but just know that I am here to listen.” He persists harder.

“Derek, I just…I don’t know what to say. Not just to you, but to him. The last time I saw him, we fought. He said he didn’t want to see me anymore. I know it’s all in my head, but I can’t stop thinking about if he meant it. What if he truly doesn’t want to see me?”

“Woah, woah! Pretty Girl, c’mon. He’s crazy about you, you know that. You’re practically all he ever talks about. I can promise you that no matter how bad you think that fight was, he won’t let it ruin what you have.” The reaffirmations from Emily, Rossi and now Derek were honestly unnecessary. You were a rational person, you already knew everything they’d said to you. The emotions just overpower your rationality at times but hearing those closest to Spencer confirm was how you knew for sure that it’s true. “Thank you, Derek” You responded with a small, but confident smile.

“He’s awake.” Hotch alerts the two of you. FBI training must be heavy on sneak attacks because these fucking profilers had unbelievably light steps. You turn to face the usually monotone man and instead, catch him sporting a relieved smile. He meets your eyes directly as he speaks, “He’s asking for you.” A hopeful huff leaves you as you stand up. “Go get 'em beautiful!” Derek encourages. You thank both him and Hotch, making your way to Spencer's room. You take a deep breath as you approach the door, but before you enter, you make a final note of the time.

4:55 AM

“Hi Angel.” Spencer’s voice weakly acknowledges your arrival in an instant. Your heart feels a mix of hurt and relief at the sight in front of you. His figure’s confined to the gurney and linked with tubes to an IV drip. With every step bringing you closer to him you’re able to make out more of his injuries. Bruises on almost every part of his visible skin, an especially large one covering the surface around his cheekbone, eye and temple. Cuts on his nose, lips, arms - you bite your lip trying to hold back the tears welling you eyes again. “Please say something.” He begs, matching the same pained look as you. 

Rossi’s words were starting to make sense. While you looked at your lover in guilt over his marred state, he looked back at you with guilt for worrying you. “You look like hell.” Maybe not the most sensible thing to say right now, but you didn’t want to cry and worry Spencer further. The poor attempt to lighten the mood showed some success because you earned a light chuckle from your boyfriend. The atmosphere didn’t stay light for long though, the two of you almost instantly falling silent as you stared into his beautiful brown eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

The words fall out from both of you simultaneously. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Angel. You were right and I was being unfair.” Spencer intertwines his fingers with yours, immediately rejecting your apology. “You were,” you agree “but I was also unfair. I shouldn’t have said what I did.” He tries to sit up, wincing from the unanticipated sharp sting. This earns him a soft reprimand from you, reminding him of his broken rib and you instead use the remote to shift the gurney into a position comfortable for him to lean against. “You need to be more careful!” You whine.

“I know, I know. I just, I want to hold you.” He whines back, staring at you with his dangerously powerful puppy eyes. Those eyes were actually dangerous, you had to internally fight yourself to not give in. You opted to meet him half-way and lightly wrapped your arms around his head for a quick hug. “Don’t look at me like that. There will be no holding unless the doctor clears it.” You whispered against his hair before pulling away, not wanting to accidentally hurt him more. “Technically I’m a doctor-” He tries to protest, but you beat him to it. “A medical doctor, Spencer.” 

You pull the chair from behind so you can sit as close to him as possible and take his free hand into yours, holding it tightly. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday.” You look at him in disbelief as the words leave his mouth. “Spencer, forget the stupid birthday please! Actually, can we just stop with the apologies? I’m just glad that you’re okay- sort of.” Your eyes scan over his injuries again as you say the last sentence. “Stop. Don’t do that. I’m okay, I promise.” It’s more of a request than anything else. He doesn’t like being ‘babied’ or pitied. “Angel look here.” his fingers guide your face to meet his eyes.

“I’m okay. These will heal, but please don’t give me that look. I know you want to talk about it and we will, later. Right now I just want to talk to you about anything else.”

“I know you do, it’s just hard Spencer. There’s so much to say and I was so worried. I spent three days thinking you hated me. Well, technically, I actually spent two days thinking you hated me and the third losing my mind about-” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cups your face gently to cut off your ramble and keeps his same soft, whispery tone, “I know. I too spent the last 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes regretting the last thing I might have ever said to you was something I never should have said because I was being an ass.” 

“Don’t say that!” You immediately interject, unable to even think about the meaning behind his words. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, “Shhhh, just listen.” 

“There’s just so much more I have to say. So much more we need to talk about. And right now I just want to talk to you about anything else, even the little things that don’t matter. Especially the things that don’t matter. So please, just tell me about all the pointless things.” His voice cracks slightly at his plea, his gaze connecting so deeply with yours, tears glazing his lashes.

Stupid puppy eyes. There was no fighting against them this time, you gave in. The two of you talked until the medication knocked him out. It was easy like that with Spencer, you never ran out of topics. Nurses went in and out of the room, hours passed by, but you stayed right there next to him. The next few days were spent in the hospital, you only left to get refreshed if somebody from the team was there with Spencer while you were gone. Spencer was asleep most of the time due to the medication. Everybody from the BAU took turns visiting, Garcia always bringing fresh food with her. 

Before Spencer was discharged, the two of you agreed that it would be best for you to stay with him while he recovered. You wanted to be there for him in case he needed anything and he’d take any excuse to have you near him. It was a smart decision overall, because the broken rib rendered Spencer unable to do almost anything on his own. Which is why you were currently watching him bathe, perched on the edge of his bathroom counter, making sure your boyfriend didn’t accidentally hurt himself further. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I’ll be fine.” Spencer insists. “He says, after almost breaking another bone trying to undress by himself earlier.” You snark. 

“I think you’re enjoying this a bit too much.” Amusement surfaces in his voice and it causes you to blush. 

“Careful, handsome, you’re going to work yourself up and end up disappointed.” You successfully fluster him back. The doctor deemed Spencer unfit for any physical activity, much to his dismay. 

“Ughhh,” he groans, dramatically, rolling his head back. “This is so unfai-Ah!” His complaint is cut off by his own shriek while trying to reach the loofah around his back. 

“Shit Spencer!” You panic, hopping off the counter and rushing to his side, grabbing the loofah out of his grasp. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry. I just can’t reach my back, I guess.” 

“That’s literally what I’m here for, dummy. Let me get it.” You shuffle behind him from outside the tub and gently push him forward so you can access his back. 

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to do this.” There’s a slight hint of embarrassment in his voice. 

“Spencer, love, stop. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Plus, I like taking care of you.” It was true. Doing small things to make his life convenient made you happy. 

“It’s not just because it’s embarrassing. You shouldn’t have to go out of your way for me like this, you have better things to spend your time on.” The insecurity in his words makes your heart ache. Reaching your hand around his jaw, you turn his head back towards you as you lean in to meet his eyes. 

“How can I get it through your thick, beautiful, skull that I want to be here? I want to do this. I want to spend my time with you.” You state matter of factly. He searches your face for any hint of insincerity. Unable to find any, he whispers, “Thank you” and leans in to give you a gentle kiss.

“And plus, you did promise we’d make up for the lost 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes when you got discharged.” You jokingly remind him of his words to you in a conversation you shared at the hospital. He chuckled and kissed you once more.

“I will.” A re-affirmation of his promise. “But this doesn’t count.”

“How so?” You question. “We’re here together aren’t we?”

“Yes, but you deserve more than this.” He declared. “I’m going to make it up to you.”

“Spencer, you don’t have to make anything up to me. We have to make up for lost time.” 

“Let me make it up to you anyway?” He flashes those damn eyes at you again.

“Just get better first okay, then we’ll talk. Plus you owe me a conversation before anything else.” Normally Spencer was the one who’d have to remind you of things, but today it was the other way around. 

“I guess I do.” He sighs in defeat, “Before we do that I have to tell you something.” 

“Yeah?”

“Rossi offered to throw you a party for your birthday and I kind of, maybe, said yes? It was less of an offer and more of a statement if I’m honest, but I thought you’d like it because you’re a huge fan of his books and always wanted to see his mansion. There’s tons of space for your family and friends too and-”

You cut off his speech with a kiss. “That’s wonderful Spencer, thank you. Tell Rossi I said thank you as well.”

“You’re not disappointed? I know you prefer smaller celebrations and originally I had something else planned but given my current state it’s a bit hard to go through with those plans.”

“Of course I’m not disappointed. I’d be happy with anything as long as you’re there.” You flash him a grateful, genuine smile. He kisses you briefly. Then again. And again.

“As much as I love kissing you, we need to get you to bed. Come on.” The two of you share kisses, giggles and loving looks, as you help him out of the tub, dry him off and get him dressed. Making your way over to the bed, you first help him settle in before getting into your side. It’s clear that Spencer doesn’t know where to start. 

“Let’s start with that night.” You take the lead. He takes a deep breath as he begins to recount the events. 

“I felt terrible after you left. I never meant any of it and I just, I am so sorry.”

“I know. I am too.” You reassured your lover, not wanting him to bear guilt over it any longer. 

“I was on your way to your apartment to apologise when I bumped into the unsub. The next thing I knew I couldn’t feel my legs and was being thrown into the back of the van.” He couldn’t offer you more than the basic details, due to the classified nature of his job. The unsub wanted revenge because Spencer was the reason they were caught in the first place. “I’m sorry” is how Spencer finished his re-telling. 

“Sorry? Why are you sorry, that’s not your fault.” A light, confused chuckle escapes your throat as you speak.

“Because, I put you in danger. Because this job puts me in danger, which always puts you in danger by extension. You deserv-”

“Stop. Spencer, stop.” You cut him off, afraid of what he was insinuating. “Stop telling me what I deserve. I knew what your job was when I entered this relationship. Don’t.” Tears threatening to spill from you, your fingers digging into your own flesh to try and stop them. Spencer noticed, gently coaxing your fingers away from your palm as he massaged your hand lightly. 

“Angel look at me.” He almost commands. You begrudgingly meet his eyes, holding your breath as you mentally prepare for the ‘it’s not you, it’s me speech’ you’d heard before from others. “What’s wrong?” He questions, not entirely sure as to why you were crying. For a genius he could be really unaware of his wording sometimes.

“Why do you keep saying that?” You’re unable to hold your tears. 

“Because I want you to know that I’m going to do better from now. To give you the ‘better’ you deserve.” He wipes your tears, still holding on to your hand. 

“Then why does it sound like you’re trying to break up with me right now?” You sniffle, squeezing his hand slightly.

“I must really suck at communicating, because that’s the exact opposite of what I’m trying to do.” He uses his hand to gently coax your head towards him so he can kiss you. “I want to move in together. With you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. If there’s anything I’ve realised over the past few days, it’s that I really hate being away from you. I hate not being able to see you, hear your voice, feel your touch.” He gives you another kiss. “I am not going anywhere. And I really hope you don’t either. Move in with me?”

You give him a peck. “Yes.” Another peck. “Yes, Spencer, I’ll move in with you.” A deep, longing kiss. You share a few more kisses and then nestle against him. Both of you laughing. 

The next few hours pass with both of you just enjoying being in each other's arms. Gently stroking the others hair, small kisses here and there, ‘I love you’s’ bouncing off from one another. The 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes spent worrying you won’t see each other again seem so silly now that you’ve got everyday to look forward to. 

“Angel?” Spencer’s voice lulls you out from your semi-conscious state. “Hm?”

“Thank you.” On the surface it was just a simple sentence, but his intention was deeper than that. It was a show of gratitude for you choosing him. For staying with him through the hard times. 

“Always.” Your promise that you’d do it again.

“Spencer?” You say after a second. 

“Yes my love?” Spencer replies.

“Thank you too.” 

“Always.”

Both of you fall asleep cuddling not long after. There were still a few things that needed to be worked out, but one thing was for sure, you were going to wake up next to the love of your life the next morning and then every morning after that. You’d truly found your forever person in each other. 

Spoilers: Hurt, Angst, Fluff, Comfort, Established Relationship.

AN - First fic I’ve ever written. It’s been in my drafts for so long, I’ve edited it so many times. I hope you didn’t feel too edged because 80% of this is without Spencer scenes (I did and I wrote it).

Feel free to drop helpful criticism, I’m always looking to improve. Remember to stay real and respectful :)

Thank you for reading!

[ilyhaitanii]

hi !!! omg may i req some hcs or a blurb about how sylus would react in regards to his partner feeling a little down about their body / appearance? : (

mdni 18+ // kinda went a little bit insane with this sorry.... (use of doll, sweetie, honey. slightly suggestive- its sylus tbh. biting, reassurance, v fluffy, allusions to infidelity, lots of jealousy and body image issues)

sylus isn’t very shy with compliments when it comes to you. he refuses to be stingy. he states, “well what purpose would i have keeping all these thoughts to myself when this is the kind of reaction i get from you?” (alluding to your flushed cheeks and the soft smile he is gifted. he would battle gods, maybe even pray to the lord himself if that meant he got to see even a glimpse of your smile.)

however, lately sylus has been very… distant. it’s not intentional at first, you think. it’s true he’s a very busy man, and yet he makes so much time to spend with you and cherish you. could it be you’re just being selfish? you chalk it up to him being overworked and busy, so you let it go. however, days go by and suddenly you’re notified by kieran that the boss must attend a gala tonight. however, you’re gently (not very, the twins are bad at this.) told that you will not be in attendance as his plus one— sylus simply was too busy to tell you.

but, you chalk it up to him being busy. it isn’t the first time the twins have ever delivered messages from sylus. it’s a common thing during the busy times. but, news like this? sylus wouldn’t ever send it to you like this. he has the decency to send a text message. but whatever, you let it go. a small part of your heart aches for him, to be in his arms and have him reassure you that he still loves and needs you at his side. but that’s far too selfish of a request.

however, the worst happens. you hear through the grapevine that mr. sylus was in attendance at a gala with a very gorgeous woman. with a bit of bribery and sweet tears, you manage to coerce one of sylus’s bodyguards to tell you who this woman was. hearing her name, you immediately recognized her.

she constantly made googly eyes at sylus during events, however you could tell she’s never racked up the courage to speak to him. your stomach knots and twists, bile rising in your mouth. a tight-lipped smile is what you give the guard and he shyly smiles back as he goes back to his duties.

you spend the rest of your day in your shared bedroom, tucked under the covers. your mind can’t help but wander. what is it about her that sylus thought she was a better fit to be perched in his arm? granted, she’s very pretty, she is rich. and based on pervious group conversations you’ve had with her, she seems to be very sweet and not the type to argue back with sylus like you.

you spiral down this whirpool. does sylus really not believe you’re suited for him? were all of those nights you spent in his arms, listening to his voice murmer sweet nothings in your ears all a lie? was the gorgeous ruby ring that sat on your finger mean nothing to him? tears boil in your eyes as you hug sylus’s pillow, inhaling his scent.

it’s faded, he hasn’t been home in days. the thought of him being just out of your reach causes you to break. thinking about all the praises all the other women in your circle spoke about “sylus’s new girl” make you want to hurl. they all pertain to just how gorgeous she is, how slim her figure was. that hurt most of all.

you’re aware that you’re not exactly the societal standard, but that didn’t matter. especially not when sylus loved you for how you were. he enjoyed pinching you, relaxing his body against your much softer and warmer one. but did he get tired of it? did he maybe realize that maybe those whispers that lingered around you were in fact true? is he disgusted by you?

unbeknownst to you, sylus has trudged his way into your bedroom. his hair is slightly disheveled and there remnants of someone’s blood under his fingernails. he’s beyond exhausted and all he wants to do is cuddle with his sweetheart.

to his surprise, he finds you curled into bed at eleven pm. you’re usually cooped up in the theater room, watching some sort of crime show or sitcom. to find you curled up like this worries him.

“sweetie?” sylus calls out to you, making his way towards the bed. you jolt up and look behind you and find your husband standing there, brows furrowed. the snot dripping down your nose, your glossy eyes has his heart lurching. instantly, he’s kneeling in front of you, slotted between your legs. his gloved hands caress your thighs, squeezing the flesh under his palms.

“what has happened? who or what has made you so upset, sweetie? tell me,” he urges you to speak, but all you can do is sob. incoherent words accidentally fall from your lips.

“you don’t” hiccup “love me.” sylus is confused, what are you talking about? of course he adores you! why else would be do all of this? why else would he slide a ring on your finger? why else would he adore you with the best quality night gowns, the softest jackets, and custom made jewelry? “she’s too pretty” your words are stuck in your throat, unable to escape no matter how much you fight it.

sylus grabs a hold of your wrists, and gently places them on your lap. he intertwines his hand with yours as you stupidly sob. with his free hand he cups your soft cheek, guiding your eyes to his.

“what on earth are you rambling about, doll?” there’s concern and confusion written all over his lips. that cute expression of his makes your heart jump. his eyes are so soft, the gentle cherry color in his eyes stares back at you.

“you don’t think im pretty?” the statement is phrased more as a question. you don’t even know what you’re talking about anymore. his expression and actions are making you falter, but you can’t help but feel self-conscious when you look down. the size of your thighs compared to his hands. granted, theyre a bit larger than his hands, but you think about how that other woman’s thighs were probably smaller than the width of his hands.

sylus lets out a chuckle in disbelief. his rests his forehead against one of your knees to laugh a little more.

“why are you laughing?!” his chuckle only makes you sob even more, chest tightening. sylus collects you in his arms and takes a seat on the couch in the bedroom. with you tucked away in your designated spot— his lap— sylus peppers kisses on your face to wipe away the tears.

his teeth can’t help but catch against the pillowy-feel of your cheeks as he nibbles part of it. you jolt, screeching.

“my love,” sylus mutters into the side of your hand. you sit on his lap, eyes still flooded with tears as sylus continues speaking, “im not very sure as to where you got this idea from, but i love you.” sylus cups your cheeks in his palm, forcing you to look up at him. he squishes your face together, chuckling at your cute pout.

he leans down to pull you into a kiss. his sneaky hands slide up your thighs, kneeding the skin under his palms befofe sliding them up to your hips. he enjoys the soft texture under his rough and calloused hands. to him, you’re like a warm and soft pillow he can selfishly press against himself. he loves the curves on your body. (he even finds himself toying with the pudge on your tummy. sylus goes as far as to teasingly nibble on your thighs when laying his head down on your lap.)

“there isn’t anything i don’t adore about you,” he whispers gingerly. he tucks a few strands of hair behind your ears, kissing your tears away. “sweetie, i love you. where is all of this coming from?”

you come to clean to sylus, expelling in anxious bits and pieces what has been consuming your mind these past few days. he doesn’t ridicule you, simply reassures you none of the adulterous things you’ve concocted in your mind has ever happened. sylus not even once ever looked at that woman that way. in fact, you’ve got it all wrong!

he didn’t even take the woman as his plus one. her mother, who eagerly encourages her daughter to flirt with married men, to start a conversation with sylus. the reason her mother assumed that their conversation was going well was because sylus had smiled as the woman had told a joke. (you find out from sylus that mephisto had told him you had spent over ten thousand dollars on his card at once store and he had smiled.)

so the mother took the initiative to spread a rumor around about sylus and her daughter. unfortunately, that rumor had circulated its way to you and by the time sylus had shut it down, it was too late.

“you see? i had never once thought about discarding you, darling. and i never will. if i ever dare think of something as ludicrous as that, please take my gun and shoot me.” he smiles as he speaks, pinching your side. your puffy eyes gaze into sylus’s as your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“i love you. it doesn’t matter to me how you look, you will always be the most beautiful person to me, honey. i couldn’t even imagine loving another person besides yourself. i would rather die than ever love another,” he frowns slightly, “let alone cheat on you.”

you feel like an idiot. of course sylus wouldn’t do such a thing. he’s done so much to prove himself to you, why would it let it all go down the drain now?

“i’m sorry. i just didn’t know what to think,” sylus chuckles, pressing an exaggerated kiss to your lips as he tousles your hair. behind the curtain of your hair, you pout at him.

“silly thing. it happens to the best of us. but please, talk to me next time? i will always make time for you, even if i’m held at gunpoint— i’ll take my chances and answer the call.” you hit in him on the chest,

“dont say that!” a hearty laugh escapes sylus as he tightly holds you in his arms, leaning back into the chair. he tucks his chin on the tops of your breasts, kissing your shoulders and neck.

“i love you, sweetie. and i always will.”

© ilyhaitanii - do not repost, translate, plagiarize

[evanpetersmybf]

All he asked for was you

Tate Langdon x female!reader

Summary: Tate loves you too much. He would do anything for you, to keep you by his side, to make you love him forever. He would cross any line to make you his, it doesn't matter how evil it is... But was it really worth it?

Genre: ANGST!! and some smut

Word count: 5,104

Warnings: Obsessive, stalkish and violent behavior, implicit toxic relationship; mentions of weapons, murder, mental health issues, family issues, school shooting; use of Y/N, swearing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v. (i hope i'm not missing any...) NOT PROOFREAD !!

A/N: English isn't my first language!! Sorry if I have some mistakes and if Tate's a bit ooc (i tried to keep him in character as much as i could). I wasn't sure (and still not) if this is good but I spent days writing it, so I had to post it.

A small playlist with songs that inspired me for this: monster by meg and dia, pacify her by melanie martinez, all i want is you by rebzyyx, skyfall by adele, psycho by doko, paparazzi by lady gaga, dark red by steve lacy.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

Tate never believed in love, nor was he a romantic one. 

In fact, he despised it. How could he even believe in that feeling when he never felt loved by his own mother? At least that’s what he pretended.

The blond always had the facade of a tough guy, although he couldn’t fool anyone. Constance knew well he was a sensitive boy. Probably the most crybaby ever to exist… And the most unstable one.

Now he was here. His chest going up and down, breathing shallow and fast. His eyes were darting around the room, looking for something or perhaps someone. Some silly tears were rolling down his cheeks while he anxiously fidgeted with a ring on his finger. The clock on the wall continued its tick-tack. The time kept running. His heart kept beating. It was getting late.

He refused to look at the wooden floor. He didn’t want to accept reality. If Tate did that, he would feel like the biggest monster on Earth.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t stay like this.

He had to do something real fast.

Today, 18:40

You were supposed to arrive at 19:00.

But he remained there, next to the corpse of his rival. A bloody ax beside the dead man’s bleeding head.

Whom he thought was his worst enemy, was someone really dear to you.

Well, Tate fervently believed this was something justified. He couldn’t stand that fucking asshole anymore! That scumbag needed to be put back in his place. And Tate only did that. Furthermore, he actually helped him. He took him away from this shitty world. It was a favor.

He had already killed his mother’s boyfriend, so why was he feeling guilty?

Maybe because his victim was special to you. Because his death would hurt you. And Langdon swore to God he would never let anybody or anything hurt you, including himself.

He loved you.

He wanted to be the one to hold your hand forever.

Tate snapped back to the present and frowned. He picked up the weapon, putting it in his backpack. He didn’t even mind cleaning it. Then, he proceeded to knelt right next to the lifeless dude and cleaned the blood surrounding his body; afterwards, he dragged him to the basement and…

19:00

A knock on the door.

You arrived.

“DAMN IT!” 

He left his dead foe lying limp on the cold basement ground and quickly ran upstairs, straight to his room. He also left the backpack there.

Tate spent the last twenty minutes cleaning the mess he made in the living room after he atrociously smashed your friend’s head, forgetting that had poor time to get ready. 

He desperately looked for clean clothes, scrambling the entire closet in search of fresh garments while he cussed at himself, at his mother, at that freaking boy, at the entire world but you.

Finally he found some jeans and a striped shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror after changing and cleaned the tiny drops of blood that stayed on his face and hands. He never realized he left the bloody clothing on the bed.

Another knock.

19:07

Tate opened the door, immediately throwing himself at you and giving you one of the warmest hugs. His demeanor with you was completely different; you were the only creature capable of changing his fucked up mind into something more beautiful, more peaceful. The issue was that it only happened when he was with you, otherwise he would be aggressive and rude as usual.

You got the best of him. 

“Missed you so fuckin’ much, babe…” Voice muffled since his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Tate always did the same thing; clinging onto you like a small koala would.

“Heh, me too, hun!” You spoke with the same soothing voice he adored. Tate giggled and placed a tender kiss on your jawline, then another, and another, and another.

Soon enough, he was peppering kisses all over your neck, making you moan softly. Oh those sounds. He could hear you melting under his touch, his embrace, for the rest of eternity.

He loved making you squirm, making you laugh, making you feel loved.

He was way too sweet.

Only if you knew.

Four weeks before today…

Tate has always had the bad habit of stalking you. Yeah… He wasn’t proud of it. But can you blame him? He’s constantly afraid of you leaving him. He wanted to make sure you never did so… Otherwise he would die. Literally.

Don’t ask how he would die. You already know the answer.

You two were supposed to have a date, albeit you had to cancel your meeting.

And that, of course, made him overthink. It didn’t matter how many times you told him you were going to study; he felt betrayed, as if you were rejecting him. And Tate hated and feared rejection to the bone.

“Pretty please? Please, Y/N! I don’t wanna go home early, mom’s gonna be there and-and–”

“Tate, I can’t skip this. I have like, a test every day next week and I must study. I don’t wanna fail. Please, sweetie. I promise I’ll make it up to ya’, mhm?” 

He rolled his eyes and whined, almost throwing a tantrum. He didn’t try to manipulate you on purpose. It came out naturally. “But I need you, Y/N! Why do you always do the same, huh? Am I not that important? Don’t you love me any longer?”

His childish crying continued for a couple of minutes, until it stopped and the blond agreed a deal with you.

You thought he was calm now, but no. How naive.

You went to the library to study as you said… Without noticing he followed you.

Quietly, he got into that maze of books after you and hid behind some shelves.

Tate noticed you sat on an empty table. Thank God. Oh?

Who. Is. He.

A man Tate didn’t know sat next to you. Really close. Too close for Tate’s liking. He tried to think he was a stranger, that he wasn’t going to talk to you… He was wrong.

He clenched his hands into a ball when he saw that idiot talking to you, and the worst part was that you followed suit. It seemed you two were friends or something.

How DARE YOU talk to another man? No, how dare you talk to another HUMAN BEING!?

Tate was insecure 24/7.

If you weren’t there, Tate was falling apart. It was simple.

No Y/N, no happy Tate. Was it too hard to understand?

Three weeks before today…

It was Friday. Tate was impatiently waiting for you outside the campus, hanging a small bouquet of flowers he picked up.

Once he spotted you coming out from the building, he waved his hand and embraced you tightly once you were in front of him. He gave you the adorable present.

“Tate!”

“How did you do? Did you pass your tests? Don’t tell me, I’m sure you did.” Said, grinning from ear to ear. He was away from you for an entire week. How did he survive? He didn’t know, but he was glad to have you with him again. “Tell me about your life in the last days, baby. Please? I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!”

There he was, the one and only drama queen Tate Langdon.

You talked about the tests, about how the teachers were being a pain in the ass (which clearly triggered in him the intense desire of hurting them because they stressed you), and… About a guy. The same guy from the library, with whom you spent the entire last week studying. He couldn’t stand it. He saw him as a threat to your relationship, especially since he was an old friend that you met many years ago. 

As the days went by, you gave him more reasons to hate that jerk. Why? Well of course because you spent hours at the library doing homework or studying with him. Or even hanging out with him and other people.

In reality, you went out with him to a museum just once, and then skating with other colleagues. Nothing compared to the time you spent with Tate; in a week, you would hang out with him almost daily, and if you were way too busy, he would go to your place and spend the night there. He was so attached to you to the point he had to see you at least once a day. And that’s why he was so jealous of your friend. Tate couldn’t stand the idea of you sharing your life with someone else who wasn’t him or your family… And he also got jealous of them, but he was handling it.

Two weeks before today.

After Tate’s pleas, you decided to introduce your friend to him.

Probably a big mistake.

The date was really awkward; your friend tried being nice, and Tate acted surprisingly kind. Of course it was odd; usually, he despised all of your friends and treated them badly, yet this time was different. You were stunned, however, you tried to ignore it and instead got happy as he finally accepted a random person as your buddy. 

Still and all, he hated that moron. It didn’t matter how much he tried liking your pal, he was jealous of him. He was getting on his nerves. He denied the fact that you had more love for other people that wasn’t him. Tate desired being your only one. Your number one. Your entire world. Because that’s what you were for him. And he was willing to do whatever to keep you with him.

Tate exchanged numbers with him and meticulously plotted a plan to ascertain he would never talk to you ever again. At first, it came out as a simple “I’m gonna scare the shit outta him”, nonetheless, it turned into a darker idea, very likely involving physical violence.

One week before today…

The last few days, Tate won Peter’s trust. Ah yes. That’s your friend's name. You were glad that he finally opened his warm heart and began to meet more people besides you.

You thought he needed a friend, an empathetic person who could support the blond when you weren’t available, that way he would feel less lonely and depressed.

They went to the cinema, to the arcade, even to a music store. Everything was going according to what he planned.

Eventually, he invited Peter to his place to play chess and other board games on a Sunday afternoon, before you arrived and had a date with Tate due to your anniversary. 

Today, 16:00

Peter and Tate were eating pizza and having a great noon, talking about their lives and random stuff, like school and music. They both enjoyed Nirvana, and since Peter played the guitar, he agreed on teaching your boy how to.

If it weren’t for Tate’s twisted mind, they would’ve been best friends.

The guitarist wasn’t a bad guy. He was a great buddy that really appreciated you and the crybaby, but Langdon had something else in mind.

18:00

The men watched a movie. Tate didn’t even know its name; in fact, he didn’t even pay attention to it. Instead, he was focused on his next actions, plotting them carefully.

“Crap, mom’s gonna arrive soon…” Tate mumbled with annoyance, biting his nails and tapping his foot on the floor. He was lying. You were going to arrive, not Constance.

“Damn, bro. Well, I don’t have a problem. I wanna meet her.”

“Huh? No no no, you shouldn’t. That bitch is crazy.”

Peter scoffed, disagreeing with Tate’s rude manner to call his own momma.

“Hey, you shouldn’t talk like that. I bet she loves you!”

That pissed him off. “You don’t know anything, Peter. Your family is different. Your life’s different. You won’t understand!” He yelled, standing up from the couch and now pacing around the room, trying to keep it calm.

“Dude, calm down!

“NO! I fucking won’t!”

The screaming continued for a while. Tate revealed his unstable and crystal self. Even something so insignificant could drive him to the edge, like what happened today. That definitely surprised the other one, who used to think that Tate was a sweet boy. “I dunno why Y/N is dating you.”

“What did you say?” Tate abruptly stopped pacing.

“Y/N. Y/N doesn’t deserve you.”

“WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT!?” He pounced on Peter, gripping his neck with one rough hand, applying enough pressure on the sides to stop the blood circulation in his carotids and make him lose consciousness.

Before passing out, Peter, getting pale, managed to croak out: “Because she deserves better…”

Soon enough, he fainted, giving Tate minutes to think about what else to do. 

Your boyfriend wasn’t planning on murdering Peter today. No, he didn’t have time. He also was supposed to meet you.. But this was the perfect excuse! And not only that; he indirectly admitted he was in love with you! Or that’s what Tate interpreted with his delusional point of view.

Peter didn’t feel anything romantic for you, he was just worried Tate might be too unhinged to be your partner.

Thus, he went to his room and grabbed his backpack. Then, went to the garden shed and picked up the ax that belonged to his father, and a bottle of lye.

He had to get the job done quickly, nevertheless, he lost track of time.

18:30

Tate came back to the living room, just to notice that Peter wasn’t there anymore.

“FUCK IT!” Langdon got nervous. What if he escaped? What if he told you that Tate was crazy? He couldn’t allow this, not at all.

Thankfully, or maybe not, Tate found Peter crawling towards the front door, the poor dude still feeling dizzy after being choked.

Tate didn’t have any mercy.

“Where do you think you’re going, lil’ piece of shit!?”

18:38

Tate finally did it. He brutally murdered Peter, smashing his head several times with the ax.

He got rid of that little issue. He took him to somewhere clean.

Once he assured the other man wasn’t breathing, he dropped the weapon on the floor, making a loud metallic thud.

19:10

Tate was pinning you down on the couch, the same couch where your dead friend was sitting just an hour ago.

His hands were traveling all along your body, tracing sweet patterns on your skin.

Eventually, his fingers were clumsily pulling down your panties, not minding to take off your skirt. “Did you bring this for easy access, baby?” Tate chuckled and buried his face between your legs, holding your thighs in place; his lips plastered messy kisses over the warm flesh, biting it and leaving tiny marks after sucking.

Your reaction was alluring to him; he enjoyed listening to your pleas, to your whimpers. If it was for him, he would spend the entire day making you cum over and over again.

He finally got rid of your underwear, tossing it aside. Without further ado, the boy spread your folds with his large digits, and continued to lick your throbbing wet cunt.

“So fucking pretty… So wet for me, huh?”

His tongue lapped your small clit two or three times, then, traced a zigzag and circles on the sensitive nub. While he devoured you, he inserted his middle and ring finger, pumping them in and out of your cute hole, curling them and hitting the right spot to make you feel butterflies.

Tate could feel his arousal growing; his erection being restrained by the tight fabric of his jeans. He was desperate, yeah. But he always put you in the first place, and that included pleasuring you before him.

After a while, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, fucking your pussy with the agile muscle and now rubbing your clit with his thumb, applying pressure that sent electric waves through your body. He stopped using his tongue on you and instead looked at that stunning face of yours. He was delighted with your flushed cheeks, with every single gesture you did, with the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He wanted to take a picture of you to remember this moment forever.

His thumb increased the pace, while his free hand lifted up your blouse and tried to undo your bra. He couldn’t. You giggled when he groaned in frustration; he was too horny to think straight and that’s why you helped him to take off the garment.

Tate sighed and after that awkward and funny moment, he kept rubbing your bud, using your own juices and his saliva as a lubricant, intensifying the sensation. His left pinched and pulled your nipple, making you gasp and twitch beneath him, whilst his mouth abused your other one, greedily sucking on it.

“Tate, ‘m gonna cum! I-”

Tate cut you off by kissing you harshly; his tongue invading your warm mouth, exploring it and then nibbling your bottom lip until it bleeded. He licked the tiny drops of blood, savoring the metallic taste of it.

Unable to hold on any longer, you reached your orgasm, coming undone while Tate kept caressing your pussy, decreasing the velocity while you finally calmed down.

He left you panting; your heart beating so fast just like his.

You tried to sit up on the couch, breathing deep for more air, but the blond prevented you from going away.

“Where do you think you’re doing? We’re not done yet, you’re gonna cum again!”

Tate carried you bridal style and went upstairs straight to his bedroom. He threw you on the bed.

Without stopping looking at you, he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans along the boxers; his dick already erect and throbbing, the veins thick and the tip leaking precum.

Using the clear liquid as lube, he stroked his shaft for a while, jerking off to the sight of you. He groaned and whimpered, closing his eyes as his hand pumped himself.

One of your hands went to your breasts, massaging them softly as your right went down between your legs, slowly teasing your womanhood and coating your index finger with your arousal, using it to rub your aching bundle of nerves.

Tate’s dark room was now filled with both of your moans; Tate calling your name several times and you begging him to fuck you.

He couldn’t stand this anymore. He NEEDED to be inside you, to feel your warmth enveloping him. “On all fours. Now.” You immediately obeyed, feeling as eager as him.

“Look at me, mhm?” He positioned behind you and rubbed the tip against your wet folds, teasing you for a bit. Afterwards, he slowly entered his cock inside your slit, moving it slowly at first. His thumb went to your clitoris, toying with it just like minutes before. He picked up the pace and fucked you fast and hard; his cockhead brushing your cervix. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Tate pulled your head towards him, still with the deep thrusting.  “Fuck, Y/N! You’re so pretty… So fucking precious, so fucking mine!” Moaned against your ear, voice raspy and agitated.

Panting, you stopped looking at him and instead looked to the bed. Why? Who knows, but you did it. And you saw Tate’s dirty clothes. Dirty with blood. A lot of blood.

You froze. Maybe it was red paint? 

“U-uh, Tate?” You muttered, feeling already bewildered by the sight. You tried not to jump into conclusions, although you knew Tate and he has always been… Secretive.. And aggressive, of course. 

After your boyfriend heard your shaky whisper, he stopped moving, even if he wanted to keep going. “Hm?”

“What’s this?” Tate sighed and pulled out from you, not understanding what you meant. 

“What’s what?”

Without saying anything else to him, you grabbed the shirt and touched the weird stain. It was still fresh. You took your fingers to your mouth to taste it; and the metallic tang was too obvious. “Tate, what the fuck is this!?”

You threw it at him. Freaked out, you stood up and picked up your clothes, putting them on again, all meanwhile Tate connected the dots and realized he was probably going to get caught.

“Wait, Y/N! It’s not what it looks like, I swear, damn it!” He yelled and grabbed your arm, not wanting you to leave like this. He had to save his reputation, he couldn’t let you think bad of him even if you had all the right. Because, why the fuck the fabric was soaked in blood?

“Then what is it, Tate? WHY DOES IT HAVE SO MUCH BLOOD!?”

“CALM DOWN, PLEASE!” 

You attempted to get away from his grip, struggling with him until, somehow, you managed to do so. However, you tripped with his dirty shoes and fell, realizing they were also stained with the red liquid. “Tate, what…? Why? What is this?”

“Nothing, I swear!” He didn’t have any excuses. Saying it was paint would’ve been lame. You were too smart and he knew lying wasn’t a good choice.

Feeling overwhelmed with the matter, you went downstairs, walking as fast as you could. Passing through the living room, a very familiar bag caught your eye. It was definitely Peter’s. You decided to grab it and realized it had his phone inside. Something was off.

Tate was standing behind you; fists clenched and heart beating like crazy. He tried to approach you, still thinking about what to do or what to say. 

“Tate… What is this doing here? Peter’s here?” 

“Huh? Yeah… He— He came earlier and had to go soon, he left this accidentally, yup…” You could see him fidgeting with that ring on his finger, again. 

“Bullshit!”

Tate scowled and grabbed your chin, making you look at his dark orbs. “Tell me, Y/N, do you trust me or not, huh? Look me in the eyes and say you don’t!”

The struggle continued for what seemed eternity. You trying to run away from the house and he trying to make you stay. “Please, Y/N, just listen to me!”

“You did something to him, right? I know him, Tate! He would NEVER leave his phone like this! Is this a joke?”

“Why do you care so much about that asshole!? What has he done for you!? Tell me!”

“Oh my, you’re jealous! I knew it! All that crap about being his friend was a lie, right? Tate, you’re being delusional! I can have friends, I can hang out with whoever I want, whether you like it or not!” 

Tate pressed your cheeks between his thumb and the rest of his fingers, squeezing the flesh with his veiny, big hand, pressing it tightly enough to leave the mark of his long digits on it.

“You can’t! You’re mine. Only mine. Since the day you were born you were meant to be mine. Not his, not anybody, just me.”

“Tate… We should end this…” You thought this was the best for both. Being in a relationship with him was draining; always being careful to not hurt him, make him jealous or mad. He was such a sensitive boy that always took everything too personally. He felt everything a little too much.

Since the beginning you knew he was unstable and that he had many issues, but you tried to see beyond his sick mind, you tried to understand him despite being so different.

Tate felt so safe with you. You were the only person who understood him, or at least made attempts to. 

He felt rejected by the entire society, even by his own mother, until he met you and he had a minimum spark of hope that the world didn’t suck that much.

That’s why he clung to you. That’s why you were his everything. He would lose his mind if you leave him.

He felt like dying when he heard you wanted to finish the relationship.

He couldn’t breathe. 

Some tears were now falling to the floor, his eyes puffy and an ugly frown on his face. His mouth twisted as he sobbed loudly, tugging the hem of your shirt while he begged you to stay. He was crying like a newborn, like a baby who had to be apart from his mother for a second.

“No no no no, you can’t do this to me!” He whimpered, his speech cracking as he tried to hold you close whilst you were stepping back. You were slipping through his fingers, you were leaving him.

“Tate, if something happened to Peter, I will never forgive you! Can’t you see you’re hurting me?”

Tate swore he would never hurt you, nor let anyone. But here he was, finally snapping out of it and seeing the cruel truth. 

“You’ve been hurting me the whole time, Tate! I tried to understand you, I really did, I tried to help you, to save you from yourself! But it’s impossible. I’m losing myself here with you, I don’t even know who I am anymore! You don’t want help, do you? ‘Cause it doesn’t matter what I do, you’re never satisfied! You suffocate me!”

All those words were like daggers penetrating his skin, touching his nerves and making him die of pain. You were tearing him apart, just the way he was destroying you.

He finally let go of you, feeling a tornado of emotions. Tate felt depressed, mad, resentful, like he was going crazy. Though, he knew he had to leave if that’s what you wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to break another promise.

Thereby, he confessed his crimes to you. He explained he killed his mom’s partner a few days ago, and that now he had killed your friend. Why? He was jealous, he was scared you’d left him. You did it before you discovered the cruel reality, anyways. That’s why he told you. Because he couldn’t lose anything else.

The situation was utterly disgusting. Tate was sick. He murdered an innocent man and then proceeded to fuck you, as it was the maximum test of love, as if his life meant nothing.

You knew he wasn’t what people often considered “normal”. But this was definitely more than just being a “weirdo”. Tate needed psychiatric help… And being arrested, of course.

“You make me wanna puke, Tate! You’re the evil!”

Without hesitating, you left Tate behind, running as fast as you could from that living hell.

You just wanted to cry, curl up into a ball and wake up from this nightmare. You wished it was merely a bad dream.

Tomorrow morning, you’d go to the police, but for now you needed to sleep.

Monday morning, 11:05

You couldn’t sleep all night. You spent hours thinking about everything, about how this looked like a cruel joke to you. Eventually, you fell asleep at 4AM, and didn’t wake up at what seemed almost midday. 

An intense sound of police sirens woke you from your slumber. Startled by the loud noise, you rubbed your eyes and went to the window, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening outside.

Police cars and SWAT vans were going in a specific direction… Towards Tate’s street. It couldn’t be, right?

Did his mother find the corpse? Or perhaps something else?

You looked at the clock, realizing it was late and you had to go to class. 

08:00

After the most painful night of his life, Tate decided today everything would be over.

He had to cleanse the world… To take people to somewhere else, to some place full of peace away from the piss and the vomit that runs down the streets.

He was doing this not only because of your breakup, but also because of many other reasons. Your split up was the straw that broke the camel and drove him to the edge.

10:40

 After shooting the school, Tate left the place, looking unfazed about what he just did. He was unhinged. 

He peacefully got into his place, went to his room and stayed there for some minutes. 

The blond sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the gun right next to him and stared at nothing. His gaze was empty, but also there were some tears threatening to spill.

His mind was a whirlwind. Some part of him was satisfied, but the other was confused, wondering what was he thinking, what had he done?

What would you think of him now? Were you even there? Did he kill you too and he didn’t even notice?

In the end, he recognized he indeed was the evil you said. Damn it. You were right, again, as ever.

Tate wanted to hear your voice, to comfort him, to hear you saying everything was okay. That he’d be okay. He desired to hear “I love you” from you once more.

11:15

You went downstairs to find your family apparently mourning you.

They thought you were at school when the shooting happened. They believed you were gone, but here you were. 

Eventually, they explained to you what happened.

The first thing that popped into your mind was Tate’s wellbeing, still unaware that he was the culprit. You were afraid something terrible could’ve happened to him, you were regretting your last words to him, but you also had to get him prisoner.

Your heart dropped when they explained to you he was the shooter.

No, it couldn’t be possible. 

It was possible. After all, he had already killed two men.

Even if you despise what he did, some part of you still longed for him, still was in love with his once kind heart.

A terrifying feeling of dread filled your body, making you feel numb, as if none of this was real… 

11:25

After running to Tate’s house and seeing it surrounded by the cops and the SWAT team, everything stopped. Constance’s distressed cries and pleas were heard from outside, followed suit by the sound of bullets. It was over now.

Tate was certainly a troubled individual who dedicated his entire life to searching for something, to feel something, to feel loved.

All he asked for was love, to be loved, to love. All he wanted was you.

But at the same time, your love led him to an never-ending obsession that ultimately broke both of you.

He became your biggest regret.

All he feared, all his nightmares came true. Everything he was so afraid of was him and only himself. 

[woso-dreamzzz]

Tears

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Summary: You want Mami

You hadn't meant to get lost.

Everything was just so confusing and you were so small.

The locker room was loud in the run-up to the game and it grated on your ears. You didn't know a lot of girls on the Spain team. You know a few who play for Barcelona but you don't know them well. You stick close to Mami's side during training and the only other person who had ever gotten you out of your shell (Jenni) no longer played for Barca.

She played for Spain though but she's busy right now, jumping around and singing with Mariona and Misa from Real Madrid. It was loud and everyone was hyping themselves up for the final, but it was too noisy for you.

You don't know where your Mami's gone but you know that she's not here and you know that you don't want to be here either.

You slip out of the room and away from the noise. It isn't like Camp Nou here so you have to guess your way around. It makes you a little worried and your throat closes a little bit as tears prick in your eyes.

You just want Mami.

You just want to find her.

You don't know how long you wander around before you give up. You go limp against a wall and burst into tears. You pull your knees up to your chest and sob.

You don't like Australia, you decide. You don't like the World Cup and you don't like football. Football takes your Mami from you and now there's no one to look after you.

You wish you were back in Spain with Mami because then you could lay against her and calm down but instead, you're in Australia, sitting on the stone-cold floor with your hands clamped over your ears as if it would stop the ringing you're experiencing in them.

You shriek and sob when hands close around your wrists and try to tug them away from your ears. You scrunch your eyes closed as you scream.

"Hey, hey, calm down. It's just me. It's Lucy."

You know Lucy from Barcelona. She's friends with Mami so you open your eyes but she's not your friend so you still shy away from her.

"What are you doing here?" She asks softly," Where's Alexia?"

Your bottom lip wobbles. "Mami gone," You sob," Mami's gone and can't find her! Want Mami!" More tears spill down your cheeks.

"Okay, okay," Lucy says," Can I pick you up? Is that okay?"

You shake your head. You don't want her touching you again. You don't want anyone touching you but Mami.

"Luce, what's taking so lon- Oh...y/n...What are you doing here?" Keira from Barcelona has joined now too.

You take back what you thought. You want Keira to hold you and you crawl into her lap and sob into her England jersey. "Lost Mami," You say to her through your sobs," Mami's gone!"

The day you were born was easily the worst and the best day of Alexia's life. It was a tough decision to make, to take time out of the season to have you. Football or family hadn't been a decision she had ever had to make before.

Her family had always been supportive of her football dream. She had never had to choose between them.

But the choice of you had been a difficult one.

She could either keep playing and never get this chance again or put her career on pause in favour of having you.

(She chose you).

The pregnancy had been easy for the most part but at thirty-four weeks, Alexia woke up to bleeding.

She got to the hospital and you were delivered prematurely. Holding you was the greatest moment of her life. You were all slimy and gross but you were perfect.

And then...

You stopped breathing.

You went completely limp in her arms and she screamed as the doctors took you away, pumped you full of steroids and fitted you with an oxygen mask.

You were tiny and your undeveloped lungs nearly killed you. You spent weeks in the NICU with a ventilator until you were finally strong enough to survive on your own.

You were tiny then and, somehow, you looked even tinier now, curled up on Keira's lap with tear tracks on your face.

"Mami," You whimper softly," Mami."

"Oh, pequeñita," Mami coos," There you are. I've been worried sick."

You weigh more now than you did when you were born but Alexia still holds you like when you're a baby.

"Where you go?" You sob," Wanted you. Didn't know where you were!"

You try to bury yourself into her and Mami just holds you tighter.

"I'm sorry, pequeñita," Mami says softly to you, holding you close enough that you feel like you crawl back into her skin and live there forever. "I'm so sorry."

You were a sensitive little girl and maybe that was Alexia's fault. She had kept you sheltered for much of your life and you rarely strayed from her side. You found respite in Jenni when she used to play in Spain but with her in Mexico, you stuck more firmly to Alexia.

It had been a dangerous balancing act this entire World Cup. She could have left you at home with your Tia Alba and Abuela but she didn't. You had been verging on a breakdown for a while now.

It just sucked that it was happening now.

"Want to go home," You beg," Mami, I want to go home."

"I know," Mami whispers to you," I know. We'll be home soon, I promise."

[hairmetal666]

Read Part One here

cw: implied child abuse

Eddie's coming over for coffee. Not Eddie with Nancy and Robin or Eddie with the kids. Just Eddie.

They haven't been alone in 9 years and now Eddie is coming over for coffee.

They're friends, of course. After Vecna they didn't have much of a choice, but they've never talked about it--that they used to be something.

After Steve kissed Eddie goodbye for what turned out to be the last time, they didn't see each other again for months and months, except for a devastatingly fleeting moment in the Family Video parking lot. And the next time after that, Eddie's pinning him to the wall of a rickety boathouse, a broken bottle to his throat.

What's going through his mind, his body, at that moment is relief. For days, weeks, months, he ached for Eddie's touch again, and even though he was in danger, he relished in the push of their bodies together. Thought, if this is how he dies, he won't mind going.

But they don't talk about it, about them, because Eddie is on the run and Max is going to die, and they have to save the world, so there's no time. In the aftermath, it's the least of their worries, and now it's been almost a decade and Eddie is coming over for coffee.

The thing is, it's not like Steve has been pining away for a love long lost in the intervening years, and neither has Eddie. They've both had longterm, serious relationships; Steve almost got married. But for Steve...Eddie is the one that's lingered, the one that knocks around his ribcage on late sleepless nights, the one that makes him dream of what might have been. Because Steve truly loved his other partners, but Eddie--nobody will ever compare.

Someone is knocking a rhythm at his front door, and he can't stifle his smile even as his heart runs riot in his chest.

"Hey, man," he says, remarkably nonchalant as he takes Eddie in. Still beautiful, still brimming with energy; his smile wide and dimpled, bouncing on his toes.

"Harrington!" Eddie grabs him into a quick side hug, slapping his back. "Since when do you wear glasses?"

Steve chuckles, touching the horn-rimmed frames. "Oh, god, Robin forced me to get them back in '87? Too many concussions." He touches his forehead. "I usually just wear contacts."

"It's a good look," Eddie says. He's very much not looking at Steve, eyes roaming around the Chicago apartment he's been to many times before.

He watches as Eddie spots the display of his own books, index finger slowly slipping across the spines in a way that makes Steve remember when those same fingers would slide down his spine. He stifles a shiver, turns towards the kitchen.

"So, how's New York? How's the book coming?"

"Livin' the dream." It's not flippant, not like how most people mean it. Eddie leaks genuineness, always has. "The book though...it's a little rough."

Steve sets the coffee maker going, brings fresh pastries and a couple plates over to the table. "I can imagine. It doesn't--it doesn't have to be the same, you know?"

"Yeah, if only I hadn't written three other books leading up to the evil mind wizard," Eddie chuckles. He grabs a croissant and tears it in half. "It'll be alright, Harrington. I'll figure it out. I lived through it the first time, after all."

Steve doesn't remind him that he almost didn't, that they almost didn't. Instead, he pours coffee, listens as Eddie talks about how to fictionalize the worst month of their collective lives.

He splashes milk into Eddie's coffee, taps in three scoops of sugar. He carries it to where Eddie waits, still talking about the logistics of Vecna-slash-Henry-slash-One in his novel, but his words abruptly stop as his hands wrap around the porcelain.

"Steve?"

It's only then that Steve realizes what he's done--made Eddie's coffee like he took it back then, made it without thinking, totally on muscle memory, when the best of his mornings were spent in Eddie's arms.

His cheeks glow crimson and he grips at the back of his neck. "S-sorry." He says. "It--is this still how you take it?"

"Yeah." Eddie's eyes fall from Steve's face, his own cheeks pink. "It's--yeah. Still the same."

"I'm sorry--"

"--Steve, I--"

They don't laugh. They both stop speaking and look at each other, faces still red. Steve thinks there's nothing for it but to get it all out now.

"I'm sorry, Eddie." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I never came back. I'm sorry I didn't explain why. I'm just--really, really sorry."

Eddie's eyes are hooked on the table top, fingers twisting and twisting his coffee mug. "Can I--why? I waited and you--why?"

Steve swallows, but it gets stuck in his throat, and now he's the one who can't look up from his hands.

"My parents got home early," he manages. "My dad, he was waiting for me. I guess one of the neighbors thought it best to tell them who I'd been spending my time with."

Silence falls over the table, and he chances a look up at the man across from him, the one whose knuckles bite into his lips, whose eyes shine with unshed tears.

"You should've called me. You should've--you could've stayed with us. We would've kept you safe."

"Eddie, I couldn't. I physically couldn't," the admission costs him so much.

"Steve," Eddie chokes on his name, voice nothing but anguish. "Did anyone--You could've--you were all alone."

He shakes his head. "Robin knew. She snuck through my window to take care of me, but my parents--I couldn't--" This time the words really won't come. "We made a plan. We started that job at Family Video, and we saved up our money."

Now, Eddie's face is creased with grief. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

Steve shakes his head, smiles despite the wreckage around his heart. "You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. I left you with no explanation. I broke your heart. And--and--" He thinks, what does it hurt to say it at this point. "I love you. I love you so much. I convinced myself you were better off without me, that we could have a clean break and you could get over me."

Eddie's hands cover his face, muffle the sob that slips out. "Get over you?" He whispers. "There's never been one like you, sweetheart."

He slides around the table to kneel at Eddie's side. "Hey." Deep brown eyes stare back at him, Eddie's face wet with tears. "It's always you, Ed. Always. I didn't want to say anything, if you had moved on, but--"

There's not really any transition from them talking to them kissing; Steve slips into it like he did all those years ago, when he first asked for Eddie's kiss. Their mouths slot together, their bodies fit like they always used to, perfect puzzle pieces. Steve's knees give out at the first brush of Eddie's tongue, and they collapse into a heap on the kitchen floor. Even then, they don't part.

Eventually, Steve does break the embrace, face flushed and hair a disaster, glasses hanging off one ear. "Okay, trying to be responsible here. Should we take a pause, go on a date first? Slow down?"

"Nine years isn't slow enough?" Eddie's pupils are blown, hair frizzed around his head.

"When you put it that way," Steve can't help but laugh. "I just want to do right by you, Eddie. Make up for--everything."

Eddie grins down at him, that sunshine beam smile where his dimples pop. "Tell you what, how bout you take me to bed now, and I'll let you take me on a date tomorrow?"

"Oh, you'll let me?" Steve rakes a hand through Eddie's mane of hair. "I don't think you'll have any choice."

"You sure about that, Stevie?" Their lips are so close, the brush with every word.

"Uh-huh," Steve's having trouble keeping his eyes focused, overwhelmed by the sheer force of Eddie Munson. "Never letting you go again, Ed."

Surprise! Part 2! I genuinely had no intention on doing a follow-up, but so many of you asked so nicely that it gave me this idea. Sorry if I miss anyone in the tag list and thank you for reading! @everywherenothere @tiny-enthusiast @emma-elsa-0000 @fuzzyduxk @moonythepluviophile @anaibis @rhapsodyinalto @bunk12bear @tillystealeaves @velocitytimes2 @s-trawberryv-eins @marklee-blackmore @ignoremyworld @its-a-me-a-morgan @goodolefashionedloverboi @starman-jpg @djohawke @adaydreamaway08

[nofingjustaninchident]

i need marriage au jason so bad, he’d be such a good hubby

ᯓ★ next to you

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

pairing jason grace x fem!reader

summary just jason being the most awesome lovey dovey person in the world and you breaking down

warnings angst/comfort, a little too fluffy

authors note is that… me??? posting again??? i’m in shock. literally this ask is from my jason event almost three months ago i’m so so sorry

now listening to die with a smile by bruno mars and lady gaga

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Jason spent the day at home, enjoying the peace and quiet of their cozy apartment. He’d gotten up early, tidied the place, and then decided to surprise y/n with something special. He knew how stressful her job could be, and he wanted to make her happy, especially if she had a rough day.  

He wanted to do something that would bring a smile to her face the moment she walked through the door. After a bit of thought, he decided to bake her favorite cookies - soft, gooey, and loaded with chocolate chips. He remembered how much she loved them, especially when they were fresh out of the oven, still warm and melty. 

As he knew that she’d take a little while to get home, he decided to walk down the street to their favorite flower shop. He bought a bouquet of her favorite flowers. After, he went to the store and bought everything they needed for the week so she didn’t have to worry about doing it later, and walked back home.  

As the evening approached, he baked the cookies and made sure they were just the way she likes it. When he heard the key turning in the lock, he was pulling the last batch out from the oven.  

y/n stepped inside; her shoulders were slumped with exhaustion. The weight of the day was evident in her eyes, and Jason’s heart ached to see her like that. But as soon as she looked up and saw him standing there, holding the tray of freshly baked cookies, her expression changed. 

He gave her an awkward smile as he put the tray on the counter, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, you’re early. I didn’t have time to clean the house, but I restocked the things we needed and I-” he said, smiling as he grabbed the bouquet and offered it to her. “bought you flowers.”  

“Surprise,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of warmth. He gave her the biggest, brightest smile, hoping it would lift her spirits. 

y/n was frozen for a moment, her eyes welling up with tears. The sight of Jason, the scent of the cookies, the flowers and the sheer love behind something so trivial - it was too much. The stress, the frustration, the exhaustion - all of it came crashing down at once. 

Without a word, she dropped her bag and rushed into his arms, burying her face in his chest as the tears finally spilled over. Jason wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as she cried, whispering soothing words into her hair.  

He didn’t quite understand why she was crying, but he just held her close. “Hey, it’s okay. I've got you.”  

Her sobs were muffled against his shirt, but Jason could feel the tension in her body slowly melting away as she clung to him. He rocked her gently, letting her release all the emotions she had been holding in throughout the day. 

After a few moments, y/n pulled back slightly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She looked up at Jason, her cheeks flushed and eyes red from crying, but there was a small, grateful smile on her lips. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaky but sincere. “You have no idea how much this means to me.” 

He cupped her cheeks, squeezing her face and kissing her forehead, then her nose, then his lips. “You’ll never have to thank me for this. I'm your husband. And, just like I said in that altar two years ago, I'm with you for better or worse, sickness or health. It doesn't matter if you’re having the worst or the best day of your life. I just want to make it better, always.”  

She let out a watery laugh and kissed him, the salty taste of tears mixing to their mouths. When they finally broke apart, she kept their foreheads touching for a little while and pecked his lips one more time.  

“My days are always better when I'm with you.” She muttered.  

[l0v3tast3]

141 men finding out military!reader is only 19 after they break down from being overwhelmed and overworked??

✎ this idea bounces around my head a lot actually and now i have a reason to write it down finally :) i wasn't sure if you wanted them altogether or separately so i did it separately because it's easier lol. i kept it platonic and sfw!

✎ tags : gender neutral!reader, reader has a panic attack, descriptions of violence/injury/death, swearing, hurt to comfort, all platonic relationships, only half proofread

you're barging into the safehouse where he had said to rendezvous, gasping for air that your closed throat won't let through. the rifle held in your dominant hand is dropped as soon as the door is shut behind you, and you're clawing at the straps of your helmet and chest armor to get them off because it's too tight and it's too much and you can't breathe.

this wasn't your first mission. it wasn't even the bloodiest one you'd been on thus far. you could handle the gore and the death and the pure misery of the victims of these situations, because at the end of the day, you were helping them, right?

unless you were too late.

the family had been huddled in a corner, two children laying underneath their parents. there had still been two other rooms to check in the house, but you were running out on shaky legs.

he's in front of you now, looking down at you and asking if you're injured. you're sitting on the floor, heaving for breath and tears pouring from your glassy eyes.

"it's not- it's not fucking fair!" you cried out finally, trying desperately to wipe your face dry on your sleeves, but it only worked to redden your skin further. "why are these people doing this? how could someone be so cruel?"

he sighed softly, not knowing how to respond. the team didn't show emotions like this, they didn't deal with them, not like this. but they had all been here, where you are now. they had all asked why, again and again and again until the word lost all meaning.

"i mean, are we even really helping? god, these people are all already dead! why are we here? why- jesus fucking christ, why am i here?" you rambled; you weren't talking to him anymore. your voice was fizzling out, getting quiet enough that he had to lean closer to hear your unsteady words.

"i can't help these people," you sobbed. "i'm just a kid, i'm only nineteen, i can't- i don't know what i'm supposed to do! they said i was special! they told me- said i was so much better and smarter than everyone else, what a fucking joke!"

☆ simon "ghost" riley

he knew you were young, but fuck, if that didn't break his heart, there was nothing left that would. simon didn't talk to you more than any of the others on the team, but you were special, like a little sibling to the team, to him. always having enough energy and kindness to make up for the rest of them.

seeing you like this was a first, even for him, the man who had seen the worst of the worst. it wasn't like he was immune to emotions, but he had spent so long pressing them all down until he couldn't feel them that this was new to him again. all he could do was offer a hand on your knee that he hoped resembled something like comfort.

"we're almost done here. the heli will come for us soon," he said quietly. "you did good, like always."

he watched and waited with you while your sobs whittled away to sniffles, never moving his hand from your knee, where you had grabbed onto it with one of your own. most people knew not to touch him, that they'd end up with one less hand if they did, but you were an exception.

☆ john "soap" mactavish

at first, he doesn't do anything, just kneels in front of you and stares in shock. you're nineteen? you had always danced around the question that the team would tease you with, asking if you still had to work on your homework, but it was always a joke. now it wasn't.

instead of dwelling, john shifts and sits in front of you, almost hovering over you awkwardly as he tried to figure out what to do. sure, he was one of the more open people on the team, but when you're standing next to ghost, just smiling makes you look emotionally vulnerable.

he takes your hands away from your face and into his, placing them on your lap before gently holding your shoulders. "look, we're almost done here, alright? we'll be far away before you know it." that didn't help much, so he paused again.

the almost-distraught look on his face forced a giggle out of you. his worry turned to confusion, why are you laughing now? you probably shouldn't have been, but the big, scottish military-man fretting over you was kind of funny.

"alrigh', lass, at least something cheered ya up," he grumbled, but turned serious again right after. "higher-ups were right, ya know. you are smarter than the rest of 'em. maybe even smarter than us, yeah?" he said with a smile.

☆ kyle "gaz" garrick

it wasn't that long ago that kyle was where you are now, fresh out of school and eager to prove himself in the military. except it had taken him several years longer than you to reach where you both were now; he had had plenty of time to come to terms with the horrors he saw.

now he realized that you hadn't, because you were smart and you were better than most other people, so they had thrown you in, like a minnow in a piranha pond. by all means, you were doing wonderfully for your circumstances, but you could only keep going for so long.

he sat down beside you, shoulder-to-shoulder, and wrapped an arm around you to bring your head down to rest on him. he sat with you quietly, giving you the time you needed to just get it all out.

eventually, once you're more calm, he breaks the silence with bad jokes that he definitely stole from simon.

"why do twitter users make bad soldiers?" you lifted your head to stare at him incredulously before he continued, "because, they're too quick to retweet."

☆ john price

the captain knew how young you were. he never told you, but he hadn't wanted you on the team at first; the second he was handed your file and saw your birthdate, he started protesting. but it wasn't up to him this time. he couldn't spare you from this, and he knew that it would always weigh on him. he knew he would always remember this, you, crumbling in on yourself in a heap on the floor.

john came down on one knee in front of you and started telling you a story about when he had started, how one of his first missions had gone so terribly wrong. you honestly thought he was just going to tell you to "suck it up" until he told you about one family he had saved during that mission, one that was still alive today. they still sent him letters, even.

"all you need is one good save, kid. and you've got dozens already," he murmured. he wouldn't say it outright, but you really were one of his best.

you remembered the child clinging to your back as you ran out of a collapsing building, the woman who's leg you had managed to get unstuck from fallen debris, the man you had stopped from being executed just in time.

price smiled once he saw he had gotten through to you and helped, at least a little, and roughly patted your shoulder. "evac will be here soon, chin up now."

[fanficsformyfaves]

I Don't Wanna Live Forever Pt.2

Rhea Ripley x Fem Prostitute!Reader (Pt.1)

WARNING: ANGST, Depressive Episode, Harassment, Bar Fight, Violence, Confrontation, Confessions, Hurt to Comfort

PREFACE: Reader was Rhea's favorite girl to call on a Saturday night, but little did she know that the wrestler was falling harder and harder with each visit

A/N: Special Appearance by The Judgment Day!

Shed a couple tears over this, but it's cool

The radio silence was unbearable. It had been weeks and with each day that passed, I began to regret what I did more and more. If I'd truly done the right thing, why didn't it feel like it? Why did it feel like I'd just lost a part of myself losing her? I had only myself to blame, so it was unfair of me to be angry at her, but I was.

I was angry at the longing stares and the gentle caresses against my bare skin. I was angry at the inside jokes and little secrets that were shared beneath her sheets. I was angry at all the nights we spent in each others arms. All the things that got me in this mess in the first place, but most of all...I was angry at myself.

Angry that I was too much of a coward to tell her that her feelings were in fact reciprocated.

With where my head was at and how devasting everything was, I decided to completely resign from the service that was using me. In no world could I imagine continuing to be in other peoples beds, when all I wanted was to be in hers. Out of every low point I'd hit before, this was by far the worst one.

I could barely get out of bed without tears immediately streaming down my face. Days felt empty and nights felt suffocating like my body knew something was missing. Even simple tasks like eating and breathing had now become burdensome.

I didn't know whether or not I'd make it out of this one, but by some miracle, I was met with a chance at starting over.

An old friend of mine that used to work with me in the same service recently reached out upon hearing about my departure from one of the other girls. I found out, shortly after leaving, that she got a job at a bar closer to the city and that they were hiring new drink-runners. The pay was decent and I needed something to keep me busy, so of course, I said yes to being interviewed.

I sent in my resume, went in on Monday and the next morning, I got a call saying I was hired, which brings us to right now.

The night started of fine with me just serving the drinks and food, when I heard the bell signaling someone came in. It was a group of obnoxiously loud men that immediately had me and my friend rolling our eyes. I picked up some menus and reluctantly headed over to the table they chose.

"Welcome, what can I get started for you guys?", I say,

Placing down the laminated papers.

"No fucking way!", I heard one of them exclaim,

And when I turn to see who it was, my heart dropped. It was a guy that I previously serviced.

"Yes?", I asked,

Playing clueless.

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you don't recognize me...or the fun little night we had"

I could tell by the way he slurred his words that he was incredibly drunk. His group immediately began snickering and raking their eyes up and down my body.

"I'm sorry, sir. You must be thinking of someone else"

"Nah, I'd recognize those tits anywhere", he declared,

Causing 'oohs' to echo from the table.

I held my composure and took a deep breath through my nose.

"Excuse me, gentlemen", I said,

Walking away and heading back to the bar.

"What's up?", my friend asked,

Seeing the irritated expression on my face.

"Old clients at table 6"

"Ugh, again? Do they not have jobs? They're here every night"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, you haven't been scheduled past 8 yet, so you were lucky enough not to run into them", she explained,

"Well, I guess I'm shit outta luck now", I joked.

And as if the universe couldn't have had worse timing, another group walks in and the sinking feeling in my chest had now become a burning sting.

"Wait, isn't that-"

Before my friend could get her words out, I immediately hid in the kitchen. I hear her calling out to me as I left, but didn't bother turning back to look.

Out of any place on earth and out of any bar, she just had to show up at the one that I work at? This had to have been some sick joke. What was I meant to do now? It's not like I could just leave and risk getting in trouble on my second week.

I stayed still a few minutes to recollect myself and once I was successful, I take in one last deep breath, before heading back out.

"You've got this", my friend reassured,

Handing me four menus.

I made my way towards her table and the closer I got, the harder it became for the both of us to ignore the other's gaze.

"Welcome, what can I get started for you guys?", I say,

Putting on my best customer service voice.

"I'll take chicken tenders", the one with the mullet answered,

"We both want steaks, medium rare", the tallest added on,

As I jotted down their orders.

"Alright and...for you, miss?", I asked,

The hesitance in my voice giving my nerves away.

"Just some gin for now", she answered,

Avoiding eye contact.

As painful as it was, I decided against asking any further questions at the risk of making things any more uncomfortable.

"Those should be right out", I nod my head,

Walking off, but as I was headed towards the serving hatch to put the orders in, I felt a hand grab my wrist.

"What time do you get off?", the asshole from earlier questioned,

Causing me to rip my arm away.

"Excuse you", I scolded,

Going to turn away, when he grabbed me by the arm next. I could feel the panic start to set in and my eyes start to water.

"Get off, seriously", my words trembled,

"Oh, what? Does the slut think she's too good for m-", his sentence was cut short by a tissue holder hitting the back of his head,

Causing him to fall over.

"She said get off", Rhea warned through gritted teeth,

"Handle this, I'm taking her home", she ordered her friends,

They all turn to each other smirking, before sauntering over to the table full of the guy's friends. They all immediately took off, leaving him behind to fend for himself.

"Come on", she urged,

"My shift isn't over", I shakily muttered,

She sighed, taking out her wallet.

"Dom, make sure to let the manager knows what happened and that (Y/N) went home", she instructed,

Pulling out a couple hundreds, before dropping them on the table.

"You got it, mami", he said,

Picking up the guy and dragging him outside with the help of the other two men.

"Wait, what are they-"

"Doesn't matter. Come on", she throws an arm over my shoulder,

Leading me outside and helping me into her car. The last thing I saw before driving off was the three men completely pummeling the guy into a pulp. Not to say he didn't deserve it, but, I still couldn't help but feel uneasy.

The car ride wasn't much help either. Besides the quite hum that came from the engine and the passing cars, it was mostly silent. She must've noticed, as her hand gently gripped my knee in an attempt to calm me down.

"Are you hurt?", she finally spoke,

"My arm's sore", I answered hesitantly,

Causing her to let out a shaky exhale through her nose.

He did yank me pretty hard, so I wouldn't be surprised if I woke up to a handprint on me.

"We're almost at mine", she lets me know.

As if I didn't already recognize the street we were on. I mean I'd been down this road too many times not to.

"We're here"

She pulls into her driveway and gets out to open my door for me. She then leads me into the house, urging me to take a seat on the sofa.

"I'll get an icebag. Wait, here"

"It's fine-"

Before I could object, she had already left the living room.

The tension was so apparent, I felt it in my bones. She was cold and guarded, but I had no right to fault her for it. I was the one who ended things and now, I had to lay in the bed I made.

She returns with the ice and lifts my sleeve to press it against the bruise, causing me to wince at the ache.

"Who was that guy, anyways?", she questioned,

"An old client. I don't work there anymore though"

For the first time this whole evening, her eyes finally met mine.

"What?"

"I quit last month. I couldn't do it anymore", I admitted,

As her gaze softened.

"Why?"

"It's not important", I tried to brush off,

"(Y/N)"

"It doesn't matter-"

"(Y/N)", she called sternly,

Causing tears to prick at my eyes.

"Did someone hurt you?"

"No-"

"Then what?"

What was I meant to say? That I was the cause of my own hurting? That I left the only life I'd known because someone showed me that I deserved better than that? That that person was her?

"Then...what?", she pressed further.

With a single tear rolling down my cheek, I finally confessed.

"Because of you", my voice waivered.

Her eyes widened, as she slowly put the icepack down.

"Since the last time we spoke, I've been going through the worst time"

A tear rolled down my cheek and my entire body began to chill. Her brows met in a sadness that was too deep to describe.

“I thought I could get over it, but I couldn’t have been more wrong and it didn’t hit me till I left your house”

“Then why did you?”

“I…”

It was as if all the words were caught in my throat with no way out.

What was I meant to say? What could I say? Anything I thought of wouldn’t excuse the way I’d walked out on her. I would be lucky if she could’ve even look me in the eyes again, much less forgive me.

“I was a coward”

She shakes her head, averting her gaze down to her lap.

“So much so that it made me lose you”

I hear a sigh and I couldn’t decipher whether she was disappointed or annoyed.

“I should’ve stayed. I should’ve given this a fighting chance. It was unfair, cruel and undeserved. You were the first person to show me kindness and it scared me. I didn't know how to receive that kind of care and I know that isn't an excuse, but that was the reason and I can't tell you how sorry I am"

The silence was the most painful part. It sent knives straight through my chest and there was nothing I could do to alleviate that burn.

“I understand if you want me to leave. I deserve that”, I sobbed,

Picking at the lose thread on my uniform, when she takes my hand.

“I don’t want that”, she finally spoke,

"You leaving did hurt me and it was something that I thought I'd be angry for, but...I wasn't. I was sad. Sad because I thought you didn't care for me the way I cared for you. You were my favorite part of every single waking moment. Your laugh, your smile, the way you talk, the heart you have, I've never seen anything like it"

I felt every piece of me break with each word.

"This whole time, that's all I could think about. That you didn't feel the same", she continued,

Gathering her own tears now.

"Rhea", I muttered,

Taking her face into my hands.

"You don't understand how much I love you"

[theeoriginals]

a Klaus fic with this gem from Ozark “look, I know I kissed you last night but I thought I was gonna fucking die”. Change to fit however you want 😘

the last thing i'd do | klaus mikaelson

author's note; whoever sent this im so sorry it's been in my inbox for seven months

warnings; hybrid!reader, mentions of violence, violence against reader, themes of death, klaus gets crazy :), then there's fluff, a bit of angst still sprinkled in, but there's a happy ending

It's a blood bath, is the thing.

She can't tell what blood is hers anymore, and the ache in her body has done nothing but grow steadily over the past ten minutes. It feels like it's been hours since it all started.

She doesn't remember who threw the first punch, just knows that someone had come at her and she had no choice but to fight back, fight for her life.

There's blood under her nails, and she thinks maybe some in her eyes because they're burning, but it might be the tears shining in them.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Klaus had, for once, been hoping for peace. He was always braced for a fight, but he'd truly been hoping for a painless, quick negotiation.

Of course, it's turned into the worst fight they've had in a while.

She's always been on Klaus's side of things; fights, family, life. She's always had her place here, carved out by none other than the Original Hybrid himself. She's never understood just what he saw in her that earned her this place, but she wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

Some– most– call her loyalty a form of naivety. Perhaps the sire bond still lingering, despite the fact that she'd broken it years ago. His siblings call it blindness, or ignorance, in their harsher moments. Her friends, the few that happen to be immortal, too, think she's reckless and just asking for him to kill her. Klaus Mikaelson turns on everybody, eventually, they say. The paranoid, hybrid king trusts nothing and no one. He killed his parents, multiple times, and he's kept his siblings in and out of coffins for most of their immortal lives. Why would he ever enjoy the company of one of his sires?

She's never thought he was perfect. That's something people always get wrong. They think she sees no flaws in him, when really she sees them all for what they are, she sees him for who he really is. She still loves him.

Some days she thinks he knows how she feels for him. Sometimes she can't keep it out of her eyes, and he'll catch her looking at him and his eyes will narrow slightly, like he's warning her to contain it.

Other days, she thinks there's no way he knows, because if he knew the capacity of her adoration, he'd surely have to say something. Tell her to move on. Compel the feelings away, possibly. If he were that cruel to her.

She doesn't think he would be. Since that first day he found her in the woods with what was left of her pack, they'd all watched him in fear. Some confused. Angry. But she was mystified. Enraptured by him and the power that radiated off of him.

She spent a long time feeling weak when she was younger. Even after she triggered the curse. But when Klaus told her she could become immortal, be strong, be at his side, she was the first to accept. The only one in her pack to ask him to turn her.

He'd set his eyes on her, something unidentifiably dark gleaming in his blue eyes, and when she latched onto his wrist to drink his blood, he hadn't looked away from her.

When he cupped her cheeks, he'd brushed his thumbs along the curve of her cheekbones and told her he'd make it quick and painless for her, and when she opened her eyes, he'd be there.

He'd kept his word, then. And he'd kept it ever since.

This, though. He'd given her his word, knowing her hesitance to fight, knowing that unless it was life or death, she'd rather avoid conflict. He promised her there would be no bloodshed here today.

It's not his fault, this time. She needs to tell him that. She needs to be at his side to make sure they're still fighting together, like they have for so long, yet so little time.

She throws a vampire off of her, with nothing but his heart in her palm and she quickly drops it to the ground at her feet. Turning, she pushes through the chaos, trying to cross the room to where she last saw him.

"Klaus!"

Her voice echoes over the mess and she sees him turn in the direction of it, and the fire in his blue eyes has her stopping.

He has blood smeared around his mouth and chin and she knows he's torn out more throats than he can count. The numbers are dwindling on both sides, barely anyone left standing, and she goes to close the space between them when a blinding pain stops her in her tracks.

Her choked off grunt is nearly silent amidst the yelling, but to Klaus it's like a gunshot.

He watches the point of the stake stab through her chest and feels his breath stall in his chest, fingers going numb all the way to the tips.

Her hand comes up, trembling as she skims her fingers over the blood blooming on her shirt around the stake. When she looks back up at Klaus, she tries to say his name but it's suffocated by the blood bubbling up in her throat.

Her knees give out from under her and she hears his hoarse voice yell her name as she goes down.

She can't see it, but she feels the pain that refreshes when he rips the stake from her back and throws it into the heart of the vampire that had attacked her.

She can't see it through the blur of her tears, but the sounds of retreat echo in her ears around the waves crashing.

When Klaus speaks again, his voice is closer and she blinks blearily, finding him hovering above her with wide eyes, looking uncharacteristically scared.

Her brows furrow when she sees the look on his face and when his fingers brush hers, she's quick to intertwine them with hers.

He whispers her name, the sound broken with emotion, and she squeezes his hand unconsciously.

"You're alright," He tries, valiantly ignoring the graying color of her skin despite the fact that he got the stake out of her. "You're alright, love. The pain will go away in a minute,"

She frowns, shaking her head against where he has it cupped with the hand that she's not holding. "Doesn't hurt," She whispers, swallowing roughly around the copper in her mouth.

"What?"

She repeats herself. "Doesn't hurt. Can't feel anything,"

Klaus makes a noise that she thinks might be grief. "No, no, it's alright. Here," He rips his hand from hers and his fangs tear into his skin, and he shoves his wrist against her mouth, letting as much blood drip into her mouth as he can before he heals.

She swallows it dutifully, but that numbness doesn't quite go away, and she wonders why he's so worried about it.

"Sit up," He commands her, though his voice is nowhere near as firm as it can get. "Sit up, and I'll help you the rest of the way. We'll go home, and you can rest."

"Klaus," She says his name, smiling around the syllables. "Come here."

He leans down at her request, eyes fluttering shut on a shaky breath when she lifts a blood-smeared hand up to his cheek. He whispers her name and her smile gives way to bloody teeth.

She uses what strength she can to lean up and kiss him, the pads of her fingers pressing into his pale cheek when he inhales sharply but presses back instantly, deepening the kiss.

She lingers as long as she can until she has to pull away, gasping for a full breath that she can't quite reach.

Still, a smile sits on her lips and when she meets Klaus's worried gaze, she doesn't falter. "Thank you,"

Confusion flutters on his face for a moment, but he jostles her when she starts to go limp in his arms, hand falling from his face. "No," He pulls her weight up, lifting her against his chest as her eyes flutter shut. "No. Wake up. Wake up!"

Silence follows his demands, his pleas, and through the blood on her cheek, a single tear falls from his eye, cleaning as it slides down her skin and falls into nothing.

Despite the silence surrounding him, he feels deafened.

────── 

When she opens her eyes again, she can feel her body again in a way she couldn't before. Luckily, she can't feel any pain.

Her eyes go down to her chest where she knows a gaping wound had been, but there's nothing left, not even a scar its wake and she takes a deep breath, relieved that it's not followed by a throttle of blood coming up her throat.

"You're awake,"

The voice startles her, but she isn't scared when she turns her head against the pillow to look at Klaus. A frown sprouts on her face when she sees him sitting in a chair at her side, looking like he hasn't slept in days. It's not always necessary, but they have to take breaks sometimes, and she hasn't seen Klaus look this tired in a long time.

"I am," She says, swallowing a mouthful of spit in an attempt to wet her throat. "I don't think I should be, though."

"I owe many people a great deal of things, so you'd better stay that way."

His voice is dark and she can hear the anger in it, but she's not used to it being focused on her. "You didn't–"

"Do not," He cuts her off, his words nearly a growl that has her eyes widening. "Do not tell me that I shouldn't have saved you."

He leans forward, grabbing her hand in his, and she shrinks with embarrassment when she remembers how she'd touched his cheek and kissed him.

"Klaus," She squeezes her eyes shut, huffing her humiliation out. "I am– so sorry that I–"

"Don't," He cuts her off again, hand pressing pointedly against hers. "Don't apologize if you don't mean it."

She falls silent for a moment, lost as she looks at him. "I just... I thought I was going to die. And I just– I had to have it at least once."

He visibly swallows and she watches that pretty shine light up his eyes again. "You thought you were dying, and the last thing you wanted to do was kiss me?"

She nods despite the toe-curling embarrassment coursing through her.

He cuts a sharp breath out of his nose, shaking his head.

Before she realizes it, he's hovering above her, cupping her cheeks gently. "Silly little thing," He quietly scolds her, not giving her time to argue before he kisses her, ever so softly, softer than she ever thought he could be. Like she'll break beneath his touch if he doesn't treat her like glass.

When he pulls away and she forces her eyes open, she finds herself fighting off a tingling sensation from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. "What'd you do that for?"

He smiles, small and fond. "The next time you kiss me, you don't have to be dying to do it."

"Oh,"

"Don't ever do that to me again," His voice has a warning in it, but she's already smiling too hard to pay attention to it. "You know how I feel about people disobeying my orders."

Her grin is audible when she responds. "Yeah, I do."

[zweigsangel]

you and patrick were best friends. like childhood friends type of shit, y’know? inseparable. 'platonic soulmates,' that's what he used to call you. everyone thought you two would end up together, ever since you were kids.

exactly, you were.

because then you grew up, and when patrick met tashi duncan, everything changed. she became his whole world. tashi here, tashi there. he didn't have time for you anymore. it was like you had become a ghost, invisible.

patrick's eyes that once sparkled at your jokes were now fixated on tashi. it was all about her. and the worst part? he didn't even seem to notice you fading away, like you never existed at all.

one day, you finally had the courage to talk to him about it. you didn’t want to lose him; it was the last thing you wanted. you poured out your heart, telling him how much his absence hurt, how much you missed him. but instead of understanding, he snapped. “if that's what you think, then you can go fuck yourself. tashi's better than you anyway, too bad i didn't meet her sooner.”

those were the words that made you feel your heart break into pieces. your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes, making it impossible to see the regret that flickered across patrick's face. “i hate you.” you spat out, and you turned and walked away. he didn't try to stop you.

from that moment on, it was as if all those years of friendship had never existed. the memories—all erased. the only conversations you had were filled with bitterness. he would provoke you with snide remarks, and you would reply with insults.

you looked at him with hatred. even though, deep down, you didn't really hate him. how could you? when you looked at him, you remembered everything you had been through together. his nose wrinkling when he laughed at your jokes, the way he tickled you in the spots he knew made you suffer the most, the nights you spent in his backyard staring at the stars and talking, the way his eyes would light up when he saw you, and the way he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make you feel better. you missed him. desperately. and he would look back at you, and you could swear, every single time, that a slight, almost imperceptible smile appeared on his lips. but your mind told you it was just your imagination.

one day, you were walking home, and with your luck, it started to rain. “fuck,” you muttered to yourself, clearly not having an umbrella with you. you began to walk faster, even though your house wasn't very close.

a voice made you stop. “you’re so wet. is it f’me?” you took a deep breath. you would recognize that voice anywhere. you turned around slowly, finding patrick standing there, drenched, with his wet hair stuck to his forehead, just like his clothes were stuck to his body. but his stupid smirk was still there. you stayed silent, shaking your head. “what’s the matter? no witty comeback today?” he continued to tease you. “no, because I’m tired of you!” your voice was louder than necessary, but you didn’t care anymore. “if you prefer tashi, then stay with her and stop pissing me off. don’t talk to me.” patrick let out a soft laugh. “i don’t care about tashi.”

the rain poured down, soaking both of you as you stood there in the street, the world around you fading. you could feel the anger boiling inside you. how could he stand there, looking at you like that, after everything?

you laughed. a laugh of disbelief. “oh sure. first you choose her, and now you say you don’t care? are you serious?” you practically yelled at him, finger pointed accusingly. patrick ran a hand through his wet curls, looking down. then, his eyes, full of pain and regret, met yours again. “i didn’t mean it,” he said. “i was angry, and i said something stupid. forgive me.” “and why should i forgive you? huh?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“because i love you!” he shouted, throwing his arms wide. your words caught in your throat. you wanted to scream, to hit him, to tell him how much he had hurt you. but all you could do was stand there, shivering in the rain, that continued to pour down, soaking the both of you, but you barely noticed. you were too focused on the boy in front of you. you were stunned.

“and i’ve loved you ever since i’ve known you. i never stopped. i’ve been an idiot, because i was scared. i was scared of ruining everything, and in the end, i did. because i lost you. and it’s the thing i regret most in the world.”

your heart was pounding in your chest. your lips parted, as if you wanted to speak but couldn’t find the right words to say. and patrick was standing in front of you, pouring out his heart, his voice breaking. and then, his tears mixed with the rain. patrick was crying. ‘i never cry,’ he always said. although sometimes he did, very rarely. and you were the only one he showed that side to, the vulnerable one. “pat…” you managed to say in a barely audible voice.

“no, no, don’t ‘pat’ me. i’m a piece of shit because i never tried to fix things. and i hurt you, and i know you hate me, and you should because i hate myself too—” “just shut up,” you said softly, and your lips met his. the kiss was returned almost immediately, patrick’s arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly, your wet bodies sticking together. your hands rested on his wet cheeks.

in that moment, you found your soulmate again. but not platonically this time.

( @swetearss that’s for you baee!! hope you like it)