Hey So I Just Watched Never Have I Ever And I Fell In Love With Ethan And I’m So Sad That There Are

take the edge off. [suna rintarou x f!reader] chapter three.

>>You struggle with your weight and body image, but Suna extensively and thoroughly undoes all the damage done by other guys.

or

You haven't gotten laid in over a year, and your best friend takes it upon himself to fix that for you.<<

series status: [complete]

previous. || masterlist. || next.

a/n: we are now entering yn's suna-obsessed arc aewfafawef theyre just so horrendously down bad for each other i swear

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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

Suna’s decided lack of caution comes with the discovery of two pieces of rather dangerous information. 

The first is that you very quickly become used to the feeling of sharing a bed with someone, to the point of relying on it. In the days after that fateful weekend, you fall asleep with Suna’s head on your chest and wake up with his arm draped across your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You aren’t sure how you’d never once learned in passing that he’s the type of man to pull you closer and hold tight when you try to move away, but that knowledge is bad for you. 

It’s bad for you to find out, despite your subtle hints that he doesn’t need to do this every night, that he’s adamant about it. That even on the nights where nothing happens between you, he still drives you home from work with the unspoken expectation that he won’t be leaving. That those nights are the worst, truthfully, because he spends them pressing lingering kisses into your skin, his body laid between your thighs only so he can bury his face into the side of your neck and whisper that you look ‘ extra pretty ’ lounging in his t-shirt on your bed. 

And when you call him out for it, asking, between warm kisses on flushed skin, why he’s pushing this entirely separate boundary with you when the agreement was strictly sex, it’s bad for you that all he does is smile against you and whisper, in a voice that betrays a warning, ‘ I told you I was done being careful ’. 

It seems you’d been woefully unprepared for what he’d meant when he’d said he would fix things. 

The second bit of knowledge, equally – if not more – dangerous, is that Suna Rintarou is beautiful in a way that’s forbidden when he blushes. That getting him nervous enough to trigger that flush of embarrassment is easier than you’d thought it would be. That all it takes is for you to treat him the way he treats you, soft and sweet and quiet.

A whisper against his skin, the words ‘ you’re so pretty ’ after you kiss him perfectly sufficient in making his ears warm.

A smile, golden and warm, coupled with the admission of ‘ I missed you’ when he picks you up at work all it really takes to make him scratch at his brow with a shaky laugh, his face a little redder than before.

A question, in the middle of kissing him on his couch, his hands anchored to your waist as you sit comfortably in his lap. 

“ Will you tell me what you thought about? ” 

“Mm?” He responds, fingers dancing up to the clasp of your bra and tugging curiously. 

You breathe your consent, whole and eager, and shiver when he unhooks it. “In college.”

His hand twitches against your skin, and you almost smile, because he’s pulling away with wide eyes.

“In college…?” He blinks, and heat starts to spread across his cheeks. You watch it go, entranced, and nod.

“Please?” 

When he swallows nervously and flicks his eyes between yours before looking away, you know you would do anything to see that exact face again and again, as long as he’ll let you.

“Uh-” He smiles, shaking his head. “No, I don’t…” He pauses, thinking, and then shakes his head more forcefully. “No, definitely not.”

You pout, watching how his eyes come back to you just to track it. “Why not?”

“Because it’s fucking embarrassing,” He laughs. “Because I was a horny college kid.”

You tilt your head at him with a smile, combing your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. “Just how horny are we talking here?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I do,” You press. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“No,” He groans, and you’re certain that whatever he’s thinking must be bad, because his whole face is radiating warmth. “It’s… I don’t know how you’ll take it-”

“Alright,” You concede, shifting comfortably on his lap and smiling when he clamps onto your hips to still you, something warm pressing between your thighs. “Can I just get some detail? A crumb or two?” You laugh weakly. “It’s been on my mind all week.” 

He sighs, running a hand through his hair with a pained smile. “…what d’you wanna know?” 

“How many times? And when?” You start, launching into questions with a bright smile. “What did I do to make it happen? What did you think about-“ 

“O- kay ,” He interrupts with a laugh. “I’m not answering that one-“ When you pout again, he shrugs. “You want crumbs or not?” 

He laughs when you dejectedly mumble, ‘ I like crumbs ’, and then there’s a moment of silence, one where he eyes you and clearly weighs all his options. You wait as patiently as you can, scanning his face for clues. 

Finally, he sighs. 

“So, the first time-”

“Out of how many?” 

He blinks, and you watch his ears grow red as he scratches at his brow. “How am I s’posed to remember that…?” 

Your face splits in a wide grin. “You lost count.” 

He scowls, embarrassed. “Four of those times were completely on you.”

“Four! Why four?”

“You gonna let me talk?” 

You smile unconvincingly.

“The first one was the accident.” He meets your eyes and then looks away quickly. “You texted me, I was close. That’s it.”

“That’s what you said last time,” You argue. “Give me more than that.”

He groans. “We’d just hung out, and you sent the pictures we took together.“ He shakes his head, going quiet for a minute. “I dunno, I always thought you had a pretty smile, I guess. And I was already close…” 

You stare.

“My smile made you come?” 

Suna shuts his eyes, smiling wryly. “Said your name and everything.” 

It’s your turn to flush, his admission making your nerves tingle. “I like it when you say my name.” 

He peeks up at you, starting to smile and bringing your face close to his slowly. “I know you do.” He kisses you carefully, the push of his lips gentle. “But, at the time, I really just wanted to throw myself out a window.” 

You grin, kissing him again before asking, “And then? The second time?” 

He knocks his forehead softly against yours. “There was that heatwave, before third year.” 

Of course it would have been during the heatwave. “Was it the lack of clothes, Suna? Too much skin?” You tease, your smile growing when he laughs. 

“It was the dress. ” He shakes his head. “ Fucking summer dress .” 

You blink, vaguely remembering a yellow summer dress that you’d been forced to wear. It was the only thing that hadn’t made you want to tear your hair out in that heat.

More importantly, you remember that being the first day you’d ever wondered if Suna was angry with you, because he’d spent the entire afternoon sitting on the couch with his arms crossed and refusing to look at you, his knee bouncing in agitation.

“What about the summer dress?” You ask, immensely interested in this wonderful new insight.

“Not answering that.” 

“But-” 

“No.” He cuts you off with a smack of a kiss. “The third time was when we went to the beach, and the twins made you sit in my lap in the car.” 

You’re surprised by that, because you remember that day quite clearly – Aran and Kita piled into the backseat with Suna, everyone talking over each other and bickering about nothing. You remember being nervous about sitting between Suna’s legs on the bumpy ride there, because it was weird to sit so intimately with him. And because he’d put his hands on your thighs and kept them there the whole time, keeping you from flying around. You remember worrying that your thighs were too big, that they were big but not plush in the way boys like, and that Suna would be the first to find this out about you.

“Really? You seemed totally fine.”

“You had your ass pressed against me the entire time,” He jokes. 

“I know, I was there,” You argue, flushing. “But you were so calm about it.” 

“Yeah, probably because I was listing volleyball stats in my head to keep sane, and you were not making it better at all with how you kept shifting and moving and being very annoyingly soft in my arms.” 

You bark out a laugh. “You kept squeezing my thighs to keep me steady! It was nerve-wracking!” 

He blinks, brow furrowed, and a full beat passes.

And then he runs a hand over his face with a groan. “Oh, my God.”

You smack him playfully on the chest, smiling. “What!” 

He starts to laugh, hiding behind his hand. “I was probably feeling you up.” 

“Feeling me…“ You balk. “No way were you feeling me up.” 

“No?” He sets his hands right on your thighs and starts to squeeze, kneading and pulling and dragging his blunt nails lightly down your skin. You shiver visibly and watch him move, taking in how he spreads the pads of his fingers across your thighs and presses you down into his lap. “No way at all?” 

He slides his hands up to your waist and drags you flush against him, his lips brushing yours when you put your hands on his chest. “I was being a terrible friend, thinking about doing things to you in front of all our other friends, and you thought I was just keeping you steady ?” He smiles, and you feel it in places you shouldn’t. “That’s so sweet of you.” 

“ Tell me ,” You breathe, leaning toward him, your nerves screaming for him. “Tell me what you were thinking about.” 

He just tilts his head, green eyes flashing as he watches your mouth come close to his. “ Never .” 

You whine, and he cuts it short with a heated push of his lips against yours. 

“Please, Rin,” You try, and you feel him tense under your hands.

“You’re funny,” He laughs. “Using my name like that.” 

“I want you to tell me.”

“You’ll have to be more convincing than that,” He settles, smiling at you in a wicked, beautiful way. “But, for now, no.” He kisses you once, breathing it into your mouth. “ Don’t ask me again .” 

You sigh, pressing your forehead to his and feeling somewhere between annoyed that he’d said no and incredibly aroused that he’d spoken to you like that. “Then tell me about the fourth time.” 

That flash of embarrassment comes back, and the warm flush that heats your skin, too. He looks like he’s going to resist, so you dip your head and push your mouth against his. 

“Tell me.” 

“You-” He laughs, smiling weakly. “-were tying your shoes.” 

You blink, pulling away. “Huh?”

“It’s so stupid.” He groans, shaking his head. “You came over to my desk – in that random elective we took together – while I was packing my shit. You literally just bent down in front of me to tie your shoes, that was it.” His laugh turns delirious, as though retelling the story is enough to make him lose his mind. “You were talking about the assignment and tying your shoes in front of my desk, and then you looked up at me-” He drops his head to your shoulder, sighing. “ God, when you looked up at me… ” 

You blink rapidly, feeling your face warm as you listen to how he talks about you. 

“That’s when I knew I was fucked,” He breathes against your skin, and you feel when he shakes his head lightly against you.

Your heart races just next to where he has his face pressed into your skin. “You thought about me blowing you, didn’t you?” You tease, your body humming under his touch. 

He sighs, tightening his hold on you. “That’s not how I would have put it,” He admits, whispering like he doesn’t want you to hear it.

You swallow, your limbs starting to go a bit numb. “It’s not?”

He shakes his head slowly. “It’s too…” He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close and burying his face in your neck. You slide your fingers into his hair and scratch your nails against him gently, feeling when he shivers. “...nice.” 

Your stomach drops, and you pull away enough to look down at him. “What does that mean?”

He purses his lips, unable to meet your eyes. You watch his face redden.

“This is why I didn’t want you to know,” He complains, his voice strained, and his knee starts to bounce nervously, jostling you in his lap. “I never really cared with other girls, but I don’t want to turn you off.”

There’s a piece of you that burns with jealousy that there are girls in the world – in this city , even – that know something about Suna Rintarou that you don’t. But a bigger part of you is desperate to hear what he has to say.

“You won’t,” You assure him. “I promise you won’t.”

He scratches his neck, thinking. “You mentioned that first night that you like things… well, rough.” He swallows. “But I don’t know how rough you meant, so I didn’t want to push it-”

Your lips part while you stare down at him.

“Tell me,” You whisper to him, grabbing his face when he starts to shake his head. “Tell me,” You repeat. “You want me to beg? I will.” 

He breathes out a laugh, but you feel him harden slightly against your inner thigh, so you push.

“You said you wanted me to have everything I want, that you were mad that I haven’t yet,” You say, feeling his hands tighten on your waist. 

“I did,” He breathes, voice tight. “But-”

“Well, I want this,” You lean forward, pressing your lips against his. His hand cups the back of your head, and he kisses you softly. You pull away just enough to look into his eyes, so green and so close to giving you what you want. 

“ I want you to give me this, Rin .” 

Your stomach flips and your body fills with that fluttery feeling you’re starting to get around him, because you can pinpoint the exact moment you convince him, his hesitant eyes hardening into something that almost makes you nervous.

That night, when he presses your face into his mattress and makes you scream his name, his fingers are tangled brutally in your hair and your hands are clinging uselessly to his bed frame. When you come around him, your back tight against his chest, he’s got one hand wrapped around your throat and the other pressing thumbprint bruises into your hip with how tight he’s holding you. 

When he mumbles the word ‘ mine’ against the shell of your ear just before moaning your name and spilling into you, you know things with Suna Rintarou have changed.

–

In the week that follows, the change in your relationship manifests in ways you hadn’t expected.

On Monday, he tells you he has to go out of town in a week.

“There’s an art convention happening in Tokyo,” He says, circling you in the kitchen to make coffee. “They invited me to speak at a panel, something about art styles and careers.”

“That’s amazing!” You turn at the stove, beaming up at him. When he just shrugs, you nudge him. “That’s really cool, Rin. You should be more excited.”

He flushes and shakes his head with a laugh, and you realize just a moment too late that you’d called him Rin. 

You clear your throat, turning back to make sure your food doesn’t burn. He’s refused breakfast every day for the past week, but you’ve learned that if you set a simple piece of toast next to his coffee cup, it mysteriously disappears when you’re not looking.

Still, cooking for just yourself in his apartment is a new habit, one that he encourages by restocking his fridge every few days with foods you know he doesn’t like. 

“How long will you be gone?” You ask, plating your breakfast and following him to the couch.

“A week.” He pulls his laptop out from under the coffee table, kicking his feet up. “You should stay,” He says without looking up.

You blink, still processing the fact that it had felt like a punch in the gut to learn that he’d be gone an entire week. “Stay where?”

“Here.” 

“Here?”

He purses his lips, glancing at you playfully. “Yes, here .” 

You roll your eyes. “I have an apartment, Suna.”

If he thinks anything of the name change, he doesn’t say it. He just goes back to his laptop, and you see that he’s booking flights. “I’m aware. But if you stay here, then you can make everything smell like you.”

You stare, wondering if he realizes what he’s saying. That he wants you to live here while he’s gone, that he wants you to leave traces of yourself for him to find later.

“Uh,” You warm, staring down at your breakfast with unseeing eyes. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

You can see the question in his eyes when they flick to you quickly. “Alright. Well, regardless,” He sighs, nodding toward the little key bowl in his entryway while typing away. “Take the car. I don’t want you on the train after work.”

You have nothing to say to that, your ears thrumming with your heartbeat as you remind yourself that Suna’s just a friend.

–

On Tuesday, Osamu kicks you out of the shop, piling your arms high with containers of baked goods. They’re new recipes for Suna to sample and give his brutally honest opinion on, but the twin had only kicked you out in the middle of the working day because you wouldn’t stop asking him about his date with Yachi. You’d prodded about everything – what he’d wore, what they’d ordered to eat, what they’d talked about – and he’d given you every single detail with only a little embarrassment.

But the second you’d suggested he walk down the road to her shop to say hello, he’d all but put his foot on your ass and launched you out of the store.

“Don’t come back until closing,” He warns, shutting the jingling door in your face.

When you walk into Suna’s shop thirty minutes later, juggling boxes full of cakes and pastries, he’s finishing up with a client that should be on the cover of a magazine.

“Oh,” He says in surprise, eyes widening when he sees you. “Hey.” 

You stand there, feeling painfully out of place while the woman looks you over. He’d tattooed her ribcage, and she’s got one hand on his shoulder to keep her arm lifted while he wraps the finished piece.

“Samu kicked me out,” You say dumbly, jostling the boxes with an awkward laugh. That hand she’s got on him is making your blood pressure rise. “I can just leave these in your office and go.” 

Suna doesn’t see the woman look between you, too busy narrowing his eyes at you. “I’ll be done in a sec,” He says carefully, nodding toward his office. “Wanna wait for me?” 

“You seem busy.”

It’s cold enough to draw his eyebrows up high on his forehead, and the woman’s lips lift in the ghost of a smirk. You want to curl up and die.

“I’m not,” He says cleanly, finally seeming to realize that you’re not looking at him but over his shoulder at the girl who’s eyeing you like you’re less than her. “Give me two minutes, and then I’m all yours.”

His smile is knowing when your gaze flicks back to him, and you catch a tinge of annoyance coloring the woman’s smile. 

You say nothing, turning to head to the back and trying to stop the twinge of pleasure that comes when you hear him call out to his assistant.

“ Block my schedule, Suki, will you?”

“You got it – for Y/n?”

“Who else?” 

When he joins you in his office, you’re rolling your eyes. “That was cheesy.”

“Incredibly,” He smiles, dropping down on the couch next to you. “But you were acting jealous, so, obviously, the situation was dire.” 

“I was not-” You scoff. “I was not jealous .” 

“No, no, of course not.” He reaches to unstack the boxes you’d left on the table, opening one. There’s a set of muffins inside, all different flavors. “Just looked like you wanted to stab her with one of my tattoo needles, that’s all.” 

“ She had her hand on your shoulder ,” You grumble, breaking a piece off of the muffin that you’re certain is blueberry lemon. You hand him the rest, ignoring the smile he’s giving you. 

“Okay. I’m sorry.” He takes a bite, and you do the same. It’s a little too sweet, and the way Suna’s face pinches tells you he feels the same. You make a note of it for Osamu. “It won’t happen again,” He continues, setting the pastry down.

“No,” You sigh, feeling guilty. “You don’t have to accommodate me. I’m just being bratty, it’s fine.” Your exes had never liked your insecure streak, claiming it made you look childish.

But Suna displays no sign of feeling the same, just shrugging as he reaches for another muffin. “It upset you, right?” When you say nothing, he glances at you with a small smile. “Okay, so it won’t happen again. Simple.” 

There’s a knock on the door, one you barely hear while trying to understand how that conversation had been so easy. He stands, pulling the door open.

“Oh. What’s up?” He says, a bit confused. 

You glance up, finding his client there smiling up at him beautifully. Her eyes meet yours, and a brow lifts curiously. You look down at yourself, finding muffin crumbs all over your shirt, and you brush them off with an embarrassed flush. 

“I just wanted to give you your tip in person,” The woman says, her voice dripping in honey. She presses a wad of cash into his palm and then lays a perfectly manicured hand on his bicep. “You were really good. Can I come see you again?”

You swallow, ears burning. But Suna just calmly pulls away from her, stepping back to hand the cash to you while her hand flops uselessly at her side. You take the money with wide eyes.

“Guess dinner’s on me tonight,” He smiles down at you and ignores the girl briefly, and you see there’s a hint of irritation in his expression. “I was starting to feel guilty with you cooking every night.” 

The woman watches the money pass from Suna’s hand to yours, and you swear she’s imagining several ways to kill you and get away with it. 

He turns back to her and smiles politely. “I’d definitely be down to work with you again, but you can just make appointments and leave payment with Suki in the future. I suck at keeping track of it all.” 

You almost feel bad for how hard he shuts her down, but you’re too busy wondering what alternate universe you’ve walked into. Suki’s voice in the hall only adds to the chaos.

“ You’re still here?”

Suna laughs, because she’s adding ‘ I swear, I go to the bathroom for two minutes and you get ambushed. ’ 

The girl fumbles, her composure falling when she looks back at Suki. “I-”

“ And you can’t come back here like this ,” Suki interrupts, and you wish so badly that you could see her sassy little face. “ This is a private area .” 

You busy yourself with opening cake boxes so your pleased grin is hidden behind your hair. You don’t see how the moment ends, but Suna’s closing the door soon and coming back to the couch with a sigh.

“How was that?” He asks, reaching for a plastic fork so he can dig into the layer cake you’re presenting him with. He hums when he tastes it, nodding. “‘s good.”

You nod, putting it down. “You were horrible and I enjoyed every second.” 

“Perfect, then,” He says, reaching for another open cake box. “What do you want for dinner?”

You’re quiet, remembering how his client had looked down on you, you with your clothes that don’t fit right and the muffin crumbs on your shirt. Your stomach turns with the distantly familiar and always unpleasant urge to be hard on yourself.

It slips out, despite years of learning how to coach yourself out of it.

“I’m not too hungry today,” You start, brushing lint from your pants. “The cake is filling me u- mm- ” 

Your face squishes between his fingers, cutting you short and forcing you to look up at him. He stares back and squeezes your face hard.

“I don’t like where your head just went,” He says plainly, and you take it as a warning. 

“ Suna- ”

“I’m buying us dinner. You’re going to eat it, right?” He lifts a brow.

You swallow, mumbling through his hold. “ Right. ”

“Good,” He smiles. “Curry sound good?”

You blink rapidly when he forces you to nod, because he’s only allowing one answer. “ I like curry. ”

“Yeah.” He finally lets you go, but you stay close, breathing him in while he holds eye contact. “You do.” He holds his fork between you, eyes flicking to the cake he’d just tasted. “Try it. It’s good.”

You take it and move almost mechanically to spear into the dessert. Only when you lift the bite to your mouth does he stop watching you.

Wordlessly, he pulls his phone from his pocket and leans back against the couch, opening his delivery apps to look for curry. You watch him scroll away, hit again with that strange realization that you’ll miss him desperately next week.

–

On Wednesday, he starts making jokes about your relationship.

A text lights up your phone just as you’re explaining the many tea options in your shop to a young girl who looks wonderfully excited to try something new. You ignore the text for a moment, finishing up with her and then leaving her to talk with her parents. 

You reach for your phone, refusing to acknowledge that you’d hoped it’d be him.

[12:56 PM]

Sunarin : i have to go to the bank to take out cash for my trip

Sunarin : go with me?

You smile, a bit warmed by him asking you to do something so domestic with him. Sleeping semi-permanently in his bed and drinking your coffee together in the morning is arguably far more domestic than this, but there’s something different about being in public with him. The idea of your dynamic stretching into places where other people can see it makes your nerves light up.

You : scared to face the bank tellers yourself?

Sunarin : terrified

Sunarin : go with me, ill buy you a sweet treat after

You : you need to put the internet down for a few days

You : all those tiktoks about gfs and their sweet treats are not about us

Sunarin : yes they are

Sunarin : go with me

You stare down at nothing, dissociating as you process what he’d just said. You hear the girl deciding at the counter that she wants to try the french vanilla earl grey that you’d said was popular, so you type out a quick response and throw your phone on the counter.

You : smh fine

You come back after ringing the family up for their drinks, Haru tearing the order from the printer beside you.

Sunarin : see? youre just a sweet treat gf

When he picks you up after work, your face burns and your stomach flutters the entire way to the bank. He slides his hand over your thigh halfway there, and you hide your face in your hands.

He doesn’t ask what’s making you nervous, and you don’t ask what he’d meant. You have the distinct feeling that you don’t need to.

At the bank, the teller mistakenly calls you his girlfriend while making small talk, and he doesn’t correct her. 

When he pulls you into his lap that night, you’re overheating and trembling just a little bit as you start to really wonder what you are to him. There’s a piece of you that foolishly thinks that him being rough in bed will remind you that you aren’t anything, really. That your friends with benefits arrangement is as it was before.

But he doesn’t fuck you the way you expect him to. He just buries his fingers in your hair and breathes the words ‘Stop overthinking this’ into your ear. You relax against him, and then he fucks you slow, rewarding you for listening and talking you over the edge with him in a way that makes you want more.

You want more with him.

–

Thursday is uneventful – or, at least you think it is, because you have no time in the day to think or process anything that’s happening with you and Suna. The Black Jackals are playing, so your shop has a line out the door and around the corner. You and Haru play a game he likes to call ‘Dodge or Die’, where you have to be perfect at avoiding each other or risk spilling someone’s drink all over the other’s head. 

Suna texts you a few times throughout the day, but you don’t get a chance to look at them until it’s nearly closing time. When you check, you see that there’s just a couple memes and a separate reminder to eat and drink water, because he knows exactly what kind of day you’re having. 

He doesn’t make another joke about you being his girlfriend, and – although you weren’t expecting a high frequency of that, considering it’s been less than 24 hours – you wonder if maybe you’d overdone it last night. You wonder if you’d betrayed your feelings too much, if he’d seen that you’d taken it as more than a joke and now he’s laying off.

You sit in your office, staring at the wall as those thoughts spin circles around your head, and you dread having to text him back.

He calls before you have time to figure out what to say, your phone lighting up on your desk.

Your heart drops.

“Hello?”

“ Done with work? ”

His voice makes your palms sweat, and you recognize that that’s a terrible sign for you keeping your feelings in check.

“Yeah,” You sigh. “It was exhausting, but a busy day’s always good.”

“ And we have celebration drinks tomorrow .”

You vaguely recall Atsumu texting your group chat after the game, declaring a get-together with the Black Jackals at some bar downtown tomorrow night.

“Oh, yeah… That’ll be fun.” You cringe, hearing how awkward you sound. There’s a pause, one where you think he must be deciding what to say.

“ Do you want me to come pick you up? Or do you want space? ”

You drop your head to your hand, tears pricking behind your eyes. The fact that he’s asking means he’d noticed – because he always notices – that something’s different with you now. You’re terrified to find out what that means on his end.

“Uhm,” Your voice wavers, and you want to throw your phone in the trash. “Maybe space…?”

It’s better. It’s best there’s space. Maybe space would fix things – force your head back onto your shoulders. Bring you back down to reality, the one where Suna is entirely out of your league and you’re better off not becoming delusional about your relationship with him.

“ Okay ,” He says, and then there’s quiet. “ Do you want me to ask you again? ” 

He makes you feel safe in a way that scares you.

“... Yes ,” You whisper, because you’re certain your voice would crack otherwise.

“ Do you want me to pick you up? ”

“Yes.” 

You were right. Your voice does crack.

“ Give me ten minutes to close up? And then I’ll head over. ”

“Okay.” 

Later, when he leads you by the hand to his couch and sits you down, it’s between his legs, his arms belted tight around your middle and holding your back against his chest. You watch TV in silence, and then – when you finally gather the courage to face him – you turn in place, climbing into his lap and burying your face in his neck. He hugs you tight, waiting.

“ ‘m sorry ,” You mumble, heartbeat thrumming in your veins. He presses his head to your shoulder, arms warm around you. 

“For what?”

“Running.”

You feel him smile. 

“Does that mean you’ll stop running?”

“I can try,” You laugh weakly.

“If I ask you to,” He starts, sighing into your skin. “Will you?”

You tighten your hold on him and nod, pressing a hesitant kiss to his pulse point. “I’ll do my best.”

“ Promise ?” He wraps his fingers in your hair. “Promise you’ll stay?”

Your face burns, but you nod again. “Promise.”

“ That’s my girl ,” He whispers.

You desperately want him to mean that.

–

On Friday morning, you wake to Suna’s lips on your throat. You feel him climbing between your thighs, and it takes several seconds to gain your bearings. You blink rapidly, feeling his hands sliding under your shirt, palms hot on your skin.

“ Mm ?” You ask, fingers carding into his hair on instinct.

“ Sorry ,” He murmurs. “ Woke up a little needy .” He kisses down the length of your throat, hands wandering, unseen. “ You look really good in my shirt. ” 

You shiver, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. It’s almost 9. “We don’t have time-”

“I know,” He says quickly, warm hands cupping your breasts. “But, can we?” He kisses you, lips full and tempting. “I just… I’m not gonna see you all day, and, when I do see you, it’s gonna be at the bar with other people, and after last night, I just want-” He buries his face in your neck, letting out an unhinged laugh. “ Fuck .” 

“What?” You breathe, already lifting your hips by the time he cautiously hooks his fingers into your panties. You find, unsurprisingly, that you like it most when he blushes the way he is now. “What is it?”

“‘ s embarrassing ,” He mumbles, preoccupying himself with watching how your underwear looks sliding down your thighs. 

You laugh quietly. “I think we’re past that.”

“I dunno how to say it.”

“Try.” 

He groans, and you use your grip on his hair to force him to look at you. You kiss him, mumbling ‘ Try ’ against his lips. 

He hides in your neck again, pushing his boxers down to his knees blindly. He slides his cock between your folds, sighing heatedly when you shiver and whisper his name. 

“I want to-” He rocks against you, a quiet moan falling past his lips when he feels how wet you’re getting. You feel more than hear when he, in a voice that wavers just enough to warm you, finally says what’s on his mind. “ Wanna come inside you .”

Your heart jumps. “You do that every time,” You say, knowing full well that that’s not what he’s saying.

He shakes his head anyway, swallowing after a moment. “ Wanna ruin you .”

There it is. What he really wants.

Your head explodes in white noise, your fingers going numb where you hold tight to him.

The head of his cock nudges against your entrance, and he’s lifting his head to kiss you once, both your lips parting in silent moans when he slips just inside.

“Yes,” You breathe, nodding your consent. Your heart is racing everywhere in your body, his admission ringing in your ears. “ Please do .” 

His eyes roll slightly back as he pushes fully into you, his sigh shaky as he whispers ‘ Fuck ’ against your mouth.

The pace he finds is one that has your lungs crying for air. 

You dig your nails into his back, stomach lurching when he moans in response and throws his arm out to grip the headboard. 

“ Feel so good ,” He whispers. “Always so good. Better than I’d imagined.”

A memory of him admitting that he’d lost track of the times he’d thought about you flies through your head.

You breathe his name, stumbling over your words.

“I-Is this what you thought about in college? Fuck …Fucking me like this?”

He groans, head hanging over you as he nods. “Yes– fuck –yes-” He slams his hips against yours, again and again, his pace uneven and desperate. “Thought about you all the time. Hated myself, but I couldn’t-” He shakes his head, laughing slightly. “ I was obsessed with you. ”

You clench around him, throwing your head back and moaning his name. His lips brush against your ear, his voice tight. 

“ I think I still am. ”

The coil in your navel lurches, yanking tight and pulling you close. You stutter over it, clinging tight to him. “ Rin , I’m-”

He shudders, and you feel him twitch inside of you. “This is mine,” He breathes when your walls start to flutter around him. “I need this– I want you to need this.” He tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling taut and keeping his mouth pressed to your ear. “ You belong right here, wrapped around me just like this- ”

You think he might be the first one to go tumbling over the edge, his hips stilling when he spills into you with a groan of your name, but you follow so close behind that you can’t say for certain who went first.

After you come down, you find that he’s kissing you, lips moving lazily against yours. You wind your arms around his neck and kiss him for a while just like that – him still buried between your thighs and your hearts still racing against each other.

“Thank you for not letting me run,” You whisper eventually, kissing him earnestly and feeling when he smiles into it. 

“Your avoidant anxiety is going to be the thing that kills me. You know that, right?”

You don’t let him go for another hour, and Osamu’s incredibly unimpressed when you walk into work two hours late. 

–

You go home on your own after work, Suna texting to let you know he’s got a late client and will just meet you at the bar. 

Your brain still tingles every time you think about the events of the morning, his admission of being obsessed with you keeping you light on your toes all day. You sort through your closet, humming, and feel a kind of confidence that’s entirely foreign to you. 

Thinking back, you realize how silly it is that you’d retreated so far into yourself after Wednesday. He’d admitted, in vulnerable detail, all the things he thought of you in college, and then he’d asked you to stay at his house while he’s on his trip. He’d taken you seriously when you’d gotten insecure in his office, and he’d told you on more than one occasion to stop overthinking so much. To just follow him and see where things go.

He’d admitted he was obsessed with you. 

How could you possibly disrespect that by ignoring every sign he’s given you from the start? You don’t have to worry with him – you just have to stop thinking.

Your hand passes over a dress, pushing it down the clothesline, and then you’re stalling and bringing it back. A yellow summer dress, the only one you own. You glance out the window in thought. It’s warm enough for this to be admissible, but will it fit? You haven’t worn this in years.

You throw it on, examining yourself in the mirror. You normally wouldn’t be comfortable with it, sensing how tight it gets around the tummy before it hangs loosely around your thighs, and it’s a bit short. But it’s also nearly summer, and you’re going to a bar with your friends.

It should be fine, right?

You weigh the idea, turning back and forth and looking yourself over. 

The memory of Suna whispering ‘ Wanna ruin you ’ in your ear makes goosebumps break out all over your skin. 

“Alright, fuck it,” You tell yourself, swiping your phone off the vanity and leaving your room before you can change your mind.

When you get to the bar, you realize that you’d taken so long to get ready that Suna’s already there. The entirety of the Black Jackals is piled up in a corner, rowdy and excited around a few tables as they throw back a round of shots. 

You squeeze past a group of girls, finding Suna talking to Atsumu off to the side. You try to head toward him, but there’s an absolute mountain of a man cutting you short.

“ Y/n! You look so pretty! ” Bokuto yells, your eardrums screaming for mercy. You look up at him, laughing awkwardly.

“Jesus, Bo-” You catch movement over his shoulder, and you look, seeing that Suna’s turning in your direction, since Bokuto had announced your arrival.

He’s mid-sip when he turns, but the moment he lays eyes on you, they’re going wide. He chokes, spraying his drink all over Atsumu’s face. The blond just stands there covered in Suna’s ejected drink, deadpan, and you spot Sakusa in the back, bent at the waist and pounding a fist on the table as he laughs into his hand. Osamu’s not far away, shaking his head with an amused grin but more preoccupied with keeping his attention on Yachi, who looks impossibly pretty beside him.

Bokuto sees nothing, going in for a crushing hug. “If I’d known you’d dress up like this for us whenever we win, we’d be unstoppable!” 

It’s only the hand Hinata sets on Bokuto’s arm that frees you, the ginger peeling his senior off of you. “You’re killing her, Bokuto,” He laughs, hugging you quickly when you wheeze out a quiet ‘ Thanks, Shou’ and rub at your arms.

“Here to break hearts again?” He asks cutely, eyeing you appreciatively. “Looks like it to me.” 

“Just one heart,” You say shyly, glancing at where Suna is patting napkins against Atsumu’s wet skin with a sheepish smile. He meets your eyes briefly, and you watch him scan the length of your body. There’s a suspicious pink tint coloring his ears, but he just shakes his head and turns back to Atsumu. 

Hinata follows your gaze, nodding with a quiet ‘ Ah’. “Seems like you’ve already done it, then,” He laughs, referencing the way Suna keeps glancing back at you with an increasingly redder face. You smile, squeezing Hinata’s arm before pointing at the bar. 

“I think I’ve got a bit of catching up to do-” You gesture at Sakusa, who’s still howling with laughter in a way that’s unlike him, his glowing face telling you he’s close to plastered.

Hinata lets you go, and you make your way to the bar. The girl working is nice enough, but you can see her looking you over while she makes you a vodka cranberry. The way her eyebrows lift after she assesses you makes it clear that she’s not going to compliment your outfit anytime soon.

“Y/n!”

You jump, turning to find Yachi all but running to join you. She bumps you with her shoulder, beaming up at you. 

“You look so freaking good,” She says, wrapping her arms tight around you. “This new style you’re trying is killer. I didn’t realize how hot you were until the party at Atsumu’s,” She giggles, and you laugh as you hug her back. She’s a little drunk, but her compliments warm you and make you adore her more than ever. 

“You haven’t seen yourself, little miss Hitoka,” You tease. “Samu looks like he’s going to curl up in a ball any minute now.” 

She blushes, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “He’s so sweet,” She says, smiling to herself before looking up at you. “He told me you were always pushing him to make a move. I’m so happy he did.” 

You glance back, catching the way Osamu’s looking at her. He sees you watching and meets your eyes, smiling knowingly and then gesturing to your dress. You get a thumbs-up of approval, one that helps your confidence in ways he probably will never realize, especially since you can still feel the bartender watching you.

You turn back to Yachi with a bright smile. “You two look really good together. I’m probably breaking a million rules by telling you this, but,” You lean forward conspiratorily, and she comes close with wide eyes so you can whisper to her. “ He really likes you .”

She hides her face right away, her happy giggles making you love her just a little bit. She smacks you playfully on the arm, shaking her head.

“You’re one to talk – you didn’t see Suna ruin Atsumu’s night earlier?” 

You laugh, sipping your drink. “He’s so stupid.”

It’s lovesick, even to your ears.

Yachi hums in disbelief. “That man likes you , Y/n. You can’t tell me you don’t see that.”

The words ‘ I was obsessed with you ’ ring in your ears.

“That-” You laugh, staring down at your drink with a warm face. “-would be something, huh?” 

You talk to her at the bar for a while, and then she’s glancing over your shoulder curiously.

“I better leave you now,” She says with a smile. When you just tilt your head, she lifts a shoulder in a shrug, turning away from you. “I’m gonna pretend Samu just called my name from across the bar.” 

And then she’s gone, leaving you with an empty drink and no idea what’s just happened. 

You wave the bartender down, ordering another vodka cranberry. She’s just as almost-nice as before, her eyes judgmental when she scans you again. She leaves you feeling a bit out of place, but there’s a body pressing against yours before you can fall into it.

“ What in the ever-loving fuck did I do to deserve this? ”

You tense, Suna’s voice in your ear making your heart jump. You turn, seeing how close he is as he leans his elbows on the bar. He lifts his brows, waiting. 

“What?” You laugh, shaking your head. “I just thought it’d be nice to dress up for the celebration.” 

“Celebration, my ass,” He grumbles, looking you over. “You haven’t worn that since college.”

“Oh, really? Interesting that you noticed,” You say, looking down at yourself and pretending not to see the way his eye twitches.

“ Y/n ,” He breathes, and you feel the impatience in his tone. “You’re killing me. Miya already threatened to charge me for his dry-cleaning-”

“What can I get you?” 

You both turn, finding the bartender standing there. She slides you your drink but keeps her eyes firmly on Suna, her gaze trailing over his inked arms and piercings. 

He pretends not to see it, just glancing at the wall of hard liquor behind her. “A Jack and Coke is good, thanks.” And then he turns back to you, leaning close. “What did Hinata say to you when you came in?”

You smile, about to tease him for acting jealous, but the bartender’s interrupting again.

“I’ve never seen you in here before,” She says, smiling flirtily at him. 

Suna blinks slowly at her, and you watch disinterest glaze over his eyes. “Just here to celebrate with some friends.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw them-” She nods to where Atsumu and Sakusa are bickering and laughing at each other. “Those are the Black Jackals, right? Crazy that you know them.” She looks at him again. “Could you introduce me?” 

“You could just introduce yourself when they come order their drinks,” He suggests, standing to his full height and crossing his arms. 

You sigh, because you know that he’s trying to warn her off, but he only makes things worse – his tattoos and piercings on top of his height are guaranteed to make her want him more.

Sure enough, her eyes light with interest when she realizes how tall he is, and she starts to push harder while she makes his drink. You reach into your pocket for some cash while she talks, just wanting to pay her for your drink and get the hell away from her. There’s another bartender further down the room – you can just go to him for your drinks tonight. 

“Maybe I could,” The woman says, smiling and sliding his drink across the bar to him. “I should probably start with you, huh?” 

“You could certainly try,” He smiles back, but you see that it’s mocking.

She takes it as encouragement, leaning over to hold a hand out to him. “Kaori. Sure would be a shame for you to leave here alone tonight.” 

He stares down at it, and you’re smacked with the memory of every time he’d left one of your exes hanging. The unimpressed flick of his eyes to yours drives the nostalgia home. 

“What makes you think I’m alone?” 

You twirl the folded cash between your fingers, waiting with growing irritation. This woman had interrupted your conversation – clearly personal – more than once, and she shows no sign of letting up, even though you’re still here beside him.

The twinge of irritation twists into cold anger when she just pulls her hand back and glances over his shoulder, examining the table full of your friends. The only other girl there is Yachi, and it’s obvious who she’s with.

“Well, it doesn’t look like you’re with anyone.”

“You sure about that?” You snap.

Her eyes fly to you, and you see Suna’s head turn just the same. Your face burns, but you’re too angry to feel embarrassed. You lay a set of bills on the bar that should cover both your drinks and then meet her eyes.

“Because it looks to me like he’s taken.”

You hold eye contact with her for just a moment longer before lifting your eyes to Suna’s.

He’s looking at you like he never has before. His face is flushed and his smile is shy, and it makes your nerves flip to think that’s because of you, but it’s his eyes that catch you – bright and full of pride, he looks at you like you’ve given him something he thought might never come.

Veins humming with affection for this man in front of you, you swipe your drink off the bar and turn, walking away. He appears at your side in an instant, a hand pressing against your lower back.

“What was that?” He asks, voice betraying the laugh he’s suppressing.

“Next time, try not to make it clear just how attractive you are, please,” You mutter, rolling your eyes and letting him walk you to a couple seats in the back.

“I was just minding my business,” He teases, smiling as he leans his elbows on the table and meets your eye. You mirror him, leaning close.

“Well, she was minding mine .”

You leave him there, sitting at the table with his face buried in his hands and his ears red under the dim bar lights. You make your way back to Hinata, sitting with him and Bokuto and watching with a smile as they recount the previous day’s match in unrealistic detail. Your phone buzzes in your purse, and you make a point of barely glancing at it, because you can feel his eyes on you.

[7:17 PM]

Sunarin : possessive looks really fucking good on you

–

You manage to avoid him for the better part of the night, dancing around his every attempt to join you while you mingle with the MSBY boys. You can tell that the bartender must think you two are fighting because of her – she does her best to catch Suna’s eye whenever he asks the other bartender for a drink. It makes you smile, because he stands there every time, oblivious to her desperate act as he types furiously on his phone.

It just so happens that your phone buzzes repeatedly in your purse around that time, too, text after text keeping him from even realizing there’s another woman in the room vying for his attention.

[8:01 PM]

Sunarin : you never told me what hinata ended up telling you

Sunarin : he was checking you out though

[8:28 PM]

Sunarin : why arent you letting me sit next to you

Sunarin : y/n 

Sunarin : sit next to me damn it

[9:15 PM]

Sunarin : woman if you dont stop leaning over to talk to bokuto across the table

Sunarin : your ASS is OUT

[9:57 PM]

Sunarin : fucking hell what do you want from me

Sunarin : why are you torturing me

You laugh at that, unable to stop your smile after so many drinks and so many attempts on his end to get your attention. Another text comes in almost immediately.

Sunarin : i fucking SAW THAT

Sunarin : tell me what you want 

Sunarin : i will do literally anything

Your head swims from the alcohol, and you type back exactly what’s on your mind.

You : youre cute when youre obsessed

When he doesn’t respond, you look up, finding that he’s staring right at you with knowing eyes, the glow of his phone lighting up his face. He lifts a brow, typing a response without looking away.

Sunarin : so thats what this is ab

You swallow, suddenly nervous with the way he’s staring at you. You phone buzzes, and you break eye contact to read it.

Sunarin : you been thinking ab that all day, baby girl?

Mother of all fuck. 

You breathe a shaky sigh and turn away from him while you think.

Sunarin : aw, did i make you nervous?

You groan, rubbing at your brow.

You : youre funny

Sunarin : and youre lying

You blink rapidly, unsure what to do with that. And then you lock your phone quickly, because there’s a body bumping into yours.

It’s Sakusa, looking like he’s on another dimension of drunk.

“ Y/n, ” He slurs, draping his arms around you and leaning his cheek on top of your head.

“Hi, Kiyoomi,” You laugh, wrapping an arm around his waist, careful not to put your actual hands on him, because even trashed, he’s holding his own away from your body. 

“ You know something? ” He asks, and you struggle to hear him over the noise of the bar. Your phone buzzes, and you glance at it.

Sunarin : whats wrong y/n

Sunarin : dont want sakusa to know youre thinking ab how i fucked you this morning?

You turn the screen away from the man hugging you, lowering your brightness in a panic.

“I get the feeling you’ll tell me,” You joke, wincing when Sakusa tightens his hold. Are all these guys unaware of their strength? They’re professional athletes, for fuck’s sake.

“ Tsumu really loves you, Y/n,” He says, swaying. “ He loves you so much – he just wants you to be happy .”

Your heart swells, and you’re glancing over at Atsumu, who’s dancing like an idiot with Meian. You can only imagine how much he has to talk about you for Sakusa to be saying this right now.

“ I love you, too, now, ” Sakusa presses a drunken kiss into your hair. “ Tsumu’s made me love you, Y/n – we want you to be happy. ” 

You press your face against his chest, hoping he can feel how much that sentiment warms you.

Your phone buzzes.

Sunarin : did he just kiss you

You : suna hes shitfaced

Sunarin : try again

You sigh, squeezed tight in Sakusa’s oblivious hold.

You : rin, please

Sunarin : cute

Sunarin : so fucking cute

You struggle to glance behind you, but you see that Suna’s at the table, smile amused.

Sunarin : do you want to find out how obsessed i am with you?

You : dont do anything stupid

You : hes not even on the same plane of existence as us rn

Sunarin : oh i wont

Sunarin : but i wouldnt mind if he watched me explain to you how many times ive thought about fucking you in that dress

Your eyes widen, and you’re pressing the screen to your chest and glancing up at Sakusa. He’s still swaying, eyes closed a little bit.

“I-I love him, too, Kiyoomi,” You start. “You make him really happy, and that makes me happy.”

“ Yeah ?” He grins shyly, and you catch the little lovesick look you know you get with Suna. “ He makes me happy, too. Should I ask him to make it official? ”

You stare up at him, your soul warm. This man really cares about Atsumu, you realize. You’d seen it before, but this is entirely separate. He’s confessing to you, when every guard he has is down, just how much Atsumu means to him.

Movement catches your eye, and you see that Atsumu’s standing just past Sakusa’s shoulder, staring at the back of his head with wide eyes. He meets your eyes, and you know he’d heard it, too. 

You keep eye contact with him while you hug Sakusa, nodding carefully. “Yeah, Kiyoomi. I think you should ask him.”

Atsumu flushes, and he starts to smile nervously, gaze hopeful as he steps up to you and presses a hand to Sakusa’s back. The germaphobe flinches away from the touch, turning with alarm.

And then you watch as he realizes it’s Atsumu and relaxes completely under his hand. 

Your phone buzzes, and you’re distinctly aware of how terrible it is for Suna to be sexting you while Atsumu’s in the middle of falling in love.

“ Tsumu, ” Sakusa says, pleased, and releases you. You glance down in the seconds before Atsumu can be in sight of your screen.

Sunarin : do you think if i bent you over the bar and fucked you right here, that bartender might finally get the hint?

Atsumu’s side presses against yours, but his attention’s on Sakusa, so you type fast.

You : rin, come on

You : we’re in public

Sunarin : never stopped me from thinking ab it before

Sunarin : that day in the car

Sunarin : on the way to the beach

Sunarin : do you wanna know what i was thinking ab?

You stare down at your phone, waiting, but he doesn’t tell you.

Sunarin : im waiting, y/n.

You want to scream.

You : yes, rin

You : of course i want to fucking know

You : youre killing me

Sunarin : mouthy

Sunarin : should i stuff my fingers in your mouth to shut you up?

The floor falls out from under you, your brain going blank. Any care you have for who’s next to you or who could see your phone leaves you. All you can do is wait.

Sunarin : thats what i thought about that day

“ Got somethin’ to ask me, Omi-kun? ” You hear Atsumu ask, his voice shy. Sakusa laughs quietly beside him.

“Later, Tsumu. I want it to be special. ”

Sunarin : in that car full of all our friends

“ Okay. Not gonna forget, are ya? ”

“ Never. I’ve been wanting to ask for a while. ”

“ Yeah? ”

“ Yeah. ”

“ Okay ,” Atsumu laughs, finally dropping it. You feel him nudge you then, trying to get your attention, but you forget to give it to him.

Sunarin : i thought about burying two fingers in your pretty little cunt and using my other hand to keep you quiet

Sunarin : thought about it for weeks after

Sunarin : thinkin about it now

“Y/n, I think I’mma head out soon- what the fuck- ” 

Your head whips up, and you find Atsumu with one hand over his eyes. 

“ Christ , Y/n, I didn’ need all that.”

You just stare up at him with wide, unseeing eyes, Suna’s text playing on repeat in your head. You start to giggle, worsened when your phone buzzes again.

Sunarin : whoops

You laugh louder, smacking Atsumu on the chest. He groans, digging the heel of his hand into his eye. 

“You two are gonna fuckin’ kill me one day, I swear,” He complains. “First the drink, now this?”

You fist his shirt in your hand and drag him down, planting a giddy kiss on his cheek. 

“I love you, too, Tsumu.” You look to Sakusa, who has no idea what’s just traumatized his future boyfriend. “And you, Kiyoomi. I love you, too.”

The man beams cutely down at you before grabbing Atsumu and pulling him toward the door. The blond goes with him, and you hear a whiny ‘ Never goin’ to the beach with them again, Omi-kun ’. 

You turn back to Suna, eyebrows raised. You’re glad to see that his pleased grin is a bit embarrassed.

When you reach him, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close.

“Well done,” You say, nodding very seriously. “He’s going to need therapy.”

“That’s not new,” He jokes, throwing his phone on the table so he can card his fingers through your hair. “Wanna get outta here?” 

“Why?” You tease, letting him pull your face close to his. “So you can keep telling me all about the depraved things you wanted to do to me in front of our friends?”

“No.” He brushes his lips over yours, eyes trained on your mouth before he lifts them to meet yours. “So I can show you what I meant when I said that you blowing me was the nice way to put it.” 

You moan quietly, clinging to him and thanking every higher power that exists that no one’s back here in this corner with you. “Rin…”

“You wanna leave?”

You nod furiously. He just smiles.

“Then go say bye to everyone.” When you nod again and start to pull away, he yanks you back, pushing his lips to yours heatedly. “ Wipe that look off your face, or they’re going to know that I’m thinking about fucking your mouth in the backseat of my car. ”

Your legs wobble a little bit when you walk away. 

You’re entirely uncertain that you manage to say bye to everyone there, and when Osamu hugs you tight and kisses the top of your head, he mumbles to you quietly.

“Whatever you get up to tonight, I don’t want to hear about it tomorrow.”

“What?” You laugh, your face warm with nerves when you spot Suna near the door. “Why?”

“Because in no life do I want to know what that look in your eye is about.” Osamu releases you, and you wave at Yachi, smiling sheepishly when Osamu calls out a teasing ‘ Have fun ’. 

You all but run over to Suna, your heart leaping when he reaches a hand out to you. You take it, leaning up against him and breathing out an embarrassed admission.

“I don’t think I was good at wiping the look off my face.”

He purses his lips, trying not to smile as he walks you out to the parking lot. “Then I guess you’ll just have to wait ‘til we get home.”

“No,” You whine. “Really?”

He smiles wide then. “Yes, really. I can’t have anyone catching us, can I?” He helps you into his car, buckling you in while you stare up at him, heartbroken. “Then they’ll know how good my girl is, and that’s supposed to be between us, right?”

You swallow, pressing your thighs together and nodding. “Yeah. Between us.” 

He glances down at your thighs with a smirk and then closes the passenger door, coming around to the driver’s side.

“Can you keep your hands to yourself until we get back?” He asks, starting the car.

You watch his ringed hand settle comfortably on the gear shift, the bracelet you’d gifted him hanging loosely from his wrist. You very urgently need that bracelet pressed between your thighs, like it had been that first night.

“Not sure.”

He laughs. “Do your best, baby. We’ll be home soon.”

He’s true to his word, his apartment complex appearing after only ten minutes, but by that point, you’re squirming in the seat beside him. Suna pretends to laugh, but you can see his hand flex on the gear shift and the flick of his gaze to your thighs as he’s pulling into the parking lot. He carts you up to his apartment with an urgency you’ve only seen in situations just like this, where he’s all but dragging you into the elevator. 

And when he shoves you to your knees at the foot of his bed, you know you’re in for quite the night. 

You look up at him, hands on his thighs, and wait.

He tilts your chin up, keeping your eyes on his, and smiles.

“Pretty.” 

You smile back nervously. “Yeah?” 

His fingers curl into your hair and cup the back of your head. It starts off gentle, but you feel the tension of his hold on your head, and you realize you’re being restrained.

“Want me to show you how pretty?” 

You try to nod, but his grip is tight. “Yes, please.”

Suna pulls his lip ring between his teeth, tugging as he stares down at you. He laughs almost nervously, despite showing no sign of loosening his grip.

“God, I really am a bad friend for imagining this so much.” 

You shift, your panties uncomfortably wet. “You’re only a bad friend for not telling me anything until now.” You reach for his belt, undoing it. “Making me wait all this time is unfair.”

He sighs when you tug on the zipper of his jeans and pull them down to his thighs, freeing him. You take his cock in your hand, stroking him slowly. 

He groans, tightening his grip in your hair. “You’re right,” He says breathlessly. “I coulda had you this whole time.” 

You squirm, sliding your palm against him and feeling when he grows harder. “You have me now.”

He guides his cock to your mouth, resting the head of it on your bottom lip. His eyes flick between your mouth and your eyes, his fingers painfully tight in your hair. He breathes out a question just as you’re parting your lips. 

“ Do I? ” 

You let your jaw drop open in response, your tongue passing along the underside of him. He shudders, and his cock twitches on your tongue. You feel his grip on your hair loosen in his distracted state, and you use the chance to dip your head, taking him into your mouth. 

Suna moans, his head falling back when you bob your head down onto him. You wrap your hands around the part of him you can’t fit in your mouth, and the swears start to fall from his mouth.

“ Fuck ,” He breathes, followed by a groan when the tip of his cock touches the back of your throat. “Fuck, that feels good.” 

He looks down at you, his fingers finding your hair again. 

“You’re so sweet. You’re so good and sweet and perfect. You take me so well.”

You moan around him, feeling when he shivers but ignoring it in favor of dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock and then suckling on the head of it. He whispers your name, his grip tightening.

“Shit.” He swallows audibly. “Is it alright if I-?” 

You do your best to nod, stomach swooping when his fingers twist your hair into a makeshift ponytail. His bracelet knocks gently against the back of your ear, and you feel yourself start to get desperate for him.

“You ever done this before?” When you shake your head, he swears under his breath weakly. “Dig your nails into my leg if something doesn’t feel right, okay? Make sure you breathe through your nose.”

You nod, and he stares down at you for a moment. And then his grip tightens. 

The sudden push of your head down on his cock has you moaning loudly around him. He swears over you, and then he pulls you off completely to look at you.

“Good?”

You whine at the loss, wrapping your hands around him and leaning forward again. He yanks you back, forcing your eyes up to his.

“Gotta answer me first, baby.”

“Yes,” You breathe quickly. “Yes, good. All good- can I-?” You slide your fingers over the head of his cock, and he groans quietly.

When he lowers you down onto him, you get the sense he’s struggling to keep his self-control. The hand on your head is tightening to the point of pain, but you only moan through it, the tip of his cock bumping against the back of your throat once, and then again. The third is rough, his hips canting forward as his hand brings you down. 

But when you choke audibly, Suna moans your name, loud and echoing off his walls, and you resolve yourself to dragging that sound out of him every chance you get. 

You try to sink down on him yourself, but a harsh tug pulls you back.

“Whatcha doin’?” He asks, eyes hazy and breath short. “‘s my job.” 

You whimper, whispering a quiet apology and waiting.

He twists more of your hair around his fingers, holding you steady in front of him. You open your mouth and let him slide in, moaning softly when he brushes against the back of your throat.

“Promise not to move?” He asks, gaze adoring. You nod shallowly, and he smiles. “That’s my girl.”

He snaps his hips forward, and you think he sees it when your eyes roll into the back of your head.

The pace he sets reminds you of the way he’d fucked you this morning, but, as you watch him through the tears building in your eyes, you realize that this must be something he’d thought he’d never have. His eyes are squeezed shut, and your name is falling in broken whispers from his lips every time he bumps against the back of your throat. You watch him as he acts on something he’d spent a long time thinking about, and you want to give him anything he wants. 

Not too long goes by before you feel him twitch in your mouth, his cock heavier and his hips stuttering briefly when you moan around him. 

“ Fuck ,” He breathes. “I’m gonna- I should-” He starts to pull you off of him, but you scramble forward, sliding your hand up to press against his stomach. You fist his shirt in your hold, eyes pleading when you look up at him. He moans at the eye contact, grip loosening. You push down on his cock, going as far as you can, and he cups the back of your head carefully. 

“God, you’re so pretty,” He says. You suck gently on him, using your hands to coax him over the edge. “Thought about this so much. Shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it…” He sighs, watching you work and shivering every time your tongue drags over him. “I wanted to do something about it, wanted to make a move-”

Your eyes fly up to his, wide. His face warms under your surprise. 

“ Didn’t wanna fuck things up ,” He mumbles, fingers carding lightly into your hair. He moans quietly when you bob your head, and you feel how close he is. “ Couldn’t risk losing you. ”

Your heart sings in your chest, nerves buzzing loudly, and you use your free hand to search for his. When you find it, you intertwine your fingers with his, squeezing warmly. 

You’re distinctly aware that that’s what sends him over the edge.

His hips push forward weakly, and you hear your name being choked on as he fills your mouth. You swallow as much as you can, using your hand to stroke him until he’s done. 

After a moment, he sighs shakily.

“Shit.”

You pull off of him slowly, helping him back into his boxers. He crouches in front of you, forcing you to look at him. 

You smile sleepily, your throat a bit achy as you whisper to him. “ Hi. ”

He leans forward, kissing you hard. “ Thank you for letting me do that ,” He whispers back, mouth warm on yours.

“ Thank you for doing that. ” You giggle when he wraps his arms around you and hoists you up. You cling, face buried in his shirt, as he moves you both onto his bed, your dress riding up and bunching around your waist.

Suna all but rips your panties off of you, spreading your thighs and kissing the inside of your knee.

“I really wanna fuck you while you’re wearing this-” He nips at the soft flesh of your thigh, kissing each thigh and making his way slowly toward your core. “But I wanna do this more right now.” His eyes flick to yours. “You’ll wear this again, though, right?” 

You warm, nervous. “Maybe?”

“No ‘ maybe ’.” He sucks a mark into your inner thigh. “You’ll wear it again.” 

“Okay.”

“Good,” He smiles, examining the bruise he’s leaving on your skin. “Then – for now – this is what I want.” 

You shudder, stomach fluttering with anxiety when you see where he’s headed. “No one’s ever…” 

He meets your eyes again, smile dropping a bit. “What?”

You just look away, tugging your dress down a little. “No one wanted to.”

“...You asked them to?”

“Only the first couple times.” You shrug, embarrassed. “Wasn’t worth it after that.”

The silence that stretches between you reminds you of the day you asked to kiss him. His hold on your thighs tightens, and you can see he’s a bit annoyed. “Ask me.” 

Your heart skips, and you’re squirming under him. “I dunno-”

There’s a hand on your face, and you realize you’ve grown quite fond of him squeezing you like this.

“Ask me.” He lifts a brow, daring you not to.

You look away, murmuring through his hold. “ Will you go down on me? ” 

He releases you, staring with warmth. 

There’s something in it that looks like more than you’ve allowed yourself to hope for. 

“I would be honored.” 

You laugh when he pushes his face against your thigh, breathing you in and biting softly on your skin. “You’re so fucking corny.” 

“You deserve at least that much,” He says plainly, biting and nipping and sucking spots into your thighs, his tongue soothing each one along the way. “That’s the only time you’ll ever have to ask me.” 

You smile and card your fingers through his hair, shivering when his breath fans out over your core. “What did you mean earlier?” When he glances up at you through his eyelashes, your stomach lurches in anticipation. “When you talked about making a move.”

Suna presses a kiss to your navel and then to the crease of your hips, his hands keeping your legs open for him. “Didn’t want to scare you off and fuck everything up.”

“But you seemed completely fine with us doing this a few weeks ago. When I said I didn’t want to ruin us.”

“A few weeks ago-” He kisses the very edges of your inner thighs, and you know he can already feel how wet you are. “-the only way things could change was if you fell for me, or if you found someone else and we went back to being friends.”

He lifts his gaze as he hooks your thighs over his shoulders, speaking clearly when he looks you in the eye.

“At the time, I was okay with that second option.”

Your nerves burst under your skin, his words flying around your head and making it entirely impossible for you to notice when he drops his head and presses the flat of his tongue to your core.

Your back arches, a gasp ripped out of you as your hands fly to his hair. “ Rin -”

He drags his tongue along your folds, searing hot when it slides against your clit. “I was okay with this ending,” He mumbles, the vibration of his words making you squirm. “I thought I was over you, like an idiot.”

He laughs, and you hide your face in one of your hands. It’s cruel to make you go through this right now . To make you helpless and desperate for him in a million different ways, only to drop this bomb of an admission on you.

How are you supposed to not fall for him when he says and does everything that makes you think it’s okay?

Suna nips gently into your skin, his tongue wildly distracting while you try to process.

“I thought I was over you, but I was so fucking okay with you falling for me,” He breathes the words onto your burning skin, laughing quietly when you squirm. “It was so obvious, and I didn’t notice.”

“Rin,” You whine, pushing your hips up carefully and moaning when he grips you tight and pulls you against his mouth. “Please don’t tease me. I won’t be able to let you go.”

“Baby,” He says it so naturally and with a lilt of humor, like he thinks you’re not listening to him, that your breath comes out sharp and whiny. “Haven’t you been listening? I was only okay with breaking things off when we first started. Don’t you know how long it’s been since then?”

He dips his head and drags his tongue over your clit, latching on afterward and suckling gently. You cry his name and squeeze your thighs. He holds onto them and buries his face deeper, moaning against your core. You barely hear when he speaks, your ears ringing.

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.” 

You find yourself gasping for air, your heart pounding almost painfully in your throat.

“ Rin- ”

“ Tell me you’re mine. ” 

Electricity flies down your spine, but Suna keeps you held down when your body bows off of his mattress.

“‘m yours-”

“Again.” He tortures you like that, bullying you to the edge while making you work for it, your pleas desperate.

“‘m yours, ‘m yours – please, Rin, please-”

“ Again. ”

“ I’m yours, Rin, I’m yours -” You all but scream it, your words echoing long after you say it.

He rewards you now, sucking hard on your clit and then dragging his tongue over it.

You fall, and you know that it’s permanent. 

When you eventually come down – seconds or minutes or hours later, you don’t know – you almost miss when Suna pushes his lips against your inner thigh and breathes a response.

“ And I’m yours. ”

guys vote for my king pls

hes so husband🤭🤭

the way he has the prettiest eyes ever and how he’s looking at her AAAAAAA🤭🤭🤭😭😻💗💗😭💗💗😭 i need to write abt him and Jason too now

hi idc if this was posted three years ago, this is the most beautiful thing i’ve ever read

Till Kingdom Come (Jason Todd x Reader)

Part 1

Thank you so much to everyone who left a nice comment for me! They made my day and I’m so happy you guys like this fic as much as I do! Without further ado, here is part 2 to For the Kingdom! 

Warnings: Various spoilers for Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, To Kill a Mockingbird, and The Outsiders

Word Count: 5,000

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish @jaybirdxarsenal @palefiregiver @because-icanhide @nakedszn

Jason didn’t talk to you like he told Dick he would. He was scared to face you after causing so much pain during something that is supposed to bring pleasure. Why would you want to see him? Besides, Jason would end up saying something stupid and making you cry.

As he walks by the library, Jason pauses, backtracking and staring into the huge room. When he first tried giving gifts, he tried guessing what you were interested in and failed. So, instead of trying to guess what you might like, what if Jason shows you things about him and hopefully gives you a reason to not be scared of him?

… 

The next morning, you receive another gift from Jason. You open the box, expecting to find clothing or jewelry, but instead, you find a book with a note: I’m sorry about last night. I don’t want our marriage to be built on fear. I’m willing to try and make this work if you are. 

You smile sadly at the note then look down at the book: Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

Keep reading

ive found my people 🙏

Live footage of me trying to explain why s2 spencer is hotter than s13

stay with me now🙏🙏

If the batkids had a podcast

Redhood: I was a pretty easy child-

Nightwing: You were.

Redhood: Straight A's and everything. Like, I would be hanging out with Batman- (laugh) I would be- You know right?

Nightwing: Yeah.

Redhood: Just chilling. No patrol day. And he would be like "what do you want to do?" and I would be like- "Read! :D"

Nightwing *chuckles*: "Homework!"

Redhood: "Homework!". And then- And then I fucking died-

Red Robin: WHEZE.

Redhood: I fucking- Don't be a easy child.

Red Robin (chocking): Don't be a good kid.

Redhood: Don't be a good kid. Start- I don't know– Start throwing shit on fire or something.

Next post

Take My Hand | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Part Two to I Stayed There

Inspired by “Right Where You Left Me” by Taylor Swift

Summary: In which almost a decade later unlikely paths cross again, with little time to make big decisions. What once was broken can be mended, and the past can be forgiven. Frozen hearts can be reignited and destined souls can become one again. But only if given the chance.

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

wc: 10.3k

warnings: a lot of angst, pining, men begging on their knees, emotional turmoil

a/n: howdy folks, back at it again with part two. I want to thank everyone for the overwhelming support on part one, and I really hope part two lives up to your expectations. It got a little lengthy, but I hope you all enjoy it. And as always, thank you so very much for taking the time to read my stories, I appreciate each and every one of you.

"I knew if I told you that there was someone else that you wouldn't push the issue. I knew you loved me too much to interfere with my happiness. I used your own love against you and I am so sorry." He sniffles and pushes tears from his eyes.

His words feel like someone has punched you square in the stomach. Spencer had never found anyone else, he just wanted to protect you. He loved you too much to let you be harmed. Realizing his actions were done out of pure love, and not betrayal, a sob bubbles up from your chest.

Years upon years you had spent every night in envy of the other woman who was receiving Spencer's love. Months had been dedicated to wondering what you could've done differently to keep him from leaving. Countless weeks spent in agonizing misery, mourning and yearning for the love of your life.

Eight years, eleven months, and twenty-eight days. That's how much time has passed since Spencer had walked out, and every day that passes and another day is added to the count, his heart grows heavier.

Sure, he's able to get up in the mornings and do his job thoroughly, but the joy life once had has faded. He's become jaded, and everyone has noticed. They've all just accepted that it's who he is now. He no longer tries to go out of his way to inquire about his teammates and their lives, he stopped practicing his magic tricks when there was downtime. Instead, he keeps to himself for the most part. The only time the team really hears from him is when there's an active case.

The first year or so the team had given him some grace, they understood how badly the break up had affected him; they assumed he'd bounce back eventually, but more and more time passed with no indication of returning to his former self.

And after a while they stopped trying to set him up with dates, they quit teasing him about being disinterested in getting back out there. Spencer had never told them exactly what happened, but after they stopped, he suspected Derek filled in the blanks for them.

Truthfully, the rest of the team had taken pity on him; they understood all too well why he had initiated the breakup. But even with their knowledge and insight, they are still saddened by what Spencer has become, and they wish every day that his old personality will resurface. But until that day comes, if it ever does, they will remain supportive from a distance with which he is comfortable with.

"You ready for the next case?" Derek asks Spencer as he stirs the sugar into his coffee. Spencer stares at the rising steam before answering.

"Yeah, I'm ready." He replies and grabs the cup, following Derek to the briefing room where JJ and the rest are awaiting them.

Spencer takes his usual spot and listens to JJ explain the case. It's a local case, a wife gone missing in the middle of the day yesterday. From the photos, it looks like it could've been a burglary gone bad. Spencer zones out a little while JJ is explaining, instead focusing on his coffee, which he wishes he would've put more sugar into. After JJ has completed the brief, the team heads out to start working, and like usual, Spencer is tasked with the geographical profile.

Derek works alongside him under the order of Hotch while the rest go explore leads. The two of them work silently and efficiently, singling out places of interest to investigate and narrowing down a perimeter for officers to search.

"What do you think about it?" Derek breaks the silence, earning a sigh from Spencer. He steps away from the board and crosses his arms, studying what they have so far.

"I think it's weird that nothing of value was really missing, just the wife. You'd think if it were a burglary gone bad the unsub would've taken something else." Spencer's eyes dance across the crime scene photos, mind working a hundred miles a minute to make sense of this.

"Well maybe it wasn't a burglary." Derek says, eyes trained on a photo of the husband who reported his wife missing.

"Maybe not." Spencer agrees, and the two of them delve back into the work.

-----

You stir your tea around in your cup, settling on the couch for some morning television before you start your day. There's a laundry list of things you need to get done, only you lack the necessary motivation to get started on it all. Your hand finds the remote and turns the volume up, the woman on the screen piquing your interest and distracting you from your responsibilities.

"Mrs. Greene was reported missing late last night by her husband. At this time, her whereabouts are still unknown, and the authorities urge you to contact them if you have any information." The news reporter speaks with clarity and urgency. A photo of the missing woman pops onto the screen, but you don't recognize her. You hope they find her alive, but you know cases like this usually don't end well.

Thinking about what might have happened to the woman, your mind drifts to Spencer, and you wonder how he would approach the case. Would he immediately suspect the husband? Or would he hold off on judgment until he got the facts straight? Running your hand over his blanket, you wish he was here to talk about it.

Though it's been almost nine years at this point, there isn't a day that goes by that you don't think of him. You hope he's doing well, you hope he's found happiness. And at this point, you even think he might have a family of his own. But you try not to dwell on that thought too long, for it still makes you sick to your stomach to imagine him having a family with anyone other than you.

Of course, you could always ask Derek, but you think that a part of you would prefer not to know. Because if you don't know for sure, then there's always a chance that you're wrong. In order to stay functional you need the plausible deniability. While you want him to be happy, and you want him to live his life to the fullest, his absence is still very prominent and noticeable to you.

After you finish your tea, you place your cup on the white tablecloth adorning the dining room table, red stain having faded to pink from time and wear. And while the stain may fade, you know for a fact your memory about that morning will always be in your mind. And if the stain wasn't enough of a reminder, the scars on the bottoms of your feet are. It still hurts to step a certain way after all this time, the glass had embedded itself deeply into your skin, causing lasting damage.

Once you get ready for the day, you embark on the errands you have to run. A small part inside of you is excited about this new journey; it'll be like a fresh start and you think that's exactly what you need. You don't really want to move away, you love this city, but it houses memories that will forever hold you prisoner if you let them; and you've let them for the past nine years. The other part of you, the part that still clings to Spencer, is suffering and it makes this decision ten times harder. The guilt slowly, but surely, eats away at you with each step you take down the street but you try to convince yourself that this is the right move to be making.

Ignoring your emotional turmoil, you walk into the leasing agent's building and find her office easily, having already been here once last week to start the process of relisting the apartment. She welcomes you in and explains the paperwork as you sit across from her. The agent tells you where to sign and when you will need to be out of the apartment once you've submitted the paperwork. She said that since Spencer had taken his name off the lease years ago, that this process is a hundred times easier since there's no permission needed from him anymore. It's a bittersweet statement you realize.

You take the papers from the agent's office and tell her that you'll be back soon with everything signed. She had wanted you to fill everything out right there, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. After all, this apartment holds so much sentimental value and the thought of it being someone else's makes your heart ache. You'll have to build yourself up to sign them, once you've fully convinced yourself that this is the right thing to do. And you know that once you sign those papers, the tiny part of Spencer you still have, will be yours no longer.

After the leasing agent's office, you take a trip to a moving company to get a quote on how much it would cost to move your things from Virginia to Colorado. The price they gave you was a little steeper than you had hoped for, but you thank them nonetheless and try to figure out how to foot that bill while also finding a new place to live. There are a few places in your sights, but you had yet to decide on one.

You return to your apartment after you had completed the last few errands on your list, dropping the stack of papers onto the dining table and unloading the groceries you had picked up on your way back home. The sun had started to set and so you turned on a few lamps and lit a candle, wanting to try to soothe your anxieties after today and have a relaxing evening.

A glass of wine finds its way into your hand after dinner, you kick your feet up on the coffee table and sip while staring at the screen in front of you. They're running another story on the missing woman, but it seems they have more details. Intrigued, you turn the volume up.

"Authorities are now saying that the scene looks like it could have been a robbery gone bad. Informants on the scene noted that there were signs of a struggle inside the residence. If you noticed any suspicious activity, contact the sheriff's office immediately." The reporter switches to a different story, and you change the channel, wanting to know more about the missing woman. And you know there's always one channel that seems to be ahead of the news.

The reporter is a fiery blonde-haired lady who makes her opinions well-known to the public. And you know her persona is probably partially to generate views and interest value, but you can't deny that she's able to get insider information quicker than the traditional news channels. Sure enough, the woman's face is on the center of the screen, and she's going on about Mrs. Greene's disappearance in a very animated manner.

"You're telling me that a husband reports his wife missing hours after he was aware of her absence? He knew that she was gone since at least the afternoon, and he didn't report it to police until almost the next day? Not only that, but there's been a disturbance in the house! From the photos I've seen so far, the ottoman in the living room was knocked over, the coffee table was shattered, and the dining room chairs were all sorts of disheveled. And to top it all off, I've got someone on the scene there, and they just told us that police are reporting a positive luminol test. There was blood on the scene that's been cleaned up. Now I'm no expert, but I think that certainly casts suspicion on Mr. Greene." Her voice drones on and on about her theory that Mr. Greene was most definitely involved in the disappearance of his wife, but something about the details is oddly familiar, you just can't quite put your finger on it.

You go to bed that night trying to recall why those details sound so familiar. Tossing and turning, you struggle to pinpoint where you've heard something like that before and it's beginning to drive you insane. The plots of movies and shows run through your mind, trying to piece things together, but to no avail. You eventually drift off to sleep, and for the first night in nine years, your dreams are full of something other than Spencer; your mind finally has something compelling enough to mull over to distract you from the cold, empty spot beside you.

The morning comes and your hand ghosts over the spot next to you, like it does every morning. You had hoped that by now your unconscious would understand that he's not here to hold close in the morning anymore, but you wake up the same way every day; full of sorrow and longing. With a sigh, you push yourself out of bed, the air feeling crisp against your skin. What you wouldn't give for five minutes of Spencer's warmth.

Your morning routine comes and goes, and you find yourself staring at a stack of cardboard boxes, waiting to be filled. Hands on your hips, you look around at everything that needs to be packed. Things are either coming with you, or they're being returned to their rightful owner. You still had no idea how you're going to get everything back to Spencer, but you figure you'll work it out when the time comes. For now, you'll start boxing things up.

With a box beside you, your heart constricts as you reach for a stack of Spencer's books to be put away indefinitely. The empty shelf is reflective of the emptiness in your soul, and you're not sure if it'll ever fill back in. Truthfully, you don't know what could possibly mend the brokenness as your heart only has one desire.

You pack up two bookcases before you're unable to handle it anymore. With each empty shelf the reality sets in more and more; he's not coming back here. Your Spencer isn't going to knock on the door and come back to you. You turn your head to look at the door, not sure what you're expecting, but your eyes land on his coat that still hangs from the rack. It lost its signature Spencer scent about three years ago, but you don't have it in you to take it down, not yet at least.

You're keenly aware that eventually you'll have to pack up the stained tablecloth, Spencer's clothes that remain in the dressers, his favorite blanket, and give them away forever, never to be seen or touched by you again. Then all you'll have left of him are the memories, and after all this time some of them have already faded entirely. You're no longer able to remember many of the small moments shared together, you can't recall how his lips felt against your forehead as he bid you goodbye in the mornings before work. You fear that in another nine years you won't remember anything except his name and the moment he walked out of the door.

You fold the top of the box down and slide it across the room to join the others. When you return to the shelf to assess what size box you need next, your eyes land on a very specific book. It's one you had recommended to Spencer. You told him it was a compelling story and though it's not a literary classic, he should give it a try and broaden his horizons. Of course, it took you a week to finish it and it took him a casual afternoon.

The details of the book flood your mind and you realize why the disappearance of Mrs. Greene seemed so familiar. Your hands open the book and flip through the pages, finding exactly what you were looking for. In a frenzy, your eyes scan over the words and they grow wide with realization. Either this is one of the biggest delusions you've convinced yourself of, or you might just be onto something.

You reread the words over and over again, wrestling with yourself about whether this is worthy of submitting a tip. From the perspective of an investigator, it may seem absolutely ridiculous. I mean after all, you're using a piece of fiction to explain a real-life situation. But a small voice in the back of your head reminds you of something Spencer had said several times,

"Sometimes what seems like an insignificant detail ends up cracking the case."

Youwrestle with what to do, placing the book on the coffee table and pacing around, the television providing low background noise as your mind goes through different reasonings. You stop pacing around once you see a familiar blonde-haired woman on the screen, her FBI credentials hanging from her blazer pocket.

Sitting on the edge of the couch, you turn the volume up and listen to her intently. She announces that the BAU is actively working the case and that they hope to find Mrs. Greene soon. She also implores the public for any information. Your phone on the dining room table seems to call your name, and before you can think through what you're doing, the phone is ringing.

"What's up sweet thing?" Derek's voice greets you through the phone. You trust that even if your speculation is wildly ridiculous that he won't make fun of you. You explain to him your theory but he cuts you off in the middle of your sentence.

"Come by the office in the morning and explain it to the team. It might just be something." He asks, and you sigh.

"Derek I don't-" You begin making your excuse of why you can't go to their office, but he cuts you off for a second time.

"He won't be there, just come on by." Before you can get another word in, he hangs the phone up. It seems you have no choice, really.

Anxiety blooms within you, you haven't been to the BAU office in a decade. And the last time you were there was under much better and happier circumstances. But if Derek promised Spencer wouldn't be there, you figure it's worth going if your theory can help find Mrs. Greene. You just hope that the others don't bring him up in any capacity; you don't think you could handle hearing how happy he is with her while you suffer every single day without him.

-----

Nine years. It's been nine years today since Spencer left you. He stares up at the ceiling when his eyes open in the morning, heavy with sleep. There's an uncomfortable emptiness within him, fueled by his thoughts of what today signifies. He's sure the only thing he'll be able to do is replay that fateful night over and over again in his mind today, he's not sure how he's going to stay focused on the case.

Eventually, he gets himself out of bed and begins his morning routine. He buttons his shirt, puts a tie on, and shrugs a sweater overtop. Spencer stares at himself in the mirror, his reflection showing him the grim reality that is the dark circles under his eyes and his unkempt hair. His eyes trail down to see that his tie is crooked, and his fingers fix it; but he can never fix it like you used to.

Breakfasts don't seem to be as tasty as the ones you made, heading off to work without a goodbye kiss gives him no ambition for the day, and there's nothing to look forward to after he's off the clock for you aren't eagerly awaiting his return with a smile on your face. In the nine years that have passed, the vibrant world has devolved into grayscale.

The clock on the wall tells him he still has two hours before he's supposed to be in. Derek told him to take a few hours this morning, he knows how hard today was bound to be for Spencer, and he was right. But Spencer is restless, he knows if he stays in this apartment for another hour and a half that he's going to let his mind take him to sorrowful places; and that's sure to affect the team dynamic.

After three years, Derek had confronted Spencer. He said that while he understands the pain, that Spencer can't let it affect his job performance. And that if he did, there's a chance he'd have to be let go. So after that day, Spencer made an effort to keep up his appearances and performance. He couldn't bear to lose you and the job. If he lost the job then it means he left you for nothing. It had to be for something, for something good and meaningful.

Spencer ties his shoelaces and finds his messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The team isn't expecting him for a while, but he's got nothing better to do and he doesn't want to be left alone with his thoughts any longer than he has to. And surely the team won't mind him coming in sooner than scheduled, besides there's just something about this case that seems so oddly familiar to him.

-----

The elevator door dings and you find yourself in front of familiar doors, the FBI logo cleanly shining on the glass doors into the BAU's office space. Readjusting the bag on your shoulder, you go to open the doors to find lots of agents buzzing about, carrying folders and talking to others. You're really just looking for one agent in particular, but you can't seem to find him. Feeling anxious about being here, you contemplate just turning around and going back home. As you go to make your quick escape, you hear Derek's voice behind you.

"There she is!" He says and you swear you can hear the smile on his face. His arm wraps around your shoulders, bringing you in for a brief hug. So much for your escape plan. You plaster the best smile that you can manage on your face and return his hug, his embrace is familiar and warm.

"Here I am." You say, nerves twisting your stomach around. Derek leads you through the craziness of the bullpen into a smaller room, where people are already waiting. You recognize the blonde from the TV, and you remember Garcia and Hotch, but you don't know who the dark haired lady is, nor the older man. But you're thankful that there's one missing agent from the table. Feeling like you're under heavy scrutiny, you give everyone a polite smile and wait for Derek to take the lead like you know he will.

After a few moments of silence, Derek claps his hands together to gain everyone's attention and then introduces you to the team. Once again, you give your politest smile and listen to Derek explain why you're here. The team all looks to you with interest, and you pull the book from the bag on your shoulder.

"So, I know this may sound silly, but I couldn't help but notice all the similarities, just from what I've gathered from the news. If you look where I put the bookmarks, you'll see what I mean." You tell them in rushed words, anxious to see their reactions, expecting ridicule.

"Gone Girl, huh?" The older man Derek introduced as Rossi questions, leaning in closer to the book to read the marked pages. You nod, chewing on your bottom lip as their eyes scan the pages.

"It is oddly similar. The picture frames on the mantle, the ottoman, the blood in the kitchen. I wonder if there are more similarities that we just haven't noticed." The dark-haired woman, Emily, speaks up first. Her words of interest makes it feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, they're not going to ridicule you after all. In fact, it seems like they may be entertaining the idea.

While you're engrossed in the team's blooming discussion about what this might mean, you hadn't heard the door to the room open, and you hadn't noticed who stepped through that door. No, your attention is solely on the lively debate about what the team's next step should be. Emily thinks that this might be a path worth pursuing, but Rossi urges her to keep an open mind. It's not until the discussion has died down, and the team all thanks you for coming in, do you turn to leave. Immediately your eyes land on his tall frame, standing right in the doorway.

Spencer is standing right in front of you.

It feels like the air has been kicked out of your lungs, your limbs feel like they've turned to jelly. The blood in your veins turns to ice and you're frozen to the floor. Ringing sounds off in your ears, unable to hear anything around you. The only thing you can focus on is his honeyed eyes staring right back into yours. It's like the rest of the world has dissolved, and he is the only thing that remains.

In his eyes you can see your Spencer, you remember so clearly the first time his eyes met yours, and how you were enamored from the very beginning. The first time you laid eyes on him you felt your heart race and you just knew you had to go up to him and say something, or else you'd regret it. You remember how soft spoken and polite he was, and how he stumbled over his words when he asked you on your first date. His hazel eyes dazzled under the warm lights that night and you knew you were hooked. His eyes hold so many precious memories, and they all flash right after another in your mind, even the memories that had faded with time come back.

Derek's hand on your elbow knocks you out of your trance and you realize then that the whole team is staring at the two of you, but you don't care. You come back to your senses and look over Spencer, taking note of how his hair is longer, curlier, and how his tie is still crooked. He's even grown out his facial hair a little. He looks so much like the Spencer you knew but nothing alike at the same time. This Spencer looks tired, worn down, and just plainly miserable. It deeply pains you to see him in such a condition.

He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something, but he stays silent. You see his hands clench beside him and your face flushes with heat, your eyes begin to sting, and you feel like it's becoming harder to breathe.

"Come on, I'll walk you out." Derek says into your ear and he gently tugs you towards the door, where your eyes stay locked onto Spencer as you follow Derek. Spencer takes a step to the side to let you and Derek out of the room, and your arm just barely brushes against his, sending a tingling feeling throughout your body. You feel a tear drip down your cheek, and you swear you can see tears in his eyes too.

Derek gets you down to the parking lot where your car awaits you and he opens the door for you and helps you in. He can tell that you're going through something. You haven't said a word, you have a far away look in your eye, and you're crying without bothering to wipe away the tears. It's almost like you're in shock, and in a way, you are.

"He wasn't supposed to be here for another hour, I'm sorry. If I had known I would've just come over or something." Derek apologizes, but you shake your head, slowly coming back to reality.

"It's not your fault, Derek. Maybe this was the universe's way of letting me say goodbye, get some closure." You speak, voice hoarse. Derek's eyebrows furrow together,

"What do you mean?" He asks, not understanding what your words imply. He'll never admit it to you, but he's concerned about how you're going to handle this run-in. From experience, he knows that you're likely to spiral after this, and that's the last thing he wants for you. After all the progress you've made lately and your personality finally beginning to come back, he fears this may cause a relapse of sorts.

"I'm moving to Colorado." You tell him for the first time. His mouth falls agape in surprise.

-----

After Derek comes back into the office from seeing you out, he can tell that the atmosphere has changed in the room. Glances are being thrown Spencer's way, and Spencer looks more pale than usual, like he had just seen a ghost. He's lost in his own mind, oblivious to the looks everyone is giving him.

"Let's head to the scene one more time to see if this theory holds up. Morgan, Reid, you can meet us there." Hotch announces and stands from the table, the rest of the team following closely behind. Once everyone has dispersed, Derek sits across from Spencer.

"You okay?" He asks, not knowing where  Spencer is at mentally. His watery eyes glance from the tabletop to Derek, and he swallows hard.

"Today is the nine year anniversary of when I left." He says, and Derek's heart breaks for the two of you. Sure, it would've been hard on any given day for the two of you to see each other, but on a day with so much significance? It has to be gut wrenching. And to put the cherry on top, Derek knows the news he has to break to Spencer.

"Listen man. She told me something before she left and I think you should know." Derek's hand finds its way to Spencer's shoulder.

"What is it?" Spencer's mind is running through dozens of scenarios, trying to predict what you possibly could've said. Derek lips his lips and sighs,

"She told me she's moving to Colorado." Spencer feels as if the entire world has stopped spinning.

"What? When?" His voice is breathy and desperate. He has to know where you're going, when you're going, and why. He can't stand the thought of you being out there alone without being able to make sure you're okay. Derek's hand squeezes Spencer's shoulder, trying to comfort him.

"She said within the next few weeks, but she's got some loose ends to tie up here first." Spencer nods, understanding he still has some time to figure out how to approach this situation. He can't see anything clearly right now, for his mind is self-destructing from the thought of losing you for good.

"Maybe I can find a way to delay her trip somehow, or find out where she's going and set up some sort of periodic welfare check. Or maybe I set up a fake social media profile to follow her and make sure she's still okay." Spencer begins rattling off different ways he can make sure that you'll be okay if he can't be there. And he's well aware that his suggestions sound like borderline stalking, but he doesn't care, his love for you knows no boundaries and he would go to the ends of the Earth to make sure you're okay.

He needs to know that you are okay, no matter how many miles are put between the two of you. If he can't know that you're okay then he doesn't know what he's going to do; he even considers relocating to a field office out in Colorado just in case you need help.

"I've watched the two of you destroy yourselves over the past nine years. Neither of you have actually been able to recover, and you know it. She still thinks that you're with another woman. You're still in love with her, and now it's time to make your decision on whether you can let her go or not." Derek's voice speaks reason into Spencer's racing mind and he realizes that Derek is right. He's got a decision to make, and he has to make it soon.

-----

Rain patters against the window, providing some white noise for you while you tape the top of a box down. At this point, you've managed to pack up all of Spencer's books and every bookcase now sits barren. You swear the absence of his books causes the apartment to drop a few degrees, it feels empty and lifeless. You told the leasing agent that you would be by in the morning to drop off the paperwork, finally gaining the courage to sign them last night.

It had taken you about ten days after seeing Spencer before you could push yourself to sign them. A tiny part of you was still clinging to hope that he would come by. But he didn't. And he's not going to, you have to remind yourself. Constantly you have to remind yourself that you were able to see him one last time, and that's going to have to be enough closure, for it's all you're going to receive. But still, you can't help but feel the hole in your soul ache with desire for him.

Standing in the middle of an almost barren apartment, you're haunted by memories of happier days. You can remember the first time you and Spencer had walked through the front door, excited for your future together. Little by little, the two of you decorated and furnished the apartment to make it your own private haven where the two of you could seek refuge in each other.

Your hands find Spencer's blanket draped over the back of the couch, and you hold it close one last time, trying to commit the feeling to memory. It lost Spencer's scent long, long ago, but you still cherish it. After you've made peace with it, you fold it and place it in the bottom of a box, and go to the bedroom. Pulling out drawers of the dresser, Spencer's clothes are still neatly folded, just as he had left them. His clothes find their place on top of the blanket, and soon enough, the drawers are empty and more boxes are taped shut.

Evening comes around and you zip up a familiar dress, ready to spend one last night in a familiar restaurant. Today would've been your twelfth anniversary. Just like every year, you had made a very specific reservation, only this year will be the last. Applying mascara to your eyelashes, you give yourself one last look in the mirror. You can still see the young woman you once were in your reflection.

Your phone buzzing on the counter tears your gaze away from the mirror. You see that Derek is trying to call you, and so you pick up without a second thought.

"Hey sweet thing, what are you doing tonight? How about you come over and we have a farewell drink?" He offers and you smile at his generosity, knowing that any other day you would've taken him up on it.

"Sorry Derek, I can't tonight. I've got a reservation." You tell him, knowing that he will understand what you mean. He doesn't keep track of the days like you do, but he's familiar with your annual tradition.

"Okay, another night then, enjoy yourself." His voice is warm as he hangs up the phone. You're grateful that Derek has been a reliable friend throughout the years, and you know you're going to miss him when you move. Of course you'll make the effort to stay in contact, it just won't be the same as having him nearby.

The waitress shows you to your seat and you order the same wine you get every year. It doesn't matter if your tastes have changed, that's not the point. By now the rain is coming down harder, and you can't help but wonder if the Earth is mourning the end of things like you are. Your lipstick leaves faint marks around the rim of the glass and you stare at the empty chair in front of you.

Each year, you try your best to remember what it was like when Spencer was here, but each year your memory becomes more and more hazy on the details. Until one year you couldn't even remember what color tie he was wearing. Instead, all you can recall is the way he made you feel. You intend to drag this dinner out as long as you possibly can, knowing once you leave here that it's just one more piece of Spencer you've had to say farewell to for the final time.

There's a couple sitting at the table next to you, sharing smiles and clinking their glasses together. You try not to stare, but they remind you so much of who you used to be. The woman's eyes have a hopeful spark in them, hopelessly in love with the man who sits across from her who is obviously just as in love with her. When the waitress comes around to ask if you need anything else, you ask if you can pay for their tab.

An hour later, you're swirling around the remnants of wine in your glass. You had finished dinner and consumed enough wine for the night, so now you're just stalling. You can't yet pry yourself up from this spot, still clinging dearly to this part of Spencer you still have. Once you stand up, it'll make this reality all too real, and you can't face it quite yet. So you give yourself a few more minutes to mourn the way you need to and to make your peace here.

You hear the front door open, but your sights are set outside the window, watching the rain pelt the sidewalk. There's some sort of rushed conversation happening by the hostess' stand, but you can't make out the words, not that you're trying to anyways. The couple that you paid for gets up and leaves the restaurant, and that gains your attention. You offer them a weak smile as they giddily exit the restaurant; their happiness only emphasizes your sorrows.

Before you can turn back to resume watching the rain, someone stands in front of you. Your eyes trail up the person's body, only to find Spencer in front of you, hair wet from the rain, hands occupied with a bouquet of pastel-colored tulips. Your heart drops into your stomach and you have to blink a few times to make sure that he's actually real and standing right in front of you.

"Spencer." His name falls from your mouth effortlessly and breathily, shocked to see him here. He licks his lips and looks over you once before meeting your eyes, a familiar look within them.

-----

Spencer paces around his apartment, hair disheveled from raking nervous fingers through it. His mind has been consumed with nothing except for you since he saw you at the BAU. Derek's words keep repeating themselves in his head,

"She still thinks that you're with another woman...make your decision on whether you can let her go or not."

He knows his time is running out and yet he's conflicted as to what is the right thing to do. The logical and rational part of him is quick to remind himself that he left for a reason, for your safety. The photographs in the unsub's room flash before his eyes, vividly reminding him of what kind of danger his presence puts you in.

But the aching in his chest yearns for your touch, to hear your laugh. For years he's been able to make sure that you're taken care of from a distance. Some years he would anonymously send tulips to your apartment, and other times he would pay the leasing agent half of your rent so it would be one less thing for you to worry about. Of course, it had taken some convincing to ensure the agent would keep his donations a secret, and as far as he knows the agent kept good on the agreement.

Nervously, Spencer bites the skin around his nails, a battle of reason and emotion waging itself inside his mind. He turns to pace again, but this time his eyes catch a picture that sits on a side table. It's a small photo, taken in the early days of your relationship. Spencer picks up the picture that he's committed to memory, seeing the bright smile on your face, your eyes wrinkles at the sides from happiness, his lips pressed to your cheek and his arms around your waist.

His mind morphs his own body into another man. And now he's seeing that man's arms around your waist, another man's lips on your cheek, and it's almost enough to bring Spencer to his knees. Abandoning the photo, he moves quickly to put his shoes on with newfound purpose.

He's made his decision.

With rushed movements, Spencer makes his way to the florist he frequents for your flowers. It's a race against the clock, he only has five minutes to spare and he hopes that the florist is still there. The rain makes it hard to see the road, it slows traffic and the anxiety bubbles up in his chest.

With one minute to spare, Spencer enters the florist to see the sweet older lady packing up for the day. His entrance startles her, and she jumps.

"Spencer?" She questions, knowing he's not due back for another month at least. He nods his head frantically,

"Yes ma'am, sorry to come by like this but I'm hoping you can help me." He swallows hard, heart pounding in his chest from the adrenaline flowing in his veins. The woman sees his distraught demeanor and gives him a small smile. Of course she'll help him. After all, Spencer is one of her favorite customers; he always leaves her generous tips.

After fifteen minutes, the florist has constructed a beautiful arrangement with all of your favorite colors, tied up with a bow around the stems.

"Good luck." The florist gives him a knowing smile, and he thanks her before rushing over to your apartment. Spencer's fingers tap anxiously on the steering wheel and his chest heaves with nervousness.

He parks his car along the curb and hops out, practically running into the building. There's a small line for the elevators, and he doesn't have time for that. Not when a lifetime with you is at stake. He takes the stairs at record speed and takes a moment to compose himself once he stands at the door.

With a rush of courage, he knocks on the door and waits to hear your footsteps. But instead he's met with silence. He knocks again, a little harder this time and waits. He's met with silence again. Fearing the worst, he digs his phone out of his pocket and calls Derek, who answers on the third ring.

"Listen she isn't here. I'm at the apartment and she's gone. Did she leave already?" Spencer's voice cracks as he asks the dreaded question, but he needs to know. If Derek tells him that you've left, he won't hesitate to take the first flight to Colorado to find you.

"No, she didn't move yet. I called her earlier, she has a reservation. Remember the restaurant you two went to for your first date?" Spencer rushes out a thank you before hanging up, knowing exactly the restaurant. How could he forget?

You were wearing the most beautiful dress that complimented your body well, your hair was loose around your shoulders, and your eyes held the depths of your love. He knew from that exact moment that he would never find a love like yours again.

He parks and haphazardly shoves his keys into his pockets, instead taking care to handle your flowers with the utmost care. His heart thumps heavily in his chest with each step he takes towards the front door.

He runs a hand through his hair as he approaches the hostess stand, and his words come out very rushed. He asks if there's a woman here matching your description, but the hostess is hesitant to answer. He begs her to tell him, insisting that you'll be here waiting for him. The hostess glances between him and the flowers in his hand before nodding and pointing to where you are.

Spencer swallows hard and thanks her, eyes scanning the dimly lit restaurant for you. A couple laughing gains his attention and he can't help but look. And he's thankful he did, for you're sitting right across from them, a sad smile on your face and sorrow in your eyes.

His feet carry him over to you before he can process what he's doing. As if time moves in slow motion, he watches your eyes move up his body before landing on his face. Your eyes grow wide, your jaw goes slack.

He only hopes that you'll listen to what he has to say.

-----

"What are you doing here?" You ask, eyeballing the flowers in his hand; they're oddly reminiscent of the ones you receive on your doorstep every few months.

Of course, he's probably here to meet his girlfriend, or fiancée, or perhaps even wife. A mixture of nausea and confusion hit you like a brick wall but you try your best to maintain your composure while you feel like your insides are melting. Spencer takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours and he finally speaks to you.

"Without you and your love, your touch, your warmth, life is entirely meaningless. Ever since I made the biggest mistake of my life, every day has been like walking through hell. There hasn't been a single day that's gone by that I didn't wish to have you back in my arms or to spend just one more evening with you. And I know this doesn't make up for any of it and I am undeserving of your forgiveness. But, I couldn't let you go without letting you know that I've never stopped loving you." His voice cracks with his confession, and a lone tear rolls down his cheek.

His words sends chills down your spine. What he said just doesn't make any sense. Hadn't he left for someone else? Or perhaps he did and he left her as well, or maybe they're still together and he's just doing this to break your heart one last time. You're conflicted with what you should be thinking and feeling. You had waited for this day for nine years, and now that it's here it doesn't make sense.

"But what about her?" You finally muster up the courage to ask, knowing very well that his answer could break your heart. Spencer shakes his head,

"There was never anyone else." His words sting. Had he left because he fell out of love? Or perhaps he grew bored of you and used a newfound love as an excuse for an easy departure.

The more he speaks, the less you understand. Your eyebrows draw close together in pure confusion, your head shakes and your eyes move from him to the flowers in his hand, another mystery about this situation.

"But you said that you had fallen in love with someone else." You point out, desperately needing some explanation to all of this. Spencer nods his head with a solemn expression.

Instead of answering, he digs some cash out of his pocket and throws it on the table before extending his hand to you, to help you from your seat. The gesture sends your heart soaring, having missed the simplest of touches from him. And no matter how confused you are, you've missed him too much to pass this up. He helps you out of the seat and guides you to the front door with a hand on the small of your back.

A familiar fire within you blooms, one that could only be ignited by Spencer's touch. And with just the slightest contact with him, you feel your frozen heart begin to warm.

Thankfully it appears the rain has stopped, for now at least. The two of you walk slowly beside one another towards the parking lot, something that was once so familiar seems so foreign now. After a few steps you hear Spencer suck in a breath,

"I owe you an explanation." His voice is even, but you can hear his apprehension. You swallow your nerves and agree, wanting to hear every last word he has to say.

-----

By the time you both arrive at the apartment, the sun has fully set and the wind carries a bitter chill with it, piercing through the fabric of your dress. The tension is palpable between the two of you on the elevator ride up, your arms brushing against each other with every little movement.

Your hands tremble as you unlock the door, nervous about being so close to him and what he may tell you. The two of you step through the door and for the first time you see how empty it is, boxes stacked on top of each other throughout the apartment.

Turning around, you watch as Spencer takes in the scene of what his former home now is. Guilt washes over you, but you stay quiet, unsure of what to say. Once he's taken in the apartment, his full attention turns back towards you, his eyes flickering between you and the flowers.

"These are for you." His voice is soft as he hands the flowers to you. You take them, fingers brushing against his as you do.

"Did you- were you the one sending me flowers?" You see the familiar color combinations and arrangement style as the ones you've received off and on for nine years. You had never expected Spencer was the one sending these to you, you had always assumed it was Derek trying to brighten your day. And you had always wondered how Derek knew what your favorite flowers were, but you chalked it up to his profiling skills.

A smile small appears on Spencer's face and he nods. Your heart swells with emotion as it hits you that maybe some of what he said is true, maybe he never has stopped loving you. Not prepared to face all of that just yet, you turn and find a vase to put the flowers in, thankful you hadn't packed them up yet and let them decorate the kitchen counter.

Silence washes over the two of you, but it's short lived as Spencer clears his throat and pulls out a chair at the dining room table. You join him and your blood runs cold as you realize you're sitting in the same places as that day he left. Spencer starts picking at the skin around his nails, opening and closing his mouth as if he can't find the words he's looking for. But you've waited nine years so what's a few more minutes?

"The case I came back from was one of the worst we've ever seen, even to this day." He starts and you nod, leaning forward to soak in every word.

"The unsub had printed out pictures of you hanging from his walls along with the rest of the team. He had a plan to torture each and every one of us, and he was going to use you to hurt me. He had plans to torture you to death." He continues, voice wavering towards the end. Your eyes are glued to Spencer's face as he speaks, never having heard the details of that last case. Derek would never tell you.

"Oh, Spencer." You whisper, wanting so desperately to reach out and comfort him but respecting that he might not want your touch. His eyes glance up to yours, and you see his jaw tense.

"I knew then that my job puts you in too much danger. It was clear that while you were with me that you could be a target for anyone who wanted to get back at us. I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let someone hurt you because of me." Tears spill down his face and he bites his bottom lip to try and keep his composure. You feel your own lip start to quiver, but you hold it together.

"And I knew if I told you that there was someone else that you wouldn't push the issue. I knew you loved me too much to interfere with my happiness. I used your own love against you and I am so sorry." He sniffles and pushes tears from his eyes.

His words feel like someone has punched you square in the stomach. Spencer had never found anyone else, he just wanted to protect you. He loved you too much to let you be harmed. Realizing his actions were done out of pure love, and not betrayal, a sob bubbles up from your chest.

Years upon years you had spent every night in envy of the other woman who was receiving Spencer's love. Months had been dedicated to wondering what you could've done differently to keep him from leaving. Countless weeks spent in agonizing misery, mourning and yearning for the love of your life.

The two of you cry together, and while you want to be angry because he had lied, you only find yourself feeling overjoyed that he's back; that he wants you back and never fell in love with another. And now knowing that he was still showing his love for you by sending you flowers solidifies that what he's telling you is factual. You only wonder what else he's done that you're unaware of.

Spencer's love runs deep, that much you do know. You're keenly aware that if he went through the trouble of sending you flowers that he was also likely up to other things. But you're okay not knowing, as far as you're concerned, you're just happy he's here.

"I'm so sorry." He cries out again, moving out of his chair and getting on his knees in front of you. You wipe tears from your eyes so you can see him clearly, his glistening eyes beautifully reflecting the light as he envelopes your hands in his.

"I will spend every second of every day earning your love back if that's what it takes. I cannot bear to live this life without you any more, I will do whatever it takes. I love you with every fiber of my being, and I will love you for as many days as there are stars in the sky. As long as the sun rises in the morning and sets every night I will continue to love you. You're the one that completes my soul, you're the one who my heart beats for." Spencer pours his heart out to you as he grips your hands tightly and looks into the depths of your eyes. Your lip trembles as tears continue to stream down your face, unable to contain your overflowing love for the man who kneels in front of you.

Taking your hands back from his, your fingertips graze the soft skin of his cheeks. The familiar warmth brings a smile to your face, one that you never would have thought would come back. You hold the sides of his face, so that you can look at him, really look at him.

His parted lips are wet from tears, his face blushed from crying. Even while he cries on the floor in front of you, he's still the most beautiful man you've ever seen. Unable to hold yourself back, you bring his face to yours and your lips reunite.

It's like the two of you were made for each other, and feeling his lips on yours is like falling back into a familiar rhythm. Spencer stands from the floor and brings you up from your seat, one of his hands wrapping around your waist while the other holds your cheek, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

Your frozen heart warms with a heat long forgotten, and when your lungs burn for air, you pull away and rest your forehead against his. The two of you catch your breath, each unable to keep your hands off of one another. Your eyes meet and you can see the love he holds for you plainly.

This is your Spencer, and he finally came back home. After all these years he finally came back to the place where he left you, the place you had stayed.

-----

"Is that the last one?" You ask, placing books neatly on a shelf. It was a no-brainer that after Spencer came back that you weren't going to move. With him here, there's no place you'd rather be. And so after you had halted your plans, you and Spencer began repiecing your life together. 

Turns out, a lot happens in nine years and the two of you spend every moment possible catching up on lost time together. He tells you about some of the most memorable cases, and you tell him about how you made it through in one piece. You both agreed not to spare each other any details, and have agreed to work through whatever issues arise one step at a time and with honesty. And you made Spencer promise that no matter what happens at work, that the two of you will talk and plan together; there's no more running, except for towards each other.

"I think there's one more." He says, showing you the book in his hand before he slides it in the open spot on the shelf. It's the copy of Gone Girl that you had brought into the BAU. Spencer had told you that your theory ended up being right. They found Mrs. Greene as she was staging her alleged kidnapping getaway. And while it wasn't your favorite book, it has a special place in your heart now; without it there's a chance you and Spencer never would have crossed paths again.

You feel Spencer's hands wrap around your waist from behind as he comes back from the shelf, and he hugs you tightly against him, burying his head in the curve of your neck and gently kissing you. Showing affection at every given opportunity has been Spencer's modus operandi. After having lived so long without you, he never wants to stop touching you, or kissing you, or showing you love in any way that he can. 

Your eyes flutter shut, soaking in all the love he gives you, placing your hands atop of his and just letting yourself be held by him. Even the smallest moments are cherished now, for you understand their true value. 

"I love you." He whispers into your ear before letting you go, and a smile makes its way onto your face while your cheeks heat. Even after nine years he's still able to make you blush like a highschooler with a crush. 

"And I love you more." You say, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before moving to pack up the empty boxes that are scattered everywhere. 

The two of you stand in the front doorway of your apartment, looking at how everything has come together. Spencer's books are back on their shelves, his blanket is draped over the back of the couch, his clothes back in the dresser, and he's right beside of you. Like it should have always been. Your eyes find one last thing to get rid of alongside the boxes. 

Walking over to the dining room table, you rip the stained tablecloth off and crumple it in your hands. This tablecloth holds too many bad, heartbreaking memories to keep it in the place where you two are rebuilding your lives together. Without a second thought, you toss the tablecloth into the trash and you're relieved. Only a short time ago you dreaded the thought of getting rid of it, but now you can't stand the thought of keeping it.

Now it's as if a new light and a fresh breath of life has been given to the apartment. For so long it was representative of all that you had lost, but now it shows you how much you've gained and how far you've come, both of you. Rays of bright sunshine filter in through the sheer curtains, and you take in a deep breath, soul full, content, and at peace. 

"We really did it." You breathe out quietly. 

"There's only one more thing I can think of that would really make this all come together." Spencer speaks up, and you scrunch your eyebrows together, not seeing anything that you two had forgotten. As you turn to him, you see him kneeling down in front of you on one knee, a small velvet box in his hand. 

Your mouth falls open as he opens the box, revealing the most perfect ring you've ever seen. Spencer has a wide smile on his face and a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"My life will never be complete without you by my side, there's nobody on this Earth that can even begin to compare. When I look inside my heart, I can only see you. May I have the honor to take your hand in marriage, will you make me the luckiest man in the world and marry me?" He asks and you nod your head enthusiastically before he can finish the question. Rushing up from the ground, Spencer envelopes you in a hug, lifting your feet off the ground and spinning you around. 

As your feet make contact with the ground again, he takes your hand and slides the ring onto your finger. It's a perfect fit. Tears of elation well up in your eyes, and you pull Spencer in for a kiss that's full of love, desire, and passion for him. You both smile into the kiss and only break away to confess your undying love for each other. 

"Spencer Reid, you are the love of my life." You say with tears of happiness rolling down your cheek, a wide smile on your face. 

"And future Mrs. Reid, you are the reason I wake up every morning, you are the breath in my lungs, and you are the love of my life." He brings you in for another kiss, and you know that you're going to spend every day for the rest of your lives together. No force of man, nor nature, can drive you apart for the love shared between you two runs deep, your souls intertwined with one another for the rest of eternity. 

Looking down at the shiny gemstone on your finger, you feel the once fragmented pieces of your heart tie themselves back together, the million pieces seemingly repairable after all. With a smile on your face, you can't wait to marry your soulmate and you're hopeful and grateful for the life you will share together. 

- -

Taglist: @spenciesprincess @reedmurdock

how to teleport to an AU, smack the shit out of a bitch and kiss the shit out of tobio

birds of a feather : ground rules

warning/s : suggestive content and smut, minors DNI

OCTOBER 18, 10:32 PM

location— atsumu miya’s car

following the end of your conversation with tobio, you throw your cellphone to the floor, agitated at how it turned out. you don’t know what it is that you were expecting, but definitely not the blatant rejection you faced. if only he would’ve rendered you a chance to explain yourself, maybe you could’ve roped him into hearing an acceptable justification. not that you didn’t try to explain yourself, it seems, you just failed to do a good job at it, or rather, there was no appropriate justification on your end.

the thud resulting from your cellphone hitting the ground makes atsumu turn his neck in the direction of the sound. he notices the cellphone laying on the ground, then turns to look at you and notices the frown stitched into your face.

atsumu puts two and two together and concludes that the conversation between you and tobio didn’t go the way you expected it to. he doesn’t want to implore, but ends up inquiring anyways, “what’s wrong, yn?”

“damn him, that tobio.” you grunt, continuing to complain, “i hate him so much.”

atsumu flicks your forehead, rolling his eyes, “i’m sure you don’t.”

“he’s your best friend, after all.” he stresses on the term as he drags you closer to himself, lifting you to put you on his lap.

he puts his arms around your waist, postulating, “he’ll come around eventually.”

atsumu nuzzles his head between your boobs, and you reflexively begin running your fingers through his hair, grumbling, “he could’ve at least heard me out.”

“some best friend he is.” you hiss, rolling your eyes.

atsumu slaps your back, taunting you, “we could say the same about you.”

“you ditched him for a random guy, after all.” he mentions, raising his head to smirk at you.

you purse your lips, mumbling, “you’re not just some guy, tsumu.” you lift his head to place a quick kiss on his lips. just as you’re about to withdraw, he pulls you in for a second kiss. his brisk hands unzip your dress and lugs away from the kiss, smugly smiling at you as he reaches to remove your hair-clip, allowing your hair to flow down your back.

he runs his hand through your hair, putting his forehead against yours, whispering against your lips, “i really hope i’m not.”

you kiss him on the cheek and descend to leave a trail of your kisses from his cheek right down to his neck. you open up the buttons of his shirt, giving him a hickey underneath his clavicle. you grin at him once you’re done, locking lips with him once again. he pulls away, fingers still meddling with your hair, chuckling, “marking your territory once again, are you?”

he points to the corner of his lip, brandishing the hickey you gave him earlier, before pulling you closer to him. he shifts your hair to the other side, pressing his lips against your neck, leaving a mark, making you groan. he claims, his warm breath condensing against the cold skin of your neck, “you’re mine, kitten.”

“only mine.” he asserts, kissing the blade of your shoulder, leaving another mark against your skin.

you nod, accepting his claim as you pull your body away from his. you rub your thumb against the skin around the corner of his lips, tainted by you, smugly smiling at him as you lock in his gaze, “i thought you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“i’m just a man.” he shrugs, kissing you on the cheek, then on the neck, followed by your shoulder, confessing, “i’m no fool to deny the touch of a woman like you.”

he drags your sleeves down, pulling the dress off your torso to reveal your brasier. he unlocks the hooks in a moment using a single hand, and rips the garment away from your skin, throwing it on the front seat. it reveals your breast. he slides your dress further down to reveal your abdomen.

he begins by kissing the undersurface of your boobs, then goes on to kiss your nipples, one after the other. the feeling of his soft kisses against your sore spot fires your nerve endings, turning you on, inciting you whimper. he then slides his hand underneath your dress, putting it against the inside of your thigh.

“in the car?” you shoot him a look, wide eyed, “are you insane?”

“shh.” he puts a finger to his lips, demanding no reluctance from your end before he moves his hand upwards along the skin of your thighs, making you ticklish as he approaches the strap of your underwear. he pulls at it, making you flinch when he releases his fingers the elastic recoils against your skin.

he engages his fingers with the strap of your underwear once again, pulling it down to clear his access. he advances his fingers towards your cunt, targeting your clitoris first and foremost. you moan loudly when his fingers run against your sore spot. he repeats the motion of his fingers yet again, demanding you to moan for a second time in row.

atsumu laughs, satisfied as his manoeuvre proves to be fruitful. he inserts his fingers inside your pussy, skilfully moving them around, stimulating you in an attempt to get you to cum. the motion of his fingers inside your cunt irks you to whimper over and over again. you finally cum when he brushes his fingers past your clitoris once again.

he doesn’t stop there. he intends on stimulating you further more. his fingers find themselves hovering around the same spot knowing far to well where your body prefers to be touched by him. he teases you by gently rubbing his fingers against your clit. you whimper, “t-tsumu, more.”

you mumble, huffing as you feel yourself cum and the cum dripping down your legs onto his pants, “p-please, more.”

atsumu laughs, razzing you as he wipes the cum off his pants and paints it on your lower lip, “now lick, kitten.” you don’t follow his order, too stupefied as your hormones are surging and all you want is more of him and the pleasure he has to offer you.

atsumu licks the cum off your lip himself, smirking as he gulps it down, praising you, “my kitten tastes so good.”

he confesses, entwining his fingers with your own, kissing your knuckle, “so glad you’re all mine to take.”

“aren’t you, now?” he drops your hand, questioning as he cups your chin, withholding your gaze, expecting you to answer.

you hum, still dazed, agreeing, “yes, all yours.”

“i’m pleasuring you so well, kitten.” he sneers at you, putting his fingers inside your needy cunt once again, urging you to cum as he glides along your walls and skilfully rolls his fingers inside you.

you cum with his fingers still inside your pussy. your fluid drips down his digits. he pulls his sticky fingers out of your cunt, and then puts them in once again, dictating, “you know you need to pleasure me too.”

“i know i—.” you nod, agreeing with him, but he cuts your words short, taking his fingers out of your pussy and cupping your chin with the same hand that was inside you earlier.

he licks the liquid off his fingers with his hand still on your face, giving you a taste of yourself when he kisses you. the sweet taste of your own mess dissipates on the surface of your tongue. he withdraws, putting his fingers on your clitoris, squeezing the spot, demanding, “kitten, i’m hard now.”

“and you better pleasure me.” he orders, smirking as you whine loudly, cumming once again, dirtying his fingers for a second time.

he withdraws his fingers and forces them in your mouth, letting you have another taste of yourself. you squelch, but you lick the cum off his digits. he stares you in the eyes with a smug look painting his face, while you’re in a complete haze, staring at him blankly as he removes his fingers from your mouth. he kisses you on the lips, appreciating, “you’re a good kitten.”

“now be better and make me cum.” he instructs, squeezing and nibbling at your nipples, coaxing you to whimper in pain and in pleasure.

you nod, accepting his demand of being pleasured by you. he throws you off him and points to his pants gesturing you to unbuckle and take them off. you struggle all over the place trying to unlock his belt and loosen his pants. you final achieve your goal, revealing his large, hard and veiny penis that stares you down, waiting to be put either inside your mouth, or your cunt, whatever seems easier to get into.

atsumu pushes you down, putting pressure on your shoulder as he lays you flat on the car seat. he climbs on top you, ready to insert his dick inside your cunt. he spreads your legs apart, entwines his fingers with your own, and pins your hands on either side of your head, against the car seat. he begins to put his penis inside your vagina, gently sliding it in. you feel his large self scaling your walls as his dick enters your cunt, and you feel it slide outside of you too.

although he’s been inside of you before, but because he’s so big, the feeling of his dick moving inside and outside of you hurts you and pleasures you all the same. he puts his wood inside of your cunt once again, hoping to stimulate your g spot and incite an orgasm on your end.

he continues the motion of his dick, sliding it inside your cunt, then pulling it out of you, and at a certain point, you’re overstimulated, moaning and groaning continuously. while he’s still inside of you, you experience a sexual high, an orgasm incoming, and you cum, tainting his dick. aroused by your neediness, atsumu cums as well, carelessly inside of you.

he takes his dick out of you, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. he gives you a break when he notices his erection is gone and his dick has softened. meanwhile you’re breathless and all over the place, but also overstimulated enough to cum once again. with the liquid dripping down your thighs, he makes an effort to lick it off and clean up for you.

once he’s done, he puts his weight on top of you, resting his head against your breasts squishing them under his weight. he places his hand on your cheek, patting it, praising you, “you were a good girl tonight.”

“i’m hungry.” you mumble as your stomach groans, making atsumu burst out in laughter.

he cracks a joke, “looks like i wasn’t enough for you.”

“clearly not.” you chuckle, joining in his humour, smiling tiredly at his face.

you surmise, gauging the state of the two of you, “we also need a shower.”

“mhm.” atsumu hums, nuzzling his nose between your breasts. he then slides up and kisses you on the lips before getting off you.

he takes a spot at the end of seat, putting on his underwear and his pant. he collects your underwear from the floor of the car and your brasier from the front seat, handing you the pair in order to slide the garments on. you stretch your hand and receive the garments, requesting, “i’m sore, can you pull me up?”

“sure.” he nods as he grabs your hand and drag you off the car seat.

he asks, gesturing at your brasier, remembering you had a hard time putting it on earlier, “need any help?”

you shake your head, signaling that you’d prefer to be aided by him. you turn your back to him, sliding your arms into the straps of your brasier. you collect your hair and tie it into a ponytail, allowing maximum visibility to make the task easier for him. he puts the hooks into their respective eyes, cupping your boobs, kissing your cheek as he teases you, “just making sure they’re secured.”

“you don’t need to.” you take his hands off your breasts, rolling your eyes.

you slide your underwear into position, then pull up your dress into the correct position, turning around once again, requesting, “can you zip it?”

“sure.” atsumu agrees to do it for you, helping you out.

he suggests, nervous hand scratching the back of his neck, unsure if you’ll consent, “you should spend the night at my place.”

“i don’t mean to force you,” he starts blabbering nervously, stuttering around his words, “i mean you can shower then we can have some food and sleep.”

you can’t help but laugh out loud at the nervous mess that he instantly became at the mere thought of inviting you over to his place. you find it ironic because he had no trouble thrusting his dick inside of you not once, not twice, not thrice, but four times so far. but now that he has to invite you to spend the night, he’s getting cold feet. you don’t think it’s embarrassing on his behalf, just comedic.

he isn’t sure what warranted your laugh, but it makes his more nervous, and he continues jabbering, “i don’t have anything fancy at home right now, but we can have some ramen.”

you keep staring at him with an amused expression on your face, letting him prattle and stumble around his multiple suggestions. you’re still in disbelief that this is the same man who has made sexual advances on you on multiple occasions and succeeded in subduing you every single time.

“maybe we watch a movie or two before heading to bed.” he goes on, rephrasing, “no, but a lot warm shower first, of course.”

you kiss him on the lips to shut him up for once and for all. he reciprocates, kissing you back. his hand finds itself dragging your sleeve down once again. but you slap his mischievous arm, halting him, “enough.”

“let’s go to your place already.” you push him off you, leaning toward the back door to open it up so that he can get to the driver’s seat.

“yea, let’s go.” atsumu mutters as jumps out of the back seat. he closes the door behind him, simultaneously opening the door to the front seat. he puts himself into the driver’s position and keys the car in order to get the engine going. he begins driving in the direction of his apartment.

you request, pointing to the stereo, “put on some music. won’t you, tsumu?”

“yes, kitten, whatever you want me to do.” he complies, turning the knob to raise the volume, proceeding to select a radio station at random.

in the backseat, you’re bemused at his choice of music, but before you can retaliate and coerce him to switch stations, your body, extremely sore from all the pleasure seeking tonight, drifts off to sleep almost instantly.

atsumu notices when his terrible choice of music doesn’t incite a response from you and he’s met with dead silence from the back seat. he turns around to check on you, only to find you passed out in your spot, neck hanging in the air without any support.

he pulls his car to the side of the road and gets out of his seat. he opens the back door to position your body such that you lay flat on the backseat in a rather comfortable position, as opposed to your previous one. he jumps back into the driver’s seat and begins driving towards home, reaching out to lower the volume of the stereo, declining the possibility of disturbing you while you’re sleep.

OCTOBER 18, 11:25 PM

location— atsumu’s apartment complex

once you reach atsumu’s apartment complex, he parks the car in his designated spot. he gets off to open the back door and grabs your purse first, sliding it over his arm. he then lifts your body off the seat as subtly as possible, such that you aren’t woken up by his movement. he carries you all the way to his flat, supervising diligently, making sure that any move he makes doesn’t lug you away from your slumber.

standing in front of the door to his apartment, he finds himself in a dilemma, unsure of how to reach for his key in order to open the door. with his hands busy holding you close, the task seems unachievable. left with no option but to disturb you, he whispers into your ear, “you need to wake up, kitten.”

“i’m sorry.” he apologises, kissing your forehead.

when you don’t wake up in the first go, he repeats, whispering into your ear, “come on, kitten.”

“it’s time to wake up.”

you feel his hot breath against your ear drum, forcing you awake. you flutter your eyes open, finding yourself in his arms, quite confused, unsure of the circumstances. after analysing for a moment, you realise you must’ve fallen asleep and he must’ve had to carry you all the way to his apartment.

you mumble, voice sleepy, “i’m sorry.”

“you can let me down now.” you say, yawning, jumping out of his arms, “i’ll be fine.”

you put your head against his shoulder, sleepy eyes on the verge of closure, and he supports you by the waist as he reaches for the key and opens the lock. he pushes the door open, entering himself. then, he take your hand, leading you in. closing the door behind him, he drops down to his knees to free your feet from your footwear.

you step back in hesitance, chirping, “you don’t have to.”

“please, i can do it myself.” you insist, squatting down to release the straps of your shoes, but you’re so sleepy, you lose your balance and fall to the ground.

you squeal, “ah, shit.”

“well that was certainly embarrassing.” you chuckle at yourself, rubbing the nape of your neck nervously. atsumu doesn’t laugh at you, he only makes an effort to help you out. he takes your foot in his hand, unbuckles your ankle strap and takes the heel off. one followed by the other.

he gets off the ground himself, then holds out a hand for you to take. you accept, putting your palm in his. he grips you by the hand and helps you, pulling you up. he instantly lifts you in his arms. you’re taken by surprise in the first few seconds but after a while, you don’t mind in the least. your muscles are far too sore to be put to work and if the cause for the same is aiding you with the commute, you aren’t going to be one to complain against it.

he carries you inside his apartment, leaving the genkan, and takes you straight to his bedroom. he puts your figure on the bed. without saying a word, he walks into his closet.

a muffled voice speaks from the inside, “i know you’re very tired, but i’m going to draw you a bath right now.”

“you should clean up.” he recommends.

he walks out of his closet with a towel, a pair of night suit that belongs to a female and one of his own hoodies. he puts the towel on the chair next to his mater bed, then places the two options on the bed sheet in the space next to you, pointing at the night suit, informing, “that belongs to rin.”

“and that’s mine.” he points to his hoodie.

he offers you a choice, “choose whichever you want.”

he shrugs, explaining himself, “i understand that rin’s clothes may make you uncomfortable, but i only brought them out because you’re the same size as her.”

“it’s okay.” you purse your lips at him, declaring, “i think i’m gonna go with your hoodie.”

he nods, quickly clearing rin’s outfit from the bed, “of course, not a problem.”

“the bathroom is right there.” he points to a door, guiding you to the bathroom.

you drop your back against the bed, babbling as you yawn, closing your eyes, “you go first.”

“i’m going to lie down for a while.” you say, turning on your side, drifting to sleep.

he nods, leaving you on the bed as he walks into the bathroom, “alright, i’ll be right back.”

atsumu takes a shower first, changing into a set of fresh clothes. he comes out of the bathroom to find that you’re still asleep in the same position he left you in. he sits beside you and leans closer to wake you up, when he notices your light snores. he chuckles to himself because he finds it absolutely adorable.

he tickles your feet, whispering in your ear, “it’s your turn now, kitten.”

you’re jolted awake by the ticklish sensation spreading across your foot plantar aspect. you whine, reaching out to slap his hand, “what the hell.”

“stop it.” you grunt, rubbing your eyes open.

he takes you by the waist and drags you out of bed. he picks up the towel from the chair, putting it on your shoulder.

he gives you a light push in the direction of the bathroom, instructing, “go take a shower, i’ll be in the kitchen.”

“okay, i’ll go.” you maffle, yawning as you enter his bathroom.

you close the door behind you, while he walks out of the bedroom and trails towards the kitchen to make preparations for dinner for two.

once you’re done, you put on his hoodie, tie your hair into the towel for the water to be absorbed by the fabric, and walk out of his bedroom. you navigate your path to the kitchen and find atsumu waiting on you, two packets of shin ramyun, a pot to cook it in and cutlery to serve, as well as other necessities arranged on the island.

“i was expecting the food to be ready by the time i made it out of the shower.” you approach him, sighing in disappointment when you find the packets of ramen untouched.

he raises his brow at you, wrapping an arm around your waist, dragging you closer, “is that why you took your sweet time, kitten?”

“precisely.” you nod, adding to his sarcastic remark, walking out of his hold to lift the pot off the marble top.

you take it to the sink to fill it up with water. he follows, turning the tap for you while you hold the pot underneath the stream of water. once it’s filled a little under the brim, he closes the tap and you place to pot on the stove. he turns on the heat, adjusting it to maximum so that the water will come to a boil faster.

“dry my hair, i’ll cook for us.” you instruct, releasing the towel that binds your hair. you hand it to him.

he accepts your request, putting the towel over your head, massaging your hair as he makes sure the remainder of the water is soaked up by the towel that has already done a good enough job. you turn around to grab the packets of ramen from the kitchen island. atsumu follows your lead, focusing on drying your hair while you move back to the stove.

you ask, cutting open the first packet of ramen to retrieve the cake of noodles, “how the hell did you come out of the bathroom with dry hair, anyways?”

“one, mine is short.” he justifies, dropping the towel over your shoulder. he pinches your cheek, mentioning, “two, i used a hairdryer.”

you sigh, slightly disappointed in yourself, “seems i completely missed it.”

“you can use it now if you’d like.” he suggests, picking the towel off your shoulder, putting it on your head once again, continuing to dry your hair.

you decline, insisting, “no, thanks. i should cook the ramen first.” you cut open the second pack to retrieve the second cake of noodles.

once the water comes to a boil, you add the raw noodles to the pot, minimising the heat. you take the tastemakers out of both the packets, putting them to the side. you peek around, looking for the bin.

you ask, holding out the waste in front of his face, “where do i throw this?”

he drops the towel on your head, collecting the waste from your hand and walks over to the bin in the corner of the kitchen to discard it. you continue keeping a watch over the noodles being cooked in the pot. he returns and begins massaging your hair once again.

“you’ve done enough.” you state, turning around to face him. you take the towel off your head and walk to the dining table in order to temporarily place it on a chair for it to dry a little.

you walk back to the stove to check on the ramen. you take a pair of chopsticks and pick a noodle out of the pot. you blow some air over it, then chew on the noodle to confirm that it’s cooked. once you’re sure, you turn off the heat and drain the water, adding the tastemaker to the pot. you mix it around, making sure it spreads evenly, before you serve the noodles in two plates.

you grab the noodles with your pair of chopsticks, and turn around to offer the bite to atsumu, “here, have this.”

atsumu takes up your offer, complimenting your skills, “good job, chef.”

“but nothing tastes as good as you, kitten.” he sneers at you, then closes the distance between the two of you to place a kiss on you lips.

you scrunch your face, disgusted, complaining, “really, tsumu? you had no business saying that right before dinner.”

“my bad, kitten.” he sighs, apologising.

he relieves your hand of the plate and places it next to the other plate that has been served. he wraps his arms around your waist, locking you in his hold. he kisses you, thrusting his tongue inside your mouth, playing around. you pull back instantly, wiping the saliva dripping from the corner of your lips.

“really?” you roll your eyes, whining in disbelief that he still wants more for the night after doing you twice already.

he mumbles, pushing the loose strands of your hair behind your ear, “of course, only if you want to.”

“my body is sore, i can’t.” you decline, pushing him off you. you move on to grab your plate of ramen and start walking towards his couch.

you reason with him, “besides, i need to finish my ramen before it gets cold.”

“of course.” he grieves, his smug smile lowering into a frown as he approaches his own plate of noodles and trails to the couch to join you for dinner.

he puts his plate on the coffee table, putting his arms around your waist, lugging you closer to himself. you’re busy eating your ramen while he kisses your cheek, then your neck, unwilling to let you go, unwilling to touch his share of the food. he isn’t desperate to eat his ramen, he’s only desperate for you. meanwhile you don’t think you can take any more action for the night.

he hugs your tighter, canoodling with you, mumbling, “you’re so cute, kitten.”

he puts his chin on your breasts, mentioning, “so squish, just like obi chan.”

at the mention of her name, obi chan appears, meowing. she jumps on top of the sofa, taking a spot on your lap. atsumu pats her butt, frowning, “obi chan, leave. we’re busy.” the cat gets off, agitated and starts walking in the direction of the bedroom.

“don’t act like a baby.” you warn him, offering a bite out of your own plate, “have the food before it gets cold, will you?”

he takes your plate away, putting it on the coffee table. you lean closer to the table to grab a hold of it, but he stops you and pulls the hoodie off you, revealing that you’re wearing nothing underneath.

“idiot.” you screech, quickly shielding your breasts using your hands.

he apologises, bowing down to you, “i’m sorry i didn’t know you were wearing nothing underneath.”

“i washed my bra and left it to dry.” you explain, vigorously pulling the hoodie out of his grasp to put it on.

he smirks, shrugging, “well nothing i haven’t seen before.” you slap his cheek, albeit not vigorously.

he pretends to be hurt, grunting, “ouch.”

“deserved.” you announce, grabbing your plate of noodles, continuing to dine.

you instruct atsumu, pointing at his untouched plate, “eat.”

he doesn’t bother following your order, instead he nuzzles his nose against your freshly washed hair, speaking in an undertone, “i’ll have it later.”

“right now, i just want you.” he reveals, interrupting the bite of noodles you’re about to gulp down, when he cranes his neck, putting it in the way to kiss you on the lips.

you return his kiss before shoving his face aside. you quake at him, playfully slapping his cheek, then pinching it, “you’re so clingy for someone who doesn’t even want me in his life.”

he wraps his arms around you again, pulling you in closer. you turn your head to kiss his cheek before going back to your dinner. he interjects your next bite, chowing it down himself, laughing at the offensive look that his action put across your face. you roll your eyes, preparing another bite for him, holding it out for him to take.

“i never said i don’t want you.” he confesses, moving your hair out of his way to nibble at your ear, stating, “i just don’t want a girlfriend right now.”

atsumu instantly drops down on one knee. you pay him no heed, knowing all too well that nothing worthwhile is going you drop out of his mouth over the span of the rest of the night. you continue eating the final remnants from your plate of ramen.

still on his knees, he grabs a bite of noodles from his bowl, holding it out to you, proposing, “miss yn, though i cannot make you my girlfriend right now, would you like to be my girlfriend who’s not my girlfriend?”

you know exactly what it means. it doesn’t take you long to figure out that he just wants to keep you around for the sex until further notice. he may proceed to make you his girlfriend or just use and drop you, whatever the future him decides. you want to deny deny deny, but you recall that you had a conversation regarding this issue with him prior this night and still ended up sleeping with him a while later. you’re definitely not god’s strongest soldier when it comes to this man.

“that makes no sense.” you roll your eyes, flicking his forehead, ordering, “get off the damn floor now.”

“fool.” you chastise him.

he stands up, taking his spot next to you, caging you in his embrace once again, nuzzling against you neck, mumbling in a dejected tone, “i’m sad that you rejected me.”

“you just asked me to be your fuck buddy.” you run your fingers through his hair, commenting, “of course i rejected you.”

he looks up at you, smirking at your face, making a claim based on your past experiences, “you and i both know you’ll be weak for me any time i ask you for it.”

“fair enough.” you accept, making no attempt to hide your lack of rigidity when it comes to man clinging onto you.

you give it a thought. you shouldn’t, but you still do. you look at the situation from all angles and you conclude that the worst that can happen is that you end up falling for a man who possibly won’t reciprocate your sentiments. that will probably equal to a few days of crying and whining to shoyou and yachi. but if the tables turn and you successfully make him fall in love with you, you’ll be a winner. the chances of the latter becoming a reality are rare, but you’re willing to take a chance as long as the probably of it isn’t zero.

it sounds stupid, but you can’t deny that you’ll never be able to decline atsumu’s approaches. if you’re to run into him ten thousand more times along the course of your lifetime, you’ll end up in his arms every single time, allowing him to take advantage of you as he pleases. you’re just that weak for some reason, lacking a spine. hence, you choose to no longer see the harm in accepting his shit proposal.

you welcome his offer, muttering, “whatever, i don’t care if we do this.”

“great.” he rejoices, embracing you tighter, kissing your head vigorously multiple times.

you interject his joy, “but i have a few conditions.”

“nevermind.” you drop the idea of mapping any ground rules regarding your arrangement, not that you had planned any to begin with. you didn’t even know you’d end up in an agreement of such nature with him. you were just about to make up some rules at random.

but you still lay down one single rule, “let’s keep our contact to a minimum.”

“we’ll restrict our contact only to our arrangement.” you make a declaration, holding out your hand to sign a treaty with the opposing party, “agreed?”

“agreed.” atsumu grins at you, shaking your hand, utterly satisfied in himself for bagging a girl so effortlessly.

彡 yn said yes to atsumu because of her big fat crush on him, other than the fact that she can’t say no to him.

彡 yn and atsumu ended up watching her favourite movie (how to train a dragon) before they went to bed.

彡 atsumu ended up asking yn if she’d like to spend the day with him and despite her own rule, she ended up saying yes.

彡 yn’s waffles tasted bland because she forgot to add sugar to the batter. so she had to compensate with syrup.

彡 atsumu posted yn on his official account on purpose. he very much intended to do so.

彡 chiyo is extremely happy about atsumu and yn being a thing because she likes tobio.

彡 atsumu picked out the lego set specifically for yn because she’s an artist and he wanted to give her something she would be interested in.

彡 for a change atsumu and yn didn’t end up sleeping together after their date. he just dropped her off at her dorms.

previous : ninth circle of shame

masterlist | next :

🐰 imma take my leave.

taglist— @wolffmaiden @viscoolreal @kafkassexchoe @luna-mothii @bomjug @le000xxgrd @dazqa @ineednanami @iluvaquaphor @debussy42 @choizzn @bunninio @empress-pug-pug @karasunoya @sereniteav @yuminako @reooreo @loveelylacey @nbcvs @whosmarjj @spicana

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 . . anakin skywalker

🎬//

teaser:

BUT I JUST MISS YOU,

AND I JUST WISH YOU

WEREEE A BETTER MAN...

ᶜ ʰ ᵃ ʳ ᵃ ᶜ ᵗ ᵉ ʳ ˢ : modern! anakin x fem! reader

warnings! :

swearing ,, angst

SUMMARY: the last person you expect at your door is your unofficial ex boyfriend of 3 months, in need of a favor... in need of a date.

based off this request (hope you like it ❤️)

〰️

the microwaved mac and cheese, laying pulled apart on your plate, was left completely uneaten. you weren't necessarily hungry, and you knew it even while making it, too. but maybe you did so just to grasp onto the semblance of a routine you still had. the incandescent, dim glow of your overhead light normally cast your small, cramped dining room into somewhat of a cozy aroma, but now, it brought shadows of hollowness along with it, much like your empty stomach.

watching the metal of your fork dig lazily into the small noodles, you leaned back in your chair, free hand on your thigh, and heaved an elongated and heavy exhale. your pinned up hair might've been collecting dust considering how long you had been sitting there, staring. night was slowly luring your town into its cave and pinching the wick of its candle until the flame kneeled and gave up.

biting your lip, you finally stood, pushing the chair from your legs, grabbing your mac and cheese and fork and walking the short distance to your kitchen. you emptied the contents of your plate into the pullout trashcan and turned on the sink, giving the water a moment to heat up before running the glass and metal beneath. when your house murmured with the shrill tune of the doorbell, you nearly rolled your eyes in disgruntlement, then straightened in confusion. who on earth was at your door on a random tuesday at 7 pm? setting the plate and fork onto the bottom of the sink, you shut off the water and shook your hands semi-dry, walking the hallway to your front door.

you patted your palms onto your jeans before you unlocked the entrance, turned the knob, and pulled the wood open. remembrance in a coat stood on the other side. almost immediately, your heart seized in your chest, the weight of memory hitting you in the all the wrong places. him. him. sweat collected in your palms, and a feeling of slight horror followed behind the shock. what was he doing here? what was your unofficial ex boyfriend doing here? when was the last time you even saw him? how many months ago was it that you had given up and packed your bags, leaving his empty house without so much as a goodbye. thinking so foolishly that maybe, if you fled, he'd chase after you. he'd care again. but no. you hadn't talked since. you didn't need to. prior to your undeclared breakup, there had been so much incessant fighting, that he must've known it was over the second he came back to his completely vacant house. no closure was needed, either. he didn't go after you, even if you wanted him to. that was that.

and yet, there he was. standing in front of you. staring. it was quiet a moment. he looked more shocked that he was there than you were. in fact, you didn't look shocked at all. your face was void of any emotion. the only giveaway that you were surprised was the slight raise of your eyebrows. and he... he was just as you recalled him to be. dark, blue eyes, framed by long lashes and low-set brows. soft curls that fell in waves over his forehead. the face you recalled late in the night. in your dreams. when you'd wondered why you had left in the first place, when you considered so thoroughly, just going back. going back to him. even if it meant the first thing you'd be doing in his vicinity would be screaming.

rain pattered on the roof. he did look a bit damp. "y/n," were the first words spoken in 3 months. it wasn't a question. and it certainly wasn't said in that desperate, breathy tone the men in movies laced into their words, proof that they'd spent hours dreaming of the holding of a hand or a kiss on the cheek. it was a statement.

"anakin," was your first response back. his name on your tongue seemed to snap the sense back into him. he shifted on his feet for the first time since you'd opened the door, and finally, anakin seemed to register just what was happening. you pursed your lips, gripping the knob until your knuckles turned white. "why— why are you here, anakin." not a question, either.

"i need—" his chest stuttered, "—a favor."

---

"no." your eighth word to anakin. no. what a powerful word. a simple, one syllable, two letter word that had the power to completely rip apart a whole spiel of pleas, a paragraph or two of asking. by saying just that one word, you killed a whole night's worth of planning and courage-building. but you weren't thinking much about that fact, then. no.

anakin stared incredulously at you. because he was definitely feeling the weight and wrath of that one word. he felt it like a nuisance. it was the silence that followed and the look of vacancy on your face. finally, he inhaled through his mouth, looked away. an annoyed expression enveloped his face, which was honestly laughable. "look—"

"no." 9th word. next, just to rub salt in the wound you'd formed with that one word, you bit out a humorless, horrible laugh, shaking your head and looking away. you didn't even know why you'd let your unofficial ex boyfriend into your house, sat him down at the table, and let him explain this "favor" of his. "you should leave, anakin. please."

his face hardened, shifting with your movements as you stood, expecting him to follow after. he did indeed, but stopped in front of you instead. "if this is about what happened—"

"i don't want to talk about what happened. ever. i thought you got the memo." rubbing a hand over your brows, you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head again.

"okay, fine. i won't bring it up. not once. after it's over, in fact, i'll leave you alone and never talk to you again, because that's what you want, right?"

it was mockery. anakin was mocking you. you stopped shifting, looking up at him with your mouth slightly agape and your eyes boring into his as if he was just joking. "y'know, you have some real nerve, coming to my house and expecting me to accommodate to your needs—which are some really stupid fucking needs—even after what happened. some real nerve. get out, anaki—!"

"i know! i know i do!" his hands flew out at either side of him, hovering, and thick brows knitted together, casting his face into madness. he was mad. he had the audacity to be mad. you were reminded again of why you left in the first place. you couldn't go 30 minutes without bickering. "do you think i'd be here if this situation wasn't drastic?! my mother will stab me in the eye if i show up to this dinner without you. literally stab me—!"

"your problems stopped being mine 3 fucking months ago. get out, anakin, or do i have to start screaming bloody murder until my neighbors call the cops?"

he shifted on his feet in that way that angry mothers did in movies, as if unbelieving of what was happening. even though he had brought it upon himself. "i know you hate me, y/n, for... for— what happened. and i know you blame me too. i understand it, but i have reason to hate you just as much. you might despise me, and i might despise you, but you need to understand just how important this is to beru. to my family. so can we please just— just..." the anger in his eyes shifted. so did something in your chest.

"i do. and i'm telling you no." you turned on your heel, walking down the hallway, opening the front door, and motioning him outside. he still stood at that spot in your kitchen. you inhaled deeply, your chest rising. "i don't care about you or your shit anymore, okay? i stopped fucking caring because you didn't fucking care. get out." he did not budge. groaning, you abandoned the door and walked back down, leaving it open. "you're still as egotistical as you were 3 months ago."

"and you're still as stubborn as you were 3 months ago."

"you're the one who refuses to get out of a woman's house."

"fine, you hold grudges just the same as you did 3 months ago."

"text me the fucking information and get out!" you snapped, and he didn't so much as flinch. because anakin knew what he was doing, wearing you down until you gave way.

relief washed over his face. you wanted to rip it clean off. what you didn't want was to give him the satisfaction. maybe it was petty. not maybe. it really was. standing here, in the same room as him, was like torture all over again. it brought back memories of days you thought you'd buried. but at the same time, what happened happened, and you couldn't make it go away by making him the villain. he was right. you hated to admit it, but it wasn't solely his fault after all. maybe it was meant to happen. and plus, how many times had he saved your ass when you asked for it? you owed it to him. you owed it all. so why was it so hard to say yes? cause you liked knowing he was desperate and you liked the way it felt, to turn down a desperate man just because of a past that was not solely his fault?

"maybe not as stubb—" you raised a hand as if to hit him and it was what sent him into a quick thank you and departure.

---

and so, because you blurted a hasty and angered approval with little to no actual thought behind your words, you sat at your small vanity and pinned your hair into an updo a week later, on an airy, wednesday afternoon. much too pretty an afternoon to be worrying over things like celebratory dinners. you didn’t even want to think of what would happen in the following hours, surrounded by a family you still knew every fault and strength of. next to a man you, of course, still loved. you also didn’t want to think about what you’d have to do to keep up this… act of dating with him in front of his sister and parents. there were too many things you didn’t want to think about.

the skin of your neck still whined about the burn you had acquired trying to curl your hair, which you were embarrassingly horrible at despite being good at styling hair otherwise. already you were annoyed and none of the actually annoying parts of the night had commenced yet. you'd given yourself an hour to get ready and with the curling iron incident and the trouble to pick out an outfit, you were just barely on time when you rushed out the door and drove off.

"thanks for showing up," were anakin's first words, leaned against the wall a few feet off from the entrance of the restaurant. but it wasn't a thank you. it was sarcasm. he stifled the butt of the cigarette between his fingers on the brick beside him and flicked it to the ground.

"you're welcome, and also very lucky," came your reply, gripping your black leather handbag in front of you and nervously looking around. even in your navy blue, satin gown, you felt poorly dressed. it was the best part of town and the restaurant not 3 feet from where you stood had only received good word and input.

"oh, yes. you've absolutely graced me with your presence." anakin pulled a hand from the bag and lifted it to his mouth, but you lightly—unfortunately—swatted at his face before he could kiss it.

"i'm actually hoping to un-grace you as soon as possible. let's get on with it, please and thank you." your eyes flew to the opening door, and the extravagantly-dressed couple that walked out laughing together, hand in hand, the sound of soft jazz and chattering words stumbling out after them. rich patchouli rode the air, and you breathed a handful of it in.

when you looked back, a bit confused as to why anakin hadn't answered with his own, snarky remark, you almost immediately got your answer. he was staring at the mark on your neck. fuck. you forgot to cover up the burn. his eyes were driven over with starkness, looking almost black instead of their usual blue. "curling iron." your free hand insecurely prodded at the burn, eliciting a sharp wince from your throat. "and stop staring at me, you creep. get on with it." your fingers fell and instead motioned to the door, telling him to lead the way in silence. anakin snapped out of whatever spiral he fell into and cleared his throat.

he turned fast enough to miss the prickle of redness that coated your cheeks.

---

the dinner went as expected.

beru's stomach bulged from under her overcoat, and she touched it almost every second. her eyes wore the tired and worn stare of a soon-to-be mother, and yet, she seemed ecstatic. you could tell she had not acquired much rest, and the same went for her boyfriend, owen. you'd met him maybe once or twice, and he seemed worthy enough of your almost-sister, though, in truth, you felt no one was worthy enough.

shmi was as she was three months ago. her hands still held their gentleness and her smile was just as soft and delicate. cliegg was no different, either. no one was different, in fact. so similar you felt you'd completely dreamt your breakup with anakin, that this was just another day, in love with him.

it appeared not.

"so, how are you two?" forks clanked against plates. bubbles of champagne popped and crackled in their cardigan of glass. your steak scraped your throat as you swallowed and met your unwelcoming stomach, your appetite gone. depleting further when the question was asked. "it's been so long since we last had a dinner like this." shmi's supple fingers rested atop cliegg's arm, her expression lightening as she looked to her husband and back to you. the two of you.

"it's been a long time in general," beru chimed. anakin leaned back from his plate, clearing his throat.

"yes. it has," he agreed. you straightened, pushing back your shoulders and nodding once.

"we've—" you looked to him for a second, the tender glance of a lover, as if you couldn't keep your eyes off of him for one moment. when he faked a smile, you did too. "we've been good. all the same, in the least."

shmi nodded her head, and beside her, cliegg leaned over the table, both arms on either side of his plate. "you talked about that orchestra last time we met, did you not?" the woman asked, cocking her head. "how's that going for you?"

"oh, it's all good." you never tried out.

"you'll get in," beru reassured.

"i'm sure she will." anakin reclined forward, meeting your eyes and smiling softly. you resisted the urge to scowl, resisted the urge to run away screaming, and in your haste, responded stupidly.

"don't jinx it." to your fortune, shmi laughed, and then beru, and then, everyone else.

"and anakin doesn't bother you too much, yes?" cliegg chimed in, eyes on yours. you shrugged, conjuring up an actually-thought-through answer.

"i'm still here, right?" more laughter. you chuckled yourself, delicately taking your champagne glass from the table and closing your still-smiling lips around the rim. you smiled as the bubbles clambered and fought for space in your mouth, and you smiled as they did the same all the way down your throat, the tangy citrus tasting more of poison on your tongue.

when you leaned back in your chair, you slyly spoke to the man beside you, "ice cream."

he looked to you then, confused, and you rolled your eyes, exhaling sharply. "my favor. you owe me ice cream. i don't know when, but you owe me ice cream."

anakin grinned then, and it made your empty stomach twist. "i thought you'd ask for a second life or my soul. maybe a genie lamp, knowing you. something undoable."

"lets not forget that i have the power to tell your whole family that your pathetic ass turned up at my door after we broke up 3 months ago, asking me to fake date you. i would watch your tone if i were you. something undoable." he shut his mouth, and your pride was short-lived upon realizing beru was staring strangely at you. quickly, you turned and captured his lips with your own. just a peck. you made sure to smile when you pulled away, and pinched him when the only thing on his face was surprise.

"nice going dumbass. you're blowing our cover," you said through a tender smile.

"since when have you cared about covers," he countered through his own.

"since ice cream was on the line."

---

soon, it became all unbearable.

anakin's presence beside you was the log in your throat and the death that loitered too often. everywhere. it was worse that you had to kiss him and hug him and love him like nothing but happiness was what your relationship was built off of. his lips were the nausea in your stomach and the worry in your brow, each bite of your steak like consuming toxin and tightening the noose around your throat further. you'd lost your appetite just by breathing his air.

"s'cuse me." you turned to him, lightly touching his arm and pulling him from his conversing, though you left before you could see the curiosity that combed through his blue eyes.

your time in the bathroom was spent fanning yourself off—it was, for whatever reason, sweltering hot in the restaurant—and staring at your reflection in the mirror. not to any surprise, even the bathroom was extremely expensive-looking, yet no one but a few, equally expensive-looking woman sauntered in and out while you were there. you earned looks, of course, but you also didn't care much. you needed a break and a cigarette horribly.

you were maybe 6 minutes into your isolation when the door opened and heels clicked. leaned over the sink, you watched the entrance and the woman step in through the mirror, but she was not just any woman.

"y/n?" beru's curious eyes met yours, and she quickly walked fully in and let the door close shut by itself behind her. you straightened, turning and clearing your throat.

"beru, hi," you breathed out. she cocked her head, brows pinning together.

"everyone's wondering where you are. you've been in here the whole time?"

"yea, sorry. just... period cramps." your eyes followed her stout figure as she knowingly nodded and reached into her purse, rummaging through the contents.

"i think i might have so advil in here," she mumbled more to herself than to you. "i never leave the house without it. y'know how it is." quickly, you paced the distance between you and her and rested a hand on her searching arm, stopping her. beru's gaze strayed to yours, having to crane her neck a bit, and she gave you a confused look.

"no, that's fine. i dont— i'm fine." more skepticism than confusion now. she eyed you down for a moment before retreating her hands and resting them beside her.

"alright..." a moment of staring. you awkwardly rubbed your hands down your lap, turning and pretending to fix a loose strand of hair in the mirror. silence passed. finally, her hand on your shoulder. you looked to her in the mirror, her gaze fixated on your reflection.

"are you okay?" it caught you off guard.

"yea— of course. why— why do you... uh— ask?" you sputtered, squirming.

beru pursed her lips, looking straight into your eyes in a way that made your body alert. "i don't know. there's tension, i've noticed." she stared a moment longer before walking to the sink beside you and leaning into the glass, fixing her makeup. "i thought you guys would be the next, y'know." her eyes flickered to her stomach. you gulped. "i guess... you know he loves you, right? i can tell." your stomach twisted, something you wished so badly wasn't tears pricking your eyes. the words hurt more than anything, because they made you think. they plunged you into that feeling, actually, forced thoughts you had worked to leave behind right back into your mind, erasing all those nights you turned away from that turmoil.

"if you need to talk, i'm always free." she turned her head to you, then walked over, squeezing your arm. you opened your mouth, searching for words you knew you wouldn't turn up with. "you're my friend. my sister. it doesn't matter if you aren't yet. you know i love you. you know everyone in that room loves you. but i've never seen someone love as much as anakin does you. it's something i can't fathom. sometimes, i think he might not deserve you, but then i see the way he looks at you. with hope. with emotions i thought could only be grasped in books and plays. he does love you, in case you ever doubt it."

those same tears threatened to slip down your cheeks as she leaned in and kissed your cheek. you thought. you thought so much, so distantly. so distantly you did not bother anakin the rest of the dinner. so distantly you almost forgot to say goodbye to shmi and cliegg. so distantly no one questioned it.

---

"fuck!" your shoulders slumped inward, every single emotion physically leaving your body except for lingering anger, which intensified and intensified and intensified. it quickly switched into worry.

the streets were not empty, of course. you could call an uber, but then you'd have to sit out here for a while, where it was cold and brisk and much too unwelcoming. you cursed towing companies and their stupidity, and cursed yourself for being late and not noticing you'd parked in a restricted area of the street. no car. no way home.

you turned away, surveying the roads across and exhaling deeply. "damn it. fuck. of course this happens to me." and so began the long walk back down to the restaurant, in hopes you'd find a taxi there, where it was much more populated. soon, your feet were throbbing in your heels and your handbag might as well have weighed 100 pounds.

"just a bit more," you spoke to no one but yourself and the loitering darkness, whispering and murmuring all around you. "a little longer—" headlights. a car turned on the road and clambered up the street, and was that... anakin. you stopped, and it stopped, and the engines noisily protested, but still, he rolled the window down and gave you a curious look.

"my car got towed," you explained, borderline panting. anakin raised his brows, and you half expected easy quips and a car driving off, but no.

"get in."

you paused, wondering if what had come out of his mouth had actually come out of his mouth. just to be snarky, you looked around a moment, then back at him, pointing to yourself. "a— are you talking to me— or do you do just casually drive up to women on the road and tell them to get in your car every night?"

"the latter. get in." rolling your eyes, you near-stomped up to the car and opened the door, slinking into the familiar seats. the smell of pine and rich bark filled your nose, and it brought back memories of so many things, that the scent seemed more foul than sweet.

"how unoriginal," you nodded to the tree-like car refresher hanging from the rearview mirror that was the whole reason it smelled this way.

"really, 'cause i remember you picking this out for me. said something along the lines of, 'now your car will smell good'."

you shut your mouth and looked out the window as he hit the pedal and started driving away from the street. in fact, you shut your mouth the whole ride to what you assumed was your house—unless he was planning to axe murder you, of course—and only opened it when you actually thought he was planning to. instead of keeping straight, he turned onto your town's main road and started through the many shops and stores.

"this is not the way dumbass."

"you think i forgot? it's only been three months. and you never told me to bring you home," anakin countered, looking to you for a second before focusing back on the road.

"well i doubt you're any good at kidnapping, so where are you bringing me?" you studied the lines of his face, the way the shadows carved his cheeks and jaw and the stop lights brightened his eyes. your stomach twisted, and beru's words came rushing back. you wondered if you still looked at him in that way. hopefully. lovingly. stupidly.

"ice cream, dumbass.'

"i don't want ice cream anymore, dumbass."

"well too bad, 'cause i want it, dumbass."

---

"get me a—"

"i know!"

---

despite your earlier claims, you devoured your chocolate ice cream like it was the last thing you'd ever eat on earth, unknowing of just how hungry you were now that you didn't have any food to eat. the rich delicacy coated your tongue and bit into your throat, chilled and soft and so so lovely. you held anakin's pecan ice cream in your other hand as you walked out the small yet cozy shop and opened the car door—not without a struggle—slinking inside. you were a bit damp, as it was slightly drizzling out, but the rain was not what you cared for.

"how'd you remember my order?" anakin asked indifferently, his voice laced with easiness as you handed him the cup between your rapid licks.

"it's only been three months," you quoted him in a mocking tone, but was too fixated on the sweet treat in your hands to catch the look of annoyance he gave you. "shit. i don't think i don't even remember the last time i had ice cream. i forgot how good—" a lick, "—it is."

anakin chuckled. "it's not gonna run away. slow down."

"dessert waits for no one," you countered in a smart-ass tone, finally pausing to look his way. he stared incredulously at you, his lips parting and even more laughter gracing your ears and filling the chocolate-and-pecan tainted air. "what?" you pursed your lips, and his fingers came to his own, pointing.

"you uh—" laughter, "have something... everywhere."

"yea, thanks for the details, jackass. have something where," you mused with a slight smile.

anakin only laughed, trailing his mouth with his finger and watching you wipe at your face.

"there. is it gone?" you found yourself speaking in between your giggles.

"ice cream can never be that good," he teased, watching you finally pull down the mirror and inspect your lips. you gawked. it was everywhere. truly. even on your nose.

"yea, you're a great help, anakin."

"anakin?" he cocked his head, and you briefly looked to him, raising a brow. "i don't think i've heard you call me that yet. dickswab, yes, maybe shit-face."

"i hate you," you laughed, shaking your head and turning back to the mirror. "and if you don't eat that soon, i will." you gestured to the pecan ice cream in his hand that you'd only seen him manage two spoons of in your chocolate frenzy.

his eyes trailed your figure as you wiped and wiped and wiped, that perfect smile seemingly stuck to his lips. how long had it been since you last saw it, anyways? too long, you decided, as you turned and pushed away the mirror, meeting those stupidly blue irises with your own. yes. much too long.

"and you're the one who said you didn't want any," he quipped one last time before taking the spoon and digging it in, coming up with pecan-littered smoothness. his lips wrapped around the plastic, and your smile died as you watched him. silence fell. you stared and stared for what seemed like hours. "you're drooling."

"over the ice cream, duh," came your half-thought reply. but ice cream was a long-forgotten thing. he chuckled, eyes straying from the bowl, to your own. you gulped. again, quiet. it fell so easily. too easily. too calmly. but silence wasn't calm at all. it was s wild, unruly thing, and you could feel its chaos leeching the worry from you. feel it everywhere. the way he looked at you. hopefully. like in the books. beru's words came rushing back to you, and suddenly, the silence was not a good thing. it was horrible. it was death. you swallowed down thickness and lingering chocolate, your heart twisting in your chest as you thought back on what she said, and turned away.

"i— i'm tired." the mood immediately changed. "can you just bring me home now?"

his throat bobbed. "sure.." anakin must've felt the shift too, too, because a moment's stare at you longer and he was dropping the bowl into the cup holder and turning on the car, backing out and away from whatever had conspired in that moment.

as the stores hid behind the bend he turned on to your house, the unease that gripped your throat morphed into something bigger. something greater. anger. he had let you leave. no person who loved you as much as beru said he did would just let you leave without a fight. why hadn't he fought, anyways? he didn't love you. maybe at some point, but not nearing the end of your relationship. and maybe you were the one that left in the end, but it was never because you wanted to. it was because you wanted him. you wanted him back. you thought maybe, if you left, he'd see the impact you had on his life. he'd leave his differences behind, just to get you back. you thought he'd change. how stupid. how ironic. you almost laughed at it, too. because he would never. the whole reason you fought was because of his tendency to push you away. to isolate himself. to torture his mind with his thoughts. it drove you crazy, and it was what led to your relationships' demise.

"are you okay?"

"yea." you shrugged, staring out the window and tucking your hands between your closed thighs. but your tone was harsh and rude. he knew something was up, and to his credit, didn't question any further.

when, finally, he pulled into your driveway, tears were pricking your eyes. ones of anger, firstly, but sorrow for what could've been secondly.

"i'll walk you to your door," anakin offered as you unbuckled your seatbelt, doing the same.

"it's fine," was your only reply as you harshly opened the door and stepped out, squeezing your handbag like a lifeline. rain pattered against your skin, but you didn't seem to care. not as your hair soaked through and your dress clung to your body. you roughly shut it behind you and started walking the length up to your entrance, heels clicking on the concrete, when the loud thud of his own door shutting sounded beside you. you ignored him, even as his footsteps drew nearer underneath the sound of the rain.

"can you hold on for one moment?" anakin's voice called, then, his hand on your arm. you shoved him off of you, not even looking him in the eye.

"leave me alone." water slid down your face, and you were glad for it. glad the tears streaking your cheeks looked more like the precipitation than your feelings unraveled.

"what is your problem?!" he hissed, hair clinging to his forehead and liquid dripping off his lashes. "what did i even do?!" a demand.

you stopped, whirled around, and conjured up the nastiest look known to man on your face. "not what you did, anakin. what you did was hurt me, what you did was shut me out, what you did was pretend your own damn girlfriend didn't exist. but maybe that would've been excusable. it's what you didn't fucking do."

he shut his mouth, shriveled. you hadn't talked about it, and right now, you were. it was like an unspoken rule. don't speak of the breakup. but now... he stared into your hurt eyes.

"what you didn't fucking do, was go after me. how can you say that you love me, and then let me leave you?! do you think i wanted to go in the first place?! do you think for one second that i'd just leave you like that because of some stupid fucking fights?!" you cried over the rain. your sobbing was evident now. the rise and fall of your chest, the plea in your voice, hidden by anger, your face, twisted in frustration and pain. "answer me, anakin!" you hit his chest, and hit it again, your bag falling to the ground. "do you think for one fucking second, that i meant it when i said i hated you?! do you think i would just abandon you after 3 years of loving you because you turned away?! you selfish bastard!" you hit, and hit, and hit, and still, he did not budge. it infuriated you more.

your fists collided with his chest over and over again, and anakin just stared down at you, his face crumbling but still upright. you wanted it to fall. so badly. "you broke me! you fucked me up, asshole. i thought you'd go after me, i thought you'd care again, and you didn't! you didn't give two shits. and i don't hate you, but i hate you for what you didn't do for me. i hate you for not fighting, and i hate you for thinking that i wouldn't fight!" with each punch, you became slower. your arms became heavier. rain claimed you in its grasp, but you didn't care.

"say something, anakin," you begged, sobbing and stopping your fighting altogether. you stumbled back and your arms circled around your middle. he did not answer your plea. did not say anything at all. just studied you. finally, you bent and grabbed your slippery bag in your hands, staring at him a moment more and willing him to speak, before turning, heart heavy, to your door.

your hand was on the knob when his voice sounded. "i wanted you to leave." you bristled, and everything within you stopped. sadness, and then... "because i did not deserve you, and it hurt to know. it hurt to watch you linger around me, when i knew you could've done much greater things with your life. it hurt to know i was the one holding you back, that it was my fault you were in such pain. i couldn't... i couldn't handle it. i couldn't handle knowing you deserved a better man. someone who would hold you but not hold you back, someone who would care but not be overly careful. i was hurting you, and it hurt me. i wanted you to leave, not because i didn't want you, but because i knew you shouldn't have wanted me."

the words struck you like a bullet to the chest. your back was still to him, but your surprise was evident in the way your shoulders tensed, just as your heart did beneath the safety of your ribs. you stared at a crack in the wood and thought. the tears stopped, but rain still pattered across your face.

"and i know it is selfish. i know i'm a selfish bastard for hurting you in the way i did and deeming it for your own good, but it was killing me, too. loving you was killing me, because i loved you too much, but i knew no matter how much i did, i'd never deserve your love in return. and i should've told you, and i'm so sorry that i didn't, y/n, and i'm so sorry that i hurt you like this, and i know it's too late—"

"it's only been three months," you quoted. he had not noticed you turn around, looking so intently at anything but you, but now, his eyes were fixed on yours, and you were staring, and he was staring. and for a moment or two, rain was the only sound, his blue eyes were the only sight, and an eternity and a half later, he was kissing you.

back against the door, soaked hands in soaked hair, and the taste of weather on his lips. it was a kiss for three months lost, and it was everything. soft, then fervent, fervent, then soft, as if to make up for time long gone, and it really did. you felt every inch of him part against every part of you, and pressing, and pressing, and pressing. when you parted, you pulled a few inches away from him.

"there is no better man. there's only you, anakin." you whispered. "you're selfish and stupid, but only because you can't realize that. you can't not deserve someone who loves you, because it doesn't make sense. they chose you, so obviously you're worthy. and i hate you for not telling me, too, but i hate a lot of things." you shrugged. "so.. it's okay. i forgive you, and... i guess i'm sorry for hitting you... or whatever, but you deserved it for being stupid."

he laughed, and with red eyes you now knew were from crying, stared back into yours. "i hate you too, and i guess i'm sorry for not realizing it sooner." anakin's head cocked to one side, inspecting your wide smile. "and i see why you like the chocolate. it tastes good." he tasted it the rest of the night.

.

RED = TAYLOR REFERENCE AND I'LL BE PUTTING THEM IN ALL MY WORKS FROM NOW ON 🤭🤭

thanks for reading!! ik its a bit lengthy but i was grinding the shit out of this fic soooo

anyways, hope requester liked it! requests are always open ❤️❤️

@blairwaldrfsworld