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#i've missed that side of them so much - almost as much as they did in S5 - and I can't wait to see more in 6B
makeyoumine69 · 2 days
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Spit In My Face
— PAIRING: Sugar Daddy!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader
— SUMMARY: Fashion Week is in full swing in New York City and Patrick Bateman doesn't miss the chance to show you the world of luxury and beauty. So, he invites you to attend the fashion show with him. Through the chain of events that unfold there, you will see a new side of Mr. Bateman that you never knew existed.
— CONTAINS: Angsty romance, smut, toxic behavior, gaslighting, cheating, misogyny, hurt/comfort, seduction, swearing, flirting, sensual kisses & touches, jealousy, implications of self harm & panic attacks, (almost) character death, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, rough sex, finger sucking, spanking, biting, manhandling, choking, orgasm control, dry humping, nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, body worship, Daddy kink, Praise kink, pet names, dirty talk, Service!Dom!Patrick Bateman being an asshole (again).
— WORDS: 21k (oops)
— SONG REC: ThxSoMch - Spit In My Face
— A/N: Hey guys! It took me a year to finally finish this and I decided to post all the parts together since most of you probably forgot what happened in the previous ones (I'll delete the old posts). I did some extra editing before posting and I hope you like it and I'm happy to get back to writing and soon I'll be rebooting the Cupcake series as I've already started working on prequels. Love you all!
— LINKS: [MASTERLIST];[SERIES MASTERLIST].
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Fashion, grace, money, wealth, these were the words running through your head as you rode in the taxi, and you couldn't believe Patrick had just convinced you to go to the goddamn Dior boutique. Not to mention the upcoming fashion show you were going to together, which was an actual nightmare for you and your nervous system.
“I really can’t understand. Why me?” You asked Bateman, turning in his direction to see him looking through the window, with his headphones on. And of course, he didn’t hear you. 
All you could do was give him a shy tap on the shoulder. You heard the loud beats of rock music as he opened one of his ears and turned to face you. "What?"
His slightly annoyed intonation almost discouraged you from repeating your question. "I'm just wondering why you decided to invite me to this fashion show when you have much better options." 
You watched him frown, and before you continued, you already knew what Patrick was going to say: "Cupcake, I've told you several times. I want to show you the beauty of being rich. I bet you've never seen so many fabulous people in one place."
Sighing a little sadly, you fixed your coat to distract yourself from the burning anger in your chest. "I've had enough of the rich snobs in our company and…I’m not a fan of all these 'luxurious’ things, you know…”
With a small chuckle, Bateman removed his headphones completely, quickly checking his haircut in the window's reflection. 
"Of course you're not. How can you be a fan of things you can't afford?" He stated before trying to hug your shoulders, but when he saw your intense expression, he just gently put his palm on your knee.
"Money is not happiness," you cast a serious look at him, brushing his hand away from your leg. "Can you call yourself a happy man?"
Perplexed, Patrick knitted his eyebrows, as if your question had caught him off guard —you have never seen him so lost before and that was really strange. Fidgeting in his place, Bateman was certainly about to replay something when you heard the raspy taxi driver’s voice:
“We’ve arrived.”
"Thank you!" You responded before quickly getting out of the cab without waiting for Patrick to pay for your ride.
Obviously, you were upset and pissed off because of his endless snobbish dialogues about rich people, money and how much his regular suit cos—tnone of this really interested you, would he ever understand that?
As soon as you were outside, you felt a stiff wind blowing through your hair, ruffling it and making your mischievous locks cover your face. Quickly, you brushed them away and raised your eyes to the beautiful sign that read "Dior" in large letters; so stylish, so plush—just the way he liked it.
"Are you going to stand here forever?" Bateman scolded behind your back, his loud footsteps forcing you to spin around. 
"I'm so amazed, I can't even move," you sarcastically sneered, staring at the window of the boutique. "The aura of richness has just overwhelmed me."
"How witty," Bateman almost applauded you, his lips curling into a cheeky grin as he came closer, his muscular arms wrapped around your waist. "Come on, let's go inside." With a light push on your back, he induced you to move forward, his arms never left your little form. 
When you finally reached the entrance of the store, Patrick gallantly opened the door in front of you and looked at you from above, his eyes glowing with an unfamiliar tenderness.
"Much obliged..." You stammered as he somehow managed to grab your ass, stroking it and squeezing your buttock a little through your coat. Embarrassed, you turned to face him, but Bateman just smiled in his usual smug way. 
"My pleasure." He murmured in your ear before letting you go.
Once inside the boutique, you heard someone greeting Patrick with undisguised excitement:
"Mr. Bateman! It's so nice to see you again!  Welcome to Dior, we are so happy to help you."
'Again, huh?' You chuckled to yourself, turning your gaze to a side and wondering about the number of his visits and how many girls had been here before; Bateman’s face changed almost immediately as if he noticed your reaction.
“Thank you for the warm welcome, Mr. Graham,” you could definitely hear some tense notes in his tone. “You look great as always!”
The guy let out a little giggle; he seemed to enjoy the compliments as much as your yuppie boy. “Not as perfect as you!” he pointed his both index fingers at Patrick, and now was his turn to grin from being praised. “How can I help you?”
“Uh, I need a dress for…” he paused before staring at you, his eyes gliding over your completely relaxed expression. “For my good friend, but she doesn’t really know what she likes,” ‘good friend, with whom he slept almost every day. Nice shot, Bateman.' “Don’t cha, baby?” While saying that, Patrick groped your cheek, pinching it a bit.
Mr. Graham, who was supposed to be a local stylist, gave two of you a suspicious glare, and only then did Patrick understand what he was doing, pulling his hand away as if it had been burned. 
"Well, if the young lady doesn't mind, we can try something to your taste, Mr. Bateman," the stylist confirmed, examining you like a statue. "What do you think?"
"Great idea," Patrick exclaimed, pulling you into his arms to take off your coat. You almost fell into his embrace, whimpering as he 'accidentally' touched your boobs, squeezing them gently. 'Fuck, why should he be so obnoxious?' "I can't wait to see my Cupcake in one of these beautiful dresses." He whispered before leaving a tiny peck on your neck.
"That's very sweet of you, but..." you murmured, looking into his hazel eyes. "I don't think I'll fit into those dresses."
"Don't worry, honey." Bateman winked at you and gave you a quick slap on your butt to nudge you toward Mr. Graham, whose smile widened the longer he watched the two of you together.
“Please, follow me.”
Trying to distract yourself from all the bad thoughts, you just did what you were told and moved along countless hangers with new dresses. The further you got away from Patrick, the more insecure you became, and that strange feeling made your whole body shiver like from a cold shower.
“So, which color do you want to try on first? Maybe something dark?” the man asked you, sliding his hand across the beautiful fabric of some dress nearby. “Dark blue or dark red…Or even black?”
"I really like the black color, it goes with almost everything."
Mr. Graham chuckled amusedly and handed you a black cocktail dress, which of course was very short. Apparently Patrick didn't like long dresses or skirts, you already knew that, but that didn't mean you were happy about it.
“Mm-mh, and I think this one can fit too,” he gave you another dark blue dress before adding. “I still recommend you to have a look at our new collection, maybe you’ll find something interesting.”
“Maybe you’re right,” you sighed and smiled sincerely for the first time of the day. "Those amazing dresses I saw when we just entered are from a new collection?"
“Yes, Miss.”
"I'll check them out. And… thank you, Mr. Graham." Excited, you smiled again, and then you strolled away, a pile of dresses in your hands.
Once you reached the place you had been before, you heard multiple voices—one of them definitely belonged to Patrick while another one seemed to be unknown to you.
"What are you doing here?" You peeked out from behind the hangers to see a beautiful blonde girl, her face literally glowing with enthusiasm. "I'm so glad to see you, it's been a while." You didn't even have to look to know what she did next as the loud pecking sound echoed in your ears as if you had been hit with something hard.
The blonde left a small kiss on Patrick's cheek before he replied. "Good to see you too, Meredith."
“Are you here alone?”
“Mm-mhhm,” Bateman looked around and when he didn’t spot you, he added almost emotionlessly. “Yeah, you can say that.”
An instant pain burned in your chest, causing your hands to cling to the dress you were holding. Breathing heavily, you were about to send everything to hell and just leave, but for some reason, you decided to listen to their conversation, maybe you would learn something else about yourself being nothing but an empty place.
"So, are you going to the fashion show this weekend?" She asked cautiously, as if testing his line.
"Sure," they looked into each other's eyes for a while. "You know, I never miss things like that."
The way she giggled, forced you to close your ears from cringe, but that unpleasant sound kept bouncing in your head.
"Do you have a date or not?"
"Why do you ask?" Bateman retorted in a stern but concerned tone.
"I just... I thought maybe we could go together?" Flirtatiously, she pulled him closer, pretending to fix his coat.
"I'm sorry, but the answer is no." Frowning, he quickly took her hand away.
Ashamed, she stepped back and stalled. "You could just say you already have someone to go with and…"
Patrick scowled in irritation, cutting her off. "I'd still say 'no' even if I didn't…"
"Miss, did you find something you like?" Mr. Graham's sudden voice made you jerk and drop the super expensive dress with a thud.
It felt like all eyes were on you at that moment, and you didn't really know what to do other than quickly pick up the dress and act naturally. “God, I’m so sorry…I can be so clumsy sometimes!” You apologized, trying to ignore Bateman’s intense gaze. 
"Don't worry, Miss… it's not a problem!" The stylist assured you, matching his words with reassuring gestures.
"I'll pay for everything,” Patrick pronounced it so calmly and with absolute confidence, as he moved in your direction. “Have you finished?” 
First, you cast a confused glance at him, and then you looked at Meredith, her mad stare of disbelief almost making you laugh. “I think so,” you murmured, watching him getting closer. “I even got some of the new collection.”
“Ahh, is it so?” he teased, standing face to face with you. “Come on, let Daddy see what you’ve got.”
With that said, Patrick leaned over to your lips, and you let him pull you into a deep kiss, which was pretty surprising—your own behavior almost scared you, as you didn’t even care about people watching you making out. Deftly, he grabbed your waist to lift you up, but your audible protest compelled him to stop.
“Pat-Patrick…” you whispered against his mouth. “P-please, don’t forget where we are…”
“I know, I know,” he snickered softly, hiding his face in the curve of your neck. “I just missed my Cupcake so much.”
With a dull grin on your face, you pulled away from him to look into his dark brown eyes. "Really?" After you asked that, you glanced at the blonde girl behind his back, who was now talking to a middle-aged woman, probably the assistant.
“Time literally stopped for me when you left.” 
'What a beautiful flattery.'
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After a while, you changed into the next dress because all the previous options didn't get Bateman's attention, even though you really liked them. You were struggling with a clasp when you heard him whine in anticipation.
“Baby, did you fall asleep in there?”
“Almost ready!” You blurted out before fixing the dress straps on your shoulders.
And then you walked out of the dressing room to the circular runway, and yes, this boutique had a special VIP area with a fucking runway.
"Finally, my favorite style," Patrick flattered, sitting in the leather chair and holding a glass of mineral water with a little lime. "Mm-mm, this dress outlines your tits so perfectly, not gonna lie, I like it."
A bit humiliated, you were constantly fixing the hem of the dress as it was too short for you, especially when Bateman was looking at you so vigilantly, making you feel yourself like a picture in some art gallery.
"Baby, turn around and…" he paused, crossing his long legs and pressing a finger to his lips. "Stop crawling! Square your shoulders and straighten your back!"
You turned around, unable to hide your sadness. "I… I don't feel comfortable in this. It's too short," you glanced at his annoyed face, wondering if you should continue. "I'm almost naked!"
"But that's the point!" Patrick tilted his hand to the side and was silent for quite a while, clearly thinking about something. "You know what, Cupcake?"
“What?”
"I'll be honest, this dress is amazing, but… unfortunately not on you," he scoffed before taking a sip of water. "It's not a problem, honey. Just take it as motivation to be better."
Biting your lip, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't try to hide your pain and resentment, but your voice sounded dejected anyway. “Of course… keep pretending that you didn’t expect this…”
Humming to himself, Bateman squinted his eyes and leaned on his knees. “Expected what?”
“That these slutty dresses wouldn't fit me,” you glared at him, your body was yearning to get rid of this dress as quickly as possible. “Goddamn, I have enough of this…I hope you enjoyed this little performance!”
After saying that, you turned around and went back into the dressing room. Trembling with rage, you didn't even care what would come next as the searing flame of injustice overtook your mind. No way would you allow anyone to treat you like that.
"Shit!" You cursed as you attempted to undo the fucking clasp on your back, but it didn't seem to work. 
"If you keep pulling like that, you'll tear it apart for sure," his unexpectedly gruff baritone shot through your back like an arrow. "Let me help you."
"No!" You almost screamed, turning sharply to face him. Your chest rose and fell so abruptly that you thought you would choke on the air.
Sneering, Bateman gently extended a hand as if you were a wild beast he planned to tame. “Cupcake,” he was getting closer, forcing you to walk backwards. “Tell me…what’s wrong?”
"What's wrong?" You kept stepping back until you suddenly bumped into the wall behind you. "Maybe you should ask yourself first?"
"I think you should stop pouting or you will get wrinkles," he tried to be nice to you, but it only made you more upset. "I don't think either one of us wants that to happen, am I right, honey?"
“Stop it, Patrick…”
“Mm-mhh, it’s just Patrick now?” You didn’t even notice that his massive figure was already towering over you, pressing you a little against the wall. “No ‘Daddy’ anymore?”
Possessively, Patrick strived to cup your face, but you flinched away from his touch, coaxing a warning growl to break from his perfectly shaped lips.
 “Can you just leave and let me change?”
“Jesus, (y/n)...you’re acting like a stubborn child!”
Panting, you leaned your hands against his firm chest to push him away a bit. "Do you really think I'm in the mood…after all the rude things you said?"
He chuckled, looking at you from above and giving you a feeling of being so small compared to him, you almost stopped breathing. “Rude things?” laughing again, Bateman trapped you between his arms as he put them from both sides of your head. “I always say what I think, there’s nothing special about it…”
"More likely, you always think only of yourself," your voice wavered, and you found it hard to breathe, as if he was sucking all the oxygen out of the air. "Let's just skip this, if you still want me to go with you..."
“No, I don’t need you to do me a favor.” Patrick shushed you with a finger, pressing it against your lips, leaving you trembling like a leaf. 
“And I don’t need your help!” You tried to break away, but he kept you in one place. 
“Oh, is that so, honey?” he crooned in a sweet tone, rubbing his nose against yours; his seductive aura was almost intoxicating, it was corrupting your mind stronger than anything else in this world. “Honestly, I just wanted to help you undo the clasp but now… now, I want more than that…”
With no delay, Bateman covered your mouth his heated one, wrapping his brawny hands around your quivering frame and spreading your legs with his knee. Suffocated, you didn’t react, feeling his hard bulge brushing against your mound—a muffled moan of sudden pleasure pierced through your bonded lips, sending chills down you spin; your cute reaction didn’t surprise him, but Patrick couldn’t hide his satisfied grin as his hands were already pulling down the straps of your dress. 
And only now, you desperately clawed at his shoulders, weakly pushing him back, not understanding that your attempts to fight him were only putting gasoline on a fire, encouraging him to sprawl you against the wall, pinning your hands against your head.
"P-Patrick!" The way you almost screamed his name made you both tremble with ravenous lust as you looked into each other's eyes, not really knowing if you wanted him to let you go or hold you forever.
Growling quietly, Bateman continued to move along your longing body, forcing you to hook your hip around his loin, so you could grind against his hard groin. “Feeling good, darling?”
'No, not good...no!'
“Yes-s! Mmm-mh…Daddy… ahh!” Oh God, that was the end. 
"Baby," he murmured in your ear, thrusting his firm thighs into yours and shamelessly groping your bottom. "Daddy doesn't like to see his sweet Cupcake upset."
"Maybe...n-next time Daddy will think more before he talks." You stammered from the beat of your heart. 
“Do ya want me to bite this little sharp tongue?” panting, Patrick punctuated his words with rough smacks on your butt, which could be surely heard outside the dressing room. “I’ll teach you how to behave.”
Smoothly, Bateman pulled down the top of your dress, letting your breasts to bounce out from it, and the next second his greedy mouth was already sucking on your taut nipple. 
"Mmm…Gosh." You arched your back as the last vestiges of your self-control seemed to disappear along with your ability to resist this man.
Switching between your engorged peaks, Patrick didn’t stop rubbing against your mound not even for a moment, your throbbing pussy was about to explode at any second. Thirsty, he tugged on your tip with a squelch, enjoying each little whine you made, but he still needed more.
“Turn around,” he urged briefly, licking his lips in hunger as he watched you bent over in front of him. “Oh-fuck, I can smell your sweet arousal… mmm,” snuggling into you, Bateman left a wet hickey on the back of your neck before he started to move down, peppering your exposed skin with hot sloppy kisses. “C’mon, Cupcake, spread your legs for me.”
As if hypnotized, you obeyed and before you even noticed, his long fingers were teasing your sensitive clit trough your so-fucking-wet panties. Clinging to the wall, you were about to moan when you sensed his big palm on your chin, his hot breathing was mercilessly burning the delicate skin of your throat while his rock-hard bulge was still pressed against your ass.
“Aa-aww, Daddy….mhm.” You muffled against your own hand before turning around to give him your most innocent look–he read it almost right away.
“So, you need my help?” bastard! – you almost said it out loud, but Bateman was faster as he slid his thumb into your mouth, and you started to suck it like medicine you couldn’t live without. “Ahh-look at ya… Such a little slutty girl, can’t function without Daddy’s finger inside her dirty mouth…”
Twitching under his massive weight, you could only think of his skilful digits playing with your pussy better than you ever wished for, damn you were already so close but it seemed like Partick's endless craving spurred him on to tear you apart completely.
With no words, Bateman knelt behind your back to pull up the hem of your dress, and soon you had to compress your lips so tightly, as loud nasty sounds were about to erupt from your fiery chest when he finally moved your underwear to the side and his plump lips covered your feverish cunt. 
“Oh-mmmy God,” tensed like a string, you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or to laugh, or all these things together from how his masterful tongue was pushing you over the edge. “Mmm-Patrick-” you suppressed another moan when he bit one of your buttocks before spreading them wide open to push two fingers inside your blushing pussy. “A-aah-Daddy, I’m so close… p-please!”
Patrick only purred something incoherently in response, as he continued to lick your engorged folds and pumping your tight hole with his experienced digits. His persistent ministrations made you totally lose your mind, and now you didn’t understand were you begging him to stop or to NEVER stop. 
When your legs shook in his grip, you heard his raspy snarl: “Not yet, Cupcake…Not yet!”
'And he just stopped, holy hell.'
Your miserable sobbing bounced against the walls of the dressing room as the coil in your lower belly was yearning for its release, it was literally itching so hard you were ready to scratch the wall with your nails if it could help you a bit.
“(Y/N), you can’t even imagine how much I want to leave you just like that,” Bateman hissed, and then you heard the unzipping sound which caused your knees to buckle. "But I want to get all your stupid thoughts about acting like a brat… out of your head!"
Abruptly, Patrick put your legs together and the next second you felt his leaking tip between your legs, brushing against your soaked folds and making your squirm from ecstasy. 
'This man have no barriers, he can reduce me to pieces so easily, like no one else, and I am sure he likes it.'
A small drops of sweat were running down his forehead as he watched his beefy cock slipping back and forth with a sleek sound; your overstimulated pussy was literally on fire.
“P-please…” You whimpered, bending ever lower to give him a better access to your spasming cunt. 
“If you want to cum, you have to move, slut.” Groaning, Bateman stood still with his hands wrapped tightly around your hips. Mesmerised, he watched you grinding on his huge dick as you desperately chased your release. At that moment, your languid, heavy breathing was all that mattered to him.
Shivering erratically, you almost crested your high when Patrick harshly grasped your throat and pressed you against the wall, possessively he began to smack his cock against your clit, each slap he made was taking your breath away.
“Tell me, Cupcake…” he grunted against your neck, brushing his swollen tip along your throbbing nub barely sensible. “Who do you belong to?”
“You…Only y-you...”
Bateman squeezed your neck with blatant dominance and demanded in a low voice, "Uh, not quite convincing…try again."
“Aa-aww! I… I belong to you…Daddy!” You cried out through your pressed palm when he sped up the tempo, slapping your pussy with nasty wet sounds.
With a devilish smirk on his face, Patrick had to hold you still as you cummed so hard, gushing on his dick and fidgeting around the wall. Multiple waves of pleasure were washing over you like a waterfall, leaving you completely exhausted, you didn’t even have any power to moan. 
And soon, you became limp in his powerful arms, allowing him peacefully patting your head as he praised you. “You can be a good girl when you really want to,” Bateman kissed your temple, fixing his pants. “But still, you could just let me help you with this fucking dress.”
“You can help me now…” You replied, hungrily catching the air.
Smugly, Patrick eventually undid the clasp on your dress, not missing the moment to leave a red mark on your shoulder blade as he sucked on your soft skin. “Speaking about dresses. Since my favourite one didn’t fit, you can choose whatever you want…I don’t really care.”
You sighed, smiling ironically to yourself. “Great!”
Bateman didn’t stop smirking even for a second, he was so pleased with himself that he didn’t notice your sarcastic intonation, he just ignored it, as usual. “Come out when you are ready, I’ll wait for you in the hall.”
“What for? I can pay for this myself.”
His cheesy titter unpleasantly cut your ear. “I don't want you to starve, babe,” you cast an angry glance at him, but he only stroked your cheek before adding: “You only need to be an obedient girl, and I'll give you as many gifts as you want.”
“But I didn’t ask...”
A sudden ring of his mobile phone got his attention, so he hushed you with a finger before quickly going out from the dressing room, leaving you alone with your inflaming rage.
Snorting tiredly, you mentally screwed him a million times in a row, changed your clothes and tried not to even think about eavesdropping on his conversation with whoever it was. As you left the dressing room, you heard the echo of his voice from nearby.
“Jesus, Evelyn! I’ve told you already, I can’t take the time off work.”
At that moment, you could swear your legs weren't listening as they led you straight to the source of the sound. With your heart beating, you halted near the dressing room when his voice suddenly fell silent, and the next second the curtain was carelessly pulled aside so that your frightened eyes met his furious ones.
'Oops!'
Annoyed, Patrick stared at you with his hands crossed on his chest. It was too late to run now, so you stood still and heard him saying:
"Are you lost?" With a cocky grin, he picked up his briefcase and stepped closer to you.
"No...I mean, yes. Probably," your cheeks burned from the inside as the strong feeling of embarrassment hit you like a truck. "I was just looking for you and..."
"Aha," he crooned before towering over you, grabbing you possessively by the waist and leaning down to whisper in your ear: "Do you know the proverb 'curiosity killed the cat'?"
"I haven't heard it since I was a kid," you confessed, swallowing hard as you watched him taking the dresses from your hands, the mysterious grin never leaving his face. "Sorry, I really didn't mean to eavesdrop."
“I’m sure you didn’t.” Haughtily, Patrick winked at you, and that was really confusing because his unpredictable mood changes were the most difficult puzzle you had ever known.
“You don’t even want to see which dress I chose?”
"Not really, I'll see it tomorrow anyway," his voice sounded more stern now. "Unless you change your mind about going with me.”
He cast a challenging glance at you, but before you had a chance to reply, Bateman walked past you and gestured for you to follow. Slightly disappointed, you went after him and soon you made it to the hall where all this shit started.
"So, did the young lady find something to her taste?" The stylist asked as soon as he saw you coming. 
"Yep," Patrick let him pick up the dresses and put them on the big table next to the beautiful leather couch on which Bateman kept looking in disgust and you didn't even know why. "(Y/n), c'mon, point with your finger to which dress you like?"
The way he cooed to you was absolutely stunning. Sometimes it seemed like he could read you like an open book, and that only made you feel insecure.
"I think this one." You replied with a shy smile.
"Nice, very nice!" Mr. Graham exclaimed before calling for an assistant to pack your dress. "That will be 2800 dollars, sir."
Satisfied, Bateman hummed to himself and pulled out his wallet. "Do you take credit cards?"
"Of course!"
All the while, you were pretty shocked by the price for just a piece of fabric. Frowning, you didn’t even realize you were saying it out loud. "2800 dollars, for this?"
Everyone, including Patrick, turned to look at you; the stylist was seriously confused and he just mumbled: "Excuse me?"
"Huh, don't worry," Bateman chuckled and handed him his platinum AmEx credit card. "She just can't believe I finally bought her a dress of your brand. Am I right, dear?"
When Patrick glanced at you, you felt a cold breeze run through your body—he must have been really angry. "Mmm, yes! I have been dreaming about this for so long."
Even though you were not an actress, your words sounded more than natural. Both men smiled at each other and proceeded with the payment procedure.
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All the way back to his apartment you both remained almost silent. Patrick continued to listen to the rock track he had paused on before going into the store, looking at you from time to time when you didn't see him, his hand fidgeting with the hem of your new dress that was lying on your knees. Yet, you couldn't believe he'd just bought you a dress that cost more than your monthly rent. You hated to owe someone, but now you felt like you did, and it was killing you from the inside...because you didn't ask him to get you that dress, you didn't ask him for anything, and still he was trying to push you into the world of luxury where you would be a stranger forever.
'Bullshit.'
"(Y/n), what's on your mind?" His sudden question caught you off guard, and you almost bit your tongue. Why did he even ask, when it seemed he could read your mind?
Fidgeting in your seat, you turned away from the window and gazed into his brown eyes, now filled with an unrivaled enigma. "Just thinking about how to survive all the challenges you have set for me."
You heard him laugh softly, and before you could continue, he hugged your shoulders and snuggled into your small frame, the heat his body was radiating melted the cold shell you had been building up since the moment he decided to 'help' you in the dressing room.
“Challenges?” Patrick rejoined, nuzzling against your neck as he pulled your collar down a bit. 
“Yes, Patrick,” you were trying to hold yourself as much as you could, not giving him more weaknesses to play around. “You know how much I hate all these fancy things which are made only for rich people.”
Bateman only purred something incoherently against your skin, tickling it a bit. “Cupcake…I think you need to relax.”
“Relax?”
“Yes, baby,” he tugged you closer, his nose was nearly rubbing against yours. 'Goddamn!' “Relax and take it easy.”
"Stop, stop, stop..." you pushed him away a bit, forcing his headphones to slide down his head completely. "You've reminded me almost every day...that I'm not from 'your world', that I'm just a mortal who can't afford to buy fucking clothes that cost a fortune...and now you're telling me to just relax?"
Patrick huffed and rolled his eyes. “(Y/n)...don’t even start this conversation again.”
“You’re such an…”
Despite the fact that the partition in the cab was closed, it seemed as if the taxi driver heard your loud voice, and the next moment he opened it to ask you if everything was all right.
When you said that everything was fine, he started to drive again and you clenched your palms into fists, feeling the embarrassment and anger fighting in your mind.
"You're ashamed of me, aren't you?" You wondered without looking at him. 
The way Bateman exhaled was not a good sign. "When you make such scenes—yes, I am." 
Sighing, you pressed a hand to your forehead. Damn, he was affecting you so badly and you hated yourself for it, for being so weak next to him, so vulnerable...you were literally losing yourself.
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His apartment looked perfect as always, so clean, so posh, but there was something strange this time as you walked across the living room and saw a large bouquet of white roses on his kitchen island.
"Mmm, such beautiful flowers!" You approached them to inhale their scent.
"Yeah," he stated from behind, placing your dress on the back of his white couch. "I bought them for you."
Stunned, you broke away from them as if you were pricked. “For me?”
"I'm not going to repeat it," Patrick blurted out, walking into the kitchen to grab a glass and a bottle of super expensive whiskey. "Besides, I don't think it makes any sense now."
'Excellent.' 
Without asking, Bateman set a glass on the bar counter in front of you as you took a seat near it. Still frowning with irritation, he poured some red wine for you, and when you were about to thank him, he just strolled away. The situation was rather unconventional, to say the least, and you didn't really know what to do, maybe just leave?
"Patrick, I think we both need to cool off a bit...right?" you sipped at your wine, waiting for his answer, but he continued to ignore you. "I'm going to finish my drink and probably go home."
"Whatever." Was all he said, standing with his back to your face, clearly thinking about something. 
Upset, you stifled a sad gasp and took the glass before getting up. When you reached his white couch to have a look at your dress for distraction, you suddenly heard his challenging voice:
"You want to know who Evilyn is, don't you?"
Paralyzed, you almost choke on your wine. After coughing a little, you turned to see him standing near the coffee table with his hands in his pockets. This was getting serious.
"I don't understand, why do you ask?"
Patrick chuckled loudly and shook his head in disbelief. "Stop acting like a fool, Cupcake. I know you want this, I can even feel it," his face grimaced a bit dangerously while his eyes were getting darker by the second. "You've wanted it since we left the boutique, that's why you started acting like a bitch."
Trembling with burning rage, you squeezed the glass, almost breaking it. "I'm not in the mood for scenes, you know," you countered, not even noticing that you took a few confident steps toward him. "When I leave, you can bring Evelyn, Courtney, Meredith, whoever… and confront them for as long as you want!"
"Or maybe we can all have some fun together, huh?" he drawled the last words, enjoying the sight of your angry expression. "There's plenty of me to go around."
Scowling, you wanted to spit in his face, or slap him, or both. But instead, you just smiled and that was a little unexpected for him. "You're sick, Patrick. And I feel really sorry for you."
After saying that, you turned away from him to pick up the dress – you wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, so you even forgot about the glass in your hand.
"Of the two of us, you are the one who really needs some grief," his voice hurt you like a slow-acting poison, it was excruciating. Before Bateman returned to the kitchen, he added, "Evelyn is my fiancée, and has been all along. What an unpleasant surprise?"
A loud sound of broken glass echoed through the living room as soon as you heard his last words. It was a real miracle that the wine didn't splash onto the luxurious fabric of his white couch, but you didn't really care at that moment, with your heart beating so crazy in your chest. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and stood still, not hearing Patrick's footsteps behind you.  
'Damn, that glass must have cost a fortune.'
"Cupcake..."
"I know!" You cut him off, raising your trembling hands in the air. "I'll return the money...just tell me how much it costs?"
'Don't cry. Please, don't cry!' But you did, and when you felt his warm hand wrap around your forearm, you tried to push him away, yelping:
"Give me...give me something to clean the floor!"
"(Y/n), calm down! You're bleeding." 
"What?" you gasped, opening your eyes wide before looking down at your feet to see blood running down your ankle as a sharp piece of glass sank into your soft skin. Only then did you realize you were injured, a sharp pain hitting your brain like a lightning strike. “Oh, God…I thought it was w-wine…” You stammered as that was the end point for your nervous system.
With no more waiting, Bateman carefully took you in his arms to lift you up. Sobbing, you let him carry you into the bathroom and sat on the edge of his beautiful black tub. Gently, he removed your shoes and stretched out your bruised leg to assess the damage.
"Is it that bad?" You asked him in a shaky voice, trying not to look down at the wound. 
"No, but it would be better if you stopped flinching." He insisted, releasing your leg and going to the sink to get antiseptic, tweezers, bandages and cotton pads. 
As Patrick knelt before you, holding a pair of tweezers, time seemed to freeze for you, but then you screamed from the itching pain as he carefully pulled the shard of glass from your ankle.
"Mmmh," you mumbled through your palm when he pressed a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic. "Shit…I am so clumsy and reckless..."
"You are," Bateman murmured as he wrapped a bandage around your leg. Every move he made was very gentle and accurate. "But still, you are mine."
"No, I'm not," you struggled to free yourself from his grip, but his hands held your leg very tightly. "We both know that's not true..."
Shivering, you peered down at him as he remained on his knee beside you. Almost immediately, his hazel eyes locked with yours, mesmerizing as always. "Why is it always so difficult with you?"
“Ask yourself.”
The moment you attempted to get up, you almost fell on the floor, but Patrick caught you in his arms at the last second.
"Patrick, let me go..." you pushed him into his chest to get some distance, but he didn't even move. "I will leave and forget everything that happened between us. Just like you wanted!"
"I never said I wanted to!" he growled, holding you closer so you could almost feel his fast heartbeat. "Why can't you just be a good girl and accept what I give you?"
"Oh, you've already given me enough, believe me!"
Annoyed, Bateman just shook his head before pressing a finger to your lips, silencing you and taking your breath away. 
'No, no, no. Not again'
You swallowed hard as you felt his thumb slide up to your cheek to wipe away your salty tears. 
'Stop.'
"Cupcake."
'His voice, his scent, his brawny body.' 
"Look at me," Patrick whispered sweetly, and you felt yourself going limp in his strong arms, so you obeyed and let him kiss your temple. "You're driving me crazy and I hate it...because I'm so fucking obsessed with you!"
One sharp breath and his lips were on yours, forcing your hands to claw at his jacket, but Bateman only pulled you closer, deepening the kiss as his wet tongue played with yours. Panting against his mouth, you couldn't help but run your fingers through his soft hair, making it look so messy, but Patrick didn't care. Slowly, he lifted you up a bit to set you down on the sink opposite his bathtub, peppering your neck with little pecks.
"Daddy."
Just one simple word could turn this man into a savage beast, you knew it, but you couldn't stop yourself as your inner nature yearned for him and it felt like you were meant for each other, two broken souls finally found each other.
"Cupcake." He kissed your lips briefly before moving down to your cleavage and unbuttoning your shirt, his hot breath tickling your bare skin.
Everything about him was so intoxicating that your clouded mind refused to function at all and now you couldn't hear your inner voice begging you to stop. 
Quivering, you arched your back a little to give him better access, and immediately you heard him growl against your collarbone as he finally undid your shirt. Patrick didn't even bother to remove your bra - he just pulled it down, revealing your taut nipples; he licked his lips at the sight of them and then his greedy mouth was already devouring one of them.
"A-awwww," you mewled, hugging his shoulders as you literally melted under his touch. "Mmm, please!"
"Please what?" He looked at you, twisting your hard peak between his skilled fingers. 
"I..." you hiccupped from the way Bateman spread your legs as he nestled into you with pure possession, groping your hip and licking your neck. "I... don't know... Gosh!"
This was pure madness, what was consuming your mind, with every kiss he made, breaking all your barriers, the more you tried to resist it, the more it hit you back. Panting, you threw your head back and felt your eyes begin to water again as his strong hands caressed your trembling little body. Never in your life had you felt so lost. Never.
"Relax, sweetheart," Patrick mused into your ear as he slid his palm between your legs. And of course you were so shamelessly wet that you could flood his floor. "I got you."
"I can't, a-aah..." You sighed, tears streaming down your cheeks.
"Yes, you can," Bateman planted another sloppy kiss on your neck before grabbing your hand to press it against the hard bulge in his pants. "I couldn't stop thinking..." he paused, drinking in your stifled moans as he gave your clit a few slight rubs. "Do you think about me, Cupcake? I know you do..."
"Mm-mhh," your hands roamed desperately down his broad back, fumbling with the smooth fabric of his suit. "And I...ahh-I know you don't think about me..."
A loud whimper fell from your lips as he shoved two fingers into your dripping pussy, almost causing you to bump your head against the mirror behind, but he prevented it by wrapping his hand around your neck.
"You're mistaken," his low groan echoed against the walls of his bathroom, sending shivers down your spine and coaxing your inner muscles to spasm around his fingers as they mercilessly rammed in and out of your throbbing cunt. "Because you know nothing about me," Patrick curled his fingers to stimulate your most sensitive spot, gritting his teeth as his aching cock was about to explode with ravenous desire. "Now be a sweet girl like you always are and..."
"Owwww!" you screamed in sharp pain as he accidentally pushed on your wound. “It hurts!”
"Fuck, I forgot...damn it!" He cursed and removed his hand from your leg.
Seizing the moment of his confusion, you slipped out of his embrace and nearly ran for the door, and thank God it was open, because when you heard his almost furious groan, your heart skipped a beat:
"Come back!" 
"No, it can't be like this," you leaned against the door, holding out a hand defensively. "Not after what you said..."
Trembling, you watched him breathe heavily through his red nostrils, his wild gaze seeming to burn you alive as his self-control was about to snap. Scared, you weren't sure what to expect from him next, so you decided to leave this place right now, while it was still not too late.
Quickly, you walked into his living room and grabbed the damn dress, trying not to think about the broken glass and spilled wine. To be fair, you thought Patrick was going to chase you or threaten you with punishment, but none of that happened as he stayed in his bathroom. It was suspicious, but you would think about it later. 
As you were about to leave, you walked past the open door to the bathroom and told yourself to just go and not look back. But when you reached the front door, you froze and sobbed - your heart sinking while your mind was waving a red flag.
'Just leave, please!'
Huffing, you turned and walked back to the open door. The scene you saw was not what you expected, it simply broke your heart - Bateman was standing still by the sink, leaning on his hands with his head bowed.
"Patrick."
"You're still here?" He asked without looking at you.
"I'll go with you tomorrow...but I'm not doing it for you," your voice wavered, but you didn't allow yourself to sound weak. "I just wanted to make that clear."
And then you left him alone in his super luxurious apartment on Manhattan's Upper West Side. No matter how hard you tried to hold back your tears, they kept slipping down your cheeks. Even when you were in the cab on your way home, your soul was still aching because it seemed like the wounds he made couldn't be healed.
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When the night came, there were only a few windows with lights on, and Patrick's bedroom window was one of them.
Irritated, Bateman lay on his bed while a blonde girl sucked him off, bobbing her head up and down at a fast tempo. There was no denying that she was trying her best to give him as much pleasure as possible, but he felt nothing, literally no emotions – only the dark void inside his mind.
"(Y/n), you're doing everything wrong...not the way I like it!" Patrick grumbled, pulling on the girl's hair.
"Who?" She asked confusedly, looking up at him. "My name is Meredith, in case you forgot, honey."
Bateman just laughed and carelessly pushed her down, forcing her to continue. "Shut your fucking mouth and suck my dick. You stupid whore!"
Meredith was making too many noises which annoyed him so much as he was trying to concentrate on dreaming of you—your beautiful face, your innocent sparkling eyes. Although this girl was very pretty, definitely 'his type', there was not a single trace of you and he thought he would never reach his high.
"Mmhm, Patrick…Maybe you will fuck me already?" 
"Maybe," he sighed, watching her laying on her back with undisguised excitement, but then he frowned in a weird disgust. "No, get on your knees. I can't see your fucking face."
"W-what? What's wrong with you today?Ah!"
Angrily, he slapped her hip and rolled her onto her stomach. Without any preparation, he bottomed out, closing his eyes and thinking about the way you twitched every time he thrust inside you. Speeding up his pounding, Patrick finally felt his orgasm building up inside his body when she suddenly moaned. "Oh, yeah! Daddy, it feels so good!" 
That was not even rage, it was something beyond that. Brutally, he squeezed her neck, almost choking her, and growled near her ear as he leaned down. "Never call me that! Understand?" he yanked her against the bed, still clutching her throat, and only when she was on the verge of asphyxia he released her, fucking her harder and gritting his teeth. "Fucking bitch, you should thank me for not killing you."
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Camera flashes never stopped clicking in front of your eyes, you almost thought it was impossible to hide from them. They were literally everywhere, as were the countless supermodels and rich yuppies who looked at them without shame, their hungry eyes ready to eat them alive.
"Hey, are you trying to get lost or what?" 
With a soft gasp, you stopped and turned around to see Patrick's irritated face as you walked through the huge hall, every part of which gave you strong vibes of luxury lifestyle.
"I don't think you'd notice my absence anyway," you replied, walking straight until his arm wrapped around your waist, causing your lungs to spasm from the sudden lack of oxygen. "Patrick?"
"Listen to me," he pulled you closer and leaned down to your ear, whispering in a serious tone. "There are a lot of bad people here who came for more than just fashion."
"Even worse than you?"
He scowled, but continued. "Much worse, believe me."
"Don't pretend you care," you tried to walk away, brushing his hand aside, but he tightened his grip. "Get off me!"
"You're too naive and innocent. I don't want you getting into trouble while you're here with me." Tensed, Bateman stroked your back to calm you down a bit as he noticed the people around starting to stare at you.
"That's very sweet, but I don't need your 'protection'...I'm pretty sure you came here for the same reason as all the other yuppies." 
"I didn't ask for your opinion, okay? Let's get to our seats," he said possessively, easily cradling you in his arms, covering your small frame like a cocoon. "We have the best seats, by the way. Right next to the runaway."
"Amazing," you murmured as he led you through the endless crowds. "Not a single model will escape your gaze."
"That's right."
Frowning, you were about to slip out of his grip when suddenly someone ran into you, stomping painfully on your feet.
"Ouch!" Your loud whimper caused Patrick to turn in your direction, but then he froze as he looked over your shoulder at the blonde girl who was immediately apologizing. 
"Oh God, I'm so sorry..." the familiar voice hit you like a bolt of lightning. "I can be so clumsy," she touched her forehead before locking her lost gaze with Bateman's. "Patrick?"
That was Courtney. There was no doubt it was her, especially when she smiled at him so brightly it could easily outshine the Sun. 
"Hello, Courtney. It's so good to see you!" Patrick crooned gallantly, his arms finally releasing your shivering body. 
But even if a few minutes ago you wanted him to take his hands off you, now you were feeling a bit upset that he actually did.
"How could I miss this?" She asked flirtatiously, completely ignoring your presence. "Where are your seats?"
"Yeah, where are they?" You blurted out abruptly, making them both almost jump. "I just don't want to interrupt your sweet conversation and..."
You almost hissed from the sudden pain as you felt his firm hand on your ass, pinching your buttocks. His face didn't change, though, as he continued to grin haughtily, his eyes never ceasing to roam over Courtney's pretty body. With slight irritation, Bateman approached your neck and whispered in your ear how to get to your seats, then nibbled briefly on your earlobe as a sign of his displeasure, but you didn't pay any attention.
"Thank you, Daddy." You uttered the last word in the most disgustingly sweet way you could and strolled away without looking back. No matter how much you wanted to, you just couldn't.
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Patrick wasn't lying—the seats were really so close to the runway that you could probably see every little detail on the models' clothes.
After about fifteen minutes, it was getting dark, which meant that the show was about to start. You fidgeted in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position, but it just didn't work, your butt was still sore from Bateman's pinch.
As soon as you remembered him, you heard his voice as he moved across the seats to reach his place. Patrick grinned at you smugly as he sat down next to you, crossing one leg over the other and fixing his hair.
"You must be very pleased with yourself, Cupcake?" He asked mockingly.
You scowled and pretended not to understand what he was saying as the music turned up really loud: "I can't hear you."
Patrick just chuckled softly, put a hand on the back of your seat and moved closer. "I said you look so beautiful today."
'God, what a jerk.' 
"Can't say the same about you."
"Uh, such an angry little kitten," Bateman laughed, looking at you from under his beautiful lashes. "I don't think I'll survive this."
"You really think I care?"
And then the show started, unfortunately not allowing you to finish what you were about to say. As expected, the models looked gorgeous and the clothes they were wearing were absolutely amazing—you had to admit that. Although you tried your best not to notice the way Patrick was staring at the girls on the runway, you had to claw at your skin when one of them winked at him without any shame.
"This is the grace I've been telling you about," he bowed closer to you to make sure you heard what he was saying. "The perfect example of feminine beauty."
You smiled ironically and replied without looking at him: "The real beauty begins when the boys come out."
Your sudden statement elicited a muffled groan from his chest, but Bateman simply nodded and turned away from you. From that moment on, he was almost silent, and it was a little strange, but as the male models appeared on the runway, you stopped analyzing and just enjoyed the handsome men walking back and forth in front of you. Everything was fine until one of the models found your eyes in the crowd and smiled at you. And of course Patrick wouldn't miss it.
"Do you like him?"
"W-who?" You stammered, feeling his warm hand on your knee.
"The model who just walked by," he murmured, stroking your exposed skin under the hem of your dress, sensing the way you tensed under his touch. "Maybe you should go talk to him after the show."
Shit, you couldn't believe he meant it or... you just didn't want to believe it?
"I'm not like you, Patrick," you chastised, feeling so damned angry as his words cut painfully through your heart. "You sometimes forget that not everyone is like that..."
"Like what?" Bateman scoffed with a raised eyebrow.
"You know what I mean." You added with a teasing smile and turned away from him, but he immediately grabbed your face, forcing you to squeal from the unexpectedness. 
"No, I don't," he scoffed, pushing on your jaw. "C'mon, Cupcake, tell me."
The surrounding darkness came in handy in this situation, not to mention the fact that almost everyone was focused on watching the show, so Bateman felt pretty confident knowing that no one would notice your little fight here.
"Get off!" You hissed, wrapping both your hands around his wrist in an attempt to pry it away.
"Awww, look at those little hands," he pulled you closer, so you could feel his hot breath on your trembling lips. "You are so small and yet so brave. It fascinates me, I won't lie."
You froze for a second as his words caught you off guard. Blinking several times, you didn't even notice that his large palm was now gently stroking your chin, moving up to your cheek and ending this little intimate moment by pressing lightly on your half-opened lips.
Actually, that was the worst thing he could do at that moment, because his illusory softness and tenderness hurts like hell. It was like a sweet candy with a sharp blade inside.
Just as you realized how close your faces were, you tried to pull away, but Patrick's grip was too tight. Fixing you in place by your chin, he captured your mouth with his, hungrily relishing your taste, your shiver, your muffled gasp against his lips. Bateman tested your limits so masterfully that every little move he made was as precise as his side profile. Slowly he wrapped one hand around your neck while another was already resting on your waist, the kiss you shared was something more than just physical contact, and you let yourself sink into the flow of emotions, closing your eyes and letting him kiss deeper. You almost moaned, but the surrounding music of the show drowned out any obscene sounds that tried to escape your swollen lips.
His strong, warm tongue danced along yours, not even giving you a chance to take the lead, so you just opened your mouth wider and let your noses brush together, forcing your hearts to beat in a crazy rhythm.
God, this man was the darkest curse... the most delightful blessing.
After a few seconds, the people around started applauding so loudly that you had to open your eyes just as the lights came on. The strange delusion that was like a white veil behind your vision began to fade, and only then did you and Patrick realize that you were both staring at each other, your mouths still pressed together.
A second, two seconds.
It seemed as if you were both waiting to see who would break away first, and as soon as you heard someone coughing behind your back, you pulled away from Patrick's strong arms, but you knew that you only managed to break free because he let you.
"Patrick! I thought I wouldn't see you here!" A familiar female voice echoed from above and you didn't even bother to turn around to see another bimbo Bateman was hanging out with.
Shit, what if she saw what you were doing?
At first you thought Patrick would pretend he didn't know you or something, but instead Bateman smiled smugly and put his hand on the back of your chair.
Annoyed, but still as majestic as a lion, he looked up at the blonde and said quickly: "Hi, Meredith."
Her face turned into a sad grimace, though she pretended that Bateman's indifference didn't upset her. Obviously, Meredith was outraged and needed someone to take her anger out on. 
With a haughty grin, she scoffed and almost stepped on your foot. "I don't understand, how can a man like you go out with someone like... her?"
Damn, that was such an obvious insult that it didn't even trigger a single emotion, you just gave her a deadly stare when you finally met her little eyes and you could swear that you saw a trace of fear in them.
"I asked myself the same question," you muttered suddenly, getting up from your seat and looking at Patrick, whose perfect eyebrows now frowned, especially when he understood what you were you doing—he squeezed the back of the chair until his knuckles turned white. "Have a nice evening." 
With those words, you quickly walked away, and you were so damn glad that Bateman decided not to follow you, because with every step you took, your eyes got more and more watery. 
"How did she even get here? Ugly people like that should stay at home to avoid traumatizing anyone." Meredith hissed as she watched your little figure moving away from them. "Who is she?" 
Patrick chuckled, then did his classic move of parrying the question with his natural charm. "Oh, you're so mean," he muttered as he watched the blonde take your seat next to him. Playfully, Bateman pinched her nose and they both started to giggle, no matter how disgusted he felt himself right now, he wouldn't admit that your sudden leaving made him sad. "Such an angry little bitch."
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You couldn't remember how you found your way to the ladies' room, but as soon as you stepped up to the sink and looked in the mirror, you scowled and clenched your fists from the sharp pain in your chest. 
"I... I hate you so much!" You hissed in a trembling voice, not really knowing who you were addressing, yourself or Patrick, who was probably already taking the blonde bimbo to his place.
His womanizer nature was not a secret, so why did it hurt so fucking much? 
Depressed by your weakness towards this man, you wanted to smash the mirror to stop seeing this sad face covered with tears, but you heard someone coming, so you just froze in place with your trembling hands in the air. A model walked past you and accidentally bumped your shoulder.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" She squealed and opened the fauster to wash her hands.
Even though you understood that she didn't do it on purpose, it made you so mad that you almost ran out of the bathroom, loudly slamming the door behind you.
The moment you realized that you couldn't remember how to get out of here made all your insides cramp like a spring, and you thought you were just going to fall to the floor from a sudden fear of being lost. 'Fuck, not now, not now!'
Quivering, you looked around, searching for... Patrick? But instead of him, you could only see an endless number of beautiful models strolling here and there. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath to calm yourself, but when that didn't help, your legs seemed to give way, and you slipped against the wall until you rested on the floor. This panic attack was nothing compared to the ones you had before, your heart pounding painfully against your chest as if trying to burst through it. Things got worse when you felt the lack of oxygen as you literally suffocated with panic and your body burned from the inside out.
The group of models stood by and noticed your small, shivering form, rocking back and forth with your hands wrapped around your head. 
"Hey! Are you okay?" One of them approached you and crouched down beside you, trying to help you up, but you refused.
"Don't touch her, Lizzy! Maybe she's on drugs. Let's go already!"
"No, wait... she clearly needs help," the models looked at each other, one of them trying to pat your shoulder to calm you down, while her friend tapped her foot annoyingly. "Are you in pain? Did someone hurt you?"
"N-no," you finally mumbled, opening your eyes to see that not only two, but many of these girls were already gathered around you. "I— I'm fine, I'm sorry... I'm just..." 
Lost.
Jesus, that was so embarrassing that the words just stuck in your throat like a lump, and now you felt like a little girl who got lost in the big mall when she decided to run away from her parents. 
"What's going on here?" That voice made you almost faint. "Get away!"
A bit roughly, Bateman pulled the model away from you and leaned down to your shivering form.
"HEY! We were just trying to help!"
"Go away! All of you!" He turned and barked at all the girls watching the scene. "Get the hell out of here, there is nothing to look at!"
Your head was spinning, at first you couldn't even believe it was him, hiding you from everyone with his broad, tall figure, as if he was trying to… protect you?
"Cupcake? Cupcake, look at me," his worried cooing made you submit, making you want to believe that he was really concerned about you. Gently, he cupped your face and stroked your slightly disheveled hair. "What happened?"
At first, you didn't say anything — you were paralyzed, mesmerized by his brown eyes, which were gliding desperately up and down your body, checking every little part of it. 
"Who did this to you?"
'You did.'
But he would never know.
"You came," you replied briefly. "Why?" 
Patrick frowned at your answer and let out a tired sigh. "I've been looking for you since you left, because this place is huge, and I didn't want you to get into trouble, but," he paused and brushed your tears away concisely. "But it looks like I'm too late. God, you're so reckless," he shook his head and stood up.
As soon as Patrick did that, something clicked in your head, and you didn't even notice that you were already on your feet as you snuggled up to him and buried yourself in his arms with a deadly grip.
"Please, don't go!" You begged in a trembling voice, hugging him tighter. "Don't leave me!"
Shocked, Bateman didn't know how to react, his arms dropped motionlessly, but then he carefully placed them on your back, drawing invisible lines along your spine. 
"I have to get our coats. You came here in your coat, did you forget?"
Blinking several times as you looked into his eyes, you replied softly: "Yeah… I did."
Patrick couldn't help but smile adorably. "Wait for me here, (y/n). I'll lead you outside, you'll feel better there." He explained and distanced himself from you. "Don't go anywhere! Got it?"
You nodded, and only then did he walk away. Without even looking back, he disappeared into the crowd.
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Bateman was right, once you left the building your condition improved, and you could finally breathe in the fresh air, filling your lungs with the oxygen they so desperately needed. A cool wind blew into your face, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the emotions you were experiencing right now — the fact that Patrick had come for you, that he was looking for you, left you with no choice but to stifle a loud scream that you wanted so bad to let out.
Bateman remained silent, standing a short distance behind you, puffing on his cigar and watching the smoke rise from it.
"Has this ever happened to you before?" His question came out of nowhere.
You shrugged, but didn't turn around. "Yeah... it happens sometimes, especially in crowded places."
Bateman didn't say anything, but you could feel the tension between the two of you. Without a rush, he moved closer to you, watching you hug yourself — the difference in your sizes made him gulp, but he didn't dare touch you. Not yet.
"Why didn't you tell me then?" He whispered above your ear before smoking his cigar.
"Because it doesn't matter."
"It does."
"No!" You blurted out and turned round to face him. "It… doesn't."
The way he looked at you was enough to make you hold your breath and take a small step back, but the next moment you were already trapped in his sturdy arms, the sharp smell of snuff filling the air around you as he blew off several rings of smoke.
"You're not going anywhere now." His voice lowered, and you closed your eyes from the astonishing sensation of being caught in his strong hands, feeling his hot breath on your face. 
"Patrick," you gasped and hugged him back, surprising him for a second. "Thank you for... for everything."
A loud cacophony of laughter and rumbling got your attention and you looked over his shoulder to see Meredith and her friends coming towards you. She seemed to spot you even faster than you spotted her, and now her eyes were bloodshot red.
"Can you," you stammered, feeling ashamed. "Can you kiss me?"
What the hell was going on inside your head?
Anyway, you didn't have time to reflect on this, because Patrick wasn't the type of person who needs to be asked twice. The moment his soft lips met yours, the ground under your feet seemed to disappear, so he had to hold you with both hands, not caring that his expensive cigar fell down. Even if you would blame yourself for that, all you could think about now was his strong hands sliding along your small form, outlining your curves as you let him do it, while he used his wet tongue to make you go limp in his embrace.
Sneakily, Patrick admired your beautiful face with his half-open eyes, probably not even realizing how much you meant to him, how deep you were rooted in his soul. But did he even have a soul in the first place?
When you broke the kiss, you didn't see Meredith or her friends anymore. Bateman noticed you were looking for something, so he turned to look at the direction of your gaze.
"Cupcake?" He was confused when he didn't see anyone. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Uh, yeah! I just thought I saw a familiar face," you lied, trying to act natural. "I... I should probably go home."
Patrick gave you a suspicious glance, still holding you in his arms. "Actually, I don't want to leave you alone after what happened."
"What do you mean?" you asked, a little disappointed. "I said I'm fine."
"Shhh," he pressed a finger to your lips, and you felt the smooth, cold leather of his glove. "I know you like to be bratty, but now isn't a good time. You really scared me."
Sighing, you dropped your head and covered his hand with both of yours. "I'm sorry, I... I didn't want you to see me like that."
To be honest, you didn't want anyone to see you like this because you hated looking weak in front of people. Especially in front of people like him, because it would automatically give him another trump card to play around with.
"Let me take you home." Bateman mumbled briefly, fixing your hair and then rubbing your neck to relax you.
"Aren't you afraid you'll have a heart attack coming to my place? It's not like your apartment in Manhattan."
He chuckled and pinched your cheek, leaving you confused and offended.
"Of course it's not," Patrick grinned and poked you in the nose. "I don't have any expectations."
You frowned and tried to push him back, but he only pressed you closer, nuzzling your neck and leaving a small hickey on it for which you were not ready — your muffled whimper made him sneer even louder.
"That's a pretty exhaustive answer," he didn't even allow you to say anything in return as he kissed you again, but this time much more passionately. "I'll get us a cab."
This man was like a hurricane that tossed everything around and no matter how many walls you built — he would break them down, one after the other, because nature couldn't be stopped. It seemed that you were completely disarmed against your own nature, because it was calling for him, it was pushing you into his possession, and you were already so tired of fighting these feelings.
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There was something special about New York at night, when millions of lights were shining like diamonds, reflecting on the water of the Hudson River and taking your breath away with the feeling of being so small in such a huge city, where the numerous soaring skyscrapers were almost touching the sky.
Tiredly, you closed your eyes, sighed, and leaned on the armrest of the car door, watching the scenery change behind the window. Patrick listened to the music, as he always did, his hands stroking your knee from time to time, but you could hardly feel it, since you were completely overwhelmed by emotions, feelings and thoughts. It was hard to believe that even after all that had happened, you still let him take you home, knowing damn well that he wouldn't just stay in the cab when it stopped at your place. 
Just as you entered your apartment and turned on the lights, you heard his slightly nervous chuckle and little comment.
“Mmm, it's pretty clean here.”
His words almost made you choke. “Did you really think that my place would look like a dump just because I don't live in Manhattan?”
“I didn't mean that.” Bateman murmured behind you, following you carefully down the hall. “Where can I put my coat?”
“Why do you ask? I don't remember inviting you here,” You took off your coat and put it on the rack next to him. “Aren't you afraid your coat will stink  of poverty?”
Patrick couldn't help but chuckle in a husky voice. “You're funny, Cupcake.”
'And why did I trust this man at all? What was so special about him?'
You didn't say anything, only a thin smile ran over your tired face as you turned around and saw him putting his coat over yours. After that, you continued to walk to your small kitchen, and as soon as you reached the table next to the window, your eyes began to search for something.
“Did you lose something?” He asked, leaning against the wall and hiding his hands in his pockets.
“N-no,” you stammered, as if he had caught you doing something bad. God, he was embarrassing you in your own apartment! “Just … It's been a while since I've had guests.”
Patrick hummed something incoherently and crossed his arms over his broad chest, then moved lazily to the kitchen counter when something caught his eye while you were busy gathering all the stuff on the kitchen table — including some books and various papers from work.
With undisguised interest, Bateman picked up the medicine to take a closer look at its name. “Don't you know these things can cause addiction?”
“What?” You turned to see him examining your sedatives.
“How long have you been taking them?” He asked again, his perfect eyebrows knitted together now.
You sighed tiredly and walked over to him, holding out your hand. “Not too long. Now give it to me, please.”
“I can bring you much better medication than this, since it obviously doesn't work,” he stated in a stern voice, without looking at you. “Because the panic attacks are still kicking your pretty ass.”
His words made your jaw clench, but you didn't even try to snatch the medication from him, instead you just let out a soft groan of annoyance, crossed your arms and rolled your eyes.
“That's very kind of you, but I have to decline your offer.” You replied, watching him shake his head in irritation. “Besides, you can only get those pills with a doctor's prescription.”
Patrick just shrugged and put the pills back on the kitchen counter.
“That's not a problem,” he quickly straightened his red tie before stepping closer to you. “I have one of the best therapists in the city.”
“Uh-huh, and the pharmacy you go to is probably one of the best, too?”
He grinned. “Sure, I usually get my meds from the one on Broadway.”
“Good for you.”
You started to saunter away from him, but his hands caught you faster than you could react. The next thing you knew, Bateman was holding you tightly against his tall, broad frame, looking down at you with obvious concern.
“Cupcake,” he murmured in a sweet voice, tracing a finger along your cheek. “I just want to help.”
Damn, this man only had to touch you a little bit and you were already lost in him. 
“Patrick, you don't have to. I—” You didn't have a chance to finish your sentence because your lips were sealed by his. 
Completely defenseless and vulnerable — that was how you felt right now, and it seemed as if he could feel it as the kiss grew deeper and more intense with each passing moment. Cautiously, you rested your hands on his shoulders before sliding them down to the lapels of his suit, fumbling with the soft material and feeling the ground disappearing beneath your feet.
'It's already too much.'
Only when you were both breathless did Patrick decide to break the kiss, but his arms were still wrapped around your waist, as if he was afraid you would disappear like a mirage. 
“You were involved in all this because of me," he paused and leaned down to you again, letting your noses rub against each other. This little physical contact made your heart flutter. “And you really made me worry.”
Bateman said it so quickly, as if he wasn't even thinking properly at that moment. Embarrassed, you shrugged a bit in his arms. No matter how hard you tried to believe this man, all you could think about now was whether you were trapped in his other manipulative, mind games.
“I’ll be fine, I promise,” you put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast under your fingertips and the next second you pulled your hand away as if you got burned. “Anyway, it’s late already and you probably have some more interesting stuff to do.”
His soft chuckling was annoying but pleasant to hear. “You’re not quite hospitable, aren’t you?”
Eventually, he let you go and stepped aside, unbuttoning his jacket — that scene caused your pulse to race. 
“What are you doing?” “What does it look like?”
You crossed your arms and sighed. “Patrick, I really appreciate your help and… the show was really cool, but I doubt I would ever go back to that place again.” 'Damn it, did I actually say that?'
After Bateman removed his jacket, he carefully put it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs and tucked his sleeves. 
“You’re welcome,” he beamed with a cocky smile. “I thought you would offer me some tea, coffee or something?”
“I doubt I have anything good to your taste,” slowly, you turned away from him, as an unpleasant feeling of shame struck you right through your chest. “Mmm, I can only offer you mineral water but it’s not Apollinaris.”
“Oh, dear,” he crooned and suddenly hugged you from behind. “I didn’t expect you to have Apollinaris. Honestly.”
Gasping barely audibly, you covered his arms on your waist with your own arms and cocked your head to meet his brown eyes and for God’s sake, why did he always look so tempting, so captivating, so… magnetizing?
With a sharp breath, you managed to avoid another kiss he planned to pull you into, and it coaxed a low growl of disappointment to erupt from his half-opened lips which were so intended to collapse with yours. 
“Patrick,” you gulped when he nuzzled against your neck, leaving small wet marks along your sensitive skin. “Please, stop. Let me just bring you some water and I want to relax a bit, after… after everything that happened.”
It was kinda unexpected that Bateman decided to let you go as easy as that without even trying to overpower you like he always does.
“And what do you do to relax?"
“Hot bath.” You responded without looking at him. Annoyed, you stumbled past him to grab the meds he was inspecting a few minutes ago, and then you opened the fridge to take out the bottle of mineral water. As soon as you started to pour the water into the most beautiful glass you had, you noticed his persistent stare, which made you almost spill the water onto the kitchen counter. “What?”
“These pills are no good for you, (y/n),” his anxious tone was very unnatural, you didn’t even remember him sounding like this ever before. “Stop being stubborn.”
With a small thud, you put the glass on the table next to him and replied a bit aggressively: "I don't think they're worse than coke."
At first, Bateman just gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists, but then he took a quick sip of the mineral water, trying as hard as he could to play cool.
“Thanks.” Was all he said and that was actually not the reaction you have expected.
There was an awkward silence hanging in the air for some seconds and none of you wanted to continue this conversation, but once you tried to move his hand (that was wrapped around your forearm), his low voice engulfed you like a hot steam.
“Cupcake, I just want to make sure you won’t do anything bad.” “W-what do you mean?” You frowned in confusion and glanced at his hand before you raised your eyes to his perfect face. “Patrick, I suffer from panic attacks… not the things you're thinking of.”
“Then, go take a bath and I’ll leave after that.”
“But I’m not a child,” the more you were trying to resist him, the more your body was yearning for his touch, his large palm on your back was enough to make you forget how to breathe. “You don't owe me anything, this is my problem and I’ll handle this, just like I was doing it before.”
“To be fair, your behavior only shows how immature you are,” he crooned and traced a long, sensible line along your spine. “But, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt since you’re overwhelmed.”
At some point, you found yourself tired from trying to convince him to leave you alone, so you just nodded and quickly took your sedative before heading to the bathroom under his attentive gaze. After all, even if you even attempted to make him go away you would fail because compared to him you were so small and weak — Patrick had power over you in all ways, and he knew that. 
You were trapped in your own flat, what nonsense.
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In a few minutes, you were sitting in the bath and letting the warm water bring you some relief, just like it always did. Affected by sedatives, you didn’t even remember whether you closed the bathroom door or not, but being honest, you didn’t really care, because even if Patrick came here he wouldn’t see anything new. 
The bitter aftertaste of what happened made you feel like shit, and you really didn't know how to find a way out from it. As if it was not enough for you to be dependent on Patrick (you owe him a lot of money), now you gave him more weaknesses that he could potentially use against you. 
'Excellent!'
Hugging your knees, you burst in tears — salty tears that were falling into the water, leaving small circles on it. Before now, you didn’t even realize how devastated you were. You closed your eyes for a second and you drifted off almost instantly, and with each passing moment, your body was submerging into the water more and more.
Meanwhile, Bateman was sitting on the little couch in your living room, which he suddenly found pretty cozy, though he checked if everything was clean enough before he dared to take a seat. Did he really think that people outside Manhattan used to live in dirty, trashy apartments? Well, maybe he did, since he didn’t even remember when was the last time he was in such places.
Ever since you left, Patrick had been fighting the temptation to go through your things to find something interesting, which he would of course use for his own interests. But instead, he picked up one of your books from the coffee table, and as he did so, a small piece of paper fell out. Squinting suspiciously, Bateman leaned down to grab it, only to almost crumple it when he saw your handwriting —  the paper was completely covered with your notes, and they were all the same phrase — "If I want to be loved as I am, I have to be willing to love others as they are." Patrick couldn't count how many times you had written that, but each line he read evoked something strange in him — the unraveling feeling that urged him to rip the paper, to crumple it. Is it compassion that he was so afraid of?
Closing his eyes for a moment, Bateman took a deep breath and put the paper back in the book, no matter how much he wanted to destroy it or forget what he had just read. After that, he checked his Rolex and noticed that it had been quite a while since you had left. Slowly, he got up from the couch and went to the bathroom. His 'sixth sense' had never failed him before, so he decided to rely on it and check on you.
Patrick didn’t knock once he noticed that the door was not closed, he just stepped in, looking for you.
“Cupcake, are you—”
A chilling shock swept over him when he saw only the top of your head above the water. Without a second thought, he ran across the bathroom and knelt down beside the tub to pull you out of the water, and the moment he did, you began to cough, clinging to his arms and desperately gasping for air.
“Pat-Patrick,” you were shaking so badly, so he had to hold you in one place, pressing you against his solid chest. “I don’t know how that happened… I… I didn’t want this I—” “Shh, (y/n),” Bateman cooed at you in order to calm you down, but he wasn't any less scared than you. “It’s okay, I’m here.”
Trembling, you looked up at him — your eyes so red from tears, your heart beating like a broken alarm-clock. “I think I ruined your suit… I’m so sorry!”
Appalled, you tried to break free but Patrick didn’t let you move, his strong arms were holding you like tight ropes. Damn, he was so angry — he could sense his blood boiling inside his veins, forcing his jaw to clench in a silent growl. He was so fucking mad at himself. 
How could he let this happen? 
As this question ran through his bewildered mind, he froze in fear. He didn't know if he was talking about letting you nearly drown in your own bathtub or letting you take roots on his broken soul. Maybe that was the reason you two had bonded, two broken souls seeking for something that would stop their pain, something that would bring them freedom from a burdened life. But how could he help you when every day he was fighting his dark side, the side you didn't know about yet? The side he wished you would never meet.
Never.
"God... I'm so stupid." You cried out, interrupting his train of thought and bringing him back to reality. 
"Shh," Bateman husked, cupping your face. "Stop talking!" He sighed and looked into your blurry eyes, breathing so heavily that it was almost painful. "Just don't say anything right now."
Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe the sedative had a side effect on you, but as soon as he tried to pull you out of the tub completely, your hand slipped down his chest to his groin — your sneaky fingers instantly playing with the buckle of his belt, causing a shaky groan to escape his lips. Dazed, you moved your hand lower to feel the outline of his thick cock getting harder under your touch, but as you were about to unzip his pants, his firm hand stopped you, confusing your cloudy mind and inducing you to raise your eyes to meet his. He could swear no one had ever looked at him like that — so innocently, yet so sinfully. 
"Cupcake, you don't want this," Patrick murmured, removing your hand. "Trust me."
"I do want this!" You replied in a trembling voice, pouting like a child.
"You're so fucking lost right now, you just don't understand," he manhandled you out of the tub and you almost punched him in his beautiful face, but Bateman paid no attention to your attempt to hit him. "Towels, where are they?"
Huffing, he lifted you up, and only then did you calm down, wrapping your hands and legs around him as securely as you could, like you were afraid of falling off the roof of the skyscraper. 
After you pointed at the bathroom counter, Bateman carefully moved towards it to take some big, white towel and wrap it around you — he was drying you off so gently and attentively, it almost made you cry again. 
Emotions were overtaking you.
Patrick didn't even say a word when he was done, he just got another dry towel and swaddled you in it like in a cocoon before carrying you out of the bathroom bridal style. Somehow, he managed to find the way to your bedroom, but once he saw your bed, he scowled and remarked: “Jesus, this bed is so small.”
“I love my bed.” You murmured in reply, hugging his neck and pressing yourself closer against his warm body.
Bateman couldn't help but chuckle in amusement, giving you a brief forehead kiss and sitting you down on the bed. As soon as you lost physical contact with him, you leaned on your elbows, watching him turn around and walk away.
“Patrick! Please, don’t go!” 
Your words echoed inside his head like the most sacred plea, they made him stop and looked in your direction. “I need to remove my clothes since they’re pretty damp,” he checked himself, with a visible disgust on his face. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Be a good girl, and just wait for me here, okay?”
“Fine.” You mumbled and took the plushy bunny which was resting on your bed next to you.
This scene made him chuckle before he left your bedroom. Now you were completely alone with your thoughts, they didn't wait a second to start eating you from the inside again. With your eyes closed, you lay on your back and began to count.
One, two, three…
What if he lied saying that he would return? Gosh, you wanted him to leave the moment you came here, so why were you getting so upset thinking about him leaving you alone just as you asked him for?
Four, five, six…
The inner voice kept reminding you how many times Patrick has hurt you, how many times he made you cry, how many times you felt like a toy in his hands. You gritted your teeth, pressing your hands against your head to stop thinking.
Seven, eight, nine…
How many times have you promised yourself that you would break out from this circle of lies, pain and suffering? 
“Stop it!” You whimpered, shutting your eyes as firm as you could until the tears started to form.
Ten.
“Stop what?” His voice—it was like a lifeline, like a light in the end of the tunnel, it was everything you needed here and now.
The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was his almost naked form, namely his toned tiddies and his mouth watering V-line, not to mention his perfect abs and the small trail of hair below his navel.
“For one second I thought you would just leave.” You looked into his hazel eyes, which were partly covered by his messy, brown hair.
“In wet clothes?” He giggled and stepped closer to your bed. It was so hard to ignore the bulge in his tight white underwear, but you tried your best not to stare at it. “Feeling better?"
“Yes, I think y-yes,” you swallowed hard when Bateman sat on the edge of your small bed and drew an invisible line across your ankle. “Can I… ask you for something?”
“You can try.” His voice got lower, sending shivers down your spine.
Panting, you uncovered yourself, putting the towel aside and letting him admire the view of your beautiful body, a pleasure he gladly took, his thirsty eyes roaming all over your curves, especially your full breasts and your inviting neck.
“What do you want, Cupcake?” His hand slides up to your hip, teasing the sensitive skin and making you gasp from need. “Tell me.”
“I need you,” you bit your lower lip, frowning from how embarrassed you were. “I n-need you more than ever.”
With no rush, Bateman bent down to your belly to press a brief kiss which elicited a soft moan to fall from your shaky throat. “Show me where you need me.”
You were about to lost it at any second, as the mind-blowing passion was crashing over you like a fucking tsunami, and you didn’t even know if you would survive this. 
Could that be the moment of no return for both of you?
Stifling a moan, you took his big palm and guided between your opened legs—the sound of his fingers sliding along your oozed folds made you arched your back and you thought your heart would break out from your chest. Your heavy breathes filled up the room, and once you felt his hot lips on your mound, you nearly squeaked, creasing the sheets beneath you.
Patrick was enjoying every second of this moment, savoring the taste of your skin, reveling in all your little salacious noises when he encircled his arms around your legs and swiped his tongue over your throbbing clit.
That was the last drop of your resistance and you couldn't control it anymore, throwing your head back and mewling sensually: “Mmhm, Daddy…! You make me f-feel so good.”
“Are you sure you want this?” His sudden question pierced through your head like an electric pulse.
Gulping, you got up a bit to look down at him, his cheeks, neck and shoulders were already flushed, his hair was disheveled and his eyes were as dark as night.
“Yes,” you responded shortly, feeling a tight knot forming inside your lower abdomen just from being so close to his face. “Taste me, Daddy, please… I want to get lost… in you.”
“I see,” he said, hovering over you for a moment to grab the plushy bunny, then handing it to you with a mischievous grin. "Little girls always keep their favorite toys close?”
As soon as you held the bunny, Bateman got back to his previous position, fondling your hips here and there, then he kissed your inner thigh and put your legs together before bending them and pressing against your chest.
“Stay like that.”
After saying that, he brushed away his wavy locks, spit on your pussy and made several, barely sensible, strokes along your bundle of nerves, his sturdy arms were holding your legs to fixate you in one place as his ministrations were making it hard for you to stay still.
“Awww, P-Patrick,” you keened and squeezed the plush toy in your hand, feeling so dirty yet so high from the way his wet tongue was painting various ornaments on your taut lower lips. “I’m gonna faint…”
“Mmm,” he moaned against your feverish little bud before he took it inside his mouth, sucking it so deliciously that your eyes rolled back into your head, your inner walls were already spasming. “You’re my sweet little Cupcake.”
“Yes! Yes, please!”
Slurping at your soaked cunt, Bateman let you rest your legs on his shoulders and pull on his brown hair as you wanted to bring him even closer, moving your hips towards his face. God, you were such a wet moaning mess and when he shoved his long fingers inside of your dripping slit, you lost connection with reality and ascended to the apex of ecstasy.
His fingers were moving inside and outside of you like a clock-work, so smoothly and fast, since he knew your body so perfectly, it was quite simple for him to find your spongy G - spot. Once he started to stimulate it, your toes began to curve and your whole body was jolting as if you were hit by the eclectic shock.
The moment of your orgasm was as astonishing and relieving as a sip of water in the arid desert. But even after you cummed, Patrick didn’t stop eating you out, fingering you harder, so your juices were gashing around your sweaty bodies, the sheets beneath you were already wet and you didn’t know how you would live tomorrow when he leaves you.
“Mmmmh, I’mma cum again, D-Daddy!” You whimpered, squirming around the bed and pressing the plushy bunny against your face as you were on the verge of tears – overstimulation hitting pretty hard.
Bateman only growled in response and stuffed your soaked pussy with another finger, rhythmically swirling his hot tongue around your throbbing tip while his sneaky hand traced up along your shivering body to grope one of your breasts and pinch your engorged nipple.
“Ahhh—GOSH…! Pat...” Your voice cracked as you cummed so hard all around his face that your wetness was literally running down his chin. But he didn’t care, because the only thing that mattered for him was bringing you as much pleasure as he could.
Even when he was panting heavily against your abused cunt, and he almost couldn't feel his fingers anymore, he continued to lap at your cleft. By that moment your legs were looped around his head and you couldn’t stop twitching even for a second, with each lick he sent millions of tingles to your lower belly.
“Daddy, it’s t-too much… I can’t take it any longer.” You felt so goddamn sensitive, and your body was like jelly at this point.
“C’mon, babydoll,” he groaned in a raspy voice after he pulled on your clit with a nasty squeal. “You can give Daddy another one, can't you baby? For me, please?"
This time Patrick buried his tongue as deep inside your womb as he could, licking you from the inside out. He repeated the motion, making you climax countless times in a row, until your little frame couldn't bear it anymore. Soon, you drifted off with a smile of joy on your face, holding the plushy bunny close to your chest. Long time ago that toy was your only friend, but now it seemed like you have become a toy yourself. But unlike the plush bunny, it was obvious that you weren't the only toy for your owner.
Why did it hurt so good to be alive?
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You heard a faint voice calling you and asking for help, but no matter how hard you tried to follow it and find it—all you could see was darkness before your eyes. Scared, you moved along the dark alley, surrounded by shadows, shivering from the abnormal cold, and for a second you even thought you were already dead. But when the voice called you again, you finally realized that it was your inner voice, but it sounded so sad, even compared to your darkest days.
"How did you end up like this, (y/n)?" Your own reflection spoke to you, each word cutting through your heart like a dagger. "You're so pathetic and weak, what would Mom and Dad say if they knew about your 'successful' life in New York?"
Frowning, you closed your hands around your ears to stop this madness, but the more you tried to ignore it, the louder the voice became in your head.
"Look what you've done to yourself! Do you really think he cares about you?" 
"Leave me alone!" You yelled at your shadow copy and ran down the alley, but there seemed to be no escape.
"Wake the fuck up! Bateman is just using you for his own needs, and you let him treat you like a fucking toy. Being in debt to him is not an excuse!" You could hear it even with your ears closed and there was nowhere to hide.
"SHUT UP!" You sped up, the cold air hitting your face mercilessly, but you didn't care. "Get out of my head!"
God, it was so fucking absurd to argue with yourself.
Perplexed and scared, you suddenly realized that the faster you were running the louder your inner voice was getting, bringing you a sharp headache as if a million needles cut into your brain at once. It hurt really bad.
“Patrick! Patrick, where are you?” You cried out as the darkness was clouding around you with each passing second. “Please, I need you…” A single tear slid down your warm cheek when you felt your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as though you were drowning. “Pat-Patrick…”
Slowly closing your eyes, you let the void consume you, which actually brought you some relief, because now you were free from pain and sorrow, reveling in the sweet space of non-existence.
A loud gasp bounced against the walls of your small bedroom, signaling of your eventual awakening. Panting, you sat on the bed only to see Bateman’s sleepy form next to you—he was sleeping like a baby, laying on his back and sniffling from time to time. Shocked, you were trying your best to regain your composure and steady your heavy breathing, not even noticing that you were drenched in sweat. 
Quietly, you slipped out from under the covers to find yourself completely naked, so the next thing you did was find something to put on. Subsequently, you rushed inside your small bathroom and saw Bateman’s clothes drying off on the battery—the memories of the recent events flashed across your mind like a slow-motion movie. First, you were taking a bath—which was still full of cold water—then you nearly drowned but Patrick came in time and literally saved you. The next flashbacks made you lean on the sink and hold back your breath—his eager mouth on your cunt, forcing you to lose your mind and cum again and again until you eventually drifted off. 
Jesus Christ.
Embarrassed, you quickly opened the water and washed your face several times until you cooled down a bit. After you regain your composure, you fasten your terry robe and head to the kitchen as you were so starved that you even had a stomach ache. 
New York was already awake, and the sun was high above the horizon, shining so brightly in the windows that you had to close your blinds and thank God it was Sunday and you didn't have to go to the office because your head was spinning due the aftereffect of your sedative pills. Speaking of them—once you saw the jar with pills on the kitchen counter you threw it into the rubbish without any second thought, yet you didn’t want Bateman to know that he had an influence on your decision. When you closed the door to the kitchen, you accidentally slammed it harder than you should have, and it cracked so loudly that it sounded like a bundle of dishes broke at the same time.
"Damn it!" You cursed to yourself, pressing a palm to your face, certain that the noise would wake Bateman up.
Panicking a bit, you retreated to your bedroom and as soon as you stepped in you saw the man of your dreams stretching out and yawning so adorable, that for a moment you just froze in your place, not capable of taking your eyes off from Bateman’s disheveled hair and his broad chest.
With a low growl, Patrick pulled the blanket away and finally noticed you. "Woah, Cupcake, was that you?" The man chuckled, casually flexing his muscles as he looked at the mirror next to the door where you were standing. "I thought something had exploded outside."
Abashed, you quickly adjusted your robe from his piercing gaze. "Sorry, I can be really..."
"Clumsy?" Smiling broadly, Bateman leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms. 
"Yes, clumsy," you tugged with your fingers, briefly glancing down—damn, he seemed to be the only person who could embarrass you so easily. "Well...do you want anything?"
"Hmmm, let me think," Patrick hummed before he thoughtfully pressed a finger to his plump lips. "I probably have something on my mind," Bateman gave you a mischievous grin when he saw your curious look and smoothed his golden brown hair. "How about a morning blowjob?" Your instant reaction was a mixture of anger and embarrassment, which made the man's face look even more smug. "Relax! I'm joking." 
Of course he wasn't joking—you knew it and couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest. "I'd pretend I didn't hear that," you said, finally looking away from his sturdy body. "How about breakfast?"
"That sounds really good."
Shocked, you took a moment to think about the possible options you could cook for him since you didn’t really expect him to give you a positive answer. “I can offset you with a scrambled egg and some fresh orange juice.”
With a satisfied grin, the man slowly got up from your modest bed and stretched his muscles again; he was definitely making it on purpose. “Oh, that’s nice,” he almost groaned when he cocked his head to one side then to another. “I can’t say the same about your bed, Cupcake… you should change the mattress if you want to keep walking with a straight back.”
And though Patrick was lamenting, you could say he said it almost affectionately—as if he really cared about you, yet you brushed this conclusion off as fast as your heart was pounding right now when the man got closer to you; his tall, massive frame towered over you like a mountain.
“I also would like to have a shower, if…there’s such an option,” Bateman smirked and briefly traced a finger along your cheek, coaxing you to close your eyes for a second and revel in the soft sensation of his touch. “Did you sleep well?”
A sudden question that fell from his lips like a suffocated gasp, a tender stroke on your shoulder and you were already melting as Patrick knew what he was doing, every touch, every glance of his brown hypnotic eyes was deliberate and smooth, leaving you no chance but to surrender to his demand.
“Yes, I slept like a baby, though I can hardly remember the things that happened before I blacked out,” you lied with an embarrassed smile. “You can have a shower and use whatever soaps and towels you’ll see.” Thee more you talked the more his lips curled, especially when you allowed him to bring you closer into his embrace. “But don’t expect anything extraordinary.”
“I won’t, I promise,”  the man chuckled and playfully pinched your ass. “Sleeping beauty.”
With that, Patrick walked past you, leaving you alone for a moment, giving you a chance to pull yourself together. And when you seemed to relax, a thought of his clothes that had been left in the bathroom popped up in your mind. ‘Oh God, I forgot!’
Nervously, you rushed after Patrick into your bathroom to see that the door was already closed, implying that he was inside and probably naked, though you couldn’t hear the sound of flowing water. Embarrassed, you coughed quietly and knocked several times.
“Yeah?” Bateman’s muffled voice echoed through the door. 
“Patrick, I…” a short pause turned into a breathless gasp. “If you’re not already in the shower, may I come in?”
After a moment, the door in front of you opened and you saw Patrick wrapped in a white towel. “Something wrong?”
“No,” you giggled nervously and sneaked inside the bathroom to quickly grab his clothes. “I just wanted to iron your…suit and stuff, while you’re in the shower…” Quickly, you hovered his garments over your arm and walked past him, hoping he wouldn’t ask any questions, despite his surprised expression. “I’m so sorry for dumping your clothes yesterday.”
With these words, you deftly avoid his grasp as you knew he’d definitely try to make you embarrassed even more. “(Y/n)!”
“Take a shower. I’ll make you breakfast as I promised.” 
This time, the man didn’t try to catch you or follow you, thankfully. So, you could safely make it to your living room where you set an ironing board and put his shirt first to iron. Wrapped in thoughts, you didn’t even notice how carefully you were ironing his clothes, you couldn’t even remember doing the same with your stuff but maybe you were just scared of ruining it since everything he wore was utterly expensive. ‘This suit probably costs like my monthly rent.’ Sighing, you put the shirt aside when you heard the water flowing sound and your mind instantly gave you an image of Patrick’s naked body, enveloped in steam and slightly flush from the heat. ‘Damn, I should stop or I'm gonna ruin something.’ When it was time to iron his tie, you ran your finger along the smooth red fabric, draped in beautiful intricate patterns—you couldn't deny that you had a thing for his ties, for all of them—you smiled to yourself before bringing it to your lips, you could still feel his cologne on it. This tantalizing scent was driving you crazy, it fit him so perfectly as if it was made specially for him, but even if that was true, you wouldn’t be surprised at all, regarding how rich this man was. The moment you finished ironing his pants, you seemed to hear his voice coming from the bathroom. ‘Perfect timing.’
Slightly tensed, you stopped next to the door. “Patrick? Did you call me?” When he didn’t reply, you became even more stirred, so without really caring about seeing him naked, you opened the door and stepped in. “Patrick?” Since your bathroom was much smaller than his, you bumped into his massive frame, squealing in surprise. “Oh God, sorry!”
“Oh, Cupcake,” he wrapped his hands around your shoulders before carefully cupping your face. “I hope you didn’t break your nose against my firm chest?”
Frowning, you gave him a dead glare but he only snickered back. “What happened? Why did you call me?”
“Do you have an extra toothbrush for me? I’ll buy you another one and…”
You stopped him halfway and removed his hands to stroll to the sink and opened the cabinet above it. “Here. There’s also a razor if you need.”
Smirking, Bateman sneaked behind you and pressed his wet body against yours. “Do ya think I need to shave?” He rubbed the mirror from steam to check himself, sliding a hand along his chiseled chin.
“I…I don’t know…I just thought in case you need to, the razor is here.”
“Mhm…” he hummed and before you knew it he nuzzled against your exposed neck, forcing you to gasp and stepped back right into his embrace, just like he planned it. “Does that tickle, Cupcake?” 
‘Dear Lord, please give me the strength to survive this.’
Staying still, you just swallowed hard and let him continue to attack your neck, which he did with precious care before, but now, Patrick also used his mouth and teeth, and that was already too much.
"I think you definitely have some stubble," you laughed, trying to turn it into a joke. But as soon as you tried to walk away, he pulled you back into his strong arms, and that was not funny. "Breakfast Patrick, I have to make breakfast, did you forget?"
"Not really, but I need your help."
"Help?"
The man gave you a devilish smile before lifting you up and sitting you on the bathroom counter, not even giving you a chance to protest. Then Bateman took the shaving cream, checking the brand name skeptically, but then averting his eyes, probably thinking it was better not to know. With deliberate, calculated movements, he applied the cream to his cheekbones, moving up and down his face. The sight was something you never thought you'd find so damn hot that you didn't even make a sound, just watched him carefully prepare to shave.
"Have you ever seen a man shave, darling?" Patrick asked in a cheeky tone, surely noticing the way you were staring at him.
You shook your head. “No,” you shamelessly checked on him, following the little buds of water slipping down his torso. “God, this is such a silly question, don’t you think?”
Instead of answering, Bateman flexed his muscles while watching in the mirror and missing the way you rolled your eyes. “Well, now you finally have a chance.” The man winked at you and grabbed the razor. “You know, I really like your place, it’s pretty clean.”
“You already said that.”
“Oh, did I?”
“Yes,” you crossed your arms and turned away just the moment when the man started to glide the razor against his jawline—you thought the blade would become blunt because his cheekbones were too sharp—his every action was smooth and skillful. “That was the first thing you said when we came in.”
“That only means that it’s really very clean here.”
Huffing, you fixed your robe and cursed to yourself, ‘Why does he always have to be like this?’
Opening the faucet, Patrick cleaned his face after the last stroke of the razor. “Can you check here?” 
Confused, you gave him a questioning gaze when he turned halfway, pointing at the apex of his jaw. Sheepishly, you touched his freshly shaved skin, feeling a slight prickly sensation. “I think it’s still a bit stubbly.” 
“Aha,” Bateman acknowledged and quickly took your hand in his big one, briefly kissing the top of it and giving you the razor. “I told you, I’d need your help, Cupcake.” “How do you even do it yourself?”
“The razors I use are much sharper than this one, honey,” he chuckled but once you placed the razor against his skin he stopped moving. “Just be careful.”
The last phrase struck a chord inside your chest and you even stopped for a moment to take a deep breath before you eventually began to shave the rest of the stubble. All the while, Patrick would glance at you attentively, his hazel irises like hypnotizing spirals, so you forced yourself to stay focused on the razor and the patch of his skin still covered in a shaving cream.
“You have such soft skin,” you mumbled mostly to yourself but you were sure he heard it. “It’s so pleasurable to touch.”
“(Y/n),” he suddenly called out your name in a stern voice. “I think we should talk about yesterday.” “No…”
"Listen to me," he grabbed the hand that held the razor and pushed it to the side. "You should stop taking that sedative."
“It was just an accident.” 
“You could die, Cupcake…”
"I...I know...I owe you for saving me," you finally stated, releasing your hand to finish shaving him. "But let me take care of my life."
“Ouch.”
“Oh my God! Did I hurt you?” You jolted in panic, almost dropping the razor as if you were hit by the electric shot.
“Yes, you did,” Bateman glided a palm along his now perfectly shaved cheeks. “With your words.”
Letting out a sad sigh, you put the razor into the sink next to you and reached for another towel for him as you watched him washing his face. The more you kept silent, the more palpable the tension was getting in the air and after a brief moment of contemplating, you decided that the best option now was just to go to the kitchen and cook.
“Toothbrush is here.” You murmured and got up from the bathroom counter, about to leave but Patrick stopped you. 
First, you glanced down at his grasp around your wrist, then you raised your eyes to meet his walnut ones, now they were absolutely dark and demanding. Inch by inch, the man was getting closer, soon you could feel the fresh scent of your soap on his wet skin as he pressed you along his broad form, one hand rested on the small of your back, while another snaked beneath your robe to outline one of your hard peaks, which were visible through the fabric.
“Pat-Patrick…”
“No more ‘Daddy’ again, huh?” he whispered into your ear, playing with your stray lock. “Do you remember how many times you called me like that last night?”
‘No! I don’t remember, I shouldn’t remember this, I…’
“...your sweet voice sounded so good with all these little dirty pleas, ‘Daddy, don’t stop, mmhm-please!�� Uhhh, that was really something,” Bateman crooned against your neck, forcing you to step back until he trapped you between his massive body and bathroom counter. “Got you.”
There was nothing to say more, once his warm mouth latched on yours, the urge to deny him fading with every second of the kiss, especially when Patrick savagely sucked on your lower lip and drew his tongue across it as if asking for permission to slip inside.
Gasping, you instinctively inclined your head to the side for a moment and the man used it for showering your delicate neck with little peeks which then transformed into wet, red marks. This sweet torture could last forever if you suddenly didn’t press your palm against his naked chest in a determined way.
“We can’t,” you protested when he got down to kiss you again. “You’re engaged, don’t you think it’s so mean to…cheat on your fiance?”
The man couldn’t hold back a scoff. “What does that have to do with anything? You owe me, Cupcake, you owe me a lot.” 
Annoyed, you made an attempt to push him away, but you obviously failed as Patrick was too strong, looming over you like a mountain. “If you mean the last time—I already thanked you and moreover, I didn’t ask you to do it, you know?” You watched his face changing into something more impish, the corners of his lips curled up as if everything was happening according to his plan. “You always decide for me…maybe it’s time to stop?”
Bateman chuckled. “Maybe it’s time to finally open your eyes?”
“Are you…really telling me this?!”
“You owe me a pretty big sum of money,” the man suddenly turned the conversation in another way. “And we had a deal…” Carefully, he trailed his finger along your cheek like an artist admiring his most precious creation. “Do you think I’d be so patient with your bad attitude to me if I were not really into you, hmm?”
The last words made you swallow hard and turned away for a moment, as you were on the verge of tears. Did he really just confirm that there was some kind of affection for you from his side?
“I…I know I owe a lot of money, but believe me, I’ll back them soon,” you removed his arms from your waist but the next second, Patrick placed them on the bathroom counter behind you from both sides, not allowing you to go away. “Please, believe me.”
“I don’t need that fucking money,” Patrick barked and unexpectedly gripped your shoulders, but when he noticed the glowing fear in your eyes, the man loosened his grasp and cupped your face. “I need you. Both your body and soul.”
Closing your eyes, you wanted to sink through the ground. “You want me to do things that you can’t buy with money…” you declared with a chilling coldness in your voice. “Other women are okay with being your toys, but I’m not. Now, let's finish this conversation, it won’t lead to anything.”
A tired sigh broke out from Bateman’s broad chest and for a second he even thought to let you go and turned over the page of the story of two broken souls, who met themselves so suddenly. Maybe now was that exact moment he was waiting so long, the moment to open the cards and confess, even though Patrick could hardly believe it would work.
"You don't seem to be listening to me at all," was all the man could say. "And that's not surprising, since no one really listens to me. Because...uhh...because no one really cares about what really bothers me…" He let you go and stepped back. "And you...I thought you were the only person who...who actually tried to understand me and act naturally."
"Patrick..."
He raised his hand in an eloquent gesture to let him continue. "You probably did it all because of the debt, but...I'll be honest, sometimes I made myself believe that you weren't acting like this just because of the money."
"Is this another manipulation?" You asked bluntly, holding back your tears. "How could I believe you after all the things you did to me? How many times did you treat me like a puppet that you no longer wanted to play with? And not to mention that you turned out to be engaged!" You grabbed your head and leaned against the bathroom counter, massaging your temples. "This is already too much."
The man huffed and cautiously approached you. With a soft, feathery movement, he touched your hands and pulled them away from your strained face. "At least you seem to care that I'm engaged," he said abruptly, moving you closer so that your head was now pressed against his massive chest. "I know it's overwhelming, (y/n). But..." the words suddenly stuck in his throat like a lump. "You're not alone in this." Patrick urged curly, running his large palm along the crown of your head before resting his chin on it, inhaling the scent of your soft hair. 
‘Not alone’, you repeated inside your head and looked up into his brown eyes, which were now so stern and contemplative—you have never seen them like that before. This man, oh God, this man was such a mess, he was making you lose the ground beneath your feet with his sudden confessions, but in the end, actions spoke louder than words, even though you wanted to believe him and sink into the strong feeling you had towards him—you simply couldn’t allow yourself to get lost in him as you would burn out like a match.
All the while you were standing like that, Bateman was hoping you would say something in return, but when you didn’t, he just released you from his embrace without saying a thing. Overwhelmed by emotions, you left the bathroom and let him finish his hygienic routine in private.
A bit later, you didn’t even remember how you cooked a breakfast for both of you, the only thing you did remember was his positive comment that it tasted pretty good. You couldn’t help but smile, though your plate still stood untouched. Patrick noticed that, but didn’t make any comments about that.
“To be honest, I really didn’t expect it to be that nice,” he chuckled and finished his glass of mineral water that he didn’t really like. Quickly checking his Rolex, which he wore right after he took a shower, he added, “I’m afraid it’s time for me to go. Can you please bring me my clothes?”
“Sure.” You raised up and quickly strolled to the iron board where his suit and shirt were waiting to be presented to their owner. “Here, I ironed them for you.”
Bateman froze in shock for a moment. “You…ironed them?”
“Uh, yes, but I did it very carefully, I know everything you wear is utterly expensive,” you gave him his garments and he started to examine every thing with meticulous attention. “I…I thought you wouldn’t like to go outside in rumpled clothes.”
"That's… that's very sweet of you, Cupcake. Really…" he replied, his blush barely noticeable to anyone but you. "Thanks…thanks for everything."
“You’re welcome.” You murmured shyly, crossing your arms over the chest and watching him getting up from the table and walking to your bedroom to dress up.
Moments later, you both were standing in your small hallway, Patrick fixing his tie and coat, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
“How do I look?” He asked nonchalantly, putting on the headphones of his Walkman.
Slightly upset, you leaned against the wall, your eyes gliding up and down his elegant, tall silhouette; the way the dark blue trench coat sat on his broad shoulders made you almost gasp in admiration.
“Perfect as always,” you stepped closer to adjust the collar of his shirt. “You’re like a Vogue cover which came alive.”
Fluttered, Bateman smiled and caught your hand to place a kiss on top of it. “And I always believe your compliments, they are so…sincere or…” he paused and looked into your eyes. “...or I’m just fooling myself.”
His usual chuckling now was less happy and it stirred something inside of you, so when you got up on your toes to kiss his cheek, Patrick took it like another chance to be intimate with you. With unhidden tenderness, the man pulled you into his arms to seal your mouths with a soft but passionate kiss which brought some unexpected relief for both of you.
“You know, I…I really appreciate your courage to be open with me,” you suddenly confessed when he broke the kiss, still holding you close. “It’s just that I need some time to think over things and…my life is such a mess.”
"Oh, you don't have to tell me that," Bateman sneered ironically to himself. "Since I know who made your life so messy," he stopped you from saying anything else by pressing his finger to your lips. Then the man slowly leaned down so that your foreheads now touched in the most intimate way. "Promise me you won't take those pills again."
"And you promise me you won't say things like no one gives a fuck about you," you gripped his arm, rubbing his firm bicep under the soft fabric of his coat. "Because I do give a fuck about you, even though I don't really like it."
"We'll talk about...us. That's the only promise I can make right now."
"Us?"
"You heard what I said," he pinched your nose, just like after the fashion show. "I'll call you today and Cupcake?" He leaned down to whisper in your ear, accidentally brushing his nose against your neck. "You're always on my mind, but I still haven't decided if it's good or not." The way he used your words to tease you brought a broad smile to your face, but the next time, all joy faded as the man stroked your cheek one last time before stepping aside to check himself in the mirror. "Hope to see you soon, darling."
With that he closed the door behind him and as much as you hated saying goodbye, you hated the moments like that, when you couldn’t control yourself as your emotions peaked, causing your knees to buckle and you stopped yourself from falling down only because you managed to lean on the nearby wall. The whole thing about your relationship with Bateman was one big mistake, as you would never find yourself belonging to this world—your meeting was a joke of fate—no less to say. Although you knew it, your heart was like a rebellion who refused to listen, to obey, to accept the truth that there were no chances to turn this situation in a way that would help these relationships to become healthy and normal. ‘Normal, huh? Do yuppies even know such a word?’ Laughing ironically to yourself, you got up and went back into your kitchen to wash the dishes. The sight of Patrick sitting here with a glass of water in his hand was still so fresh in your mind, but now you began to doubt if that really had happened. 
All day later, you couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t eat, waiting for his call but he never did it. It was not surprising after the shit that man had done, but today you were really hoping he would keep his word. But your hopes were broken to pieces again, in the most brutal possible way because you really decided to give it a try and believed him.
When the night came to New York City, you were standing in your living room with a cup of freshly brewed coffee, thinking about what would you do next and trying to think less about what Patrick was doing right now…and even less about with whom he probably could be. ‘...with Courtney or maybe with his fiance, Evelyn?’ You snickered sadly to yourself and finished your drink. Coffee was supposed to help you to keep awake but instead it only made you even more sleepy, so you didn’t even realize how you fell asleep on your little couch while putting down the notes of how today’s day had gone in your diary.
The next moment you were awakened by the sudden doorbell, which caught you off guard and even scared you a bit as you didn’t wait for anyone. Quickly enveloping your robe, you got up and saunted to the door to look at the peephole—you would lie to yourself if you said you weren’t expecting someone specific, but when you saw nothing but flowers, your heart skipped a beat. 
With one swift motion, you opened the door and an unknown guy instantly greeted you with a polite tone. “Good morning, miss (y/n),” he then handed you a big bouquet of red and white roses—it was so heavy you could barely hold it. “Uh, can you please put your sign here?”
Confused, you pressed the flowers to your chest to see the man’s face. “Are you… are you sure it’s for me?”
The courier only smiled and giggled. “Of course, but you can check the address, if you want,” the man showed you the paper with the order details. “We make no mistakes, miss, that’s why our service is the best around New York.”
“I see,” you responded and put your signature on the place he pointed you. “But, can I ask you who sent me this?”
“There’s a card inside if I’m not mistaken,” the courier replied and with that he put the paper inside his bag. “Have a good day, ma'am.”
“Thanks.” 
With that, you closed the door and somehow proceeded into your living room where you put the bouquet on the coffee table and began to look for the vase for it. When you managed to find it, you poured some water and placed the flowers into it, then you remembered the courier’s words about the card and the next second you were already leafing through the flowers. Soon, a small white card caught your attention and when you picked it out, the first thing you noticed was two beautiful letters—P.B. in the end of the text which said: 
“Good morning, my sweet Cupcake, 
I’m sorry I didn’t call you tonight, I was extremely busy and didn’t really have any free time, but I hope this little gift would cheer you up a bit. What do you think about going to a yacht club these weekends? I’m looking forward to hearing from you soon. 
Utterly yours, P.B.” 
Your hands began to shake the moment you finished reading, but you managed to regain your composure. Driven by the unbridled happiness inside your chest, you leaned down to inhale the sweet scent of flowers—God, it felt like a dream. And speaking of dreaming—you were still so sleepy that after you finally calmed down, you decided to come back into the bed and nap a little bit longer. The sheets were still smelling of him, coaxing you to rub your face against the pillows and imagine him being here with you and somehow, you finally realized how deep this man was rooted inside your heart. ‘Utterly yours…’ You kept replaying these words inside your head until you drifted off to another dream, but this time, it was not a nightmare, but a heaven where Patrick was only yours, and you were his only one.
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P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!
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ghoulish-fiction · 2 days
Text
Here's a WIP exploring the idea I had the other day about ghouls being born from the merging of a human and demon and how they can freely shift through a spectrum of froms. I'm a little stuck now as I think up Swiss's form. If you have ideas please send them my way.
Mountain/Swiss, Swiss Alps, WIP, mature
"Mounty? Where are you?" Swiss called out as be worked his way deeper and deeper into the woods, "Its been three days. Are you done being feral yet? I miss you."
Swiss listened closely, his, currently, pointed ears twisting this way and that. After hearing no sort of response he sighed deeply.
"You know, Mounty," Swiss said under his breath, if you don't come home I'm going to have to join you out here. I miss you too much."
"Prooomissse-ah?" 
Swiss whipped around to face a terrifying creature leering down from the trees. Its body dark browns and blacks and covered with patches of moss, vines, and flowers. Its long maw hung open, showing many white, razor sharp teeth. It's limbs were much too long for its already enormous body and they bent on unatural ways. They clung to the tops of trees which somehow managed to hold its weight. Its four eyes glowed as they stared down at Swiss, its face inching closer and closer as it climbed down from the trees and extended its long neck towards him. Swiss grinned, showing off his own sharp fangs, and reached out towards the beast. 
The beast made a sound that was most likey a purr despite it sounding so guteral. It knocked its great curled horns against Swisses and allowed Swiss to hug its head. 
"There you are Mounty! I've missed you, my giant forest cryptid." 
"I... said... prooomissse?" The voice came from Mountain, but his mouth simply continued to hang open, unmoving. 
"I didn't think you'd hear me, but yeah Ill go feral with you. But only for a day or two. We got things to do at home, you know."
"No." Mountain growled. 
"How long do you want to stay?"
"Till the end of days." He said in a deep, almost seductive voice.
"Okay," Swiss laughed, "You've convinced me. Papa's gonna be mad though."
"Dont... care." 
"You'll care when he's out here disturbing the peace."
Mountain only whined and began biting and yanking at Swiss's clothes. 
"Okay, okay! I think you just want me naked."
Mountain purred.
"Fucking pervert." Swiss teased as he nearly folded his clothes. 
"Did you bring a bag this time?"
A massive claw reached into the greenery that grew on Mountain's body to produce a messenger bag. It hung from that claw like a doll's bag hanging from a child's finger. A now naked Swiss took the bag so he could shove his clothing in along side Mountain's. As he did so Mountain nudged his great head against Swiss once more. His lolling tonge licking up his back.
"Hold on! Wait till I've changed. You're a pervert and you're impatient." 
Mountain whined again as he took the bag back and stashed it on his, so to say, person once more. 
"Okay big boy. Give me some space." Swiss instructed. He shook out his limbs and rolled his shoulders back. Mountain retreated back to the tops of the massive trees. 
With a growl that started low but grew deafening, Swiss began to transform.
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luveline · 6 months
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Hi Jade! I’ve been on my criminal minds rerun and it made me come up with this Spencer request if you’re taking them right now! Something along the lines of the reader and Spencer being together and she becomes pregnant but he pieces it together before she does!
tysm for requesting! hope this is ok♡ 1k
cw fem!reader has a positive attitude towards her pregnancy. vaguely adult theme
"I really don't think I can go," you say, flopping down on the bed. 
Spencer laughs and shakes out the shirt in his hands, hoping the creases from the dryer will iron themselves before dinner tonight. "You always say that."
"I really mean it this time. I miss Hotch, I do, and I'm glad he's out of WITSEC, but thinking about the restaurant is making me queasy." 
"Really? I looked it up, it's a nice place. They have their Grade A, it should be spotless in there. I'm pretty sure they almost got a Michelin star." 
You groan, turning onto your side. "I looked too. The entire menu is seafood," you whine. 
"What's wrong with that?" Spencer asks, giving you a quizzical look. 
"The smell." You rub your nose against his pillow and sigh. "I don't feel good. Didn't rough me up in my sleep, did you?" 
"I would never do that," he says, putting the last of the laundry aside to sit by your hip. His hand rests naturally against the slight curve of your side, fingertips pushing the hem of your shirt up enough to steal a glance at your back. 
He wouldn't say this aloud and it doesn't matter, but you've gained a little weight recently. Actually, it does matter in that he thinks it's adorable, but he knows that telling your partner they've gained weight is a faux pas. He likes it, anyhow. It's happy weight. 
Things are so serious now but they don't feel serious. There's no solemness in your relationship, just comfort. He's putting on weight in tandem. 
"You really don't want to go?" Spencer asks. The earlier he lets Hotch know the better. 
You wrap an arm around your stomach. "Sorry, Spence. I'm so sorry, I've felt sick all day and I think it'll just be a repeat of yesterday morning." You puked before breakfast, the smell of eggs too much to bear.
Spencer feels it click into place then and there. The weight, the puking, your changing taste. Your sore chest and lower back, your sensitivity. 
He pushes you gently, a hand on your hip to encourage you down. Careful, he lays down next to you, propping his head on the pillow as he brings hand up to hold you. He can't know for sure… but if you're pregnant as he suspects, it fits. And more than that, it's insane. He doesn't know how to handle this besides wrapping you up in his arms. He'll keep you forever, if he can. 
"Don't be sorry," he says, his voice faraway. You relax completely in his arms, sliding your leg over his to lock him in. "Does your back still hurt?" 
"My chest, Spence," you lament, "it feels like I'm winded. I think I'm coming down with something. Maybe you shouldn't be near me." 
"In that case, I'm staying right here." 
You laugh softly, the warmth of it a circle on his shoulder. "I can call Hotch myself and say sorry. I'll feel better in a few days, and we'll reschedule, and I'll pay even if he tries to." 
Spencer draws a line up your back. Now or never. 
He steels his nerves, the beginning of a hypothesis hesitating on his tongue. Your symptoms in addition to your irregular period and your regular sex lives points toward pregnancy. How does he say that? How should he say it? Should he even bring it up? Perhaps he should wait until you discover it yourself. And you aren't definitely pregnant, it's just a possibility. Maybe you're simply sick—
"Hey, earth to handsome," you whisper, cupping his cheek in your soft palm. You smile as he snaps out of his thoughts. "Hey. I lost you for a few seconds, where'd you go?" 
"Nowhere. I'm here." 
Your smile gets impossibly fond. It's not dissimilar to how you usually look at him. "Are you okay?" 
"Fine. I love you." 
"I love you," you say. 
There's something about you now, this gaussian blur to you. Sunlight seeps in lazily through the blinds thick as honey, a golden kiss to your skin where you lay face to face with him, and your I love you makes him want to cry. This is all ridiculous and amazing and he doesn't know what to do, doesn't know how to make his mouth move into the right words. 
"What is it?" you ask. You know him better than anyone. 
"I think you're pregnant." Spencer winces, though he can't beat his smile into submission. "I mean. You could be pregnant." 
"Why do you think that?" you ask, visibly startled. 
"Your sensitivity to strong smells, your soreness, your late period, to name the more obvious. That's not factoring in your worsening low iron lately, and your headaches." You make a strange sound he doesn't like. "What?" he asks worriedly.  
"I'm late," you say into yourself, looking past him as you puzzle it over. 
"It's a good thing, if you are. I mean, it's an amazing thing if you want it to be. I'm saying everything wrong. It's only amazing if you want it to be, I want it to be. But I'm on your side no matter what." He grimaces into his hands, rubbing his face with both palms. 
You sit as he panics. He clicks his neck looking up, racing to follow you, alarmed as you shimmy down the bed toward the ensuite bathroom. 
"What are you–" 
"I'm gonna take a test." 
"Wait a second." Spencer catches your hands before you can get too far, pulling you back to the end of the bed to sit down. "Wait. Is it– is it bad? If you are?" 
You look down at your stomach briefly. Anyone else might miss it, but Spencer can't not follow your behaviour, and the way you're acting now makes him think he got it wrong. That you won't be happy. 
You grab Spencer's hand. "You know, it's not funny. All our friends are gonna ask how I found out, and I'm gonna have to admit that you noticed it first." Your eyes track up his face almost shyly, and soon your smile is as blistering as his. 
Spencer bends under your weight as you jump up, throwing your arms behind his neck, your lips smashed to his ear. "I love you," you whisper urgently, "so much. This is good, right? This is really good." 
"Are you kidding?" he asks incredulously. 
Spencer takes your face into two hands and kisses you as hard as he ever has. He realises a second in that he'd much rather be squeezing you, caging you into the circle of his arms unrepentant. 
"We have a really good excuse to miss dinner," Spencer says.
He sounds close to tears. You're worse, laughing wetly as you pull him into the bathroom to take your test. 
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Take Care Of Her - Charles Leclerc
Summary: A former teammate steps in when he sees Charles unintentionally neglecting his relationship and makes him see where he's going wrong.
It's been a hot minute since I've done a Charles fic that isn't requested. Basically I miss Seb and I saw this clip and was like...ok we're writing a Charles fic featuring Seb. I hope that's ok.
Side pairing: Reader x protective platonic friend!Seb
Themes: Neglectful boyfriend!Charles but also reader neglectful to herself due to struggling mentally, some matter of not eating enough food not ED but may not be what some people what to read about (it is pretty brief), happy/hopeful ending
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Seb and y/n did end up with a bit of bond and friendship throughout his time as Charles' teammate. There might have been points of tension between Charles and Seb, but y/n never had any moments that pushed a wedge between herself and the champion.
Even with him no longer in Ferrari, y/n will stop and speak to him at least once a weekend.
Seb is a bit protective over y/n because of the friendship. In his time in Ferrari, when she became a victim of some nasty stories in the media, he'd defend her alongside Charles.
But times have changed.
And while y/n is still ever present for her boyfriend, Charles seems almost distant and while he will have y/n by his side. It's obvious to everyone, especially Seb, that y/n has been sort of ignored by her previously obsessed boyfriend.
Today, Charles walks into the paddock and he's talking to Joris while holding y/n's hand as she tries to keep up with him. She's looking at him with the same loving and admiring expression she's worn every time she's looked at him since they started dating. That being during the his first summer break at Ferrari.
There's nothing wrong with y/n and Charles' dynamic and almost everyone can tell the neglect simply comes from Charles being so focused on trying to improve things when it comes to the car and his performance. The Ferrari 2021 car hasn't impressed anyone.
"Alright, I'll see you later." Charles states as he finally turns to y/n kissing her quickly before he moves with Joris seeming to go for his track walk.
Y/n mumbles a bye with a smile before she spots Seb watching them and practically bursts into a beaming smile. It's also no secret she was a huge Seb fan in his Red Bull days and that spanned into his Ferrari move and she continues to show her support for Seb in Aston Martin.
"Seb." Y/n grins moving to hug the older man. their friendship has been suspected as something more but it really is very much platonic and almost more of fan who managed to get close to their idol more than anything else.
"Hi, y/n. How are you doing?" Seb asks, always making sure to ask before any conversation properly starts.
"I'm good. A little tired with all the travelling...and Charles is...well he's not happy with the car." Y/n admits making Seb nod. "They didn't manage much improvement on last year."
He bites his tongue a little since while he doesn't hold anything about his departure against anyone really, it certainly still hurt.
"How are things in green?"
"They're ok. Not as bad as they could be and I'm happy." Seb shrugs making her nod before he realises her eyes are watering a little. "Are you alright?"
"Yes. I...umm...stupid dust around the paddock." She sighs shaking her head and rubbing at her eyes.
Y/n is one of those people who is generally always so happy and really no one can fault her for it. But seeing her try to cover up sadness, seeing tears in her eyes. That's a different kind of sight and it stirs an emotion that Seb has only ever felt when he saw his own daughters cry for something that's beyond his control.
"I should let you go, I'm sure you have things you should be doing." Y/n smiles then clearing her throat and shifting to hug him again before she disappears and he sighs.
It's not his business, it's not his place to speak to Charles about his relationship. But seeing y/n lie to cover up, that's not something any woman should have to do.
-
Charles sighs as he climbs out his car and moves around only to find himself confronted by his old teammate actually moving his helmet so he looks at him.
"We need to talk." Seb states making Charles frown but he still respects and admires Seb, even with the tension they sometimes had. Charles values his time with Seb as a teammate and he knows that y/n absolutely adores the older driver.
They get weighed as usual and move through till they find a corner to talk in.
"Charles, I know this season is not being easy. But I think there might be something wrong with y/n. She was talking to me earlier and just...sort of started to cry. I know it's not my place, but it's not like her and I think you should know." Seb states making Charles frown and he knows it's not really the brightest idea to tell Charles how to treat is girlfriend. "You need to take care of her. I am not the only one who has noticed the change in her and it's not nice to see."
"She was crying?" Charles questions making Seb nod almost hesitantly before he hears Charles curse under his breath. "Thank you, I need to go."
Aka he needs to go rush his media duties and debrief so he can get to his girlfriend quicker. The post race rush of events means he has to wait, but the moment he's done, he will be getting to her with urgency.
Meanwhile, y/n sighs as she walks out to the Ferrari unit. Having sat with Joris for a bit in the garage.
By the time Charles finally gets to y/n, she is basically ready to leave for the day. Having packed up her stuff and almost waiting for Charles to get in and change into normal clothes so they can leave.
"Hey, baby." Charles greets making her look at him.
That's when it practically slaps him in the face. The changes he's failed to notice in the girl he does genuinely love so much. His heart aches seeing the paler tint to her skin, the bags under her eyes and the colour drained from her iris'.
Now he's really looking, he's really paying attention. He can see what he's not been noticing.
"Mon amour." Charles frowns moving towards her and his sudden very close attention nearly scares her enough for her to step back with a look of confusion.
"What wrong?"
"I think I should be asking that." Charles sighs before gently cupping her face. "I haven't been a good boyfriend."
"You have."
"No. No. I haven't and I have been so bad that Seb had to pull me aside to point out that I hadn't even noticed you weren't yourself." Charles mutters shaking his head while she looks at him for a moment. "I'm sorry."
"Don't do that. Don't make it seem like you did it one purpose." Y/n grumbles shaking her head. "Can we just go home?"
"Yes."
And he has no intentions to leave her side unless absolutely necessary or for a matter of less than a minute.
-
By the time they're in Monaco, Charles has fussed over y/n enough that she almost feels smothered. But she'd be lying if she said it didn't feel nice. To the point she really hadn't realised how much she missed her boyfriend's attention and how much she hadn't been getting it till he started making the effort again to pay attention to her.
Right now they're lying in bed post-sex, another thing neither of them realised they'd gone so long without. Safe to say, Charles fully intended to make up for lost time when it dawned on him that they'd accidentally been celibate for over a month.
"You need to eat." Charles states softly after having spent the better part of half an hour drain shapes on her tummy which had definitely shrunk, her ribs sticking out much more now than they did a few months ago. So she's lost weight. "Have you been eating?...Be honest."
He hates having to ask that question. Because he should know. They should be eating together even if they're not eating the same thing.
"A little, I just forget and usually you eat without me so I just kind of skip meals so I don't miss out on time with you." Y/n shrugs and Charles nearly launches himself up. "W-Where are you going?"
"To make you something to eat." Charles states making her scramble up, grabbing some shorts and a hoodie as she stumbles to chase him.
"No, Charles. I'll make something." Y/n rushes out earning a frown. "Please...I'll make something for both of us?"
Charles continues to frown before it clicks why she's not letting him cook.
"You think I'll make bad food."
"Baby...the pasta...you made crunchy pasta." Y/n grimaces while he sighs in defeat. "You can help, but I'm supervising everything."
"It means more time with you." Charles nods before smiling and picking her up with a kiss on her cheek. "I'm not going to let this happen again...you are a priority, mon amour."
"I love you." Y/n smiles before Charles moves around, tying her hair back as he used to always do when she'd cook. "But I think I might bake Seb a cake or something for his kids as a thank you for speaking when I wouldn't."
Charles sighs knowing he shouldn't have to be thanking someone but it does seem his former teammate is owed a massive thanks for this. For pointing out that Charles wasn't noticing his own girlfriend struggling because their relationship was taking a backseat to seemingly everything and everyone.
"I think I should stay away from anything that is being made for children." Charles hums then stealing another kiss from her. "Ok, you need to eat. So let's cook. You're the boss, yes?"
"As always." Y/n smiles gaining back some of the confidence that had deflated in the silent decaying of their relationship.
Obviously there's still work to do before they're back to feeling like they're how they should be. But neither of them are going to just give up on it so any progress is good progress until they get back to how they want to be in the relationship.
-
Y/n arrived with cupcakes and after some convincing, she got Charles to allow he to leave his side and hunt down Seb who had been unusually hard to spot.
But when she found him, she locked him in a hug.
"Thank you...I never would've had the courage to say anything until I was ready to just...leave." Y/n whispers as she hugs him, closing her eyes but still feeling the tears gathering behind her eyelids because this means so much to her.
"He needed to know and I care about you. I want to see you happy and glowing like you are now. You deserve only the best and Charles knows he can give you it, he was just being stupid." Seb smiles rubbing her back before she moves back. "Are the cupcakes for me?"
"You...and the girls if they're not stale by the time you get them home."
"I'm sure they'll be fine, and the kids will love them. Thank you." Seb smiles before he looks at her for a moment. "Are things better?"
"Yes. I know I should speak up when I feel like thinks are getting hard and Charles has decided that things will never get like that again so really I shouldn't have to speak up." Y/n sighs with a nod then smiling brightly at him. "We both owe you more than cupcakes...because honestly if I lost him then it'd have hurt a hell of a lot more than what was already going on with him being too busy to pay attention."
Y/n does talk to Seb for a bit longer before Charles appears giving a silent thanks with a nod and appreciative expression which Seb acknowledges with a smile.
"I should take the cupcakes and get first pick of my favourite before I have to hand them over to the kids. Thank you." Seb eventually states giving the two a final wave before he picks up the cupcakes and in a similar fashion, Charles scoops y/n up and carries her away.
"I have legs."
"You also have a boyfriend." Charles smirks earning an eye roll.
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justporo · 5 months
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Who's the goose... (1)
Finally having arrived in Baldur's Gate, Astarion finds the wrong pocket to pick - and gets turned into a goose as punishement. Peace was never an option.
PART 2 | MASTERLIST | AO3
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Author's Note: This might as well have been the stupidest idea I've ever had but I couldn't get it out of my head, so here we are. Thanks for input and giving me some more stupid ideas for this to my bf, @tatterings, @bearhugsandshrugs and @the-littlest-raindrop and @megschaef98 for already cackling about it (and everyone else on that server for your love and support!); ah also Neil Newbon for coming up with this... The wonderful little doodle is once more done by the lovely @azaani-art!
Pairing: Uhm, Goosetarion(Astarion)/GN!Tav (You)
Rating: Stupid
Warnings: goose? (I'm sorry, I'm really just running with the bit by now...)
Wordcount: 3,7k
~~~
A goose sat in front of you all.
And it looked weirdly humanoid how it sat there: tiny rubbery legs stretched out in front of it and the wings too – as if it didn’t know how to properly move or place them.
The goose’s head turned around on the long neck to look at you and your companions out of its small red button eyes. The feathers on top of its head were a bit ruffled and almost gave it the look of having a flurry of white curls right there.
It lifted its stretched out wings a little. Looked at them one after another and made a small croaking noise as it did so.
That made it shut its beak again and snap its red gaze back to you.
You looked down at the goose in shock. The goose looked at you with what you presumed was shock too.
And then it opened its beak wide and started wailing with loud honks, as loud as its avian lungs would allow.
The party had finally arrived at Baldur’s Gate. And then had quickly realised that none of you had really an idea where to start your investigation. So, you had taken to walk around the Lower City and just casually ask around to find out more about what seemed to be going on in the city – especially with this Lord Enver Gortash and his newly established Steel Watch.
The day had been long and exhausting. You all kind of had forgotten how a day without a battle, killing and mortal peril was spent – just walking around in the city, engaging in inconspicuous small talk and trying not to lose your mind by getting nowhere with it – what could possibly be more dreadful than that?
Morale had already been low since the start. Halsin had very obviously been a bit unsettled by the big, bustling city, no matter how much he had tried to hide it. Jaheira had just stoically taken in the city and what had changed since she had last been there. Lae’zel had basically been gnawing on your ears with her complaints of how stupid your approach of talking to people was. That in turn had made Shadowheart almost want to choke her (again). And Wyll had become awfully silent since you’d entered the city – too much was weighing on his mind. Gale was just sad.
Karlach probably was the only one in quite the happy mood: since it’s been a very long time for her since she’s actually been to Baldur’s Gate she was just amazed by everything she saw. And she promptly called that out. Every. Single. Thing. So really not doing anything to help with the low mood of the group.
You had just tried to make the best out of it although you certainly had had to admit to yourself that the missing success of your day had been weighing on you also. But you had tried to be stubborn about it.
Astarion had walked by your side the whole day, surprisingly diligent on his part. You had felt that he was tense – as could have been expected upon entering the lair of his master again. But he had really tried to support you with your current goals – and you were absolutely thankful for that.
But as the day had grown late you had felt the annoyance rise in him too, just as much as it had within you.
It had already become dark in the city. Lanterns and the pale moonlight now had been the only sources of light. You had known that the group should’ve soon gotten back to the inn to retire for the night – despite having found out nothing today.
But you had wanted to push for one last attempt - unfortunately. And when you had happened upon a rather feisty older fellow, Astarion’s thin-stretched patience had finally snapped.
After you had tried to talk to this guy and he had only kept answering in riddles, you had been about to give up when you had noticed that the vampire beside you had disappeared.
You had feared nothing good from this finding and sure as all Nine Hells you had seen how Astarion had tried to sneak up on this man and pickpocket him.
And this had been, when things had really gone sideways – and then backwards; and down a hill.
With Astarion’s hands still in his robe the man had turned around to the vampire and looked him straight in the eye: “What do you think you’re doing there, young man?” He hadn’t even sounded awfully angry, rather a bit amused.
Astarion had simply blinked at him, absolutely dumbfounded that he had so easily been found out. The guy had watched him for a second longer with a small, suppressed smile playing on his lips and then started to whisper as an ominous purple glow had started to emit from him.
The vampire had hastily tried to scurry back, but it was already too late. An explosion of purple light had blinded you all and made you turn away with groans.
And when you had turned around again, both men standing there had been gone, only a single goose left in their place that had looked dazed and very out of place.
So here you were now: with a vampire turned into a screaming goose.
You really didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry – probably both. The wailing from polymorphed Astarion was ringing in your ears. Gods, geese could be really loud, couldn’t they?
You looked around your group of friends in desperate need for help.
Karlach had completely lost it, almost doubled over on the cobblestone street. Even Lae’zel bit her bottom lip in an attempt to not burst out laughing, covering half her face with one of her hands. But most of your other companions just looked as shocked and surprised as you.
Gale had his hand on his chin and was obviously very deep in thought – surely, he was already figuring something out to fix this mess. At least you immediately deeply hoped for it.
For a moment you just stood there. Warm, orange light from some nearby windows was lighting the absurd scene. The goose’s wailing drifted to the background for a few moments as your vision blurred and your gaze wandered miles away.
How exactly had you ended up in this ridiculous situation? Out of everything, how had all the steps you had taken led you to this night where your already traumatised soulmate had been turned into poultry and was now shouting the whole city down? Didn’t you have enough on your godsdamned plate already? Would the damned gods ever give you a break?
Your eyes started to burn and water as you stared into the void. You really couldn’t take much more.
But how many times had you been at this point? Too many already anyways.
So, you did, what you always did: took a deep breath, closed your eyes for a hot second, pressed your fingers to the bridge of your nose and tried to focus your thoughts again.
You’d find a way out of this and if not… Well, you’d find a way to live with Astarion as a goose, for better or for worse.
When you focused again on the scene, you saw how Halsin was slowly approaching the goose that was Astarion and was still honking as if his life depended on it – and maybe it did, who knew? Gale was whispering an incantation and focusing on the goose. The rest was just still standing around with quizzical looks on their faces or casually losing it and losing their last shreds of sanity.
Halsin had almost reached the crying bird, all the while softly mumbling calming words to Astarion. The druid stretched out his arms as if he planned to pick up the still screaming animal.
But just before he could reach it, Astarion saw it coming, stopped his whining and jumped up with fluttering wings. With a quickness that would have been astounding for such an animal, had you not known that it was normally a dexterous rogue, the goose got up from its awkward sitting position and snapped at the fingers of the druid. Halsin immediately recoiled and looked a little hurt.
Astarion was flaring his big white wings now – lifting them up and his long goose neck stretched out, ready to snap again at anyone that tried to touch him. At least he had stopped honking now and was just swaying his head around at all of you standing around him in a loose half circle – ready to fight anyone who would dare touch a single feather on his head.
“Astarion?”, you asked cautiously, fearing that the transmutation hadn’t altered the vampire’s mind as well. The goose immediately turned to you, a small and much more silent honk left its throat. Its wings lowered a little as soon as it heard your voice. “I know this will sound stupid given the situation, but uh, please try to calm down?”, you asked him and made a grimace while you helplessly stretched out your arms to him, bending your knees.
Astarion honked once more in a clearly annoyed tone and let his wings sink fully as if he was letting his shoulders drop in defeat.
“I’m sorry”, you whispered and felt a wave of sadness wash over you. Meanwhile the others had started to get out of their stupor or calmed themselves from their laughter. Everyone stayed clear of the clearly readily violent goose though.
You crouched down fully and stretched out your arms even more towards the animal that kept watching you intently. With no more words or honks, the goose settled down its wings and carefully waddled over to you and your opened arms.
Once Astarion was very close you couldn’t help yourself but go to your knees and reach out both your arms wider for the animal – ready to give it a hug. Astarion slowly stepped into them and you carefully wrapped your arms around the goose as it made a small honk. It sounded pretty sad and helpless and you could suddenly feel tears well up in your eyes.
You held the much smaller animal. The feathers were surprisingly soft and Astarion carefully placed his small goose head on your shoulder with another quiet honk. It was so light you could barely feel it at all resting there.
The mood in the group had suddenly soured watching you take your partner in your arms – no matter the actual ridiculousness of the situation.
You held the goose and petted it softly, until Gale interrupted the awkward silence with an exclamation.
“Aha”, the wizard made and came back out of his trancelike concentration. He looked around in some confusion as everyone watched the tragic scene of you sadly hugging the poor animal that had awkwardly stretched out its wings a little to return the sentiment – it hadn’t really worked well.
“Uhm”, Gale made and then cleared his throat to catch everyone’s attention. The group just looked at him in silence.
“By the gods, what is with the sudden graveyard atmosphere? You all do realise Astarion is not de- I mean…”, he started sassily and interrupted himself when he realised his mistake. And before he could start again, the bird in your arms had started writhing and honking again. Obviously, Astarion had opinions on not getting the same kind of compassion from Gale as from the others now.
He tried to break free from your arms, but you held him easily – he was just… a goose after all. Although, you got whacked in the face by his wings several times. “Astarion!”, you scolded him. “I really don’t think you’re in a position to be feisty right now. And I’m pretty sure he has something to share that will help about the situation you are in. And might I add, the situation you put yourself in on your own!” A bit of anger welled up in you at the vampire and his godsdamned shenanigans that had landed you all in this mess now. Also his audacity to still be sassy about it – not even being turned into a featherball could stop him from that, it seemed.
The goose calmed down, reluctantly. Its beak was still open as it stared at the wizard – probably the equivalent of the vampire baring his teeth at him. You carefully let him go and just sat down backwards on the ground. You could use it right now.
“Now, if we’re not in a poultry house anymore”, Gale continued cheerily and gave the present poultry a death glare. The goose gave a very slight hiss – at least he had retained that capability.
You waved Gale to please go on.
“Alright, it’s – as you might’ve figured already – a transmutation spell. And might I add a mighty one. I really have no idea who that fellow was, but it surely was the wrong pocket to pick, Astarion – or might I say Goosetarion”, the wizard explained in his scholarly manor and wiggled a finger at the goose while grinning – earning himself another hiss. At least someone present seemed intrigued about the whole situation.
Hearing that it was a mighty spell already let your heart sink. But Gale went on and everyone just listened intently: “The good news is though: transmutations spells can’t be held for overly long. So, I’d say we’re back with our sassy humanoid companion in about…” Gale drew out his words as everyone hung on his lips.
“I’d say twenty-four hours at the latest.”
“TWENTY-FOUR HOURS”, came back the answer in unison from almost all the companions – and a mournful honk. Your mouth fell open but honestly you were immediately flooded with relief that you wouldn’t have to spend the rest of your life with a goose – although you would have committed to that.
“Tchk, and what are we going to do with him in the meantime? Walk him around on a leash? We can’t waste any time!”, Lae’zel commented. Karlach started to snicker again, and so did Shadowheart and Wyll around her.
Goosetarion small red eyes flashed viciously and he quickly lashed out at her like he had at Halsin before, aiming for the githyanki ankle. But Lae’zel had the upper hand and quickly pushed him away with her foot – not exactly kicking him but not exactly being gentle either.
The goose landed ungracefully on its back, legs flailing in the air while it kept complaining and trying to get up again.
“Lae’zel”, you shouted but she simply shrugged at you.
“Well, what else are we going to do? Tomorrow will just be another day of walking around the city trying to gather more information. What harm can it be then? Also, it’s not like we could just leave him here anywhere anyway. Beastly as he is, but he’s still only a goose now, we need to protect him”, Wyll chimed in sympathetically. You nodded your head in agreement and the others muttered their agreement, although some just a tad reluctantly.
Goosetarion in the meanwhile had waddled back over to you to be embraced again, head hanging slightly, doing his best to look like… well, a kicked goose.
You softly stroked his long feathery neck and noticed to your amusement that his rump started to wiggle when you did that. It surely seemed he wasn’t aware that he was doing that. You couldn’t hide a grin and you saw that Halsin grinned at you and the goose too.
“Can we just go back to the inn then? It’s already super late and my feet hurt”, Shadowheart added after it had been settled. Everyone hummed in exhausted agreement.
And so you went on your way. You softly got up from your seat on the cobble road while the goose complained about the lack of caressing happening. You stretched your back and watched after your friends that had already started to walk back towards your location for the night.
“Want me to carry you?”, you asked looking down at the goose and stretched out your arms again. But Goosetarion gave a curt honk and stretched his long neck away from you in an offended manner, then started to waddle after the others.
Now that you knew that he would hopefully be back to his normal humanoid self very soon, the humorous nature of the situation wasn’t as lost on you anymore. The way the goose wiggled its whole torso around while trying to catch up with the others was a sight to behold. Especially if you compared it with Astarion’s usual feline grace. And yet he was way too proud to just accept help.
You snorted and started to follow behind Goosetarion. He heard that and swung his head around while he kept walking, making him look even more ridiculous. You snorted more. And were pretty sure you could see the small red eyes scream bloody murder at you for mocking him.
But Astarion was way too focused and needed all his energy to keep up. Occasionally, he even had to break into a sprint – almost tripping over his rubbery feet and spreading out his wings to not lose balance. It was truly hilarious.
Some idle chatter developed between the companions and you on the way back. And of course, Goosetarion was the subject matter.
“Is there nothing you can do before the spell runs out?”, you asked Gale at some point while you were careful to walk exactly by the goose to offer at least a little protection.
“Oh, believe me, I would if I could – although I have to say I’m enjoying this situation a little bit-“ (“HONK!”) “ but it is, as I pointed out before, a pretty powerful spell. And if I started to fumble with it I might make it worse and-“ (“Honk…”) “- and I guess you’d rather have him back in one piece”, Gale ended and ignored the bickering animal between him and you. You nodded in agreement with the wizard – seemed your safest bet would be to just sit this one out.
“Looks like until tomorrow you’re just going to be a silly little goose then, aren’t you, Asta-OWW!” That had been a line crossed for Goosetarion. And other than Halsin and Lae’zel, the wizard surely was not quick enough to avoid the rogue goose’s vicious attack on his ankles. Gale awkwardly tried to kick at the goose but Goosetarion had learnt from the last time and quickly ducked out of the way, rushing around you so he could hide behind your legs.
“You had that one coming”, you mumbled under your breath as Gale looked at you hurt. He walked a little faster then, trying to steer clear from the murderous bird and engaged others in conversation. Goosetarion waddled through your legs so he was walking in front of you again although you noticed that he was clearly starting to struggle
“And couldn’t you not just at least cast “Speak with animals” or something?”, Karlach took up the conversation about Goosetarion’s fate. You hadn’t even thought of that so far. You had just been too occupied with the situation as a whole. You simply shrugged because you had absolutely no idea.
“But he is not an animal”, Jaheira replied to Karlach’s suggestion in her matter-of-fact demeanor from in front of you. Halsin beside her nodded silently. “He is still his vampiric elven self, just temporarily in another form. Even if Halsin or I wildshaped into geese we would not be able to speak with him because we are at least partly beast when we turn”, the infamous druid added to her explanation. “As far as I know there is no spell to work in this situation. But quite frankly maybe we could all do without his yapping for at least a day and he learns a lesson about all of this”, she finished and gave the goose a stern look.
Goosetarion stopped and made another rather sad honk. He really must have been having the worst and most humbling of times.
You stopped just behind the goose: “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” The look Jaheira gave you made sure though that she absolutely did, but you brushed over it. You held out your arms to the goose again. However, Goosetarion again just waddled off on his own.
But the way to the inn was long and the goose was soon almost completely exhausted, probably amplified by not being used to moving around like that. At some point, when you had already slid out of all the other conversations and were just deep in your thoughts, you were stopped by another soft honk just below you.
Astarion stood before you and had spread his wings towards you, neck craned up towards you. It again looked weirdly humanoid with the way he moved and behaved. When you didn’t immediately react because you were really just very exhausted and didn’t catch on, the goose started to kind of hop in place and honked again.
“Oh, you want to be picked up! Sorry”, you replied and bent down to awkwardly grab the animal.
After some wriggling around and Astarion’s earnest tries to not writhe around too much in your arms, you were able to lift him up. He was stretching his neck and small feet out and made small noises that made you think that he wasn’t quite very comfortable with what was happening. But he gave his best to cope.
Once you kind of had him settled down on your hip, one arm around him and one under him to support him, he seemed to be considerably more comfortable, better even. When you had caught up to the others again and Gale sassily lifted an eyebrow at the goose now being carried around, Astarion made full use of his long neck to peck at the wizard’s sleeve.
Gale squealed again – much to the amusement of the rest of the group and made sure to keep even more distance from the goose. Goosetarion gave a contented honk then and refrained from biting anyone else for the rest of the way.
You were still laughing softly with the others, when the inn came into view. At least you hadn’t lost your humour so far.
(To be continued...)
~~~
Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @bloopthebat @dark-star-exe
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amaya-writes · 6 months
Text
You Call Them After A Nightmare Of Them Obey Me Edition
Series Mlist
Notes: I miss Obey Me and I recently used this prompt for another fandom so I decided to just make this a series and do it for every fandom. Will make another part with the other 4.
Warnings: n/a just fluff, one of those rare moments where Lucifer is soft, many petnames from all, Mammon is panicky, calls you princess n stuff, kinda wanted a funny scene for Levi so that's what I went with, also panicky
Characters involved: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan
Gender-neutral reader, you/yours
Lucifer
"What is it, love?"
He picked up on the first ring. Of course, Lucifer did.
In your panicked daze you hadn't exactly considered what to say to Lucifer had he picked up your call. You just wanted to hear his voice, to know that he was okay and probably holed up in his office again sifting through paperwork.
But how could you actually tell him that?
"Oh- um- it's nothing, sorry I'm bothering you."
The soft scratch of pen against paper previously hung in the background of the call but Lucifer's hand seemed to come to a stop at the sound of your voice.
"You're crying."
It wasn't a question, but a statement that made your previous tears resurface.
"It's nothing."
"Love-"
"I swear, it's nothing you don't have to-"
"I'll be there soon, and I expect an explanation when I get there."
Lucifer cut the call even before you could think of an excuse. The sharp beep of the call ending made you sigh as you attempted to fix up your appearance, but the avatar of pride showed up at your door just as you contemplated washing your face.
He looked livid, to say the least.
But you couldn't find it in yourself to care, not when the only thought echoing through your mind was that Lucifer was here, and safe.
The fact that he looked ready to murder anyone who dared bring his beloved to tears was irrelevant.
"What happened?"
His voice took on a tender tone you would rarely hear from someone like Lucifer. The sound was enough to almost have you balling again, but you reared in your emotions for the sake of his sanity.
"I had a nightmare about you. I know it sounds so extremely stupid and I'm sorry I pulled you away from work but I told you not to come and-"
A sliver of a smile ghosted his lips as Lucifer ran a gloved hand through his hair. He seemed relieved at your words- a reaction you certainly hadn't expected.
However, he switched back to his usual seriousness the second he plopped down on the bed beside you.
"Do you know how many nights I've awoken in a cold sweat after nightmares of losing you?"
A shaky gasp left his lips as he spoke. Lucifer looked almost scared. An emotion you would never associate with the all-powerful demon before you. The mere sight made you instinctively caress his gloved hand in yours as Lucifer continued.
"Honestly, dear, I feel somewhat satisfied you care for me enough to harbour similar fears."
"You didn't think I love you?"
Hw turned to you at the question, slightly shaking his head as he replied.
"I didn't realise how much."
"Oh, Luci."
His nose wrinkled at the endearing nickname, but you didn't allow him a moment to respond as you quickly climbed into his lap.
"I love you, Lucifer. I don't think I've ever loved anyone as much, and I don't think I ever can. And the thought of losing you, no matter how bizarre, makes me feel like I'm losing a part of myself."
You leaned in as you spoke, dropping small pecks on his warm cheeks dusted pink.
"I know we don't do this often, because we don't have to. But I need you to know I'm just as hopelessly smitten by you as you are by me."
"I find that very hard to believe, darling."
Lucifer leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours, taking a moment to drop kisses of his own on your face and swipe at the remanents of your tears.
"Next time, just come to me. At whatever hour, whatever day- if you need me I'm yours, love."
It was rare to see such a soft side of the notorious avatar of pride, his words causing butterflies to swarm in your stomach as Lucifer leaned in for a slow, tender kiss.
Come morning your beloved demon would go back to his strict Tsundere ways, reserving his sweet words and touches for moments that mattered most.
But you were fine with that, because this was Lucifer. Your Lucifer. The demon you had come to love for all his quirks and flaws.
The demon who loved you just as much, even if he rarely expressed it.
Mammon
The soft rings echoing through your room helped provide you some semblance of comfort, however, they could do nothing to quell the anxiety eating away at your psyche.
He was fine. It was just a dream.
Mammon was immortal. He had lived for hundreds of years, he was strong, stronger than most and he couldn't be killed so easily. You knew that, but- but after witnessing that awful, revolting nightmare you couldn't help but rethink those facts.
Because what if?
What if you woke up one day in this God awful Devildom to find yourself robbed of the only being who kept you going?
What if one day your number one demon, your world, your rock, your immortal and incredibly endearing thief of a boyfriend who stole your heart and soul and everything that came with it- was gone?
What if?
The question made you feel like emptying your stomach's contents on your bedroom floor, but thankfully, a familiar voice drafted through the air just as you were about to hurl.
"You finally wanna join me dont ya?"
Mammon!
You could barely hear his voice over the sound of the pounding music playing at whatever gambling den he had snuck out to that night, but there was no mistaking your favourite demon's cocky voice.
You almost screamed in relief at his familiar carefree tone, or you would have if you could just stop the sobs tumbling from your lips the second he spoke.
"Princess? Hey baby what's wrong?"
The thinly laced concern in his voice only served to worsen your mood, your sorrow quickly turning to guilt as you realised how stupid you were acting.
Mammon barely got nights out with Lucifer always keeping a close eye on him and Asmo, and the one night the two brothers decide to go out and party you ruin it with your nightmares.
Stupid, useless, human. The words echoed through your mind, forcing you to hastily reach for your phone and end the call.
You should have known your decision would only make matters much worse, but at the time you just wanted to hide under your covers and run away from the world.
Mammon was safe, and that was enough for now. You could deal with the rest later.
"Which bastard in this damned house hurt my baby?!"
Mammon's yell pierced through the dead halls of the House of Lamentation, jolting you out of your light slumber.
It was a good thing this was one of those rare nights when Lucifer was with Diavolo and Satan chose to party with Asmo, for if the three were at home you would be facing a much more embarrassing situation.
You contemplated leaving your bed to chastise Mammon, but the demon in question threw open your bedroom door just as you sat up in your sheets.
"There you are, treasure. Hey-"
He must have noticed the tear tracks staining your cheeks due to the hallway light, since Mammon quickly shut the door and joined you on the bed a second later.
"What's wrong?"
One of his hands almost automatically shifted to cup your cheek and turn you to him, the gesture causing your tears to resurface. But this time they were out of happiness.
How were you so lucky to find a demon like Mammon?
"Nothing um- I had a nightmare of you and- look I know it's stupid ok I'm sorry you can go back if you want."
"You really think THE great Mammon would leave his baby crying in your bed in the middle of the night?"
You couldn't help the scoff that left your lips at his response. His familiar mannerisms helped eliminate your previous fears, allowing you to collapse against Mammon's chest.
A surprised yelp left him at the sudden gesture, but Mammon still wrapped his arms around you to pull your form further against him. He shifted the two of you under the sheets a moment later, his arms never leaving you even as he moved.
His leather jacket was awfully uncomfortable to lean against, and he smelled of Demonus and his usual cologne strong enough to seep into your sheets.
The two of you would probably wake up with aching sides if you cuddled through the night, and he would spend the morning complaining about not washing off the glitter Asmo dusted on his eyes, which would also stain your pillows.
There were a lot of issues with your current position. But you couldn't find it in yourself to care.
Mammon was here. Beside you, in your arms with his heart beating softly to the sound of your breaths. And that was what mattered to you the most.
Leviathan
You knew he would never answer the call this late.
Levi was known for staying up through the night to spend hours gaming or streaming a new anime. His phone was almost always left on silent, something that Lucifer would constantly chastise the Otaku for.
Yet, as you shivered under your covers with the remnants of your nightmare clinging to your psyche, you couldn't help but hope Levi would defy all odds and just pick up the damn phone.
An annoyed groan left your lips as you shuffled further under your covers. Tears clung to your lash-line, but you refused to let them fall.
He was fine. It was just a nightmare, that was all.
Leviathan. Was. Fine.
"God, Levi, please pick up!"
Your frustrated cry echoed through your cold bedroom, but the only response was another series of rings from your phone.
After trying a final time you found yourself hopelessly collapsing against your pillows just as the first few tears slipped to your cheeks.
Most percieved Leviathan as the introverted Otaku who wasn't nearly as problematic as his brothers, but his position in the army ensured Levi had gathered his fair share of enemies over the years.
It wasn't often that he was called on duty, but when he was you always found your heart clenching in trepidation.
You couldn't lose Levi. It didn't matter if it was simply your dreamland—the mere thought of never seeing your purple-haired love again almost made you race through the halls of the House of Lamentation to seek solace in his arms.
But he was busy, and it was almost three am. And your stupid nightmares would probably seem childish and annoying to an immortal demon like Levi. Which was why as much as you hated it, you couldn't do anything but fall back asleep.
The familiar feeling of a certain demon's tail caressing your face made you hum in comfort. Your previous anxiety ebbed away, allowing your sleep-ridden mind to calm down and overcome the effects of your nightmares.
Only Levi could have that effect on you. Levi, who was supposed to be couped up in his room right now.
The thought made you snap your eyes open to sleepily stare at the demon standing above your bed.
A sharp shriek echoed through your room a second later, the sound causing a small smile to grace your lips as you tugged on Levi's sweater to pull him under the sheets with you.
"What- hey what is up with you!"
Levi sounded more pouty than annoyed, his tone making it clear he had noticed the tear tracks no doubt running down your cheeks.
The two of you remained silent like that for a while, with Levi awkwardly rubbing your back while you tried to get rid of the aftermaths of your nightmare.
"You okay?"
You considered explaining the situation to him, but you were too tired and instead settled on a vague reply.
"I am now."
"Oh. Guess that means I can't go back to-" you whacked his chest even before he could finish, eliciting another yelp.
"Ok, ok- I won't leave."
A pleasant hum left your lips at his reply, allowing you to happily collapse against his chest yet again. This time, however, you could feel Levi wrapping his arms around you.
Your night might have started off with a rough start, but at least you got a rare cuddle session from Levi.
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talaok · 1 year
Text
Drooling
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Pairing: Joel Miller x reader
Summary: You find a lake and convince Ellie and Joel to take a swim, according to Ellie, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to confess his feelings for you.
warnings: just fluff
"Hey it's warm!" you shouted, waving at them as your fingers grazed the small lake's water.
"no fucking way!" Ellie shouted running towards you as Joel stayed behind.
"oh my god it's true" she looked up at you, eyes wide with excitement "Joel come here!" she shouted too now, waving at Joel, who reluctantly, started down towards you.
"so what do we do?" Ellie asked, ecstatic
"We go in" you immediately suggested
"wait" Joel interrupted "we don't know if it's safe"
You glared at him "c'mon Joel how long has it been since you showered?"
Ellie chuckled "yeah dude, seriously" she pinched her nose, joking.
"very funny" he sighed " it's not safe" he looked at you
"Well then how about I go in..." you said, taking off your backpack and jacket "and tell you if there's anything wrong..." you continued, taking off your shoes "and if there isn't, you can just join me?" you asked, "how's that sound?"
"no y/n-" Joel tried to talk
"it sounds very good to me, how 'bout you Elllie?"
"sounds great" 
"perfect then" you grinned, not giving Joel time to protest before turning towards the lake and taking off your shirt, only your white tank top left beneath as you eagerly entered the water.
Joel's heart forgot for a moment how to work,
Wow
God, it felt good.
You hadn't taken a bath in so long that you had forgotten how good it actually felt, especially in warm water, something unimaginable in the QZ.
"fuck" Joel breathed out at the sight, and Ellie just glanced at him, smirking amusedly.
"I think you can come in now, nothing's happened to me!" you shouted, smiling as you let your body rest in the water 
Ellie looked at Joel a moment for approval, and once he unenthusiastically nodded, Ellie was in the lake with you in no time, splashing around and laughing mindlessly at the precious feeling.
"this is so great!" she smiled
"I know" you nodded "I've missed this," you confessed, trailing off as your eyes caught Joel's figure, standing still on the edge of the lake, but looking the other way.
"Joel!" you called for him, and when he didn't turn you got closer, ending up right below him "Joel!" you called again, splashing some water onto him.
He turned now 
"what are you doing? get in"
"Someone had to keep guard"
"oh please no one's here" you rolled your eyes "get inside right now Joel"
"I-" he opened his mouth to say something but stopped midway.
"c'mon, just five minutes" you pouted, and once again, his heart took a toll. He could never say no to you, not when you were looking at him like that.
"fine" he sighed, and you smiled happily, as he warily got in.
"it feels good doesn't it?"
He glanced at you, sunkissed, happy, and as much as he fought it, he couldn't help but smile.
"yeah" he agreed "yeah it does"
"see" you smacked his shoulder playfully "you should listen to me more"
"I listen to you y/n" 
"oh you do?" you cocked an eyebrow
"yes, just not when it's about survival"
"What?" you gasped, "you think you're better at it than me?"
"well I do vaguely remember a time you almost shot me in the leg by mistake" he tilted his head, making you laugh, and god, did that sound sweet to his ears.
"That was one time" you complained
"and it was enough" he chuckled
"fine" you surrendered, moving to his side to peek at Ellie, who looked busy testing her apnea skills.
"Thanks for doing this" you rested your head on his shoulder, "I know you don't like to waste time"
Joel wasn't sure if he was dreaming or not, just like every time you touched him.
You looked up at him once he didn't answer, and he had to force himself quickly out of his trance.
"It's fine," he said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible "I like this"
"I'm glad" you smiled, nestling a bit more onto his broad chest, as you closed your eyes.
The five minutes eventually mutated into an hour, an hour Joel spent pretending not to be staring at you as you rested on him, the warm water drowning out his thoughts as he finally put his arms around you.
he didn't know what he had done to deserve this, but whatever it was, he was gonna agree to all your suggestions from now on.
You opened your eyes, and as you did, you pretended not to notice Joel looking away.
"how long has it been?" you asked, your voice a bit tired.
"an hour I think"
"oh" you breathed "we should go"
"why didn't you tell me?"
Fuck
I didn't want you to move away from me,
I want you this close forever.
"I didn't wanna disturb you"
you smiled "you're cute" 
He didn't know what to say
"uh-thanks?"
Your smile only widened and you called for Ellie, telling her it was time to go.
"We should dry up," you told him, and he nodded, following you as you got out of the water.
His eyes never left you.
As you were busy drying your hair with one of your shirts, he let his glare wander all over you, from the bottom lip you were caging between your teeth, to the cheeks the sun had reddened, and, as much as he tried to refrain, his eyes couldn't stop wandering to the now see-trough tank top stuck to your body, that was granting him a visual of your bra, and of what it couldn't cover.
You always looked beautiful, but now, now a bit too much for Joel's poor heart.
"If you don't close your mouth you're gonna drool"
what?
He looked to his right to see Ellie grinning smugly at him.
He just grunted, going back to dry himself.
"y'know, I gave you some alone time there before, but you wasted it" she shook her head, as if disappointed.
He frowned at her.
"you could have made your move, dude!" she raised her eyebrows "it was the perfect moment!"
He glanced at you to make sure you weren't listening, but still didn't answer, not wanting to give Ellie the satisfaction.
"Listen if you want my advice”
“I didn’t ask for your advide”
She scowled at him“well anyway, I think you should just tell her" she shrugged "I mean, it's not like she doesn't already know "she laughed softly "you're really not good at hiding it"
"shut up" he grumbled, putting on his jacket
"what? it's true Joel, you look like a fucking serial killer" she chuckled "always staring at her and shit" 
He wanted to fight back, but she was kind of right on that one, he had noticed it too.
"Fine" she sighed "maybe I should just tell her then "
“no-Ellie-" He abruptly turned to her
"so you are admitting it!" she smiled "you like her"
"no-" he let out a frustrated sigh "I'm not admitting anything, just don't say shit ok?"
Ellie nodded, still a smug smile on her lips "fine"
"but at one point, you're gonna have to"
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munsonsbtch · 7 months
Text
porn star dancing - s.r. (two)
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spencer reid x fem bau reader
your body's lighting up the room, now i want a naughty girl like you…
warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI!!, violence, mentions of a made up bau case, soft dom!spencer, sub!reader, oral (fem receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, unprotected penetrative sex, riding, spencer’s pov (let me know if i missed any!)
part one.
based on porn star dancing by my darkest days
divider credit: @firefly-graphics
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I hated this plan, with every inch of my being. It was reckless, and it could get y/n hurt. But I also knew it was our best bet at catching this bastard. So I didn't argue, despite every cell in my body screaming at me to get her out of there. I watched the screen intently, Alvez and Prentiss on either side of me. I could feel my fists clenching the more I watched, the male ripping the soft silk from her skin. Every movement had me on high alert, ready to bust in that room any second.
"She's doing great Reid. I honestly didn't know she had all of that in her."
I rolled my eyes at our unit chief, I knew she could do it. That wasn't my issue, I just didn't want her to. Going undercover always had its risks. Which is why I said what I did earlier, it wasn't meant to hurt her. I was just trying to look out for her, even if it meant she hated me for it. There was a reason I was keeping my distance, so easily lashing out at her. Even though it pained me to be so close to her, yet so far at the same time. When I had gotten out of prison it felt as though she had replaced me with Alvez. They were always together, on the jet… on other cases. It was hard for me to watch. I let jealousy, an emotion I had never really felt before overcome me.
I was still reeling with emotions from my prison time, and these feelings of betrayal only grew once I’d returned. But what hurt the most was that she never visited me or tried to call while I was locked up, I felt completely abandoned. So I ignored her, trying to make her feel what I felt for all those months I was locked away. It was stupid and childish, but I couldn't take it back now. As much as this current situation scared the hell out of me, I was glad everything happened how it did. When she walked out on that stage in basically nothing.... I knew I couldn't do it anymore. She ruined me in the best way possible. I couldn’t let her walk away from me again.
That was part of her plan all along I realized now, the sneaky little minx. I can still feel her soft skin under my fingertips, hear her whimpering just for me. Feeling her grind on my lap and seeing her dance for me was the hottest thing I've ever witnessed. Having an eidetic memory could be a blessing and a curse. But knowing I could replay those images of her over and over again… it was definitely a blessing. However, watching her do that to another man... especially considering the kind of man he was, made my blood boil. But knowing she wanted me, made it a little easier. It happened so fast, I barely caught the movement. She was sitting on his lap, facing away from him just as she had done to me earlier. His hands no longer roaming her figure, but pressing a knife to her throat. The fear on her face nearly stopped my heart. I shot up from my seat so quickly I nearly took out my fellow agents in my rush. This needed to end now.
"Reid hold on. Not yet."
Prentiss grabbed my wrist, and I looked at her with such malice she almost let me go. Almost.
"He doesn't know she's an agent, just listen."
I stopped, even though it took everything in me not to bust through that door and rip his head off.
"Shhh, we're just gonna for a ride yeah? No need to be scared sugar. We're just gonna have some fun."
He moves the knife so it’s pressed against her back, ushering her to the door she came through only minutes before. This was how he got them out without any witnesses. That back hallway wasn't nearly as trafficked as the rest of the club. I couldn't hear them over the sound of the music in the rooms, but I couldn't wait any longer. I quietly opened the door of room 4, peaking my head out. They had just passed room 2... and we're getting closer to the emergency exit. I drew my gun from my hip, thankful that the music would drown out our approach. Prentiss and Alvez were hot on my heels, as I kept the gun trained on the piece of shit in front of me. However I couldn't just shoot him, not with her so close. As the emergency door opened and he began pushing her outside, I finally reached them. Grabbing a fistful of the guys jacket and yanking him back towards me. He stumbled back in surprise, removing his grip from her in his stupor.
"Jarek Martin — FBI. You are under arrest for the murders of —"
Before I could finish my sentence he lunges at me, quickly ducking out of the way of his knife with ease. It was almost a second nature to me now. I take his head and slam it into the wall, twisting his hands behind his back with more force than necessary. Blood was running down his face where I had clearly broken his nose, but it didn’t faze me. Grabbing my cuffs out, I locked them onto his wrists as he continued to struggle against my hold. Alvez takes over for me, nodding in her direction before continuing to read him his Miranda rights. I'm quick to turn back around, the sight of her making my heart stutter. Prentiss follows behind Alvez as well, but not before ordering me to get her back to the motel. Leaving the two of us alone in the dimly lit hallway.
I can see she's shaking, clearly feeling exposed and vulnerable after what had just transpired. I immediately rush over to her, shrugging off my FBI jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. She welcomes the coverage, quickly slipping her arms through the too long sleeves and zipping up the front. She looks like an absolute goddess, while the jacket was still too big for her, it also didn’t leave much to the imagination. I couldn't take my eyes off of her, now pressing a kiss to her temple as she buries her face in my chest. I hold her in my arms for a moment, letting her calm down before rushing her away.
"Let's get you out of here, baby."
I don't let her reply before I'm picking her up bridal style, but her small giggle told me she didn't mind in the slightest. She rests her head against my shoulder as I carried her out to one of the waiting SUV's. Setting her in the front seat, clicking her seatbelt in place. I push some hair out of her face, coaxing her to look at me once more.
“Are you okay?”
She nods, a small smile on her lips. I stood planted in place, scanning her face for any trace of fear or anxiety. I knew her too well, knowing her tell tale signs of deception or distress. Y/n would pick at her fingernails when she was upset or nervous. She also wouldn’t make eye contact when she was lying, usually biting the inside of her cheeks. We had all agreed not to profile each other, but that was easier said than done sometimes. Especially in cases like this.
“Take me back to the motel Reid. I promise I’m fine.”
I was satisfied with her answer as she held my gaze, her hands folded neatly in her lap. I closed the passenger door before jogging around and getting in the driver's seat. Clicking my own seatbelt into place, I pull out onto the main road, heading back towards our motel. I rested my hand on her knee, initially it was an innocent gesture. Just to offer her some form of comfort, knowing how much my touch had helped her in the past. After a bad case she was usually curled up against my side on the flight home, clutching my hands tightly in her own. But feeling her thighs clench together I knew my actions weren’t exactly offering her comfort in this moment. I licked my lips, letting my hand drift a little higher up the supple flesh of her thigh.
"S-Spence."
Her whimpering only encouraged me more, until I was cupping her clothed heat with a groan. I could feel how wet she was already, knowing damn well she would leave a mess on the seat at this rate. I couldn’t help the pride from swirling through my chest, knowing a seemingly innocent touch could get her this turned on.
"You’re so wet for me and I've barely touched you love.”
Glancing over at her I could see her cheeks were flushed, chest rising and falling quickly. I moved her panties to the side, slipping my hand inside with a groan. She was so warm, gently rubbing my fingers through her wet folds as I pushed my foot harder on the gas pedal. Once the motel lights came into view, I withdrew my hand from her, slipping my fingers past my lips. A small cry left her own, as I sucked her arousal off my fingers. God she would be the death of me.
"Patience is a virtue pretty girl."
I pull into a spot in front of my room, putting the car into park, my eyes now turning to her. Her chest was heaving, y/e/c eyes staring up at me eagerly. If I didn't get her in that room soon, I would've taken her in the backseat. But I wanted to enjoy all she had to offer without the risk of getting caught. I get out, slamming the door and walking around the side of the car before she barely gets the door open. I pick her up, her legs instantly wrapping around my body to hold herself up.
"Where do you think you're taking me Dr. Reid?"
She giggles, the sound making my heart flutter and her use of my title making my pants grow tighter. God I loved this woman. I carried her over to my room, pausing as I searched for the keys. Unlocking my motel room door, my lips grazing her ear just as she had done to me earlier this evening.
"You've been a naughty girl… need to teach you a lesson for teasing me."
We were now past the threshold and I was slamming her back into the door, locking our lips together just as aggressively as we'd done before. Her fingers found their way back into my hair once more, the tugging making me moan into her mouth. Gripping her hips, I decided she was wearing too many clothes for my liking. I nearly threw her onto the unmade bed, slightly bouncing from the force of it. But she didn't seem to mind, her lustful gaze keeping me going.
"You drive me fucking crazy… was it your plan to get me all riled up so I'd fuck you?"
I slide her heels off her feet slowly, my hands tracing up her thighs until I reach the hem of my jacket. I take the zipper, slowly pulling it down to reveal her to me once more. I licked my lips taking in her figure, finally being able to fully appreciate the lace adorning her skin. She nodded her head in response, a small gasp leaving her as I nearly ripped the jacket off— throwing it somewhere in the room.
"I need you to use your words sweetheart."
I could tell how much she loved the pet names, her eyes lighting up each time I spoke to her. My fingers returned to her thighs, lightly tracing the skin there. Seeing goosebumps break out on her skin made me well aware of how much of an effect I had on her. My hands continue up, tracing the black lace hugging her skin, fitting against her so perfectly. She was so gorgeous, and I didn’t deserve her. But I knew I had to have her.
"Yes, I couldn’t help it. Spencer please— I need you."
Her eyes are fluttering closed, hiding those beautiful irises from me.
"Eyes on me baby."
She reluctantly obeys my wishes, our eyes meeting as I start sliding the lace panties down her legs. Once they are off I toss them aside, her legs closing themselves before I got to see all of her, much to my disdain. I couldn’t help the frown from crossing my features, shaking my head.
"Don't hide from me now angel... let me see you, please."
I didn’t want to sound desperate, but I've wanted this for far too long. Wanted her for far too many years now, my own idiocy getting in the way of expressing how much I needed her. I felt starved for her touch, as I haven't felt it in months. But now knowing that she feels the same... I would do anything she wanted. Even if it meant she walked out of this room. Y/n’s cheeks are flushed, but she nods opening herself up to me again. Her head drops down to the mattress, breaking our eye contact. She's nervous now, so I don't push her.
"If you want me to stop... please tell me. I don't want to do anything that you don't want."
Her hands grab my own that have stopped to rest on her thighs, guiding them up until I'm hovering over her folds again. I can see her arousal glistening in the dim motel lighting, the sight making my mouth water. Her fingers tangle with mine, leaving a hand free to explore her the way I've only pictured for far too long.
"I trust you Spencer."
Her voice was certain, and it was all the confirmation I needed before running two fingers up her slit. She whimpered, hips lifting in response to my light touch. I find her bundle of nerves easily, gently rubbing before impatiently replacing them with my tongue. I couldn't wait to taste her again, she was intoxicating.
"Shit... that feels so good."
Her moans were music to my ears, my eyes flicking up to watch her face. Her eyes were shut, cheeks flushed as she ground her hips down against my mouth. I wanted to commit every moment of this to memory, not that it would be a problem. I slip a finger inside her entrance, the warmth and tightness making me groan against her. While I initially had every intention to not let her come for teasing me earlier, those intentions flew out the window as she begged me for more.
"M-More!”
I chuckle at her demand, which sounded more like a plead. She lifts her head, our eyes meeting as I slip another finger inside her. Pumping them in and out, my tongue ravaging her like a starved animal. In some ways I guess I was, and now that I've had a taste... I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off her. I could feel her clamping down on my fingers, her thighs shaking and tightening around my head. Curling my fingers against that sweet spot inside her she continuously cries out, keeping up my motions until she fell limp beneath me.
"Come here."
She sounded absolutely wrecked already but I wasn’t done with her yet. I wanted to her come over and over until her beautiful body was spent. Keeping my fingers buried inside, hovering over her our lips met again. I continued to thrust them inside her slowly, adding a third digit not long after. Her nails dug into the skin of my shoulders, her soft whimpers making my cock throb in my jeans. My thumb found her clit, rubbing circles onto the already sensitive bundle of nerves.
“S-Spence… I-I can’t…”
She broke apart our lips to mumble those words, but we both knew she could take it. Looking down at her I pressed a kiss to her jaw, slowing down my motions but not halting them.
“You want me to stop?”
I curled my fingers inside her, finding that spot that made her eyes roll back in her head. I chuckled at her reaction, continuing the motion again.
“God… no, don’t you fucking stop.”
I groaned, her profanity making me quicken my motions. I was so desperate to see her come apart again beneath me. It was the prettiest thing I had ever seen. I was already so addicted to her, keeping my hands off her was going to be a real struggle once we left this room. Y/n was already so close again, I could tell by the resistance my fingers felt thrusting inside her.
“Come on angel, you’re being such a good girl for me. Give me one more.”
My praise was all she needed to push herself over the edge again, her sweet noises filling the motel room. I would do anything to keep hearing them. She grabbed my wrist with a whine, stopping my movements. I gently slide my fingers out, putting them up to my lips and sucking her juices from them. God I wouldn't be tired of that taste. I stood back up at the end of the bed, pulling the remainder of my clothes off before joining her again. Her eyes were hazy, gazing up at me with a look I could only describe as completely admiration.
"I.. don't have a condom love."
The realization came to me then, cursing myself for my unpreparedness. As much as I wanted to be inside her, I wouldn't want to put that risk on her. The thought of her carrying my child was something that warmed my heart, but I don’t think either of us were prepared for that yet. Her next move surprised me, but also turned me on beyond belief. Gaining back some of her confidence from earlier she grabbed my cock, lining it up with her entrance.
"Don’t care. I can't wait anymore Spencer. I need you to fuck me.”
I didn't hesitate to grant her wish, slipping inside of her slowly. Her nails dug into my shoulders as I let her adjust to my size. Fuck she felt amazing. So tight, warm, wet and pulsing around me. It was a miracle I didn’t come then, it had been far too long since I’d been with someone like this. It didn't take long before she was lifting her hips, begging me to move. I gladly obliged, slamming into her with enough force to make her cry out. Those cries of pleasure only spurring me on further. The sounds of our bodies slamming together filled the room and I couldn't be bothered to care if any of our other team members had returned to the motel. All that mattered was her, underneath me.
"S-Spence... I-"
I kept my brutal pace, until I heard those 3 little words falling from her lips.
"I love you."
My hips stilled at the confession, her eyes widening in panic as she realized what she had just said.
"Shit, I'm sorry I didn't—"
I cut her off with my lips, kissing her tenderly. I continued my thrusts, now not so rushed. When we parted for air, I smiled down at her.
"I love you too y/n."
She cupped my face in her hands, keeping her gaze on me as I continued to make love to her. y/n only looked away so she could look down to see where our bodies were connecting, my eyes following hers. God it was a delicious sight.
"You like that angel? You like watching me make fuck you?”
She nodded frantically, bringing our lips together again. Y/n pulled away too soon for my liking, as I attempted to chase her lips again. But the look that crossed her features made me still my hips immediately.
“What is it?”
She looked away shyly, fingers gently tracing my collarbones.
“Could I.. um, could I ride you?”
I felt relieved knowing she wanted to continue, but I was more than eager to see her bouncing on my cock. I slipped out of her, sitting and resting my back up against the headboard. She was clearly just as impatient to have me inside her again, climbing in my lap and sinking back down on me with a pretty sigh. I couldn't fully describe how good it felt to be inside her, but the closest description would be heavenly. Or as close to it as I could ever imagine. I realized in my haste to taste her I didn’t remove her bra, now unhooking it and tossing the garment aside with the rest of our clothes. Leaving her fully bare before me.
My large hands grabbed at her breasts, leaning down to take one of her nipples in my mouth. She tosses her head back at the motion, grinding down on me harder. I took my time with sucking and marking each of her breasts, satisfied once they were littered with marks I knew would soon turn purple. Leaning back again I watched as her hips rose and fell on top of me frantically. The new position letting me have a better view of my cock disappearing inside her. But I could tell she was getting tired as she slowed her movements, a small whine escaping her swollen lips. I knew what she needed without asking, gladly thrusting my hips up to meet hers.
The moan of approval I received made me chuckle, my hands gripping her hips tenderly as I helped her ride me. She snuck one of her hands between us, rubbing at her clit feverishly. I could tell she was close by the constant tightening of her walls around me. I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer either, the feeling of her walls gripping me was far too good. My hand brushed her hair out of her face, desperate to see her eyes when she came.
“Look at me baby.”
It was a struggle to keep her eyes open, but seeing them glaze over as her third orgasm shook her frame nearly made me finish. I went to pull out, so I could finish on her stomach but she stopped me, slamming her hips down onto me harder.
"Don't. you. dare. Spencer Reid."
Her tone was firm, her attempt at being dominant making me chuckle. I didn't dare disobey her though, our hips continuing to meet wildly until I met my end. Multiple curse words falling past my lips as I filled her to the brim. She collapsed on top of me, her head resting on my shoulder as we both tried to calm our erratic breathing. I was nestled deep inside her, her walls still gripping me tightly. As much as I would love to stay buried within her, it was becoming too much. I gently coaxed her hips up, sliding out of her with a sigh.
She seemed exhausted, but content, nuzzling herself further into my shoulder. I pressed a kiss to her forehead before I lifted her body off of my own. She let out the cutest little huff, arms outstretching for me as I laid her back on the mattress.
“Shh, I’ll be right back love.”
I pressed another kiss to her nose, smiling as I retreated from the bed. Slipping my boxers back on I made my way to the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth. She looked gorgeous sprawled out on the bedsheets, as I began cleaning up my mess that was leaking onto her thighs. The sight nearly made me hard again, but I quickly moved my eyes back up to her face as I disposed of the washcloth.
"Is it time to talk now?"
She mumbled, grabbing for me again as I slipped us both under the sheets. Y/n easily wrapping herself around me, fingers tracing the skin of my chest. I nodded, sighing contently as she continued her soft touches.
"I guess that’s probably a good idea…”
The woman giggled, the thought seeming somewhat silly now that we had already professed our love for each other. I played with the curls that cascaded down her back, her humming in approval for me to continue my actions.
"Why didn't you visit me? Or call when I was locked up?”
I couldn't help the sadness that laced my tone, her hands gently tipping my chin down to look at her.
"I wanted to Spence, so much... but I wasn't allowed to. They literally banned me from the prison. I don’t know who made the decision, but I know it was from higher up. They wouldn’t let any of us come see you. At least… that's what I was told. I sent you letters every week, did you not get them?"
I scrunched my brows together, shaking my head. Her sigh and sad expression made me hold her tighter, relief flooding through my chest knowing that she didn't just abandon me like I had thought.
"I’ll spare you the terrible details... but it wasn’t good. I ended up in solitary a lot, due to fights. The only people that visited me were Tara and my mom. I just felt so alone. I felt abandoned by you… and the rest of the team. I never got those letters either, which I know would’ve changed things. But I guess I was too hurt and angry to really consider why you never came."
I could see the regret in her eyes, pressing a kiss to my jaw.
"I'm so sorry Spencer. I should've fought harder to see you, you needed me and I wasn’t there. I was a terrible friend. Tara didn't even tell me she got to visit you… And then when you got back you ignored me, I— I thought you hated me."
I shook my head, my own regret filling my chest. I could never hate her. She was my best friend, and she always would be despite my other feelings for her. I still have so much anger from my time in prison, something I still needed to deal with. But she didn’t deserve be on the other end of it.
"I could never hate you y/n... I was just so angry, and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that. But I can be man enough to admit I was also jealous of your friendship with Luke. I felt like I had been replaced. My actions were completely childish, and I apologize… can you forgive me?"
She nodded without a second thought, kissing me gently. I followed her lips, not letting her pull away from me just yet. I felt her mouth turn up in a smile, and it was my turn to pout as she pulled away.
"I love you Spencer. While I did get closer with Luke while you were gone, it never went past a friendship. I've been in love with you for years pretty boy, there was never anyone that could replace you."
While I may be considered a genius in many regards, my ability to read women was never something I excelled in. It took y/n literally giving me a lap dance to finally make me realize she wanted me in the same way. Her words made my heart race in my chest, my lips reattaching themselves to her jaw and continuing downward.
"Well, let's make up for that lost time then angel."
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sporadicbeans82 · 8 days
Text
Playing Games || Misa Rodríguez
Request: “Misa.; 'Aww, is something wrong?'; Make it spicy plz.”
Warnings: Smutty, swearing, grinding, enemies to lovers with a bit of queer pining to top it all off (hehe, top... which the Reader is not, get it?)
Word count: 4.2k words
A/N: So sorry, I accidentally deleted the request! I loved writing this and got a little carried away. I hope that this is alright! Please feel free to send anymore requests as I've got no idea what to write next, preferably little prompts so that I can get back into writing :)
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The pressure and frustration was mounting with every second that ticked by. You’d been forced to practice penalties and had been doing so for the last half hour. With each penalty that went by, you yearned to cry out to the world that you quit football and were going to become an accountant. 
The majority of your balls sank into the net as they were supposed to. However, the only shots you could pay attention to were the ones that sailed just wide of the goalposts, or clanged against metal in a way that had you cringing. Even worse, when the goalkeeper who you despised would save them, getting up from the save to gloat with a smirk that you wanted oh-so-badly to smack off of her incredibly attractive, self-righteous face. 
“Oh are you fucking kidding me?!” You couldn’t help but cry out as the Real Madrid Keeper dove to the correct side, both hands outstretched to block the ball. You sighed, arms falling down at your sides as Misa stood back up, smirking at you.
You fucking hated that smirk. So much. The other girl made even the simple act of rolling the ball back towards you to kick again look cocky.
Usually, you would have been able to keep your comments to yourself. However, the specific events that had led up to you practicing more penalty kicks than you could have counted had already aggravated you. You’d been the only one to miss your penalty in your last match, causing your team to lose. 
You’d been devastated, and so had your teammates. Of course, everyone knew that the game was won as a team, but that didn’t make it any easier when you were the final decision maker. It had all fallen onto you, and when the pressure had mounted, you had failed. You’d since been condemned to practicing penalties until you could make a certain amount without having them all blocked by Misa. 
You’d been at it for what felt like hours, kicking the ball again and again at the net. The cursed goalkeeper herself was having one hell of a time blocking your shots at one moment and teasing you in the next. It was hot and your nerves felt like they were melting beneath your skin. 
You were pissed off, but managed to muffle your words so that you didn’t shout your insults into the skies for all to hear.
Instead, you murmured to yourself, hoping the way you grumbled wouldn’t be heard by the rest of your teammates, the majority of whom did not speak the language well enough to translate your quiet, quick complaints. 
It would have worked, had you not had a certain Australian right behind you. 
“What was that, Stripes?” You heard Hailey Raso say, and froze before you turned around slowly. 
You knew Raso wasn’t keen on keeping your secret, the glimmer in her eye one of utter fuckery as she smiled a little bit. “Would you like to share with the group? Secrets, secrets are no fun…” 
Raso chastised, speaking louder than normal and catching the attention of the particular goalkeeper who you’d just called some choice names beneath your breath. Misa cocked her head to the side, and you tried arduously not to blush at the sudden attention on you.
“Why did we stop?” Misa called out to the two of you, her gaze solely on you despite addressing both you and Raso. She was stepping closer, almost pushing the point where she was too close for comfort. 
Not that you were uncomfortable, but it was hard to remain professional when the girl who’d been a pain in your ass for the month that you’d been in Madrid was standing so close and looking, admittedly… very attractive. You hated to admit it, but even at her most frustrating you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to slap Misa or kiss her. 
In your distraction, you didn’t notice that your teammates were waiting for you to speak. Raso smirked again, watching as you stared dazedly at Misa, quite obviously zoned out. Misa cocked her head to the side again, mouth curving a little bit as she observed you.
The entirety of the Real Madrid team could see the tension between you and Misa, although they weren’t quite sure what it was…
Your first match with the team, several months ago, had been the first time you’d argued with Misa. Your team had won, but it had been very close with a team that you should have blown out of the water. You shouldn’t have been tied with one point each going into three minutes of injury time. You should have been up by four goals, and one of those goals should have been your own. 
You hadn’t been able to score, despite your many attempts at goal. Your failure to complete what you’d been brought on the team to do had made you frustrated. 
After the game, in the locker room, Misa had made some comment about how you should have scored at least once. It was stupid, and meant as a joke. The team had won, and that was all that mattered. Perhaps, you would have laughed it off, if the game hadn’t been so close and it hadn’t been your first one with the team. Your expectations had been high of yourself, and your failure to meet them had you feeling incredibly angry. 
The comment had been poorly timed, brought up in the heat of the moment. Misa was like that, sometimes rough around the edges– blunt and funny. She thought that you would laugh off the joke, but you hadn’t. Misa hadn’t expected you to take it quite as you had. 
You’d pushed her in the chest with both hands, speaking loudly and strongly– almost so fast that she lost the meaning to your angry sentences. She did, however, manage to catch one sentence in particular– “Me?! Me– I should have scored? Maybe you should have fucking saved a ball, yeah?”
You’d been tugged away by another recent transfer in Hayley Raso, while Misa had been comforted by Olga Carmona. Your teammates had hoped that that would be the end of your issues with each other, but it had only been the beginning. 
Since that day, you and Misa had quick, fiery arguments at least once or twice a day. Once in a while, it would turn to full-blown shouting matches, although the two of you never physically pushed the other again. 
It wasn’t professional, and you were fully aware of that. In fact, you were pretty sure you were due for a dressing down sometime soon for your behaviors, but you couldn’t just… not argue with Misa. When she said something, you had to oppose it– Misa would go left, and you would go right. Misa could say that the day was cold, and you’d argue that it was warm (and it was! You were from The United States, for fuck’s sake. Spain had nothing on the temperatures there!)
You two had been at odds with each other for so long that a regular relationship felt… unattainable, now. Besides, Misa was… very gorgeous when she was angry. Her cheeks would get red, and her face would pout while her muscles flexed, her entire body put into the words she would shout at you. 
Maybe you argued with her because it was the only way you knew to get her attention, but that's besides the point. 
You were brought back to the present as Raso spoke for you, seemingly egging you on with her accented words, “Oh, Stripes just had a few… choice words for you, Misa.” 
Stripes. Your nickname, usually one that drove you crazy, as it came from the fact that you were the only American on the team. It wasn’t even that creative, but the name was, admittedly, growing on you. Besides, there were worse things to be called, namely some of the things that came from Misa’s mouth. 
Raso seemed to trail off, and you finally managed to break away from the goalkeeper’s intense gaze to glare at the Australian. Raso just grinned, but your gaze was broken once again as someone reached out and placed a firm hand on your shoulder. 
Misa had noticed how angry you’d been getting throughout the training session. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that she was much of the reason for your frustration, having been antagonizing you for the better part of the penalties you’d been taking. Your lips were puckered into a frown and your eyes were narrowed at the Spanish goalkeeper. Unable to contain herself, Misa gave you a wolfish grin.
“Aww, is something wrong?” She knew full well that something was the matter. Her accented voice lilting over the words in a way that she knew  would piss you off. “Qué dijiste? What did you say? Secrets… are not fun.” 
Misa couldn’t help it, prodding at you further as you practically melted under the feeling of her hand on your shoulder. You didn’t know why the contact had set you off, and perhaps it was because you wanted to let off the steam that you’d been holding onto ever since your last match.
You slapped Misa's hand harshly, admittedly probably a little harder than you’d actually intended as the noise seemed to echo in your ears. Misa hissed, taking her hand off of you immediately and stepping back, calling you a choice name of her own.
“¿Por que? What is your problem conmigo?” Misa assaulted you with a battering of broken English, and you were able to fill in the blanks quite well with your own spatter of broken Spanish. Honestly, your arguments may have been even more effective than the lessons you had to take three times a week with a trained specialist. 
“Contigo? My problem? No. La pregunta es ‘what the fuck is your problem conmigo’, Misa. I don’t remember ever having done anything to you, and yet all you can do is shout and grunt and be rude all the damn time. It’s a wonder anybody on this team likes you when all you do is complain about our performances 24/7!” 
You were mocking her, now, stepping forward into the girl’s personal space until you were nearly chest to chest. Despite having to look up at the woman, you weren’t intimidated. You’d always been somewhat of a spitfire, acquiring a number of yellow cards on the field for dissent. You weren’t afraid to make your opinions known, and to be loud about them, as it was how you were raised. 
Misa didn’t back up from your challenge. Instead, she seemed to step into it, glaring down at you as she barked at you in rapid fire Spanish. You only understood the swear words, as they were the ones that you’d been taught by a very cheeky Linda Caicedo only a day after you’d met her. 
The good thing about knowing these swear words, however, was that you could throw them right back at the Spanish goalkeeper. 
Soon enough, the two of you were shouting at each other even more. As always, most of Misa’s words were lost somewhere in translation. It didn’t matter, though. Her tone and the way at which she gestured her arms up and down, the exasperated and harsh expression on her face conveying so much more than words ever could.
You told yourself, at least, that you didn’t care. You didn’t notice the way that her brown eyes narrowed. You pretended like you weren’t watching her hands struggling to free themselves of her keeper’s gloves as she continued to shout at you, pressing ever closer to the point where your chests were brushing. 
You pretended like the heat rising to your face was out of anger, not out of… something else. 
You raised your hands to shove her away, but she didn’t bat an eye, once again stepping into the physical challenge. She barely stumbled, pressing back at you.
“Cuál es tu problema?! Joder-” You knew this one, and shoved at her again. You knew that this entire thing was incredibly immature, that your teammates were observing possibly the most ferocious and childish fight that the two of you had had since you’d signed for the team. 
But you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to care. You were pissed off beyond comprehension, the long standing feud between you and the goalkeeper seemingly having pushed you far past your normal amount of anger. On top of that, you were hot and sweaty from being forced to kick penalties because you’d failed and you’d failed so badly that it had cost your team the match. 
Misa was screaming at you, and you could hear someone blowing their whistle, and you presumed it was a coach or someone on the training staff. However, before someone could wrap their arms around your upper arms and tug you away from the argument, you were spinning around.
Incredibly overwhelmed, you sprinted away from the scene with a cry of frustration. Before anybody could stop you, you were making your way towards the locker rooms, almost beyond the point of needing a break. 
You were gone before Misa could finish her next sentence. The keeper hesitated, taking a look around, before she made a move to run after you.
“Misa- espera.” She heard one of her teammates say, their voice whispering past her ear. However, she was suddenly hellbent on continuing this conversation with you. 
Sure, she was angry, but there was something more than that. She’d seen the exhaustion in your shoulders, and the way that you’d pushed at her in all the ways that you’d learned in the last few months on the team to get a reaction out of Misa. She noticed, and she wanted to know what you wanted from her. 
She didn’t know where it had all gone wrong. Well, that wasn’t true. She did, and she specifically remembered her comment that had set you off. She hadn’t meant anything bad, had simply been trying to cheer you up in a way that would cheer her up. Only, you’d reacted… badly, and the two of you had seemed to be at odds ever since.
She’d long given up any hope she had of being friends with you, or anything more that she’d hoped for when she’d first set eyes on you. She remembered the day that you’d walked into practice, somewhat meek beneath the eyes of all of your new teammates. 
You hadn’t spoken a lick of Spanish, save for some of the swear words which Linda had apparently taught you the second that she could. She’d fallen in love with the passion you’d shown the moment you’d stepped onto the pitch, determined to win in every aspect of your game.
It was a passion akin to her own, and you had rekindled the flames within Misa that she’d thought she’d lost long ago. She’d suddenly felt rejuvenated, like her team at Real Madrid had a sincere chance of winning something for once. You could knock goals past the goalkeeper faster than they could knock goals past Misa, and all Misa needed to do was block those goals. 
She knew she was in love, but she also knew that she’d given up the right to love you the second that she’d made you upset after that first game. 
Misa couldn’t allow herself to watch you walk away from her now, though. She had to make sure that you were okay, at the very least, or to apologize. Despite having given up hope, she still felt like… she stood a chance of being acquaintances with you, if nothing else. 
Misa opened the door to the locker room, but was unable to catch a glimpse of your familiar figure anywhere. She peeked into the showers, and found that you weren’t there, either. 
That is, until she heard something fall. She turned, and saw you standing by the sinks. You were hidden in the shadows, and Misa had been so distracted with finding you that she’d… missed you.
You were glaring daggers at you, so much so that Misa feared that she’d be dead if looks could kill. 
“What… are you doing here?” Your voice was equally as hostile as your gaze, and Misa almost flinched with the intensity of your tone. 
“Yo?” Misa asked, and you nodded. You made a gesture with both hands for her to continue to explain, as if her very presence was a pain in your ass. Which it was. 
“Yes, you. Que… fuck!” Misa made a move towards you, as if to try to calm you down.
You were obviously frustrated– with Misa and your inability to communicate in the same language. You pushed your arm out, though, catching the palm of your hand on Misa’s firm stomach. “Sí. What. The fuck. Are you doing. Here?”
You found it hard to speak, the words spewing out between clenched teeth. It was difficult to concentrate with the girls’ abdominal muscles pressing against the skin of your hand, and your mind wandered. Only briefly, you pondered how it would feel without her jersey to cover the soft skin there. 
Misa frowned, shaking her head, “Necesitamos hablar. We need to talk.”
You tilted your head, as if to ask her to continue, and Misa began.
“No… I don’t know where I went wrong. I never meant to offend you, I was- I tried to cheer you up.” For a second, you paused. It took a moment for you to catch up with her words, realizing that she was apologizing for what she’d said after the first match.
Having always been feisty and unapologetic, especially on the field. It was something which had originally drawn you to her, before you’d even arrived in Madrid. You hadn’t even known that Misa had the ability to apologize. 
However, the way in which Misa was looking at you, and the way that she was speaking more English than you’d ever heard her try to let you know that she was being sincere. 
A tide of emotions seemed to flood your chest. The metaphorical butterflies which everyone back at home had always seemed to talk about were fluttering away in your stomach. You swore you felt your heartbeat throbbing in your ears, so loud that you thought Misa could hear it. 
These feelings… the ones that seemed to only be reserved for the Spanish goalkeeper in front of you. You’d tried so, so hard to ignore how you’d felt in favor of holding a grudge. Never before had you thought that you’d regret that decision, but as the girl took a deep breath and her stomach pressed against your palm.
If you’d have been any less worked up from the penalties you’d had to take, and the argument you’d had with Misa. If you hadn’t been harboring conflicting feelings for months for the girl who stood pressed oh-so-deliciously against your hand. Maybe, you wouldn’t have even considered what you wanted to do. Instead, your hand ran up her stomach, wrapping itself into the front of her jersey and tugging her towards you.
You remembered the way Misa hadn’t even moved when you’d shoved her earlier, but now she shuffled forward willingly, pressing against you. You were sandwiched between her and the wall, and while you’d hated her being in your space earlier… Now? You had to stand on your tiptoes, your other hand going to cup at the nape of her neck as your lips hovered just inches away from the goalkeepers. You hesitated, still unsure if Misa really wanted to kiss you, disbelieving that the hatred she’d felt towards you could go away in just a few moments. 
However, Misa held no such hesitations. 
Her lips were gentle against yours and your eyes fluttered closed. The kiss was soft in all the right ways, impossibly so when you contrasted it with Misa’s normally rough exterior. 
A relieved sigh fell from your lips and into her mouth as you finally felt her against you. You moved against each other, your head tilting to the side as her lips caught your top lip between her own.
Her lips were soft… almost pillowy against your own. The press of her lips against yours was sensual in ways that you’d only ever dreamed of. Your heart was racing, excited and aroused and still, admittedly, a little frustrated. Only, this time you were frustrated with yourself for not doing this sooner. 
The feeling of your back pushed harshly against the wall behind you, tiles cold through the fabric which covered your torso. However, Misa’s warm body against your front sent chills down your spine. 
Your hand which had once been wrapped in the material of the girl’s jersey wandered, slowly drifting beneath the hem of her shirt in the way which you’d wondered about earlier.
You traced the muscular lines of her abdomen with your fingers, and you felt Misa push against you harder. You heard her gasp as your lips parted momentarily, the sound music to your ears as a curse fell past her lips as well. The girl was out of breath, pressing even further against you.
One of her legs slid between your own, separating your legs with one of her strong thighs and you gasped at the sudden contact there.
Misa took that moment to take control of the kiss even further, one of her hands settling against the wall which you were pressed against. The other hand wandered just as yours did, playing with the hem of your shirt until you took your hand out from her shirt, trying to take her hand in your own to encourage her to just touch you. 
You would have let her do anything to you right then and there, sensing that Misa may do just that with the way her hands fell down to your hips. They were strong against you, large hands encouraging you to grind against the flexed leg which stood firm between your thighs. 
You allowed a moan to fall between your parted lips, one which was swallowed by Misa as she continued to kiss you. She was incredibly intoxicating in ways which you were convinced couldn’t be described by words– English or Spanish. Or Catalan, for that matter. 
You allowed another moan to tumble from your lips, this one higher pitched and almost… desperately winy. You were prepared to take off your shirt, your fingers curling beneath the fabric and beginning to pull upwards.
Although the two of you froze as you heard the telltale sign of your teammates coming. You heard cleats clashing harshly against concrete, coming ever closer to you and Misa in the locker room. 
“Fuck!” You cursed, the word echoed by Misa as the both of you frantically separated. Misa quickly pushed your shirt back down to its original position as you rushed to do the same to her. You quickly tugged her ponytail from her head, realizing that you’d mussed up her hair to an irreversible extent before you were shoving her towards one of the shower stalls. 
“You stink!” You joked, and Misa smirked at you, trying to tug you with her, “Ah! Ah no, no. I don’t think so. We’ll be caught!” 
You were whispering now, and Misa seemed to think better of her needs as she frowned at you. You simply raised an eyebrow at her, and Misa sighed as she shook her head.
“Vale, pero… we are not done. Tonight, are you free?” You nodded, unable to contain your smile. “My house will be… empty.” 
“No it won’t.” You promised, and you watched Misa struggle to figure out what you were saying before she, too, started grinning like a fool. Then, before your teammates had the chance to walk in on the two of you actually interacting with each other, you shut the curtain closed and spun away.
Hayley and a few others were there, and Hayley grinned at you. 
“Did you two kiss and make up?” Hayley joked, and you choked. Her brows furrowed, now, and you laughed a little bit to cover up the fact that you hadn’t realized that she’d been joking.
“No, she just went to shower.” You excused Misa, and something in Raso’s eyes told you that she knew that something was up. However, she didn’t push you as you walked past her, grabbing your own things to shower as you realized training was over.
Faintly, you registered that the others were talking, and they could have been talking to you. However, you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to actually listen, too consumed with the thoughts of tonight and all of the possibilities that it held.
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tonilovessushi · 1 year
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NETEYAM HAVING CAT ATTRIBUTES HEADCANONS
➻❥ neteyam sully x human! gn! reader
➻❥ just pure fluff
➻❥ warnings: mentions of injury (blink and you'll miss it)
( find the one for lo'ak here and the one for ao'nung here )
( masterlist | requests )
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So, let's break it down, shall we?
first of all, the tail
i've seen many people writing it with the characteristics of a dogs and that's cool, i like that, but i think it would be more like a cat's
it would lift up whenever he sees you
like, instantly
he wouldn't even realize it until you tease him about it
it also reflects the more ... possesive protective side of neteyam
would often wrap it around your body and it isn't always subcontious
for example, when the sullys plus you arrived at the metkayina's village
when aonung and rotxo were teasing you for not having a tail any blue skin, you instantly felt something brushing against the skin of your leg and then neteyams tail wrapping around your stomach, marking you his while he was staring the cocky metkayinans down
habits like this always earn him a bunch of whisteling and teasing from his siblings but he finds it totally normal
especially since you are human and in need of a bit of extra looking after
would wrap it around your middle or waist when you both were with other people, and around your legs when you guys were cuddling
he's such a sucker for affection
spooning :)
he's the big spoon, if course, and his tail will find one of your legs and wrap around it more softly to keep you even closer
it's also very sensitive
will flinch every time you touch it, but not neccesarily in a negative way since every time it happens, his cheecks would be a darker shade of blue and his freckles would begin to glow more brightly (i saw this headcanon of his freckles glowing as a form of blushing somewhere and i'm a huge fan)
the thing is, you love playing with it and you know exactly the effect it has on him
when you two sit next to each other, you'd always scoot your hand closer and closer while his tail would twitch in a mix of impatient anticipation and emberassement
you're the only one who gets to touch his tail like this
Also, his ears
Movable
So cute
He loves it when you scratch his ears and knead them between your fingers lovingly
it's a great stress reliever and will calm him down instantly if he's angry or frustrated
you just have to get there, you know? you are pretty fucking short
his ears always move in your direction when you say something, even if you two are having a conversation with all of his siblings
it's like he doesn't want to miss one second of hearing your voice
it's also one way to express how much you and your opinion mean to him snd how much respect he has for you
His eyes reflect light like we saw in the movie
just a little detail, as well as his nose, which is, as we all know, very similar to a cat's
nose touching
absolutely. it's his way of forehead touching
nudging each others noses before and after kissing
he finds it almost as good as the kiss itself
his eyes are also far better than a humans, as well as all of his senses
you find his fangs absolutely fascinating
He thinks it's a bit weird, how you make a habit of touching them when you get the chance to, and will kinda laugh at you for it
you don't care
those are also pretty intimate moments, when your fingers linger against his lips and he's closing his eyes, waiting for you to end your study and finally kiss him
Has a very touchy and affectionate side
Loves to cuddle and rub your face against his
he actually does that a lot
nudging your jaw with his forehead or strocking your cheeks with his chin
neteyam never hisses at you in a bad way
one time he did, he was angry, mostly at lo'ak, and when you tried to calm him down, he got mad at you
"No, it's not alright, Y/N!"
he instantly regretted it, apologizing profusely and taking you into his arms
but he'd do it playfully more often
for example, when you two were being lazy for once and sunbathing on top of the hallelujah mountains and you splashed water into his face
it was followed by a yelp, then his eyes found yours and he hissed playfully
you tried to escape his wrath but you had no chance
you had done five steps before his hands found your waist from behind and he imprisoned you in his arms and hissed into your ear teasingly
to punish you, he turned you around and showered you with a handful of water and a lot of kisses
would probably also gift you his bait after a hunt (my cat does that a lot)
it's more of a symbolic thing, since you can't possibly eat a whole animal by yourself and most of it lands in the stomach of others
but neteyam knows he'll get a reward every time he hunts something down for you in form of a kiss or more when he escorts you back to the lab at night
And, last but not least, purring
does it when you scratch his ears or kiss his neck
That's his soft spot
Its a rolling, smooth and soothing sound
it also betrays him when he pretends not to be affected by your touch in public or when he's pouting
for example, when you were patching up his wounds after a raid went wrong and he was in the midst of a conversation with his sister. your gentle touch was enough to get him to purr softly and instantly being emberassed when his grandma and sister began to laugh at him
will start purring uncontrolably whenever he enjoys himself the most
neteyam will try to tune it down because he thinks it's emberassing, but you're doing everything you can think of to get a purr out of him
lo'ak will absolutely make fun of him for it
"aww, did they make you soft, bro?"
but you will glare at lo'ak until he instead begins to laugh at you
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jaysgirlx · 18 days
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Hey sweetie, I’m feeling like I need a Jason fic where reader doesn’t like to be touched but he makes her feel safe enough that she gets used to him. Would that be something you’d write? I hope you’re having a wonderful day/night 😘😘
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jason wasn't exactly a touchy man himself, he'd set a lot of boundaries as he grew older but he felt different when that came to you. he had the urge to want to hold you constantly but he quickly learned you weren't fond of that. there were too many mental scars that had yet to heal.
the two of you had been sitting side by side on his couch and he slyly tried to put his arm around you. you flinched and moved away quickly, and then came the word vomit.
"i'm sorry! it's really not cause of you- It's hard for me to- i just cant- it's okay if you don't want to hang out again after this, i just- i'm sorry!"
you were panting and trying to explain yourself because this wasn't his fault, this was a boundary you probably should've said earlier but you didn't. you were scared of losing jason too quickly because of your own issues but you were an idiot for thinking he'd leave like that. he was much better than that and he showed you exactly how.
when jason first realized that you weren't yet comfortable with him touching you he tried his best to make your dates and hangouts still romantic. instead of cuddling, he'd put pillows in between the two of you and you'd lay on them almost as if you were on him.
or when you two went out for walks he learned to wear long-sleeved shirts so you could hold onto his sleeve rather than his hand. it did take time to get used to but jason didn't see it as a burden he saw it as another way for him to show his love for you.
he found you the cutest when he'd be kissing you and you didn't know where to put your hands so you'd panic and grab onto his clothes. he knew you wanted to touch him but he wanted you to feel safe enough to make that first move and you eventually did.
"i swear it's not you or anything i just not comfortable being touched yet…i've had things happen to me and i just need time to feel a bit safer"
jason understood how you felt and respected it. he'd wait years if he had to, as long as you were with him, he didn't need much more. though your comfortability came much sooner than he thought.
it started off small like when you began to slyly slip your fingers into his and hold his hand. he won't deny that he actually blushed a little especially when you kissed him on the cheek goodnight. he knew he was probably touch-starved but he didn't realize how much he was missing without your touch.
you even started cuddling him during your movie nights and laying your body on his. and it was then that jason knew you felt comfortable with him. you finally felt safe.
things moved on a bit fast after that, your very gentle make-out sessions with jason became rough and needy. you'd dig your nails into his back while deepening each kiss more. your hands are roaming his back, trying to figure out what feels good, or what feels right but jason doesn't care. that fact that you're touching him is all that matters. that fact that you're comfortable is all that matters.
did jason dream of touching you constantly? absolutely! but would he have waited centuries to do so? only for you.
jason was in love with who you were and being able to touch you had nothing to do with that. this man fell in love with your personality and the love you were willing to give him and that was all he wanted.
"m'sorry for making you wait so long jaybird" you whispered while jason lips were busy kissing and biting your neck. he left a train of hickeys, hoping you wouldn't be too mad once you'd seen them, since you were quite focused on your current conversation "i know i'm a lot of work"
"good thing i'm a hard worker sweetheart," he said, while placing a hand on his hip and gently caressing your waist with his thumb. jason had started doing this,whenever he could tell you were overthinking or maybe overwhelmed. he was good with words but he knew how to soothe you "as long as you comfortable baby, then that's all i need"
you were all jason todd needed, he’d never admit it but he could love you from afar and still be happy because you'd be his and to jason that was all that was he really wanted.
for you to happy and safe with him.
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hotchsstuff · 5 months
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bittersweet - rafe cameron
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summary: rafe didn't realize he was putting you in second place until he had lost you.
pairing: past!rafe x reader, zach maclaren x reader
warnings: rafe is a jerk. hopeful ending. a lot of angst.
you grew up getting used to being someone's second choice. or even third. but when you met rafe cameron, you spent sleepless nights hoping he would choose you.
but it didn't go as you naively thought.
"rafe, wait for me!" you yelled after him, as you grabbed your jacket. "please, wait!"
he promised you he would spend the night in your company and then take you home. that was the only reason why you accepted his invite. you've never been to a college party and you had begged rafe to stay with you, but he didn't.
as soon as you stepped inside the house, rafe left your side. you went to hold his hand but he pulled away, taking long steps to where his friends were sitting.
among them, cassy was sitting on the couch, looking as pretty as ever. she was new in town and apparently caught rafe's attention. his friends would often tease rafe about it.
"go get her, lover!" topper pushed him over, handing him a glass of alcohol.
you felt stupid. why were you even there? did you really believe that he would be interested in you? the captain of the football team? your hopeless heart liked to believe so.
a few days later you asked him to celebrate your birthday together.
you spent hours in the cafeteria waiting for him but he was nowhere to be seen. the staff looked at you with pity and offered you a slice of their cupcake but you politely refused. rafe would show up, right? he knew how much you hated spending that day alone, he couldn't have possibly forgotten, right?
you waited for him all night. he forgot.
when the following day you went to confront him, you stopped in trance when you heard kelce's words.
"i think rafe is actually serious about cassie." he said leaning on the door "i asked him to come over to test some good stuff and he refused. he spent the night at her."
you felt like throwing up.
a few weeks later, you got in a car accident and having no one to rely on, you gave the nurse rafe's phone number. he didn't respond to any of your calls and didn't try to contact you back.
"i'm sorry, miss." she looked at you in sympathy "do you want me to contact someone else?"
you gave her a small smile and shook your head. you were alone.
"angel, i've been calling you for five minutes. what are you thinking about?" zach whispered, pinching your cheeks, snapping you back to reality.
you looked up, feeling your heart warm. you let him pull you in a hug, buring your face in his chest.
"i love you zach." you muttered, enjoying his melodious laugh.
"all of a sudden?" he grinned ear to ear "i love you too, sweetheart.
you and zach met the night of the accident. he was the one who called the ambulance, unbeknownst to you. and he insisted on taking care of you until you got better.
weeks passed and what started as an innocent friendship blossomed into the love story you prayed every night to have.
you and zach had been dating for almost a year now. you were glowing under his care and rafe had become a bittersweet memory.
he had attempted to talk to you but zach was always there, stepping up whenever you felt uncomfortable.
zach had given your heart the time to heal. you no longer felt lonely, he had become your home.
-
taglist: @ingids @justacoolnerd @rafecameronzwhore @nxpood @fallingwallsh @hallecarey1 @ncentic @loving-and-dreaming @s-we-e-t-t-ea @slut4drudy @maybankslover @777flora @pank0w @mattyskies @jjmaybankisbae @madelynie @strkeys @midnightsgetawaycar @fdl305 @earth2starkey @brooklynscherry-z @inkluvs @fishingirl12 @vadinaleme @belleoftheball28 @darleneslane @leilaxwhite @raekensluver @drewstarkeysbae @thorssweetheart
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wongyuuu · 2 months
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midnight rain | lsm
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pairing: seokmin x f!reader genre: angst, smut, a little bit of fluff word count: 17k summary: after seven years away, you finally return home. meeting seokmin again wasn't in your plans, but life wasn't willing to let you have it your way. warnings: minors do not interact, kissing, oral, swearing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this) a/n: this is part of 1k event, it was requested the dearest @ressonancee. but also, it's part of svt ans songs from midnights. i just wrote two in one and something that was supposed to be short became this monster. i hope i wrote seokmin in a way you'll like it. prompt: “I don’t want anyone else. No one else can make me feel like you do." Seokmin ➝ Midnight Rain He was sunshine, I was midnight rain ↳ it was the oldest story in the world, the bright boy fell for the grumpy girl.
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Letter #1
Seokmin,
You know, I've always been very proud of not being a very attached person. I've always been proud that I can put myself first and second, because I know I need to do it, because I know that no one else will do it for me. So, when I came here and dropped everything I had, I thought it would be a lot easier than it actually is.
When I turn around in bed at night, after days of trying to get used to the time zone and weeks to the weather and the people here — which are both bad and for completely different reasons, nothing is like in the movies — I always hope to find you there by my side and being able to snuggle up to you like I always did. I wake up in the morning and make enough coffee for two people and take two mugs out of the cupboard, and only then do I realize I'm alone here. I don't need two mugs and I made too much coffee. Sometimes, in the middle of the day, I find myself typing your number, which I have memorized despite the fact that no one remembers phone numbers, because phones exist for a reason.
You have no idea how much I miss you and what I would do to be able to hear your voice again. I would do anything, I swear I could. But I know I no longer have that right. I know that what I did is unforgivable and although I want your forgiveness, I hope you never forget what I did to you.
You were still good to me on the last day. You took me to the airport, you said goodbye to me, you hugged me tight like you know I like it and you did your best not to shed a tear in front of me.
Every now and then I catch myself thinking that I messed up. I could have done my master's where we graduated, I didn't need to move to the other side of the world and leave the life I knew behind. But at the same time, I accept it. Coming here was my dream, it was always what I dreamed of even when you were by my side as well. And maybe that's why I never told you about the application, about being approved. Maybe I waited until the end, until the very last second to tell you because I knew you were the only one capable of changing my mind.
When I was by your side, I started to dream of a different life, a life that had you at all times and in all aspects. But, as you may have already noticed, I chose my first dream.
I know I won't regret it. I can't afford to regret it. You’ll become who you always wanted to be and I’ll be there to give you a standing ovation. Not there, next to you, but from afar.
yn 
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“That was Sunday Morning, by Hong Joshua. Ah, whenever I hear this song I remember my college days. I've said this here a few times, and I think I sound like a broken record by this point, but Joshua and I went to the same college and he was always singing this song in the hallways. Any small gathering between friends he would pull out the guitar and sing. So I'm sorry, but you're going to have to listen to this song at least once a week for the next year. Or until he releases the next one.”
Seokmin looked at the monitor to his right as a pre-recorded commercial for the next show started. The comments were going up too quickly, which made reading them an almost impossible mission.
On the other side of the glass, Chan made a sign indicating that the commercial was over. Seokmin looked at his friend as he lowered one finger after another and finally pointed at him. Chan placed a sheet of paper, which was always used, against the glass, which said “last, chat”. Indicating that he still had one more question to answer.
“We have time for one more question” Seokmin said, opening the internal chat he used with the other radio employees and read the question that Chan had sent “I ended a relationship of almost four years a few months ago, but I still can't understand what happened. I haven't even returned his things yet. How do I get in touch saying I want to return it?”
Seokmin swallowed. He knew that Chan hadn't done it on purpose, that he had no way of knowing everything that had happened between him and you, but he hated how much the question resonated in his head. It was a feeling he shared and for him it had been a little worse because you lived together during your last year of college. So when he entered the house and saw all the furniture, the decorations, your clothes still in the closet, it was like entering a time machine. In that 30 square meter space, for a few minutes, you still hadn't left.
He took a deep breath, away from the microphone so the sound wouldn't be picked, and leaned forward.
“It's a difficult question, really. If it's been a few months and he still hasn't picked his things up, it's because he doesn't need them, so I don't think you should bother contacting him. Hmmm”
He bit his lip and rested his elbows on the table, thinking if he should continue talking or if it would be better to stop there. Seokmin always thought it was better not to let personal feelings show on the radio, but he had moments when he couldn't follow his own rules.
“I can tell you from experience that sometimes silence is better. Because if you know the truth, it could hurt you even more. When I was in a similar situation, after a while I simply discarded the person's belongings. At first, it will be difficult, because you’ll see that shirt you gave as a gift, that letter you wrote and remember what it meant, the moment you gave those things to him. But little by little you will achieve it. Don't feel obligated to just move on when you're not ready. People will always tell you that it's about time, that it's been so many weeks or months. You’re the one who knows about your feelings.”
Chan knocked on the glass again, almost desperate because Seokmin's answer had been too long. It wasn't the first time he had gotten lost in what he was saying and maybe had been talking in circles. It always happened that he remembered you when he answered a question.
And in that specific question he was being a hypocrite because he knew that if he opened his closet, deep inside it, he would find at least two boxes full of your things hidden. He rarely went near those boxes, he liked to pretend they didn't exist and most days he managed to achieve that thought. But there were other days…
“So we come to the end of another Cupid's Corner with Minnie. See you again next week. Cupid’s Corner with Minnie: Unveiling Love’s Melody, One Relationship at a Time!”
Seokmin removed his headphones, stood up, and waved at the cameras he knew were pointed at him. He grabbed his phone and the bottle of water he always carried with him. The red light above the door finally went out and Seokmin left the studio.
Immediately, Chan appeared beside him. He had just gone blond, and it strangely suited him.
He knew the youngest was desperate, not that he was doing a good job of hiding it. The disheveled hair, pointing in all directions, also helped a lot.
“You’re going to have a heart attack if you continue like this” Seokmin said laughing.
Chan was the newest employee, handpicked by Seokmin a few months before. Seokmin needed someone to help him organize the broadcasts after his previous assistant quit because she had gotten a job in the field she had studied. Seokmin even talked to her and offered a higher salary that would come out of his own pocket, but nothing seemed to help. Not that he blamed her, in her place he would have done the same thing. But in the position he was in, changes made him uncomfortable so he did what he could to make sure everything stayed the same.
Maybe it was trauma.
“It’s because they yell at me, not you.”
One of the reasons Seokmin chose Chan as his new assistant was his sincerity. In the middle of the interview he “I think there are things in your program that need to change” and started listing things that he thought were dated or ideas that had been used too much and therefore didn't have the same effect on listeners. The others had found him presumptuous as if he wanted to know more than those who worked at the radio. Seokmin disagreed and that's how Chan got the job.
“They yell at you because you’re the new guy, no one yelled at Jiah”
Chan made a sound in the back of his throat, like a scoff.
“That's because everyone was afraid of her” Seokmin rolled his eyes and reached for the folder Chan was carrying “Oh, right. Tomorrow is your lecture for the communication classes, but they said it is possible that students from other courses will also be there, because it’llll be in the auditorium”
Seokmin nodded, reading the guidelines Chan had made. He needed to admit that he was organized and had absolute control over everything he did. He was sure that if he asked about Wonwoo's program, Chan would know how to answer as if he worked directly with him.
“You know how it is, I have fans” Chan pretended to vomit “If you go tomorrow, we’ll go out to dinner later, I’ll pay”
"Deal"
Seokmin always found it strange to be called to give lectures at the college where he studied. He wasn't a teacher and he didn't think he had done enough to be someone who could give advice to someone. In fact, Seokmin was sure he hadn't done anything big. His life, to put it very simply, was flat. At least, almost all of his life.
Seokmin has always been the type of guy who makes plans and follows through on those plans. When he was sixteen he got it into his head that he wanted to work in radio. It wasn't without reasons, of course. He joined the school radio and despite doing very little, because the school director had to know everything that would be done, even the nouns he would use in the sentence, he fell in love with the idea. That's why he decided he should study journalism in college, that way even if his radio career didn't work out, he would still have a profession.
But his dream was to work on a radio, to have his own program. So that's what he did.
He entered college as planned, sunk into student debt, and graduated exactly as he had planned. In his last semester, he got an internship at the biggest radio station in the country. He was on cloud nine. It was as if he had received the green light in life and everything was on the right track.
At least that's what he thought. At least that was what he had forced himself to believe. The internship became a permanent position and one day he just happened to be in the right place at the right time. That's why he never felt prepared to give anyone advice. Despite having decided on the career he wanted to pursue, he knew that he also needed to count on a little luck and help. The only words he could offer were “you work hard, study, make contacts, and throw the rest into luck’s hands”. It wasn't the kind of thing he wanted to hear when he was a student looking forward to the future, so he certainly wouldn't say it to anyone.
However, Chan convinced him that it would be a good idea to give the talk.
“You’re going to tell me how you got here, that’s all. An unknown face who quickly went on air to cover someone for one of the most beloved radio broadcasters in the country. I'm sure if you say that shit fell on your head, they'll like it” Chan had said laughing.
Overall the lecture went very well. Better than expected. He answered the questions as honestly as possible and used his best smile to get rid of the more awkward questions.
Despite the good day, he knew he didn't want to repeat the dose anytime soon.
“They want to know if you would be willing to do one of these a semester” Chan whispered because he knew the answer Seokmin would give, so it was better for the students not to hear.
“No” was all Seokmin said “But I’ll still buy you dinner”
Chan punched the air in celebration, catching the eyes of those around him, but he seemed to care very little.
"I just…"
What Seokmin was about to say, an announcement that he needed to go to the bathroom, died in his throat as he looked straight ahead.
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Letter #2
Seokmin,
I thought I would be able to adapt faster here. It was very hard in the beginning with transport, getting around in general was very difficult. So I chose a weekend and went walking around the neighborhood where I live. I don't know how long I'll stay here, but I thought I should check it out. Besides, I can wake up in the middle of the night and decide that I want to eat something that I don't have at home, so it's good to know if there are any stores or markets that open in the middle of the night (in this neighborhood there aren't any, maybe that's why I won’t stay here).
I discovered that going out there, although productive, wasn't such a good idea. Nothing wrong happened, I didn't get hit on or someone was rude to me. Quite the contrary, most people pretended they weren't even seeing me. The problem was that everything made me think about you.
I walked by the store that sold a lot of random old things and decided to go in. You know I love filling the house with trinkets. I didn't find anything there that I liked, but I saw that they were selling camera films. For a moment I forgot everything that had happened and all I could think was, I think Seokmin is running out of film, I need to buy more because he will only realize when he doesn't have any left.
I bought it and brought it to the apartment. I opened the door and called your name. It was only later, when I noticed where I was, that it wasn't our apartment, that I realized what I had done.
Even without meaning to, even when I try not to, I find myself looking for you. Everywhere. I go to a restaurant and think about what you would like to eat, I see a dog on the street and I imagine you bending down to pet it. It's not on purpose, I just can't help it. I try, but it's in vain.
I wonder if it will pass. Will this feeling that I succeeded in my career but ruined my personal life disappear or will I feel like this forever — or at least for a good few years?
yn.
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It was as if all the air had been ripped from your lungs and there was no way in the world to get you to breathe.
Somehow, some way, Seokmin was standing in front of you, in the middle of the college hallway.
For a moment it was as if you had been transported back in time, to when you were still 22 years old. In another moment you would have simply run up to him and thrown yourself into his arms as if you hadn't spent the whole night clinging to him, as if you hadn't seen each other before classes, as if you hadn't shared the smallest space in the world on the subway for 20 minutes. And your body seemed to remember all of this, like some kind of muscle memory, because you felt like you were being projected forward. Towards him.
You thought Seokmin would talk to you, you were sure he would. But you saw the way his gaze changed, the way it went from complete surprise to a hard look, completely different from anything you had ever seen from him.
In your memory, Seokmin was always brilliant and was always willing to welcome everyone with open arms, even when he felt more shy. You didn’t understand, that look he gave you was completely different from what you imagined could happen.
When you made the decision to return, you knew that there was a possibility of meeting Seokmin, no matter how small it was. You didn't know if he was still friends with the same people, if he still kept in touch with them. You certainly hadn't kept in touch with anyone - except for the two times you talked to Joshua. The possibility existed, but being realistic you knew it was as big as winning the lottery.
Of all the places you thought you could find Seokmin, college was the last one and maybe that was even why you accepted the job. When you were taking the last tests, the ones that would say whether you would graduate at the end of the semester or not, Seokmin was categorical in saying that he would never set foot inside college again. So you thought it was a place he would never go, but there he was. And in your first week, when you needed everything to go well. Not to show that you were ready and that you could do the job, but to reassure yourself that you had made the right choice in accepting the job.
You didn't have time to decide whether to talk to him or not. Seokmin made the decision for both of you. He continued walking as if you weren't there, talking to the boy next to him, laughing. The only indication that he knew who you were was silent once and one that only you could distinguish.
He turned around and left as if nothing had happened.
Was it possible that only you had felt that way? That just your heart had decided it didn't know how to beat, as if a storm was raging inside your body?
You didn't have time to analyze what had just happened. You just forced yourself to take a deep breath and also keep walking as if those brief seconds weren't enough to make your entire world turn completely upside down.
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Seokmin dragged his feet into the room, tripping over the rug at the foot of the bed. A curse came out of his mouth, followed by a burp. When he invited Chan to dinner he had no intention of ending the night drunk, being carried home like someone who had just had his first drink.
It had been years since he had gotten that bad and it was comical that the previous occasion was also connected to you.
The memory of leaving you at the airport, on a flight in the middle of the night, was still vivid in Seokmin's mind. Worse than that memory, was the one of you telling him that you had gotten a place in a master's degree on the other side of the world, 18 hours before leaving the country.
“I need to tell you something” you said as he pulled his coat over his head and patted his pockets, making sure he had grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone. He needed to leave as quickly as possible, he was already late.
Seokmin had plans to ask you to marry him. He had rented a house where you could spend the weekend, where it would be possible to see the stars. He had prepared himself, but he needed to leave right that second so he would have enough time to go to the house, get everything ready and come back to get you. The owner of the house would help him, since Seokmin decided that he wouldn't tell any of his friends because they might just ruin the surprise.
“I'm already late” he said, quickly looking at his watch. "Did something happen?"
He asked, noticing your already somewhat desperate look. He knew that whatever had happened couldn't be good.
To be honest, he had noticed that something was wrong a few weeks before, and for a while, he decided it would be better not to get into it too much. He knew you well enough to know that you would offer the information when you felt ready to do so. But thinking back on everything, he wished he had asked before, he wished he hadn't given you space, he wished he had forced you to talk to him sooner.
“I passed my master’s degree abroad”
Seokmin’s first reaction was to be happy for you. He knew how much you wanted that, that it was your dream. So he did what any boyfriend would do, he hugged you and congratulated you, told you that you had tried so hard and that they would be idiots not to accept you. The feeling was true and his smile was genuine. He was happy for you.
Knowing what he knew, every now and then Seokmin wondered if he would have done anything differently if he knew what the next words would be out of your mouth. He could have made a fuss, he could have begged you to stay, he could have offered to go with you. But at the time he didn't do any of that.
“I’m leaving today, I need to be at the airport at 11 pm”
Seokmin's ears rang deafeningly. It was as if he had been punched and needed to brace himself against something. The sofa was the closest piece of furniture.
He thought he heard it wrong, he wished he was dreaming, but all he had to do was look at you. It was true. It was as if a puzzle was being completed in Seokmin's mind. The way you had suddenly become distant, how every time he entered the room you hurried to change or close whatever you were looking at on the computer. He didn't even know you signed up. He imagined that you must have done some kind of test, some interview and he didn't even know anything about it.
He had no idea.
Had he been a bad boyfriend, someone who was so focused on making the long-awaited proposal that he had ignored everything else? Or had you hidden it so well that he hadn't noticed?
"What? You’re leaving today?"
It was like the world was spinning too fast and he was trying to keep up with what was happening. It was like being on a roller coaster that kept on falling. He remembered well how the little box with the ring he had carefully chosen weighed in his pocket.
“I didn’t even know you had applied for a position” he whispered, almost just to himself “You didn’t tell me”
And it was at that exact moment, when he looked at you, that Seokmin realized that your relationship was over. You avoided looking at him, your hands were buried deep in the pockets of your coat, which was his. He saw your eyes fill with tears, you swallow hard, and remain silent.
It was unlike you, to stay quiet when you had too many things going through your head. He desperately wanted you to talk to him, to tell him what had been going through your head. He just wanted to understand. Did you believe he would somehow stop you from going? If there was one thing he knew about you, it was the fact that you always put your education first. It wasn't a secret and you didn't want it to be. He just didn't expect things to happen that way.
Seokmin sat in front of the closet, on the floor, and with difficulty opened the doors. Deep in the back, behind several shoe boxes, were two old boxes that he hadn't moved in years. Part of him wished the things inside the boxes were ruined, that they had mold and anything else that could ruin its content. But he had been careful, kept everything in order, taken all necessary precautions, and cleaned the closet periodically.
He ignored the first box and pulled the smaller one towards him, placing it on his bent legs. Seokmin wasn't one to revisit those memories, he liked to keep them as far away from him as possible, but on nights like those, it was impossible.
Seokmin knew what he would find and was sure how he would feel, but he still took the lid off the box, but he didn't dare take out any of the items inside it.
He knew he had reached his lowest point when he was holding on to memories he had of you and not focusing on what was actually happening in his life.
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Letter #3
Seokmin,
I talked to Joshua today. Talk is a bit too strong of a word. We exchanged a few words on Instagram. He posted a photo and I liked it, he sent me a DM asking if I was ok and how things were going. I lied, of course. He said everything was fine and he was happy. He didn't talk about you and I didn't ask.
It was very hard to contain myself. I want to know how you are. The more selfish part of my brain wants you to be just as bad as I feel. You know that little demon that sits on our shoulder? He assures me you're even worse. And I hate to think that's the case, but at the same time, I'm sure you're not okay. I know you, we dated for four years, we lived together for almost two years
You were always the more emotional one of the two of us. You were never afraid to show your feelings, not for me or anyone else. You always loved so openly, without any fear. I admit that at first, it scared me a little.
I was an 18-year-old girl who came from a family that had no idea how to show affection, so I was always more reserved in that aspect. And there you were with your beautiful, bright smile, with open arms, affectionate with anyone who came along. I thought you were a crazy person who didn't have the slightest notion of the world. It took a while for me to realize that your world was brighter than mine in ways I couldn't understand.
You were always so untethered, free, showing yourself to anyone who had eyes. When I was closed and more reclusive, you were open and expansive. When I was very shy or reserved, you were more charming and brighter than usual. Not even my worst mood, which seemed endless at times, was a problem for you.
One day you just showed up and decided that you would stay by my side, no matter what. Believe me when I say, I tried to push you away. But with each passing day you were further under my skin.
A kiss at a random party turned into a date at every party, parties became meetings at the college library, which led to coffee dates. One day you decided at the end of each date you had to take me back to the dorms and you kissed me for a long time on the side of the building where no one could see — or at least I made myself believe no one did. Then that alone wasn't enough and you were always with your fingers intertwined with mine, or your arm around my waist. And kisses were no longer reserved for empty streets, of course not. You kissed me anywhere, anytime, no matter who was watching.
You were sneaky, Seokmin.
When I realized it, I was in love with you. Your arms were my refuge. You were my safe space. My home.
yn.
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You hated that Seokmin’s reaction, or lack thereof, had gotten to you so much. It was like being punched, and then one more, soon the punch became a beating and to finish with a flourish, it was as if a truck had run over you.
You had plans to go out at the weekend, though alone. Everything was so different, the places you knew no longer existed and friends from the past no longer spoke to you. You would have to rediscover the city without anyone's help. Despite your plans, you couldn't bring yourself to leave the house.
When you decided to return, you knew there would be no way to escape Seokmin. He had become successful not only in his career as a broadcaster but also as a celebrity of sorts. You never imagined you would see his face in magazines or on billboards selling fried chicken. You didn't expect that when you turned on the TV you would see his face in different programs.
In fact, you knew all of that was happening, but somehow you managed to convince yourself that you wouldn't have to see any of it. You managed to make yourself believe that you would not be haunted by his images and voice.
When you were away, you always listened to his programs, more than once each one, but it was almost like a relationship between fan and celebrity. You could separate very well what was him and what was you. But being there, in the same country, in the same city, it was much more difficult to make that separation.
Because once you were back, Seokmin was no longer just the radio host with a show about relationships. Far from it. Seokmin was your college sweetheart, the guy whose heart you broke but who, even after seven years, was still in love with.
That was the reality. you were still in love with him. There was no relationship in the world, no man in the world, that would have made you forget about Seokmin. Sometimes it worked, sometimes you managed to forget about him for a few months and that feeling of loss, of emptiness, that had settled deep inside your heart became smaller and smaller. And then it would come back full on as if it had never left.
Maybe that was your curse, your punishment for leaving behind someone you could have spent the rest of your life with. And somehow you knew you would have been happy. Or at least a different kind of happiness.
After spending the weekend holed up inside your apartment, after convincing yourself that you needed to prepare for teaching classes and unpacking the move, she decided that on Tuesday night she would explore the city.
Exploring wasn't the right word. You had discovered that one of your favorite restaurants still existed, it had just changed location. And, despite being on the other side of the city and being completely aware that you would have to pay a fortune for a taxi or risk taking the subway alone almost at closing time, you decided to go anyway.
You needed to feel like one thing hadn't changed, or at least still be recognizable.
You heard your name being called a few minutes after sitting down. You raised your head, recognizing the voice, but couldn't tell who it belonged to. Directly in front of you was a woman, with short hair, in her fifties.
“It’s really you!”
You stood up and a second later you were being hugged. Maybe you had gone there for that reason, knowing that there would be someone there who would recognize you. Or at least you hoped there was. And when you were welcomed with open arms by her owner, Niah, you wanted to cry for the first time in a long time.
“Hi” was all you could offer, your voice weak.
You quickly turned your face away, trying to be discreet as you wiped away your tears. The last thing you wanted was to cry in front of someone else. Tears were reserved for dark moments in the silence of your apartment, they weren't meant to be seen by people you didn't even know in a crowded restaurant.
“Look how beautiful you look. You haven't been around for so long. Seokmin told us that you had gone abroad to study, but I thought you would come back sooner.”
You just managed to smile, even though it was embarrassing. It was strange to hear his name coming out of someone else's mouth so easily. For years, his name was just an echo in your own mind, almost as if it were a fantasy of yours.
There were days when you managed to convince yourself of this, that Seokmin was nothing more than a dream.
“Are you just visiting or are you back to stay?”
“I'm staying” you said after a second, when you managed to find your voice again “I got a job here, I have nowhere to run”
Niah laughed and hugged you once again, tighter this time.
"Great, that makes me happy. We always miss you” Niah smiled and ran her fingers down your cheeks, brushing away some tears that were stubborn to fall “What do you want to eat? Today it's on the house. Consider it a welcome gift.”
You took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in your throat and the remaining tears.
"What do you recommend?"
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The amazing thing about meeting Niah again was that she still acted exactly the same way. She didn't see you as someone who had simply packed a suitcase of clothes and left the country overnight. To Niah you were still that same person from 7 years ago who ate whatever she put in front of. You and Seokmin were always guinea pigs for all the new recipes.
The food was still wonderful, if anything it had just gotten better.
You had a fork halfway to your mouth when you heard the door open, the sound of the bell indicating the entry of a new customer. You almost instinctively turned to look. You choked on your own saliva when your eyes met Seokmin's.
It was as if you were back in the hallway that day. Your heart simply stopped, and the world fell into suspension. For a moment, it was as if you had been transported to the past. You were almost certain that if you looked at the table you would see books open next to the cutlery; you knew that if you looked at Seokmin for another second or two his face would break into the most beautiful smile, he would wave and call your name.
But your illusion shattered into small pieces as his neutral expression contorted into a frown. With the same foot he entered he turned to leave.
“Seokmin!” you called him, getting up from your chair.
Part of you thought he was going to continue out the door, but he stopped. Half of his body was outside the restaurant, the other inside.
“Hurry up and close that door!” Niah said leaving the kitchen “You’re letting out all the heat”
Even with Niah's voice calling him, Seokmin remained standing at the door. You sat back down, but without taking your eyes off him. He didn't know what he expected of him, but he felt an indescribable relief when Niah pulled him by the sleeve of his coat and forced him to sit in front of you.
“The restaurant is packed, so you will have to share a table” she said as she turned her back.
Seokmin shook his head, clearly against sitting there, staying in the restaurant, but he still took off his coat and hung it on the chair before leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.
It was clear he was working out, his shoulders had gotten broader and his arms bigger since you last saw each other. You almost laughed at the pose, remembering all the times you had seen him in a similar situation. But this wasn't the time to laugh when everything else was screaming that he was uncomfortable with the situation, that he didn't want to be there.
It didn't take a genius to know that Seokmin wanted nothing to do with you. His reaction to seeing you in the hallway the week before and the way he was looking at you in that moment were enough answers.
You felt like the walls were closing in around you and there wasn't enough air in the room.
What were you thinking when you called his name? What were you thinking when you silently watched Niah pull him inside? Why were you still sitting there?
A waiter who worked with Niah passed by your table and you called him discreetly, not wanting to attract the attention of the restaurant owner.
“Can you wrap everything to go, please?” you turned to Seokmin “You can have the table. I was already leaving”
It was a lie, but he didn't need to know that.
Seokmin laughed lowly, scornfully, his sideways smile making the hair on your arms stand on end. In general, Seokmin has always been the type of guy who didn’t lose his cool easily, who would always rather let things go than have any kind of confrontation. But when he really got stressed out or nervous, it took a while for him to calm down again.
You had seen that storm in his eyes very few times in the years you spent together. The last one was when he went to the airport to say goodbye to you. That day the storm was just confusion and pain, you knew you had done that to him. But he sat there in the restaurant, in front of you, in silence while the people around him chatted animatedly, completely oblivious to what was happening between the two of you.
"What it was?" you rolled your eyes.
“Ah, nothing” he said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture “It’s just like you to do that”
You narrowed your eyes at the same time you felt your cheeks get hot.
"Do what?"
"Runaway"
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Letter #4
Seokmin, 
It took me almost a year to convince myself that it was okay for me to look at social media. I convinced myself that every woman does this, that every now and then we look at our ex-boyfriend's Instagram, just to find out if his new girlfriend is ugly. I've told you this several times, but every female experience is universal.
I wish you were one of those low profile people, who post a picture every 6 months and it's a cut mango on a pretty plate. I wish you hadn't posted so many pictures. But more than anything, I wish I hadn't spent hours and hours looking at the photos. I wish I hadn't been analyzing every photo of you, I wish I hadn't thought “that's a new mole” and wondered which others had appeared since the last time we saw each other.
I had memorized every mole of yours. On your face, on your arms, on your back. On the worst days, when I missed you in a way that almost made me give up everything and go home, I kept remembering each one of them. I tried to remember the sound of your laugh, your voice, how you stroked my hair until I fell asleep when it wasn't a good day.
I keep wondering if one day this feeling will just go away.
It's been a year since I left. I went out with other guys, and I almost dated one of them, but you're always there in the back of my mind, almost comically because even against my will I can't help but compare them to you. I can't help but think that only you know how I like my coffee, how only you know that if I'm in my worst mood, there's no joke in the world that can make me laugh.
I know it's not fair to them. I gave you the chance to get to know me, I allowed you to get closer. I wanted you to come closer to me. Now I wonder if you're doing this for someone other than me.
I like to imagine that you also compare other women to me, that even now that you're dating I stay there, in the back of your mind, making fun of you.
Unfortunately, she's not ugly, but your smile was brighter when I was next to you.
yn.
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To say that Seokmin had spent the rest of the week in an envious mood was an understatement. He was stressed and everyone around him soon noticed the change. He really tried not to let his personal life get in the way of his work. It was something he never struggled with. Work was work, what happened when the lights went out and he left the radio should never cross paths with each other. That week, however, it was impossible.
Meeting you at the restaurant caught him off guard. That day in the college hallway had been difficult, but he managed to just keep walking as if nothing had happened. He liked to pretend like he hadn't gone out with Chan right after and drank like there was no tomorrow, like he hadn't opened the boxes he had kept for years and cried while looking at the photos of the two of you together.
He had gone to the restaurant that day because he needed some form of comfort and didn't want to call any of his friends because he knew he would end up telling them everything that happened and would receive advice and words he would rather not hear. The restaurant was the best idea he had. Or maybe the worst possible one.
Maybe he had done it consciously, because he wanted to see you one more time, and wanted to make sure he hadn't imagined you. It wouldn't have been the first time.
In the first few months after you left, Seokmin got into the habit of visiting places he went with you, or places you liked to go alone. It was probably a form of torture, but he liked to imagine it was a way to forget and overcome the breakup. On several of those days, he believed he saw you. He realistically knew it wasn't you, he clearly remembered seeing you get on the plane and waited until it took off to leave the airport.
The worst thing that could have happened to him was you calling for him. Seokmin couldn't help but wonder if he had always reacted that way to you, if your presence was always so great that before he even saw you he knew you were nearby. That day, as soon as he opened the door, before he even saw you sitting there with your eyes wide open, he knew. He knew you were there.
The last thing he expected from you was you saying his name, as if asking him to sit with you, that Niah, knowing how the relationship had ended, would have made him sit in front of you.
Seokmin noticed your discomfort, the way your spine had become a little straighter, the way your eyes were hard and cautious at the same time. Your reaction made him angry. What right did you have to behave that way, as if you were hurt when all the decisions regarding a relationship both of you were in had been made by you?
You were the one who signed up for a master's degree abroad. It was you who never told him about your decision. It was you who kept everything secret, making him believe that the two of you were on the same page and that despite your different goals, you would be able to pursue them together.
Turns out he was wrong, those dreams were just his and didn't include him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Chan asked for the thousandth time.
For the first time in a long time, Seokmin was having a hard time hiding how he really felt. That polished, carefully carved mask had fallen. It was a completely atypical day and everyone was able to notice his sudden change in mood. Even Chan, who normally did a great job of ignoring all the problems around him and focusing solely on his work, seemed to be walking on eggshells around him.
“It’s really obvious, isn’t it?” Seokmin asked in a low voice and Chan just nodded "And if I pretend it's because of the new segment, will anyone believe it?"
Again, Chan nodded. Since he had started the program, 3 years before, Seokmin would receive calls and speak directly to listeners. Although there were always interactions, those were always done through live chat and email when he received questions or stories from people who were not listening to the program when it was airing.
Seokmin wasn't nervous about the idea, he was actually excited. Chan knew this and knew that whatever the problem was, it was still the same as the day of the lecture. He didn't want to ask, and he didn't want to seem invasive, but he still wanted to make sure Seokmin was okay — or at least, well enough to do the program.
“I think everyone is already thinking that” was a lie and even Seokmin knew it, but he was grateful.
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“You may already know this, but today we will start a new segment. We'll call it the heart to heart helpline, at least until we find a better name at least” Seokmin's voice and laugh resonated through the taxi “We'll take your calls and some of you will be able to talk to me and ask your questions live, instead of by chat. Each person will have a maximum of 2 minutes and we will answer 6 calls today”
You had left the house completely willing to avoid anything related to Seokmin. Realistically, you knew you couldn't do anything about the billboards and his face at bus stops, but you could very well avoid his radio show. And for a few weeks you had managed to do just that.
That day at the restaurant had almost been a cathartic moment. Somehow, it was as if something had clicked and fallen into place. The Seokmin you left behind no longer existed. It had been a naive thought to think so. You didn't expect that he would still be exactly the same person, of course not. Seven years had passed and Seokmin, like you, was approaching his thirties. Obviously, many things had changed, but you still expected to see traces of that 22-year-old boy you had known and loved.
You didn't spend more than five minutes with him at that table. And it was much more than enough. He had accused you of running away, of continuing to do this for years. Of course, that could be his view on everything, but it was never your intention. The only problem was that you hadn't been able to tell him those things. You had been so lost and so completely helpless in front of him that you had forgotten that you knew how to speak and form sentences.
You had spent years of your life writing letters to him, letters that he would never read, but that was beside the point. You wrote letters as a way to appease the emptiness you felt in your heart. You never, not for a second, thought you were running away. You never wanted to run away, but Seokmin seemed to believe you did.
In a sudden burst of anger, you took your phone out of your bag and dialed the number Seokmin spoke on the radio. You didn't expect your call to go through. In fact, you didn't even know what you expected.
“Please wait a minute, we will connect your call” a non-robotic voice said as you paid for the taxi.
Seokmin was still chatting animatedly with a listener who didn't have a real question, but who “just wanted to say that I really liked your show and that I’m a fan.” It was impossible not to roll your eyes. If she, and everyone else, knew how much of a complete asshole he could be just because he had the opportunity, they would never want to see his face again.
Or maybe they would team up against you in favor of the immaculate Seokmin. God knew how easily a man could turn public opinion in his favor with a beautiful smile. And God was also a witness that Seokmin's smile was simply wonderful, one that took your breath away, one that made you smile along because it was contagious.
“Welcome to the heart to heart helpline” Seokmin’s voice sounded in your ear “What’s your question?”
You didn't really think that your call would get through to Seokmin, you didn't think the signal would be good enough inside the elevator, but none of that seemed to be a problem.
“Hello, can you hear me?” he asked.
You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You knew you were going really crazy, but you decided to throw caution out the window and be the crazy person everyone used to believe you were.
“Yes, I’m here” you could have sworn, that even over the phone, you felt Seokmin tense up “It’s a question about an old relationship, we broke up years ago, if that’s okay”
You struggled with your keys, trying to unlock the door as quickly as possible. You needed to get to your computer or tablet, whichever was closer. It was almost a physical necessity to see Seokmin's reaction to your voice, your question.
You always knew how to tell if he was truly calm or if he was masking what he was feeling. You wanted to know if you still had any other sort of effect on him. Whatever it was, it was better than angry disdain.
“Old relationships should stay in the past, don’t you think?” he finally said.
You nodded as you ran into your room. You knew you would find the tablet under your pillow — you were sure that if your mother saw it she would say that your brain would explode due to the radiation from the device. With a few taps, you opened the stream of Seokmin's program.
“I think so. But the problem is that we keep seeing each other. I don’t think it’s something either of us want, but it seems inevitable.”
You turned the sound off, you just wanted to focus on his reactions. Seokmin swallowed hard, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes fixed on the microphone in front of him. To anyone, it just seemed like he was concentrating on the call, on what the person on the other end of the line had to say, but you knew very well that it was to hide his reactions.
"Your question?"
“Well, he called me selfish and said I ran away when we broke up, but that's not exactly what happened. I wanted to talk to him, but I don’t think he wants to listen to me.”
Seokmin took a deep breath and seemed to think about what to say next, his eyes no longer on the microphone, but on the ceiling.
“And why does he think that about you? You probably gave him reasons, don't you think? I don’t think anyone would think that about someone without anything having happened.”
“I always dreamed of studying abroad, so when the opportunity came, I went. I…"
“Did you tell him you were going?” Seokmin clenched his fists on the desk, his fingers gripped the pen in his hand tightly until his knuckles were white. “Did you give him a chance to say something or did you just walk away?”
You were speechless, eyes focused only on Seokmin. The way his hair perfectly framed his face, his sculpted thin nose. He was still exactly like he was seven years ago, just somehow different. He was the same, but he also wasn't.
You hadn't given him the chance to say anything, you had just walked away, but because you believed it was the best thing to do. You would have stayed if he had asked, I would have aborted all of your plans for him,
“Long distance relationships don’t work” you said finally, your voice lower “especially when there’s an ocean separating people”
“I'm going to guess and say that you were together for a while because I don't think anyone would care that much about a quick relationship” his voice became more sober, completely in control of his emotions, the opposite of what you felt,  like you were enclosed every second that passed “I agree with you, long-distance relationships don’t work. Different cities are already complicated, I can't imagine what it would be like to be with someone who lives in another country. You didn't give many details, but I believe he had reasons to feel that way, just as you had your reasons for leaving without warning. I think the best thing for both of you is to let it fall into oblivion. It makes no sense for either of you to dwell on these feelings. Maybe your desire to talk exists because you think you've left things open with him, but he may think that what's in the past shouldn't be remembered. Maybe you're just a bad relationship he wants to forget.”
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Letter #5
Seokmin
I found out by chance that you now have your own radio show. One day it was an empty slot in the schedule and the next it was your voice. To my joy and delight, it was one of those programs that also had video streaming. I say joy and delight in a very ironic way.
But I'm not lying when I say I'm happy for you. You always said it was your dream and in a way, here we are, achieving our dreams. It would have been better if we could have lived through this together, I think. Maybe if that were the case I wouldn't have this empty feeling inside my chest.
But I discovered a long time ago that I can't keep crying over spilled milk. I left and you moved on with your life. They were conscious choices, I knew what I was doing. I knew that making this choice would have hurt both of us, but I also knew that we could overcome it. It's just taking longer than expected. I honestly thought that by this point, so many years later, we would have been able to live as if the past were just that, the past.
But it's not like that for me or for you.
I may be completely crazy, but your show is about love advice and how to deal with heartbreak. Sometimes, when I hear you talk, I'm sure you've already dealt with all your feelings, after all, you've had other girlfriends. But there are other moments, when you answer a question or when you read one of the pre-written texts when I'm sure that what you said applies directly to what we both had.
I'm going crazy, aren't I?
It's been four years since I left. I already finished my master's degree and started my PhD, exactly as planned. I have a date tonight with a guy who seems genuinely nice, but here I am, writing yet another letter that will never be sent to the guy I was in love with.
What am I still doing?
yn
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Seokmin had always believed that for a relationship to truly end there must be no trace of it anywhere. When he told his listeners that they should get rid of items, it was not a lie. He was just terrible at following his own advice. The old story of do as I say, not as I do.
Finally, he decided it was time to take his own advice. With a little pain and resentment added to the mix, of course. At this point, he wondered if he could already be considered a masochist or if he still had a few boxes to tick to get the title.
Getting your address had been easier than expected. All he had to do was ask Niah, who offered the information without any resistance.
“Being thirty didn't make either of you any smarter,” she said as she leaned across the table and wrote the address on the napkin.
“Almost thirty” he felt the need to correct her, but decided he would ignore the hidden message in her words.
Seokmin never stopped going to Niah's restaurant. It was there that he had cried his sorrows over the cheapest drinks possible, he didn't have the money to pay for the good ones, while Joshua tried to console him. He had never seen Niah so stressed and angry. She hadn't said anything, but you could clearly hear the sound of her cutting the vegetables more aggressively than necessary.
Little by little she became calmer about the situation and started talking about you with the same affection as before. Seokmin always thought she had somehow kept in touch with you, or at least found a way to get your number or a way to contact you. At first, he had been angry, but somehow he believed he didn't have that right. It was only after a year that Seokmin decided to ask and the answer he received was “if I still had contact with her, I would have already screamed at her about disappearing without telling anyone”.
Asking Niah for your address was the only option he had. He refused to go to college, where you worked. He didn't know what would happen, whether you would be friendly with each other or the conversation would end in a shouting match just because. Because after years of no contact and considering the way things ended, it was pretty obvious that resentment could resurface — at least Seokmin had resentment up to his neck and knew that not releasing them all at once required almost inhuman self-control. 
He looked at the building one more time before getting out of the car. It was one of those without a doorman. Seokmin knew that if he rang and asked to be let in, the probability of being sent to hell was very high. So he pulled up his cap down and covered as much of his face as he could while he balanced the boxes on his arms.
He stood there like a madman for almost twenty minutes until someone finally left the building. Seokmin felt like he was committing a crime when he slipped through the door before it closed. Even though the feeling was strange he made himself believe it was the only option he had and he really didn't have any bad intentions. He just wanted to return your things and, hopefully, arrange that if you ever met again, you’d simply pretend you don't know each other, instead of talking nonsense to each other.
Seokmin took a deep breath once before knocking on the door. He heard footsteps and a second later the door opened.
When you imagined what your Wednesday night would be like, the only option that crossed your mind was to order a pizza and watch a movie — the random option of Netflix seemed like your best friend and the only possible option because you weren't even able to choose what to watch by yourself.
Not even in your wildest daydreams could you have imagined that Seokmin would show up at your door with two boxes in his hand.
You were partially tempted to close the door on his face, but you knew that doing so would only make the whole situation worse. If Seokmin, who clearly didn't have any good feelings about you, was standing there at your door it was because he had something to say. Or more precisely to hand it over to you, considering the boxes in his arms.
Silently you stepped aside so he had enough room to enter. You wanted to slap yourself for the complete war zone that your living room was in. You were still unpacking the moving boxes, not that you had taken much with you. It was too expensive to send things from one country to another, especially furniture. You had only focused on your clothes and books and a few things you wanted to keep, and that alone was more than you were willing to spend. In addition to the boxes, you had all the things you still had to buy, but you still didn't have the mind to do it.
You had so much going through your head that cleaning the apartment was just another task you wanted to avoid. But it was one that could be left for later. In the few minutes that Seokmin spent there, you wished you had tidied it up, that he hadn't seen how that room represented your life at that moment: a complete mess.
"What are you doing here?" you finally asked when you managed to get your vocal cords to work properly.
Seokmin didn't seem to care about the mess but paid attention to everything else around him.
He placed the boxes on the counter and took off his cap, pressing the brims with his fingertips looking for what to say next. He had rehearsed an almost poetic speech in the car, something about being adults and how your relationship had ended a long time ago, so neither of you should have any regrets left. But the moment you opened the door and looked at him it was as if all the words had simply evaporated from his mind, as if he had never learned to speak in the first place.
It had always been that way with you. Sometimes when he looked at you, even when you were still together, he got lost. He was like a man adrift who had finally found solid land. It was as if he heard a click and the world started to move once again.
One of his favorite things, when you were dating and living together, was being able to come home after an exhausting day and see you sitting on the sofa in the living room, your computer on your lap, while you studied, occasionally shouting profanities at the computer. On those days, Seokmin would simply push the computer away and lay his head on your lap.
“Just five minutes” he used to say with his eyes closed.
You’d laugh, fingers immediately running through his hair, as if it was the most natural movement in the world.
“Who do you want me to insult today? You know my vocabulary is very colorful.”
How many times had he slept in that position, without meaning to, and you had to drag him to bed because “it's comfortable for you, but my legs are numb and you have to take a shower, you won't sleep dirty next to me, sir”.
It was impossible not to wonder where it all went wrong.
“I came to return your things” he pointed at the boxes.
You suppressed the urge to bend down and rummage through the boxes. You wanted to know what he had kept, what he considered important enough to keep for so many years. You knew he no longer lived in the apartment you shared. When you were looking for apartments you saw that that one was up for rent. It was necessary to restrain yourself from choosing it. It wasn't a good apartment, at least not at the time — the photos on the website said the property had undergone renovations two years earlier and had no tenants since. It wasn't big, it barely fit one person, but it was what your extremely limited budget could afford at the time. Somehow you and Seokmin turned that small space into a home full of life. Of love.
In the places where you lived, you bought all kinds of trinkets to fill the space, furniture you didn't need and never used, hoping to imitate, for even a second, the feeling you had in that little 35 square meter apartment.
You never quite managed to do that.
“Thank you” you said sincerely “I thought all my things had gone in the trash”
You laughed and Seokmin squeezed the back of his head and pointed at the boxes.
“I sold what I could, I didn't want to put it in storage because I really thought we would never see each other again. The money is in an envelope”
“Why did you keep all this?” the words came out of your mouth before you could stop yourself “You should have thrown it away or, since you sold it, you should have spent the money”
Seokmin had asked himself that question several times before, sober or not, and he never had an answer. After a while, he simply stopped questioning and accepted it as something he had to do, to have some kind of sanity. It didn’t. Knowing that those boxes were inside his wardrobe, having to go through them the two times he moved, only brought back memories that he would like to forget.
Ever since you had seen each other again for the first time, memories that Seokmin had struggled to bury came to the surface as if they had just happened. He started to dream about you, dreams that range from memories to things that never actually happened, he started to wonder if it would be okay to talk with someone. His brain always screamed NO, so he was stuck just dreaming.
“I don’t have a good enough reason. It is what it is, I guess,” he said.
The last time Seokmin felt so embarrassed around you was right when you met and even then it only lasted a few minutes. The 18 year old Seokmin was much braver than the 29 year old man in front of him.
That boy, without any guilt or remorse, would have asked every question that could cross his mind. You’d say “your mind is beautiful, it even echoes sometimes”. Seokmin wanted to still have some of that boy's strength. Maybe that was the only way to know what he wanted. He wouldn't ask and he knew you wouldn't offer the information to him without being pressured.
“I think in the end, we both got what we wanted.”
You realized you said the wrong thing when you looked at Seokmin’s hands. A second before he was clutching his cap until his knuckles turned white, the next his long fingers were still. You didn't want to see the expression on his face. You knew what you’d find. You messed up, but couldn’t take back what you said.
“You got what you wanted” Seokmin corrected you, his voice firm, his tone hard.
“You always wanted to have a radio show”
“No, I wanted you. I could adapt to everything else if it meant I would have you.”
You shook your head. You knew it wasn't true. Hell, even Seokmin knew it wasn’t true. The first time you talked, Seokmin mentioned how much he wanted to be a radio host and have his own show, of any kind. I don't have a preference, I know I can give anything my own colors. You felt envious of his certainty, of the way he knew he could do it.
“The show has always been your dream” you tried again, despite knowing it was in vain to argue with him.
“My dream was to have a life by your side. You never, not once, told me that you signed up to study abroad, you never even mentioned it. When it was time to go you just got on a plane and disappeared. You never even gave me the chance to follow you. I could have been a journalist anywhere in the world”
Seokmin hated the direction of that conversation, hated being so exposed in front of you after so many years. In the past, it wasn't a problem. Before he wanted to be exposed in front of you, he wanted to share everything he was, every aspect of himself with you. No more. The problem was that he couldn't just stop. A gate was opened and there was no way to close it.
“So, what? Would we both be living based on our dreams? Because this is a dream, and you know it very well.”
You clung to the top rail of the chair, your head lolling forward in an almost futile attempt to stop him from seeing the tears forming in your eyes. You knew you couldn't hold them.
You weren't the type of person who cried often, you did what you could to avoid it, but when the tears came it was impossible to simply stop them from falling.
“Yeah, maybe I was really dreaming, because I believed that you loved me in the same proportion, but it’s quite obvious that you didn’t”
Seven years of pent-up frustration couldn't just disappear, he should have known. He should have imagined that going there would be a problem, that being in the same space as you without any kind of interference was a mistake. But he was still there and there was no way to escape. It was better to end everything quickly than to keep those feelings for another seven years in the hopes of one day being able to say something.
Seokmin watched as you went to one of the boxes in the corner of the room and opened it forcefully, tearing the cardboard, and causing some of the contents to slide across the floor. He felt his body freeze as a roll of film stopped at his feet.
“So explain to me, why do I buy a roll of film every time I pass by a store?” you put both hands inside the box and took out several rolls of film, of different brands and models. “Explain to me, why have I followed your career all this time and never missed a damn show in the last 3 years? Why would I wake up in the middle of the night to watch the broadcast and then listen to the show again while going to work because I just wanted to hear your voice?”
You walked to another box, but you opened this one a little more carefully as if wanting to protect the contents.
“Why did I spend 7 years writing letters that would never be read to a guy I never loved?”
You threw several envelopes at Seokmin’s chest. Your face and body shook out of anger or another feeling he couldn't quite tell.
Seokmin bent down to pick up one of the envelopes from the floor. His name was written in your careful handwriting. He didn't need to look at all the other ones to know that they were also addressed to him. He didn't know how many letters were scattered on the floor, or if there were any left in the box. The only thing he was sure of was that he had no idea how to proceed.
“If that doesn’t say I loved you, if that doesn’t say I still love you, I don’t know what the fuck does.”
Seokmin saw the first tear run down your face and fell silent. He knew he should turn his back, he knew he should walk away, just like you did seven years before. Instead, he took four steps in your direction, his eyes never left your heaving chest and the tears that ran freely over your cheeks. 
At that moment he knew that he only had two options: he could turn around and leave, he gave you back your things that alone made his plan a success; or he could kiss you like he had been wanting to since the moment he saw you again.
To hell with his plan.
Seokmin held your face in his hands and pulled you to him, crashing his lips on yours. It was an all too new feeling but also familiar, almost like coming to a remodeled home. It was him and it was you, if only it was just that simple. 
You sighed into him, your arms wrapping around his slim waist while your hand balled a fist full of his shirt. There were so many moments where you wished you could be right in that spot, again in his arms. Dreams and daydreams, wishful thinking, whatever you could call it. Thoughts of Seokmin had always been a constant in your mind. It was impossible not to compare other people you went out with to him. 
Your longest relationship had been one of almost a full year. Although the beginning had been good and easy, with you somehow managing to avoid any and all Seokmin related dreams and thoughts, it turned sour the second he crossed your mind.
“Seokmin, I…”
He shook his head and pressed his forehead to yours, eyes so intense that it was difficult to keep looking at him. 
“Let’s not overthink it, okay?” was all he said. 
You held his face for a couple, searching for something in his features, anything at all, that could indicate that the moment wasn’t for that. But all you saw in him was the same emotions you felt, the same need and desire. 
You pulled Seokmin to you again, this time hungrier, your chest pressed to his. Your mind was loud telling you all the reasons why you shouldn’t be doing that, why having him so close to you was truly the most dangerous situation you could possibly put yourself in. But all of those voices, all of those words and thoughts were silenced the moment he kissed you again. 
His lips were hungry, demanding all of you. And it was so easy to just give in to him, to his hands roaming on your body, down your back until he reached your ass. He gave it a light squeeze and ran his hand back up again, this time under your shirt. You moaned softly at the contact of his skin on yours, as he kissed your neck, bitting on the exact same spot he found years before. 
He smiled over your skin. 
“At least this hasn’t changed”
It was all too much but not nearly enough. Just having him that close to you was dizzying enough but him touching you and enjoying the fact that you were just as weak for him at twenty nine made you never want to let go of him again.
“Where’s your room?”
You took Seokmin by the hand, guiding him through the narrow corridor. 
Your room was barely a room to begin with. You had no furniture except for the mattress lying on the floor, your clothes were either on the suitcase or on the chair on the side. 
“This is unlike you” Seokmin said, his chest pressed to your back while he nibbled on the skin of your neck. 
“I… hm… I” you sturred a little when he bit into a particularly sensitive spot, making him chuckle “I’m waiting on delivery”
Seokmin turned you around in his arms while lightly pushing you down on the mattress. His eyes never left yours as he ran his hand under your shirt, moving the fabric up until your chest was exposed. 
It had been so long since you had been with anyone, it was almost like a reflex to want to pull your shirt back down. Since him, it had been hard to just let yourself be exposed to someone like that. You had become awfully aware of your body and things you never cared for or paid attention to before suddenly became worries. You didn't like that insecure version of yourself but when Seokmin cupped your breast in his hand his touch was almost solemn. 
It was probably the worst timing in the world when you felt tears burn on the back of your eyes. You pulled his face to yours again, trying to hide your tears from him once again. 
Suddenly, his touch was tender when he pushed a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingers careful. 
Seokmin moved down on your body. When you saw his fingers on the waistband of shorts you lifted your hips off of the mattress to help him move the fabric down quicker. 
He kissed your hips and inner thigh. You moaned in anticipation, your hand taking a fist full of his soft hair. When his lips finally found your clit it was like fireworks erupted behind your closed eyelids.
Seokmin was impossibly hard in his pants, embarrassingly so like he was a teenager having his first time. 
He never thought that he would have you in his arms again and yet there you were in front of him, no reservations. Just for him. And for a moment it was like his brain was in short circuit, the small electric waves running all over his body, down to his toes. 
He licked a path from your cunt to your clit. He went down on you almost in desperation, his nose brushing on your clit every now and then. 
"Seokmin..." his name was barely a whisper in your lips, but it was also a chant. 
Your orgasm hits you quickly, leaving you short of air and with shaky legs. You were spiraling in the most enticing way possible. It didn't stop Seokmin though as he kept sucking you frantically. 
You tugged on his hair, pulling him up and to you again. 
I love you,  the words almost fell out of your lips. It would have been so easy to just say them, to be open about your feelings just this once. 
Deep down you knew that that moment would be a one time kind of thing. It was just the kind of moment people sometimes needed to just completely let go of everything. Or in this case, nothing. It was to let go of seven years of complete nothingness and silence.
You opened the button of his jeans and pushed it down, his boxers following along. You wrapped your hand around his cock, pumping him a couple of times. Realization suddenly came over you. You never expected Seokmin to show up to your place, much less that it would lead to that moment, and there wasn't anyone else in your life, so you weren't ready for it. 
"I don't have a condom" you said breathlessly.
Seokmin looked lost for a second, his brain going to his wallet, questioning whether or not he had one in him. 
"I can pull out," he said "if that's okay"
All you did was nod and Seokmin aligned himself with your hole. He pushed in slowly, savoring each moment when your pussy pulled him in until there was no space between the two of you. 
Seokmin kissed you again to give himself time to adjust to you squeezing him. You held his face close to yours, in your eyes a mix of emotions he didn't want to understand. Not in that moment at least.
"I don't want anyone else," you said looking into his eyes, your thumb running over his bottom lip "No one else can make me feel the way you do"
To hell with care and self-preservation. You let go of those the moment you opened the door for him, the moment you let him into your home, the moment you didn't push him away when he kissed you. 
Seokmin fucks you slowly, his pace torturous as you beg and beg for more. He intertwined his fingers with yours and held one of your hands above your head while the other one held your hips in place. 
"Seokmin... harder"
And it's like a switch has gone off inside his brain. His once slow pace becomes shallow. The sound of your breaths and his skin slapping against yours were the only ones heard, echoing through the empty room. 
Your orgasm sneaks up on you, catching you so off guard you scream because it's too much. 
You pushed Seokmin away and watched in ecstasy as he wrapped his hand around his cock, his hand working fast as your name left his lips when his release fell on the sheet by your side. 
Seokmin dropped his body over yours again, his forehead on your shoulder. You closed your eyes and ran your hand over his hair. 
"I love you" you allowed yourself to say, even if it meant nothing to him. 
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Letter #6
Seokmin,
I never thought I'd say this, but I'm coming home. Or the closest thing I still have to a home. Needless to say, my mother is happy with the news. She's been tormenting me for years, asking me to come back, but since I set foot here I decided I wasn't going back.
I wanted to, but I wouldn't go back.
Every time I thought about going back, the first thing that came into my head was the last image I had of you. Your teary eyes wishing me a safe flight, saying I love you and hope you accomplish everything you want. I regretted it the moment I gave my things away and handed my passport into the hand of the airline girl. I should have come back, I should have given up, but I couldn't. That old story of putting myself first and second, you know how it goes. In this case, my entire top 10 was just different versions of me.
I think I actually felt scared because as time went by, little by little without me realizing it right away, you became a very big part of my life. A part that could change everything. I felt like I depended on you too much. It wasn't fair to you or me.
We were only 22, Seokmin. When we were so young, we thought that life was conquered and today I know that is not the case. Far from it. At 22 I had a degree and worked part-time at a cafe to pay the bills, just like you.
You might think I'm selfish, I'm sure you do based on the things you say on your show. I was selfish and on some level, I don't regret it. I did what I always planned to do, what I always wanted to do. And now I'm coming home.
Part of me wants to run and find you, explain why I made the decisions I did, why I never told you. But I know you won't want to listen to me. I wouldn't want to listen to me either. Why would I listen to someone who left just like that? It really wouldn't make sense.
But another part, this one a little more rational, says that I shouldn't throw salt into the wound after so many years have gone by. I have the scar here, hidden enough for no one to see, but prominent enough for me to remember what I did every single day.
I think that's what I'm going to do. I think that's what I have to do. It wouldn't be fair to just show up in front of you and say “hi, I'm back” after seven years.
You have become a big “what if” for me. What if I had stayed? Would we have stayed together or would our relationship have ended years ago? What if I had told you what I was doing while I was doing it? Would you have asked me to stay? What if I had given the possibility of a long-distance relationship? Would we have worked out or would you start to resent me for leaving and end up hurting each other anyway?
The most absurd thing is that I still like you, I'm still in love with you. I've always heard that distance makes love end or something like that. I haven't seen you in seven years, I don't know what's going on in your life — you're really good at hiding everything being a celebrity now — so it doesn't make any sense that my feelings haven't changed even after all this time. This guy I see online might not be the Seokmin I fell in love with, just like I'm not the same person you remember.
Every time I hear your voice I still feel butterflies in my stomach. I sleep and dream about you. When I wake up I think about you and I wonder if you think about me too. It is not normal. It's not healthy. Life went on and I think it is our obligation to move forward together. We are not a museum to only feed on the past.
Let's continue as we are now, what do you think? We will once again be in the same country, in the same city, but I think it's best for both of us to pretend that nothing will change. It's a huge city, what are the chances of us meeting?
yn
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Before you even opened your eyes, you already knew what you would find. Or who you wouldn't find. You knew the space next to you on the mattress would be empty. You had noticed the exact moment Seokmin had gotten up, but you forced yourself to believe that he had just gone to the bathroom. You had kept your eyes closed and had somehow gone back to sleep.
You had been naive to think that the night had changed something, that the way everything seemed like it would be fine was an indication that things had finally gotten back on track. If any, the train simply ended up derailing.
When Seokmin kissed you it was magical, no matter how cliché and teenage it may sound. It was as if the world had fallen into place again, as if you had finally returned home after being away for so long. You couldn't help but wonder if that was why you'd taken the job, in the foolish, unconscious hope that there might be a chance, however slight, of being with him again.
You forced yourself to sit up and pulled the sheet up to cover your naked body. The shirt and shorts you wore the night before were next to you on the floor, but you refused to wear those clothes, opting to rummage through the boxes in the corner of the room looking for clean ones.
You didn't want to go to the living room, didn't want to be mocked by the two boxes that Seokmin had left on the counter, but you couldn't help it. It was as if your feet had a life of their own. When you realized it, you were already sitting on the living room floor with the two boxes in front of you.
You momentarily decided to ignore the smaller black box and pulled the large one closer. The first thing you saw was the envelope Seokmin mentioned the night before. Money, especially the one in the envelope, wasn't something you were going to worry about. You didn't care about it, you didn't lie when you told him that he should have spent it. That money would remain untouched.
There were also a few books you read and made annotations on, two stuffed animals, and all the picture frames you had left behind.
One of the things you regretted the most was not taking with you when you left were photos of you and Seokmin. You had only taken one, which was folded inside your wallet. It was already so old and worn out that it had almost turned to dust, but you would never get it out. It was you and Seokmin at Niah's old restaurant, he was smiling at the camera while you looked at him. It was your favorite picture.
At the bottom of the box was the camera you had given Seokmin as a birthday present a few months before you left. You had saved whatever money you could for months to buy him the camera he wanted, one that he always talked about and whenever you passed by a store you stood outside looking at it, almost as if it would magically appear in his hands.
You understood his reasons for leaving the camera there — or, at least, the reasons you could imagine—but you wished he had kept using it. Not because it was a gift from you, but because it was something he wanted. His smile was so big when you gave it to him, the tip of his nose slightly pointed down because of it.
Carefully you put everything back inside and put it aside.
The smaller box, for some reason, was scary. It was light and black, and you could hear its contents moving as you held it in your hands. You took one last deep breath and removed the lid.
Inside were photos you had never seen before. Photos of you alone, Seokmin wasn't in any of them. In none of them were you posing or smiling directly at the camera.
Most of them had been taken from a distance, without you noticing. In some you were inside the cafe where you worked, smiling at customers and serving tables, in others you were simply walking down the street, looking through window shops and pointing at something. Seokmin had taken countless photos of you without you even realizing it.
It was strange to see yourself through his eyes, even if it was a version of you that no longer existed. A much younger and more optimistic version. Did I smile that much? you couldn't help but ask. You never saw yourself as particularly optimistic or constantly smiling. You were happy, that's undeniable, but you didn't know that's how people saw you.
There were so many photos, from completely different moments, both from the beginning of your relationship with Seokmin, and from all the phases you went through together.
Behind the pictures were the post-its that you left around the apartment, reminding Seokmin of somewhere you had together or simply saying that you loved him. So many had a simple “I love you” written on them, others said “have a good day today!”.
You had no idea he had kept them. You always thought that once read, they were discarded, but there they were, intact as if you had just written them.
The very first one you had ever written, when you had just started dating, was also there. At the time, unlike Seokmin who never had a hard time expressing how he felt, it was almost impossible for you to be openly honest. So you wrote it on a post-it and stuck it inside one of his notebooks. He had shown up at the dorm a few hours after you left the library.
“Say it again, but this time looking at me”
You frowned, pretending you didn't understand.
“Your nose is beautiful”
You laughed when Seokmin wrapped his arms around you, squeezing a little, trapping your arms close to your body. His face was very close to yours.
“What you wrote in the note” he said softly, his cheek pressed against yours “Say it again, please”
The truth was that you had loved Seokmin, in a way you didn't believe was possible and maybe that was why you spent the last seven years writing letters to him.
Seokmin never left your mind, not truly. There was always a desire, even if veiled, to return home, to find out how he was, to just say “I know I messed up, I’m sorry”.
It was that desire that made your entire body go cold as you took one last item out of the box. A smaller box that fit in the palm of your hand. You knew what it was before you even opened it and opening it was the worst choice at that moment. Your heart, which was already broken, somehow managed to break even more, into a billion, shiny, new pieces.
Seokmin would have proposed if you hadn't left.
When the first sob echoed through the living room, you didn't try to hold it back, you just accepted the feeling of being absolutely lost and heartbroken.
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The weather outside the building seemed to mimic the way you had felt in the last few weeks, torrential rain that had no end in sight. You watched the news hoping for an improvement, hoping that the rain would stop for at least a few hours, but it seemed like a distant dream.
All your students were already gone and there was nothing left for you to do. The handed in assignments were graded and the tests were ready to be applied the following week. You had never hated yourself so much for simply doing your job. You wanted to be, at least for that day, like other teachers who left corrections until the last possible second and left students desperate for their grades.
The hallway was in complete silence, a clear sign that everyone had left already. And you had already waited hours for the rain to stop, until the sky was completely dark, and if anything the rain had only gotten worse.
You sighed and picked up your bag from the chair. You wouldn't risk taking any books, papers, or documents home, the possibility of everything getting ruined was too big. Besides, you needed a rest, at that point it was well deserved.
Ever since you had opened the boxes Seokmin left behind, you had immersed yourself in work in every way possible. You had accepted all of the dean's requests and even offered to teach extra classes whenever there was a missing professor.
And even so, even though you had more work than you wanted, you still found time to look at all of his social media. You still listened to all his programs, even listened to the old ones before going to sleep.
It was almost like a form of elaborate torture done solely and exclusively with you in mind. And worst of all, it was self-inflicted. It was as if your brain liked it, begged for it.
The box with the engagement ring was next to your pseudo bed. It was the last thing you saw before going to sleep and the first thing you saw when you woke up. Instead of spending hours on your phone, you sat there, staring at the small box.
You hadn't dared to open it again. You had never felt so lost as you did that day, looking at that ring.
You wouldn't be a hypocrite to say that you had never imagined your life if you had married Seokmin, but before it was nothing more than a daydream. The ring made that dream an attainable reality. It had been in your hands and you just walked away.
A curse left your lips when you noticed that the umbrella you had used that morning was missing from the umbrella holder next to the door.
“Great, that’s exactly what I needed” you muttered, slamming the door shut behind you.
You were tired, exhausted to tell the truth. All you wanted was to get home, take a shower, and watch some relationship reality show, to escape the tragedy that was your own love life.
You closed your eyes and sighed as you reached the entrance. The next bus stop or subway station was at least a 15 minute walk away. That was a problem that existed when you went to school there, everything was far away. One would think that they would do something to improve that, but one would be wrong.
You thought about taking shelter in the nearest coffee shop, but you knew it was almost closing time. You wouldn't be the person who forces employees to stay late, not when you had worked at that exact coffee shop years ago.
Even with your heavy coat covering most of your body, the rain was cold on your back and it was hard to see anything ahead, even if it was just a few steps away. Even the sound of cars was muffled by the rain.
“yn?” a car was on your left, and it was moving at the same speed as you. The face of whoever was behind the wheel was blurred by the rain, but you would have recognized that voice anywhere in the world.
“Let me give you a ride”
You shook your head. The last thing you should do was get in the car with him. It was too dangerous, you were sure that if you looked at him for more than a second you’d start crying. Just by hearing his voice your eyes were burning and a lump was forming in your throat.
“It’s fine, the bus stop is right there”
“There was an accident back there, the bus won’t be here anytime soon”
You grumbled. Of course, there was an accident, of course, there wouldn't be a bus and with your luck, the subway would probably be closed too.
"If your car went through the accident, a taxi will too”
You quickened your pace, not because of the rain, but because you wanted to get away from him. You needed to get away from him.
“Jesus, yn, just get in the car. You’re going to get sick”
You pretended you didn't hear what he said and kept walking, face down – trying to escape both the rain and him. The first tear fell from your eyes. For the first time in days, you were grateful for the rain, because you could pretend it was just water and not a visual representation of your broken heart on your cheeks.
Seokmin stopped the car right there, in the middle of the street. He didn't care if someone was standing behind him honking like crazy — something that was bound to happen.
When he left your apartment that day he felt like he was 22 again, but this time he was the one leaving.
Hearing that you loved him was everything he had wanted, but the timing was strangely right and wrong, both at the same time.
Both of you screamed, shouted, and said what you wanted to say — or at least part of what you wanted to say. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, at the same time a new one was placed on it.
After you fell asleep in his arms, the only thing Seokmin could think about were the letters scattered across the living room floor. There were so many. He couldn't believe you had spent all those years writing letters to him.
He needed to read them all. He would have done it in the living room, but he didn't know what awaited him, so he collected them all from the floor and a few more that had been left in the box and left.
He read the first one in the car, he couldn't wait until he got home. 
Seokmin cried right there, the same way he cried when you left. Inconsolable. His heart broke and healed in equal measure with every word of yours he read.
Seokmin always believed that you left like that, without a single word, because you didn't like him that much, because you didn’t want to be with him anymore. Not that he thought the entire relationship had been a lie, but he thought that somehow the love had ended. It happened to everyone, the probability of it happening to him was also high.
The truth could not be different. There wasn't a letter in which you didn't say you loved him, not always in those words, but he knew you well enough to know that was what you said.
After reading all the letters, Seokmin called Joshua. He cried on the phone with his friend and then once again when he showed up at his place with bad beer and takeout food. “Since we’re going to talk about our college days, I think we should do the same thing we did back then” was all he said.
Seokmin was on his way to you when he saw you walking without an umbrella. He wanted to talk to you, to know if even after so long you still wanted to try with him one more time. It was better to try than to always wonder what could have been.
“I read your letters!” he shouted louder than the rain.
His words were enough to make you stop walking, but you still didn't turn to face him. It was too hard to breathe. Your chest rose and fell irregularly each time you tried to pull the air in.
You knew Seokmin had taken the letters. Part of you knew he would read them, but the last thing you expected was for him to want to talk about them.
“I know” you said when he approached “I saw they were gone, and you were the only person who came by”
“Do you know why I accepted to host a love advice show? Besides it being something I've always wanted, of course” he didn't give you time to answer “Because a part of me wanted you to listen, to know that I was okay, even if it was a lie. I thought that if I talked about it on a show that had used the nickname you gave me, you’d regret it. I thought that I should make you regret it because it was the only way I could still think about you without looking like a fool after so long. I thought you didn’t care, that you had left because you didn’t like me anymore, so making you regret your decision was the only option I had”
You shook your head. It wasn't true, not by a long shot.
“I'm sorry” you said softly “I should have told you what I was doing, that I had applied for the and got in. I thought it was my only option. It was so stupid. I was so stupid”
Seokmin laughed a little, fingers running under your eyes. A second later he pressed his lips over yours.
“I know, I read your letters”
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Seokmin,
It's been a good few years since I wrote you a letter. After a while, I didn't think I needed it anymore because I started saying everything I wanted, everything I felt, looking at you. Of course, this new arrangement has its demerits, as the paper and pen don't look at me like a lost puppy. But paper and pen don't kiss me either, so it has its bonus.
I thought when I came home four years ago, I would never see you again. I thought you would just be the guy who has a radio show that I would listen to every now and then. I didn't expect to see you my first week back and again and, well,  again.
As you probably know, I've never been a big fan of rainy days. I always preferred sunny days because those were the days I woke up ready to face the world. I felt better overall. But also because they reminded me of you. You know, when the sun appears after gray days? For me, you were always like that. Grand and brilliant.
But after that day, I started to like rainy days too because they started to be full of the two of us. Rain was no longer synonymous of an unproductive day, but rather of the memory of our fresh start.
You know this, we've talked about it a few times, but I spent a few months waiting for it to sink in. Sort of expecting that one day I would wake up and it would all be a dream. It was hard for both of us, I know. It was seven years of hurt and resentment and we had to navigate this uncertain sea without a map. Nobody teaches you how to do this, believe me, I looked. I found countless books on how to start dating, how to save a relationship, and how to get over a relationship. The problem is that none of them teach you how to rekindle a relationship after seven years apart, but during those seven years one of the parties wrote letters and the other had a program just to mourn the sorrows of the relationship.
I've read several, so you can trust what I say on this.
It really wasn't easy, but I think we came out better, stronger, in some way.
I love you and I’ll tell you that every day for the rest of our lives. Our forever begins today, in a little while. So stop crying, put ice on your eyes to help the swelling go down, and go to the aisle because I miss you already.
I love you.
yn
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628 notes · View notes
simphornies · 2 months
Note
Could I have it's fine if not
A vox x reader where shes his secretary?
A/N: Your wish is my command, <3 This was fun to write. I definitely headcanon Vox as someone that would fluster easily because he's just constantly around the Vees so being around somebody else that he isn't trying to hypnotize or boss around is new territory for him. Enjoy a flustered Vox. Definitely let me know if you'd like a part 2. I love subjecting him to this in my stories.
Word count: 2.9k words (2,948)
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Breathtaking [ Vox x Secretary!Reader ]
The moment Vox saw you standing in front of him in his office, he immediately took notice of your curves. The way your uniform hugged every inch of you nicely. He didn't want to admit that you are Velvette's top model. Not that random bitch Valentino tore up in his fit of rage.
Your intelligence. Your charisma. Your hunger for power. He watched you ever since you demanded to work in his company. He took note of every quirk you have, replaying everything you've done throughout the day just in case he missed something.
When he saw that you were getting approached by Valentino, something boiled inside of him. He didn't want him to have your soul and body. Hell. Your body. He wanted you all to himself. No contracts. No deals. But there's one problem. He has no idea how to approach you. Like at all.
"C'mon darling~" Valentino plays with your hair, "I promise I can make you a star. Imagine it, you and Angel Dust. Side by side. You'll make so much money you won't even know what to do with it!" He breathes out his red smoke, surrounding you both. You could only see his eyes glowing behind it. "Don't run away, babe. Make a deal with me." He grins as his voice echoes around you.
You were about to try and fight for your life against an overlord until the smoke clears out with a zap. You feel the electricity crackling in the air. An arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into them. It was Vox.
"Valentino!" He smiles, "I see you've met my new personal assistant." Val scoffs, a little upset that he got first pick. You weren't entirely aware that you got boosted up to being an assistant but hey. You'd rather that than be a pornstar.
"You never told me this little princesa's your assistant. When did that start?" He whined.
"It started now. I told you I've been watching one of our..." He chuckles, trying to find the right words as to not expose him basically watching you, "...newest recruits."
Valentino almost chokes on his smoke, offended at the lie he just spat out. "Well I need that gorgeous body on set." He lifts up your chin with a finger, taunting you.
Vox moves you behind him before putting his arm around Val, his voice distorting a bit, "Val Val Val..." He chuckled, "You can have any other woman we can reach." They start walking a little bit out of ear shot for you. "I want this one. Got it?" He flashed his hyponitizing eye into his unaffected fellow overlord.
Valentino rolled his eyes and raises his hands up in defeat, "Fine. Fine. Take her." He scoffs, "But as soon as she's gone from your hands. She'll be mine." He chuckled.
"Fucking asshole." You hissed under your breath, secretly hoping he didn't hear it because you're kinda scared of him.
"Well, well. Nice to finally meet you." Vox pivots on his heel to face you, "I'm sure you've heard of me, HA! Who hasn't? The name's Vox." He extends his hand out to you, "And you, my dear, are?"
You take his hand to shake it, "I'm Y/N. I've been watching your work ever since I fell into hell and I've been doing my absolute best to finally get a chance to speak with you! I have so much to say and every time I try to get a meeting set up and-" You rambled before getting cut off by Vox pulling you closer to him as he grinned in delight. "My my. You have a lot to say there, doll. Why don't we go into my office so we can have a real meeting."
You get a bit flustered with your blabbering. "Ah. Yes. Apologies. I was just-" You take a deep breath, "Thank you. For saving me back there."
Vox chuckles a bit and teleports the two of you into his office, leaning into his folded hands. You felt the static all over your skin, your hair floating a bit in certain parts. He walks around his desk and plops down on his chair. You fix yourself up and sit across from him.
"So, Y/N, what were you saying earlier?"
"I want to be yours." You blurt out. Vox blinks, his smile faltered a bit.
"Excuse me?"
"I MEAN-" You clear your throat, "I want to be your assistant. I want to work for you. Under you. I am not afraid to get my hands dirty if it means you rise up in strength as the overlord of this city." If there was anything you can do right, it's killing. And blurting out the wrong things.
Vox chuckled in amusement, "Alright dollface, let's see what you can do." He grins, holding his hand out for you to shake. You shake it with eager delight. ------------------ It's been almost a year since you've begun your work as Vox's personal assistant and it's safe to say that his admiration for you grew over time. You were now next to him at all times. Even though you were his assistant, he was at you beck and call. You honestly didn't expect this behavior out of the powerful demon, but you weren't entirely opposed to it.
"Y/N. Pull up the statistics for the lowest earners this month." Vox states, stress oozing out of his words.
"Yes sir." You nod, directly transporting what he had asked for into the screen in front of him.
"I told you to call me Vox." He groans before cracking his neck, flicking through the screen to note down the employees that haven't met anywhere near the required quota. You take note his stiffness, specifically in his left shoulder. 'He must be working overnight again.' You thought to yourself.
You walk up behind him, gently massaging his shoulders. He flinches slightly from the sudden physical contact. "Wh-what are you doing?" He glitched a bit, hoping you didn't catch that.
"You stayed up overnight again, didn't you?" You sigh, "Sir, you need to take better care of yourself. You may be a powerful overlord but your wits will lose its touch if you don't get the proper rest you need." You work your fingers to massage the knot out of his shoulders as he slowly melted into you touch.
He groans a bit in pleasure, "I-" He started to protest but cut him off before deciding not too. "Whatever. Work your magic. You're good at that with me." He leans further back into his seat as he shuts his eyes, giving into your massage, "And call me Vox!"
You smile, looking down at him, "If you insist," You lean down, whispering into the side of his head, presumably where his ears would be, "Vox."
He was lost in your massage before the sound of his name slips out of your lips, causing his eyes to dart open. "You said my na-" He froze as soon as he turned to face you. Your face was so close to his screen. His face lit up as he slowly starting to buffer.
You grinned at his flustered state, "Sorry. Too close?" You pull yourself back and finally got that knot out of his shoulder. "How come you only have that stubborn knot on your left side?" You thought it strange that it was only on the left. You moved your hands off of the frozen overlord in front of you before shifting over to where he was facing, lightly tapping on his screen.
The taps got him out of his buffered state. He was flustered with you catching him so off guard like that. "No." He coughed, "Just caught me off guard is all." He brings back his signature grin as he looked up at you. "Now what was that question again? Something about a side?"
You roll your eyes, "Your shoulder. The knot I got out was only on the left side. What in the seven rings could you be doing with just that side of you? You arm wrestle Velvette or something?" You state, "You know, I did try that once. She beat me with such ease I never dared to try it again. Valentino just kept trying to lick my arm."
You continued to ramble as he sat and realized why. You haven't left his mind, or his screens, for the last couple of months. He couldn't tell you he's been busy jacking it off to the thought of you sharing his bed with him every night. He couldn't tell you that he wished you were there every time he woke up.
"Ahhh. Yeah! Yeah. Such a bitch to beat." He laughs nervously before quickly getting up, "Well enough of that. Thank you, doll, for the massage. Now, it's almost been a year since you've been by my side and I believe I owe you a treat." He smiled brightly, taking your hand in his, "How about we both the rest of the day off? Let me treat you to a nice restaurant as a...thanks. For your hard work."
Your fingers tapped against the back of his hand, "So...like a date?"
And he glitches again, "No! I mean-pff-what. Nahhhh. That's not-" He stutters, "No! No. I would never-"
His instant denial made your head, and heart, drop a bit in disappointment. You've grown to like him, more than just a close friend and ally. It seems that he took notice of your disappointment as he stopped his ranting to lift your chin up with his free hand.
"Look, just. Get ready. Look pretty! Get Velvette to help you with an outfit if need be. Tell her I sent you. And meet me outside in an hour." He reassures you, "I have quite the surprise for you, Y/N. You know I never disappoint."
"Okay, Vox." You manage a smile, holding his hand tighter. "I'll see you in an hour." You walk towards the door and head straight to Velvette.
Vox puts on his best suit and bowtie. Not allowing a single piece of garment out of place. He waited by the entrance of his building a little bit earlier than the discussed time, eagerly waiting your arrival. Before he knew it he was swamped with reporters, bombarding him with questions regarding the change in the extermination date. He easily answers the questions with his idea of "VoxTek Angelic Security" or so he calls it. He totally just pulled that one out of his ass. He hypnotized the crowd to keep them at bay. As soon as he did, you exit the nearest elevator.
He turned at the sound of heels clacking behind him. You wore a beautiful black dress with red accents that wrapped around your body nicely, hugging your every curve. The drop of your dress went a little bit too low for your liking, straight down from your chest to under your bust, but Velvette insisted that the fashion tape she put on it will prevent any accidental spillage. A slit that revealed the red and blue garter you wore on your thigh that resembled cables. Your hair was curled, half up and half down, falling nicely on your shoulders. On your ears were jewelry that matched the antennas on his signature hat.
The sight of you took all the air out of him, you were stunning in his eyes. "My..." He mumbled to himself as he walks towards you. "You look..."
"Silly, right? I told Velvette she didn't have to go all out. That I was just going out for a meeting with you to celebrate our first year working together." You sigh, looking up at him with a worried look, "If you don't like it, I can quickly change."
Vox couldn't help but snake his hand around your waist, "You look stunning." He grinned, "I can't wait to walk into the finest restaurant in Pentagram City with you by my side." He led you out into the limo waiting, "You're going to break necks with how fast they're going to turn at the sight of you, Y/N."
You blush a bit at his flattery, the makeup you wore barely hiding it. He held the door open for you. You thanked him as you sat inside.
The whole ride there was a test of self-control for Vox. He wanted to hold you in his arms. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, so much so that he swears you could hear it at this point.
You peek out the windows next to Vox. You thought the lights were beautiful, nothing like what they have on Earth. You were captivated by the lights and he took quick notice of you shifting. You scoot closer to him, trying to get a closer look out the window on his side. "The lights are wonderful here, Vox." You smile, taking in the sights.
You place a hand on his thigh, causing him to blush intensely, leaning over him. "If I were to ask you of anything, I'd love to have neon lights in my room." You look up at him, "If you permit it."
He gave himself a mental pat on the back with how quickly he composed himself. Vox places a hand around your waist, "I will give you anything in my power at your asking." He hypes himself up to finally ask you out to be more than just his secretary. More than just his friend. "If you permit, will you consider this as my first attempt in courting you, dear?"
Your face quickly turned red at the sudden turn on events. You lean back, taking your hand off of his thigh. You attempted to back up but his firm grip on your waist stops you, if anything, he pulls you close to his chest. You blinked at him in disbelief, "I-Of course. I shall. I'm honored at to have your attention."
"Love, you've caught my attention since you arrived in hell." He confessed. Before he could continue, the ride slows to a stop as you both arrive at your destination. "Now, shall we?"
You step out of the limo, hand in Vox's as he assists you, careful to not allow you to trip. "I've gotten us our own private dining room here. Somewhere we can speak freely without anybody listening in on our conversation." He leads you into the restaurant, his words earlier still replaying in your head. 'Is this really a date? A date with Vox?' You thought to yourself.
He pulls out the chair for you before seating himself. He sits across from you, propping up his head on the table with his hand. He chugs the bottle of rum on your table to ease his nerves. A couple gulps in, he was ready to talk. "May I confess something to you, Y/N?" He smiles.
"Yes. Of course. Anything, Vox."
"You drive me crazy." He starts, "You're double drop dead gorgeous. If anything is an honor, it's to have you here in hell as my date. These last few months have been my equivalent of heaven."
You fluster at his words, turning red at the compliments. "Y/N, if I may be so bold. I have fallen for you. You're in my mind, always. Your gaze recharges me as much as it short circuits my system."
He gets up to move his chair right next to you, "My dear, I know I just said for you to consider this as me courting you." He holds your hand in his, "But if I'm going to be honest, I don't think I'd be able to handle keeping my hands off of you for tonight. You're absolutely breathtaking."
In response, you finish off what was left in the bottle he drank out off to ease your nerves. The alcohol flushed your face more than it already was from his confession. "Vox. May I be so bold as to speak my truth in return?"
He gulps down his nerves, a bit on edge. "Yes. You know you're always allowed to speak your mind around me."
"Pardon me, then."
"Pardon you for wh-"
You throw yourself on him, kissing him with passion. His hands instinctively wrap around your waist, closing the gap in between your bodies. You shift to sit on his lap, lacking the shame a normal person, probably not in hell, would have in a high rated restaurant. You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into him. You feel his tongue enter your mouth, taking control of yours. He relished your taste. What felt like hours in each others' hold, you finally pull away for air. You gasp and pant, looking into his eyes.
"I've worked as hard as I did, climbed the ranks and dirtied my hands to catch your attention the moment I learned of you. I absolutely adore your mind. Working with you solidified that." You smile sweetly at him, enjoying the shock in his eyes. "I'd love for you to keep your hands on me all night." You winked, "Take that how you will."
You hop off of him, returning to your seat. You sigh contently, holding his hand in yours.
"3..." You count down. Sparks fly from the back of his head.
"2..." You turn to him, his screen was flashing all types of errors now.
"And 1."
His excitement, shock and happiness absolutely drained the city of its power. You giggle and rest your head on his shoulder, waiting for him and the city to properly boot back up. If he unfortunately forgets, you'll just repeat it again for him to remember.
684 notes · View notes
famwhy · 9 months
Text
Bereavement (2)
noun
/bɪˈriːv.mənt/ The state one is in when losing someone important to them
Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse
42! Miles X F!Reader, 1610! Miles X F!Reader
Synopsis: Miles is missing, and all you can think about is getting him back. Upon finally finding him, however, you're taken aback by the copy that stands beside him—the same copy that was staring at you with wide, shaking eyes full of... disbelief?
Note: I can't—for the life of me—believe how many notes the first part got after just a few days of being out, you guys are actually insane. Thank you all so much. And thank you too, Kingpin, for giving me the idea in the first place lmao. (Do me a huge solid and lemme know if any of my Spanish needs some work, I studied it for 3 years but it's been over a year since it's been put to practice so I'm a little rusty)
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Miles would never drop you, not in a million years—you knew that.
Something had stopped him, forced him to let go as he froze in time; in an assortment of colours he couldn't control—that was how you found yourself where you were now—free-falling to your death for what was perhaps the second time in your life.
"Y/N!"
It was a lot scarier the first time—you had to admit—when you fell from the glass room right beside the huge collider more than a year ago. At the time, Miles had insisted you stay away from his spider business for your own safety, but you—being you—followed him down anyway.
That was your first mistake.
Your second—however—came in the form of letting Kingpin know you were there after allowing quite the ridiculous sneeze out of your mouth. And once he saw you, it wasn't hard for him to pick you up and throw you through the shattered glass in his rage and dismay of his failed plan.
Miles had his back completely turned to you when it happened, and yet—somehow—he was the first to whip his head around and notice your quickly descending form.
"Y/N!"
You had come so close to the ground—seconds away from touching it—when that familiar warmth wrapped its way around your waist, carrying you through the wind to prop you onto your own little cloud of safety.
Ever since then, Miles refused to leave your side. He took you out on every mission he went to—pretty much every news station had you pinned down as 'Spiderman's girl' and he never bothered to correct them.
So even as Gwen went off to another dimension, Miles grabbed you before following after. Even as he was invited to the headquarters of this 'spider society', he refused to go without them also granting you permission inside too.
When you asked him why he went to such lengths for you, he simply replied, "I almost lost you once while being in the same dimension as you, if you think I'm going to let it even come close to happening again, you've got another thing coming."
So no, you didn't find the second time you were falling to your death all that scary. Not when you knew Miles would save you—
"I've got you, cariño."
—you just didn't exactly know that it would be the other one that did.
His arms were wound tightly around the underside of your knees and upper back—carrying you so intimately, looking at you with so much love in his eyes, you found yourself growing slightly flustered.
...okay, very flustered.
"Oh, Cariño," as he spoke, he didn't lose the breath in his tone—the gentle air of disbelief he took on since your arrival, "you're here. I can't believe it—you're here. Te extrañé mucho." ("I missed you so much.")
You were speechless, gaping up at him like a clueless fish—what else could you do? You were being held in the arms of a copy of your best friend after he basically just confessed to you because the 'you' in this universe was apparently dead.
Though, luckily for you, there was no need to say a word for he continued speaking with those soft, fond eyes, "I missed your smile and your laugh. I missed how you always used to tug me around whenever something caught your eye... and how you would go on and on about whatever show was your new obsession of the month. You were always so... pretty when you spoke passionately.
"Speak for me, cariño," he continued, "let me hear that pretty voice of yours again."
"I—" you were stuttering—why were you stuttering?—"I, uh..."
Pull yourself together, Y/N.
"Miles—"
"Ah, I just realised how much I missed the way you say my name."
"—guh!" How the hell was he spitting such smooth lines? "Miles! Just listen for a minute, okay?!"
"Of course, mamí."
"I— I'm not who you think I am. I mean, I am Y/N but I'm not your Y/N. And you're not my Miles."
As the words came tumbling out your mouth, the boy's—this earth's Miles'—lips tugged down, gaze hardening and grip around you ever-so-slowly growing tighter.
"Don't be silly, mamí, of course I'm your Miles. I always have been and always will be."
Your brows furrowed and your eyes trailed to the view behind him, moving rapidly as you tried to locate your best friend. Though, soon, your view of the sky was cut off by the male with braids once more.
"What are you doing?" A growl. "Stop looking for him, look at me. I'm right here. He dropped you."
"He glitched! This isn't his world so of course he would, it wasn't his fault!"
You were quick to defend him—he was your best friend so of course you were. There was no way you were having anyone accuse him of anything negative, even himself.
"Cariño, you almost died. Again. He can't take care of you." Miles narrowed his eyes, as if just the thought pissed him off; as if he had the right to be pissed off.
"Oh what?" You scoffed. "And you can? I'm my own person, I don't need to be taken care of."
Stubbornly, you found yourself pulling away from him—or well, attempting to at least, he didn't seem to want to let you though, judging by the way his claws slowly began to dig into you a little.
His eyes were narrowed and his lips were tugged down, gaze seeming to pierce through you—as though he was trying to use you as a vessel to glare at the person he was really mad at.
Though, soon, the expression was gone, replaced by sullen eyes and an almost-far-away look—glossed over in a cloudy haze full of what you could only assume to be the grand despair that was grief; grief over a loss so great, it would pain someone to even admit it ever happened.
"Cariño, please. I don't want to argue with you, I just got you back. Please."
The look on his face, the crack in his voice—it was all too much, you almost couldn't stomach it, and soon, your arms loosened up as you lost the will to pull away.
"Miles," you whispered, "I... I'm really sorry—"
"Don't be, you're here with me now, aren't you? We can make up for all that lost time."
"I can't." Your vision blurred as you shook your head from side-to-side. "I'm sorry, I can't."
For a moment, all was silent. No words were exchanged, leaving only the strong wind to howl in your ears; to warn you of your grave mistake and whisper taunts into your ears. Then—
"It's because of him, isn't it?"
You almost couldn't muster words. "Huh?"
"The other me—it's because of him that you won't stay with me, isn't it?"
The look in his eyes was something of a dark nature, swirling with malice; with hate so inextricibly deep, you almost couldn't believe your own eyes—because... because there was just no way, right? There was no way your Miles (or any other Miles for that matter) could exhibit such a lethal level of loathing towards anyone...
"If I get rid of him, it won't be so much of a problem anymore... sí?"
...or was there?
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berryblosom · 5 months
Text
AFTER A FIGHT ༊*·˚
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Fights with Yuji are rare, almost non existent so it really took a toll on you when this fight came out of no where. You normally don't mind when yuji forgets something in fact you find it cute however his forgetfulness this time almost killed you. You made Yuji promise when you first started dating that he'd call or text if a mission he was on would drag on for a couple more days, you weren't a sorcerer so it wasn't like you could go and find him if something went wrong. Yuji broke his promise which resulted in a fight which then resulted in you sleeping in the guest bedroom.
You've stared at the ceiling for almost an hour now not being able to sleep without your human furnace. "Y/N?" The knock at the door and Yujis voice had you sitting up in the bed immediately.
"Come in." You cringed at how horse your voice sounds after crying for an hour. Yuji comes in hugging one of your many pillows, he makes his way straight to you and kneels on the side of the bed you were sitting on. He takes your hands into his rubbing them into his cheek "I'm sorry I yelled beautiful, I know you're just worried." His big eyes peer up at you and you notice his eyes are red and puffy. He'd been crying and it pained you to see him like this. "I'm sorry I yelled too." You pull him into the bed with you and he instantly wraps his arms around you. This felt right, having Yuji glued to your back and his face buried in the nape of your neck. "I promise to never make you cry again pretty girl, I love you" "i love you too Yuji."
Megumi didn't know what to do, he's been sitting outside the guest room for hours listening to your soft cries. You refuse to let him in and the more he thinks about your fight the more guilt he felt. He didn't mean to call you clingy, he's new to relationships and isn't used to receiving so much affection it overwhelmed him.
Your cries come to a stop and Megumi thought that maybe you'd finally come out. "Y/N can you come out please." He was met with silence. You know he didn't mean to say it but it still hurt because you love him so much. "Please I just wanna see if your okay." You give in and open the door. Megumi falls back landing at your feet, when he sees how red your eyes are he scrambles to get up and pull you into a hug which surprises you as he isn't one for initiating physical contact. "I didn't mean it, you know that right?" You slowly bring your arms up to hug him rubbing his back. "I know, I shouldn't have pushed you." He shakes his head and pulls you away to look at your face. "No it's my own problem I love when you're affectionate and I love you." You smile ruffling his hair as you walk back to your bed room together. "I love you too my grumpy Gumi."
You sigh as you think about the fight with Satoru. Your fights never lasted more than a minute, it was alway little things like him forgetting to put down the toilet seat or you watching a show without him but this time he went too far. You've explained to Satoru that the guy from your class is just a friend but that didn't stop Satoru from beating him up infront of everyone when he saw the guy hug you. "Princess, baby, love of my life please let me in. I miss you.” You wanted so badly to open the door for him and run into his arms but he had to know how bad what he did was. "No you need to learn your lesson." You lean against the door listening to his breathing from the other side. "I've learned my love please I miss your face." You roll you eyes at your overly dramatic boyfriend, it's only been ten minutes since you locked yourself in the guest bedroom. You decide he's been punished enough and open the door, he wastes no time in lifting you into his arms and burying his face into your chest. "Never lock me out again." He looks up at you with his annoyingly blue eyes "Depends on if you can behave." He nods his head frantically while carrying you back to bed "I can...you still love me right?" "Of course I do pretty boy"
Kento had expected to come home to all the light off and an empty bed. You're sleeping figure is what calms him down after a long day at work, just the feeing of your hands in his hair makes all the days worries fade away but after your fight over the phone today he didn't think that would happen. He's been working non stop for weeks and has missed several plans you've made to spend time with him, he realised just how much you've missed him when you called him during his break today crying. He takes of his coat, dropping all his stuff to find you in the guest bedroom.
He climbs into bed with you stirring you from your sleep. "Ken?" You turn to face him rubbing the sleep from your eyes "Im so sorry I made you cry darling." He strokes the side of your face feeling incredibly guilty when he sees your tear stained cheeks. "It's okay, I know how important your job is." Your hands runs through his hair which instantly makes him feel better.
"Nothing is as important to me as you are love." He nuzzles his face into yours and pulls you into a tight hug. "Will you come back to bed with me?" You nod and he picks you up "Let's go back"
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