If The Batkids Had A Podcast

help i really have a problem of naming my stories after songs 😭😭 (pls dont search up the sakus fic, its the cringiest thing youll ever read)

the way this made my heart ache sm😭

I Hate You, Be My Girlfriend: The Finale (Damian Wayne x Reader)

Word Count: Way too long (jk it's about 7267)

Warnings: Minor cussing

Summary: After a fight with Damian, you realize you have to come to terms with the fact that he doesn't love you, until something comes along and makes you realize he might.

France was even more gorgeous than you had expected it to be. Google images regrettably did not do the country justice and neither did your phone, but that didn’t stop you from snapping as many pictures and videos as you could in order to preserve the memory. 

Yet, despite all of the wonderful scenery and the fantastic food and the exceptional people, the best part - hands down - had to be waking up in the arms of Damian fucking Wayne for the past few days. The first night - and subsequently the following morning - you were neatly tucked into his side at an arm’s reach away. It was a warm but hesitant touch, a subtle ask for something more. Days passed and suddenly instead of the tentative touch you woke up to, you found yourself sprawled out on Damian’s bare chest with his arms tightly wrapped around you. 

As if he was as desperately in love with you, the small cavernous side of your mind echoed. The thought was quickly shaken away. Despite Damian becoming more affectionate, his attitude remained like a stubborn piece of gum glued to a shoe. No matter how many times he held the warmth of your hand or gave you a gentle smile, it never seemed anything more than to save face and - at most - simple kindness. That did not ease the drumming ache of your heart, and you could only beg to the most benevolent Gods that he couldn’t hear it while he held you. 

The morning beams leaked out of the windows of the hotel room, spraying you both with warmth. A husked groan escaped Damian’s lips, his head tilting to escape the blinding light. Most of his raven morning hair fell flat without the immense gel he used with some strands sticking up. His glazed-over gaze caught yours, the hazy emerald color melting into your own, making you feel naked in a snowstorm. 

“How do you always end up sprawled out all over me by the morning?” He mumbled, tugging at the silk sheets to cover more of his body. 

“You’re the one cuddling me, Dami.” You quickly pointed out, loving the way he casually rolled his eyes but didn’t let go. 

“How dare you, I refuse to call this cuddling.” 

“Then what would you like to call this?” You pouted. 

Damian began to draw soft circles and other miscellaneous shapes into your skin, his hands slightly calloused for inexplicable reasons. Being this close to him, you could make out the constellations of scars scattered along his body, the feathered birthmark near his collarbone that almost resembled a bird, the slight tint of crimson darkening his cheeks. It was weird being this close to your crush and part of you was close to pinching yourself to wake up from this fantasy. 

“Why does this need a name? I feel like that would ruin the rapport of it, don’t you think?” He questioned gently. His hardened eyes studied you, analyzing your reaction. Damian could probably see the way your eyes widened - could feel the quickening of your heart as it pumps blood to your face as it nodded in agreement. But if he did hear or notice any of those things, he didn’t mention it. He simply stared down at you. 

“I um…” You gulped. “Are you excited for the bachelor party? You’ll get a break from me for once.” You let out a yawn, rolling off Damian’s chest and taking the blankets with you. Despite it being Summer time in France, the early mornings were not kind. 

“Meh, not really.” Damian groaned and got up along with you to presumably get his clothes for the day. “I think I’m beginning to enjoy your company and I really don’t feel like being at a bar for five hours listening to my brothers act like Neanderthals.”

You failed to hold back your laughter listening to Damian continue to complain about his family. Even when it came to minor things like this, Damian always argued with immense zeal. It had to be a double edged sword, both one of his greatest strengths and one of his greatest faults. 

Your heart fluttered at this idea - well, not of the idea itself - but because of the meaning behind it. You were getting closer to Damian, he wanted your company. Compared to a few weeks ago, he would have scoffed at the idea of even being close to your vicinity but now everything has changed. 

But as soon as that glimpse of hope burst in, it popped instantly. This was all just a game to Damian, a façade he has put on to not show any weaknesses to his family. What was going on between you - the cuddling, hand holding, and soft kisses - was not anything special like how you dreamed. It was merely an act, the same one he would use at galas or any other public events. None of this meant anything to him because he didn’t love you. 

The thoughts continued to get worse and worse, the idea of Damian being affectionate because it meant nothing killed your mood. Suddenly, a bachelorette party didn’t seem as fun anymore even if it was in Bordeaux. Looking back at the bed, it seemed way more comfortable than it did prior, but then you remembered the way Damian held you and another rush of regret seeped its way into your pores. 

You scolded yourself for letting this get to you. Afterall, you knew from the very beginning that there was a high probability of you getting hurt. You were so swept up by the projected romance that you forgot that this was real life; Damian wouldn’t fall in love with you and after the wedding is over, he will most likely go back to avidly hating you. 

“Are you okay?” You turned behind you, catching the sight of Damian who had pulled on a tight forest green sweater and dark gray slacks all complimented with a black coat. He had worn these kinds of clothes before, so you wonder why your heart is beating faster than ever. 

You clutched your clothes tighter in your grasp. “I-I’m fine…” 

Damian squinted his eyes. It was obvious he didn’t believe what you told him. “Are you sure? You seem so…finicky this morning.”

You swiftly tried to escape the conversation, trying to hurry your way to the bathroom to change. “I guess I’m just a little nervous for the wedding. There’s going to be a lot of people so…”

Damian’s hand cut you off from entering the bathroom. “Tell me what’s actually going on.”

Fine. If he was being stubborn you may as well be too. “Why do you care all of a sudden? I thought you didn’t like me much.”

You tried to play off the comment as a half joke, thinking that he would laugh along with you. You weren’t expecting the borderline horrified look he gave you instead. His eyebrows knit in confusion and his jaw tightened, giving you enough time to slightly move his hand and enter the bathroom and change. 

“Why do you keep thinking I hate you?” Damian’s voice was outside the doorway. His voice sounded like he accidentally stepped on his dog’s foot or his cat’s tail. Again, you weren’t expecting this reaction. Was he not the one who said he hated you? Did he not relentlessly tease you whenever you talked?

“What, are you saying that you don’t?” 

“Yes. That is exactly what I am saying. Don’t be a fucking idiot.” This time, his voice seemed more agitated as if it was a ridiculous thought to have. A cloud of confusion permeated through your mind, refusing to leave and causing you to go silent. What were you supposed to say to that? Was this not a contradiction to how he acted 98 percent of the time you knew him? 

Damian was standing a few feet away when you walked out. “Of course, you’re just going to act like an immature baby about things.” He stepped closer to you with an all too familiar glare. “What is the problem? We were fine a few minutes ago.”

“I don’t understand you, Damian! One minute you are charming and nice, and then the next you sling insults at me!” You snapped. “And then you act surprised when I assume you hate me?”

The intense glare you received made your skin crawl. His mouth opened once, twice, only to quickly shut. For the first time since you knew him, he was speechless.

 “It’s not like you actually love me.” You continued, voice quieter and abnormally cold. 

You attempted another laugh but it came off sounding like a sad sob. It was a last resort to cover up the pain you felt, a nervous tick, a bad habit. Laughing was easier than admitting how much rejection hurt. It felt like being shoved into an operating chair and having a knife rip you apart until there was nothing left. Not even hope for a miracle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian could not believe his ears; he wasn’t sure if he wanted to break down into tears or scream in a furious rage. The latter seemed more tempting. You looked like a wounded puppy, like he had kicked you and left you out on the street during a cold winter to starve.

“I…what?” He stuttered. 

It’s not like you actually love me…

The words sounded so disdainful…so frigid, the exact opposite of your optimistic personality. It startled him, left him scrambling for a reason - a reason for why it hurt, a reason for why you were hurt, a reason why this was happening in the first place. 

It was ridiculous, really. Damian had fought against hundreds of villains with only his sword and his brain. If it weren’t for his wits and natural skill, he would have been long dead and buried six feet under. So why, why was it that he failed to properly articulate what he wanted to say to you? 

Never in his life did Damian regret his actions more than he did now. The way your eyes sparkled with tears, how your hands crossed your chest and your legs shaked - he wanted nothing more than to be the one who comforted you, to make up for the way he treated you. Alas, he failed to actually say what was on his mind. 

“You don’t actually love me.” You repeated, once again trying to laugh, but he can tell it wasn’t sincere. “That is the whole joke of this situation.”

“Shut up, Y/n. You don’t even know what you are talking about.” He said, although he wasn’t really sure why. For most of the time he knew you, he assuredly did not love you at all. He would swear by it. Other than his love for animals and the cursed blood that pumped through him, you were one of the few constants he had in his life. Every single time he saw you he got lightheaded and felt like he was under some watered down version of Joker’s laughing gas, but now that he was forced to be near you, he had grown to enjoy the feeling you gave him. It became something he would willingly flight for. 

Whilst he wasn’t sure why, Damian wanted you more than anything; more than his father’s cowl, more than a pet turtle named Michelangelo, more than a cookie from Alfred. 

“I mean, it’s true. You would never love someone like me, not in a hundred years.” 

And there it was. The same stomach churning feeling he got whenever he did something overtly terrible to you. It made him want to take a dagger and plunge it into his heart, maybe that would stop the terrible ache it gave. 

“But what if I did?” Damian blurted. “What if I really, truly did and I was just a dumbass and didn’t realize it before. Is it really impossible for you to believe that I might?” 

“Well…” You took a step back, and then another, eyes twitching and breath heavy. “T-that…that wouldn’t…it wouldn’t…”

Damian noticed how you were on the verge of crying, with your lip trembling and fingers fraying the sides of your sweater. It irritated him; all of this was because of his behavior, because he was not enough, because he couldn't unravel the strange feelings that lingered in his gut. 

“Why are you crying?” He immediately bit his lip, realizing how harsh that sounded. What he meant to say was Why aren’t you smiling at me? What can I do to make you smile? 

You grabbed the key card for the shared room off the table, wiping away the few tears that slid across your cheeks. “Doesn’t matter…” You replied. “Let’s just ignore that this conversation happened and get breakfast.”

Despite wanting to say so much more - to argue about how it was unfeasible for him to hate you - all Damian could do was exhale and follow you to the breakfast area.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Breakfast was an absolute disaster. Considering that this was the first argument you and Damian had, it managed to ruin the mood for a majority of the afternoon. The rest of his family could tell that there was some sort of miscommunication between the two of you as well. The frequent jokes and remarks you two made were replaced with depressing silence and forlorn glances. 

Damian still could not grasp the idea of you thinking he hated you. He was determined to make it up to you since he now considered your opinion of him of the utmost importance, but no matter how many times he attempted to apologize you would shoot him down. He couldn’t even tell if you were angry with him since you just stared at him with those sad abused puppy dog eyes that always seemed to be a blink away from shedding tears. 

It boggled him, absolutely infuriated him to the point where he accidentally snapped at his older siblings and Alfred (who he later apologized to). The idea of him loving you raced through his mind numerous times; the proposal of it felt like greeting an old friend. It was surprising how he was not opposed to the idea in the slightest. 

All Damian could think of were the times you were kind to him and saw through him like he was a transparent ghost and how he retaliated with rudeness. He allowed himself to wonder if the whole situation would have been different if he had been kinder to you, only to realize that the likelihood of you being present with him now would be near improbable if he had been. 

He cursed under his breath in his mother’s tongue as he often did when he was this upset. It was one of the only few comforts he had at the moment. There were no animals he could hold and pet, no canvases to illustrate his emotions, no criminals to punch into a reddened smoothie. He only had you but he was not sure how he could approach you again. Preferably it would have been tonight but you were both dragged respectively to a bachelor/bachelorette party.  

The loud music and excited chatter of his family at the circus themed bar only proved to worsen Damian’s mood. The beating lights that bounced to the music and the steady flow of acrobatic men and women who somersaulted sent Damian’s mind into a dizzying blur. The whoops and cheers next to him did not make his situation any better. He couldn't care less. As important as this night was for Dick, he would have preferred to not be there at all.

“What’s got you scowling like that, lil D?” Dick yelled across the huge bar table, his face flushed and eyes dilated to the point where the ocean in them expanded into a black sea. 

“He’s having girl issues, Dick!” Tim remarked. “He probably said something really shitty to Y/n and has no idea how to say sorry.”

“Hey, I-” 

“No fighting at my bachelor party!” Dick slurred. He turned back to him. “What happened, buckaroo?”

Damian cringed at the pet name. It seemed like alcohol reverted Dick back into the ancient youth he was while being Robin. “Don’t you dare call me that again, Grayson.” 

“Come on, lil D! Let us help you, I am amazing with women!” 

“That’s probably not the best thing to say, Dick.” Jason rolled his eyes. “Regardless, I do think the embarrassed look on Damian is amusing, so please continue.”

Everyone looked to Damian expectantly, all of them raising the iconic eyebrow learned from Alfred. It was a similar stare to the one you gave him, and the sudden thought of you sent another wave of goosebumps along his body, making him feel possessed. 

Damian chose his words carefully. He could not just blatantly confess to forcing you into a fake relationship, nor could he ask for help when he didn’t know what to ask help with. 

“I don’t think that I am showing enough…affection to Y/n and I…I think she is really hurt about it.” He managed to mumble. “I don’t know how to appease her.” 

The stupefied look on his brothers face made his cheeks burn, his eyes furrowing in further annoyance. “Have you tried to flirt with her? Like, walking up to her and giving her a wink. Maybe saying a good pick up line or two with a devilishly sexy smirk?” 

“I-” before Damian could argue, he realized that this was Dick he was talking to, and if anyone knew what they were talking about, it would be him. “Out of pure curiosity, what lines do you suggest? Flirting wise.”

The table groaned in unison. “God no, I’m not drunk enough for this.” Jason rolled his eyes. He gestured to one of the laced up women for another drink.

“Well, when Babs and I were still young I used a multitude of different ones.” Dick hiccupped, leaning against the wooden table with a wide grin. “Once I told her that I loved the new adjustments she made on the batgirl costume, but I said that it would look better on my floor. Oh! And there was this other time that I said she was so hot that my zipper was falling for her.” 

Dick paused, looking up fondly to the tented color ceiling as if it were replaying those memories like a TV show rerun. It was at this time that Damian realized he should probably be taking notes; although he was confident in his memory, when it came to you, you always found a way to snatch away his words. 

“The dirtier the pick up lines, the better!” Dick finished after snapping back into reality. “Oh, and you have to deliver it confidently. Confidence is super sexy! Eventually she’ll see how much you love her and want her if you do it enough.”

He hummed in affirmation, taking a few notes on his phone. Damian realized that the few pick up lines Dick used were so…dirty. Of course, Damian was not a prudish snob when it came to being dirty but the thought of being remotely dirty with you sent his mind once again spiraling like a rollercoaster. Imagining you…with your clothes on the floor…all for him…Holding you underneath the bed and finally kissing your honeyed lips…

The sound of Jason’s low, deep chuckle brought him back to focus. “What’s so funny, Todd?” 

“Nothing, nothing. I just think Dick’s advice is absolutely terrible and he will probably realize that once he’s sober.” He turned to his younger brother with a look only the Devil could muster. “Plus, you are terrible at disguising your thoughts.”

“I don’t see you coming up with better advice.” He retaliated. 

Jason shrugged and reclined back in his chair as he took another sip of his beer. “I think I’m having more fun laughing at how embarrassed you are. Oh, and don’t take that in a bad way - although I’m sure you will.”

“You are absolutely useless, Todd. I’m sure even Tim could offer better advice than that.”

The said brother tilted his head back with a tired indifference. “I’m lucky that Conner even loves me so I’m not sure I should be one to help. Have you tried to, I don’t know, show your appreciation by paying attention to every single detail of her life and memorizing it so that when asked, you know everything about her?” 

There was a deathly pause, everyone at the table looking toward Tim. “That sounds utterly ridiculous…” Still, Damian hastily wrote it down in his notes anyway, just in case it proved to be useful. He doubted it though, since he knew almost everything about you like the back of his hand.

“It worked for me.” Tim said with yet another shrug. “Just make sure she doesn’t notice you doing it or else she will get really really weirded out.”

Damian wrote Watch her every move in his notes the same time a dark shadow stalked towards him. Looking up, Damian saw the tired yet content face of his father next to him, glancing at his phone. 

“Sorry I’m late. I had to deal with another Killer Croc rampage.” His father’s voice was coarse and gruff with age, his chin clear of any stubble and his eyes an icy blue. 

Dick stood up, his feet wobbly, to embrace Bruce. Although this was not a common occurrence, the two men embraced each other similar to how one would grasp a lifesaver. “I almost thought you wouldn’t come. I’m so glad you could make it, Dad.” 

The two broke away almost as soon as it happened. “Good timing too. We’re all trying to help Damian with the girl he’s with.”

Damian’s face burned a bright crimson, matching the colors of the circus uniforms as they swayed by, giving him the appearance of drunkenness. He forced his cheeks to remain neutral despite the need to break out into a goofy smile at the mere mention of your existence. 

Sitting down next to him, his father gave a thoughtful hum. “I’m not the best with women but-“

“Father, you have nothing to add to this conversation.” Bruce almost looked offended, frowning as he closed his mouth. 

“That’s…fair.” He said eventually. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was really late at night when all the girls returned to Des Quinconces after the bachelorette party. Busy chatter filled the empty air with melodic excitement as the party filed into Barbara’s room. Everyone had decided to have a huge sleep over the night before the wedding, spurred on by Stephanie and a few of the newer arrivals. It was a sigh of relief to you, since you weren’t sure you could handle a meeting with Damian at the moment. 

You were still visibly upset with the argument you had with Damian, and since you had spent this whole trip with him exclusively (and with very few meetings with his family since he was still paranoid they will catch on to the act), it was even worse being without him for this long. You already began to miss his witty comments and the friendly debates, but most of all, you missed the brief smile he gave you. Witnessing it was like finding a double rainbow after heavy rain or pinpointing a shooting star in the night sky. Without him, there were no double rainbows or shooting stars - just a gloomy night sky saturated in monochrome. 

As the cluster of girls made their way up the stairs, you dragged behind like a fish poop, wondering how to salvage things with Damian before the trip was over. When expressing the problem to the rest of the group (albeit carefully so it doesn’t seem suspicious) they suggested a plethora of things ranging from making him jealous, giving him the silent treatment, and or seducing him. Despite being told by one of the girls, Kor’i, that she could probably find another guy for the scheme, it felt impossible to make Damian jealous when there was a multitude of prettier girls at the wedding.

Now that you’re thinking about it, it would be the perfect escape for him. If the two of you broke up during the trip he wouldn’t be questioned about you afterward. You were just a ragdoll after all, a puppet he could use for the sake of not being embarrassed by his family. 

The image of Damian’s disappointed and heart-broken face reappeared in your mind. He looked so upset that you assumed he hated you, as if this whole trip was not a huge, perfectly photo-shopped picture. Was it because you were assuming the absolute worst of him? 

Another idea crossed your mind: What if he loved you? What if you magically made him succumb to the same feelings he gave you? 

Perhaps the reason why he was so hurt was because the tenderness he showed you was out of something close to love and your rejection of it angered him. Or perhaps this was you once again wishing for a miracle, hoping for something that would prevent you from the massive heartbreak you would undoubtedly endure. 

Despite the earlier conversation pointing to the former, you just could not push aside the year or so of bickering that led to this moment. As you laid your head down for the night, you concluded that the best course of action was to stick with the original plan: Pretend to be Damian’s girlfriend until the trip is over. Once it is over, you may as well get over him as well. There was no use wishing for a miracle. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day of the wedding arrived with the breaking of an egg yolk, the sun peering over the horizon as if it too was not ready. Gathering whatever was left of your excited energy, you did your best to help Barbara and everyone else get ready. The whole room was a technicolor war zone with different colored dresses and materials scattered carelessly. 

Stephanie and Cassandra took care of Barbara for the most part, assuring her that Dick wouldn’t walk out, giving you time to look for the dress you stored away for the event. Originally, Damian wanted to be there with you to pick out the dress so that it matched his, but you thankfully were able to keep it a surprise until now. Looking at it, a wave of bittersweetness washed over you, like the taste of dark chocolate melting on your tongue. You wondered if the dress was too bold, or if it would even fit you correctly without it making you look like an unfinished sketch.

Whatever it did, it was too late to turn back now. 

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror, trying to picture how Damian would react. You wanted a reason to look pretty, to try and attract and beguile him. Now it seemed like any other piece of clothing you owned, just with a bit more frills and lace. The magic was gone. 

“Wow, you look beautiful!” Stephanie walked in with a grin, her perfect blonde hair curling like a lion’s mane. “I told Damian to wait for you downstairs, he looks pretty decent. We’ll meet you there.” 

She winked, dragging you out of the bathroom and pulling you out of the door. “Stepha-” 

Your fate was already sealed when the door slammed closed. You sighed, turning back around. Worry and hesitance consumed your body, eating away like moths to old fabric. Alfred was at the bottom of the stairs, seemingly talking to the youngest Wayne. At least he hadn’t noticed you yet; it made the 1,000 mile journey down more doable. 

Taking one last gasp of air, you painted a happy expression on your countenance and trudged onward. It didn’t take long for Damian to notice you, he always did, the glimmer in his eyes drawing you in further. 

He was smiling 

No, wait…He was smirking at you.

“Ah, it is good to see you Miss L/n, right on time.” Alfred nodded at you then turned to Damian once more. “I trust you will keep our conversation in mind?”

“Of course.” When you were within reach, he extended his hand and palmed yours. Warmth flooded your senses. It only worsened when he brought your hand to his lips and planted a kiss that was as gentle as a bird’s wings. 

His forest eyes connected with yours, and it was then that you noticed how amazing he was dressed. It was a normal black suit with a dark green undershirt, the cuffs of the suit embellished with a golden W. His hair was slicked back as usual, no bedhead in sight. There was no trace of sadness or anger in his face from the argument yesterday. 

“Beloved, you look…absolutely stunning, ravishing even.” 

“I-I…” You stuttered. “Thank you, Dami.”

You walked to the sleek black rental car, his hand in yours the whole way through. The noisy, busy street dissipated as you were enveloped in the quietness of the vehicle. 

Damian shifted in his seat, buckling in and smiling back at you. “Are you ready to go, my love?” 

Not trusting your ability to speak, you simply nodded. The already tight dress now seemed constricting. Silence filled the car with only the grinding of tires against the ground serving as music. You squirmed around, doing your best to make yourself comfortable. 

Damian cleared his throat. “Beloved…I…I wanted to apologize for how I have treated you, not just for yesterday, but for every other time too.”

“Oh, I…” Your mind grasps for a response. “Don’t um, don’t worry about it.”

His mouth twists in a thin line, pushing on the break at the red light. He reaches for your hands again, eyes heavy with an unfamiliar emotion. “I mean it, Y/n…I should have been kinder to you.”

When he was not met with an answer, he continued hastily. “I noticed yesterday that your eyes did not have the same fiery glint in them as they usually did when we were together. You also only smiled twice that day compared to the minimum of 32 every other day. I-It made me realize how much your happiness means to me.” 

The kaleidoscope of butterflies returned with gusto, a genuine smile fighting its way on your face.  “That’s...oddly specific.”

Nevertheless, you couldn’t help but giggle; whether the numbers he used were accurate or not, it showed how he actually cared. This reaction seemed to vex Damian. 

“If you aren’t going to take me seriously, I’ll have to pin you against a wall until you start to listen.” He grumbled. 

“Wh-what?!” 

His smirk reappeared, this time evidently victorious as if he took a gamble and won. “You heard me.”

"I'm not sure if I did...the Damian I know wouldn't blatantly flirt with me like that." "But how could I not flirt with you when you look so pretty all flustered for me?" He teased.

The wedding venue broadened along the horizon, revealing a gorgeous sectioned off garden or…was it a park? You weren’t able to tell. Cars were parked all along the perimeter, an ocean of people filling into the area. 

“That’s a lot of people…” You exclaimed. “I thought you said this was going to be a small event?”

“Trust me, my family knows way more people than those who are at the wedding.” Damian pulled into the allotted parking area, flashing his ID to one of the valet members. 

“`That doesn’t really help, Dami.” You looked into the mirror and played with your appearance. “I’m not sure how well my acting will be around so many people.”

He turned off the engine of the car, clicking his seatbelt and grabbing the keys. “The solution is simple then. Just don’t pretend anymore.”

It was almost as if Cupid himself pierced your heart with one of his infamous arrows, making you fall deeper into the pit you created for yourself.  You were 100 percent certain that Damian knew the effect he had on you if his smug grin were anything to go by, serving to only worsen your sheepishness. He was flirting with you as if it were second nature, as if he wanted to draw out this side of you. 

All worries of him loving you or not vanished as smooth as a sunset. When he opened the door for you, there was no hesitance; you swiftly took your place beside him. Two perfect puzzles placed next to each other, both their own picture but when put together, make an even more beautiful picture. Damian threw the keys to the valet attendant. 

The summer sun felt delicious on your exposed skin. Living in Gotham, days like these were as rare as gold and twice as valuable. Fresh grass and the exuberant amount of irises and lilacs intoxicated your senses. Most of the people seemed to be seated in the white pews. 

“May I ask why you are acting all flirty and endearing all of a sudden? Not that I’m complaining or anything, I just want to know what kind of trouble you are planning on getting me into.” Damian’s grip tightened. 

“Who’s to say I want to get you in trouble? What if I was just being honest with you for once?” He questioned. 

He leaned in closer, breath fanning against your ear, his hair tickling your skin. “Maybe after tonight I want to call you mine.”

You blinked. “Uh…”

“Is…did that not work?” Damian glanced at his phone then back at you, tilting his head and squinting. “Dick told me that would work. Why is- Are you not falling madly in love with me right now?”

“Damian, what are you talking about?” You said, just as bewildered as him. 

Damian’s face contorted, green eyes tearing away from yours. “I wanted to make up for hurting you all those times. I thought that if I did that then…”

A pale visage, eyes darting everywhere but to yours - his facade was breaking right in front of you. A sigh emanated from his lips, broken and cracked. “My family…they made me realize-”

“Damian?!” A booming voice followed with a sudden gust of wind cut him off. “I haven’t seen you in so long!”

A similarly aged boy rushed in to give the Wayne a tight hug; he had swirly black hair and pale skin, his eyes a baby blue. He was a few inches taller than Damian as well.

“You have terrible timing, Jon.” Damian complained. 

The man, Jon, pulled away from him but kept his arm slung around his shoulders. 

“Ah, sorry. Sometimes I get carried away.” He beamed. “My name’s Jon! And you are?”

You attempted to speak but Damian cut you off before you could. “She’s my girlfriend, Y/n.”

Jon’s eyes widened, turning to the other with a gasp. “You got a girlfriend and didn’t tell me?!”

“We’re pretty new, Jon. I didn’t want to make her feel overwhelmed.”

You raised an eyebrow to Damian, who did not seem to have a problem changing the agreed upon story. 

“I-I..er…it’s nice to meet you, Jon!” You finally said. The smile you gave felt like a cheap knock-off in the presence of Jon, who resembled more of a golden retriever. 

“We should go, beloved. I’m afraid my brothers are probably waiting for us.” Damian tried to tug on the sleeve of your dress while you were in mid conversation with Jon. He gave you a needy whine. 

“Oh, alright then.” Jon said. “See you later?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Damian replied, hand now in yours. 

The two of you weaved your way towards the saved seats near the front of a flower woven arch. Familiar people greeted you and Damian, ranging from Rachel and Kara (who you met yesterday) to newer people named Conner and Wally. They all seemed nice enough, but your mind couldn’t maintain the same level of focus it usually did. How could it be when Damian was acting like a clingy, jealous boyfriend? 

Not only that, but the conversation beforehand seemed to be leading to a teary eyed confession. Whether it be a confession of love or of just remorse, you weren’t sure. You desperately wanted to believe that it was the former of course. It felt natural being beside him. Acting as a couple didn’t feel as fake as it did prior, causing a flurry of bubbling adulation. 

You imagined taking your place in the pews during the wedding for weeks now, imagined what it would be like to watch two people vow their love for eternity and beyond. Music began and the remaining people who were ambling about quickly found their seats. 

Dick was in the front with a charming navy suit, his face twisted in a nervous smile. The pastor was a woman with flowing black hair that towered over the bridegroom. 

The traditional marriage song began and suddenly Cassandra emerged, twirling and leaping with a basket of purple petals, tossing them in the air like glitter. Her dress was a little longer than a ballerina’s and her hair was accented with white flowers. The laws of physics seemed defied as Cass made her way across the aisle as if wings sprouted from her back. 

Barbara made her way across the aisle with her father, her mermaid dress trailing behind her. She was absolutely stunning and she knew it. Dick’s face broke out into a goofy smile, fidgeting with the collar of his suit. Babs took her place next to Dick and the ceremony began. 

You couldn’t help imagining yourself in Bab’s place, exchanging words of affection with the love of your life. Your eyes dragged to the person next to you. You were met with his eyes staring into yours, a blush dusting his face as if he could read your mind. 

“Richard Grayson, do you take Barbara Gordon  to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage?  Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Dick said, his voice straining. 

“Barbara Gordon, do you take Richard Grayson to be your wedded husband to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?” The woman asked. 

“I do.” She answered quickly. 

“Well then, I happily pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss the bride!” Applause erupted from the crowd as Dick pulled Barbara into his arms for a sentimental kiss. 

Your applause was cut short by Damian, who attempted to drag you to the far side of the venue. You laughed as you tried to run in the heels you wore. 

“Damian, I swear you are trying to kill me. What was that for?” You asked out of breath, fighting a giggle fit. 

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for the past hour and a half and I am not in the mood for anyone else to interrupt it.” He softly grabbed your wrist, creating a mere few inches of distance. 

“My family made me realize that I…” He took a deep breath. “They made me realize how much I care for you. The time we have spent together it’s been…it’s been one of the most enjoyable weeks of my life.”

“That’s really sweet, Damian. I’m glad we have grown to be friends.” You nuzzled into his chest. 

“I, no. That’s not…” Damian huffed out of exasperation. “I don’t want to just be friends with you, Y/n. I want to be more than that. I want what we have in the late nights and early mornings when it’s just us. Not because I am afraid of what my family will say, but because you make me a better person and I long to be the one who makes you smile.”

The bomb that had been slowly ticking down to its demise finally went off, a glorious bombardment of color and sparks that hazed your mind like a Fourth of July Night. 

“You…want me?”

“More than anything, Y/n. That’s why I got so upset yesterday…I was upset at myself for making you think I hated you when I didn’t.” The confession felt as soft as an everlasting Spring breeze, a promise to love during the blazing heat and decaying cold. His finger tilted your head up so you could look up at him.  There was no mask hiding away his feelings, it was plain to see that he meant every word. 

“I’ve had a crush on you for a long while, Dami. I- God, I’ve fantasized about you saying that to me for months. I’m sorry for assuming you hated me..it was more of a defense mechanism than anything.”

“Oh really?” He leaned in closer with his iconic smug smile. “What else did you fantasize, beloved?” 

You gulped. “Kissing…maybe?”

You gave him your best version of a puppy eyed stare.

“Do you want me to let you in on a secret, Y/n?” When you nodded, he said “I don’t think I could ever deny you when you look at me like that.”

In a blink of an eye, Damian’s lips pressed to yours and it only took you a moment of processing for you to kiss back. There were no fireworks, sparkles or any other bombardments as usually described in the romance books you read. Just the simple warmth you shared. 

Breaking away, you became aware of where you were and part of you felt bad for missing the immediate celebration. Barbara had her back to an array of women and some men, about to throw her bouquet of lilies. In front of it all was Tim’s boyfriend, Conner, who looked like he would shoot down anyone if he did not get the flowers. As she threw the bouquet, she managed to throw it towards the pews where Jason was sitting idly on his phone, effectively hitting him in the face and landing in his lap. 

Jason stared at his lap for a few seconds, confused. He looked to the crowd and spotted Conner, throwing them in his direction. 

“Mine!” He yelled, catching the bouquet with almost inhumane speed. “Hey, Timmy! Wanna head to Vegas and get married?”

Tim stared at his boyfriend, shaking his head with a flustered smile. 

“I’m sad that we’ll have to leave in a day…It would have been nice to go to Champs Elysée and Place de l’etoile.”

Damian briefly spun you around so you were facing him again. “Who’s to say we can’t do that still?” 

“You’re Dad and Alfred? They said we’d be going back to Gotham the day after the wedding?” 

He hummed. “Too bad I’ll have to tell them we’ll be staying for another week so I can take you everywhere else you want to go to in France.”

“You what?” 

“Is that a yes?” He asked. “I was hoping to take you to Paris for a date.” 

“I- Yes! Of course it’s a yes, Damian!” 

“Oh that’s good, because I already booked everything and I’d hate for it to go to waste.” He smiled at you like a complete dork. 

“Hell yeah! Time for crab stuffed mushrooms and a huge ciambellone!” Dick hollered, Barbara in his arms. 

The huge crowd seemed to be making their way to their cars, petals still drifting in the air.

Your stomach growled.

“I am starving, come on! Let’s go so we don’t have to deal with a ridiculous line for food!” You exclaimed, this time dragging Damian to his car. Your giddy laughter filled the air like a melody. 

Damian couldn’t help but smile broadly. “Alright, beloved."

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD I AM DONE WITH THIS. Don't get me wrong, I had a blast with this series, but I had no idea that this final part would take this long to write. I had thought that I would have enough time to finish it on Wednesday, not realizing I would write another 5k words.

The writing towards the end is probably not as good as the beginning because I had a little bit of a hard time. Still, I hope you guys liked the ending. There was so much more I wanted to add to it too, but my writing juices were thoroughly squeezed and I didn't want to push it back further.

TAGLIST: @greenkiki, @lorosette, @noah-uhhh-what, @vanessa-boo, @herascave, @celestair, @trashmouthsahra, @littlemiss-nightshade and @itzstaticrainbow

006 - get laid

mt list

previous | next

ex!suna rintarō x singer! reader

hello im sorry u haven’t uploaded, i just started senior year and i have to keep my average to be able to achieve a scholarship

i made an edit bc for some reason the first two ss didn’t appear, idk if i didn’t upload them bc i was falling asleep??

suna hasn’t slept with anyone since his last time with y/n which was a year and months ago, but he felt that if he did it he would betray her

he also genuinely cannot bring himself to find any other girl attractive, he hasn’t tried but even if he did, he will fail

i read a fanfic abt tsukishima once where he could only get it up (if ykwim) with the reader, when he tried to sleep w a girl it wouldn’t get up, and i love that idea so it will probably be the same for suna(that fanfic is also the reason why i love exes to lovers)

suna also never tried to get laid bc in his mind hes still y/n’s, and he always had his hopes of getting back tg, he had never thought about the fact that she probably would get over him

thats bc suna knows he will never get over her, so he didn’t think she would

guess who suna wants to get laid by

atsumu and osamu are not being rude, they genuinely think y/n got over suna already (even though thats not the case)

osamu used to really hate the idea of his best friend dating his sister and they both forgetting abt him, but after seeing how in love they were, he became their biggest supporter

the count of days is how many days have passed since their breakup

@lvc-lv @renardiererin @3lectraheart @nyxlai @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @wooasecret @sonicsolos @dazqa @mfcherry @iluvhellokity @eclipticnikki @unhinged-atrocities @platimoonie @sp1ng @just-coreee @piopioo @sellomaybe @grassbutneo @toges-cough-syrup @peteunderoos @mfcherry @jaynawayna

@myromanempiree @jellysupremacy 

On mission

Y/N: *taking out a knife* every room can become a panic room if you give me just a fucking minute...

Roy: I'm scared Jay... Jay?

Jason: I'm horny.

oh shes petty and i dont like her LMAO

birds of a feather : ninth circle of shame

OCTOBER 18, 9:41 PM

location— bokuto’s “housewarming” party

atsumu leads you out of bokuto’s bedroom and down the stairs. once you’re back in the atmosphere of the party, you feel a wave of nausea hit you like a pang when the smell of the sweat of the crowd, the myriad of perfumes, the drinks and the food stuff makes a rather weird combination.

atsumu notices as your face scrunches up in disgust and you reflexively put a hand against your mouth and your nose, gagging.

he surmises, rubbing your back, “this is making you uncomfortable, isn’t it?”

“then let’s get out of here.” he suggests as he begins to lead you to the door, offering, “i’ll drive you to your dorms.”

you want to decline his offer and leave by yourself, but something inside of you holds you back. you aren’t sure why you don’t retort, but a little while longer with atsumu is all you want. since you’ve already indulged him for the night, letting him drive you back doesn’t sound so bad at this point.

you nod, accepting his proposal, “alright, that sounds good.”

“we should also get you something to eat on the way, you must be starving.” he proffers, teasing you as he pats your tummy.

you turn around to glare at him, shoving his hand away. he entertains your temper tantrum for a moment before he smirks, bragging, “though i think i fed you more than enough.”

“that should’ve satisfied your hunger.” atsumu’s hand finds your back once again, and he starts walking towards the door, while you match his steps.

as you’re about to exit the venue, bokuto spots you by the door. he sprints towards the two of you in order to stop you from departing.

he practically shouts in your ears, greeting you enthusiastically, “hey hey hey!”

you wave at him, a small smile lining your lips, “oh, hey bokuto.”

“hey, bokuto san.” atsumu says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. now that he’s been spotted with you, he’ll have to face unnecessary questions from his senior’s end.

bokuto eyes at the pair of you, stitching his brows together and crossing his arms as he analyses the sight in front of him. he doesn’t miss out on your smudged lipstick and your messy hair. if that isn’t apparent enough, your dress looks unruly too since you put it on in a hurry. atsumu’s ruffled hair and the fact he put on his shirt the other way around don’t go amiss either. the two of you haven’t showered either. over all, anyone with a pair of eyes can quite simply figure out you’ve fucked.

he taunts atsumu, hitting his arm playfully, “didn’t you say you were done with her?”

“but she’s in your arms tonight, once again.” he remarks, laughing, rendering atsumu and you in a rather awkward position.

atsumu notices the change in your expression and pulls you closer to himself, whispering to you, “it’s okay, i got this.”

neither of you wishes to explain the circumstances. you’d rather keep the story to yourself. it’s your personal life and no one has to know. not even a close friend. your relationship is complicated to begin with. since there is no concrete label as of now, there needs to be no description either.

you give atsumu a dismissive look, gesturing not to delve into the details. in response, he extends his hand from your the small of your back to squeeze your arm, signaling that he understands what you’re tying to say.

“it’s not what you think.” atsumu begins explaining, “we both just ran into each other.”

you nod, agreeing with whatever he has to say, in an attempt to add to the credibility of his lies, “yea, totally.” the nervousness in your tone is hard to miss.

“we just ran into each other and decided to have a drink together.” you claim, putting on your best smile, but deep down, you’re sure he knows you’re lying through your teeth. with the crack in your voice coupled with the nervousness in your tone, anyone can tell.

bokuto sneers, raising a brow at you, inquisitive, “is that why the two of you were upstairs all this while?”

“the last i checked, the bar is downstairs.” he states, pointing towards the bar in the kitchen.

“upstairs?” you blurt out, surprised that he was aware regarding your whereabouts. now you’re just hoping he doesn’t know you were in his room. if he does, you‘ll pass out of shame.

“i don’t mind that you lovebirds used my room.” he begins. he laughs mockingly as he whispers to the two of you, “i just hope you haven’t made too much mess in my room.”

“if yes, i’ll make you guys clean up until sunrise.” he quips at you and atsumu, ruffling your hair while he pats atsumu’s back.

neither you nor atsumu are sure how to react. you’re just glad that atsumu is right next to you, pacifying you as he squeezes your arm in reassurance. because if you were in this situation by yourself, you would’ve probably disintegrated into the ninth circle of shame.

atsumu covers up, reciprocating bokuto’s energy as he laughs back at the joke, “we were careful not to make a lot of mess.”

“don’t worry, bokuto san, you’ll just need to do a little bit of cleaning around.” he reports. the two of them chuckle in unison.

you aren’t sure what’s so funny about the situation you’re stuck in. if anything, you’re too embarrassed to even look bokuto in the eye. not only did he catch you red handed with miya after the two of you declared that you were done with one another, but also confronted you regarding the inappropriate use of his master bedroom.

you don’t know how atsumu has it in him to pretend he isn’t embarrassed by all of this, but you’re nervously looking to the ground, cheeks flushed red as a result of immense shame.

but that doesn’t hold you back. you’re curious as to how bokuto found out, so you put forth a question, “bokuto san, don’t mind me, but how did you know we were in your room?”

“you should ask tobio.” bokuto advices, informing you, “he practically stormed out of the party.”

he shrugs, saying, “i tried to stop him and ask him why he’s leaving so soon, which is when he told me something he probably shouldn’t have.”

“you’ve really upset him, yn.” bokuto mentions, pursing his lips, shaking his head, expressing disappointment.

you’re at a loss of words when you realise the blunder you’ve committed. you ditched tobio to spend the night with atsumu despite promising him that you wouldn’t. the one thing about tobio and you is that you never break the promises you make to one other, and you just indulged in the one thing that was forbidden in your friendship.

you don’t know what you’re supposed to do next. you find your head in an absolute mess and your heart haunted by guilt that overflows through your veins.

you excuse yourself, running off, “i need to leave.”

“i should follow her.” atsumu decides, leaving bokuto by the door as he opens it to run after you.

it takes him a while to find you and catch up to you in the maze of cars outside bokuto’s house. but he’s easily able to do so, because you find yourself at a dead end with no ride to go over to tobio’s place to clear things out with him.

“hey, calm down, yn.” atsumu approaches you, wrapping his arms around you from the hindside.

he kisses your head, consoling you, “it’s going to be okay, don’t worry.”

you shout at him, unwrapping his arms, annoyed because you know he probably doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation, “you don’t get it.”

“we never break promises.” your voice cracks as tears begin streaming down your face.

you instinctively hug atsumu, looking for comfort in his embrace, asking in desperation, “what do i do?”

at first, atsumu responds with silence, he only hugs you tighter before he pulls out a kerchief from his pocket. he pulls you out from the hug and makes you rest against the bonnet of a random car to wipe the tears off your face. your eyes are already puffy red and cheeks crimson. he hands you the kerchief to help yourself whenever needed, and kisses your forehead and pulls you into a hug once again.

“you should talk it out with him.” he advises, rubbing your back to pacify you, “that’s the only way.”

he reassures you, kissing your head as he coddles you, “since you’re best friends, you’ll probably be fine.”

he gently separates you from himself, taking your hand in order to guide you to his car, “come on, let’s go.”

“we should sit in my car, okay.” he states, trailing to where his car is parked with you under his wing.

he unlocks the car using the remote key, opening the back door for you to hop in. once you’re settled inside, he follows you and takes a seat right beside you, closing the door behind him.

he offers you his bottle of water, picking it up from the cup holder. you take it from him and begin chugging it down, hoping to assuage your anxiety and dissipate your nerves.

“slow down.” he warns you, taking the bottle from your grip.

you point at the bottle, conveying, “i need more.”

“later. you’ve had enough for now.” atsumu declines, throwing the bottle away and it lands in the leg space of the passenger seat, denying you the possibility of retrieving it.

you’re still baffled at yourself. the right term would be to say that you’re disappointed in yourself because you completely forgot about tobio somewhere along the way.

although it wasn’t until atsumu began pleasuring you and your brain became hazy. that’s most likely how you forgot. but that doesn’t make it right. it’s also the fact that you had given a thought to the idea of returning to tobio instead of entertaining atsumu, but you still chose not to.

you feel terrible because you know he would’ve never done this to you. it would’ve been fine if you would’ve informed him. it would’ve still upset him, but you know he would’ve understood. but to ditch him randomly because you were too desperate to entertain your crush’s shenanigans, there should be no forgiveness for you.

you conclude after you think things through for a good while, and gauge your options, “i should text him.”

atsumu encourages your idea, “yea, sounds good.”

you rest your head again his shoulder and he puts his arm around you, holding you close. he kisses your forehead, squeezing your arm in reassurance, “it’s going to be alright, kitten.”

you pull out your cellphone in order to text tobio. atsumu instantly looks away so as to not invade your privacy, but his support for you remains constant as he continues to rub your arm, letting you know that he’s right next to you.

彡 atsumu was planning on dropping yn as soon as they re entered the party, but decided to stick to her because he couldn’t let go.

彡 tobio was never going to confront yn and let it go but he decided to take a stand for himself.

彡 tobio isn’t upset only because yn ditched him. he saw that one coming. he’s majorly upset because of his jealousy.

彡 even while he was upset with her, tobio was worried about yn’s safety and was willing to drive back to the party just to drop her off.

previous : no love, only the lack there of

masterlist | next :

🐰 i have a thing for writing morally black characters or some shit like that.

taglist— @wolffmaiden @viscoolreal @kafkassexchoe @luna-mothii @bomjug @le000xxgrd @dazqa @ineednanami @iluvaquaphor @debussy42 @choizzn @bunninio @empress-pug-pug @karasunoya @sereniteav @yuminako @reooreo @loveelylacey @nbcvs @whosmarjj

i SUCK at writing filler chapters oh but i wanted it to be slow burn didnt i? 🙄😔

i need to suck tsukki’s cock so bad. i know that shit is so beautiful and long and his head gets the prettiest flush and his pre-cum beads at the top and he lets out the most insane groan when you lap it up and —

spencer reid my pookie...they could never make me hate you

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

birds of a feather : ground rules

warning/s : suggestive content and smut, minors DNI

OCTOBER 18, 10:32 PM

location— atsumu miya’s car

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OCTOBER 18, 11:25 PM

location— atsumu’s apartment complex

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

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

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

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

“it’s time to wake up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

you squeal, “ah, shit.”

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

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

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

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

“you should clean up.” he recommends.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he wraps his arms around you again, pulling you in closer. you turn your head to kiss his cheek before going back to your dinner. he interjects your next bite, chowing it down himself, laughing at the offensive look that his action put across your face. you roll your eyes, preparing another bite for him, holding it out for him to take.

“i never said i don’t want you.” he confesses, moving your hair out of his way to nibble at your ear, stating, “i just don’t want a girlfriend right now.”

atsumu instantly drops down on one knee. you pay him no heed, knowing all too well that nothing worthwhile is going you drop out of his mouth over the span of the rest of the night. you continue eating the final remnants from your plate of ramen.

still on his knees, he grabs a bite of noodles from his bowl, holding it out to you, proposing, “miss yn, though i cannot make you my girlfriend right now, would you like to be my girlfriend who’s not my girlfriend?”

you know exactly what it means. it doesn’t take you long to figure out that he just wants to keep you around for the sex until further notice. he may proceed to make you his girlfriend or just use and drop you, whatever the future him decides. you want to deny deny deny, but you recall that you had a conversation regarding this issue with him prior this night and still ended up sleeping with him a while later. you’re definitely not god’s strongest soldier when it comes to this man.

“that makes no sense.” you roll your eyes, flicking his forehead, ordering, “get off the damn floor now.”

“fool.” you chastise him.

he stands up, taking his spot next to you, caging you in his embrace once again, nuzzling against you neck, mumbling in a dejected tone, “i’m sad that you rejected me.”

“you just asked me to be your fuck buddy.” you run your fingers through his hair, commenting, “of course i rejected you.”

he looks up at you, smirking at your face, making a claim based on your past experiences, “you and i both know you’ll be weak for me any time i ask you for it.”

“fair enough.” you accept, making no attempt to hide your lack of rigidity when it comes to man clinging onto you.

you give it a thought. you shouldn’t, but you still do. you look at the situation from all angles and you conclude that the worst that can happen is that you end up falling for a man who possibly won’t reciprocate your sentiments. that will probably equal to a few days of crying and whining to shoyou and yachi. but if the tables turn and you successfully make him fall in love with you, you’ll be a winner. the chances of the latter becoming a reality are rare, but you’re willing to take a chance as long as the probably of it isn’t zero.

it sounds stupid, but you can’t deny that you’ll never be able to decline atsumu’s approaches. if you’re to run into him ten thousand more times along the course of your lifetime, you’ll end up in his arms every single time, allowing him to take advantage of you as he pleases. you’re just that weak for some reason, lacking a spine. hence, you choose to no longer see the harm in accepting his shit proposal.

you welcome his offer, muttering, “whatever, i don’t care if we do this.”

“great.” he rejoices, embracing you tighter, kissing your head vigorously multiple times.

you interject his joy, “but i have a few conditions.”

“nevermind.” you drop the idea of mapping any ground rules regarding your arrangement, not that you had planned any to begin with. you didn’t even know you’d end up in an agreement of such nature with him. you were just about to make up some rules at random.

but you still lay down one single rule, “let’s keep our contact to a minimum.”

“we’ll restrict our contact only to our arrangement.” you make a declaration, holding out your hand to sign a treaty with the opposing party, “agreed?”

“agreed.” atsumu grins at you, shaking your hand, utterly satisfied in himself for bagging a girl so effortlessly.

彡 yn said yes to atsumu because of her big fat crush on him, other than the fact that she can’t say no to him.

彡 yn and atsumu ended up watching her favourite movie (how to train a dragon) before they went to bed.

彡 atsumu ended up asking yn if she’d like to spend the day with him and despite her own rule, she ended up saying yes.

彡 yn’s waffles tasted bland because she forgot to add sugar to the batter. so she had to compensate with syrup.

彡 atsumu posted yn on his official account on purpose. he very much intended to do so.

彡 chiyo is extremely happy about atsumu and yn being a thing because she likes tobio.

彡 atsumu picked out the lego set specifically for yn because she’s an artist and he wanted to give her something she would be interested in.

彡 for a change atsumu and yn didn’t end up sleeping together after their date. he just dropped her off at her dorms.

previous : ninth circle of shame

masterlist | next :

🐰 imma take my leave.

taglist— @wolffmaiden @viscoolreal @kafkassexchoe @luna-mothii @bomjug @le000xxgrd @dazqa @ineednanami @iluvaquaphor @debussy42 @choizzn @bunninio @empress-pug-pug @karasunoya @sereniteav @yuminako @reooreo @loveelylacey @nbcvs @whosmarjj @spicana

Take My Hand | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Part Two to I Stayed There

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

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

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

wc: 10.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer is standing right in front of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's made his decision.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- -

Taglist: @spenciesprincess @reedmurdock