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nereidprinc3ss · 12 days

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do you believe me now? | 3

in which spencer reid spends a rainy day teaching inexperienced fem!reader how to touch him. of course, her efforts don't go unrecognized, much less unrewarded

part one | part two

18+ (smut) warnings: inexperienced reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, oral m receiving, reader swallows lol, a truly sickening amount of praise, like really, you JOKINGLY refer to each other as dirty sluts, r has longish hair, spit mentioned once, thigh riding (moans loudly), its filthy idk what to tell you, i feel like i've crossed the desert on foot i don't even know what else is in here, your honor they're in love, i take you to dinner first, this part is stupidly long a/n: had a fucking field day the three separate times i had to rewrite this el oh el... but think i like how it turned out?! anyway, if u like this PLS lmk bc writing it took a small piece of my soul, and yes there will be a part four!! take care of yourselves!! i love you!!!

You give Spencer half a minute or so before knocking on his door for a second time.

It’s miserable outside, and though the hallway you’re standing in now isn’t terribly cold, you’d much prefer to be in Spencer’s apartment, where it will be the same toasty 68.5 degrees as always. Not that the heating will magically dry you. And not that you’ll be there for long, if the date you’d scheduled last week goes on as planned.

You’re getting worried, about to knock for a third time when the locks finally click and the door opens to reveal a disheveled Spencer Reid—not at all looking ready for a date. You take in his ensemble; blue checked pajama pants, FBI Academy crewneck, the usual questionably paired socks. He’s rubbing his droopy eyes, which slowly widen as he notices your attire.

“Shit, I’m sorry, our date! I mean—you look really nice. I look… like this. Why don’t you come in while I get ready to go?”

He holds the door open a little wider and you step through, relishing in the familiar warmth as you pull your hood down and excess water droplets spatter on the ground.

“When did you get in?” you ask, hanging your raincoat up on a hook. You know he’d wrapped up a case yesterday evening, but you’d gone to sleep before the team left Cincinnati.

Spencer pauses in the middle of the room, staring at the antique flooring like he forgot what he was doing.

“Uh… four hours ago.”

“Wh—four hours? Spencer, you must be exhausted.”

He laughs awkwardly, running a tired hand over his face.

“I mean… I’ve definitely felt better.”

You kick your soaked shoes off and cross the room until you’re toe to toe with him. Immediately his hands settle on your waist and yours find his arms. His eyes are kind, and he’s clearly pleased by your presence despite his lack of energy.

“The weather’s terrible, anyway. Let’s just go out another day.”

His features have softened and you can see how tired he truly is—not just in his bleary eyes, but the way his fingers grasp weakly to you, the way his head bows slightly. It seems bone-deep.

“But I haven’t seen you in a week. I don’t want you to go home.”

Your lips twist. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts coming down even harder against the windowpanes.

“We could hang out here. We can take a nap!”

Spencer sighs—half resignation, half disappointment.

“But we made such good plans,” he laments.

You kiss his cheek.

“Plans that can be rescheduled. The bookstore will still be there next weekend.”

It takes him a moment to settle into the idea, but you watch the exhaustion win.

“Okay. But no nap. I want to be awake for you. Coffee?”

You nod enthusiastically, beaming at the prospect of getting to spend the day doing nothing with him. Spencer mirrors your grin, before pressing a kiss to your head.

“You’re so cute.” Heat creeps into your cheeks and you can’t think of a satisfactory reply, but in the end you don’t need to, as he tugs gently on your hands. “C’mon. Tell me what mug you want.”

The kitchen counter bites into your palms as you lean with your back to it, watching Spencer putter all around the kitchen as he works on the coffee. It makes you tired just to watch.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, you know.”

“I do know,” he agrees, measuring coffee grounds. “But other than last night, I actually slept fairly well this week.”

“You seem exhausted.”

“I… am tired in lots of ways. Not all of which can be resolved with more sleep.” he admits.

Your heart drops ever so slightly at the way his voice weakens as he looks through the fridge. Sometimes you remember there are still things you don’t know about him—sides you haven’t met. His work side is one of them, and it more than a little intimidates you.

“Bad case?” you ask, voice quiet and crackling with nervous energy.

Spencer nods, approaching and setting a carton of milk on the counter behind you—caging you in with his arms in the process. It’s hard to find the words when he’s this close, but you manage to stumble through them.

“Do… do you wanna talk about it?”

Spencer hums, tilting his head before gently saying, “not right now. But thank you for offering, lovely.”

“Okay, well—if you change your mind… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”

Finally he stops with the teasing—the unabashed staring at your lips, the faux-attentive nods—and drops his head to your level to kiss you properly. It’s obviously an attempt to get you to shut up, you’re not dumb enough so as to miss that—but you don’t really care why he’s doing it so long as he does it at all.

“I feel pretty great right now, actually,” he murmurs against your lips, a hint of a smile coloring his words. “Do you want sugar in yours?”

“Um…”

Your eyes dart helplessly between his as he pulls away and you struggle to un-fluster yourself enough to answer his simple question. Spencer seems to delight in this. The longer it takes you, the bigger his perfect smile gets.

“You took too long. You’re getting sugar.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” you plead later on the couch, for the third or fourth time, setting your mostly-empty mug on the coffee table.

His eyebrows raise.

“I’m sure, honey.”

“But I want to help,” you pout, pulling your knees into your chest. Spencer regards you for a moment from the other end of the couch, before beckoning you closer wordlessly.

“You are helping,” he assures you, gently grabbing your wrist as you crawl into his lap. He rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin with his thumb. “You being here and being you is plenty.”

It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before he left, and while you’ve all but given up on asking him to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you don’t think about it multiple times per day. It’s especially difficult to keep your thoughts PG when you haven’t seen him in a week, and his hair is all messy, and he’s got his pajamas on, and you’re in his lap, and he’s looking at you like that.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer murmurs, likely concerned by your lack of response and the glazed-over look in your eyes. You reanimate, averting your gaze to the spot on your thigh he’s now rubbing absentmindedly.

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you a lot, too.” You don’t even have to look up to know that his brows have twisted into a pleasant sort of bemusement, like you are a particularly complex puzzle—you can hear it as he continues speaking. “I’m still not used to having something external take up so much of my attention while I’m trying to do my job. I’ve never had that before. Not something good, anyway. It’s like every time I leave, I’m thinking about you more than the time before. And I was already thinking about you a lot.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as he rambles.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he chuckles. “You prove to be incredibly distracting even when you’re hundreds of miles away. Do you know how many nights I almost called you before realizing it was one in the morning?”

A slow smile spreads over your face.

“Oh? Whatever could you have been calling about at one in the morning?”

You’re teasing him, and it works. He blushes adorably.

“Um… probably exactly what you’d expect. In hindsight I think it’s best that I refrained.”

“What?” You grin, incredulous, forgetting your shyness and leaning closer. “You totally should’ve. I’ve never had phone sex before. I would’ve done it.”

“No, you wouldn’t!” Spencer laughs. “It would have just been me talking to myself with you on the other line. I don’t think phone sex is really up your alley.”

“Shut up,” you laugh as your lips meet. He smiles into the kiss. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away, leaning back when he tries to follow you. “I think you’re over-complicating it. It’s just dirty talk, right? I can totally do that. It’s just, like… blah blah blah, dirty slut, something something…”

You trail off as he gives you a look. Poker faced—aside from the slightly narrowed eyes sparkling with humor.

“You want me to refer to you as a dirty slut?”

Maintaining eye contact is an uphill battle—you crack in a matter of seconds, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes stubbornly.

“No. For all you know I want to call you a dirty slut.”

It’s a ridiculous, but he recognizes the bravado for what it is, still smiling slightly as he rubs your hips.

“Right. I apologize for assuming. But just for future reference, I don’t want to be called that, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable calling you that, either.”

“But you can call me other stuff,” you remind your boyfriend, pulling back and still not looking at him.

“Yeah? Like what?”

And just like that, you’re shy again.

“I don’t know… nice things. I like when you’re nice.”

“I like being nice to you.” It’s so sincere-sounding that you meet his gaze, examining his face. His eyes are clear and soft on you, the only source of warm light on such a grey day, as his hands keep running slow lines over your sides. “Kiss?”

And how could you ever deny him anything?

As has happened before, the kiss starts out innocent enough. And it’s not that it gets particularly heated, or anything—it’s just that it doesn’t end, and after a few moments your mouth slips open and so does his and that’swhat gets both of you worked up over a period of minutes. Pressure and heat that you’re becoming accustomed to build between your legs, and you don’t even notice that you’ve begun rocking back and forth in his lap until Spencer is attempting to still your hips with patient but assertive hands.

“Honey, that’s—slow down, sweetheart.”

Finally he gets a grip on you and you realize as soon as you stop moving that there had been friction occurring—and you’re pretty damn sure you know what you were grinding against.

Your whole body feels hot with arousal and embarrassment.

“Oh my god—I’m sorry,” you mumble, moving your hands from his shoulders to cover your face. “That was an accident, I—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assures you, squeezing your waist gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing because I know we haven’t… gotten there, yet.”

A moment passes—your hands fall to the FBI stitching across his chest, studying the letters without really seeing them. You haven’t gotten there yet… but why not? Why haven’t you touched him, or even seen him? You think back to the few times he’s touched you and realize that you had been too busy with either your own insecurities or pleasure to genuinely consider how it might be affecting him. He says your name gently, drawing your attention.

“You okay?”

You nod haltingly, brow furrowed as you think.

“I—yeah. I was just realizing that I haven’t, like… touched you, yet.”

It’s silent for another long second, and you glance up, to where he’s studying you with a dissonant kind of relaxed scrutiny—a knowing confidence that probably comes with a lot more experience than you have.

“Do you want to?”

Woah.

Usually you have to beg on hands and knees and prepare a slideshow presentation before he agrees to doing anything sexual in nature. He’s never so overtly invited or initiated it before. Not that you’re complaining by any stretch of the imagination.

You nod shyly, still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“If you want to, I can show you how. But it’s also absolutely okay if you don’t.”

Show you how?

Your brain is melting into sludge at the idea.

“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze again. It’s kind, and you know he really wouldn’t be upset if you said no—but now that you’ve thought about it, you feel deeply compelled to try.

“Okay. Come here, first.” You lean forward expectantly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you into another soft kiss. By the time your lips separate again, your head is spinning. “We’re just trying something, okay? You’re allowed to stop whenever you feel like it. Really low stakes. Got it?”

You nod, still close enough that your noses brush as you do.

“Got it.”

He presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning back into the couch.

“Scoot back a little, angel.”

Wordlessly you do so, heart pounding with nervous excitement as he lifts his hips and slides his pajama pants down just enough to where he can comfortably pull himself out, and—

Your breath catches.

Now, you may be about as virginal as they come, but you weren’t born yesterday. You’ve seen porn, you’ve received unsolicited nudes—it is the 21st century. Yet never before have you thought to yourself; wow, that dick is the pinnacle of beauty. Perfect. Breathtaking. But there’s just no other way to describe him.

So that’s what hits you first—how unexpectedly pretty it is.

The size sinks in a quick second later.

You can’t tell with perfect accuracy how many inches he is, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s big. That’s meant to fit inside of you?

No, no—that’s a consideration for another day. Right now you need to stop staring like an idiot. You glance up at his face, and he’s sporting a cocky little half-smile which lets you know you’ve been caught. Motherfucker he’s so hot. It’s unnerving.

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he asks politely, quite obviously containing his amusement. But you can’t summon a sufficiently sarcastic response.

Your voice comes so soft when you reply, “you’re pretty.”

Spencer melts, eyes impossibly softening.

“Pretty?” His smile is earnest now. He strokes your cheek and you can’t not lean into his touch.

“Mhm. I want to, um…” your lips twist to the side as you look back down, finding he’s not gotten less intimidating since you last checked. “But what if I’m bad at it?” you whisper. He chuckles, brushing hair over your shoulder.

“It’s kind of a hard thing to be bad at. And I’m gonna help you, okay?”

It’s the honesty with which he speaks to you that makes you feel so safe. There are no hidden intentions or words that seem to mean one thing but really mean another. Spencer wants you as a person more than he wants you as a body and that’s been clear since the first time he touched you. You take a deep breath.

“Okay. What do I do?”

“First, you’re gonna spit in your hand.”

You look up, alarmed.

“You want me to intentionally get my spit on you? Is that not your worst nightmare?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not super worried about yours,” he teases. “But if you’d prefer, I can spit in your hand.”

“Actually, mine is fine,” you laugh nervously.

Hesitantly, you do as instructed, even though it seems frankly bizarre.

“Good. Now just wrap your hand around it, like this.” His voice is quiet, focused as he guides your hand downward. Your heart rate ticks up again as he encourages you to wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He feels much warmer than you’d expected—his skin is silken beneath your touch but he’s undeniably hard and that sort of eliminates any sense of him being fragile from the equation.

“It’s gonna be less sensitive down here—and then, up here—” he slides your hand back up, covering your thumb with his own and swiping it just below the head of his cock on the underside. He hisses and you look up in fascination. “That’s the most sensitive part.”

Without further instruction, you do it again, keeping your touch light and watching his face for a reaction. His drawn brows twitch, furrowing deeper for a second, and his lips part. A heavy exhalation passes between them and quickly builds into a breathy laugh.

“What?” you murmur, over-eager to please and very nervous to do something wrong.

“Nothing. Just feels good, that’s all.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout. Of course that makes him laugh again, and he leans forward to kiss your head.

“I’m laughing at myself, angel. I’m a grown man fighting for my life from a handjob that you’ve barely started. I knew it would be different with you but I didn’t realize it would be this different.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he urges, grabbing your free hand and encouraging you to uncurl your fingers. His thumb traces circles in your open palm, before capturing your entire hand in his. “Do you feel how much softer your hand is than mine?”

You frown, attempting to feel whatever it is that he’s pointing out. Despite the fact that you think he has very nice hands, you realize he’s right. By no means would you say that they’re rough, but you can tell where his gun normally sits in his hands, where his fountain pen rubs against his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Anything you do is going to be perfect because it’s you.”

Spencer drops his hand to your leg, rubbing it soothingly. The other moves to cover yours—the one wrapped around him.

“You’re gonna help me, right?” you ask quietly. Some adventurous part of you is very excited about this as an experiment—fascinated by the reactions you’ve already gotten from him and eager to push it.

“I am. Little bit tighter, honey. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

You do as you’re told, and he’s murmuring more praise—slowly encouraging you to begin moving your hand with his own. A shaky exhale catches your attention, drawing your gaze to his face. His eyes are, of course, cast downward, but his expression is hypnotizing. Those lips remain slightly parted, and suddenly you wonder if he makes noises like you do. In that moment it becomes your life’s mission to find out.

For a while you continue letting his hand guide your movements, but he keeps things so slow for your sake that you’re getting impatient. You forgo his direction, picking up the pace but trying to keep the rhythm he’d instilled in the motion. His hand slackens around yours.

“Fuck,” he hisses to himself. The hand on your thigh rubs achingly deeper into the flesh. “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I want it to feel good.” Suddenly shy again, you slow down. His hips stutter, which you think may be a sign that it was working. “Am I—was that bad?” Spencer looses a breath, looking almost… frustrated?

“No, I’m just—I’m weirdly close to coming.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Well,” he mutters, “not usually. Mostly it’s embarrassing.”

You giggle, a release of some tension, and begin pumping your hand again. His breath hitches and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes with his own lust-glazed ones. Heat pools deep between your legs.

“I want you to come,” you admit quietly as you twist your wrist, brushing that spot underneath the head of his cock again. His jaw literally drops, and a look that is part confusion, part pleasure, twists his features. You see the surprise sparkling in his eyes and it only spurs you to keep talking. “I’ve never seen how you look when you do, but I’ve imagined it. I bet you look so pretty when you come, Spencer. ‘Nd then I would know that I can make you feel good, too.”

“You… you are making me feel good,” he assures you. The way his brow furrows and his lips are parted give you a feeling that’s entirely new. Normally, you’re the one falling apart under his touch—but when it’s the other way around there’s a whole new kind of pleasure in it for you. You feel kind of powerful. Maybe even close to confident.

“Really? I’m not this quiet when you touch me.”

“I’ve ha—ah—had more practice not making noise.”

“But why?” you implore, ignoring the fact that he’s slept with other women and enjoyed the sounds they made, and opting to brush your thumb across that extra sensitive part he definitely shouldn’t have told you about. His hips buck up and he hisses, which is immensely gratifying to you.

“Because I like to listen.”

“What if I do, too?”

In a moment of divine inspiration , you cover the tip of his cock with your hand, swirling beads of pre-come over your palm. Spencer moans and his hips jut up into your grip. It’s a beautiful sound, just as you’d hoped.

“Jesus, fuck.”

You understand why he seems to enjoy touching you so much. It’s so rewarding to watch as his breathing picks up and pleasure contorts his face—to watch him get messier and messier and lose his composure a bit more with each stroke of your hand. It’s so simple but Spencer looks at you like you’re exercising some arcane deviant power over him and he’s not sure he should be enjoying it as much as he is.

Distantly you think about how it felt when he had his hands on you—and then, in clearer focus, how it felt when he went down on you. Both were perfect, but something about his lips so gentle on the most intimate, vulnerable part of you had felt like ascension. Maybe it was the emotional component, or maybe it just felt fucking good. Regardless, it seems an irresistible thought.

You keep stroking him until his head is lolling on the back of the couch as he groans.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah, baby?”

He sounds so destroyed it makes you clench around nothing. Without any indication that you’re going to do so, you stop touching him, and the speed with which he lifts his head again is almost comical. Immediately, while he’s utterly defenseless and desperate, you ask, “can I use my mouth?”

His eyes widen, and then shut, as he processes your request with a tiny shake of his head—probably trying to clear the haze of pleasure from his mind before he answers.

“Honey,” he rasps eventually, opening his eyes and smoothing a hand over your hair, “you don’t have to do that just because I do. That’s not why I do it.”

“But I want to,” you murmur, shy and mildly embarrassed by what feels almost like a soft rejection. “I don’t think I could do anything, like, mind-blowing, but… I want to try.”

Your face is hot by the end of the sentence, and you can’t meet Spencer’s eyes as his fingers twitch over your hip. A quiet moment passes—but it’s short-lived.

“Okay. Go ahead, baby.”

Wide eyes dart up to his.

“Really?”

Spencer smiles fondly, brushing an invisible speck from your cheek.

“I don’t think I’m capable of turning that offer down. Not when it’s you.”

“Okay—um, should I just—” Spencer watches on, finding your sudden enthusiasm completely adorable as you scoot off of his lap and gingerly kneel in front of him. Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, hands set politely on his knees. You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between his face and his cock, now about as hard as it’s ever been due to your toying. He knows it’s probably intimidating for a girl who has never seen one in real life, and he feels kind of bad about it. You do terrible, wonderful things to him that he doesn’t understand. “Wow. So... it looks bigger from down here.”

“Please don’t try to choke yourself,” he instructs hurriedly, leaning forward slightly. “I really don’t need you to do that. It’s fine if you can’t fit it all, I just—” he exhales shakily. Spencer is most definitely strong-willed but he can’t pretend like the sight of you on your knees for him, inches from his aching cock for the first time isn’t impacting his cognition. Most importantly he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured. He’s trying to not let how badly he wants this show in case you change your mind.

Spencer watches as you psych yourself out—wilting like a thirsty flower.

“But what if I’m bad at this?” you mumble, hands curling into loose fists atop his legs. Spencer pushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears.

“What’s your worst case scenario?” he asks. Your answer is immediate.

“That I’m so bad you make me stop halfway through.”

Spencer can’t help but laugh again.

“I’m sorry—I just… honey, you are really underestimating how profound your effect is on me. I just almost came from a minute long handjob. I can assure you that I won’t make you stop halfway through because I’d rather not have your mouth on me. That is… that’s just not going to happen.”

You lean your cheek against his thigh. He might actually pass away.

“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

“Honestly, as long as you don’t bite, you’re in the clear.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips pull into an embarrassed little smile.

“Great. Thank you for that invaluable advice.”

“Of course,” he smiles. It fades slowly as you take a deep breath and look up at him, obviously steeling yourself, before leaning forward and taking him in your hand again. He watches with bated breath, repeating no sudden movements to himself over and over as your hand moves up and down a few more times and your head lowers.

You delicately, so lightly trace your tongue from the base of his swollen cock to just underneath the leaking tip, mapping a vein, and his hips buck as you take him into your mouth experimentally. Only the first few inches fit but the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way you’re looking at him is so unbelievably erotic Spencer knows he won’t last very long.

From a purely technical perspective—he knows he’s gotten objectively better head. Still, something about the way you’re so delicate with him, so soft and timid in the way you lick and kiss and take him into your mouth has him fighting not to come already. Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing that he’s watching you do this for the first time in your life is obscenely arousing. The idea that you’ve never trusted another person this much; that you’re letting him be the one to help you navigate something as new and as important as sexuality. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he realizes: it’s not your inexperience that turns him on. It’s just you. Everything you do is so undeniably you—he recognizes your mannerisms in every tiny motion, in every glance, and it’s killing him. You’re like a dream as you look up at him with big nervous eyes, (no, really, he has had this dream) and he remembers he wants to be reassuring you—not pondering life and human connection.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, groaning and hips twitching as your cheeks hollow, wrapping his achingly hard cock in soft gentle warmth so sweetly it feels taboo. “So good, baby. So gorgeous like this.”

You whine around him, receptive as always to his obsequious praise, and he notices the way your hips wiggle as you seek friction. God, you must like this a lot. Spencer gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, resting his hand on your head as you begin to bob it. That, he wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been satisfied with just kitten-licks and suckling but he won’t complain about this. It’s slow, and so intentional as you keep watching him for feedback cues. Ever his observant girl, you’re constantly paying attention. Aware of his reactions. He needs to keep telling you you’re good or else you’ll assume you’re terrible.

“Over-achiever,” he whispers through a little smile as you down even more of him.

Spencer is for the most part a kind and gentle person. For better or worse he is also a man, and he can’t help but fantasize about getting you all teary and drooly as he holds your mouth open and sees how much of his cock he can push down your throat. But again—kind. Gentle. So when you get a little over-zealous, attempting to sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure, he pulls your head back slightly. “That’s far enough, angel. That’s—fuck. God, you’re good at this.” The words are thoughtless, muttered to himself more than you as he watches through a haze while you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, slipping him in and out of your warm mouth, a little faster now as you gain confidence.

You whine desperately around him, like you’re the one nearing orgasm and not him. The sound of your pleasure as you suck his cock makes him dizzy. His hips buck, pressing him a little deeper into your mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales. “Slow down, baby. I’m—” a louder moan from him like you’ve never heard as he thrusts shallowly turns you on profoundly. He’s so much more vocal than you’d have imagined—sonically and verbally. He breathes out a quick, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” pulling your hair slightly, and you’ve never wanted to touch yourself more but you know you can’t focus on both. Instead you work on making him come—you can worry about you later. He says your name, with an authoritative edge to his tone that makes you throb. “Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come—”

You swirl your tongue around the top of him like candy and he’s done for. Spencer tries to pull out, which only results in cum both in your mouth and on your face. The orgasm is his strongest in recent memory, and he grunts, watching your lips part and a little squeak escape as he comes all over your face—but you keep stroking him all the while. Once he’s 90% sure it’s over, he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily and looking down at you through hazy eyes. Oh, he’s going to feel terrible about this in a few seconds—but right now you look fucking perfect. Your eyes are wide, nervous as his essence drips over your face and down your neck—he groans when you swallow cautiously, averting his eyes to the ceiling lest he do another thing he regrets.

“Baby, I am so sorry,” he mutters, forcibly clearing the haze of orgasm from his mind and sitting up, fixing his pants and looking around before locating the box of tissues on the side table. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look up at him attentively as he wipes himself from your face as gently as he can.

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t ask you first. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Spencer guides your head around by your chin, wiping your jaw and lips.

“It’s okay, Spence, I—”

“No, it’s not,” he cuts you off, trying to at least turn his guilt into a learning experience for you. He’s not deluded enough to think someone like you will stay with someone like him forever, because sometimes he does things like that, and he’s reminded that there are certainly people out there more deserving of you. At the very least he can clarify that nobody should ever do what he just did to you. “It’s really not nice to do that to someone.”

“Do you care what I think at all?”

Spencer freezes, finally forcing himself to look you in the eye. Despite the fact that he’s mad at himself, he’s sure it’s coming across as being directed at you. And he knows you’re sensitive, especially about this kind of thing.

“Of course, I do, baby. I’m sorry. Do you want to come back up here with me and tell me what you’re thinking?” he murmurs, cupping your jaw. Hesitantly you nod. The tissues end up on the table—which he will be thoroughlywiping down later—before you crawl back into his lap from the floor. Spencer helps you settle against him, hoping he hasn’t messed this up irreversibly. He keeps his voice quiet as he rubs your leg. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say,” you begin, “that it’s fine, because you’ll remember to ask next time. And because… I kind of liked it. I like when—when you do stuff like that.”

It’s a miracle he can hear you with the way your voice drops into an almost-whisper and you’re hiding against his shirt.

“Like what?” he murmurs. Although he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the answer.

“Like… I don’t know. Like you can do whatever you want to me. Like I’m literally yours.” Each word makes you cringe further, but Spencer has to try hard to maintain a cool facade as he processes this. If he’s going to try and be chivalrous, you’ll have to move away from this topic—this revelation—immediately. Thankfully, you seem eager to move on. “So… how did I do?”

He almost laughs. It seems exceedingly obvious how you did, but as per usual, you require verbal reassurance.

“That was really good, baby. You did well.”

You blossom.

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

“Was I the best girl out of all of the other girls?”

I wasn’t in love with any of the other girls.

Just barely, he manages to stop himself from saying it, pinwheeling his arms on the edge of a very steep verbal cliff. The realization that he’s been in love with you for a while hits him like a truck. But he can’t tell you that right now. He should wait until you’re less vulnerable.

Fuck.

He really wants to tell you right now.

“Actually—don’t answer that,” you decide, while all of this happens in his head in less than a few seconds. “I want to go back to pretending I’m the only girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“You’re the only one that matters,” he offers, relieved to express at least some portion of the much bigger truth. Then he frowns. “Not that the other women I’ve met don’t lead important lives. I actually know a lot of incredibly influential and intelligent people who are women. I have deep respect for all of them. Am I helping or making it worse?” he rambles. You giggle. He has his answer. “What about you? How do you feel?” he asks after a moment, tenderly, lowly, stroking your hair as you lean against his chest.

It takes you a moment to deliberate, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“I feel good. I, um… liked it a lot more than I would have thought.”

“Well, that’s good. Much better than if you had hated every second of it.”

You hum in agreement, and he waits for you to say whatever you’re holding back. It comes sooner than he’d have anticipated.

“I feel bad about the times before. How did you just… go to sleep after? Were you not, like—insanely turned on? Not that I’m, like, irresistibly sexy, or whatever—you know what I mean.”

Spencer smiles because he knows you can’t see him.

“I wasn’t doing it to pressure you into feeling obligated to reciprocate, I guess. My line of reasoning was that it would be less intimidating if I didn’t even present it as an option until you wanted to try.”

“Oh.”

Spencer thinks he sees where this is going.

“Why?” he asks, leaning back and encouraging you to look at him. “Are you insanely turned on?”

“Wh—that’s—I didn’t say that!”

Spencer can feel how warm your cheeks are as he presses his lips to the side of your face.

“You can tell me if you are,” he murmurs, all smiley as he moves to kiss your lips. “If you want something, you need to ask for it. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Yes you are,” you grumble. “That’s literally what behavioral analysis is.”

Not quite true, but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the need to explain to you the semantics of what he does for work right now.

“What got you all excited?”

“You know what,” you mumble, trying to look away again. Spencer doesn’t allow it this time, gently grabbing your jaw.

“Yes, I do. But I want you to tell me. If you want me to make you feel good, this is how you’re going to convince me that you deserve it.”

You whine wordlessly, looking at him with those big, lust-glazed eyes.

“You wanted me to teach you how to use your words, right? This is it. I’m giving you an opportunity. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe we can take a nap, like you said earlier.”

“No! I liked—um, I liked all of it. I didn’t know if I would, because I was really nervous. But when I first—you know—and you got all quiet… it was like you couldn’t even talk for a minute. I was kind of proud of that. Because normally nobody can ever get you to stop talking.” Spencer narrows his eyes incredulously, a small smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t interrupt—not when it seems you’re finally starting to get more confident in your words. “And I really liked the noises you made. I think that was my favorite part. I liked when you pulled my hair back, and how you spoke to me. And when… when you got me messy and I had to swallow it. I really liked how it felt because I couldn’t think of anything else, just making you feel good. I really wanted to… make you proud, I guess. Is that weird?”

Spencer shakes his head no, a fond smile on his face when your eyes meet his again.

“No. It’s a pretty normal thing to feel when you’re nervous and wanting to impress someone you care about. And I would have been proud no matter what, for the record. You were being very brave.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching him expectantly. Spencer should have known you’re too needy to truly absorb anything he says to you right now. Which is actually pretty cute. Everything you do is endearing to him.

“Stand up.”

You frown.

“But—”

“Just stand up,” he demands calmly, preferring to think of himself as firm and not bossy.

You do, looking rather annoyed and confused as you plant yourself in front of him.

“Why?”

“You are so full of questions.” His hands slip up the side of your legs, under your skirt, and hook in the waistband of your underwear. Spencer looks up at you meaningfully and you nod, swallowing.

As he pulls down, Spencer can literally feel the resistance of the fabric clinging to your soaked core. Under his touch the skin of your thighs is warm and soft. He wants to feel it on either side of his face, he wants to hear you whine as his stubble rubs against it, he wants to feel it clamp around his wrist, he wants it between his teeth and he definitely wants it pressing against his hips as he—

But no.

There will be time for all of those things—especially the last one—later. For now, he’ll reach between your legs just to see—

“Oh, my god,” Spencer half-chuckles, half-groans, upon feeling how wet you truly are for him. He drags his knuckles from your dripping entrance up over your clit, pinching very lightly and earning a squeak from you which he ignores. “You really did like having your mouth full of me, huh?”

“I told you,” you breathe, visibly relaxing some as he continues to play with you for a moment. Then he pulls his hand away again, patting his thigh.

“Sit.”

“You want me to…”

“Yes,” he says, simply.

“But is it not going to… am I not going to mess up your pants?”

“You are even more neurotic about messiness than I am. I can wash them, honey. Come here.”

Spencer guides your hips over his thigh, watching your pretty face twist with uncertainty as you fully settle on him. Fuck, he can feel your warmth through the fabric instantly. Already he’s getting hard again.

“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper, bunching his shirt in your fists. Spencer slides your skirt up higher, revealing the way you’re nestled against his thigh. He spreads you a little further apart, exposing more of your clit to the material underneath you. Immediately you press against him—he watches the delicate flesh rubbing gingerly against him and his grip tightens ever so slightly.

“All you have to do is rock back and forth. It’s easy.”

Already you’re starting to do it—but he guesses it’s like earlier where you don’t even realize it’s happening.

“But… I wanted your mouth,” you admit, quietly, slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face there.

“Do this for me first. Just get yourself off like this one time and then you can have my mouth. You said you wanted to help me feel better because I’m tired today, right?

“Yes,” you mumble, squirming over him.

“Well, there are a lot of days when I get back home and I’m tired. I’m gonna need you to be able to get on top of me, just like this, and make me feel better. And I know you don’t know what it feels like to have something that deep inside of you yet, but it’s gonna be a lot. Even once you know how it feels to have me inside when you’re underneath me. I need you to practice for me right now so you’ll be ready, okay?”

You could come from the words alone. You nod, dazed with need as you roll your hips in a circle, pressing his thigh against your clit.

“Back and forth, baby,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward with his hands locked around them. “Back and forth, just like this…”

You moan quietly, shamelessly, eyes fluttering as you look down and watch your clit dragging over the darkening fabric. It’s easier if you isolate your hips, grinding down without moving your legs or upper body at all.

“It feels really good,” you whisper under your quickening breath.

“Yeah? Does it?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, angel. You look like you know what you’re doing.”

It’s audible now, quiet and wet and dirty.

“I don’t,” you breathe. He sucks in a breath of his own, stilling your hips with fingers pressed deep into your flesh.

“Sit up, baby.” You really wish he would stop making you stop, but you don’t want to keep going in case he needs you to quit—so you rise slowly, thighs trembling as you kneel. Spencer groans at the strings of your arousal momentarily connecting your core to his pants before they snap, getting your inner thighs wet. There’s a dark, very wet patch over his thigh, shining like glass. He thumbs over your slick clit absentmindedly as he looks up at you like you’re a miracle. “You’re fucking soaked. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this all from making me come?”

You nod feverishly, hips grinding against nothing in search of friction. He sits you back down on his leg, allowing you to sloppily find your rhythm again. Spencer bounces his leg lightly and you cry out softly, buckling forward. His arms wrap around you, still pressing you down against his thigh as you rut against it.

“You’re sweet. Maybe I should have known how much you’d like it when I came all over your pretty face. You really like hearing that you did a good job, huh? I bet you like it even more when I prove it to you.”

You moan a “yeah,” barely processing his words.

“My good girl even swallowed on her first try. Took it so well. And now look at how you’re taking this. You’re gonna love riding, baby. Just going to be another thing you’re good at as soon as you try it.”

“Spencer,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the praise. He’s bouncing his leg at regular intervals and everything is so sensitive.

“I know it’s harder to finish this way, but just one time, remember? And then you can have my tongue for as long as you want. You are my only plan for the day. Just give me one like this.”

But it’s not really harder to finish this way. Then again, you’re so turned on you could probably finish if a breeze hit you just right. Regardless, the thought of him going down on you again pushes you even closer to the edge.

You don’t know how much time goes by like that, you rubbing against him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, him pressing up into you until the pressure is so taut it snaps. There’s no time to warn him, but you suppose you don’t really need to. You writhe against him, caught between wanting to keep going and not being able to take more stimulation. He lifts you up just slightly, trying to separate you from his leg. You exhale deeply as your body relaxes, already close to dozing off against his chest.

“We can’t have you tapping out just yet. I still have to fulfill my end of the deal.”

In the end, he fulfills it three times over, and you end up showing your appreciation in kind one more time—much slower and more comfortably in his bed. He gives you plenty of time to learn what he likes, taking your teasing and coquettish explorations like a champ and never so much as tightening his grip in your hair. Turns out, you don't exactly spend the day doing nothing.

And you do end up taking that nap after all. Just... much, much later. And with less clothing on.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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nickfowlerrr · 4 months

Text

so inviting, i almost jump in.

pairing: neighbor!bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: fluff. pining. idiots in love? fake dating...kinda lol. a lil bit of angst but not too much.

words: 4.5k

notes: happy new year! i tried so hard to finish this last night but just couldn’t do it lol. this is part of the ciwywt universe, but i think it can be read as a standalone, too.

also - coherent, consistent timelines? sorry, don’t know her. idk where this fits in their story but it does bc i say it does. 😌 i really love these two and i hope you enjoy this lil fic as much as i do. thank you in advance for reading. as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome, and so appreciated! 💞

"Ow,” you wince, “damn it," you grumble to yourself as you set your eyeliner pencil down, blinking rapidly to quell the tears you could feel about to form in your eye. You huff and turn to look down at the cause of your distraction, your phone ringing loudly as it lays on the counter. You see the caller and preemptively roll your eyes. Not this again.

You swipe to answer the call and his voice immediately floats into your ear, giving you no time to even utter a 'hello'.

"Before you say anything-"

"No," you state firmly, annoyance clear in your tone as you stop him before he can begin.

"Doll,"

"Bucky, I said no," you cut him off again. "It's a no. No. No, no, no. Not gonna happen," you continue despite his pathetic huff sounding on the other end.

"I know you said no..." he says before trailing off for a second, "but, doll, I really need you."

Damn him. You sigh heavily into the phone, putting a hand to your forehead to stop the headache you know is coming. He's really trying to pull on your heart strings... unfortunately for him, it's not gonna work.

"You don't need me, Bucky. You're gonna be fine. They're your friends, if you just tell them what you told me, they'll understand. You have nothing to worry about."

"That's not," he huffs, stopping himself, and you can almost hear him shake his head, "Will you at least try to come by?"

You know you won't, but you don't want to upset him any more than he already is.

"Yeah, I'll try. And stop worrying so much. You'll have a good time, I know it," you smile, the thought of him and his friends enjoying their New Year's Eve tugging at your lips.

"Yeah," he responds, sounding a little unsure. "Okay, well, I'll see you later?"

"Mhm...maybe," you say.

"Doll," he groans, causing an unbidden laugh to slip from you at his dramatics.

"I said I'd try, no promises! But I do have to go now, so, talk later. Bye," you finish, hanging up on him before he can try and talk you into making a promise you have no intention of keeping.

You sigh heavily as you set your phone back down, returning to your almost finished makeup. Just because you aren't going out doesn't mean you can't look good.

You're still so surprised he asked you to be his fake date to his New Year's Eve party. Both because you were surprised he was hosting a party to begin with, and because he needed a fake date.

But that was just it, he didn't need a fake date. He wanted to get his friends off his back with the constant set ups and double dates they'd plan for him. What he really needed to do was tell them the truth, just like he told you. He didn't want to date, at least not right now. He said his mind was on other things. That was understandable, so you weren't sure why he couldn't just tell them that...

A part of you feels bad for not helping Bucky out, but the other part of you knows you'd feel like a total outsider at a small party being attended by the avengers.

Like, the real-life superhero team, The Avengers.

That was an immediate 'no thank you'.

You were content to spend the night alone; just you, your grapes, and some apple cider to cheers to the new year.

The television plays on, another episode of a show you've seen ten times before just starting up, as a knock sounds at your door.

You furrow a brow as your head shoots in its direction. It only takes a second for you to come to the conclusion that it must be Bucky. You set your drink down and stand from where you were sitting cozily on your couch.

You fix your dress, and for no reason at all, check yourself in the mirror before you near the door, making sure your makeup isn't smudged and your hair still looks nice as you do.

There's another knock as you get to it and you open your door with a bit of attitude at his impatience.

"Bucky, how many times-" you're stopped short as you quickly see that the man before you is, in fact, not Bucky. "Oh, uhm, sorry, can I help you?" you ask.

"Yeah," the man laughs, "I'm here for the party. This is the right apartment, isn't it? Bucky Barnes?" he asks, looking at you quizically.

"No," you answer, "no, wrong apartment. He's just," again you're cut off, but this time by the door right down the hall opening, none other than Bucky peeking out to look down at you and - oh my god wait...is this - this is - holy shit you're talking to Captain America. Your eyes round as you look from Bucky back over to the man before you. "Oh, gosh, you, you're,"

"Sam Wilson," he smiles brightly at you, extending a hand. You shake hands as he continues, "and you must be-"

He is cut off from saying your name as it comes out of Bucky's mouth, almost frantically. You look from Sam back over to Bucky, your eyes still wide.

"I know you're still getting ready, but would you come here for just a second," he nods at you. You look once more between Sam and Bucky, your eyes narrowing as they land back on your own personal pain in the ass. What the hell is he up to... You and Sam go to walk over to him but Bucky speaks again. "Not you, Sam. You stay there," he says in a fuss. Sam puts his hands up, a look of confusion clear on his face at Bucky's demand.

You continue toward him and as soon as you're close enough to touch, he pulls you to him, turning you both so Sam can't see what you're saying. It's a hushed conversation, a whispered argument, really.

"You have to come over."

"No, I really don't."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You're staying."

"No, I'm not."

"You're staying. I'm not letting you leave," he says, trying to corral you into his apartment as you swipe at him, a back and forth of swats ensuing between the two of you.

"Bucky!" you finally whisper yell, stopping the battle as you ball your fists, almost stomping like a toddler in your annoyance. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I lied."

"Huh? To me? About what?"

"To all of you. But mostly them. I told them you'd be here. Because I thought you would be. But then you said you weren't coming, but I couldn't tell them that or they'd think I was just making up another lie about you..."

"Another lie?"

"I...may have... told my friends that we're dating and have been for a few weeks," he murmurs under his breath, so quiet you can barely hear his confession.

"You what?" you balk, trying your hardest to squash the stupid butterflies that are fluttering around in your stomach now at the idea of not only dating Bucky, but of being someone he brings up in conversation to other people.

"Alright, love birds, cute as this is, are one of you gonna invite me in or am I just supposed to stand here awkwardly in your hallway all night?" Sam interjects, walking to you both as you turn your heads to look at him.

Bucky turns entirely, moving closer to you, slipping his arm behind your back and resting his hand on your hip, "Yeah, welcome in. Steve said he'd be here with beer in a few minutes," Bucky says, an annoyed edge to his voice as he lets Sam through the door. Sam raises a brow at you and you force a smile. As soon as he's inside, Bucky snaps the door shut behind him, leaving you both in the hallway still.

"What the hell," Sam says, loud enough for you to hear through the door.

"Look, it started as a lie to get out of a date, but then I just kept using you an excuse to not go to things I didn't wanna go to. And ya know, more than half the time I wasn't really lying because I was with you," he tries to excuse himself.

"Are you insane?" you ask him plainly.

"I know, I'm sorry, but I really need you to be here tonight, please," he begs, his puppy eyes starting to get to you.

"You had only asked me to be your fake date."

"Yeah, once you said yes, I was gonna work the girlfriend thing in," he smiles wryly, rubbing the back of his neck in his anxiousness.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Is that a yes?"

You roll your eyes before acquiescing, "Fine. But you've gotta come clean tomorrow. You can't start the new year with secrets, it doesn't bode well for anyone."

"Deal," he smiles his real smile this time. Then his eyes drift down to your outfit and you warm, like you always do, under his attention. "You look good," he says softly, sincerity in his voice.

"Thanks," you accept quickly. You will not let him fluster you so easily. Not tonight.

More of Bucky's friends arrive soon after you get back from your apartment, your bag of grapes and bottle of unopened cider in hand. Bucky introduces you to each of them and you're now unsurprised that they know your name and exactly who you are. And you, for your part, are in awe of each and every one of them. Though you like to think you don't make it obvious.

And it's surprising how normal it all feels.

You for sure thought you'd be a nervous wreck around these people, but, especially with Bucky by your side, you've never felt so calm and comfortable, and at a party of all places. Though you suppose it helps that you're already so comfortable around his apartment. Still, it's nice. They're nice. And fun!

Card games are played, karaoke sung, and stories told as you all snack and chat the evening away.

You're all laughing as Sam talks about how everyone was sure Bucky had been making you up like a summer camp girlfriend after the fifth time he claimed you were sick or out of town so you couldn't show up to the events they had invited you to. Of course, you had no idea about any of them, but you do know where you were each and every night they brought up.

You were here.

With Bucky.

So, he wasn't completely lying. You smile and look to Bucky who stands right next to you. Your eyes instantly meet his, a smile of his own already gracing his face. You look back down, bashful despite yourself.

The night has passed so quickly and it's already nearing midnight. You're about to go get your grapes ready, but Steve's voice stops you, catching your attention.

"Ya know, I can't even remember the last time I've seen you look so happy, Buck," Steve smiles as he looks at the two of you. "I'm really happy for you, both of you,” he adds. “It's obvious how much you two care about each other. It's good to see."

You don't know what to say, and you're too scared to look at Bucky. You just force another smile, feeling a bit sad more than anything. Because this isn't real. Whether you'd like it to be or not. It isn't. You have to remind yourself of that.

Bucky's hand squeezing your waist, and the feeling of his admiring gaze on you as he pulls you closer to his side, doesn't help. It just makes that pit in your stomach grow deeper.

This is easy for him because it means nothing.

This is killing you because it means everything. It’s everything you never give yourself permission to dream about. Everything you want. And it’s what you know isn’t for you. It couldn’t be.

Just a few more minutes, you breathe, and then you'll go back to normal. No dating, just friends...just friends? Whatever it is you are to him...

You're lost in thought as the conversation continues around you, Bucky's hand never leaving you and his gaze never wavering. Even as he engages in the conversation, his attention is solely on you.

"Oo, countdown is going!"

The yell pulls you out of your head as your eyes snap to the television. What the hell! How did you just lose eight minutes? Damn Bucky always taking up your thoughts and distracting you.

You don't have the time to get to the fridge for your grapes as the kitchen is crowded, flutes of cider and champagne being passed out among the group.

You tsk, oh well. At least you have on your red underwear.

As the count gets lower, Bucky gets closer, and you mindlessly lean back into him as you watch the live broadcast from Time Square. Ten seconds hits and you all count along, Bucky's other arm comes around as he holds you from behind. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Bucky turns you around in his arms, catching you off guard as you look up at him, your hands coming to rest on his chest.

Two.

He leans in, and you're frozen. His nose brushes yours, as his lips brush against your own. Oh.

One.

"Happy New Year," he whispers against you, cheers and exclamations of the same sentiment shared all around the living room, between everyone else.

"Happy New Year," you whisper back breathily before you unthinkingly press closer to him.

His lips meet yours as he leans in ever closer and kisses you, so softly. Your eyes flutter closed as you return his affection, kissing back harder than you intend before you break away. It feels like magic, it feels like home. And you want nothing more than to do it again. To lose yourself in him so delightfully…

You remember yourself then and almost shy away completely before Bucky takes your face in his hand, turning you back to him. You lock eyes once more and you feel like you can't breathe at what you see in his. You don't have time to think on it before his eyes flick down to your lips and then he's kissing you again. His lips press harder against yours, still moving just as gently but somehow it feels much more intimate. Sincere. Real.

You deepen the kiss and then suddenly the whooping and claps around you both bring you back to reality.

You pull away, taking a sobering breath, blinking away the haze of longing as Bucky's delicate touch remains on your cheek. You gingerly reach to take his hand, slowly pulling it off of you. You hold it for a second, squeezing his hand before letting it drop.

The celebration continues all around but you need to get yourself together. Alone.

"'M gonna use the bathroom," you whisper to him, knowing he can hear you even through the din.

You exchange 'Happy New Year' exclamations with everyone you pass on your way to his bathroom and bid goodnight to the people already getting ready to head home. A lot of them have early mornings at the tower, so you get it.

There are only a few people in the living room with Bucky as you look back before you escape to the bathroom, taking your time to decompress.

Sam, Steve, and Nat were talking with him, but his eyes were on you when you looked at them.

You knew this was a bad idea. You knew you'd get caught up in the fantasy. And somehow, he still got you to do it. You curse yourself in the mirror and then notice your smudged lipstick.

The thought of your lipstick staining Bucky's lips right out there has you in a flurry of emotions...

He kissed you. Twice. That actually happened. But did it really mean anything?

Your heart twists as you refuse to believe it could have. You just need to... God, you don't know what you need. All you know is right now you can't stop thinking about Bucky's hands on you. You can't stop thinking of how soft and supple his lips are. And how damn good of a kisser he is.

You look at yourself once more in the mirror.

Fucking hell. What are you gonna do? You sigh, eyes squeezing shut before you shake your head at yourself.

You turn back to the door, opening it right when someone's knock hits.

You're somehow surprised, and yet not at all, to see Bucky staring back at you as you pull it open wider.

"Hey," you say, raising a brow and shoving every fuzzy feeling threatening to strangle you back down.

"Hey," he started. "Everyone left. I just, uh. Wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah, I'm good," you nod.

"I'm sorry. About kissing you."

"Oh," you utter - sounding more dejected than you wanted to. "Yeah, no. Don't, don't even worry about it." You muster a shamefully see through smile.

His stare is near invasive as he really looks at you, analyzing you. He opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it, instead giving you a tight lipped smile in return.

He nods, then looks to the floor, "Okay," he accepts.

You nibble your lip, crossing your arms as he still stands in front of you.

He notices and moves out of your way, offering a small sorry and a huff of a laugh.

You walk back out into the living room as he follows.

"Wow, this place is a mess,” you breathe a laugh, hoping to keep the subject change.

"Yeah," he agrees, "I'll be having fun tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" you question. "Are you busy now?"

"... I guess not."

"Then grab a garbage bag, Barnes. We've got work to do."

He laughs, "Oh, yeah? You're gonna stay and help me clean up?"

"What are friends for if not clean up?"

He smiles at you as his mind replays his conversation with Sam, Steve and Nat just minutes ago.

He told them the truth about you, and their reaction wasn't what he expected, but definitely what he needed.

"Wait, sorry, you're not dating her?" Nat asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, I'm confused, too," Sam added. "You guys act more like a couple than most couples I know."

"And she's cute, you seem perfect together."

"Well, we're not. Not, not perfect together," he amended, "I mean we're just not together. We're friends. Nothing more."

"Looks like a hell of a lot more, if you ask me..."

"So," Steve finally chimed in, "you spend all that time together, you talk about her constantly, and I saw the way you kissed her at midnight, Buck, but you're telling us it's nothing more than friendship?"

Bucky didn't know what to say. But he knew Steve knew what he was really feeling. He knew exactly what he wasn't saying.

"Do you want it to be more?" he asked. "Because from an outsider's perspective, it seems like you have everything with her but the label."

"I..." Bucky looked around, making sure you hadn't snuck back out of the bathroom yet, "yeah. I do want it to be more. She's, fuckin' perfect," he breathed a laugh as his thoughts, as they always do, strayed back to you. That familiar warmth that fills his chest anytime you're near, or hell, anytime he so much as thinks your name, returned to him. And suddenly his thoughts went back to the softness of your cheek as he held you close earlier. How pliant and perfectly your lips moved against his as you kissed him back. Not once, but twice.

Even still, he thinks back to when he told you why he was so reluctant to go on the dates his friends kept setting up for him. It was a lie when he said it was because he didn't want to date right now... well, partially. He really didn't want to date around. And his mind was focus on other things.

Other things, of course, being you.

When you nodded and told him you got it, that you felt the same way, his heart felt like it deflated by ten.

He was getting ready to finally make his move and ask you out, for real this time. But how could he do that now? He didn't want to be another guy you had to swat away, he couldn't be another one of your rejections. And you gave out plenty, always to his selfish delight if he was being honest. In fact, he can't remember the last time you actually went out on a date. It's been months...

Most of your nights are spent together. Just the two of you. But if you weren't wanting to date anyone right now, and he asked you, he couldn't be sure what you'd say. More importantly, where it'd leave you.

Bucky wasn't stupid, he wasn't blind, and he wasn't deaf. He had every confirmation he could ever want that you liked him the same way he liked you. But he didn't want to chase you away by pressuring a relationship, especially if that's not what you want.

"It's clear she likes you, too, ya know," Steve pointed out what he thought was the obvious.

"I know, I just. I don't wanna push her away by moving too fast. I don't think she's looking to date anybody right now,"

"If you don't ask, you'll never know."

He knew they were right. He needed to just bite the bullet and ask you outright. And he would.

But as he watches you glide around his kitchen, so at home, putting things back in their rightful places and throwing away the random garbage left behind, he thinks maybe not tonight… He doesn’t want to ask a question that might make you leave. But then again…what if it makes you stay?

"Chop chop, supersoldier," you admonish him as he continues to watch, staring dreamily at you. Your back is to him so you can't see his face, but you can feel the weight of his gaze.

Bucky follows your lead, tossing away the empty cups and putting away the leftover food and drinks while you wipe down the counter.

It really wasn't that much of a mess, but you're glad to get it cleaned now, so you won't have to worry about it tomorrow.

Wait...why would you be worried about it tomorrow? This isn't your apartment. God, you really are always over here, aren't you...

You turn to Bucky as he ties off the bag of trash.

You just look at him for a minute. Admiring him from mere feet away while he does the same to you. It's quiet between the two of you, but you can feel the charged silence as it brims with words unsaid.

You know what you want to do right now. But you do what you think you should instead.

"I guess I'll head out, then."

"Oh," he breathes.

"Oh?"

"I just, uh,” he shakes his head, "Never mind."

"No, what is it?" you prod, now entirely curious.

Bucky's bright eyes flash back up to yours and you see him search for what to say instead of saying what was on his mind.

"Your grapes," he remembers, turning to the fridge to get them for you, "you didn't eat them."

"Oh, yeah, well, too late now," you laugh softly.

"What's your resolution?" he asks.

"That's not how the grapes work, Bucky."

"Come on," he goads. "What's your resolution? I wanna know."

"Hmm. Well, good question," you think for a moment, watching him as he rinses off a bunch, then pulls two grapes from their stems. You mindlessly purse your lips as you think. "I want to be less scared," you start quietly, eyes meeting his intent gaze, when he looks back at you, "More confident," you add with a little nod.

"You, more confident?" he asks. "You're one of the most confident people I know. And I know Thor," he adds, getting the laugh he was hoping for from you.

You shrug, "Fake it til you make it." You give a soft, almost sad smile. It physically hurts him to see that hint of sadness in your eyes, and he wants nothing more than to do whatever he can to take it away. He hands you one of the two grapes and you raise a brow as you take it.

"And you?"

Your heart rate kicks up as he steps close, invading your space and standing right before you.

"I…would like to communicate better."

You huff a laugh, tittering, "Yeah, that's a good one."

"Let's both start right now," he says, holding up his grape.

"Okay. Let's," you hold up your own grape, bumping it into Bucky's as if you were toasting before you both pop your own grape into your mouth, stupid smiles on both of your faces.

As you finish, Bucky takes a step closer, surprising you as you look up to him. A bit of deja vu coming over you as you swallow hard. You wait a long breath for him to say something. And then he finally does.

"So. This is me, trying to communicate better: I'm not really sorry that I kissed you. Either time. And if I'm being entirely honest, I'd really like to kiss you again right now."

You're stunned silent and you think you can hear your blood rushing in your ears as you blink up at him.

It takes you a moment before you think you can respond, but Bucky speaks again before you do.

"But I'm not going to do that. Because I want to do this right. In fact, I've been wanting to do this right for months."

"Bucky?" you murmur quietly.

"Doll, will you do me the pleasure of accompanying me to dinner and a movie this Friday?" he asks sincerely.

Your mouth is dry and you have to force yourself to swallow hard again so you can speak. "We always do dinner and movies on Fridays," you point out.

"I mean as a date," he clarifies, holding himself to his resolution.

You stare at him, unsure of what to say. Well, that's not true. You know what you want to say. You know what you want to do. You want to say yes, and you want to lean into him again and indulge him in one more kiss, because you want to kiss him as badly as he wants to kiss you. But that terrified voice in the back of your head is currently telling you to make a run for home as fast as you can. You want to fight the fear, really you do.

Bucky is keeping his resolution already, you're just not sure if you can do the same.

"Uhm," you drone awkwardly.

He laughs that nervous laugh you rarely get to hear...the one you love.

"Is that a yes?" he asks with a hopeful wince.

It takes you a second and then your mouth moves before your brain does as you respond to him.

You stand there, a bit shocked at your own answer, and not entirely sure where to go from here...

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x reader #neighbor!bucky x reader #neighbor!bucky x curvy!reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x plus size reader #ciwywt #bucky x reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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ghostlychief · 1 year

Text

Scary Dog Privilege

Pairing: one shot; Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Wc: 1,100+

Warnings: none; just some guy being annoying; fluff

Summary: Ghost being protective when you go to a bar

A/N: Ok, this idea for this drabble came about when i had a scary incident happen to me on public transportation. In the moment, i was thinking how nice would it be to have a large scary looking dog with me bc men always find a way to make you feel uncomfortable and scared. It really sucks that we have to turn towards other men to "protect" us because men don't take no for an answer or simply will just not leave us alone. But this is fantasy land, so I'll allow it this time.

Anyways, here is a short drabble lmao. Hope you enjoy! <3

-Lee

To say that Ghost had a staring problem, was a little inaccurate. It’s not like he was on one of the most skilled, and covert teams in existence or anything. He was trained to have a good eye, and follow his target with precision. It just so happened that whenever you two went out, you became his target, and stole away all his attention.

One way you liked to rewind after a mission was to go out drinking with your friends, or occasionally, squad 141. This was how you coped, let loose, hell, forget about all the terrible shit you saw on a daily basis. And seeing that Ghost was your boyfriend, he usually (always) tagged along with you when you went out.

Why did he come with you every time?

One might say he also wanted to blow off some steam, and what better way than alcohol? And for you, what better way than dancing, and being carefree with your friends?

Others might say that he couldn’t let you out of his sight. He was very conscious of his surroundings, and also the surroundings of everyone around him. Whenever you were in the same room as him, he always had his eye on you, following you, and knew your position within his proximity.

When you were out, whether it be at a bar, restaurant, store, he always slightly blocked you from the view in any doorway, always standing closest to it. Somewhat shielding you with his body.

He would slightly walk in front of you, hand stretched behind him to grasp yours when you were walking on the sidewalk. And of course, he always walked on the side closest to the cars, you were always in the inside of the sidewalk.

If by some chance you weren’t, he would wrap an arm around your shoulder and gently move you over; so now he was on the outside. He kept his arm around you though.

In restaurants, he always sat in the seat where he could see the whole room, and the entrance. You didn’t notice this at first, but on one of your dates when you initially starting dating, he sat in the booth seat. You joked and said, “Oh, usually that’s my spot.”

He didn’t get your reference and simply stated, “What? This is the spot where I can analyze the whole room in case something happens.”

You let him have the booth.

It was no different when you went out. His brooding stare and massive height and size deterred any man who even had the thought to approach you. And on top of that he was always sporting his black, half skull balaclava, which added on to the intimidation he exuded. Great for you, you think. The last thing you wanted to deal with was a random man.

Needless to say, you hated dealing with men while out. Especially drunk, pushy men. And there was always at least one during these occasions.

Tonight, everything was going smoothly, and just as planned, like your usual nights out. You were dancing, and having a good time with your friends, Ghost was somewhere in the near distance, and you didn’t have to look at him to know that his eyes were already on you. You might have thrown in a couple extra moves while dancing.

You seemed so carefree in this moment. All your troubles wiped clean from your face, your body relieving any tension it held. You moved to the beat of the music, drink in your hand. You were drunk by now, the full effects of alcohol finally hitting you.

Suddenly, you felt a hand grasp your waist. At first you thought it was your boyfriend, and you turned around smiling, but only to be met with a much shorter man, with no skull balaclava covering his face.

Immediately your lips turned down, and eyebrows furrowed. Your body flinched at the unfamiliar contact. Leaning away from the man, you waited to see what he wanted.

“Wanna dance?” His lips upturned as he asked this, and his grimy hand was still grasping your waist, and even started to move downward.

Bold move, you think.

“No, I’m good.” At your response, his friendly (more so creepy) smile vanished form his face and his brows started to furrow, signaling to you he was offended, shocked that you would ever reject him.

He started badgering you, trying to get you to dance, and you grew more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

“C’mon, just one dance.”

“What’s the harm?”

He also kept trying to touch you. Something you didn’t appreciate at all, and he wasn’t listening to your no’s.

All of a sudden you feel your body being tugged backwards until you hit a firm chest. Recognizing the smell of your boyfriend, you immediately relaxed into his embrace and place your hand on Ghost’s forearm that was holding you.

“She’s with me, fuck off.” Ghost’s rough voice cuts through the air.

The man’s face pales as he fully takes in Ghost’s presence. He lifts up his arms as if surrendering, then swiftly left, tail in between his legs.

Once he was out of sight, Ghost turned you around and brought up a hand to gently cup your face, tilting it upwards so you could look at him. His thumb rubbed back and forth on your jaw, soothing you.

“Are you alright?” His voice much softer than when telling off that man.

You sigh, “Yeah. Thank you, baby.”

You grant him a sweet smile and then wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

On your walk home, you’re holding Ghost’s hand, swinging your conjoined hands back and forth. Absentmindedly, you say, “You know, you kind of give off scary dog privilege.”

Ghost knows that you’re drunk right now, and he looks down at you to already find you beaming up at him.

“And what do you mean by ‘scary dog privilege’, hm?”

You start gesticulating with your other hand, “You know, if you own a big scary dog like a German shepherd, Rottweiler, Akita, etc., men are less likely to approach you or harass you; i.e., scary dog privilege.”

You hear him hum in acknowledgement and he squeezes your hand.

You bring you other hand up and rest it on his bicep, and lay your head against his shoulder, basically leaning on him as you continue to walk down the street.

“So, what kind of dog am I then?”

“Hmm. Definitely a Cane Corso. They’re known for being noble, intelligent, loyal and strong. All the things you are; but they are also low key the sweetest on the inside. Also like you.”

You feel him let out a brief laugh and he squeezes your hand again.

“Mm, thank you sweetheart.”

You smile against his shoulder and continue walking with him all the way home, the creepy man from before long forgotten.

masterlist

#simon ghost riley fic #Simon ghost Riley x reader #Simon ghost riley #Simon riley #Simon riley x you #Simon riley x reader #Simone ghost riley x you #simon riley oneshot #Simone riley fanfic #mw2 ghost #ghost mw2 fic #mw2 ghost x reader #mw2 ghost x you #ghost cod #ghost cod x you #ghost cod fic #ghost fanfic #ghost cod x reader #fluff

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sunflower-lilac42 · 2 months

Text

✧ 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 || brock purdy ♔

summary: after a devastating loss, brock feels this emotional toll on him, weighing down on him. and y/n is the one who helps him through it.

warnings: the super bowl ('23), the chiefs (mentions), sad brock, sad

publish date: 02/12/24

notes: you all wanted this and that's all i'm going to say. jk um, i cried a lot while writing this. there tends to be a little trend of hatred towarsd the chiefs but um you should've expected that. you're welcome. (don't worry, there's fluff at the end bc i can't control myself) | add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist! (i don't have an nfl right now but maybe i'll add one in the future)

main masterlist

Her heart broke as soon as the Chiefs got their last first down, but in reality she knew from the moment that Moody had to kick the field goal that the game was over. She had hopes, of course, for their defense, but she knew. She had wished she was at home, able to turn off the TV to hide the disappointed look on Brock’s face, but she couldn’t. She grabbed tightly onto Kristin’s hand, tears glistening in both of their eyes. The two watched in mock horror as Hardman caught the ball, Chiefs fans erupting in cheers.

Niners fans sat, or stood, in shock as the people around them hugged and laughed with one another. They felt numb, eyes completely unfocused from the scene in front of them. Some fans ran their hands over their faces, through their hair, and under their eyes. Some fans stared angrily at the Chiefs fans, they had no right to win.

Kristin wrapped her friend into a hug, unable to stop her tears as well. Y/n had been with Brock through it all, through high school, through college, through his draft, through his rookie season, through everything. All she wanted for him was to win this game. He didn’t deserve this, he had done nothing to prove himself time after time again, and now he was going to be shit on because he didn’t make a third down conversion.

She pulled away and toyed with the band around her finger, their anniversary date engraved on the inside. Her hand moved to her necklace next as she stole a glance down at the field, feeling the outline of the 13 on her fingers. Brock was walking off the field and she couldn’t see his face but she knew what it looked like. It wasn’t a face she liked to see, it made her cry silently at night while Brock slept next to her or if he was across the country.

She hadn’t felt so infuriated when they announced who the Super Bowl MVP was, she wanted to yell at all the Chiefs fans around them, tell them that it was just a bit of dumb luck. She wanted to scream at them for thinking that they were everything when they weren’t, for thinking about no one but themselves. She had come from a family who experienced heartbreak in sports like no other, did they know how that felt? To watch their team lose? To watch the love of their life lose and think that he wasn’t good enough? Listen to him deteriorate himself with thought after thought? Did anyone stop to think about the players, their families, their fans? She wanted to scream at fans who didn’t care about the game, the ones who were there to see Taylor and her alone. She wanted to yell at the fans who mocked the niners, the ones who cursed at them, the ones who gave them shit. She wanted to yell at everyone and everything.

Tears streamed down her face and not once did she even attempt to wipe them off. She walked with Kristin out of the suite, holding each other’s hands in support. She could feel people’s eyes on her but she couldn’t care less, was she not allowed to be devastated for her fiancé? She knew Brock wouldn’t want to see her right now, he was too caught up in his own thoughts. She waited patiently outside Allegiant Stadium, hands shoved in her jean jacket Kristin had made for her.

When she noticed Brock walking towards her, she made sure that she stood strong, not letting him see how upset she was. He reached her in a matter of five seconds, instantly bringing her into a hug. She felt her shoulder dampen, sighing internally. He didn’t let out many tears, just a few, before he pulled back and wiped his eyes, “You ready?”

She placed a frown on her face and nodded, reaching for his hand, “Hotel, home, dinner?”

“Hotel please.” He gripped tightly to his hand and they made their way to a hotel room they had booked. They didn’t want to stay with the rest of the team no matter the outcome of the game.

She drove to the hotel, knowing how Brock got when he was angry or upset. His left hand was attached to her left, not letting it go for a second besides when they got in the car. Her gaze shifted between him and the road, trying not to crash in the meantime. Every time she snuck a glance at him, he looked sadder than before. She could see him fidgeting with some of her rings that she had on along with the bracelet he had gotten her when they won the Championship.

When she pulled into the parking spot, the two stayed there, sitting in silence. As the minutes passed, she started to get nervous about how the night was going to go. If she was going to be able to get him to take a shower, to eat, to sleep. She heard him sniffle, it was quiet but still audible for her, You wanna go up?”

He nodded, not trusting his voice to talk. They once again detached their hands for a brief second before they reconnected. As they entered the room, she realized how much of a mess she left it in the morning. She went to apologize but Brock locked himself in the bathroom. Then she heard the shower turning on, the water hitting the floor. She could only hope that he was going to be quick.

She changed out of her game clothes into one of the outfits she brought for lounging around. She listened as Brock showered, the water calming her nerves a little. She didn’t turn the TV on, didn’t put music on, just sat and stared as she waited. A couple of minutes later she heard something fall, and ran to go see what it was, “Brock, honey, are you okay?”

She got no response back and she sighed, attempting to open the door. He must’ve unlocked it from the time she walked away until now. She walked in and saw Brock curled up into a ball on the ground, his suit still on. She wrapped him tightly in her arms, not wanting to let go. She buried his head into her shoulder, placing his hands on her arms that rested around his shoulders and on his chest. His sobs were violent, mumbling incoherent words and noises.

If her heart could break anymore it would, she thought it could’ve shattered right there and then. His breathing grew heavy, unable to control it anymore. He clawed at her arms as a way to let her know it was hurting, “Hey, I’m here. It’s okay, baby.”

She kissed his head, moving one of her hands to run through his hair. He shook his head, not believing a single thing. When he had regained a bit of control he whispered out to her, “It hurts, y/n/n.”

She had to hold back tears, blinking them away as quickly as possible, “I know, sweetheart. It’s okay, we’re okay. I’m right here with you. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Eventually, his breathing evened out as he clung to her, listening to her heartbeat. When she heard the way his breathing regulated, she ran a hand over his chain, the one that had her initials on it,”I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

He nodded before she spoke again, “You want me to shower with you?”

“Please.” His voice came out desperate and a little squeaky from the crying and lack of use.

She helped him up, taking his suit jacket off and hanging up in the closet of the room. When she came he had already discarded the rest of his suit, handing it over to her.

✧༺✎༻∞

After Brock had slipped his sweatpants back on, they both sat in the bed, covers pulled over their legs. Y/n looked through her phone for restaurants nearby, “What do you want to eat?”

He shrugged, not particularly hungry at the time. He knew that she would give him a hassle if he didn’t say anything though, “Pizza?”

It was simple enough, both of them liked it and it was an easy thing to find. She nodded in response, going to place the order. They watched whatever was on TV, avoiding anything to do with football entirely. However, with it being Super Bowl Sunday there were no other sports on besides reruns. So they found a crappy TV show to watch, both of them criticizing it as they ate their pizza.

As the sun went down and darkness settled behind it, they lay in bed Brock asking to hold her. She agreed happily, whatever would make him feel better. His right arm flung over her as they laid on their left sides, his hand tracing patterns into her forearm. It was silent for a while, they could both hear the AC blowing softly.

Brock’s mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts. The good ones were primarily outweighed by the happy ones, not allowing him for even a second to be happy with his girl in his arms. He couldn’t help the thoughts that told him that he wasn’t good enough, that blamed him for the outcome of the game, that told him he shouldn’t be in the NFL, he was just a fluke.

He tightened his grasp on her as the thoughts kept coming and coming, “Brock?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you thinking back there?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh huh, sure. Now what’s really going on?”

“What if I am just as everyone says? What if I am just a pretty boy football player? A fluke? It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. I failed, y/n. I failed myself, I failed the coaches, I failed my teammates, I failed their families, I failed the fans. I failed you.”

She couldn’t take it anymore, the weight that he was carrying was unnecessary, it was too much for him. He did everything he could and more. She turned around, facing him as she looked dead in her eyes, “You listen to me, Brock Purdy. You are fucking amazing. You shouldn’t care what anyone else says, because you know what? They don’t matter. They don’t matter now and they won’t matter when you’re older.

“I get that everyone was banking on you to lead them to a victory and you led them to the best of your ability. You can’t blame yourself for the defense not holding them off, you can’t blame yourself for any penalty that may have happened, and you can’t blame yourself for not getting that third-down conversion. You did your best today, Brock, and I am so so so proud of you for that.”

“But what if my best isn’t good enough?”

“Isn’t good enough for who? For me? For Shanahan? For the team? You are good enough, Brock. You were the fucking 262 pick and you made the Super Bowl in your second year. You had 1387 yards in 9 games for a rookie. You had 4424 yards this year! And just in the regular season. You are the fifth overall quarterback right now, you know how fucking amazing that is. You are beyond believable, Brock.

“And this might be harsh but so what you didn’t win this year? It’s your second year and just making it this far was incredible. Yes, it would’ve been cool if you won and got MVP but you have so many more years to do that. It might not be today, it might not be next year or the year after that, but one year you will go out and win that because you deserve it.”

Brock’s eyes watered, caught off guard by her speech. He couldn’t even think of how lucky he was to have her at this moment. The way she had memorized his stats, the way she knew how he felt before he even knew, the way she was able to comfort him when he thought there was no coming back from it.

He kissed her head, “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

He reached for her left hand and twisted the ring on her finger, “I can’t wait to marry you.”

They shared a smile and then she was pulled in tighter to him, “Thank you.”

“For?”

“For always being there for me. Through high school, college, the draft, rookie season, everything. You mean so much to me, more than you would ever know.”

#sunny lune writes #brock purdy #san fransisco 49ers #nfl #football #brock purdy x reader

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ashwhowrites · 5 months

Note

Enemies to lovers Eddie Munson x Cheerleader! Reader, maybe some months ago Reader was trying to tell Eddie that she liked him, but Eddie was talking with his friends about how he doesn't like cheerleaders and jocks and that made Reader angry at him bc she thought that he liked talking to her (she was his client) so after that Reader started to act cold towards him, and Eddie did the same with her. One day, they got paired together for a Literature project, and they went to Reader's house to work on that but they only spend the afternoon fighting, a day later they went to Eddie's and they were fighting, again, but then they just stayed in silence and started kissing each other and that's when Reader confesses her feelings for Eddie and tells him that's she heard what he said, and he's like I wasn't talking about you, I liked you too, I still like you, and then they have make up sex (if you're comfortable writing that!) and start their relationship

No smut :/ I'm sorry

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

Y/N spent as much time thinking about Eddie as she did talking about Eddie. If she ever wanted to hide the fact she liked him, she couldn't. It was written on her face.

Which is why her friends are sick of her doing nothing to make a move. Chrissy was a girly girl herself, she knew Y/N wanted Eddie to make the move. She wanted Eddie to go after her so she felt wanted. But Chrissy also knew Eddie would never ask out a girl he believed to be out of his league.

After weeks and weeks of Y/N's friends pushing her to ask out Eddie, she was ready to do it.

She tried to shake off her nerves. Her fingertips gripped her textbooks tightly as she walked toward Eddie and his group of friends.

She was a few feet away, close enough to hear him but not close enough for anyone to recognize her.

"You asked my opinion and I gave it. I think asking out Rachel is a disgrace to our kind. She's a cheerleader and friends with all those jocks. Is she going to stand up for you when your ass is being kicked? Nah, I don't think so. Because she's a cheerleader and those are heartless shells."

Y/N felt herself freeze at Eddie's words. Any bit of confidence was washed away as his words traveled down the hall. She knew Eddie didn't like the popular crowd, but she thought he moved past it. She thought she was changing that perspective. Is that all he saw her as? A cheerleader?

Before she heard anything more hurtful, she raced right past.

~~~

"Oh yeah? What about Y/N?" Mike snapped back, ever since his breakup with El, he's had his eyes on someone new. And all he wanted was advice and instead, he pissed off Eddie.

"She's different." Eddie shrugged, in his mind there was no comparison between Y/N and any other girl.

"Because she's yours?" Mike argued.

"He wishes!" Dustin laughed.

"No! Because Y/N has shown to be sweet, kind, and accepting with everyone. She's more than just a cheerleader, but I can't say the rest about the team. Mike, you need to understand some girls are only cheerleaders when the outfit is on, find one like that." Eddie said, smacking down on Mike's shoulder.

~~~

Y/N felt too embarrassed to be near Eddie. She didn't know if this whole time he couldn't stand her. They never hung out outside of deals, maybe he only dealt with her because he had to.

She stopped buying from him and went cold turkey. She didn't bother talking to him in the halls, didn't look in his direction, and acted like he didn't exist.

Eddie noticed the cold shoulder immediately, and it hurt. He didn't understand the sudden change of attitude but he also didn't give it a second thought. Maybe she wasn't as good of a person as he thought.

~~~

Over the next few weeks, they didn't speak to each other. Until they got paired together for a school project. Y/N immediately wanted to beg for someone else but the teacher was strict and didn't handle the backtalk well.

It was awkward, and they both hated that feeling. Eddie sat on her floor, her feet dangling off the bed. She read out loud the book, but his mind was elsewhere. Her room was what he thought it would be, and he adored all the framed photos she had. Her room looked just as sweet as he always thought she was.

"If you aren't going to pay attention, I'll just do it myself." She snapped, and the heavy book slammed shut.

Eddie jumped at the noise but recovered quickly. "Sorry, I was just observing your room." He admitted.

"Well don't. Not like you'll ever be in it again anyway." She snapped again. It hurt her a little to say, a small reminder that they weren't friends and they wouldn't hang out like she wished.

"Yeah, got it." He said back, same snappy tone.

"Look you don't get to have an attitude with me!" She argued she didn't do anything wrong.

"Oh, why? Because we don't get to speak unless it's on your terms? And I'm just supposed to be cool with that? You completely flipped the script on me so yeah, I'm a little pissed!" He argued back. If anyone was allowed to be annoyed, it was him. He was ignored without an explanation.

"Flipped the script? No, what happened was you talked shit behind my back and I finally figured out how you thought of me." She said, her anger leaving as a small amount of sadness settled in her chest.

"Who told you that crap?" Eddie said he felt the want to roll his eyes.

"YOU!" She yelled, she stood up and towered over him. "I heard everything you said to Mike. You went on and on about how cheerleaders are heartless. I can't imagine the other things you said before or after."

Eddie tried to remember what she was talking about, the realization hitting him. He stood up fast, a fast apology on his lips.

"No no no! I did say that yes, but not about you! I would never say those things about you." He tried to grab her hand but she smacked it away.

"Ow" he muttered

"How did you not say that about me? I'm a cheerleader!"

"I know!" He panicked, "but I said so many things after that. You must have walked away or didn't hear me because I explained you were nothing like that."

Y/N felt a part of herself believing him. He sounded so panicked, which meant he was caught or he was trying to prove his innocence and needed her to trust him.

"What did you say?" She asked

"I explained to Mike that the girl he's interested in doesn't care about him. And I knew that because of what you showed me. I see how sweet and caring you are. You're nice to everyone and you don't use your popularity to have power over anyone. You aren't just a cheerleader, you are so much more than that. That's why you are different and that's why I'd never say mean things about you." His words and eyes were pleading for her to believe him. "I'm so sorry you got hurt."

"Well I shouldn't listen to people's conversations," she shrugged, " I appreciate your apology and I accept it. I'm sorry for not talking to you about it. I was hurt because I like you. And I was planning to ask you out when I heard everything." She admitted she turned her head to the floor, her cheeks flamed with embarrassment.

"Holy shit!" He exclaimed, "You like me? And like me enough to want to ask me out?" Eddie couldn't believe his ears. He wanted the same thing, obliviously, but he never thought he had the chance.

She gave him a look and he moved on. It was clear she liked him and she gave him an opening.

He moved his feet forward until there wasn't space between them. His eyes searched into hers for a sign, when her eyes flipped down to his lips he got his answer.

He licked his lips nervously, his hand reaching to cup her chin as he leaned in. His heart raced when she leaned in, both closing their eyes in sync.

Her stomach fluttered when she felt his lips. He smiled when he felt her kiss back, her hands slid around to his back. Her palms were flat against his shirt.

They kissed for as long as they could. Whenever one of them went to pull away, they'd drag them right back in.

Eddie couldn't wait to shove this in Mike's face.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson x cheerleader #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader

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cz19y · 2 months

Note

Heyyy, I was wondering if you could pls do head canons with sae, rin, isagi, n shidou (separately) w/ a fem!s/o who is thick (big booty n pudgy stomach)? It can be either sfw or nsfw. No pressure tho, take ur time n have a good day! 💕

MY LOVELY ! [HCs]

Multiple × Thick!Fem!Reader

FT.: Sae & Rin Itoshi, Isagi Yoichi, Shidou Ryusei

∆ SFW/fluff & suggestive, mention of bad comments, hint of insecurity, mention of abandonment issues[Rin’s part], characters aged up, OOC[? prob], some of them will be quite short[sorry], first time writing thick!Reader, grammar spelling errors[?].

NOTE: I never had an ask before and I have NO experience in writing for thick!Reader, so, perdon me for bad writing (:’0

I tried to do some research/reference from other fics cuz I really don't want to get y’all uncomfortable with incorrect wording, perdon me once again. Aside from that; I was shocked when I saw that I had a surprise in my inbox[I was giggling and going crazy bc I got nervous]. I hope I got the request right ! Srry if not :0

[ Stating . . . ]

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ SAE ITOSHI

Glares and glares hard when someone makes you uncomfortable.

Likes to steal you from whatever is occupying your precious attention and makes ya take his afternoon nap with him.

Pinches softly your sides — finds it soft.

His fetish can be clear as a say behind locked doors haha-

No place on this earth is better to take a nap on your tummy.

He had no idea of what to do when you first got insecure — he’s aware he lacks comforting skills and for that moment, he was desperate to learn it for the sake of his heart to see you happy again.

Keeps you away from the public's eye if you're comfortable with attention.

But if you're okay being seen in public, he's also okay.

Although, he likes keeping you to himself.

His manager is tired of him running off or ditching him to some place because he saw something that you’d like.

I feel like he'd get a little jealous when you interact with Shidou a little too much.

Keeping you away from Shidou.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ RIN ITOSHI

Takes notice of every outfit and his eyes soften every time he can admire you.

So pretty. So beautiful.

Thinks you're breathtaking and will shut down whatever makes you uncomfortable or insecure.

His words are sharp — nobody dares talk badly about you anymore if that was ever the case.

Rin craves touch if knowing him enough — watching horror movies while cuddling are the best.

Tries his best to comfort you whenever insecure.

“Don't let those lukewarm lowlifes get to you.”

If his lover worries about him going for someone better; just know that he’ll never do that.

He knows what it feels like to be abandoned — he’s somewhat emotionally mature[I think], Rin wouldn't get emotionally attached to someone just to abandon them.

“You know I’ll never abandon you, idiot.”

Reassures the best he can.

Likes kissing your gummy hands. Adores how they feel.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ISAGI YOICHI

Hypnotized when you sit.

The fat of your thighs only makes him lose the goody-shoes manner he has.

Dreams of sleeping in between your tight.

Fetish aside, finds you stunning.

Really- he worships you with stars in his eyes and kisses all over his beloved, favorite girl without being asked or hesitant.

Likes cuddling after practice or a tired day. You fill out his energy bar like no one can.

A feeling of proudness washes over him seeing you getting along with his friends.

Slur Isagi can be found outside the field if anyone talks bad about you.

begs Talks to Chigiri to give him some tips with girl stuff cuz he has no experience with it.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ SHIDOU RYUSEI

Absolutely in love with you.

No matter your form — thick, chubby, fat, — he doesn't care.

Says it's even better that you have that extra fluffiness.

Can't keep his hands to himself — adores how your tummy is soft and warm.

I can picture him taking a chomp out of you.

You're not allowed to feel insecure, not under his watch 🗣️🗣️

We all know he slapped your booty [more than] once.

His whole team is tired of him talking about his girlfriend — especially Rin, he’s ready to cut out his ears and fill out the hole with concrete.

Likes your tummy rolls. Finds them adorable.

You two can go nonstop about anything and everything half asleep while his hand caresses your sides.

#im so clueless whej it comes to doing request im sorry :((#bllk #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk headcanons #sae itoshi #itoshi sae x reader #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #isagi yoichi #isagi yoichi x reader #ryusei shidou #shidou ryuusei x reader #female reader #x female reader #i MIGHT do a request rule ngl / masterlist(?)#.#just edited this after the annon hating haha XD crazy

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imaginesig · 4 months

Text

“If they call me a slut, you know it might be worth if for once”

Lewis Hamilton x singer!reader

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, user1, y/nhq, and 402,038 others

yourusername: my muse <3

tagged lewishamilton

lewishamilton its an honor love

user1 when will I find someone to call me love

lando.jpg your own jpg account when??

yourusername I'll stick to my day job

user2 anybody else bothered by how quickly she goes from man to man

user3 right? like I swear she's had about 7 "muses" in the past 3 years

user4 she's literally done nothing wrong?? how dare a women date more than 1 person in her life??

carlossainz55 so new music when?

Charles_leclerc the Ferrari playlist needs an update

yourusername update loading 🔄

user5 oh please be a new album!!

lewishamilton

liked by roscoovescoco, yourusername, user6, and 183,829 others

lewishamilton: race weekend with my loves

tagged: mercadesamgf1, roscoelovescoco, yourusername

landonorris interesting order

yourusername we all know Roscoe is the real star here

roscoelovescoco listen to the lady 🙌

mercadesmhf1 we love having the Hamilton family in the paddock

yourusername ahhh love to be there!!

lewishamilton 💚

georgerussell63 always a good time with these two in the house

yourusername ahhhh Georgie 🫶🫶

user1 "Georgie" 🥹😭

tmz_offical

liked by user9, user1, user3, and 937,273 others

tmz_offical: just days after the end of the season, f1 driver Lewis Hamilton is spotted out with young girlfriend Y/n L/n. The couple is notorious for keeping their privacy, making paparazzi pictures a rare instance. Click the link in our bio to see what else was taken during their night out on the town.

tagged lewishamilton, yourusername

user1 no wonder they keep private, I would too if ended up trapped in a relationship with a slut like her

user2 didn't she and Dylan O'Brian break up right before they got together? Didn't think he rebound guy would last this long

user3 I could never imagine dating someone that much older than me

user4 fr someone tell her to take it down a notch, her sluttiness is showing

User8 the one sided hate is mid boggling

user5 the negativity is DEFINING

user6 right, y'all can't stand to see a women happy, healthy, and unbothered

y/nupdates

liked by lewishamilton, user5, user9, and 749,934 more

y/nupdates: Y/n seen outside the studio with her producer after radio silence all winter!!

tagged yourusername

user1 she's cooking

user2 she's entering her reputation era I can feel it

user3 fr, after that one tmz post blows up and her comments are flooded with negativity, she locked herself away with her love, and is now seen for the first time in awhile leaving the studio

user4 I CANT HANDLE THIS RN

user5 not the slut trying for a comeback

user6 how about you lead by example? Leave and don't come back 🫶

user8 you know the records gonna slap when @/producer sprinkled her magic

user9 I need them and Taylor+Jack to release something

yourusername

liked by user5, lewishamilton, y/nhq, and 394,028 others

yourusername: "Slut!" out now on all streaming platforms!! The rest of the album, "Amor Omnia Vincit" out this Friday!

when I originally sat down to create this new album I didn't image I'd write half the songs that made the final cut, but I did. This has been a very therapeutic experience for me.

Thank you to this album, my amazing team, and my lovely muse for keeping me going in the difficult time <3

tagged: y/nhq

lewishamilton you are so Shawn Hunter coded

lewishamilton I love you dear

yourusername I love you too darling

user1 they are so domestic I'm crying 🤭😭

user2 lets all start a thread of our fav lyrics from "Slut!"

user3 "if I'm all dressed up, they might as well be looking at us" WE KNOW THIS COUPLE ALWAYS BRING FIRE FITS

user4 very obvious but "if they call me a slut, you know it might be worth it for once," just hits so hard, like this is an issue she's dealt with for so long but Lewis makes it all better bc their relationship trumps everything

user5 piggy backing off of @/user4 's reasoning, "the sticks and stones they throw froze mid air"

user6 "IN A WORLD OF BOYS HES A GENTLEMAN" 🔛🔝

user7 I'm still not very her admitting that all the negavity around her dating has affected her so bad that she told Lewis "I said it might blow up in your pretty face"

scuderiaferarri we will not apologize for the people we'll become when this drops ‼️

Charles_leclerc we've always been #1 y/n stans

lewishamilton you red fuckers can take two steps back that's my title

carlossainz55 I thought you were her muse?

lewishamilton I'm both

user8 ok possessive king

youruserame for me and me only 🥰

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussell64, your username, user1, and 789,739 others

lewishamilton: SO, SO, SO PROUD OF YOU LOVE!! Watching you work through a rough patch with such grace was beautiful. Thank you for allowing me to be apart of it and listen to these songs+more. I'll be your muse forever if you'll have me <3

tagged yourusername, y/nhq

yourusername forever and always <3

lewishamilton <3

user1 that water look very ~aquamarine~ to anyone

user2 he def knew what he was doing

lewishamilton I had a message to send 🤷🏾‍♂️

user2 LMAOOO HES SO PETTY

yourusername sassy man epidemic isn't a joke

user3 I love that she left like people wanted and wrote a whole song to shut down the hater but also put her and Lewis's relationship on the pedestal it deserves

producer such a sweet album!! Some of the best love songs out there!!

Charles_leclerc Vigilante Shit is my new pre-prix anthem

yourusername watch out @/maxverstappen1

maxverstappen this is where the dutch anthem falls silent 😔

carlossainz55 wasn't ready for Dress

yourusername but...

carlossainz55 its my fav

user4 I love that lewis posted for the whole album when Y/n didn't, but she's replying to comments in his section when he isn't

user5 they really are made for each other huh

roscoelovescoco amazing work mom!!

user5 I will never get over the mom

yourusername

liked by landonorris, Charles_leclerc, user5, and 937,039 others

yourusername: surprise!! Since this album taught me what it was like to write and create in such an intamate space with very few people/outide influence I wanted to celebrate it with 3 small shows in Monaco, London, and Ottawa!

tickets on sale at 12 pm eastern this friday, see ya then ;)

tagged y/nhq

landonorris do friends get discounts??

yourusername everyone on the grid plus any serious significant others get VIP entry courtesy of me and my team 💖😘

y/nhq we'll be reaching out soon to select the show

lilymhe you don't understand how excited this makes me!!

yourusername well I couldn’t celebrate without my girls (and their men too ig 🙄🤚)

oscarpiastri thanks a lot y/n

alexalbon anybody else feeling loved??

lewishamilton completely 🫶

user1 this will start world war 3 I can feel it

user2 this is the eras tour all over again

user3 except that was selling stadiums, these are small venues

user4 any f1 driver want to link up for a show?? you'll never have to speak to me ever again

user5 I regret to inform you babe, but I think this is the reason she said serious significant others...

user6 official tour soon?? Please mother??

yourusername oh so very soon...

lewishamilton

liked by your username, georgerussel64, landonorris, and 379,268 others

lewishamilton "got lovestruck went straight to my head" <3

tagged yourusername

user1 crying throwing up

user2 quoting her song?? that's about him?? I'll be resting my eyes on the highway if anybody needs me

user3 my toaster looks like a fun bath bomb

yourusername "got lovesick all over my bed" <3

landonorris beautiful show, beautiful couple 🧡

yourusername 🧡

scuderiaferrari maybe we're colorblind but that doesn't look like Mercedes green

mercadesamgf1 watch your back

georgerussell64 👀

georgerussell64 slayed so hard

yourusername an honor from the meme king?? I'm not worthy

yourusername

liked by Charles_leclerc, user9, lewishamilton, and 930,393 others

yourusername thank you to everyone who came out to a show this weekend!! I had a blast sining new stuff, covers, and old pieces with you all- the love I experienced was unreal!! I cannot wait to see what happens in the future 💖

To all those close to me, our relationships mean the absolute world!! Special love to Lewis who held my hand through my darkest time, showed me what a true relationship was, and gave me a perfect little boy (I love you Roscoe). Darling, its been a wonderful experience being with you <3

tagged y/nhq, landojpg

lewishamilton love you so much angel <3

georgerussell64 definitely gave me and Carmen the night of our lives!!

alexalbon the show was so amazing I almost forgot you flirted with my gf in the invitation

yourusername stay mad

lilymhe 🥵

Roscoelovescoco can I come next time??

yourusername I'll see what I can do...

landjpg thank you for photo creddits and well as the opportunity to photograph these unique shows

yourusername you didn't not dissapoint 👏👏 thank you for doing it

Charles_leclerc I had an amazing time!!!

carlossainze55 you should hear him try to speak, voice complelty gone

yourusername that's the kind of energy we all need

comments have been limited

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton smau #Lewis Hamilton x reader #mercades imagine #mercades x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 imagines #formula 1 imagines #roscoe hamilton

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collegetennisoriginstory · 2 months

Note

So, I was romancing Sam on every playthrough but decided to branch out finally, and now I have a tier list; ‼️Potential spoilers‼️

Tobin: By far my favorite RO. I typically don't like the archetype of "brooding ro and their charming ro counterpart" It just doesn't interest me as someone who has seen a lot of het romances employ this trope. But giving Tobin the chance they deserve and finding that I like how they respond to my MC's own flirtatious nature and then discovering how they feel about my MC being the same gender, just adds an extra layer of interest for me that I appreciated. They're kind, considerate, and very thoughtful of their friends. Very quickly blew the rest of the competition out of the water for me. I think their mindset when it comes to tennis explains why they're not the no.1 Seed despite being the captain of the team, and it honestly surprised me. I think the full weight of their route is explored best when MC is similarly looking to go pro as it parallels Rayyan nicely. Their kidness is the space they give you is born from experience and the fear of doing to MC what was done to them and I just eat that stuff up. Also it is very rare to have a black RO who is treated with any level of depth, and I just 🥹love that we Tobin.

Rayyan: In a surprise twist, Rayyan gets the second spot for similar reasons as Tobin. I think the enemies to friends to lovers(partners) arc that is presented in their story is intriguing. Like Sam, they have a level of history with the MC that makes them familiar when heading into the new space, so I made it a habit to stay near them when at all possible. Rayyan isn't particularly cold, or as cold as ppl might assume, I think they have a very good balance of being a sort of quiet and reserved person that still manages to be personable. I feel that playing like I do, my MC might've come off as flippant to them, which only adds to the anxiety that they feel going into this season. Their struggle of being visually Arab in a world and country that sees non whiteness as punishable is very felt. It's really special to me that the two most prominent ROs are dark skinned people of color. Sorry for being biased, but even when I wasn’t actively romancing them, they got major points for that.

Sam: My baby gets the third spot and I think that's fair. What i adored about Sam is the pining of a friends to lovers story. I never make the first move with Sam, despite playing very flirty, bc I see my MC with not having to put up a front with Sam. So the things they do or say that signify to others that my MC is looking for something physical aren't used with Sam; they believe MCs closeness with them is strictly platonic while my MC believes that Sam has been lightly rejecting this whole time. Just something about those missed connections get to me. (Also, the varcity jackets!? So cute) Now, Sam loses points due to being away at another university for a majority of the story thys far. Which made me wonder if placing them in a new environment with MC might change things for them. Everything IS different now; so, who is to say that their relationship hasn't run its course? Juicy, but due to lack of presence, I'll keep them at 3rd.

G: They're French. Automatically, a point is taken off. They're also very sexy as a woman (my MC is a they/them lesbian) so I felt that, to remain true to character, I would have to ignore that and see what G has going on. Ngl, they do sort of play out like a romance novel character in the most obvious way so far 😭 no hate though. I just couldn't not think about "Oh, you sexy French student." Whenever they said anything. Smoldering looks from across the room at a crowded college party, like okay 400 days of summer <3. I think they're rather perfect for players who are looking for some steam outside of the locker room. They have the same issue as Sam, as in, they're not present in the locker room. They're not our teammate, so we don't really get the same level of relationship building with them as u would a Rayyan or Tobin. And I don't think that's a bad thing necessarily. I feel that speaks to the amount of work put in to make the team feel real and not just thrown together characters. Once I started to romance my teammates, I found it hard to flirt with anyone else, as I felt that they just didn't understand my MC on the same level.

Felix: ngl, they'd have to get security to get me off them, I have this burning rage in my heart whenever they show up. "🤼‍♂️ This is for Tobin, Cakepop‼️" I am sure there is indeed depth to them as a character, I am sure it hurts to hear someone say "I can not love you the way you want me to." And we are only human, we don't always behave the way we want to. But Felix makes my nipple itch they just remind me of men who just hold this anger for their exes unreasonably. I think there is an interesting parallel to be found in a Tobin route MC and Felix. I just don't have the language to put it together bc I will never romance them and I don't think I ever will, personally just can't bring myself to do so. They are what I felt Rayyan would be, and I'm fine with meeting them with hostility.

All in all, I'm glad I branched out to see what the other ROs were like it's definitely a testament to ur hard work and is greatly appreciated. I will continue to be messy and kiss Tobin, Rayyan, and Sam because I am toxic aim to be a learning experience, not a lover 🫶🏽

Oh my god~ It was so interesting to see your gradual evolution / journey through pursuing the different ROs.

I think it's really interesting in particular to see how Tobin's character is sort of 'hidden' beneath multiple layers, and you have to really work at unpeeling those layers, and it's really rewarding as a writer to see that route 'give' readers so much unexpected joy.

And, of course — I have a soft spot for stoic / unexpressive, overly-competitive, serious characters who are secretly just a giant sap. For Rayyan in particular, I think their drive to excel at tennis is counter-balanced against their loyalty, their ride-or-die-ness with the people they love. I love the extra bit of psychoanalysis that you did regarding Rayyan's anxiety about MC not taking tennis seriously, which is fine on its own, but really becomes an issue if they're partnered.

Sam having less 'screen-time' than the others is totally fair, and I think (or hope) will be made up for by the sheer amount of history they share.

As for the whole "French sexy" stereotype, I actually do think this is a crucial part of G's arc. The idea that perhaps they both see each other as 'archetypes' at the start (the jock-fling during one's exchange year, the sexy french exchange student), and then as they start understanding each other as real people, and then as they start (possibly) falling in love with each other (with all the eccentricities, all the imperfections), the relationship takes on more depth and dimension.

Finally, thank you so much for taking the time to explore all these different routes, and I'm so glad that doing so was rewarding for you :) I absolutely loved reading this message, so thank you also for sharing! It's always so fun listening to how different MCs, or different MC choices, and just different readers in general — have different takes on the ROs!

#college tennis: origin story #if #ct:os #interactive fiction #asks #rayyan #sam #tobin #g

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octuscle · 6 months

Text

I found a box in my mail today

I think the sender got mixed up but there doesn't seem to be a address on it

Bc Strangely there a pair of football cleats

Iv never heard of a football jock living nearby me

How odd, they seem to be my size too, wonder how they feel on,

hmm that smell of new shoes really gets me going

Dude, it's late. Go to bed. You have to get up early tomorrow, the first lecture starts at 08:30 already.

Your dreams are wild. You're chasing a herd of young lads around campus with a whip. Fuck, you wake up in a cold sweat. Outside everything is still pitch black. But a morning wood of the finest. Your apartment is once again a mess. Good that your cleaning lady comes tomorrow. You go into the bathroom. And you freeze your hard-on is huge. But what happened to you? You are old! Very old! You are easily 30 years or even more. And above all you are horny. Very horny! You can't help but jerk off. And shit, you give your cleaning lady really something to do. You take an old towel and wipe away the mess on the mirror and sink to some extent. The last time your cleaning lady was here was a week ago. Hehehe, there are already several dirty towels with encrusted stains on the floor. But hey, you're the coach. You're macho. Real men don't clean up. Or clean. Okay, real men don't actually fuck the quarterback either. Or get fucked by the linebacker. But nobody's perfect.

Today we're taking photos for the new team calendar. Your new football shoes won't be on the June calendar page. Fuck, this is the month you'll be 32 years old. Fucking age. Too old to shine in the NFL anymore. Too young to be a coach, actually. But your team loves you. Not just platonically.

#submission #age progression #football jock #jock tf #muscle tf #muscle transformation #male tf #male transformation

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luveline · 1 year

Note

hotch baby blurb idea bc i too am obsessed with the man: bau!reader where the team goes to a cold cold place (like alaska) and she accidentally brings her summer go-bag so hotch lets her borrow one of his quarter-zip ones? he can't stop staring at her all snuggled in his clothes <33

thank you for your request! ♥︎ fem!reader (I tried to keep reader's size ambiguous but this is clothes sharing so)

Hotch is waiting for you and Emily amicably outside of your hotel room when the door finally opens, two minutes late. His eyes widen at your short sleeves.

"It's very cold," Hotch says, looking you up and down in surprise. "I'm not one to correct the fashion choices of my associates, but I think you'll need your coat, L/N."

Hotch feels your stress before you've opened your mouth. You're unusually self-conscious, your lips twisted with a mixture of apology and sheepishness.

"Sir, I've brought the wrong bag. I don't have a coat."

"You don't have one," he says. Unnecessarily. He doesn't mean to make you feel worse or anything, he's just surprised.

"No. Sorry. I'll be okay, though."

"We're in Alaska," Emily says, giving her own apologetic frown. "I didn't have anything... suitable."

Her word choice makes him suspicious but there isn't time to waste probing for answers. He unlocks the door to his own room and slips inside. He searches through his clothes quickly for the loose fitting quarter zip he knows is inside, and grabs it without thinking about it anymore.

He opens his door and offers you the quarter zip. "I know it isn't perfect, but you're welcome to it. Otherwise we'll have to break out the company Amex." You don't have time for shopping, and thankfully the quarter zip looks just fine when you thrust your elbow inside and drag it over your head.

It looks better than fine.

There's an awkward silence. Hotch deals with it by not dealing with it, gesturing for you and Emily to start toward the stairs down to the hotel foyer.

And so begins his private hell. All day he witnesses you in his clothes, wishing it had no effect on him. If it were anyone else on the team it wouldn't mean a thing. Too bad it's you, lovely you. You pull the zipper down at dinner and he feels his breath catch every time he spots the bare triangle of your skin beneath it. You rub your cheek against the collar with a small smile and he wonders if he would've been better off taking you to the store for a jacket.

You walk upstairs for the night together. Hotch had sent everybody to bed hours ago. You're the only one stubborn enough to insist on staying up to work the case with him.

"Hotch," you say, as he's pushing open the door.

He pauses. You shrug out of his clothes, which is, by far, much worse than you shrugging into them. You dig your elbow into the hemline and tug it up over your head, your back arched, chest extended toward him.

He clenches his fist around nothing. Your smiling, bashful face appears as you pull out your arms. You hastily tuck it the right way around.

"Here," you say, stepping closer to him. You've never been very good at professional space. "Thank you for letting me borrow it."

It smells like you.

He encourages it back toward your chest as he schools his expression.

"It'll still be cold tomorrow. Keep it."

You nod slowly. "Yeah, okay. Thank you. You'll get it back eventually, I promise."

He'd say you could keep it forever if he thought he might survive another day of you in his clothes. As it stands, he might not make it through the day. But at least you'll be warm.

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds

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inchidentally · 3 months

Note

https://x.com/charlclerc/status/1749478427239891090?s=20

I think someone here missed the sight of a soaked Oscar <3

ok so big shock!! I'm gonna use this sweet little morsel of Lando pausing in his remaining winter break to look back on that glorious day

to create an absolute smorgasbord of what Suzuka meant to him and to Oscar

I've edited together the most chewable parts of the post race press conference tho tbh it's mostly just removing the parts where Max tries his best to put a slight new twist on answering the exact same questions as last weekend lgflajsg.

so at the start I love the little private smile Lando and Oscar share when Max's fanfare is going on - it gives me a little rueful but also slightly creepy twinning vestal virgins au like are we going to destroy him Lando? yes we are going to destroy him Oscar

(I AM NOT BEING SERIOUS IT'S JUST JOKES).

which is even funnier with what Max leads into about seeing these two goddamn McLarens sandwiching him and for a split second thinking ah so they want to destroy me? oh dear. like Max is very at home on that couch but the presence of these two creatures sharing covert smiles with each other has him (and probably a lot of that room) uneasily wondering if that's all y'know, normal and above board? they're not like... witches, right? haha. crazy!

and I think the cool meticulous way Lando treats his own performance is a really good example of how (in my opinion!) his self-flagellation does need to be reeled in because he's never the sort to be soaring high enough to compensate for those lowest lows. for a while I was undecided but honestly I agree with Martin Brundle, Jenson Button and Oscar who've said (in different ways and indirectly from Oscar) that Lando is far too level-headed and race smart to be hanging his own tender hide out like he does. I so appreciate how measured he was in self-approval over his back to back podiums and no one's asking him to get cocky, but I'd really love to see him match this approach to when he struggles as a driver (and not just a car issue which was the case pre Silverstone).

contrast that with Oscar discussing his own self-criticisms of the weekend but equally saying he'll still relish the maiden podium. and crucially that he can fairly put at least part of his struggles - which he was also meticulous about - down to this being his first time racing at Suzuka. an anon sent an ask about Andrea praising Oscar specifically for his performance there and you can really feel the influence Andrea has had throughout the season on Oscar. because before Silverstone, Oscar had a tendency to monotone lowness and disappointment in himself that bordered dangerously on bitterness and maybe even a fear/doubt of how his rookie season would indeed turn out? but Andrea's approach of optimism, faith in teamwork and specifically in making sure Oscar was looked after while Lando naturally performed so much better, absolutely sank in.

and it makes sense that Oscar as a rookie has so much more mental plasticity when it comes to outside influence - and says a lot about Andrea's leadership too. it's where I wish Lando could have had Andrea as principal from day one too. bc understandably, Lando has graduated to that level of knowing himself so well as a driver relative the drivers around him that there's an existing almost prejudice about himself that the people in charge of guiding him have to overcome.

literally everyone who knows and who matters has said how similar Lando and Oscar are in terms of their approach to the car and their dedication to the team. and I know Andrea has shielded Lando in his own way by saying that it's a champion's mentality to have as much passion and emotion as Lando does. but - and this is honestly such a great piece about Andrea go read it and thank you again to @mecachrome for repping him so much - he also emphasized the positivity that was so crucial to pushing the team through those awful early races. I don't at all blame Lando for getting a bit grim toward himself at times thinking not only about that first race win but also the championship. but I also really hope that between Andrea and Oscar (source: Lando himself!) he can use the lifts of his highs to not sink so low anymore.

skipping back to around the minute mark when Lando says how much more this second place means to him than Singapore because of the double podium and also because of his own performance being better. not to get too ~contentious~ but this is why I really have needed the Singapore high to wear off as fast as it did for Lando when people are discussing Lando's 2023 as a driver and not as part of a ship. absolutely still revel in it in an rpf sense! but like, real life Lando is intensely loyal to his team and y'know what else? he's intensely loyal to loyalty. which is precisely what Oscar has been proving to McLaren since signing that pre-contract the summer before. it took an entire court case for Oscar to get to McLaren and he was met with a wall of hate coming from three sides. comment sections were filled with people celebrating McLaren's 2023 initial struggles and vilifying Oscar for how much he was costing them (in every sense) for paying out Daniel. and it was the Suzuka weekend when Oscar agreed immediately to extend his contract further.

Lando had a front row seat for all of that once the season started. and considering how few races Oscar's dad and Lily were able to make due to being on the other side of the world and final year of school respectively, Oscar spent a fair amount of that time getting to grips with being in F1, and the particular pressure and stress from media and fans, largely alone in terms of a private life. so it says so much about how well he was repaid by the team and also by Lando for keeping his cool and putting in the extra hours and keeping the faith.

and around 2 mins "we have two drivers up fighting for those positions" "we can help one another and use one another". that tandem the two of them have achieved before the season is even over was largely formed when the car was fighting against them. as was the case with Carlos and then Daniel and truly every other F1 driver, Lando did NOT have to intervene or take on a specific responsibility toward Oscar. F1 drivers aren't pack animals, they move through their careers alone and are happy if they can be buddies with their partner. so to see Lando as the number one show faith in Oscar and stand up for him and receive that trust and faith in return is so unique. Lando controlled that as much as Andrea did - maybe even more considering how he says he feels Oscar is so similar to him in a lot of ways. it's not uncommon for charismatic guys like Lando, Carlos and Daniel to make friends with their team mate.

but I think the whole "Lando effect" thing has actually been a huge disservice to what Lando has put into the partnership with Oscar. in this interview early on in the season, he says how Oscar is really quiet and that it's just how most people are in their first year and "we'll change him". but as we've seen, Oscar didn't end up changing and funnily enough the hanging out he and Lando do off the track has been as private and only alluded to as the rest of Oscar's private life. Lando got a lot of Oscar on his camera (again, a lot we haven't gotten to see yet) but really there was no big transformation in terms of Oscar becoming one of the charismatic personalities of the grid. and yet he and Lando only got closer and more supportive of each other in all the ways that matter to a partnership. so I think it's a much bigger credit to Lando that he learned to understand Oscar's personality better and still found ways to establish that sense of trust and loyalty without a bromance or a bunch of common interests to act as glue.

when they do that slightly eerie, intense active listening when the other is speaking, it's them having a synchronicity that has nothing to do with how guys usually bond. (that's why my vestal virgins au yes I know it's weird)

Lando wasn't in any position of power for any of that to be relevant with Carlos or Daniel - Carlos was so far advanced already in his career and Daniel had his thing going on w McLaren that Lando had no control over (and rightly didn't respond to people demanding he show some kind of shame?? or partake in the blame). so loyalty never really played a part in his partnerships with those two, whereas (and maybe as a result of that) Lando's loyalty to McLaren as a team only grew each season. so seeing someone close to his own age but far behind in experience, work so hard and prove so early on that he wants to stay, absolutely brought out a pride from Lando for Oscar that I really hope he will also extend to himself more. major Zak Brown levels of back pats to Lando.

and side note but it needs to no longer be a question or point of contention when Lando says that Silverstone and then the double podiums are superior races for him. Lando loves his F1 buddies, absolutely. but Lando didn't burn through junior championships by favoring his buddies. he loves racing and his team more. and he sure didn't get that second place podium in Singapore because of a buddy, it was because of the position he'd put himself in. just like how Carlos would have given DRS to anyone behind him who was on older tires like he was to ensure that win. like, let's remember the manic obsession that has brought these men to where they are. buddies are a part-time thing. rpf is my meat and drink but I'll never confuse it up with that reality lol.

4:45 the Senna-Prost comparison - and I could probably get all deep about the youngest generation referring to those old bitter alpha male rivalries as something long gone (but I won't). but it's a really good call-back to Monza and the coming together because there's Oscar's ability to see his performance clearly and where it went wrong for him leading to that third place and not higher. and god, I am in no way saying that it's possible to compare Lando being in his fifth season without a race win to a rookie celebrating his first podium. I just really hope that Lando reminds himself that he's come of age in F1 in the Max Verstappen era and that in the cool down room at Qatar, Oscar giddily thanked Mercedes for clearing a path for him. that it doesn't always have to be pure perfection and pace to keep him afloat. sometimes points are points and serendipity plays her part.

"I've been drowned by Lando in champagne" god I will never be over Lando's smug toothy smile

and I will also never be over the way Lando went from clearly dreading being the "older/experienced" teammate and not knowing what to make of Oscar's quiet, reserved personality, to the intense proprietary authority of practically holding Oscar up by his collar like a prize cat in Suzuka and saying "this is mine! I helped make this what it is! look how good this is!"

all while baptizing him in champagne <3

#inchreplies #inchidentallyanessay #landoscar

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helloalycia · 3 months

Text

𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 [𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

summary: when Jackie surprises you with a kiss, you're excited at the possibility of what it could mean, only to discover she's got back together with her boyfriend the next day.

warning/s: implied internalised homophobia i suppose?

author's note: and here’s the third and final part - i hope you liked this one, loved writing for jackie 🥰 i have amother jackie one done and another in the works bc apparently i was super inspired recently lol, and i’ve also got some other stuff in progress. But the next thing I post is gonna be an alycia debnam carey imagine (gotta stick to my roots haha)

one / two / masterlist / wattpad

I groaned inwardly as I looked all around the darkroom, my locker and my school bag for my lens cap, but I just couldn't seem to find it. That's when I wondered if it could be in the bleachers on the soccer pitch – maybe it fell out of my pocket when I was shooting recently.

Like the lazy girl I was, I went outside with tunnel vision, immediately searching the bleachers for my lens cap, but I still couldn't find it. As I paused, looking up for a moment to think, I realised someone was on the pitch, and upon closer inspection at the waving figure, I realised it was Jackie. Huh.

When I climbed down from the bleachers, she jogged over to me with a confused expression, but smiling nonetheless.

"What are you doing here?" she asked breathlessly, a little sweaty from practice, and it was annoying because she still managed to look good.

"I lost my lens cap for my camera," I said with a sigh. "The last place I remember having it is here."

Her fingers played with her bottom lip as she glanced around. "Oh. That's annoying. Erm..."

"It's fine," I said, not wanting her to worry herself over it when it was my problem. "I'm just having a look around, but I don't think it's here. Might pick up a new one from the camera store. Anyway, what are you doing out here? Where's the team?"

At this, she rested her hands on her hips. "No practice on today, but I wanted to have some me time. Thought I'd put in some extra practice. I've finished now anyway."

I quirked a brow. "Isn't Shauna usually your lift? How you getting home?"

"Shauna is helping her parents with something," she said, before flashing me her signature smirk. "I was planning to flirt with some sophomores and get a ride."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Of course you were."

She winked playfully and, though I didn't doubt she could find some desperate sophomore to give her a ride, I couldn't just let her do that. Besides, it seemed she was getting lifts off me a lot lately, so what was one more to add to the list?

"I'm done in the dark room if you need a ride," I offered.

"Oh, I wasn't hinting at anything," she said, giving me a genuine smile, but I shook my head.

"I know, but still. I don't mind."

Appreciative, she nodded. "Thanks. Do I have time to shower?"

"You have all the time in world, darling," I said as I looked around. "I am still yet to find my lens cap."

She stifled a chuckle. "Good luck with that. I'll go clean up. Meet you at your car?"

I hummed in agreement, already mentally retracing my steps with my camera, and she left me to it. After spending half an hour more searching all around for my lens cap, I finally gave up and went to sulk in my car. It wasn't actually a big deal, especially because I could just buy a new one after dropping Jackie off, but it was the inconvenience of it all.

Not long after I got in my car, Jackie joined me, tossing her backpack in the backseat before sliding into the passenger's seat. Looking refreshed, she shot me a smile.

"So, where to?" she asked, pulling her seatbelt on.

"Your house?" I replied, thinking it was obvious.

"But I thought you wanted to get your lens cap from the store," she said with confusion. "Oh, wait, did you find it?"

As I started the car, I said, "I didn't, but it's fine. I can drop you off home."

"I don't mind going," she said, leaning her elbow on the door. "It's on the way anyway."

"You sure?"

She hummed in agreement, so I drove us straight to the camera store, knowing I wouldn't be long. Luckily, it was still open for the day, and when we headed inside, she immediately began to wander around the small store, intrigued by the cameras on display.

I began to talk to the shopkeeper about my lens size and what camera I had, hoping he had a replacement cap I could buy, and then he left to have a look in the back.

"Y/N, there's a photo booth!" Jackie suddenly called as I was waiting for the shopkeeper to return.

"Yep," I acknowledged, having seen it a million times so not sure what the hype was.

"We have to use it, c'mon!" she pleaded, already grabbing my hand.

I rolled my eyes, having gotten used to Jackie so much that I knew to just go with the flow at this point. She was grinning as she looked at the button and money slot.

"It's fifty cents," she realised, before elbowing me in the gut as she rushed to find some coins in her pocket. Eventually she pulled out a quarter and looked at me. "You got another quarter?"

"I guess? I don't–"

"Look!" she encouraged, and I grumbled to myself as I dug around in my own pocket, managing to pull out a quarter. Before I could even offer it her, she grabbed it from my hand and put both of them in the machine.

After fiddling around, a manual timer ticked to signal the first photo was going to be taken, so Jackie moved closer to me to fit in the lens.

"Smile!" she said, and I had no choice but to listen.

The photo was taken and, just as quickly, the next timer was going off.

"Funny face!" she instructed immediately, before pulling one of her own.

I rushed to stick out my tongue, managing to do bunny ears behind her head without realising, and then the final timer was ticking.

"Okay, a kiss on the cheek for the grand finale," she said with amusement, and because we'd been so rushed up until now, I didn't really think to question who was kissing who.

As the last tick went off before the photo, I turned to kiss her cheek, but she must have done the same, because for a brief moment, our lips touched and then the photo was taken. Embarrassed, I quickly pulled away, as did she.

"Sorry," we both blurted at the same time, and suddenly this photo booth felt too small.

"Y/N?" the shopkeeper called, and I was grateful for the interruption as I stepped out the photo booth and saw he was back at the counter. "Got your lens cap. This should fit like a glove."

I swallowed thickly as I approached the counter, acutely aware of Jackie stood behind me, looking as awkward as I felt. After paying the shopkeeper, the two of us left and returned to the car.

"Er, did you want the photos or–" Jackie started to ask when we got in the car, holding the strip that the machine gave her.

"It's okay, you really wanted them," I said quickly, before distracting myself with starting the car.

To say the car ride home was awkward was an understatement, even with the radio filling the silence. I wasn't sure why, since we both knew the poor attempt of a kiss was an accident, but my fear was that I'd made her feel uncomfortable. It was the last thing I'd wanted, but I couldn't bring myself to speak, and neither could she.

I barely got chance to put my parking brake on when she got out the car and avoided my eyes.

"Thanks for the ride," she muttered, before walking up the long path to her mansion of a home.

I would have left it there, but it felt wrong to, and then I noticed she'd left her backpack in the backseat, so I called her from the open window and grabbed the bag. Jumping out the car, I jogged to meet her halfway, glad she'd stopped.

"You forgot your bag," I said, holding it out to her, and she accepted it, expressionless but staring holes into my face.

Knowing I couldn't leave it like this, I started, "Jackie, what's–"

But she cut me off instantly – and to my surprise – with a kiss. I stumbled back as she grabbed my face, kissing me with such intensity that it took me a second to realise that Jackie fucking Taylor was kissing me. And she was really good at it.

I closed my eyes, reciprocating the kiss, breathing in every part of her floral perfume, tasting every bit of her strawberry lipgloss. There was a second where we paused to take in a breath, but she closed it just as quickly, desperate and sudden and surprising.

Finally she pulled back, and then as if realising what she'd done, her hands let go of my face and she avoided eye contact like I'd make her go blind.

"Thanks," she said awkwardly, before spinning around and speed walking to her front door.

"Wait, Jackie–!"

But she fumbled for her keys and was already at her front door, not bothering to turn around. I swallowed hard, my lips still tingling from the sensation of hers, and went back to my car. Did that really just happen?

All night I was thinking about it, replaying the afternoon in my mind. She'd made me question a lot about my feelings for her in the past, and at one point, I was certain I was just projecting onto her – maybe that flirting was just who she was? But no, it had to be real, because she'd just made out with me on her own accord, and I liked it. I'd liked her, sure, but she'd always been unattainable to me for obvious reasons.

Well, until now.

The next day at school, I was hoping I could talk to Jackie about everything properly, maybe get some clarification on what she was thinking. So, you can imagine my surprise when I walked past her in the hall and saw her standing with Jeff, her supposed-to-be ex-boyfriend, leaning on his shoulder as he had an arm wrapped around her.

As soon as I saw them together, my heart dropped, the surprise easily replaced by humiliation. God, how could I have ever thought Jackie Taylor and I could be a thing? Was I stupid?

Turning to walk a different way, I fought back the urge to cry, feeling used and stupid and like an absolute fool for thinking yesterday was anything special.

"Hey, Y/N, wait," Jackie suddenly called, and then she stopped before me with apologetic eyes. "I didn't–"

"So you're back with Jeff, huh?" I got straight to the point, glaring at her.

She avoided my eyes and nodded weakly.

I scoffed, feeling much better hiding behind my anger than my sadness. "Why did you even do it, Jackie? Why d'you kiss me?"

She frowned. "I don't know."

The longer she avoided my stare, the more upset I became. How dare she do all of this, make me fall for her, force herself into my life, only to throw it back in my face.

"Just wanted to test it out?" I muttered bitterly. "Kissing a girl?"

She winced. "No, it wasn't like that."

"Then what?" I asked, searching her expression for a clue, but she refused to answer, either not having the words or not wanting to upset me anymore. Too late for that. "You should figure your shit out," I said harshly. "And don't speak to me again."

Finally, she looked up, but I was already leaving, ignoring when she called my name. I should've known she'd go back to him, she always did.

Fuck Jackie Taylor.

It was impossible to avoid her and Jeff over the next few days, since they were in a lot of my classes and always on the way to my locker, but I tried my darn best to.

Unfortunately for me, I was out grocery shopping with my mum when I spotted a familiar blonde head of hair further down the aisle from us, standing with her best friend. I was hoping if we stayed put long enough, they'd just keep going and we wouldn't bump into them, but my mum, who was oblivious to our falling out, spotted Jackie instantly.

"Oh, Y/N, your friend is here," she pointed out, and before I could tell her to keep it down, she started to call out Jackie's name, earning her attention.

"Mum, no!" I whisper-shouted, but it was too late because Jackie and Shauna were already approaching us.

I considered walking away, finding somewhere else to busy myself, but my mum would have just found a reason to make it a big deal, so I stayed put and kept quiet.

"Hey, Y/M/N," Jackie greeted my mum in her usual chirpy voice, before I felt her looking at me. "Hey, Y/N."

I ignored her, suddenly interested by the handlebar of the trolley.

"Jackie, it's so great to see you again," my mum said, genuinely happy to chat with her, since the soccer player had made quite the impression on her. "And your friend, it's Shauna, right?"

"It is, it's great to meet you," Shauna greeted her kindly before shooting me a smile. "Hey, Y/N."

"Hey," I mumbled, giving her a quick smile before looking at the bananas on display.

"You know, it's a good thing I bumped into you," my mum said to them, particularly Jackie. "I wanted to thank you again for your help at the fundraiser! We raised over five thousand dollars!"

"That's amazing," Jackie said with disbelief. "I didn't know."

At this, my mum glanced at me questioningly. "Didn't you tell her, hon?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Must've forgotten."

"Oh, Y/N," my mum scolded lightheartedly as Jackie looked away uncomfortably.

She continued to talk the girls' ears off before finally realising she was holding everyone up and saying her goodbyes. Taking the trolley from me, she began to push it forward and I was about to follow, but Jackie suddenly grabbed my arm.

"Y/N–"

I pulled my arm from her grasp, not bothering to meet her gaze. "Don't you have a soccer game to practice for or something?"

She didn't reply, and I rejoined my mum's side, remaining quiet for the rest of the trip. Why couldn't Jackie just leave me alone?

I was making notes in my English workbook as the teacher continued to explain the variations and development of children's language AKA the topic of our next assignment.

"...and I think that, just like children, students like Jackie Taylor can't seem to focus when they're supposed to be," Mr. Collins suddenly said, pulling me from my focus. "Miss Taylor, is there something particularly fascinating about the back of Miss Y/L/N's head?"

A few students giggled to themselves as I flushed with embarrassment, too afraid to turn around to see what he was talking about, though it was pretty self explanatory.

Jackie cleared her throat, embarrassed. "Of course not, sir. Sorry. Continue."

"Thank you," he said sarcastically, before continuing to read through his presentation, but my face was still flaming and I was unable to focus for the rest of class now, aware of the hazel eyes staring a hole in my back.

God, she was seriously not helping with this whole getting over her thing.

About a week after the whole Jackie thing, I unfortunately couldn't seem to avoid her forever as I had to take photos at the Yellowjackets' away game. I told myself I'd just do my job and be gone to avoid any awkwardness, but of course, that couldn't happen.

The game happened to be at East Rutherford High which wasn't a big deal, but as I was setting up my camera on the side of the pitch before the game, Olivia found me.

"Y/N, hey!" she called, and I turned around before remembering she went here.

"Liv, hey," I said with a smile, before hugging her. "I totally forgot you go here. Big soccer fan?"

She chuckled. "Not really. But my friends are so I said I'd come watch. Don't know why we bother though, the Yellowjackets always kick our arses."

I tried not to laugh because it was true. "Way to support your team."

"As a school, we've kind of accepted our defeat," she joked, before nodding to my camera. "You're taking photos for the paper, right?"

I nodded, letting my camera hang from my neck. "That's right."

"Your photos are always so good," she complimented, and I was surprised she'd seen them, so she clarified, "Sometimes our school paper look at examples of nearby schools and whenever they show us yours, I always see your photographs."

I smiled with embarrassment, though touched that she'd noticed. "Thanks, Liv, that means a lot."

She shrugged. "Just stating the truth." She paused, glancing out at the pitch as the players started to file out. "Surprised your friend, Jackie, isn't here. Didn't think she'd like me talking to you."

At this, I grew embarrassed for a different reason. "Yeah, look, I'm sorry if she was standoffish with you last time. I didn't–"

"I'm teasing," she assured me, trying not to laugh. "But it's all good. I should go find my seat anyway."

I sighed, nodding, and she smiled sweetly at me before leaving. Rubbing my face, I tried to push any thoughts of the soccer captain out of my head, hating that she was still being mentioned even when she wasn't here.

Instead, I focused my efforts on photographing the game, actually quite enjoying that it was an evening match so the lowlight gave me something to practice with. During half time, Olivia stopped by again and I welcomed it, enjoying getting to know her a little more. She was actually really chill to hang out with, but Jackie's words were still in my head about her 'textbook flirting'. Either way, Olivia was fun.

It was a given that the Yellowjackets would win, and after the game ended and I snapped some celebratory pictures, I moved to the side of the pitch to pack up my things. Olivia approached me again and I smiled.

"Great game, huh?" she said with amusement.

"Always is when the Yellowjackets play," I said playfully, and she raised her brows with mock disbelief.

"Wow, you're already starting the soccer war? That's low, Y/N," she said, making me laugh.

"Gotta support the home team," I said with a shrug. "Especially when they're that good."

She rolled her eyes, suppressing her smile. "Yeah, yeah..." As I shouldered my camera bag, she asked, "You heading off now?"

"That's the plan," I said with a tired sigh. "Why? Aren't you?"

She locked eyes with me, smiling softly. "I was going to ask if you're free to hang right now. Could grab some food or something?"

"Oh," I said, realising she was asking me out. "I– erm–"

It sounded fun, and why couldn't I enjoy a dinner with a cute girl? Smile forming on my lips, I was about to agree, but then the devil's spawn herself decided to appear.

"There you are," Jackie said, looking to me, either oblivious to my annoyance or choosing to ignore it.

"Didn't take long," Olivia mumbled to herself, but I heard it. Clearing her throat, she said to me, "I'm gonna guess you're busy tonight?"

"Oh, there's an after game party," Jackie answered for me, making me clench my jaw. "Kind of a tradition."

Olivia forced a smile. "Right."

"I never go anyway," I said quickly, earning her attention, and receiving a glare from Jackie who I so desperately wished would leave. "I can–"

"The others are asking if you'll go tonight actually," Jackie interrupted, flashing a sickly sweet smile at me.

If looks could kill, she'd be toast right now. Who the hell did she think she was to step in right now? She'd shown me how she felt – she didn't have a right to do this.

"Never mind," Olivia said, already backing up. "Enjoy."

Losing my glare, I looked to Olivia, ready to apologise, but she'd already walked off to join her friends and I knew I'd only make it worse.

"Huh, I was right," Jackie mumbled to herself, which reminded me she was still standing there and very much the reason Olivia hated me now.

"What the hell d'you do that for?!" I shouted at her.

She raised her brows, feigning confusion. "Do what?"

I clenched my fists with frustration. "No! You don't just get to do that!"

She shook her head. "What?"

I scowled, looking between her eyes with annoyance. "Care. You led me on. Used me as– I don't even know what! Some sort of rebound? An experiment? Either way, it was horrible, and now you don't get to just come in and stop me from accepting dates. You're nothing to me, Jackie."

As I spoke, she began to frown, only serving to piss me off further. How could she act like the victim right now? I was the one who'd been played!

"I didn't use you," she said weakly, but I could only step back and fix her with a glare.

"Leave me alone," I warned her once more, not bothering to stay behind to see what she'd say.

The weekend passed and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thinking of Jackie the whole time. I wished I'd never found her crying after her breakup with Jeff because then I wouldn't have felt the need to check on her and she wouldn't have felt the need to be my friend. My life was a whole lot easier when she wasn't in it, and yet I still couldn't stop thinking of her. She was bad for me, so why did I still care about her?

I hadn't seen her since the game on Friday night, and despite the fact that she'd literally humiliated me, I still felt guilty for shouting at her. I wasn't someone who got angry easily, but truthfully, it wasn't anger. My heart hurt and who else to take it out on than the girl who broke it?

It was foolish of me to even feel that way, since we weren't anything. She'd never said she cared about me as more than a friend, she hadn't really done anything out of the ordinary except kiss me, which had clearly been a mistake. Her flirtatious behaviour was just typical Jackie. I knew what I was getting myself into. I guess this whole thing was my fault in a way.

Trying to take my mind off it, I stayed back after school to start putting my end of year portfolio together for photography class. I was grateful that nobody else was here, needing the quiet to simply get lost in my school work and nothing else.

I was considering some photographs on the desk when the sound of the door opening startled me. Nobody was supposed to be here, but when I turned around, my surprise faded into irritation at the sight of Jackie.

"Okay, seriously, do you need me to sing it you?" I asked with disbelief. "Write it down? Get a fucking sky writer?! Leave me alone, Jackie!"

"Wait," she said quickly, closing the door behind her and letting herself in, making me groan. "Please, I just– I have something to say."

I rolled my eyes, looking back to my photos with hopes she'd get the hint. "What? You finally figure your shit out?"

It was sarcastic, so I definitely didn't expect her to say, "Yeah. I broke up with Jeff."

My brows knitted together with confusion when I looked to her again. "You what?"

She licked her lips, grateful for the relief in tension. "After the game on Friday. I ended it."

I was certainly shocked to hear that she'd done that, but I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction. Crossing my arms, I tried to appear indifferent. "So what?"

She exhaled softly, steadily approaching me until she was stood right in front of me. Her hazel eyes, looking brown as they met mine, held my gaze with determination.

"You weren't an experiment," she said guiltily. "You weren't a rebound either. I never meant to hurt you, Y/N."

I frowned, eyes flickering between hers. Both my frustration and distress were building up because she seemed to be telling the truth, and it wasn't fair. She still did it. She broke my heart.

"Then what?" I asked, hands trembling. "How else can it seem when you–" I paused, glancing at the classroom door which was closed. Still, I lowered my voice for her sake. "When you kissed me – which, by the way, you initiated – then, before I can even discuss it with you, you get back together with your boyfriend? How?!"

She frowned, shaking her head as she looked down to her hands. "It was horrible, I know. You have to know how much I regret it."

"Gee, thanks," I said bitterly, and she was quick to look up again, worried.

"Wait, no, that's not what I meant," she explained. "I regret getting back together with Jeff, not kissing you. I– I liked that a lot." She was unusually nervous, swallowing visibly. "I like you."

My heart was confused as I studied her expression, seeing nothing but honesty.

"I should've said something," she admitted. "I didn't know that I'd fall for you, Y/N. I've never even liked a girl. Especially not one who's so sure of herself."

I scoffed, meeting her confused look with a knowing one. "Seriously? You're Jackie fucking Taylor, the most confident girl in school."

"Not always," she said with a wince. "Clearly."

I watched her, struggling to accept what she was saying.

"I understand if you hate me," she said, straightening up and meeting my gaze with a solemn one. "And I'll truly leave you alone, as you wish. Just say the word."

I pressed my lips together, seeing the serious expression on her face. I couldn't just say the word, because no matter how hard I'd tried to hate her, I just couldn't. All I'd really wanted was for her to like me, too.

She stood patiently, probably would have stood there for the rest of the day, waiting for me to speak. And I hated it because she'd hurt me deeply, but now I understood why. And even after everything, I still wanted her.

"Y/N?"

For once, I stopped overthinking and just kissed her, eyes closing when my lips met hers. She breathed out and lifted her hand to rest on my neck, pulling me closer and sending shivers down my spine at the contact. It was desperate, I was aware, but I couldn't get enough of her taste, her floral scent reminding me of last time, the adrenaline rush.

Without meaning to, her back hit her the desk behind her, but other than a brief readjustment, we continued to make out, my head spinning with thoughts of how good she felt so close to me. Stupid pretty girls and their stupid pretty faces.

We pulled apart for air, but I didn't let go of her just yet. My heart was thumping in my chest as I caught my breath, lips tingling as they craved for hers yet again.

"I really like you too," I said without thinking, eyes flickering to hers. "That's why it stung when you did what you did. Why I was so angry."

She nodded slowly in understanding. "I'm sorry."

I sighed, closing my eyes as I tried to collect my thoughts, but it was pretty damn difficult when she was still invading every sense of mine and I welcomed it.

"I don't know how I can trust you," I admitted, opening my eyes and being met with her determined expression.

"You can," she promised.

"What if you decide you don't want this anymore?" I asked, not wanting to doubt her feelings, but not prepared to start something that could end in heartbreak. "What if you think you've made a mistake? Start to miss Jeff? Then what, Jackie?"

"That won't happen," she said with certainty, thumb stroking my cheek.

"But it could."

She frowned, eyes boring into mine as if trying to make me understand. Finally, she said, "I'll spend forever proving you wrong."

I got lost in her eyes, so full of conviction that I had no choice but to believe her. Maybe some things were worth the risk. She certainly was.

"I'd love to see that," I said after a moment, an attempt at a joke.

She paused, trying to digest my words, and then she cracked a small smile.

"I forgive you," I told her. "I know how hard it can be to admit your feelings to yourself, especially for the first time."

She was hopeful, and I was suddenly overcome with an excitement because Jackie Taylor was stood in my arms, telling me she liked me, and I wasn't dreaming.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked, making me smile.

A simple nod and then she captured my bottom lip between hers, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter a storm. Unlike before, this kiss was slower than the others, more considerate, and I knew then and there that I'd never get sick of her lips.

She pulled away after leaving me breathless, her eyes half lidded when they looked from my lips to my eyes. "How was that for proving you wrong?"

I let out a breathy chuckle, admittedly a little flustered. "It's a start."

A smug smile appeared on her lips and then she was kissing me again, laughing as she did.

Lil bonus scene:

This was the least peppiest pep rally I'd ever been to, producing the worst photos I could take because everybody looked bored. As the principal made a speech about how 'good' the baseball team were doing this year, I snapped a few photos but ultimately sat bored in the front row. Everybody was much more excited for the star of the show – the Yellowjackets.

And after what felt like forever, the school band began to play their instruments and the soccer team began making their way in. Like a switch had been flipped, all the students in the bleachers stood up, cheering and applauding and celebrating their favourite sports team.

A much better subject, I began to photograph the crowd, all dressed in the bright yellow and blue school colours, waving signs and beaming with painted faces. And then my focus shifted to the team themselves, who were lining up before the crowd, grins on their faces. Despite the principal trying to calm everyone down so he could make his speech about how great they were doing, nobody would listen, still cheering on the team.

As I was snapping photos of them all, Jackie caught my eye and a playful smirk was on her lips when she winked at me. Even after the month we'd been together so far, she still left me nervous sometimes, thought I'd accepted that was what came with dating someone as self-assured as Jackie Taylor. We hadn't broadcasted our relationship by any means, but students at school weren't stupid and they were beginning to put it together. I didn't mind though, and I hoped she didn't either.

Finally, the principal managed to quieten everyone down long enough to make a speech worth listening to, expressing his pride in the Yellowjackets and wishing them luck as they prepared for the game tomorrow which would determine whether they'd make it to nationals.

After he finished, the band played them out, along with the audience's cheering, and then everybody began to leave. I was one of the last few to go, making my way out of the sports hall, only to be pulled to the side suddenly, realising Jackie had been waiting for me.

"Someone took their time," she said impatiently, crossing her arms, now wearing her varsity jacket over her soccer uniform.

"Someone was doing their job," I reminded her with a smile, wiggling my camera in the air.

At this, she quirked a brow. "You got my good side, right?"

I laughed. "Jackie Taylor doesn't have a bad side. She knows it too."

She began to smile, flicking her hair in agreement, and I rolled my eyes playfully.

"You look cute with your face paint on," I told her, referring to the little yellow jacket painted on her cheek.

"It's called school pride," she said, before giving me a disapproving look. "You didn't dress up."

"Again, I was busy photographing everything," I said, raising my camera for emphasis.

"Well, we can't have that," she said, tutting, and then she pulled off her varsity jacket and attempted to wrap it around me, but I stopped her.

"Wait," I said, realising what she was doing.

"What?"

I stared at her knowingly. "It's your jacket."

"Duh."

"Yeah," I agreed in a matter-of-fact tone, "but–"

"I'm giving it to you," she said simply, confused when I wouldn't put my arms in it as she held it open.

"You can't," I said, wondering if she was playing dumb or what.

She furrowed her brows. "What? Why?"

I amended my comment, "I mean, yeah, you can, but you know that people will put two and two together, right? You give me that and it'll be, like, an actual confirmation to everyone that we're dating."

Still, she wasn't following as she stared with raised brows. "Okay? And...?"

Now it was my turn to be confused. "You don't mind?"

Finally catching on to why I was questioning her, she relaxed and lowered the jacket momentarily. "That's sweet of you to ask, but no, I don't mind." She paused, before glancing at me worriedly. "Wait, do you?"

I sighed, before an amused smile formed on my lips. "No, I don't. I just didn't want you to feel like you had to."

Her expression softened, smile appearing on her lips and matching the sparkle in her eyes. "I want to. Now, come here."

This time, I let her help me into her jacket, immediately engulfed in her scent and warmth and not minding in the slightest. She stepped back, admiring her handiwork, eyes looking me up and down for several seconds too long and leaving me with a warm face.

"I should've given you this sooner," she said, impressed, and I rolled my eyes at her pride.

She chuckled before pulling me in for a quick kiss, and then we walked hand in hand down the hallway.

"You know that this means you have to be my number one fan now, right?" she asked, giving me a sideways glance.

I tried not to laugh as I said, "But I already supported the team–"

"No, not the team's fan," she cut me off nonchalantly, "mine. Me. Player number nine."

At her dead serious expression, I began to chuckle quietly. "Nine. My new favourite number, darling."

A smile crept on her lips. "Good."

#jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor imagine #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor #ella purnell #yellowjackets imagine #yellowjackets

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dittaturamonegasca · 13 days

Note

I think there should bé a fic where anyone from the grid would be third wheeling Landoscar, like, have you seen how these two interact.

So, I lack the ability and the time of f1writingbyme and LestappenForever to make this idea into a proper work like they did for "How (Not) To Third Wheel Lestappen" (check it out on Ao3 if you haven't already, definitely worth it) BUT BUT BUT, I can tell you how I think most of the grid would react in third wheeling Landoscar!

1) I feel like we should spare Checo, cause honestly this man has had enough as third wheel of Maxiel and Lestappen, I don't wanna give him extra traumas, SO –

2) Logan Sargeant: this one I really feel guilty about. Cause I like the narrative of him and Oscah being besties and still I cry over the sad edits of Logan just left behind. I think Landoscar with Logan has the most space for improvement?? I forgive Oscar even tho he definitely ghosted the poor Logan for the whole honeymoon phase with Lando (it's been almost two years, Osc, get a grip). I have a feeling Logan will speak up at some point and this would shake Oscar a little, so maybe he would be the more aware and more involved third wheel, possibly? They'll end up doing triple video-games championships with Lando and Logan mocking Oscar's gaming skills, mark my words.

3) Carlos Sainz: my man how does it feel to know you've wasted your chance (multiple chances, lets be real) for good? I have mixed ideas about this one, cause I think it would probably being more like Lando struggling to keep them both as close as possible resulting in Oscar being rightfully jealous 👀👀 so the third wheeling situation would be like Lando trying to involve a very annoyed and confused Carlos in their things (safe for work, ofc). I don't really see a way out of it.

4) Daniel Ricciardo: I mention him but I can't really explain cause honestly my idea of Daniel third-wheeling Landoscar is either him babysit them around Australia and bonding with Oscar over weird aussie habits OR OR OR something very NOT SAFE WORK so ( ... )

5) Max Verstappen: I love to think he'll remain an unbothered king, you know? Like he's well aware and a bit upset that his crepes companion invited someone else (beside from Daniel) to their dessert dates and that the two of them acts like lovebirds even without an actual physical contact. He'll probably send SOS texts to Charles and Daniel until a topic of (his) interest comes out and honestly at that point the power of maxplaining will win over pretty much everything and everyone. At the end of the day Landoscar turn out to be the real victims.

6) George Russell: poor thing was originally invited for a golf morning from Carlos (Landoscar were already supposed to attend), but Chili called off last minute so Georgie ended up with just the others two. LET ME TELL YOU he jumped off the golf cart cause he saw Lando placing a hand on Oscar's thigh and feared for his life. It took several minutes for them to notice he was aggressively walking behind. He was also hit by a golf ball because Oscar distracted Lando for a second too long, I guess you can figure out the rest.

7) Special mention to the PR and the McLaren team in general who's main job rn is having them to SIMPLY F O C U S outside the pit for like interviews and debriefings. I can picture Lando losing it after hearing a single compliment like "SO YOU THINK I'M PRETTY", cause ✨babygirl✨ energy hitting here and there, even tho he has tried to be somehow a model for Oscar, at least for what concerns work. Indeed I pity trainers and strategists bc ofc Oscar listens at them, but image them trying to explain a concept to him just for Lando to get there and rephrase it in the dumbest way possible and Oscar going like OHHHHH NOW I GOT IT, COULDN'T YOU EXPLAIN IT THAT WAY?

8) This is mostly a guilty pleasure but do we all agree they torture the entire f1 group chat with their subtle flirting?

IDK if this was what you had in mind but I really REALLY had fun writing it.

So let me know what you think in the comments down below, if you agree or if you want me to make it longer and/or more detailed or just to focus on a specific one in particular?

Again, my dms and box section are open to discussions, requests and any sort of (respectful) thing!

PEACE OUT 🤌🏻❤️

#ask juls #landoscar #landoscar headcanons #headcanon #f1 #lando norris x oscar piastri #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #mclaren #formula 1 #ln4 #op81 #logan seargent #carlos sainz #max verstappen #george russell #daniel ricciardo #the grid being the victims #landoscar took thirdweeling to a new level

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ahundredtimesover · 1 year

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we need a please love me argument or something drabble from after they got married and confessed their love for each other!!11!

Hi, they're back! Just a reminder to think of OC's personality bc this is already a 'fight' for her hehe. I don't know how this is bc I'm not in my best form but I still hope you enjoy 🥰

Title: Please Love Me Bonus 07 - The Fight

WC: 14,953

Tags/Warnings: angst; mentions of pregnancy; hospital setting/talks of illness that might be inaccurate (I just based some off my own experience)

Series Masterlist

It started small.

It was a fleeting moment that you barely missed it - one exhale and you felt that knot in your chest that once was familiar. You brushed it off, not thinking much of it. It wasn’t the first time, yet all those other times, once was enough and it didn’t happen again.

But this time wasn’t like that; this time, you felt it once, then another time, then another, the long intervals between knots getting shorter and shorter.

You try to even out your breathing, grounding yourself so you can listen more to what your body is saying, to what your heart is saying. It starts to work as you count the seconds and the minutes because it starts to go away. It may have taken a lot longer, but just like those other times, this one ends, too.

You’re unable to process what just happened as your phone rings, your husband’s sigh greeting you on the other end.

“Hey, Kook. Everything okay?”

“No. One of the associates gave me wrong figures and I overlooked some elements for my presentation tomorrow,” he groans. “I was gonna stay up late in the office but I’m too pissed off. Are you still at the studio? Can I pick you up?”

“Yeah, I’m just working on my last design,” you reply, already packing up. “And sure. I can call your favorite Japanese restaurant and we can pick up the food on the way home. Is that okay?”

“Yes please. That’s what I really need right now. And you. Be there in 15.”

“I’ll see you, hun. And chin up, you’ll be okay.”

He hums his goodbye and you feel the tiredness from his voice, and the earlier ache in your chest is now replaced by worry for your husband.

Jungkook rarely lets the toxicity of his job affect him, so hearing him frustrated is something you’re not used to. You feel for him, as the new project he’s taken on is a big one, and you just know he wants nothing more than to prove himself to his family this once. He’s begun having bigger responsibilities after all, and he’s said as much that he wants to step away from his brother’s shadow and be his own self, show that he’s just as capable and can get things done his way, too.

A small smile tugs on your face, knowing that a good meal and some encouragement from you might do the trick. You call the restaurant and head outside once he messages that he’s nearby.

Mr. Yu, the chauffeur, stops the car and Jungkook exits, enveloping you in a hug and mumbling his hi. He doesn’t even give you time to properly greet him back, as his body curls into yours and you feel him exhale - a deep one, as if he’s been holding onto his breath the whole day.

“Hi,” you smile, kissing his nose. “The food will be ready in a while. Let’s pick it up and we can talk, okay?”

Jungkook nods and leads you inside, immediately taking your hand like it’s his lifeline. He asks you about your day first and you narrate how it went - ocular of a hall you’ll be designing and then art class for the kids in the afternoon. Then he talks about his - the tense meeting with the staff member who gave him outdated information, the conversation with his father about the expectations for this upcoming project, and having to skip lunch to help his Japan team troubleshoot something.

“I’m exhausted and my head has been hurting all day but I’ve got so much to do,” he exhales deeply before falling into your lap, your hand reflexively combing his long locks that has him moaning at your touch.

“Hmm. And how much coffee have you had today?”

“Five cups,” he answers with his eyes closed, his breathing steadying now as you start to massage his temples.

“That’s 3 cups too much, hun,” you say softly; he said he’d regulate his caffeine intake and you know he’s been trying.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he sighs. “It’s just been tough, but this is nice. Let’s eat then I can work in the dining room while you watch Masterchef or something?”

You hum your yes, saying you’ve actually got some design studies to work on so you can both work together downstairs.

And that’s what happens as you put away your dirty plates after dinner and settle in your respective spots. Jungkook likes to work with you around when he’s at home, only staying in his office off your bedroom when he’s pulling an all-nighter. Having you close calms him down, he’s always said, as your soothing voice and presence give him the most comfort, even if it’s just a quick look at your expression as you watch TV or your sweet laughter or your tender words.

“You look serious there, babe,” he looks over at you from the dining table. “You’ll get wrinkles if you frown too much.”

“I can’t find the right art piece for this one wall,” you groan. “This is gonna keep me up.”

“Maybe you just need to sleep on it. I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he comforts.

“Hmm, maybe,” you say, your body slowly giving up as it yearns for the bed, chest pains already forgotten. “Join me?”

You walk towards him and sit on his lap as he asks you to, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“Probably in 2 hours or so. I wanna get this presentation finished tonight,” he pouts, apologetic.

“Okay. I’ll wash up and go to bed. Rest soon, okay?”

He holds you a little longer for his goodnight kiss, tickling you before letting you go.

You walk to your room and fall asleep right away, suddenly feeling as if you’d run a marathon today when your body hits the bed. It seems to have been happening more frequently, though - feeling incredibly tired at the end of the day, whether you had a full-packed schedule or a light one. You went to a boutique store yesterday and painted at home then felt dizzy and faint by the evening.

It’s 4 hours later when you suddenly wake up, a mix of that knot on your chest and shortness of breath almost jerking you off the bed. But you catch yourself, turning to the side to see if you’d somehow disturbed Jungkook’s sleep, but you’re surprised to find he’s not there. You see light coming from the office and your husband’s mumbling, and so you get up and walk over to him.

“Kook, it’s past 2,” you stand by the door and sleepily call out to him. “Come to bed.”

“Baby, what are you doing up?” He turns to you with a frown, his long locks almost covering the glasses over his eyes.

“Just woke up. It’s hard to sleep without you,” you frown back.

“Sorry. I’m finishing up already,” he turns again towards his laptop.

“You can do that tomorrow. Just wake up early but sleep now. You’ve had a long day, come on.”

With you standing behind him and your arms around his neck, you pepper his cheeks with kisses to further convince him, knowing you need to shower him with affection so he’d listen to you.

And it works, as he chuckles and turns his laptop off. He heads to the bathroom to wash up while you lay in bed facing his side as you regulate your breathing again, feeling the tightness subside with every set of breaths.

He lies down next to you and kisses your lips before you turn around so your back faces him, his arms enveloping you, with him pulling you as close as he possibly can. Jungkook buries his head in your neck and finds his peace there.

“It’s hard to sleep without this, too,” he hums. “Love you. See you in my dreams.”

It started small, like it always does.

A pinch in the muscle - one, two, three seconds longer than usual; one, two, three instances more than what you’ve been having. You try to take a breath, knowing it’s what’s always worked, but it doesn’t this time. This time, your chest feels tight, too, like something is keeping you from breathing, like you’re gasping for air in the large space of the art studio.

“Hey, do you need some help to pack up?” The teacher for the next class asks; you can already hear the giggles of her little students not far away.

You try to pick up your tools from the desk but your hands and arms feel numb. This will take time, you think, so you smile at her and nod, letting her put away some of the palettes that your kids have left behind. You walk slowly, unable to fully feel your legs, too, and that’s when you start to panic.

“Everything okay?” She looks at you worriedly. “You look a little pale.”

“Oh? Just tired, I guess,” you fake a smile. “I’ll just, uh…”

“Rest, ___. You’ve been working hard on your project and your exhibition. You don’t want all that to catch up to you.”

Too late, you tell yourself, as the helplessness that once was familiar starts to overtake you. You just nod and assure her, then fortunately manage to walk out the street for fresh air and take some medicine. You’re relieved that those at least work, lessening the pain that you’re feeling.

But you know you’re not out of the woods yet, and so you raise your arm to hail a cab, thankful that the hospital is only a 15-minute drive away.

You settle in the backseat, ready to dial Jungkook’s number when you read the text he’d sent an hour ago - I don’t know why I’m so nervous, babe. I’ve barely eaten anything all day. But thanks. I’ll let you know how it goes.

You’d messaged him earlier, wishing him well for his presentation today, and you know how much this means to him. He’s worked so hard on this; it’s a big project and the directors have got their eyes on him. There’s no way you’ll add to the stress that he’s been experiencing for the last few weeks.

It’s a little past 2 and he’s set to present a quarter before 3. His palms are probably already sweating as he dries them on his shaking legs. He’s never been nervous for any of soccer matches even when he was a teenager, but you’d understand if this is the one thing that’s making him lose his cool a little bit; he may never directly say it but you know he just wants to impress the big bosses, and that includes his father and yours.

You decide against calling him for now. Your breathing has evened out already, and you still think it’s just one of those moments and there’s nothing to worry about. You were always told that this could still happen, after all, but that doesn’t necessarily mean a relapse. It happened a few years ago and all you did was have a change in medication and all was fine after. Like then, this may as well be just a minor thing that you can easily get over on your own. You’ll call Jungkook after you know more about what’s happening to you, knowing he’ll be asking anyway, and not giving him an answer immediately will just scare him.

The emergency room has less people than you expected, although you can say you’re probably the calmest out of all the patients there. Given, you’re in one piece and not puking your guts out so you believe you’re fine, but the attending physician doesn’t seem convinced, as you narrate what you’re feeling.

“Your heartbeat is irregular and your blood pressure is quite low,” she informs you after doing the basics. She looks through your record and confirms your condition. “No relapse since your surgery 15 years ago,” she reads. “No reported abnormalities, no alarming findings… but these are still from last year.”

“Yes, I’m due for my annual check up in 2 months,” you say, as you sit on the hospital bed.

“Well, seems like you’re due now,” she hums, excusing herself to make a call then returning to you. “Dr. Kwon is just finishing with surgery so he’ll see you after, but I’ll have you run some tests already. We’ll call you for x-ray in a while. We’ll take blood samples as well just to be sure.”

You nod, suddenly feeling nervous. These tests are routinary for you at this point; you take it every year every time you have your check-up, the one you’ve been having since the surgery that corrected your heart over a decade ago.

But you’ve never had to come back to the hospital out of your usual schedule ever since you fully recovered. Because any pain you’d felt since then was never serious; it never lingered, it never left you feeling breathless or numb. It never got you feeling weak, and it definitely never had you feel this anxious because it had never hurt this way.

It’s 3:30 by the time you finish filling up all the forms, and though you know nothing more than an irregular heartbeat and low blood pressure, you decide to send Jungkook a text to let him know where you are, knowing his presentation would be done by now. But right as you’re about to, the technician calls your name for the x-ray, and it’s not until several minutes later when you get your phone back and decide to just give him a call.

He doesn’t pick up after the third try, so you go for your next option and call Junghyun, as he knows that you only ever call when something is up.

“Hey, ___. You okay?” He answers.

“Hi. Is Jungkook still presenting?” Your voice quivers.

“He’s done but he’s somewhere in front answering questions,” Junghyun responds.

“Did he do well?” You ask, wanting to know.

“He was really nervous but everyone was impressed,” the older man smiles. “Were you the one calling him? He left his phone in his seat and I saw it light up.”

“Yeah, I, uh… Once he’s free, can you just let him know that I’m in the ER? My chest felt tight and—”

“You’re what?” He almost yells, his voice in a panic. “What happened? How are you feeling now?”

“I’m fine… I think,” you sigh. “It was just chest pains. I’ll see Dr. Kwon in a while then I’ll know more.”

“Fuck, okay. Who’s with you?”

“Just me.”

There’s a pause in the other end. “What are you doing now?”

“Waiting for the next tests. Can you, uh, can you let Jungkook know once he’s done there?”

“I’m telling him now, ___. You’re in the emergency room and he needs to be there with you.”

“Okay,” your voice shrivels, not used to Junghyun’s authoritative tone. “I’m being called for my ECG. I’ll, uh, I’ll be waiting for him.”

Junghyun drops the call and returns to the conference room. He immediately walks to his brother and whispers what you’d said.

Jungkook’s eyes widen in shock, worry and distress painting them. He quickly excuses himself and runs out the door, leaving the older man to explain to their father and yours what had happened, both of whom panic as well and make calls.

It’s another red light that Jungkook beats, and he makes it to the hospital in 15 minutes, almost half of the usual time it takes to get there from his office. He asks around the ER where you are, and he’s directed to a room where he finds you lying in bed, looking perfectly normal, save for your furrowed brows as you seem to be answering messages on your phone.

“Baby!” He exclaims, rushing towards you and taking you in his arms. “What happened? What hurts?”

“Hey, honey,” you look up at him and smile nervously. “I’m fine, I just…”

“Babe, you can’t be fine when you’re here. Your check-up isn’t due in 2 months. What… what brought you here?”

“I was, uh, I was having—”

“___,” the familiar voice of Dr. Kwon calls out for you, prompting you to turn to him. “I wish I could say I’m happy to see you before our scheduled check-up, but it’s never a good thing seeing a patient here before I’m supposed to.”

“Hi,” you smile, returning his hug. “I suppose it isn’t. But I didn’t know what to do. It was getting too painful.”

“Tell me what happened,” he instructs.

And so you do, telling him of the times you’d experienced this since your last meeting, and how it had hurt too much earlier, forcing you to come here. Jungkook holds your hand the entire time, and you’re immersed in your narration that you miss the way his jaws clench and unclench as he listens to your stories.

Clearly this isn’t the first time it’s happened, although it’s the first time that he’s hearing about it. It seems like you’ve been experiencing this and chose not to tell him.

“What do you think may have triggered it?” Dr. Kwon asks.

“I don’t really know,” you shrug. “I mean, I’ve sort of been doing the same things - working at the firm, doing my own pieces, teaching art classes… just focused on my regular job.”

“Looks like it’s 2 jobs too many,” he responds, his eyebrow arching the way that doctors do when they catch you doing something you shouldn’t.

“I rest and exercise and take my medication,” you counter. “All the work is fine. It’s an imperfect heart we’re working with, you know?” You giggle, trying to diffuse the tension.

Dr. Kwon just shakes his head and returns to his records. “So you’ve got the x-ray and ECG done. You’ll have blood tests after this then we can do the 2D echo in the evening after I schedule it. I’ll need you to be confined for the other tests.”

“What other tests? Can’t I come back tomorrow and do them then?” You ask, not really keen on spending the night at the hospital.

“It’ll be easier to monitor you from here, especially since the pain seems recurring. But I’ll schedule the stress test and MRI tomorrow morning so you can go home right after,” he responds. “Better ask someone to pack you and your husband some clothes. I’ll have the nurse pick you up to bring you to your room; just wait here.”

You nod as Jungkook lets go of your hand.

“You’ve had 2 tests done already? What time did you get here?” He asks, his voice low and disappointed.

“Around 2:30,” you respond casually.

Jungkook feels his own heart rate shoot up. It’s 4PM, and he’s sure it was just half an hour ago when his brother had cut off their discussions to tell him that you’d called about your whereabouts. The fact that you didn’t call him - your husband - much earlier is making him incredibly upset. He wants to ask you why you’d delayed it, why you’ve been keeping all this from him, when you planned on telling him if it didn’t get this bad.

But knowing you, you’d pick up on this, and he doesn’t want to add to you feeling any more pain that you apparently have been experiencing, so he takes a breath and lets things go for now, and he just nods.

He gazes at you looking pale and nervous, and he tries to think of how you may be feeling - back in the hospital when you’d believed everything was already okay.

“Baby,” he says, cupping your face so you’d look at him. “We have to believe that things are fine, alright? That this isn’t serious. Worrying too much might make things worse.”

They’re things he doesn’t fully believe in himself. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He never experienced this with you; he hadn’t even known about your condition until 3 years ago, and he doesn’t know how you are when you’re in pain and what you need him to do or be for you. But he has to put aside his own concerns because this is about you, and the only thing he knows to be right now is strong so you can take that strength from him, too.

You smile, much more genuinely than you did earlier, and Jungkook thinks it’s a good first step.

“I’ll be okay, hun. Sorry I pulled you out of your meeting. Junghyun said that you did well, though,” you say, pulling him into a hug, your arms finally wrapping around his waist while his envelopes around yours.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t really matter. You were here in pain while I was doing my presentation when I could’ve been with you,” he replies, trying to temper his voice. “I could’ve screwed up or completely missed it for all I care.”

“Nonsense, Kook,” you turn to him again. “You’ve been working so hard on that. I managed to get here on my own.”

You rest your head on his torso, not seeing his hardened and helpless face at how you casually dismiss what you’re experiencing and talk about his work like it’s all that matters when you’re the one in the hospital right now.

You still should’ve called, he wants so badly to say. I would’ve come here right away. But he decides against it. He was never good at bottling his feelings; he supposes he needs to learn that from you. He does it anyway, knowing that this isn’t the time nor place to get mad at you for it.

“Kook, can you be the one to talk to my mother?” You ask, giving him your phone. “She’s been calling and I’m too dizzy to rehash everything.”

“Okay, I will,” he responds, guiding you to lay on the bed and letting you take a nap first.

He calls your mother, then his, then your brother and sister, and then Nari and Yeji. There are so many people to update about your status but he pushes through it, despite the same words of you experiencing pain and needing to be monitored for the night becoming harder and harder for him to say.

“She seems fine, just looks tired as of now,” Jungkook informs each one. “We’ll know more tomorrow.”

They’ll drop by in the evening, they all say, and he’s thankful that there’ll at least be distractions, and he won’t have to be with you alone for long. He supposes that’s better, otherwise he’ll be tempted to push for answers on why you kept all this from him.

He calls Mr. Yu and Mrs. Na and instructs them to prepare your clothes for your stay and bring them over to the hospital. “Please buy a box of macarons on your way here,” he tells the chauffeur. “And her chamomile tea as well.”

Jungkook sits on the chair next to you and watches you take your nap. He sees you take deep breaths and he can sense your struggle, causing him to worry once more. You catch yourself and jerk awake.

“Was it hurting again?” He asks.

“A little,” you respond, raising yourself up off the bed.

“Just keep breathing. Here, drink some water.”

You follow as he says, and that’s when the nurse arrives and informs you that the VIP room is ready. You’re led there by wheelchair - an all too familiar scene - and Jungkook helps you lie down on the bed. The nurse takes blood samples and informs you of the scheduled test in 2 hours then leaves you right after.

“Tell me about your presentation,” you urge your husband. “What did they say?”

Work is the last thing that Jungkook wants to be talking about right now. He hates thinking about being in that room while you were here and all alone. You smile tenderly, as if you really want to know what took place, so he forces himself to think about it.

“That the project proposal was well-designed and well-thought out. I set out the plans and the entire process and got to show the expected outcomes and return of investment,” he explains. “They said it was sound and profitable, and that they were surprised I pulled it off on my own.”

“It’s silly that they still doubt you,” you frown. “Of course you’d pull it off. You’re innovative and incredibly hardworking, honey. They should know that by now.”

“Nah, I'm used to it,” he shrugs. “They’d take every chance they get to remind me that I’m not my brother.”

“And you aren’t, because you’re your own self with your strengths and own conviction. And don’t tell Junghyun, but you’re definitely funnier.”

Jungkook manages to chuckle a little, and your smile grows at the sound. “That last bit is definitely true,” he hums. “Thanks, babe. Though I didn’t mean to be so down.”

“Not at all. I just wanted to remind you of how good you are,” you comfort him, reaching out your hand that he takes. You sit up and pull him close. “You’re so good at so many things. Remember that.”

You cup his cheeks and kiss his lips, something you realize you haven’t done since he got here. It’s slow and gentle, which is exactly what you need after a scary experience; all you’ve been wanting is his touch and the comfort you get from being close to him.

Jungkook indulges you, kissing you back with just as much tenderness, and you smile against him, knowing that whatever happens, you have him next to you. And as long as he is, there’s nothing to be afraid of.

The knock on the door pulls you both apart, and you hear the familiar voices of both your parents and siblings who all hug you one by one.

A flurry of questions about how you’re feeling and what will happen next overwhelm you but you should’ve expected this; no one really thought you’d be back here after all these years.

Shortly after, your friends arrive and you have to say the same things, and you fumble for Jungkook’s hand next to you to keep you stable.

You dislike this part - the one where everyone is worried and no answer or assurance from you would be enough, and you hate that they have to go through that anxiety of not knowing as well. But you just smile through it and downplay the pain.

“It’s probably nothing; it’s more like a precaution thing, you know?” You reason. “I’m fine. Please, don’t worry too much.”

You mask the desperation with your smile, and you’re almost glad that Dr. Kwon enters and informs you that the nurses will start prepping you for your 2D echo.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kim,” he greets. “Not so great to see both of you.”

“Likewise,” your parents chuckle. “It’s never a good thing being back here, huh? But what happened? Why is she experiencing this so suddenly?”

“Well, your daughter did say that the chest pains have been recurring,” he responds.

“They have?” Your parents frown at you.

“They weren’t that bad,” you reason. “I mean, they weren’t painful to warrant a visit.”

“But this time it was,” Seokjin crosses his arms, looking disappointed. “And to the emergency room at that.”

“I didn’t faint or anything,” you reason. “Look, I’m fine now. It’s probably just stress. ”

“___, what did I say about stress? You’re not just like anyone who can experience it and then be fine. It’s not that simple,” Dr. Kwon warns.

“I know,” you whisper, feeling like that 13-year old child again who felt helpless when she was first told of the many things she couldn’t do despite having a normally functioning heart already. You’d like to think you’ve followed all the rules since then; it’s just lately when you’ve been more brave and wanting to do more.

“But is she going to be okay?” Soyeon asks this time.

“I suppose. The test results aren’t alarming and it seems it’s still bearable, but we’ll know more tomorrow,” he responds. “For now, she just needs to rest and take things easy.”

Everyone nods in agreement. The door opens with the nurses taking you away to be prepped. Jungkook kisses your forehead and tells you to just push through it and that it will be fine; you always said you disliked the pain from this specific test.

Back in the room, Jungkook feels light-headed. Perhaps he’s still reeling over seeing you on a hospital bed, being wheeled out and leaving him behind to wonder how much pain you’re in or how your heart looks like. Maybe it’s being in the room with your family and friends and all their questions that he doesn’t have answers to. He thinks it’s this new experience for him - this kind of fear that he’s never experienced before. It’s probably all of those, so he excuses himself to buy some snacks in the store just to get out of there.

Seokjin promptly follows his brother-in-law. “I want some snacks, too,” he responds after the younger man looks at him questioningly.

They walk in silence for a while before Seokjin asks. “Did you know about the other times?”

“No,” Jungkook almost whispers, his hands in his pockets as he mindlessly walks down the hallway. “She also only called earlier after 2 tests were done. I feel so fucking useless.”

“Hey, you aren’t, okay?” Seokjin sighs.

“If I wasn’t then I should’ve known about all the other times, and I could’ve convinced her to get checked earlier. Then she wouldn’t have needed to come here like this; then it wouldn’t have been this painful,” Jungkook responds, his voice more helpless now.

“Kook, you wouldn’t have known if she hadn’t told you. You’re not together 24/7. I love my sister but sometimes she tends to brush things off like that, thinking that the short-term burden of her sickness will just go away. But not this time. We just have to believe it’s not serious.”

Jungkook just nods, all the thoughts screaming at him and he just wants to lay next to you but also be away from you because how could you keep something like this from him.

There aren’t any more words exchanged, but Seokjin stays with his brother-in-law as they buy snacks and walk towards the wing where you are, probably currently squirming in pain as your chest is being pressed to get that image of your heart.

It’s some time later when they hear Dr. Kwon’s voice, calling for them.

“Jungkook,” he says. “It’s not surgery. You don’t have to be waiting here.” There’s a soft smile on his face, however, so that calms the younger man down a little.

“Just wanted to immediately know how she is,” he responds. “___ said she doesn’t like this test.”

“Ah, yeah she doesn’t,” Dr. Kwon chuckles. “She would pout her way out of even if she knows it won’t work. She did say she wished you were there with her though, holding her hand.”

“But what did you see?” Seokjin asks.

“A tired heart,” Dr. Kwon replies. “I honestly hope that’s all, but I’ll have to look through all the test results to be sure that there isn’t anything else.”

Your husband and brother sigh in relief.

“But keep an eye on her, okay?” The doctor tells Jungkook. “She mentioned feeling pain when she’s asleep so watch out for that. She just needs to breathe and be soothed. The tests tomorrow will tell me more but I can already tell you that she needs to rest.”

“I’ll make sure of that,” Jungkook responds, his eyes softening at the sight of you smiling when you see him.

“You were waiting for me?” You ask.

Jungkook only nods but your brother responds, “everyone was so noisy in the room so we walked around. And got some snacks.”

You smile at them as they walk with you while being wheeled away to your room. You enter and sense the aroma of beef bone soup, and Minhyuk grins proudly at your satisfied face.

“You always said that hospital food didn’t excite you,” he says.

You express your thanks and the nurse announces your need to rest after dinner, prompting everyone to decide on leaving already.

Seokjin, who’d earlier sensed your husband’s own stress, whispers to him. “Just hold it in for now, okay? She’ll be alright.”

As the last parson leaves, Jungkook sits next to you on the bed and you both eat the delicious meal. He surprises you with the dessert he had bought and prepares your tea as you like to take before sleeping.

“Thank you, Kook,” you exclaim, kissing his cheek. “I’ll just wash up so we can both rest.”

“Do you need help?”

“I’m fine, I can do it in my own,” you assure him, disappearing into the bathroom.

Left alone for awhile, Jungkook takes to heart what your brother had advised him - hold it in for now. Knowing that you tend to absorb your husband’s own emotions - as you’d said once that it’s natural for you, that it’s how you get to empathize with him - he does as he’s told. He holds it in - the disappointment, the sadness, the doubt… and tells himself that this is about you and what’s best for you right now.

You finish up and he helps you in bed, then he washes himself, exiting the bathroom in his shirt and pajama pants.

“Do you want me to sleep next to you?” He asks. “You always said it’s hard to sleep without me.”

He gives the idea, knowing that it’s the only way for him to know if you feel pain while in slumber. He doesn’t think he trusts you in telling him otherwise.

“Yes, can you?” You ask excitedly.

“I guess? It’s a big bed. I’m sure we’ll fit.”

So he scoots in next to you as you give him space, and you immediately wrap your arms around his torso as he wraps one around your shoulder. He supports himself against the headboard with his other arm behind his head.

He lets you listen to his heartbeat, confident that they’re perfectly normal, as if he isn’t buzzing deep inside.

“So how was your day going before all this happened?” He asks to eliminate the silence that’s suddenly feeling awkward for him.

“I was just at the studio,” you respond, snuggling next to him and enjoying the comfort of his warm body. “I got to finish a design study and then had class with the kids.”

“Did it start hurting then?”

“Hmm, right after, just when I was fixing up,” you say, slowly dozing off.

Having your class schedule memorized because it’s your favorite thing to talk about, Jungkook knows what time that was, and he knows you could’ve informed him then if you wanted. But you didn’t.

“So you just came here on your own?”

“Yeah,” you hum. “I hailed a cab. It’s a good thing that the hospital’s just near the studio.”

What if it wasn’t, he thinks. What if you were driving when it happened? What if there were no available cabs and it took long for you to get here? What if you were somewhere else where no one knew you? What if something worse had happened, and then he wouldn’t have known it at all because you waited so long to call him?

“Why didn’t you call me?” He manages to ask.

Somehow he has an idea of what you’ll say. You’ve only been married awhile but he knows enough about your courteousness, how you don’t like to burden other people, how you always put others before yourself. You’d developed that attitude because you don’t like being fussed over; you dislike having others worry about you. He noticed it earlier when you took his hand and held onto it tightly as your loved ones asked how you were feeling. And so he knows what’s coming next. He just didn’t think it would hurt and anger him this much.

“You were busy with work, Kook,” you mumble, and he knows you’re about to fall asleep. “Felt like I could manage and I did.”

What if you didn’t, he thinks again. What if it was someone else who’d called him? What would he do then?

“Sorry,” you add. “Just didn’t want to worry you.”

He hears you take a long breath and the succeeding low snores let him know you’ve fallen asleep. It’s been a long day for you, after all.

It’s been a long one for him, too. But unlike you, he’s filled with too many emotions to fall asleep. And contrary to what you wanted, he’s worrying even more. He’s worried about your condition. And he’s worried about himself.

Hold it in for now, Seokjin had told him.

Jungkook will try. But he doesn’t know for how long he can, and he doesn’t know how he’ll deal with you - how you’ll deal with it - once he’s unable to keep it in anymore.

Jungkook didn’t get a wink of sleep. Other than being unable to because he wanted to make sure that he’d be awake should you feel any sort of pain, he also couldn’t help but think about what you’d said.

In your few years of being married, you’d had small and brief arguments, mostly stemming from how incredibly different you both deal with emotions and conflict.

You tend to be unnecessarily courteous at times and too patient. You also prefer to let tension fade rather than addressing it, so more than half the time, any negative emotions you have are kept in and rarely ever mentioned. You don’t hold grudges, though, and you easily forgive, unlike Jungkook who’s always very transparent about what he feels. He talks about things, and he always talks about them with you, whether it’s about you or something else.

Despite all this, your little misunderstandings never escalated. They never really lasted, because more than half the time, he’s the one crawling next to you, hugging you tightly and saying that he doesn’t care whose fault it is, just that he wants to be okay again. He admits that a lot of times, it’s on him. He gets too emotional, too proud, too shortsighted, and unable to let things go. But right now, he doesn’t care if he’s all of that. He’ll feel what he’s feeling; he just won’t be able to express it fully.

The knock on the door puts him out of his thoughts. The nurse enters and Jungkook has to wake you for your MRI and stress test today.

“You’ll be okay to wait here?” You ask, as you watch him from the bathroom door.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just think about what you’ll do this morning. Don’t worry about me,” he says dryly.

“Okay, I’ll see you after.”

You’re wheeled out and Jungkook allows himself to fall asleep. He’s still exhausted from preparing for his presentation yesterday, and he’s dealing with too many thoughts in his head about you, about both of you, and an hour or so of slumber is what he needs.

He’s awoken by a phone call over an hour later, and he’s reminded that he failed to inform his team that he won’t be going to the office today. Perks of being the CEO’s son, he tells himself, but he also can’t bring himself to think about work and the project that he has to fine tune for immediate implementation.

All he can think about is you. And despite feeling anger and hurt, he also just wants you to feel okay. He hopes that deal that your parents made with the universe when you were born - the one where they asked to keep you alive and they’ll give you a life you’ll be happy with in return - holds up for the longest it possibly can. Regardless of what he feels about you, he also knows that seeing you smile can make him forget about his own pain.

And that’s what happens, albeit temporarily, when you return to the room and see a breakfast spread prepared for you, one that Jungkook had asked Mr. Yu to buy.

You smell the carnations that’s come with your meal and your face lights up.

“Where did you get this, Kook?”

“There’s a flower shop in the other building,” he responds. “Thought that can make you feel better.”

“Of course,” you say, walking towards him where he’s seated on the day bed. “But you’re also here and that's really all I need.”

Then why didn’t you ask me to come earlier, the question rings in his head. But he lets it stay there. For all the times that he’d willingly and easily put you first, he didn’t think that holding all his emotions in for your sake would be the hardest.

He hugs you back then lets you rest your head on his shoulders as you talk about the tests and that you have 2 hours before Dr. Kwon can meet you for the results and diagnosis.

You and Jungkook use the time to eat, take a shower, and pack your things. It’s not long after when you’re in your cardiologist’s clinic where he explains your condition.

“As I suspected, your heart is overworking,” he says. “Fortunately, the tests show no holes, no enlargement, or any other complications.”

You breathe a sigh of relief and take Jungkook’s hand. You didn’t want to be thinking of the worst and this is definitely not it. It had hurt so much yesterday that you were almost sure there was something severely wrong again, but this is actually welcome news. At least it’s something you know; it’s something that you can deal with, and it’s something you can easily address.

“What’s causing it?” Jungkook asks.

“Stress, perhaps. And lack of sleep,” the doctor answers, turning to you. “I know you’re eating well and exercising, but there’s still so much you’re doing. All that mental and physical and emotional exhaustion pushes your heart to overwork, to pump blood more than it’s capable of doing.”

“What does this mean, then?” Your husband asks once more. “I mean, what should she do? Will it get worse? How can we prevent this from happening again?”

“She should rest. And I mean, rest.” Dr. Kwon glares at you to emphasize his point. “Take a few days off from work, do some very light exercise, and have a change in medication. It will only get worse if she doesn’t let her heart breathe, if she doesn’t let it take its time to do its job properly. I know it sounds simple but that’s really it; there’s no shortcut to it. It’s just something to be done consistently.”

“Okay,” you hum. “I can take the week off. I can just turn over my design studies at the firm and then get back to it after. And the kids will understand if I don’t see them this weekend. My exhibition also isn’t in 3 months so I have time to get back to my pieces.”

“___, I don’t mean to rest for just this week,” he responds. “You’re gonna have to rethink all the work that you’re doing because it’s too much for you, and this isn’t me telling you what you can or can’t do. Your heart is functioning normally, but it’s still relatively weak, weaker than a normal one’s. Sure, there are things you can do now that you couldn’t before but being perpetually stressed isn’t one of them, okay? And I feel that as long as you’re doing all those things at the same time, you’ll always be at risk.”

“So you’re telling me that I have to let one of those go?” You look up at him, feeling heartbroken that you’re gonna have to give up one of the things that’s been giving you so much joy.

“It’s more practical than cutting off your time in all those. It’s still work, ___. As long as you’re doing all of them, you’re gonna keep spending time on them, and you won’t even notice it.”

You sigh, knowing he’s right. You do so much on a normal day; work doesn’t end even on the weekends. It just doesn’t feel that way because you get to do it at home and you manage your own schedule and you genuinely enjoy it, but you have been feeling the exhaustion all over your body. You know there’s more to lose if you don’t follow his orders.

“Okay then. The next exhibition will be my last for a while,” you announce, deciding right then.

“Are you sure, babe?” Jungkook asks, surprised. He thought for sure that that would be the last thing you’ll let go. “Don’t you have invitations in Paris and Mexico?”

“I can pass,” you smile faintly. “I’ve still got commissions that I’ll spread out. I’m sure the patrons will understand. There’s this big project at the firm that I’m so excited to do and I can’t abandon my team. And the kids…” you sigh, “I love them too much. They take my stress away so I can’t let go of the art classes that I teach.”

“But you’ve been waiting for the shows, too,” Jungkook reminds you. “Those are huge and not easy to get invited to.”

“I know but there’s gonna be another time,” you say. “And if there isn’t, then that’s fine. I can always paint, Kook, even when I’m gray and old. But all the other things? I can still manage them. I wanna help my team, I wanna teach the kids… those things matter more.”

Other people always matter more, Jungkook tells himself. Your art is what you’ve loved your whole life, he knows that much.

“It’s really up to you, but it’s good that you’ve thought about it already,” Dr. Kwon says. “You just really need to stabilize your heart for now. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“I will,” you smile at him. “And uh, I just want to ask. This won’t affect any future pregnancies, right?”

You nibble your lips, and Jungkook can see the nervousness in your eyes.

“Not unless it’s immediate. Are you both—”

“No,” you interject. “I mean, if it happens then it does but we aren’t really… uh,” you turn to your husband, knowing that despite the last conversation you had about this months ago, you’re still unsure of how comfortable or open he is talking about this. “We haven’t planned everything out yet. But I just wanted to make sure that this whole… overworking heart thing isn’t going to risk me and our future baby. I don’t… I don’t know how I’ll handle a complication.”

“Your condition will always be a factor but you’re not in any more risk than you were before this incident,” Dr. Kwon assures you. “You don’t have to give up everything. But just always consult and make sure you rest. That's really all I can tell you.”

“I’d give it all up when I’m pregnant if I need to,” you giggle, missing the way Jungkook’s gaze saddens at your words.

Clearly that desire hasn’t waned, and the worry on your face at the thought of what this scare could mean to your future family - one that he’s still not able to give you - says a lot. But that scares him, too. Would you be open about your struggles once you’re pregnant unlike what you’re being now? Would you be honest and open? Would you let him carry your burden with you?

“Well, I guess that’s it, then,” Dr. Kwon announces, handing you the prescription of your new medication. “I’ll see you again in 2 months for your regular check-up.”

You bid your goodbye and head out, taking Jungkook’s hand as you walk to pay the bills. He doesn’t say much, merely humming to your musings the whole time - when you head to the car, on the way home, and when he decides to take an afternoon nap.

That night, after you both had food delivered for dinner and have washed up, you wait for him in bed as he sends emails to his staff. You kiss him goodnight and turn your back towards him, ready for his tight hug and his nuzzle on your neck. But he doesn’t.

He merely gently lays his hand on your hip and doesn’t pull you close. He doesn’t kiss your shoulders nor tell you he loves you or that he’ll see you in his dreams like he always does.

There’s silence where there shouldn’t be, and you slowly fall asleep to drown out the worried thoughts in your head. Maybe he’s just tired, you reason to yourself. Maybe he’s still processing what just happened. Either way, it’s just tonight, and you know your husband - he’d never been able to resist you. And you let that comfort you. Tomorrow, things will be back to normal. Tomorrow, you’ll wake up and fall asleep in his arms again.

The mid-morning sun peeking through the blinds provides you with much needed warmth that you’d missed last night. There was no arm wrapped around you, no hot breath on your neck or soft lips on your skin. It felt cold, even with the blanket covering your body, and you have half a mind to go to Jungkook’s office for that morning kiss that you didn’t get and which usually wakes you a little everyday.

But to your surprise, you hear his voice, deep and low as he gives instructions to whoever it is he’s speaking to. You get off the bed and find him in his office nook, in an online meeting with his team. As it looks, he probably decided on working from home to look after you.

You know that he has to iron out details of the new project and delegate tasks to his team. Those from the Busan and Daegu offices have to be briefed, too, and you can just imagine how much is on his plate yet he’s home because of you. Sighing, you turn around to head to the bathroom when his voice stops you.

“___? Everything okay?”

You look at him and see that he’s turned off his video, his questioning eyes greeting you.

“Yeah, just feeling a bit bad that you have to be home when you should be out there with your team,” you share. There’s a small, selfish part of you that’s glad that you get to spend time with him, though it’s not something that you say.

Jungkook shrugs. “We can manage. Are you feeling better? No pain or anything?”

“Better, yes. And no, no pain,” you reply. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah,” he responds. “I asked Mrs. Na to stay over for the next few days since I’ll be working from home and I won’t be able to cook for you. She’s downstairs so just tell her what you want.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll go there, then,” you say dryly. You wish he could join you but then again, he’s working from home; he’s not on a break or anything.

“Just call me if you start to feel anything different.”

You nod and quickly wash up before heading to the kitchen for breakfast, chatting with Mrs. Na. It’s been a while since you’ve caught up with her, the woman who looked after you growing up.

That whole morning, Jungkook heads downstairs twice only, both times to grab coffee and ask you if you’re feeling okay. You are, and much as you want to tell him not to worry, you want him to seek you out. It seems as if that’s the only time he’s interested in speaking to you, anyway. He’s worked from home a few times and just like when he pulls all-nighters, he’d always insisted on having you close by.

Not today, though. Ironically, it seems as if he’s home to keep you at a distance. That night, he sleeps late, and so do you. You wait for him to come to bed, ready for even his slightest touch to assure you that he’s here. He does come to bed at 2AM, but the touch doesn’t come. You take a peak over your shoulder and there he is, on his side of the bed, with his back turned against you.

Jungkook insists on seeing your families that weekend - Saturday with yours and Sunday with his. Being out of the house to feel the fresh air seems quite the experience. You’ve only been cooped up in your house for a few days but you already feel like suffocating, even more with your husband’s passiveness towards you.

Just as he continued to work at home, so did his minimal conversations with you and absence of affection. He’s kissed your hand a few times and it was only because you were cupping his cheek, but he doesn’t do more, doesn’t say more. You’ve come to expect nothing from him, if you’re being honest.

You watch from the kitchen of Junghyun’s home as Jungkook speaks to Yeri, massaging his temples, and your sister-in-law, a doctor, seems to be instructing him on what to do and what to take, scribbling something on a pad and giving it to him.

You reckon that his headache hasn’t gone away, but you wouldn’t know how painful it is because there’s nothing about him now that he’s sharing. He used to pout at you to tend to a small paper cut but somehow, he just can’t bring himself to tell you how he’s feeling and where it hurts.

“You holding up okay?” Junghyun interrupts your thoughts.

“For the most part, yeah,” you respond, glancing at your husband again who’s now laid his head on the couch, his eyes closed shut.

“And the other part?” Junghyun cocks an eyebrow.

“Just worried about how stressed Jungkook is,” you sigh. “I wish he’ll give himself time to rest. He barely sleeps. I… I don’t feel him close, especially at night.”

“Well, the project is at its planning stages and he’s managing all the teams from home,” the older man explains. “And then there’s you.”

“Me, the burden,” you sigh, hating the thought.

The older man is familiar with your musings. It’s why you didn’t want people knowing about your condition; it’s why you didn’t want Jungkook to know. You always despised being someone’s baggage, and right now, Junghyun thinks it’s what you feel.

“You really scared him, you know?” He nudges your shoulder to get your attention back that’s focused on your husband. “He’s experienced a car accident, getting lost in a cave, skydiving… yet he’s never been more scared than finding out that you were in the hospital. He looked even more helpless that he wasn’t there with you. And as his brother, I was afraid of how he was gonna take it. You know how he is.”

“Exactly. He worries a lot. Too much sometimes,” you agree.

“As he should, especially since you don’t. Or at least, since you don’t show it.”

With your silence, he knows he’s right.

“You were scared, too, weren’t you?” He asks this time.

You nod, fighting back the tears. “I’d forgotten how it used to hurt. I kept thinking that it was gonna subside, you know? That it was gonna go away right away but it didn’t. And I just didn’t want him to worry too much. I didn’t want him to be scared because I was. I didn’t want him to carry that with him if there was a chance that it really was nothing. I don’t like seeing him helpless, Junghyun. I don’t like seeing him feel like he’s not enough to make it not hurt.”

“I don’t think that’s something you can control, ___. You’re his weakness. There’s nothing that scares or hurts him more than your fears and your pain. That’s kind of what love is, you know?” Junghyun continues. “That’s part of being married. And when you have children, you’ll learn that it’s part of being parents, too. You can’t be the only one carrying it all. That’s what having a partner is all about. It isn’t just you. And it isn’t just about you.”

Jungkook wakes up from the nap he didn’t realize he’s taken and finds you, wrapped in his brother’s arms who seems to be whispering something in your ear as well. He can sense it’s another one of those comforting things that Junghyun’s always given you, and while Jungkook has long accepted that special friendship you share with the man you look up to, it doesn’t take away the small bit of envy over the fact that you trust Junghyun, that you let yourself be honest with him.

It’s an accepted fact by everyone, including Seokjin who knows that his overprotective tendencies compared to Junghyun’s calm nature have led you to open up to the latter one more.

But for Jungkook to see you get comfort from someone else who isn’t him and be hurt by it makes him feel hypocritical, especially since he’s been distancing himself from you, too. He only checks up on you just so he won’t lose his mind, but he doesn’t know anything else.

Are you scared or worried? How bored are you at home? What do you wish to do? Is there a place you want to go to? Do you miss his touch as much as he misses yours? Does it hurt you to be close to him as much as it hurts him? Do you feel angry and disappointed like he is?

Jungkook wouldn’t know. He also doesn’t know how he can love someone so much yet feel so powerless, so useless, so hurt by them. Your love always made him better, but he didn’t think it would ever let him down like this.

It’s not pure jealousy he feels when you finally pull away and smile at Junghyun. It’s a mix of emotions, really. Jungkook wants to comfort you but he feels upset. He misses you but he doesn’t want to say anything that would hurt you. He wants to be the one you run to but he can’t bring himself to be close to you. He wants you to feel his love but he doesn’t know how to show it.

You meet his eyes as you turn towards the living room, but Jungkook looks away. He busies himself on his phone and keeps to himself during dinner. He holds your hand during the car ride home when you reach for him and then lets you lay his arm on your waist when you both sleep that night, with your back against his chest while he feels you still so far away.

He doesn’t get to sleep much just like every night. He worries you’d feel pain again. Somehow he wants to be alert enough to know you’re still breathing; he needs the sound of your soft snores to assure him that you’re alive, that you’re still next to him despite his unwillingness to be close.

Is this what love is like behind closed doors? He’d been surrounded by his family and yours and only seen the happy parts of it. When it came to Jungkook’s past relationships, he broke it off after the first fight because he didn’t think it was love if it hurt or made him angry like that.

But now there’s you, and even if he feels every possible negative emotion out there, all he thinks about is just how much he loves you. All he knows is that he can’t live without you. But right now, he also can’t deny that he’s upset.

Maybe love is like this, he thinks. Once the honeymoon phase has lapsed, your differences surface, and you have to learn how to navigate it all without losing yourself and the other person, without drowning in the depths of both of your shortcomings, and then coming out the other side still intact and willing to learn and grow.

Monday comes and you wake up to the sound of keyboard typing once again. Jungkook hasn’t been going to the office despite needing to physically meet the teams who’ll be working on the project, and you hate that he feels like he has to babysit you even if you’re perfectly capable of looking after yourself. Mrs. Na is home; you don’t want Jungkook to have to give up even more than he needs to.

You don’t bring it up though, not wanting to interrupt him during his incredibly busy day, as he goes from one meeting to another. It’s the next day when you wake up to the same scene that you finally suggest going back to work.

“Hun, you can go to the office, you know?” You say sleepily as you stand by the door. “I’m sure it’ll be easier to manage everything from there. I’m fine here, I promise.”

He turns towards you as he types on his phone. “And if you aren’t, would you call me?” He looks at you pointedly. “Will you let me know this time?”

They don’t seem like rhetorical questions, but they’re not something you want to answer, given the hint of bitterness in them. Jungkook says it blankly, almost devoid of emotions that it shakes you because of how unfamiliar he sounds.

You don’t answer, and he faces his laptop to continue with his work. “I’m fine here,” he repeats your words. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

You let the next 2 days pass while slowly retreating into yourself. You’re bored out of your mind but you can’t do anything remotely productive or entertaining. Much as you can sneak in time to paint, there’s no thought or inspiration that’s pushing you to create something. The TV shows suddenly seem boring without Jungkook to talk about them with, and even your books can’t keep your attention long enough past one chapter.

It doesn’t help that you can hear your husband’s frustrated groans as he gets off a phone call or as he types away. His raised voice echoes from his small office down to the living room. You want to let him rest, relieve him in some way, or comfort him like you used to do, but you don’t think any of those would be welcome. He’s told you enough with the absence of his touch that he doesn’t want any of that.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t think he wants you right now either.

Jungkook surprisingly goes to bed early that evening, and he’s tucked under the covers by the time you lay next to him after a warm bath.

“You feeling alright?” He asks with his eyes still closed, as he feels the dip on the mattress.

“Yeah,” you muster enough energy to respond.

“Okay,” he hums, turning to his side away from you again and by now, you’d be surprised if he didn’t.

You turn on your side, too, content on just imagining his soft smile and the sparkle in his eyes when he speaks to you. Those have gone away somehow, and there’s a twitch in your heart that’s not caused by overworking; it’s caused by the feeling of distance you didn’t think you’d ever feel with the man you’d promised to love your whole life.

It’s afternoon the next day when you find yourself more frustrated than anything. You wanted to go to the park and get some fresh air but Jungkook insisted on going with you, commenting once more that you may not call him if something comes up. It usually takes a lot to make you irate but his snide remarks and aversion towards you have slowly been eating you up inside.

You decided against going out, not wanting to take him away from work, especially as you’d heard him raising his voice at someone on the phone, his groans echoing throughout the loft once more.

You always loved being around Jungkook. Whether he was busy at work, frustrated over something, or being needy or clingy, he makes you feel wanted. It’s the random kiss on your cheek or his loving glance or the way he’d affectionately call you ‘baby’ or when he’s finally next to you and he doesn’t want to let you go. But right now he’s being confusing - he wants to be where you are but he somehow finds it difficult to be around you, to talk to you, to look at you, to be close to you.

“You should go for a run or head to the gym or something,” you tell him from the living room when he heads down to the kitchen for a glass of water.

“Why should I?”

“So you can release your frustrations elsewhere,” you turn to him, looking him straight in the eyes but he looks away. “Your desk will break if you hit it one more time. And you’ve been snapping at your staff and that’s not how you should be treating them. Just go, take a break. Work can wait. You just need to clear your mind.”

“And if I go, would you call if something happens?”

It’s that line again, but by now it’s gotten old.

“Nothing will, and if something does, I won’t be alone,” you respond. “Yeji and Nari are coming. I asked them over, so you can go spend time on your own. I know you want to, since you can’t seem to stand me. You won’t talk to me, you won’t look at me… might as well just spend a few hours away from me.”

Maybe then you’d start missing me, you don’t say.

“Fine, I’ll go when they get here.”

He doesn’t refute, he just accepts. In your mind, that’s him agreeing. A part of you hoped he’d say you’re wrong, that you’re just imagining things, or maybe explain why he’s been acting the way he has. It isn’t like him to bite his tongue and not express himself through words. He’d never had a problem doing that, you remind yourself.

It isn’t like you to let your emotions get the better of you, too, as you let a tear fall when he heads back to your room with no other words said.

He hears your friends arrive, as not long after they do, he hurries down the stairs and walks out the door, his jacket hood over his head and his gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“Okay, talk to us,” Nari says, as she watches the exchange between you and your husband, a rare sight indeed, as all she’s known of both of you since falling in love was that unabashed joy and affection that’s infectious and heartwarming.

Folding your knees and hugging them tightly, you pout then let the tears fall. “He hasn’t held me since we got back from the hospital,” you say. “He barely talks to me, he doesn’t look at me. He’s cold and irritable and distant, l…”

You take a deep breath and lean onto Yeri’s shoulder when she pulls you for a hug. “He’s been working at home but his presence is so intimidating and tense.”

“Maybe it’s just work,” your best friend reasons as she hugs you tighter. “Isn’t there a big project that he got approved? It might just be the pressure, you know? And what happened to you is worrisome. Maybe it’s all just piling up.”

“But he’s never been like this,” you insist, sniffing and trying to find your voice. “He doesn’t just ignore me or act like I’m not around. Even with our small arguments before, he’d never spoken to me coldly or bitterly. He’s never…” you trail, feeling the ache in your heart at the newness of this, of this feeling of being unwanted or needed. “Oh god, I feel so silly. I totally sound like a spoiled, bratty, needy wife.”

“Hey,” Nari nudges you and takes you from Yeri, wiping away your tears and urging you to stop excusing your feelings. “You aren’t being silly. If he’s making you feel that way, then he should be a grown up and tell you directly why, not ignore you and make you feel bad about it. You just went through something terrifying, ___. He should be comforting and taking care of you.”

“Do you know why he’s acting that way?” Yeri asks now. “Because I feel like I do. I mean, knowing you and him, it’s not that hard to figure out.”

It’s your tear-stained face and pouty lips that give it away that you have an idea, too, and both women know that as your best friends, they need to be on your side while also knocking some sense into you.

“Why didn’t you tell him what you’ve been experiencing?” Yeri continues. “Why did you keep it all from him?”

“I thought I could just brush them off without having to make him worry,” you finally answer after a long beat of silence. “If it was nothing, then I didn’t want to burden him with unnecessary things.”

“___, we’ve talked about this,” Nari groans, frustrated because this has always been her issue when it comes to you, how you just brush things off for fear of worrying your loved ones about your condition, without realizing that you’re making the other person feel distrusted, unworthy, powerless. It’s this unnecessary courtesy that she always felt you developed as a coping mechanism because of how overprotected you were growing up, being doted on and treated like a fragile doll who couldn’t break a sweat or be inconvenienced in any way.

“It’s hard to unlearn,” you mumble, knowing what she means. The only way you felt like your illness would stop defining you was if people didn’t know it still affected you.

“So what, you’ll just let it affect your health again like this? And now your marriage, too?” She counters. “I know you don’t want it to, so unlearn it faster. And talk to him. It’s the only way.”

You nod, knowing that some days, you just need your best friends to spell out the things you already know, because somehow it makes sense when they’re the ones telling you.

You sit in between them, anxious about how you’ll face Jungkook when he returns. You were never good at this, and during the few times you and your husband had fought, he’d been the one to initiate talking and working things out, insistent to hold onto your promise to each other of not sleeping until you’ve resolved your issues, no matter how late it already is. But now, he seems to be the one who’s letting it drag on, not wanting to address it or even acknowledge it.

Nari and Yeri help you prepare dinner, as you’d let Mrs. Na go home to attend to family matters. The stew smells amazing, but to be honest, you don’t really have the appetite for it.

They leave after cleaning up, and you’re left with your own thoughts in the quiet of the loft that’s gotten colder, lonelier the past week.

Your heart leaps out of your chest at the sound of the door opening, and you watch in pain as Jungkook merely walks past you and heads towards the stairs.

“Kook, talk to me,” you beg, voice low yet desperate. “Please. I can’t do this anymore.”

This stops him in his tracks and he turns around, his jaw clenched and his eyes unreadable.

“I can’t,” he says, turning away.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to say things I’ll regret. Because I’m angry and upset and I can’t express any of that when you can have another relapse or something.”

“I don’t care,” you exclaim. “Say whatever you want to, and say it now. Because that’s way better than you blatantly ignoring me. Your hurtful words would be better than none at all.”

“Yeah, because I’m the one who’s hurting you, right?” He says, his voice getting louder now. “I’m the one who doesn’t trust you, who’s not honest with you, who keeps secrets and shit… I’m the one who’s at fault for worrying about you being in pain and then being upset that you kept it all from me. Right? You’re the only one who’s hurting? And not me?”

“That’s not what I meant,” you huff, feeling the tears pool in your eyes again.

Jungkook decides against saying something, exhaling deeply instead and massaging his temples as he paces around the living room.

“I was in that fucking room presenting some fucking project while you were in the ER, all on your own, taking tests and just waiting to be told if your illness is back,” he says, seemingly restraining himself.

“If I could spare you the worry, I would,” you argue. “I just wanted to make sure that it wasn’t anything serious before—”

“Before calling?” He scoffs. “You’re my wife and I won’t forgive myself if anything bad happens to you! So what, you were just gonna wait there for bad news and not let me be there for you? What if it was worse and you didn’t manage to get in a cab? What if the hospital was far away and you fainted? What if something was wrong with your heart again? And then I wouldn’t have been there because you didn’t fucking call! Because I didn’t know you were experiencing all that in the first place! Because of all the things that you chose to keep from me, it was this. As if hiding it from me our entire lives wasn’t enough.”

There it is, all the what-ifs in Jungkook’s mind that he’s always been so scared of. He’s never brought himself to envision you in any sort of pain but then you were, and the intense fear of what could’ve happened swam in his mind, and there’s nothing worse than feeling powerless to protect the love of his life from all that.

“If this is about you feeling guilty that you’re not able to do anything–”

“Fuck it is! That and more!” He yells, the frustration overtaking him. “Don’t you get it? I can’t stand you in pain, and I can’t stand it when you feel like you have to bear it on your own, like you have to spare me or something. Yeah, I’m fucking terrified, but I’m still your husband. And you tell me these things,” he heaves. “I’m sorry I worry, or that I overreact or become dramatic and overly cautious, what do you expect? But you can’t hide this from me. I can’t not be your first call. That’s not fucking fair.”

“Kook, honey, I’m sorry,” you cry, trying to reach out for him but he pulls his arm away.

“Are you? You knew what you were doing, ___. You chose not to tell me the first time, and the next, and the one after that. And I had to fucking learn it from my brother again and I just…” Jungkook stops, and you look at him to see that he’s crying, the pain in his eyes so piercing that it’s probably gonna haunt you for days.

“I know you’ve always turned to him and he’s someone you can be honest with but… why can’t you trust me that way?”

“You know that’s not it,” you try to explain. You know that as much as you can reason that you only called Junghyun because Jungkook wasn’t picking up your calls, your husband would argue that you could’ve called way earlier, and he’d be right.

“Then what is it, ___?” He asks, and you realize that the most painful thing he can say is calling you by your name.

“You… you’re always the first for me,” he continues. “Whatever I’m feeling, whatever I did that day, you’re the first person I think about, the one I need to tell everything to; you’re always my first call. It’s always you because we promised each other. Through the good and the bad, it’s me and you. And keeping that promise was never hard because I want it to be you. Because I trust you. And to realize that it’s not the same with you just fucking sucks, okay?” He huffs, sounding defeated.

“What else are you not telling me? That you’re taking more art classes because being with those kids compensates for us not yet having our own because I’m fucking terrified of what that would mean for your health? I mean, how the hell can we have our own kids if you can’t even communicate with me? If you can’t even tell me what you’re feeling? If you don’t even trust that I’ll do everything to ease your pain and be there for you? How could you think that anything else is more important than you are?”

The sob that escapes you is immediate. The scene feels familiar, as the last time you’d cried this hard in front of Jungkook was years ago, in this exact spot, but this time, you know this is on you.

His words should be comforting - he loves you, and he loves hard, he loves openly, bravely, unapologetically. But all you can see is the hurt in his eyes. And all those times that you promised yourself that you wouldn’t let your illness define you feels stupid and hypocritical now, because here you are, hurting the man you love because you wanted to carry the burden on your own. But as you’re learning, being someone’s partner means sharing all that with them, and trusting that you’ll pull through together.

Jungkook watches you cry and this feels familiar, too. He never really fully got to remove this very scene from years ago out of his mind no matter how hard he tried. Nothing hurts him more than seeing you like this, but much as he wants to hold you in his arms, he’s afraid to find out that it wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m not really hungry,” he finally says, changing the subject because he honestly can’t bear talking some more. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.”

He turns around and heads towards the hallway and closes the door, leaving you rooted on the ground to watch him walk away.

There’s a different kind of pain that’s filling your entire body. The one caused by your illness is purely physical, as if you could feel it only the very structure of your organ - it’s straightforward and familiar, something that medication and a few breaths could relieve.

But the one you’re feeling now is different - you feel it all over. There’s a ringing in your head of all the things that Jungkook had said. Your mind is going through all the times he’d called you first, or put you first, or followed through his promise of sharing his world and his heart and his soul with you. There’s that feeling of something missing - his fingers in between the spaces of yours, his arms around your waist, his soft lips against your own. There’s that absence of the affectionate tone of his voice and his boyish laughter, and it’s like without those, you can’t hear anything at all.

The past week has felt like a month of being without him, or at least, being without his comfort and security. It’s like being stripped off of your basic necessities - everything is hard without him, everything is worthless and unhappy and incomplete without him.

Is this what it feels like when you carry everything on your own? When you restrain yourself from sharing your fears and your burdens and your pain with someone else? Because sharing the joy - the good things - doubles it; and now you know that sharing the bad things increases it, too.

You sigh and wipe your tears, thinking of how much more you need to learn about love and marriage and being someone’s lifelong partner. Your grandmother once said you’re so full of love, and you wonder how you could’ve possibly failed at giving it to the person you love the most.

Knees bent against your chest, you hug yourself for that warmth you need, but you aren’t enough for it, as you should know by now. On the other side of the door in the hallway is the person you need, the person you want, the person you love, and there’s no way that you’re going to let him sleep all alone tonight.

Mustering up the courage, you get on your feet and stand outside the room. You want to keep a promise this time, about not sleeping until you’ve both resolved the issue, or at least made up somehow. You don’t want him to go through even just one night thinking that you don’t care enough to face him, to be uncomfortable, to be accountable, because you are. And you want him to know that.

The door creaks open and you find Jungkook in bed, lying on his back with one arm over his eyes. It’s already been half an hour and you’d be surprised if he’s still crying. But you don’t miss his clenched jaw and fist, the frustration clearly still evident.

You walk towards the other side of the bed and slowly position yourself - close enough for the distance not to feel too much, but far enough for him to still pull away.

You reach out for his hand and he flinches a little, but when you uncurl his fingers so you can caress them, he lets you. The sight of your name tattooed on his finger makes you cry again.

He doesn’t like playing soccer or hitting the gym with his ring on, but he doesn’t want - “even for a second,” he’d said - for there to be no trace of your marriage on him. “Seeing it makes me smile,” he’d told you. “I got to marry the prettiest woman on earth and I know when what I do is over, she’ll be there waiting for me.”

Jungkook has always put you first, in every sense possible. Junghyun told you once that his brother has always sought a high from being reckless, from doing what he wanted, when he wanted, but he’s never wanted to do anything right as much as when it comes to loving you.

“I don’t have an excuse for how I handled things, and I handled them pretty terribly,” you start, your voice shaking. “I never got to outgrow that selfishness, that need to always prove to everyone that I can handle things on my own. And it’s because of that that I hurt you, Kook. It’s because of that that you’re feeling like I don’t trust you, that you’re not my first call. And I’m so, so sorry.”

His lips quiver, and he nibbles them to keep himself from sobbing again.

“I’ve needed help and assistance for more than half of my life and that feeling of weakness frustrates me; it makes me uncomfortable because I don’t like burdening others. And you’re right, I’ve been unfair to you; I’ve been unfair to us. It’s this fear of disappointing you, of seeing you scared that makes me think that you don’t need to know trivial things like that and I was wrong. I’m so wrong, Kook,” you continue.

“Because all I’ve wanted this past week was to be with you and tell you I’m scared, that I miss you, that I wish you could comfort me, that I’m so bored and that I want to go out but I want to go out with you. I wanna tell you that my students sent a video, hoping that I’m feeling better and that they’ll be waiting for me. I wanna tell you that I learned how to make egg noodles, and that I’m craving pork soup. I wanna tell you that the medication and rest are working because the chest pains are gone but the palpitations are few and far in between now.”

Wiping your tears, you see that Jungkook is pressing his arm harder on his eyes, and the way he heaves tells you that he’s crying just as much as you are.

“You’ve always tried to understand me and give me my space,” you say. “You’re patient when I don’t open up right away. You make sure to make things easy for me, that I always feel protected and loved and I don’t ever want to take that for granted, Kook. I want to be better; I’ll do better. I’ll love you much better. I just—”

Dark, glassy eyes that are looking at you cut you off, and you see the sadness in them, the care and affection and apology and forgiveness. And somehow, this makes you cry even more.

Jungkook gently nudges your hand that’s still holding his, and it’s your cue to throw yourself next to his side, your arms immediately wrapping around his torso. He’s warm and safe like you remember, even more when he tightens his hold after you cry harder, with your head laid on his chest.

You can hear his breathing and his occasional sniffles. You try to inhale his scent with your stuffy nose, but even if you barely can, you know he smells like comfort, and like always, he smells like home.

“I don’t like it when you cry,” he says softly after a while. “Doesn’t crying make you palpitate or something?”

“A little,” you respond, peeking up at him. His eyes are drier now, but they��re focused on the ceiling. “It was faster earlier but it’s slowed down now.”

“I’m sorry,” he turns to you. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to say those things the way I did.”

“Don’t be,” you respond, wiping your tears. “I had to hear them, and I don’t blame you for how they came out, either.”

“I… I don’t think I’m angry anymore but I’m still upset,” he says softly, apologetically. “I wish I wasn’t but I just…” he trails.

“It’s okay,” you look at him and smile. “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry. Take your time. I’ll just be in our room.”

“Okay,” he mumbles.

He kisses your forehead, and the feel of it is all you really need to assure you.

It’s not ideal. You wish you could sleep next to him, maybe talk about how the past week has been or apologize some more. You don’t want to focus on the fact that this would be the first time that you’d sleep separately. It happens, you tell yourself. You’d rather that he’s honest with you like this, something you couldn’t be to him and you owe him his own space and time.

You kiss his cheek and get off the bed. “I’ll leave the stew in the oven in case you get hungry. Good night, Kook,” you say, and head out the door.

You settle for fruits for dinner, barely having an appetite as well. You take a long, hot bath and think of all you’ve done, where you went wrong, and what you can do after all this. You meant what you said that you’re going to be better. You always knew you were lacking in many things; you’ve been told that communication isn’t your strongest suit. But you can’t let the doubts creep in because you know Jungkook, and you know you. The last thing you’ll ever doubt is how much you love each other.

Maybe love is like this, you think to yourself. It hurts because it matters, and people fight because there’s something to fight for but it’s the kind of fight where nobody loses. You and Jungkook are different people and maybe that’s why it works the way it does, but it also doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t constantly work hard to meet each other in the middle. He does, and you will, even harder than before. Being loved by Jungkook is a gift, and being able to love him is a privilege.

You think about this even more as you lay in bed. It’s colder without him next to you; it feels empty. But you can sleep well knowing he’s taking his own time just downstairs, hopefully missing you, too.

He asked you to trust him. You always thought that was easy and that it just meant being faithful, that he wouldn’t hurt you. You realize now it’s more than that; that despite the fights and the fears and the tears, it’s trusting that you’re both going to be okay.

You fill your mind with Jungkook’s smile, knowing that maybe in a few days, you’ll be blessed with that sight again. You don’t know how many scenes and memories you’ve gone through when you feel a dip on the mattress next to you and Jungkook’s arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close to him. He nuzzles your neck like he always would, and though he doesn’t say or do anything else, you know that this is his way of telling you that he trusts you, too. That he trusts both of you.

Maybe love is like this - it's when you hold each other the tightest after a fight; it’s when you pull the other close even if neither of you wants to say anything; it’s when you’re upset but not enough to spend a night apart. Maybe it’s when you can be honest about being mad but not doubting the other person’s devotion.

Jungkook’s warm breath against your skin eases your mind and your heart, and you know that whatever happens tomorrow, you’ll wake up with him next to you. It’s been a tough week and a hard night but you think that maybe, this is when you learn to love each other even more.

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