#translate phone call real time

[livetranslator]

How to Have a Conversation With Someone Who Speaks a Different Language

Communicating with someone who speaks a different language can seem challenging, but with the right strategies and tools, it can become a seamless experience. Whether it’s a casual encounter or an important discussion, being prepared can help foster understanding and build connections.

Use Technology for Real-Time Translation

One of the most effective ways to bridge language barriers is by using technology. Apps and services designed for translation are invaluable, especially for verbal communication. For instance, some tools allow you to translate phone call real time, making it easier to converse with someone even if you don’t share a common language. These tools use artificial intelligence to instantly translate spoken words, enabling smooth back-and-forth dialogue.

For face-to-face interactions, mobile apps with speech recognition features can provide real-time translations. Simply speak into the app, and it will translate your words into the other person’s language and vice versa.

Incorporate Non-Verbal Communication

Body language, gestures and facial expressions can convey meaning when words fall short. For instance, a smile or nod can show agreement or understanding. Use simple gestures to emphasize your words, and avoid overly complex movements that might confuse the other person. Non-verbal cues are universal to some extent and can fill in the gaps left by language differences.

Speak Clearly and Use Simple Phrases

When communicating without fluency in a shared language, clarity is crucial. Speak slowly and use basic words or phrases. Avoid idioms, slang or culturally specific references that might be hard to translate. If possible, learn a few key phrases in the other person’s language to show effort and respect.

By combining technology like translate phone call real time, non-verbal communication and clear language, you can effectively engage with someone who speaks a different language. Building these connections opens up new opportunities for cultural exchange and understanding. With patience and practice, language differences become less of a barrier and more of an opportunity to learn.

Instantly translate messages with automatic text message language translation—visit now!

[blogifixscreens]

Samsung Galaxy AI Translation: Real-Time Translate Phone Calls

Discover the real-time Samsung Galaxy AI translation feature for translating phone calls in real time sphere. Capture AI live translate calls like never before.

[annabelle--cane]

"the magnus protocol had a whole ARG beforehand? what?"

yes! it did!

"oh so I need to have participated in this whole big thing to actually understand the podcast?"

not at all! from the official post-mortem put out by RQ, "while the ARG was not something that was necessary to participate in to understand the magnus protocol, it was designed to contain a wealth of background story and context that would enrich any player's listening experience."

"a wealth of background context that would enrich my listening experience 👀👀👀 how can I learn about this?"

SO glad you asked. sadly, many of the materials made for the arg have been taken down since the game ended 😔 (ex., the official OIAR, magnus institute, and bonzoland websites. (edit ii: I found partial wayback machine captures! see below) though @strangehauntsuk is still up!), so we're a bit low on primary sources, but in terms of learning about what happened:

for a starting point, I would really recommend this video by @pinkelotjeart

it's super accessible, it was made in real time as the game progressed and follows the solving and revelation of clues as they happened, it hits all the major points of the mystery and moments of community insanity while eliding some of the nitty gritty puzzle grinding, 10/10 would recommend.

here's the official summary put out by RQ, and I'd recommend reading through this once you've already gotten a basic handle on the flow of the story and the basic connections between major clues and events. it's got some fun behind-the-scenes info and lays out the thought process behind the puzzles in simple terms

here's the full masterdoc of all puzzles and resolutions put together in the statement remains discord server. masterdoc my absolute BELOVED, masterdoc my bethrothed, masterdoc my soul mate. I'd recommend this as a second port of call after the above video as it either contains all details about the puzzles or links to other expanded docs that do.

here's the narrative summary doc that lays out all the plot and lore discovered in three pages of plain prose. if you just want to get to the good bits as fast as you can and get blasted directly in the face by contextless lore bombs, this is the doc for you. if you don't want to start with the video, I'd say this is another good entry point.

once you've got the lay of the land, some of the game materials that I found particularly interesting include:

the in-universe east germany expat usenet forum, with all content translated into english. most of it is irrelevant space filler with occasional extremely sus lore, but I still found it fun to read through. love to soak in some fictional forum drama.

chdb.xlsx, the spreadsheet of the names of all the children the protocol 'verse magnus institute was studying/experimenting on. EDIT: here is a version of the sheet without any annotations and with all of the names in their original order, kudos to @theboombutton for catching that the commonly shared copy had the order swapped around.

klaus.xls, a (very corrupted) spreadsheet with what looks like the classifications of a bunch of old OIAR cases.

EDIT: have a few more saved materials from the game that I forgot to include.

an in-universe audio ad to apply to the OIAR that ran before archives episodes and kicked off the whole game.

an in-universe video ad to apply to the OIAR, this one is an official upload that's still up from the game itself. you can subscribe to the OIAR's official youtube channel today, if you so chose.

the robo-voicemail greeting from the OIAR's phone line.

EDIT II:

here is a wayback machine capture of the OIAR's official website.

here is a wayback machine capture of the bonzoland website.

(pretty sure both of the above captures just archived the home pages, though I haven't tried clicking all of the links. I'd say they're still worth looking at, the home pages give a good window into the vibes.)

once you start poking around in these documents, you'll find a bunch of links to others with further information, the materials I've included here just contain what I feel to be the most relevant details to getting a broad feel for the whole game. once again, huge shout out to the statement remains server, I was barely in there as the ARG was in progress and only ducked my head in every so often to find links like these. true mvps of the fandom.

[pseudowho]

"Hey! Nanamin, Mrs.Nanamin?"

You and Kento looked up at Yuuji from your places on the sofa; you, with your cross-stitch and your tongue between your teeth, and Kento looking over his newspaper and reading glasses. Yuuji dried his hands, having washed the final dish.

He grinned, ruffling stray bubbles into the back of his hair, and tapped away on his phone. Kento's phone buzzed, and he picked it up, looking at the screen.

"It's my birthday next week--"

"--dont worry, Yuuji, we know--"

"--and I'm just gonna have a little party in the Jujutsu High forest. Gojo says it's okay, thought you two could come along. I've qjust sent you the deets."

As Yuuji walked off to his room, you looked up at Kento, who read the invitation in increasing confusion, a dismayed little hum rumbling out of his throat.

"What? What is it?" You asked around the needle pinched between your teeth, leaning closer to peer at Kento's phone.

"The party..." Kento hummed.

"...the party...?"

"Apparently it's going to be 'dank'."

"Oh...sounds unsanitary."

Kento hummed again. "Quite. Though perhaps if we bring our best 'rizz', Yuuji thinks the party will be 'bussin'. Even better, if our outfits 'slay', he'll be 'highkey' excited."

You frowned, then scoffed, calling down the hallway.

"Hey, Yuuji? This invitation..."

"Yeah?" He shouted back, "What about it?"

"Have you had a stroke?"

Yuuji laughed, unabashed, and walked out in his pyjamas, grinning. "Nah, for real for real, it'll be great. No cap."

You and Kento looked at Yuuji like he'd grown an extra head. Yuuji laughed again, and got a glass of water before bidding them goodnight, scoffing as he went into his room;

"Millennials."

You and Kento sat in stunned silence in the lamplight. Kento looked at your cross-stitch and fluffy socks. He felt his reading glasses on his head, his newspaper forgotten in his lap, and you seemed to be thinking the same, before asking him in quiet horror:

"Kento...are--are we old?"

Another dismayed hum, from beside you.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The 20th of March arrived; a balmy spring evening. The sun was setting as you and Kento approached the forest at Jujutsu High, seeing the flicker of flames in a great firepit, hearing music and laughter, and clinking glass.

Panda tossed bottles of drink across the floating crowd; Maki and Megumi caught theirs seamlessly, and Nobara fumbled hers to the tune of laughter, her eye patch replacing her depth perception.

The birthday boy bustled around, accepting claps on the back, gifts and well-wishes, his hair turned coral in the dying sun. He looked up as you and Kento approached, looking happier still.

Yuuji softened at Kento's smile, accepting a gift with the promise of 'more at home'. Kento patted Yuuji on the shoulder, looking him up and down.

"Looking good, Yuuji. On fleek."

Yuuji faltered, unsure. "Oh, on...?"

Kento turned to you, only marginally irritated when Gojo joined your group. As the conversation grew between you, Kento and Gojo, Yuuji looked more and more sidelined, eventually fumbling for his phone, his trusty translator.

"Went to talk to the higher-ups today--

"Ugh! Adulting."

"-- legit. Looked over their new hashtag 'Student Protection Policies', and they were so fucking basic--"

You and Kento scoffed as Gojo continued, and Yuuji listened on, flicking through the glossary of his mind.

"--so yeah anyway, cheeky humblebrag, but when they told me I couldn't argue, I told them that they'd die of old age before they got a good policy out. Solid clapback, I feel."

You and Kento scoffed, sipping your drinks, answering; "Savage"-- "Woke up ready to throw shade, huh."

The party went on, and Yuuji found himself overhearing more and more of Kento's conversations. Yuuji had a growing list of words on his phone, and increasingly looked at Kento as if he'd been replaced by another man.

Yuuji looked down at his phone, scrolling through the list; he had no answers. He still had no idea what time 'Leet o'clock' was, he'd been called 'dude' at least seven times, and he had lost a game that he hadn't even known he was participating in.

Kento turned back to Yuuji, smiling again at his disgruntled expression, thanking him; "Party's lit, Yuuji. Having fun?"

As Yuuji opened his mouth to argue, you approached, grinning at Yuuji and looping your arm through Kento's; "You alright kiddo? Looking a bit shook."

"I-- what? I don't--"

Kento leaned in to you, talking lowly in your ear; "Just been schooling this boy on the appropriate vernacular. I like to think I'm winning."

You laughed, delighted. "Weird flex but okay."

You melded back into the party ("Oh my god! Megumi's puppers! C'mere boy, who's a good doggo..."), and Yuuji fizzled at Kento, pugnacious.

"You're fucking with me, aren't you?"

Kento looked at Yuuji with absolute innocence. Yuuji puffed his cheeks out, putting his phone away and stabbing a finger at Kento.

"I'll get you back for this. Just 'cos you two are old."

Kento scoffed again, the barest smirk on his lips. "We're not old. You're just a baby."

"Yeah, yeah, Nanamin. Tell me that again when you stop taking two ibuprofen in the morning 'just in case'."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

A cheeky Millennials and Gen Z love letter, written absolutely tongue-in-cheek

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Dancing in the Courthouse

♥ masterlist | request rules | part of my 1k event

♥ pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

♥ synopsis: In 2021 you and oscar decided to elope due to your unpredictable schedules. now that you have more stability in your life, you were able to throw a dream wedding with the man you loved most in the world.

♥ smau + written - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: first fic apart of the 1k event!

-Paris, 2021-

The streets of Paris were bustling as you took a seat in your Uber. You could hear a Taylor Swift song playing faintly on the car's radio as you pulled out your phone.

You

hey osc I'm on my way back

Oscar checked the notification and panicked a little internally. He slipped the device back into his dress pants and shook his hands.

"Relax, tout ira bien," Estie assured Oscar. (translation: everything will be fine)

He sighed and turned towards the two French men, "Are you sure?"

All Pierre did was laugh.

"Call me when it's over," Pierre said with a smirk and guided Esteban out the door, into an elevator.

You were in France on a girls night out with your best friend Kika, whom you met through Formula 1. Little did the two of you know that Pierre and Esteban snuck over to your hotel room in order to help Oscar set up a surprise.

You tapped your keycard on your hotel door and called out your boyfriend's name. You set your purse down on a small marble table and kicked off your heels, making your way through the main room.

A small trail of pink rose petals guided you to the terrace causing your heartbeat to pick up.

Was this really happening?

You opened the glass doors to find more rose petals surrounding the floor and a very handsome Oscar. You strode over to him in complete shock until he grabbed your hands in his.

"Y/n you have been my best friend for as long as I can remember," he said as his thumb drew circles on one of your fingers. "You have stood by me since the beginning of my career and I could never imagine a life without you. I know we don't get to spend as much time together as we'd like to, but that is why I wanted to do this today."

He slowly got down on one knee in front of you and pulled out a black velvet box to reveal a silver ring.

"Will you marry me?"

You squatted down to his height and mumbled, "Is that even a question?"

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him gently, "Yes of course I will."

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-July 4, 2024-

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, lilymhe, and 300,572 more

ynln london girl

📸 creds: @/oscarpiastri

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user1 lmao the oscar picture creds

oscarpiastri I risked my life for that first pic

ynln @/oscarpiastri you were on another balcony?

user3 if anyone risked their life for that picture it's Alex

user2 speaking of alex she looks SO pretty there

carlossainz55 red nails for ferrari

ynln anything for you carlitos 😽

iamrebeccad so so true and real

user4 pretties

user9 lets all manifest an oscar win for this weekend

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by oscarpiastri, nicolepiastri, hattiepiastri, and 1,481,583 more

ynpiastri oops I guess the cat is out of the bag huh! the rumors are in fact true, oscar and I are married. we have been trying to keep it a secret since our elope in 2021, but it seems as though I slipped up with a photo on my insta. at least it was the perfect timing for the reception we're throwing this summer 🥰

view comments

nicolepiastri see you at the sequel wedding!!

ynpiastri <3

user1 ...sorry?

user8 PARDON

user12 THEY'RE ACTUALLY MARRIED

user2 POOKIE YOU CANT JUST POST A SHIRTLESS OSCAR LIKE THAT

user7 her username change I am so endeared

mclaren how many of you knew...

logansargeant I did

alexandrasaintmleux I did

charles_leclerc I did

landonorris I DIDNT?!?!

landonorris @/oscarpiastri how come charles knew before me

charles_leclerc @/landonorris he's my son???

iamrebeccad I'm so happy for you!

ynpiastri tysm becks 🥹🫶

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by pierregasly, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, and 123,740 more

wagupdates the girlies pulling up to the belgian paddock

view comments

user1 the color scheme 🛐

user2 PLS did they plan this for y/n’s wedding?

wagupdates @/user2 we think so!!

oscarpiastri I guess I need to step up my fashion game

charles_leclerc @/oscarpiastri I can help 😁

ynpiastri @/charles_leclerc no you cannot

user7 I love them

user4 they're GORGEOUS

francolapinto 😘

user8 ITS MR STEAL YOUR GIRL

user3 HAHAHA

user9 FRANCO Y/N IS MARRIED

charles_leclerc @/francocolapinto Te sugiero que elijas sabiamente tus próximas palabras (I suggest you choose your next words wisely)

francolapinto sorry sorry! its a joke its a joke 😅

user10 the threatening spanish 😭

carlossainz55 @/user10 I taught him that

fernandoalo_oficial @/carlossainz55 and I taught YOU that

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by pierregasly, ynpiastri, carmenmundt, and 563,885 more

francisca.cgomes rich bitch energy

tagged; @/ynpiastri @/alexandrasaintmleux

view comments

user1 are you shopping for dresses

francisca.cgomes mayybbe

ynpiastri GORGEOUS

francisca.cgomes NO YOU 😚

aussiegrit @/nicolepiastri do i get to walk oscar down the aisle

nicolepiastri no 😐

charles_leclerc that’s right because i am

user2 the family seating is gonna go crazy lol

user5 so what’s the dog situation?

landonorris bark

ynpiastri @/landonorris NO 😭

user5 I MEANT LEO AND ROSCOE 💀

ynpiastri @/user5 leo we know is definitely going to be there! 🥰

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Wedding Day-

liked by alex_albon, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, and 1,749,053 more

ynpiastri 💍

tagged; @/francisca.cgomes

view comments

danielricciardo 🥹

pierregasly vous êtes tous les deux magnifiques (you both look gorgeous)

user6 the fact that kika is her maid of honor

user7 IM NOT CRYING

user4 the venue is STUNNING

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

There was a salty ocean breeze on a cliff-side of Monaco, the place you and Oscar picked for the wedding.

There were dozens of familiar faces along with beautiful greenery and pastel flowers decorating the space.

You were sat at your table with your husband Oscar as the toast’s began to start.

“Hi,” someone said into the mic with a smile. “I’m Kika.”

There were a few soft laughs from the crowd. She pulled a piece of paper out of her gold-colored dress.

“When I found out you eloped without me that day in Paris my first thought was ‘fuck you’.” she said causing some more chuckles to come from the guests.

“It was only because I wouldn’t get the chance to give you the speech I had planned—but here we are today and I’m so glad I finally get to say it. Over these past couple years you have been my best friend, in and outside the paddock. I have so much love for you and I couldn’t be happier for your relationship with Oscar.”

You got up from your seat and hugged her, eliciting a few ‘aws’ from the room.

Lando stood up next with the mic, “Oscar was the guy on the grid no one could shut the up about,” Lando spoke into the mic and everyone laughed. “I didn’t get it at first, but then I met him, and I got it. And I felt the same when I met Y/n. You two are lucky to have each other. Congrats, mate.”

He raised his glass of champagne causing everyone to clink their glasses and cheer.

liked by lewishamilton, aussiegrit, nicolepiastri, and 1,937,954 more

ynpiastri wifey

view comments

user1 this is so cunty

wagupdates we heard that y/n’s heel broke and oscar had to carry her to the car (hence the last picture) 😭

user7 she is SO pretty

patriciooward great to see you again osc!

user6 I. LOVE. THEM.

user2 omg they’re so hot

user3 y/n’s outfits today >>>

lilymhe the reception was beautiful

ynpiastri <3

[nerinefy]

IMAGINE BOYFRIEND! AVENTURINE...

Boyfriend! Aventurine who makes sure you are well stacked and loaded (in how many ways you can take or think of) before going out for long missions.

Boyfriend! Aventurine who makes sure he gets to have at least one phone call with you each day when he's away because he already can't get enough of you in his arms and not being able to see you might be the only thing that'll kill him.

Boyfriend! Aventurine who sends you multiple messages per hour and updates you with photo evidence when he's out because that's how much he can't stand not being with you.

Boyfriend! Aventurine that immediately buys shit you dare mention even once to him. Say that one top he bought for you looks pretty and he sends you everything the brand of that top has. Entire stock so you won't match with anyone else.

Boyfriend! Aventurine who can go both ways and buy the shit you think is good for him! Compliment a new perfume he got for himself smelling great on him? He will have them on all-year-round.

Boyfriend! Aventurine who does not hesitate to give someone the stink-eye of they ever tried to pull something on him which is quite weird to witness in real time since no matter the mood man's always jolly in front of you.

Boyfriend! Aventurine who loves to tease you every way he can but will be absolutely fuming if someone else teases you too.

Boyfriend! Aventurine that custom made a body pillow with his picture on it so you won't feel alone whenever he's gone. You though it was a pretty odd thought at first but you've slowly grown fond of lil Adventurine. (He also has one of you, guess which picture it is?)

Boyfriend! Aventurine who unironically enjoys and uses the mug Topaz gifted to him as a joke that has "Best Dad Ever!" on it and says he's training for when he recieves one for real in the future. He doesn't know if he will be ready, but he knows that whoever that child is, he'll protect with his life.

Boyfriend! Aventurine that would risk his job and his life just so he can make sure you will be safe and cared for and that you know it.

©nerinefy 2023-2024 all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate.

[vettelsvee]

THE MOMENT I KNEW | Max Verstappen

Max Verstappen x Girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: After a few races where he didn't get the results he expected, Max decides to go out with some friends to disconnect from everything. Unluckily, one of those days when he arrives home after having some drinks, he finds out that he missed his girlfriend's birthday as soon as he sees the cake she ordered on the trash ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Maybe something angsty?? Like maybe bro goes out with his friends and forgets readers bday until he sees the cake in the trash can and realizes bro screwed up

WORD COUNT: 2007

WARNINGS: Curse words, mentions of being drunk, angst

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @gwginnyweasley @formula1-motogpfan @myescapefromthislife @regalbanshee [in case you wanna be tagged just tell me so i can add you!]

VEE'S NOTES: I've absolutely loved this one my God. With this fic, we mark a total of 6196 words written this week (not counting my uni essays and other several projects), so I'm quite proud about that! Also, thank you so much for the support all this week, hope you liked all the fics! I'll be uploading this upcoming week's posts tomorrow. Let me know in the comments or on the anon inbox your thoughts on this one! See you next week :) ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | LET'S TALK! | JANUARY UPDATE CALENDAR

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Max stumbled into your apartment, fumbling with the keys and opening the door with trembling hands, his pounding headache reminding him that it wouldn’t be this bad if he’d listened to the bartender’s advice to stop after the last gin tonic.

As soon as he stepped inside, he froze in the doorway, scanning everything as if it were his first time entering the place, even though he had been living there for nearly five years, the last two with you. He took a few unsteady steps toward the small entryway counter, where he dropped his keys and realized the silence was far heavier than he had anticipated.

His laughter, faint and fueled by the false sense of security that alcohol had provided, quickly dissipated. Taking a cautious step further into the living room, he noticed there were no lights on, no plates or leftover food on the small coffee table in front of the TV, and most strikingly, you were neither sprawled out on the couch watching one of the romantic movies you adored nor curled up asleep with one of your cats.

Despite the glaring signs, Max didn’t panic, at least not as much as he should have, even though something inside him whispered that the situation didn’t sit right.

It wasn’t until he wandered into the kitchen to get a glass of water and rounded the island that his foot stumbled slightly, nearly sending him sprawling to the floor. Puzzled, he looked down to see what had caused him to trip. His heart sank when his eyes landed on a discarded box, its lid broken as if it had been thrown to the floor, angrily, on purpose.

That’s when reality hit him like a freight train.

He turned his gaze to the left, where the trash can stood partially open. Inside, he saw an untouched cake, decorated with intricate floral designs and a message that read, “Happy Birthday, Y/N!” The sight struck him like a blow to the chest, the pressure so intense it made him want to vomit.

“No… No, it wasn’t today…” 

Desperately, and trying to figure out what to do, Max ran his hands through his hair, as if that might somehow help him calm down. His breathing grew more erratic with each passing second, his eyes glued to the cake. It didn’t feel real. He couldn’t understand how he had managed to forget such an important date… you, his girlfriend’s, birthday. Something so obvious had suddenly spiraled into a waking nightmare.

He noticed his phone sitting on the kitchen counter. Grabbing it quickly, he checked for any missed calls or messages from you, only to realize after several failed attempts to turn it on that it was dead. He blamed his drunkenness not only for not noticing he didn’t have his phone with him or that it was out of battery, but for forgetting such a meaningful day and breaking every promise he had made to you.

Deep down, though, he knew all the excuses were hollow. Any justification he tried to offer would be nothing but foolishness.

Setting the phone back on the counter, he decided not to waste any more time. He headed toward your bedroom. The door was ajar, and though the lights were off, he could make out your silhouette lying on the bed, your back turned to him. You gave no sign that you had noticed his arrival. The only sound in the room was your muffled, quiet sobs. As Max stepped closer, he saw you were clutching a pillow tightly, as if it were your only source of comfort.

That was the moment Max realized he couldn’t avoid facing the situation, no matter how impossible it felt to fix things right away.

“Y/N...” he said softly.

You didn’t answer, and your silence hurt more than a thousand words could have. Max knelt beside the bed, close enough to reach out, and gently began stroking your face. You didn’t resist his touch, but your indifference pierced him deeply.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he fought to hold himself together. “I swear this wasn’t my intention… I wanted to come home earlier, but Lando insisted we stay a bit longer, and then I didn’t have my phone…”

“You forgot, Max,” you interrupted, your tone sharp but laced with pain, anger, and sadness. You still wouldn’t look at him. “Goddammit, Max, you forgot my fucking birthday ever since the moment the clock struck midnight.”

Max fell silent. Once again, reality hit him square in the face, forcing him to acknowledge that anything he said would likely be inadequate. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, trying to find the words to explain himself calmly, to admit his mistakes while grappling with the weight of his guilt.  

“You know it wasn’t my intention,” he began, his voice low. “It’s just… with the shitty season I’ve been having and everything that comes with it, I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. I just needed to step out of my comfort zone for a bit, to clear my head…”  

“And you thought doing that on my birthday, after promising me a dream day, was the most appropriate choice?” you cut him off, finally raising your head. Your eyes were swollen and red from crying. “I know you’re not in a good place right now, but I also know that until now, every promise you’ve made to me, you’ve kept. You didn’t just forget about me, Max. You left me here, alone, all day, like I didn’t matter at all.”  

Max searched desperately for a way to salvage the situation, to apologize, to do something, anything, to prove how deeply sorry he was. But when you turned on the light and sat up to face him, he realized he was out of options. He didn’t know how to continue without disappointing you further.  

“You know this has been really hard for me…”  

“Hard for you? Seriously?” you interrupted, leaning closer and pointing your finger at him. “And you think this has been easy for me? Watching you shut me out, never telling me what’s going on in that head of yours? Not to mention your fans… They’re fully convinced that your shitty season is all my fault, that our relationship is ruining your career.”  

“Y/N, I know…”  

That was a lie. He didn’t know. Max had ignored the comments and criticism because, deep down, he believed you weren't to blame for his performance, especially when you rarely even went with him to the races anymore.  

“There’s nothing I can say to argue with you,” Max admitted. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve been a complete asshole today, and I’m truly sorry. I love you, Y/N, more than you know…”  

“Are you sure you love me?” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger. “Do you love me, or your damn career? Because lately, it feels like your whole world revolves even more around cars, races, speed, adrenaline, and your constant need to be the best at everything.”  

“Hey…” Max tried, his voice faltering.  

“Every day, you show me more and more that we’re no longer a team… that I’m no longer a part of you. And I know I’m not the only one who sees it.”  

Your words hit him like a dagger, but he knew he deserved them.  

“It’s not just about you forgetting my birthday today, Max. It’s everything. You don’t listen to me… you don’t give me anything, not even a minute of your day, let alone affection or support. Why should I stay in a relationship that, instead of giving me life, is killing me inside?”  

Your words struck him like a bucket of ice water.  

“You don’t get it, do you?” you asked, frustration and sadness mingling in your tone as he stayed silent. “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t be afraid to show me who you are, flaws and all. But you’ve always done this, Max, keeping me at arm’s length, never letting me into your life.”  

“I don’t do that, Y/N, it’s just that…” he began, summoning his courage to explain, but you cut him off once again.  

“Damn it, Max, yes, of course you do!” you yelled, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Do you realize that even though I’ve been with you, I’ve been completely alone? Alone, Max, utterly alone! I’ve tried so many times to talk to you, to make you see that a few bad races aren’t the end of the world for someone like you, but…”  

You stopped yourself abruptly, your throat aching and your head pounding. You felt no remorse for the way you were speaking to him since he deserved every word, but you couldn’t help but feel a deep sadness. Sadness for the Max Verstappen you had once known. A man who had been so proud of himself and his achievements after years of hard work, now emotionally shattered and, worse, so determined to hide it from everyone, including you.  

“I can’t keep giving you everything I have while you keep taking and taking, without giving anything back.”  

“I’m sorry…” Max muttered, but the words felt hollow.  

“A simple ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t fix anything, Max,” you replied, your voice quieter now but no less wounded. “I wish it were just about today, but like I said, I feel like you’re pushing me further out of your life with every passing day. You’re becoming a stranger to me, Max,” you admitted, trying not to let your voice waver. “You’ve been like this for months, and I don’t know what else to do to stop us from falling apart… though it feels like that’s exactly what you want.”  

“That’s not true,” he answered immediately, desperation in his voice. “Y/N, seriously, I love you more than you could ever imagine.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, tears welling up again. “Because I feel like you’re showing me the exact opposite.” Your voice trembled with the weight of her words. “Sometimes it feels like you love your career, the success you’ve achieved and the crowds chanting your name more than you love me.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible. “You know I want to, but… I don’t know how to fix this anymore…”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his face for some sign, some silent promise that would make you believe things between you could change. But Max’s words only made you realize that you had to stop thinking fantasies and start facing reality.

“Maybe you can’t fix it,” you confessed, the words breaking you from the inside. “I can’t keep going like this, Max… I can’t keep feeling like I’m not enough… like I’m not good enough for you.”

“Seriously, there has to be a solution…” he pleaded, his voice full of regret. “I’ll do better from now on, I promise…”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You turned to look at him, the pain evident in your expression. “Things won’t magically get better if you take me to dinner or buy me a million-dollar necklace to make up for today. That won’t fix anything, Max…”

“Y/N… Y/N, please… I need you…”

No matter how many times Max said those words, he knew that any promise he made now would be meaningless, especially considering how much he had already failed you.

Feeling that there were no more words left to say between them, you slowly got out of bed. You gathered the few belongings you had on the nightstand and, with a sense of finality, began to pack a bag, all the while feeling Max’s powerless gaze on you.

“I can’t keep waiting, Max,” you said, her voice steady despite the anguish inside. “Today, no matter how much I tried to turn a blind eye, let it go, and even put myself in your shoes… This… everything… after many tries… God, Max, all of this… That was the moment I knew.”

[jude5bellingham]

crawling back to you ☆ j.bellingham5

pairing: Jude Bellingham x singer!reader

summary: you love your boyfriend sooooo much and he loves you just as much.

notes: i have been looping hozier’s cover of do i wanna know and i had to make this thank you + this is my first work back and im doing this on my phone... hope you guys enjoy :)

yourusername

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, and 1M others

yourusername get this bloke away from me!

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judebellingham hey! this is not nice ☹️

yourusername sorry babes... the goggles freak me out

judebellingham goggles aren't the only things that freak you out 😝

yourusername oh hell nah... GET THIS BLOKE AWAY FROM ME!!!!!

jobebellingham outrageous caption 😭

yourusername outrageous man 😭😭

jobebellingham no this is actually foul now 😭😭😭

camavinga calling him bloke is crazy 🤣

yourusername c'est qui ça?

camavinga ton petit ami

yourusername ehhhh

judebellingham something is telling me i don't want to translate this convo...

user1 help what are those goggles😭😭😭

yourusername i literally dont know😭😭😭 he wont take them offffffff

user2 oh to be able to look at yn through those goggles

user3 oh to be yn to look at jude in those goggles

yourusername

liked by judebellingham, camavinga, and 992,878 others

yourusername ever thought of calling when you've had a few?

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judebellingham i clearly did

judebellingham do

judebellingham and i always do

judebellingham in fact i'm gonna call right now

judebellingham come home

yourusername crawling back to you rn judy boy

judebellingham i dont think i like the nickname

yourusername you hate me💔

judebellingham the kids miss you

camavinga he talking abt himself 🤣🤣

jobebellingham he won't stop bothering me

yourusername that's how i feel

judebellingham HELLO?

yourusername oh god i didn't know he knew how to read... jobe HIDE!

user4 NEW SONG?

user5 jude is so clingy

user6 it's so beautiful

yourusername it's the best

user7 i sense song of the year incoming

user8 i pray 🤲🏻🧎

yourusername

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, and 988,597 others

yourusername makes me think of you somehow

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judebellingham not fair

yourusername what are you on about this time

judebellingham your pictures are so pretty

judebellingham need you to post on my feed

yourusername soooo needy

judebellingham shushhhhhh

judebellingham missing date nights with you

yourusername missing you

judebellingham missing you more

yourusername BARFFFF

judebellingham ur ruining it...

user9 ... oh to be loved the way yn loves jude

judebellingham never settle for less

user9 noted 🫡🫡

user10 it's the way that she loves taking pics of jude

user11 it's so 🥹🥹 urghh it's the best when they capture her watching his games and she tries to get the camera man to get jude instead 🥹🥹

user12 that's her man and she loves him so bad

user13 i want what they have frr

user14 i think we all do

judebellingham

liked by yourusername, camavinga, and 2M others

judebellingham i miss you when i wake up before you

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yourusername OHHHH MY SHAYLA

yourusername i'm going to sob and weep and it will all be your fault

judebellingham would a kiss fix it?

yourusername i think i'm going to faint

judebellingham in a good or bad way???

judebellingham HELLO??? IN A GOOD OR BAD WAY???

user15 this is the most gut wrenching display of affection i have ever seen... i miss you when i wake up before you... oh i'm sickkkk

yourusername YOU AND ME BOTHHHHH OHHHHHMYGOOODDDDDDDDDDD

user16 jude bellingham is so in love it's sickly

user17 are u being snarky?

user16 NO!! in a wow i wish that was me way

user18 real asf

yourusername

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, and 2M others

yourusername do i wanna know out now :) (madrid heard it first)

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judebellingham the shock i felt btw

yourusername gotta keep you on your toes

judebellingham OH YOU MUST HATE ME

camavinga 🤍🤍🤍

yourusername 🤍🤍

vinijr 🤍🤍

yourusername 🫶🏻🫶🏻

jobebellingham great song (jude is crying)

yourusername comfort him ☹️

judebellingham oh so you hate hate me

yourusername ????

judebellingham come do it yourself

jobebellingham can you not flirt in my replies pls

yourusername hey man, i'm innocent...

jobebellingham jude...

judebellingham SO YOU BOTH HATE ME

user19 SONG OF THE FUCKING YEAR

user20 CRAWLING BACK TO YOUUUU.....

user21 DO YOU EVER THINK OF CALLING WHEN YOUVE HAD A FEWWWWWWWW

user22 CAUSE I ALWAYS DOOOOOOO

user23 omg the captions of her jude posts have been clues 🧎🧎🧎

user24 she's literally the best

PODCAST INTERVIEW SNIPPET || ▶︎

host: i just want to start by congratulating you on your new song, i've had it on repeat since it came out!

yn: thank you so much, i'm so glad!

host: everyone who knows you knows about your boyfriend, jude, would you say this song is about him? or is this an older song dug out of the archives?

yn: oh this song is very much about jude (chuckles). honestly, i don't think any of my songs aren't about jude.

host: i'm sure he's giddy knowing that, a lot of people were wondering if it was an accurate portrayal of your relationship? if that sense of insecurity that is displayed in the song is real?

yn: hmm... (laughs) i don't know why i'm even thinking about it! jude gives me no reason to be insecure but at the same time i still feel it a little bit.

host: and that is?

yn: the insecurity, i'm always stuck between wanting everyone to see him the way i see him versus me being the only one to see him the way i do. i'm a little selfish, i'm not sure if it comes across properly in my songs, but sometimes i hope that i take up space in his mind the way he does in mine.

host: does it help? writing the insecurity into the song?

yn: honestly, i'm not sure. i actually didn't run this song by his ears before performing it, fingers crossed, he doesn't think i'm crazy and obsessed with him.

host: i think the whole world knows how obsessed you are with him, every post you have dropped since being together has included him.

yn: busted! i just can't help but take so many pictures of him... it's like i have to prove that this is all real.

host: it's honestly quite sweet, you're clearly always thinking about him and he posts about you just as much. i'm sure the feeling goes both ways.

yn: (laughs) veryy funny. hopefully it does.

judebellingham

liked by yourusername, jobebellingham, and 3M others

judebellingham maybe i'm too busy being yours

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yourusername let's get married

yourusername sign the contract big boyyy

judebellingham ...

yourusername i think i want to put a baby in you idk

judebellingham WHAT

jobebellingham i think it's meant to be the other way but i'm not too sure

yourusername oh trust that i'm getting your brother pregnant jobe.

judebellingham I AM NOT GETTING PREGNANT.

camavinga mr romantic shed a tear hearing the song btw yourusername

yourusername thank you for telling me this. getting him pregnant fs.

judebellingham STOP THIS

user25 yn so real cause i would also get a man pregnant if he wrote that note about me

user26 yeahhhh like if someone wrote this about me... someone is getting pregnant and it aint me

judebellingham she's going to read these comments and think that she's normal

yourusername you know me so well...

user27 her reaction to that note is completely justified idk what jude is going on about

[readwritealldayallnight]

A Stranger is a Friend You Haven’t Met Yet… (Part 2)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 5.5k words

(18+ mdni) warnings/tags: kinda barely enemies to lovers, tension, grinding, dry humping, finishing with clothes on, Ghost does not do feelings™️, mask stays on (for now)

‘Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst’.

That was something something you told yourself often, working as a woman in close contact with the military. Especially so when starting new assignments for the first time, landing on a new base, meeting new faces. More often than not the grand majority of those faces were men. Large, intimidating, burly men. Some of whom sometimes held certain feelings about a woman being brought in to work alongside them.

The first time you’d met Captain Price on yet another new base for yet another new assignment, shaking hands with the tall man, you’d once again repeated the familiar phrase to yourself. If only you could have known there was no real way to prepare for meeting the 141.

He walked you through numerous zig zagging hallway and corridors that made up the heart of the base, leading you towards the briefing room where you’d be meeting the rest of the task force your employer turned friend Laswell had assigned you to assist. Your work as a highly skilled translator meant that your unique credentials made you a vital asset to anyone you worked for. You were only a year out of finishing your degree when Laswell had scooped you up, seeing the potential in you.

As your mind shifted to her, you halted your steps, cursing yourself silently. You’d promised Laswell you would text her and let her know when you’d made it to your hotel safe last night. After the chaos of being left out in the dark, pouring rain at the wrong address following a 10 hour flight where they put your luggage on the wrong flight, being unable to find reception walking along a sketchy, desolate road in search of a way of calling a cab, being rescued by a large, mysterious, enticing stranger on a motorcycle, you’d forgotten to text Laswell before you crashed on the hotel bed that night.

It had equally slipped your mind the next morning when you woke up in a panic, only a few hours later due to the early start time of the briefing, shoving your still wet clothes into the questionable hotel dryer, hoping it would be good enough in time for your mad dash to the base. All this to say, the last 24 hours had left you frazzled, and you’d completely forgotten to get back to her.

“I’m so sorry Captain, I-”

“You’re welcome to call me Price, if you’d like. You’ll find we’re not always so formal ‘round here.” The older man replied, also pausing his foot steps so as to not leave you behind, offering a kind smile that crinkled the corner of his eyes.

“Price,” you corrected, offering him back the best smile you could muster up at that moment. “You’ll have to forgive me, I just need 60 seconds to contact Laswell, that’s all. I was supposed to-”

“Say no more.” He interrupts, holding his hands up as if in a display of mock surrender, taking one small step back towards the door to the briefing room. “If it’s Laswell, I don’t want to held responsible for upsettin’ her. Used up enough favours with her already to finally have her send you over our way.”

You offer him a genuine chuckle at that last comment, knowing that Kate is in fact more often than not bombarded with requests for your skills, and that the head of the 141 was one of those little birdies often chirping in her ear.

“I’ll give you a few minutes. Come in when you’re ready.” He kindly offers you before excusing himself into the briefing room. You take a steadying breath, pulling out your phone and quickly typing out a message to your friend, not wanting to cause a worse first impression than you might already be currently doing. The soft whoosh sound of your text being sent has barely touched your ears before you’re hiding your phone away, ready to get this show on the road.

Your hand is reaching out to twist the door handle, catching the tail end of Price’s deep voice telling someone that he’s “been tryin’ to get ahold of her for a long feckin’ time now.” before an excited Scottish accent adds “So it is a lass??”

‘Hope for the best, prepare for the worst’ you thought one last time before opening the door and walking in to meet the 141.

“Last time I checked, yes, I’m still a ‘lass’.”

To your utter surprise, the transition into working alongside the 141 had been the easiest, dare you even say, the most fun, you’ve had in a long, long time. Price is a kind and fair leader, always looking out for his teammates. You, Soap and Gaz have gotten along with ease from the get go, the Sergeants taking an immediate liking to you.

“Is it really 11?” Gaz had asked you during that very first briefing between the five of you, a playful smiling stretching across his young, handsome face. Soap was gazing at you beside him with equal, genuine curiosity across his features.

“Yes, it’s 11.” You confirmed for them, used to the question at this point. It was a fair question, and you knew that. It wasn’t every day that they met someone who was perfectly fluent in six languages, fairly fluent in 3, and knew enough to effectively translate in another 2 languages. Sometimes, if you stayed on with a team for long enough, you forgot how ‘odd’ your work was, seeing people’s reactions for the first time, raving about how they wish they had your ‘gift’.

In actuality, your knowledge felt like the furthest thing from a gift, some days. Your skills were the result of hard work, blood, sweat and tears. You’d been raised in a household where 3 languages were spoken on a daily basis, and so though you did have that advantage early on in life, when you chose your path after high school graduation and decided to learn more than the 3 you already knew, you’d dedicated more effort to your pursuits than you ever had before.

Discovering your love for learning languages, your nose was never not in a book. This is how one of your first every contracts gifted you with the nickname that stuck with you to this day. Though you weren’t technically military, only working with them, the call sign was deemed too perfect not to be yours. This was something Soap was very curious about upon meeting you, and wasn’t shy to hide it.

“And the wee call sign? How’d a sweet lass like you end up being called that?” He questioned, earning a sideways glance from his superior, who was beginning to open his mouth to probably scold him before you laughed and reassured him it was fine.

“I was just starting to study Russian when I’d landed on what would be my longest job at the time. And Russian is really hard to learn, let me tell you. 33 letters in their alphabet, I was working more so had less time to study, anyways I was just reading a lot, always had my nose in a book.” You explained to the men, a familiar story you’d recounted countless times now. “Eventually that got me the nickname bookworm, which over time got shortened to, what it is now… worm.”

“Ach, nowhere near as fun as I’d been hopin’.” The Scot huffs out as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Thought maybe you’da been forced to eat a worm at some point or-”

“Sergeant MacTavish!”

That first meeting had been a few weeks ago now, and you were pleasantly surprised at how well things were going. Well, almost everything. Because as kind as Price was, and as friendly as Soap was, and as inviting as Gaz was, those men only made up 3/4 of the task force. There was one other member of the 141, and the issue wasn’t that he’d been missing from that initial briefing, it was that he hadn’t said one goddamn word to you.

The entire time, the massive, intimidating, beast of a man sat in the corner of the room, eyes hidden by the shadows that the skull plated mask he wore cast over where his eyes should be, almost giving off the impression as if the figure behind were not alive. Price had introduced him as simply, Ghost, the Lieutenant. And that’s exactly what he was, a ghost hovering in the space, listening in on the stories that those alive and well were sharing around the table, never saying a word, never making a sound, never even moving.

It wasn’t until the briefing finally ended, Price explaining that he would show you towards the room that would now be yours for the indeterminate future, that you finally saw any sign of life from him, as he took no hesitation in standing to his feet and swiftly leaving the room, all without a word or look of acknowledgement in your direction.

“Don’t you be worryin’ yourself over him, wormie.” Soap had insisted one evening as he helped you spar in the gym. You were by no means a soldier, and were not expected to fight. However more and more often you work was requiring you to be on at the heart of the chaos, translating for your team on the spot in tense, increasingly dangerous situations. It was vital, no, necessary, to Price that they go over what sort of self defence you knew so that they could judge for themselves what was adequate and what needed improving before he deemed you fit to be defending yourself from more than your colleagues.

“It isn’t just you, he act this way with anyone new.” Gaz added as well from where he was stood on the edge of the mats, observing your progress (or the lack thereof rather). “Takes him time to warm up, ya see. He just doesn’t know ya yet.”

“He’s still warmin’ up to me, even now! If you’ll believe me, bonnie!” Soap had joked, wanting to squash your concerns.

The days dragged on however, and the Lieutenant’s behaviour became increasingly odd. He still would not speak to you, and so you never tried initiating contact, reading his message loud and clear. But there were times where you’d be holding multiple folders, if not boxes, of files and information on the way to a briefing, and you would run across none other than Ghost.

Rather than continuing to ignore your presence and continuing his way to the briefing room, he’d wordlessly pluck the items from your hands, carrying them in your place, pace quickening as if to leave you behind. Another time, you were practicing strapping on gear that you’d apparently be expected to wear at times depending on the climate and the situation, intent on heading straight to the gym afterwards to practice sparring, as per his idea to have you practice in actual equipment.

You knew Ghost was somewhere in the room as well, polishing some weapon or another, but you were focused on your task. That’s part of why you were so caught off guard when you stood up, thinking you’d finished gearing up correctly, and found your path to the door blocked suddenly by the Lieutenant’s immense frame taking up your line of sight.

You’d gasped in surprise at his unexpected closeness, finding your mouth gone dry when his large gloved hands reached out to your front, adjusting the straps of your tactical vest without a word. As quickly as he had appeared before you, he’d completed his task and disappeared, leaving you spinning from the interaction.

The next time, you were in the mess hall, standing awkwardly as you tried to leave a conversation but didn’t know how to do so politely. The young Sergeant had suddenly introduced himself to you as you were walking out, and the man had yet to take a single breath to allow you to speak and excuse yourself. Something apparently caught in his throat however, when he quickly clammed up, eyes going wide, gaze trained over your shoulder, before he suddenly had to be somewhere and dashed out of sight.

When you’d turned around, you’d barely caught enough of a glimpse, but you were certain it was Ghost you saw turning the corner, confusing you even further. You couldn’t make any sense of his behaviour, unsure of what to make of the situation. Things came to a head however, when Price decided it was time for the Lieutenant to begin handling your training.

Ghost casts a quick glance around the gym as he walks in, finding that he’s the first to arrive this morning, something he’s thankful for. He’s still not sure how he’s going to go about this. When Price had approached him, saying that he believed the sergeants were going too easy on you in your training and that he wanted him to take over, he knew he was not in any position to refuse.

After all, how was he meant to explain to his captain that he’d rather not be left alone with you. Not when he’d been trying to avoid you at every cost, realizing that out of the dark and the rain, wearing his usual Ghost mask that had been absent from his face the night he met you on his motorcycle, you hadn’t recognized him. And why would you? The only identifying feature you might remember from that night, was his voice, and he’d been making every effort to avoid speaking you thus far.

At first, he wasn’t sure why he was going to such lengths to avoid you, a complete 180 to the way he’d gone out of his way to help you previously. Deep down though, he knew why.

You’d called him a good man.

He’d gone back to base and touched himself, relieved himself, came all over his first like a damn teenager, all to the thought of you, the thought of your sweet voice calling him just that, a good man.

But you had only called him that because you didn’t know him, not really. Your idea of that hero riding in on a steel steed, saving you when you needed it, was not something he wanted to taint, to ruin, with the revelation that that man was actually him, the farthest thing from good there could ever be.

Realistically, he knew he couldn’t avoid you forever, not when you’d apparently be working together. God, what a shock that had been to see you stepping into the briefing room. His intention wasn’t to ignore you completely, at least not indefinitely. He only wanted to buy himself some time, give himself a chance to think of what he might say should you somehow recognize him. But then every time you were in his line of sight, the only thing he could think of was his exit strategy, how to get as far from you as possible.

And yet, even as the days turned into weeks, Simon’s avoidance of you couldn’t hide the growing affection that beginning to take form in the recesses of his heart. Any time he was within hearing range, his ears were tuned in to every word that left your mouth. When your back was turned to him, his eyes were following your every move. Even his own body was beginning to fight against his mind at times, taking initiative before he could realize that he was adjusting the straps to your tactical vest, the thought of you being in a high risk situation without being properly secured leaving a foul taste in his mouth, finding his hands relieving you of the load of whatever paperwork you were bringing to the briefing that day.

Or worse, he finds himself intimidating any man whose eyes land on your figure for a fraction of a second too long for his liking, or who has the balls to actually speak to you. Acting as though he had any right to act as your protector, to involve himself in your life like this without having ever even had the courtesy to speak to you. He really was going about this all wrong, wasn’t he?

Any further self destructive ideas Ghost might had come up with are instead cut short when he hears the hinges of the gym door squeaking open once more. His head swivels in the direction of the noise, eyes landing on none other than you. He’s seen you in your sparring sessions with the sergeants, seen you walk in full of energy, enthusiastic about proving your abilities and learning how to improve them. This morning however, you appear almost timid, trying to make yourself appear smaller as the loud thud of the door slamming shut behind you resonates out, only further emphasizing how alone you and Ghost are now.

He knows he has to be the one making you feel this way, and you aren’t without good reason. Clearing his throat, Ghost acknowledges he’s stalled as long as he can, if you’re going to recognize him, it’s just going to happen.

“Alright?” His deep, gravelly voice rings out in the space. You nearly jump in surprise but manage to school your expression. You wonder if his voice always sounds so rough, or if its a by product of the early morning hour. Whereas Soap and Gaz, ever the gentleman, had asked you what time you’d prefer to train, leading to late night sparring sessions, Price had informed you that Ghost would be meeting you in the gym before the sun had even come up. Damn military men and their early wake up times.

“I’m alright, yeah. How uh- how are you? Sir.” You reply, slowly stepping towards the training mats where Ghost is stood, muscular arms crossed over his huge chest. You tack on the ‘sir’ at the end, not wanting to get on his bad side before you even have a chance to begin training.

“Ghost will do.” He corrects you, ignoring your question otherwise. Ghost finds himself feeling antsy, almost out of his element, he doesn’t like that you’re messing with his head so much already. He’d rather get this over with. The less chit chat (and the less odds of you recognizing him by his voice), the better. “You ready?”

“Yes, I stretched before coming so, should be ready.” You answer him, finally stepping near enough that you’re within reaching distance of one another. Fuck, he’s suddenly extremely thankful you chose to do that before coming here, he’s not sure how he would’ve managed watching you bend over every which way to stretch.

“Right. Let’s see what the sergeants have taught you then.”

All in all, you’re actually not as bad as he might have expected, for someone who wasn’t a soldier. Obviously, he was going easier on you than he would’ve if it were Garrick or MacTavish he were sparring with, but he wasn’t completely letting you win either. You were fast on your feet, slippery in his grasps (maybe that’s why they should’ve named you worm), quick to think and to dodge his movements. He finds himself actually surprisingly quite pleased with you.

What he isn’t enjoying as much, or rather is probably enjoying too much and that’s the issue, are the fucking noises you keep making. Your small grunts of exertion, your puffs of breath drenched in effort, the groans you let out every time he lands a soft blow on you, not nearly as hard as he’d hit an enemy, but with enough force you knock the wind out of you each time. He’s also noticing the way the sweat drips down your neck, across your collarbone, sneaking into the heaving valley between your breasts.

There’s stirring happening in Ghost’s sweatpants and suddenly he needs this session to be over with sooner rather than later. He’s about to call it good enough for today when you open your pretty little mouth and say:

“Why are going easy me?” You’re panting, cheeks reddened with the blood pumping through you and his continues to gather somewhere it really shouldn’t be right now.

“What?” He grunts out, turning his back to you. He reaches a hand behind his neck with a towel, wiping at whatever sweaty skin his balaclava exposes.

“Look I’m not trying to pick a fight with you-” He’s cursing himself silently already at your words. “But not even Garrick or MacTavish treat me like I’m that weak. And they don’t have any issues with me being here.”

“Don’t have any issues with you.” He attempts to reply coolly, still not facing you, though he’s finding himself standing up straighter.

“With all due respect, that’s pure shit.” You retort. At this, he swings around to look at you, eyes narrowing. So she’s got some bite to her. “You’ve had an issue since I arrived, and that’s fine. I don’t need you to like me. But if you’re the one who’s apparently going to be training me now, I’d appreciate if you didn’t treat me like a kid. I’m here to do my job, and do it right. Can I expect the same from you, Lieutenant?”

If you were anyone else, he’d have you running laps around the entire base by now for talking back to him like this. Except you’re not anyone else, you’re you. And now you’re stepping closer to his space, this small thing daring to get into his face over him not training you hard enough? If harder is what you want, then harder is what you’ll get, little worm.

“You want me to go harder on you, s’that it?” He questions, taking the final step forward until your chests are now touching, and you’re having to crane your neck back to maintain eye contact. He’s close enough he sees you swallow at his question, but you don’t dare back down. Good girl. “Treat you like a big girl, s’that right?”

Suddenly struggling to find your voice, you manage what you hope is a confident nod. He’s never been so close to you before, and you’re noticing that the scent of him, even covered in sweat and likely morning breath behind his balaclava, is dizzying. Nearly intoxicating. He smells like a pure man, and you’re internally berating yourself to stay focused.

“Careful what ya wish for.” He says, barely allowing a second to pass before he’s suddenly throwing you onto the mat, flipping you onto your back, both of your hands pinned above your head in one of his large palms, his large, heavy body holding you in place underneath him, all in the blink of an eye. “What now, little worm? How are ya wrigglin’ your way out this?” He presses his mask covered mouth next to your ear, feeling a shiver go through your body at his words.

He’s careful to keep his now raging erection away from you, leaning his hips back but still pressing enough weight on you to keep you from budging. To your credit, you do try to get out from underneath him, but it’s a losing battle from the start, you’re no match for his size, especially with both hands above your head like this. Your cheeks are reddening in a mix of effort and embarrassment, and Ghost finds himself enjoying this view far too much.

“See, I was actually bein’ quite nice to ya,” He adds, barely tightening his grip on your hands, as if to remind you that he’s not even using his full strength with you. “But out there, wormie. They’re not gon’ be so kind-”

Whatever Ghost was going to say is cut off by a genuine, ragged gasp erupting from behind his mask. In your effort to free yourself, you’ve lifted your hips, unknowingly rubbing yourself against the bulge straining in the front of his sweatpants. Shocked by his reaction, you stay frozen in place, still pressed against what you can now tell is his throbbing member. And from what you can fell, it’s huge.

You’re momentarily caught off guard by his reaction to you. You weren’t exactly expecting… this. But his delicious, masculine odor is filling your nostrils, it feels as if every inch of you is pinned down by every inch of him, you can feel every twitch of his muscles and can practically count the steady beating of his heart through his cock pressing intro your thigh. And though you’ve always prided yourself on thinking first, acting second, you can’t exactly explain why you find yourself slowly beginning to rock your hips forward.

“This is you bein’ nice, Lieutenant?” You attempt to ask coyly, though you can’t hide the breathy way your voice comes across. Before you can pull your hips back anymore however, Ghost is suddenly releasing you from his grasp, standing to full height and dashing out of the room before you have a chance to even sit up.

Well, that went well.

The birds have only just begun to chirp when there’s a loud banging at your door early the next morning. You’re confused, prepared to tell whoever is on the other side of the door that it had better be a matter of life or death, when you come face to face with none other than a Ghost.

“What are-”

“If training starts at 0500, then you are to be in the gym at 0500. Understood?” His gravelly voice demands. A quick glance to your watch tells you it’s 3 minutes past 5 in the morning. You had been certain after yesterdays debacle that Ghost would never want to train with you again, assuming that he’d speak with Price about handing you back over to the sergeants somehow.

So why does the sight of this gigantic masked man standing in your doorway, so large he blocks most of the light coming in from the hall, someone who’s done nothing but piss you off so far, arriving in absolute insistence that you continue sparring together, have your thighs suddenly clenching together?

“I thought that-” You cut yourself off as you watch him tilt his head, almost as if daring you to finish that sentence. “Yes sir.”

“Get changed. You’ve got 60 seconds.” He informs you before reach to shut your door for you.

That’s how you find yourselves alone in the gym a short time later, training resuming. To his credit, Ghost does not go as easy on you this time as he did yesterday, genuinely challenging your abilities in self-defence and close quarters combat, teaching you moves that Soap and Gaz had apparently not considered necessary.

“If you’re ever in a situation where it’s your life on the line,” he had said between clenched teeth as he taught you to dodge his blows more effectively, as if the thought of you in actual danger enraged him enough to chip a tooth. “I want you doing anything necessary, to get out o’ there. Understood? You make it out.”

By the end of the session, Ghost himself is panting with exertion, the both of you having put in more energy than you would have, were you sparring with anyone else. You watch him, hands on his hips as he catches his breath, head tilted slightly to the ceiling, and you decide it’s as a good opportunity as any to try and catch him off guard, feeling confident in yourself.

Foolishly confident.

Before you even manage to land a finger on him, he’s flipping you into the very same position as you found yourselves in yesterday, you on your back with him above you, one of his hands pinning the both of yours above your head as his other is planted by your waist, warm breaths meeting in the middle.

“That, I never want to see you do again.”

“Was worth a try.”

“Was it?”

You slowly raise your hips, unsurprised when you make contact with his steel hard cock above you, teasingly rubbing yourself against his length.

“Maybe.” You whisper, eyes searching his glazed over expression. You find his pupils have darkened to the point they eclipse almost all colour, specks of black eye paint smudged around his eyes have caught onto his eyelashes. He’s so close to you, you’re able to make them out as blond. Something about being near enough to the mysterious, alluring Ghost to know that he’s blond under that mask causes the blush on your cheeks to darken further.

As caught up as you are in the obvious want you find behind his eyes, there’s something about them that almost, somehow seem familiar. As if you’ve looked into these eyes before, in a different place, a different context, a different time.

Any rational thoughts are cut off however, when you both hear and feel Ghost growl, the hand that was planted at your side now coming to sneak between your back and the floor, pulling your front somehow even closer to his muscular chest. There isn’t an inch of space between the two of you now, your heads falling beside each other, temple to temple, as his grip on the situation finally slips, his resolves breaks, and he begins to grind against you.

You let out a gasp, the feeling of his pulsing member rubbing against your centre, even with all the layers of clothing, is sinfully delicious. You suspect he’s feeling the same way, because his grip on your waist tightens, hips bucking already with more insistence. His grunts are music to your ears, as are the small moans and whimpers you let out into his neck. You’ve wrapped one leg behind him, widening your hips as far as they’ll allow, granting him as much access to your core as his large frame needs. Having released your hands to allow himself to explore the soft squeeze of your breasts through your workout shirt, your fingers in turn are roaming up and down his back, across his shoulders, fingers nails scratching at the fabric of his shirt.

Ghost knows he’s not going to last long. When he’d gone to get you this morning for your sparring session, he was determined not to let yesterday’s events get in the way of his professionalism. You were right, after all. You both had a job to do, and he would ensure you could do it right. He would sleep better at night anyways, knowing you were properly trained in how to defend yourself. Trained by him, and his hands. He hadn’t intended for the session to end the way yesterday’s had, with you laying beneath his raging erection on the sweaty training mats, though he wouldn’t lie and say he hadn’t hoped for it in some small part.

He knows he’s not going to last long because he’s finally, somehow, got you here underneath him, and your small sounds of pleasure are better than anything his twisted imagination could have ever conjured up. He shouldn’t take it any farther than this. This is already going too far, humping you into the ground of the gym fully clothed like a pair of teenagers who can’t keep their hands to themselves. But that’s exactly what you make him feel like though, isn’t it?

No, he won’t go farther than this, won’t allow himself to take more than this. This alone is more than he feels he deserves. God, how he wishes he could give you what you deserve though. Releasing your breasts from his continued groping, he snakes his hands down your stomach, meeting the hem of your pants, allowing his digits to slip beneath the band of your underwear, fingers instantly finding your pulsating clit between your soaked folds. Your moans only grow louder as he begins to quickly bring you closer to your peak, one of your hands coming to cover your mouth should anyone happen to be walking by.

It feels as if the two of you are caught in a raging storm, two inevitable waves colliding with one another in a fury likened only to mother nature’s doing. You’re both reaching your peaks together, tumbling over the edge into pure, mind numbing bliss, as you continue to hold onto one another, as though you’re life preservers in the sea, seeing each other through to the end of the end of the fall.

Ghost can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed at the fact that he’s cum in his pants. Not when he’s searing your blissed out expression into his mind forever. You’re both panting now, coming back to your senses, remembering your surroundings, as well as the fact that with the time that’s passed, it’s becoming increasingly likely for anyone to walk in.

Taking one last look at you, squeezing your side with what might just be affection, Ghost begrudgingly rolls himself off of you, coming to stand, readjusting the front of his now wet sweatpants. He turns himself around, extending a hand out to you, which you accept, allowing him to pull you up.

Only you don’t let go of his hand right away. Instead, you tighten your grip on his palm, pull him closer to you, narrowing your eyes at him, a cheeky smile spreading across your lips.

“So,” you say, licking your lips. “Same time tomorrow?”

Longest chapter ever and first time writing sort of smut! Feel like I’m earning my place on tumblr lol

Reader gets a call sign and a bit of a back story! Hope it wasn’t too long or boring to read, it’s literally only because I really wanted to justify naming reader as ‘worm’ because there is absolutely definitely without a question eventually going to be a chapter where worm is drunk and crying about how the boys are saying they wouldn’t love her if she turned into a worm thank you that is all

- M 🫶🏻

[parkitrighthere]

✿—✧SPACE BETWEEN US✧—✿

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: college au, friends to lovers, fluffy (?), angst

Trigger warning: it's super cringe!

Word count: 9k

Summary: You have been in love with Jungkook for ages but never said anything. When a surprise date turns into a dramatic showdown, his hidden feelings come crashing to the surface.

a/n: The characters and situations depicted in this chapter are fictional and are intended for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The portrayal of emotions and interpersonal dynamics is a creative interpretation and should not be taken as a reflection of real-life relationships or events.a/n: Do not use this story as your own. I don't allow translations or reposting of my work on any platform, including YouTube.

a/n: Yes, you're probably experiencing déjà vu—I'm reposting this without a single edit. After my last account got suspended for reasons beyond my control, I figured what better way to kick off my return than by sharing one of my cringiest fanfics? Honestly, it's pretty on-brand for me, don't you think?

All Rights Reserved ©

@kookiewithluv 2024

You sat in your classroom, the hum of idle chatter around you barely registering. The lecture wouldn’t start for another thirty minutes, but you couldn’t care less. You just needed to be alone. The weight of recent events pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket, leaving you numb and confused. Your mind raced, thoughts tangled in a mess you couldn’t unravel.

Your phone vibrated on the desk, the screen lighting up with notifications. You glanced at it: 200+ texts and 28 missed calls from Jungkook. Without a second thought, you picked up the phone, turned it off, and set it back down. You didn’t want to deal with it, with him, with anything. Time seemed to blur as you sat there, your heart aching, your eyes glassy. But the tears wouldn’t come. They just sat there, stuck, like everything else inside you.

“Blush? Blush, are you okay?” Jungkook’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he spoke beside you.

You flinched, startled out of your thoughts. You hadn’t even noticed him sit down. Turning to face him, you were met with a sight that made your chest tighten. He looked so soft, so pretty in that moment—his pink lips curved into a worried pout, his hair falling messily over his forehead, half-covering those big doe eyes that seemed to shine even more because of it.

He reached out, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, and called your name again. “Blush,” he said, the nickname rolling off his tongue like a quiet prayer. But you knew better. You did.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. You just shook your head and forced a small smile, turning away. What were you supposed to say? That you were what was wrong? That you’d fallen for him, knowing he’d never be there to catch you? The words were right there, lodged in your throat, but you swallowed them down, feeling them settle heavy and painful in your stomach. The ache clawed at your insides, begging for release, but you took a deep breath, holding everything in.

Jungkook was still watching you, his gaze piercing through the walls you were trying so hard to build. He gently cupped your face, turning you back to look at him. “Eyes on me. I’m talking,” he said, his tone soft but firm. The way his thumb brushed your cheek was so tender it almost broke you.

“You should—” he began, but the classroom door creaked open, and students started to file in, breaking the moment. He pulled back, checking the time, and you followed his gaze. Just as you both expected, Professor Min walked in, signaling the start of class. Relief washed over you, grateful for the distraction, for the escape. You silently thanked Mr. Min for his impeccable timing.

As the lesson began, you tried to focus, but your mind kept drifting back to Jungkook, to the conversation you’d narrowly avoided. Your chest felt tight, your heart heavy, but you pushed it all down, forcing yourself to stay composed.

The class went on, but all you could think about was how close you’d come to spilling everything. And how you still couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Class ended earlier than expected. Mr. Min had cut the lecture short, saying he had something urgent to attend to. The moment his words left the room, you were already packing up, hands moving frantically as you stuffed your notebook and pens into your bag. Your movements were jerky, almost desperate, as if the faster you moved, the quicker you could escape.

Jungkook was right beside you, his presence heavy like a storm cloud about to break. You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his gaze, those eyes you usually found so comforting now burning holes into you. As you zipped up your bag, you felt his fingers twitch, like he was about to reach out, but you didn’t give him the chance.

You bolted for the door, your steps quick and purposeful. Just as you reached the threshold, his voice—a smooth, velvety sound that usually made your heart skip—called out your name.

“Blush,” he said, soft and hopeful.

But you didn’t stop. You didn’t turn around. You didn’t even acknowledge him. For the first time, you ran away from him. Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat a painful reminder of what you were doing, but you couldn’t stop.

The hallway blurred as you hurried through it, eyes fixed straight ahead, refusing to look back. You knew he was still there, standing in the doorway, probably confused, maybe even hurt. But you couldn’t deal with that now. You just needed to be alone.

When you reached the canteen, you went straight to the farthest corner, away from the clusters of students laughing and chatting. You dropped into a chair, slumping down as you pulled the hood of Jungkook’s hoodie over your head, trying to hide from the world. Your hands fiddled with the hem of the hoodie, twisting and tugging at the fabric as if it could somehow ground you, make everything go away.

You curled in on yourself, your head bowed low, eyes fixed on your trembling hands. The familiar scent of Jungkook still clung to the hoodie, but instead of comfort, it brought a fresh wave of pain. You bit your lip, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill over.

In that moment, the bustling canteen felt a million miles away. All you could focus on was the way your heart ached, the way it felt like something inside you was slowly breaking apart. You wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything to release the pressure building up inside you, but instead, you just sat there, hiding beneath the hoodie that was his, trying to hold yourself together, trying to breathe.

You were drowning in your thoughts, the noise around you fading into nothingness. A voice yanked you back to reality, snapping the delicate thread of your spiralling mind. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

A light touch on your shoulder—soft, almost hesitant—tried to pull your attention. She already had it, though she didn’t realize it, because you still hadn’t looked at her. She stood to your left, leaning in slightly.

“Are you okay?” Lilith asked, her voice laced with concern. You kept your eyes down, refusing to meet hers.

Lilith. The campus beauty queen. The girl everyone adored. The girl who loved Jungkook. And everyone knew it, too. They rooted for them to be together, whispering about how perfect they’d be. The thought made your stomach churn, a bitter taste rising in your mouth. You hated it.

She continued, her tone gentle but insistent. “Jungkookie is worried about you. He was searching everywhere for you. You should talk to him. Should I call him—”

Your blood boiled at the sound of that nickname. Jungkookie. He hated that name, had told you so many times how much he despised it but never her. she kept calling him that, oblivious or maybe just indifferent. You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms as you struggled to keep your anger in check.

“No,” you practically yelled, the word bursting out before you could stop it. Lilith flinched, her eyes wide with shock. She pulled her hand back, her fingers twitching nervously. But you didn’t care. You didn’t feel guilty. All you felt was anger—anger at yourself for losing control, and a burning hatred for her.

Without another word, you grabbed your bag, roughly shoving it over your shoulder as you pushed past her. She stumbled back slightly, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but you didn’t give her the chance. You stormed out of the canteen, your chest heaving with frustration.

The fresh air outside did little to calm you. You headed straight for the parking area, your steps quick and determined, each one pounding out the anger inside you. When you reached your car, you spotted it immediately and hurried over, yanking the door open.

You slid into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut behind you. For a moment, you just sat there, your breathing harsh and uneven. Then, with a frustrated groan, you tossed your bag onto the passenger seat, not caring where it landed. Everything felt too tight, too overwhelming. You buried your face in your hands, your fingers curling into your hair as you tried to steady yourself.

But the anger wouldn’t leave, wouldn’t let go. It bubbled just beneath the surface, a constant, throbbing ache that wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t ease. And all you could think about was how much you wished it would just disappear. How much you wished everything would just disappear.

Taking a deep breath, you gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to push all the swirling thoughts out of your head. With a quick motion, you pressed down on the accelerator, and the car roared to life beneath you. You didn’t hesitate as you started driving, focusing on the road ahead, wanting to leave everything behind.

But as you drove away, something caught your eye in the rearview mirror. Jungkook. He was running after your car, his face a mix of desperation and panic. You could see his mouth moving, probably yelling your name, but the sound was lost to the roar of the engine and the rush of blood in your ears. You didn’t stop. You didn’t even slow down. You just kept going, watching as he grew smaller and smaller in the mirror until he disappeared from view.

The ride home was anything but peaceful. The guilt gnawed at you, sinking its claws deeper with every passing mile. You tried to push it away, to convince yourself that you were right to leave, that you needed space. But the image of Jungkook’s face, the way he’d run after you, wouldn’t leave your mind. You’d ignored him all day, and you knew it must’ve hurt him. But you shook your head, refusing to dwell on it. You couldn’t handle that right now.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, the silence of your empty house greeted you. You parked the car in the garage, the engine’s hum dying down as you cut the power. The quiet was suffocating as you walked into the house, the echo of your footsteps bouncing off the walls. Your parents weren’t home. Again. Even though they had promised they would be. You let out a bitter chuckle, shaking your head at your own foolishness. Why did I even believe them? you thought. It was your birthday tomorrow, and once again, they weren’t there. Meetings, parties—whatever it was, it was always more important.

You made your way to the living room and sank down onto the couch, turning on the TV in a half-hearted attempt to distract yourself. But nothing on the screen held your attention. The images blurred together, the voices just white noise in the background. Your mind was too cluttered, too full of everything that had happened today, to make sense of anything playing out in front of you.

Frustrated, you got up and headed to your room, the emptiness of the house pressing down on you with every step. You didn’t have the energy to cook, the thought of food making your stomach twist. “Guess I’ll sleep hungry tonight,” you muttered to yourself, a hollow laugh escaping your lips.

You collapsed onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of your own breathing. But sleep didn’t come. No matter how much you tossed and turned, your mind wouldn’t quiet down. Thoughts of Jungkook, your parents, the loneliness that seemed to cling to you like a shadow—it all kept swirling in your head, refusing to let you rest.

You curled up under the covers, pulling them tightly around you as if they could shield you from the thoughts that wouldn’t leave you alone. But no matter how hard you tried, the weight of the day wouldn’t let you go. And so, you lay there, eyes wide open, the darkness around you feeling like a reflection of the emptiness inside.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as the room was cloaked in darkness. The silence around you was heavy, oppressive, and as the memory of the day crashed down on you, the tears began to flow uncontrollably, streaming down your face at an unusual speed.

Tomorrow was supposed to be special—your birthday. Even if your parents weren’t around, you’d convinced yourself that Jungkook’s presence would make it memorable. This morning, you’d been brimming with excitement. But all of that shattered the moment you stepped onto the college campus.

The crowd had been the first thing you noticed—a sea of students gathered in an unusually large cluster. Your curiosity had drawn you toward it, and you’d squeezed through the masses, pushing past eager onlookers until you reached the front. What you saw made your heart sink.

Lilith and Jungkook stood there, framed by the throng of students. Lilith held a bouquet of flowers, her face radiant with a hopeful smile as she offered it to him. The sight was enough to tell you what was happening. She was proposing. Your heart twisted with a mix of dread and hope as you watched Jungkook. He looked visibly distressed, his hands trembling slightly as he took the bouquet. A flicker of hope ignited in you that he might reject her, but the moment he accepted the flowers, that hope was dashed. The crowd erupted in cheers, and your heart shattered into pieces.

As if the scene couldn't get any worse, it did. The crowd began chanting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” The noise was deafening, each cheer driving the knife of betrayal deeper into your heart. Jungkook’s face flushed with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. He grabbed Lilith’s hand and tugged her away from the crowd, leading her toward a more private corner. You knew it wasn’t about him not wanting to kiss her in public; it was about him wanting to keep those private moments just for himself, away from prying eyes.

Recalling the memory now, as tears flowed freely and uncontrollably, your heart felt like it was being squeezed tight. The image of Jungkook’s nervous expression and Lilith’s hopeful eyes replayed in your mind, each scene a fresh cut. The darkness of your room mirrored the darkness in your heart, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on you with crushing force.

You clutched the pillow to your chest, your sobs muffled but relentless. Each breath came in shaky bursts, and you could feel the tears soaking through the fabric. The tears and the pain were all-consuming, leaving you with nothing but the hollow ache of rejection and betrayal. The silence of the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of your own brokenhearted sobs.

It’s funny how quickly things change. The person who once made your heart flutter with joy now seemed to be the source of all your misery. But it wasn’t his fault. He had no idea of your feelings. You never told him, and now you were left with nothing but regret.

The minutes dragged on with torturous slowness. The clock still hadn’t hit 10, and you were restless, your body aching from the weight of your emotions. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and closed your eyes, hoping to find some semblance of peace. Yet, amid the turmoil, a small spark of hope flickered within you. Maybe, just maybe, Jungkook would call when the clock struck midnight. Maybe, as he had done in the past, he would stand on your doorstep with a big bouquet of daisies, because he knew how much you loved them.

Hope brought with it a tangled mess of uncertainty and fear. Part of you desperately wished for him to come, to see him standing there with that familiar, warm smile. But another part of you feared what that would mean. If he showed up, you knew you might not be able to hold yourself back. The thought of begging him to love you, to confess your feelings, terrified you. You wanted nothing more than to be happy for your best friend, the one you loved with all your heart, without letting your own desires ruin his moment.

As these conflicting thoughts swirled in your mind, you became increasingly aware of the exhaustion that weighed down on you. Your body, worn out from the emotional rollercoaster, finally succumbed to sleep. You hadn’t noticed when the weariness took over, but soon you were drifting off, your breathing evening out as the turbulent storm of your mind began to settle into a restless slumber.

The harsh buzz of the alarm clock jolted you awake. You reached out with a groggy hand to silence it, grumbling under your breath. As you blinked your eyes open, a dull ache throbbed in your head, and you winced at the sting of light. Your eyes felt like they were weighed down by sandbags, red and swollen from hours of restless sleep.

With a groan, you rolled out of bed, stumbling toward the bathroom. Each step felt heavy, your body dragging as if weighed down by an invisible burden. You shuffled into the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror with a sense of numb resignation. The sight that met you was far from flattering. Your hair was a tangled mess, and your face was puffy and pale. You let out a shaky breath, your reflection mocking you. "Happy birthday, ugly," you muttered to yourself, bitterness lacing your voice.

You turned on the faucet and splashed cold water onto your face, hoping to wash away the remnants of the night’s tears. The brisk water was invigorating but did little to lift the fog in your mind. You brushed your teeth mechanically, the familiar routine providing a small comfort. As you stepped into the shower, the warm water hit your skin, but it did little to soothe the ache inside you.

Your thoughts kept drifting back to Jungkook. You’d hoped he’d come by, as he used to, or at least send a message. But as the minutes ticked by, it became clear you were wrong. You chuckled bitterly at your own foolishness.

He hadn’t called.

Not even a text.

It was as if you’d been erased from his life, replaced by someone new.

Finishing up in the shower, you turned off the water and stepped out, feeling cold despite the warmth of the steam. You walked to your closet with a heavy heart and pulled on a simple white tee and blue baggy jeans. You chose a pair of Jordan shoes, not because you don't felt like dressing up, but because you couldn’t muster the energy for anything more. The effort felt pointless when it seemed no one remembered or cared about your birthday.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you dressed, and the image reflected the hollow ache you felt inside. With a resigned sigh, you walked out of your room, ready to face another day, feeling like a forgotten afterthought.

You hurried out of your house, barely pausing to lock the door behind you. The cold morning air bit at your cheeks as you slid into the driver's seat of your car. Your movements were mechanical, driven by a deep-seated weariness. You started the engine and pulled out of the driveway, the rumble of the car filling the silence of your thoughts.

As you drove to college, Jungkook’s image was a persistent shadow in your mind. Each turn of the wheel seemed to echo with memories of him—his laughter, his smile, and the sting of his absence. You gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, as you fought to keep your emotions in check. There was an undercurrent of nervousness you couldn’t quite place, a fluttering uncertainty that made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t define.

The drive felt endless, each minute dragging by as you replayed yesterday’s events. By the time you pulled into the college parking lot, you were nearly suffocating with frustration and sadness. You parked your car with swift, jerky movements, almost slamming the gearshift into park.

Stepping out of the car, you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the melancholy that clung to you. The walk from the parking lot to the campus felt like a trek through a fog. Your eyes were downcast, your footsteps heavy as you made your way through the bustling campus. You barely registered the chatter and movement around you, lost in your own turmoil.

You finally reached the canteen, its familiar smell of coffee and breakfast foods mixing with the lingering bitterness in your heart. As you pushed through the doors, the chatter and clatter of trays and dishes surrounded you, but you barely noticed. You moved through the crowded room, shoulders hunched, eyes focused on the path ahead. Finding a spot at a table, you sank into a chair, tossing your bag on the table, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you, as if the whole world was a muted blur around you.

You took a deep breath, getting up and walking to the counter, eyes scanning the options in front of you. The canteen menu was as uninspiring as ever, but hunger gnawed at your stomach, reminding you of your own laziness for not cooking anything. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed a plate of waffles and a cup of coffee, the safest bets in this lackluster spread. After paying, you turned to head back to your table, but something made you freeze mid-step.

There he was—Jungkook. His eyes darted anxiously around the canteen, scanning faces, moving with a restless urgency that made your heart skip a beat. For a brief moment, the urge to bolt gripped you, to just turn around and leave before he spotted you. But you shook your head, grounding yourself. He wasn't looking for you. He was probably searching for his new girlfriend, Lilith. The thought stung, but you swallowed it down and continued back to your table.

You set the plate and coffee down with a soft clatter, sinking into your seat. Just as you lifted the cup to your lips, ready to lose yourself in the warmth of the coffee, you heard it—his voice cutting through the chatter of the canteen.

"Blush. Blush."

His nickname for you.

His footsteps followed, growing louder as they neared. Your breath caught in your throat as you set the cup back down, unable to take that sip.

In no time, Jungkook was standing right in front of you, his presence commanding, and something was different. You forced yourself to look up at him, your eyes meeting his, only to be met with an expression that sent a shiver down your spine.

Anger? Why did he look angry?

His brow was furrowed, jaw tight, and his eyes—those usually warm, comforting eyes—were now darkened with frustration. You couldn't understand it. What did he have to be angry about? Confusion churned in your gut, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, words failing you. The air between you felt charged, heavy with unspoken tension, and you could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, waiting for an explanation you didn't have.

"Why are you ignoring me?" Jungkook’s voice softened as he gazed at you, the anger in his eyes fading into something that looked like sadness. He tossed his bag onto the table beside yours with a thud, then crouched down in front of you, his gaze never leaving your face.

Before you could react, he reached out, grabbing the sides of your chair and turning it to face him. His hands found yours, gripping them tightly, as if afraid you might slip away. The intensity of his touch sent a jolt through you, weakening your resolve. It was a good thing you were already sitting, or your legs might have given out beneath you.

"Blush," he whispered, his voice so soft it barely reached your ears. The sound of your nickname on his lips made your heart clench painfully. God, you loved him—so much it hurt. But what did it matter? You couldn’t tell him. He had a girlfriend now. You reminded yourself of this bitter truth, feeling the familiar ache of heartbreak settling in your chest.

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your racing heart. Taking a deep breath, you attempted to pull your hands away from his, but he only held on tighter, his grip almost desperate. It was as if he feared losing you, like you were the one thing keeping him grounded. The intensity of his hold made your heart ache even more. Could it be? No, you must be imagining things.

"Why?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly. "Why are you doing this? I’m trying to talk to you, and you’re just… not talking to me. You ignored me yesterday too."

His words hung in the air, heavy with confusion and hurt. You stared down at your intertwined hands, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. What could you say? There were no words that could fix this. The truth was too painful to speak. You just wanted to disappear, to be anywhere but here. The realization that he didn’t even remember your birthday only twisted the knife deeper. You felt like crumbling into pieces, but you stayed silent, holding back the storm of emotions threatening to escape.

You wanted to ask him if he even remembered it was your birthday. Did he really forget you in just one day after getting a girlfriend? It wasn’t about him not loving you or you loving him—that was a secret you’d buried deep. But you were best friends. Did he forget that too? How could he stand here, blaming you, while he acted like nothing was wrong?

But you didn’t ask any of those questions. The words that escaped your lips were far different, softer, weaker. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s gaze locked onto yours, searching for something—maybe an explanation, maybe an apology. You couldn't tell.

“I was just… It’s… My parents aren’t home. And I was feeling sad and lonely,” you lied, trying to force a convincing smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

For a moment, his eyes softened, the tension in his shoulders easing. He seemed to believe you, and that only made your heart crack a little more. Where had that Jungkook gone? The one who could see through your smiles, who always knew when something was wrong even before you did. The boy who used to notice the sadness hidden behind your laughter was gone, replaced by someone who couldn’t even spot the lie on your lips.

He nodded, his grip on your hands loosening slightly. “I get it,” he said, his voice softer now, more understanding. But he didn’t get it. Not really. He didn’t see the pain you were hiding, the way your heart was shattering piece by piece.

You swallowed hard, biting back the words you wanted to scream. Instead, you just nodded, letting him believe the lie, even though it tore you apart inside.

Jungkook stood up and gently patted your head, his touch warm but distant. "It will be okay, hmm?" he said, his voice soft, almost comforting. You nodded, feeling like a fool. Will it ever be okay? No, it won’t. It can never be okay. You loved him too much for things to be okay. This love was too deep, too consuming to ever fade. The only way for it to end would be for you to end, or else this love would live on inside you forever. That thought terrified you—the idea of loving him for eternity, never being able to touch him, while time made him forget you. And yet, you'd be left with nothing but memories, trapped in a loop of unrequited feelings.

“Blush?” His voice pulled you back to the present, soft and filled with concern. He smiled at you, that sweet smile he always reserved just for you. But now, that smile only reminded you that he wasn’t yours anymore—if he ever truly was. Nothing about him belonged to you, and maybe it never did. You were just fooling yourself, weren’t you?

“Don’t think much. It’ll be fine. I promise.” His fingers brushed your face, his thumb tracing lightly over your nose—a gesture that used to make you laugh, that used to light up your world. But now, it only made you want to cry.

You forced a smile, the corners of your mouth lifting just enough to convince him, even though your heart was breaking inside. His touch, his words—they were meant to soothe you, but they only made the ache worse. You wanted to believe him, to cling to the hope he offered, but deep down, you knew better. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Jungkook smiled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he pulled a chair closer to you and sat down. His happiness was infectious, but it only added to the heaviness in your chest.

"I have something for you," he said, his voice laced with excitement. "want to see it?"

You didn’t really want to see it. The weight of exhaustion was already pressing down on you, making you feel dizzy and drained. All you wanted was for him to leave, for this feeling of doom to pass. But you nodded anyway, forcing yourself to respond.

When his eyes lit up at your response, a small part of you felt a flicker of happiness. You watched as he reached for his bag, your gaze following the movements of his hands, wondering what he was up to.

He pulled out a large box of chocolates, and a genuine smile finally touched your lips. For a moment, the weight in your heart lightened just a little. You looked up at him, trying to match his enthusiasm.

"I know you love these," he said, holding the box out to you, "and I thought you were angry at me, so I needed to make it up to you."

You took the box from him, managing a laugh. "I wasn’t angry, but thanks," you said, your voice a mix of gratitude and something else—something you couldn’t quite name. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture tender and familiar, making your heart ache even more.

But despite the sweetness of the gesture, the happiness didn’t quite reach your heart. A box of chocolates wasn’t enough to make up for what you really wanted—a simple “Happy Birthday” from him. Yet, you pushed those thoughts aside and leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug, thanking him for the gift.

As he patted your head soothingly, you closed your eyes, willing yourself to feel the comfort he was trying to offer. But deep down, you knew that nothing could fill the emptiness inside you—not the chocolates, not his touch, not even the sound of his heartbeat close to yours.

You pulled back from the hug, your eyes lingering on his, those big doe eyes that seemed to hold the universe in them. He was everything you could ever want, the very definition of perfection. And maybe that’s why you couldn’t have him. He deserved someone better—someone like her.

He smiled at you, a warm, affectionate smile, and playfully squeezed your cheeks. Just as he was about to say something, a voice interrupted from behind.

“Jungkookie!” Lilith’s voice, sickly sweet and sharp, pierced through the air, making you wince.

Jungkook’s head snapped around, and he smiled at her, his entire demeanor shifting in an instant. She came striding towards you both, her high heels clicking loudly on the floor. Jungkook’s eyes widened in surprise, and even you felt a twinge of concern that she might stumble and fall flat on her face. But she didn’t.

And as much as you hated to admit it, a small part of you was disappointed that she didn’t fall. You wanted her to.

In no time, she was standing in front of Jungkook, her hand sliding into his as she pulled him to his feet. It all happened so quickly, like a flash of lightning. One moment he was sitting with you, his hands gently cupping your cheeks, and the next, he was standing beside her, her arms wrapped possessively around his left arm.

He brushed her arms away, his expression softening as he bent down to your level. “Look, I’ve got to go now. I… I have something important to do. Take care and eat the chocolates, okay?”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you with nothing but a box of chocolates and the emptiness gnawing at your chest.

You stared at the chocolates, the sweetness now a bitter reminder of everything you wanted but couldn’t have. It wasn’t the chocolates you craved—it was him. But all you got was this, while she… she had everything you wanted.

You turned deliberately back to your food, your appetite gone, but you forced yourself to eat anyway. The food tasted like ash in your mouth, but you swallowed it down, trying to fill the void that only seemed to grow with each bite.

The day dragged on, each hour blurring into the next. You didn’t see Jungkook again—not that you expected to. He was probably busy with his new girlfriend, and though you told yourself you didn’t care, the truth was harder to swallow. You cared. You cared too much. But you were tired of admitting it, even to yourself.

Finally, the day came to an end. You packed up your things, barely aware of your surroundings as you walked down the corridor, out of the building, and into the parking lot. Spotting your car, you headed straight for it, tossing your bag onto the passenger seat with a sigh.

Just as you were about to start the engine, you heard someone call your name. You glanced out the window and saw a guy waving at you. When your eyes met, he jogged over to your car, his expression nervous but determined.

Standing beside your car, he smiled awkwardly. “Hey! You probably know me…”

You shook your head, and his face flushed a deep shade of red. “That’s okay, I’m Jay. We’re in the same class. Literature?”

You nodded, waiting for him to continue, feeling the weight of his nervous energy in the air. He took a deep breath, then suddenly blurted out, “Will you go on a date with me?”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. His words hung in the air, and you processed them in stunned silence. But as you remained quiet, you saw the panic start to creep into his eyes, his breath quickening. Realizing he might be spiraling, you quickly stepped out of your car and placed a gentle hand on his arm, offering a reassuring smile.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said softly, trying to ease his nerves. “You don’t need to worry.”

He looked at you, relief washing over his face, though he still seemed uncertain. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. I’ll understand. You—”

His eyes lit up, a mixture of surprise and happiness flashing across his face. “Perfect! I’ll pick you up at 7 from your house.”

Your smile faltered slightly, the thought of giving out your address making you uneasy. “No, it’s okay. I’ll meet you there. Just send me the address.”

You exchanged phone numbers, his excitement almost contagious as he nodded eagerly. You still didn’t know him well. But at least this was something different, something that might distract you from everything else.

As you drove home, your thoughts drifted back to Jungkook and the emptiness that had taken root in your heart. But maybe, just maybe, it was time to try something new. To have a little fun, even if it was just to forget the pain, even if only for a night.

Time blurred by, and before you knew it, the clock struck six. Your phone buzzed with a text from Jay, providing the address of the restaurant. You glanced at the message before quickly getting ready, slipping into a simple black dress—nothing fancy, but short enough to make an impression. With one last look in the mirror, you grabbed your keys and headed out.

The drive to the restaurant was uneventful, your mind wandering as you navigated the familiar streets. When you arrived, the small vintage-themed restaurant immediately caught your eye. It was charming, with a warm, inviting atmosphere that made you smile. You stepped inside, scanning the room until you spotted Jay sitting in the corner, waving at you enthusiastically. You had to stifle a laugh—waving seemed to be his signature move.

You walked over, and as you approached, he quickly stood up and pulled out your chair with a shy grin. “Quite a gentleman, aren’t you?” you teased, unable to resist. His cheeks flushed pink, and he mumbled, “You look really beautiful.”

Settling into your seat, you felt a small flutter of satisfaction at his compliment. He ordered food for both of you, and the conversation began to flow naturally. Jay was nice—easy to talk to, with a soft demeanor that made the evening pleasant.

But then, mid-conversation, you noticed his hand suddenly move toward yours. He placed it on top of your hand, his touch tentative and shy. The urge to laugh bubbled up again, but you forced it down, deciding to let it slide. It didn’t feel right, but you didn’t say anything, noticing how nervous he was.

However, Jay seemed to misinterpret your silence. A few moments later, he scooted his chair closer to yours, his face inching toward you with a look that was all too clear. Your eyes widened in alarm, and you instinctively leaned back, creating distance. But Jay didn’t get the message—he continued leaning in, oblivious to your discomfort.

You opened your mouth, ready to stop him, but the words never left your lips. In the blink of an eye, Jay was on the floor, groaning in pain, clutching his side as he struggled to catch his breath.

And standing above him, fists clenched and jaw tight, was Jungkook.

His chest heaved with barely restrained fury, his usual calm expression replaced with something darker, more intense. His eyes, usually warm and full of mischief, were now cold as they locked onto Jay, who was still writhing on the floor. Jungkook’s hand twitched as if he was ready to strike again, but he held back, his gaze shifting to you.

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, and your breath caught in your throat. His eyes hard and cold met yours, the anger in them abating just a bit, but his voice was soft when he spoke. “Are you okay?”

"Huh?" You asked, puzzled, and startled. For what really? In your head, you believed Jay didn't have any wrong intentions. But Did you say anything? No. You were too dumbfounded to pronounce a word.

"Blush, are you okay?" He repeated.

You nodded, though the shock was still coursing through your veins, making your limbs feel heavy. Jungkook’s eyes searched yours as if looking for any sign of distress, and when he seemed satisfied that you were unharmed, he turned his attention back to Jay, who was trying to scramble to his feet.

“Stay away from her,” Jungkook warned, his voice low and menacing. Jay paled, his eyes darting between you and Jungkook, clearly terrified.

You wanted to say something—to calm the situation down—but the words were stuck in your throat, tangled with the confusion and a hint of something else. Relief, perhaps? Or was it something more? Hope? But, for what?

Jungkook’s gaze hardened further as he looked at Jay and then again at you, his voice firm now. “Let’s go. You shouldn’t be here.” He held out his hand, and for a moment, you hesitated, glancing at Jay, who looked utterly defeated. But in the end, you placed your hand in Jungkook’s, letting him lead you away from the chaos he had just caused.

Jungkook grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the restaurant with a force that left you stumbling to keep up. His grip was tight, almost painfully so, as he dragged you toward his car, his jaw set in a hard line. When you reached the car, he yanked the door open and practically shoved you inside, slamming the door shut with a sharp thud. You wanted to tell him that you’d driven yourself, but the words caught in your throat. Something in the way he moved, tense and angry, made you stay silent.

He climbed into the driver’s seat, his movements quick and stiff, and started the car without a word. The engine roared to life, and soon you were speeding down the dark streets, the silence between you heavy and oppressive. The air inside the car was thick with unspoken tension, and you found yourself nervously fidgeting with the hem of your dress, your heart pounding in your chest.

You could tell he was furious; the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him from losing control. The cold night air seeped in through the cracked window, brushing against your bare skin and making you shiver. Despite his anger, Jungkook noticed. Without a word, he reached over and rolled up the window before flipping on the heater.

“My hoodie’s in the back seat,” he said harshly, his voice cutting through the silence. “Grab it and fucking wear it.”

The words were gruff, his tone filled with irritation, but the gesture was astonishingly thoughtful. You turned around to reach for the hoodie, and that’s when you noticed it—an enormous bouquet of daisies and a cake resting on the back seat. Your fingers froze mid-air as you stared at them, a mixture of confusion and curiosity swirling in your chest. Are they for me? Did he really? Your mind raced with these thoughts. You wanted to ask him about it, but when you glanced at his face, the sharp angles of his clenched jaw and the angry flicker in his eyes made you think twice.

Silently, you grabbed the hoodie and pulled it over your head, the fabric soft and warm against your skin. It was far too big, swallowing you up like a blanket, and his scent, a mix of something fresh and woodsy, surrounded you as you took a deep breath. For a brief moment, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. He really was huge, you thought, but the smile faded quickly as you stole another glance at him, his expression still hard and unyielding.

The drive seemed to pass in a blur, the tension in the car making every second feel like an eternity. Finally, you reached your home, and before you could even reach for the door handle, Jungkook was out of the car, moving around to your side. He yanked the door open with a roughness that made you flinch and grabbed your arm, pulling you out onto the sidewalk. His grip was firm as he dragged you toward the front door, his steps quick and determined, leaving you no choice but to stumble along behind him.

Your mind was racing, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened, but before you could process it all, you were inside your house, the door closing with a sharp click behind you, and he was standing in front of you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing like a drum in the tense silence that followed Jungkook’s outburst. The fear in your gut twisted tighter with every step he took toward you. You had never seen him this angry before. He was always the boy who had been your childhood friend, the one you fell for in middle school but never told. At first, it was fear of rejection, and later, the fear of losing him and your friendship kept your feelings hidden. But now, wasn’t he lost to you? Didn’t he belong to Lilith now?

“Why the fucking hell were you out with that idiotic being?” His voice was like a whip, harsh and cutting through the air. The force of his words made you flinch, your shoulders tensing as if trying to shield yourself from his anger. You caught a flicker of something in his eyes—was it regret?—but it was fleeting, quickly masked by his furious expression.

Before you could gather your thoughts or find the words to respond, he took two swift strides toward you, and suddenly you were face-to-face. The intensity of his gaze bore into you, a storm of hurt and pain swirling in his eyes. “Do you like him?” he demanded, his voice cracking with raw emotion. “Do you love him?” He didn’t wait for your answers, bombarding you with questions while his face remained inches from yours.

You tried to speak, but the words were trapped, your throat tightening. Jungkook's hands gripped your shoulders, his fingers digging in with a possessiveness that left you breathless. “Damnit, say something!” he shouted, shaking you slightly. “Why were you out with him?”

But instead of answering, you shot back a question of your own, desperation lacing your voice. “How did you know I was out with him, Jungkook? How did you even find me Jungkook?”

You didn't want to answer his question. Why should he care if you loved someone or not, when he had accepted Lilith’s proposal just the day before? Now he had a girlfriend. He had no right to demand answers from you.

His anger flared further, a deep scowl marring his features. “Does it matter?” he snapped. “Does it fucking matter?” His eyes were intense, demanding an answer, and he leaned in as if he might kiss you, his breath hot against your face. “Why don’t you answer me? Do you love him?”

The intensity of the moment, the way he was so close and yet so distant, made you tremble. “Yes, it matters! It matters to me!” you shouted, your voice breaking with the force of your emotions. You pushed him away, the shove more about your need for space than real anger.

Jungkook stumbled back, his eyes widening in shock. His face twisted with hurt, and tears began to well up, glistening in the harsh light of the room. He stared at you, his expression a mix of pain and confusion, as if your rejection was a blow he wasn’t prepared for. The sight of him—this person who had always been so sure and confident—crumbling in front of you left a sharp pang in your chest.

As you looked at his tear-filled eyes, a deep, gnawing guilt settled in your chest. Why did you still care so much about him? You wondered. Your love for him was consuming you, and it was tearing you apart. You opened your mouth to respond, but he spoke before you could.

“I came to your house to celebrate your birthday,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I wanted to surprise you. This time... I wanted to surprise you on your birthday, that's why I didn't wish you before. But. But when I got here, I saw you getting into your car; before I could stop you, you left, your car was already speeding up. I chased after you because I really wanted to make you happy. You were loo-looking sad all day. But, I lost you somewhere along the way, then sear-searched for your car for like forever. When I finally found it, it was parked outside that restaurant.” His voice rose with each word, and his eyes were wild with a mixture of frustration and hurt. “And the moment I walked in, I saw him trying to kiss you. You didn’t even stop him!”

The anger in his voice dissolved into tears. His shoulders shook as he struggled to breathe, the weight of his emotions crashing down on him. You could see the pain etched into his face, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

You moved towards him, your own heart breaking at the sight of him in such distress.

You moved towards him and wrapped your arms around him tightly, hoping to offer some comfort. “Jungkook, what's wrong?” you murmured, your voice gentle. “why are you crying? Please, don’t cry.” But he pushed you away, his hands shoving you forcefully. His reaction stunned you, and a wave of realization hit you. So this is how he felt when you pushed him away.

You tried again, but he pushed you off once more, his eyes filled with anguish. “You love him, don’t you? How long? Huh?” he sobbed, his voice cracking with pain.

Determined not to give up, you moved towards him again. This time, when he tried to push you, you held your ground. You guided him to the couch and gently made him sit down, his shoulders shaking with each breath. You stood beside him, your hand soothingly stroking his back. “Please, don’t cry,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady.

He buried his face against your waist, his arms clinging to you. “Why do you love him and not me?” he asked, his voice muffled but full of hurt. “I thought you love me.”

For a moment, you were frozen, staring at him in disbelief, questions swirling in your head making your heart ache further. He knew. He knew you loved him, yet he chose her over you. Now, he was asking you this. How could he? How could he ask this when he was with Lilith? Did he expect you to chase him while he enjoyed his life with someone else?

With a mix of frustration and sorrow, you pushed his hands away from your waist. His crying intensified, but you no longer cared. “How can you say that?” you yelled, your voice breaking. “You accepted Lilith’s proposal yesterday! You’re dating her now! And you’re telling me not to love anyone else?”

Jungkook shook his head vigorously, trying to explain. “I— I didn’t... She... I... No. Please,” he started, but you cut him off.

“You knew. You knew I love you. You knew I was upset!” you continued, your voice rising. “still, you left me alone with those stupid chocolates while you went off with her!”

He tried to explain himself again, but you interrupted again, your anger spilling over. “I didn’t want those chocolates! I wanted you!” you shouted, your hand striking his chest. “You’re a heartless bastard. I’ve loved you for so long, and you never cared! Was it too hard to fall for me? And, why crying now?”

Jungkook’s face twisted with frustration, he knew you love him, he always did, his mouth opening to say something, but you cut him off once more. “You always stopped me from calling you ‘Jungkookie’ or ‘Kookie,’ but you never minded when other girls did it!”

He was growing increasingly agitated, his face reddening with frustration. Without fully realizing what he was doing, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you close. His lips crashed against yours, the urgency of the moment catching both of you by surprise.

For a brief second, you were frozen, his kiss demanding and intense. But then, you began to respond, your lips moving against his. The kiss was raw, filled with all the emotions neither of you could put into words.

He slowly pulled away, both of you breathing hard, your chests rising and falling rapidly. Your face was flushed, partly from the kiss and partly from the shyness creeping in. His eyes softened as he looked at you, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “I’m not dating her, Blush,” he whispered, using the nickname that made you feel like home for the first time in what felt like forever.

You blinked, your heart stuttering at his words. “What?”

“I’m not dating her,” he repeated, his voice steady yet full of regret. “Yes, she proposed, and I didn’t reject her immediately, but that was only because there were so many people around. I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of everyone.” His hand dropped to yours, holding it firmly. “I told her in private afterward that I love someone else. That I love you.”

Your breath hitched as he confessed, his gaze never leaving yours. “She said she needed help with a project, and after rejecting her, I couldn’t say no. So, I left with her, but I didn’t want to. I just... I’m sorry, Blush. I love you, and only you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat as his words sank in. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “And those names,” he continued, his voice low, “I never liked them. It always felt like they were calling a baby, but I didn’t care enough to stop them because... well, they didn’t matter to me. The only person who matters is you.”

His words wrapped around your heart, squeezing it tight. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down, crashing your lips against his. The kiss was urgent, desperate, full of everything you’d been holding back for so long. His arms wound around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

After what felt like an eternity, you broke the kiss, both of you panting, foreheads pressed together. “I love you too, Jungkook,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

His arms tightened around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he murmured against your skin. “I was just too scared to lose you.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. “You won’t lose me,” you promised, your hand cupping his cheek. “Not now, not ever.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as if he were savouring the moment. “That's a good thing because... I'm planning to keep you forever and ever and ever. I’m never letting you go,” he vowed, his voice firm, and you knew he meant every word.

Jungkook’s arms wrapped tighter around you, pulling you even closer, as if afraid you might disappear. His forehead rested gently against yours, his breath warm on your skin. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he looked into your eyes, the intensity of his earlier emotions fading into something softer, something tender.

“Happy birthday, Blush,” he whispered, his voice filled with affection.

Before you could even respond, he suddenly scooped you up into his arms, making you squeal in surprise. He laughed, the sound full of joy, as he began to twirl you around. The world spun around you, the colours of the room blurring together, but all you could focus on was him. The way his eyes sparkled with happiness, the way his grip on you was firm yet gentle, and the way his laughter filled your heart with warmth.

“Jungkook!” you laughed, holding onto his shoulders, feeling like you were floating. “Put me down!”

“Never,” he teased, twirling you faster. “Not until I’ve spun you around enough to make up for all those tears.”

Your laughter mingled with his, and the room filled with the sound of your shared happiness. Finally, when he slowed to a stop, he carefully set you down, though his arms stayed wrapped around you, keeping you close. You were both a little dizzy, swaying slightly, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was being in his arms, feeling his warmth, and knowing that he loved you.

Jungkook’s hands gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he looked at you with a smile that made your heart melt. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he murmured. “I’ve imagined this moment a thousand times, but it’s so much better than I ever dreamed.”

You smiled back at him, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had,” you confessed softly.

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead. “I'm sorry for making you cry. I won't ever make you cry again,” he promised. “I always knew you love me I just... I was... I tried to tell you many times but everytime it felt like it's not the right time, I'm sorry my love. I promise I'll make up for all those tears I've caused you because of my stupidity. Gosh! I just love you so much, Blush.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but they were happy tears. You leaned into his touch, feeling safe, loved, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

Jungkook’s arms slid around your waist again, and before you could say anything, he lifted you off your feet once more, spinning you around slowly this time, his smile wide and full of love.

“Happy birthday, my love,” he whispered as he twirled you gently.

Wow, you made it to the end! Honestly, that deserves a medal or maybe some serious painkillers. If you’re still breathing and not currently plotting my demise for making you read this—congrats, you’re a legend. If you’re crawling towards me with murder in your eyes, don’t worry, I get it. I cringed so hard writing this that I think I bruised a rib.

I know, I know. This is like a bad joke that just won’t end. I’m cringing harder than you are. But hey, sometimes you just need to unleash your inner masochist and share the pain. I posted it because I felt like it. So, let’s bond over this collective trauma, or you can just plot my demise in peace. Either way, thanks for sticking around and surviving this with me. Here’s to us—brave souls navigating the wreckage of my writing. Cheers!

a/n: Let me know what you think in any way you like—comments, messages, carrier pigeons, whatever! I'd love to hear!

[screampied]

all angst + non nsfw works will go here! majority of my sfw fics are always gender neutral unless stated otherwise. key: ꨄ = fluff | ❦ = angst | pinned post.

✩ ˛˚ . ONESHOTS.

GOJO SATORU.

twenty three missed calls: you wonder why gojo won’t answer his phone on christmas. ꨄ , ❦

NANAMI KENTO.

to the night we met: kissing nanami on new years was perfect. it felt a bit too real though. ꨄ , ❦

TOJI FUSHIGURO.

mine all mine: toji comforting his pregnant wifey. ꨄ

way of the househusband: teaching toji how to cook (sort of) ꨄ

✩ ˛˚ . DRABBLES.

GOJO SATORU.

never say goodbye: gojo hates whenever you say goodbye to him. ❦

reflections: gojo plans to confess his love to you on valentine’s day. but he’s too late. ❦

you may say im a dreamer: gojo has a dream that you died and it felt a bit too real. ❦

goodnight satoru: gojo doesn’t like when you say goodnight. ❦

nightmares: gojo always comforts you with your nightmares until one day, the real nightmare is him. ❦

old enough to understand: growing old with gojo. ꨄ

TOJI FUSHIGURO.

first time shave: toji realizes he loves you once you shave his face for the first time. ꨄ

NANAMI KENTO.

stress-free: taking care of nanami after he has a stressful day at work. ꨄ

life after death: nanami asks you a simple question—what happens to someone after they die? ❦

SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

maybe i’m the problem: making up after an argument. ꨄ

pretty boy: painting sukuna’s nails. ꨄ

i love you: sukuna never says i love you. ❦

no hugs: sukuna hates hugs … sorta ꨄ

deep sleeper: you love sleeping on sukuna’s throne. ꨄ

good kitty: sukuna ends up purring after a good ‘ole behind-the-ear scratch ?! ꨄ

HIROMI HIGURUMA.

safe ‘n sound: sleeping on hiromi’s lap while he works. ꨄ

© 2023-2024 SCREAMPIED. please do not copy, modify, or translate my work. all rights are rightfully reserved to me.

[chimcess]

Unparalleled || jjk

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Other tags: Idol!Jungkook, Photographer!Reader Word Count: 6.6k+ Genre:  One-shot, established relationship, PWP, long distance relationship AU, smut Synopsis: You had only met him once, a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of things, and the fact that he was on the other side of the hotel door felt surreal. Or, after being in a long-distance relationship for over a year, you and Jungkook are finally meeting up. Warnings: This is literally just porn, there’s a plot but it’s just filth, soft-dom JK, he calls reader “baby,” oral (m&f), d*ck piercing, tatted jk, jk wears glasses (the entire time), dirty talk, desperate sex, couch sex, they barely made it inside tbh, protected sex (wrap it up babes), multiple positions, light begging, light body worship, light praise, some teasing, reader cums on his face, multiple orgasms, nipple play, nipple sucking, some nipple biting, hair pulling, aftercare cuddling, sweet ending, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: I’m still getting used to writing smut, so I’m sorry if this is a bit awkward in some spots. Found this in my drafts, so I fixed it up a little bit and decided to post it. Thanks for reading.

Staring down at my fidgeting hands, I felt like the taxi was closing in on me, every tick of the clock amplifying the sense of claustrophobia. Twenty minutes felt like an eternity, dragging by as if time itself were taunting me. I stole another glance at my phone, re-reading Jungkook's last message like it was some sort of magic spell. 

Kookie: 324

It was surreal to think he was right here in California, just a short drive away, no oceans or time zones separating us. My leg bounced nervously beneath the table, the excitement swirling in my stomach like butterflies in a frenzy. Each moment felt charged with anticipation, a thrilling energy that made my heart race. I quickly typed out a response, adding a heart emoji before sending my location. Jungkook always said sharing my location made him feel closer to me, bridging the gap between our worlds, even with his whirlwind schedule that rarely left room for anything else. Being one of the biggest pop stars had a way of pulling a guy in a million directions.

I couldn’t help but smile as I recalled our first meeting. It was right after the lockdown ended, during his band’s visit to California for a concert and the Grammys. I still vividly remembered standing by the snack table, nervously clutching a half-empty cup of soda, when our eyes met for the first time. There was an electric spark in that moment, something I hadn’t realized I’d been missing. His grin was infectious, his playful nature shining through, and my heart had skipped a beat at the sound of his laughter. It echoed in my mind like a melody I wanted to play on repeat.

A few months later, we had entered a long-distance relationship, navigating the challenges of his demanding career while trying to keep our connection alive. Late-night video calls, flirty texts, and the occasional surprise visit were our lifelines, but nothing could compare to the rush of being together in the same room. And now, the thought of finally seeing him in person again sent a rush of warmth through me, a blend of hope and nervous energy that was hard to contain.

As I waited, I replayed our conversations in my mind—each one a thread weaving our lives together despite the distance. We shared dreams, fears, and whispered secrets, laying the groundwork for something beautiful and profound. The thought of being in his presence again, of feeling his warmth and the comfort of his touch, made my heart race with excitement.

I glanced at the clock again, biting my lip in anticipation. Each minute stretched into hours, the seconds crawling by. Would he still feel the same? Would our chemistry translate into real life as effortlessly as it did through screens and messages? Doubts flitted through my mind, but I shook them off, focusing on the joy of the moment. Jungkook was just a heartbeat away, and soon, I would be in his arms. The very idea sent a shiver down my spine.

My phone buzzed, startling me out of my thoughts. I scrambled to open the notification, my heart racing. If Jungkook messaged, I had to respond quickly. Our conversations were a race against time, a way to squeeze moments of connection into his packed schedule. Phone calls were our only reliable lifeline, but the language barrier complicated things. We were both trying, though Jungkook's English was much better than my Korean.

Kookie: 나는 신나요

Giggling, I typed back a response.

Y/N: 나도

Kookie: Good job, 자기~

Nothing made Jungkook happier than seeing me try to improve my Korean. He always insisted it was adorable, his smile brightening every time I stumbled through a phrase. Yoongi was usually the more honest one, quick to point out my mispronunciations, but Jungkook wore that supportive boyfriend badge with pride, even if it meant telling me little white lies.

As the taxi pulled up to the hotel, my heart raced with a mix of excitement and anxiety. I thanked the driver, tipping generously as I stepped out into the warm night air. The moment I did, the fragrant scent of blooming jasmine wafted around me, mingling with the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. I had only packed a small bag for our two-night stay, not knowing how much time we’d actually have together. Remembering that, I hurried up the steps, my footsteps echoing against the marble tiles.

The Sunset Hotel was unlike anything I’d imagined. I had envisioned a quiet, almost sleepy place, but instead, it was alive with activity. I couldn’t believe it was two in the morning; the lobby was bustling, a vibrant mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint notes of live music drifting from the bar area. The energy crackled in the air like electricity, and I felt an exhilarating rush. Yet, amidst the lively atmosphere, a wave of inadequacy washed over me. Just a few moments ago, in the taxi, I had almost forgotten about Jungkook’s status as one of the biggest pop stars in the world, but now, beneath the sparkling chandelier that cast shimmering patterns across the polished floor, it was impossible to ignore.

As I walked through the brightly lit lobby, I caught glimpses of elegantly dressed guests, their conversations animated, their laughter ringing out like musical notes. I felt like a fish out of water, dressed in a casual sundress while they flaunted designer attire. Who would have thought my years in the service industry—working late nights and juggling demanding customers—would lead me here, about to meet someone who could afford such luxury? The thought both thrilled and terrified me.

At the front desk, the staff shot me quick, assessing looks. Their eyes were sharp, as if measuring my worth in this lavish setting. One of the hosts greeted me with a forced smile that felt far too wide for comfort. “Welcome to the Sunset Hotel! How can I assist you tonight?” Their voice dripped with that practiced hospitality, but I could sense a subtle skepticism beneath the surface.

“Um, I’m here to check in,” I replied, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. I fished my phone out of my bag, ready to show them the reservation I’d made, but the host raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the computer screen as if evaluating my very presence.

“Name?” they asked, still wearing that unnaturally bright smile.

“Y/N,” I replied, and I held my breath as they typed it in. A brief moment of silence stretched between us, the bustling lobby fading into a distant murmur as I waited for their response. 

“Ah, yes! We have you right here,” they said finally, their tone shifting to one of mild surprise. “You’re the other half of 324, correct?” They looked at me again, and I could feel the weight of their judgment, as if I were a puzzle they were trying to fit into a larger picture.

“Right,” I said, attempting to keep my tone light. “Should just be for the weekend.” 

The host’s smile remained, but the glint in their eye suggested they were piecing together the details, perhaps even recognizing my connection to Jungkook. As they handed me the key card, I felt a rush of anxiety. What if they didn’t think I belonged here? What if Jungkook didn’t feel the same way about me once we were together?

I took the key, my fingers brushing against the cool surface, and turned to head toward the elevator. I was acutely aware of the looks I was receiving, a mix of curiosity and skepticism from both staff and guests alike. The air was thick with expectations, and I could almost hear the whispers in my mind, doubting whether I was truly worthy of this moment. But I pushed those thoughts aside. This was about Jungkook and me, our connection. And soon, I would be in his presence, feeling the warmth of his smile and the excitement of our reunion. 

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind me like a protective barrier from the outside world. As the car ascended, I clutched my bag, heart racing with every passing floor. This was it. In just a few moments, I would be face-to-face with the boy who had ignited something within me, and no amount of uncertainty could overshadow that truth.

I shifted from foot to foot in the cramped elevator, the anticipation eating away at me like a swarm of butterflies taking flight in my stomach. Each second felt like an eternity, stretching my nerves thinner and thinner. I took out my phone, biting back a smile as I contemplated the moment. It was so surreal that I was just a few moments away from seeing Jungkook again after what felt like an eternity apart.

In a burst of excitement, I snapped a quick picture of the elevator doors opening, the sleek metallic finish reflecting the soft glow of the lobby lights. I sent it to Jungkook with a playful caption: *“Almost there!”* Watching the little blue ticks appear, I felt a rush of warmth, knowing he’d see it almost instantly.

Once inside the elevator, I pressed the button for the third floor with a mix of hope and trepidation. It only made sense that the 300s would be located on the third floor, right? Still, the absence of any signs directing me left me feeling a bit disoriented. The elevator hummed softly, its gentle movement barely easing the whirlwind of thoughts racing through my mind.

The walls felt a bit too close, almost as if they were closing in on me, but I took a deep breath, willing myself to relax. I replayed the memories of our conversations, the laughter we shared, and the longing I felt every time we parted. The excitement pulsing through me was intoxicating, a vivid contrast to the anxious tension coiling in my chest.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my hand, jolting me out of my reverie. I glanced down, my heart skipping a beat as I saw Jungkook's name flashing on the screen. 

Kookie: I’m going to kiss you so much.

I couldn’t help but smile. I hoped kissing would be just the beginning of what would happen tonight. After a year of building up tension, I didn’t want to wait anymore. I wanted him.

Y/N: 또?

Kookie: I can’t think of it in English.

Rolling my eyes, I groaned. That was his way of avoiding a question. I knew he understood, but it amused me more than anything. Slowly, my nerves eased, and I felt more confident about seeing him, even if we were hiding away in a hotel I could never afford, lying on expensive sheets while the world outside spun with sharp eyes and curious gazes.

As the elevator dinged softly, signaling my arrival at the third floor, I felt a surge of adrenaline. The doors slid open smoothly, revealing a dimly lit hallway lined with plush carpeting and framed art pieces that whispered of elegance. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps as I moved forward. The anticipation hung in the air like a charged atmosphere before a storm, and I could almost feel Jungkook’s presence drawing me closer.

I glanced at the room numbers, scanning for his. As I walked, I imagined what it would be like to finally be face-to-face with him. Would he look the same? Would that boyish grin still light up his face when he saw me? The thought sent my heart racing as I turned a corner, catching sight of the numbers I had been searching for. 

Room 324. My breath caught in my throat, and for a fleeting moment, I hesitated, overwhelmed by a wave of nerves. What if things were different now? What if he had changed? But I quickly shook off the doubts; this was Jungkook, the boy I had laughed and shared secrets with, the one who had kept my heart fluttering even from a distance.

With a firm resolve, I approached the door, my heart pounding in rhythm with my steps. I held my breath, the moment stretching out like a taut string ready to snap. Would he answer? Would he be excited to see me? I could hardly contain the anticipation, my heart racing as I waited for that door to swing open. The air crackled with anticipation, buzzing with the weight of what was about to happen. 

I raised my hand to knock, but before my knuckles could even touch the wood, the door swung open. And there he was—Jungkook.

He was everything I remembered: pitch-black hair tousled in a way that was both effortless and enticing, metal glinting in the light, thin, silver rimmed glasses, and a thin white t-shirt clinging to his muscular frame. It felt surreal, like stepping into a vivid dream, but this was no illusion. This was real, and it took my breath away.

"You," I whispered, the word slipping out like a gasp. 

His dark eyes widened in surprise, delight flickering across his features. My heart raced as I watched him take me in, his expression shifting from uncertainty to something deeper, more intimate. Had he been waiting for this moment as much as I had? Was he just as happy as I felt?

All my doubts faded when that eyebrow, heavy with steel, raised in appreciation instead of scorn. He stepped into the hallway, and my heart pounded wildly, the space between us charged with an unspoken promise.

"You," he echoed, his voice low and husky as he took my hand in his, guiding me back into his room. 

He kicked the door shut behind him. The air thickened as he moved closer, inches separating us, electric and intoxicating. I inhaled the scent of him—soap and laundry detergent—sending shivers down my spine. A soft whimper escaped my lips, desire pooling in my stomach like a spark waiting to ignite.

With an air of confidence, he advanced, and I leaned back, the weight of his presence drawing me in like gravity. I stopped when my back hit the couch, the world outside fading away as we paused, our breaths mingling in the charged silence. My fingers, betraying me, reached up to trace the row of piercings in his eyebrow, trailing down the line of his jaw to his lips. They were soft and rosy, a striking contrast to the rough stubble that scratched my palm.

In that moment, he darted his tongue out, the pointed tip brushing against my fingers, and I moaned softly, the sound echoing in the intimate space between us, igniting the fire that had been simmering beneath the surface.

And then he was on me.

He seized my hand, guiding it into the tousled mess of hair I had longed to touch. It was softer than I had imagined, and I lost myself in it. His mouth descended on mine, a fiery torrent of passion and urgency. My body responded instinctively, arching into him as our breaths mingled, his desire palpable against my stomach, the taste of longing lingering on his lips.

His palm traced a path down my arm, firm and possessive, sliding over my shoulder and back again. He tugged at the buttons of my cardigan, peeling the fabric away to reveal the inked skin beneath. I shivered at the roughness of his touch, a thrilling contrast to the softness of his kiss.

Breaking away, I pressed my mouth against the line of his jaw, trailing wet kisses toward the piercings in his ear, letting my tongue tease them as my breath washed hot against his skin.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” He whispered against my lips.

I panted, my fingers tangling tightly in his hair.

His hands tightened around my arms, pulling us together, the weight of our bodies colliding in a desperate embrace. “Every single day,” he swore, his voice rough yet melodic. He began a slow, deliberate exploration of my neck, the heat of his tongue tracing my pulse and making me shudder. “Every night that you called me, whispering sweet nothings in that voice. It drove me insane. I just wanted to hop on a plane and have you in my lap.”

“God, I wish you would have,” I gasped, feeling the bite of his teeth just below my collarbone, a thrilling blend of pain and pleasure that made me clench around nothing. “Why didn’t you?”

“You make me nervous,” he murmured, teasing aside the cup of my bra.

He took my nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the bud with reverence. I whined in pleasure, arching into him. Emboldened, he bit down.

“Self-conscious, huh?” I teased, winded and shaking from pleasure, even as my nails dug into his back, urging him closer. “I have a hard time believing that right now.”

He pulled back, capturing my face in his strong hands, kissing me fiercely as a low growl escaped him. “Believe it.”

We kissed with a fierce intensity that made me feel like I was on fire, the heat radiating off him, his glasses pressing against my face. He shifted to remove them, but I caught his wrists, holding him in place.

“Don’t,” I growled. “I like them.”

A primal sound erupted from his chest, desperate and raw. He lifted me effortlessly, settling me against the back of the couch, our bodies grinding together, my thighs aligning perfectly with the hard heat of his jeans. Each thrust sent a new wave of pleasure surging through me, my head falling back as I teetered on the brink of ecstasy, feeling weightless and electric, consumed by a desire that felt like it could set us both ablaze.

But he caught me. Just as I was about to tumble backward into dizzying, white-hot pleasure, his arms wrapped around me, firm and unyielding, pulling me against the solid expanse of his chest. My breath came in quick, frantic gasps, my heart racing like a wild animal as I clung to him, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, drawing him closer.

“Careful, pretty girl,” he breathed into my ear, a soft murmur that sent shivers racing down my spine. I grasped at his back, fingers digging into the taut muscles, anchoring myself to him, afraid of being swept away in the tide of desire threatening to pull me under.

My hands roamed from his back, gliding over his shoulders and down his arms as he stroked his fingertips along my thighs, mapping a path from my knees to my hips and back again. His skin was warm, electric under my touch, and I traced the intricate black curls of ink adorning his pale flesh—an abstract tapestry resolving into a lion on one arm and a lamb on the other.

“You’re beautiful,” I gasped, the words spilling out before I could stop them, but he silenced me with another heated kiss. 

My fingers fumbled at the hem of his t-shirt, desperate to see what those curls of ink transformed into beneath the fabric. He shifted me closer, his grip on me unwavering, even as his hands momentarily released me to lift his arms above his head. Seizing the opportunity, I tugged at his shirt, peeling it away to reveal the canvas of his torso, the intricate lines of ink telling stories I longed to hear.

I barely had time to take in the intricate Sanskrit lines etched along his side and the lone kanji character hovering over his heart before he was lifting my shirt, pulling it over my head. For a heartbeat, I was enveloped in darkness, blinded by the fabric. My hands scrambled behind me, fumbling to unclasp my bra, and he kissed a heated trail along the bare skin of my shoulder as the straps slipped down my arms.

“I love this,” he murmured against my skin, his lips trailing softly across my collarbone, down my ribs, and back to my breast, igniting every nerve in my body. “And I love it all the more because of this.”

His tongue brushed over the small butterfly tattoo on my ribcage.

His fingers roamed lower, and when he pulled away, I let out a whimper of protest, longing for his touch. The light-headed sensation returned, reminding me just how long it had been since a man had touched me—since I’d felt filled.

I braced myself with one hand against the edge of the couch while the other tangled in his tousled hair, relishing its softness as it slipped through my fingers. His mouth found my stomach, his tongue dipping into my navel, tracing a tantalizing line toward my most sensitive spot. I gasped, an overwhelming hunger igniting deep within me. I had been yearning for this, for him, and the desperate need flooded my senses.

With deft fingers, he teased apart the button of my fly and drew down the zipper, revealing delicate black lace beneath. He licked and sucked his way to my hip, his hand lingering on my abdomen, thumb skirting under the edge of my underwear before descending lower, finally finding bare, glistening skin. When his fingers grazed my clit, pleasure surged through me, and I nearly cried out at its raw intensity.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping,” he cursed, his voice rough with desire as he buried his face against the joint of my hip and thigh.

“For you,” I groaned, my body arching instinctively. “I’ve been wet for months just thinking about you.”

A low growl escaped him, and in a blur of motion, he tore the hem of my jeans down, ripping them from my body until I was left in nothing but my panties. He pushed my naked thighs up and over his shoulders, positioning his head exactly where I craved him to be.

I struggled to contain my frantic breaths, fast and shallow, echoing my absolute need to feel his hands, his mouth, to be consumed by him entirely. He inhaled deeply, reverently, his nose brushing against the lace where my body met my thigh. The sensation sent shockwaves through me, rendering me breathless.

He wrapped one hand around my leg while the other snaked behind me, gripping my ass firmly, anchoring me as he pulled the soaked fabric aside, exposing my bare skin to his hungry gaze. His thumb descended onto my clit, and I gasped, waves of need crashing over me as pleasure radiated from his touch. I cried out, the sound escaping me like a prayer, my body arching toward him, desperate for more.

And then he kissed me, his mouth capturing my clit with an intensity that sent me spiraling.

The moans clawing their way from my chest were unrecognizable, a desperate symphony of need as I became a writhing mass of pure, unadulterated hunger. Unlatching himself, his thumb worked expertly at my clit, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through me. His tongue darted out, teasing the edges of my entrance before plunging inside, and I felt the pressure building, the storm that had been gathering finally reaching its peak until I exploded, my thighs clenching around his face as my body ignited into a searing inferno.

I teetered on the edge of ecstasy, and then I actually fell over, the world spiraling away.

When I regained awareness, I was sprawled across the back of the couch, my neck twisted awkwardly, the top of my head grazing the seat cushion. My arms draped limply above me while my thighs remained anchored to his shoulders. He gazed down at me, a mixture of curiosity and satisfaction etched across his face, his mouth glistening—a testament to our fervor.

With a wicked smirk, he wiped his mouth with his forearm, leaving me in my awkward state as he peeled my panties down my body, rendering me completely exposed and unable to rise. His finger glided along my opening, my body still thrumming with aftershocks from one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever experienced. When he dipped gently inside, I gasped.

“Is this what you want, Y/N? My hands inside you?” 

I found myself ensnared in a whirlwind of emotions; I craved this intimacy with him more than anything, yet it felt like just a fragment of the whole picture. The sensation of his fingers deep within me was intoxicating, but beneath that, there lingered a yearning for more—more than just his hands. I ached for him—his body hovering over mine, the heat radiating from him as I traced the ink etched across his skin, my tongue teasing the silver piercings that adorned him.

“Yes. No. God, I want you,” I gasped, my voice a mixture of longing and desperation.

He raised a pierced eyebrow, still kneeling before me, his fingers buried deep inside me. “Want your cock.”

“You want this dick?” he asked, his tone both teasing and serious.

“Yes,” I panted, the word slipping out as both a plea and a command.

“Where?” 

I knew exactly where I wanted him; the desire burned brightly within me. “Everywhere. My hand. My mouth. My pussy. Just… everywhere.” 

A low growl escaped him, reverberating through my body, raw and hungry. But just as quickly, his fingers slipped away, leaving me aching and empty. He gripped my hips, securing me against him and the back of the couch, rising to slide my slick core against the hard line of his body. The urgency of his arousal pressed against me, igniting a fire within. 

He leaned down, gathering me into his arms, kissing me with such fervor that I felt dizzy, his hardness grinding against me—a promise of what was to come.

I pushed him away gently, his expression shifting to one of confusion, but all I needed was a moment to slide off the couch and drop to my knees. He groaned as I ran my nose along the thick outline of him through his jeans, feeling him twitch in response to my teasing. With trembling hands, I tugged his pants and boxers down, revealing him—long, thick, and glistening with anticipation.

The chrome piercing at the tip caught the light, gleaming enticingly. 

Looking up, I found him hovering above me, his body bared save for those damn glasses. His intense gaze locked onto mine, a silent plea reflected in his brown eyes. “Y/N,” I breathed, letting my warm breath wash over the tip of him. He groaned, his fingers tangling in my hair, urging me forward.

“God, I want to feel your mouth on me,” he implored, igniting a wild hunger within me. 

I opened my mouth, eager and wet, my lips closing around the head of him, my tongue tracing the underside, the cool metal against warm flesh sending shivers down my spine. 

“Y/N.”

I pulled away before I could take him too deep, trailing my mouth down his length, savoring every moment as I buried my nose into the soft hair at the base of him. He was practically whimpering, and I couldn’t resist the urge to pump him twice with my hand, the slickness gliding over him before I took him into my mouth, relaxing my throat to envelop him. Yet even with all my efforts, I couldn’t fit him completely, and I rubbed my thighs together, craving the moment he would finally fill me.

I moved my mouth up and down his length, achingly slow, feeling the tension coiling within him, his hips twitching, restrained. He wanted to thrust, to take control, but I held him back, guiding his movements while keeping him still. I could sense his legs trembling, teetering on the edge, so I pulled off, leaving him panting, his length throbbing, a testament to our shared desire.

Kissing the sharp bone of his hip, I pulled his pants the rest of the way down as he kicked off his shoes, the fabric sliding away like a whisper in the night. Just as I was about to toss the jeans aside, he stopped me, his voice low and husky. “Back pocket.”

Curiosity piqued, I glanced up at him through narrowed eyes and retrieved the little foil package from his back pocket. I noticed at least two more tucked away, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had remarkable recovery time or if he was planning a very long weekend with me. Both notions sent a thrilling rush coursing through me

I held the condom up between two of my fingers. Jungkook snatched the package from me, tearing it open with a deft motion, rolling it over his cock from tip to base. He pressed his sheathed length against my hip, our bodies brushing together with a desperation that left me breathless.

“Turn,” he commanded, gently pushing at my shoulder. I obeyed, and his hands shoved me down, bending me from the waist, positioning my elbows on the back of the couch. When he was satisfied with my submission, he settled his hands firmly on my shoulder blades, a searing presence that felt as though it might melt through my skin, branding me with his touch.

His hands glided down my sides, over my ribs and hips, finally settling on my ass, rubbing it appreciatively. The edges of his fingers grazed my lips, parting them, and I jerked backward, feeling the heat of his cock resting against my back.

“Wider, baby,” he cooed, his fingers sliding over my trembling thighs. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the rush of sensation, and obeyed, spreading my legs for him. His knees bent between mine, the tip of his cock gliding tantalizingly from my clit to my entrance, brushing against me but not penetrating.

“Please, Jungkook,” I panted, desperation clawing at my throat as I felt myself teetering on the edge of begging.

Even he found himself pleading. “Please let me inside you,” he whispered, his length teasingly tracing my wet flesh, dipping slightly to part my lips but not filling the aching void within me.

“Yes,” I groaned, finally feeling the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, slipping into me inch by glorious inch. Nothing had ever felt this intense. “Fuck, yes,” I moaned, his grip hot and possessive at my hip while the other hand cradled the back of my neck, steadying me.

It was maddening not being able to move, even though all I wanted was to rock back and pull him deeper. 

My body stretched as he pushed forward, achingly slow until he was fully seated within me, his hips flush against my backside. I gasped as he filled me completely. The sensation was electrifying, and I felt him rock back slightly before surging forward again, the combination of his length and the hot tip of metal against my walls making my eyes roll.

“Please,” I urged, my mantra of ‘yes’ and ‘fuck me’ spiraling from my lips as he finally began to thrust with abandon, our bodies locked in a passionate dance. 

He tightened his grip on my hip, the other hand sliding to the middle of my back, pushing down. I could feel his movements becoming erratic, less steady—so close to coming inside me.

But I didn’t want it to end like this. Not after all this time. 

“No, stop,” I breathed, the words barely escaping my lips before he froze, a pained sound erupting from him like a wounded animal.

“Please, Jesus, Y/N, you can’t—”

I glanced over my shoulder at him, squeezing him tightly inside me. The resulting moan from his throat sent a jolt of electricity through my body. The rejection and frustration etched across his face twisted my heart. “After all this time missing you,” I whispered, locking eyes with him, “I need to see you. I need to see you come.”

In an instant, he withdrew, turning my body roughly until I felt the couch pressing against me once more. Supporting my back with one hand, he parted my thighs with fierce urgency, stepping into them and plunging back inside me. I screamed, the sound echoing through the empty corners of the room.

His face was close to mine as he began to move again, quick, short thrusts finding a new rhythm. Our sweaty brows collided, the metal hoops of his piercings scratching my skin, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. His name spilled from my lips as we captured each other in another fiery kiss, a moment so intense I thought I could lose myself entirely in the swirl of our bodies, his ink swirling around us like dark tendrils of smoke.

His patience began to fray as he kissed me harder, his body pressing into mine with more urgency. I felt the fiery bloom of pleasure building again, hot and electric, and I craved him hard and fast—a deep connection stripped of all restraint.

He must have sensed my need, too, as he quickened his pace. “Hold on, baby,” he instructed, and I complied, wrapping my arms and legs around him tightly. I let him brace himself against the back of the couch as he drove into me, his pubic bone hitting my clit with each thrust, the metal piercing hitting deep within me making me mewl.

“I’m coming, Y/N. Fuck,” he moans, the raw desperation in his voice igniting something primal within me. 

His face contorts in a beautiful, twisted expression of pleasure, each thrust deeper, harder, as if he’s trying to etch this moment into my very soul. The intensity of his words washes over me like a tidal wave, pulling me into a realm of oblivion. My body pulses in rhythm with his, a white-hot light flashing behind my closed eyes, merging with the vision of him—so fully present in my arms, lost in the sheer ecstasy we’ve created together.

As the world around us faded, time seemed to suspend, leaving only the two of us in a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. I could feel the weight of our shared moments pressing against us, every sensation amplified in the silence that enveloped the room. Slowly, we began to come back to ourselves, his body still pressed against mine, a gentle reminder of the electrifying connection we had just shared. The feeling of him lingering inside me sent shivers down my spine, and our breaths intertwined in a rhythm that was both calming and exhilarating.

We exchanged soft kisses, each one delicate and filled with unspoken promises, contrasting the raw passion that had ignited between us moments before. It was a tender kind of intimacy, one that held the power to ground us in a whirlwind of emotions. 

After a moment, he pulled away, slipping out of me with a reluctance that made my heart ache just a little. The sudden emptiness was palpable, a gentle reminder of the closeness we had just experienced. Jungkook reached for the condom, his movements careful and deliberate, disposing of it in the wastebasket beside the couch. When he turned back to me, the soft glow of the room caught the contours of his face, illuminating him in a way that made him look almost ethereal.

“You’re really here,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the magic of the moment.

“I’m here,” I replied, unable to suppress the grin that broke across my face. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and this moment felt surreal.

Jungkook walked back over to the couch, his gaze roaming over my features as if he were trying to memorize every detail. “You look even better than I remembered,” he said, his smile soft and genuine, lighting up his eyes.

“And you look exhausted,” I teased, noticing the faint shadows under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and busy days.

He laughed, the sound brightening the room and melting away any remnants of anxiety I had carried with me. “It’s been a crazy week, but seeing you makes it all worth it.”

A smile broke across my face, the tension of the past months finally beginning to dissolve. For the first time since I had arrived, I took in my surroundings. The room felt both elegant and cozy, drenched in soft light, with tasteful decor that radiated warmth. A large bed dominated the space, its crisp white sheets looking impossibly inviting, and I found myself wishing we could make our way over there. It seemed far more comfortable than the couch.

“How was your flight?” Jungkook asked, bending down to plant a gentle kiss on my forehead, sending warmth flooding through me.

“Long,” I admitted. “But I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited.” The truth was, anticipation had been buzzing in my veins like electricity ever since I’d set foot on the plane.

He settled next to me on the couch, his hand finding mine, our fingers intertwining in a way that felt instinctive. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said, his thumb tracing small patterns on my skin, making my heart flutter in response.

“I’ve missed you too,” I replied, squeezing his hand tightly. “It feels like forever.”

We fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the city lights twinkling outside like a constellation trapped within a glass jar. The reality of being here with him began to sink in, settling deep in my bones. No more video calls with choppy connections or hurried texts exchanged amid the chaos of our lives—just us, flesh and blood, finally in the same place.

Breaking the quiet, Jungkook’s tone turned serious, slicing through the warmth that enveloped us. “How are you holding up? I know it’s been tough.”

I took a deep breath, weighing my response. “It’s been hard,” I admitted, the truth heavy on my tongue. “But knowing we’d have this, even just a couple of days, kept me going.” 

He nodded, understanding etched on his face. “It’s the same for me. The craziness of the tour and the constant traveling—it’s all worth it knowing I get to see you.”

His words wrapped around me like a warm blanket on a cold night, soothing my weary soul. We talked for hours, drifting through a sea of conversation that felt both substantial and light, catching up on everything and nothing. His stories from the tour spilled out with infectious excitement, his eyes alight like fireflies in the dark. I shared my own experiences, and with every word, the distance between us began to melt away until it felt like the space of a single breath.

Eventually, exhaustion crept in like a gentle shadow, heavy yet comforting. Jungkook stood up and held out his hand, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “Come on,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Let’s move to the bed. It’s way more comfortable.”

I took his hand, allowing him to guide me across the room. The large bed loomed before us, inviting and cozy, the crisp white sheets beckoning like a sanctuary. As we settled into the plush comfort, I felt a wave of contentment wash over me, a feeling that we were finally exactly where we were meant to be. We lay side by side, fingers intertwined like threads in a tapestry, the world outside fading into a dull hum, the city’s chaos a distant memory.

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[frogchiro]

so obsessed with college au omg but like imagine one day reader decides to tease fratboy!leon and calls him pretty boy when he sends a video of him jerking off. he’d probably like die after but y’know

Calling him a 'Good boy' or 'Pretty boy' is like inviting a vampire into your household, you're not getting rid of him😭

No but fr this would provide Leon with fap material for a month :// For you it was just having a little bit of fun, throw the boy a bone you could say like back when you send him that single little heart and it made him go bonkers, it wouldn't hurt to now call him a pretty boy right~?

Well, for you it was all fun and games but for Leon this was a life changing experience; he definitely teared up when he saw it not only with emotion but also with the way his cock got painfully hard, or at least tried to, he already came three times, he's overstimulated to the point of pain and he's a hormonal mess but the little 'Pretty boy~' on his phone screen made his poor, blushing cock twitch and spurt out one last weak pearl of cum :((

Imagine if Krauser barged in without knocking and found his friend teary eyed and pathetic with his dick out and staring at his phone, did he get emotional again while watching porn and the chick was too similar to you again? Jack was about to tease his friend to hell and back but then Leon turned to him with a shit-eating smug grin and waved his phone around.

"She called me pretty boy~!" Leon said smugly, not moving to cover himself or anything which only made Jack more angry as he stomped over to the bed and snatched Leon's phone from his hand to see for himself and...There it was, clear as day...Maybe it's time for him to change tactics too...?

Imagine about an hour later while you're nose deep in a new book you hear your phone 'ping!' again and you couldn't help but roll your eyes with a fond smile on your lips, Leon was weirdly insatiable tonight but when you unlocked your phone it wasn't a message from Leon but from Krauser...Jesus what does this douche want at this hour?

When you opened the message you were ready to berate him for bothering you this late but instead all you did was drop your jaw open; inside was a goddamn dickpic! From Krauser! And it definitely was...something.

His cock was...huge. Long, thick and veiny with a thick blonde happytrail at the base and while it wasn't the main focus of the photo, you could see that his balls were large too...Jack's hands while large, they did nothing to dwarf the length, if anything it only accentuated how big Jack was all over and apparently that translated to under the belt business too...His tip was swollen and red, almost purple with how hard he was and despite that it was only a photo, you could almost see the way his thick precum leaked obscenely down his shaft, rude ://

The caption read 'Hope you like it baby~' and while Krauser was smirking and waiting for your response, something hopefully hot or bashful. You're probably blushing hard right now at the sight of his cock, so much better than Leon, you will want a real man to pop your cherry and-

'ping!' Theeeere you go pretty girl, you sure kept him waiting-

'>:('

[ramp-it-up]

Worth the Fall

Summary: James Bucky Barnes WAS an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. You came along and knocked him on his face. Despite the fact you have questions about Bucky and your parents’ conversation at Thanksgiving, you’re hitting your groove as a couple, but there is no time for alone time.

Word count: 3.4 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This part of the story is getting everything caught up to a month ago, lmao. Thank you for continuing to rock with this story. And let me know if you like it (I hope you do!)

This fic is in the Knock You Down AU, and comes immediately after both You've Got Me Thinking and the Steve Rogers fic Peach III.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Initial angst, Steve and Peach, Bucky’s anxiety. No time for nookie! Flirting Intimations of sexting and phone sex. Praise kink, fluffy Bucky, horny Bucky, dom Bucky. F@cking versus making love, wall time, sex with clothes on, raw p in v, creampie, after care, intimations of oral (f receiving!) dirty talk, Bucky applies for a second job. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

————

You walked along the sand and inhaled the ocean air.

You were shaken to the core. 

Bucky Barnes had surely just taken your parents out to ask for your hand in marriage. But it was so soon, how could he be so sure?

Also, you were an independent woman. How dare he talk to your parents before he asked you to marry him!

He wasn’t your feudal lord.

You were scared witless and turned to the waves to try and calm down. 

“He loves the hell out of you, you know.”

Steve had fallen in beside you as you stared at the ocean. You looked up at him, trying to smile, but failing. To Steve you looked terrified.

“It’s just so….”

Steve smiled to himself, remembering that Bucky had purchased the ring weeks before, after just a few days of knowing you. But that wasn’t his story to tell.

“Just know that I’ve never seen him like this. And I’ve known him since we were kids. He’s never been so open, so determined with a woman before. You make him a better man. It’s truly amazing.”

Steve looked so earnest. Your cousin had done quite a number on him.

“You don’t have to be scared. You are ‘The One’ for him.”

This time you managed a smile and an arched eyebrow. You had a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about his best friend.

Steve chuckled.

“Gah. Don’t look at me like that. You and Peach and that eyebrow.”

You laughed at that and grinned, more relaxed now.

Steve looked off into the waves himself.

“So fucking cute…”

He looked down and kicked a rock, a small smile on his face. You could tell he had it bad.

“Thanks for the pep talk Steve-o. And I get what you’re saying. I love Bucky Barnes with all my might, making every other relationship I’ve ever had seem… trivial.”

You glanced at Steve, who was nodding at your sentiment.

“I’m just spooked at the possibilities. I mean…this seems…like a lot.”

“I know. Bucky gets intense.”

You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Understatement of the year. And you’re a lot like your friend.”

Steve looked at you, one eye closed from the sunlight in his eyes. He didn’t have any sunglasses and the sun highlighted his windswept hair and the planes of his handsome face. You were squinting at him and you could totally see why Peach let him touch her goodies. 

Steve was kinda hot.

You sighed.

“Listen. I’ll be alright. Bucky and I just need to chat.”

Steve smirked.

“Chat. Is that what the kids call it now?”

You laughed and swatted him on the arm as you continued walking again.

“Fuck you, Steve. But for real. Thank you for checking on me. I appreciate it. And I love you for it. I just wish my cousin could see this side of you.”

Steve scoffed.

“Fucked that up good, didn’t I?”

“Not gonna lie, she’s kinda blinded by rage right now. But don’t give up on her. She’ll come around.”

Steve looked at you skeptically and you shrugged.

“80– 75% chance she’ll come around.”

You both laughed.

“Just remember what I said yesterday. She’s a tough nut, but she has a huge heart behind that wall. She is determined about the success of that dance school and she is competitive as fuck. You know what to do.”

Steve grinned. 

“Yes ma’am, I do.”

—-

You and Steve re-entered the kitchen laughing, you holding on to his arm. 

Peach was at the table drinking coffee and dedicated to ignoring Steve.

“Thanks again for the pep talk Steve. I appreciate it.”

You gave him a long hug and when you separated, you saw Peach’s eyebrow cocked in what you could only imagine was the way Steve described. You stifled a giggle and leaned up on your tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“You better stop before Bucky comes back and chops me in the throat.”

Peach humphed, and you knew exactly what she was thinking.

You laughed at Steve as he headed toward the stairs, ignoring Peach right back.

“I’m gonna go get my running shoes. A turn down the beach will help me get some of this tension out.”

You watched Peach as she watched Steve roll his neck and stretch on his way out of the room, her coffee stalled in mid air. Her head was on a swivel as he walked out of the room, checking out his formidable ass. She sighed and then remembered that you were there.

You looked at her and she looked at you.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I didn’t say a word, cousin. Yet. But we will talk later. Any coffee left?”

—-

The week ended up smoother than when Bucky and Steve arrived, and before you and he and Steve left on the jet back to New York, Bucky surprised everyone with an invitation to Vermont for Christmas. 

Your heart did a funny little thing because why would he invite your entire family on an all expense holiday vacation from Christmas Eve to New Years unless he was going to…

You couldn’t dwell on what ifs, and you didn’t want to spook yourself. You just decided to appreciate the moment.

It was funny watching your cousin’s face and the corresponding look on Steve’s. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be stressful at all.

Perhaps there would be entertainment.

—---

Later, back in Brooklyn, there was a whirlwind of activity as the Rebirth Foundation geared up for the annual summit and gala. 

During the second week in December, Rebirth Endowment recipients (which included your cousin this year!) flew in, were oriented and toured around New York City. The two culminating events were the summit, held at NYU, where there was an art lecture series, a panel, and the gala. 

Steve usually participated in the summit by himself, with Sam or Natasha sometimes joining him on stage along with the city’s movers and shakers in the art scene.

But this year Bucky was participating.

He said he wanted to be more prominent in the Art community moving forward as a path toward legitimacy, and you knew that tangentially, that had something to do with you.

When you got back from Thanksgiving, there was a week to prepare for the activities. Your Arts and Culture Alliance in Brownsville, as a part of Rebirth through the Howard Benson exhibit, was a stop on the tour, and you had a ton of work to do. 

Bucky and his three partners obviously had their own long list of to dos, but he also needed to be there for Steve, who was a wreck at the thought of Peach coming into town. 

Steve was so far gone.

But James Buchanan Barnes.

You’d never seen Bucky Barnes shook. 

Sure, you’d seen him excited, impatient, horny, angry, and a little irritated, but never truly nervous.

And you shouldn’t have thought it, but it was adorable. 

Friday night, you met your cousin at the airport and witnessed the beginning of her downfall. The cocktail reception later at the hotel had her, and by proxy your own, head spinning. 

You grinned at the way Steve was handling everything. 

Bucky was beautiful and you admired him as he toasted the guests, his beautiful tenor a nice contrast from Steve’s baritone as they both gave their salutations. Only you knew how anxious he was to speak in front of people and for everything to go well. You felt privileged.

You realized that James Buchanan Barnes was a good man who just wanted to be better for you and for his community.

And suddenly you were not afraid of a future with him.

—-

During this time, you two shared brief cuddles and quick kisses, furtive touches and brief bouts of handholding when you saw each other at events. The mornings meant salacious pictures and quick phone sex to take the edge off, but you weren’t able to luxuriate in each other as you usually did.

You missed Bucky’s full attention, but the fact that you were working together on something worthwhile was the shit. You loved this man and you wanted to work beside him as an equal, not just be his sex toy.

This was the week that you fell completely in love with Bucky Barnes.

Thursday was the day of the Rebirth Art Summit and Bucky was pacing up and down his home office, reading glasses switching locations from perched on top of his head, to his delectable mouth, to his handsome face as he reviewed his notes.

You looked up from the ones in your hands with which you were quizzing him and smiled at him.

“Jamie, it’s going to be okay.”

He stopped to look at you, a faint smile on his face. He came over and pecked you on the lips and gave you a hug.

“‘M so glad you are here tonight, even though you tried to stay away.”

You sighed into his chest and took a deep breath, inhaling his Bucky smell.

“I wasn’t trying to avoid you, I was just giving you space. I know tomorrow is important to you and I don’t want to distract—”

“Frumoasă. You don’t distract from anything. If anything, you add to my life. You add so, so much. I love you. And I miss you. I want you here with me tonight.”

You melted into him, chuckled and shook your head as he held you. This feeling was crazy.

“What?”

You heard his voice in his chest, but he didn’t move, except to sway just a little, as if soothing you. It worked.

“I love you too, Bucky. And I miss you too. So much. It’s wild to feel so much in such a short amount of time.”

You and Bucky had only been together about three months, but you knew this was it.

“When you know, you know, my love. And we shouldn’t waste any more time.”

You hugged him tighter. What was understood didn’t need to be said.

He kissed the top of your head and then moved back so he could see into your eyes.

“And having you in my space while I get ready for an important event is everything.”

You looked him in the eye, thinking of sucking his dick for being such a dream.

“Bucky…”

Bucky took your hand and raised it to his lips.

“Don’t look at me like that, Frumoasă. I will be forced to fuck you all night long, something that is long overdue.”

He kissed your forehead.

“But there is much work to do.”

You cast your eyes down and whispered, “You’re right.”

Bucky took you in, looking so demure and being so patient with him. It was such a turn on.

“Such a Good Girl for me.”

You wanted to fall to your knees, but you just bit your lip and went to sit back down, crossing your legs as you began quizzing him again. 

Soon, you told your pulsing pussy. Soon.

You worked late into the night and soon dozed on the leather couch in his study. The next morning, you woke in Bucky’s bed with a sweet note on your pillow. You smiled and knew that he’d carried you to bed and held you all night long.

—--

“You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

You sucked your teeth at your cousin’s comment, but you didn’t pull your gaze away from Bucky up on the dias the next day at NYU. 

You were proud and in awe of your man. Your smirk turned into a grin as he glanced at you and started to speak.

You were down bad. And Bucky was too. After almost two weeks with little to no physicality, your energy was at supernova strength and about to cause a black hole in the universe.

That’s how intense this thing was. 

You were wet and hard and soft in all the right places.

Bucky had to pause frequently for the interpreter, and it gave you a chance to make googly eyes at each other. You ignored Peach’s subtle retching noises as you concentrated on Bucky. But you cut your eyes over to her while Steve spoke and found her visibly eye fucking him. You smirked when she noticed you noticing.

“Bucky is pretty much the man.”

She was trying to distract you. You laughed.

“Fucking-A.” 

You nodded up at the stage.

“Steve is the shit too.”

You were shocked as hell when she responded.

“He’s amazing. I had no idea everything that he does. Have to say, I’m impressed.”

You elected not to tease her about her response. It seemed as if Steve was working the plan.

You resumed watched as Bucky did his thing. He was glowing, handsome and impressive as hell. No one would believe he was as introverted as he was. But he was flourishing in the spotlight, seemingly born for his. He exuded confidence. 

It was such a turn on.

—-

Bucky watched you watching him and talking to your cousin and knew your tells. You were probably wet and ready for him. He briefly thought of what he was going to do to you later before he refocused on the task at hand. Knowing you were there for him was such motivation.

When he made his way back over to you, you were an angel, giving him a huge hug and exclaiming, “You were so fucking good up there, Jamie! I’m so proud of you.”

Bucky felt his heart explode and although someone was pulling him away from you, he mouthed a promise in your direction.

—-

“Later...”

You definitely read those sexy lips and your heart started racing. You looked around for your cousin, expecting to be roasted, but she was nowhere to be found. You shrugged and made your way to the subway, assuming that she was gathering with the other recipients. There was more work to do in Brownsville and you were busy anticipating the night.

You waited all day for Bucky’s text to tell you what time Nico was picking you up, but it never came. The rest of the day flew by and by the time you were walking home, daydreaming of dressing up for the gala tomorrow night and what Bucky might wear, you happened to check your phone and saw messages he’d sent just 10 minutes before:

You looked so good today. Especially this morning. Good enough to eat.

I’ll be at your place in 30. Wear that bra, no top, that skirt, no panties, and those heels.

You blushed and thought of the mirror selfie of the cream lace lingerie set you were wearing underneath your cream colored cowl neck sweater and grey wool pencil skirt that matched your grey wool coat.

Yes, Daddy, you replied and picked up the pace to make it to your brownstone ahead of him, your heart beating a mile a minute.

You thought you were prepared when you opened the door after Bucky knocked, but you weren’t.

In fact, you were shaking with anticipation.

There he was, bundled up from the cold, but those blue eyes sparkling down at you.

Bucky stared at you for a beat, and then walked toward you, taking your face in his hands and backing you up against the entryway wall, kicking the door closed behind him.

“My Frumoasă. So good. So perfect”

And then he leaned down and kissed you.

—-

Bucky had the strangest thought as you opened your door.

I’m home.

Although this was not his place, he realized that you were his home and that he couldn’t wait to make you his wife. His eyes swept down your form, pleased that you had followed instructions. You were such a badass, capable woman and partner and he just had to be inside you soon. 

He complimented you and his cock stiffened as your mouth parted in desire. He knew your praise kink very well. Bucky cradled your beautiful face and moved inside to kiss you.

His demanding mouth parted your trembling lips, sending tremors through your body. You clung to the lapels of his coat to tether you to earth as his tongue invaded your mouth. You suckled it, previewing what you wanted to do with his cock later. 

He pulled away, his bright blue eyes blazing, and his jaw clenched so tight as he shrugged out of his winter coat. If you didn’t know him so well, you’d think he was angry, but the look was desire. 

And only for you. You grew warm from the inside out.

“I can’t wait. Wanna make love to you, but I have to fuck you now.”

Bucky bent his knees and grabbed your thighs, prompting you to wrap your legs around him and hold on to him as he walked you over to your couch.

You attacked his face as you were sat down firmly on the bulge in his pants and Bucky accepted your assault, chuckling as you kissed him from his hairline, to his forehead, down his nose, each cheek, skipping over his lips to his stubbly dimpled chin and finally back to that mouth. When he kissed you again, his hands were everywhere, starting at the nape of your hair, pulling so your neck was exposed as his mouth moved down to mark you up, then trailing down to your fine lace bra cups.

Bucky palmed your full breasts, weighing them in his hands and watching your face as he twisted your nipples. You nipples tightened under his touch and you arched your back, moving and giving him a view of what was underneath your skirt. He admired your ardor, you squirming and moaning on his lap.

It was his dream come true.

“So fucking hot, Frumoasa. I’ve been craving you. All day. All week. Ever since Thanksgiving. Since I first laid eyes on you.”

“Bucky…need you.”

You grasped the lapels of his jacket as his hand traveled down your torso and as he leaned down to travel under the hem of your skirt. Your soft fingers peeled his jacket away and unbuttoned his shirt. You opened it and ran your hands down his chest, rubbing his nipples with your thumb and trailed your hand down to his happy trail and proceeded to try and undo his belt buckle.

Bucky grew hot at the warmth of your thick thighs and the way your cunt was so hot that he could feel it through his pants. 

He had to have it. 

Panting now and desperate, Bucky tugged your skirt up, flashing your bare pussy, but it was difficult to get rid of because it was still buttoned. It slipped out of his hands and he grunted in frustration.

“Ah, poor baby…” 

You leaned forward, brushing the locks of hair that had fallen into his flushed face, grazing your nipples across your chest with a sexy smile.  Bucky whimpered and you smirked at his desperation. You slowly reached behind you to your zipper, pushing your chest toward Bucky’s face. He licked his lips and pulled your bra cups down, causing your warm breasts to spill out and his hands to be drawn to them again like magnets as he watched you loosen your skirt.

When you grabbed the hem to bring it over your head, he released you, watching as the fabric moved above your crotch.

Your pussy. Fuck.

Bucky could never get enough of staring at it, the dark petals, which were spread open for him as you sat on his lap were calling his name. He licked his lips, suddenly parched.

“What are you thinking about, Bucky?”

You had a pretty good idea, but you wanted, no needed, to hear Bucky’s voice right now. You reached behind you again as you unclasped your bra and suddenly you were naked on an essentially fully dressed Bucky Barnes.

It was sexy as hell. 

“I’m thinking that your pussy is a work of art, Frumoasă. It’s perfect. I’m thinking that I want to spend at least eight hours a day between your legs, make you cum over and over again, make you beg me to stop, and to start again. How I want you to taste you and make you squirt so I can swallow you down…”

You moaned and started grinding on his bulge, causing Bucky to curse.

“Damn, Baby. You’re gonna make me jizz in my pants like a teenager.”

Bucky grabbed your ass and reached between you to tease your clit, feeling how wet you were.

“Fuuuuuck, you’re so wet.”

Bucky’s eyes rolled as he grabbed your waist and lifted you to your knees on either side of him as he unzipped his pants and pulled them and his underwear just down past his ass to get his cock out. He grabbed your cheek as he stroked himself and rubbed his thick cock head in your juicy pussy.

“Fuck me Frumoasa. Slide down this dick for me.”

You brushed Bucky’s hair off his forehead again as you nodded and started to slide down his fat, hard cock. Your head lolled back on your neck as you reached the root of him.

“Oh… Bucky… Fuck….”

You could feel Bucky pounding inside you, long thick cock battering your cervix and you whined, leaning back and working your hips as Bucky fucked up into you and thumbed your clit while the other hand guided you up and down his dick. 

His jaw was clenched and his eyes were shining as he looked up at you. You knew he was close and you couldn’t take it.

He started to speak and you knew it was over.

“Frumoasă. I-I’m gonna need you to… oh holy fuckkkkkk!”

His stutter made you start to cum.

As soon as your pussy started spasming around him, Bucky started shooting his spend all over your warm walls causing you to convulse and hug his head to your chest. He clutched you to him, whimpering as he held onto you for dear life as he came.

He collapsed backwards, taking you with him as you became boneless in his arms. You rolled off of him and curled up on the couch as Bucky stood and untangled himself from his clothes.

You closed your eyes for a minute as he got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm cloth to clean you up. When he finished, he kissed your forehead and gathered you up in his arms.

“You turn me on like no one else, Frumoasă. You’re it for me. I love you.”

You cuddled into him as he lay you in your bed.

“Me too, Bucky. You’re my one. I love you, too.”

Bucky kissed your forehead again, and then proceeded to move down your body.

“Good, now. I need to clock into my main occupation. Hour one of eight.…”

—-

If you like it, hit Reblog! ☺️

Read the next part, Peach IV (SR)

[elusivedew]

💌 | Cubitum eamus ?

✧ synopsis ⤐ it takes you 2 years from the minute you meet spencer to confess how much you like him, and it all happens on a random wednesday night.

✧ contains ⤐ friends to lovers but they both know what's up, s3 spencer who's been through a handful of shit, brief mention of alcohol consumption on two occasions!!suggestive themes but no straight up smut, spencer reid experiences happiness for once, reader is his only hope in life, reader wants him real bad and he knows. My spencer reid debut yay! Title translates to "will you go to bed with me?" w.c ~ 9.2k

Working at the BAU is not an easy job. In fact, Spencer thinks, working at any unit in the FBI is the closest thing you'll ever get to hell on earth. This feeling of agitation and exhaustion seems to aggravate every time he's working on a particularly draining case. Not only does the content of the cases get into his head often, and sometimes into his dreams, but he's also been directly harmed by the criminals they’re chasing. How can you remain completely objective about something when you become a victim too?

Over the few years he's worked in the BAU, he's received more harm than he ever expected. Drug addiction was not something he had in his five-year plan when he first joined the FBI. It's not something anyone who works in law enforcement expects, really. 

Needless to say, he's tired. The kind of fatigue that makes you bedridden for days. 

He also happens to be alone on a Tuesday night in the middle of June. 

The latest case he worked on took a little over two weeks to wrap up, an unsub that likes to take his time and has such a disorganized MO that it was almost impossible to see the patterns. All the physical and mental work completely knocked everyone off their feet, except for him. His colleagues all went home and passed out of exhaustion, and he’s still up. 

Spencer can't sleep. He's too busy thinking. 

It's something he does a lot, for his job, for himself, for the duration of his whole life. The gears have been turning in his head since his very first word, the minute ‘mama’ was out of his baby mouth, he’d been tasked with the weight of the whole fucking universe. The price of knowing so much from a young age has cost him a lot. And tonight, it specifically costs him his peace, his right to pass out after a long day of work. 

And he'd love, more than anything, to have an off button somewhere inside. But because that hasn't been invented yet, and his nervous system feels like it's on fire, he's still up by the time it's 10 pm. It’s not late, objectively, but he’s been home for more than three hours now. He tried a lot of sleep remedies— herbal tea, audiobooks, aroma therapy, hell, even exercising to tire himself out, but all of them failed. And now he's just left with sore muscles and an even more tired brain. 

By the time it's 11 pm, he's lying on his couch, feeling like death. His head is pounding with the feeling of an oncoming migraine, and he knows that he’s in for a particularly long night.

That's when his phone rings, and because he’s so alert and so sensitive to stimuli at the moment, he almost kicks it off the coffee table. But he doesn’t do that, because he’s still a little sane despite everything.

Instead, he reaches over and checks the contact name, and his whole face lights up. He feels absolutely ridiculous for not making this call first, because his nervous system is now very much alive— and not in a way that makes him feel like an overheating microwave, no, this is a good thing. And good things don’t happen to him often. He runs his hand through his hair, a nervous habit, and picks up the call. 

Suddenly being awake doesn't feel so bad. 

“Agent Reid.”

Your voice comes through the phone like a cool breeze of air during the grueling heat of June. He finds himself relaxing a little, releasing tension he didn't know he had in his muscles when he was so distracted just a few minutes before.

“I'm begging you to stop calling me that.” 

“Aww, why not? I like feeling like your boss,” you're smiling on the other end, he can hear it, “what's his name again? Aaron?” 

He rubs his temple with a smile he can't fight off, “That's agent Hotchner to you.” 

You laugh and he feels proud of himself for eliciting such a pleasant sound out of you. He's immediately thinking of other ways to get that sound out again. If Morgan could see him now, he'd never let him hear the end of it. 

The good thing about you and Spencer is that no one knows. Not his colleagues, not your friends, not your families. That's the good thing, you get to keep this precious thing between the two of you. The bad thing is that you're not really together. You're not even romantically involved, you've never uttered the four-letter L-word around each other (like or love, both), and you don't even really flirt with each other. 

To put it into simple words, you and Spencer are just friends. 

But friends who relieve each other's stress nonetheless, and god knows Spencer needs that right now. 

“You're back from your recent trip, right?” You ask, audibly crunching on something. It sounds like you're also lying on your couch, he wonders if you were going through something similar when you decided to pick up the phone and call.

“Yeah, thank god.” 

“I take it that it wasn't a very good one then? I mean, none of them are good but, I'm guessing some are worse than others.” 

Spencer sighs, “You guess correctly.” 

“How are you feeling?” Your voice is softer when you ask, concerned, and even though he doesn't like to make you worry, your well-intended question is a very welcome sentiment. He’s almost relieved knowing that there's someone who'll always ask, someone who'll always notice. 

“Not very good. Tired.” It's a short answer, but he knows you understand. You've understood him for a very long time now, nearly two years of knowing each other. 

“It sounds like you had a very long day.” A very long month. “Why didn't you try to catch some Zs?” 

The way you phrase it makes him snort, and he knows you're proud of yourself for that one. “I can't, me and the Zs never had a very good relationship. Trust me, if I could turn my brain off, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” 

You hum, “Do you wanna talk about it? I could give you some very valuable, life-changing insight, maybe you'll be able to go to sleep after.” 

He smiles, “I've actually had enough of this case, I'd like to talk about something else.” 

“Oh, I can definitely do that. Tell me, what did you have for breakfast?” 

Breakfast is a terrible topic, meals in general, because you know that he misses a lot of his meals when he's on the job. You always lecture him for it, berating him for being so skinny at his big age, but it's always underlined by concern. He knows you worry about him, he wouldn't blame you. 

“Not much…” He trails off, knowing you'll catch on. 

“Oh honey, I know your eating and sleeping habits are fucked, but can't you at least lie to me?” 

The way you call him honey should not be making his stomach turn like that. 

“I could never lie to you.” 

“You literally just did.” 

You both laugh and he's so, so glad you called. If he didn't think you were asleep he'd have called you first. 

“Okay well, I didn't ask that question to find out something I already know. I asked because remember that café we were constantly visiting before you went on this trip? They finally brought the chocolate chip cookies back.” 

The chocolate chip cookies case (the quadruple c) is a very vital issue in your relationship with Spencer. Because for weeks, the both of you have been visiting that place close to your apartment, hoping to get some chocolate chip cookies, only to be met by raisins. It was a very devastating experience for both of you, having to settle for something else on the menu every time. But now it’s okay! The chocolate chip cookies are back. 

Spencer is so glad he's done with his silly criminal case so he can focus on the real problems at hand.

“And I was thinking, if you're not too tired tomorrow, should we have breakfast together?” 

It's sweet, it's earnest, it's you.

It's such a characteristic gesture, asking him to have breakfast with you after particularly draining cases, checking on him as soon as you can tell he's home, and sounding so sweet and concerned over the phone when you know he's feeling down. It’s the small, thoughtful actions coming from you that have helped him keep it together so far. 

And the feelings that thought brings out in him lead him to realize, in those few seconds, that he liked you much more than he planned on. Not that he ever planned to like you in the first place, but he thought it was a small crush that would eventually go away, it’s happened before with the pretty women he befriends, and he didn’t think this time would be different. 

But it was, and now he’s totally screwed because he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to say no to you. 

“Absolutely, I can't wait to have those chocolate cookies again.” 

You're ecstatic over his response, your tone picking up about 3 octaves when you jump to discussing the other plans you have this week. Your favorite artist is releasing an album soon, your favorite game is finally available at the video game store, the finale of that show you've been talking to him about is airing in two days, and it seems like your life is full of positive sequences.

The juxtaposition between what he sees at work and the enthusiasm you bring into his life almost gives him a headache, but it could very well be sleep deprivation. He wonders if all the misfortunes that have happened to him are the evil equivalents of the things you brought into his life. 

But if all the bad things that have happened to him and around him got compensated by you, he doesn't find it such a bad tradeoff. Because meeting you on a random Monday night and somehow catching your attention enough for you to leave him your number— even when he was so frazzled by the need for coffee so he could grind out some paperwork before his deadline— it feels like he used up all his luck on that fateful encounter.

And having someone he could always meet up with, outside of work, has been very grounding. 

You talk his ears off for the rest of the night, rambling about one thing or the other until his eyelids get heavy again, and he feels tired enough to sleep. You tell him that's been your plan all along and wish him a good night. 

Later, when he’s under the covers of his bed, drifting off to sleep, for a few minutes his brain isn't aggravating him with the thoughts that have been haunting him all day. For a few minutes, all he can think about is you.

He is so fucked.

Emily Prentiss is a very smart agent. 

She’s been told that ever since she was a little girl, and though it was often complimentary, people sucking up to her mom and whatnot, it was never a complete lie. She grew up thirsty for knowledge, mastering everything she could get her hands on, and even as an adult with a grown up job, she continues to excel at what she does

But then, if she's so smart, why the hell can she not figure out why Spencer Reid is so giddy while doing his paperwork? 

It may have to do with the fact that it's Spencer, and that kid has always been a little perplexing to her. He's bright and brilliant, but she could never truly understand how his mind works. But, at the same time, there's such a thing as habits, and Spencer is not typically so smiley while doing paperwork. No one is smiley while doing paperwork in this line of work, because it makes you relive the nightmares. For goodness’s sake, this is the behavioral analysis unit, and Spencer is behaving weirdly. 

It seems like she isn’t the only agent at the office who noticed the peculiarity. Agent Morgan stands behind her, his third cup of coffee in his hand, squinting at the young doctor. They observe him like a wild animal in his natural habitat; had they not been so tired from all the work, they would’ve been picking on him by now.

When Emily feels her presence behind him, she turns around, and they exchange a mutual look of understanding. They've never seen Reid act like that in the time that they’ve worked together, and they know one thing that they've never seen him experience during that time either. 

They realize it at the same time, and Morgan nearly drops his coffee. 

Spencer Reid is in love.

There have been many misfortunes in the 25 years that you've been on this earth, and you're convinced that a lot of them have been aimed at you. You're the only person who has ever suffered that much during your whole life, it's a known fact. It's a fact that you like to remind Spencer of, to make him feel better about his work, and when he laughs at it, you remind him that people called Jesus a liar too.

You've been through a lot of suffering, but the task of getting dressed before Spencer knocks on your door in approximately ten minutes may just be the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

He thinks that just because he has a day off, he could pressure you into a sudden— very much unplanned— date? He thinks that shooting you a text to get dressed so you can go to the record store and then have dinner only twenty minutes before you're supposed to do the aforementioned activities is allowed? He's absolutely right, and you hate him for it. 

Not that it's really a date, you know you and Spencer have never crossed that line, but it feels like it. Especially if he's making you feel like a teenage girl high on hormones having her very first crush. Her very first date. The particular action you're thinking about has to be kept to yourself, just so you don't jinx it. 

You really shouldn't be thinking about that when you still haven't figured out which outfit to wear. More thinking about clothes, less thinking about boys. Specifically one boy. 

It takes all your willpower and energy to finish getting ready in those ten minutes. You settle for your most comfortable pair of jeans and a white button-down with a vest over it, and for good measure, you throw your coat on— the long beige-brown trench coat that makes you feel like you're Sherlock Holmes about to solve a crime. You realize that it's very fitting for an outing with a profiler, he's kind of like Sherlock Holmes if you think about it. 

It's fall now, and it's much more chilly. You hope your precious profiler brought his own coat because, as much as you care for him, you won't be lending him yours.

When he rings your doorbell, you're finishing up and tossing the rest of the necessities into your bag. You make him wait for a minute, to avoid seeming eager, and then make your way to the door.

The minute you lay your eyes on him, you feel sick to your stomach.

Spencer Reid is beautiful, this is a fact that you've known ever since you met. He pulls off the dorky yet hot look so well, with that stupid smile of his when he talks like a smartass. And you're reminded of this every time you see him, the fact that he's so adorable that it physically hurts to keep your hands off him all the time. Tonight is no different, he's dressed in a dark button-down with a brown vest over it, covered by a beige coat that contrasts the dark colors beautifully. It takes you a couple seconds to realize you're wearing similar outfits, almost like a matching couple.

“Copycat.” You accuse, fighting off a smile with warm cheeks. He grins in retaliation, “Hello to you too.”

God, he’s beautiful. In the dim light of your apartment's entrance, you catch the gleam of his eyes. They're warm, earthy, and familiar, you don't think you'd ever stop staring at his eyes if you had the chance to do it without looking crazy. His eyelashes are unfairly long, and his light brown hair forms waves around his face like a frame around an artwork. He always tucks a few stray strands behind his ear, and you always mess it up for him– which is something you do for two reasons, you like annoying him, and you desperately want to touch his hair. It’s just simply unfair for him to be born that beautiful. 

He seems to notice you staring because his cheeks are a little pink, and he has a little bashful smile on his face. “Ready to go?” He scans your form like the little detective he is, “Looks like you could get ready in 20 minutes after all.” 

Now you remember why you were so annoyed at him, good looks be damned. 

“Oh shut up, never do that again.” 

“Or what? You'll cuss me over text messages again? How will I ever live with that.” 

His shy smile is replaced with a smug grin, and you hate to admit it, but it's one of your favorite looks on him. Because Spencer isn't always able to genuinely smile like that, he's usually stressed about one thing or the other; and knowing him, he's always reliving some terrible event that happened in the past two years, and sometimes even further back in time. So while his amusement comes at your expense, you'd rather see him smiling like this all the time. 

“God, you're so mean to me.” 

Even though you mean to sound stern, you can't hide your smile. 

You pick up your keys from the hanger by the door and toss them into your handbag, he follows your movements with his eyes, “that's not true. I'm always so nice to you, sometimes a little too nice.” 

You lock your door behind you and give him a fake offended look, “You could never be too nice to me. Let's go, agent Reid. We've got a long night ahead of us.” 

Then you're strutting ahead of him, motioning for him to follow you like a helpless little intern. Even though he rolls his eyes and laughs in disbelief, he ends up following you anyway.

‘Albert’s records’ has been your favorite record store since you moved into your apartment in Quantico— and not only because you’ve met Albert, the sweetest little old man to ever exist, but also because Spencer always looks mystified inside the store. It’s like something about vintage things just makes him tick. 

You're checking out vinyls that are selling for discounted prices, old pieces of famous artists and commonly known albums, while he's looking at the posters on the walls, admiring the artistic work of the rustic-looking store. He’s always trailing behind you, and you don't mind because it makes you feel safe and cared for. You didn't know being trailed by an FBI agent could feel so comforting. 

Your eyes catch on a certain record, and you turn around, “Hey, Spencer.” 

He stops eyeing the posters on the wall and turns to you, hair falling over his shoulders adorably. 

“What do you think of this?” 

You're holding a classic black Billy Joel vinyl in your hand, careful not to hold it too tightly. It's his 1977 release of The Stranger, an album you're not too familiar with. You've only listened to Vienna and a few other songs. Spencer eyes the cover carefully like it triggers a memory deep inside his brain. You're expecting him to go on a tangent about Billy Joel and 70s music, but you're instead met by a very sentimental response. 

“My mom loved that one.” 

He's quiet, using that careful but lost tone of voice, and you worry that you accidentally triggered something unpleasant. You knew Spencer had a complicated relationship with his parents, namely his mother. On the rare occasion where he had a few too many drinks, he spilled a lot more than he intended to. Drunk Spencer was always so painfully honest and you admired how easily his filter would come off a few drinks in, but you never wanted him to feel embarrassed by it. On those particularly emotional nights— after he calls you to pick him up because he's too drunk to drive— you would listen to him ramble the whole drive to your apartment, force him to stay over so you can take care of his pounding headache in the morning, and hold him until he passes out on your couch like a partying college student. 

Something he’s never been before.

Those incidents have led you to know more about Spencer than he ever thought he could share, and one of those sensitive topics just happens to be his mom. It's not an uncomfortable topic, you've talked about it before when he's not too drunk to realize what's going on. Even though it was hard for him at first, talking about it became easier the more he shared, you understood more and more things without him telling you. 

And because you’ve talked about it, you're not scared of his response when you ask with a lighthearted smile, “is that a bad thing?” 

That seems to bring him back to earth, and he gives you a reassuring smile, “No, not at all, just brought me back to some memories I'd honestly forgotten about.” 

You hold the record to your chest, almost certain that you're going to buy it now, “Well would you like to make some new memories in relation to this record?” 

Would you like to come to my apartment and listen to it with me?

“Yeah, I'd love to.” He smiles in a way that makes you feel a little lightheaded, knowing he's comfortable sharing this much of himself with you. It's so intimate, knowing that in this public store, you're still sharing private moments that no one else knows about.

You’re about to go back to checking out vinyls, trying to conceal the giddy feeling bubbling in your chest, when a high-pitched voice intrudes on the moment you were having with Spencer. 

“Oh my god.” 

You both turn to look at the source of the voice and when you look to Spencer to see what this is about, he looks like he recognizes the source. He looks terrified. Your gaze falls on two blonde girls, one gaping at the sight of you, and the other being the source of the dramatic reaction that broke through the silence a few minutes ago.

Her blonde hair is styled in waves and she's wearing such a colorful, creative ensemble that you're mesmerized by the intricate details of her outfit. The hair clips, the makeup, the platforms that she's wearing, you wanted to talk to this girl so bad. 

And it seems like you're in luck today, because she's immediately rushing to your side with wide mesmerized eyes.

“Wonderboy, you've been hiding her from us for how long exactly?” 

You're guessing “wonderboy” is Spencer since she seems to be his friend and your chest feels warm knowing his friends nickname him such cute things. Spencer deserves to be known for all his good traits after all, and he sure as hell is your boy of wonder. 

“Garcia, please, I'm begging you to act normal about this right now.” He mutters, trying his best to keep this conversation quiet.

She shakes her head, “This is the most normal I can act about you hiding a girl from us.” Then she turns to you again, extending her arm for you to shake. You eagerly extend yours back. “Penelope Garcia, tech analyst at the FBI, and genius boy's co-worker. Oh and, your source for any dirt you want on genius Reid over here.” 

That explains how someone like her is in Spencer's social circle, but it doesn't explain how someone so bubbly could work at such a gloomy unit. Working for the government when she should be at the club? It's a crime to you. 

“They're keeping a gem like you in a dark, creepy room to dig up information for them?” 

You honestly didn't know you could commit such flattery and Spencer is looking at you in disbelief, but she giggles at your poorly concealed flirting and you feel proud of yourself. 

“Oh, wonder boy, how did you ever snag a wonderful girl like her.” 

Spencer is blushing so hard at this point you could probably fry an egg on his face. You're introducing yourself to Penelope, filling her in on your occupation, when the other blonde introduces herself as Jennifer Jareau, JJ for short, and she's even more excited to meet you. 

She's also heavily pregnant, and you hope that she's currently on maternity leave. 

“We were looking for more records that this little guy here could listen to, it's incredibly engaging to include him in our vinyl pick-out process.” JJ rubs her stomach as she explains and you're so fascinated by the idea of childbearing and birth for a few seconds that you almost forget that it's terrifying. 

“What about you guys?” Penelope jumps in, eager to put Spencer on the spot again. 

“Oh we, uh,” Spencer's eyes shift between you and the two girls, like he's surrounded and begging you for help, “we're just checking out the vinyls on sale.” 

“Yeah, I was honestly waiting for these discounts because I'm not selling a kidney for some records, you know?” You step in, hoping to take some heat off Spencer, because the poor boy looks like he’s about to combust.

You're also well aware that the two girls in front of you think you and Spencer are dating, but they haven't said it out loud and Spencer hasn't attempted to correct their assumptions, so why would you be the one to ruin their fun? You'll let them think you're on a date. 

“Oh that's so true,” Penelope nods in understanding, “it's like I just want to listen to music, you know?” 

You nod in understanding, you do know. 

And you also know that you're absolutely going to adore Penelope Garcia and JJ and everyone that you meet who’s involved in Spencer's life. Even though this meetup is so completely unplanned and coincidental, it makes you excited knowing you can prod Spencer about more details now, talking about work in a way that doesn't concern the cases. You’d kill for some office gossip that doesn’t involve yourself.

“Oh, Morgan is going to lose it when he hears about this,” JJ says, almost talking to herself. 

Penelope jumps to add more wood to the forest fire, “Oh my God, remember what he said to Emily? He was right.” That catches Spencer's attention, “what did he say to Emily?” 

“He said that you're all giggly at work because you're in love.” Penelope answers without missing a beat, and she says it so casually, as if she didn't basically strip Spencer naked right in front of you. 

You’re subtly stealing glances at him from the corner of your eye, suppressing a smile at the way he blushes deeply and looks at the ground as if he wants it to swallow him whole right now. Something tells you you're absolutely going to love Penelope and he's going to pay the price for that relationship. 

“Spencer is giggling at work?” You ask, like she just told you he joined a cult.

Penelope nods eagerly, “Oh yeah, I've never seen someone look so cheerful while doing paperwork, every time I'm out of my office for a coffee refill he's just there giggling to himself like he's hearing voices. Except the voices turned out to just be a pretty girl, which I have to say,” she puts her hand over her heart dramatically, “I’m so glad it did.” 

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, the shame overwhelming him, “I'm begging you to stop talking.” 

Penelope and JJ are giggling, enjoying torturing him like this for your pleasure, and you’re close to joining them, but you choose to stay loyal to Spencer— if only to make sure he doesn’t get a migraine from all this embarrassment. But you're also just giddy, knowing Spencer cannot conceal his infatuation with you to save his life. Despite all the hints here and there that he definitely likes you, and all the discreet touching and staring at your lips when you talk —something you know he can't tell you noticed— the way he doesn't deny any of what's being said tells you that you're, at the very least, a person of interest. 

A person of Spencer's interest. Your smile is getting harder and harder to hide.

“Okay, okay, lovebirds, we'll leave you alone now. But trust me, you haven't heard the end of this, once Derek finds out, oh Spencer Reid, you might never want to step foot in that building ever again.” You nod eagerly, excited to hear more about how they’ll taunt him later on. They give you their rushed goodbyes as Penelope guides JJ outside the store, you can hear her quietly complain about leaving empty-handed when she came all the way, but your mind is someplace else, neurons buzzing with ideas of how to torment Spencer now that you’re alone again.

You turn to look at him, no longer holding back your smile, “so…” 

He immediately puts a finger to your lips, “Don't start.” 

You reach for his hand to move it away, giggling like a schoolgirl, “you're fawning over me at work? Oh my God, Spence, I didn't know you were that far gone, baby.” You hold onto his hand, as a way to restrain him, but also because you just want to hold his hand. 

“I was not fawning, they made it all sound so much worse than it actually was.” You raise your eyebrows at him and he continues, looking more flustered. “I was smiling, can I not smile to myself anymore?” 

You absentmindedly lace your fingers with his, bringing your joint hands to your chest like something precious, “You're smiling like a lovesick fool about me at work, Spencer, you're so fucked.” 

Your amusement is so palpable, and your cheeks hurt from smiling, but there’s also something else there.

Something you haven’t fully experienced before, not its rawness and neediness. Something that you can tell will grow in your chest until it fully conquers your whole body and claims your mind. You don't know what you'll call it yet, but it's something a lot like love. 

“Alright alright, I get it. It's National Embarrassing Spencer day, let's buy this record and get out of here. We have a dinner to get to.” 

The weight of his hand in yours almost made you forget you were still holding the record, handling it so carelessly just to bring him closer. You realize you're drunk on affection, and eager to have more of his attention for the rest of the night. When he doesn't make a move to remove his hand from your hold, only dragging you behind him to check out, you feel like there will be a lot of new developments tonight.

The rest of the night goes as well as you would imagine.

Despite your incessant teasing, you have plenty of conversations that aren't centered around embarrassing Spencer and enjoying it. You sip wine together while he tells you about the letters he's been sending his mom; apparently, he's started telling her about you. While you're surprised he's only just doing it now, he confesses that he wanted to wait until he was sure you'd stay before he made such a decision. Unfortunately, with his line of work, he's right to be worried about things like that, but you stayed anyway, and now his mom knows about you. 

And you have her favorite record in a plastic bag that you carry on the way home. 

When his car pulls up to your building, you're hesitant to get out. You don't feel like the night is over yet. It was lovely and unforgettable, meeting his friends, learning about his mom, and having a very nice dinner together, but you feel like there's still one more topic that needs to be discussed. 

When you don't make a move to get out of the car yet, he calls out your name in concern. You turn to look at him and your gaze is so intense he's almost intimidated.

“Is everything okay?” 

You nod absentmindedly, too lost in trying to figure out what's missing from such a wonderful night. 

“Well, we're here. This is your apartment, you know?” You can tell that's not the sentence he aimed for, but you're aware that Spencer stumbles over his words when he's nervous. You don't fault him for it. 

You give him a genuine smile, “Yeah, I know.” 

Then you're moving to unlock the car door, the newly bought record in your hand, and you get one leg out of the car before you realize exactly what this night is missing. 

“Spencer?” You turn to him, he's already looking at you. 

“Yes?” 

Slowly, carefully, you ask, “would you like to come upstairs?” 

Your apartment is somewhere that he's only seen while extremely drunk, hammered out of his mind. You realize that this is the first time you invite him up when he's actually well enough to walk on his own, and you also realize that it means something to you. You hope it also means something to him. 

“Uh, yeah, sure? If you want me to walk you to your door, I'll definitely do that.” He's picking at the leather covering the wheel, cheeks slightly flushed like they’d been earlier. Multiple times during the night, you note how he’s always glowing red around you like a pulsating organ. Is it the slight chill of the weather or the heat behind your eyes? You hope it’s the latter. 

“I think you know what you want.” 

You weren't sure if he knew, but knowing Spencer, a line like that will trigger him into thinking about it so hard that he'll actually figure it out. You watch the gears turn in his head but he still looks confused, you hope that by the time you get to your door, he'll realize what you're talking about. 

“I'm not sure, but I'll figure it out.” You give him one last smile before you exit the car. 

True to his word, Spencer walks you up to your door after parking his car somewhere close. When you reach the apartment, as you dig for your keys in your purse, he stands next to you, looking a little lost because he clearly didn’t expect this. He fiddles with the ends of his vest while observing you. 

You unlock your door and get inside, leaving it open so he can follow you. You drop your purse on your dining table and lay the record down next to it, watching from the corner of your eye as he steps into your apartment cautiously, like he's stepping over booby traps. 

The door locks and you can't escape the conversation any longer. You also can't bear seeing him so lost, because god blessed him with eyes that make him look like a sad baby deer all the time. And every time he uses them on you, you immediately cave, because letting him suffer feels like letting a baby animal die.

“Spence.” You call, sultry and slow.

If you catch the way he slightly jumps at your voice, you don’t react.

“Yes?” He’s quiet, worried.

You lean back against your table, a relaxed smile on your face, “you know why I brought you here, right?”  

He swallows, tucking his hair behind his ear. “A woman inviting her date up to her apartment could lead to a variety of things, but most commonly it leads to either sexual intercourse or murder.” His cheeks heat up at the words ‘sexual intercourse’ and you want to eat him alive. “And I'm kind of hoping you didn't invite me up here to kill me.” 

You raise an eyebrow, the desire to tease him so strong and unforgiving, “So you hope I'll have sex with you then?” 

That really gets him. His whole face goes red— blood rushing down his neck and up to his ears. He opens his mouth to say something, but he can't. Instead, he just opens and closes it a couple of times, unable to articulate anything. If you were in a different situation, you'd have called him a fish, but you also realize something very critical: he doesn’t deny your previous statement.

“Spencer,” you call his whole name this time, voice low and heavy with something that alarms him further. “Can you come here, please?” 

He hesitantly leaves his spot, taking slow, careful steps to your side. He stands at a considerable distance, making sure he gives you your personal space. If he’d done this at any other time, you’d have been fawning over how considerate he is, but right now you want him as close as possible, personal space be damned. 

Feeling particularly brash, you reach out and pull him closer by a fistful of his shirt. He’s startled, but he lets you move him closer as if he were a rag doll, now you're barely a few inches away from him. Your hand moves to his neck, feeling the warmth that spread there a few minutes ago, the warmth that you caused. If it feels like it's getting warmer under your touch, you don't comment on it. 

It's the first time you've touched him this much, this intimately, and it feels like you've been missing out for the past two years. 

He watches you carefully, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to figure out what you're aiming for. This is probably how he acts at work, you think, staring at something until he’s able to break it open and decipher its message, will he decipher your message too?

You look up at him through long lashes, peering into his eyes, hoping to communicate something with your eyes before you can put it into words. You feel a certain need in your stomach, tying knots and constricting your airways— it's what you guess people would call butterflies. Right now, you'd call it absolutely torture. 

“Spencer.”

It's the third time you've called his name so far, and this time your noses are touching and you practically breathe his name onto his lips. This encourages him to put an arm around your waist and raise the other to cup your face affectionately. You lean into his touch, welcoming the reciprocation.

“I'm here,” his voice is low, more certain now, almost like he figured you out, “you can tell me.” 

You nearly melt in his hands now that he's using that self-assured voice. You love it when he's shy, but god do you adore it when he talks like he knows exactly what to do with you. The things you'd let him do to you would probably get you placed on a watch list, but you don't mind as long as he's the one watching. 

“You know what I want to say, don't you?” 

He blinks, the gold flakes in his eyes so striking when you're this close, “maybe I do, but I'd like to hear you say it.” 

He's in no place to be making such demands. He should be melting in your hands, not the other way around. You shouldn't be getting this weak at the knees just because he's using that stupid husky tone, sounding like he knows all your secrets. But, fuck, he absolutely knows all your secrets. He could probably read you like an open book— which you actually wouldn't mind at all because you've seen the way his hands stroke the pages when he's reading, and you'd love for those fingers to be all over you like they're all over those stupid books.

Your eyes glaze over with desire and you're getting impatient, while he watches you like he's studying your next move. Goddamn profilers and their dirty work. He should be getting dirty with you.

You mutter a quiet fuck and step back to separate your bodies; even though there's no place to go because the table is right there, you're at least not directly face to face anymore. His warm breath on your lips was driving you insane, and you brought him up here to talk, you needed to have this conversation. For your sanity. 

He gives you space, because he's always been so caring and so perceptive about what you need, and the gesture makes you want to bounce on him. You have to remind yourself that if you keep thinking with your lower regions, this will be a counterproductive night.

You realize you can't do this while standing up, so you hoist yourself up on the table, and wiggle around till you get comfortable. Your trench coat isn't bending to your will and it takes you some more shuffling to beat it down. You really should've taken it off when you stepped in through the door. 

The sound of Spencer's chuckle makes you realize that he's still here and he's very much observing your embarrassing fight with a trench coat. Your cheeks feel warm, but this is not the most shameful thing you've done tonight, and you're probably aiming to beat that record anyway. 

“Don't laugh at me,” you mutter, embarrassed but smiling. 

“Okay,” he laughs, “I won't.” 

“God, you're such a liar. Is everybody at the FBI full of lies?” 

He shrugs, “Depends on who you ask.” 

You laugh and you're so in awe at how all the stress leaves your body so easily when he's talking to you, it makes you wonder why the hell you can't just say it. One sentence, something he already knows, something anyone would probably know by observing you for five minutes, it should be easy. But as obvious as it is, you're also well aware that once you say it, it becomes real. And you can't escape It. You can't pretend like it's something casual between you if you get your heart broken, or if he feels like you're moving too fast. The minute those words are out of your mouth, you'll have to confront the reality of your situation. 

And you're scared. 

You're scared that once you say those words and it becomes a real living thing, you could actually lose Spencer. You could get into an argument later and it ruins everything between you, or he could fall out of love, or you could fall out of love. There are so many bad endings to a relationship and the possibilities make you hesitate. 

Spencer must've noticed that you're taking a while to speak, that you're too busy stressing out about it, because he comes close again (leaving enough space for the holy spirit this time) to gently hold your hand. It works like he intends it to. The skin-to-skin contact is grounding and you relax a little, wishing you could just melt into him and never have to go through any uncomfortable conversations.

But when you look up at him, and you're met with the familiar trustworthy eyes of the guy who has been your god-given solace for months now, you wonder how the hell you could ever rethink taking a chance on him. 

Even if the risk is terrifying and you're scared of ruining things, you know Spencer would be worth the try. Plus, fantasizing about a reality where it works out and you get married in a few years is actually much more fun than thinking about impending doom. 

You don't want the world to end before you tell Spencer the raw truth of your feelings, and not through subtle gestures or sneaky glances, you want him to hear the whole thing. 

You squeeze his hand for one final reassurance. He smiles and squeezes your hand back. 

“Spencer, I've got something very important to tell you.” 

Slow and stead. 

“I'm listening.” 

You lick your lips. 

“Okay well, remember how I told you a few months ago that there were currently no guys who were interested in me?” 

He nods.

“Well, I lied.” 

He raises his eyebrows, amused at the route you're taking, “oh yeah?” 

You nod, swallowing heavily, “Yeah, yes. There was this… guy at my job, he doesn't work there anymore because he got transferred because of ‘new chances’ or whatever, but he was working with me this time last year, you know? Anyways, he'd get really close to me whenever we were handling the same task, not in a sexual harassment way but in an ‘I have a crush on you’ way. And I realized that he was interested in me because he kept dropping hints and I'm, surprisingly, not that oblivious. I can tell when a guy likes me. He actually asked me out once to this new donut place near the office, but I declined because he has really bad table manners to be honest and, god I'm glad he's not working with us anymore because he'd hog all the coffee and we could barely find anything to drink by the end of the day— but that's not the only reason I rejected him, I actually rejected him because… because I couldn't imagine going out with anyone else who wasn't you, and I guess what I'm trying to say is- that's when I realized that I like you, Spencer. And I've liked you for almost a year now.” 

You're out of breath by the time it's all out, but incredibly relieved. You look up at Spencer and he has this amused twinkle in his eyes and a very dumb smug smirk on his face. Once you're fully and completely done with your little speech, the first thing he does is laugh.

You're so offended you immediately take your hand away from his and slap his chest, “Don't fucking laugh, I just confessed my feelings for you.” You hit him some more, but he won't stop laughing, “Spencer, this is so fucking rude, oh my god, just reject me like a lady if you're going to mock me like this.” 

He catches your hand before you land another weak punch on his arm, and you have very little time to react before he reaches forward, cupping your face with his other hand and joining your lips for a long-awaited kiss. 

You've fantasized about the way he kisses for a very long time. After you’d heard about his little make-out session with that actress in the pool, it took everything in your body to resist asking him to take you next. You've thought about kissing him nearly every night when you were falling asleep, he was even haunting some of your dreams like a fiend, kissing you like his life depended on it, only for you to wake up to the cruel, harsh reality of never having kissed Spencer Reid.

But that reality is different now. 

He uses both his hands to cup your face and angles your head just right to get as much contact as possible. He tastes like the wine you've been drinking all night and smells like cedar wood and sage. God, even when kissing you he has to smell like a perfect little herbal garden? You'd get mad at him if his lips moving against yours weren't melting away every ounce of sophistication you have in your body. 

You use the chance to be greedy and reach your hand into his hair, making sure to mess it up so that there’s proof that you were here, in his arms, kissing him. 

He's sweet with his kiss, despite knowing you both waited for it for so long, he doesn't push you to go further even though you'd love for him to. You'd let him take you on this table right now.

But the absolute worst thing about Spencer is that he's so respectful that he pulls away after a few seconds to watch for your reaction. He's flushed with desire and his eyes have gone dark in a way that you've only seen when he was really angry. You can tell that he's restraining himself to not make you uncomfortable. His eyes scan your face eagerly, his hands resting on either side of your face.

“God, you're so… ridiculous.” 

The comment is so unexpected that you laugh, and the sexual tension seems to ease into just… sexual existence. “Hey, what's that for? You're going to kiss a girl and then immediately insult her?” 

His smile mirrors yours, “my apologies, your highness. I have just never heard such a ridiculous confession in my life before.” 

You frown, lips curling into a pout, “not true, that actress in the pool had a ridiculous confession too.” She didn't, but you never fully got over her kissing Spencer before you could. 

“Oh yes, I'm sorry, I forget about any other woman when I'm with you.” Then he plants a quick kiss on your lips with a poorly concealed smile, and you can just tell that he's going to be doing that a lot to get away with whatever bullshit he's spewing. 

“You’re unbelievable, Spencer Reid.” 

Then you’re kissing him again, craving more of what he gave you during the first kiss. The desperation for contact has you pulling him closer by his collar, leaning into the kiss like you were starving before him. When he finally slips his tongue into your mouth, you moan so pathetically it makes his grip around you tighten, body drawing impossibly closer to yours.

You're kissing for such an extended period of time that you're dizzy from the lack of air when he pulls away, and you're greeted by that lovely shade of crimson on his face. You desperately want to find out just how red he can get and in what other places.

You're admiring his face, lost in the haze of the kiss, and chewing absentmindedly on your lips when you suddenly remember something very important. You draw back a little to shoot him a very serious look. 

“Hey, you never said you liked me back.” 

He laughs in disbelief, “do I have to?” 

You nod like a petulant child, seriously alarmed.

He playfully rolls his eyes, “alright, I like you too,” he kisses you, “I like you a lot actually.” 

You're satisfied with that answer, melting into his touch again, like a helpless pet. You admire the post-makeout look that adorns his face and makes him more beautiful than you could ever imagine, and he gazes at you with stars in his eyes. For a while, it feels like the universe belongs to the two of you and no one else. 

Until you remember how late it is and the fact that Spencer actually works tomorrow, then you're not that happy anymore. 

“What's wrong?” He asks, nose rubbing against yours as if you could ever focus on anything when he's that close. 

“You have work tomorrow, and it's very late…” 

He draws back from you, as if broken out of the trance by your words, “Oh no, you're right.” He's starting to move away when something inside you kicks in and suddenly your legs are flying to lock around his waist to secure him in place. He raises his eyebrows at you, amused and surprised.

“You can't do this.” 

You nod your head menacingly, “oh yes I can.” You know he could easily break out of your hold if he really wanted to, but the fact that he's entertaining your antics tells you that he's not very eager to leave either. 

“Angel, I have to go to work in the morning. Like an adult with responsibilities, you know?” 

If you were in your right mind, you'd be offended at that comment, but he's just kissed you senselessly and then called you ‘angel’ for the very first time. No one could blame you for not being very wise. 

“You can still go to work in the morning, you just... don't have to leave right now.” 

“You want me to stay? Here?” You nod. “My love, you don't even have a change of clothing that can fit me.” 

“Then sleep naked. I won't complain.” 

He laughs, “What about a toothbrush? You don't have an extra one for me.” 

“I change my toothbrush once every three months and I always buy extra, so I do actually have a completely sealed, never used before brush that you can use. It will be yours from now on.” 

He shakes his head in disbelief but you can tell he's starting to budge, your technique is working. 

Plus there's the unsaid promise that, if he stays, there will be a lot more kissing going on. 

“And you want me to go to work tomorrow in this same outfit?” 

“Mhm, we'll hang it and it will be just fine.” 

“I don't have my badge with me, I can't go to work without my badge.” 

You scoff. “Then wake up early and drive by your place, stop creating irrelevant problems, Spencer.” 

He’s in disbelief at your brazenness but seems to cave in anyway. “Fine, yeah, I'll stay.” 

You smile, very proud of yourself, “yes you will.” 

At this point, you're aware that your leg is still around his waist, and you're holding him in place like you took him hostage, but you honestly don't feel like letting him go just yet. Months of pining for him like a lovesick fool, you think you deserve to relish in the power you exert over him. He seems to notice the hunger for power in your eyes because he's coming closer again, placing his hands on either side of your thighs. 

“You have other plans for me tonight, don't you?” He's using that husky tone again and looking at you with glazed-over hazel eyes. Like a predator hunting its prey. 

You place your arms around his neck, back where they belong, “and if I do? Will you punish me, officer?” 

His warm breath fans over your lips and you're shaking to your core with anticipation, “I don't know, maybe I will.” 

Then he puts an end to all your antagonizing conversations that are distracting you from more important matters by bringing you in for another eager kiss. You take all of him in, the stubborn grip he has on your face, the teeth clashing when he shifts your positions, the low moan he releases when you pull on his hair — you take everything he gives you with eagerness and hunger. You could swallow him up whole right now if you could. 

When he pulls away to take a breath and you're confronted by his disheveled face once more, you realize that there are a lot of things you're going to do to him tonight. You realize that it’s going to be a good while before either of you goes to sleep.

[cupidbedsy]

୨୧ without you ; jh86

➪ summary: jack struggles after their breakup, and after a little talk with his mom, he's on his way to get his girl back

➪ warnings: fights, sad jack, broken glass, breakup

➪ word count: 2.8k

➪ cupid's notes: this was the first ever jack fic i wrote and i went back and read it and forget how in love with it i was. i hope you guys are enjoying the reposts, i am hoping to be done with them in the next couple of weeks and then i can start working on new fics! anyway, i decided to use the old taglist one more time because i haven't gotten the chance to sort out everyone that has filled out the form so far. so..... if you haven't already, please fill out the taglist form if you want to be added to the new one! i love you guys so much, and i appreciate each and everyone of you

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

“Mom I think I really fucked up.”

Jack was in tears as he sat with his back against the door to his bedroom. His room was messy, with pieces of clothing scattered everywhere, suit jackets flung across his bed, and take-out containers on his nightstand, but the only thing he was focused on was the cardboard box that was set less than a foot in front of him. It had a card resting on top of it, his name written in the tiniest of letters. He could faintly smell her perfume on the sweatshirts and shirts that were left inside.

When he walked out of his room, the box was something he wasn’t expecting to see. It was resting in Luke’s hands when he walked out, proceeding to ask what it was. When Luke said it was from her, he grabbed it and ran back into his room, shutting and closing the door behind him. He had only managed to get one flap of the box open before he started crying uncontrollably. 

He had seen the gray material, the logo of his team branded on it. He had backed himself up against the door and tried to collect himself and failed. Deep in his mind, he knew he shouldn’t have the right to be acting like this, he had been the one to end it. Yet, seeing the aftermath without her made him realize what he had truly lost. 

The nights when he came home from a game that they won, she wasn’t there to congratulate him, to celebrate with him, to let him hold her. The nights when he came home from a game that they lost, she wasn’t there to console him, to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, to run her fingers through his hair. The mornings that he woke up and felt lonely and cold because she wasn’t in his arms, she wasn’t there to pepper his face with little kisses. She wasn’t there to wake him up in the middle of the night because she was hungry or because she had this genius idea. She wasn’t there to cook dinner for him and Luke when that was all they needed after a long day. She wasn’t there to help him pack and unpack for a road trip. She wasn’t there to help him pick out what suit to wear for the game. She wasn’t there at all anymore.

The thoughts plagued him, angered him, saddened him, hurt him. For some reason, these thoughts never came up before, never this strong. Seeing the things that had been hers, became hers, and weren’t his hurt him. It made him realize what he had done, and what he had done was real. He couldn’t help the new thoughts that came to his mind, the ones that called him stupid, the ones who called him an idiot, the ones that were dark enough that he hated himself for those too. 

When he found himself finding it hard to breathe he reached for his phone, calling Ellen. Ellen was not expecting those words when she picked up the phone. No one had known about their breakup, no one had known about Jack’s words that he said to her that night, no one had known about the way she tried to fight but he refused to even listen to her. 

Everyone knew that the two were off, however. Jack hadn’t been performing well, barely even getting a couple of shots on goal during games. He had gotten into a few fights, mostly because he was stressed and every little thing someone did set him off. He didn’t go out to celebrate with the team after a win, he distanced himself from everyone including his brother. 

She, on the other hand, hadn’t talked to anyone in the past two weeks. She never went to the apartment anymore, she didn’t reach out to Luke or the team at all, and she never drove Jack and Luke to games anymore, it was like she disappeared. In reality, she had been huddled up in her apartment, tears ending up on every piece of clothing she wore, they ended up on the sheets too. There was an abundance of tissues in a plastic bag that rested on the left side of her bed. Her TV had been playing nothing but sad romance movies; The Notebook, Irreplaceable You, All the Bright Places, The Fault in Our Stars, and Five Feet Apart were a few. She hadn’t moved from her spot unless she had to go to the bathroom.

Her main source of food was the snacks that she brought into her bedroom almost every other day. Sometimes if she was feeling up for it, she would order something and wait for it in the living room. She hadn’t attempted to cook, reminding her too much of when she did it for him. She hadn’t understood why he did it, what prompted him to do it, what prompted the thoughts, what she had done wrong to make him feel differently about him. She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t allow her to talk, allow them to talk it through. It was a messy night, his voice was doing the abundance of the talking. 

He had yelled at her for no reason. They had been sitting in the living room peacefully and she had commented on going out for dinner. It wasn’t the comment that set him off, he had been in his mind for the majority of the night prior to that moment. He didn’t know what brought these feelings on but he had to get them out. He had screamed for about ten minutes while she sat in silence tearing up. She had attempted to fight for them, saying she was sorry for god knows what. She had attempted to get an answer out of him but was met with silence. She had stormed out after 5 minutes of pleading, leaving Jack as alone as she felt. 

Jack receiving the package was the first form of communication they had had in two weeks. And that had really put things into perspective for him. He had babbled all of this to Ellen, having to take breaks a lot to control his sobs and breathing. Ellen felt absolutely heartbroken as she listened to her son cry. She knew what he had done wrong, it was painfully obvious, but the amount of tears that she could hear from him made her sympathetic towards him. 

Nonetheless, Ellen set him straight, not that he needed to be anyway, he knew he was wrong from the moment she left him sitting there. She had done her best to calm him down beforehand, Jack’s mind still in overdrive. He took in everything his mom said, agreeing with every point she made about him being wrong. She spoke in a gentle yet strict tone, letting him know that she felt sorry for him but what he did was horrible. He knew that and listening to his mom say it too made it feel all the worse. 

When Ellen hung up, Jack was once again left alone with the silence and his thoughts. He didn’t want to be alone anymore, yet he wasn’t in the right place to go and get her back. He thought he would just go over there and make it worse, make it so she would never want him back. So he walked out into the living room and looked at his brother who was watching TV, acting as if he had heard nothing. 

Jack plopped himself down next to him on the couch. He went to say something but he could feel another wave of tears coming. He went to stand up but Luke pulled him down, not wanting him to be alone anymore either. Jack buried his head into his younger brother’s shoulder and sobbed, slightly embarrassed but too sad to worry about it. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The next morning, Jack woke up with a pounding headache but he knew he needed to get his shit together. He took the box y/n had sent him and taped it back up, not taking one single thing out of there. He dressed in her favorite outfit of his, deciding he’d at least look how she liked him too. He even washed his hair, knowing how much she loved it when it was soft and looked like a fluffy mop on top of his head.

He knew that no matter how good he made himself look, it would have almost no impact on the outcome of this conversation. He knew how much he had hurt her and how much trust he had to earn back. He knew that no matter how many gifts he bought or made would ever make up for it, but that didn’t stop him from buying her favorite ice cream and flowers and making her a card.

He drove to her apartment and jumped out of the car as soon as he got there, running up the stairs as fast as he could. He knocked on the door lightly, waiting somewhat impatiently for her to open the door. It took a few minutes before he had to knock again and this time, she opened it seconds later, “What?”

“Please don’t close the door. I just want to talk.”

“Oh so-”

“Yes. “So now I want to talk.” Please y/n/n.” He cut her off, immediately knowing what she was going to say. His puppy dog eyes were out in full force and she didn’t know whether or not it was on purpose or a subconscious habit of his when he asked for something he wanted. 

She sighed, knowing that she couldn’t stand his eyes any longer. She turned around and walked further into her apartment, waiting for Jack to follow her. When he stepped in, his heart stopped at the broken glass that lay in the kitchen. He followed her with his eyes as he shut the door. He watched as she sat down and wrapped a blanket around her.

Before he got there, she had been watching another sad movie, Kiss and Cry this time. She had been caught off guard when she heard the knock and only wished it would go away. However, when she heard it again, she got up and opened it, feeling both upset and frustrated at who was there. Hearing the way his voice broke when he talked also aided in her decision to let him in. She felt sad when he sat down next to her and reached out to place his hand on her thigh like an instant reaction. He retracted it as soon as it made contact with the blanket, nervous that she would yell at him.

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath in preparation, “I’m sorry. And I know that no matter what I say, or how much I tell you I’m sorry, it won’t be enough. It won’t justify what I did, but just hear me out please.”

She nodded, allowing him to go on. The look on his face showed the gratitude he had for her response, “I shouldn’t have said what I said. Truthfully I don’t know why I said what I said. I think I must’ve been nervous about our future together but I feel like that’s just an excuse at that point. I don’t know what I was thinking, believe me. And I’m sorry I didn’t let us even try to talk it out, to let you talk. I- I just- To be honest, I really don’t know, y/n. 

“ I feel so lost right now, I hated you not being there. I hated not being able to come home from a game and celebrate with you when we won or have you comfort me when we lost. I hated not being able to wake up and you were the first thing I saw. I hated not being able to make dinner with you or play pranks on Luke or having you wake me up in the middle of the night because you had the most random epiphany.” He gave her a little laugh, “I hated not knowing that you were okay.”

She had been looking at the ground the whole time he spoke until he said that. She looked up and made eye contact with him, both of them harboring tears in their eyes. She knew that he meant it, she knew that he didn’t mean anything he said two weeks ago. At first, when she initially thought he would come to her apartment to plead for her back, she wasn’t going to accept the ‘I don’t know’ excuse, but she could tell that he really didn’t know why he did it. 

She reached out to hold his hand, toying with his fingers, “I believe you, Jack. And I’m not going to say it’s okay because it’s not, but I know when you mean something, Jack. I know that you didn’t have a reason to lash out.”

She took a deep breath before continuing, “But it’s going to take a while for this to get back to how it was between us.”

“And I know that, and I’m willing to take it at your pace, and communicate with you more, and be there for you more.”

She nodded and turned away slightly to look at the TV, “You wanna finish this movie with me?”

He smiled and nodded, following her request to sit next to her. Jack had thought back to the moment when he walked into the apartment for the first time, and remembered the broken glass, “Are you okay?”

“Now I am, why?”

“Because there was broken glass in the kitchen.”

“Oh, yeah. I knocked it off yesterday. Maybe the day before, I don’t remember. Hadn’t had the opportunity to pick it back up.” 

Jack went over and picked it up in case she was to forget and got up in the middle of the night to grab a glass of water. When he got back, she laid her head on his chest and played with one of the strings from his hoodie, “This is my favorite hoodie.”

He nodded again, rubbing her back, “I know.”

“And you washed your hair.”

He felt his face flush at the realization that she had figured out what he was trying to do, “Did you think that the way you looked would convince me to take you back?”

He gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged a little, “A little.”

She sat up and kissed him, “You’re lucky it did, Hughes.”

They sat in a comfortable silence before y/n looked up at him, “Jack?”

“Yeah, baby?” The name was a force of habit and he went to apologize but when he looked down he saw her grinning at him. 

“When can I get those sweatshirts back?”

Jack let out a laugh, “They’re in my car, didn’t even take them out of the box. Want me to go get them?”

“Yes please.” He went to move her off of him but she clung to him, missing how warm he felt in the past two weeks, “You gotta let go of me baby if you want them.”

She shook her head, snuggling deeper into them, “You want this one?”

She just nodded and briefly let go of him, allowing him to take it off. He slipped it over her head and then opened his arms so she could lay back on him, which she did immediately. They continued watching and she felt a tear hit her head, looking up in worry, “Jack?”

“Hmm?” He sniffled and wiped his tears off his face with his left hand. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just missed you, is all.” 

She only smiled and hugged him tighter, both of them falling asleep minutes later with how comfortable they felt with one another.

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