#wrote this on my phone on break at work so maybe I didn’t word this perfectly

[inawickedlittletown]

V puzzled about people saying what oliver said was biphobic

To me what happened is that oliver went out of his way to reaffirm that buck is bi. That he doesn't want to the show to go down the either road of 'he just fucks guys now' or 'he going back to solely fucking women'. Both of which are far more biphobic then... showing bisexual man be bisexual. And both of which I've seen happen tons on similar soap / syndicate shows?

What would be the promiscuous bi stereotype would be showing him completely unwilling to be in a long term relationship, or him cheating

It's just really odd to me. It really seems like some (not all obv) of the people saying 'it's biphobic!' are either being biphobic themselves (acting like bi people should be held to higher 'moral' standards then straight people / wanting him to 'pick a side') or are upset about BT and are taking it out on Oliver

It’s not an inherently biphobic thing to say and I don’t think he ever intended it that way. The issue is that bisexuality has been characterized often by “oh they must sleep around can’t pick what they want” — it’s the stereotype. And it’s such a switch from what he’s said before and also how this story has been portrayed up to this point.

I think Oliver meant it the way you’re saying it here. He meant that he wants Buck to display his bisexuality and not stick to just women or just men in the future. But he didn’t word it right. And if someone that is bisexual feels offended by it then there’s a reason. Let’s remember that Oliver is straight.

It doesn’t help that his excitement for Buck going back to S1 slut era rubs people the wrong way when what we’ve seen on screen in someone that wanted to have Tommy move in and someone that was ready to settle down for a future with Tommy. So for Buck to fall back on old habits…that would work if we knew that he would correct again and figure out he was right about a future with Tommy. The interviews saying Tommy is gone is a nail in the coffin.

And you said that it would be biphobic if he were shown unwilling to commit…but that’s what Oliver implies by saying a montage of him sleeping with a girl girl guy guy girl or whatever way he worded it.

And it’s not about wanting to hold bi people at a higher moral or anything because pretty much everyone that’s said it’s biphobic is talking about the context in which he said it and the portrayal he wants for Buck as bi. No one is saying real life bisexuals shouldn’t sleep with whoever they want or date whoever they want. It’s more that a tv show should want to stay away from the stereotype.

[pathologicalreid]

cryptic | S.R.

You and Spencer get a surprise beyond your wildest dreams.

who? spencer reid x fem!AFAB!reader category: fluff (hurt/comfort a little bit) content warnings: oh geez. pregnancy, periods, weight, medical inaccuracy, cryptic pregnancy, traumatic birth, NICU, hospitals, maybe a little ooc i'm not sure, breastfeeding, reader is running solely on oxytocin, crying. word count: 6k a/n: does anyone else have an irrational fear of this? is it just me? that's why i wrote this anyways. also i wrote this MONTHS ago so if it's bad i'm not culpable. (yall voted for unhinged fluff, here it is) anyways i'm calling this part of my "spencer reid dilf agenda".

him

In his work life, Spencer faced fear every day – that was part of the reason he loved life with you so much. The two of you had just moved to your first house together and were still unpacking boxes when he was called away to upstate New York for a case.

You weren’t frustrated with him; you merely kissed him and encouraged him to go save the day.

So, when he told you last night that you must’ve hurt your back trying to move the couch, he didn’t think anything of it. He just told you to rest and to let him know how you were doing in the morning, but when the morning came, there was a break in the case. Spencer had completely forgotten that he was expecting your call.

As the team waited in the police precinct, he didn’t wonder why Hotch answered a phone call and furrowed his brows at Reid until he called him over to talk in private.

For once, his overactive mind went blank when Hotch explained to him that you were in the hospital and that he should call your best friend, Ivy.

In a daze, Spencer pulled his phone out of his pocket to find that he had missed two calls from you and thirteen calls from Ivy. Isolating himself in an abandoned office, he looked at your friend’s contact and pressed the call button.

The phone didn’t even have a chance to ring before Ivy answered, “Spencer! Oh my god,” she said, sounding relieved to be hearing from him. “I am so sorry for calling your boss. I pulled his number from Y/N’s contacts – I didn’t know how else to reach you, and I- “

“Ivy, what’s wrong?” Spencer asked, teetering between panic and impatience. “She told me she thought he had just pulled a muscle moving,” he explained, wondering what could’ve happened.

On the other end of the call, Ivy took a deep, shaky breath. “She’s okay, but you have to come home,” she whispered, keeping her voice down.

Now he was leaning closer to panic, “Where is she?”

“Northern Virginia Hospital,” Ivy responded. “When you get here, call me, and I’ll bring you to her,” she told him.

Spencer took a deep breath and left the empty office once he ended the call, very nearly running into Hotch, “I need to- “

Holding his hand up in a ‘wait’ gesture, Hotch nodded, “There’s a flight going out, Morgan will drive you to the airport. Don’t worry about anything here,” he instructed him, gesturing over to where Morgan was standing with the keys to one of the SUVs.

After promising to call when he could, a thirty-minute flight, and a ten-minute taxi right, Spencer called Ivy back.

“Hey,” her voice was quiet through the receiver, “are you here?”

He turned around in the lobby of the hospital, “I just came in the front entrance; what wing is she in?” He asked. Which wing would a back injury be in?  He supposed it depended on the severity of the back injury.

She cleared her throat and there was a soft rustling before Ivy answered, “Stay put, I’ll come to you.” Her words came out quickly as if she was trying to prevent him from going looking for her.

Then he began to lean closer to impatience, nonetheless, he waited the couple of minutes that it took for Ivy to come out of an elevator, motioning for Spencer to catch up before they took the elevator back up. “Ivy,” Spencer said, “What is happening?”

“She called me at six this morning, saying that she thought she had pulled a muscle in her back and couldn’t sleep. I told her to take some ibuprofen and try to rest, and if she didn’t feel better by lunch, I’d bring her to urgent care. She called me again at ten and told me something was seriously wrong, but she didn’t know what,” Ivy informed him, her voice sounding distant. “She was crying, and I’ve never heard her sound so scared. So, I called an ambulance and met her here while she was triaged…” Her voice trailed off as they exited the elevator.

Spencer’s heart ached at the thought of you being so scared, but it still didn’t answer his question: What happened?

Ivy sniffled and wiped her nose, “Spencer, have you ever heard of a cryptic pregnancy?”

He stopped in his tracks, eyes as wide as saucers, “She’s pregnant?” His words came out as a whisper, a mix of emotions flurried through him.

Your best friend smiled softly at him, “No, she had a baby. That back pain? She was in labor.”

Questions popped into his head quicker than he could ask him. He took a trembling breath, “Where are they?”

She led him around the corner, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “She’s in postpartum recovery, the baby’s up a floor in the NICU. It all happened really fast; you know? Anyways, they kind of whisked the baby away while saying things about Apgar scores that we didn’t really understand.

They stopped for a moment to get Spencer a visitor’s badge before he motioned for Ivy to continue.

Ivy shrugged in response, “She was kind of inconsolable after that, they gave her something to calm her down, but she keeps asking for you,” Ivy said, stopping outside of a door.

Spencer peeked through the blinds to your room. You’re awake, lying on the white bed, absentmindedly picking at the hospital bracelet around your wrist.

“If you need a minute before going in there, take it. Once you go in there, you need to be strong or brave or whatever,” Ivy instructed, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m not saying you can’t be confused or upset, I’d be worried if you weren’t. I’m saying she just gave birth unmedicated without ever even knowing she was pregnant, and they haven’t come back with an update,” she said, looking at Spencer like she was assessing a threat.

He nodded in understanding. Maybe when his head was clear he’d thank Ivy for being so protective of you, but he just nodded. “I need to be in there with her,” he insisted.

Ivy acquiesced, letting him know that she was going to go to the house to get clothes and was going to the store. At that point, Spencer had only been half listening to her.

You didn’t move on the bed when he opened the door. He looked at the whiteboard on the wall, his heart clenching when he saw the words ‘Baby Reid’ written below your name. Spencer quietly walked closer to you before he pulled a chair up so that it was at your bedside and took a seat. He could see tear tracks on your cheeks, “Sweetheart,” he whispered.

Your eyes closed, and two more tears streaked down your cheeks. There was an IV in your wrist and your vitals were being monitored. It wasn’t until Spencer leaned over and smoothed your hair back that you really started to cry.

Gently, Spencer sat on the edge of your bed, and you leaned forward into him. He just held you, running a hand up and down your back as he gently shushed you, “I’m here, darling. I’m here.”

“I had a baby,” you rasped, so quietly that Spencer wasn’t sure if you were telling him or trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t a dream.

He was quiet for just a moment, letting a few silent tears stream down his own cheeks. “I know,” he murmured, “I’m so proud of you.”

You hummed, leaning back ever so slightly, closing your eyes when Spencer kissed your forehead. “I tried calling you,” you whispered, looking up at him with watery eyes and lifting your hands so that you could wipe away the tears.

“I know. I’m so sorry,” he tried to apologize. There was no way for him to navigate this situation, but if he felt this lost, then he couldn’t begin to fathom how you were feeling.

Shaking your head, you waved off his apology, “Did you catch the bad guy?”

He nodded, smiling at your question, “Yeah, we got him this morning. That’s why I didn’t get your call,” he said as he took your hand and intertwined your fingers. “Can I get you anything? Have you eaten? Do you need water?”

A slight smile grew on your face at his concern, a fact that made his heart soar, “I should probably eat something.” The smile faded quickly, “We should probably talk, right?” You asked, leaning forward in the bed to reach for a pile of papers at the foot of the bed.

Noticing a pained look on your face, Spencer set a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll get it,” he said, guiding you so you were lying back on the pillows. “Please be careful,” he reached for the papers and handed them to you.

Quickly, you flipped through the stack of papers that was now in your lap. “I’ve been thinking, you know, and they gave me all of these papers with my options, but we have space at the new house. I work from home most of the time anyway, and we can afford it and- “

Spencer cut you off, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Yes,” he whispered against your lips before he kissed them again.

Studying you, he watched as you visibly relaxed into your hospital bed. He followed your gaze as you looked out the window of the hospital room, “Spence,” you breathed as a nurse wearing pink scrubs walked into the room.

She looked at him, “Hello, are you dad?”

Dad. He was a dad. Spencer nodded enthusiastically at the nurse.

“I’ve got these bracelets for you two then, they’re to help keep little families like yours together,” she says, loping the white bracelets around both his and your wrist. “Baby’s got two,” she lets you both know. “So, Baby Reid had a hard time breathing at first, but we up in the NICU cleared some of the amniotic fluid from her lungs and everything is looking much better now. Another nurse is bringing the bassinet now…” her voice trailed off when someone knocked on the door.

He wanted to make sure he had heard the nurse correctly. Did she say ‘her’?

The door opened, and it was the tiny hat with the bow that gave it away. She wriggled on the white sheet in her bassinet, looking around her new surroundings. Spencer looked from you to her and couldn’t help the tears that pricked his eyes. It was an emotion that he couldn’t quite place.

Noticing the way you leaned forward, the nurse spoke, “Would you like to hold her?”

“I- Can I? Is she okay?” You asked nervously, for the first time that day, Spencer heard the fear in your voice.

Nodding, the nurse wheeled the bassinet closer to you, helping you move your hospital gown so that you could do skin-to-skin. As she did so, she talked about bonding with a newborn, but Spencer was so enamored watching you that he wasn’t really listening. “We’re estimating that she’s about thirty-five weeks, so she’s late preterm, but she should be able to go home when you do,” the nurse informed you, making sure you were comfortable holding the baby before she stepped back.

The concept of being in a home surrounded by boxes with a newborn stressed him out, but then the tiny baby on your chest let out a squawk and he returned to just watching the two of you.

Both of the nurses left to give the three of you time, and you turned to Spencer, “What was thirty-five weeks ago?” You asked, gently rubbing your thumb over your newborn’s back.

“Exactly? July sixteenth,” he responded, watching your daughter as her eyes shut. “She fell asleep,” he observed, dropping his voice down to a whisper.

You hummed in response, bending your head down and pressing a gentle kiss on the crown of her head. “She needs a name,” you murmured, “we can’t keep calling her baby.”

Spencer leaned over the edge of your bed, “Do you have any ideas?” He asked, even though he already knew you’ve been keeping a list of baby names in your phone for years.

Shrugging ever so slightly, you peered down at your daughter, “All I know is that her last name’s gonna be Reid.” Your eyes flittered up to his, “Please don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll sob, and our daughter is asleep on me, and I don’t want to wake her up.”

“I just love you so much,” he told you softly.

“We can do this, can’t we?” You asked him nervously, narrowing your brows. “She doesn’t have a name. Our house is a disaster. Oh… Spence, we don’t have a car seat. We can’t take her home if we don’t have a car seat.”

Realistically, Spencer knew that you had at least twenty-four hours before you were released from the hospital, maybe forty-eight, given the circumstances. He also knew that you knew this, and he was afraid the events of the day were beginning to take a toll on you. He wasn’t going to say that, instead, he leaned forward and comforted you, “We’ll figure something out, I promise, okay? The name thing we can do.” He encouraged you to take one step at a time, “What about Ivy?”

Your head snapped up, “Really?” You asked, staying conscientious of the newborn on your chest.

“She was there for you through all of this when I couldn’t be,” he shrugged. “Did you know she dug through your contacts on your phone and called Hotch when I didn’t answer?” He watched a small smile tug at your lips, “I just think we should honor her in some way.”

Nodding, a full smile bloomed on your face, “Absolutely.” There was a brief silence, “Do you need to call Hotch? You can step out if you need to. We’re fine alone. I mean just for a little while not for- “

That was the second time you had nearly worked yourself into a panic. Spencer set a hand on your shoulder, “Y/N, angel. Don’t stress yourself out, okay? I’ll handle it.” He promised, after all, you had already done the hard work.

You paused and took a deep breath at his encouragement, leaving the both of you in silence while you caught your breath. “What about Eleanor?”

He smiled and looked at your sleeping baby, “It’s perfect,” he whispered.

The first time Eleanor, who had quickly been nicknamed Nell, cried with the two of you in the room was also the first time Spencer held her. He had been too nervous before, not that he’d tell you that, but when her wails started and he saw you wincing as you sat up in the bed, he instinctively picked her up.

He was still in his work clothes. Granted, he had taken off his tie and the top two buttons of his shirt had been undone, but it didn’t seem to bother Nell, the baby had quickly hushed upon contact. “Sit back,” he gently instructed, “Are you in pain?”

You nestled back into the pillows, “Just a little, they said it’s normal.”

Nothing about this was normal, Spencer wanted to say, but he knew you were well aware. He handed you the baby, knowing that it had been two hours since she last ate and that was likely why she was crying. According to the nurses, she was a good eater. He took their word for it.

Spencer watched you rock gently as Nell ate, you were staring off at nothing, so he asked, “What are you thinking right now?”

“I’m wondering why you’re not more freaked out,” you admitted, looking down at the newborn.

He leaned back in the chair, “I don’t know. I work best under pressure and with a little bit of chaos. It’s also highly likely that the entire situation hasn’t fully sunken in yet.”

You nodded understandingly, “It’s a lot to take in. If you think about it, most parents have months to fully prepare and wrap their heads around it. It’s been about ten hours for me. Maybe six hours for you.”

Nodding, Spencer watched intently as Nell fell asleep, her tiny fists falling and quiet coos coming from her. He heard you say something to him, but the words didn’t process. “What?”

Giggling quietly, you cocked your head at him, “Do you want to hold her?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” he replied honestly. You seemed like you were taking to parenthood exceedingly well, he was afraid he wouldn’t match up.

In the end, it was your understanding smile that prompted him to agree. “Unbutton your shirt,” you ordered, laughing at him when he looked bewildered. “Skin-to-skin isn’t just for moms, Spence. Besides, I want you to bond. I want her to know who you are even when you’re away for work.”

He obliged your request, undoing his shirt so that he could gently place Nell on his bare chest. She squawked while she was being moved from parent to parent but quieted again as soon as she was being held, “she’s so small,” Spencer remarked, marveling at the tiny creature on top of him.

You nodded sleepily, “Four pounds, fourteen ounces. She had to fit behind my ribcage somehow.”

The oddness of the situation began to find a place in him. Were there changes in you that neither of you had noticed? Your period was always irregular, there was no significant weight change, and even morning sickness had seemed to totally pass you by. “I can’t believe we had no idea,” he murmured as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Nell’s head.

“I went to the doctor three months ago for chest pains, do you remember? I took an at-home pregnancy test just in case and it came back negative. The nurses here told me that there’s a less than one percent chance of that happening,” you informed him, slowly starting to mumble.

Spencer looked up at you to find that your eyes were fluttering shut. “You should sleep. I’ve got this.”

You grunted in protest, “but what- “

“No,” he interrupted. “She just ate, she’s sleeping, and you’re exhausted. I can spend some time with her while you sleep.”

Sleepily, you grinned, sliding down on the bed, and settling your head on the pillows, “Daddy’s girl,” you whispered.

He loved the sound of that.

you

You had always known that Spencer Reid was perfect, and as you watched him fall into the role of father, that knowledge became concrete. You blinked the sleep out of your eyes and kept your gaze on the two of them, not daring to disturb the peace. Instead, you watched in awe as he held your daughter, softly speaking to her as if she could fully comprehend what he was saying.

For all you knew, she could understand what he was saying. She was Spencer’s kid, after all.

Gently, he whispered to her and one of her little fingers gripped his index finger. “Your palmar reflex lets you hold my finger like that, Nellie. It’ll go away when you’re six months old,” he softly swiped his thumb over her back as he murmured to her. “I don’t usually like surprises,” he admitted to the infant, “but you and your mama might just be the best thing to ever happen to me.”

You grinned, reaching your hand out and touching the green armchair, “I love you.” He reached out a hand to hold yours. “Do you want to try to get some sleep?” You offered. Your body still ached, but getting some sleep had made you feel loads better.

“I don’t think I can,” he answered candidly. “I feel so…”

“Wired? Stressed?” You suggested.

He shrugged slightly, “I was going to say hyperaware, but yes,” he responded.

You wheeled the empty bassinet closer to him, “Set her down. Babies can sense stress. Take a minute, catch your breath,” you told him.

Reluctantly, Spencer placed Nell in the bassinet, adjusting the hat on her head while you watched him. “Don’t worry about me,” he said softly.

Your shoulders drooped involuntarily, “When was the last time you slept, love?” After years with Spencer, you know he would go days without sleeping in order to break a case. His lack of a response answered your question well enough. Quickly, you pressed your call button and asked if a nurse could take Nell to the nursery.

Once you made sure the baby was taken care of, you moved over in the hospital bed and patted the open space. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he told you.

That was the problem with Spencer. He would always put you, and now Eleanor, ahead of himself. It made your heart ache. “Spence, this has been the craziest day, and I can tell you haven’t slept. So, get over here and lay down with me,” you instructed.

Rolling his eyes, Spencer kicked off his shoes before lying next to you in the hospital bed, “Do you promise to wake me if you need anything?” He asked as he gingerly pulled you into his arms, afraid of hurting you.

You hummed, resting your head on his shoulder, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“I hate that saying,” Spencer whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your hairline.

Closing your eyes, you relaxed into him, “I promise, angel. Get some sleep.”

You startled awake, looking to make sure you didn’t wake Spencer. Your chest ached as you sat up, cringing at the noise your papery hospital gown made. Gingerly, you placed a hand over your heart, feeling the pounding of your heart and listening to the beeping of the monitor, cursing the screen for making so much noise.

This had happened earlier before Spencer arrived, and the doctor had given you something to calm down then.

When you came into the ER, they thought your appendix was bursting, but when they did an ultrasound, they found that you were in active labor. There was no time for an epidural, they didn’t have time to give you anything for the pain. A kind nurse held your hand and quickly explained what was going to happen.

Within thirty minutes, you arrived at the hospital, gave birth, and had your baby taken to the NICU.

It was too fast; your brain was so overwhelmed that it had shut down. It seemed like a ridiculous thought; how did you miss the birth of your daughter?

Hiccupping back a sob, you felt a comforting hand on your back, but the fact that you had woken Spencer up just made you cry harder. He wrapped his arms around you, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “Shh, it’s alright,” he cooed, rubbing small circles on your back. “I love you so much, you know that, right? I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you,” he comforted you. “It’s okay, it’s just all catching up with you, honey.”

You pulled away, wiping the tears from under your eyes. “It’s okay,” you repeated his words.

“What do you need right now?” He asked, smoothing your hair back. “Do you want to make a list? Do you want to move around?”

Nodding absentmindedly, you watched as Spencer pressed the call button and got up, helping you stand. Your legs shook, and you felt a bit like a foal, but it felt good to be out of bed. You haphazardly finger-combed your hair before stepping into hospital slippers and leaving the room. For now, the nurses instructed you to just walk around the maternity ward.

As the two of you walked around, you made several lists. Things you needed to buy. People you needed to call.

By the time you’d returned to the room, Ivy had returned. Spencer opened the door for you and helped you sit on the end of the bed.

“I’ve come bearing gifts,” Ivy greeted, grinning with bags in her hands. She gestured to a suitcase, “First, clothes for both of you. I just grabbed whatever I thought might be good. Toiletries and stuff too,” she said, rolling the suitcase off to the side. “I grabbed a couple of newborn outfits, but again, I was kind of flying blind. The lady at the department store was extremely helpful.” She handed Spencer a bag of baby clothes. “I got a car seat, the same lady recommended it, she was probably getting a commission, but it’s in my car. I have approximately zero idea how to set it up, but I figured, Spencer has a doctorate in engineering. He can do it.”

You glanced blearily at your best friend, “Ivy, you didn’t have to do all of this. This is too much,” you confessed, holding a tiny onesie in your hand.

She dismissed your insistence with a wave of her hand, “I also got this.” Ivy held out a small stuffed duck. “I know it won’t do her much good now, but I couldn’t help myself.”

After you changed out of your hospital garb, you looked at Spencer, “Go call Hotch, we’ll be good here for a while.” You gestured to your best friend, who was filtering through the suitcase she had packed, trying to find your hairbrush. At your request, he told you he’d also ask the nurse to bring Nell back down so that Ivy could meet her.

Once he was gone, Ivy sat behind you on the bed and brushed through your hair, tucking it out of your face, you were finally beginning to feel a little bit more like yourself by the time she had finished.

You watched intently as the nurse arrived at the door, “Do you want to meet her?”

Ivy nodded enthusiastically, lips parting as she observed the small baby. “Is that her name?” She rasped, looking at the card on the bassinet, Eleanor Ivy Reid. “That’s not funny, don’t joke about stuff like that.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, keeping your voice down as Eleanor slept. “It’s not a joke, and for the record, it was Spence’s idea,” you informed her, reaching into the bassinet, and scooping up the now-swaddled infant. “He’s so grateful that you were there for me, and I am too.”

She smiled, “I’m always going to be here for you two – you three now. Number one babysitter,” she said, pointing to herself. 

You sighed and looked from your friend to your daughter, “She’s got a whole FBI unit of babysitters.”

“I’ll be here when they’re away – when Spencer’s away,” she reminded you, carefully adjusting the hat on the baby in your arms.

The last thing you wanted to think of was Spencer being gone, leaving you to take care of a baby you weren’t ready for.

Ivy must have sensed your nerves, “Hey, you know I’m always in your corner, right?”

You nodded slowly, “It’s just all catching up with me. I have to call my mom. I have to call my boss. How do you retroactively apply for maternity leave?”

“One thing at a time,” she said soothingly. “Right now, just enjoy your time with your perfect little family. I’ll call your mom for you,” she offered. “If your boss gives you any grief, he’ll have to deal with me.” Standing up, she placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I’m going to go get food, do you two still have the same orders from the deli?”

Confirming with her, you moved so that you could feed Nell, watching her as she looked up at you. “She’s right, you know? You are perfect,” you cupped her head with your hand, looking up to find Spencer watching from the doorway.

“Hotch says congratulations,” he spoke gently, striding over to your bedside and sitting on the edge of the bed. “He also said to let the team know if we needed anything,” he let you know, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He continued to let you know that Hotch had offered to figure out Spencer’s paternity leave, and while you felt bad about giving Hotch something else on his to-do list, it felt nice to have one less thing on yours. 

You nodded, “Ivy’s gonna call my mom, so that’s two things off of our list.”

Spencer squeezed your shoulder, “They asked if they could come to visit, but I didn’t want to answer for you.” He moved back to the armchair, “I just said we’d let them know.”

“At the very least we’ll send a picture,” you murmured. “I’m surprised you’re not researching newborns right now.”

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer shrugged, “I asked one of the nurses if I could get access to the hospital library.”

You snorted, “Of course you did.”

No one from the BAU ended up visiting while you were in the hospital, mainly because the idea of too many people in the one hospital room made you anxious, but both you and Eleanor had been cleared to go home. Eventually, you would have to allow visitors.

“Spencer, you can go the speed limit,” you said from the backseat of the car, not taking your eyes off of the baby in her car seat.

He glanced back in the rearview mirror, “This stretch of road is bumpy. I don’t want to wake her.” Despite his anxieties, he was taking to fatherhood remarkably well.

You shook your head, “She’s already awake, babe.” She looked around her new surroundings, spending part of the six hours a day that she was awake going home for the first time. Part of the beauty of a newborn was that they slept for eighteen hours a day, but only in about fifty-minute bursts.

Spencer kept glancing back, and you made a mental note to get a mirror for the rear-facing car seat.

As he turned onto your street, you sat up slightly. “Who’s here?” You asked, looking at the cars in your driveway. You recognized Ivy’s car, but none of the others rang any bells.

“That’s JJ’s car, and that’s Morgan’s truck,” Spencer told you as he pulled into the driveway. Once he got out of the car, he ran around to where you were sitting. He opened the door, taking the car seat out of its base before helping you out of the car. “I had no idea they were here,” he said curiously.

You hummed thoughtfully, looking at Eleanor in her car seat. There was a part of you that felt horrible, you didn’t have anywhere for her to sleep set up. Another part of you knew that she’d be just fine sleeping in your arms while Spencer set something up. “Far be it from the BAU to abandon one of their own in their time of need,” you murmured, stepping through the front door as Spencer held it open for you.

Setting the carrier on the coffee table, you undid the clips so that you could hold the baby. As you lifted her, her legs scrunched up until you held her to your chest, at which point she settled.

“Where are they?” You asked, gently rubbing Nell’s back as she started to fall asleep on you. You peeked around the corner into the kitchen, across the counter, there were bottles set out to dry, along with other various baby things. “Oh, Spence,” you breathed.

There was a distinct lack of boxes in your house, they weren’t entirely unpacked, but there were much less than there had been when you left. A crash from upstairs got both of your attention, Spencer’s arm instinctively going around your waist.

Together, the two of you walked upstairs, finding members of the BAU in one of the rooms that was going to be a guest room setting up a nursery. “Hey?” You said, peeking in through the doorway.

“Oh my god!” Penelope said, “Wait, crap, sleeping baby.” She covered her mouth with her hands, horrified at the idea of disturbing the sleeping infant.

You smiled, looking around suspiciously, “What’s going on here?”

Rossi waved a finger at you, “Your best friend is a drill sergeant is what’s going on here.”

Confused, you turned around to see Ivy with her hands on her hips. “I thought you weren’t coming home until the afternoon,” she explained, “I was going to have them all out of here so you could have a nice peaceful house.”

“You enlisted the BAU to unpack our house?” You asked her, tears pricking at your eyes.

Ivy shrugged, “It started as just asking a question, but we all came to the same conclusion. The two of you were never going to ask for help, so we had to take matters into our own hands.” She wiped her hands on her jeans, “Plus, they have kids, so they actually knew what you needed,” she gestured to JJ and Hotch.

You leaned forward to give her a one-armed hug, keeping yourself mindful of the baby. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Penelope hugging Spencer.

JJ stepped forward, “I’m around. Any questions you have,” she assured you. “How are you feeling?”

Laughing nervously, you looked up at Spencer, “Still reeling.”

The rest of the team laughed too, which brought you some semblance of comfort. “I almost thought you were playing a prank,” Emily confessed.

“No, you definitely thought they were trying to prank us. You didn’t believe them until they sent the picture,” Morgan said, exposing her.

Appalled, Emily rolled her eyes, but you spoke up, “I’m not sure I would have believed us either.” Had you not experienced it firsthand, you definitely would’ve been skeptical. Eleanor was going on two days old, and you had still woken up wondering if it was all some kind of dream.

Spencer had previously told everyone that no one could hold her. He was concerned about germs. You echoed his concerns, just maybe not as strongly. So, instead, everyone just cooed at her until Spencer gently ushered you into your bedroom.

You let out a sigh of relief when you spotted a bassinet set up next to your bed. Gently, you set her down while Spencer pulled the bedding down, “You should rest,” he told you softly.

“Spence, I just spent the majority of the last two days in a bed. I’m tired of bed,” you responded, sitting down on the ledge of the bed.

He hummed in response, “You just had a baby.”

Reaching out, you took his hands in yours, “Moving around will be good for me. I promise not to do anything to tear my stitches. I’ll just show Nell the house.”

“Babies don’t recognize their surroundings until four to six months, so she wouldn’t recognize anything you showed her anyway,” he told you.

You narrowed your eyebrows at him, “Spencer."

He held up his hands in concession, “Right, overbearing.”

“Hey,” you said softly, “We’re still figuring this out, right? So, we’ll take it one step at a time.” You offered, having already had an in-depth discussion about being okay with making mistakes. “Why don’t we go check out the nursery?” You stood up, watching as Spencer carefully picked Nell up, cradling her in his arms.

You led the way into the hallway to find JJ, Morgan, and Ivy finishing the nursery. Morgan and JJ moved the crib to a different side of the room while Ivy placed books on a shelf.

Ever so slightly, you leaned into Spencer, glancing at the sleeping infant in his arms, you reached over and cupped her head with your hand. “This is your family, Nell,” you whispered, smiling when Spencer leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

That was your first lesson in parenthood, it really does take a village.  

please remember to like, comment, and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

[cinnaminsvga]

Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits. 

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country. 

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend. 

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly. 

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank). 

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored. 

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that. 

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was. 

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment. 

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage. 

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction. 

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!” 

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?” 

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks. 

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding. 

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone. 

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still. 

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him. 

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident. 

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way. 

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture. 

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you. 

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture. 

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat. 

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk. 

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence. 

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away. 

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door. 

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice. 

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off. 

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note. 

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you. 

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole. 

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero. 

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you. 

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”? 

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot. 

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly. 

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute. 

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night. 

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. 

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?” 

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively. 

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically. 

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying. 

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason. 

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching. 

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding. 

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly. 

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face. 

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you. 

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text. 

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time. 

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy. 

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense. 

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him. 

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement. 

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him. 

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same. 

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray. 

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes. 

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him. 

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream. 

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name? 

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers. 

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform. 

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?” 

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful. 

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything. 

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight. 

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom. 

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through. 

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do? 

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought. 

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift. 

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance. 

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage. 

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology. 

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years. 

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts. 

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug. 

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache. 

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor. 

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well. 

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song. 

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers. 

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten. 

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him. 

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him. 

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick. 

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses. 

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer. 

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you. 

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears. 

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant. 

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder. 

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back. 

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky. 

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought. 

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster. 

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one. 

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook. 

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind. 

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you. 

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs. 

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again. 

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out. 

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you. 

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent. 

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix. 

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it. 

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow. 

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles. 

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter. 

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope. 

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that. 

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it. 

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears. 

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer. 

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too. 

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers. 

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare. 

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind. 

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class. 

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel. 

But you do know, the universe responds. 

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond? 

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing. 

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation. 

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat. 

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance? 

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air. 

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.  

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you. 

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door. 

[pepperyduck]

you walk around the corner to see gojo’s girlfriend sitting on top of his desk and him talking to her sitting on his chair between her legs. so much for surprising him with your early coming home from your work trip. even tho he’s your husband you don’t dare take a step further keeping your shock to a silent gasp, worried you’ll get caught. your marriage had been arranged, and even though you loved him and he was a good caring husband, he was never in love with you. while you figured this was happening it still hurt seeing him so happy and full of life when he’s engaging in just simple conversation with her.

almost immediately after he notices you avoiding him and keeping to yourself even more than normal. when he brings it up, you tell him you know about his girlfriend after having listen to them talking for a long time before they started to “make out.” while Gojo isn’t mean or smug about it, he doesn’t deny it leaving you an absolute emotional wreck.

hi honey! thank u for this request, u get me so well :'). i hope i delivered what u were looking for! much love hun!

word count: 1.9k

warnings: hurt/no comfort, angst, cheating, mentions of divorce, manipulation if u look hard enough, a couple mentions of sex but no active descriptions. (18+ mdni!)

notes: so i haven't written about gojo yet but i absolutely love this man. let me know what u think! also i did not proofread this, very sorry, i wrote half of it on my lunch break @ work.

you can find part two here

masterlist

“satoruuu!” you chirp your husband’s name as you enter the home, the ending syllables of his name echoing throughout the massive entryway, and you’re met with silence. you drop your bags in front of the door, you can’t help but be enthusiastic about seeing your husband – you’ve been on that stupid business trip that took way too long, and you feel lucky you were able to come back home a few days earlier.

a boisterous laugh comes from upstairs in the empty house, signaling your husband is somewhere around your office – maybe he’s on the phone with a friend and didn’t hear you from all the way downstairs. you smile to yourself and run up the stairs, staying quiet as possible so you can surprise satoru – tiptoeing closer and closer, you see your office door wide open. when you peek around the doorframe into the room, you see your husband, dressed in one of those expensive shirts you bought for your last anniversary –

and there’s a girl, a girl you’ve never seen, perched atop your desk, smiling widely and proud from a joke she cracked to make satoru laugh so loudly.

you draw your head back quickly, praying neither one of them saw you, because you had no idea how to approach the situation at hand. that girl was more than a friend, for sure, with the way satoru was feeling up and down her thighs from sitting in between them. for a second, you feel as if your whole marriage was a lie. 5 years, down the drain, and how many of those years were spent with other women, too?

satoru gojo was the son to your parent’s closest counterparts – you grew up around him, not too close, but enough to know enough about one another by the time you became adults. after college, neither one of you held a long-term partner, so your parents and his decided to arrange a marriage for the both of you. you willingly accepted – satoru was a sweet, caring boy for the most part – yet unbeknownst to you, a cheater who never really had any intentions of staying loyal to his wife. in his mind, the marriage was nothing more than a benefit for the both of you; he agreed to get his parents off his back and live a comfortable life because of the successful jobs you both obtained. you were content taking the man’s last name, having gradually fallen in love with him over time, even planning to have kids with him one day.

all your future dreams and past feelings come to a halt when you see the man with another woman.

you creep back down the stairs, quietly so no one catches on, and you grab your bags and leave again. you don’t go too far at all; you stay down the street in your car so you can see whenever your husband leaves. once he’s on his way to go drop his mistress off, you scurry back to the house and take all your things inside. satoru returns hours later, well past after dark, greeted with you in the kitchen finishing up dinner.

“oh- honey,” satoru perks up upon walking through the door, “i didn’t think you’d be back so early.” he walks up and wraps his arms around your waist from behind, giving you a tight squeeze and kissing your neck. your first instinct is to relax into his touch, as you had always done for years before, but the hurt inside of you causes you to stiffen up at the hug.

“hi, satoru,” you faintly reply, eyes diverting from everything else to the saucepan simmering in front of you on the stove. satoru always had a knack to be able to tell when something was off with you, even from the smallest bit of action. this was no different.

satoru unravels his arms from around you and leans onto the counter adjacent to the stove, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “everything okay, sweetie?” the pet name he most commonly used made your stomach hurt and your chest tighten.

“mmhm,” you bluff, “just a rough trip, i’m really exhausted,” you tell him, gaining a bit of strength to look him in the eyes with a tired expression and a weak smile.

“aww, you should’ve told me, honey. i would’ve got us something while i was out,” satoru says, his sickeningly sweet voice causing a bout of anger inside you.

“i was going to surprise you, but you weren’t here when i got home,” you lie to him, gazing back down to the saucepan and turning the eye off, “where were you so late?” you ask, although you already knew the answer. the question was just a meaningless test.

“ah, i was out with kento. he wanted to treat me to drinks since he got a new promotion,” satoru lies right back, but you see right through it.

“really? good for him,” you compliment his friend, able to work yourself up a little more to keep a straight face in front of your husband.

satoru couldn’t tell yet, but your heart cracked each time you looked at him. you wanted to slap the man to the ground and interrogate him as to why he’s sleeping around – but you only had evidence you saw with your own eyes. you figured he would most likely try to flip things around if you accused him of cheating and pin the blame on actions of your own that didn’t exist.

so, you make the noble decision to keep quiet about your knowledge for now.

days pass, the scene of your husband and the other woman slowly ate away at you, it chipped at the loving wife persona you displayed for satoru, more and more with each hour that came and went. your husband’s usual upbeat personality remained the same, and you tried your hardest to match it, continuing to kiss and be intimate with the man as much as he wanted.

but as time grew, your feelings slowly started to show. you couldn’t help it – who could help it? – being cheated on tears away someone’s entire confidence and demeanor. for years, satoru had feigned innocence and loyalty, he was a perfect husband to you, but maybe he was too perfect for someone like you.

he was his family’s most prized heir, and you were just some girl that got lucky enough to marry him, by some chance of fate. you hated the fact that you realized all you were to him was some … possession, someone there for convenience and convenience alone.

“what’s got you down in the dumps, hmm?” satoru teases as he pokes at your shoulder. you’re laid with your back facing him, trying to fall asleep after a long, emotionally painful night of sex.

you don’t reply at first, you just roll over a little more so he can’t see your sad face, curling into yourself at his touch. there was never going to be a perfect time for you to confront the man. but all the painful feelings you’d been holding on to for weeks at this point get the best of you, and a tear makes its way out of your eye and onto the silk sheets below.

“satoru,” you peep, barely audible as you continue to face away from your husband.

“hmm, honey?” he hums, so effortlessly faking a kind tone.

“who’s that girl?” you question, “i saw her here when i came home.”

“oh,” satoru replies, and you can feel his weight shift next to you so he’s laying on his back.

silence falls over the room, you wait on a reply that satoru refuses to give you for multiple minutes. he lays there, contemplating a lie, or whether or not he should come clean.

it’s not like you’d leave him, anyway.

“i’ve been dating her for a few months now,” satoru tells you, his voice no longer sweet or caring, just plainly spitting out the words you didn’t want to hear from him, ever. the tone in his voice upsets you even greater, he doesn’t even try to deny it, which causes an even greater pain to expand inside of you.

satoru’s new indifference to your feelings hurts a lot more than you’d ever imagined. you tried to psych yourself up, telling yourself that it was okay, you’d be happy if he just lied to you about the whole situation and you’d never bring it up again. his honesty is excruciating, it causes your heart to finally shatter into a million pieces when he confesses everything so guilt-free.

“why…?” you whimper, still unable to gain any of the forged confidence you had for weeks before to look him in the eyes again. you couldn’t stand to look at those beautiful blue eyes you’d fallen so deeply in love with over time, because you knew all they’d do is glare back at you unimpressed.

“well,” satoru starts, “what did you expect? this whole marriage was a fluke, anyway,” he mutters, still too honest for you to be able to feel any comfort in his words.

satoru doesn’t care, though, he never really cared, it’s all so agonizingly obvious to you now.

what did you expect?

you knew what you expected from this marriage, you treated satoru with the utmost care, even if it was a situation you were both forced into. you expected him to stay true to his vows, to be there in all the rough patches, and he was, only until it comes to your attention he wasn’t.

the sweet, considerate, thoughtful husband you once knew disappeared in the matter of a few minutes. all that remained of him now was a hard shell of what he was.

you decide to not reply to satoru anymore, to save yourself from anymore heartbreak – as if you had any left for him to smash into a billion pieces. the only actions you take are to curl up into an even smaller ball and allow the flood gates to open – you begin to coat the soft sheets in your salty tears. satoru only groans at your crying, like it was such a burden he broke your heart, as if he’s not the one to blame for everything going downhill.

the bed sinks in as satoru stands up, sighing. his footsteps shuffle behind you, you hear his keys jingle and his shoes scuff against the floor as he puts them on. you see him walk over to your dresser – the one he made for you with a huge mirror years ago – and check his reflection to fix his hair. soon after, he walks over to you and plants a meaningless kiss to your temple.

“i’m going to go see my girlfriend now,” the utterance of the word “girlfriend” makes you squeeze your eyes shut, “if you want a divorce, let me know so i can get a lawyer.”

satoru walks away and grabs his coat on the dresser, giving himself another good look in the mirror before walking over to the bedroom door.

“bye, honey.”

he leaves behind a broken wife, who’s too beautiful inside and out for her own good. he knows you won’t really leave him; the suggestion of a divorce was to only get a reaction out of you, he was bored the instant you had no rebuttal.

you only continue to cry into the night, falling asleep alone, the only thing to accompany you is the fact your marriage was a lie. satoru will come back, but things will never be the same.

[dontsh0vethesun]

let me sleep.

masterlist

emily prentiss x reader

summary: you can’t sleep lately, emily is your only glimpse of comfort

angst, hurt/comfort, r can’t sleep, r is kinda sad, completely self indulgent

a/n: title is from ‘the wisp sings’ by winter aid - i didn’t base the fic on the song but it fits the vibe | i wrote this at 6am, it is all edited whilst sleep deprived so it isn’t great and may have errors.

word count: 1.5k

The quiet of the night leaves no room for rest. The hum of passing cars is long gone, the small space in your curtains you can never seem to be rid of lets in the light that starts the morning, and your eyes burn.

The quiet of the break of dawn is oppressive. Each night, the bleeding of sunrise into the once-dark sky is a weight in your mind, a bitter reminder that the sleep you beg for is just out of reach.

Your bedroom is muted and suffocating, you practically gasp for reprieve against the nagging of your mind each time you close your eyes. Weeks of sleepless nights, brief rests before the blare of your alarm and the occasional nap on the BAU jet, have left you weak. Tired to your aching bones, relying on cup after cup of coffee despite the way your heart threatens to break free of the confines of your chest.

You lie awake tonight, thinking that, just maybe, your stinging eyes will get a break, even beginning to finally drift off until your phone vibrates beside you. The shrill alarm tone you chose makes you nauseous and you could scream at the fact you have to claw yourself away from the obnoxiously expensive pillows you splurged on.

Instead of resting, you tap into the mere morsel of energy you have left to dress yourself for work, opting for a drive-thru coffee to save yourself the effort. The cold of your iced latte shakes you awake enough to walk into the bullpen. The half-empty cup was your crutch, and you hope it’ll serve you well enough to survive the morning.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Emily murmured from behind you. Just the sound was enough to finally pull somewhat of a smile from your lips. You offered the upturn of your mouth as a greeting, turning to face her as she shrugged off her jacket and dropped her bag beneath her desk.

She opened her mouth to talk again before Hotch grabbed your attention, stepping out of his office with nothing more than a nod of his head as he walked to the conference room.

“Couldn’t even finish my coffee in peace,” you mumbled, voice marred with exhaustion. Emily gave your arm a squeeze before she led the way.

You sipped through your paper straw while the case was discussed, chewing it into disgusting oblivion when all that was left was melting ice. You hardly listened, and you could hardly focus; you just shifted in your seat under the miserable exhaustion that felt as though some malevolent force had decided to tie weights of lead to your ankles.

You just wish someone had told you that the nights that left you tired would give you days of aching misery. The gluttonous streak of impulse you harbour wants to hand in your resignation just so you’d have ample time to curl up in your apartment and wallow in the sour gloom. The nagging voice of reason, however, knows that you need money. And Emily.

Somehow, through your daze, you made it onto the jet. And, because the world is desperate to disappoint you, the flight was a measly hour long. You kept yourself awake with a coffee constantly in your grasp, head held up by the window’s cool glass.

“For a jet that costs so much, you’d think they could spend a little extra on nicer coffee,” you grumbled with a bitter sip. Your words of protest were met with amused smiles, and if you were still in the ‘full to the brim with agita’ stage of tiredness, you’d have argued that you were completely earnest in your remark. Instead you settled on appreciating Emily’s smile.

“I’m sure Hotch could put in a request for one of those fancy machines,” she returned with a pointed look in his direction.

“Or Rossi could be charitable for once,” you added. Emily laughed at your retort with a nudge to your shoulder when he tutted in amusement - you were all very aware of his miserly tendencies by now.

You somehow managed to claw your way through to the evening; the ache for sleep hadn’t dwindled and yet you found yourself staring up at the ceiling with a sleeping brunette by your side.

Her lips were parted with even breaths, skin soft and dusted with the light pink of sleep. She looks beautiful even like this, and you could cry if you hadn’t grown bitterly numb. She’s much too good for you, you’re sure. A smile that brightens a room and a laugh to match. A person so full of love, and she chooses to spend her time with you, a person so drained with little left to give.

Your head weaves its webs of doubt, shame spilling into the cracks that won’t repair, spiralling in a perfect elixir of guilt and gut-wrenching agony. Your body grows hot beneath the duvet and your throat squeezes the air out of your lungs. You wish you could cry, muffled sobs into the quiet of the night until you finally sleep, but your face remains still and unmarked by tears.

The chill of the midnight air pulls goosebumps from your skin when you step out onto the hotel room's balcony. You shudder at the sudden change of temperature but revel in the fact that you're feeling something at least. Maybe now your body will realise you’re human and start to work correctly.

You think of Emily and all the ways you love her, leaning your arms against the balcony’s fencing; you can only seem to smile when she looks at you. You never want to dim the light that shines on you when she’s near by telling her the truth. That when she sleeps at night, you lie awake. That when you smile, you smile for her. That only she can make you laugh. That you feel as though you’re being consumed whilst your heart still pumps blood through your weary body. That you wouldn’t mind lying next to her as she sleeps every day until you die.

So trapped in your thoughts, you miss the change in the air; she sidled up beside you, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, looking perfectly adorable with a reddened cheek from where she’d cuddled up against her pillow.

“Hey, what’re you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged. “It’s not too late yet, I’ll get enough hours in - you should go back to bed.”

“I sleep better when you’re around,” she returned, resting her hand on the small of your back. “Something on your mind?”

The words were on the tip of your tongue; the truth of your mind that keeps you awake. The fact she is much too perfect for you but you can’t let her go. That you’re only human if she’s by your side. Confessions of the purgatory you find yourself in, the sacrificial lamb ready to be slaughtered, pulled back by your devotion to her.

“No, not really,” you answered. “Just one of those nights, I guess.”

“Alright,” she breathed with a kiss to the top of your head. You’re not sure if she believed you. “It’s freezing out here; come back to bed.”

“I was looking at the moon before you interrupted me,” you teased, laughing at the way she gasped and poked your waist in amused disapproval. You’d throw a lasso around the planet and pull it down for her if that was what she desired - if that would make you more worthy of her affection.

“Well, she can wait because I’m tired,” she muttered. “Plus, I can actually see you,” she added, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. There was something unspoken behind her words, you’re sure - part of you pathetically hopes there was. “And, I’m a professional cuddler.”

“That’s a strong claim, Emily,” you laughed.

“I have the trophy to prove it,” she seamlessly countered. “Come on, I’ll show you.” She took your cold hand in hers, breathing warmth into your skin, and pulled you behind her until she’d yanked you all the way beneath the covers once more.

She wrapped both arms around you with your face nestled in the crook of her neck and her nails stroking over the skin of your back beneath your shirt. You relaxed in her hold, deflating against her until you couldn’t be any more comfortable.

“The moon can’t do this,” she grumbled. Jealous of the moon as if she couldn’t easily find somebody better. You want to ask her, in the vulnerable silence of the night, why she chose you.

“No, it can’t.”

The smell of her perfume lingered on her skin, the reassuring scent of vanilla and violets you’ve grown used to, and as the minutes passed and passed the patterns drawn on your skin by the pads of her fingers dwindled down into nothing but a flattened palm. Each sleeping breath fell against your forehead in dulcet exhales of air. Occasionally, she’d shift in her position, reminding you that the thing that had quietened your head was the person who latched onto you.

You only managed to catch a couple of hours of sleep, but you think that perhaps one day you could rest soundlessly if she continues to choose you.

[marthawrites]

To Break The Tension

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 3.4k+

About: You and Aemond have a no strings attached relationship. He has a surprise for you and you are more than excited to go see what it is.

Includes: Friends with benefits dynamic and smut featuring adult language, vaginal fingering, mild degradation, praise, cockwarming, spanking, and unprotected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! Here is a loosely themed October story 😊 I've had this idea rolling around in my head ALL MONTH and I finally was able to get it outta my head! The movie in this fic is unspecified, but I wrote it with the new "The Excorist: Believer" in mind. However, insert whatever horror movie you would like! Reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

-

You were finishing drying your hair when a text came through. Glancing down at your phone before the screen blacked out, you saw it was Aemond. You unlocked it with a swipe to see:

What are you doing?

It just so happened you weren’t doing anything. Your roomie was finishing a huge paper for one of her classes so you were keeping to yourself in your room. You just took one of those extra long showers: the kind where you wash, shave, exfoliate, and everything between. Partly because you were bored and didn’t know what else to do, and partly because you couldn’t remember the last time you let yourself have one of those. Self care days were few and far between – between classes and work, life was crazy!

You thought about sending him a selfie of you in only a towel. Or maybe even a tit pic. He loved those. Not tonight. You didn’t want to seem overly easy or overly eager. Instead, you chose the dignified response of:

Just finishing up a couple things! What are you up to? ♥

Aemond was just as busy, if not busier, than you. You two met in a study group a few months back and immediately clicked. If you both chose to make your "relationship" official there’d be many who claimed it to be love at first sight. But, no, it wasn’t quite like that. It was lust at first sight. By the end of that night, when he offered to drive you home, you were making out in his car. With kiss-swollen lips he buried his fingers in your pussy while your lipgloss still shone on his cock; tinted windows foggy with breath.

‘Friends with benefits’ you both called it. No strings attached. Someone to have fun with without the commitment of an actual relationship. It worked out pretty well, honestly! The sex was fucking great. Yet, still, you found yourself wanting the intimacy that came with sex, too, and not just the steamy fuck.

I found something I think you’ll like. Come over?

Your interest was instantly piqued. What did he have up his sleeve?

Ooh! A surprise? Be over soon!

He didn’t send anything back, but you didn’t mind because you were able to finish getting ready with no distractions. You put on some of your favorite comfy clothes not bothering to get dressed up. Instead of interrupting your roomie during her paper, you sent her a quick text letting her know what you were up to and that you’d be back after a few. 

Half an hour after Aemond’s first message you pulled up to the Targaryen estate. You parked, checked yourself in the mirror one last time, and walked up to the front entrance. Only, it wasn’t Aemond who greeted you there.

“Hey!” Aegon’s amused voice drawled out. “If it’s not the reason my little brother is dressed like a slut tonight,” he said as he eyed you up and down, smirking behind his cigarette. He smoked lazily while leaning on the front porch’s bannister, and was all too entertained by you showing up. His silver waves were tossed in a way that made you annoyed at how perfectly imperfect they looked. Stupid Aegon and his stupid taunts.

Just as your chin set defiantly, and your eyes narrowed in preparation for a snarky response, Aemond appeared in the doorway. He leaned against it with his arms crossed wearing a quiet amused smirk. 

Gray sweats. Black t-shirt. Hair pulled back into a bun. 

Yeah. He was dressed like a slut.

Choosing to dismiss Aegon, you said, as sweetly as you could muster, "we have different definitions of the word 'slut'. He looks positively normal to me. Maybe even a little dull."

"Ha! Look at him! Trust me. That little floozy is begging for it," he said with a sly drag from his smoke.

"You're wearing the same thing, Aeg. Don't sound so jealous."

"I'm wearing a hoodie though. AND slippers! It takes away the desperation!"

Aemond gently pushed you inside as Aegon ranted. Aemond flipped him off and swung the door closed. If he had been any slower you'd have heard Aegon cracking up amidst coughing on cigarette smoke.

"He thinks he's hilarious," Aemond snarked close behind you as he guided you up the manse's grand staircase. "God, you smell good."

You giggled and did your very best to ignore the goosebumps his compliment sent tickling along your neck. "You should have smelled me before. You caught me on a good night," you replied cheekily.

He opened the door to his room. After gesturing you inside he gave your ass an appreciative little slap. You were both closed and locked in, now. "Ready for the surprise?"

Glancing around his room you didn't notice anything different. Nothing appeared out of place. There definitely wasn't a wrapped and bowed package anywhere for you! "Yes. Come on, Aems, you're killing me with the suspense!"

He had a nice gaming computer setup, and when he slid into his chair you followed to look over his shoulder. "Check it out," he said as he clicked on an icon to open a movie.

One of the brand new horror movies that wasn't even available to own yet. "How'd you get this already?"

He chuckled at the genuine confusion of your question. "It's not hard," he answered, smug.

"It's illegal!"

"Oh pfft. Only if you're caught."

"You pirate! No wonder you always wear this silly thing," you teased as you slid your fingers across the worn leather of his eyepatch. He had a prosthetic from a horrible childhood accident and never outgrew the self-consciousness of it. You didn't mind it or the long white scar that accompanied it. But, still, you never pressured him to take it off.

He chuckled as he clicked the mouse a couple times. It started playing on the large TV mounted on his wall. "Ready to get scared?"

You fiddled nervously. You did want to see this one. Really bad. But it also looked really creepy. "I dunno… I didn't mentally prepare for this, ya know? When you said surprise I didn't think it'd be something like this!" You admitted with palpable uneasiness.

"Sounds like a good surprise to me, then," he said smugly. "And what were you expecting?"

His bedroom was spacious, open, and tidy. You'd seen studio apartments that were smaller. Walking over to his bed, you swiped one of his pillows before plopping down on the couch. You hugged it and looked up at him with playfully frightful eyes. "Maybe some kisses?"

"You're so fucking cute," he said, looking down at you with a self-satisfied smirk; yet another Targaryen trait he and his brother shared. He reached forward and gently tipped your chin higher, thumb grazing over your bottom lip. "Already looking at me with these eyes, hm?" He asked with a tilt of his head. "I bet I can hold off longer than you. You probably won't even last half the movie without my cock in your pretty mouth."

Heat rushed up to your face and down between your thighs. You had half a mind to bite his thumb. You rolled your eyes. "Shut the hell up," you snorted. "You're such an asshole!"

Aemond scoffed and grabbed a blanket for both of you. A moment later he sat beside you with his arm draped over the top of the couch behind you. "Don't worry, baby. I won't hold it against you." 

Even though he was still grinning like a stupid fucking cat he smelled really good. Too good. It was impossible to fight the lure of him. You leaned into him and instantly melted in comfort. "Do you ever stop talking? I'm trying to watch this."

"Oh. Okay okay, I'm sorry. Sheesh," he whispered.

The next thirty minutes or so went by quickly. The movie had an intense opening followed by a believable set up. There were subtle things in the beginning that reminded you of the type of movie it was. Timeless horror. After some well placed tropes and smooth scene transitions, you didn't realize the build up of tension had you squeezing Aemond's hand.

Right at the tension's peak, when you were holding your breath for what might happen next, the movie flexed its first jump scare. It got you good. So much so that you gasped (squeaked?) and buried your face in Aemond’s smooth, warm, exposed neck; your quick breath made you embarrassed.

Even though you were scared, and your reaction was wholly innocent, it had a much less innocent effect on Aemond. He said you'd be the first one to give in tonight. Yet, there he was: half hard all because your face was against his neck with those cute little breaths. He tried to fight it. "You okay?" He asked, rubbing your back.

"No," you squeaked. "I mean… yeah, I am. Just.. ah! That jump scare was so cheap and stupid but my heart is still pounding!" You laughed, reluctantly pulling away from him.

His eye had a sort of dark amusement to it. There were no soft comforting lines on the sharp angles of his face. "My tough girl… always listening to podcasts about true crime, hauntings, cryptids… and a dumb little jump scare gets you this worked up?"

"Shut up!" You said. His voice dripped with condescension and mockery and it made you blush all over again. "It's different when it's a movie, okay?"

"Mm… if you say so."

Somehow you were able to turn your attention back to the movie. For a little bit, at least. It didn't take much longer for the creep factor to multiply by tenfold and before you knew it you were in Aemond’s neck. Again. 

"You're hilarious," he laughed. "Isn't the original one of your favorites?"

"Yes. A love hate relationship," you mumbled against his skin. Without having to see them, you felt goosebumps pebble beneath your mouth; you weren't the only one getting worked up.

"You're extremely distracting."

In your defense some super weird shit happened next, and with it you jumped on his lap. Straddling him, you whispered, "I don't want to be scared anymore." Your lips brushed against his in a delicate, inviting kiss. Your arms draped over his shoulders so your fingers could slide up the back of his neck, squeezing at the base of his hair. 

He made a soft noise – so soft you might have missed it – and you felt him twitch under you. You loved how sensitive Aemond's scalp was. And right now you fully used it to your advantage.

You pressed your knees tighter against the outside of his thighs. Teasingly, to test his resolve, you rolled your hips over his groin.

That's all it took. Aemond hissed an inward breath. His pupil swelled. "I can feel how hot you are through all of our clothes. Is this why you're so worked up? Need to get off a time or two?" He asked, hands squeezing your hips.

"Not just me, Aems…," you mumbled accusingly. "You're already hard. And from what? Seeing me scared?"

A noise like a growl rumbled in his chest. "You've been panting and whimpering in my neck like a puppy for almost an hour. How can I not be hard? You make the same noises when my fingers are in you." He moved one hand into the waistband of your bottoms and pushed inside. There, long slender fingers brushed your covered cunt. And, while watching you, those fingers slid beneath your underwear to trace over your slit. He groaned at the slickness he met. "Fuck, baby, you're this wet from being scared?"

Arousal tightened all those low muscles in your belly. Anticipation quivered inside them making you shiver atop him. You gasped, instantly catching your bottom lip in your teeth as he circled your soaked little clit. "Don't tease me, Aems," you begged. 

He stayed on your clit. Circling, rubbing, tracing over and around the bud. "I'm gonna play with your pussy just like this for the rest of the movie. How does that sound?" 

You whined, already grinding your hips in time with his touch. "No. Please. I need more of you…"

He angled one of his fingers just right. The next time you ground on his hand that digit slipped up into you. You gasped together. His mouth crashed to yours with a deep, needy kiss. "That's right. Fuck yourself on my finger until you cum," he rasped between kisses, squeezing your hip harshly with his other hand.

Your bottoms were in the way and he wasn't moving his wrist much. He wasn't pumping into you, wasn't adding another finger, wasn't doing much at all except coaxing you with hushed praises and mockery. Yet, still, you ground all over him and whimpered into his mouth. He must have liked what you were doing because he slipped a second into you and curled them just slight, just enough, and soon you were shuddering atop him. "God, yes, I'm gonna cum!" You panted. "Fuck!"

Your little squeaked curse sent Aemond's cock aching. When you came around his fingers he laughed lowly, darkly, pulling out only when he knew you were done. "Stand up and take those off," he ordered, voice thick with desire.

You obeyed without even thinking about it. He pushed his own sweats and briefs down, too, cock standing stiff. Your mouth watered at the sight – cunt clenching at the sight – and in an instant you were straddling him again. "Been thinking about this since you texted me," you said breathily. You sunk down on him. Inch by wonderful inch. Your spongy walls yielded to him and the stretch of him had your eyes rolling closed.

"Always so eager for me," he said in a voice heavy and strained. "Shit, babe. Look how well you fit around my cock. Be a good girl and just stay there, yeah? Keep this hard fucking cock warm while I finish the movie since you're too scared to."

"Aems…," you whined.

"Shh…," he hushed. "I know you can do it. Be a good little cocksleeve and stop distracting me from the movie." His mouth said one thing yet his eye said another. Fuck yourself stupid, it said. Ride yourself silly, it also said. Show me what you got, it dared.

Your brain was already mush. Aemond had that awful effect on you. "Just like this?" You asked, lazily shimmying your hips until he nestled into the perfect spot. 

"Just like that," he praised, kissing your soft lips.

It was extremely challenging to simply stay there with your head resting on his shoulder, body melted atop his, with him stuffed up inside your slickened walls.

The first couple minutes were the worst. Anytime you'd been in this position before, you were fucking him absolutely wild with only one thing on your mind: your release.

Soon, impatience shifted to comfort. It felt… good. Really good. You were still so wet, and he was still so hard, that together it created a wholeness you never quite experienced before.

All the while you peppered kisses along his neck, his jaw, his face. "Are you trying to impress me?" He asked as his hands never quite stayed still on you. They happily wandered all along the shape and bends of your body. "Because it's working. Mmm… what a good girl. Behaving yourself so well."

Meanwhile, whatever was happening in the movie grew more intense by the scene. It must have been ramping up to the climax because the combination of dialogue, sound effects, and music, had you on edge even though you had your back to it. 

Aemond seemed entranced by it. Maybe you'd have to watch it with him another day when you were more mentally prepared for a horror flick… and only after you fucked two or five times.

You clenched around him, then. Fluttering the walls of your still soaked cunt around his still rigid length; tightening, relaxing, squeezing, easing. He felt too good and you were becoming restless again. Smirking to yourself, you ground against him – partially to release some of the pressure building inside of you and partially to see what his reaction might be.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked, giving you a small upward buck of his hips.

"I love the way you feel. I want more of you," you answered truthfully. You took his action as an invitation and ground against him again, sighing blissfully.

Instead of a breathy praise, or low approving rumble, you were met with a firm smack against your asscheek. He spanked you again, and even a third time, alternating between your cheeks. "Greedy girl. Look at you being so needy you can't even follow simple directions." He slapped you more, all too proud of himself for the way you continued to squeeze around him in tandem with your little noises.

"Please, Aems!" You looked at him with dark desperate eyes.

He chuckled. "You just need fucked that bad? Begging for my cock even though you're already sitting on it?"

You nodded, pitiful. "Yes, yes, yes," you said, holding still despite lust gnawing at your core.

"Greedy greedy girl," he growled, pushing you off him so you were laying on your back on the couch. He removed his shirt in one quick motion. Long, lean, and beautifully alabaster, he loomed above you while lining himself up with your eager entrance. "This needy cunt can't even wait half an hour to be fucked."

Anytime Aemond's voice took on that edge you melted. You couldn't help yourself. Your thighs spilled open wide for him. "You always know what I need," you teased breathily.

"You're all mine to use, aren't you?" He asked, sinking into you. The muscles of his abdomen flexed as he pushed further into you. As soon as he filled you up entirely he moaned a delicious sound of satisfaction. "I love the way you look on your back." He punctuated his words with strong thrusts, giving you (and himself) exactly what you needed.

Pleasure already began to web outward from your spine. Your fingertips tingled. Your toes curled.

"Look at you," he cooed, not slowing his pace or rhythm. If anything he gripped your legs harder; dented his fingertips firmer into your soft flesh. "Keep taking my cock like the little slut you are. Yeah, yeah, just like that…"

His name fell from your lips as his words pushed you to the edge of your pleasure. Close, close, you were so close. You tugged your shirt up over your belly and chest to show off your bouncing tits to him. Your bra clipped in the front and you quickly unclasped it. When your breasts spilled free they bounced with the intensity of his movements.

"God, I love those tits," he rasped, shamelessly watching them. He made no move to grab, hold, or pinch them, simply watched the way they moved as he pounded into you.

"Ahh! Yes!" You said as orgasm ripped through your body. You held onto the bliss as long as you could, and as soon as you let go you turned to putty beneath him. He fucked you through it. You were in your happy place. Weightless. Senseless. Savoring every second of your climax as it took you to the stars.

Aemond managed to pull out of your quivering cunt at the last second. With a series of deeply satisfied groans he unloaded all over your exposed belly and tits. Ropes of cum shone on your skin. He panted, cheeks pink from the exertion, until every last drop of him glittered on you.

"You're sexiest like this," he said before he slowly stood and stepped away from the couch. He reappeared a moment later with a handful of tissues. He cleaned himself off as you cleaned yourself, too, basking in the afterglow of peak together. 

Neither of you said anything for a few minutes as you laughed and caught your breath. "You missed the ending, Aems," you finally said, gesturing to the rolling end credits.

"Guess we'll have to start it over," he said with an easy grin and shrug. 

"Guess so," you agreed dreamily.

Still naked, he walked to his computer and restarted the movie.

He sat by you again, greedily looking you over. "Stay like that, though."

You peered at him confusedly.

"I wanna see how far I make it before I'm eating that sweet pussy."

Once again, blood rushed to your face and you hoped he didn't notice.

You hadn't quite made it through half the movie before you pounced on him. How long would Aemond Targaryen last? Especially once you started flashing him all the angles and poses you knew he couldn't resist. He could talk tough all he wanted. You knew how much he loved your taste on his tongue.

-

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[winchesterwild78]

A Shattered Heart pt 2

Master List

Jensen x Reader (girlfriend)

Warnings: Angst, language, longing 

A/N: Apparently I made Jensen too much of an asshole and now I feel terrible. 🫣 So, here is the 2nd part of the story. This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. All work is my own and absolutely no disrespect to Jensen or his family. No idea why my head is filled with this story…..it’s brutal. It's gonna get better...I promise. I wrote it fast-like 30 minutes, and didn’t do a great job editing. Please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

The days without Jensen blurred together. After you left that night you drove to a hotel to stay until you could figure out what to do next. You called your mom for advice and just to hear her voice. “Why don’t you come home for a visit. We’d love to see you, and maybe some time away will help the two of you. Honey, I’m not making excuses for him, but he’s got a lot of people depending on him and that kind of pressure can break even the strongest of people.” “I know mama, but he told me to leave. The things he said were just so cruel. I’m the one person he’s supposed to turn to when things get hard, and he pushed me away.” 

Your mom offered you more words of encouragement and by the end of the conversation you had booked a flight home for a few days later. After telling her goodbye you climbed into the bed, looking at your phone hoping for a text from Jensen, but there was nothing. It was almost 6am by this point and you were exhausted. You figured he was asleep or passed out. Laying down and turning your phone on silent, sleep quickly overtook you. 

You woke up early in the afternoon. Stretching you glanced at the clock and saw it was almost 2pm. Your eyes were swollen and your head pounding from all the crying. Stumbling out of bed you made your way to get some water and headache medicine. 

After taking the medicine you decided a hot shower might help too. You grabbed your clothes, toiletries, and jumped in the shower. After a very long, very hot shower, you were starting to feel a little better. 

It had been 3 days at this point since Jensen told you to leave. Three days without his arms around you, without his hot breath on your neck, without his lips on yours and without him saying he loved you. Anytime your phone went off you jumped, thinking it was him, but nothing. It had been 3 days and he hadn’t reached out to you. You tried to keep tabs on him through mutual friends on social media, but you saw nothing. 

Your heart ached for any news on how he was doing. Was he just as heartbroken as you were, just as sad, or was he fine with his decision? You took some time off from work to sort everything out, and to fly home for a few days. You packed up and made sure you had everything from the room. 

Stepping out into the cool air your breath hitched. You had an Uber drive you to the airport. You boarded your plane, turning off your phone, settling into your seat for the flight home. 

*Jensen’s POV*

I woke up with a horrible hangover. The most I remember from last night was the fight with Danneel, drinking a ton of whiskey, and….oh shit! I told Y/N to leave. I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs looking for her. Going room to room praying it was a dream and she was still there. Then a small piece of metal caught my eye, her key. I grabbed my phone and tried to call her, it went straight to voicemail. I tried again, still voicemail. “Fuck!”

I called Jared, “Jared I fucked up! I don’t know how to fix this.” Jensen said in a panicked voice. “Whoah, Jens, slow down. What happened?” “I fucked up. Danneel called me last night, I had just gotten home from filming and we got into a huge fight. When I hung up I took it out on Y/N. Shit, man. She was only trying to help me. I said some really fucked up things, then I…” His voice trailed off. “Jens, then you what?” “I told her to leave. I got drunk and told her to leave. She left. I haven’t heard from her and when I try to call her it goes straight to voicemail. Shit man, I love her. What the hell did I do?!” 

Jared took a deep breath, “Give me a second man.” He covered the phone and told Gen what happened, asking her to call you and see if she could get you to come over. She pulled out her phone and the call went straight to voicemail. She shook her head at Jared.

“Jens, do you know where she might be?” Jensen sat in silence for a minute, “No, well, maybe she went home. Like her mother’s house.” “Okay, do you have her mother’s number?” Jared asked. “Yeah, somewhere. I’ll have to find it. Damn I said some horrible things, I know I lost her Jared. I saw how much I broke her before she left and I just fucking sat there. What the fuck is wrong with me?!” “We will figure it out, Jensen. In the meantime you need to figure out why you took all of that out on her. If she decides to come back to you, you have to figure out what triggered you and how to prevent it from happening again.” 

Jensen knew why he did it. He was falling for you faster than he expected, and he got scared. Scared that when all the shit was going on with his ex you were the first person he wanted to turn to for help. When he thought about the future and doing things with his kids he saw you there too. He was in deep, so deep he had thought about what marriage would look like with you. He was terrified if he opened up his heart to you, like really opened his heart, you would break it too. Jensen loved you, but he was afraid of another failed marriage.

He knew it was stupid, but people do stupid things when they are scared. 

For three days Jensen, Jared and Gen tried to get in touch with you. Nobody could reach you. Jensen was due back on set in a few days and he had no idea how he could go. Jensen searched everywhere for your mom’s number but couldn’t find it. As the days continued to pass without any word from you, Jensen fell deeper into despair. 

You sat in your seat on the plane, earbuds in and trying to clear your head. You scrolled through your phone, looking at the pictures of you and Jensen. Thousands of pictures of stolen glances, soft kisses, and laughter. There were pictures of Jensen and his children, candid shots of Jensen you thought he didn’t know you took, but he did. He had several of you too. 

Your heart ached for him, but his cruelty played over and over in your head. Frustrated, you tossed your phone in your bag and closed your eyes. 

A few hours later you were standing inside the airport waiting for your luggage. Your phone started pinging with notifications once you turned airplane mode off. You shoved it in your pocket as you grabbed your suitcase and walked towards the front. 

You ordered an Uber to drive you to your parent’s house. Looking at your phone you noticed you had a ton of text messages and an Instagram notification. Climbing into the Uber you sat back and checked your messages.

Gen: Hey sweetie. Jensen told us what happened. I just wanted to check on you. Reach out when you can. We’re worried about you. 

Jared: Hey shortstack. Gen and I are here for you. He’s a fool. Please let us know you’re okay. 

Then you saw Jensen’s name. You swallowed hard, checking the messages.

Jensen: Sweetheart I’m so sorry. Please let me know you’re okay.

Jensen: Baby I fucked up. Please call me or text me. I’m worried about you. 

Jensen: I know you’re angry and hurt. I don’t blame you. Baby, please let me know you’re okay. Nobody has heard from you.

Jensen: I love you

Jensen: Y/N you didn’t deserve what I said and you didn’t deserve me taking all this out on you. I love you, baby. I know I hurt you and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please just let me know you’re okay. 

Your breath hitched as you read his messages. He hurt you, broke your heart, but you couldn’t help but feel the need to reach out to him. You stared at your messages trying to figure out what to do. So you decided to send Gen a text first.

You: Hey Gen. I’m okay. I had to get away for a bit. He broke my heart, told me to leave so I did. I can’t be with someone who pushes me away like that. I love him, but I deserve better than that.

Gen: Oh, Y/N. I am so glad you’re okay. I know sweetie. He called Jared. We understand and support you. Just know he regrets what he did. The past three days he’s been trying to find you and reach out to you. For what it’s worth he does love you, he’s just scared.

You: I’m scared too, Gen. I fell for him fast and then he tossed me to the side. I have to come to terms with not being good enough for him, not being what he needed. I don’t know if or when I’ll reach out to him, but please let him know I’m okay. I should be back in Texas in about a week. I know he has to go back to set, so please let him know I’ll have Jared go by the house with me to get the rest of my stuff. 

Gen: Oh sweetie, you are good enough for him. He knows what he’s lost. I will tell him you’re okay. When you get back we will figure out your stuff. We love you.

You: Thank you, and I love you guys too.

Sitting your phone down you looked out the car window and saw your parent’s neighborhood come into view. You took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. When the car pulled into your parent’s driveway you saw your mom at the door. Her bright smile is a welcome sight. 

Getting out of the car, you grabbed your bags and walked towards your mom. Her arms outstretched to pull you into a hug. 

Her arms around you felt like home. You felt safe and loved. The weight of the pain came crashing down again and you sobbed into your mother’s arms. “Shh, it’s okay baby. Let it out. I know, baby.” She whispered into your head as she held you. 

As you pulled away, the tears still falling, you let out a shaky breath. “Mama, I still love him. It just hurts so bad. I don’t know how or if I can fix this.” 

“Let’s get you inside baby. We will figure it out.” She wrapped her arms around you and walked you inside. Your dad was standing in the living room and when you saw him he pulled you into a hug. “Hey baby girl. It’s good to have you home.” His strong steady voice washes over you. You loved your mom but you were a daddy’s girl. He was the first man to ever hold your heart and he had always been protective of you. 

When he found out you were dating Jensen he told him he better not hurt you. Jensen promised him he wouldn’t. “Daddy, I don't know what to do. I still love him so much.” “I know you do, baby. Give it a few days and the two of you should talk. You don’t let him treat you that way. If you go back you tell him he can’t do this to you. You deserve better than that. However, there isn’t ever a perfect relationship. You two have to work at it every single day if you want it to last.” Your dad pulled you tighter. “I know daddy. Thank you.” He kissed the top of your head as you pulled away. 

You went to your old bedroom and put your things down. You sat on the bed and pulled out your phone. That’s when you remembered the Instagram post you were tagged in.

Opening Instagram your breath hitched. It was a post from Jensen. It was a picture of the two of you. One you didn’t know he had taken. The two of you were on the couch, snuggled and you had fallen asleep on his chest and he was smiling softly at the camera. It was a sweet picture of both of you. 

His caption took your breath away. “My love, my beautiful girl, my home. I’m a fool to let you slip away. I’ll spend the rest of my life, until my last breath trying to make this right. I love you @yourusername. Forever and always. 

Tears were streaming down your face. Jensen was usually very private so him making this post about the two of you was incredible. You didn’t know what to say. 

You read through the comments and saw so many supportive comments and some calling Jensen out for whatever he did. You chuckled a little, but your heart ached for him. 

You decided to like the post. Just a little olive branch to let him know you still cared, still loved him. Even if he was being an asshole. 

Jensen’s POV

I was sitting at Gen and Jared’s house. Gen told me she’d heard from Y/N. I wish she’d call me, I miss her voice. The two of them were trying to encourage me but until I was able to talk to her nothing mattered. I needed to tell her how sorry I was. Even if it was too late for us, I needed to make this right. I hated that I made her feel like she wasn’t good enough. 

Jared handed me a beer and as Gen got up to check on the kids she squeezed my arm. “It’s going to be okay, Jens. She loves you so much. It’s just going to take some time.” 

I nodded and smiled softly. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I glanced at it. It was Instagram. I opened it and saw Y/N had liked my post about us. I gasped. Tears filling my eyes. “Jared, she saw my post. She liked it.” Jared smiled “That’s great Jens. It’s a start.” 

“Do you think I should text her?” Jared and Gen looked at each other, “I think you should wait for her to reach out. You’ve let her know you’re ready to talk, so let her make the decision.” 

I nodded and hesitantly put my phone down. 

Your POV

You showed your mom the Instagram post and asked her opinion. “It seems like there is still a lot of love there, Y/N. I can’t tell you what to do, but if it was me I’d give him a chance to explain and you get a chance to let him know how you feel. If you’re in love with him and he’s in love with you, then you owe it to yourselves to give it another chance.” 

You nodded and smiled at her. “Thanks mama. I can always count on you to help me.” 

She hugged you and gave you a soft kiss on your forehead. 

You bit your lip and pulled out your phone. Taking a deep breath you opened messages. 

You: Hey 

Jensen: Hey baby 

You: Are you busy?

Jensen: No, never too busy for you. 

You: Can I call you to talk? 

Jensen: I’d love that baby. 

You swallowed hard and stepped outside on the porch. Your hand trembling you dialed his number. 

Jensen answered almost immediately, “Hey baby. I’m so glad you called.” 

Your voice was soft and shaky, “Hey, Jens. We have a lot to talk about. 

“Yeah I know we do. It’s so good to hear your voice baby. I’ve missed it, I’ve missed you.” 

A tear slipped out from your eyes. “I’ve missed you too, Jens. I have to know why. Why did you make me leave?” 

“Baby I’m stupid. There isn’t a good enough excuse or reason for the way I treated you. I’m an asshole. I need you to know I'm so sorry for what I said and did. If I’m being honest I’m scared, Y/N. I had one failed marriage that ended really bad. I was afraid it was going to happen again.” 

“But Jensen, we aren’t married. Why would you think you’d have another failed marriage?” “Because I’m in love with you, Y/N. It scares me how quickly I fell in love with you, when I see you I see a marriage, I see our lives together forever, I see home.” 

You gasped softly, “Jensen I loved you too, so much. I saw a future with you too, but I didn’t toss you to the side. I deserved better than that. I deserve someone who is my partner, who will turn to me when things get tough, not against me. I deserve someone who doesn’t make me feel like I’m not good enough. Dammit Jensen, I would have married you if you had asked.”

Jensen ran his hands through his hair and sighed heavily, “I know baby. I’m so sorry. Me being scared is not an excuse for the way I treated you. Please come home so I can fix this. I’ll head home right now and meet you there.”

“Jensen, I’m not in Texas. I left. You told me to leave, so I did. Besides you have to be back on set tomorrow so I’m sure you’re leaving soon to catch your flight. It was scheduled for 6pm.”

Jensen’s voice cracked as he tried to hold back his emotions, “I didn’t mean it baby. I didn’t want you to leave. Fuck! Where are you baby?” “Jens, it doesn’t matter. You’re expected on set tomorrow, you have all those people depending on you and I know you don’t want to let them down. Maybe when you get home in a month I’ll come by and we can talk.”

You didn’t want to tell him you were at your parents’ house because you knew he’d be there in a heartbeat. 

“Baby I don’t want to wait a month. I want to work on us now. We deserve that, you deserve that. I’ve already called the producers and we’ve pushed back filming. You are more important than any show.”

“Jensen, I can’t ask you to do that. I know how important your career is to you. Please don’t throw it away over me. I’m not worth that. You’ve worked too hard to get to where you are. Please Jensen.” 

“Sweetheart, nothing, you hear me, nothing is more important to me than you and my kids. I love you and I’m willing to fight for us. Please tell me where you are and I’ll come to you.”

“I need some time, Jensen. You hurt me deeply. I should be back in Texas by the end of the week, we will talk in person then if you still want to.” 

Jensen felt a little pang of sadness. He didn’t want to wait to talk to you face to face. He wanted to hold you in his arms and kiss you again. However, he knew this was his fault. All of this was his doing, so he wanted to let you lead. 

“Okay, baby. I understand. When you get back in town, let me know and I can meet you somewhere. I love you, Y/N, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“I know you do, Jensen and thank you. I’ll let you know.” “Y/N, before you hang up, can we still text or chat? We can keep it neutral and I promise I won’t pressure you.” “Sure, Jensen, and Jensen, for what it’s worth, I still love you.” 

Tears fell from his eyes and his heart clenched in his chest. Now he was determined more than ever to make this right. “I love you too, baby. I’ll talk to you soon, goodbye, darlin’.” “Good bye, Jensen.”

You hung up and the tears fell. Holding the phone to your chest. Your mom watched from the kitchen window and saw the love you still had for him. Her heart ached for you, so she was determined to give you a little push.

She walked into her office and pulled out her phone and called Jensen.

“Hello?” He answered with a questionable tone. “Hey, Jensen. It’s Y/M/N.” “Oh hello, Mrs. Y/L/N. How are you?” “Jensen dear, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Y/M/N?” “Yes, ma’am. I’m sure by now you know I screwed everything up. I want to tell you and Mr. Y/L/N I’m doing everything I can to make it right. I love your daughter so much.”

“I know you do, honey. She loves you too. That’s why I called. She’s here and lord knows she has a stubborn streak. I bet she told you she’d talk to you at the end of the week when she gets back, didn’t she?” Jensen chuckled, “Yes, ma’am she did.” “That sounds like our girl, well how about you fly in for a visit? It’s been too long since I’ve seen you, and I think this is something best dealt with in person.” 

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll book the first flight out. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way.” “Okay dear, and Jensen…” “Yes, ma’am?” “You fight like hell to keep her, we really like you.” Your mom chuckled. “I plan to. Thank you Y/M/N, for believing in our relationship and helping me make this right.” 

The next morning you woke up to the smell of bacon and pancakes. You stretched and smiled. You and Jensen had talked off and on all night, both of you finally saying good night about 1am. The conversation was light and almost flirty, like when you two first started talking to each other. It made your heart flutter. You were still in love with him, but you were still hurt too. 

Getting out of bed you decided to take a quick shower before heading downstairs. Once showered and dressed you walked down the stairs and could smell the breakfast and coffee your mom had made. When you walked into the kitchen you saw a ton of food. 

“Dang mom, I don’t eat that much. Surely you didn’t do all this for me?” She laughed, “No honey, your dad is going to eat breakfast with us before he heads out.” You smiled and grabbed a coffee cup and filled it up. Your mom handed you a plate and smiled widely at you and nodded towards the food. 

“Thank you mama. I’m starving.” You chuckled as you shoved a piece of bacon in your mouth. As you sat down to start eating you heard the doorbell. Your parents and you shared a look. It was almost 9am, so you weren’t sure who would be over there so early. “I’ll get it.” You said. Standing up and walking towards the door you noticed your parents acting strange. 

You looked over your shoulder at them and chuckled as you opened the door. When you turned back towards the door you saw who had rang the bell. Your breath hitched and a lump formed in your throat. You could barely speak, but managed to whisper out, “Jensen.”

“Hey sweetheart.”

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[mountttmase]

My Priority

Note - happy Sunday y’all 😘 I wanted to be like Sid so I wrote a fic that’s a little more personal to me so I really hope you like this one 🥺🩷 I’d really appreciate some feedback so if you could be so kind as to leave me some I promise I’ll love you forever 🩷 enjoyyyyy

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 8.4k

Warnings - angst and fluff

When Mason moved to Manchester you knew things would be different. You just hadn't realised how different.

You remember meeting him like it was yesterday. It was just after the new year and you told yourself you wanted to start being a bit healthier so once you were home from work you took up jogging. Starting slow and only for a short amount of time as you could feel your lungs burning after barely doing anything but you managed to build your strength up until one evening about a month and a half in you pushed it a bit too far and had to take a break at the edge at the park. Your head between your legs as you slowly got your breath back.

‘Are you alright?’ You heard a soft voice say, looking up to see a concerned looking guy and under normal circumstances you might have been a bit worried about being alone in the dark with some random man but his presence settled you. You couldn’t make out what he looked like exactly but you could tell he was young and his voice sent an excited shiver down your spine.

‘I’m fine’ you breathed, barely able to get your words out. ‘Just pushed it a little too hard that's all’

‘Have you got any water?’

‘It’s empty’ you laughed, barely able to lift the bottle to show him and you cursed yourself for drinking all of it so quickly.

‘Here, have mine. It’s a fresh bottle and it’s unopened I promise’ he laughed, handing it to you and you took it with a smile. ‘I um- I don’t live too far from here, I could take you back there or drop you home’ he offered and you couldn’t help but warm to him immediately.

‘Thank you’ you smiled, cracking open his water and downing half of it in one go. ‘Maybe it’s a little cheeky but I don’t suppose I could take you up on that dropping me home offer? I’m not too far from home myself but I know I’ll never make it’

‘Don’t be silly’ he laughed, patting your knee gently. ‘You wanna come with me or shall I come back for you’

‘You can come back for me’

‘I’ll be as quick as I can. Don’t talk to any strangers while I’m gone’ he winked, making you laugh at his little joke but you sat tight and waited for him to get back. Putting all your trust in a man you’d just met and you weren’t even sure was telling you the truth about coming back.

He really was only five minutes though, and soon enough he was helping you into his passenger seat and giving you his phone to put your address into.

‘I’m just gonna pop the light on for a sec’ he told you, reaching up to flick the switch and it was the first time you got a good look at him.

He was handsome, more than handsome he was gorgeous and the boyish grin that adorned his lips as he looked at you made you flush. Suddenly feeling self conscious about the fact you were set next to an incredibly attractive and incredibly helpful man whilst you probably looked like you’d been dragged through a hedge backwards.

‘Thanks for this’ you smiled sweetly at him and if you didn’t know any better you thought he might have been blushing before he turned the light off again and started to drive away.

‘That’s okay. When you went for an extra lap I thought I better keep an eye on you just in case, I know you normally just stick to two’ he explained but then the realisation of what he’d said hit him. ‘And I know that’s probably made me sound like a right weirdo. I’m not stalking you or anything I promise’ he rambled but all you could do was laugh, finding his awkwardness endearing.

‘It’s alright’ you laughed, taken aback slightly by the way he’d been looking after you silently.

‘Please don’t think I’m crazy but I’ve been sort of keeping an eye on you since you first started. I know you’re fine and you can probably hold your own but you never know who’s lurking in the dark’

‘Well apparently it’s been you’ you teased, watching him shake his head in embarrassment. ‘it’s okay, you just like to watch women jog, nothing wrong with that’ you laughed, watching his face flush even more and you couldn’t deny you were enjoying poking fun at him a little.

‘No, I like to watch you jog. There’s a difference’ he told you pointedly and you couldn't stop the wide grin that made its way onto your lips.

‘So how long have you been my knight in shining armour for?’ You asked, trying to change the subject as his words were making you tummy feel strange.

‘Like the middle of January I think I saw you first’ he shrugged. ‘I had to take my run a little earlier than normal and I saw you finishing up’

‘Im pretty sure that’s when I first started’

‘Yeah I could tell’ he snorted, causing you to look at him with your mouth agape in shock but his little squeaky giggles made your heart thud. ‘I’m kidding I swear’

‘No you’re right, I was pretty awful. I think I’d made it halfway round before I got tired like I was an absolute mess’

‘But look how far you’ve come since then’ he reassured you, a kind smile on his face. ‘Left me in the dust tonight I could barely keep up’

‘Yeah but look at where that got me’ you teased, insinuating you meant here in his car with him and thankfully he caught on. A shocked expression on his face but you could tell he was only teasing.

‘I’m not that bad am I?’ He pouted and you rolled your eyes playfully before you realised he was pulling up outside your building. ‘I’m uh- I’m Mason by the way’

‘Y/n’ you smiled, watching his eyes light up at the sound of your name.

‘Well, y/n, if you ever need a running partner let me know. I know where you live now’

‘I might hold you to that’

‘I hope you do’ he winked. Was this boy flirting with you? You thought. It only then hitting you that he’d been trying for the whole journey.

After a quick explanation of what you should do to help your recovery that you didn’t question, you shared a quick goodbye and let him go on his way. He was in your head for the next few days though until you could fit another run in and you spent the whole time looking out for him.

He was nowhere to be seen though and after taking a little longer to pack up than usual you got ready to go home a little disappointed. That was until you heard your name being called in the distance and suddenly a glistening Mason was stopping in front of you.

‘Hey’ you breathed

‘Hey’ he laughed, straightening up so he didn’t look so tired but you could see it had been a long run for him. Small beads of sweat trickling down his flushed skin but his shy smile made your tummy feel warm. ‘I’ve been looking for you’ he admitted shyly and no matter how hard you tried to hold your smile on you couldn’t.

And that's how it started. From meeting after your runs to joining him at the start until one day you turned up to find him not there. He was waiting for you at the end though, dressed in a tracksuit and warm winter coat and you teased him about abandoning you until you caught the sombre look on his face. Asking if you’d like to come back to his so he could explain and nodded straight away.

His house was huge, fancy white marble floors and tastefully decorated rooms but it was the little personal touches that caught your eye that helped you figure out what was going on.

He’d left you in his living room, and you couldn’t help but notice a pair of neon green football boots in a Perspex case. The sign telling you they were worn in the 2021 UCL final and you wondered how he’d managed to get his hands on them before you saw the inscription on the side.

MM? What did that mean?

Your eyes flickered to the awards either side, Chelsea player of the year awards for 20/21 and 21/22 and when you read the name inscribed on both it all clicked into place.

‘You alright?’ You suddenly heard, turning to face Mason who’d just walked back in and your mouth seemed to run away with you.

‘Do you um, do you play for Chelsea?’ You asked, seemingly dumbfounded but you noticed how pink his cheeks got. Not really answering the question, just nodding his head over to the sofa so you could sit with him.

He sat you down and explained that he did in fact play for Chelsea, that he was injured and that he was going through some rehab and would hopefully be better soon but unfortunately he wouldn’t be able to run with you anymore and you felt your heart sink.

‘I was thinking maybe I could still come and cheer you on though? Or we could hang out here sometimes’

‘You still wanna see me?’ You asked, dumbfounded at the thought of him thinking more of you than just a running partner but his reassuring smile made you melt.

‘Oh um, well yeah. I like hanging out with you’ he shrugged, trying to play it off but his confession made your cheeks hurt.

‘I like hanging out with you too’ you whispered, watching his eyes crinkle at the edges and thinking you’d never seen anything better. Your tummy warming at the interaction between the pair of you and it was only then it hit you what a big fat crush you had on this boy.

You’d known it all along but you made sure to keep your feelings down, knowing if you admitted it to yourself and and made it real then it would just make everything difficult but looking at him here you just wanted to close the gap and press your lips to his.

You didn’t though, swallowing your feelings down as you didn’t want to stick your foot in anything but as the weeks went by it was getting harder to hide.

He would pick you up after your jogs and take you back to his. Having dinner ready for the pair of you as you learnt even more about each other and you loved everything you were finding out about him. He was kind, humble and a little goofy but also smart in his own way and every time he flashed you that toothy grin you wanted to shout from the rooftops about how much you fancied him.

It was only three weeks later when something changed. He met you after your run like usual but you knew something was off and you were pretty sure you knew what it was. He’d invited you round to watch the England game but you knew he was miserable about not being there, the injury taking more out of him than he cared to admit both physically and mentally so when you sat next to him and he rested his head on your shoulder you let him lean on you for comfort.

You knew he was sad, watching all his best friends play when he couldn’t and it’s like his sadness seeping into your skin from where he touched you. You’d do anything to make him smile so without thinking you grabbed his chin so he’d look at you but the look in his eyes felt like a punch to the gut.

‘You alright, Mase?’ You whispered, your question making the corners of his lips turn up slightly before he nodded. Shuffling up in his seat more so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders and bring you into his side, almost like you’d snapped him out of his mood by just checking in on him.

You stayed like that for a while, in a comfortable silence until Mason eventually shuffled a little so he could look at you and the look on his face confused you. You couldn’t figure him out, his eyes focused on you intently but when you felt him leaning forward towards you, you shut your eyes and hoped for the best.

It was a soft kiss, more like he was testing to see your reaction but when he pulled back and your eyes met his again, he was leaning back in to kiss you properly and you felt yourself melt into him as you cupped his jaw and kissed him back just as sweetly.

It felt like you were kissing for hours, everytime you needed to take a breath you were straight back in like you’d die without the touch of his lips on yours.

‘About time huh?’ He laughed, eventually pulling away from you with a chuckle and you could feel yourself blushing as you looked up at him. ‘I’ve wanted to do that for a while’

‘Me too’ you laughed, hiding your face in his neck as he held you tightly.

The second half of the game passed you by unwatched. The pair of you shyly admitting your feelings for each other between stolen kisses and gentle touches before Mason took the plunge and asked you out on a date.

He was perfect and everyday your feelings grew for him even more. He was polite and kind and always wanted to touch you in some way which made your heart sing. Finding him was like finding your missing half so when you received a text from him asking if you could pop over to his after work you did so gladly. Not thinking anything of it until he opened the door to reveal him looking the saddest you think you’d ever seen him look.

Before you could speak he flung himself at you, holding you as tightly as he could before you walked him inside. Taking him into the kitchen where he proceeded to break down in your arms, telling you his injury wasn’t healing, that he needed surgery and that he was scared. Scared he’d never get back to where he was and that the surgery could ruin everything but in your hold he seemed to calm down ever so slightly.

‘Sorry, you didn’t need to see me like that’ he sniffed, eyes looking up into your as you caressed his cheek and you wanted to tell him it was fine but he beat you to it. ‘Truth is, I’ve been holding it in all day. You’re the only person I’ve really wanted to talk to about it’ he whispered, his face soft as he looked back at you and all you wanted was to kiss him. ‘I feel like you’re the only person I can be myself around’

‘Oh Mase’ you breathed,pulling him back onto your hold so you could try and reassure him with your touch while you left tiny kisses on the side of his head. ‘I know it’s scary Mase, but it’s for the best. You can’t carry on like this you know? Thinking it’s gone away for it to just to come back’

‘I know’ he sighed, snuggling into you further. ‘They said it’s pretty routine but I can’t help but worry’

‘That’s understandable but they know what they’re doing. And when it’s all over I’ll be here for you yeah? Whatever you need whether that’s company or you need me to cook or clean or anything. You won’t be on your own’ you told him, trying to be as reassuring as you could and from the way he held you a little tighter you hoped it had worked.

You stuck to your word, coming over when he needed you to and helping him out around the house however he seemingly forgot to tell you his family were still there and you had to meet his parents all sweaty after a run. They didn’t seem to care though and were just as sweet to you as Mason was. He’s eyes sparkling with joy and he watched you get along with them.

When his move came you were unsure of what to do and what it all meant. You’d discussed the possibility of it maybe happening but you knew Mason didn’t want to leave. Mason had been your rock, and you his, for the past few months but this felt different. This felt like it could tear you apart.

He asked for you to come over, sitting you in his lap as he tried to explain everything and you nodded along feeling more hopeless with each word that came out of his mouth.

‘I don’t wanna be without you’ you told him carefully. Putting your heart on the line so you could at least tell yourself you gave it everything, even if he wasn’t willing to do the same. You told yourself if this was the end then you would be okay, these things happen sometimes.

To your surprise though, he was willing to try.

He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently before bumping his nose into yours in hopes you’d look at him and when you eventually did, the look in his eyes took your breath away.

‘I don’t want to be without you either’ he whispered, kissing your forehead gently. ‘I know it’ll be hard but I want us to try to make it work. Even if we just try long distance for now’’

‘I’ve never done long distance’

‘We’ll be fine’ he reassured you, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. ‘We both want this right?’

‘Yeah’

‘I know it’s early but I see a future with you. I wouldn’t bother suggesting it if I didn’t think it would be worth it in the end. I really think we can do this’

‘They say absence makes the heart grow fonder’ you laughed, letting him pull you into his body and you melted into him.

‘I didn’t think I could feel more for you if I tried but everyday I think I love you a little bit more’ he confessed and you felt your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

Did he just say he loved you?

‘You love me?’ You asked, your lip wobbling as he looked at you softly before bumping his nose against you.

‘I love you’

‘I love you, too’ you replied instantly. Your jaw aching from how much you were smiling. This conversation could have gone many different ways and even though this is the outcome you wanted you never thought it could have happened. That Mason of all people would want you in his life but you were so thankful that he was willing to try with you.

He was still living in a hotel the first time you went to see him. You ordered room service and sat in between his legs as he showed you a selection of houses he was going to choose from. Telling you he wanted your opinion first as it was a joint decision and thankfully your favourite was his too.

When the time came, you helped him move in. Changing all furniture you didn’t like and adding little homey touches like pictures of him and his family plus some of the pair of you and all his keepsakes from home were on display. A reminder of where he came from and how far he still had to go.

You knew long distance would be hard, but sometimes even when you were with him he felt further away than ever.

When the pair of you were apart, you got yourselves into a routine. Texting whenever you could, daily calls or FaceTimes even if it was just to say goodnight and always letting the other know you were thinking of them when you had time.

Mason’s time seemed to be ever decreasing though but you expected it. New team, new friends, new environment. It was bound to be exhausting and you knew he wanted to fit in so you tried to look past the unreplied message and missed calls as he was so apologetic when you did finally get to speak to him. But as the instances grew the apologies stopped and you just accepted that this would be your life for now.

He made up for it when you saw him though. Always having you close and showing you off to his new friends, taking you out to cool dinners and parties with everyone and it made you smile to see how happy he was up here after everything he’s been through since you’d known him.

But as much as you loved the socialising and the parties, you also craved some alone time with Mason when you went to see him too. He was so involved in everything that you felt like the only time he got to be just yours was just before bed and right when you woke up. Your trips feeling evermore wasted as the weeks went by but all you cared about at this point was seeing Mason happy so you pushed your feelings to the side and plastered on a smile for your man.

It had been a long week, and it wasn't even over yet. Finishing work half an hour early so you could jump on a train up to Manchester to meet Mason in hopes for a quiet night in but your hopes were dashed about two minutes in the car.

‘Why are you so dressed up?’ You asked, noticing the nice jacket and jeans he had on but when you looked up to his face, you knew what was coming.

‘We’ve got dinner with Rashy and his new girl tonight’ he smiled, squeezing your knee gently. ‘You've got time to get changed and stuff but you’ll have to be quick’

‘Oh’ you breathed. Not really in the mood to be spending time with others after a long day and hours on a sweaty train. Not to mention you didn’t have anything packed to wear out to dinner as he liked to just spring these things on you but you didn’t want to come across as rude and cancel last minute even though these plans were new to you.

So you did your best, getting changed and sorting your face out before heading out to some fancy restaurant you didn’t know the name of. Rashys date seemed nice and as much as you tried to look like you were involved and interested you knew you were being quiet. Mostly due to tiredness but also due to the fact you wanted a quiet night in and as usual he’d made you plans that you couldn’t back out of.

The rest of the weekend went by in a flash. You worked Friday in his home office until his parents came to stay. Spending all your time with them and only getting Mason alone just before you went to bed where there was no time for any talking. Spending time between the sheets before you were too exhausted to say anything to each other and the time Monday rolled around you felt like you’d barely spent a moment alone with him. Letting him drive you to the train station in the early hours and after a quick kiss and a hug you were back to the real world.

You wanted to say something but it was like each time you tried you couldn’t get the words out. Not sure how to make Mason understand you needed some down time with him and that as much as you loved his friends and family, you didn’t travel all this way every week to feel further away from him than ever. Not only that, the fact he didn’t seem to mind that the pair of you never spent any quality time together made you feel sad as you clearly weren’t on the same page about everything.

The straw that broke the camels back came around a month or so later. You were already pissed off with him as he’d gone out to a club in the week with some of his single friends and had left you on read until early afternoon the next day. The only reason you knew he was there in the first place was because you saw him in the back of a story someone posted, surrounded by girls, but you trusted him enough to know nothing had happened and when he told you it just slipped his mind as he was with so many people you weren’t sure if you were happy or sad about his excuse.

You didn’t want to be the person who slipped his mind when he was always at the forefront of yours. All you did was think about him and the fact it didn’t do the same to you made your heart hurt.

This weekend was make or break for you. One last chance for him to prove he could put you first but he'd already ruined it the first night. Claiming to pop out for five minutes so he could help Bruno move something but he still wasn’t back 3 hours later. You’d taken yourself off to bed in the end, pretending you were asleep when he eventually got home and cuddled up next to you, biting your lip so hard you thought you might have drawn blood just to keep the tears at bay.

Your thoughts were running wild, wondering what he would have in store for you today as he’d promised you a duvet day for getting caught up yesterday but after lunch he dropped the bombshell and you had to bite your lip again.

‘I need to go pick up Rashy, will you be ready by the time I get back?’ He asked but he picked up on your confused face right away. ‘Luke’s brothers friends gallery opening is today, I said we’d go’

‘Oh um-‘

‘You’ve got about an hour so there’s time and I’ll be as quick as I can yeah?’ He told you, kissing your head and getting up before rushing out the door.

You were exhausted and in no mood to be around anyone, even Mason at this point so you didn’t move. Just stayed in bed and tried to think of something you could say to get you out of it. Not realising your hour was up until you heard the front door open downstairs.

‘Baby? Where are you? You ready to go?’ You heard him call from downstairs. Sitting yourself up on the edge of the bed but you tried not to look at his face as he burst in.

‘I don’t feel very well, I don’t think it’s best I go’ you told him quietly. Trying to keep your voice steady so you didn’t burst into tears and you almost lost it when he tilted your face up so he could take a look at you properly.

‘Oh sweetheart, what is it?’

‘Just a bit sick and achey’

‘C’mere’ he whispered, pulling you into his body and you held him like it was the last time. In your mind it might be as your future was decided on what his next actions would be but you were surprised when he took your hand and led you downstairs and into the living room so he could get you comfortable on the sofa and wrap a blanket around you.

With a kiss to your forehead he was running into the kitchen and you smiled when you heard him flick the kettle down before a sense of embarrassment fell over you. You felt like a child pretending to be sick just to get some attention and sympathy from their parents but when you heard him making his way back in you snuggled further down into the sofa so he didn’t see how happy you were.

‘I made you some tea’ he told you. ‘Do you think you’ll be alright?’

‘I think so, i probably just need some rest’

‘Okay well Rashys outside. I won’t be too late I promise and just call me whenever you need me’ he whispered and you felt your blood turn cold.

Surely not?

You thought he was setting you up on the sofa so he could join you but in fact he was just making sure you had everything you needed before he left you on your own.

You didn’t speak, not having anything to say to him anymore so you just snuggled into the cushion and let him press a kiss to your temple before getting up to grab his jacket.

‘Bye baby’ he called from the door but you knew your voice would break so you didn’t say anything back. Only letting your emotions come to the forefront until you heard the door click shut.

You’d finally reached the end of your tether, realising that no matter what you did, his life had changed now he was up here and things wouldn’t go back to the way they used to be.

No cosy nights in where you found comfort in each other's arms. No deep and meaningful chats where you spoke about life and the future and all the things you wanted to do together. No more comfortable silences or support when things got tough. You were his plus one to events. Someone to keep his bed warm for when he was home and someone to wear his shirt in the stands to make it look like he had a good relationship with someone nice.

You felt like a prop and you’d had enough so after a cry and feeling sorry for yourself for a little while, you dragged yourself upstairs so you could go pack your bag and go home. You were no rush as you knew Mason would be out for a while but the longer you stayed the more you felt the walls closing in on you.

Mason had only just made it to the gallery, saying a quick hello to a few of his friends before he was reaching for his phone. Wondering if he should call you to check in but in the end he decided against it. Not wanting to smother you and also thinking you were probably taking a nap but his mind was plagued with thoughts of you.

‘You alright mate?’ Mason heard from behind him, turning to see Luke joining him with a pat to his shoulder. ‘Where’s y/n?’

‘I’m alright bro. She’s not feeling too good so she stayed home. I was just gonna check in’

‘No offence mate, but if she’s sick then why are you here?’ Luke laughed, looking at Mason like he’d lost his mind but all Mason could do was scrunch his brows at the older boy.

‘Why do you mean?’

‘Mate, I love you, you know I do but I see you every day basically. As do most of us here. But y/n? She doesn’t get to see you half as much and the one time she needs you you’ve left her on her own?’

Luke’s words hit him like a dagger to his chest. Was he right? Had he left you all alone in your hour of need just to come here and show his face?

‘Fuck’ he breathed, scratching the back of his head and he came to terms with what he’d done.

‘I bet she’s exhausted mate, she works hard all week and then comes here for you to drag her here, there and everywhere. She probably just wants a bit of quiet time with you mate, you should have stayed. She’s your priority not this’

Luke was right, you needed him and he’d left you alone in his house. Sure you visited all the time but it wasn’t full of your home comforts just yet. Anytime Mason was unwell or sad the only thing he wanted was for you to wrap your arms around him and make him feel better but he’d done the opposite and left you to fend for yourself.

‘Look it’s alright, you’ve got time it’s still early. Just go yeah?’ Luke told him, patting his back as Mason stood up to grab his jacket off the back of the chair.

‘Thank you man’ Mason told him, appreciating Luke for always telling him like it is and after a quick word with Rashy, Mason was out the door and back into his car.

Mason made a stop on the way home, running into Sainsbury’s on the way to pick you up some supplies for you before quietly opening the door. Thinking you might be asleep on the sofa where he’d left you but as he quietly crept in he noticed the blanket you’d been wrapped up in was folded and placed over the back of the sofa, the cushions were sat up neatly and the tea he made you sat on the table untouched.

Figuring you must have gone up to bed he left the bag on the sofa before he slowly climbed the stairs, rehearsing his apology in his head as his heart thudded at the thought of seeing you, but as soon he opened the door he felt it sick into his stomach.

There you stood, eyes red and face blotchy as you zipped up your overnight bag and he felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

‘Bubs? W-what’s going on? What are you doing?’

‘You weren't supposed to be back’ you croaked, rubbing your eyes to try and clear the tears from them but you could see his confusion from a mile away.

‘You’re sick, I thought you might want me here instead’ He told you, his voice quiet and unsure but you didn’t want to be having this conversation right now.

‘Well it’s a shame you didn’t think of that earlier’ you told him harshly. ‘I’m going home, Mase’

‘What, why?’

‘I just am’

‘What? No, please don't go, talk to me’ he pleaded, taking a step towards you but you shuffled back like you didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

‘No Mase, I wanna go home’

‘But you’re sick-‘

‘I’m not sick Mason!’ You blew up, watching him sink back into himself and if you weren’t so mad you might have felt a bit bad for him. ‘I’m not sick’

‘Why did you say you were then?’

‘Cause I didn’t know what else to do to make you want to spend a bit of time with me! And even that didn’t work’ you told him, laughing ever so slightly as you placed your bag down on the floor to make your way out but he was blocking the exit and didn’t look like he was going to move for you.

‘I don’t understand’ he whispered, his eyes filling with tears. ‘Has something happened?’

‘You could say that but it’s been happening for a while and I’ve had enough okay? Just please move and don’t make this difficult’

‘Are you breaking up with me?’ He asked, disbelief infused into his tone but you didn’t want to talk to him. You needed to get out.

‘I-I don’t know’ you mumbled, eyes on the floor as you readjusted your bag, your legs not seeming to want to move now that he was in front of you but you knew all it would take was one look at his face to make you crumble.

‘Talk to me, please’ he begged, walking towards you but you stayed rooted to the spot. ‘You wanna tell me how awful I’ve been and scream at me then fine but I don’t want you to go’ he whimpered, falling to his knees in front of you so he could wrap his arms around you and bury his face into your body. ‘I don’t even understand what’s happening, please talk to me’

All you wanted to do was run your hands through his hair and tell him things were fine even though they weren’t. You were mad and upset with him but you still cared and seeing him so heartbroken made you feel sick but you couldn’t let it get to you. Instead covering your face as you began to sob into your hands and Mason was quick to get up and pull you into his chest.

You let him hold you, let him kiss your forehead as he slowly rocked you from side to side. You let him walk you over to the end of the bed and sit you on his lap until you’d calmed down and when you pulled back, you let him wipe the tears from your face

‘Whatever it is, I’ll fix it. I’ll make it right I promise but you have to tell me’ he whispered. ‘No matter how hard it is okay?’

‘Okay’ you replied, your glossy eyes looking into his and you knew he was right. He wasn’t a mind reader and you hadn't spoken to him about any of it properly so with one last gulp you spilled your guts. ‘Ever since you’ve moved here I feel further away from you than ever’ you admitted, playing with your fingers in your lap as you kept your eyes down so you couldn’t see his reaction. ‘And I knew it would be difficult but it’s not the amount of time we’re spending together, it’s what we’re doing with it’

‘I don’t understand’

‘Apart from an hour or so in the mornings and the same in the evenings, when was the last time we did something just the two of us? The last time we got dinner together just us two? Or stayed in and did nothing?’ You asked and it’s like you could see him trying to recall a time. ‘Everytime I come and visit it’s like we always have to be around other people and I’m not saying I don’t want us to see anyone else but I come here to see you, you know? To spend time with you and it just hurts feeling like you don’t want to spend time with me alone’

‘I do, I promise I do’ he told you, shaking his head as he gripped your thigh. ‘I didn’t even realise i- fuck I’m so sorry’ be whispered. ‘I never meant anything by it at all, I didn’t even know I was doing it. Why haven’t you said anything?’

‘I didn’t want you to think I don’t like your friends or don’t want to spend time with your family cause I do. I love everyone in your life and I didn’t want you to think I was being selfish or whatever but I’m finding all of this so hard. Like I knew long distance would be difficult and I thought the we’d make the time we did spend together count but this isn’t what I expected’

‘I’d never think that about you bubs, you’re not selfish at all’ he reassured you and you offered him a half smile.

‘But I do just want you to myself sometimes. And it hurt a little bit thinking you didn’t want me. I travel all the way here for us to be together for you to want to spend our time doing things with other people. And maybe I sound silly-’

‘No, don’t say that’ he interjected, holding your face gently to try and make you look at him and the sadness in his eyes nearly tipped you over the edge. ‘I do want to spend time with you, I really do’ he reassured you, his chin wobbling as his own eyes filled with tears. ‘The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you but I wasn’t even thinking. I still feel like the new kid here and I really wanna fit in so if i'm being invited somewhere I just wanna say yes to everything and everyone’

‘I get that’ you nodded, suddenly feeling like you’d maybe over reacted a little bit but it’s like he could read your and wanted to let you know you were still right.

‘But you should be my priority. You are my priority I promise and I swear I’ll make sure I prove it to you now. Like I should have done this whole time’ he croaked. Tears spilling from his eyes he shut them tightly. ‘Please don’t leave me bubs. You’re my everything, I’ll be nothing without you’

‘Oh Mase’ you whispered, tears falling from your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Finally holding him like you had wanted to all day.

This was the most upset you’d ever been around each other, sobbing into each others necks until you felt like you could form a coherent sentence and pulling back to see Mason so heartbroken made your tummy sink.

‘I’ll stay okay? But can we please talk about this? I need to know where I stand’

‘Baby…’ he breathed, sounding almost in shock at the words coming from you but he nodded straight away. ‘Whatever you need, okay? I’ll do it. I’m so sorry, I love you so much’

‘I love you too’ you whispered, fresh tears filling your eyes as you confessed your feelings. You did love him, you didn’t want to go and all this really had been was a bit of a cry for help so when he pressed his lips to your cheek you felt your heart flutter.

‘Can we get into bed?’ He asked, sounding almost shy but you nodded, standing up gently and reaching for your bag so you could pull your pjs out but he cottoned on to what you were doing. Instead pulling the top from his body and handing it to you and you took it with a small smile.

‘I just need the loo and I’ll be back’ you told him, not wanting to change in front of him for some reason so you locked yourself away. Splashing your face with cold water to try and get the swelling around your eyes to go down but in the end you just went with it. Knowing Mason looked the same and after a little pep talk you made your way back to him. Dressed only in your underwear and his shirt, your heart fluttering as his smell engulfed you and when you finally caught sight of him under the covers you couldn’t help but feel nervous.

But again he could read you, pulling back the sheets and holding his hand out to help you in before holding you flush to him. Your legs tangled beneath you as he cautiously reached up under your top so he could stroke your lower back but your reassuring smile let him know it was fine and you welcomed his gentle touches.

‘Are you okay?’ He whispered, voice thick with concern as his eyes fluttered over your face.

‘I’m fine, Mase. I’m sorry if I worried you by saying I was sick but I’m alright’

‘Don’t be sorry, I’m the sorry one. The fact that you even had to say all that in the first place makes me feel awful’ he sighed, squeezing your side as you offered him a sympathetic smile. ‘But we’ve got the rest of the night to ourselves now and we can do whatever you want yeah? And all of tomorrow. Even if you wanna just stay in bed the whole time I’ll do it’

‘What about Luke?’ You asked, knowing tomorrow was reserved for a day with him and his family but Mason shook his head before placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

‘I’ve cancelled, just me and you tomorrow, yeah? and we can do whatever you like’ he whispered, feeling your face break out into a smile.

‘Was he okay?’

‘Of course, I told him earlier you were sick and he actually gave me a bit of a telling off’ he told you. ‘It should have hit home then, when he said it, but it’s like I was a bit blind to it. I’m so sorry baby’

‘I should have said something before. It’s just an awkward one you know? And I know you didn’t mean anything by it’

‘Of course not. I just feel bad saying no when someone asks me to do something and I love having you around and showing you off. But life’s all about balance right’

‘Exactly, and of course we can still hang out with your friends and do all that stuff-‘

‘But I’ll make time for just us, yeah? I promise’ he told you firmly, his lips attaching to your forehead as he tried to reassure you.

‘Okay’ you whispered, snuggling down into his chest so you could just hold each other again. Content in the silence as he slowly drew circles on your back and you realised everything would be fine.

‘We’re okay then yeah?’ He asked hopefully, and you nodded into his skin. Feeling his whole body relax at your answer before he pulled you in even tighter. ‘I really am sorry. I think I just got a bit lazy and needed a kick up the bum but consider me well and truly kicked’

‘Okay’ you laughed, trying to burrow yourself into him even more. ‘Hey, Mase?’

‘Yes bubs?’

‘I’m a little bit hungry’ you whispered, looking up at him cheekily but he was looking back at you with the same smile.

‘Thank fuck’ he laughed, kissing your cheek. ‘I’m starved, left before the food came out earlier’ he winked and you rolled your eyes at him before he tickled your sides playfully. ‘I’ll go make us something’

‘I’ll come with you’ you smiled, not wanting to be too far from him now and his lopsided smile as he took your hand made your heart beat out of your chest.

After raiding his freezer you managed to find a pizza and popped that in the oven before finding some bits to snack on while you waited. Looking over to the sofa to find the discarded Sainsbury’s bag and after a cheeky look inside you found lemsip and lucozade plus your favourite sweets and when you looked over at him with a confused face he just shrugged his shoulders.

‘I thought you were ill, I was making sure I’d have everything you need’

‘That’s very sweet Mason but I don’t think strawberry pencils cure colds’ you laughed. Packing everything back into the bag before going back into the kitchen. ‘I appreciate the thought though’

Suddenly, the low music he’d had on in the background got louder. Making you turn to him with a confused expression but his shy smile melted you. Holding his hand out for you to take and once you had, he pulled you into his chest so he could sway you from side to side slowly.

This was what you missed. Quality time together where you had nowhere to be and no one to answer to. Where Mason could be Mason and you could be you. Half naked dancing in his kitchen at 7:30pm without a care in the world.

‘I feel so stupid’ he breathed, lips gently pressing to your hairline. ‘I’ve missed this so much and I didn’t even realise’

‘Things have been a little crazy lately. I get why you’ve been caught up in everything’ you reassured him. ‘As stupid as it sounds i just thought you didn’t love me anymore’

‘That could never happen, I love everything about you’ he whispered. Stopping you both in your tracks so he could grip your jaw and look into your eyes whilst speaking to you. ‘I love your eyes, and the way they twinkle. Especially when you talk about something you love. I love your nose and the way you scrunch it up when I compliment you’ he laughed, kissing it lightly. ‘I love your lips and I love it when I make you smile.

‘Mase…’ you started breathlessly. Overwhelmed by his words but he wasn’t done yet.

‘I love the sound of my name coming out of your mouth. I love the way it feels when you hold me, just like this. You make me feel safe and loved and whole. And I love that you take me just as I am, no matter what. Sometimes I think I was made to love you and the fact that I could of lost you tonight kills me’

‘I’m not going anywhere, I promise’ you whispered, eyes filling with tears at how you’d almost lost him yourself. Knowing you’d never be half as happy with anyone that wasn’t him.

‘Thank you. And I promise I’ll never make you feel like that again. Hand on heart, you’re my priority and I’ll prove it to you everyday’

‘I know you will,’ you told him. Finally reaching up so you could plant a kiss on his lips and the way you both sunk into each other made your heart flutter. You hadn’t kissed like this in a while and you felt yourself shiver as he slowly ran his fingers up and down your back. One hand eventually snaking down to pinch your bum and the feeling made you chuckle into his mouth. ‘Mase, we need to check the pizza, it’s probably burning’

‘I don’t care’ he told you, attaching his lips back to yours but you could feel the smirk on his lips. ‘I’ll burn this whole house down if it comes to it, I don’t wanna stop kissing you’

So that’s what you did. You stood in each other's embrace as you continued to brush your lips against his. Slowly caressing each other's skin as you made up for lost time and when you finally pulled back and looked into his eyes, you knew you’d never have to worry about anything ever again.

Thank you so much for reading. I’d really love some feedback so if you’d like to, please send me or message or drop me an ask. I’d really love to hear from you xx

[onlymingyus]

a little attention

pairing; yoon jeonghan x gn reader

genre; fluff, slight angst

warnings; some tension in the relationship, talks of being sick or worse, dramatic af!jeonghan, mostly just two people in love and one of them is an attention hog

w/c; 1.4k and some change 

requested; no

a/n; i just had an idea of jeonghan and how he enjoys attention and the lengths he would go to in order to get it. also i wrote that first line and it made me fond of him. i hate it here.

Hannie: Be sure to take care of Jjongddol when I’m gone. 

It takes longer than you would like to check your phone but the moment you see the message from Jeonghan you can’t help but sigh. Your boyfriend has always been dramatic so it had become a bit like the boy who cried wolf when it came to know if he was actually needing you. Sighing you glance at your co-worker's desk noticing she isn’t paying you much attention before you put your phone to your ear letting it ring. 

“Baby…I could be dead by now. Laying in a ditch, is this how much I mean to you?” 

Another sigh slips from your lips causing your co-worker to look at you, prompting you to turn your chair from her direction so you can talk to Jeonghan with some bit of privacy. 

“Jeonghan, you are so…” You can almost picture his pout as you speak making you stop mid-sentence taking another direction in your conversation. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Turning over on his side, Jeonghan whines into the phone as he pulls your blanket over his body on the couch. He loved the sound of your voice, even if you sounded a bit annoyed with him. He missed you so much and he didn’t feel his best. 

“I don’t feel good, come home. Something is wrong.”  

Furrowing your brows, you glance at the clock on your computer to see what it was. You had only been at work for a little under 4 hours, with another 4 to go so Jeonghan asking this of you was a big ask. Shaking your head, you look down at your lap feeling your heart tighten at the sound of his whine. He sounded pitiful. Maybe he actually was sick and needed you. 

“Jeonghan, I’m at work. I can’t just leave for no reason, as much as I’d like to–” 

“No reason? No…reason? I told you I don’t feel good. Y/N, I am wounded. My heart is breaking. It’s shattering into a million pieces on the floor as I speak.” 

You knew he was twisting the situation but all you could do was sigh in slight frustration. Your head leaning back against your chair, you close your eyes briefly listening to the whine in his voice only get stronger before you finally speak up again. 

“Fine! Oh my god…you are such a baby. If you aren’t literally on your death bed you will be Yoon Jeonghan.” 

A smile plays on Jeonghan’s lips at your words, he knew that was an empty threat. You loved him far too much, just as much as he loved you. Putting on his sweetest baby voice, Jeonghan shifts on the couch so he can look up at the ceiling, his fingers playing with the soft blanket that smells like you. 

“You’ll be home in an hour?” 

Furrowing your brows, you are already packing up your bag after typing up an email to your boss about an emergency at home when Jeonghan asks you that question. 

“Why does it matter? Do you need to plan something?” 

“No…of course not. I am just so happy you love me this much. I know I’ll start to feel a little better just seeing your pretty face.” 

Waving at your co-worker you can’t help but note her smirk as you start for the door, your eyes rolling at Jeonghan’s words. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. You want me to pick you up some soup?” 

Jeonghan juts out his bottom lip considering your offer before nodding to himself and making a cute affirming noise. 

“Please? And dumplings? I love you so much, angel.” 

The sound of your car starting makes Jeonghan grin, along with the sound of your more clearly annoyed breath when your phone connects to your car. 

“Yeah, I know. I love you too. Be home soon. Get some rest, babe.” 

“Mmm.” 

That’s the last sound you hear before Jeonghan hangs up the phone, leaving you to your task and to drive. Around an hour later you find yourself in front of your shared home with the man, your bag, and take out in your arms walking up to the door. Furrowing your brows you balance it all in order to manage to unlock the door and get inside. 

After a quick glance around, everything looked normal. You hadn’t expected anything different really but you couldn’t help the deep-down feeling of dread. What if something was really wrong with Jeonghan? What if he was sick enough that you needed to take him to the hospital? He had said something that had stuck with you the entire drive; ‘Something is wrong.’ 

What could be wrong? 

Setting your shoes and bag to the side, you keep the takeout in hand as you make your way into the living room seeing your blanket missing. That could only mean one thing, Jeonghan had taken it to the bedroom. Something he usually did when he wasn’t feeling well and wanted it with him in the bed. Now you were concerned. 

“Jeonghan, baby?” 

The sound of your voice, a small bit of panic laced within the warmth caused Jeonghan to lift his head from the pillows, hitting pause on the movie he had been watching. 

“I’m in here, Y/N.” 

It was good to hear his voice, you realize. You really had missed him even if you had seen him just that morning. Stepping into the room, you let your eyes move over him on the bed. The blanket draped over his body, his shoulder-length brown hair resting a bit messily against his pillow. Other than looking a bit paler than normal he looked fine. 

Furrowing your brows, you sit down the takeout on the nightstand before reaching out to touch his forehead to check for a fever repeating the process on his cheeks. Jeonghan smiles taking your wrist and pulling your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles lovingly. 

“How are you feeling Jeonghan? You said something was wrong?” 

The man nods, his lips brushing over the top of your hand as he lifts his eyes to meet yours. 

“It was, you went to work and left me home alone. I was lonely.” 

Pulling your hand away, you sigh loudly when Jeonghan laughs playfully, falling back against his pillows at your burst of frustration at his actions. 

“You are such an ass. That’s half a day of work Jeonghan. It’s not funny…” 

His laugh fades as he sees your face, the crease between your brows. Reaching up he tries to take your hand once only to be pushed away before he tries again slower when you let him as he sits up pulling you closer to the bed. 

“I’m sorry baby. I know it was stupid. I just…wanted a little attention. I’ve been gone so much and then when I got back you work every day. Also, it wasn’t a complete lie, I really did have a headache, but it is feeling better now. But, it was selfish and stupid of me. I just really miss you. I was hoping you’d find it fun too. I wanted to lay in bed, eat the food, watch a movie, cuddle…see where the cuddling led us.” 

You were trying very hard to stay angry at Jeonghan as he explained himself but as he spoke it got harder and harder to keep your eyes cold. It got more difficult to stay tense as his hand slid over your hip to your lower back trying to pull you closer to him on the bed. 

“You could have just told me that. I hate when you lie to get me to do something. I was so scared that something was really wrong. Don’t ever do that to me again.” 

Jeonghan frowns sitting back to look up at you better, his hand sliding from yours so he can hold his hand up to pledge to you. 

“I promise I won’t, I’ll just tell you. I love you so much, angel.” 

Furrowing your brows, you whine softly at his voice feeling yourself going soft for him. Jeonghan could see you crumbling for him, a smile on his lips at the sound. 

“I love you too, you idiot.” 

“Your idiot.” 

You let yourself be pulled onto the bed and into Jeonghan’s arms then under the blanket. The warmth of his arms lulls you to relax into the mattress and his touch when his lips meet yours gently. 

“Mm, but do you still promise to take care of Jjongddol if something does happen to me?” 

Jeonghan laughs against your lips, a pained sound escaping against your lips when your hand connects with his shoulder at his joke. His lips meshed with yours once again, a smile spreading on your lips when you find yourself happy that he lured you away from work today. 

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.

[spicyspiders]

stay the night

Mike Schmidt x male reader smut

2k words

Author's note: No spoilers for the movie. I watched it today and immediately wrote this. I've had a crush on Josh since I saw Zathura (also on The Astronaut because he was really hot) at the movies so it feels good to write for one of his characters.

“Have you ever heard of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria?” Mike asks on the other end of the phone. 

“Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria,” you murmur while twirling the phone cord around your finger, “wait, you mean that shithole across town?”

“Yeah, the shithole across town,” Mike says, deadpan. 

“I drive past it sometimes. Why?”

“I got a job there,” Mike answers. 

“Doing what?” You question, wincing at the words once they’re out of your mouth. “I mean, that’s great babe!”

“Security,” Mike says, answering your question, but also creating a few more with it.

“Isn’t that place closed down? Or I don’t know, maybe the run-down look is the look they’re going for.”

“The owner doesn’t want any break-ins. That’s why I’m there.”

“Ah. That makes sense, I guess. What do you start?”

“Tonight,” Mike says with a sigh.

“Tonight? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I just got the job earlier,” Mike responds sheepishly. 

“Will you be able to get me-”

Mike cuts you off quickly, “no, I won’t be able to get you a discount from the food court like my job at the mall.”

Now it’s your turn to let out a sigh, though yours is much more dramatic. 

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Mike says at the noise. 

“Hey!” You squawk. A smile comes to your face hearing the noise of Mike’s soft laughter from the other side of the phone. 

“Coming!” You hear Mike say, “that’s Max to watch Abby, I gotta go.”

“Have fun at work and tell Abby I said hey!” You say quickly before Mike has to hang up.

“I will,” Mike says sarcastically. 

-

You don’t go and visit Mike until the next night. You’re excited to pull up to the dingy establishment and park right next to Mike’s car. 

You pull at the door once you’ve approached it. You scowl at the door when it doesn’t budge. You cup your hands beside your face to try and see better inside. A few lights flicker, but you don’t see Mike under them. 

You back up from the door and look around. You wave your arms around above your head when you see the camera above the door, hoping that no cars come by to see the display you’re making. 

A smile stretches across your lips when you see Mike’s form come through the darkness.

“What’re you doing here?” He hisses after unlocking the door. He looks around outside to see if anyone else is there before you inside.

“What do you mean what am I doing here?” You ask, copying the sound of Mike’s voice. “Wait!” You grab at Mike’s arm when he goes to pull away from the door after quickly locking it back up.

“What?” He asks, raising a brow in question. 

“Look,” you point in the direction of your cars, “it’s like our cars are dating too.” You look from the cars to Mike, a smile on your face. 

Mike has the opposite expression on his face as he looks at your cars, “did you make them hold hands again like that one time?”

“That was one time!” You respond, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. There was one time you had accidentally parked too close to his car when you had come to his house, and when you had opened the door, you had accidentally hit your door with his. 

“Yeah, and I still have a dent in my door,” Mike responds. 

You roll your eyes, “no, I didn’t hit your car.”

“This time, at least,” Mike grumbles before pressing his lips to yours. 

“You’re probably right,” you say between your mouths when he pulls back. Mike laughs softly against your mouth before he goes back in for another kiss. 

You place your hands on his chest and respond eagerly to the kiss. You pull back when one of your hands brushes his badge. 

“You got a badge?” You ask, your eyes going wide as you look over the badge. 

“It’s not official or anything,” Mike says, his cheeks going red. His hands move from where they were wrapped around your waist to fish around one of his pockets. 

“Mike,” you gasp when he pulls out the same badge. Your mouth falls open as he pins it to your shirt. 

The look on your face pulls a laugh from Mike. His hand moves to your chin to press your chin up and close your mouth. A grin stretches your mouth back out when Mike pulls his hand away. 

“It’s like you’re taking me to the prom.”

This pulls a louder laugh from the man, “it’s a badge, not a boutonniere,” Mike says, shaking his head at your words. 

“You never play along,” you say dramatically. 

“If I give you a tour, will that make you feel better?” Mike asks mockingly. 

With his arm around your waist, Mike leads you through the facility. It mostly looks all the same in a sad sort of way. In each of the rooms, you can look around and see where the memories of the place were made. It almost makes you sad to walk through the place. It was once so full of life, and now, it’s dark, empty, and has a smell that you can’t quite pinpoint. 

You will say, however, that the main party room is the place that’s trying its best to hold onto the life it once had. The animatronics somehow feel alive. They give you the creep, a feeling that you can’t find yourself easily distracted from. 

“Mike,” you breathe, your head craning back to give him more room for his mouth to move down your neck. Okay, maybe you could be distracted a little bit. “Mike,” you repeat, your voice more breathier than the last. 

“Hm?” Mike asks against your neck. When he goes further down and adds his teeth into the mix, you nearly forget your woes. 

“Can we,” a light moan interrupts your words when Mike brings your hips together, “go back to your office?”

Mike chuckles lightly, “scared?”

“I think they're watching us,” you respond, trying to laugh along with Mike to not show him your fear. 

“They’re back behind the curtain,” Mike says, laughing again.

“Please,” you whimper under the feel of his teeth nipping at your neck. 

Mike grinds your hips together again before fully pulling away, “you know I can never resist when you beg,” Mike says, his voice full of heat. 

You feel better once you’re back in Mike’s office, and when Mike pushes you up against the door of the security office, you’ve nearly forgotten all about your fears. 

“Better?” Mike says when he pulls back from the kiss you were locked in. Speaking of locked, Mike moves his hand to lock the door to his office, the noise sending a thrill through your body of what was to come. 

“Yeah,” you respond, giving an eager nod. 

You two stumble over to the rickety chair in his office, one that Mike pushes you into. Your cock throbs in your pants as Mike gets on his knees between your legs. He fixes you with his heated gaze as he quickly gets your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. 

Mike licks a stripe up your cock, all the way up until he stops at the head and tongues at the slit. You moan at the feel of his tongue in your slit, and a few moments of stimulation has Mike letting out moans of his own when the taste of your precum hits his taste buds.

His hand wraps around the base of your cock after he takes it further in. To get more of the taste out, his hand strokes when he can’t fit in his mouth. It only becomes easier over time as the spit from Mike’s mouth travels down your cock to slick up his fingers.

It doesn’t take long for the wet noise of Mike’s mouth and hand gliding along your cock to fill the space of the security office. The hot feeling in your gut that had set in when Mike had been grinding your hips together grew into a burn that only got brighter under the bob of his mouth. 

The office felt hotter than it had before Mike had first shown it to you, and sweat gleamed against your skin under the dim light of the surveillance monitor’s light. 

You came with a loud moan, the noise being a mix of Mike’s name and indistinguishable sounds. 

Mike pulls off and your cock softens under the puffs of his breath as he sucks in air. Your cock gives a twitch after you tuck it away at the sight of Mike at his knees. Not that that wasn’t already a great sight, but what got your cock giving a twitch of interest was how while he sucked your cock, Mike had gotten his own out to wrap his other hand around. 

“Wanna trade places?” You ask, licking your lips. 

Mike’s eyes watch the movement of your tongue and gives one last stroke to his cock before pulling his hand away. 

In a flurry of motions, Mike is in the place you once were and vice versa. You're eager to take his cock into your wet mouth and Mike is more than willing to show his reaction.

After he lets out a groan, Mike places his hand on the back of your neck. His fingers are still damp from where they were wrapped around your cock, making you shiver. 

Your mouth is messier, more sloppy than what Mike had done, but he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, the way he moans and whimpers, and the way his hips jump to get more of his cock into the wet suction of your mouth, he doesn’t mind at all.

It doesn’t take long for your jaw to ache from the care you’re giving his cock. Mike’s cock leaks precum onto your tongue, giving you a steady hint of what you know is near. 

As you had done before, Mike cums from your fingers, but unlike your orgasm, his comes when one of your hands traces past his balls, right down his taint to brush his hole. 

Mike cums with a shout, his cock throbbing on your tongue as his cum shoots down your throat. You pull away from his cock when it becomes too hard to breathe. A few spurts of him cum manage to land on your face, filling the air with the salty smell. 

He pulls you up into his lap and wraps his arms tighter around your body. The chair under your combined weight gives a loud creak, like it’s only seconds away from collapsing.  

Mike’s tongue swipes along your face, licking up what had landed on your face, and once satisfied with your cleanliness, he presses his lips to yours in a wet kiss. You both whimper into each other's mouth as your tongues meet and the taste combines. His sweaty forehead presses to yours when the kiss is done and you’re both left panting. 

“Come on,” Mike says after he presses one last kiss to your lips before pushing you back to get you to stand up. 

You watch as he tucks himself away before pulling his jacket off. Your brows furrow in question as you watch him lay his jacket out on the floor. He eases himself onto the floor before pulling you down by the wrist onto his chest. 

“Sorry I don’t have anything better,” Mike says before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I’ll bring a sleeping bag next time,” you say with a yawn. 

You fall asleep to the feel of Mike’s hand running up and down your back. Not much has changed by the time his watch is going off and waking you up, his hand still in the same motion. 

“Sorry, baby,” Mike says after you try to hide yourself into his chest to get away from the noise. 

“How long have you been awake?” You ask after the noise is stopped. 

“Just a few minutes before my watch,” Mike answers, his voice rough with sleep. “Ready to go?”

The sun is not as bright as you expected it to be when you go outside, but you still shield your eyes from it for a few moments. After the noise of Mike locking up the gate behind you stops, his arms slink around your hips. 

“Breakfast at my place?” He asks. 

[penvisions]

wish i never met you {a garnish one shot}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Fear of rejection and messing up so beyond comprehension makes you regret crossing the professional line and getting to know Joel as you do now.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: canon typical language, joel thinks he's the one in charge but we all know it's really reader, religious contemplation, mentions of past trauma, mentions of bad family dynamics, smoking, consumption of alcohol, menstruation, talk of menstruation, blood, cramps, muscle soreness, unorthodox pregnancy announcement, reader is a hot mess, allusions to adult content, allusions to smut, mentions of past p in v, might need to add more if i missed anything!

A/N: wrote this as part of a fun, silly fic title prompt game submission from a sweet anon. it totally inspired an angsty din piece at first that i have in my drafts but then these two slammed into my brain and hijacked the idea. i just love them, your honor. i have so much love for them. NOW I KNOW THIS SUBJECT MATTER ISN'T FOR EVERYONE, I REALLY DEBATED POSTING THIS OVER THE LAST FEW DAYS BC I KNOW IT'S NOT EVERYONE'S CUP OF TEA but i feel like this is a good trajectory for these two, truly. i'm so sorry if anyone disagrees with the direction i took this in and i hopei t doesn't take away from the original series for y'all

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“No, fuck off.” Was the quick response to a wide palm caressing over your back. You were hunched over your crossed legs on the couch, aware of how bad the position was for your posture. But it was the only way to find any relief on your aching back. You had thought it was cramps at first, really, but then you realized all the symptoms of your monthly cycle fell in line with something else when the bleeding never started.

“Excuse me, darlin’? You sure you wanna use that language with me?” Joel’s deep voice was tinged with an edge, giving you the chance to retract your expletives. You were never so outright with your denial, never wanting to deny the man a few feet away. But the way in which you had expressed it to an obviously exhausted Joel was maybe too bold for the late hour. But you didn’t take it, instead repeating yourself.

“Kindly, fuck off. Don’t touch me.” You pulled away from him, hunching lower under his hand to break the contact.

“That’s not much better, ya know.” Joel’s hands shifted to his waist, a thick brow raised as he took in the sight of you nearly balled up, the faint light of the screen lighting up your face as you ignored him.

A harsh contraction of your muscles had you groaning out, “I wish I never met you.”

“C’mon now, you don’t mean that.” Joel huffed, trying to keep his calm, but you knew it was hard for him even if you really didn’t feel all that good. You never took your pain or frustration out on him like this, it was always soft murmurs of ‘hold me’ or ‘can I borrow your warmth’. Never the way you were reacting now.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into y-“ His mouth snapped shut, eyes focusing on the screen. On the words you had typed into the search engine. Normally he would tease you over the typos, your fingers not working as quick as you mind for all the grace and focus you normally had to expertly wield a sharp knife.

 Your heart thumped at the sudden silence. The fizzling tension that had filled the room.

“Don’t!” You gasped out, slamming the laptop closed and shielding the device with your body completely.

“Darlin’…” You swore you could hear the cogs turning in his head. Thinking back on the depraved as desperate way you had been seeking him out when he returned home from a late shift at the restaurant even despite the haze of sleep, in the mornings before you had to peel yourself away to go to campus, the photos you had brazenly sent him without warning that had him shielding or turning his phone over throughout the day. Thinking back on the way you had been inhaling food at any occasion, none of your normal contemplation or silence after what you considered a binge. Thinking back on the way you had begun to complain of your work clothing feeling wrong and too tight on your aching body as you dressed in the morning.

When he moved to sit on the other side of the couch, far too close for comfort, you shied away and pressed your back into the arm on your end.

“Not gonna touch ya, you have my word.” He raised his hands placatingly, his expression so soft that the tears burst from you without warning.

“You do-don’t wanna touch me. Not anymo-more.” Hiccups jolted your body, making the skin you were already uncomfortable in tingle. “I ruined ev-everything.”

He regarded you with a small frown, his plush lips pulled down as he clasped his hands together in his lap. Just as he opened his mouth to speak the words flew from you.

“I remember what you said, on the line.” You narrowed your eyes at him as they echoed in your head.

‘It had been a slow day, prep and cleaning taking over most of the evening shift. It had been back before you had taken on a role in the kitchen. Sneaking fries from the bowl of them on the expo line. They hadn’t been hot or even salted, but they were better than snacking on the fruity garnishes at the bar.

He had been passing the time with who you hadn’t known at the time was his brother, Tommy. Who had driven into the city to help take a look at the empty lot beside the restaurant, both of them contemplating the construction of a patio. But they had ended up in the kitchen, hunger too strong a call.

While Joel was on the line, Tommy was beside you, sneaking fries with a wink in your direction. But you ignored him, focused on looking through the catalogue of one of your vendors. Trying to make a seasonal menu. But your ears caught the harsh grunt of the man your eyes trailed over in the midst of busy nights.

“Wouldn’t do it, no.”

“C’mon, you seriously tellin’ me you wouldn’t baby sit for me if I were to gift you with a niece or nephew.”

“No, ‘m too old. Hire a babysitter.”

“You’re full of it ‘n you know it.”

“Brother, a baby is a lot of work. Now, your baby? Even more so.” Joel leveled his brother with a look that silenced any other argument on the matter.’

The moment he realized what you were talking about, his brows flew up into his hairline and he breathed out a hearty chuckle.

“Darlin’, I was just givin’ him a hard time. You gotta know that.”

“I didn’t know you.” You stood up from the couch, body protesting the movement. Cupping a hand over your mouth, you breathed harshly as you tried to tamp down a bout of nausea. “And now that I do, I’m gonna have to consider literally everything on my own and I’m gonna hate how much it hurts to not know you any longer. I wish I-“

“No,” He sighed, brow furrowing before he pinned you with a serious expression. “You do know me now and I wouldn’t turn my back on you, on this. I’m in it, pretty girl, no matter what you decide to do.”

When you whipped away from him, shuddering breaths wracking your sore body, the crack of your voice on a sob spurred him into motion. His arms came around you slowly, giving you the chance to retreat if it wasn’t something you wanted. But you let him, the feel of his chest warm and soothing on your aching back. The push of his soft stomach comforting. His chin hooked over a shoulder, and he spoke in such a somber tone.

“Darlin’, I always thought I was too old to do this again. But I haven’t crossed fifty quite yet and the thought of you carrying my child, of loving me and my child. God, I would give anything for it to be our future. To see you blossom into yourself more, to show our baby the same devotion you give to everything in your life, you deserve somewhere to put all your love.”

One of his hands moved over the one you had on your middle. Holding you so secure, holding you both so secure.

“Joel…it’s a lot. It’s….we’re not even-“ You turned in his arms, facing him. His beautiful, open expression so full of love and adoration, all of it for you. Your heart melted in your chest, dripping low to flutter in your stomach. You weren’t even overtly religious, left over from the trauma of your childhood. Of being forced to attend mass and important holidays alongside your grandparents. The denial of your father never urging you to seek out a higher power in replacement. But the thought of technically being single and going through something like this. It made you afraid.

“There’s a ring in my sock drawer. Got it the day of our first do over date. ‘s why I was so close to the campus. It’s yours. I’m yours. This could be yours. But only if you want it.” Joel’s forehead lightly thumped against yours as he pressed in close. His breath a warm wash over your face, smelling faintly of cigarette smoke.

Looking between each of his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitancy from him it was quiet. When you didn’t find any, you felt a smile pull at your lips as you nodded your head in affirmation. Wet laughter bubbling up as his lips pressed to yours, a smile of his own for you to feel on them.

“But I still expect you to propose, can’t skip any steps with me. I know you think you’re hot shit with being crowned the city’s most prolific chef of the year but I swear to-“

He cut you off with another kiss, his moustache ticking your upper lip as he nipped at your bottom one.

“I don’t wanna miss any steps with ya, darlin’. I’m here for ‘em all.”

It was hard to ignore the stirring of other feelings in your body, drowning out the aches and pains. But when realization hit you, you pulled back with wide eyes.

“We’re gonna have to stop drinking and smoking!”

“We?”

taglist: @tuquoquebrute @jessthebaker @littlemisspascal @76bookworm76 @hiddenbabynyc @clevergirl74 @anavatazes @samiamproductions @sarap-77 @honeyedmiller @undercoverpena

[morgana-larkin]

Hey I was wondering if u could do Melissa x reader where reader has scars that she’s embarrassed about and so she always wear a jumpers or long sleeves but one day it’s really warm and reader refuses to take it off coz she’s embarrassed and Melissa helps her realise that it’s nothing to be embarrassed about (as always no pressure I adore your work sm 🫶)

This was really cute, I liked writing this. I must be in a mood cause it’s the second fic today I wrote and it has smut 🤦🏼‍♀️ maybe just excited to see our girl on screen again 🤷🏻‍♀️

On another note: on to the next prompt and I’m wondering where that’s gonna go, possibly heartbreak from my own creation, @esposadejoyhuerta I’m looking at you, your prompt is next.

Map Of Your Scars

Warnings: reader self conscious about her scars, smut

Words: 2.3k

You stand there looking at yourself naked in the mirror and take a deep breath. Looking at all your scars you have, either from the car accident you were in, cuts that didn’t heal all the way or acne scars.

You take another deep breath and then get dressed, getting ready for another day at Abbott Elementary. You’ve been working there for almost 9 months as a fifth grade teacher and you absolutely love it. The staff are great, the kids are great, the principal is questionable, it’s a blast there.

It’s warm out since it’s mid May so you go for a light jumper and sweater. Already you feel warm just walking into the halls of the school but you’ve done this before, just keep the sweater on until you get home.

You walk into the break room and get a coffee and you sit next to Melissa on the couch to watch the news with them. Melissa looks over at your jumper and sweater and quirks an eyebrow. “I hope you’re not going to be wearing that sweater on our recess duty today like you did last week.” She tells you and you blush. You developed a crush on the beautiful redhead, and from what you hear, she’s only dated exclusively men, bummer.

“Recess duty? Oh is that today?” You ask, you totally forgot about that. Melissa nods and you sigh. “Well I am, I think it looks good with the jumper.”

“Hun, it does look good but it’s not practical.” She points out. Melissa ignored you when you first got there but has since taken an interest in you, all the recess duties together probably helped.

“If I get too hot then I’ll take it off and wrap it around my waist, so it’s fine.” You tell her with a shrug and at that, she drops it.

At lunchtime, you still have the sweater on and refuse to take it off. You can see Melissa keeps eyeing you and the sweater.

“Can I help you Melissa?” You ask her when you see her looking at you again.

“Hun it’s like 25 degrees (77 Fahrenheit) out. You’re gonna be hot in that.” She says and you sigh.

“Actually at the moment I’m fine.” You tell her and she goes back to her phone and food.

When you two are walking together to go outside for your recess duty, she glances at you.

You both are outside, 10 minutes in to your recess duty, making sure the students are keeping out of trouble. Melissa walks up to you, “hun, take the sweater off, I can see you sweating.” She says.

“I’m fine.” You say and walk away. You’re not fine though, you are starting to get really hot but you don’t want anyone to see your scars, especially her, the red goddess that visits you in your dreams.

20 minutes later you’re really sweating and lightheaded and starting to see blurry spots in your vision. You and Melissa are rounding the kids up and she can see you’re not doing well, she’s noticed you trying to stabilise yourself more than once. Once the kids are heading inside she comes up to you again.

“Hey are you ok? You don’t look too good.” She says and puts a hand on your arm. You don’t really notice the hand on you, you’re too busy trying not to fall. You just nod at her and she helps to lead you inside.

You take one step in the school and you immediately fall. “Y/N!” Melissa yells as she catches you. Gregory is close by when he hears Melissa yelling and looks at her and sees you in her arms. He runs over to her and sees that your eyes are closed.

“What happened?” He asks her and she looks up at him.

“Heat exhaustion. I told her to take the stupid sweater off. Can you help me carry her to the nurse?” She asks and he nods and picks you up.

Once you're at the nurses office, they lay you down on the bed and Melissa takes off your sweater. The nurse instructs Gregory to leave as they need to unbutton your jumper to release the heat in your body.

You wake up and the first thing you notice is that you’re not hot anymore or sweaty. In fact, you’re perfectly fine. Then you notice there’s a breeze on the top half of you and you look down at yourself and see your sweater is off and your jumper is unbuttoned. You look over to your left and see Melissa talking to the nurse. She then notices you awake and walks over to you.

“Hey, how you feeling?” She asks you.

“Good.” You tell her, as you start to button up your jumper in a panic.

“You gave me a scare back there.” She tells you and you look up at her as you finish buttoning up your jumper.

“Where’s my sweater?” You ask her as you look around for it.

“I have it but I’m not giving it to you.” You look at her.

“Why?”

“Why? Because you fainted from heat exhaustion, that’s why. What were you thinking? Why didn’t you just take it off? Why are you wearing a jumper? It’s May right now. You can’t be dressing in hot clothes anymore.”

“I can wear what I want.” You say to her and cover up your arms as much as possible.

“Why didn’t you just take it off?” She asks you and you look over and see the nurse watching the conversation and you look away embarrassed. Melissa looks back and sees. “Do you mind giving us the room for a moment please?” She asks the nurse and she nods and leaves the room. “So why didn’t you take it off?” She asks you again.

“Because…of my scars.” You say quietly.

“You’re scars?” Melissa asked. She of course noticed them when she was helping to undress you but didn’t think much of them.

“Ya, they’re embarrassing, so I cover them up so no one else sees them.” You tell her.

“Hun, it doesn’t matter if you got scars, no one's gonna care or say anything bad about them. And if they do then I’ll take care of them.” She tells you with a wink and you look at her, still embarrassed. Melissa tries a different approach. “I saw them and I still think you’re beautiful.” She says and you look at her with wide eyes.

“You think I’m beautiful?” You ask her and she nods.

“Uh huh, inside and out.” She tells you and you blush. “How did you get them? Your scars.” She asked and you take a deep breath.

“Car accident, cuts and acne.”

“Your scars are a part of you and they tell a story of who you are, nothing to be ashamed of.” She tells you and you look down, you don’t quite believe what she’s telling you. Melissa notices your disbelief and knows she has to try something drastic, drastic situations call for drastic measures. She places her hand on your chin and forces you to look up at her. “Maybe you’ll believe me now.” She tells you in a low, almost seductive voice, and kisses you.

You’re stunned when she does and you don’t know what to do. She pulls back and sees your expression. “Were you not expecting that?” She jokes and you shake your head.

“I..um…well… you’re straight.” You tell her and she giggles.

“I’m not straight hun. I lean more towards men but a few women have caught my eye over the years.” She tells you and you stare at her in disbelief. “Do you have a crush on me?” She asks you since you’re staring at her and you nod your head. “Well that’s good cause I have a crush on you.” She tells you and you blink at her, looking like a deer in the headlights. She cups your cheek, “can I kiss you again?” She asks you and you immediately nod your head and she giggles, she kisses you again and this time you kiss her back. You put a hand at the back of her head and she places one on your waist. After about a minute, you pull away for air.

“Wow” you say, trying to catch your breath.

“How about you come back to my place tonight? It’s Friday night so no school tomorrow and maybe I can show you another way of how beautiful you are, with or without scars.” She tells you and you practically hear your brain crashing.

“I- you…um..what?” You ask her.

She leans in to your ear and whispers seductively. “If you come over after school then I’ll kiss all your scars and your entire body.” She says and leans back and winks at you. “Think about it.” She says and leaves.

You go back to your students, completely forgetting that you don’t have a sweater on until one of your students asks you where you got the scar on your right arm. You look at it then look at your student that looks full of curiosity. “Car accident.” You tell him and your students all look at you with wide eyes and open mouths.

“That’s so cool! Not the car accident but your scar. It makes you look cool.” He says to you and you smile.

“Thanks kiddo.” You tell him and then get back to your lesson.

After school you dismiss your last student and see Melissa standing in your doorway, your sweater in her hands. “Hey.” Just tells you and you walk towards her.

“Hi.” You tell her and blush.

“You’re cute when you blush.” She says and you blush even more. “So have you decided about tonight?” She asks and you nod. “What is it then?”

“I want to come to your place.” You say and she smiles.

“Good choice, come on then. I’ll drive us there.” She says and turns to leave.

“What about my car?” You ask her and she looks at you.

“I can drive you back here to get it tomorrow.” She tells you and you nod and follow her out.

She drives you to her place, with a hand on your thigh the entire time, that you noticed kept creeping up more and more. You try to keep your composure but it was hard when her hand was so close to where you’ve wanted her for months.

As soon as you walk in her house she spins around and traps you between her and her door. You look at her stunned and you blush. “Do you know how hard it’s been for me, trying not to kiss you for the past 5 months?” She says in a seductive voice and you shake your head. “Well I’m going to show you, come on!” She tells you and grabs your hand and pulls you upstairs to her room.

Once there she pushes you down on the bed and crawls on top of you. The sight makes you lightheaded in the best way. She kisses you passionately and she takes your breath away. While kissing you, she begins to unbutton your jumper slowly. Once done, she pulls back and looks at you as she takes the top half off of you.

“You look so beautiful.” She says and begins kissing the scars that are on your chest and arms. She then proceeds to kiss your neck then nipples and you moan. Once she’s satisfied with her work, she pulls the button part of your jumper off of you. “Omg y/n, how are you so beautiful? I feel so lucky right now.” She says and kisses the scars on your legs. After she makes sure she got all of them, she then kisses your clit, making you buck your hips.

“Oh Melissa, oh my god.” You say grabbing her hair as she sucks on your clit. She pulls away and replaces her lips with a finger.

“What is it baby? What is it you want?” She asks you with a smirk.

“You! Want you, inside me.” You tell her and she smiles.

“As you wish.” And she pushes 2 fingers inside of you and you moan. Melissa is just loving the sounds you’re making because of her, she could listen to them all day. But for now, she wants to hear you when you cum. She attaches her mouth back to your clit and continues to fuck you with her fingers. She sees you start to shake and feels you clenching her fingers. “Are you gonna cum baby?” She asks and you nod. “Go on then, cum for me.” She tells you and you cum on her fingers. She gently pulls out of you and licks her fingers that were inside of you, moaning at the taste of you. “God, you’re so beautiful and you taste so good.” She says and you blush.

Monday morning you come to school in a dress that stops mid thigh and a smile on your face. You walk into the break room, get your coffee and sit on the couch next to Melissa. She sees you in a dress and she smiles and places a kiss on your lips.

All your coworkers see this and their jaws drop. Then Ava hands $20 over to Barb and Gregory hands $20 over to Jacob and Janine. You look at them all confused. “Were you betting on something?” You ask them.

“Ya, they were betting on when I’d tell you I like you.” Melissa says with a sigh and you giggle. Melissa wraps an arm around you and pulls you in closer.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

Let me know if you want to be added!

[1000roughdrafts]

Dean Winchester X Reader Masterlist

Some of my works are 18+, which I'll write as such here, but please heed the warnings on the individual posts as well - All under the cut :)

One Shots xx

Angst

💙 Us - request: Can you do a deanxreader songfic to the song us by Regina spektor

💙Goodbye ~ After Dean takes on the mark, his relationship with Y/N starts to fall through the cracks. She’s had enough of him taking out his stress on her, and after years of silencing her pain, she finally lets him know why  it’s time to say goodbye.

💙How Do I Become Enough ~Reader and Dean right about her doubts, she feels somewhat isolated and annoyed. No cheating, necessarily, but think along the lines of Dolly Parton’s Jolene  

💙Intrusive Thoughts ~Dean was supposed to visit Y/N while she was at work, but when he didn’t show, she got worried. After finally getting ahold of him, she was relieved to know that he was alive. But when another full day passes by without a word, her mind goes into overdrive about what could have happened to him.

💙Voicemails ~ this is a small, angsty thing, and it is 100000% self indulging so please feel free to just ignore it.

💙 Illicit Affairs - Request from anon based on Taylor Swift’s song Illicit Affairs <3

💙  Promise Me This Is Forever -  this is for @allywritesblog and #allyswriting event, and im using the quote "promise me this is forever" :)

Fluff

💙 Phone Calls With Dean ~ just a random thing I wrote for a story that didn’t pan out, no real plot to this.

💙Shooting With Dean ~ Dean takes you out for target practice, but something else is on his mind.

💙Time ~Soulmate AU, Y/N has had the ability to pause and unpause time for likely her whole life, believing she was the only person with such a power. One day, she learns that not only is that not true, but the other person is her soulmate. 

💙 Salted Baseball Bat - Anon Request: "'They said that gluing salt to a baseball bat to fight ghosts was a stupid idea, but who's laughing now?' you say as you whack the ghost again."

💙 Criminal - DeanxReader request from @rileynicole1967 based on the song Criminal by Britney Spears

💙 Cat-astrophe Written for @spnfanficpond​‘s unfic challenge with the prompt “I may have accidentally sort of adopted 5 cats.”fluff, stern!Dean, 

💙  Baby Winchester 2021 - Reader finds out she's pregnant, and tells Dean in a cute, fluffy way.

💙  Just Another Day - Fluffy Dean x female!reader Valentine's Day post

Flangst

💙 We're Gonna Get You Through This - reader is triggered back to a horrible memory and explains to Dean why waiting to have sex is best for her. 

💙Currently untitled ~ Request: could you do a deanxreader fic where she goes out on a date (maybe to a bar) for drinks with a guy and towards the end of the night, the guy (you pick the name) starts being rough with her cause he’s drunk and hurts her, then dean finds out somehow and comes over to kick his ass then admits his feelings for her?

💙 A Boring Holy Cross Tattoo - A Fic inspired by Cards Against Supernatural with the cards “Dean has 99 problems but ____ ain’t one.” and “A boring holy cross tattoo”.

💙 Amnesia - Request from @rileynicole1967​ : Deanxreader one shot or series ;) based off the song “amnesia” by 5 seconds of summer but in the readers pov and at the end he comes back for her and it’s all fluffy and cute.

💙 Half a Man - Follow up to the Amnesia request from @rileynicole1967​ - this one takes place the same night as Amnesia, but in Dean’s perspective and based on the song Half a Man.

18 + / Smut One Shots

💙Downtime ~ 18+, smut; After weeks of hunting the same witch, you and Dean decide to take a weekend break, but you didn’t expect what was in store for that weekend.

💙Punishment ~ 18+, smut; After embarrassing Dean at an important dinner, he punishes you with a cold shower.

💙 Size Matters - 18+ Smut DeanxReader request from anon, where reader has a size kink

💙 Poison  -  DeanxReader request from @kaitlaitlaitl​ based on the song Poison by Alice Cooper

Mini Series xx

💙 Movie Monsters Part One | Part Two ~ You’re teamed up with Dean, a man you’ve always found obnoxious, to find out the path of a new monster. Of course, things don’t always go as planned. (Complete)

💙 Never Have I Ever Part One | Part Two  ~ Part Two is pure smut; College!AU - Dean gets jealous of the attention he thinks you’re receiving from Cas during a small party at your house and doesn’t know what to do with it, so he leaves the room to keep drinking. 

💙 Hope is a Dangerous Thing... Part One | Part Two ~ The renowned author of a best-selling crime novel, Y/N Y/L/N, was thrown into a whole new world after her parents were brutally murdered. Their killer never found, Y/N took things into her own hands, meeting the Winchesters in her journey for justice. Even years later, she struggles to let anyone close in fear they’d leave or worse.

💙  i hate u, i love u (1) Slowburn au/Y/N has been in a relationship with Nick for the last 5 years. They’ve had a rough go. There’s been good and bad times, but she finally realizes that the man she thought she loved has been abusing her. Dean offers her a safe haven when she feared she had nothing else. (this may be abandoned, but we will see)

💙Reverse Supernatural  ~ request; “Hi!! I have been tossing an idea around for a bit… What if… Now hear me out… What if the Reader was the experienced hunter and she/he has to save Dean and/or Sam who have never known the supernatural existed…?” (only part one is out right now / ongoing / might also become abandoned)

Series xx

💙Family Secrets ~ 18+ ; Your uncle Bobby, and adoptive father Rufus, had a secret. A secret they never wanted the Winchester’s to find out. They had done a good job of keeping you from crossing their path, but now that they've both passed away there is nothing they can do about the brothers finding out their secret; you. (ongoing BUT I really want to and am seriously considering taking it down to rewrite it - this was the first thing I ever wrote and it's... it shows lol) 2/22/24 A/N: I want to return to this series, but since it was pretty much my first fic ever, I really want to rewrite some of the episodes and make it pace better. I understand that that might not be the best solution, however, so maybe I’ll just add inbetweeners or something. Just know I want to come back to finish it and may change some things along the way 😊

[f9clementine]

prev ⋙ masterlist ⋙ next

you had me at hello ⋙ 03. pinky promise

⋙ written part included 『••✎••』

You watched Hyunjin approach the table, his pretty (you admit begrudgingly) face screwed up in annoyance.

You felt your stomach clench in anticipation as he took a seat across from you, mentally preparing yourself to slip back into the asshole persona you adopted to speak to him. You really didn’t want to be a jerk to an old childhood friend, but you were afraid that if you approached this kindly, he’d completely ignore you. 

And then you’d be mute and sick for the rest of your life.

“Y/n.” Hyunjin practically spat out and you nodded back, signing out his name in return. He raised an eyebrow, looking from your hands to you. 

You sighed, annoyed, before pulling out your phone. 

You sighed, putting your phone down before looking up at Hyunjin. He still looked annoyed but politely held his hand out to you, patiently waiting. You felt yourself hesitate for a moment before reaching over, sliding your hand against his, gently wrapping your fingers against his warm palm. 

“Glad we can reach an agreement,” Hyunjin declared quietly and you looked up, finding his eyes focused on you. You looked away, ignoring the heat suddenly racing up your neck, and instead nodded, pulling your hand back.

Or you tried to.

Hyunjin’s hand held tight to yours.

You looked back at him, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’m going to try something,” He explained and pulled your appendage a little closer to him. He turned your hand, placing his free hand on top of it, and closed his eyes. You watched, a little apprehensive, as he started to mumble something, too quiet to hear in the slightly bustling cafe.

But then you felt your hand start to grow warm, the two palms on either side of it getting hotter and hotter. You grew tense as you anticipated pain, but it never came. It just felt pleasant.

After what felt like forever, but you knew it was only a minute or so, Hyunjin released you. You pulled your hand back, looking it over for any marks but only spotted your unmarred skin.

“I was hoping this would be easy, but of course not.” Hyunjin sighed, slumping in his chair. You raised your eyebrows at him, silently asking for an explanation. “I was hoping a revealing spell would work, but unfortunately, I think it’s been too long. We were… five, I think?” Hyunjin looked up, thinking. He looked back down at you and you nodded. “I’m surprised your Dad didn't get it reversed right away, though.”

You picked up your phone, opening to your usual notes app.

He tried, you wrote, right after we moved back to his hometown. But the warlock he consulted told him only the person who casted the spell could reverse it. And he didn’t want me going anywhere near you again after that in case you made it worse.

Hyunjin leaned over, reading your message before letting out a loud snort. “Whoever your Dad spoke to was full of shit, Y/n. That’s not how that works at all,” he shook his head. “Do you know how many times I accidentally casted spells while growing up? All the time. And every time either my Mom or Dad would fix it.”

You frowned, looking down at your phone as you took in his words. It was disheartening to think that if maybe your dad didn’t take the advice from the first warlock he consulted at face value, that maybe you’d be normal today.

“Well, I’m going to do some research.” Hyunjin announced, breaking through your thoughts and you looked up to see him getting out of his seat. “I’ll let you know when I think I have something.”

Your frown deepened and Hyunjin sighed a little. 

“I promise I’ll work towards finding a solution, okay?” He placed a hand on the table, leaning over to you before raising the pinky on his right hand. “Pinky promise.”

You blinked, surprised, but after a split second, you lifted your own hand, linking your pinky with his. For a moment, you felt five again, making silly promises with your neighbor in the summer sun.

Hyunjin smiled and let go of your hand. “I’ll text you when I have a solution,” he promised. You just nodded and watched as he left the cafe.

You began to gather your own things to leave, sliding your phone into your bag when it started. Your heart began to pound painfully against your ribs and your lungs felt tight, refusing to let any air in. 

You fumbled with your bag, blindly reaching for a small plastic bottle, mostly empty except a few small white tablets. After a slight struggle, you get the bottle open and two pills in your palm. Without hesitation, you take them.

To your relief, you feel yourself begin to calm down a minute later, your lungs relaxing enough that you can breathe again. 

You notice the barista in the front eyeing you strangely, so you quickly get up, ignoring the weakness in your legs as you do and flee the cafe.

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[buckychristwrites]

Could This Be | Chap. 3 | j.t.

Summary: One minute, you're single and working for AFC Richmond as the team's medic. The next minute, you're in a fake relationship with the team's handsome striker who you know next to nothing about..

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Discussions of Previous Emotional & Physical Domestic Violence. Cussing. Fake Dating

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy :)

Masterlist | Could This Be Masterlist | Main Blog

Sanctuary.

That’s how you viewed the medical room at the Nelson Road Stadium.

It was supply order day, which meant it was a day with your headphones in, going through inventory for yourself and for the physical therapists before placing the order, and resorting the stock if need be. It normally took all day, and you were only interrupted if someone got hurt or sick on the pitch, which wasn’t often on non-match days. So you could expect to spend the entire day by yourself.

You were sitting on the floor of the supply room, tapping your feet against the grey tile as you wrote down how many leg splints were on the shelf. Quietly, you were singing along to the song playing. At least, you thought it was quietly, but it was hard to tell over the music. It wasn’t something you bothered about though. No one would hear it even if you sang at the top of your lungs. Resting on the floor next to you was the two way radio, turned up loud so you’d be able to hear it, in case of emergency.

Over the two days that had passed since Keeley’s party, you had tried very hard not to think about Jamie or the conundrum he had put you in. It proved to be especially helpful to your mental health if you didn’t. The solution was a simple one. Everyone would just be informed of the breakup, stating that you weren’t ready for a relationship or things just didn’t work out or whatever, and then everything would go back to normal. And normal was something you yearned incredibly hard for.

Movement out of the corner of your eye alerted you that you were not alone. Slowly, you turned, finding Jamie Tartt leaning against the door of the supply closet. 

A loud shriek left your mouth while you scrambled to your feet. As you ripped your headphones from your ears, he raised his hands apologetically.

“Sorry, sorry,” He said in a quiet tone. The expression on his face read a mix of guilt and amusement. “I didn’t want to interrupt ya, but I need to talk to ya.”

You didn’t say anything, instead stuffing your headphones in your pocket and waiting. He also had his hands in his pockets, looking almost as uncomfortable as you did. After a moment, he sighed as he pulled his phone out.

“Do you have Twitter?”

Your eyes narrowed. That was the last thing you expected him to say.

“I- uhm… I got rid of my social media,” You admitted, pulling your hand from your pocket to run it up and down your opposite forearm. “Last year.” He nodded without looking up, and you were surprised when he didn’t push the issue. Most people would question you to no end about how you could live without social media. It was refreshing, to say the least. 

Jamie intently searched his phone before, hesitantly, handing it over to you. For a moment, you just stared at it. Whatever it was that he was trying to share, you knew you just by the look on his face that you weren’t going to like it. Maybe it would be best if you just didn’t know. He urged you to take it, as if he read your mind.

“You need to know, too.”

At that, your eyes met his. They were sad. Almost regretful. Without breaking eye contact, you slowly took the phone before looking down at it. 

What you found were pages and pages of tweets about you and Jamie, pictures of you and him laying together and also some with his arm around you from the party, attached to almost each one. You were named directly in all of them. It was so tempting to read each one, especially the ones where they picked you apart by your appearance and called you names. They still caught your eye, as hard as you tried, and each one felt like a bullet in the chest.

“Who leaked these?” You asked him as you finally forced yourself to look away. All he could do was shrug.

“Keeley said she would try to find out, but the source was anonymous,” He said. “It could’ve been anyone at that party.” Your phone suddenly felt very heavy in your pocket.

He’s going to see it.

He’s going to see it.

You wanted to scream as you handed Jamie back his phone. 

“I’m sorry,” He said, sincerely. “I never meant for any of this to happen. You were so upset that night, I felt ‘orrible.” You shook your head. 

“It’s fine, Jamie,” You said. “I’m not mad at you. I mean…” You smiled slightly. “I definitely was mad at you. The whole thing just had me more… overwhelmed than anything else.” You scratched your head. “Even more so now.”

He nodded, rocking back and forth from the tips of his toes to the heels of his feet. It was clear that the conversation wasn’t ending here. You watched him carefully.

“What is it?” You finally asked. He ran a hand down his face.

“I think…” He said, tilting his head. “I think we should keep this goin’, just for a little bit.” You stared at him in confusion.

“And why would we do that?” You asked in an unusually high voice, walking passed him out of the supply closet and back into the medical room. He turned to follow. The shaking in your hands started again as you sat down at your desk. If Jamie noticed your brand new demeanour, he didn’t comment on it

“‘Cos how stupid would it be if we told everyone we broke up right after we told them we’re together?” He asked. “Also, it still saves us from the blind date business we talked about. Can’t question ya if they know who you’re datin’, can they?” 

It infuriated you that he was making sense. 

You turned in your chair as you contemplated all of this. There were so many factors to consider. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing, necessarily. It certainly would get everyone off your back about dating someone new. But then there was the fear. It would be one thing if Jamie were a regular guy, but he was a public figure. Meaning, your picture would get put out there more than it already had. You wouldn’t be under the radar like you had been, which is something you felt you needed for safety and sanity reasons. But maybe that could be a positive in itself. Jamie could offer a sort of security at the matches that you didn’t have before. Maybe being on his radar was exactly what you needed.

“How long would it go on?” You asked him. Running his fingers through his long hair, he shrugged. 

“At least a month,” He replied. “Give things time to smooth over.” You nodded as you continued to think.

“We’d probably need some rules then.”

He perked up at this, as if he hadn’t considered it. 

“Alright,” He said, sitting down on the edge of your desk. Which you hated. “Rule number one, you have to go to all of the matches.”

You stared at him with a blank expression for a long time, wondering if he was joking. When he didn’t respond, you knew he wasn’t.

“Jamie,” You said slowly. “I already go to every single match. I have to because of my job.” He looked absolutely embarrassed, and you felt it too. Had he really noticed you so little that he couldn’t even remember you being at the matches? Who was the person who had helped him every time he got hurt at a match? Maybe it would be easier if you didn’t think about it too much.

“Fine, sorry,” He mumbled. “Real first rule then. You have to go to public events with me.” Nodding, he looked pleased with this one. “Movie premieres. Charity parties. Weddin’s. All that shit. You’re going too.” You scrunched up your face.

“Does that include Coach Beard’s wedding in a few weeks?” You asked him. He slammed his hands down on the desk, clearly grateful that you reminded him. It made you regret bringing it up entirely.

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely it does!” He sounded so pleased about it, as if he was happy to know that he wouldn’t have to find a date for anything for the foreseeable future. As much as you wanted to be upset by this, your original plan for Beard’s wedding was to third wheel with Keeley and Roy, and while that would’ve been the safe route to go, now you’d have an actual date, and wouldn’t have to worry about Keeley, after a few drinks entered her system, asking every man who was alone to ask you to dance. Like she had at the last wedding the two of you attended. 

“Rule number two I think is an obvious one,” He continued. “Just be honest with each other.” You nodded, liking this one a lot.

“I think that for this to work, we have to become friends on some sort of level,” You said, adding onto what he said. “I feel like I know nothing about you.” This seemed to surprise me.

“Do ya know what, I think you’re the first person to say that to me in a long time.”

“So, we have to be honest with each other,” You repeated back to him. “That’s rule number two, but rule number three is that we’re going to leave this as amicable friends.” Your head tilted towards your shoulder. You wanted to add a comment about no longer being invisible to him, but decided not to. 

“Then, of course,” He said, a cheeky tone filling his voice. “There’s rule number four; Don’t fall in love with me.” 

You rolled your eyes so hard that you could feel them strain. Immediately, you changed your expression, giving him the best heart eyed look you could muster.

“Can you believe it, I already have!” You exclaimed, throwing a dramatic hand to your forehead. “Whatever shall we do?” He was fighting a smile as he watched you.

“I know, I’m just too irresistible,” He said, playing as if he knew this would happen. 

“Oh Jamie Tartt, the most real while also the most fake love of my life, how will I ever find anyone else?” 

“Alright, fuck off,” He said through a laugh. Dropping your hand to your lap, you found that you were laughing as well. He was looking at you, as if for the first time. “I always forget how funny ya are. Ya always seem to keep to yourself.” 

Yeah, you thought to yourself. There’s a reason for that.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. There was no good way to respond.

“Last rule,” You said, more reservation in your voice this time. “I…erm.” Your eyes dropped to the table, but you could still feel him staring. “I need…” You inhaled sharply. “I need you to… to ask before you touch me.” The words hung in the air for a moment, and you wished so desperately to suddenly gain the ability to turn invisible so you could escape his gaze. “Or, at the very least, let me know before you touch me. Please.”

He stared at you for a long moment, waiting for what you could only assume was an explanation. But you didn’t intend to give one, instead just continuing to stare at the table awkwardly while trying to remain cool and not panicked. 

“Alright,” He said slowly. Another beat passed before he continued, “Can I ask-”

“No,” You interrupted him quickly, feeling stupid by how desperate you sounded. “No, you can not.” His face softened, head tilting to the side slightly.

“What I was going to ask… if it upset you when I touched ya the other day.”

The heat rose in your cheeks.

“Oh, erm… It did,” You admitted, trying not to replay the absolute panic attack, along with washing your skin raw and sitting in the burning water for an hour, in your head. When the guilt filled his face, you shook your head. “Please don’t feel bad. There’s no way you could’ve known.” He shook his own head, waving you off.

“I should’ve asked. I’m sorry.”

You were dumbfounded by this response. This conversation usually went very, very differently. Never had it been this easy to set a boundary and not only not have them question you on the why, but also have them apologise for unknowingly breaking them in the past. The anxiety that had initially filled your chest completely evaporated, and you found it replaced with ease. 

You opened your mouth to speak when you were interrupted by the door flying open. The both of you jumped up, turning to see Roy Kent at the door with Will the kit man next to him. Will’s nose was gushing with blood. Alarm bells began to ring in your head at the sight of him.

“Did you throw your radio into the fuckin’ ocean or somethin’?” Roy shouted as he grabbed Will by the sleeve and dragged him over to the bed. “Or are you too busy making puppy eyes at your new fuckin’ boyfriend?” Ignoring Roy, you ran to the supply closet and grabbed your radio, feeling nauseous over missing the call. You set it down on your desk when you reentered the room before turning your attention to Will.

“What happened?” You asked as you put some gloves on.

“The boys said I couldn’t juggle shoes,” Will explained. With his eyes on the ceiling, he couldn’t tell that you were giving him a look. “I had to prove I can.”

“It’s not broken, just busted up,” You said, your eyes scanning the area. “Did you prove it? That you can juggle shoes?”

“Yes!” Will exclaimed at the same time that Roy said, while shaking his head, “No.”

“I would’ve been fine had Isaac not thrown a 5th one into the mix.”

“I think you would’ve gotten clobbered with one of them either way, if I’m honest,” Roy remarked, taking a seat in the chair that you had previously been sitting in. He looked over at Jamie, who hadn’t said a word since they had arrived. “Don’t you have practice? Fuck off, Tartt.” Completely unfazed by Roy’s aggression, Jamie nodded while taking a step towards you.

“See you later, yeah?” He said gently. You looked at him as you packed Will’s nose with gauze, giving him a smile and a nod. He leaned in, before tapping his finger against his cheek. You stared at him, the corners of your lips flicking upwards into a small smile. It was clear by his eyes that this was a question, not a demand. He was giving you the power. You planted a kiss onto the side of his face, and he gave you a wide smile before sauntering out the door. 

“I fuckin’ hate this,” Roy grumbled as the door clicked closed.

“I heard about you and Jamie,” Will said quickly, his voice all mucked up from the tissues in his nose. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Will,” You said as you grabbed a wipe to clean the dried blood from his cheeks, now that the bleeding had stopped. “If only everyone were as nice and supportive as you.” You made sure to say that last part a little louder, so that Roy was sure to hear it. 

“Fuck you.”

“If you’re just here to pout and be an arse, you can fucking leave,” You told him with a friendly tone. Giving Will one last look, you ripped off your gloves. “Alright, Will. You’re clear to return to work.” Tossing the bundle into the rubbish bin, it dropped in easily. You gave Will a look of warning. “Maybe hold off on the shoe juggling for now, yeah?” He nodded understandingly before hopping off the bed and making his way out the door.

Roy, however, stuck around.

“Who said I don’t support you?” He demanded. Sitting down on the bed, you stared at him.

“Your entire behaviour has said it.” You cocked your head to the side. “You literally just said, and I quote.” You did your best Roy Kent impression, having perfected it over the years, “‘I fuckin’ hate this.’” If he was impressed by your Roy Kent voice, he did not voice it, to your complete dismay.

“I do,” He admitted, casually. “That don’t mean I don’t support you.” You crossed your arms over your chest, saying nothing. Roy leaned forward in the chair, pressing his hands together as he looked at you.

“Do you remember my last match as captain of Richmond?” He asked. “When I fucked up my knee-”

“-Sliding into Jamie,” You finished. Because of course you remembered. He got up and took himself out of the game, and you found him with Keeley in the locker room. Staying out in the hall where they couldn’t see you, you waited until she left, and then you gave him care. “I remember.”

“Do you remember the first thing you said to me?” 

You nodded. “‘Should’ve kicked him harder, you would’ve broken his ankle.’”

Roy smiled fondly as if he was replaying it in his head. “Yeah.” Another moment passed before he spoke again. “And then do you remember the second thing you said to me?” You nodded, this one being much clearer.

“‘You’re more than this, you know. You’re so much bigger than this game. When you’re old and can’t remember how to wipe your own arse, they’ll still remember you as one of the greats, even if you don’t feel that great at this moment. It’s okay to rest now. You’ve done it.’”

He had been so hurt, so devastated, when it became clear he couldn’t keep playing. His knee just wasn’t doing the job anymore. You had known him for a few years at this point, as you wrapped and iced his knee. A few years of watching him dominate matches. All you had done in that moment was be honest with him.

“You’ve done it, now,” He said tenderly. “You’ve always been more than that arsehole who you won’t let me kill. And you let it hold you back for longer than you should’ve. You deserve someone kind. Now you’ve got that. Of course I support you.” He sat up straight, face hardening once more. “I’m still going to complain about it, though.” You rolled your eyes, as the softness of the moment had reached its end.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

~

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[wroteclassicaly]

Walk Until You Belong

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader, Steve Harrington x Female Reader)

Summary: Amongst confusing and mixed up words, you think you realize where you really stand, with those who matter the most to you, particularly Eddie Munson.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader, teases Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, anxiety, panic attack, extreme self-esteem issues, HEAVY on the angst, no happy ending (this one hurts, folks), Eddie is mean with his words, depression, & extremely (be warned) sad thoughts.

A/N: This thought randomly came to me in the car today, then proceeded to poke and prod at me until I wrote it down/out. This is what came of it, and it’s a product of mind mindset, as of lately. Please read the warnings and air with caution, because it’s meant to work out my own feelings, and as of now, there’s no second part planned and there isn’t a happy ending here. I leave it open-ended. Just know, this piece is really vulnerable to me, and I’m not gonna and say I didn’t cry a little while writing this, so I feel like it’s a personal breakthrough, and I wanna share it with you all ❤️♥️

Sidenote: Using the nickname of Princess in this fic, instead of Y/N. Also, Eddie isn’t nice in this. He’s not exactly awfully, openly mean, but his words are pretty cruel. So… be warned! Nancy makes an appearance as well!

You didn’t really peg Eddie Munson for a mean person. Intimidating, sure, tough because he needed to be - yeah. But outright cold and as nasty as his former bullies? You stand frozen, back against the cool wall of the hospital corridor. They’re still talking, bonding, two completely different people that never knew one another three months ago, yet they’re making it work. You’ve known the entirety of the party since this whole underworld shit began, roped in by being Dustin’s neighbor and giving him rides home from Hellfire for his mom.

No one ever called you outside of the world ending, outside of you taking a kid some place, bringing your random gifts, lending an ear on the phone when the trauma got too much. You weren’t invited to their gatherings, you weren’t in on their inside jokes, but you figured if you made yourself more approachable, more social. And seeing how they welcomed Eddie, someone you had admired since your freshman year - you were sure it was gonna work, that you were slowly being accepted. You helped defeat monsters and evil men, dark creatures, and underworlds. It was you who helped Steve Harrington drag Eddie’s bleeding and mauled body back into your world.

Since that night three months ago, you have done everything to help him. Brought his school work so he could graduate, promised to hand deliver his diploma if he wasn’t strong enough by mid June to walk across that stage, even saying you’d flip Higgins the double bird for him. You tried to help him plan campaigns, you bought him several tapes, and most recently - you’d taken up a magazine subscription of his favorite metal scene, just so he would have all copies. He was always so boisterous, making you melt and smile, and you wanted to help put some light back into his eyes after he’d lost a lot of that sparkle. The issue you got in the mail today, it looked promising, making you eager to take it to him on your lunch break from the video store.

Recently able to fight off your anxieties and getting into the workplace to cover shifts for Steve as he healed, you had extra money to spare and a pep in your step. But when you had reached Eddie’s room door in the hospital, Steve’s voice had halted you. You’d pressed your back aside and out of view, a smile on your lips as they mentioned you. They were gonna be your friends, maybe Eddie would even show you what certain things meant in the magazine, what he liked about their scene, his scene. You wanted to know so much about him, but could never muster the courage to ask.

“I thought the Princess was coming by today?” Your nickname. Not one in malice, but one gifted by your peers for your love of literature. It extended to everyone, apparently.

Your heart leapt, pulse in your throat, eyes casting down at the glossy cover in excitement. And then Eddie had sighed deeply, as if he was in pain. You were prepared to go and get a nurse, when he speaks out, “Seriously, dude?”

Your brows had knit in confusion, a gnawing starting in your stomach, a coolness chilling in your muscles, scraping apart your veins and brimming them full of ice. Steve confirmed, causing you to step back further out of sight. You should’ve left immediately, because you knew you were not going to be able to handle what Eddie’s reply would be, what you fooled yourself into thinking wouldn’t happen.

“What if I pretend to be asleep? Think she’ll leave and go bother someone else?”

A sharp ache pries apart your ribcage and fills it with hot ash, wafting smoke from the destruction suffocating your throat. The first wave of tears prickles your sclera, clouding your vision as your head bows.

“Munson…” Steve sighs.

“Listen, Harrington, I know I’m a freak, man, but she’s just weird. She doesn’t even know me and she subscribed to a magazine I have, just to bring me the issues. She tries to get involved in my campaigns. I know she drives Henderson around and that she’s fought all that nasty shit with you guys, but like… She’s not even in your ensemble of friends, is she?”

Your entire lifetime of actions involving them all flash in the forefront of your mind, and everything you went through by their sides.Have you done anything so out of the ordinary that none of them haven’t? You’re not loud, not like Eddie is, you’re not extremely quirky. You were sure you weren’t bothering anyone when you started being more vocal. Salt. You taste its first humiliating tang hit your lips, your tears free flowing.

“Not really.” Is what Steve responds with, prying back your subconscious with a crowbar and letting reality crack your skull open to let your insecurities flood you until you begin to feel the beginning stages of dissociating panic.

More than two years and you’re still considered a nobody to people you fought beside and nearly died for. People you convinced yourself that they just needed to know you, to see, and they would care about you just as much as you care about them. You realize, however, with a sickening irony, that Vecna must have been fooled by your sated mindset, thinking you weren’t alone and that you were happy, or he would’ve targeted you instead of someone else. And that part, the deep part that’s engraved into your DNA, rooted to every cell and particle, it bites back thoughts you try not to pin on yourself. Maybe he should’ve.

“Hey, Princess, what’s going on?” Her sweet perfume and her soft demeanor make your body feel like it’s weighted down, caught and unable to escape. You don’t look at her yet, turning your head to attempt (pathetically) to wipe your tears and clear your vision.

Steve and Eddie hear and the conversation is halted, their smiles happy and comfortable. But even as you bypass Nancy’s concerned looks, her question at your obviously panicked expression, forcing yourself to walk into the room with her to save face — you aren’t buying either boy’s look. It’s not you they’re happy to see. You shift, a discomfort squeezing your sternum and extending into your guts, anxiety using your esophagus as a trampoline and tempting your food to expel. You feel as if you’re not even here, that this isn’t real, that it’s a nightmare bigger than anything you’ve ever faced.

Dealing with demons and evil creatures that only existed in storybooks is one thing, but doing it alone, knowing that that’s all you’ve ever truly been… it’s worse than when you automatically followed Nancy into that rift to save Steve. No one called you after Vecna, sans one simple call from Steve to ask if you needed anything. But that was it. Your brain snaps back, still able to get you as you’re not all here. King Steve hated you, and not even this kind version cares for you.

You’ve kept the magazine at your side so far, and you let it fold in your tight grip, crushing and crumbling the pages, voice becoming weak and breathless as Steve asks why you’re here, a grin on his face, knowing already. Fuck this. You’re drowning and you need to get the fuck out of here.

“I have to go. I’m… I gotta go, I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks, shatters your facade, and you don’t look at anyone.

Nancy leans out as you move quicker down the hallway, faster than anticipated. She watches your arm elongate and toss something into one of the janitorial cart’s trash cans.

“What the hell was that about?” Steve is confused, Eddie bewildered.

“I was gonna ask you guys. She looked upset before we even came in here,” Nancy responds.

“Didn’t you two walk in together? Maybe somebody bothered her, or she saw something?” Steve questions once more.

“We all agreed to give her space, just like we always do. So no, I didn’t want to crowd her. She was already here anyway, just standing outside the door and looking… I don’t know, lost? I’ve never seen the expression that was on her face before.”

Eddie feels as if something else entirely has re-stripped his recently healed skin. Steve swallows harshly and fixes Eddie with an immediate glare, both sharing realization and regret.

“She just trashed some magazine, maybe it was because of that —“

“Shit. Fuck, man.” Eddie finally speaks, starting to lift his upper body, his underused limbs protesting, stitched skin screaming.

“Stop, I’ll go, okay?” Steve interjects, resting bitch face activated and his jaw clenching, upset he let himself say what he did, and is already out the door, leaving Eddie to explain to the ever inquisitive Nancy Wheeler and her journalistic heart and soul.

By the time Steve catches up to you, jogging and slightly out of breath, he isn’t prepared to share his ex’s sentiment on your tormented expression. You look�� demolished, haunted. Steve has felt it, a fragment of what bullshit you must be feeling, given what you’ve just heard. He’s done a lot of things, but he’s never felt more like an asshole than he does now, staring at your trembling hands that drop your car keys twice, your eyes so full of tears he wonders how you were even able to see to get out of the building and into the parking lot. He has the sudden overwhelming urge to wrap you into his arms and hold you. So he lets his instincts go and attempts to reach out.

You sound strangely reserved, settled. You smile sadly, wiping at your eyes, the skin raw and overheated. “No. I understand, okay. I got it. I really do. I’m fine.”

“Princess, you don’t have to —“

A beeping sounds off between the two of you, your fingers reaching into your belt loop and unclipping the beeper after a quick glance. You still don’t look at Steve. He can feel his own irises becoming shrouded with tears, his chest being clawed apart and dug into. It hurt more than any hive mind bats or Russian torture. You sidestep away from him, mumbling. “It’s Keith. I have to go.”

“It’s my shift, Princess,” Steve grasps your wrist in his big palm and squeezes, trying to pull you back to him, to convey, to express. He cares. He didn’t mean it in the way that you thought, “Please?”

You jerk yourself away from him. You look angry now, and wipe your nose at the same time Steve does - water finding his lash line.

“I took the shift. It’s fine. Goodnight.”

You’re falling apart as you turn around again, not permitting yourself to watch Steve and his attempts to amuse your anguish with pity - standing in the parking lot, wiping at his nose continuously, in your rear view.

Steve grits his teeth as the tears drip onto his cheeks, his hands running up into and through his hair. They beyond fucked up…

// Eat me paragraph //